#simply because he they’d annoy him to no end. that part he doesn’t say out loud though.

[darlingletters]

moth to flame lh44

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

in which y/n y/l/n has a new boyfriend and lewis hamilton can’t help but want to remind her how he knows her better.

warnings: cheating, kissing, intimate touching (like cheek touching and stuff), allusions to the devil’s tango, lemme know if there’s any that I missed please.

an: so I haven’t posted in a while but I am back!! hope everyone is doing well. this is my first time writing something like this so if anyone has any tips on how to make it better please let me know. also sorry for any bad grammar/spelling.

should I make a part 2?

anyway this is based on the song moth to flame by the weeknd & swedish house mafia!! absolutely love this song and honestly I was listening to it the other day and got the idea to write to this. I don’t know if anyone else has done, but if so lemme know.

driver list navigation

────────────────────────────

it was 3:45 in the morning.

y/n was supposed be asleep but instead she was wide awake sitting on the sofa on the phone talking to her ex boyfriend whilst her current one slept in the next room.

“come y/n/n, you don’t wanna be with this guy. he doesn’t know you like I do baby.” lewis’ voice almost pleads as he talks.

“this needs to stop. I’ve moved on. you should have too.” she says simply, picking at the blanket that covered her.

“please baby-”

“you have to stop calling me that.” she cuts him off “I ain’t your baby anymore. I stopped being that a long time ago.”

“y/n, he doesn’t know what you need. doesn’t know what to give you. I do.” his pleading continues.

she stays silent. she doesn’t even know how to respond to that. it was true. her boyfriend hadn’t been able to please her in the two years they’d been together. and although she’d never admit it out loud, it was driving her insane.

“I bet he even knows he can’t please you because he knows he can never give you what I gave you.” he says smugly. “because he knows, he can never be better than me.”

“arrogance doesn’t suit you.” she mutters loud enough for him to hear.

“I am not being arrogant. I am being honest.” he responds quickly.

“what do you want from me lewis?” she asks slightly frustrated.

“you. I want you. I want you to admit you want me too.” he states like it’s obvious

“I don’t want you.” lies. but he didn’t need to know that.

“just come cover.” he says simply.

“I can’t.” she whispers.

“why? cause your with him?” he says annoyed, “just leave now. you’ll be back in the morning. I just need to see you baby.” he pleads.

“lewis-”

“come on y/n. just lemme be near you. touch you. that’s all i need.” lewis says almost desperately, hints of desire in his words.

“one hour. I’ll come to you.” she says after a moment of silence.

although she should of felt guilty or even hesitated to answer, she didn’t. she wanted to see lewis. needed to see him. lewis was her first love, probably the only man she would ever truly love.

“I’ll send you the address.” he says, his voice completely lustful as he ends the call and sends the address of a hotel.

- 20 minutes later -

she knocks on his door. her mind filled with guilt and hesitation as she waited for the door to open. however, once the door opened and she caught sight of lewis, those thoughts had quietened.

“lewis.” she says breathily.

in response, lewis smirks and makes space for her to enter.

“you said you wanted to see me, you’ve seen me.” she whispers as she enters the room.

“I also said I wanted to touch you and I haven’t done that yet.” he flirts as he shuts the door and locks it.

“lewis-” she mutters as she closes her eyes.

“come on baby, just let me touch you.” he responds, taking off her jacket as he stands behind her.

“I have a boyfriend.” she says firmly, not turning to face him.

“then why are here? hm?” he whispers in her ear as he stays behind her.

“I- I don’t know.” she mutters.

“you still want me.” he responds as she shakes her head. “yes you do, you still love me y/n. I know you do baby, don’t deny it.” he says turning her around to face him only to see her eyes closed.

they stay in silence for a few moments as lewis looks at her, assessing every detail on her face. memorising her features like he used to when they once shared a bed.

“open your eyes.” he says softly. “lemme see those gorgeous eyes I’ve missed to much.” he speaks again stroking her cheek.

she takes a deep breath as she keeps her eyes closed, determined not to fall for him all over again.

“come on baby, just look at me.” he whispers, brushing his lips against her cheek. “just need you to look at me again.” he repeats, kissing her cheek.

“lewis-” she starts but was quickly interrupted when she felt a kiss on her jaw forcing her to open her eyes.

the sight before her made her wish she had never answered his phone call.

there he was cradling her face like she was a precious piece of art as he looked down at her with pure affection and warmth at finally seeing her looking at him.

“there we go baby, there’s those pretty eyes.” he whispers as he rubs his thumb on her cheek. “god i missed you.” he mutters as he leans his forehead against hers.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” she mumbles as she shakes her head, pulling away from him and forming distance making his smile drop while he reaches out for her.

“leave that guy. come back to me.” he states firmly, his expression almost desperate.

“we are toxic lewis. we fought all the time, we barely saw each other expect to use each other in bed.” she argues back, putting her hands on her hips.

“it’s been three years y/n. we’ve changed. I’ve changed. that guy doesn’t deserve you.” he says simply taking a step forward towards her which makes her step back.

“and you think you deserve me?” she scoffs.

“no I don’t deserve you. no one fucking deserves you y/n/n. but I love you. more then that guy can.” he takes a step forward. she takes a step back. “I care for you more then him.” step forward. step back. “I touch you better then he does.” he whispers, taking a final step forward until she’s pressed up against the wall. “and you and I both know i can please you better then he does.” he finishes looking at her as she leans back against the wall looking up at him with wide eyes as she breaths heavily.

“lew-” she mumbles out as licks her lips and looks at his lips before quickly looking at his eyes.

“let me kiss you.” he whispers as he leans his head forward and places his hand on her cheek. “please baby let me kiss you.” he pleads, their lips inches away.

she pauses as she keeps her arms planted to her side as she looks at him trying to pull away from him. she looks away from his eyes and back to lips.

“fuck it.” she mutters as she runs her fingers though his hair and kisses him making him immediately return it with a soft groan.

he moves his hands into her hair, “god I missed you.” he says against her lips before going straight back to kissing her.

however, as they kissed, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of regret wash over her as she thought back to her boyfriend peacefully sleeping in their bed whilst she made out with her ex boyfriend.

────────────────────────────

[loderlied]

the first thing i have drawn in weeks can you tell

[1427]

i love you (always forever) pt.1

Daryl Dixon x sister!OFC

Summary: In the winter of ‘95 Daddy died. Leaving Lady to finish up her senior year in high school, and Daryl to brood over when to sell the house. The summer of ‘96 is the first time Lady feels alive. Daryl wants to give her one last summer before she has to grow up for real.

He gave her anything she asked for that summer.

Setting: Doublewide on some lone property in the middle of the woods, Georgia. Summer 1996

Warnings: INCEST (like it's the whole thing), virgin!oc, drug use (a joint), underage drinking, TENSION, poorly written SMUT, masturbation (f), lite!somno, oral (m receiving), some leering (??); most of the smut will be in part two. 

Word Count: 6.1k

A/n: INCEST I'll say it again. if it's not your thing, or can’t ever be your thing, DON’T READ IT. 

I didn't write it. I simply lived it in my head and documented (I wrote it but it felt like I didn't have a choice). 

Lady, Daryl calls her Lay, Bug

She calls him Bub, Bubba

// part 2 //

MDNI 18+ 

Wind chimes. Soft like the breeze. The heat of the Georgia in June. Daddy died this past winter, and Lady’d never had a summer feel so much like a hug. Finally able to really breathe again. Like a little kid. Magic around every corner. She swore sometimes, when she looked out the window in the dead of night, that she could see the faeries dancing out back in the woods. For a few years they'd gone, but this year they were back again.

Just her and Daryl (and the deer, and the squirrels, and the mice, and obviously the mosquitos, and sometimes the faeries); Like it shoulda always been. Like it always kinda was. After Merle left and all. Got older, moved out. Daryl stayed, though. Past his 18th birthday, and a few more after that. Didn’t wanna leave Lady all by herself with their old man. Couldn’t. 

Now he couldn’t really leave her alone in the house, even though she’d turned 18 last fall. Doesn’t even cross his mind. 

Lady’s finally done with school for good unless she decides she wants to go to college. First one in the whole damn family and no one but Daryl was there to see it.  Daryl quit his job as soon as Daddy died. Even if Daddy didn't have a few dollars in his bank account he didn’t know about, Lady figures he would have anyway. 

Daryl thought about selling the house but… not yet. 

He knew he was putting a pause on his life for this summer with Lady, but his whole life had been on pause til now anyway. Knows that when it’s over, it’s all over. Her whole childhood, their whole upbringing. Their dad dyin’ was just the bow ontop to seal the deal. They’d both think of it as the end. For the rest of her life, Lay’ll know this is when she had to grow up for real. So Daryl wouldn’t sell the house until Lady had her last summer as a kid with nothin’ to worry about. 

The heat was starting to get unbearable. 

“Lay!” Daryl yells, standing above a bed she'd made up in the living room. Dad had always kept the one lone air conditioner in his room, in front of the tv, in front of the recliner, in front of the bed. Lady had the idea to hang sheets on the doors to the living room and make a bed on the floor big enough for both of them to sleep in. She forgot the pillows, though, and now she was nowhere to be found. 

Daryl put down the tools he’d been using to fix the a/c to the window, pushing past the pink floral sheet between the living room and the hall toward the bedrooms, “Lay!” He quickly paces the double wide but she’s no where. 

Left a towel on her bed though, so Daryl’s got a good guess where she went. Swimmin’. 

It’s about a half miles walk, so it’s pretty far to just up and leave like that without saying anything, but Lady did it all the time. Like the creek was her own personal bathtub. Daryl’s not annoyed, not really. But he walks the half mile like he is anyway. Why couldn’t she just let him know? Because then he wouldn’t have to make sure this is where she went. And he wouldn’t have to bring her the towel she forgot. 

Daryl walks down and sure enough Lady’s shoulder deep in the muddy creek water, her clothes and shoes all bundled up on the dirt a few feet in front of him. She’s faced away, and at first doesn’t hear him come up. 

Lady tried to sneak away without being noticed to have a private moment. Like momma taught her. You’re allowed to touch yourself like that, but you can’t do it around other people. Momma said as long as you can be in private, it’s alright. 

Lady didn’t mean to forget her towel, but she almost assumed Daryl would find her anyway. She’d been fast though, always was. Was easy with the hormones. 18 and learning all new kinds of feelings. Merle always called her a late bloomer. Not being interested in boys until recently. She thought about the boys at school, and their plush lips on the soft skin of her shoulder, the protection in their arm wrapped around her waist, the butterfly light kiss of their eyelashes on her stomach. 

It didn’t take much for Lady to feel somethin’. Not in this heat, not with the breeze of freedom prickling every inch of her skin. 

Daryl can’t tell what she’s doing. All he sees is her shoulders barely moving in the lake, her head above the water and facing away from him. “Lay!” 

Daryl’s voice cascades through the air a few seconds after Lady, with a barely there mew, has her orgasm. Lady’s kisses with pleasure are soft, new, wanting. Like a light peck instead of a deep kiss. A soft mist instead of a thunderstorm. Lady only knew sweetness, even in her private moments. 

She’s beaming from ear to ear as she turns around to face him, making sure to keep her body covered by the water, “Bubba, what? I’m just swimmin’.” She already knew he was ready to be annoyed with her by his tone. 

“Yeah, uh-huh,” he nods, and smirks. Despite being annoyed he’s casual, “Thinkin’ maybe ya forgot som’n?” He throws the towel down ontop of her clothes and goes to stand behind a tree while she gets out of the water. 

Lady was always doing this. And Daryl was always following her with whatever thing she’d forgotten, or didn’t know she was gonna need. Daryl was always there. 

Full name Lady-Rae Cheryl Dixon. See momma wanted the name to rhyme with the boys but always said if she had a girl she was gonna name her Lady. Really liked that movie when she was a kid, didn’t matter it wasn’t a girls name. Didn’t matter to her what anyone thought. She thought it was sweet. And Lady was sweet. Could get away with probably anything if she wanted to, but she never even tried. Besides running around the woods naked, she didn’t find herself in much trouble. Sweet as honey. 

Daryl wasn’t sure how that was gonna work out in the real world. If she would get eaten up, or if she’d outshine everyone around her. He didn’t like to think about it. She didn’t belong out there. Not yet. Right now she’s naked in the woods, covering herself up just to be polite; right where she’s meant to be. Who she’s supposed to be. 

They make the walk back, Lady’s teeth chattering but she never complains. Barefoot like she grew the forest herself. She knew every inch. Daryl shuffled behind her, knowing the trail just as well, but letting her be the force she was. Skipping and stopping and stepping on her favorite parts as she went. He watched. 

Her towel small, and frayed on the ends. See through in spots. He tries to look away. He knows he should. But he can’t manage to stop himself. the way her tiny ass bounced as she walked, it was too lewd for him to avert his eyes. Like maybe if it wasn’t jiggling so much he’d have been able to stare at his feet or off into the woods, or at her bare shoulder or something, anything, else. 

But it was, just… her tight skin moving the fat of her ass back into place over and over, snapping against the sheer fabric of the towel, moving that too. Daryl keeps himself from leaning back to see more, to peak through and see the light between her legs. Wouldn’t do that. He’s not trying to sexualize her. What her ass is doing is right there in front of him? He tells himself it’s not his fault he’s looking. He’s seen her naked anyway, it’s not even a big deal. 

Getting caught up in shit that doesn’t matter, that’s what Daryl was good at. Getting stuck up in his own head and hung up on looking just barely a little too long at his sister. Merle would say it was no big deal, Daryl just needed to relax. He was making it weird by thinkin’ about it. 

He manages to look away, and to forget all about it.

💕 

Lady always assumes Daryls looking. Why wouldn't he look? Didn't mean nothin’. Boys always looked, wasn't a big deal unless they made it one. Unless someone made private thoughts public, with a purpose. Who cares who's lookin’? Lady doesn't. Never did. Why would she? How could she?

