#or whatever. it's no longer important. it's sucked.

[writingwisterias]

Trust fall

RE4R!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Friends- Lovers, Best friend!Leon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Yearning, Awkward moments, Longing, Soft Sex, Comfort, Nightmares, mating press, unprotected sex, tit sucking, hand jobs, fluff

Summary: Falling in love was inevitable when you avoid it for too long...

Words: 11.1k (I said it was long)

Read on Ao3

Poured my blood,sweat n tears into this LMAO....after a shit week at work here it is thank you @kuntprodukt for listening to my ramblings as finished it off. Dedicated to @shymoob ... also ignore the technology inaccuracy for the time period...

Taglist: @senawashere @danigirls-missions @lxzy-bxby @074calicocat @gut1ess

Day 1

Maybe he was going to be nervous as well? Surely, your anxiety was valid after not seeing him for months. The date on the calendar was circled in red pen. You had only been told it only a few days before now; his text was rather unexpected after a long period of silence. The date was to mark the start of Leon’s vacation, though it was granted as a “recovery” period from whatever mission he had just returned from. He was advised by the higher ups to stay with someone that was trusted. The mental welfare of their pawn suddenly became a concern after reading the reports he presented them with. 

However, you were no longer privy to these details, as his reputation grew the less you knew. Whenever it was because he wasn’t allowed to say or he chose to withhold the information from you himself – you didn't know. You could see the more secrets he gained, in the form of the new eyebags he had gained from the sleepless nights. Those once bright blue eyes you had grown to love in your teens now had a mixture of grey, like the storm clouds of his haunted past. 

Instead he asked you for a distraction, a few days of normality. That you could grant him, providing him with a detailed plan of fun filled days. At least you hoped he would feel the same about it. 

The sound of his car outside alerted you of his presence, the gravel of your drive crunching underneath the wheels of his jeep. It was cute how he stuck to one brand of car, coming up with some excuse of its practical use when deep down it was to replace the one he lost. The same one he saved up all summer to get so he could drive back and forth from Raccoon City to you. The brand now holds a sentimental value to him, you suppose, something that reminded him of what could have been. 

You gave one last glance around the room, trying to spy any spec of dust or crumbs that he might see as he entered. It’s not like he hasn’t seen your space a mess before, after all your teenage bedroom was a regular hang out spot instead of his dorm at the orphanage and that was never particularly the cleanest.

His features were sharper than last time you noticed as you opened the door, his eyes widening as the smile reached them despite their narrow, hollow look. Your open arms were a beacon to him, his safe place awaiting for him with a large smile and a warm heart. His arms were strong as they encircled you, biceps squeezing your form slightly as he pulled you closer. From the outside you were sure the hug looked like it was more intimate than it was but with the history you both had, it was just right and the perfect medicine he needed. 

“I’m glad you’re back” You whispered to him, pulling away slightly to gaze up at his features. The blond hair is still unkempt and draping over your favorite shade of blue, his eyes gazing down at you. You didn’t miss the shine that they lacked however, now they possessed a matt finish instead portraying someone different from that hopeful 21 year old. He was never going to be like that, that wasn’t him anymore. Maybe that's why loving the new version was just as important to you, to cradle him the same way you did when he failed an exam or when his girlfriend dumped him. He still needed you to be the same. To be something in his life that was a wall he could lean on or a bed he could rest with. A home.

“Me too” Was all he responded, the smile slowly fading into the tight lipped one he sported more often. His hands never left your arms, instead tightening their grip around your bicep. Not enough to hurt or for you to flinch back on – almost like he was testing you were real. 

Leon instantly felt the warmth of your space, a comforting hug he had surely missed since being away. The pictures of your childhood shared with him scattered around the apartment in golden frames like he was some angel and important figure in your life to deserve such luxury. “The spare room is all set up for you. You do remember where it was right?” You asked him, now leaning against the kitchen counter as you observed his unsteady steps into your home. His heavy duffel bag was clearly heavy with his baggage as it caused him to lean more on one side, its contents weighing him down in a shade of army green. “Yeah, If I get lost I’ll just scream for you” He teased. “If you do then make sure it’s like the one you did in the haunted maze that one time. I need a good laugh” 

“You and me both” 

His form retreated down the hall and you got set on making drinks, the coffee machine whirring loudly in a fight to brew the pot. A noise you had grown used to, having to choose between luxuries to upgrade in this economy. You watched the coffee slowly drip out as your mind wandered elsewhere, now finding yourself contemplating if your plans for the week were too much for him. You hadn’t really considered what Leon would have wanted this week to be, whenever it was for him to relax and lounge around or create memories he could think about whilst he was away. 

You chose the second option, the fridge decorated in a pretty list with the itinerary of the next few days which was pinned by the gimmick travel magnets Leon gifted you of all the places he’s travelled to. You hoped that by creating a list of activities to do with him you would gain opportunities to refresh the pictures on your walls. To swap out a few of the younger ones of you both with an older more recent version. After all, you didn’t have anyone else to fill them with; Leon still managed to be one of the only people that were a constant in your life despite the past 6 years being the busiest for him. Whenever he knew or not, he had set a pretty high standard for the quality of friendship you were looking for. 

Of course the plans could be subjected to change if he really didn’t want to do them. The last thing you wanted to do was add more stress in his life. Which is where the silent deal you had made came in, the one that you created after making sure that giddy teenager that was still inside you knew why it was important this week to handle your feelings. Spending the last few years in silence on your feelings even though the news of his break up 6 years ago was exciting for you. The event then caused you to create plans to ask him out once he settled in his new job. 

Maybe in another life it would have worked out that way and you could have both ended up being childhood sweethearts, the cutest couple in the precinct he would work at. Small children running around in a home filled with nothing but love. You would be adorned with a golden ring upon your finger showing off the stable relationship you both created. 

Relationships don't work in his world anymore, there were too many risk factors not only with the security he needed up hold but the target that now forever remained on his back with crazed scientists. You knew this after he ranted to you during a drunken confession a few years after Raccoon City; where he was spilling the beans about the kiss with Ada and the complicated emotions he felt after losing her. His job no longer allowed him to have attachments like that, he knew the risks and saw the outcomes of where work mixed with family. He needed to keep you safe, he wouldn't know what would happen to him if he lost you. The thought scares him more than any bio weapon he had faced recently and with his last mission there were a few nightmarish ones. 

“That thing sure sounds like it needs a replacement” Leon joked from the doorway. He had shredded his previous clothes, now dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie instead of the jeans and leather jacket. His frame had now visibly relaxed more since he dropped off the duffle bag, it was now hidden away in the spare room he would be staying in. “Maybe Santa will get me one for Christmas,” You replied, smiling at him. His laugh was loud, nodding his head in agreement, “Guess I know what costume to buy next along with a coffee machine. Oh and this is for you” 

He threw a small striped bag at you, small tears in the paper where it had clearly been through travel. Stuffed somewhere amongst his luggage. You knew it was a magnet by its familiar weight, pulling the item out to be met with the reds and yellows of the spanish flag. “Another one for your collection” He said whilst he moved from the doorway to the kitchen, leaning up against the counter in a casual manner. “You were in Spain?” 

“Only a few days, this was a particularly rough mission…” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look at the thing like even looking at the spelling of the place was a trigger. Ah so this trip was purely business and not pleasure. Instead of proudly displaying it on the front of the fridge, you placed it on the side out of sight. Unless you wanted to get up in the dying coffee machines business. You watched as his features soften when you turned around, the small action solidifying his reasoning for being here. You didn’t pry or question him on what happened, instead you offered silent support. Showing it in smaller actions, like moving a fridge magnet out of his sight. 

“You can sit in the living room and choose something to watch, you don’t have to wait with me” You said before hopping up on the counter, sitting with your legs swinging in the air. Consistent soft thuds echoing in the space as your feet softly thudded against the cabinet doors. “I’m good, besides I’m sure watching this coffee machine struggle to make a full pot is more entertaining than the shit that's on TV nowadays” He joked, his biceps contracting as he lifted his frame on the counter. The two of you were close enough that if you swung your legs out you were sure to clash with him. 

“You have a funny idea of entertaining” You laughed, poking him with your foot in a poor attempt to irritate him. You could feel his toned muscles in his thighs, despite them squishing slightly as you put pressure on them whilst they were relaxed. He let out a soft grunt as you accidentally pressed against a particularly tender spot, his hand soon rubbing the spot to ease the ache. It was your only sign that there were still a few stubborn bruises lingering on his body. 

Now you knew the location he had come from, the news covering the return of the president's daughter whilst praising the lone agent that helped her return home from spain; it didn’t take a genius to figure out where he had just returned from. Plus if you were right on your assumption it made sense that he was still healing not only mentally but physically. Yet since he had arrived you haven't spotted any signs that he was affected by it.

You could tell he had been through hell though from the amount of scrapes that littered his face. Though they were now faded to a light pink but it didn’t help your nerves. It never did. “What’s this then?” He asked, a thud sounding through the kitchen as he hopped off the counter walking towards the fridge. Your cheeks flushed with heat as he removed the numerous magnets that pinned the sticker covered week plan. You watched as he read it over, the piece of paper looking silly in his hands. “I made a plan for the week, things we can do but we don’t have to if you want to just watch movies or play games…” You stumbled, your words spewing out fast creating a blabbled mess. 

He turned to you with the paper crinkling in his hands before displaying a large, genuine smile at you. “Thank you, this is thoughtful and I can’t wait. Though I’m not carrying you ass up the hiking trail you have planned in 2 days”

“I can handle it, I picked a beginners route. Just don’t leave me behind now you are all macho man” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t worry” 

Once the coffee had finally brewed the two of you moved to the living room, sipping on the beverage over gossip that you had collected since he was away. Stalking facebook together looking at all the people you had once known and how their lives panned out, joking about them in subtle jealousy at their presumed success in their lives. 

You both did it for hours in fits of giggles until it led you up to now. Where pizza now sat in your laps, warming up the large blanket you both shared. The grease catching on your shirts as you both attempted to get the slices in your mouths before the toppings fell off. Being with Leon left no room for judgment; not when you had been in every stage of each other's life since high school. Witnessing every crash out, job promotions and of course the nightmares you knew still plagued him. An unspoken rule in your home that he would forget about everything in his life. The rule was created by himself to avoid talking about it. 

One of the good things about the night is that Leon’s phone remained in the bedroom, left abandoned on the bedside table for once. It's not like he had anyone to contact anyway, his most frequent texter was besides him laughing at the stupid movies with tomato sauce in the corner of her lips. As the night went on he found himself watching the way your eyes seemed to sparkle in the TV light as well as at the feeling of your toes tucking themselves under his thighs with the pizza boxes now discarded on the coffee table in front of you. Leon craved for you to be closer. To have your weight on his lap like those weight blankets everyone suggested he got. To smell the perfume that lingered in your hair as you over sprayed yourself with the scent in the day. 

He craved a normal life with you, a relationship filled with trust, love and honesty. Something he couldn’t give you; instead he settled for the knowledge that you were in the room next to his, smiling at him softly as you both retreated to bed. The promise of good dreams leaving each other's lips in a warm goodnight.

Day 2

It wasn’t a surprise to you that you would find him awake before you, his body clock had never fully fixed itself since the training days he had to endure. Whilst they crafted the most glorious figure you had the pleasure of seeing, it must be annoying to suffer with the linger effects of the early rising. At least it would be for you. However, he didn’t seem to mind not when you heard the poor overworked coffee machine doing its thing as you padded down the corridor. The noise accompanied by the smell of bacon and eggs. 

“What if breakfast in bed was one of the treats I wanted to do for you?” You spoke, watching as his frame jolted slightly at the unexpected intrusion. You felt bad watching as he tensed, the spatula he was using to flip the bacon swaying slightly with his movements. “I didn’t mean to scare you sorry” 

Leon smiled softly acknowledging your apology as he turned around, watching your form slither into one of the stools that lined the breakfast bar. “It’s fine, I’m not normally this jumpy�� He muttered, sleep still lingering in his speech, signifying to you that he wasn’t long up before you. His voice is an octave lower than normal, with a tinge of raspiness to it, the sound caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach as you tried to will the daydreams of waking up next to him away. “Bad sleep?” You asked, resting your head on your palms as you watched him. He shrugged, pouring the coffee into a mug for you, serving it with yet another tight lipped smile. “Don’t think I’ve had a good one in a few years” He muttered. 

It hurt that you knew he wasn’t lying, that he was truly plagued by all the wrong doings in his life. Things that you couldn’t even picture coming to life and hunting him down just because he wanted to do right by the world when he was a rookie. You nodded, your words silenced by a sip of the coffee. Sympathy was all you could offer him, there wasn’t much else that you could do for him that didn’t involve breaking the clear wall he had built around himself which you respected. He wanted you to be close but at arms length, your role in comfort more of a distraction for him instead of a therapist. It worked before, after raccoon city he ranted to you about everything that happened but as he grew older he knew that was a mistake now. One he wouldn’t do again, he needed you safe, he couldn’t– wouldn’t lose you.

Watching his body language carefully was a skill that had become critical in recent years. His mood showed through the way he presented himself instead of words now.

“So the aquarium today?” He asked, sliding a plate in front of you eggs and bacon displayed in a smiley face. You chuckled at the silliness of it despite everything he still manages to make you smile so in return your smile beamed at him as you looked up. “Objecting on the first day? You wound me” You joked a gasp following your words for dramatic effect. Your knife slicing through the perfectly cooked breakfast with ease; if there was one thing that leon could make, it was a really good breakfast. “No no! It's just an interesting one, I don’t think I’ve been to one in years” He defended, his body moving around the space of your home comfortably as he cleaned up after himself. “Hey, I thought one cooks and the other clean–” You objected to his activity, quickly eating the meal without choking to help him out. Only to be laughed at, his finger pointing to the clock on the wall “That rule applies to someone that didn’t sleep in and will take a while to get ready” 

“I do not!” You called back at him walking out of the room to get ready for the day. 

It didn’t take long to get ready even with Leons complaints. Leon insisted that he drove despite your protests and proclaims of his terrible driving. His jeep was comfortable at least, having his hands behind the wheel felt like he was in control for once. Your safety was his current priority whilst you sang your heart out next to him. The tickets were slightly overpriced in his opinion but then it had been a while since he had done an outing like this. “Could have bought my own seahorse with money” he mumbled under his breath as he swiped the card to pay, of course he had to treat you to this. “Maybe we can steal you one instead” You laughed. 

Leon struggled to think of a time he had been able to spend with anyone that wasn’t in a life or death situation; either on the field or by a mountain of paperwork in his opinion. He wasn’t arguing though, his pet seahorse could wait if you were going to look at him like that. He followed you like a lost puppy, your face practically glowing with excitement the closer you got. 

“Where do you want to start?” You asked him, looking at the information center attempting to memorize all the zones you could explore trying to figure out the route of the day. “Aren’t the rooms filled with the same thing?” He asked you, laughing slightly at your frown as you turned to face him. “Well yeah, but maybe there’s a certain way to view them all better?” You muttered, referring to the many other forms of information, piles of brochures in your hands as you flicked through them. Your head starts to cloud in the thoughts to ensure the day is perfect for him to look back on. 

The effort you were giving with just the route was enough to slowly melt his heart. His hand reached out for yours to tug you away from the crowd of families that were walking one way. “Let’s go away from the crowd then we can enjoy the silence together” He prompted, smiling at you softly as he tugged on your arm once again. You looked at the numerous people and then looked back at him. Your frown slowly turned into a grin again, nodding as you began to lead him. Your hand still sat snugly in his. 

There were only so many fish that Leon could honestly look at before he got bored and they all started to look the same. Maybe it was the fact he was outside trying to fit in with normal life again after so many years of living in a repeated bubble of work and you. He was trying to think of the right things to say, normal conversation topics despite having a plethora of conversation topics with you. He dissociated even though he attempted to read what you were looking at, his face offering you a fake toothy grin as you pointed at your favourite fish in the tank. 

You were so excited, buzzing with this energy that made you feel easy to be around. Yet, he could feel the lingering effect of the nightmare he faced, his eyes scanning for every exit in the room you would enter. Trying to think of the perfect path to get you out safely. 

“Hey, are you good?” You asked him finally after noticing his distracted state. Your hand landing on his bicep with a comforting squeeze and an attempt not to gawk at the firmness of it. Leon looked down at you, seeing how your face was adorned with the pity smile he's been accustomed to for years now. A frequent one that you displayed. “I’m good” He muttered, nodding his head in a bobbing motion as if that helped his case. You could see it, the truth, the hidden sadness he attempted to hide behind words displayed clear as day in the blues of his eyes. Rather than ask him to bring up what’s distracting him in such a public place you offered to change the topic. Your hand once again in his as you began to lead him away towards the next room. “I think you’ll like the next room. It’s always my favorite”

Manta rays swirled around the room in calming laps, small fish weaving in between them. The blue of the water fills the room with a calming tone. You both stood next to each other in silence, watching the fish swirl around in patterns, your hands close to touching. Close enough that if you twitched a finger it would brush against his. You admired his features in the blue light. The one harsher features now softened as the silence calmed the two of you, his eyes bright with wonder and amazement as he watched the soft swirls of the bubbles as the fish danced. For a second he looked like the hopeful kid again, dreaming of the future as he still had hope and wonder for it. “Do you like it?” You asked him. Leon smiled, a softer one than he normally adorned “I can see why it’s your favourite, it’s so pretty in here” 

The silence that surrounded the two of you was comfortable, enough for you to lean against his arm. Leon’s fingers twitched finding yours before they wrapped around your hands in a silent confirmation that you were there. 

It wasn’t until he saw the crowd filtering in through the reflection of the glass that he began to grow nervous again. The exits are no longer visible or easily accessible should things go wrong. You felt as his body jolted, his hand tightening around yours as the excited screams of children filled the room. Their hands pounding and swiping against the glass as they looked at the fish. His eyes screwed shut, his breathing slowly becoming uneven as he tried to focus on anything but the noise. The thudding sounded too familiar to the undead banging throughout the station.

It only seemed to grow louder the longer you stayed. With his eyes screwed shut he didn’t notice your face appearing in front of him, couldn’t acknowledge concern that littered all over it. Leon’s thoughts spiraled, self pity filling him quickly as he grew aware that he was fucking up again; ruining the day for you just because he could handle the noise of a few children. He felt ashamed that he couldn’t handle the crowd of people that began to surround you both. Leon’s hand was tightly holding onto yours, the grip almost crushing as you tried to calm him down. 

You called his name, he heard it in the distance, mellowed out like you were in some dystopian world. Your heart broke as you felt him flinch, his eyes shooting open in a mad panic as you placed your earphones in his ears. The music instantly filters out the other sounds allowing him to focus on slowing his breathing again. You guided his hand to your chest, breathing deeply and then holding an exhale smiling slightly as you watched his chest begin to expand in the same manner. Your smile was comforting to him as he finally looked at you. 

Leon didn’t argue when you walked him out the door, his hand gripping yours tightly like a lifeline. You could feel him squeeze it harder as his palms grew sweaty causing his grip to slip as you walked faster. The sun beamed on his skin as you both finally made it outside, bypassing the numerous knick knacks in the gift shop you had requested to view earlier. You didn’t care not when he wasn’t okay, experiencing a panic attack despite his claims that he doesn’t have them. 

You watched as he took out the headphones, passing them back to you with guilt lacing his eyes. “I’m sorry” He whispered, his eyebrows pinched displaying his emotions for once to you. He hated how his shadow loomed over you, keeping you hidden from the sunlight – preventing you from growing into the perfect person he knew you would be without him. “Don’t be” 

You said it like a fact, like it was easy to say. There wasn’t anger in your features, there wasn’t any negativity crashing against him in an angry wave like he’s faced recently. You held no expectation from him. You didn’t want him to be anything other than himself. Even if that meant he came with the burdens he carried with him. “You were enjoying your time but the kids– they sounded like–” he stuttered whilst his hands clenched at his sides, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down in shame. “Leon, you don’t have to explain with me. It’s fine. There will be plenty of other times to steal your seahorse” You joked, smiling at the chuckle he gave off. His shoulders no longer shake because of his fears but instead waves of laughter. 

“Come on, you can drive the death trap. I need the rest anyway for our hike tomorrow” You laughed, chucking the keys from your back at him. “It’s not a death trap” He sighed as he opened the door for you, smiling at the sound of laughter. “It is when you are driving” 

Day 3

Leon watched in amusement as your face slowly formed into horror as you looked at the size of the mountain you had planned to scale. The peak was barely visible even as you craned your neck at an awkward angle to see it from under the windshield. It was hard for him to not look over you as you wore the most basic yet cutest outfit to climb in, though to ignore his request at changing your footwear. Offering him a complaint about how he doesn’t trust the strength of your ankles. “Why did I pick this one?” You sighed as you both got out of the car. Despite the ending of yesterday Leon was filled with hope that today would be better. 

His sleep was still plagued with nightmares. The echoed sound of footsteps woke him up in a fright, the duvet half spilling off the side of the bed as he scrambled out of it to scan for danger. He was however met with a sleepy version of you stumbling to the bathroom clumsily and half asleep. He didn’t fall asleep after that, instead laying in bed listening for the soft close of your door and the traffic outside.  

“You picked it not me, I had no say. Not even in the shoe choice apparently” He laughed, pulling gently on your ponytail as he walked past you. Stepping onto the threshold of the nature reserve. “Yeah well these shoes have never failed me before” You sighed looking down at the trainers you decided to wear. This was definitely the better choice of activity for him, you watched him stroll next to you relaxed. It was cute that he made sure to match your pace, clearly having enough stamina to be able to run up the hill whilst you took it easy. There was no urgency to rush this, no one was chasing him up this hill. No one was screaming his name in fear as he turned his back. It was just you and him. 

He made sure you both took regular breaks, his chest heaving slightly as the heat of the sun bore down on the both of you. His hoodie was stripped a while ago now, displaying his biceps whilst the clothing item is now hanging from the side of his bag. “I think we are just over half way” He spoke, glancing at the distance you travelled and how far you had left to go. It was an attempt to comfort you, a poor one at that. “Great. Are you still stuck on the promise of not carrying me up the hill?” You asked laying back against the rock you were perched on. His laugh caused you to smile and look at him from where he was leant against the tree. “Maybe on the way down” 

You slid off your backpack, letting it land next to you on the ground with a thud. “What are you doing?” Leon asked as you stood up, stretching out your legs briefly before turning to him. “It’s a great spot for some few photos” You admitted. Your hands already tugged the backpack off his shoulders and dumped it next to yours. Leon watched as you propped the phone up against a tree, a timer set and beeping as you ran back towards him. “Quick come here and pose” You instructed, wrapping an arm around his waist holding him close with a large smile plastered on your face. 

Leon attempted one of his own, the action not really feeling natural to him at first. Until you started to take more, running back and forth with less complaints than you had previously been doing up the trail. The infamous rabbit ears came out to play, the laughter you both shared was sure to be heard from anywhere. However, at this moment it was just the two of you. 

“Here hop on” Leon said as you set up the camera for one last photo. You turned to him hunched over, bracing himself for the impact of you on his back. You smiled widely at him, eyes full of excitement as you ran and jumped on. He gasped as he stumbled, his own belly laugh spilling out as caught himself. The photo was his favourite, you tell as he instantly begged you to send it to him despite leaving his phone at home still. It had never left its spot on the bedside table. “Come on, the next photoshoot location is at the top” He teased, sliding the backpack on his shoulders one more. He chuckled at your unenthusiastic groan, your feet scraping along the ground as you walked back to your bag. 

You smiled to yourself as Leon helped situated the pack properly on your back. Ensuring it was the right height and tightness to avoid any aches later on. His hands brushed against your sides causing you to shiver, your face flushed as you looked forward to being met with his chest previously unaware of how close you actually were to each other. “Uh– all good?” You croaked out, chuckling nervously as you watched his eyes roam your figure once more to ensure you were all good. He didn't do this back at the start, in fact he had sighed and complained as you spent a while adjusting the pack. Even going as far as to make a comment about you being a nagging mother when you pestered him about his. “Looks good to me yeah” he spoke quietly, smiling softly with a small pink tinge on his cheeks. Leon coughed once, stepping back on his heels before spinning dramatically to continue forward. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday, I should have been more considerate of the crowds” you spoke after a while, the top was closer now, your words breaking the comfortable silence you were both in. Leon didn't respond at first, his gaze landing on the scenery over the edge of the trail, following the vast shades of green as they plagued the valley. He was unsure on how to answer. It was touching that you were of such a pure heart to feel the need to apologize over something that wasn't your fault. He had every chance to change the activity, to offer something else as his first day diving into the real world again. “You don't have to be sorry,” he said, turning to look at you. He watched your feature twist into uncertainty, your mind clearly in a battle with yourself and guilt over the panic attack he experienced. 

“You've been through a lot with no real break, I should have thought about that. You just got back from that mission – warned by the government to take it easy. I ignored it in favor of a few memories” 

“Thinking about the manta rays and the silence yesterday comforted me last night” Leon stated bluntly. He wasn't lying, when laying awake in an attempt to fall back asleep he found himself thinking about the blue that surrounded them, the small moment of calmness he experienced as he watched the swirls of everything– as he watched you. He can still picture the cute smile you wore as you stared in wonder at all of it as you looked at the beauty in everything. The same way you looked at him in the carpark and when you said goodnight later on in the evening. You still had hope and wonder in the world, you weren't plagued by the horrors he has seen, by the corruption he's witnessed destroy an entire city. It was a reminder why he endured everything, why he kept going for you– it was always for you. 

“What do you mean?” You asked him, your shoes scuffing on the dirt beneath them as you paused watching his frame walk away until he noticed you stopped. “The nightmares are worse than before– because of my last mission but I thought of yesterday last night– it helped” 

“Nightmares? You can wake me Leon, I don't mind…I can sit with you or something” 

“I know but even I know you need your beauty sleep” he laughed. You rolled your eyes scoffing slightly at his comment. “Whatever” you whispered, shoving him slightly as you walked past. Not that it did anything but move his arm slightly, the mountain of muscle he had sculpted around his heart was a hard wall to defeat. “I’ll race you to the top” he teases, rushing past you in a light job. His blond hair bouncing with his movement, the smile that graced his features growing wider by the second. “Oh yeah because that's a fair challenge” you sighed as you chased after him. Not a care in the world as you both passed the public who began their descent. Your later start to the hike meant that as you reached the top you would be blessed with the setting sun, the hues of oranges and reds decorating the sky like a painting. 

It was a beautiful sight to behold as you finally breached the last climb. The clouds surround you in small wisps of white, not quite thick enough to prevent you from seeing the woodlands and valley. Leon smiled at you, a large toothy grin that he would have presented you with years ago. He finally felt free, like he was on top of everything by his own choice. Not told to scale a mountain to save a girl, there was no Bio weapon for him to fight at the top. It was just you and him. “No need to look so smug” you groaned when you finally reached the top, your lungs burning as you forced air into them. Leon snickered at your comment, his arms outstretched on top of his head as he caught his breath. You watched as his chest expanded with the movement, practically waving it in your face again causing your cheeks to flush and look away. 

You slumped on a rock next to him, leaning your head against his knee as you stared out over the clouds. His hand landed on your head, playing with the soft strands of your hair slightly. “That can’t be comfy,” Leon teased as he moved your head away slightly to sit down. Once you were both shoulder to shoulder – the awkwardness you once shared about his proximity now faded, he allowed your head to rest against his shoulder. Silence enveloped you once more but the lingering thoughts and unspoken words suffocated the two of you. Unable to navigate the landmines of your feelings that were beginning to pop up. 

You never really spent much time together anymore, his schedule always too busy for you. Your feelings were taken with him whenever he left you, yet everytime without fail he brought them back. It always felt like they grew when he did come home. That seeing his hardened features change every time he stood behind your door reminded you for how long you wanted it – waited for the chance to speak about it. Maybe in another universe he would never have slurred those drunken ideals about his relationship, never spilled the secrets of his brain that left you broken. You hope for a future with him briefly snuffed out. 

“What do you think life has in store for us?” You asked him, looking up at his face from where you were still resting on his shoulder. Leon again couldn’t answer you at first, his own desires in life either forgotten or abandoned over his choices no longer feeling like his own. This week was the first in 6 years that he was actually able to decide who to go to, where to hang out. Even if it was just as simple as this. Staring at the setting sun with his favourite person. “I’m not sure. Something good I hope” He replied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders tugged you closer to him. Shielding you from the cold that crept in the shadows as the sun disappeared over the horizon. 

“Do you think we will always be a part of each other's future?” You mumbled. “Always”

You had half a brain to not ask in what way. To not admit the feelings you have been craving to admit. You didn’t want to ruin the day with the inevitable rejection he would give. Instead you stood up holding your hand out to him to offer what strength you have to pull him up – like you always did. “Did you bring a hoodie?” Leon asked as he took off his pack to put his own on. “No I didn’t think it would be this cold” You admitted, jumping on the spot slightly to warm up your joints. “Here” 

His hoodie laid outstretched to you in his grip with a reassuring smile on his features. “Won’t you get a cold?” You asked him, sliding the fabric over your frame. It was an effort to not inhale the lingering scent of him. “The cold doesn’t bother me as much anymore, not after the last mission. I lost my favorite leather jacket right at the start” He mourned playfully. The two of you walked next to each other once more, your hands occasionally brushing against his. “The brown leather one? With the fur” 

“That’s the one” 

You sighed dramatically, pretending you weep over its loss with a smile. “That was the best one you owned,” You said. Leon nodded, chuckling at your reaction. “Well then I guess I gotta go shopping again. Good job I have my stylist here” He joked, nudging your shoulder. “It's a good job that we have a shopping day tomorrow” 

The car ride back was silent, the two of you too worn out to create any kind of conversation. His rock Cd’s filtered through the car lulling you to sleep briefly. Leon occasionally glanced at your form from where it was pressed against the window, your nose buried in the collar of his hoodie. You looked so soft – so tempting to claim and take for himself. His one good thing in this world. 

Day 4 

He was surprised to find that you were awake before him, the muffled yells of frustration catching his attention. Instead as the daylight cracked through the curtains he found no real rush to go and see what was happening, trusting that you were okay. Assuming that if something was really wrong you would have come and woken him up. Leon chose to take a brief moment to just lay there, listening to you fight with what he presumed was the Coffee machine and the low hum of the music you were playing. For the first time in four days he reached for his phone, ignoring the emails he had gotten from the reports he presented them with. Ignoring the texts from the few– one– coworker that cared about him. 

Leon was going to shop for a coffee machine, have it delivered by the end of the week for you so you wouldn’t have to fight with this one anymore. He knew you would argue if he asked you about it so he was going to do it on his own accord, getting ready to open the browser. He didn’t get that far though, not when your spam of messages caught his attention. It was all the photos you had taken yesterday. Leon smiled at the sight of the joy on your faces, smiling like you were both teenagers again. His favourite by far was the impromptu one with you on his back, your hair whipping around in a blur looking up at him with a smile whilst his beamed back. Neither of you were looking at the camera, you were only looking at each other. The coffee machine shopping was long forgotten about as he set the picture as his home and lockscreen before throwing the covers off to find you. 

“Morning” You chimed to him, a smile plastered on your face already as he walked through the door. The warmth that radiated off you was always amazing to him.  “Morning” He grumbled back, sliding into the breakfast bar like you did with him a few days ago. Unlike you though Leon didn’t wear the cute pink apron or have flour on every surface. “What on earth–” he questioned as he looked at the white footprints that started to blend together as you continued to move around the kitchen. “I tried to make pancake batter but the flour bag was stubborn, so it went everywhere” You snickered looking down at the mess you had made everywhere. “Seems I’m not as good at making breakfast as you are” 

Leon laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his head tilted back slightly. His own actions shocked him, it had been years since he laughed like this. “Well at least we both agree on something” He teased, looking down at the plate you slid across to him. Heart shaped pancakes topped with some chocolate chips and strawberry sauce. It was just so effortless for you. “Cute” 

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting from him at the sight of the pancakes, hoping for anything but a negative one but his one word answer still made you giggle. The heat doing an olympic sprint to your face again as you watched him groan at the flavour, devouring them like you had starved him for the past few days. “I feel like the heart made me feel all the extra love” He admitted, looking up at you with his goofy smile. It was refreshing to see him relaxed now; even if it took you 4 days to reach this point. “If you count the mess I made and the screaming at the coffee machine for it to do its job then sure” You laughed, your body relaxing now he seemed to enjoy the food and the company. 

The idle chatter that filled the rest of the morning was perfect, making you both feel like there wasn’t anything wrong. No hidden feelings, no hidden secrets about the world's corruption – no it was just you and him. In the small apartment that felt like home. 

Leon sat on the bed once more, looking down at the small device in his hands going over the emails he had ignored. Replying to Hunnigan’s text chain of concern with a thumbs up emoji to at least let her know he was still alive. He knew there would be questions of where he ended up and how he chose to spend his time off. Your safety was too important for them to know you exist, their curiosity would put you in danger, even more so that the heartbroken and scared 21 year old self told you the events of that night. 

A knock at his door drew his attention away from his phone, he looked up to find you in the cutest dress, one of his older jackets draped over your frame. You were his perfect girl, proudly standing in front of him like a cute angel– a sweet for him to take. Yet, he didn't; instead he smiled and nodded at your pleas for him to hurry up, a light blush coating his cheeks as you checked him over in an attempt to be subtle, forgetting how perspective he was now. 

All Leon needed to do was reach out and grab your hand for you both to look like the perfect couple. Your arm brushed against his often, your proximity only growing closer as you both entered the busy mall. “You good?” You asked him quietly, your eyes shining with concern as you glanced at him. At first he was confused as to why you were even asking him until he looked up and remembered the crowds. The chatter of salesmen trying to get them to come over, the families running around trying to get every toy store was almost too much for him. Then you held his hand, gripped it with a gentle squeeze like it was natural for you to do so. Leon didn’t let go– not when you dragged him gently to follow you, guiding him through the crowds to the stores you wanted. Just like he would guide you through them if it turned bad. 

But it wouldn’t go bad, this was just a normal day and you were just being kind. He let you guide him into a small jewellery store, watching as you looked over the glass cages pointing at a few of the smaller pieces to try on. You presented him with your wrist, a simple silver bracelet decorated in small vines balanced around it. He helped you put it on, his rough fingertips from all the fighting brushing against your soft skin. If he pressed slightly harder he would feel your pulse, part of him wanted to know if it was going as quickly as his. If you were as nervous as he was as he fumbled with the tiny clasp. He was hyper aware of your attention, your soft delicate smile as you looked at him. 

He found his thoughts drifting to wonder what the rest of your skin would feel like under his touch. If your breath would falter when his lips grazed it in soft kisses. He yearned to see you, all of you – laid bare for him to admire and take. To be selfish to the world and keep you as the treasure you are.

Leon’s eyes softened as you admired the silver bangle, watching it as it glinted in the bright lights of the store. Something so simple pleased you, just like every magnet he gave you or the small amount of time you both got to spend together. 

“You guys are such a cute couple” 

The comment made him freeze, his hands nervously clenching at his sides as his eyes displayed his panic. Was he being that obvious? Could you see his feelings? Instead you ignored her comment, offering the salesman a smile and an awkward chuckle. He felt himself dissociate as he watched you buy the bracelet, the item still wrapped around your wrist. He couldn’t help the yearning pull he felt towards you, the way his hand itched to hold yours again, to feel the weight and warmth of it like it belonged there. 

You grinned at him, holding your hand out for him to take once more as you left as if you knew his nerves disappeared when you were close. 

“Do you have a store you want to go to?” You asked him as you both sat down a few hours later. Pools of shopping bags littered the area underneath your feet as you both waited for the burger you just ordered to arrive. Leon’s head was turned, looking out the window at all the people passing by before it turned again to look at all the people in the restaurant. Your soft smile made his heart falter again when he finally looked at you. “No– I’m all good,” He stuttered nervously. Leon could feel your knee against his, confused as to why he was suddenly hyper aware of your touch. 

“Are you sure? I feel like we have only looked at the stuff I wanted to” You spoke again, nudging his knee again as his attention drifted away. Leon smiled softly, nodding with his hair falling over his eyes briefly. “I’m sure, I have everything I need” 

Your eyes scanned over him, peering into the cracks that were slowly revealing themselves whenever he knew it or not. “Okay well once we have eaten we can leave, I know you wanted to watch that movie” You said. Leon hummed in agreement, already eyeing up the food that was now being placed in front of you both, trying to desperately think about anything else that wasn’t you. 

Day 5 

It seems to be a pattern now that he has one day free from nightmares and one that will plague him. Leave him defensive against the visions and blur of all the things that have happened to him. Ada, The station, Ashley, Krasuer, Luis…all plaguing the concerns of his dreams as a shout of his name – a taunting reminder that despite all the effort he put to make sure people are safe he failed. Time and time again. Except with you. 

Tonight, he watched them get you; take you away from him as punishment for spilling his secrets. The ones he swore to never tell. He watched them hurt you and Sherry, the only two people he still had a promise to keep safe, one that surpassed his own duties. He heard your screams, your yells for him to come and help you. The corridor he ran down was familiar, the marble flooring splashing with blood as the thunder crackled around you both. He had been here before you hadn’t. It felt like the corridor kept getting longer, his feet not fast enough to help you. Your name was a war cry from his lips, his throat hoarse and dry the more he screamed it. He pleaded with whatever curel god had bestowed this upon him to stop. Your cries were devastating, pleading and begging for him to get there faster – not saying anything else except his name. 

You had heard his yell, the harshness and fear of it causing you to jolt out of sleep. You didn’t even bother to wait to see if it stopped, not with how raw and painful it was. Instead you sprinted, the door crashing against the wall loudly probably not helping whatever nightmare he was stuck in. You found him sitting up shaking with his head in his hands. Leon flinched at the sound of your footsteps, flinched again as the thunder crashed throughout the room. “Leon?” You spoke firmly once you hit the edge of the bed.

It broke you to see his curled form, the shoulders that heaved with every sob. Your hand landed on his arm, soothing a path to his shoulder as you began to bring him into a hug. It didn’t matter you could feel his shirt damp with sweat or his tears falling onto your own as he crushed you. “Are you okay?” he whimpered, his red rimmed eyes looking you over scanning you for the blood he saw in his dreams. For the bites that littered your skin, the slashes from numerous other horrid creatures he experienced. “I’m okay” 

You smiled softly at him, holding him gently against you as his breathing evened out. He was meant to protect you, meant to keep you safe – even in his dreams he failed. 

“Leon look, I’m fine” You said, cupping his face gently to lift his head. Your smile was cute and touching, a breath of fresh air for him. He nodded, unable to find the words to say as his grip remained tight. In perhaps a poor lapse of judgment you leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you in years. It felt right and natural the way his lips crashed against yours – whilst they remained unmoving at first you felt his grip tighten on you. Holding you impossibly closer to him. Leon didn’t let you pull away once he was out of his trance, his brain working quickly to make up for the lack of reaction in a hungry and messy kiss. 

His actions spoke louder than words as he softened, whimpered at the taste of you as he gained access inside. His trust was being placed in you as you crawled into his lap; your fingers entwining in the soft strands of hair that fell on the nap of his neck. It was hard not to notice the growing bulge that was between the two of you as it began to throb and twitch beneath you. Leon’s hands fell to your hips gripping them tightly as you subconsciously began to rock against him. He damn near purred at the petting, at the long strokes you gave him lovingly like he was a feral cat. 

Perhaps he was this untamable creature that lived through his own desire to live during missions – was now purring in the lap of his long lost owner. The one that has always had his heart. The woman in red that seemed to be a recurring character in his life now forgotten about as his tongue swirled with yours in a desperate fight of dominance. To feel this, to feel you grinding against him like no tomorrow he would happily submit as long as you never stopped. The pleasure causing his dream to fade away, forgotten about as you made your presence known to him. 

He didn't think that all this was a distraction for him to get lulled back to sleep. Maybe you weren’t as hungry for him as he was for you, maybe you were crossing a line that you didn’t know about. His attachment and claim only grew stronger as he kissed down your neck, biting the flesh softly then licking the marks to soothe the pain he caused. “Leon–” You whimpered, your head thrown back allowing him more skin to taste– to explore. 

He laid you down beneath him, his erections pointed prominently at you as he kissed your lips again. The mixed saliva becomes an irresistible gloss coating your lips. Your eyes were wild as they looked up at him holding a different story to the smile your lips presented him with. “What are we doing here?” He whispered, his leg now inbetween yours. He could feel the heat of your cunt against the thin fabric of his sweats. “Whatever you want” You responded, leaving the balls in his court. After all you would have caved years ago all to feel the burn of his love as he thrusts inside you. “I want you–” 

Fuck – your grin was tempting, he could feel all his restraint leave as your hips ground on his thigh. Breathless whimpers turning into deep moans as pleasure coursed through you, as you used him for your own pleasure. The sight was beautiful, in some weird poetic way it made him feel useful in a way that wasn’t for destruction or to fix other people's mistakes. His will for control slipping if you were going to use him like this, beg for a release only he could give you. So he clenched his thigh, the hard muscle adding pressure to the movements, your face however contorting in something that looked like frustration despite the pressure that was slowly building with the coil inside you tightening. 

“What's wrong Angel?” he whispered against the shell of your ear. The warmth of it causes goosebumps to rise along your skin. “Let me help you” 

“Too many clothes– Leon I can’t– I want” 

He silenced you with a kiss, biting the lip softly whilst his hands fiddled with the hemline of your top; only breaking the kiss as he removed the fabric. He was thankful for the nightmare at this point, he didn’t have to fiddle with the clasp of a bra since you don’t sleep with one. Your tits now laid bare for him to play and worship. His tongue circled the bud tightly, flicking it every so often whilst he smiled at the hitch of your breath. The low stimulation was driving you insane, your fingers lacing in the blonde strands tugging him close to you, practically feeding your breast to his eager and awaiting mouth. 

Leon greedily sucked and licked against your tits, playing with the other one in soft gentle squeezes whilst smirking at the way you heaved them further into him. Your hips continued their grind, your cunt begging for attention as you dry humped his leg like a horny dog. His cock now painfully hard as he thought about your waiting warmth, thoughts running over the idea of finally sinking himself in you. You whined as he pulled away, the stimulation fading fast as he retreated on his haunches. “How did I deserve you?” He praised, his eyes racking over your form, his hands once again hesitant to touch your skin as the fear and guilt of his past crept in. Unable to let him go for just a second to allow him to take a good thing, to have something he sorely needed. To have you in the way he needed. A partner. A home. 

As his person. 

“Because you are good and you do good” You spoke softly, holding his hand gently as you looked up at him. “I don’t-” 

“You do” 

In his hesitation you took over, your fingers dancing along the blond happy trail that disappeared underneath the hem of his sweats. His cock already leaking large amounts of pre cum eagerly for you to play with. You watched his cock spring out of his boxers and sweats as you exposed it in one go, the tip already blushing under your gaze. Your fingers traced his balls, following the puffy vein that ran along the underside of him before curving to the mushroomed tip. Even his cock was pretty. 

Leon’s gaze fell on the bracelet you bought yesterday as it bounced along your wrist. The slow pump of his cock growing faster as his fluids loosened your movements. His body swayed with the coursing pleasure, his hands falling to your shoulders to steady himself against your fast pumps. His whines were the perfect tune, breathless and deep against the shell of your ear as he leaned over, struggling against your on-slaught of pleasure. You watched as he began to spill more pre-cum over your hands, the translucent substance looking pretty against your skin. He deserved this, all the pleasure you were willingly giving him. “Fuck- angel I’m too close…stop – please” He begged, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock. 

Leon pushed you back, making quick work to display your cunt to him in all its glistening glory. It was tempting to taste, to devour like his last meal but perhaps another time. He groaned as he felt your arousal. The slick coating his fingers as he explored your folds, briefly swirling his thumb against your puffy clit that was begging for attention. He worked his way around your body, made sure to learn every sound that left your lips and how to make them again. Leon sunk himself inside you, the stretch of his girth painful for a second before you got distracted by him latching on your tits again. 

His finger tweaked the other nipple as he began to thrust, sucking against your breast greedily once more. The thunder was forgotten about as it continued to crash throughout the night, as was the rest of the nightmare as he lost himself in you. Holding onto the task of giving you pleasure in a desperate attempt to ground himself. You moaned at every drag of his cock, feeling him pull out to the tip before slamming back inside. The raw feeling of your bodies connecting caused you to pull him close. 

Leons hand lifted your leg above his hip, allowing him to grind deeper inside you. His balls tightened as his speed increased, mind filled with nothing but cumming inside you. To let you feel his love as deep as he could get it. You tried to tug his head back to your breast as he moved away but he rejected the offer and he now placed his hands on the back of your thighs as he pressed them down into you. You gasped at his depth, as the brush of his cock head against your cervix. His heavy balls slapped against your ass as he worked harder for your orgasm.

He watched your silent cry, he felt your walls clench around him, the gush of your orgasm as it leaked out. With a fiery desire he finally drove himself to a finish, his cock filling your gushing cunt with him, his love in the most physical form he could. 

Your legs ached as he released them, lowering them to sit around his waist as his cock still sat snuggly inside you. There wasn’t a need for words, for admissions of love and feelings as you both crossed the barriers of friends. Instead Leon kissed you, a simple but firm press. No longer fueled by the hungry desire of the connection with you. You felt him move to lay next to you, his head resting against your shoulder as you held onto him. He needed this, needed the safety of you underneath him as he protected you in sleep. The monsters in his haunted dreams would have to get him before they got you. 

The idea didn’t seem so scary anymore, not when your fingers lightly scraped against his scalp, nails scratching just enough it eased the tension in his brows. Leon’s cock was still nestled inside you softening as you laid together, not wanting to lose the connection you were both currently holding together. It wasn’t long until you felt his soft snores against your chest, his muscles losing their tension as he slipped into a deep sleep. A good one for once. 

He wasn’t there when morning came, his cum now dried against the skin of your thighs. You couldn’t hear the broken coffee machine willing itself to life anymore, you couldn’t smell the breakfast he would have treated you to. No, the house was silent, empty without him. The only sign of him being there was his phone on the table and the wrinkles in the sheets besides you. As you entered the bathroom you saw the lingering sign of him being here, a swipe against the condensation of the mirror, toothpaste dried on the sink. 

Why did everything feel empty all of a sudden? His disappearance reminds you that this was the last full day with him, your rule now broken as you dumped a decision of feelings on him. Guilt ate away at you, the sounds of his panicked screams from his nightmare still haunting you whilst you chose to jump at the opportunity to distract him in a physical form of admitting your feelings. You just didn’t want him to feel like you were using him in his vulnerable state. The shower stream was hot as it pelted your back, you watched the water run down your body washing away everything, washing away him. Maybe he was just running an errand for you, ran out of eggs or something. He will come back, he left things here, he won't leave you. Not yet. 

You felt numb as you waited, your mind filled with the feeling of him, of his mouth exploring your body. Of his silent demands of devotion he was making to you with every thrust he made. You ached for him more than before, it was cruel to wake up empty when he made you feel so full. 

It was hours until he returned, his car pulling back in the drive with the crunch of the gravel. Leon could get used to the feeling of you colliding with him everytime he returned, your body fitting against his perfectly as you hugged him. “Where did you go?” You asked, pulling away to look up at him. The coffee machine was heavy as he moved it out of the way, awkwardly stretching to place it on the table next to you both. “To get some presents and plan the last day…I lost the itinerary” He chuckled. You followed his gaze to the new machine, the box in perfect condition. “You didn’t have to–” 

“Trust me, I did. I was going to cry if I had to hear the other attempt to make coffee again. You deserve it for being so good to me. Even when–” 

“It’s okay, thank you leon” You cut him off, placing a peck on his lips – only for him to pull you closer, deepening the simple peck into something more. “What’s my surprise?” You asked, laying your head against his chest to hear his fluttering heart. Leon never replied, only instructed you to find some shoes and pulled you out to the car. 

The car ride was silent, his hand switching from the gear stick to your thigh, no longer shy with his touches as he thought about last night. Hoping to verbally claim you like he had done physically last night. It was by luck you didn’t glance back into the boot of the car. Blankets and pillows laid on it for when you both arrived at the view point. The orange hues now pale as they started to creep in with dawn approaching quickly. Part of him felt guilty for leaving you alone like that, the bed cold and empty beside you after you had spent a night helping him not feel alone anymore. He laughed at the confusion on your face as he reversed into the space. “Come on” 

You followed him out of the car and to the boot, he opened it to display the set up he had been working on. Perfect for sunset watching. “Who knew you were the romantic kind?” You teased, holding his hand as you turned to him. “Do you like it? I’m sorry I left you today, I wanted it to be a surprise…I wanted to make up for everything” He admitted. You both climbed in the boot, your back resting against his chest as he held onto you tightly. These were the moments you dreamed of with the first jeep. Wishing he would drive you to places like this when he would return from the city. 

“I used to dream of this, us together” You said, glancing up at him. The sun brightened his features, his eyes gaining the shine they once lost with newfound hope for his own future. The fears he once had still lingered yet they weren’t worth losing this. The connection and warmth he gained with you in his arms. For years he found himself yearning for you, for this. Wondering what the picket fence dream would look like if he finally gained it with you. It was his time to gain something, someone. Someone to love and hold, protect from everything he did.

“Me too, I was just too stupid to jump for it” 

“I wouldn’t say stupid, maybe you just needed to fall a little and trust I could catch you” 

“You did” 

Somehow the worry of him leaving tomorrow didn’t matter anymore. Not when he was tied to your soul and heath, with promising touches and lingering kisses he had left behind to keep you longing for more. To keep you excited for more. 

“I think I’ve always loved you like this, Leon” You admitted. Leon smiled against the crown of your head, holding you close to him as he admitted back, “I think I always will love you like this angel” 

[transboyswitchytales]

I Miss You

REQUEST FROM : 🦊

Agatha Mommy X Reader Baby X Rio Daddy

'5. reader isn't at the house when ags and rio comes back from the grocery store. they *panic* like fully, "WHERE IS OUR BABY!?", and then calls the coven and alice said that she last saw us with billy four hours ago (rio and ags were gone the whole day before they came home) and now billy won't answer his phone.' 🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊🦊

Hurt - Comfort / bit of smut at the end / Mommy Kink / Daddy Kink / Mentions of Weed / PSA Don't drive stoned / Presents / Polyamory/ MDNI 18+

Rio was groaning. Agatha had the grocery cart FULL. They’d been to their third grocery store. The two of them had been running errands all day. And Rio missed their baby. Obviously, Aggie did too, because she kept pulling her phone out looking for a text, that never came. 

You usually were pulled on these trips with your wives. But not today, today you had plans with Lilia. Which didn’t make Rio and Agatha jealous, no, of course not. They understood, sorta, that you had a life outside of them, sort of…

But normally Rio would make you sit in the cart and she’d push you, standing on the cart herself, and you’d go flying down the aisle. Agatha would shout for you both to stop. 

Rio missed you, she wanted her little troublemaker back with Daddy. 

Usually by this time you’d both eaten all of the samples in the grocery store. You’d blasted fun music while in the car, waiting for Agatha to pick up her nice clothes from the cleaners. Honking at her to hurry up and then catcalling her out the window, telling her how sexy she was, obnoxiously. While Agatha cackled and joined in. 

Agatha would place you in her lap while they went through the car wash.

You’d even be adorably romantic and share an AirPod while walking around. You’d put your left earbud in Rio’s ear. And the two of you would listen to cringey disco or even a smutty romantic book. This drove Agatha crazy, and Rio knew it was jealousy. So the two of them would trade off listening to whatever you picked. 

You and Rio would dance in the aisles, and Agatha would pretend it didn’t make her smile but she would take forever reading the nutritional facts on the back of snacks before deciding if it was ‘baby snack worthy.’

But it was four pm on a Satruday full of boring ass errands. Mortal families walking around unaware of how gorgeous Rio’s life was. How much fun her family was. 

And something was very clear that neither Agatha nor Rio needed reminding. 

Life was entirely too boring without you. 

It lacked flavor and color. You brought depth and vibrancy to everything you touched. And the two were living in a black and white version of a day. It sucked. 

Rio and Agatha loved each other, they even loved quiet moments where you did your thing silently next to them and the two of them could talk. Their was peace in three’s. You were easy to be around, fun to joke with, and delicious to turn on. Rio just loved how you’d blush and your ears would turn dark red. 

You had a dirty sense of humor like hers. And Agatha adored every single move you made. Aggie was lighter with you than she’d ever been before. Rio fell deeper in love with you both every day. 

But the longer the three of you were together, the harder it was…to not be a thruple. Three had become such an important number. Three toothbrushes, three dirty tea cups, three sets of reading glasses.

And when it wasn’t three…well. 

If Agatha was helping Wanda, Rio saw how much their baby missed her. If Rio was even out planting new veggies in the garden. She noticed that Agatha and you would sneak over to the patio and lie in the sun. You’d both read and cuddle and watch Rio as she bent over just right. 

But everyday activities were a must in threes now. They were witches for fuck sake, three was a sacred number. 

“Rio,” Agatha says, and she whips her head around. 

“My love?” Rio said back. 

“Would you be terribly upset if we didn’t go to the next store?” Agatha asked, knowing the answer before she even brought it up. 

“You miss her, too, huh?” Rio asked, calling her wife out. 

“Like a phantom limb, it hurts Papi,” Agatha answered, and the two smiled warmly at each other. Agatha moved forward and kissed Rio softly in the middle of the Trader Joe's. 

The two knew you would be back in ten minutes, you’d told them. You and Lilia had a day planned, but you wouldn’t be later than 3:30, which meant 4:10. 

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Rio whispered and kissed her once more.

Agatha texted the group chat with their ETA and a purple heart.  

________________

Agatha and Rio got home in record time, and Rio balanced groceries against her tank top-covered chest while Agatha had four plastic bags in between her fingers on each hand. Rio’s keys were forced into the lock, and the door opened. 

“Bunny, we’re home!” Agatha called out, and the two wives moved into the kitchen and listened for the pitter-patter of your feet coming downstairs to help with carrying stuff in. To give kisses and regale with fun stories of the day. 

Rio and Agatha set the stuff down and listened. 

Nothing. 

Eerily quiet in fact. 

Rio pulled out her phone and called you,but your phone went straight to voicemail. Ok, not normal. 

“I’ll call Lilia.” Agatha shrugged like her body hadn’t already gone into red flags and utter distress. 

Rio pretended to, she nodded and mirrored the same shrug. Before walking outside and taking a deep breath. She’d know if you were in trouble, right? Rio opened her iPhone and checked for texts, but once again, nothing. She’d sent you a GIF of a raccoon eating an ice cream cone two hours ago, and it was seen. Rio sighed and grabbed more groceries. 

Agatha and Rio didn’t have much to distract them once they’d finished talking to Lilia and brought the dry cleaning and food in. Rio put everything away, and Agatha called Alice now. Lilia had told them you’d been gone around 3:10. 

Now that wasn’t normal. Lilia said you’d left in good spirits, saying you’d missed Mommy and Daddy. 

Lilia said you were fine, driving home after a fun day. 

There was no reason for them to be this panicked. But Rio’s palms were sweaty and she was grinding her teeth. She’d pulled up ‘Find a Friend.’ Like a mad woman and your picture was grey, it wasn’t tracking your iphone anymore. That was insane. You three never turned it off. So why wasn’t it tracking you?

Agatha was pacing the length of the house and she kept brushing her fingers through her hair and pulling the ends. Rio had no words to comfort her wife, she didn’t understand where you were. And until you were home, neither would settle. 

“Alice, is my wife with you?” Agatha asked and Rio listened as close as she could for the answer. Agatha turned to look at her and shook her head. 

“Wait….Billy? What time?” Agatha said and Rio jumped up and grabbed the car keys out of the bowl. Agatha walking after her as the two locked the house and drove off towards Billy’s apartment. 

He’d just gotten a little place outside of the city. Wanda was freaked out by this fact. You’d convinced her into letting Billy experience being a young twenty year old in the nightlife. 

Agatha now hated the fact that you’d done that.

She’d called Billy over twenty times. Not even a ‘call you in a minute’ text. Not a gif of the wicked witch like he usually sent. Nothing, nada, zilch, this was getting ridiculous.  

Rio drove quickly down backways and cut across lanes like a crazy person. Until she pulled into a lane that said ‘no parking anytime.’ Rio didn’t give a fuck, she cut the engine pulling out her phone and seeing if your phone was back online. 

The two got out of the dark green Jeep Rubicon, slammed the door extra hard like it was the cars fault that you were missing. 

Rio locked the doors and the two of them ran up Billy’s apartment stairs. Taking two stairs at a time until they got to the fifth level where he was. Rio didn’’t have patience on a good day, especially not on a day where her baby was MIA. 

So her fists slammed over and over again against the apartment door. The whole building seemed to shudder under her strong, forceful weight. 

Agatha dialed for Billy again and pulled it to her ear. 

“BILLY GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!” Rio screamed not giving a damn about his neighbors. She continued to slam on the door over and over again. 

“BILLY FUCK WAD GET OUT HERE! IF YOU DON’T GET OUT HERE I’LL SHOW YOUR MOM YOUR VINTAGE PORN COLLECTION!” Rio screamed and the door flew open. 