With Daryl for a brother, Lady never even got the chance to know what a bad touch might be. Never even heard of it. Maybe that's why she was such a late bloomer. Never even knew what she had down there until last summer when she met a boy who had a truck and talked like her brothers and he touched her through her pants and she ignited. 

Never saw the guy again. 

Never wanted to. Never needed to. She was alive and on fire and everything around her burned brighter for it. 

She was finding it hard to get comfortable in the bed she’d made. Still too hot even with the air conditioner on full blast. Daryl was about 3 feet away, a whole heap of comforter between them. “Get up” Lady’s voice a playful smirk. 

Daryl had been trying to fall asleep but got stuck staring at the ceiling fan. Trying to watch a single blade in its rotation. He stands up like she’d asked and watches as Lady lays the comforter out on top of the rest of the blankets she’d piled up, “if we’re not gonna use it.” She explains. 

Lady’s still got her light blue baby blanket that goes almost everywhere with her. Just as tattered and falling apart as the towel. Daryl never sleeps with a blanket anyway. Usually just passes out in his clothes, on his bed. Now he’d do the same thing here, in the living room. Hum of the a/c, chatter of the TV, the heat from Lady’s body - Daryl didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep anyway. 

Well maybe. He did have a joint stashed in with his cigarettes that he’d been saving for sometime this week. So when lady gets up to grab herself an ice cream cone from the fridge, Daryl yells, “Lay, grab ma pack’a smokes.” 

Lady’s halfway to the living room but she turns back and grabs them from the kitchen counter for him. “You’re really gonna smoke in the fort?” 

“Fort, huh?” He grunts then smiles at her as she tosses the pack at him. 

“Yeah?” She looks around, elbowing the sheet hung behind her, “What else would you call it?” 

“Th’ livin’ room.” He’s not looking at her when he answers. Eyes and fingers fixed on the pack, fidgeting with the hinged top for a bit before pulling the joint out and putting it in his mouth. 

Lady stops complaining when she sees it’s not a cigarette, and takes her seat back down on the pallet. Laying on her stomach, up on her elbows, facing Daryl. Her ice cream cone had already started melting, her tongue now on a race with the liquid dripping down her hand. 

Daryl just watches her struggle, until she finally gets a hold on it. “Y’good, there, Bug?” 

“Shut up.” And she shoves him a little. She’s got strawberry icecream all over her cheeks and chin and Daryl wishes he took pictures because at this moment he needed one. He needed her to remember forever who she is right now. 

“Y’wanna hit?” He asks her like he asks her every time he smokes a joint in front of her. Which is often. And every time she says no, because it’s always no. Never wanted to, never really saw the point. Things were beautiful enough. And it reminded her of Merle, and the bad things he got up to. 

Her mind slowly has been changing about it, with Merle gone for so long now. And Daryl being so chill about it when he was about it. A lot of the kids in high school had been doing worse and Lady found herself wanting to say yes when Daryl asked her. 

But when she does, Daryl doesn’t believe her, “No fuckin’ way, Bug. Yer buggin’.” 

“Bubba, no I’m not. I been thinkin’ about it.” 

“Oh, ya have? What’chya been thinkin’ ‘bout it?” 

“Just that I kinda wanna try.” She sways on her elbows, licking at her ice cream, “I’m gonna eventually, right? Why not now?” 

She’s trying to keep herself calm, but she was more relaxed than she’d usually be when she thought about sayin’ yes. Maybe that’s why she’d finally said it. She was finally able to. Lady thinks that means she must be ready, if she’s not afraid to say she wants to try it. 

She remembers this moment for the rest of her life. 

Makes her feel brave, like she’ll always know if she’s ready for some new scary experience or not. If she can ask, she’s ready. 

He thinks about it for a second, but he doesn’t see where she’s wrong. She probably was gonna try it eventually, why not now? She was safe here, he knew it. She knew it. So he says, “Alrigh’, fine. But yer prolly gon’ jus’ get tired,” and passes the joint to her. Thinking she'd take a tiny hit, probably not even inhale, and wimp out.

Lady takes it delicately in her fingertips and brings it to her lips. She’d tried cigarettes before (and didn’t like them), so the motion wasn’t completely foreign. But everything about it felt new and different. It burned. She almost didn’t feel it until she exhaled. A cloud of smoke billowing out and surrounding the both of them. 

Daryl laughs and mutters, “Shit, Bug,” while Lady’s face falls. That was way more than she thought was supposed to come out. Way more than her little lungs were expecting or could take. Her hand shoots out to Daryl for him to take her half eaten ice cream cone as she turns into a rabid dog. 

A wild beast on all fours hacking up half her lung and Daryl’s laughing so hard he’s crying, taking the ice cream and the joint back from her as she seizes. 

She’ll be okay. He knows she will. And she’ll sleep amazing and she’ll be safe like she always is. Somethin’ in the air felt different there now. With everyone else gone. Like nothing could touch them. 

So even though Lady’s about to be as high as a girl could ever be, neither of them are worried it won’t be a good time. 

Just them in their fort. Way too old to be playing little kid games and way too young to be playing house. 

💕

Lady’s vision was fuzzy. Glittering and dancing and hazy, rainbow bursts of fizzy glowing sparkles. 

Lady was secretly afraid she was on fire. She stared at the TV but wondered to herself if it was possible that her lungs were embers that were slowly consuming her chest cavity. She could breathe now, it had been nearly an hour since she hit that joint, but she was sure that she was literally burning alive from the inside out. 

“Dar, do you think you can be burning inside your lungs? Like on fire? Is that how people spontaneously combust?” 

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up, she’d been quiet for a while and he had been pretty sure that she’d fallen asleep. He had to think about her question. If he wasn’t also stoned he probably would have been able to tell her the answer was obviously no. Instead he says, “Don’t think so.” Which doesn’t really make her feel better. “I ain’t ever hearda it.” That does. Daryl’s hearda everything. 

Their voices are soft, the tv’s the only light in the room. Daryl looks over at Lady. Her bare legs disappearing under an old pair of pajama shorts, she’s definitely not on fire. Not the way she means. 

“Think yer good, Bug.” He reassured her before asking, “Need som’thin’?” 

Lady, sweet as ever, asks, “Tuck me in?” 

Daryl rolls his eyes but sits up anyway. Crawling the two steps toward her. He takes what he can of the stretchy old fabric and wraps it around her body. It’s not big enough, it was never gonna be. Daryl cracks a smile, Lady’s been laughing at his attempt. He pushes his fingers with the fabric around her, she’s laying straight as an arrow, blanket stretched to its limit tight against her body. 

Daryl isn’t paying attention to his fingers as they tuck the fabric under her thighs, or how tight it’s pulling against Lady’s breasts. Lady does. She took one look at him after she hit that joint and she hasn’t been able to sit right since. 

It’s the air, it’s the heat. It’s the sun, maybe something in the water at the creek? Its the pot. It’s gotta be the pot. It’s somethin’ that Lady doesn’t understand. That sometimes just being in proximity is enough. 

She felt brave. She wanted to skirt that line. The line itself moving, and blurry, and hard to make-out. She wanted to be touched. And she wanted Daryl to touch her. Not too much, just a little. Just enough to make her heart race. Just enough to kiss her sleep with something that felt like magic. 

Her pulse is pounding in her ears and down her throat as she looks at him up above her. She feels her blood burn in her palms, slowly falling away from her sides as the tight fabric comes loose from around her. 

Daryl’s lost in the same moment, just caught staring down at her, in a haze himself. Stuck in his head, romanticizing every moment of Lady’s last summer.  

“Kiss goodnight?” 

The words come from between them. Lady’s voice had spoken them but she’s certain it didn’t come from her mouth. 

Doesn’t matter. They’re in the air and Lady and Daryl both pretend that she doesn’t mean it in any way other than what a sister might say to a brother. 

Daryl leans down and just barely brushes his lips over hers. Soft and sweet, like he was leaning down and smelling a flower. It’s so brief, and it’s so feather light it almost wasn’t there. Lady and Daryl both pretend it wasn’t. 

She closes her eyes and snuggles into her blanket, all bunched up in her arms. And Daryl moves back to his spot, trying not to think about what just happened. How it’s all different now. In two seconds everything was different. 

She initiated something new and Daryl already knew he was gonna do what he always did with Lady. Whatever she wanted. 

💕

The sun is just barely peaking through the windows when Lady opens her eyes. The tv still playing, she sits up and leans herself forward to turn it off. Turning around to observe Daryl. But she wasn’t expecting… this. 

He must have gotten up in the middle of the night and ripped his clothes off because he’s just laying there in his boxers and his wife beater. Head leaning back off the pillow, arms laying on either side of his body. The part that catches Lady completely off guard was between his legs. Hard and trying to push its way out of his boxers. Lady can see a hint of pink between the fabric. The hole in the front tenting out around his bulge. 

Lady tries not to look. Knows she shouldn’t. But it’s too lewd to look anywhere else. He moves briefly in his sleep, which only makes their situation worse. His erect member pushing its way completely out of the hole. Lady gawks, feeling something akin to a squeel in her throat. She’d never seen something so… she needed to touch it. 

She shuffles closer to him, her knees padding on the layers of blankets underneath them. Her small hand moving out in front of her, she can’t look away. 

Her fingertips meet the skin of his bare cock with something Lady is sure is electricity. It’s warmer than she’d imagined, and as she moves, her nails grazing on the skin as she lightly traces up and down, she realizes that his skin here is softer than she’d imagined too. 

After a while, she can’t help herself, and wraps her fingers around him. Slowly working her hand up and down, her fingers just barely putting any pressure against him. She wants to squeeze it, to feel how hard it really is, she wants to roll it between both her hands and put it in her mouth and she wants to get to know it better than she knows any part of herself - but she doesn’t wanna wake Daryl up. 

It wasn’t even her fingers that woke Daryl up. It was the pressure. Below his stomach, twisting deep inside and throbbing.

He keeps his eyes closed, tries to keep his breathing steady. Tries to get himself to speak up, say something, tell her to stop. At least let her know you're awake. But he can't move. 

With his eyes closed he can feel every light touch of Lady’s hand. The way she pushes her palm down when she gets to the base and pulls it off as she gets to the tip, the way she's moving in soft semi-circles, but not while she's going up and down. She's exploring. 

Daryl didn't want to stop her. 

He's so hard it hurts. He almost winces when she grips him tighter. She was only moving herself in a different position, Daryl realizes, because he feels her other hand on his cock now too. 

Lady holds him in one hand, bringing the other up she grazes her index and middle finger over the tip of his length. Gliding his pre-cum all over his head. Trying to see how far it would go, she's surprised it's as slick as it is. She wants to taste it. 

Daryl feels her fingers leave him, and hears the slick pop of her tongue as she moves her fingers between her lips. He has to stop himself from rutting his hips up into her hand, stop himself from pushing her head down onto him to feel her wet mouth. 

He doesn't have to make her do anything, though.

Daryl feels a soft veil of hair tickle his skin above the waistband of his boxers, and he realizes she's about to put her mouth on him. Her pretty pink lips were about to wrap around his cock head. Her tongue, that he'd watched lick up melting icecream only a few hours ago, was gonna be flat against the underneath of his dick. Lady. With all the sweetness inside of her, was about to suck him off. 

Lady can't help herself, doesn't want to. Never learned how. She’s not quite sure how to start what she wants to do but decided to put her lips together and kiss right underneath the tip. She doesn't pull away. Parting her lips and flicking her tongue out from between her teeth to taste more of whatever was coming out of him. 

She feels it twitch under her tongue, so she licks him again. Longer, this time, with more certainty. Moving her fingers out of the way, she licks him once all the way from the bottom to the top. 

Daryl didn't think about what was gonna happen when he came. What he should do. It happens so fast that he doesn't have time to warn her. The first shot goes right on her face. 

Daryl sits up in time for the second and third to be lost somewhere on the blankets or his boxers. 

“Shit, Lady. M’so. M’fuckin’ sorry.” 

“It's my fault.” She explains in a flat tone. She sits still while Daryl uses his shirt he was wearing last night to wipe off her face. He’s a mess. Red-eared and scared as a dog but Lady's smiling bigger than she has in her whole life. 

She ignores his apology, his frantic attitude. She was serene. Like she always was. “When did you wake up?” 

“I’unno.” Right at the beginning, really, but he can’t tell her that. Can’t tell himself that. 

She ignores him, she didn't really care. “So that’s what happens then? When a guy…” she mouthes the word ‘comes’ in an exaggerated way, looking in Daryl’s eyes the whole time. 

He lays back into the pillow, grabbing another one to pull over his face. He can’t believe she just asked him that. She can’t believe this just happened at she was being so casual about it.

Lady pulls the pillow out of his hands just as fast. “No, come on. Ya can’t just not tell me. Not now.” 

Daryl puts his arm over his face, only his mouth and his nose peeking out behind the crook of his elbow. She had a point, “Whad’ya wanna know?” 

“Everything. All of it.” 

“Whad’ya wanna know righ’now.” 

Lady tells herself that if she’s ready to know, she’ll be able to ask. “When I have an orgasm nothing comes out. But when guys do it, that’s what happens?” 

She bites on her lip and looks down at him, his eyes and most of his face still hidden behind his arm, laying back on the bed. He’d stay like this and answer her questions. Wouldn’t be able to do it if he was looking at her, “uh-huh”. It's more of a grunt than a word.  

Lady tries to figure out which question to ask next. She knows a lot of stuff. Boys like it when girls suck on it. Boys like it when girls let them put it inside them. Lady isn’t sure exactly how that works, but she knows what she has. And what they have, and she doesn’t need to ask where it would go. 

“Did you like it?” 

A long pause. A half sigh, a grunted response, “uh-huh.” 

“Do you want me to do it again? Can I.. can I do it again?”

“Na’righ’ now.” 

Those words hang there even after Lady gets up and Daryl gets up and they both go about their day. This promise of ‘maybe later’. Daryl has errands to run in town and Lady says she’s got laundry to do, but hes pretty sure she just likes staying at the house. 

“Need somethin’, Lay? Goin’ ta town!” He shouts inside the house from out of it, he’d been outside most of the day, mowin’ the lawn, finally cleaning up the old trampoline. Trying to tell himself that even if he'd tried to stop her, she wouldn't have let him. 

Lady appears in the doorway in a breath, “Where ya goin’ in town?” 

“Store.” He leans against the wood frame lining the area around the steps and lights a smoke. 

Lady leans back, swaying her body with both hands on either side of the door by the handles, “Hmmm, maybe we could get stuff for grillin’. And we’re out of ice cream.” 

Daryl nods, taking a drag, his eyes squinting against the sun, “Somethin’ else?” 

“More pot?” She squints back at him. 

He breathes out an almost laugh against the cigarette between his lips, “Yeah, alrigh’. Tha’s it?”

“Wine coolers?” 

Daryl actually laughs at that one, “What’re ya tryna prove, Bug?”

She stops swinging on the door, “Not provin’ nothin’. Daddy's dead. Let's live a little.” 

💕

So Daryl gets some girly somethin’ - what he assumes are wine coolers. They're in the refrigerated case at the distributor, and there's strawberries and an island on the cardboard carrier. And the bottle’s shaped stupid. Daryl’s sure he's gotten the right thing, or at least something she'd probably like. 

Daryl doesn't feel bad indulging her. Never did, and anyway he's surprised it's taken her this long to ask. As far as growin’ up in the sticks, Lady was a good girl. And so she wanted to smoke some pot and drink some wine coolers with her brother? 

So what she had all the curious burning of an explorer on their first expedition with every new thing that she tried, and so what if that new thing was Daryl's body and how it reacted to hers? 

Daryl doesn't feel bad indulging her. He reasons with himself his whole drive that it can't be that bad. Not if Lady wanted it. Lady never wanted anything bad ever. She never gossiped, or tattled, or cheated at board games. Lady never even tried to sneak sweets. She told Daryl once it was cuz she didn't want anyone else to get in trouble if someone noticed it was missin’. Nah, Daryl figures if Lady wants it, if she asks for it, it can't be somethin’ ugly. 

💕

Daryl's on his third beer before he's able to say it, “Lay. Wha’ we did this mornin’ -“ he’s tried to figure out how he feels about it, he’s still not sure he’s making the right choice, but he needs to decide something before she decides for them. “Ya didn’t do nothin’ wrong but - can’t go tellin’ people we did that.” 

Lady laughs, she’s on her second wine cooler of her whole life, and all of a sudden Daryl thinks she’s new to the planet earth. She was backwoods but she wasn’t that backwoods. She was, after all, a high school graduate. “You mean I can't tell Auntie Norma I made you…” She mouthes the word ‘come’ again in the same exaggerated way she had earlier before losing herself in a fit of giggles. 

Lady and Daryl had folded up their temporary bed and shoved it in the corner. She was currently leaned back on the far edge of the coach, head thrown in laughter. Her shoulders shaking, her hands gripping the bottle between her thighs. 

Daryl bites at his thumb, sitting in the armchair across the room from her, he was trying to be serious for a damn second and she was laughing at him. “Jus’ don’ really know whatya think yer doin’. If yer in your right mind ‘n all. An’ y’know we ain't supposed ta.”

He just needed to hear her say it, if she could say it - if she could ask for it, it couldn’t be bad. 

“Wasn't thinkin’, Dar. Was just doin’.” She doesn’t really have an answer for him. She's in her right mind, she knows people aren't supposed to do that kind of stuff with their family. But nothin’ ever felt wrong between her and Daryl.

Daryl downs the rest of the beer he's holding in one gulp. He puts his finger in the hole at the top and spins it absentmindedly on his knee, “Jus’ need ya t’know what yer doin’.. it ain't somethin’ people usually do, Bug.” 

Lady’s starting to get frustrated. She knew what he was getting at, but why'd he have to say it? “I know I'm not supposed to, Dar. It's like those times you and Merle let me watch scary movies when I was little and I had to tell Momma and Daddy we were watching lions on PBS instead.” 

Daryl reaches down and grabs another beer from the case next to the armchair. He just shakes his head. She's gotta know it ain't that simple. 

“Bubba, look at me.” 

Daryl looks over, curious what she needed the eye contact for, “W’sup, Lay?”

“It’s just you and me out here and as far as I can tell we didn’t hurt anyone.“ She finishes the rest of her drink in one gulp just like he had, “The woods are good at keepin’ secrets, Bub. You know that.” And she smiles, looking down before looking directly at him.

If they didn't know before they both knew now. It wasn't just going to be that one thing that happened between them. The stagnant ‘maybe later' coming back and sitting on their shoulders, in their laps, in every empty space of the room. 

‘Maybe’ turns to definitely. To obviously.

Daryl grunts, trying not to let a smile on the corners of his lips. He opens the bottle in his hand and takes a sip before bringing it back down to look at it. Pondering her words like they're written on the label. All he thought he'd needed to hear was that she knew it had to be a secret. That she knew she was committing a crime against god here with him. But now what?  

Lady almost can't take it, the cicadas buzzing from outside are so loud it's infesting her brain. She’d been sitting there for an hour trying to figure out how to ask him if she could touch him again. And now that he's brought it up, she can't think of anything else but the way he tasted, the way his thing pulsated and twitched underneath of her tongue. She wants to make him cum again. 

Daryl's drinking his beer, lost in thought, while Lady decides she should probably have another one too. She gets up and walks past him to the kitchen. 

“Where ya goin’?” He half shouts behind him, a little worried he'd hurt her feelings. Read something wrong. Said something wrong. 

Lady smiles to herself, Daryl worried all the time about everything and it always ended up being for nothing. “Just gettin’ another one. That okay with you, pop?” She teases. 

She reappears from behind the sheet holding another wine cooler. As she takes her seat back on the couch Daryl leans forward, elbows on his thighs, taking another sip of his drink, “Might wanna slow down on those, Bug.” He's smiling into the bottle. 

Lady sticks her tongue out at him, her eyebrows drawn down in mock anger, “What, afraid I'm gonna blow chunks instead of blow you?” She's been on the edge of it for so long it spills out of her mouth.

Daryl has no idea what the fuck to say to that but he laughs out loud. He genuinely guffaws. If it wasn't his little sister he'd be frozen in his fuckin’ chair. Churning a little at this realization - Cuz when she said it he wasn't uncomfortable. Wasn't afraid, or worried that he was gonna have to do something he might mess up. 

“Nah.” He answers her before his mind takes off on a tangent about how it's his sister and the proposition of her sucking his cock should make him uncomfortable. But it didn't. 

Cuz if she wants it, it can't be wrong. 

“Just keep drinkin’, Lay. If ya blow chunks yer the one stuck cleanin’ it up though.” 

“Let's smoke that pot.” 

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon. Why not, bub?”

“Cross-faded.”

“What's that?” 

“Pots different after y’drink. Jus’.. trus’me on this one.” He sips his beer, “‘nless yer really set on blowin’ chunks. Tha’s definitely a sure fire way.” 

Lady shakes her head, taking her drink from between her thighs again and sipping it before putting it back. 

She's gotta figure out how to ask soon or she was gonna drink herself to sleep. 

Daryl can see her workin’ something out in her head, “S’goin’ on, Lay?.” 

She’s staring at a spot on the ground and she doesn’t look up, “Thinkin’.” 

“‘bout wha’?”

“Your cock in my mouth.” 

Daryl chokes on the spit he was swallowing, “Christ.” He says as he coughs. He doesn't think he's ever heard her say that word. “Yer really serious, huh?” He asks again, this time because he truly can’t believe it. Why would she, the sweetest piece of Georgia pie, wanna put her pretty mouth on him? Even if he was her brother. Especially because he was her brother. 

She smiles and looks down at her fingers around the top of her bottle. Blushing beet red and nodding her head so aggressively her hair moves. 

He wants to let her but somethin’ about it doesn't feel right. Not because of who she was or who he was, or cuz it was wrong. “Shouldn't jus’ blow guys, Lay.” 

“Whaddya mean?” She picks at the label on her drink, not looking up at him. Nervous and excited and hanging on his every word. 

“People, uh - usually… do other stuff first.” He explains, not wanting to make her feel bad for what she'd already done, but wanting her to understand she can't just do that to other guys. 

Lady laughs, a sigh of relief escaping her as she brings the brim up to take another swig. There's a million things sitting between her teeth and her lips just waiting to be said. Instead, she just asks, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

💕

pt. 2

A/n: This is coming out a whole lot sweeter than I thought it was going to be and I know in the end it's going to break my little heart. 

Anyway sorry, most of the smut will be in part 2 where I imagine going into detail about their first time (for a few different things) as well as how they are once they get more comfortable as they get deeper into the summer. 

Broken up into two parts because I can't fathom proofreading these 6,000 words one more time. 

(Next part will be up as fast as I can write it.)

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I simply must speak my truth

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Thanks so much cal💕

💋

Hahahaha love it!

60 for 🪞:

---

Buck can’t stress enough the fact that Eddie helps with everything. All of it. In fact, in the lead up to Buck getting the yay or nay decision on Dove coming to live with him, Eddie is very involved. 

There’s no reason for Buck not to take it at face value. Eddie said he’d have his back and he does. The same way Buck has always done for him where Chris is concerned. At least, when he can. Buck assumes it’s just Eddie supporting him the way he said he would. 

Beyond just being someone to lean on and finding Buck the apartment, he does a ton. He helps Buck move. All the heavy lifting and annoying little repairs, right there beside Buck. He helps him shop for new, kid-friendly furnishings. Including a whole new bedroom. He gives over what things of Christopher’s he can; old kids books and toys. He gives Buck pep talks before different appointments with social services. He’s there every step of the way, and Buck never has to ask. 

Buck gets used to it, sort of. Not that he isn’t already used to Eddie being around a lot. He is. But it’s a bit of a different dynamic than it was before. Their roles are shifting slightly, and Dove isn’t even here yet. But already, Buck can feel himself relying on Eddie. Like there’s a steady thrum accompanying this pulse, saying, as long as I’ve got Eddie, I can do this. 

Then, two days after he officially moves in, he gets the call. He’s been approved. Dove will be with him within forty-eight hours. 

It’s all sort of a rush. He prepared for this, but part of him never really thought he’d be approved. No matter how encouraging his friends and family - and Deirdre and Angie - have been, he doubted it. Like it’s one thing for Connor and Kameron to ask him for sperm out of the blue, but would the actual government trust him with a full person? It sounds unlikely! And yet, here he is. Anticipating her actual arrival.

What a world.

Buck has to accelerate his preparations. He calls and takes a leave of absence from work. This qualifies him for parental leave, and with Gerrard at the helm of the 118, he won’t miss the job as much as he might have. He calls his doctor and asks what he needs to do to add her as a patient. He calls his dentist and does the same. Apparently he’s overthinking that process, because it’s not so complicated. He calls the school district to get her enrolled for fall. He stocks his fridge with any snack, cereal, or meal ingredient he ever remembers Chris or Jee liking. Probably overdoes it, honestly, but he doesn’t know what she likes. 

By the end of the day, he’s exhausted. Completely drained, but he can’t sleep. Laying in bed, brain moving a hundred miles an hour, he calls Eddie. Eddie, who also doesn’t sleep great these days. 

“I’m terrified,” he admits into the phone. 

“I’d tell you not to be, but that won’t help anything,” Eddie says.

“No. It won’t.”

“What I will say is, just because you’re scared, doesn’t mean you won’t do great.”

Buck takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Eddie.”

---

60 for 🔼:

---

The first boy Shannon ever kissed was Sterling Macleod. They dated in the ninth grade. As much as fifteen year-olds can date, over a span of three months. Her best friend at the time, Destiny, called them Stannon. She kind of hated it but didn’t say anything. 

Sterling was nice. He really liked Green Day. Like more than Shannon thought was normal. But she could overlook it because he was a good kisser, as far as she knew at the time, and invited her over to his place to play with his chocolate labs. He had a bunch of SNL episodes on his DVR and they’d watch it together while eating his mom’s homemade snacks. It was a good, easy time in her life. 

A week after Sterling broke up with her because he didn’t need the distraction from lacrosse, he almost drowned in his friend’s swimming pool. He hit his pool doing a trick off the diving board. Sank like a stone, apparently. Shannon doesn’t know. She wasn’t there. 

She just remembers feeling guilty. Deeply, strangely guilty. When she found out, she cried until she threw up. Her mother, stunned at the level of Shannon’s upset, rubbed her back and made her herbal tea.

“It’s not your fault, baby,” Janet had said. “It was an accident. You weren’t even at the pool.”

“We were supposed to go to the movies today,” she’d hiccuped. “But he broke up with me.”

“That’s not your fault, Shan. You didn’t choose it.”

“If I’d been a better girlfriend he wouldn’t have had to dump me and then we’d be at the movies and then he wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” 

The next day, Shannon’s period came, and her mother laughed off the whole thing.

“That’s why you were so hysterical, my sweet girl.”

She hadn’t meant any harm by it. And for a while, Shannon believed her. She’d just been hormonal and overreacting and that’s why she felt a sick, anxious pit in her stomach for two weeks after the pool incident, and then again for two years whenever she thought of Sterling. She was just hysterical. Dramatic. 

But then it kept happening. 

She got pregnant and ruined Eddie’s future. She couldn’t give birth properly, the one thing her body should have been able to do. Christopher got stuck and hurt because of her body. Eddie got shot out of the sky, battered with bullets, because of all of that. It didn’t matter how many times she asked him to come home. He was there because of her. And it almost killed him. 

So there was that pit in her stomach. That anxious, guilty pit. And it grew and grew and grew… 

None of this really matters right now. None of it’s really relevant. What’s relevant right now, as she leans over the rooftop of a fucking Panda Express, watching the water drag Buck’s Jeep away like it weighs nothing at all, is that she can’t see Buck. He has plummeted beneath the water and she hasn’t seen him resurface again. 

So for some reason, all Shannon can think of is Sterling Macleod. 