Bily was holding a towel around his hips. His eyeliner was running down his face and his dark curls were dripping wet. He’d been in the shower obviously. 

“Rio, stop shouting that, I have to look my neighbors in the eye. What the fuck-” Rio pushed past his barechest and into the apartment. When she didn’t see you, she ran into the bedroom. 

Eddie quickly grabbed a pillow to cover his junk. But Rio wasn’t looking at him. 

Agatha pulled her phone out again and called you. 

“Agatha, what the hell! Why is your wife going feral?” Billy asked, and when he looked at Agatha, he realized she’d never looked more pale.

“When did you last see Bunny?” Agatha asked, and Billy understood immediately. 

“Oh shit, I thought she was going straight home? She came over and helped me build a shelf. We went swimming in the apartment pool. Then Eddie brought over weed. But she only smoked a li-”

“She smoked weed and then drove? Billy, why didn’t you call me? YOU LET HER DRIVE!?” Agatha snapped, and Billy grimaced. 

“She told me she wasn’t even high! I-” 

Rio came back holding your sweatshirt. Agatha spotted it and ground her teeth together. 

“Was it a bong, a joint, an edible? Fucking talk Teenager!” Rio snapped even though he wasn’t a teen anymore. Billy looked scared, and Rio didn’t think it was unwarranted, if something had happened to you. She’d be coming back for him. 

“It was a joint, not a big one! We were on the computer for hours!” Eddie yelled from the other room. 

Agatha rubbed her temples like she was going to burn Billy’s apartment down if either boy said another word. 

“She’s a fucking lightweight.” Rio snarled at Billy, who flinched in fear. 

“Rio....WHERE THE FUCK IS OUR BABY!?” Agatha shouted, and Rio focused her powers. She sniffed the sweatshirt and closed her eyes. Her face changed, and the skeleton facade moved over her. Billy jumped back in fear, but Agatha opened the door and the two of them left the apartment. 

__________________

Rio used her powers as Death to track you down. She’d not tracked someone like a bloodhound in centuries. 

She’d never had to do this for her wives, because they were usually right in front of her. 

What was most shocking is that Rio found you quickly in the most obvious place. 

You were at home. 

Rio and Agatha drove through every red light, and Rio used her powers to avoid collisions. 

When they got home. The two of your wives blew the door open, and you yelped, falling to the floor of the living room. 

Agatha’s fingers were glowing purple, and her eyes were glazed over. Rio had her dagger out and skull mask on. They were ready to kill whoever had hurt you.

You, however, were freshly showered, in Rio’s sweat pants and Agatha’s tank top, and wrapping a present in the comfort of your home. 

“GUYS WHAT THE FUCK!” You yell, seeing them ready to fight, and the door is completely unfixable. 

“Bunny?” Agatha said, confused, and the two of them dropped their magic. Rio put her knife down and dropped to the floor, grabbing your arms. 

“Mommy, Daddy, what’s wrong?” 

“Mi amor where the fuck were you! You drove home after smoking weed! Not okay, baby girl! You could have gotten hurt! You know better than that! Why is your phone off?” Rio spat. She was so scared, she was vibrating. Agatha rounded you both and came behind you on the floor and pulled you into her lap as Rio let her hands go up and down your arms. Like she was convincing herself you were unharmed.

You quickly explained seeing them freaking out around you. 

“It’s errand day, I thought you guys would take longer. And my phone died, I’m sorry. Besides, I took one hit of Eddie's gross skunk weed and coughed. Kids these days don’t know good shit. I didn’t get high at all. I’m used to Daddy’s home-grown good cush.” You laugh, and Rio’s lip turns up just a tad at the compliment. Agatha is rocking you and kissing your hair. You feel her heart pounding so fast behind you. 

“Never drive after weed- you know that,” Agatha says against your back. 

Rio kisses your forehead, and she keeps her hands tight around your biceps. 

Your wives are wrecked. You feel awful seeing them in this state.

“I got you both a present. I wrapped them.” You say lamely, eyeing the lack ofa  door now in your home. 

Rio uses the back of her hand to wipe her nose, she won’t cry right now. She won’t cry, she reminds herself. You move over and kiss her lips, and it helps Rio collect herself. She kisses back, and Rio doesn’t notice it at first, but you wipe at her cheek. A tear had escaped, and Rio realized it was relief. 

Agatha reached out one hand and held Rio’s hand tightly. 

“What did you get us, hermosa chica?” Rio complimented you, and you smiled at her through tears. 

You held up the small black box with the white ribbon. Agatha kissed the side of your cheekbone and nodded towards Rio to open it. 

Rio didn’t move too far away from her wives. The three of you sharing the same breath, legs, and hands overlapping comfortingly. But Rio took the present and pulled the pretty ribbon, and opened the top off the little box. 

A small silver object with four holes, it was metal and sturdy. But it had a small black heart painted in nail polish on it. Under it was a small squareish thing with buttons it had an Apple logo on the back. But it wasn’t an iPhone? Rio looked confused, and you laughed. 

“I knew Mama wouldn’t know what it was, but I thought you would, Daddy.” You laugh, and Agatha pinches your side, and you laugh harder. 

“Sweetness, what is this?” Rio asks stealing one of Agatha’s nicknames for you. Even though you weren’t being super sweet in this moment, laughing at your old wives. 

“It’s a headphone splitter. It splits three ways, so we can all listen to music together. We’ll have to use wire headphones, but next weekend we can all listen together. And this is an iPod classic. I loaded it full of music and books so my phone will stop dying whenever we go out.” You smile, and the room is still. 

You panic now, Rio, and Agatha weren’t saying anything. 

“Oh, was it a bad gift? I know it’ll be harder with wire headphones but I just thought, and I spent hours and hours at Lilia’s using her old ass computer to put all the songs on and- well Billy and I pirated the dirty books but..oh god it’s dumb-”

Rio surges forward and crashes your lips together, and Agatha is peppering kisses behind your ear and jaw. The two of them are grabbing you with need and so much devotion that your head goes fuzzy. 

“It’s perfect for the three of us,” Rio whispers, enjoying your present more than words can say. No more two headphones. No more two sets of shoes by the door. No two water place settings for dinner. No, their life was in threes. Rio loved threes. 

No one would be left out ever again. 

“I like threes.” You whisper in earnest, and Agatha hums in agreement. 

“Three is the most powerful number,” Agatha says as she playfully bites your neck, and you moan. Rio devours the noise with another bruising kiss against your lips. 

Agatha slips her hand in between you and Rio to push her naughty fingers down your sweatpants. Your hips buck up, and Rio smirks into the kiss before moving to Agatha. One of her strong hands grabs Agatha’s neck, and she kisses her older witch hard, all that pent-up worry leaving them now. You watch them battle for dominance in the kiss and Agatha’s greedy touch start to play agonizingly with your clit. 

“Oh yeah, I like three.” You are panting, and one of your hands grips Agatha’s forearm, not letting her retreat from its task. As if Agatha ever would.  

Rio breaks the kiss and licks her lips, tasting both of her wives now. Life is good again. 

“No more missing errands.” Rio is in control once more, she squeezes your throat and your eyes roll back and you feel Agatha’s finger push inside your wet cunt.

No more missing errand days.  

[sourbites]

I saw you write for dc comics! Can I get a Jason Todd smut! Like they are enemies and Jason has caught her

Pairing: Jason Todd (The Red Hood) / Female Reader Word count: 6,758 Contents: violence, threats, sarcasm, smut, shitty pacing im sorry, messy not-even breakup, oral sex/cunnilingus, penetrative sex Summary: He works for himself. You're in cahoots with Black Mask. He's not your boss exactly, but you're close enough that Jason comes back to you for your in-the-know experience with a particular deal. Notes: You have no idea how excited I was for this, I'm sorry it took so long — hopefully it's worth the wait! I omitted the "caught her" part of the request, because it was tripping me up, I hope that's okay. Anyway, to preface: Jason does not follow recent canon comics. (Batman 159 Hush 2 ver of Jason... what are we doing?)

Pulling Teeth

Your gait is slanted. Not even the wall can hold up the weeks of bone-heavy exhaustion. Fuck, you want out. Now more than ever. The cool concrete of a random parking lot pillar pushes against your spine, unyielding. Sucking in a breath from your clenched teeth, you set your tired glare on the misleadingly small shadow a good few yards away.

"Why did you wait until tonight to make yourself known? Getting shy?" You watch with amusement as his vague figure shoots up to that normal, behemoth size.

You hadn't expected him to come crawling back this quick. Not for weeks, actually. Of course, news travels impossibly fast in Gotham, so you'd anticipated a visit from the Red Hood himself. But you imagined he'd hold off crawling back to you just a little longer. He's prideful like that. Smug, reckless, stupid...

"Only so we can have longer moments like this together." Jason lazily pads out of the shadows. Though he's still armoured with some fuzzier shadows— the parking lot isn't very well-illuminated, like most places in Gotham. One big, prime area for muggings. Either way, you're not impressed with that red helmet and too-big leather jacket. You cross your arms, standing upright against the pillar. In a perfect world, you'd be halfway home already. Fucking Jason and his timing. You're half-sure he's doing it on purpose: picking the busiest, most draining day to become a bother.

You scoff, his trademark sarcasm not producing the desired reaction. "Get on with it, or I'm getting in my car and running you over on my way out."

He straightens himself up, mirroring you. Did he double in size with his shoulders back? Jerk.

"Need help on a case," His tone is unsettlingly serious, even if it's a little artificial with his voice modulator. You wonder if that's his paranoia to install a fucking voice modulator, or Bruce's rubbed off on him more than he'd like to admit. "You know I wouldn't come t' you if it wasn't important."

There it is. If your phone wasn't on three percent, you'd whip it out and make him say it again after you hit record. But you'll settle for the next best thing. You gesture to one of your ears with a finger, "What was that?'

"Seriously?" He tilts his head. You don't waver— and neither does that infuriating grin that he wants you to lose, like, yesterday. Jason lets out a long-winded sigh, ever the dramatic.

"_____, I am here, bothering you with my vile presence, to humbly ask f' your help on a case." He's at a loss for what else he could possibly say. Should he have prepared an elaborate apology basket, too? You haven't seriously swung for Black Mask's cause, have you?

You nod, unbearably smug. The corner of your mouth lifted, as well as your spirits. Wow, does Jason's grovelling - sarcastic as it may be - cheer you up. "Thought so."

⸻

You tried your hardest to be at least civil with him. Maybe after all the time apart, you'd reinvented your memories to make him meaner. Or he's just too nice now. Whatever the truth may be, your truth is that you don't despise working with him— a fact you wouldn't even acknowledge in your diary. You were both bitter over how everything ended - well, it wasn't much of an ending, just screaming at each other and your hairdryer getting flung across the room - but maybe this is what you both needed. One last job - one last good memory - so you can get the closure you know you've been aching for.

The first step of the plan split into a second, a fourth, and a sixth— until there were too many loose ends and too many outstanding blank spots. Time and time again, you'd tell Jason that you're probably not the best person for the job. (As much as you want to knock Sionis down a few pegs.)

Tonight, the taste of another cup of coffee will make you throw up on the spot. So, you and Jason - an unmasked Jason - are curled around tall milkshake glasses. Sucking the cream-thick mixture through the straw proves to be a Sisyphean task, so they're not touched too often. The stolen paperwork and grainy, printed photos are too headache-inducing to invest in at such a late hour. The seedy diner is nearly empty. The faded, once candy-red booths are worryingly sticky (you're not sure they've ever been washed in the thirty-ish years they've been in use), but the radio over the dingy speakers is playing good music, so there's that.

It’s surprising, how quickly conversation can flow from the Gotham dock shipments to normal-person talk. Jason and you are doing anything but work. If you hear the word ‘smuggling’ again tonight, you’d be morally obligated to roll your eyes into oblivion.

“Y'know— I had a busted lip f' weeks after that hairdryer.” Jason’s the one to address it: the elephant in the room. You and he have done remarkable so far, skirting around the incident talk. The first feeling that peeks out from within you is pride. Then guilt - double the guilt, actually: one for hurting him, and one for briefly being proud of that - bites down, hard, at your conscience.

One of your fingertips absentmindedly presses against the cold glass, wetting your skin with condensation. It pools around on the table in a ring. “I suppose I should apologise for that. I was upset, but I shouldn’t have hurt you. Sorry.”

Like blood in the water, he senses a taste of guilt in your mumbling tone. “It even hurt t' smile, yanno that?”

Your gaze flicks up from the puddle on the laminate table to him. He’s smirking; the corners of his pink lips are upturned, cheeks dimpled. At least he’s not pissed at you. “Alright, you’re laying it on a bit thick.” Your tone is ruthlessly flat, but it certainly makes you look like a hypocrite, considering you’re mirroring his smile.

You'd only just realised that Jason was thinking about it, too. It's probably time to bury the hatchet if you and he are working together to steal half of Sionis' incoming weaponry. The way your smile recedes tells Jason it's time. You've both been running from it - until it finds you on mildly sunny days - the kind that ties strings around ribcages and follows you for when you need a bit of sun. The kind of memory that you've turned to pulp, tumbled into mush in your washing-machine mind.

"Look, ____, the way things���" Your knee juts out to bump into Jason's leg. It doesn't take much movement, considering you're both crammed in a Barbie-Dreamhouse-sized booth. He pauses - just like you intended - and scowls at you. You might be willing to bury the hatchet, but you're not up for dissecting it like a frog.

"Let's just... move on. We can be civil about stuff, can't we?" You squint at him. It's not a question; Jason knows you well enough to tell. As much as you'd despise to admit it, he can read you without trying. It's something innate in him, the same way birds read skies and bears read food-rumoured river currents.

A ripple of discomfort rolls around Jason's expression, but it's gone as soon as it appears. If you were brave and steel-hearted enough, you'd regress and whisper against his forehead that he doesn't have to box it away. He can undress in front of you, strip his mind bare and you'd trace his thoughts that beg to manifest. But it's not summertime any more, and it feels like a thousand wretched suns have spoiled, rotten between then and now.

⸻

Just because he's died once, he thinks he's immortal. As much as you want to gloat: 'told you so', you don't want to be down a partner-in-organised-crime. You narrow your eyes at Jason as you watch him laze his way to your meeting spot. You cross your arms, brows furrowed together. You're shivering, cold Gotham air wracking through you; scratching at your bones. Your hair wisps around, lashing at your stiff cheeks.

"You took too long. You might not have any self-preservation left, but I do— fuck, you could've gotten us both killed." You can't resist lecturing him— just a pinch.

He wordlessly reaches behind him and whips out a flimsy, plastic blue folder. The pages within whip around from the wind. "I got it, didn't I?"

The smugness is oozing from his voice. You don't need to see his face to tell he's proud, holding onto the folder like it's a trophy. You wilt against the side of the car, running on empty. It was probably a fucking trauma response to forget how reckless he is. That, or he has some Scarecrow-level forgetting serum he's slipped into one of your drinks when you weren't looking.

You inspect him, bottom to top. He's resting more weight on his right leg. You decide not to pursue it further when you're out in the open like this. The water spray kicks up against the concrete flooring.

"Let's just get out of here." You're pushing off the car, pulling it open with your momentum.

Jason's safehouse is exactly how you remember it. Tiny kitchen, entirely hardwood floors. His back is still rigid with adrenaline, elbows resting on his knees. A gloved finger stabs at the printed paper, facing you. "Who's that? My informants mention that name."

You lean over to read the paper. Scheduled shifts for a driver of some hijacked cargo ship. Fucking grown men with aliases like Blackbeard. You lean back in the wooden chair, racking your brain to piece together any memory of a Blackbeard. Jason paws at his helmet until it's off.

"All I know is that he's related to Sionis. Sorry it's not much help." You press your lips together, sympathetic. Jason did risk a lot going in there�� even if you didn't tell him to. It gets too much sometimes, looking over your shoulder. Home never feels safe enough. You want to be done with it. You don't want to end up the victim of some drive-by. But the more you dig into this, the more you feel like you're digging your grave. And for what, because Jason asked you to?

He laughs - quiet little huffs - smirking with bright-white teeth, shaking his head. "Y' have no idea how much that helps."

Oookay. A little cryptic, but reassuring. Your brows raise, with a dull pulse of warmth flaring within your chest. "I'm just happy you didn't get killed back there."

"I'm jus' happy we're not fighting." He replies, watching you with winter-blue eyes, twinkling like dreams on the edge of consciousness. He's said that - or something similar - before to you.

Back when you were a criminal chauffeur for hire. You didn't want to drive Jason anywhere. He smelled of chaos: gunsmoke and gasoline, leather. Too loud, too attention-grabbing in a red helmet. In his usual Jason fashion - as you'd come to recognise it - he twisted your arm with an offer of enough money for you to end your night early. You could still feel it: that restrained wonder at the first time you saw him in person. Your gaze was split between him and the neon-sign-illuminated roads. It was back when everything was exciting. You'd told him back then, You haven't paid me, when he climbed out of the car, still facing you. It was like you were magnets— faces pulling together, poles always oddly close. Haven't I? He held up your wallet between two gloved fingers, tossing it through your rolled-down window. It was a manual car, some shitty '98 Ford Escort. You'd set aside the impressed thought, replacing it with a scowl you sent his way. You remember glaring at him, uttering something about privacy, even though Jason merely shrugged. But we're not fighting, are we? I'd bet it has something t' do with that gift in your wallet. You replayed every second of that interaction, swearing you'd never drive him again. You'd say that to yourself every time you picked him up.

You feel like you've just come out of a coma. Mileage, gasoline, the speedometer arrow; it all feels like cotton in your throat. Those days are long, long gone— but you can recall them in such vivid technicolour. Your eyes glance over Jason's shoulder, to the microwave that still has its plastic wrapping.

"Well, we're not really the fighting type." You hear your own voice chiming in, the cadence unlike you. Sombre. Your mouth has moved on its own accord.

You watch Jason's head bob as he nods, pushing the papers up the table, away from him. "No," He agrees, his tone a near-clone of yours. Absent of all the passion that colours his voice— even if it's rage or cockiness. "Nah, was just th' one time..."

Your head shakes, eyes on his. Pinning his train of thought, you dismantled the tracks it was running on. Deep down, you knew he wouldn't surrender from this conversation permanently. Months and months of memories that he's aching to address press from within your skull. It disturbs the ear-ringing, murderous silence of the kitchen. Even the mismatched clock on the wall has stopped ticking, hands held in limbo, hanging in suspense.

Undeterred, Jason holds up a hand. "Let me finish." He's firm with you. A lick of anger reveals itself within you. There's so much you don't want to say, and yet so much you do. Your shoulders square, bracing yourself.

"I don't like how things ended, _____. I wasn't fair to you; I knew that back then, too, but I was stupid. I knew you felt somethin' more— it was a dick move, reacting the way I did. I just... I wanted you mad, I wanted to push you away. I'm sorry for treating you like crap." Jason says. His voice reaches you— and there's no escape. And far, far too sincerely for his or your liking, he whispers, "I'm sorry f' everything."

"Is this some sort of step in your program?" Your brows furrow. Then, softer, you add, "We agreed no feelings, I should've expected it."

You'll probably never get the taste of him out of your mouth— the grime and the softness that lingers beneath, like drying blood that gets tacky, sticking on everything that's touched. You're tired - bone-heavy and weary - of climbing into your usual, lonely bed. Jason gave with no seeming end. Warmth, safety, laughter, and it's all over. Nothing real between you even really began, and yet you cling to those memories each night you're on your own. You'd savoured each memory where your nails raked against the grain of the baby hairs at the nape of Jason's neck. You'd both pass out, curled nose-to-nose, and he'd lay sloppy and wet kisses on your skin. It was so easy to believe it meant something. Pathetic as it may be, your avoidance of talking about how it all fell apart before it could be built is your way of preserving the innocence— the tenderness and the potential it held. But now, when you try to find solace in the usual jewellery box of memories, the only thing you can see in the usual vivid, picturesque display is the repeated: over, over, over, over.

Jason flinched. Somewhere on the other side of this wide fever dream of months, you know you would've read his thoughts without needing to detangle them. But here and now, sitting at the table in the tucked-away kitchen, you and Jason watch each other like you're strangers. Like you're both starved animals, wearily stone-faced, waiting for the other to pounce. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip before he scrapes up the courage and the right words to engage in your response, "I'm apologising f'... everything. Everything. I'm sorry I was a hypocrite, and I was too— too fuckin' scared and pathetic to level with you back then."

You feel like your entrails have been scattered along the Gotham highways, abandoned to rot with any good feelings Jason had ever left you with. You want to collapse in on yourself and sob— find some Etsy witch to curse his bloodline for generations to come. "You felt the same, didn't you?"

You scoff, scowling, and without waiting for whatever ridiculous response he can come up with, you continue. "You threw everything away because you couldn't stand that we could've had something good. And the worst part is— even if you were too scared to have something real, you still strung me along, and I was a fucking idiot to let you."

Jason sputtered on his answer, all his rehearsed replies feeling like a ball of yarn bunched up in his throat. Of course, he's sat there, pulling at the dregs of his thoughts to come up with some worthwhile reply, because of course he can't keep his head straight when it comes to you. That's the whole problem.

He squirms in his seat. "I know what I did— Believe me, I know I deserve shit f' it. I just missed you, okay? I don't get why I can't spend time with my friend." You know he wants to get up and walk around, ramble with animated gestures. Your heart feels like it weighs a thousand tonnes. Anger has already covered half your reason, luring you to just scream and beat at his chest with your fists.

Stiff and rigid with anger, you press your spine into the hardwood chair. "We've kissed - done more than that, actually - you've been there for me when no one else has. I've fucking washed you when you couldn't even raise your arms. Am I seriously just your friend? Is that all I am to you, Jason?"

Your throat feels sore with unshed tears— acid climbing up your throat. Emotionally strained, you want to beat Jason to it, blasting out of your seat with your palms flat on the table.

Jason stares up the barrel of your furious gaze. In a rush he says, "Of course you're fuckin' not! That's why I'm here, pretending I need help stealing from Sionis. Fuck, ______, can't you see how much I care about you? That's the whole reason we fell out in the first place— the second I let you into this - into my world - you'll have a target on your back f' the rest of your life!"

Your mind shifts and turns and blurs. It's always something with this guy. Both you and Jason are standing up, gazes locked on the other. At any second, a tumbleweed could just roll past you in the distance like in those corny westerns. You'd whip out your gun and then what? You couldn't bring yourself to shoot him - even if you want to, sometimes.

"I'm already in your world, Jason. I'm already in enough danger to make me look behind my shoulder every day. We're both living on borrowed time!" You wrench yourself away from the table, hands braced at the kitchen counter at your sides. You need to cool down by the window before you burst a blood vessel. Gulping down a shaky breath, you add, "Life is so short. Why are we wasting it playing these games? Wouldn't you rather we spend the precious time we have actually building something together?"

You literally don't have the emotional capacity to acknowledge the fact that Jason basically invented a case just to get you to spend time with him. It's equal parts romantic and weird. The perfect Jason fashion, you suppose. It's taking every iota of control you have not to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into that thick skull of his. You're sick of having this fight, you're sick of living in this open-air 'what are we?', like you're in some TV show.

He can't help but be pulled toward you. No matter how hard he fights it, or tells himself it's not happening, you have a rope around his neck like he's fucking leashed— he's always coming back to you.

At first, you feel the warmth that comes with him. Then comes the sensation of his hands on you; just cupping your arms. There's no point in roaring or screaming at you. Jason rasps, "I don't ever want you thinking - even for a second - that I don't want you. That I don't love you."

You feel like you're choking. Your eyes squeeze shut; tears already skulking down your cheeks. Starving, you lean in and manage to bump your forehead against his. Jason's leaning down a whole lot so you can reach. "I want this. I'm all in— but you've gotta get over this fear."

Truth is, there's not a thing Jason wouldn't do if it meant keeping you happy and safe. He's reached his limit worrying about what will happen to you if things are official— if they're real. It's a shot in the dark, being an item. A darkness that he's afraid of losing you to - but a shot he's willing to take. Maybe the less ambiguity and distance between the two of you, the better. That means he can keep a real eye on you. So would Bruce, and Dick on occasion. It might not be so terrifying to let you in.

"I know, sweetheart," Jason utters against your temple, whispering so molasses-sweetly that it feels like silky ribbons across your skin. The pull to hold you grows too great to even think about resisting, and Jason is helpless to it as he cradles the back of your head. "I want this, too. I'd do anything— everything f' you. You've gotta know that, alright?"

You huff out a laugh, cheeks wet. "You're so..." The words die on your tongue, as your palms scrape up his arms. You had forgotten how delicious his arms were. It puts a bittersweet smile on your face. He's back, letting your hands explore him again, but there was a gap wedged between the two of you. A hurt like that isn't soothed the instant you two make up.

Jason's breath is hot as he soaks up the scent of your hair. His thumb strokes the side of your neck in languid swipes. He's silent for a moment - telling himself over and over that this is real - before he asks, "So what?"

"Smug. Pompous..." You pause, gingerly squeezing his well-muscled shoulders. You can't resist the magnetic pull of him. You suck in a breath, before adding, "Bratty."

Jason chuckles. He's missed this banter that the two of you have. He's not even offended— how could he be? If anything, you insulting him just makes him more attracted to you. His warm palms scoop your cheeks, feeling the damp skin from your tears. Jason's parted lips sweep across yours, his hair brushing against your forehead. You feel your body going slack— the crushing pressure on your heart immediately banished. This is all you've wanted: to be kissed stupid like he'd done to you many, many moons ago. It's amazing how you and he can physically just pick up from where you've left off. Even his breath is hot and sexy, exhaling against your mouth, the far-away taste of cigarette smoke smouldering into your tongue. Your eyes just... flutter... closed, like you're relishing in every millisecond. This is how it's supposed to be. Even the once-awkward, tiny kitchenette feels right now. It's a space with established intimacy— you touch, with your hands, what he will put in his mouth to eat.

He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, tugging lightly and rolling the flesh between his incisors. He releases your mouth to speak, "What's next on your list?"

You've got that brightness to your eyes that he loves. "Condescending," You whisper smugly against his mouth.

Jason leans forward, boxing you in with his hulking frame. Chuckling into your lips, he nips at your jawbone. His half-lidded eyes roam over you, watching you as if he's witnessing something he's been praying for. Your every atom lures him in, like a siren to a sailor. He'd happily be your victim. He'd throw himself into murderous waters, offer his neck for you to eat and succumb to the inky waves with a smile on his face. "Any other words of praise? Or would you like t' be able t' walk tomorrow?" He murmurs - already hard - already half-blind with lust. You make him so hard so easily.

Your eyes are like saucers - beaming despite the very real threat. How dirty. A willing participant in your demise, you put on your most seductive face and purr into his neck, "So arrogant, you know that?"

His fingers bite into your hips before he hauls you on top of the table. You slide up against the surface, while he guides your legs apart to fit himself between them. Your stomach flips, your body immediately on that knife's edge like it always is when he's in close proximity to you. Jason lays kiss after kiss onto your mouth: nipping and sucking and too much of those hungering teeth. "Me, arrogant? Never."

Desire is a cup - a foreign object - lodged deep within your body, and it's overflowing; pouring into your flesh. Jason's hands are snaking beneath your shirt now, his skin warming yours. One hand wanders up to your bra clasp, and the other cups your sides - your ribs - gingerly brushing his fingers over your skin, tracing bones and veins and everything you're made of. He digs his rock-hard bulge into your belly, bucking in response to the breathy moan that flutters out from your mouth.

You're not really Jason's girlfriend, and he's not your boyfriend— but Jason makes you an item - makes you his - with how he handles you. He jams his hips into yours, biting back an evil little grin as the rough denim of his jeans scrape across your abdomen. Taking two greedy handfuls of your shirt, he lifts it up and off of you, groaning at the picture of you.

His nose mashes into your neck, a low hum rumbling from him. "What d'you want, baby?" His voice muffles into the hollow of your trembling throat. Those delicious hands of his cup both your thighs, grabbing at you with such an insistence that it makes you dizzy. Your body recognises this routine. Even subconsciously, you know what comes next, because you know him. You're instantly shifting your hips, panties wet.

Sucking in a breath, you scramble to answer him, "Just want you. Jus' you, Jason." You've already chugged his love potion. Thinking is impossible, especially when Jason's so warm and touchy. After his soul-stealing kiss and panty-dropping show, you've gone to putty on the tabletop. The air burns - and you fight with it - as your world shrinks away until there's a spotlight on him.

He's shrugging your jeans down. They hit the floor with a heavy whuff. His hands are already creeping up your legs, appreciative, angling your knees over his shoulders and tugging you towards him. He's hungry tonight, shoving his face between your legs like you're an antidote to the poison he's gulped down. Oxygen melts, and you're quick to follow. Jason smushes his face into your sopping panties and groans - deep and bassy from his throat - a low, "Beautiful."