This is your fault, Shannon. 

“BUCK!” Christopher is shrieking. “BUCK! BUCK!”

Shannon stretches her torso a little farther over, careful not to overextend her top-heavy midriff so that she might not pull herself back again. 

“BUCK!” She calls, too. 

[toxicanonymity]

FAQ

Brothel HCs by @scratchietella 💖

toxic note bc I know someone will ask lol: after vampire!Joel dragged his coffin to slasher's camper, he couldn't fit it inside, so he has it under the camper's pop-out sunshade thing. some of the guys feel bad for him. raider and night walks (perhaps the buffest joels) help him move it onto the screened-in porch 🥹. vampire loves the porch, loved the camper too.

-

1.2k, my fave parts in pink 💕

scratchietella said:

the joel!big brother house thingy u do for fun. imagine just plopping a reader in the middle of that. like she just randomly wakes up in the living room one day and she’s a nondescript reader (like she’s not from any of their specific universes or maybe she’s the same reader that’s in all of them, she’s just Reader™️)

debating between what their reactions would be, especially if reader does lean towards more of a reserved/polite/shy/quieter side naturally. stepdad probably makes her a very elaborate, filling breakfast, wants her to sit at the breakfast bar with him and make himself her favourite and endear her to him with his mad cooking skills (especially cus he’s in the dog house).  raider joel .. hmm.. reader can be a possessive little thing in all universes, so he knows if he gives her special attention she’ll likely begin to want it more and more and enjoy it. he doesn’t really know how to go about it in a non-apocalypse situation - he just knows that he doesn’t want any other joel even looking at her, ironically.

maybe night walks Joel is that one annoying little shit that puts the flirt on full whack. he’s popping up everywhere, liking that he flusters her, even when another Joel (maybe speakeasy/exhibitionist Joel) tells him to back off/tone it down, just to then pipe up himself with a little smile and a comment

vampire Joel <33 sits there with his big baby cow eyes, probably doesn’t say too much. maybe because he seems so regular, reader gravitates towards him more. Lincoln!joel was so sure she’d gravitate toward him, maybe even let herself lounge and snuggle on his lap cus she enjoys that type of thing, like a baby kitten, when one of em proposes a household film night with blankets and snacks, needless to say they all have diff degrees of colourful reactions when reader sits next to the arm of the sofa and vamp joel and even falls asleep cuddled into his side, face between his skin and soft shirt.

time for bed is the worst. so many of em say she can share their bed, either with them in it or with them at the other end of the room on the decently sized ottoman (honestly for some it’s probably the fact that she’d choose them over the others and they’d get to see her all cuddled in his bed like a sleepy little cat, shy thing, probably have to wear their shirt too).

can see this type of reader being a bit more overwhelmed at this scenario tho, like not wanting to offend anyone but wanting to be polite all the same. probably due to being safe when she napped cuddled into vamp Joel, she wants to say that she can go sleep in his bed with him tonight if that’s okay!! however.

if raider joel managed to wrangle her into his bed, he’d do his usual ‘im gonna spoon you so tight I’ll feel like a big safe weighted blanket (totally not for any other reasons at all)’ thing.

if speakeasy joel got her, he’d probably give her the illusion of choice about him getting in with her, but he’d manage to do it. probably simply just say like “kiss” before they sleep, as a Goodnight kiss, trying his luck. his exhibitionist tendencies have been dampened down for the time being, but if another Joel pops his head in to say Goodnight, he’d definitely make a big thing out of being close to reader, maybe throwing her leg over himself

if vamp Joel DID get her, maybe he’d be all “you wanted me? 🥹🥹” like he’d be a bit touched. he’d be the type to scout around to find a particularly soft blanket for you, a TEDDY <33 too, he’d try force himself to sleep elsewhere, but he’d want to protect you from any other Joel interference, so he’d stay at the other end of the room. If reader sat next to him and slept during movie time, maybe reader could momentarily overcome her shyness/embarrassment enough to really quietly ask him to please get in bed please

throughout any situation and more, Lincoln joel would be plotting. get her to like him more than any others. maybe he does a few sneak attacks; he doesn’t get her in his room to sleep?? alright then. he’s poking his head around the doorframe making sure to have a ‘conflicted but soft’ look on his face, bringing reader a nice hot chocolate to drink before she goes to sleep, sits on the edge of the bed facing her while she drinks it, kisses her hair before he leaves. maybe does that thing (bad description) where he has a hand stroking her hair, head tilted down looking into her eyes all soft and he says something slightly manipulative before leaving. stepdad Joel would maybe do a similar thing, but he’d try and subtly get you to switch rooms at last minute, or maybe he’d ‘accidentally’ wake you in the middle of the night with some lame excuse, trying to get you to switch over rooms to his instead (god forbid it’s a Joel who has his arms around you, even worse if it’s a character like raider joel, who would be off the scales pissed, it’d probably cause a big divide in the household)

also, i can see a couple of Joel’s (in their own specific ways) also offer help with bathtime prior to bedtime?? like raider joel would bring it up like it’s expected and non negotiable in a way (could see a lot of his tendencies transferring over into a Harder!But!Still!Soft!Just!Strict! Dom), and readers all blushy n panicked cus what does he mean he wants to run me a bath and wash my body with this scent and brush my wet hair and dress me in pajamas after??????. lincoln joel/stepdad could bring it up as an option to ‘help relax and soothe’ before bedtime, cus they all know she’s a bit nervy and quiet and uncomfy in a way, and they’d wanna light a cute candle and lather her in a sweet shower gel etcetc, except Lincoln joel would try and edge it a bit more into getting in as well.

stepdad Joel is trying to make a very very good impression tonight, offering to put readers post-bath-wet hair into two braids when she sits cross cross apple sauce infront of the sofa so it doesn’t go wild when she’s asleep

god forbid reader does any actions they could see as extremely endearing, like rubbing her eyes, or clutching a teddy one of em gave her to try get in her good graces.

(This sounds kinda like I’m trying to make a little!reader or something like that, to clarify, im not! It’s just little things that I personally find comforting for myself, and in the current state, i feel like many Joel’s would be over compensating and trying very hard, overboard almost, especially for a reader with a more reserved personality. Also, if I missed any types of Joel out I didn’t mean to lol, this was all off the top of my head <33)

[certainsadspongebobpics]

Why the episode “Gone” will never appear on this blog.

I have no way to post the entire episode on tumblr. Plain and simple. Its an okay episode. Certainly not the worst, not by a mile, but it is.. very dark if you look below the cartoony surface, and you certainly dont have to look deep. If you gave up on the show after season 5, let me fill you in. The episode is simply about Spongebob waking up to find everyone in bikini bottom gone. At the end of the episode, they come back and explain they were “gone” because of national “No Spongebob” day. Horrible premise right? Very cruel. Well it gets worse. They weren’t gone for a day. They were gone for weeks. A month. The episode doesn’t make it clear on how long, we’re just given “weeks.” Seems rather trivial, but take the time to imagine how just one week would feel to you. Spongebob had no human contact during those “weeks.” They didn’t leave a note, or any sign that they were alive and okay. Nothing. You on some level, are social, even if you dont have many friends. Even if you don’t have any friends. Theres a possibility that you have neighbors, or coworkers, or classmates or teachers, or online friends, or SOMEONE to interact with during the day at least once. You will at least bump into someone or be contacted by someone in your day to day routine. Spongebob is social too, very social, and very welcoming. We’re shown in the episode his routine, and just how many people he interacts with. He feeds his snail, he annoys Squidward, says hello to Patrick and interacts with customers at the krusty krab. ...Now they’re not there. I think we’re suppose to inference that Spongebob is just stupid and doesn’t notice everyone’s gone. But I say he isn’t. Spongebob may be dumb, but he is also very loving in the platonic and familial sense. Don’t let the later seasons cloud your judgement. Think back to “Have you seen this snail.” Spongebob forgot to feed Gary for a while while taking the dirty bubble challenge. He simply lost track of time. After he realizes Gary’s gone? He goes on a massive search. He puts up missing snail posters, asks people, searches the entire town for him and even puts up a bill board. ....What caused him to do all of this? When Gary did not come to eat. He most DEFINITELY could have seen that something was wrong. He even searches the whole house for him, to no avail. Still... there is the possibility that Gary could have gotten an early start. Sames to Squidward. Squidward always yells at Spongebob, he can’t really help himself. He wouldn’t have just rolled over and ignored him. This is where you start to get the inkling that something is wrong. Then he goes over to Patrick’s house, and tries to wake him up. Patrick.. of course, does not respond. Spongebob is not showing any signs of distress. He even walks through the empty streets and hops over an upside down boat. I’d like to think that this is Spongebob in a sort of denial phase. Think about what you would do if you woke up and everyone around you was gone. Would you search for them? Would you continue your routine in the hopes that they’d all show up? Would you go to work/school and start working, just in case? Spongebob does grill patties, just in case. But nobody’s there to eat them. Still.. its a slow day, right? Mr krabs doesn’t respond to him saying good bye, but maybe he’s just been busy in his office all day? Spongebob just starts to freak out when he sees Gary hasn’t eaten his food. That brings him right to the reality he’s living in. He starts doing all of these things to confirm that his friends are gone, and he realizes that its not just one or two, not just Gary or squidward, It’s ALL of them. Every single person both in his innercircle and out. At the end he shouts “WHERE DID EVERYBODY GOOOOOO” It echoes, emphasizes the emptiness. We move onto the next part, where it starts to get slightly unsettling. We’re not into full weirdness mode yet, but we’re getting there. Spongebob.. starts imitating all of the people he knew in their lives. He’s acting them out. He is, as he puts it, “Living out their lives for them.” He plays both himself, and them in these situations, and he is definitely aware of their thoughts and feelings on him, there or not. I would like to believe that this is some form of bargaining, both to keep his routine, and by having a form of connection to them. In the end.. it doesn’t work. He breaks down because he wants them, not his version of them. Theres only so much one sponge can do. Now this.. is the darkest part of the episode. He does grant himself a drivers license, after all, nobody’s there to stop him. And he does drive recklessly, after all, theres no pedestrians to hit. He crashes the boat into his house, after all, theres nobody to yell at him for it. He starts talking and forming a relationship with the boat. The boat of course, does not talk back.He even wakes up with the boat in his bed and says “I guess its just you and me now boaty.”  He showers with the boat, eats breakfast with it, does a whole bunch of other stuff, and then takes it to his place of work. After all, Mr krabs isn’t there to yell at him to causing a big hole in the wall. He even throws a krabby patty into the engine in an attempt to have the boat try it. Of course.. the boat rejects it. Spongebob loves krabby patties. He practically worships them. He even cremates one in “Just one bite.” He would know it wouldn’t work with the boat, but theres nobody else there to eat his krabby patties so thats why he tries it. In the next scene, he mentions something particularly telling. “You know, I thought I’d go crazy without all my friends and acquaintances around, but it looks like you were all I needed to stay sane.” Boaty.. starts talking to him, but not in a human way, in an engine making noises way that Spongebob interprets. It.. starts accusing him of having a meat puppet of his old best friend, which is totally crazy right? Except it isn’t. Because thats exactly what Spongebob has. He has formed a puppet out of meat in the shape of Patrick and has hidden it away in the closet, and he starts talking to it. Remember, despite all of their conflicts, Spongebob and Patrick are best friends. They’re close. They’re even a part of the best friends forever club. It makes sense that Spongebob would talk to  Patrick, but since Patrick’s not here, this meat puppet will have to do. Of course he does nuts and starts distrusting the boat. After all, he can’t really trust anything in his reality anymore. In the final end, They all come back. The entire town. Spongebob says “You’re all still alive?” Meaning this entire time, there was a possibility in his mind that his friends and loved ones might not ever come back. The boat, the meat patrick, everything might have stayed that way his entire life. All of the people he knew might have been dead, and he wouldn’t have even known why or how. They come back, but why have they been gone for so long? National no Spongebob day. An entire day dedicated to getting away from Spongebob. Everyone participated in this. The entire town. You can’t tell me that at least one person was left behind, because we were very thoroughly shown that Spongebob searched the entire town, and all he could say was “Gone.” The worst part? In this particular episode, even Patrick, his best friend, partook in this abandonment. Now consider how you would feel if someone dedicated an entire holiday to getting away from you. Mr krabs of course, deflects the blame by saying “Its dedicated to you.” He conveniently leaves out the “Getting away” part. This doesn’t help when he says that they build a wooden replica of Spongebob and burn it and dance in the ashes. In the end, they start a “No Patrick” day, and everyone takes off without Patrick. I am not satisfied by this ending. 1. I’m guessing this is to give him a taste of his own medicine, but if you’re gonna do that, then EVERYONE needs a holiday where they get shunned. 2. Patrick knows where his loved ones have gone. He knows they’re alive and they have to come back eventually, something Spongebob wasn’t even given the pleasure of knowing. Overall, this episode is an exploration of loneliness, and how it can really drive someone who’s social to the extremes, just to feel something. In the end, we find out it isn’t just loneliness, its shunning, full on shunning. The idea hanging in the area of never knowing where your friends and acquaintances have gone, and never getting closure for that just lingers. Even as a kid, I remember watching this episode and feeling really odd and worried. Poor Spongebob.

[i-eat-mold]

This is getting a lot more attention than I expected so I have two things to say:

1-currently workinv on a comic about this!! Can’t promise much but let’s see how it goes lmao

2- i can go on abour this and I will (also there’s a post prior to this og one that dives deeper into some of the aspects this discusses)

But let me talk to you about the episodes. To begin with, they don’t really ever specify what is wrong with dazai, though they both have an understanding of what’s going on. They won’t say dazai “is depressed” straight up, more like he’s having Those Days. One of the reasons they call it the Days is because dazai doesn’t like being treated like a stupid child, which is what he feels happens whenever someone tries to take some care of him- like a nurse would. “I’m not a child (he is a child, god he’s just a child) I don’t need your fucking pity. Get out. I bite.” Kind of mindset. Chuuya understands this and as much as he’s annoyed by how stupid dazai is he avoids doing anything that would make him have that reaction. It’s tough because chuuya has to walk on that thin line between making sure he won’t kill himself, not acting like he cares too much, and also not making dazai shut him off. On top of that, chuuya has a lot of shit to deal with himself. I mean the poor guy is living tragedy after tragedy. I’m more than sure these things have deeply affected this, but I believe they have done so in a different matter than dazai. I’m not saying chuuya wouldn’t have periods of feeling down, I simply believe he would deal with the hurt and trauma in a different way (which is also a whole other topic open to explore!!!). Adjacent to that line there are dazais thoughts about all of this. He doesn’t want people to pity him, much less Chuuya of all people. “This dude got backstabbed by his childhood gang, lived in the streets after blowing up the expedient he was part of, his supposed brother killed his friends in the mafia and almost leveled the entire city, and he just found out he might not be human at all. Not to mention the fact that there is a literal singularity god inside the kid. You’re telling me Chuuya, the worst shithead I know, can deal with all of that by himself, and on top of it act like I’m a hurt puppy? What the fuck? Hell no. I’m not letting THIS GUY out of anyone else pity me” (dazai was, in fact, desperately trying to push chuuya away from him so his “misery” wouldn’t spread to him- he would not stand to see chuuya swallowed by the same void he was in. But he could also never admit that outloud).

On the other hand, these two have a pretty good understanding of each others thoughts without speaking a single word. So none of them would mention it outloud, but chuuya could tell when dazai was getting worse, and dazai knew that. They didn’t say a word, but those days chuuya drily told him to hop behind him on the bike and dazai would sleep at chuuyas. Chuuya would call mori in the morning, saying dazais stupid ass got in some trouble and they’d have to take care of it, so they wouldn’t be in hqs that day. Or for the next few days. Mori knows it’s all a bunch of bullshit, and chuuya is aware of that, but he lets it slide because he also has noticed the two boys growing less and less loud and lively for the past few days. They’re just kids, they need a break. So he covers for them every once in a while. Only a diamond can polish another diamond in the end, and only a diamond can save another diamond.

Teen skk this teen skk that. How about dazais deep depressive episodes where he didn’t brush his teeth or his hair or shower and after a few days of not seeing him around work chuuya would go to his container, grab him and wash him like a dog. Wet black cat. Dazai is just annoyed. Chuuya lets him sleep at his place during the bad parts of the episode “so he doesn’t skip work leaving all the paperwork for him” but really it’s because he doesn’t like thinking about dazai alone in that cold container. Even the most annoying person on earth should have more than a mattress and four metal walls, I guess. So chuuya has him stay over during those days. Is it such a hassle really to make a little more food when cooking dinner? Both of them have always had trouble sleeping so might as well spend the night together watching shitty sitcoms or talking shit about coworkers or setting up pranks for mori instead of looking at the ceiling all night. In this essay I will.

[lavendertales]

I put a spell on you—Javier Peña x f!reader**

Chapter 3 of the Unholy series

summary: you cannot refuse Steve’s invitation to join the team for drinks. But you also don’t expect things to turn out the way they do.

word count: 3.7k

WARNINGS: mentions of  alcohol & smoking. rough kissing, piv (unprotected), cowgirl. 

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @joseph-quinns 

series masterlist | AO3 

No one would believe Javier if he’d told them you are vindictive and downright cruel. No one. They’d all say you are hardworking and devoted, a fantastic agent with a heart of gold.

While that may have been true, what was also true was that you were spiteful as you could be. At least towards Javier.

You seemed to have made it your personal mission to outshine him and simply be better than him or anyone else in the department. What was baffling was that you were doing so completely effortlessly and smoothly, to the untrained eye it could pass as pure kindness.

But it wasn’t. Not entirely. You were every bit of Javier as he was you, the good and the bad parts. Perhaps that was one of the reasons Javier could barely stand you. There was too much of him in you—and vice versa.

Too much of him… in you…

The mere thought was repulsive. Not because you were in any way unattractive, but because of all the anger and stubbornness you brought along with your persona. He couldn’t imagine spending so much time with that, he’d get a headache. Then again, from a physical point of view strictly… you weren’t bad on the eyes at all. Hell, he could be honest with himself—and strictly himself—and admit that you were possibly one of the most stunning women he’d ever seen. But the bad blood in between you two would’ve made it impossible to enjoy any possibility at carnal pleasure.

The shocking part was that he could easily picture himself fucking all of that stubbornness out of you, wiping that cocky smirk off your face with sloppy kisses, and he could easily imagine what you’d sound like should the right man know how to push your buttons.

But he wasn’t the right man. Not for you, not for anyone. And he didn’t even want you, in any way. You were just a thorn in his back: annoying, persistent, impossible to get out.

He chooses to suck it all up, put everything aside, and do his best in finding ways to put an end to Pablo Escobar. Now that he had that side bet with you, he’s felt motivation like never before. He started showing up earlier for work, doing as much research as possible, keeping track of every little detail he could. Most importantly, he minimized his personal encounters with many of his female companions as much as he could. Before he realized it, he’s gone without it for weeks.

And for the first time in who knows how long, he didn’t care about it one bit.

All he cared about was finding a way to Escobar. Proving himself to be a worthy agent. The best, if need be.

Funny how your presence has influenced him so deeply, yet he despised admitting it even to his own self.

How even more painfully ironic that he couldn’t acknowledge the influence you have on him, but he could easily picture the filthiest things with you.

When did that even start? And why? How come? He had no feelings for you whatsoever. Your attractiveness was to blame, of course. Nothing else was at play. But everyone else was seemingly eating up your every word, soaking up your image like a tall glass of water on a warm day, whereas Javier couldn’t be any more miserable.

Or so he thought.

“Hey, you coming tonight?”

Steve’s question wakes him up from his deep trance. He looks up at his partner from the computer, removing his headphones.

“To what?” Javier asks.

“Carrillo suggested we go out for drinks, lift up the morale a little.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Having a few drinks with his colleagues suddenly sounds like a very appealing prospect.

“By the way, the whole team means—“

Steve doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Javier realizes what he means. He rolls his eyes, huffing loudly.

“Okay, I get the whole academic rivals thing, but this is crazy,” Steve continues. “You seem to genuinely hate each other.”

“I don’t… hate her. She might hate me, I don’t know, but it’s just what we do. What we’ve always done in college. We can’t help it.”

“Then you don’t have a problem with her joining us for drinks tonight?”

“I do, but only because I’d hate to spend my time trying to relax being fucking stiff cause she can’t keep her snarky remarks to herself.”

“I’m sure she’ll behave.”

Yeah, if someone would teach her how to.

Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

“Hey, wanna join us for some drinks tonight?”

You look baffled at Steve, then you notice Javier in the background practically hearing him grit his teeth. You resist the urge to laugh out loud, though you know yourself that would be very mean.

“I don’t know,” you say with some fear in your voice. “I don’t think Peña wants me there... so I’ll definitely be there.”

You smile brightly, taking Javier aback. He could tell it’s one of your trademark devilish beams, but he still feels locked in some sort of trance watching the exchange between you and Steve.

“Uh, okay, cool,” Steve says, slightly confused. “Could you… keep those smart comments locked up? Just for tonight. Don’t get me wrong, they’re funny as hell, but—“

“I know what you mean. Don’t worry, I promise I will be on my best behavior.”

Just then, Steve leans in and whispers, “But I’d like to hear some of college Javi stories if you got spare ones.”

You chuckle, touching his arm gently.

“I’ll see what I have in stock.”

Javier watches absentmindedly, his sole focus you and Steve all cozy in a corner of the room. This is no professional jealousy.

This is something else, much uglier and darker.

Yep. Alcohol is needed. Much, much alcohol.

He arrives at the bar around nine p.m., looking around for his team. Carrillo, Steve, Sofia Ramirez and Trujillo are already at a table. He walks confidently towards them, then stops in the middle of the floor.

You’re there, too. And you’re—a distraction.

You’re wearing a black pencil skirt, paired with heels and a red top. Your hair is loose and curly, and your lips wear an awfully tempting shade of red, enunciating them from afar. Javier gulps, and this time he knows exactly why. It’s hard not to admit that you look gorgeous, but only to himself. He could never reveal that to you, or to anyone else.

That doesn’t change the fact that your personality is still off-putting. So Javier decides to focus on that to keep his distance from you tonight. He intends to play nice.

He resumes his walk, nodding towards the guys and you, taking a seat.

“How you doing, Peña?” Carrillo asks just as he sits beside him.

“Not bad. Eager to blow off some steam.”

“We all could use it.”

“We’ve done great work lately,” Ramirez points out. “We deserve a little break.”

“That is true,” Trujillo agrees. “As long as our boss is okay with it.”

Carrillo chuckles, standing up. “He’s fine with it. For the time being. First round is on me.”

Exclamatory cheers are shared at the table, except for you. You only showcase a polite smile, but nothing more. You’re sitting next to Steve, being awfully quiet. If Javier wouldn’t have known you, or if he would’ve truly cared, he might’ve thought something was wrong.

“Have you two met each other?” Sofia asks Javier and pointing at him and you.

“Unfortunately, yes,” you reply.

“The displeasure is reciprocated.”

“Don’t ask,” Steve recommends Sofia, and she instantly pulls back.

“You’re being quiet for once in your life,” Javier remarks at you.

“I promised to be on my best behavior tonight, and that can only happen if I keep my mouth shut.”

Luckily, Carrillo appears just in time with a tray of beers for the table, easing some of the tension. Everyone takes their first sip, and most of those present light up their cigarettes.

Soon, the party is broken down in several little ones: Carrillo and Trujillo, Javier and Steve, and you and Sofia. You’re glad you can share a proper conversation with a woman. It’s not easy being a woman in a man’s world, especially when it comes to violence, drug dealers and rough, mean agents. And you’re even more thrilled to discover how much you have in common with Sofia.

“I was pretty much the teacher’s pet,” she laughs. “I didn’t get teased as much in college, but high school was horrible.”

“Tell me about it. High school kids have the emotional intelligence of a bean.”

You giggle, taking a long drag out of your cigarette. “If this bothers you, I can put it out,” you tell her.

“Oh, it’s no problem! I’m trying to cut back on smoking too.”

“You too?”

“Yeah. Things get rough down here. Need a little something to de-stress.”

Your eyes fly to Javier, watching him blow the smoke from his cigarette. When you lock eyes, you don’t pull away, and neither does he. There is also no hatred in that glare, only… curiosity. You haven’t really seen him in outings outside of the office, or outside of classes, really. You weren’t in the same social groups back then, so you didn’t cross paths as much. Once or twice per semester was more than enough for your taste, given that you saw each other daily in class.

But now, oddly enough, there’s no resentment. The beers have surely helped, and now that you’ve shared the first round of tequila shots, you are in a sweet spot of acceptance.

“I hear you and Javier were in college together,” Carrillo says.

Your eyes meet again, but this time you both look away, uncomfortable.

“Fun times,” you reply sarcastically.

“They were very competitive,” Steve clarifies. “Always fought against each other to see who had the best grades, the best projects.”

The table laughs, much to your—and Javier’s—displeasure.

“So, who won?” Trujillo asks.

“It was a tie,” Javier says.

“Not surprising. You’re both great agents,” Carrillo smiles pleasantly.

“In terms of academia, sure, we both won,” you say, knocking back another shot of tequila. “But otherwise, I am much better overall than he is.”

Javier stares at you, utterly unimpressed. “Easy to think that way when you have this massive God complex.”

Instead, you shrug, putting your arms on the table and staring right at him.

“Why do you do this? You know I got plenty of stories on you.”

“Fine. I dare you to say one. You can’t make me feel bad.”

The team remains quiet, neither daring to say anything. Even Steve enjoyed the show, even if he claimed otherwise before.

“Fine,” you concede and turn to face the others. “In our first year, at one of the parties, Peña threw up on a very expensive painting in the house we were in and blamed it on one of the nerds, said he spilled beer.”

The table remains quiet, aside the not-so-repressed chuckles escaping your colleagues’ mouths.

“Blaming another kid? That’s so unlike you, Jav,” Steve laughs, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah?” Javier retorts meanly. “What about that guy, Spencer, whose pants you and your friends stuffed with fireworks? Poor guy flew right out of the house.”

The men remain with their mouths wide open, as does Sofia; they all stare at you in disbelief.

“He picked on my friend, Susan, relentlessly,” you explain. “He had it coming. Is this how you wanna play? You wanna play dirty?”

“Oh, I can play dirty… Bambi.”

The nickname stirs something wild inside of you. You haven’t heard it since college, and it was the cruelest form of revenge you could think of.

You straighten your position in the chair, sheer hatred emanating from your eyes and body language alike. Though you feel the alcohol working its voodoo on you, you remain grounded by rage.

“Uh… excuse me, sorry,” Sofia interrupts, barely daring to look at either one of you two. “Why do you call her Bambi?”

You’re afraid that if you open your mouth now, you might cuss him out in all of the three languages that you know. You barely muster the courage to mutter the words, “Say it.”

You look right at Javier as you say them. He needs to see the rage in your eyes, the effect he and his stupid words have on you.

“It annoys her because I once said she resembles Bambi,” he explains, a little tipsy himself. “You know, confused, little and defenseless.”

Trujillo frowns. “Doesn’t seem like that big of a deal though.”

You throw him a deadly glare as well, to which Trujillo signals surrender by putting his hands up.

“I used to call him Grumpy,” you fire back. “I still can, now more than ever I guess.”

“Because he resembles one of the seven dwarves?” Steve cheekily asks.

“In a way. He’s a grump head, but he’s also… tiny. A tiny, pitiful and spiteful boy. Not even a man.”

You grab your purse and head for the exit. The hot air hits you in an instant, making you almost throw up, though alcohol plays no role in that sensation. No, all of the college flashbacks have you weak and angry at the same time, and you just want to go home now.