With the pad of his thumb, he grinds into your clit, burning the fabric of your underwear into your brimming-with-nerves flesh. He's not stopping there. He kisses his way down your stomach; open-mouthed and starving. Both arms curl under and then over your splayed open thighs, pawing at your panties and tugging, fingers hooked, until he rips— them open—!

"Fuck!" You're immediately reacting, squeaking. Holy fuck, your hands brace themselves on the convex edges of the table. "Jason, you can't just...!" You can't even finish your sentence, brain flickering in and out. In the middle of all your surprised and half-baked protests, Jason is chuckling something rich and low from within his chest.

"No?" Jason wets his fingers - slightly - while using his thumbs to spread your pussy open. He leaves a big, wet kiss on your clit. "Can't I?" He grins, watching you from beneath his eyelashes— so thick and dark, you've always been jealous of them. He suctions his mouth around your sex. All that smug energy bursts back into the room like lightning pounding the earth. You hate it. (You love it.)

The room ached with sex, and he's all over you. Your heels scramble up and down the broad plane of Jason's back. His body is fever-hot. His tongue flattens, laving up the valley of your cunt in one long, drooling swipe. You're obscenely wet — even more so now his spit is mingling with slick, stringy arousal. You scrub a hand over your face, trying to swallow the high, shrill noise that rests in your throat. It lacks the usual restraint Jason used to reserve for fear of falling too hard for you. No, now he's shameless (and it shows), and starved for the taste of your pussy that never fails to get him hard.

His nose grinds into your mound - snuffling against your sweat-tacky skin - and his stubbled face strokes your sensitive skin. It rubs your inner thighs, your clenching-around-air cunt, forcing tingles and shudders into your skin. Fuck. Fuck, you missed this so much. He sucks a fold into his mouth, all tender with pursed lips. You feel like you've fused to the tabletop. Jason stares up at you like you're a four-course meal; his eyes hungry and dark. Just deep blue and dolly-thick eyelashes.

Every wave of your moans, each savouring lap of his tongue has Jason fisting his too-tight, suffocating bulge. He's groaning into your glossy cunt, one-handedly working at his belt, the stiff button on his jeans. Trying to give as well as you get, your hand snakes down to palm his erection. The sound he lets out into your pussy could bring you to your knees. He comes off of you with a pornographically wet pop, his face falling against the surface of your honey-soft thigh.

"Take it out." Jason grins, nodding towards you. Your heart stops. You push down the drool in your mouth with a swallow. Hesitantly, your fingers curl around his waistband and guide it down Jason's waist.

You joke, "Are you always this lazy?" In an attempt to distract yourself from the very real, very visceral heat simmering in your entire body. It's not a regular, 'get the ice cream out', heat, but a rapturous: 'holy hell. Holy fucking God,' kind of heat.

Jason chuckles, just as his cock springs free and his head bumps against his abdomen. Great, he's still fucking huge. "Jus' with you, sweets. I know how independent you like t' be."

Without a moment's notice, he's leaning forward, slicking his cockhead through your sex, catching his tip on the notch of your perky clit. You squeal, jerking a leg up that he guides around his hip. His hand appreciates your ass, yanking you down until you're hanging over the table. Two thick fingers pulse deep in your pussy; which blooms around the base of his heavy, bruised knuckles. Each pump of his fingers elicits crude, squelching sounds from you. Cheeks burning red, you watch with obvious interest, lips parted. Even you are scandalised by him.

You're only strong enough to pull your gaze from his hand to his face for a brief moment to ask, "D'you ever shut up?"

At your remark, he twists his fingers, thumbing at your clit again. "You know the answer to that." He simpers sarcastically, his brows caught in a furrow as he watches your gorgeous sex flutter around his fingers. He wants to get his cock in there - in you - but this pocket of intermittent, sweet slowness is a good change of pace for now.

Jason sinks forward, palm flat as he braces some of his weight onto the table beside your body. His warmth rolls around against you. Dazed, your hands reach up to take his shirt off. You almost sigh like some wistful schoolgirl once you see him shirtless. Your head tips up so you can press your face into his neck. It's gorgeous— all those gentle dips, his bobbing Adam's apple, the delicate span of his collarbones. You whisper into his boiling hot skin, voice coloured with intimacy, "Jason?"

His breath heaves, a patchy blush climbing up his chest and neck; even the tips of his ears. The sizzling heat of his huge palm scoops up your hip, gingerly squeezing it in his hand. He tucks your earlobe between his teeth. You swallow a moan. As composedly as he can muster, he answers you with a cool, "Whassup, baby?"

"Can't wait any longer," You murmur, a little coyly. You've never once wanted him this terribly before. You want the tender intimacy to soothe you. Jason sucks in a rattling breath. Romantic. It's so, fucking, romantic. On fucking fire, Jason sinks his mouth onto yours - deepening the kiss until it hurt - teeth clashing and lips feeling liver-bruised and hot to the touch. His hand sweeps to the base of your skull, holding you there like it kept him tethered to this world.

His mouth only rips off of yours to savour the taste of you on his fingers, licking them clean with suggestive swipes of his tongue. Evil little fucker. He holds your gaze as he does so, brows raising boyishly. Then, he's laying a kiss on your clammy forehead - wisps of hair stuck to your skin - and he whispers, "Then don't."

You're split in two with one lazy, indulgent pump of his hips. His cock is nestled deep within you - you almost feel it against your lungs when you breathe. Jason grins as he watches you writhe, bucking your hips up like you're about to be slaughtered. It feels that way, with how you're impaled on his dick. If this were any other time, Jason would just go wild. You know he would; your face down and ass up as you're drilled into nothingness. But this is his chance to prove he well and truly wants you.

Your greedy hand dips down, feeling the velvet of your sexes, tracing where he's got your cunt pulled open. You could plot the way the light bends on the curves of his abs well enough to paint, you could taste the earthy-saltiness of his skin on your tongue. All you know is Jason, Jason, Jason.

He takes your hand, thumb playing over your knuckles reverently, and guides it to thread with his inky black hair. The startlingly white streak is mussed, hair all over the place from your exploratory fingers. He hums, tipping his head back just enough to display his throat, like he's waiting for you to model some marble from the dips between tight tendons; from his fluttering pulse.

A wild, wanton part of you wonders why you ever stopped this— why you ever gave him up. He's too good, too precious. You don't care that people look at him and see wolf teeth and gunmetal. There are stars in his eyes, and they are lit because you are the someone that needs them, to look up into the skies of his eyes and navigate around the world. Inside your pussy, he's making room for himself, stroking the length of your thigh each time you squeeze him, tight as a fist with your chest heaving. It's like he gets bigger each time you have him.

Your other hand splays over his taut pelvis - skin against his happy trail - bracing yourself. Your eyes roll back, mewling lewdly once Jason eases himself back, tip still inside, and wholly rolls his hips until his cock fills the channel of your slick sex. Your nails bite into his skull, tufts of hair poking from between your clenched fingers. Jason groans, filling you with that perfect outlaw cock.

"Oh my God," You nearly cry, eyelids heavy. Heat creeps up your neck. Your leg joints lock into place, hiked up Jason's swinging hips. His heart gives a pathetic flutter as he cups your head and shoves his face into your neck. It's wonderful how things have managed to fall into place— but you suppose Jason did invent an elaborate heist with your kind-of-boss as the victim just to get you talking to him again, so how much of this was left up to fate?

"I know, baby." His voice oozes something sounding fond, releasing butterflies in your too-warm belly. Sticky heat rushes between your legs. Just all wet from him - from his fingers and tongue and cock— God you can't breathe! Jason drives into you with a mean force, punching air from your lungs in fast, hard, eager snaps of his hips against yours. Something is definitely going to bruise.

"Juiciest - fucking - pussy." Jason swoons, each word suspiciously timed with each kiss of his aching cockhead to your softened cervix. His hand - the one on your hip - lifts your leg up until it's canted across his shoulder. The back of your knee fits perfectly against the scalding muscle of his broad shoulder. Tears collect around your waterline, wetting the base of your eyelashes once you squeeze your eyes closed. Your hand climbs, nails digging into the delicious muscle of his taut bicep, the other fisting at his hair.

The whole world hums with cosmic, dizzying harmony that you only manage to hear when you're like this: fucked stupid on Jason's gloriously hot dick. You can't hear your own moans through your heart beating in your head like you've got an ear pressed to a heavy metal drum, cymbals crashing and all. Your back arches, feeling yourself sway limply with each jarring plunge of his filling cock stuffing you full and then some.

He's leveraging his weight on the table - it skids up the tile floor with a squeak that almost makes you cringe - his cock dumbing you into a state of loved-up bliss. Every drag of his cock forces your overwhelmed pussy to pulse around him. The harsh, prickly sounds of slapping explode across the four wallpapered walls of the compressed kitchen. With every nasty curl to his hips, you taste the same violence of a whack he'd bestow upon some guy. All while Jason's tilted forward, just trying to engulf you, consume you and love you. God, he loves you.

Bursts of shock and absolute awe shoot down your spine. Your heart is aching within your chest. Jason feels it too, considering his fingers dig into your hip while his other hand bites so rigidly into the table's edge that you hear a worrying crack of wood. Your whole body is sent into shudders - going tighter and tighter around him - until he's half-sure you've cut off his blood flow. His eyes gleam with pure, carnal delight. He hisses out a well-intentioned, "Oh, baby," as his cock spits thick rivulets of steaming cum into your pliant sex.

You feel like you're choking around nothing - maybe just your hitched breath. Your head is on fire, and the skin going down your back feels like it's melted to the wood of the table. Your thighs hang open and Jason watches, slack-jawed and gawking, as your stuffed-too-full cunt drips with pearlescent cum. With a shaking hand, you smoothe the base of your palm down his shoulder. There are nasty-looking marks in maraschino-red where your fingernails were hooked into his skin.

Satisfied and truly exhausted, Jason sweeps his mouth across yours for one of the most fairytale-esque, sweetest kisses in recorded history. His breath ghosts across your burning face, cooling your skin a little, as he brushes the welded-on baby hairs out from your face. His pink, bite-plumped lips split into a lopsided grin, and you just know he's got some cheesy quip coming.

Right on schedule, he hums out a teasing, "Are you done being mad at me now?"

Your stupid smile mirrors his. You quip back: "You'll have to make it up to me again."

[skeletalheartattack]

It’s easy to fuck a tuba cuz anyone can put it in their hoohah

it's easy to fuck a tuba because anyone can put it in their... no... no, not here... *clutches my skull and falls to my knees* AGHHHHHH MY HEAD!!!!

[pukicho]

You've changed, man. I don't know what it is but some time in the past six months your shitposting got a bitter edge to it. Sure you could blame the political climate or world events on it but...I dunno. I used to scroll your blog to momentarily escape the hardships of today but now it feels like even you're not a safe place any more. I wish you luck on your journeys onwards but I'm sorry to say I cannot travel with you any more. Be well, puki, and I hope whatever troubles you passes.

Escapism is important and I try to offer that to a degree, but ultimately, I am a person. I experience hardships, I empathize with the worsening conditions of my world. As long as I care about things external to myself, I will subtlety, or blatantly express them in some way in my blog, which I’ve done for years, not merely 6 months.

Unbeknownst to you, these concerns are often the inspiration for some of my most beloved posts.

You’re free to leave of course, if my 1 serious post out of every 30 fucks your day up that badly, then please, feel free! - I simply don’t see my blog as escapist fluff, it never has been, even if that is often the outcome. My page has always been about my interests, and I just so happen to enjoy making people laugh.

I see it more as a fun place to hang out and express the feelings I feel inclined to express, most of which are fun and goofy, some of which are not. I love our little playful back-and-forths, and I enjoy seeing your insights, even if some of you are fucking stupid as shit. Sometimes I just like using you guys as little guinea pigs, testing my odd expressions out on you, and sitting back and seeing the outcome.

Ultimately, I try to balance balance 3 things on my page:

Comedy, as you know - I like making jokes, I like testing them out on people. Even if they suck, I like writing them regardless. Sometimes I sit back after writing something I know objectively sucks, hit send, and watch as everyone tells me how much it sucks. It brings me joy.

A desire for money - because if not, I wouldn't be able to make posts half as often as I do (ie, shirt sales, promoting my music, etc) - Sometimes that anxiety for money also bleeds into my posts, it has for years; and I hold back from being even more desperate about money than I feel I should be sometimes.

And the point you brought up: The occasional comment on something real that matters to me. - Over the past 3 years, if not longer, I’ve made a few uncharacteristically-serious statements on things like Covid, Gaza, The Presidency, hell, even the indigenous people of Australia... and more.

Why do I feel inclined to discuss these things? Because I want to. My page has always been about what I want. Fortunately for you, what I usually want to do is to make you laugh! But sometimes I wish to express other feelings, because I have a platform that allows my voice to travel further than that of others!

For those angry at all the qualms I don't bring up, try to understand my balancing act, as someone who understands your desire for escapism, and the comfort that it brings you. If the veil falls, remember, we are of like-company - - and maybe, this veil was only ever in your head to begin with.

[cherry-hulu]

— Warm welcome

Synopsis: Nothing like a warm welcome for Mingyu after a stressful day at work. Warnings: Ceo!KMG x Sugar baby!reader, cockwarming, somno, lazy sex, belly bulge, unprotected sex, creampie, very brief to barely any mention of sugar baby-ceo sugar daddy trope

The city lights brought luminance to the room, courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows in polar position with the king sized bed.

You lay in bed asleep, sprawled atop the duvet, hair messy, hands to the side, but most important, a night gown on with your pretty bracelet on your wrist, in a side sleeping position putting your ass on perfect display. You weren't under the sheets despite the cold temperature, and that could only mean one thing to Mingyu.

Due to his busy schedule, you'd granted him consent to do whatever he pleases with you wherever and whenever for as long as you show signs of consent— aka the diamond bracelet ge bought for you on your wrist. After all, it is part of your responsibility to him. Well technically.

Mingyu undoes his tie while he walks towards the bed, unbuttoning his white long sleeves as well as the buckles of his pants, then finally pulling his cock out.

Having come home from a stressful day filled with meetings and negotiations, he badly needed this release. He gave himself a few strokes before laying you on your back and lifting your night gown only up till your waist.

Immediately he was graced with the view of your bare ass, spreading it to see your pretty cunt. He leans in and peppers a few kisses along your inner thighs, giving appreciation to you for this moment, climbing up until it reaches your already glistening pussy.

His middle finger makes it's way into your cunt, a smirk etches itself onto his face when he feels you a little loose and mushy. "Such a good girl, prepping herself for me." Mingyu mutters, voice husky and evidently tired.

Pulling his finger out, he places it in his mouth, sucking it clean before taking it out to stroke his dick with his hands. He inches closer to you, knees planted on the bed as slowly taps and drags his dick between your two folds.

Not wanting to wait any longer, Mingyu roughly thrusts in, loving the way your holes takes him seamlessly without any struggle. The hours you spent size training with him bears fruit as you hug his cock perfectly. Loose enough to slide, tight enough to stay.

He moves his hips lazily, hand on your lower belly feeling the protruding bulge formed by his dick in you. Mingyu lays light feather kisses all over your body, from your neck down to your waist while he fucks your hole with a slow pace, careful not to wake you up.

If it had been any day he'd definitely already have you crying and withering underneath him. Instead he savours your warmth and presence, admiring every part of your body and thanking the higher power for your existence.

Always pliant and sweet to him no matter the hour. The thought of having a sugar baby repulsed him at first, opting to have fubus instead, but that feeling quickly went away when he met you.

The perfect balance of fluff and seduction. He loves how thankful you are and how you express your gratitude to him, and the way you always satisfy his wants and needs in a way that no money can ever buy.

A soft whimper pulls him away from his thoughts, grounding him back to face his now. Mingyu quickens his pace, fucking you in a messier way than he previously was. He could feel that he was close, he just needs his release before he could put himself to sleep.

Your mouth parts as heavy pants and sighs makes it's ways out, a soft facial expression displayed. Your body shows no signs of resisting, just taking what he gives.

Mingyu leans his body to yours, cradling your face in his hands before pressing his lips against his forehead as he cums deep inside of you. His way of lulling you back to sleep incase you'd slightly woken.

Picking you up from the bed, your body falls ontop of him, still asleep but evidently more exhausted than before. Mingyu lifts the blanket to get underneath, ensuring that it covers your whole body. All without bothering to pull out of you.

With you laying on top of him, he finally lets himself to sleep having his arms wrapped around you, cock inside you, and remnants of his actions dripping from you.

Not that neither of you minded the possible outcome from it. The penthouse was far too big for just two people anyways.

[rememberwren]

Weeks of bad behavior from your lieutenant have you convinced that he can't get laid. You take matters into your own hands.

Ghost/fem!reader. Rough sex, a nearly submissive Simon, PIV, unsafe sex, pullout method, flimsy premise to explain gross fucking, ruined orgasm. This has been on my laptop for ages please take it. 2.5k

-

It’s your breaking point. 

Once you reach it, a strange calm comes over you. The mission is over, Price has finished taking you all to task for your failures, and Ghost has specifically taken you to task for your own—just like a typical man to notice the speck of sawdust in his Sergeant's eye and ignore the plank in his own. For so long (far longer than just the length of this arduous mission), the friction between Ghost and the rest of the team—between Ghost and yourself—has been building. Like two fault lines grinding alongside each other, there was bound to be a break somewhere. 

You just hadn’t expected it to be you. 

And you hadn’t expected it to be like this. 

“Lieutenant, can I have a word?” you ask, walking damn near double time to keep up with Ghost’s steps. 

“Negative,” he says. “Whatever it is, save it.” 

“No can do. It’s important, sir.” 

“Doubtful.” 

“I insist, sir,” you press, pushing your speed into a light jog so that you can come to stand in front of him and block his way. He reluctantly stops, dark eyes blazing from behind his mask. He’s stripped down, gear abandoned but no less intimidating nor lacking in height or width. Still you keep your chin up, refusing to back down. Something has to give, and it won’t be you. 

“Two minutes. Go, Sergeant.” 

Your eyes scan the hallway. Here won’t do, even if it is night time and the base is quiet. You know that the quiet can be deceiving. Spotting the supply closet, you bound over to check that it is unlocked and—score. It swings open silently, the inside dark and smelling faintly of lemon-scented cleaner. 

Ghost hesitates. 

“It’s important sir,” you promise again. 

You don’t promise that it will take two minutes or less. 

Rolling those dark eyes, he sweeps past you into the closet, flicking the lightswitch. The overhead light hums to life, casting a tinny ivory glow over the room. The shelves are well stocked with supplies, most of which aren’t for cleaning but are typical office supplies instead. There is just enough room inside for a man to lay down if he wanted to. 

You’ll have to test that to see. 

“Take your cock out.” 

Silence, for the length of nearly three of your heartbeats. Ghost’s head tilts, eyes narrowing where he stares down at you. He leans down a little as if to hear you better and asks: “Excuse me, Sergeant?” 

You straighten your spine, refusing to be cowed. “You heard me. Your cock. Get it out.” 

“Why the fuck would I do that?” 

You raise your chin a hair. “The recruits have been talking. They say your bad mood is because you can’t get laid. I’m here to fix that, sir.” 

“Getting your intel from recruits was your first mistake. Of many.” 

“Either I have faith that you aren’t always this much of a bastard or I give in to the belief that you really are. For the sake of my own sanity, I’m choosing to believe the former.” You find a few pins for your hair in your uniform and begin pinning it back, keeping the extras tucked between your lips and talking around them as you prepare yourself to suck his cock. That strange calm is still over you, but beneath it you can feel your better judgment panicking. You’re propositioning your superior officer right now. This could lead to your discharge, and not an honorable one. 

But something had to give. It was either your spirit, or your mouth. 

You drop to your knees even though he hasn’t even reached for his belt yet, hoping to rush him along. His dark eyes follow you, and you see the heat in them. The fingers on his right hand twitch. 

“Do you...want me to do it for you?” you ask, your voice a conspiratory little whisper. It’s the last little push he needs and then he is reaching for his own belt, undoing the clasp and opening it. He unfastens his pants. Beneath his jeans you can already see the bulge forming; proportionately huge compared to the man it belonged to. It made your teeth ache, like the thought of eating something sweet. 

Maybe you were both crazy.

His cock is uncut, a dusky flush just a shade darker than the skin on the back of his hands. His girth is nice; his length is nearly obscene. It takes all of your self control to keep from outright balking at the size of him—though the weepy little cunt between your legs certainly is intrigued by the sight. 

“Well?” he says. “Don’t just stare at it. Suck it off.” 

You reach out and flick the sensitive head cruelly. He hisses, hips jerking away from your touch. “You don’t give the orders here, Lieutenant. If you want your dick sucked, you’re going to be nice to me, once and for all.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. Ask me nicely.” 

“Yer the one who begged me in here—!” 

You let out a sigh. Drastic measures… leaning forward, your soft cheek brushes against the silky smooth skin of his cock. It twitches against you, burning hot. You turn and let your heated breath fan against it. For all his outrage, Ghost has grown perfectly still above you, not trying to find the perfect angle to slip his cock past your lips or anything else of the sort. 

“Come on, Ghost,” you whisper, lips brushing against him. “I’m about to do something very nice for you. Isn’t it only fair that you ask nicely for it? I’m not asking for much. Just say…please suck my cock.” 

“Suck my cock,” he says. Then, like a murderous afterthought: “Please.” 

You sigh again and shift to stand. His hand is suddenly on your shoulder, pressing you back down. 

“Don’t,” he says, sounding less like the prat he is. “Please. Go on. Will you?” 

“You want me to?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?” 

“Please,” he says through his teeth. 

Leaning back on your haunches, you place the softest, chastest little kiss on the head. He’s aroused enough that the foreskin is just beginning to pull back, and you let your tongue out to lap softly at the exposed head, listening to the way his breathing stutters and stops, the way the leather of his gloves creaks as he makes fists as his sides. 

“Try to fuck my face and it’s over,” you warn him. “You might be thinking of how badly you need this—and I know that you do. But don’t forget this: I need it more. I need this more. If we’re going to work together with any semblance of civility, I need this. Do you understand?” 

“No. But I get the gist.” 

“Good enough for me.” You open your mouth and take the head past your lips, suckling on it. He lets out a harsh breath through his nose, cock jerking against your tongue. You can taste precum already, and you’ve barely done anything. No wonder he’s been such a bastard lately. Has he been fucking his own fist at all? God knows that you’ve spent more than one night with your pruning fingers buried to the knuckle inside yourself, hand over your mouth to keep from shouting Ghost’s callsign when you cum. 

Leaning forward, you take more of him into your mouth, enjoying the heavy weight of him on your tongue. He is burning hot, smells and tastes faintly of sweat from the mission, but you don’t mind; living with so many men has almost given you a strange appreciation for the scent of hard work. Maybe Ghost’s most of all. You take him as deep as you comfortably can, but there are still a few solid inches outside the wet warmth of your mouth. 

You work one hand down your pants and underwear, finding the sopping wet slit between your thighs. Using three fingers, you stroke yourself leisurely from hole to clit, soaking the digits. Above you, Ghost mutters a curse, head tilting almost curiously as he searches for a better angle to watch your hand move beneath the fabric of your pants. Removing it, you hold it up to show him the filmy slick drenching your fingers before wrapping that fist around the base of his cock. 

“You get that wet just from thinking about sucking some cock?” 

Your eyes narrow dangerously, slowly pulling back until just the flushed head rests on your tongue, wondering if he’s being mean enough that you need to stop and remind him of his manners. Apparently just the threat of it is enough; he lifts his hands in supplication, mouth twisting a little beneath his mask. 

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything. Didn’t your mother teach you that, Lieutenant?” 

It’s his turn for his eyes to narrow dangerously, an expression that would likely put the fear of God in a lesser man or woman. But with your teeth so close to his cock, you’re not yet afraid. Before he can open his mouth and ruin anything else, you swallow him down as deeply as you can, feeling the thick head press at the back of your throat, your jaw aching. You can taste yourself on his cock and the thought has you whining around his length.  

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. His hand touches your hair—not to grab, but just to pet. “Yer a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

You hum in delight at this unexpected praise. It goes straight to your soaked core, fanning the flames of the ache between your legs. You are a pretty thing, and you are glad he’s noticed. To reward his good behavior, you lean in until the head nudges the back of your mouth again. Tongue out, breath held, he slips even deeper into the warm channel of your throat. His ragged exhale is as sweet as a moan. 

You give him a few more minutes of your mouth before you grow bored without your own satisfaction. Slipping him free, you work his cock in your slick fist and say to him, voice wrecked: “Time to see if you can lay down in here.” 

Turns out he can, as long as he keeps his knees bent a little. Straddling his waist only emphasizes to you how obscenely thick he is, and you have to stand to shuck your pants and panties down and off altogether. You cast a brief glance toward the door—there is no lock from the inside—but no risk means no reward. 

“I don’t have a condom. You’ll have to pull out. Tell me when you’re close, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

His hands reach for you, gripping your wide hips as you straddle him again. You plant one hand firmly against his chest but hold no illusions that you could actually pin him in place if he decided to move. You lower yourself to brush your soaked slit along the length of his cock, back and forth, until he is soaked in your arousal. 

His mouth opens to say something smart, something that will have you gritting your teeth, but instead you rise up onto one knee and sink down on the head of his cock. It’s all you can take before that pinch of pain strikes you, freezing you in your tracks. His mouth is parted beneath the balaclava, wet, quiet pants that dampen the fabric with each breath. You take your time stretching yourself open, thighs burning in time as you lift and lower yourself over him again and again. 

“Touch me,” you demand of him. 

For all his earlier mouth, he seems content to be obedient now, his gloved fingers searching for the space where you both are joined. The leather traces along the seam where his cock disappears into your cunt before following your parted lips up to your clit. His thumb circles the aching bud with a firm touch, and it helps you ignore the pain as you take another inch of him inside. 

You ride him like that: both your hands on his chest feeling the way it hitches as it rises and falls, hips jerking and swaying as you find the angle that suits you best. 

“Lean back,” he demands. “I want to look at you.” 

“No time,” you pant. “It’s been way longer than two minutes, Lieutenant. I do hate to be wasting your time.” 

“Fucking hell,” he sighs, eyes rolling.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you’re close.” He grunts in acknowledgement, his fingers going sloppy between your thighs. That’s not good enough. You bark: “Lieutenant, do not forget to tell me!” 

He laughs. 

You go to lift off of him, but his laughter turns belly up and dies so quickly, morphing into a strange, desperate little sound as he stops working your clit and grips at your hips, pulls you down more firmly against the cradle of his thighs. 

“I mean it,” you say through your teeth, taking one of his wrists and prying a finger loose until he has no choice but to let go or have it broken. You guide his hand back between your legs. “Don’t cum before me, either.” 

He sits up, jostling you, forcing you to change your angle. His mouth comes down hard against yours, fabric on skin, but you don’t turn him away, lapping at the cotton like it’s his tongue as you kiss through the mask. 

Feeling things slipping out of your control, you press him back down with both hands, pinning him to the floor. The sound of flesh on flesh is loud in the enclosed space. At the apex of his thrusts he brushes against some deep, untouched space inside you that has you digging your nails into him, feeling that ache in your belly writhe and twist into something fearsome. 

“I’m close,” he grits out. 

“Not yet,” you hiss. 

“I said I’m fucking close—“

“Wait for me,” you growl. Then, knowing that you can catch more flies with honey, you soften your tone: “Please, don’t cum yet.”

He shuts his eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters, scrambling for control, fingers digging into your thighs, unsure whether to pull you closer or tear you off of him. “Shut up, shut up, shut the—fuck up.”

It’s your turn to laugh, feeling your release right there, coaxed forward by this pleasurable torture you’re inflicting on him. Never did you think that seeing your superior officer suffering like this would give you so much satisfaction. 

“So close,” you whisper, the tips of your fingers tingling with it. “Simon, I’m gonna—“

When it bursts, your teeth snap closed around a whine, jaw tight as your cunt clenches around him—

—and he jerks you off of him, sending you sprawling against his lower thighs as his ruddy cock twitches and spurts pearlescent seed, one dexterous hand wrapping around the shaft as he jerks himself off through it even after ruining your own. You stare, gobsmacked at his audacity, pussy still twitching and clenching around empty air, the stolen pleasure leaving behind a vicious ache. 

“You bastard,” you mutter. You bat his hand away, gripping his cock and beginning to jerk him off. When you smile, it is mostly teeth, something feral and mean. “Let’s try that again.” 