It’s close to midnight on the dot, which means you have to risk it and call a cab. While you wait, you feel someone move behind you, and your hand goes to your purse, feeling the gun inside. Your reflexes may be slower, but your instinct isn’t.

“You can’t go home alone.”

The voice, husky and yet irritating, makes you turn around with a blank expression on your face.

“And why not?”

“It’s not safe.”

“I can handle myself. And I certainly don’t need you, of all people, to keep me safe.”

Javier exhales, moving closer to you. “I just don’t want it to look bad if something were to happen to you.”

“So what, that makes you my babysitter?”

Javier refrains himself from chuckling. His own words recoil in his mind, surprised once again at how much alike you are.

“Not even a little,” he agrees.

“What the hell do you want then?”

He falters, questioning his own intentions and beliefs, even. Everything you do is meant to anger him, to push him, and vice versa. But this moment right here, right now, it’s far from that. Javier sees the anger in your eyes, but he also sees disappointment, as if you’re waiting for something else along the lines of an apology.

But words fail him, which is bizarre. He’s good with words when it comes to women, and he was always great with words when it came to returning your verbal serve, but now he finds himself to be speechless before you. Moreover, guilt takes control over his body, making him inch even closer to you. So much so that your noses nearly touch, sending unwanted shivers down his spine.

“I asked you what do you want, Peña,” you repeat.

Then it hits him: how it’s been months of this purposeful dry spell of his, how being close to you makes his pulse race and his blood boil, and not in the usual way, how exceptional you look tonight, how close he is to you… they’re all conspiring against him to make a regrettable decision.

He sees you licking your lips as you return his glare still. You feel your own pulse get out of control the more seconds pass, yet you do not back away.

“The more you shut up when I am asking you something, the more it’s making me so—“

You hesitate yourself, and Javier picks up on it.

“Making you so—what?”

With his tequila-flavored warm breath on your face, it’s hard to think straight. Usually you’re the first to come up with a proper insult or comeback, but now… you feel emptied of anything other than heat.

“Hot,” you finally reply.

Javier remains astounded. “Hmm?” he murmurs, lips nearly touching yours.

“It’s—hot outside.”

“It is.”

You don’t know how to follow up to that. Frankly, you’d rather just walk home, in the coziness of your apartment. But all you can feel right now is his hand pressing into the flesh of your neck as he pulls you in unexpectedly, his mouth finding yours in the most immoral, sloppy kiss you have ever reciprocated.

Yes, you find yourself reciprocating. It’s been a long while for you too, and right now, infuriated by the moment, hot from the weather, his hands and his hip don’t really feel like they belong to your long-term enemy. They feel… good, and expertly press into your body in ways you haven’t felt probably ever.

The ride home is a blur as well; it’s a mixture of alcohol-tainted breath, smoke lingering on your clothes and Javier’s cologne. What you do know is that he crosses your threshold as his lips are on yours again, eager and insatiable. You’ve let a sinner cross your beloved home, and that, in return, makes you one as well.

But it doesn’t feel that way when his lips leave a wet trail down from your jaw to your neck, and definitely not when his calloused hands use whatever strength they possess to quite literally rip the clothes off your body, tossing them carelessly to the floor. It feels… perfect. Perfectly wrong, oddly in sync with your shared dynamic.

Greediness starts to consume you both; there doesn’t seem to be enough time, much less when the clothes are hastily stripped off your heated bodies, and each touch hurts more than the last. The more you wait, the more it hurts, and it makes no sense because why should it feel this way with someone you couldn’t stand?

No words are exchanged between the two of you, nor is there time or desire for them to be said. You only care about release. That’s all there is to this moment, as wild as it may be. At long last, Javier makes his filthy, yet decisive move.

His index presses into your core, seemingly testing the water, and when you huff at the sensation, at the mere thought of being filled up, he smiles in utter madness and lust. He figures you’re more than ready, so he strokes himself a few times under your studious eyes and, in one languid motion, slides inside of you. You both grunt at the sensation, more so at the lewd imagery: open legs on the couch for none other than Javier Peña, mouth agape at the feeling of having him inside you. He gives a few short thrusts, making sure it’s the right pace, but when you wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him again, he loses any crumb of rationality.

He loses himself in you. Everything about you is enticing; in this moment, you are no rival of his, no enemy. You are simply a painfully attractive woman, warm, and he aims to please. He can feel how needy you are, and he can’t blame you. It’s probably been long enough for you both, so he wastes no more time. He knows that once this is over, he will have done a grave mistake that will linger on his mind and body for weeks to come. So all he can do is be present, make the most out of it.

He snaps his hips fast and rough, smiling down on you whenever you moan. At this rate, he won’t last, and he knows it damn well, but does he care? Not a fucking chance. All he cares about is chasing that high, living this moment to its full dirty potential. So he fucks into you however he can, pushing deeper and faster, till inevitably—

He pulls out, spurting thick ropes of seed over your swollen pussy, and nearly freezes, cock in hand. He can’t just fuck you through it like he would other women. It’s debilitating how intensely he feels pleasure right now. He struggles to regulate his breath, but it’s so damn difficult when he looks at the mess he’s made over you. Fuck, he’s still hard. How is this possible? Is this even a thing?

There’s mutual understanding in the look you exchange with Javier; he allows you to mount him, starting to ride him to the best of your abilities, mouth pressed against one another again. Javier moves to meet with you halfway, but you know what you want and how to get there. Whether in circular motions or up and down, you ride him as fast as possible, too eager to have your own pleasure rip through your body.

It doesn’t take you long, either. Being deprived for so long, and sharing this forbidden, lustful moment with the last person you would’ve thought as suitable is forming a massive pool of arousal in your body, and now, it’s tipped over, spilling at last. Your walls clench around his cock, your body barely moves at all, and you throw your head back in sheer ecstasy. Javier’s hands roam around your back, lying you back down on the couch and kissing you again, this time slower, tenderer.

You don’t want to think about what this means, other than the fact it’s a huge mistake. You don’t want to think about anything except how great of a kiss this is, how spectacular the sex was, and call it a night. Hell, you don’t even want to look at him and acknowledge that it is, in fact, Javier Peña who’s just fucked you.

And Javier reciprocates the sentiment. When he pulls out for a second time, it’s to search for his clothes. He doesn’t say anything to you, and neither do you. You avoid him like the plague in your search for your own clothes and, by the time you gather all of the items that were stripped from your body mere minutes ago, Javier is gone.

This wasn’t perfectly wrong. It was simply unholy.

previous | next 

[tired-biscuit]

How would the Naruto idiot friend group survive or how long they’d last during no nut november I wonder 🤔💭

—🐻

i actually have a moot that did a similar kind of post, here's the link. it was a really fun read, so check it out if you feel like it!!

i know it's not a group of idiots necessarily, but i chose kiba and naruto simply because i think they have the most potential to share custody of a single brain cell (and because they're my faves, lol.) it's all under the cut, because it's obv nsfw.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: just two horny morons suffering because of NNN 🧡 fem!reader, 18+ mdni

𝘄𝗰: 900+ words

𝗞𝗜𝗕𝗔

Fails.

Don’t get me wrong, the man is determined to last – and is loud about it, too – but as soon as it comes to actually committing to NNN, Kiba is all bark and no bite. He lasts not even two full days before his hand winds up in his pants, which, if you take his sky-high libido into consideration, is pretty good actually.

His ego makes him act all smug and proud the first night; he’s messing around in the group chat, talking about how good that first nut on the 1st of December is going to feel, and yet by the second night he’s already growing agitated and snippy because he’s used to jerking one out before bed or early in the morning when he wakes up with a literal coke can in his sweatpants.

He’s so pent-up that he even dreams some whacky-ass scenario with you between his legs, his best friend; drooling and sucking the literal life out of him with that cutesy mouth that always likes to talk shit whenever he teases you, and for some odd reason: it’s enough to make him admit defeat.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat like he’s just had a nightmare despite that it was the literal opposite, and with the image of your cute face covered in his cum still somewhere in the back of his mind. He can still feel your hands on his thighs, the weight of your slick tongue on his dick. So he says ‘Fuck it.’ and opens up Pornhub on his phone. He taps the first video that catches his eye and finishes at the initial blowjob part not even five minutes in whilst his mind insists on replaying that goddamn scenario with you instead. 

The amount of cum he’s managed to produce just because he hasn’t touched himself in two days is unholy. Or it might be because you’re someone who he’s just now realized that he wants so, so badly. Who knows.

He sleeps like a baby afterwards, despite that the post-nut clarity chews on his pride a little. The confused feelings he harbours for you don’t help either. And when he wakes up in the morning, still grumpy but now at least without the persistent ache in his balls from being so horny all the time, all he does is jack off again because it’s literally pointless now and he might as well try to feel good about being a lovestruck loser.

The others know he’s failed the moment he’s actually quiet in the group chat. He doesn’t tell them about the reason as to why, though. Just slaps that ‘seen’ like the sensitive cancer sign that he is, and texts you instead.

𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗢

Fails.

Naruto lasts surprisingly longer than he initially thought he would, despite that he took the entire thing as a joke at first. Still, he’s determination incarnate and competitive – as most young men his age are – and he’s going strong for about a week or two just to prove a point that consequently doesn’t even hold any meaning in the end. 

And it shows. Not being able to spill his load makes him impatient. He’s always jittery; bouncing his knee whilst sitting on the couch in your living room while you watch movies and a suggestive scene pops up, staring at you from the corner of his eye for just a little bit too long all the time. After all, Naruto is already touchy and needy on the norm, especially around you, so not being able to stuff his dick inside your warm cunt and bully it to his heart’s content is simply annoying.

What do I even get out of this? Is it worth it? What’s the fuckin’ point, really? – These questions are the only thing he thinks about lately.

However, despite the lack of intimacy during November, his evident struggle is awfully amusing to you. So you egg him on, acting all sweet and coy whilst executing your plans that would lead to his demise like some evil mastermind in the making.

You wear those pretty dresses that show off the tops of your thighs whenever you step onto your tippy-toes and wrap your arms around your tortured boyfriend’s neck. Press your chest to his own real tight, so that he can surely feel your soft tits squish against him, especially late in the evening when you’re both just chilling at home and you’re not wearing a bra underneath the tiny shirts you all of a sudden like putting on around him.

It’s all fun and games – for you, of course. Still, Naruto doesn’t yield all that easily. He just refuses to give.

However, two weeks are certainly a lot for a man with a sex drive so high that it reaches past the clouds. Every little thing, may it be intentional or not, is like a trigger inside that horny pea-brain of his. And because of it, it takes you literally nothing more than bending over in your tight gym shorts for his willpower to finally crack.

You’re in the kitchen, searching for a freaking pot to cook dinner in and not attempting to appear enticing at all for once, and yet the moment his warm hand traces the curve of your ass over the smooth spandex, it’s game over.

Soldier down, his dick ends up buried deep inside your pussy before you can even lay eyes on the stupid pot.

[kimnjss]

[ part seven of a new series called: ‘clips with context’ - feel free to request your own! ]

>>

BACKSEAT BUSINESS

jungkook picked you from the crowd with one thing in mind. and he can’t wait to get started, no matter who’s around. // explicit. requested. 1.8k words

warnings: cursing, dirty talk, fingering, slight exhibitionism, taehyung knows exactly what he’s doing, mentions of oral (m. receiving), a smidge of angst at the end... jungkook is spoiled and entitled.

+ this is the first thing i’ve written in like a month, so if it’s trash go easy on me... i need to get used to writing again lmao

“kook's always gotta find a girl,” yoongi says with a roll of his eyes, words falling on deaf ears as the other six guys chat loudly about who's going in what car. plucked from the crowd toward the end of the show, you had no idea that the singer had spotted you. just assumed the extra time he was spending near your section was pure coincidence. imagine your shock when security was escorting you backstage.

he barely spoke when you were presented to him, just gave you a once over before waving off the man that had brought you. he's dropping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the couch in the middle of the room. you're tucked into his side the entire time they stand around talking. he's not listening and you're too starstruck to chime in. although, you wouldn't have much to say on the topic.

they were deciding car sharing arrangements from the sound of it. the seven gorgeous men you had watched dance and sing their hearts out on stage, stood right in front of you, paying you no mind.

jungkook sits lazily spread out on the couch as if they're not discussing him not even ten feet away. the tips of his fingers have started drawing light patterns against your naked shoulder, causing goosebumps to lift. his words come as a whisper against your ear: “you look so good in your little dress...” middle finger tracing the hem of it for emphasis. “i can't wait to take you home with me,”

 he notices the flush that rises on your cheeks at the end of his words., a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down. his lips are soft, warm against the clammy skin of your neck. at first, he lands light kisses on your skin – testing the waters... then all of a sudden his tongue is pushing out, rolling over a very specific spot before he's sucking that bit of skin past his teeth. you're letting out a gasp in surprise, hand shooting down to clutch his thigh as your eyes widen.

the sound pulls taehyung's attention. it's the first time he's looked at you and yes, he's just as intimidating up close. not a hint of what he's thinking is behind his stare and it has a thump of anxiety growing in your chest. you're just about to start full-on squirming when the corners of his lips lift into a small smile. “i'll ride with them, then. i don't mind.” he says with a shrug and as if that had been the dilemma all along, they're packing up to leave.

all jungkook had done, up til now, was kiss your neck a bit... honestly, you've done a lot more than simple necking – but by the time you're settling the backseat of the tinted window car, you're basically panting. he makes a show of waving off his fans, shouting promises of returning for another show.

as a fan, you're giddy to know that sometime soon they'd be coming back to perform again. as the girl seated beside him, waiting to be felt up – you were quickly growing annoyed... and impatient with his drawn out goodbye. he must sense that the moment he's rolling his window back up because he doesn't waste any time with crowding you.

one large hand laid flat on the center of your stomach while the other pushes your hair on the way, making room for the wet kisses he drags across your skin. it's hard to keep quiet with the way his skilled mouth works. love bites placed so deliberately there's no way you're able to fight the soft hums that fall from your lips. even with the full knowledge that kim taehyung is sat right next to you. like right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours as he manspreads... you could smell his cologne for crying out loud!

taehyung's sole focus is his phone, paying no mind to the way his bandmate pulls your legs apart or the way he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. as if it's far from the first time something like this has happened. and that's when it's clicking in your mind. this isn't the first time this has happened. it's routine, he didn't spot you in the crowd and have this unbearable need to be close to you.

he wasn't going to fall in love with you either. he simply wanted you and he was jeon jungkook, he got what he wanted. and as odd as it was, something about that turned you on even more. he wanted you. out of the ninety thousand people he could've chosen from, he chose you. for the night of course, but you were willing to take what you could get.

you're so lost in the fantasies and scenarios you're whipping up in your head, you don't even register the way he's pulled your legs apart. not until you're feeling the nudge of his fingers against your heat through the fabric of your panties. “make those pretty sounds for me,”

he's pushing your panties to the side, just enough for his fingers to reach through and brush against your exposed slit. the moan you let out isn't even all that loud, yet it catches the attention of the man seated beside you. tae tries to be subtle with the way he watches, holding his phone up as if that's where his focus is. it's obvious that's not the case and something about him watching you has a rush of excitement pooling between your legs.

jungkook chuckles fingers making their way to your now dripping hole. he doesn't say much else, eyes on you as he slowly pushes a finger through. and then another. he's moving at an agonizingly slow pace, enjoying the way you squirm beneath him desperate for more. “you're squeezing me so tight... can't wait to fuck you open.” lips pressed to your ear as he speaks, pulling a desperate whine from your lips.