[taeyongdoyoung]

t-t-teach me

summary: college life sucks. but at least you get to study with the hottest guy on campus... pairing: soobin x reader genre: college au, slight angst, smut, colleagues to study buddies to lovers warnings: academic setting, studying, mild allusions to anxiety/insecurities, reader is older than soobin, kissing, praise kink, size kink, handjob, fingering, lots of touching, protected sex (gasp), manipulation if you squint but it's all consensual, some lyrics references as usual author's note: someone on social media commented that soobin's "t-t-teach me" part in love language lowkey sounds like "t-t-touch me" and i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are... word count: 2.2k

Your college life is pretty boring. Study, eat, study some more, eat again, sleep, repeat. So, when your most handsome colleague (in your humble opinion) asks you to help him study for the upcoming exams, you are tempted to agree.

"Pleaseee, Y/N," Soobin begs so cutely. The way his glasses are slightly tilted doesn't help your case. "I can even pay you!"

"I don't want your money, Soobin," you shake your head, determined to play with him a little longer. After all, it is not every day that such a hot guy acknowledges your existence.

"What do you want, then? I'd do anything, I really need to pass, my whole future depends on it."

"Well, shouldn't you have studied throughout the year?" you tease him. "Instead of, I don't know, partying or whatever it is you and your squad do."

"I don't even go to parties. I'm just in my dorm playing games all the time."

"Case in point," you tsk, pretending to be disappointed.

"Okay, I realize I should have taken the courses more seriously, but can you please consider it?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I told you already, the sky is the limit. Just t-t-teach me the material," he stammers sweetly. "When the professors do it, I literally can't focus and understand anything."

"You do realize this isn't an easy task, right? We have less than a month until finals. Even if I do help you study…I can't promise you'll pass."

"Where's your confidence, teacher?" Soobin pouts.

"I haven't agreed yet!"

"Oh, but you just did," Soobin is too adorable to say 'no' to.

So, this is how it starts. Every day, after your lectures end, you go to Soobin's dorm to study. You use every method that has been helpful for you throughout the years. Highlights, flashcards, quizzes, you try everything and anything in order to help Soobin understand the material. At the end of each week you prepare a short test that is meant to aid Soobin in revising the most important information. The first week, his results are disastrous. You honestly don't see any hope but you promised him you'd try your best so you keep modifying the material in order to improve his understanding. The second week, his results are still below average, but slightly better. By the third week, he has definitely reached the expected pass level.

"My God, Soobin, this is amazing progress!" you praise him honestly.

"Really? You think I'd be able to pass?" he asks, still worried about the upcoming exams.

"If you keep up the great work, you surely will," you are confident that he'll make it. "We have one more week until the first exam, I'm sure we'll manage to cover some more ground and revise the essentials."

"Yeah, I think there's still enough time to stick to the plan you made," Soobin nods thoughtfully.

"Here's an idea that might be motivational. If you pass all your exams, I'll reward you."

"Reward me how?" Soobin eyes you curiously.

"However you like."

"What about me paying you back?" Soobin reminds you of the original deal.

"You can just buy me dinner at that sushi place near the university," you suggest simply.

"Sounds good. I'll do my best to pass."

"I know you can do it!" at this point, you genuinely believe in him and are amazed to see how much he's improved.

The exam period starts sooner than you'd like and you now have less time for your study sessions with Soobin, prioritizing individual preparation instead. Honestly, you kind of miss seeing his pretty face every day and explaining things to him. Talking about the material out loud has been helpful for you, as well. The final exams pass by in a flash and now you only have to wait one more week for the results to come out.

"How do you think you did?" you ask Soobin on the phone.

"Ugh, don't ask," he complains. "Even though I felt like we covered all the material, having to explain it in my own words and provide examples was so draining. I have no idea how I did but don't get your hopes up."

"I see," you reply with a sigh.

"I'm not gonna ask how you did, because I'm pretty sure you nailed them," Soobin shuts down any possibility of boasting before it even started.

"Hey, the exams were pretty difficult for me, too," you mumble shyly.

"Yeah, yeah, talk to me again when you flaunt those 100 points."

"Just because I tend to get high results most of the time, doesn't mean I don't struggle," you express your feelings a little harsher than intended.

Soobin is stunned into silence.

"Sorry, that was insensitive of me to say. I guess I never realized how much effort you put into studying."

"It's okay, I'm used to being misunderstood," you answer sheepishly.

"Just because you're used to it, doesn't make it okay. Get some rest. You sure deserve it."

"You too, Soobin."

And with that, the phone call ends. Tensions run high as you anxiously check your email once every two hours for results. You probably care more about this than you should. Only this time your own results are not the only thing on your mind. You really want Soobin to be satisfied with the work he's done. Because you feel like you poured more energy into helping him and you would really hate to see him fail. Not only because you'd feel responsible for it, but because you genuinely like him and want to see him happy.

After what feels like forever, the results are out. Of course, you can only see your own due to privacy reasons. But you know Soobin has also received the same email as every other student. It is only the content that varies. You quickly check your stats and though you didn't get a 100 points everywhere, as Soobin jokingly suggested, you are still pretty proud of yourself. You eagerly grab your phone, meaning to call Soobin when you stop yourself in the last second.

What if he didn't pass all the exams? What if he doesn't want to talk about it? So, instead, you wait until he contacts you first. Luckily, you don't wait long.

"Come over" is the simple message he sends you.

You put on a jacket and practically sprint to his dorm. Is he okay? Is he inviting you over to celebrate or to drink his sorrows away? Your mind races and so do your legs as you near his room. A hesitant knock on his door. A quiet "It's open".

You cautiously enter and study Soobin's expressions in an attempt to read the room. He doesn't look depressed but he doesn't look ecstatic either. What's going on? You just need to know, the uncertainty is killing you.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Soobin asks you coldly.

"Uh…good news?" you mumble, feeling more nervous about whatever he has to say than about your own results.

"Good news is I passed all my exams. I got between 60 and 75 points on most of them."

"That's…incredible! Congratulations, Soobin!" you exclaim proudly. "I'm really happy for you! Wait…what are the bad news, then?"

"The bad news is…you promised me a reward," he whispers darkly.

"Why is that bad news?" you are utterly confused, as you sit down on the couch next to him. "You deserve to be rewarded, you worked so hard to accomplish this."

"That's true, but…I'm not sure you'll like the way I want to be rewarded."

"Anything is okay," you vow, not knowing what's in store for you. "I'll keep my word."

"Oh, I know you will," Soobin smirks and crashes his lips against yours, shocking you completely. Is this really happening? Did you just…both pass all your exams and are now kissing with the hottest guy in your university to celebrate?

"T-t-touch me," he begs so prettily who are you to reject him?

"Where do you want me to touch you?" you easily agree.

He grabs your hand and slides it under his shirt so that you are now caressing his abs. Fuck, his skin is so smooth and hard.

"You're so pretty," you mutter what you've been thinking every time you see him.

"I try to look my best for you," Soobin admits.

"Shut up," you shake your head in disbelief.

"Yes, teacher," he teases you.

"Don't call me that," you groan.

"What would you prefer? Ma'am?"

"Ugh, no, that makes me feel old," your eyes roll.

"Well, you are older than me. How about noona?" Soobin blinks cutely.

"Oh my God, do you ever shut up?"

"Touch me somewhere else," he doesn't ask this time, he demands. You don't even have the time to ask where he'd like to be touched before he's grabbed your wrist again and moves it right on top of his clothed cock. You're seriously gonna die. You're gonna die right in this moment and you won't even go to that cute sushi place. "Take my jeans off."

Your hands are shaking but you do your best to follow Soobin's orders. All your academic knowledge is completely useless in this moment. What you lack in practice, you try to make up for with enthusiasm. Stroking his length and licking him softly seem to do the trick and Soobin grows harder under your touch.

"Why are you so pretty?" you can't help but marvel.

"It's both a blessing and a curse," Soobin grunts loudly. "Wait, stop."

You immediately halt your movements, letting go of his cock.

"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" you ask nervously, almost getting teary-eyed at the thought.

"What? No, you're doing amazing, I just…didn't want to come yet."

"Oh, I see," you reply, even though you can't see shit. "When do you want to come?"

"Wrong question, teacher," Soobin disregards your preference for not being called that. But in this moment, you no longer care. "Replace the wh-word with another wh-word."

"Hmm," you ponder out loud. "Where do you want to come?"

"Inside you. If you'd let me."

"Erm, I'm not sure…" you try to find a polite say that you are not really interested in getting pregnant at this point of your life.

"Relax, I've got condoms," Soobin laughs at you gently. "We can save the risky activities for after graduation."

He's already thinking that far into the future?

Soobin touches your folds gently, trying to ease your worries.

"Does it feel good?"

"So good, Soobin," you confess.

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly, as his long finger stretches you open. "Bet I can teach you a thing or two myself."

"I believe you," you sigh wistfully, as you near your high.

While Soobin puts on protection, you try to think of a logical solution as to how this will work. Honestly, you are too wet to care but his enormous size is still intimidating. Your brain seems incapable of coming up with a formula, so you give up entirely. Thinking only makes it worse.

When he slides inside of you, the feeling is so overwhelming you need something to keep you from falling apart.

"Talk to me," you beg.

"What do you want me to talk about?" Soobin asks.

"Anything."

"Linguistics is the scientific study of language. The areas of linguistic analysis are syntax, morphology, phonetics and-"

"Oh my God, really?" you scoff in disbelief. "Exams are over, let's put that behind us."

"What's your love language?" Soobin wants to know.

"Probably words of affirmation. What's yours?"

"Same. Quality time, as well," he responds.

"Oh yeah, definitely," you agree.

"You're taking me so well," Soobin immediately puts the newfound knowledge to use.

"You're fucking me so well," you whisper sincerely.

And this is all it takes for you two burst in each other's arms, experiencing pleasure like never before.

Once you've dutifully helped clean each other up and are cozied up underneath the sheets, the time for a more serious conversation arrives.

"I don't wanna lose this," Soobin gestures in the air between the two of you.

"We can keep studying together," you reply dumbly.

"That's not what I meant," Soobin chuckles. "Wanna spend time with you. We don't have to be studying, we can watch movies and I can teach you how to play games and…other stuff."

"I like the sound of that," you smile warmly.

"Actually, I have a confession to make," Soobin blurts out.

"Oh?"

"Deep down, I knew I'd pass the exams somehow," Soobin whispers. "I just couldn't be bothered to study. Needed an excuse to get close to you."

You can't even be mad at him.

"I have a confession, as well," you say in return. "I agreed to help you because I wanted to know more about you. I could tell you're smart."

"Is it the glasses?" Soobin pouts adorably, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah, you just give off that…sexy nerdy vibe. Glasses or no glasses."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is. From one nerd to another."

"I can live with that," Soobin flicks your nose playfully.

"You still owe me sushi, by the way. For helping you study."

"Oh, teacher. Sushi is not the only thing you'll be eating tonight."

The End

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

(Mostly explicit messages)

So recently, you’ve been feeling horny all the time. Like, I’m literally getting that you feel horny even after you’ve orgasmed. Your body gets turned on without any external stimuli and you start feeling knots in your thighs, making you crave a release. Maybe for most people, even short orgasms cut it but for you even average length ones don’t seem to do it. If your orgasms are short or average length, you might be too sensitive to masturbate right away but you aren’t satisfied and crave a longer, and more satisfying one. You want your orgasms to be something that you experience for a longer time and ones that you experience with your entire body. Right now, you seem to be learning a lot about your own sexuality. I’m so sorry but I’m not getting any other messages except sexual ones here. Your soul is likely a very sexual one? Another thing is that no matter who you are, your nipples are extremely sensitive. They’re so sensitive that many of you may be scared of touching them yourselves. Even if you do touch them, the mere idea of pressing onto them makes you feel tingly all over but in an uncomfortable manner. However, here’s the interesting thing, you may not know it yet but you would really enjoy nipple play of some sort. It does not have to be something too extravagant, could literally just be the other person sucking your tits while touching you. Many of you might not finger yourself and might simply just rub your clit. Even if you do finger yourself, the clit is very important to you. This is not how I was intending this reading to go, I’m not sure what’s going on because this is supposed to be a soul reading and I was expecting anything but this. However, I’m just rolling with it because sexual pleasure seems to be very important to you 😭. I’m trying to look into something that’s not about sex, masturbation and orgasms but I’m not getting anything yet. I think that unless I finish whatever the spirit and your soul is trying to get through to you, I won’t be able to tap into anything else about your soul. So well, you liked to be talked through it and be taught things. You also want your sexual partner to learn from you and to press your pleasure points. Your clit is very important to you. You likely can’t imagine sex without the clit being involved in some way. Maybe sometimes you’d be fine with it but on most days and nights, you prefer being rubbed and licked down there, devoured actually. You want to see your partner pussy drunk. I’m getting a certain image in my mind, you want your future spouse to be unwilling to move their head from in between your legs even when you tug at their hair, try to pull them away, try to push them away or cry out. You want them to be addicted to eating you out almost, you want them to get lost during it. You also have a thing for seeing their tongue work its magic down there. It might sound gross to some of you and you might not admit it but you find the idea of kisses after oral really hot, and if you don’t, you will find it hot when it’s actually happening. You seem to like the tongue a lot so you might naturally like kissing when doing it. I believe that right now you crave to be able to take more care of yourself physically and sexually. You already are but it’s almost like you’re insatiable.

Some of you might have a roommate, might sleep with your sister or mother, or something like that causing you to not have enough privacy but even so, you manage to find ways to indulge in that pleasure in whatever way you can and whenever you can. However, there’s a desire to experience pleasure in a very grounded manner, more times than you usually do in a day and feel, and indulge in the sensation of being blissed out, and warm in your thighs, feet, genitals and stomach. You may want to have the time, space and privacy to edge for a long time and experience a long orgasm that feels very whole, and spreads throughout the body rather than just stays in the genital area. At your core, you’re someone who wants to learn and teach others, and have a respectful reputation. There’s something about wanting to work with others and naturally being cooperative as long as there’s a shared vision. Your soul is currently craving genuineness, self care and being taken care of. You want to nurture and receive the same nurturing back. You desire stability, security and assets of some sort, possibly land or gold. You’re also desiring a physical glow up and to be grounded enough to remain humble. You want to be someone who doesn’t break character easily and is self assured because you’re grounded rather than having a prideful self assurance that’s more fiery in nature. You want the best of the best for your soul. That’s what your soul craves and for that, you want to become the best of the best too. You’re someone who is more long term oriented and values things like ethics, values, morality, stability and commitment. Which is why despite wanting to be touched and experience orgasms, you settle for ‘self care’ because you don’t want to give your body away to just anyone. You hold yourself to really high regard to do something like that. Your soul craves to be more mature and to progress in life, and career. Also, to be in domestic and secure environments. Your soul wants you to take care of yourself from within. “Working out is not enough if you’re not watching your diet.” Not my words, that’s just what I heard. The vibe that I keep on getting is the queen of ants or bees who is looked after and not only everyone is set on taking care of her but also she’s the first priority. Like, if there’s danger, they move her to the safest spot. That’s what you want except that you’re human and you genuinely desire to nurture too. You’re either already very independent but because you closed off in the past, you’re learning how to be giving and nurturing, I don’t think this part ever left you but you still want to experience it to the fullest or you’re giving and nurturing learning how to be more independent, or you’re all three giving, independent and nurturing but because you know your worth, you’re not willing to give it away to just anyone but you’re able to do so to people who need it but you’re still genuinely fine with being alone and you’re self sufficient too. For example, underprivileged children or old people who are living in this world of capitalism and inflation. The third one is what your soul desires to be like. You want to be independent, nurturing and giving but fine with being by yourself, and in fact, content with being as such. Right now, you’re learning about your sexual nature and desires. Majority of the reading was simply about your sex drive so well, I’ll leave you to take care of yourself. I hope that you liked it. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

You’re someone who can be pretty distant in friendships and that’s because you mostly feel unwelcome or disconnected from groups of people. Even if they’re welcoming, you don’t feel that connection with them. Even so, you are able to appreciate people for who they are and connections for welcoming you even if you don’t feel that synergy with them. So you have two sides, one side of you is overindulgent in socialising while the other is more of a loner. You’re someone who may start disconnecting from a group overtime. Like when you first meet them, you might really vibe with them because you’ve experienced being left out so you try to include everybody but as time starts passing by, you start leaning into yourself and withdrawing. You seem to have dealt with gossip, falling out with friends, friends affecting you negatively, people misunderstanding you, excluding you or you yourself feeling like an outcast. Also, other people preferring someone else over you. You have dealt with betrayal in friendships and romance, specifically being left for or replaced by someone else. Your soul is desiring travelling and experiencing things that make you feel young, and alive i.e. adventure! For example, stargazing, camping, travelling to different places with different conditions like beaches, mountains, cities, etc. Also, some of you might have a decision to make. You might currently be contemplating leaving something or someone. Your soul knows deep down that you deserve better than this and it’s leaning towards you leaving. For some reason, if you make the decision to leave, it has to be sudden, almost impulsive but something that you don’t look back from. You might have a lot of memories with this situation or person (could be multiple people too), or even if that’s not the case, some level of familiarity is what is stopping you from letting go. You are being told to leave. For some of you, you’ve already left. If this is a person, i’m picking up on them making you feel like an option or choosing someone else over you, or something like that? The vibe that I’m getting here is more platonic than romantic but it could be a friendship that borders on romance i.e. basically someone who sucks you dry by taking all the benefits of a romantic relationship but choosing others over you. Hell, you might not even be treated like an option. There are many different situations coming through here. Some of you may be dealing with friends having turned against you and leaving you out. Some of you may be dealing with mistreatment at school, university or work and might be contemplating leaving. The common theme is that there are two paths here and your soul craves to let go, and seek more, to discover that the grass is greener on the other side. However, some of you have already made this decision, possibly even a long time ago and are craving to progress further.

Your soul craves to experience life in a pure and passionate way, by travelling, achieving your goals and being in environments, and with people who appreciate you, share similar visions and don’t make you feel bad. You have dealt with feeling like you’re not worth committing to, that others always have someone else they prefer over you, being treated as if you don’t have feelings, being treated as not even an option, being treated as an emotional punching bag, being used for your emotional labour, having friends turn against you, getting humiliated and mocked by acquaintances, etc. If you have left and let go already, all of you are different stages. Some of you may still be haunted by the emotions of the past if it’s still fresh, some of you have grown a lot and have found more emotional stability, and understand that it’s good that things are not the same but you still want more growth, passion and experiences in your life. All of you are headed towards growth. If you’re struggling with leaving, I’ve gotta tell you that the grass is in fact greener on the other side. You might have to walk for a bit in order to get to where the grass is green but you need to get there, that’s the only good decision that you can make for yourself in this situation. Currently, you’re learning how to let go of familiar people if they betray or hurt you no matter how long you’ve known them for. Physically for those of you who haven’t left yet and mentally for those of you who have. Many of you have made significant progress in this process of leaving, letting go and doing better. You might think about the past but it’s not something you want to ever go back to and for the most part, you have let go of many emotions that you felt back then because you’ve significantly matured and are craving something different, something more. When you look back, you understand that you deserved better than that so many of you do not even acknowledge them as people you cared about. You seem to have understood that you were taken advantage of and because you deserved, and do deserve better, you have removed yourself from those situations of the past, acting as though they never even happened and you have a resolve to make sure to never repeat history again. It’s not even denial or avoidance, it’s just that you have grown so much that you don’t identify with that version of yourself anymore. If you haven’t left yet, this is what’s awaiting you when you leave. You’re going to become someone who is not willing to and doesn’t feel the need to help everyone, and does not care about familiarity or memories and focuses on what people are doing in the present instead. Also, you’ll not think of the past as something grand when it comes to other people, you’re going to think of it as grand when it comes to you because it will have made you who you are and you’ll be proud of how you used to be too.

You’re not going to be happy about having been used but you’re going to appreciate how innocent you were, how loving you were, your own willingness to do and try until the end. There’s going to be a feeling of you not having lost anything while the other parties lost the best. You’re currently maturing and letting go of the past no matter who you are. Even if you have accepted that you deserved better and have stopped acknowledging your past, it’s something that you think about, and are still letting go of. You’ve forgiven the past especially yourself but you know that you deserved better so you’ll never forgive the people who did what they did and let them have access to you again. There’s something about leaving the home and adulting, it might happen within the next three years at most for many of you. You’ve already started adulting though and it has matured you significantly. You don’t mind weakening connections and even leaving them behind completely because you have experienced really bad things in the past, and have been stuck in the past and nostalgia in the past, and you even tried until the end, seeming desperate so you have outgrown that and know that nothing good is going to come out by trying too hard unless the other person is actively making sure to get somewhere with you as well. You seem to be healing trauma regarding your younger self i.e. childhood, school days, innocent connections like the first loves, etc. You see the past for what it was, the good and the bad, and so you do not idealise it but you do not exactly hate it either, it’s sorta bittersweet, many parts of it but you’re at peace to have grown into who you’ve grown into but you just want something new, fresh, different, familiar but mature. You want to share a close and comfortable connection with people, and share a natural bond that makes them feel familiar to you but you want more than what you’ve experienced, you want something real and won’t engage with them if they repeat patterns of the past for you because you’ve outgrown them. If not, you’re in the process of doing so. You’ve only become more pure over time. Your capacity to love has become more innocent but more mature at the same time so you may not consider things of the past to be ‘love’ as per se. You acknowledge what you’ve given but you don’t identify with your past self who put up with so much bullshit. You desire more and want better for yourself. In the past, you seem to have had lost your sense of fun and adventure due to experiences, and people depleting you. Instead, you were playing small and sticking with them out of familiarity but you’ve gotten your passion and curiosity back, and want to go from there, grow from there. I hope that the reading gave you clarity. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

On the soul level, you’re someone goal oriented who’s supposed to pursue your goals unabashedly and unapologetically even if it means upsetting or hurting others. However, despite this sort of drive and approach to your goals, you are a very soft person. You seem to lack assertiveness and do not even know how to fight back verbally. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t even react. What seems to have happened is, you were very driven and ambitious growing up but somewhere along the way you lost focus, and lost your way. You became directionless and reckless, and developed almost like an inferiority complex. You’ve always low-key had one because you seem to have contradictory traits and two of those traits that contradict each other are inferiority, submissiveness, inability to speak up and lack of assertiveness, and extreme ambition, drive and a sharp ass tongue. It might sound impossible for both these sides to exist within the same person but they do exist within you. Let me put it like this, your soul is more action oriented than a talker. However, some of you fell victim to a ‘talker’ not realising that most people are not action oriented like you? This is not the case for most of you. So, because your soul is action oriented, when you were younger, you were self assured and more focused on getting things done than standing up for yourself, it caused you to have a more submissive side and image but on the inside, you’re the most driven person ever with a lot of aggressiveness and assertiveness, it’s just that it manifests differently. One example that I can give you that I believe all of you are going to relate with is that you can get very annoyed, impulsive, sharp with words or tone and firm when you’re bothered while you’re completing a task or doing your work. You hate distractions and want to be left alone during such times. You lack assertiveness but you’re action oriented and that’s how you assert yourself. You might run your mouth or did so when you were younger and excited, in regard to your vision, ideas, endeavours because you had the end goal in mind but standing up for yourself aggressively through words, that’s not really you. I feel like the main thing with you is that you struggle with aggressiveness and assertiveness with acquaintances, and those who you’re not close to but when you’re comfortable enough with someone or know them well enough, you know exactly what to say in order to hit a nerve. This is what I meant when I called you ‘sharp tongued’ earlier. When you lost your sense of direction and forgot yourself, you had no real purpose so it led to your confidence and self assuredness disappearing, and your inferiority complex getting stronger. When you were still driven, you didn’t really have an inferiority complex in an extreme way but it was more like, you knew that certain people had certain things in life and skills that you didn’t have, and because you weren’t much of a talker in an assertive manner.

It was something that intrigued you plus you were simply just curious about life because you were young. However, because you were doing your best and had a drive, a purpose in life, you didn’t feel as inferior internally but when you got distracted and lost your direction, your energy that was not well directed just ended up feeding into your inferiority complex. Also another thing that I’m getting that not all of you are going to resonate with is that you would be great at handling conflicts with your fists. You’re calm and seem almost submissive on the outside but internally very passionate and driven, and this drive translates to you needing a lot of physical release which means ‘orgasms’ xD. However, if you get back to finding direction and being yourself (many of you already have), you’re going to become self serving and self assured. You’re going to become someone whose actions are pretty unpredictable because you have opposing and contradictory character traits. You have a rude side to you too. It’s very interesting how many different sides you possess. A good trait that you possess is that you separate your ambitions from your personal life. For example, if your friend wants something you too want, you won’t hesitate to go get it and it’s not like you feel hostile towards them, it’s just that you are going after your goals with your own hard work and efficiency. Your soul is desiring one on one connections right now. There’s a craving to find true love, romantically and even platonically. You want to have a friendship in which you are so close that others don’t even stand a chance to come in between. A friendship so fulfilling that romance is not even a need but you’re also craving romance, you want mutual love that is full of respect and joy. You want to have connections in which people have your best interests at heart. You want to be with someone with whom you’re a unit, a team. One in which you mutually respect and even appreciate, and adore each other’s differences. You want connections that are open and honest, and everyone takes part with equal effort. The most important part of what I’m stating is ‘mutuality’, you need this kind of connection to be mutual, that’s what you crave. You value loyalty and think that consideration is the highest form of love, you consider those you love and you want them to understand that your go getter nature is not meant to threaten them. In the past, due to this go getter nature of yours, you may have failed to consider other people or even if you did, they didn’t see past all the times that you didn’t. It seems to be more of an ego thing for them. For example, you both wanted the same position and you got it then you both wanted to be friends with the same person, and you got it and then you both wanted the same guy but out of respect and loyalty, you decided not to engage with him but he grew to like you despite your lack of engagement.

It leads to others misunderstanding and growing aggressive towards you so you want a connection in which you’re understood, and are able to work with the other person’s best interests at heart because I won’t lie, I understand why your actions have been perceived as selfish in the past. You’re just goal motivated and oriented, it’s not malicious intent but just the fact that you go and get what you want. However, another side of you is that despite being this way, you’re extremely considerate in connections i.e. one on one ones in which you trust and feel a sense of loyalty towards the other person. Everyone who sees you as selfish would have done the same thing as you if they got the opportunity to. They were people who you felt like were competitive with you too whether they admitted it or not so you do not need to feel bad. You want to have connections in which you’d consider the other person and they’d consider you. You have a desire for intimacy and depth one on one connections, both romantic and platonic ones. You value quality over quantity. So you’d be fine if you simply had one life long friend and one life long lover, in fact, that’s what you crave, that’s what you want. You may hold connections to be sacred and want to experience divinity in the form of connections. Some of you fell victim in some sort of one on one connection to someone who knew how to talk a really good game and was incredibly manipulative but were a bum action wise at least to you, but you weren’t able to tell at that time because you were so action oriented that you assumed that everyone was. You seem to have either learned or are learning the lesson to recognise those who keep people around for person needs and in order to boost their ego. You are developing silent power or are growing a realisation of the fact that your power is in the way you’re not asserting yourself outwardly but have a steady heart with a strong drive, a controlled mind and are action oriented. You have struggled with overthinking and a hyper active brain, you still might but most of you have learned how to tame it or are doing so right now. You demand and expect respect from others, and are a quiet thinker who does not express all their thoughts or are learning how to be. You seem to have been acquainted with your inner truth and that’s helping you find power in who you truly are. Like, you may be understanding that you don’t have to stand up for yourself verbally if mistreated or disrespected, instead you can just remove yourself from such an environment and focus on your own life, and goals. You think that that’s a power because there are people who will stand up for themselves verbally but will continue staying in that environment, not removing themselves from such cheap people and situations but you’re not like that. You may not react but you know how to respond through follow through actions. I hope that the reading was enjoyable and offered you some sort of direction. Thank you so much for reading, much love and take care.

[kroosluvr]

featherman seeker

as usual da cele notes under cut

had to get some food so thsi si late... i lterally gluedm yself to my chair to finish this LMAOAO

all of the not-dialogue is just straight up lines frm featherman seeker LMAOOO just rearranged

this takes place during 3rd semester (see: infiltration log on wall on 4th page, also their winter clothes strewn around akira's room) after drawing it i was rereading like oh u cld prob see this as like post-third semester but nah i intended it to be such BECAUSE

i rock w the canon that sumire has no clue abt akechi's past and black mask and the mental shutdowns and shido and the engine room she doesnt know hes supposed to be dead, that he sacrificed himself, etc. so ofc shes going thru the game like yayyy featherman yay and her sort of naivete Gets thru to goro. i imagine this is like idk a game he played in childhood bc he was a featherman fan but now revisiting it bc sumire wanted to try it, hes like. damn. this kinda. uh. well thats crazy how things line up. so i think it kinda grates at him but sumi's excitement and like. enjoyment! of it kinda helps him also enjoy it more

SO LIKE He knows he's going to die. He knows thats how grey pigeon's story ends. but he's happy here, and now, with the people he loves, so that makes it All right for now. it's a sad story but it's the good ending.

also i forgor how/where/when goro exactly Actualizes back into existence but can u imagine if he spawned right into the winter wonderland of shibuya square like (head in hands) smth so like. isolating abt it. in a crowd of ppl being excited over christmas and hes like what the hell im supposed to be Dead right now.

also "you are not alone" in the first panels very important..... right under hte panel w goro and sumi side by side :') yea

ryuji and ann holding akira back. YEA.

i really like the 3rd slide. the colors mmmm BUT YEAH so its goro/akira fighting/saving sumire, hanging out at jazz jin, last stand against adam kadmon, then goro holding sumi and akira's hands in the snow, then them smiling :') kinda like a procession of memories, or to-be memories or whatever

ANYWAY this is also like part of my whatever canon divergence where the royal trio section of 3rd sem is just longer for no reason . (aka: the thieves take longer to win over to their side, idk maruki gives u a longer time on the deal, etc etcetc.) just more royal trio time :3

sumibun akimeow and gorodog in 4th img... hidden.... also tennis rackets. ALSO THE LITTLE POLAROIDS Important. and all their clothes! i imagine they stay over at leblanc A Lot. akira prob convinces sojiro to Keep morgana at his house LOL and he handles the business and stuff just so they can have their safe haven while they struggle to try and win the thieves back and infiltrate the palace etc . (I kinda have a comic or something in the works for this)

more abt dialogue choices

"it's tough for a tutorial stage" - this means smth. i didnt think this thru 100% ASKJDHASDKJA but its to do w akechi's life and how everything was so fucking difficult for him as a kid when it shouldnt have been.

"is the second phase giving you trouble" - also smth to do w akechi. (As u can see these are all half baked metaphors) smth to do w his 'second life" aka: third semester being Difficult. because now he has sumire and akira and he doesn't want to leave them, so dying the 2nd time is gonna suck real bad.

i like shuakesumi btw

[cherrysweets-world]

Eyes of the Gods II

masterlist - part I - part III

Pairing - Caracalla x f!Reader, Geta x f!Reader

Summary - It is no longer possible to hide in the shadows. The emperors are determined to learn every bit about you despite any objections you may have.

Warnings - minors dni, forced proximity unedited, power imbalance, fight to the death, blood, brutality

Word Count - 2.7k

A restless night did nothing for your nerves. You awoke the next morning with the previous night's encounters still playing on your mind. You tried to dismiss your anxiety. You lived in the palace, it was natural that you would come across the emperors sooner or later. In fact, it was odd that last night was the first time!

Still, you had been disturbed with the weight of their full attention. Light and dark eyes that carried the same heaviness. It felt as though a layer of your skin had been peeled back, revealing pieces of yourself that you had no interest in sharing. You were concerned that they had not been pleased with what they had found.

Never had you been struck by such paranoia. It burdened you all morning, as you washed and got dressed, as you headed to start your daily tasks in the kitchen. It clung to your back, hissing conspiracies and exaggerations in your ears.

 Lack of sleep did not help. You had barely managed a few hours before having to get up to prepare the day's food. Such an important task demanded that you woke several hours before anyone else even stirred, creeping from your shared room and into your familiar workspace.

That morning, though, you were grateful for the time. You were not alone but those that accompanied you were grouchy and sleepy-eyed and so had no interest in idle conversation. That was fine, you liked it that way. You could pretend that there was nothing but you, the wood table in front of you, and the days work ahead of you.

The rest of your day continued in a similar fashion. Your familiar routines helped soothe you, helped ease the paranoia from your shoulders and draw you into a relaxed lull. The folding of dough, the washing of fruit, the preparation of trays. Your work brought you comfort.

It wasn't until the sun began to ease herself from the sky that things began to sour. It started with the presence of a cup-bearer in the kitchen. Usually they did not venture this far back and were supplied with what they needed elsewhere. You took note of her from the corner of your eye and did your best to immerse yourself in your work.

The Gods had different plans for you. The girl headed in your direction, watching you inquisitively but silently.

Then, she called your name. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, "but. . .your presence is needed in the entertainment hall."

Deep, intense dread settled in your stomach. "What do you need? I can send -"

"No," she cut you off, "you specifically."

You had only ever been in the entertainment hall a handful of times. Only once was during an event, where you found yourself quickly overstimulated and desperate to return to the kitchen. The other times had been after events, when they needed the extra pair of hands to clean up. Neither times had it been you specifically that was required.

It felt as though all the air was sucked out of the kitchen at once. All the smells, sights, sounds, gone. Only you and this inescapable demand.

Something in your face seemed to alarm the girl and she clasped her hands together and begged, "Please, just come. I do not know what they want but I do not want to be the one to refuse them. Please, they'll - just please."

They. You shuddered, feeling cold to the bone. It seemed you had let your guard down earlier. Now you were headed to the entertainment hall, most likely to be the entertainment. Whatever that entailed.

"What do they intend to do with me?" you asked, wiping your hands on your apron and slipping it from your head. You did not know what to expect. Part of you would have felt better knowing, the other part preferred to dwell in the uncertainty.

"I do not know," she said, voice pleading. "Don't make me go back up there alone."

You could not do such a thing. Besides, what other options did you have? If you said no, the Praetorians would likely come storming down and drag you out of the kitchen themselves. The only other options would be to drop everything now and bolt. Not that you would get very far but it would maybe feel better than potentially marching yourself towards your own doom.

For the first time in a while, it dawned on you just how little choice you had. Your parents had died long ago, leaving you scrabbling for shelter and food. You had found both in the imperial palace, and had fooled yourself into thinking that you chose this. You chose the back-breaking work, the long hours and constant terror. In reality, what else could you have done? Remained on the streets and starved? Would you go back to them now, just to give yourself the mere illusion of choice?

While these thoughts raced through your mind, your hands busied themselves folding up your apron and leaving it in it's usual place. You hoped you would be there to retrieve it again tomorrow morning. You heard yourself letting the head cook know that the Emperors had requested you, and you were not sure when you would be able to return.

She looked at you with a mix of pity and annoyance. If you did not return then she would be out a worker, but she was well aware of what usually went on in the entertainment hall. I did not chose this, you wanted to scream, it is not my fault.

You could have cried over the unfairness of it all. You had served the emperors well for many years, doing so out of sight and out of mind. Why could it not have remained that way? You had been loyal, hardworking and good. Was that not enough?

You stared at the cup-bearers back as you trailed after her, up the winding stairs and into the main part of the palace. There, the opulence hurt your eyes and made you stumble back. You felt like a dark stain on a pale dress. Out of place and obvious. There would be nowhere for you to hide tonight.

The girl kept glancing back at you, twisting her hands. "It's fine," you told her, mustering a smile. "It's not your fault."

"It's not your fault either," she whispered back. "What could women like us do against those who are chosen by Gods?"

Nothing, you thought. All you could do was summon some dignity and grace and face whatever was to come head on.

Torches lit the way to the entertainment hall. You kept straining for some hint of what you were heading in to. It was not loud, so no gathering could have been taking place. It was not until you got closer that you heard the groaning and thumping of flesh and you began to go sweat.

When you entered the room, you expected to see a writhing pile of flesh and hot bodies. That was not the sight that greeted you. Instead, there were three men circling the edges of a small space, all three equally as bloodied and bruised and covered in filth. Even with the torch light flickering you could make out various wounds and blood dashed all over the marble.

The emperors sat on the most luxurious chairs you had ever seen. Reds, golds, blues. The clothing they wore was more luxurious still. There was a scent in the air, something that reminded you of oranges, likely to combat the stench of spilled blood.

Caracalla looked far less frazzled than the night before, though it seemed the unhinged grin was a permanent fixture. His hair was less rumpled and he wore jewels throughout the red curls and in his ears. They glimmered every time he giggled, reminding you of your basic dress and worn sandals.

Geta wore his white paint and dark eye makeup, distinguishing him clearly from his brother. He seemed older despite the fact that they were twins. His eyes were light, a sign he was enjoying the fight before him, and his posture was relaxed. His tongue occasionally swiped back and forth across his lips, the color startlingly pink against the white of his makeup.

It seemed an interesting habit. The color of his tongue was the same as yours and it reminded you that although he and his brother had been chosen by Gods, they were still ultimately human.

The cup-bearer lead you to the them. "My Emperors," she called softly, "I did as you asked."

Caracalla sat up immediately, the boy behind him almost slipping from the chair. "It is you," he said, eyes snapping about your figure as though you were about to disappear. "I almost thought I dreamed you. My brother told me I did not."

You blinked, feeling hopeless. Maybe if you had been quicker in leaving Caracalla's chambers, Geta would not have seen you and you would have been able to slink back to the kitchens undisturbed.

A breeze caressed your hot cheeks, bringing you back to the moment and forcing you to leave the 'what ifs' behind. They were of no use to you now.

Geta's eyes flickered from you to the girl. The white of his eyes stood out against the dark makeup surrounding them. Despite what he had told his brother it felt as though he was surprised to have you standing before him. He seemed pleased.

"You are dismissed," he announced, coldly, cruelly.

The girl blinked, hands dropping to her sides. It was clear they meant her. "I - I'm sorry, what - "

"You are dismissed," he repeated, waving a hand as if to shoo her from the room. "Go. I do not care where but be swift."

That was all it took. Was she dismissed from this moment or from the palace? Did she have a job or was she now homeless? You could see all these questions flash across her face but she dared not ask. The moment must have lasted less than five seconds but it felt like an eternity. Eventually the girl turned and left the way you came, eyes empty and downcast.

That left just you. You could hear the primal noises from the fight still behind you but it seemed both emperors had lost interest. It had been bad enough dealing with them one-on-one last night but the weight of both their gazes made you feel as though you were sinking into the floor.

Geta broke the silence by holding out his cup. "More wine, woman."

You allowed yourself a second to be confused. Then you shot over to the small table and picked up a hefty pitcher, not unlike the one you had carried last night. Geta held his cup steady as you poured a healthy helping of wine into it. He leaned closer than necessary, warm breath dusting along your forearms. His scent was clean with some sort of oil layered into him and it surrounded you until you were dizzy.

Caracalla's eyes darted between the pair of you before he fumbled for his own cup and held it out. "Mine as well!"

"Of course," you nodded blankly. It all felt like some sort of dream sequence that did not make sense and would make even less sense when you eventually woke up. You thanked the Gods that you did not spill any wine as you attended to Caracalla.

He stared up at you as you filled his cup, eyes landing on your eyes, your mouth, your breasts. You shifted as though it would somehow conceal you from his gaze and he giggled wildly before settling back in his chair.

You turned to place the pitcher back on the table, desperate for any distance between you and the twins. The entire thing almost slipped from your hands when you felt Caracalla reach out to grab at the fabric of your dress.

"If you are to be our cup-bearer, you shall need something different," he announced, rubbing the worn fabric between his fingers. One of the warriors let out a wet rasp as another slid a knife into his gut, spilling his insides across the floor. The red of him was a stark contrast to the polished white of the floor. The room was pungent with the stench of waste and iron.

Caracalla continued, oblivious, twisting his fingers into the fabric of your dress. You could feel the heat of him inches from your thighs. "What is the color you are most fond of?"

"Yellow, Emperor," you lied, full focus on the hand that still had not let go of your clothing. Alarm was beginning to make your head spin. The previous cup-bearer had worn almost identical clothing to you. Why have you wear something entirely different?

"You'll wear blue, sometimes red," Geta announced, tilting his head to look directly up at you. Irritation flickered across his face and he suddenly stood. He was significantly taller than you and he leered down at you, seemingly happy with the difference. "Whatever we decide."

"Of course, Emperor Geta," you dared not look him in the eye.

Smooth fingers gripped your chin and tilted your head up. You gulped and prayed it was not audible. Geta's eyes searched your face and then he let go, satisfied with whatever he saw there.

"You'll sleep up here now, close to my quarters" he said, taking another long sip of his wine. "It is only appropriate if you are to serve me."

"Serve us," Caracalla interjected, irritated. "I saw her first."

You previous life was crumbling in your hands, insignificant and wasted. You thought you had known fear before but it was nothing compared to this. Caracalla held out his glass again and you filled it immediately. Their interest in you was bizarre and terrifying. If you were to survive you would have to do your best to comply.

"Please, mercy," one of the last men in the ring cried out.

Your heart clenched and you found yourself unable to look away. He was bloodied beyond recognition and the other warrior held a filthy sword to his throat, unflinching. Perhaps there were worst fates than yours.

Caracalla flung his cup across the room, wine sprinkling the floor and concubines. It landed with a clatter and you cringed, imagining the intricate design damaged. The men in the ring did not move.

"What did I say?" he screamed, "no mercy! You fight to the death or I shall kill you both myself!"

You felt faint. The pitcher trembled in your grasp. The stronger man did not need to be told twice. He swiped the sword across the other man's neck. His body thudded to the floor, his life's essence seeping out of him like he was nothing.

Caracalla laughed. "Fun, is it not?"

Your mouth was too dry to respond. Geta surprised you by laughing, "She is not used to such entertainment, brother. She will come to love it in time, I am sure."

It seemed impossible. Then again, so had almost everything that had happened since last night. Since then your life had been one big uncertainty, and you were too afraid to put your feet down lest they land in the wrong spot.

"Clean it up," Caracalla turned and yelled at one of the concubine. The sudden change in mood was startling. His cheeks became ruddy and his eyes raged. "Clean it up now."

The concubine rose swiftly, eyes frantic as he took the bucket of water waiting by the wall and began to swipe frantically at the mess. The water made the scene all the more horrific, blood reaching further than before and swirling around the remaining man's feet. You were nothing before these men.

Geta dismissed the man before returning his attention to you. "Go, retrieve your belongings. I - we - shall expect you ready and waiting tomorrow morning."

He reached out and traced careful fingers around your jaw. You waited for him to say something else but he only grinned, not so different to the manic look of his brother. They were twins, after all.

Caracalla looked as though he may argue but then sang your name, waving cheerily as you backed away from the pair of them.

You attempted a curtsey and scurried from the room, feeling every bit the little bird they had accused you of being. You were well aware that if you were a bird, they were hungry lions. You stood no chance against them or their demands. The two men lying on the floor were reminders of that.

Please reblog, like & comment if you enjoyed! Its been 4 years since I last wrote so every bit of encouragement helps 🥰

banners by @enchanthings

taglist: @doodle-with-rhy

[joemama-2]

" all i want for christmas is you "

♡ drabble of my series velvet lies

♡ gojo x reader

♡ synopsis: it's the first christmas you're spending with your boyfriend, satoru gojo.

♡ tags/warnings: fluff, angst, hints of a dysfunctional household, suggestive content

♡ wc: 3.3k

Year: 2015

“Where are you going?”

You stop midway, having just almost slipped out of the front food undetected. You thought she was still sleeping. Turning your head over your shoulder slightly, bag slung over your shoulder, hood on. “I…I’m sleeping over Satoru’s.”

“Hah,” she scoffs out, lip curving up bitterly. “And who gave you the permission to?”

“I’m nineteen, mom.”

“And still living under my roof.”

Your lips purse, holding back a frown. It’s already nine at night, Christmas Eve. You told Satoru you’d be at his by nine-thirty. If she holds you up any longer, you’ll be late. “Mom, please, okay? We’re not doing anything today and I want to spend it with him.”

Your mother stalks forward, snatching the bag off your shoulder. She looks in, spotting a small gift inside. When her hand reaches in to bring it out, you stop her with a grip on her wrist. “Please, stop. You’re drunk.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow, her lips twisting into a scowl. “Drunk?” she spits out, yanking her wrist free. “How dare you accuse me of that?”

The bitterness in her voice stings, but you hold your ground—you have to. “Look mom, I don’t want to fight right now.” You keep your tone measured, and calm, acting like the adult in this situation. You’re always the adult around her. “It’s Christmas Eve. Can we just—”

“Can we just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising. “Pretend everything’s fine while you run off to God knows where with him? Always with him. Do you even care about this family anymore?”

Your jaw clenches at her words, frustration bubbling under your skin. “It’s not like that, Mom,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. “Satoru’s my boyfriend. He’s important to me.”

“More important than me?” she snaps back, her words laced with hurt. “Than your own mother? Than the one who gave birth to you and brought you into this world, you ungrateful brat.” Her nails dig into your skin while she tries to hold onto you, shaking your arm with vigor as if it’s a physical alignment to the harsh words she grits at you.

You falter, the weight of her question pressing against your chest. “That’s not what I’m saying,” you mutter, lowering your gaze. At this moment, you feel as if whatever you say is not good enough for her. Whatever you say, it’ll spark an unnecessary argument or fight—something you don’t want nor have the energy for. Carefully, you remove yourself from her tight hold, the alcohol in her system giving you the ampleness to do that quite easily. 

She exhales a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. For a moment, the tension between you softens, but it’s short-lived. She steps closer, holding the bag tightly against her chest. “If you walk out that door,” she says, her voice trembling with unspoken pain, “don’t bother coming back.”

Your heart skips a beat, the ultimatum hanging heavy in the air. You can’t tell if she means it—if the alcohol is speaking for her, or if it’s a wound she’s trying to inflict deliberately. “I’m nineteen,” you say again, your voice quieter this time, tinged with sadness. “I love you, Mom. But I just want to have a happy day today.” You reach for the bag, and for a moment, she doesn’t resist. Her fingers tighten around the strap as you pull it away, but she lets go, her expression unreadable. 

“He’ll never stay.” Your mother says, tinged with a hint of jealous amusement. “Men like him don’t go for little girls like you. It won’t last, it never does. And when that happens, don’t come crying to me. Because I’ll tell you I told you so.”

Turning toward the door, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle. You won’t give in, not now. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. So, you suck it up, taking what she says to a very surface-level degree. Because at the end of the day, you have some respect for her. But that is diminishing slowly and slowly until one day, you might never have it anymore. And you’re okay with that, maybe even waiting for it. “Merry Christmas,” you say softly, not looking back.

You don’t wait for a reply. 

The cold night air bites at your skin as you step outside, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest feels tight, but you push the feeling aside, tugging your hood further over your head. Satoru is waiting, and for now, that’s all that matters.

“Minus ten points for tardiness.”

You sigh, stepping in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Closing and locking the door behind you, he follows you. Peering into the bag that housed some clothes to sleep in, his eyes are drawn to the small present. A grin sneaks its way onto his face, hand steathily reaching in. “Oh? And what’s thi—”

“No,” your eyes roll, effectively swatting his sneaky fingers. “No peeking, or you’ll be on the naughty list.”

He giggles, following you into his living room. Watching as you set your bag onto the lavish sofa, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind you. The tips of his snowy hair tickle below your jaw, not being able to resist the shiver and subsequent airy chuckle the falls from you. You feel his smile against your neck, his soft and full lips planting sweet kisses along the stretch of it like he’s tediously worshipping you. “I’m always on the naughty list, baby. You know that.”

Again, you roll your eyes—this time in more amusement than annoyance. “And naughty boys don’t get presents, Satoru.”

“What do you mean? I have my present right here in my arms.” Another chuckle and he’s kissing up your neck to your ear, playfully nibbling at your lobe. His hand turns your chin so you’re face to face. He calculates the twinkle in your pretty eyes for a second—but a second is more than enough time. Leaning down and indulging in you. “My present tastes sweet, too.” He mumbles against your lips, head tilting to deepen the passionate moment. 

Twisting your body to face him better, your arms wrap around his neck while his around your waist. You two stay like this for a few seconds, inhaling each other’s breath like it’s a meal, tongues rubbing together. The kiss deepens, his hands slipping under the hem of your sweater to rest against the warmth of your skin. The heat of the moment wraps around you both, drowning out the chilly air outside the window. It’s intoxicating, the way his lips move against yours, slow yet insistent, as if he’s savoring every second.

When you finally pull back for air before it goes too far, his forehead rests against yours, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. His breath fans across your lips, warm and teasing. “Told you, silly. I’ve actually been good,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, sultry tone that always sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of his albino hair out of his face. “Good boys don’t try to bribe Santa with kisses, Satoru.”

“Santa should’ve known what she was getting into when she got with me.” His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “Besides,” he adds, tilting his head slightly, “if I wasn’t good, you wouldn’t be kissing me back like that.”

You sigh, lightly hitting his chest. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Only because you fill me up,” he fires back without missing a beat, the cheekiness in his grin giving way to a softer look. His thumb brushes against your cheek as he gazes at you, all traces of teasing momentarily replaced by something deeper. It’s in these moments that you realize just how much he loves you, how much he treasures these quiet times together when the world falls away, leaving just the two of you. “Thank you,” he whispers suddenly, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

“For what?” you ask softly, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck.

“For always being my home,” he says, his eyes holding yours as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. “For making me feel like I belong.”

Your chest tightens, warmth spreading through you. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Satoru.” His arms tighten around you in response feels like a promise, one that doesn’t need words.

After a beat of silence, he decides to bite the bullet. “Do you wanna tell me why you were late?” You hesitate, lips thinning into a line he knows all too well. It’s the look that tells him he already knows the answer, it’s like a telepathic way of communicating with one another. He doesn’t push, nodding and interlacing your fingers before bringing you over to the kitchen. “That’s fine. We don’t have to talk about anything. Just you and me, that’s it. Parents gone so we have the whole place to ourselves, remember?” 

You let out a soft sigh of relief, thankful that he isn’t pressing further. It’s one of the things you appreciate most about Satoru—his ability to read you, to know when to dig deeper and when to let things be. He squeezes your hand gently as he holds onto you, the warmth of his home wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

The faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla lingers in the air, remnants of whatever candles he had lit earlier. The cozy space is dimly lit, with only the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the windows. Satoru releases your hand to open the fridge, rummaging around with exaggerated movements to make you laugh. “Let’s see,” he says, peering inside. “What can I whip up to impress my lovely guest tonight? Gourmet pizza rolls? Instant ramen? Or…” He pulls out a half-eaten cheesecake with a dramatic flourish, “this masterpiece of dairy and sugar.”

You chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he fires back, setting the cheesecake on the counter. He turns to you, leaning casually against the counter with that boyish grin you can never resist. “Seriously, though, are you hungry? Thirsty? Or just here to bask in my undeniable charm?”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll take some of that cheesecake, thanks. And water.”

“Excellent choice, my dear.” He grabs two forks and fills up a glass of water, sliding one toward you before hopping onto the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He takes a bite, pointing his fork at you. “You know, I should charge you for this. High-quality desserts like this don’t come cheap.”

“Oh, please,” you tease, taking a bite of your own. “You didn’t even make it.”

“Semantics, semantics,” he says with a wave of his hand, but his smile softens as he watches you. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you both eat, the tension from earlier slowly melting away. After a moment, he speaks again, quieter this time. “I meant it, you know. We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re here.”

You glance up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours with an openness that always makes your chest tighten. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world, makes it harder to keep your walls up. “Thanks, Satoru,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I really needed this tonight.”

His grin returns, brighter than ever. “Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty great at being exactly what people need.” He winks, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “What you need.”

For the first time that day, you feel the weight on your chest ease, just a little. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be about the things you’re running from. Maybe, just for a while, it can be about the person sitting right in front of you. Your boyfriend. Your best friend. Your one and only. Yeah, you think to yourself as you wipe some frosting from the corner of his mouth. 

You are what I need.

“You don’t have to record this…” you mutter in embarrassment. The hat he made you wear was one thing, but now he’s acting like some dad. Recording in landscape mode as you open the gift he wrapped for you. 

“Pfft! Open it! It’s a memory we can look back on when we’re old and crippled.” He waves you off with one hand, lifting his head over the phone to give you a certain look. 

With finality, you exhale heavily and unwrap your gift. Your own anticipation is eating at you, hoping he didn’t get you something too extravagant. You already told him not to, but he’s Satoru. Besides, you’d feel like shit if he got you something expensive and yours isn’t. Nimble fingers unwrap the paper decorated with red hearts and Christmas trees, finally getting it out the way. In its wake is a small, rectangular box. 

“Proposing already?”

“Not yet.”

You snicker, taking in a deep breath before opening it. Your eyes widen, lips parting a small gasp falls from your lips. “...sa…toru…” you say, feeling a familiar tinkle to your heart, skin heating up and smile subconsciously growing. Carefully, you remove the piece from its placement in the box. Holding it up to the light, it looks even more beautiful. “This is…” The delicate necklace sparkles under the glow of the fairy lights, a silver chain adorned with a small, intricate charm shaped like a snowflake. Tiny gemstones catch the light, creating a mesmerizing shimmer. “The one you wanted.” He finishes for you, lowering his phone, the camera still rolling. “Open it.”

When you open the pretty snowflake locket, there’s a picture printed inside. A miniature version of the first picture you two took together. It’s awkward and your smiles seem a little forced due to the close proximity. But looking back at it now, all you can think of is how endearing it is. How cute it is. When you meet his eyes, he’s already looking at you—tenderness in his expression. “Thank you, Satoru. It’s beautiful, I love it.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, the kind that makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t quite put into words. “I’m glad you love it,” he says quietly, his gaze steady, unwavering.

Your fingers lightly brush over the tiny photo, the memory of that day flooding back to you. It had been awkward, both of you still figuring each other out, yet there was something unspoken in the air even then. Looking at it now, it feels like the perfect encapsulation of where it all began—a little clumsy, a little uncertain, but undeniably sweet. “You kept this picture all this time?” you ask, your voice laced with surprise and affection.

“Of course I did,” he repliesmas if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It was the first moment I had proof you actually liked being around me.” He laughs, his playful tone back in full force.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” he counters, moving closer. “I wanted you to have something that’s just… us. A little reminder of how far we’ve come.”

Your heart swells, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning. “It’s perfect,” you say, meeting his gaze. “It’s so thoughtful, Satoru. I’ll treasure it.”

He leans down, his nose nudging yours. “You better, because it’s a symbol of my undying devotion to you.” His voice is teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes you smile.

“Well, now I feel bad about my gift,” you admit, scrunching your nose. “It’s nothing compared to this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. “Anything from you is the best gift I could ask for. Besides, I already got what I wanted—you, here with me.”

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. “Alright, alright, you win. I’ll stop doubting myself.”

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Because there’s no competition—you’re already the best thing in my life.” And just like that, you’re reminded why you fell for him in the first place.

When it’s his turn to open his present from you, he’s making you hold the camera now. You’re nervous—rightfully so. Satoru has everything he could need and want, and then some. So coming up with a gift was both hard and tedious for you. But, you can pat yourself on the shoulder for a job well done. 

He’s much more quick when unrwrapping it, big smile on his face that barely shows off his excitement. In just barely three seconds, the wrapping is off and carelessly thrown to the side, opening the little box. His eyes widen for a moment, and then his expression shifts into something that makes your heart flutter—equal parts surprise and awe. Nestled inside the box is a custom-made keychain, simple yet meaningful. It’s crafted from silver, with a small engravement of your shared favorite flower, a purple hyacinth. The small phrase, “here with you, now and always.” is below the flower.

For a moment, he’s speechless, his fingers carefully lifting the keychain from its box. The soft clinking sound it makes as it moves feels like the only noise in the room. “You made this?” he finally asks, looking up at you, his voice softer than usual.

You nod, biting your lip nervously. “I… I had it made, yeah. I know it’s nothing big, but I wanted to give you something personal. Something you could keep with you wherever you go.”

His thumb brushes over the engraving, and his lips tug into the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “It’s perfect,” he says, his tone filled with a tenderness that sends warmth spreading through your chest. “I mean it, this is—this is incredible.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling a wave of relief. “You really like it?”

“Like it?” He sets the keychain down carefully, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I love it.” His eyes glimmer with something almost boyish, the excitement he always has when you do something that touches his heart. “I mean, look at it!” he says, picking it up again. “This is so thoughtful. The writing? And the flower? Genius. It’s your flower, I always think of you whenever I see one. It’s like you’re with me all the time now, even when you’re not.”

You laugh softly, your nerves dissipating. “That was the idea.”

He grins, turning back to you and holding it up proudly. “You’ve officially raised the bar for all future gifts. I’ll carry this with me everywhere, you know that?”

“I’d hope so,” you murmur, watching as he clips it onto his keys right then and there.

Once he’s done, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers into your hair.

You smile, your hands resting against his back. “I guess we’re both pretty amazing, then.”

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. “Best Christmas ever,” he declares, and the look in his eyes tells you he means it.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he whispers back, hands itching for you.

You two seal the end of the gift giving with a kiss, straddling his hips. It feels just right. His hands, his lips, his whispered praises. Like he said, you have the night to yourselves, and you plan to take complete advantage of that. Because after all, that’s not the only gift you’re giving him. 