“jungkook, please...” legs spreading wider for him as your hips grind down into his palm. he's grinning, eyes flickering to the man next to you before he's picking up the pace of his fingers. fucking into you at such a rapid pace, you're not even able to contain the squeal that falls from your lips.

his thumb lifts to meet your clit, circling roughly against it with each thrust of his fingers. he can tell you're close to falling apart, from the way you grip his shirt and the untimed twitch of your hips. “think you can handle one more, baby?” mouth lazily tugging on your earlobe as he speaks.

and you're nodding frantically, spreading your legs wider for him paying no mind to the way your knee knocks against taehyung's thigh. “such a good girl. can't wait to feel you cum all over my dick. you want that too, huh?” three fingers pushed into the knuckle while his thumb slowly rolls your clit underneath it.

he's making you feel so good, you'd agree to anything at this point. which is why you're agreeing to his words instantly, begging him not to wait that long, to make you cum now. and he takes you up on that, pulling his fingers back before quickly pushing forward. the snap of his wrist has enough force behind it to make your hips hit against the seats.

urging you to cum with each push of his fingers, reaching deep enough to just barely brush up against that rough patch of skin inside of you. he doesn't let up on the circle on your clit, adding more pleasure and it's only a few moments until you feel yourself unraveling completely.

your orgasm washes over you entirely, head lulling back while you let out a gasped scream. legs shaking and fingers wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. chanting jumbled syllables that are meant to be his name, judging from the laugh he lets out you're not even slightly close to making sense.

jungkook only pulls his fingers down once you've calmed down completely, lifting the wet digits to show off how your juices glisten in the dim light. and then he's pushing them into his mouth, sucking your taste from them while humming softly. you're watching him, not being able to pull your attention from the way his tongue moves.

you barely register the way he leans down to press his lips to yours, not until the taste of you fills your own mouth. but, just as you're about to kiss him back, he's pulling away. dark eyes drinking you in before he's leaning back against the seats, hands moving toward the buttons of his jeans.

“get down and suck me off,” you're shooting him with a wide gaze, eyes shifting over to where taehyung sits, fake watching the same tiktok on his phone for the tenth time. jungkook follows your gaze, laughs softly before he's dropping his stare back onto you, forehead resting on your temple. “he's not even looking,”

the boner straining against his jeans says otherwise. sensing your hesitance, jungkook tries a different approach, lower lip pushing out to form a pout. the same pout you have saved on your phone over a thousand times. “but, i worked so hard today... don't i deserve a reward?” he's looking up at you through his lashes. “i'll fuck you so perfect when we get to the hotel,” heat pools between your legs at his words.

you make a mental note to end the weeks-long debate with your friends on who's the most spoiled out of the group. it's jungkook, hands down. the youngest in the biggest group in the world, of course, it was him. he expected the entire world to get down on their knees with a simple pout of his lips... which is exactly why you're lowering yourself onto the surprisingly soft car carpet.

--

he does, in fact, as he put it 'fuck you so perfect when you get to the hotel'. from the moment you're closing the door to well after two in the morning, he's inside you. tossing you around, holding you down... fucking you open until your body shakes with overstimulation. and then some more after that. 

he calls you baby, but you're sure it doesn't mean anything. just that he never bothered to get your name. even in the early hours of the morning when you're being woken up by his security guard, ready to escort you out. he tosses his phone in your direction, half awake and telling you to put your number in. you know he won't call as you type out the digits, but you're still giddy that he asked.

eyes still closed as you leave, not even bothering to muster a proper goodbye. and while for you, this night will be a story you tell the grandkids... you know it'll end up being just another blur in his wild rockstar life.

taglist: @agustdef @silentlyimpractical @gldnrecs @jaiuneamesolitaiire @preciouschimine @joonies-babyy @dee-ehn @aqtkookie @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta @seokjinslittledumpling @thecityrain @jeonsshadow @papichulo-knj @amour-quinn​ @bangtansbun @kooafraid @metaethically @miss-jupiter @tanumiki​ @yoongiofmine​ @princecalpal​ @iridescentstories​ @jikooksgirl19​ @mikrokosmicjoon​ @hqtetsurou​ @needingyou2​ @alterlovess​ @ladyarmanto​ @trinityxsope​ @myworldisgone11​ @yutaeminnie​ @yoooonie​ @peachy-tata​ @paolandotcom​ @strwberry-jam​ @certifiedcrazycatlady​ @hansolsrightnut​ @btsbangtanbois​ @rlynotme​ @morseszn​ @codeinebelle​ @rjsmochii​ @joontopia​ @knjkitten​ @tae165​ @chocobetterknot​ @ggukkieland​ @v3nti​ @kelitt​ @taejinminsu​

taglist: @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @hobiheavenly @pjmcth @morndas @letmebreathepls @stcrwhiz @bangtan-noona @hopeworldjimin @betysotelo18 @lilacdreams-00 @prdshobi @yeontanie21 @ayyyocee @beeeb05 @todorokiskitten @arya-di-angelo @illwritetomorrow @filmtae @daesstuff @sungieshines @wildly-lost-lantern @ephyra1230 @hellotherehoneybee @mochibabycakes @lowlifeoeuvre @kookoo-kachoo @marifujioka @bombardia @veronawrites @ambersaesthetics @hisunshiine @sw33tnight @agustdakasuga @strawberryforever25 @my-current-mood-is @tatajoonie @getmemyfries @bluewhale52 @bangtansonyeondayyyum @munkey888 @simplymemyself​ @butterflylion @hopiebabie @taefect94 @dionysusrage @heyitsbreeeeee​ @hobiismyhopeu​ 

taglist: @xinyourdreamsx​ @giveortake​ @moonlitmyg​ @redluvletmain​ @niieceyy​ @xiaokoo​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @bbyjoonies​ @marvelous-capsicle​ @daydreambrliever​ @hoefortaeshands​ @agustneeds​ @acc3ssdenied​ @ruinsofangels​ @bloomtilweache​ @jiminshibaby​ @dxlbts​ @missmadwoman​ @somewhereofftheglobe​ @parkjammys​ @salty-for-suga​ @scriptedhabits​ @tatasvoid​ @cozyboy-nee​ @thesweetest-peas​ @kkklaudiaaa17​ @booya--18​ @jooniesbanoonies​ @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa​ @narrylilomylove​ @iovemaze​ @tricethecharm​ @trynavibewhileicry​ @zxlummxxd​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @kuggnuj​ @embrace-themagic​ @namjoonsillegaldimple​ @uhgoodthings​ @jinhitwhore​ @pastelbleuet​ @ephyraaaa​ @joonni​ @elephantdoors​ @gemad08​ @tom-hollands-wife​ @neverthefirstchoice​ @soulstaes​

taglist: @diminieshoe @jayhope88 @ssweetsunflower @eatjeanjin​ @bigimpression @imadeyouamixtape88 @vantxx95 @bigbootyjoonie​ @serendipitysev​ @grakei​ @taesinferno​ @janieooo​ @kianam​ @h0babie​ @knjhe​ @neversickofyoongi​ @miriamxsworld​ @bangtan-niff​ @bloopkook​ @jeon-joker​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @taeminkook​ @awhnamjoon​ @mono-moonchilds​ @ireallylikeyourwriting​ @daydreamingvibes11​ @taeyongsplug​ @nana-kjdream​ @lunars​  @bananadonut-blog​ @fairysunooo​ @moonchild-w-wings​ @limiworld��� @liquidnovocaine​ @kookiesspacebuns​ @jinbestboy​ @fangurl-ontgeside​ @kxdrawhl​ @rosedale99​ @jungkookbabyyyy​ @pjmbbygirl​ @yoongiwithglasses​ @taegix94​ @yoobikook​ @banqtanbby​ @sunashawty​ @maknaechu​ @taestycake​ @imcompletelyok​ @cityh0wl​ @goldenkookietaebae​ @megagrl​

[memryse]

many thoughts about Scar in Last Life

We all know Scar is one of the standouts of Last Life; he’s always been one of the key players ever since 3rd Life, driving conflicts and shaping the course of the server. His chaotic nature lends itself perfectly to 3rd/Last Life, and he seems to have only refined it in the hiatus between seasons.

In 3rd Life, Scar was more of a subjective villain. From his own perspective and Grian’s perspective, he wasn’t scary at all! The two of them were just having fun and causing problems – sure, they threatened people, but their dumb antics together made them just feel like two friends messing around; their POV was lighthearted until the final session, really. From other perspectives, however (particularly Dogwarts’ POVs), that was not how the two of them came across. They felt malicious, scary in how casually they approached such a bloodthirsty game. They’d laugh as they took lives, showing no care for anybody but themselves – they’d betray their allies in a heartbeat without an ounce of remorse, and the rest of the players knew it. Scar wasn’t someone to fear from his own POV.

Since Last Life began, however, Scar has become very openly malicious. Even watching his own POV, it’s hard to see him as anything but a villain – his own comment section is full of people commenting on how scary he suddenly seems. I want to expand on some of these villainous moments, because holy fuck, Scar.

In session 1, Scar is certainly a prominent figure, but we mostly get to see his classic silly Scar antics. Sure, he plans on “selling souls”, but it feels like the equivalent of his reputation points in S1. We still don’t get the sense of him going full villain arc yet. He allies with Joel and commits a crime, and we all expect another lighthearted Scar scam which definitely does not go to plan.

And that is what happened… sort of. He’s immediately caught by Scott and Pearl, etc etc etc. The two of them cheerfully agree a scheme to try and kill Jimmy, but that casual discussion of murder is as bad as they get.

Session 2, Scar is chosen as one of the two boogeymen, alongside Joel.

Things go decidedly not to plan immediately. The two of them had agreed last session to try and kill Jimmy, and were supposed to be trusting enough to tell each other if they’re the boogeyman – and yet what does Scar do? Immediately try and push Joel into lava. He’d betray Joel without a second thought – already a contrast to 3rdLife, where upon turning red Scar threw flowers at Grian and asked if they could still be friends. He doesn’t succeed, of course, and Scar and Joel realise they’re both boogeymen, before parting ways.

Scar heads to the nether, where he immediately decides to deceive Etho and Bdubs into thinking he’s weak and has no food, so that he can get close to them nonthreateningly or something. I’ll talk about this more later, but here we get to see what a good liar Scar actually is. People want to assume that he’s all bark and no bite, that he’s a schemer who poses no real threat – when Scar plays into this, he can be reallyconvincing.

The next big moment I want to talk about is, of course, Joel’s trap. The first thing to comment on here is that Scar cries “Joel, are you trying to kill your best buddy?!”, and I can’t work out whether this is Scar acting to diffuse suspicion, or genuine surprise that he’d pull the trap when Scar was right there, but either way it definitely has the former effect. None of the Southlanders suspect Scar in the slightest. Until Scar murders Mumbo in a matter of seconds.

What’s really horrifying about this is that Scar had been begging Mumbo to ally with him just last session. And yet here… not only does he go for Mumbo without hesitation, his reaction afterwards is downright chilling. He just laughs, and tells the others “Welcome to Magical Mountain!” – it’s really quite like a movie villain in how little he seems to care. He doesn’t actually say a word about killing Mumbo; again, despite having desperately wanted to ally with him. To Scar, this was nothing more than an opportunity. Or maybe it’s all a show to him. Maybe it’s both. Scar doesn’t actually care about winning this game – to him, it’s more fun to put on as good a show as possible, and drag as many people down with him as possible (which is definitely a “cc!Scar being a good entertainer” thing, but it translates very well into being a LL!Scar character trait too).

He then hands Joel some supplies, and with the exact same level of nonchalance, tells him to go burn Scott and Pearl’s house down. I’m… getting the sense he enjoyed burning down Etho’s castle in 3rdLife.

Not much of note happens during his subsequent conversation with the Southlanders beyond him failing an initiation spectacularly – after this, he heads back to Joel. They chat from opposite ends of a broken bridge, which is quite a poetic scene honestly, representing the gap between their lives, the destruction of their alliance, etc. I’m just here to talk about Scar’s villainous moments, though, so let me point out one specific line from this conversation.

“I did avenge you, to be fair - Mumbo, I burned him to death, which was enjoyable. I heard him cry, so it was- yeah, that was a thing.”

Just… what the fuck, Scar? What? I know he tried to push the “red lives are psychopathic and feel nothing except a small sense of happiness when people die” in 3rd Life, but this was definitely a lie or at least an exaggeration, because 3l!Scar definitely had a much wider range of emotions than that. Either way, here he doesn’t even have the excuse of being a red life; this is just active malice, pure and simple. Bdubs had a similar level of pride in his boogeyman kill, but I never got the sense that he enjoyed it like Scar did.