In the future, one night after a particular revelation that shook his world, he finds himself looking at the keychain that’s been locked in a drawer he hasn’t dared to open in years. And if he scrolls high enough in his photo album, he’ll come across a familiar video that starts wholesome but ends with something far more…naughty.

(You two forgot the camera was rolling.)

a/n: hi everyone, today i felt inspired and wanted to give out a cute little drabble pre everything. i hope ur all having a wonderful day and make sure to eat well!, tagging the usual taglist

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[thef1diary]

i feel like team principal!carlos would always be very professional with driver!reader around the paddock. no showing off, only if you have a moment for yourselves in his office or the driver room. discretion is very important for him. he doesn't want people to view you like someone who just sucked his dick to get the job.

but behind closed doors? lord have mercy. the most giving, attentive and caring man. that doesn't mean he doesn't like it rough, he'd do anything for you. you want the princess treatment? done. you want to be treated like a slut? your wish is his command. anything to please you and make you feel good.

i want him so bad😵‍💫

🩵

— I want him so bad too, nonnie! He knows the difficulties of being a driver, esp the media waiting for the smallest mistakes before putting out articles talking down on your character, so he doesn’t burden you with having to worry about your relationship with him in public. In private though…he’s bringing out the needy slut in you. That’s the duality of team principal!carlos 🤭 18+ content below

The moment you step into the paddock, it’s all business. Carlos barely spares you a glance longer than necessary, his demeanor calm and composed. He calls you by your last name in meetings, never straying into anything that could be misconstrued as favouritism. To anyone watching, he’s your team principal—fair, supportive, but strictly professional.

“Good session out there,” he says after a debrief, tone measured. There’s a flicker in his eyes that you catch only if you’re paying close attention, a quiet pride that he can’t fully suppress. It makes your heart race, but you force yourself to nod and keep walking, knowing his discretion is as much for your sake as it is his.

But the truth? The truth lies behind closed doors.

The moment the lock to your hotel room clicks, his professionalism dissolves like smoke. He’s on you instantly, hands cupping your face, your hips, pulling you close as his lips claim yours with a hunger that’s only grown throughout the day. “You’ve been on my mind all morning,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice low, velvety, and laced with need.

Carlos will do anything for you. Whatever you need, whatever it takes to make you feel good, to make you better—he’s more than willing to give it to you.

Stressed before a race? He’ll pull you into your driver’s room, press you against the wall, and slide his fingers inside your cunt, watching every flicker of tension melt away. His words are soft, coaxing, demanding your pleasure. “Focus on me, nena,” he’ll whisper, his thumb circling your clit just right. “Let me take care of you.”

A win? He’s your biggest fan and your most rewarding prize. Later that night, still soaked with champagne, he’ll lean over you while you’re on your hands and knees. He’ll fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re taking every drop of his cum as your reward. “You’ve earned this,” he’ll say, voice thick with pride and lust. “Take it all, hermosa. All for you.”

A bad result? Carlos isn’t cruel, but he believes in consequences, in helping you learn from your mistakes. He’ll pull you over his lap in his office that same night, his voice low and firm as he tells you exactly what you did wrong, sharp slaps alternating between your ass and your cunt punctuating his words. And then, when the next race weekend rolls around, he’ll bend you over his desk and bully his cock into you. So when you’re sitting in the cockpit, waiting for the lights to go out, your cunt is edged beyond limits and insanely sore, reminding you to never repeat the same mistake again. His punishment works beautifully, leading you to win the race, and he finally rewards you with multiple orgasms.

He’s your boss, yes—but in every way that matters, he’s so much more than that. He doesn’t just fulfill your needs; he anticipates them, giving you what you didn’t even know you craved. Sometimes he’s rough, sometimes gentle, but it’s always for you, for your performance, for your pleasure. He knows what you need better than you do, and he’ll always, always make sure you’re taken care of.

send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts about your fave au and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days!

[authorhjk1]

I enjoyed reading about how each member of aespa would suck dick. Could you also do one for ltzy?

Yeji

Whenever Yeji puts her hair in a ponytail, or simply drops to her knees, without any build up, she always has something on her mind. Which is your pleasure. For her, this is all about you. When you tell her to deepthroat you, she does it. When you tell her to drool and choke on your cock, she makes her blowjob really sloppy. She loves to hear you groan her name, when she is about to make you cum.

Ryujin

Ryujin loves to make life difficult for you. Whenever the two of you are home, she almost makes you beg for it. She acts like a beat, always pretending not to like idea of giving you head, even when you offer to eat her out first.

In public, it's almost like she is a different person. She loves to tease you, when other people are around. Letting her hand graze against your crotch, giving you a seductive smile, biting her finger. And when she finally does convince you to let her suck you off in public, which she always manages to do, she pretends to be at home. As if she has all the time in the world, Ryujin takes longer than usual to pleasure you with her mouth. And loud noises are a must. You've almost been caught so many times, just because someone heard Ryujin gag on your cock.

Chaeryeong

She never initiates something herself. Especially not in public. Chaeryeong always acts shy and innocent, when you ask her anything sexual. And most of the time, that's also how she is in bed. Submissive, shy, innocent, embarrassed whenever you can't help but stare at her beautiful body.

And most of the time, her blowjobs are the same. They always start out with her shyly looking at your cock, before slowly wrapping a hand around it and then carefully sticking her tongue out to give you a lick. But sometimes, after her initial innocence, Chaeryeong shows you a slightly wilder side of hers. It doesn't happen often. But when it does, you can't help but let her do what she wants with you. Her blowjob is quick and executed with precision in these moments. No room for error, often fueled by either intense lust, or anger after an argument. Chaeryeong can look scary sometimes, but it that's her way of getting rid of her anger, by all means...

Lia

Lia is similar to Chaeryeong, when it comes to blowjobs in public. With her, you're often the one who initiates something as well. But from time to time, Lia likes to surprise you. Especially on important days, like your birthday for example. And while she is not a fan of public sex, she really likes to give you head, when the two of you are in a safe place.

Yuna

I think it's safe to say that everyone knows how Yuna is. There are barely any smut fics about her, where she isn't a real slut. Which also explains, why she loves to suck you off. Whenever and wherever. Yuna likes to keep it sloppy and loud. Similar to Ryujin. But not because she wants you to be afraid of getting caught, she just can't help herself. She loves whatever position you put her in. During sex, while you eat her out, while she gives you head. She doesn't care. Or rather, the dirtier, the better. Make her kneel, or make her lie on a table, her head dangling off the edge. Use her hair, as a tool to push and pull her onto your cock. Fuck her head against a wall. Yuna would never complain, no matter what you do to her.

[ghostskiss]

Handle It

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader WC: 5.1k Summary: Reader is taking a shower and someone decides to crash the party. Warnings: 18+ Exhibitionism (risk of getting caught), shower sex (kinda), SUB SIMON, teasing, begging, sub to dom to…sub, finger sucking, oral, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, spit, creampie

Hot water beads down your back. Well, maybe that’s a bit too generous. It’s hardly trickling out of the showerhead above you, and the water’s lukewarm at best. But it feels great, your eyes are closing, your muscles are relaxing, and you almost forget that it’s a communal shower. That anyone could walk in and join you at another showerhead, there’s several in here, meant to get a group of people clean to save time. Time’s important in the military, you know this. So does everyone else, but there’s an unspoken rule. If someone’s in the showers, you don’t join unless absolutely necessary.

Which is why you’re allowing yourself this moment. You’d announced to the group that you were hitting the showers after the operation. And true to your word, as soon as you’d stepped out of the vehicle, you beelined it to the building. Soap joked about joining you, earning a punch from someone in result. You hadn’t cared to look behind you to confirm who it was, instead you’d waved a hand over your shoulder, acknowledging that you’d heard him, but wasn’t threatened by his constant yet harmless flirts. It was how you two communicated. It was a nice break in the violence and mayhem Task Force 141 found yourselves in. Even if Ghost and Price rolled their eyes at the banter, you could tell it eased their nerves at times. It’s hard to hold onto humanity when you see the worst of it day end and day out.

Getting the bar of soap into your hands, you rub it against your skin, ridding yourself of the dirt and grime from today’s work. It’s normal to get dirty doing what you do, and yet no matter how you wash yourself, it feels as though you’re never clean. You’d scrubbed your skin raw once, after a mission, coming out of the showers with irritated skin. Still. You were never clean. Today didn’t feel like that. The operation went well. There was no killing, no torture, and for once, it was an easy day. You want to savor this feeling, knowing that today went right, how relaxing the water is, feeling somewhat clean despite the past.

A knock rings through the showers, bouncing off the walls. The soap slips through your fingers as you jump with sound, the relaxing feeling you had now long gone. The knock has authority to it. It has impatience. Gritting your teeth, you rinse off quickly before turning the knob to shut the water off. You leave the poor soap on the ground, moving to the cement wall separating the showers from the door of the building.

“What?” You call out, a little irritated. Sure, you’d been in here for a bit longer than normal. But it was the one time you’d actually felt…nice.

A deep voice from behind the closed door comes to you. You resist an urge to roll your eyes. Ghost.

“Been in there a bit. Other people would like to clean themselves before heading in for the night.”

This, you do roll your eyes at. He’s right. You’re hogging the shower, but there’s an unspoken…thing you have against Ghost. He’s stoic and a bit miserable to be around if you’re being honest. He’s too serious, all the time, he never likes to have fun, and if you and Soap are going back and forth, he’s got to voice his displeasure. You secretly think he’s jealous. You think that he either is jealous of the relationship you have with Soap, or he’s jealous of Soap. Probably the former since you two can hardly stand each other.

Sighing out, you cross your arms over your naked chest. Right, you’d almost forgotten where you were.

“Well,” you start out, a bit snarky, “there’s always room, Lt.”

You’re joking, obviously, already moving to wrap a towel around your body. Without waiting for whatever response your lieutenant is trying to muster up, you cross the space from the cement wall to the door, hand gripping the handle to wrench it open.

There he is, in all his glory, towering over you. He’s ditched the mask he wears in operations or important meetings, donning his comfortable skulled balaclava. In fact, he’s changed out of most of his gear. Bare hands, black Henley shirt rolled up to his elbows. Of course, his lower half is clothed in his usual black pants, and he still has his boots on. Yet he looks more naked and vulnerable than you do in your little white towel. He looks at a loss of words.

A playful look crosses your features, a smirk teasing your lips as you prop a hand on your hip. Before you can get a word out, Ghost shifts forward quickly with a grumble tumbling out of his chest, pushing you back into the building with his presence alone. You frown a bit as you move backwards to accommodate his size as the door behind him closes you both in, confused as he glares down at you.

“Christ, could you not waltz around in nothing but bloody a towel?”

Another attempt to not roll your eyes comes over you. “What’re you, shy? It’s not like I’m completely naked.” You gesture at yourself; it’d be as if you were wearing a strapless dress. Granted, the towel is tiny, you’re wet from the shower, and you’re definitely not wearing any panties. Still, you had no idea Ghost was such a prude.

“Really?” Ghost’s gaze trails hotly down the front of your body. Suddenly your face feels hot. He’s never once looked at you like this. Like he’d…

A shaky breath escapes you before you laugh it off, “If you can’t handle me in a towel after shower, I doubt you’d be able to handle being around me in the actual showers.” You jerk a thumb over your shoulder as you watch his gaze follow it behind you. He can see the room of showers over the wall. You think you see his jaw clench under his mask.

This is bad. You’re jokingly teasing him the way you and Soap talk. This is uncharted territory, and you’re not sure you can keep the act up. With Soap, it’s harmless fun. You both know you’re not interested in each other. It’s easy to try to get a reaction out of each other, to see who says the most ridiculous shit first. It’s a stupid game. With Ghost, it’s dangerous. It’s nerve wrecking. It’s serious because he’s serious.

Suddenly he’s looking back down at you. You try not to fidget as you stare back at him. You can’t read him. You’re about to talk to break whatever this tension is, about to tell him the showers are his.

“No, I probably can’t.”

Did his voice drop an octave? Why was it making your skin heat? What was going on right now? You feel like your brain is malfunctioning. Your gaze drops down to the broad slope of his shoulders, and down his frame, distracted a bit. Of course, he’s attractive. You’d be insane to not think so. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It’s the way he holds himself, it’s the way he’s built, it’s his damned voice, and his eyes and everything else. But he’s your lieutenant for Christ’s sake. He’s mean sometimes. He’s ruthless, a brute, a –

“Let me see. I want to try. To… handle it.”

You freeze, eyes shooting back up to his. “You -?”

His chin dips to your towel, “Take it off.”

For a moment, you’re both watching each other. Ghost’s got his eyes on yours, unwavering. He’s really serious about this, you realize. Your thighs are clenching together now, trying to relieve the ache. You were joking, you think, about him not handling it in the showers. Now you’re thinking maybe you’re the one who can’t.

Shakenly, your hands raise to the knot tied at your breast. Your actions stop for a moment, silently waiting for him to tell you to stop. The command never comes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, bearing yourself for your broody and moody higher up. For him. All because you don’t want to back out on what you started. Suddenly, you want to prove him wrong. That he can’t handle it. That you’re not affected at all by his words or actions, or more importantly his inactions. The towel drops.

It’s loud with how silent it is in the room. Who knew a damp towel could be so loud? Your gaze doesn’t leave his, holding it, even as you stand bare in front of him. A smirk quirks your lips. He’s avoiding looking at you. That’s how he thinks he can move around the situation at hand.

Testing him, your hand brushes against your own collarbone, trailing slowly -- tantalizingly slow. Still, his eyes never wander from your own. So, this is how you could play games with Ghost. It’ll be fun to see him break.

“You’re not looking,” you start, stating the obvious.

“Never said I had to. Only said that I could handle being around you.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he won the game.

You laugh a little at that, and watch his eyes ever so slightly dip to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Your own hands are wandering your body now, groping a bit at your chest. His hands clench at his sides.

“Are you going to take a shower, Lt?” A breathless noise leaves you as you ask, your fingers pinching one of your nipples. Fuck him. You’re so turned on right now it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to look. Just the thought of being here in front of him while he’s fully clothed doing this, while the two of you are alone and anyone could walk in –

“No. And quit that.” He growls out, knocking your hand away from your breast. He still hasn’t looked, but you’re guessing he’s getting a view from his peripherals.

“Quit what?” You feign innocence, your hand that’d been knocked away now dips in between your thighs eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You said you’d try. If you’re not going to take a shower, you can watch.”

Ghost has no words for you now, his pupils dilating before your very eyes. Spreading your legs a bit wider to get a better reach on yourself, you continue. Slow pressing circles on your clit, your arousal slicking loudly in the air. Your free hand goes back up to your tits, to continue groping, pinching, pulling.

Finally, he breaks. He breaks when your pussy squelches around your own fingers, his burning gaze trailing down your body to the hand that’s pulling such noises out of you. A groan sets loose from him, and you shudder from the mere sound.

“Kneel.”

Ghost’s eyes shoot back up to yours in question.

“Kneel, I said. You can get a better look.” Your tone is set in stone. Despite the burning ache you’ve got, the need for him to touch you, you feel in control.

He hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down to the ground, knees pressing against the cement. His eyes have yet to leave yours.

“You can look but don’t touch.” Your breath hitches, arousal seeping into your very being seeing him like this. Listening to your commands. You watch his hands clench on his thighs, his attention going back to your pussy. Your breath hitches at his stare, feeling the heat of it. He doesn’t have to touch for you to feel his attention. It’s making you sloppy, messy, and wet. You keen, a brief thought of asking him to touch you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Staring down at him as your fingers continue to tease yourself, you watch him just as intently as he’s watching you. He seems fixated. You wonder if he’s drooling in his own mask. The front of his pants looks tight. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, his shoulders shuddering when you make a noise in the back of your throat. You watch him tense as you ease a finger in yourself. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for attention, you’re teasing yourself just as much as you’re teasing him. Slowly pumping the one finger in yourself, you press another one in, mewling out as your hips buck a little upward.

“Let me taste you.” He rushes out suddenly. Ghost’s voice is gravel, scrapping across your body. Your head nearly tips back at the sound of it, another pitiful noise leaving your mouth.

 Stay strong. Stay strong. You shake your head, unable to give him an actual answer as your fingers create a devastatingly slow pace, slick coating your fingers and thighs.

“Fuck. What’ll take? Let me taste you.” He’s demanding now, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the material over his thighs.

You pant, trying not to stammer. “Beg.” It comes out stronger than you feel right now. Core burning with the need to come.

“Please.” He grits out through his teeth, angry eyes coming up to your glassy ones.

“You don’t sound sincere.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head again. Your fingers pause, coming out to press softly against your clit. If you press any harder, you have no doubt you’ll come. You don’t want to give it to him yet. Ghost watches the action, a growl coming from him.

“Please,” he tries again, looking back up at you to see if it was good enough. It’s not and you tsk at him. “Please, let me taste your pussy. Let me put my mouth on you. Please.”

The last plead is strained, almost a whine. Your fingers dip back in, curling as you pump them again. Your head falls forward a bit with a whine of your own and you try to gather your bearings. “How are you going to taste me with your mask on?”

Quickly, he tugs it upward, only exposing his mouth. Christ. His mouth. He’s got a scar running down his lips. His jaw is clenched, and you curse whoever created him. He’s handsome, even if you’re only seeing the bottom half of his face. You watch his tongue tease his full bottom lip, his mouth opening into a soft pant. He’s eager. You catch another whine in your throat, fingers leaving your pussy to press against his mouth, covered in your own wetness. He opens his mouth, latching onto them, sucking and licking, taking anything you have to offer.

You watch with a newfound feeling. Here you have your lieutenant on the ground, kneeling and begging, sucking your fingers like it’s his God given right. Like he has something to prove. That he’s desperate enough to be debased to nothing. He’s moaning at the taste of you, following your fingers as they leave his mouth, like he’s not ready to stop cleaning yourself from them. He’s tilting closer as he watches them disappear back to your throbbing sex.

“No,” you tell him, stopping him from following your fingers all the way, “that’s all you get.” You moan out, your fingers wet with his spit now circling your clit. You need to come like this, having him at his knees in front of you.

“W-wait. Please. I’ll do anything. Fuck, please. Let me give you what you want, I can make you cum. With my mouth please –”

His begging sends you over the edge, not stopping as you cry out loudly, pussy clenching on nothing as your fingers circle and circle. It’s long and crippling, and you almost feel your knees buckle, your free hand gripping the cement wall behind you. Fuck, he’s not shutting up. It drags it out, hearing him whine and beg, a man who you thought could never be like this. You rip your hand away from yourself, panting, thankful for the wall behind you holding you up. Your thighs are quivering and wet from the orgasm, breath trying to catch up to your pounding heart.

Ghost is quiet now, looking up at you, waiting for your next move. His mouth parts, like he’s going to start up again and you hush him.

“Clean me up.”

You barely have the sentence out before he’s shooting forwards, hands gripping your thighs to make room for himself. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, tongue latching onto your already overstimulated clit. You cry out, hands shooting up to his masked head, trying to pull him away as he laps at your cream.

“A-ah, wait, Simon –” You start, squirming, trying to get away from his mouth and tongue. You feel him smile, the bastard.

“Think you can tease me like that? Huh?” He growls as he laps at you, tongue not missing an inch of your pussy. His words vibrate through you, not bothering to really pull away to talk. He’s violent in the way his mouth attacks you. “Think you can just do what you want to me?”

You stutter, about to apologize until he starts to add his fingers to the mix. Two thick fingers of his slam into you, pumping up as his tongue flicks your clit. You cry out, tears in your eyes as you take it. He’s going to make you come again, this fast. Too fast. You feel dizzy, vision fuzzy.

“Making me sit in front of this pretty pussy and not letting me touch or taste it.” He groans, and then chuckles as you bare down on his fingers, clenching hard. “Oh, you gonna come again pretty baby? Come on then.”

He’s mean. Meaner than you were to him. You’re panting, quivering, and aching, your pussy making obscene noises as he assaults all of your senses. You know you’re coming before you feel it. Like a delayed reaction. Gasping and bucking, he’s saying something again that you can’t register because your hearing leaves you, your sight leaves you, every sensation and thought is gone as you cry out, coming and coming again. Somehow in the midst of it, his fingers and mouth leave as you come back down to your body, and he’s holding you up, thank God. You doubt the wall behind you would’ve helped at all. Your fingers are clenched on the material of his mask, and as you blink down at him, chest heaving, you see his wet mouth smirk.

A flash of fear goes through you. This was the Ghost you know. The ruthless, cold, domineering, Simon Ghost Riley. Not the man that’d been on his knees begging. Not the man who’d let you command and tease him. He sets down the leg that’d been over his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’re still completely all together. He stands to his full height, and you shiver, trying to sink yourself back into the wall behind you as much as you can. His hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it gently as he tilts your head back.

“Open.”

You obey, lips parting, mouth opening. Nothing could prepare you for what he does next. He leans into you, pressing up hard against you, lips barely hovering your own. He spits. Fluid enters your mouth, and you moan, swallowing it up. It’s your own arousal, sweet and warm and oh. Your wet lashes flutter shut as Ghost licks the seam of your closed mouth, lapping at you before he nips and bites and kisses you. The kiss he’s giving you isn’t gentle. It’s consuming and you cry into it as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck to haul him closer to you. He answers your cry with a groan of his own, his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs come around him, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close. Your sensitive pussy is pressed and rubbing against pants, the feeling abrasive and raw but you can’t stop from grinding against him.

 “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Simon mutters against your lips, licking and biting still. You’re breathless and whimpering against him, his words going straight to your core as you move against him. He’s helping you, moving with your hips, matching you move for move. You’re distracted, unable to give him an answer as you kiss him back, your trembling fingers sliding a bit under his mask to grasp the back of his neck. He hisses out in pain when your nails dig in. “I’ll give you anything baby, please. Just say the words.”

“I – I want…” you gasp, your clit pressing against the seam of his pants. You can feel his length hard and heavy against you.

“Fuck, please. Please tell me.” He’s begging again, rutting his hips up against you, hands keeping you still as he continues.

“I want you.” Is all you can muster; all you can think about saying. You swear your brain isn’t working correctly. Even before this started. You must’ve hit your head during the mission.

"Want me? Want me to what?” He stops moving.

You groan out in frustration, head tipping back a bit before you look up at him. “Please, Simon. You’re teasing me now.” You’re not sure you like how quickly the tables have turned.

Ghost laughs a bit, breathless himself. You think he’s going to drag it out further until he sees the pout furrowing your brow. “Alright. I am. I’ll give it to you.” He still keeps you wrapped up against him, one hand holding you, the other going in between the two of you. His knuckles brush against your bare sex and you moan lowly, watching him unbuckle his pants, pulling his hard cock out. Precum is dripping down the length of it and your throat dries at the sight of him.

Concern must be showing on your face with how big he is. Another chuckle from him, “You can take it pretty baby.” Your concern dies out as he slides the length against your wet pussy and you bite down on lip, trying to contain your noises. You want him in you, size be damned. He runs the tip up and down once more before pressing against your entrance, pushing in slowly. This time, you can’t contain the low moan you have. He gives it to you slowly, pumping his hips up into you, letting you adjust to his size. It’s stretching you open, and you feel like he’s splitting you in half. It’s heavy and deep and throbbing –

“Oh.” You let out, almost surprised it feels so good. Addicting. You feel drunk.

A sadistic laugh comes from the man in you, his cock slowly pumping into you. He’s being nice, giving it to you this softly. His hands are pulling you back onto his cock, pinning you against the wall and his hard body. Your legs tighten around him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“That’s it. It’s all yours, isn’t it?” Ghost dips down to nip your lips as you whimper. “Been wanting this pussy wrapped around me for so long, baby. Fuck.” He moans lowly as you keen at his words, clenching around his girth. “Teasing me when you have no idea what I’d do to you. For you.”

He’s going slow, dragging this out as long as possible. He’s pressing in deep, rolling his hips before pulling slowly back, letting you feel every inch of him before starting all over again. It’s driving you insane. It feels like it’s going on forever, his slow thrusting. He rocks into your soaking cunt, easing his throbbing cock in you smoothly and repeatedly. Ecstasy has taken hold of every fiber of your being. You hardly feel conscious, as his words lull you into lust, his cock pacifying you into drunken state. He won’t shut up again as you cry against his lips.

“Pussy feels so good. So good. Fuck. You can have this dick whenever you want baby, just say the word and it’s yours.” He moans lowly, the sloppy sounds of your pussy and his hips thumping into you with languid strokes are overpowering your thoughts. His words make your pussy clamp down on him and he moans again, not afraid to let you hear how good you’re making him feel.

“Si—” you gasp, mouth falling open against his, trying to pull him up closer to you.

“Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Fuck.” He rasps against you, his hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your broken moans.

“F-fuck me. Please fuck me. Simon, please.” You beg, not afraid to be pulled down to your knees like he had been. To be debased to nothing just as you had done to him.

He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. Eager again to please you. You know he could’ve done what you had to him, teased you, made you beg more, made you want and want and need. But he gives it to you, just like he promised he would. Your pussy flares as his thrusts get heavier, deeper, faster, rougher. It’s destroying you as much as it’s freeing you and your eyes roll back a bit. God, you’re going to cum again.

A knock sounds. Not unlike the one Ghost pounded on the door earlier. You gasp, trying to stop running to the hurdle you’re launching towards. Your body doesn’t get the memo, or doesn’t care, and it certainly seems Ghost couldn’t care less that someone is right outside the door. The man makes a frustrated noise, at you or the knock, you’re not sure. He clamps his hand down over your mouth as you try to contain the noises you’re currently making. You want to tell him to stop, someone’s right there, but he keeps fucking you. God, he’s so mean and cruel and –

“Lt?”

Your heart shudders in fear. Soap. No, God, no one can see this. Ghost fucking you against the wall, completely clothed, unrushed. Despite the fear of being caught, you feel a whine catch in your throat as you thrash again Simon’s relentless fucking. He hushes you quietly, slamming roughly into you now. You stop a squeal, but just barely, a loud yet pathetic squeak leaving you as euphoria bursts through you, pussy convulsing around his cock.

“Just a sec, Johnny.” Ghost throws over his shoulder, a smile playing on his handsome face. He hardly sounds phased even when just moments ago he was the one loudly moaning into your mouth. He hardly sounds winded even with the rough thrusts he’s delivering into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You claw weakly at his chest, angry at him, still coming down from the heaven he just gave to you.

You think Soap leaves, you’re not sure, but Ghost moves his hand from your mouth, back to your ass to bring down onto his cock. He’s using you now, making you meet him thrust for thrust, drilling your G-spot with such precision that your vision fades for a second.

“No, look at me. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so pretty baby. Such a good girl. You gonna let me fill you up now? Haven’t I been good enough for you? Huh?” He’s mocking a bit, but serious. His own form of a joke that you have no power or brain to call him out on. All you’re feeling, all you’re thinking about is his cock ravaging you from the inside, still, overstimulated. Your body hardly cares. It’s right there, right at the edge, ready to jump and to give him your all. You’re too dumb, blinded with pleasure, staring up at him as he growls down at you, throbbing cock ready to give it to you when you say the words. Maybe he really is under your command after all.

A whine comes from you, frantically nodding to him, hands scrambling on him to try to find solid ground while you’re in a different time and space with the fucking he’s giving you.

“No, you have to tell me baby. Fuck, tell me I’m good baby. Tell me I was good, and I can fill you up.” Simon’s begging, whining lowly in the back of his throat, his hips getting sloppier and shorter, pounding into you.

“You’re good. You’re good. Simon, you’re good. It’s so good. Please, pleasepleaseplease come in me.” You’re begging, sobbing, actually, tears streaming down your face as you try to catch up with your body. It hurts, it hurts so fucking good, you make a long and agonized noise against his mouth, he’s kissing you again, sucking your tongue, running his against your teeth, pulling sucking overstimulating –

Simon makes his own devastated noise, a low and shattering groan of pleasure and you feel it just as you’re coming, milking him into you. His cock is surging into you, pumping hot cum with each deep thrust. He’s grinding into you, fucking you both through your orgasms, making you see stars as you cry into his mouth, fingers tearing into his back through his shirt. His hips finally still after what seems to be eternity, your pussy still clenched around him. He keeps himself deep in you as you both try to gather your bearings as well as your breath. You’re staring at each other, panting, chests heaving. He brings a shaky hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he runs his thumb over your tears. The tenderness makes your heart clench. All he’s done tonight surprised you. He leans down to place a kiss against your lips as tenderly as the thumb that stroked you. You kiss him back gently, a little worried where this was going to leave the two of you.

He pulls back, eyes bouncing in between your own. He seems to sense your worry and he sighs, pulling out slowly. You almost want to cry at the loss of him. Ghost sets you down steadily, keeping his hands on you as you wobble, legs weak. You hold onto him and look back up, ready to question what the hell this meant. He shakes his head a bit and nods towards the showers.

“I think I can handle taking a shower with you. But it’s gotta be quick baby.”

Shocked, you stare at him incredulously before you burst out into a terrible laughing fit. You’d almost forgotten how you got here in the first place. You watch his mouth quirk up into his own smile before he starts to laugh a little too. You grab his hand, tugging him with you towards the showers.

“C’mon then big boy. Show me how you handle it.”

[rememberwren]

A Complete Set (Whatever That Means) || 1

This is a direct sequel to Skin Deep which can be read here. From now on I'm splitting up any one shot that is longer than 10k. So here is part one of this sequel. 6k.

Johnny pierces fem!reader’s nipples.

About this: at least five nipples in this one, an altogether questionable use for a sequel, nipple play, graphic depiction of nipple piercings, alcohol, jealous!soap, spoilers in the 'about this' section, iffy writing. Reader has enough hair to “hold back” and height difference necessitates that she “looks up” to speak to Simon.

-

Thirty minutes waiting for Green Jade Chinese takeout when you’re only a block from the restaurant is a crime. It’s even more of a crime when it’s thirty minutes spent away from Ghost—whose name you have learned is Simon. Laying on the sofa in Skin Deep, your stomach gives another shameful growl. You glance at the clock on your phone, hoping he hasn’t run into trouble…though you’re not sure there’s much in the way of trouble that Simon couldn’t handle. 

The bell over the door rings, and you sit up, smile blooming in anticipation. 

“Hey youuu–fuck!” you nearly shriek. 

Standing in the doorway is a man who is decidedly not Simon, though there are similarities. They are both tall (though Simon must stand a hand taller), and broad (this bloke’s biceps are threatening the sleeves of his t-shirt as he crosses his arms across his chest), but that is where the similarities end. Where Simon is pale and blond, this man is tan and brunet, his hair a cropped mohawk that looks soft to brush one's fingers through. 

Looking over his shoulder is a beautiful woman with braids that drip down to her shoulder blades. 

“I tend to have that effect on women,” he says, glancing back at her. 

“I can imagine,” she says, no small hint of flirtation in her voice.

“Um. Sorry, but there aren’t any walk-ins,” you remind them. The sign had been right bloody there. Could they not read? A more important question: were they murderers looking for their next victim? In the city, one could never know if a person was malevolent or just stupid. 

“Where’s the big guy?” the man asks. He holds up a hand a few inches above his head. “Tall. Devastatingly handsome. Monosyllabic.” 

“He should be back any minute.” That’s what you’re supposed to say, right? You always let the murderers know that time is not on their side; no inconvenient prey here. Try again elsewhere. “Maybe you two could wait outside.” 

The man does a neat little trick with his tongue, flashing a silver barbell piercing at you like a calling card. “I’m the piercer, lass. I own forty-nine percent of the business. Let Ghost know I’m back with a client, alright? Nice meetin�� you.” 

The two of them disappear together behind the curtain at the back of the shop, leaving you hoping that a small hole will open up directly beneath your coordinates and swallow you whole. Hopefully it will leave the shop intact. Maybe you had the time to let Simon know not to look for your body—

The bell rings again, and this time it is Simon, his mask still pulled up over his nose and mouth, one paper bag of fragrant Chinese food tucked under his arm. He takes in the sight of you with your head in your hands, elbows on your knees and approaches with caution. 

“What’s this?” he wonders out loud. He sets down the bag and tears it open: egg drop soup, pork fried rice, crab rangoon. All your favorite goodies. A feminine giggle is heard from the back of the shop and he sighs, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.“Soap. What’d he say to you?” 

“Nothing. I just put my foot in my mouth.” 

“Yer a flexible one, aren’t you.”

“Just in that one, very specific way, trust me,” you say, accepting the disposable chopsticks he hands you. You break them apart and go looking amongst the packages of food for your rice. “I mistook him for a client and asked him to wait outside.” 

Simon sucks on his teeth, a sure-fire sign that he is trying not to laugh. 

You launch a chopstick at him, scoffing when he catches it nimbly out of the air and offers it back to you. 

“Careful with that,” he says solemnly. “Could have taken my fuckin’ eye out.” 

In the back, a scream rings out. You jerk, nearly upending the rice in your lap. Under his breath, Simon mutters: “Always Soap with the screamers.” 

-

That night, the two of you fuck at his flat. He puts you on top of him, where you can control how deep the penetration is, and it gives you a chance to explore the angles that you never really had a chance to explore with other partners. With others, it had been a race: rushing toward some blissful edge, hurrying to get them (and if you were lucky, yourself) off as quickly as possible. With Simon, you were just discovering that sex could be fun; sex could be slow; sex could end with no one orgasming and it could still change your life. 

He is an excellent sport while you ride him, his eyes quiet and soft in a way they aren’t when you’re outside of his flat together, when the mask is on and pulled up into place. If he weren’t so fucking put together, you might say that he were pussy drunk. As it is, he stays still, hands kneading your thighs until you nearly get a cramp in your hip and then he sits up, guiding you off of him and back into the bedsheets, laying face to face to fuck you in a way that is so painfully intimate it makes you want to shut your eyes. 

Afterwards, you curl up against his side and find yourself playing with his nipple piercing. He’s got cute nipples: small and pink as his mouth. The barbell is black, a nice contrast to his skin tone. He watches you sometimes, other times letting his eyes fall shut. 

“Did this hurt?” you ask him, tugging on the barbell a little. 

“Yes,” he says in that dry way that lets you know your question has amused him. 

“You know what I mean. You’ve gotten tattoos and had your ears pierced. What’s the worst pain?” 

 He shifts to touch a spot on his inner arm where a black and white skull rests. The skin is delightfully soft and thin. “This part nearly had me in tears. Barely felt the nipple, in comparison.” 

Your mouth says it before your brain comprehends it: “Maybe I should get mine done.” 

He stares at you, eyes briefly falling to your breasts. He reaches down and skims his fingers along the curve of one, his fingertips calloused but his touch so very soft. He says: “Soap did this, didn’t he?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re alone with Soap for sixty seconds and now you want your tits pierced. Are you saying that’s a coincidence?” 

You frown. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe he influenced me, subconsciously?”

“He didn’t ask you?” 

“No! He had a client with him.” 

Simon hums. His face is closed off, expression unreadable. You can sense there is more that he holds back the same way you can sense a body of water is deep, but he doesn’t share and you don’t push him, not sure if you’re ready to take that plunge yourself. 

“It was a silly idea,” you backpedal. “Forget I said anything.” 

“It’s your body,” Simon says, ignoring your words. “You should do whatever you want with it.”

“Yeah? You’d be surprised how rarely anybody ever says that to a woman.”

“Most people are cunts.” 

“True.” You reach out and thumb at his nipple again, just to satisfy the urge in your own tiny, one track brain. He takes a measured breath—for Simon, that’s as good as a moan. Your eyes flicker down, but his cock is hidden somewhere beneath the sheets. “Want to go again?”

He guides your hand down to wrap around his cock which is like hard steel wrapped in smooth velvet. 

You roll on top of him. The cramp in your thigh has faded by now. Reaching up, you palm your breasts, briefly playing with your nipples. You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly sexy, but the way he looks at you makes you feel powerful, like the sun lives just underneath your skin.

“I think I do want them done,” you say, watching the hungry way he watches your fingers. He sits up, tugging you onto your knees so he can take one nipple into his mouth and tease it with the sharp line of his teeth. 

You figure that’s as good a blessing as any. 

-

Simon tends to spring things on you. Texts are usually last minute and painfully succinct: dinner? or my place? He is prone to just showing up out of the blue, unafraid (and unoffended) to take no for an answer when you’re busy. 

One sunny fall afternoon, the thing he springs on you is Soap. Simon brings you to the shop, telling you that he needs to meet with a client. You’ve never tagged along to something like this before, but you’re beginning to think that there are few places Simon could go where you wouldn’t want to follow. Convinced you will be hiding in the back of the shop without a word to alert either of them to your presence, you agree easily enough. 

But when you arrive, that client is Soap, and instead of letting you hide in the back, Simon picks up a chair with one hand, hauling it across the room so that you both sit flanking Soap on either side while he’s in the tattoo chair getting some fancy, winged symbol just over his pec. 

“We’ve got a spectator? A voyeur?” Soap asks, rubbing his hands together. “Oh you know all my seedy kinks, Ghost.” 

“I can leave, really,” you offer, already moving to stand.

“Sit,” Simon says. 

You sit. Johnny sheds his shirt with obvious relish, and you find the artwork on the wall just over his shoulder to be incredibly interesting all of the sudden. 

Soap extends a hand to you. “The big guy still hasn’t introduced us. Some call me Soap, but beautiful women are allowed to call me Johnny.” 

You shake his warm hand to be friendly and make the mistake of meeting his eyes. They are very blue, framed by dark lashes and expressive eyebrows. He flashes his tongue piercing at you again and you jerk your hand back like you’ve been burned. He laughs. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, MacTavish,” Simon murmurs, putting a gloved hand flat on his chest to force him back against the chair. You see then that Johnny has both his nipples pierced: little golden rings that compliment his tanned skin. 

He’s fit, unfortunately.

You look back at the picture on the wall while Simon grabs the razor to shave Johnny’s pec. You learn that there’s no such thing as silence when Johnny is in the room. He keeps up a consistent chatter of conversation while Simon preps his body and lays the stencil, and it goes a long way to putting you at ease. 

“Would you hold my hand, lass?” Johnny asks, eyes big and guileless. “I’m scared of needles.”

Simon rolls his eyes, tugs his mask into place, and starts the gun without waiting for your response. The buzzing causes a visceral reaction in you, reminding you of your own tattoo that you had received from Simon only weeks ago. A craving rises up in you, tangible in your throat (and between your legs). You shift on the chair Simon brought over for you, eyes drawn to his hands to watch him work. 

Johnny wiggles his fingers at you, palm up. 

Your chair legs screech against the floor as you scoot in bursts towards him and take his hand. You haven’t even held hands with Simon yet, and here you are holding hands with his best friend. Suddenly regret has you wishing you could draw your hand back and wipe the touch away on your leggings. Unaware of your turmoil, Johnny heaves a sigh, giving you a smile that is painfully handsome. “There. Now I feel safe.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Simon reminds him. 

“Ready to tell me where your newfound generosity has come from?” Johnny asks, straining his neck to glance down at Simon’s work. “What happened to never tattooing friends for free?”

“I want you to owe me,” Simon says, voice quiet and distracted as he traces the line work. 

“You need a favor,” Johnny guesses.

“Something like that.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.”

“She wants her nipples done.” 

Simon lifts the gun away from his skin just in time for Johnny to jerk in the chair, head swiveling to look at you. Your own head has swiveled to look at Simon, who holds both hands up innocuously, looking not at all apologetic or regretful. 

“You want me to cop a feel of your girlfriend’s tits?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you squawk. 

“It’s true. We get very close and personal during a piercing, lass—“

“There’s a fundamental difference between copping a feel and touching my breast—“ You realize that you are still holding Johnny’s hand and you practically toss it away. 

“I’m not laying a finger on her,” Johnny says firmly, speaking only to Simon now (likely considering you a lost cause). “Period. Out of the question.” 

“I’m not letting her go to a stranger,” says Simon, brows drawn down low on his forehead. “So get over your own bullshit and pierce her, Johnny. It’s fine.” 

Johnny’s mouth shuts with such force that his teeth click together. He turns his eyes on you and stares. You feel like you’ve already taken your top off even though you’ve done no such thing. Shyly, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, giving him your best glare. It has the opposite of intended effect; Johnny’s gaze softens a little, turns pitying. 

“Alright,” he says. “Consider my bullshit over with.” 

Simon inclines his head in gratitude. He picks back up the tattoo gun.

-

“What’s the story with you and Johnny anyway?” you ask Simon over dinner. He rarely takes you out, more content to spend time alone in private rather than in public. His eyes can’t stop scanning the few people in the restaurant. Sometimes his hand reaches for his mask, instinct urging him to draw it back over his mouth and nose, but he doesn’t. 

“We met in the SAS, been friends ever since,” he says succinctly. 

“How’d you two go into business together?” 

“I was doing stick ‘n pokes for anyone who would sit still. He was piercing soldier’s ears in exchange for cigarettes. We both decided we’d rather live to see thirty, so when our time was up, we didn’t re-enlist, pooled our money, bought a location and never looked back.” 

You frown. “I didn’t know you were in the military.” 

He nods, sipping at a water (he’d refused your offer to share a pint together). You’re aware suddenly of how much there is about Simon that you don’t know. 

“Was Johnny the one to pierce your nipple?”

Simon stills for a moment, considering the question. At length he sets his glass down and says slowly: “Yes.”

“Why do I sense there’s a story there?”

“Because there is. I’m sure Soap will be thrilled to tell it with as many details as possible.” 

“Shouldn’t you tell me first, to control the narrative?”

Simon’s mouth twitches, lips quirking upwards at the edges. Coaxing one of his rare smiles from him never failed to make you feel like you were walking on clouds. He says: “You’re clever.”

“High praise.” 

“Does that do something for you?”

“What?”

“Being praised.”

You sputter a little, flustered. But then it occurs to you: “Are you changing the subject?” 

This time he grins, full and beautiful. You think about Soap calling him ‘devastatingly handsome’, and while there was a part of you that was sure the masses would not agree with your assessment of him, you couldn’t help but find Simon striking. Looking at his smile makes you smile, an unconscious mimicry. 

He catches the waitress as she comes by and asks for the check. 

-

“You look frightened,” Johnny says when he spots you as you come into Skin Deep. He’s seated on the couch where you and Simon had sex, texting on his phone. How he knows you look frightened, you couldn’t say; he hasn’t even looked up to greet you. 

“What gave me away?” you ask, feeling queasy. You’d spent half the night awake watching videos on reddit of people getting their nipples pierced feeling increasingly panicked. It looked brutal. It made no sense to stick a needle through one of the most sensitive parts of your body. But it hadn’t made sense to be stabbed a hundred thousand times by microneedles either—and you’d done that. Eagerly, even. 

“That look on your face that says you’re about to be sick,” Simon says from behind you. 

You turn and give him a tepid glare. It’s all you can muster.

Johnny leads you back through the curtain, which you cross with a muted giddiness (your first time in the back of the shop!). It leads to a narrow hallway with a few frosted doors. One is clearly marked as a bathroom. One isn’t marked at all. The last has the light on inside, turning the frosted glass a golden yellow. The writing on the glass says SOAP’S ARTISAN PIERCINGS. He opens the door and ushers you both in. 

The room is small, with a chair similar to Simon’s except for performing piercings. One wall is dominated by cabinets and drawers and mirrors, a small porcelain sink. A table holds a photobook which you make the mistake of skimming through—it’s full of clits, labias, penises, and nipples, all with a variety of gruesome appearing jewelry. 

“Ow,” you mutter, shutting the book.

“Getting ideas for your next piercing?” Johnny asks over his shoulder, washing his hands at the sink. He soaps himself up to the elbows, like a surgeon preparing to root around in your open chest. 

“No,” you say. “Definitely not.” 

Simon has seated himself in one of the chairs in the corner, his legs looking obscenely long with the way they are folded. He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, watching you closely. You pull a face at him just to watch the way his eyes roll. 

“Everything off from the waist up,” Soap says, tugging gloves into place. “Any allergies? Latex, dyes?”

He is much more abrupt today than he had been yesterday. You’re almost moved enough to ask him if he’s upset, but perhaps this is just his professionalism. Regardless, you miss the easy-going nature that had gone so far to put you at ease yesterday. 

“No,” you say, shrugging out of your shirt. It is warm in the room but goosebumps still bloom along your arms and chest. God, are you really doing this? Are you really exposing yourself to Simon’s best friend? You glance back over your shoulder, but Simon’s face gives no indication of what you should do. The message is clear: you have to choose. Taking a deep breath, you slide the straps of your bra down your arms and reach around back to undo the clasp, folding everything nice and neatly into a pile on the chair beside you. Your nipples immediately pucker, whether from nerves or some unwilling arousal, you couldn’t say. 

Johnny isn’t even looking at you. He’s opening up packages of frightening looking tools: scissors with clamps on the end, needles, toothpicks? “Had any caffeine today?”

“No. Wait, yes. A tea.”

“Goddamnit, Ghost. You and yer bloody teas.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not really,” Johnny says. “I’d prefer if you hadn’t drunk it, but what’s done is done. Makes the blood thinner though, you know.”

“Didn’t know that. I thought that was just alcohol.”

“Alcohol is worse,” he agrees. He glances over his shoulder, but towards Simon whose dark figure is haunting the corner of the room. His expression is sly. “Ghost knows all about that, aye?”

You latch on to this news eagerly. “Are you talking about when you pierced his nipple?”

Johnny’s brows lift in obvious surprise. “He told you about that?”

You hear the creak of the chair behind you as Simon shifts but you don’t turn to look at him. “He told me some of it?” you say, voice pitching upward at the end in question. 

“Which parts, exactly?”

“Just that you were the one who had done it.” 

“Left out all the tastiest bits,” Johnny says. “I bet he does that a lot when talking about his days with the 1-4-1.”

Your stomach dips. 

“That’ll do,” Simon says sternly from the corner. 

Johnny scoffs a little, muttering something under his breath as he arranges the tools to his liking. The silence that lingers is thick and awkward. Eager to break it, he turns to you and your tits. “Alright then. Let’s see what we’re working with.” 

You want to cross your arms more than you want to take your next breath, but you don’t. You don’t breathe either, really. Johnny stares at your breasts and then asks you to stand and come closer. Knees knocking together, you do, until you are close enough to smell his cologne or aftershave—whichever you aren’t sure. 

“Biggest question here,” he says, glancing back toward your eyes. “Are we doing one today or both?”

“Uh—both?”

“Let me bring this to your consideration,” Johnny says. “If you can’t go without playing with them, I recommend just doing one at a time. Because once I pierce it, it’s hands off for six months. No touching, no twiddling, no teasing, no twisting, definitely no tasting, I’m talking to you, Ghost—“

“Fuck off.”

“—so if that’s a dealbreaker, I recommend leaving one to play with. Stagger them. Mitigates the loss a little.”

You glance back at Ghost. On the one hand, nipple play is a favorite of yours. On the other hand, if you don’t do both today, you might chicken out and never come back. In the end, you decide: “Let’s start with one and see how I do.” 

“Yer the boss, hen,” Johnny says solemnly. He tears open a tiny package, the bitter scent of antiseptic stinging at your nose. “Any preference on left or right? Do yeh have a favorite?”

“A favorite?” 

He snorts. “Alright—which side do you sleep on?”

You say your left, so he takes the antiseptic wipe to the right breast and warns you with a brief, It’s chilly, before swiping it across your nipple. You hate every moment of it, mostly because the stimulation feels good in a distant, muted way. Teeth gritting, you wait for him to be done, even though he is a consummate professional and going as fast as he can. 

Next he takes one of the toothpicks, dips it in ink, and marks a spot on either side of your nipple where the needle will pierce. It’s more on the areola itself; you can’t decide if that makes it more or less tolerable.

“Go check the placement in the mirror, let me know if you’re level,” says Johnny, tossing away the toothpick. 

You turn to Ghost instead. “Will you be my mirror?” you whisper. 

The corners of his eyes crinkle behind his mask. He beckons you closer with two fingers, and you walk to him on unsteady legs. His hand cups your breast, careful not to touch any part that Johnny has sanitized as he looks you over thoroughly. 

“Perfect,” he mutters, almost like a curse. 

“Hey! No touching!” Johnny calls, crumpling a piece of trash noisily in his fist. He sounds irritated. “Don’t you make me sanitize her again!”

When you and Simon have finished, Johnny adjusts the chair until it is laying flat and helps you up onto it. 

“Normally I freehand most piercings,” he says. “But since this is your first, I’m going to use a hemostat clamp. Looks like this—“ He shows you the device which looks like scissors but with clamps instead of blades, holes strategically placed for the needle to be pushed through. “—and I’ve been told it hurts more than the piercing itself, so be warned.”

“I’m warned,” you whisper weakly. 

“Arm up, over your head lass.” 

He scoots his chair beside you and then gently touches your breast, the latex warm from his body heat. He adjusts the clamp and then grips down tightly, ensuring that the marked spots of ink are within the holes. It does hurt, but not as badly as you imagined. You let out a breath. You can do this. 

“Ready for the needle?”

Yeah, you can’t do this. Your other hand reaches out blindly towards Simon. After a moment, you feel his touch: hand warm and solid where he laces your fingers together awkwardly. Neither of you have had much practice in the way of hand holding—and none at all with each other—but you feel his touch all the way in your toes, and you think that’s a pretty good sign. 

“Make all the sound you want,” Johnny mutters, breath fanning across your outstretched arm. “It helps, trust me. On three. One—“

He pierces you. You suck in a breath through your teeth. “You bastard, that hurt way more than the clamp!”

“Yeah,” says Johnny, guiding the jewelry through your nipple. He looks down at you with a sad, strange smile. “I’m a liar.” 

-

You shower together that night. The shower is small for a man of Simon’s stature. Add you into the mix and it’s positively tiny, but that just means you both have to stand close together, bodies brushing against each other with each movement. He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to the spray to let the water run across your sore breast, thumbs kneading at the tense muscles of your shoulder blades. 

You relax back against him, feeling his hard cock against the small of your back. He doesn’t do anything about it, so you don’t either. 

“What’s the verdict?” you ask him. “Do you like it?” 

“Is it important to you that I like it?” he asks, voice rumbling against your back. 

You think. 

“Yes,” you say. 

His hand comes down to ghost over your unpierced breast, cupping it in his huge palm. Your hard nipple rasps against the calluses on his hand making you shiver even in the heat of the shower. He squeezes softly, pulling a sound from the back of your throat that is lost thanks to the roar of the water against the tiles. 

His mouth brushes against your ear, lips damp: “I like it.” 

You twist in his arms, his cock dragging against your slick body, and look up at him. His hair is plastered to his forehead, a shade darker than usual. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

You guide his hand to your hair. “Hold this for me.” 

You slip down onto your knees.

-

How’s the piercing healing? Simon messages you one afternoon. Soap won’t shut up asking me about it. 

Give him my number, you suggest. 

After a lengthy silence, Simon texts: He says he doesn’t want it.

And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Maybe it was some weird piercer/client boundary he didn’t want to cross, but Ghost had come across more stringent (in just about every aspect of life) and he had had no problem crossing the tattoo artist/client boundary to text you mock ups of your tattoo. Something in your gut goes sour. Something sows itself in the soil of your heart, something thorny and unpleasant, and you don’t like it one bit. 

It’s fine, you tell him. I’m taking care of it. 

Okay, he says. And that is the end of that. 

-

The next time you see Johnny, it is Simon’s birthday. True to form, he does not make a big fuss of it, though it’s clear that this is the first birthday he has shared with a romantic partner perhaps ever. 

He genuinely seems to appreciate the Bluetooth stencil printer you bought him as a gift (he’d looked at the wrapped present like he didn’t know what to do with it, unwrapped it with the same enthusiasm as a man walking to the gallows, but when he’d seen it, he’d given one of those slow, rare grins; the crooked ones thanks to the scar across his mouth), and you silently congratulated yourself on getting him something practical over something sentimental. 

“The boys want to get together,” he says that afternoon. “I want you to come, too.” 

How could you say no to that? 

So you doll yourself up, wearing your nicest pair of skinny jeans and a sweater to keep away the autumn chill. You are giddy at the thought of meeting Simon’s other friends, so much so that you cleanly overlook Johnny’s hot and cold act. At least there will be others there to act as buffers between the two of you. 

The pub itself is more crowded than Simon would like. He won’t even take his mask off, keeping his back against the wall and eyes on the door. Not for the first time, you wonder if he doesn’t have some sort of PTSD, something leftover from his time in the service. It would make a lot of things make a lot more sense. 

You meet Kyle, who clasps your hand with both of his own, grinning so fetchingly. “Nice to meet you,” he shouts over the sounds of the pub. “Simon’s never brought a woman around before. You must be special.” 

“That means be on your best behavior, Garrick,” Simon says dryly, shifting his mask to sip at a beer—the first you’ve ever seen him drink.

“Yes, sir.” 

John arrives next. He’s older than the others, though there’s not yet any hint of silver in his facial hair. He smiles, eyes twinkling, and shares Kyle’s sentiments. It shouldn’t make you feel as special as it does, knowing that Simon hasn’t brought a woman to meet his friends before. But it does. It means something. The two of you still haven’t discussed exactly what your relationship is, but it seems clear in the eyes of everyone around you, which makes you feel a little more like you’re standing on solid ground. 

Johnny arrives last. His easy grin falters at the sight of you. He slips into the other side of the circular booth beside John and barely greets you, barely even meets your eyes. You don’t shrink, necessarily—you’re aware that you belong here, celebrating Simon, just as much as Johnny does—but you do grow quiet, your arms crossed in your lap, leaning into the warm comfort that Simon’s body beside you provides. 

The group together are downright boisterous. Even Simon comes out of his shell some as the drinks come and go, eventually tugging the mask down to rest beneath his chin. They tell stories that make you laugh, make you tear up, make you cringe, make you groan. It eases some anxious part of your heart to hear these uncensored stories, to learn more about Simon’s past straight from the sources.

It’s clear that their time spent serving together has made a brotherhood of them, and while a small part of you feels estranged as the outsider amongst this group, the larger part thinks it’s beautiful to see. 

Simon deserves this, you think, as the group gets up: some to go to the bathroom, others to the bar, others to smoke. He deserves to be surrounded by people that love him. 

You realize right there in that cracked leather booth of the bar that you are included in that.

 You’re in love with him. 

“Oh God,” you mutter, pressing your hands to your cheeks. Suddenly your head is spinning from the few shots you had shared with the others. Air. You need air. 

Not spying Simon anywhere near the bar, you take your chances of running into him outside and step out of the pub onto the cool street. There is a bitter wind blowing that has you wrapping your arms around your middle, wishing you had worn a jacket over your sweater. Resting your back against the brick wall, you stare up at the moon and think. Nothing has changed between now and five minutes ago, except that now you are a little wiser to your own feelings. A little more aware of how invested you are in this undefined relationship. You don’t need to freak out.

You just need to talk to him and figure out where you both stand with each other. It is the only—

“You followin’ me?” You jerk, startled. Johnny stands there, having come around out of the alley, crushing the remnants of a cigarette beneath his boot. His cheeks are red from the cold, hands jammed deep into his pockets. 

“What? Of course not!” 

“Alright,” he says, his agreement sounding a lot like skepticism. He moves past you toward the pub doors. 

You know that you shouldn’t. You know that for some inexplicable reason, Johnny doesn’t like you, and that you should take this at face value and leave well enough alone. But instead it makes something inside you feel needy and desperate, desperate for this closest friend of Simon’s to like you, desperate to fit it to Simon’s old life. 

“Hey,” you say, catching his wrist. “We should plan my next piercing while you’re here.” 

He visibly shakes off your touch. His eyes look back toward the pub longingly. “Yeah. Look, not much to plan, really, is there? Just let Simon know when you’re ready and he’ll text me.” 

He opens the door. For a moment, the sounds and smells of the pub spill out onto the sidewalk, but then the door shuts and it is quiet and you are alone. 

-

“Johnny doesn’t like me much,” you say to Simon on the way home. You’re driving—three beers in total had managed to make him tipsier than you thought possible for a man of his stature.

He snorts. “Soap loves everybody, and everybody loves Soap.” 

You take your eyes off the road briefly. Simon’s figure is illuminated by a passing streetlamp, turning his silhouette into something gilded where he is slumped over in the passenger seat resting his temple against the cool glass of the window. “I don’t love him,” you say, hoping you don’t overemphasize any certain word. 

Simon looks to you. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face. Not even being drunk affects the intensity of his gaze, the way it penetrates you, turns you see-through. Whatever he sees in your face must not be enough, because his head thuds as it hits the window again. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a girl who was supposed to be mine ended up being for Soap.” 

You suck in a breath, heart clenching painfully. Taking one hand off the wheel, you search for his thigh—find his knee and settle for it, stroking softly with your thumb. 

“I’m not Soap’s, baby,” you say. 

“No?” 

You shake your head. 

“Whose are you?” 

“Come on, Simon,” you mutter, face hot. “You already know.” 

“Are you mine?” 

You nod.

“Don’t say it.” 

You blink, glancing over to him. He’s watching you, eyes heavy-lidded and pitch-black in the darkness of the cab. “Why not?” 

“Because I’ll make have to you pull over.” 

-

Instead he makes you wait until he’s inside you, still feeling the rasp of his stubble against your thighs from where he had eaten you out. Then, his hands shaking, he asks you again, Whose are you? just to hear the way you chant over and over again: Yours, Yours, Yours.