Scar goes off to visit Scott and Pearl, and figure out whether they have the enchanting table or not. Note the emphasis on simply figuring it out, not actually getting the enchanting table. Here’s where I want to talk about Scar being a great liar: he fully convinces them into thinking that he was willing to trade lives for the enchanting table, and then he convinces them that he’s so desperate to get the table that he’ll lie about Joel burning their house down. The thing is, Scar had no intention of ever getting the table at that moment – he wasn’t going to trade lives for it to begin with. He’d try his luck at threatening them, but nothing more. He got exactly what he wanted out of that situation: proof. Meanwhile, Scott and Pearl were left believing they’d outwitted him, that they’d called his bluff and bullied him into leaving. They never saw his true intentions, never saw him as an actual threat. Scar is much smarter than people believe, which only makes him all the more threatening.

And finally, he goes on to prove this intelligence even further. He figures out that Scott and Pearl planned to trade for the enchanting table simply by seeing Scott ask Lizzie if she’s home in chat. He then goes to visit Lizzie, and she tells him she declined their offer. What’s notable about this scene is how much less belligerent Scar is than usual: he readily accepts what Lizzie says for once in his life and leaves without being too annoying about it. He later talks about lulling the others into a false sense of security, letting them think he’s not after the enchanting table anymore; that makes me think his visit to Lizzie was purely to confirm that the offer was even made, and he’s now certain that she accepted it. It’s not hard to work out, especially if he noticed her life count.

So, all in all, if you’re not scared of Scar in Last Life, you most definitely should be.

Did I forget to mention he’s currently tied for the highest life count on the server?

[itsdanii]

Because I’m an angst-addicted ball of misery, is it okay if I request drabbles of Fuckboy!Atsumu and Fuckboy!Oikawa being the crush of the reader but she knows of how they treat other girls and doesn’t want to end up heart broken and since she’s shy and introverted, the boys barely know her aside from her being a classmate?

She tries to keep a simple distance away from them until said boys randomly show an interest in her and they start showing her attention, love, and treating her better than the girls they messed with until after a few weeks she overhears from them or their teammates that it’s out of pity/they were bored because Y/N seemed easy to mess with.

Y/N doesn’t let them know she overheard them, instead a switch is flipped and she’s emotionless around them and avoids them. When they ask why she’s like that, she simply says “I won’t let you hurt me like the others.” She basically treats them like they don’t exist (she’s friendly to everyone but them) and said f!boys regret it and bust their asses to fix everything between them (I read how you felt about full angst, so the reader just blocked their number, social media’s, and treat them like the plague until they prove that they truly love her or regret messing with her :) )

Hey, bub. Sorry for the slight delay! I hope you don't mind me making slight adjustments about the plot for my comfort 🥺 And uh... this drabble turned out to be a oneshot because I got carried away. I only did Atsumu's part which went over 3k+ works 👁️👄👁️ Anyway, I hope that you still like it. Have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! ♥️

Karma's a b*tch

genre: angst to fluff

warning/s: rude behavior (resolved), cursing, self doubt and insecurity(?), do message me if I missed any

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason

ft. fboy!atsumu miya, f!reader

never play with a girl's feelings. wanna know why? just read the title.

You stared at the back of Atsumu's head dreamily, your elbows propped on your desk as you basically ignored the world around you.

Contrary to the belief that noisy students always sat on the back, Atsumu and his twin were actually seated in front. Despite being in the middle of a class discussion, the two kept on chattering as if the teacher didn't exist. The teacher basically gave up already trying to shut them up since they never listened anyway.

You knew that she could've just sent them to detention but of course, who would do that to the miya twins? People almost worshipped them and your teacher wasn't excluded. Everytime she entered the room, you noticed how she would always cast a glance at the Miya twins and smile "politely."

The two, of course, took advantage of it. If it meant being able to get away with their noise by just simply smirking at the teacher in front of them, they'd do it. They already did anyways. They never did anything more than that though, and for some reason you were thankful that they never crossed that line.

You jolted up slightly when the bell suddenly rang, a loud yelp slipping past your lips out of shock. With your eyes widening like saucers, you felt your cheeks heating up when majority of your classmates turned their head towards your direction, some having a grin on their faces while the others having a look of displease.

However, their stare didn't matter as much as a specific person's did. A pair of brownish eyes stared at you intensely, his gaze so intense it was enough to make you almost squirm in your seat.

Feeling your heart rate picking up along with the shiver running down your spine, you looked down at your lap, successfully cutting your eye contact with Miya Atsumu - the guy you secretly liked despite being hailed as your school's certified f!ckboy.

"Make sure to finish all your requirements this upcoming weekend. You're all seniors so I have high expectations on your outputs, understood?"

With a series of "Yes, ma'am," the class was dismissed.

The room was filled with different noises - subgroups gossiping with each other, the footsteps of students hurrying their way out, the rustling of papers, clanking of chairs and the voices of the class representatives reminding the assigned people to clean properly.

It was lively, for them at least.

As for you, you preferred being alone. No, you weren't some weird nerd kid who acted as if they hated the world. Instead, you preferred categorizing yourself as one of those people who were naturally shy and introverted.

You don't really like crowds nor socializing. You've always opted on sitting by the corner, just enjoying the calmness silence brings you.

Grabbing your books from your desk, you stood up and made your way to the door, head casted a little downwards to avoid making eye contact with people, knowing that doing so will result to interactions, and who has time for interactions anyway? Certainly not you.

With the lack of paying attention, you failed to notice someone who was rushing their way out. Like a cliche movie, your body collided with them, the impact causing you to stumble backwards, loosening your grip on your books as they fell on the floor.

Luckily, the person behind you managed to catch you on time, their hand gripping the small of your back to keep your bum from meeting the floor.

"Whoa, there. Ya alright, princess?" spoke the familiar voice just behind your ear, his breath against your skin giving you small goosebumps.

Instantly, you jerked away. Turning around to face him, you bowed down while muttering continuous apologies. "Miya! I didn't mean to bump into you, I.. I swear. I was just walking out and then somebody j-"

Chuckling, Atsumu placed a hand on top of your head, giving your hair a small ruffle which eventually made you look up at him. "Calm down, I ain't mad at ya. No need to be so flustered."

With a stiff nod, you mumbled a small "Okay," before bending down to pick your books off the floor. You didn't fail to notice how your hands were trembling and you silently prayed to whoever diety was watching over you that Atsumu won't notice it.

"Yer y/n, right?" Atsumu asked as he bent down as well, one hand clutching your book as he let his finger trace over the name written on it. "A pretty name fer a pretty face like yers."

You wouldn't be surprised if he'd ask if you were doing okay because by now, you were a hundred percent sure that your face must be looking like a red tomato. "Thanks I guess," you said, giving him a shy smile before taking the book from his hand.

The small encounter was cut off by someone calling for Atsumu's name. Turning your head to the direction of the noise, you noticed Osamu walking towards you with a small frown on his face, one hand gripping the strap of his bag as he went on how they're going to have to run extra laps again if they ever got late for practice.

Atsumu only chuckled at Osamu before turning his focus back on you. With a cheeky smile, he booped the tip of your noise fondly. "Guess I'll see ya around, pretty thing. Careful not to stumble again, alright? Don't want another man catchin' ya."

With that, Atsumu went on his merry way, turning around one more time to send you a wink, chuckling as you gave him a slow wave before his figure disappeared from your vision as a mere dot.

"See ya later..." you whispered on thin air, lips unconsciously curling up as you stared at the direction he went off to. Once you snapped out of your daze, you bit your lip to stop yourself from squealing like a school girl in love.

Well, technically, you were a school girl in love, right?

That night, as you laid on your bed staring at your ceiling full of glow in the dark stars, you thought that maybe it wasn't so bad making conversations with people every once in a while.

-

The days went by pretty quickly.

At first, you thought that everything will be back to normal. After all, you never tried associating yourself with people. Your high school life was basically nothing but waking up early for school then going back home after class and then repeat.

However, something was strange. In fact, it was very strange. Not only were people trying to befriend you but the one and only Atsumu Miya was actually making an effort to talk to you, and to say that you were confused would be an understatement.

He basically didn't pay attention nor spared you a glance before, until that day you bumped into him.

You knew that it wasn't a good practice to judge someone based on what other people say but he wouldn't be called as your school's f!ckboy for nothing. He'd change his girlfriend almost every week as if he's only changing clothes, cruelly dump those who did not meet his certain standards and doesn't care even if a girl cries infront of him. Those are exactly why you tried not associating yourself with him nor his twin.

But there was something about Atsumu Miya that kept on drawing you in. You didn't know if it was his annoying piss colored hair, intense gaze, or the aura surrounding him. You couldn't help but wonder how someone like him, the exact type of person you swore you hated, managed to keep you attracted like a moth on to a flame.

It was weird.

And yet you loved it.

"Ya know y/n, ya kinda wound me," Atsumu said, plopping himself down beside you on the cafeteria.

With your hand clutching the chopsticks mid-air, you surveyed your area, noting how some heads, specifically the Inrizaki VBC's, turned to your direction. "Sorry, what do you mean?" you muttered as soon as your eyes met Atsumu's.

"I literally thought we're already friends when I saved yer ass from falling backwards," Atsumu answered before stuffing his mouth with an Onigiri, no doubt made by Osamu.

Placing your chopsticks down, you wiped your lips with some napkin before speaking up. "I'm sorry for asking this but... what's with the sudden interest, Miya?"

You were aware of how snappy you sounded, but in reality, it was your own defense mechanism acting up. Just how were you supposed to ignore him when it's he himself who kept on clinging to you?

"Hm, what do ya mean? Is it so hard to believe that I'm trying to befriend ya?" Atsumu tilted his head a bit to the side, his lips curling up into a smirk. "Why not try givin' me a chance, princess? That isn't so much to ask for."

You organized your now empty bento, placing it on the side before focusing your whole attention to the man in front of you. "I've seen how you treated girls before," you said with a low voice, averting your gaze from him to avoid melting into a puddle.

Damn stupid feelings.

"I see..." Atsumu said with a slow nod. "Then I guess that makes it more of a challenge."

Your eyebrows immediately furrowed upon hearing that, your curiosity spiking up at what his words meant. "Challenge? What do you mean?"

Instead of answering you, Atsumu just stood up, his bento in hand with the side of his lips curled up. "I'll see ya around, princess."

With that, you were left alone in your table, eyes still trained on Atsumu as he made his way back to the Inarizaki VBC's table. You watched as most of his friends chuckled while patting his back, some even sending a glance towards your direction.

Deciding that pondering over it would only be a waste of time, you stood up and made your way back to your classroom, failing to notice a grey haired Miya watching you.

-

You let out a small squeak as someone behind you reached for the same book you've been trying to get for almost 5 minutes now. Tilting your head back a little, you were met with an upside down vision of Miya Atsumu's face.

With your arms still raised in the air, you spun around to face him, your back flush against the bookshelf keeping you basically trapped. "Miya," you mumbled while looking up at him, one hand fisting the side of your skirt to release some pressure.

"Here," he simply said while handing you the book, obviously holding back from laughing at your flustered expression. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna try anythin' that would make ya uncomfortable. I was just passin' by and saw you strugglin'."

"And he even tucked my hair behind my ear!"

"He did that?" your cousin spoke from beside you.

Both of you were seated on top of your bed, legs crissed crossed as you gossiped about your interactions with Miya Atsumu.

For the past few weeks, you've been having encounters with Atsumu - in the cafeteria, in the library and even outside of school where he claimed that he was out to buy some ingredients for Osamu and only managed to bump into you "coincidentally". Name it and he'll be there.

With these constant encounters stirring up your feelings, you had to resort on calling your cousin for some girl time in order to save your sanity. Luckily, your parents had no objection. They were even happy that you were actually trying to open up to other people. It was only your cousin but according to your parents, "A small step is still a step."

Plopping your back on your bed, you grunted as you placed both of your hands on your cheeks. "Mhm. I just don't get it you know? He's basically this popular guy that plays volleyball, has a group of girls swarming over him and has the face and body that looks like it's been sculpted by God himself, and yet he's wasting his time on me."

You looked at your cousin with a small pout, one hand reaching out to poke her thigh. "Am I just overthinking things?"

With a breathy chuckle, your cousin laid down beside you. "Maybe? I can't really say for sure since I don't know this Miya guy except your description of him, but what I think is that you should give him a chance."

Hearing that, you laid on your side to face her, elbows propped up against the mattress as you rested your cheek on your palm. "Aila, have you been listening to me? He is a f! ckboy. Dangerous, treats girls like shit, and undeniably sexy. What if his sudden interest is only a one time thing? What if he's just messing with me?"

"And what if he isn't?" Upon hearing no reply, your cousin took your silence as her cue to continue. "What if people just labeled him as this so called 'f!ckboy' because that's what they perceive him to be? What if inside him is just someone who's vulnerable, trying to protect themselves from getting hurt by people so they end up hurting others first to save themselves from the pain? What if he's just waiting for someone who wanted to really know him, the real him? Would you really deprive him of that opportunity just because of what you hear from other people?"

"I... I don't know.."

"Miya isn't here to defend himself and I'm not trying to defend him, but don't you think you should at least give him the benefit of the doubt?" Aila smiled as she settled herself on a comfortable position. "Give him a chance, y/n. Everyone deserves to get one. It's up to him to prove whether he's worth the chance he was given."

You sighed deeply, letting her words sink in as you also shifted yourself on a comfortable position, raising your comforter up until it reaches just below your chin. "Then what happens if he isn't worth the chance he's given?"

With a hum, your cousin just shrugged. "Then you either forgive him and let it go or... give him the finger and tell him 'f!ck you' for messing with your feelings," she said with a short giggle.

"It's something only you in the future can decide. Goodnight, y/n."

With a thankful smile, you turned the lamp off as you whispered, "Mh, goodnight, Aila."

-

"Let's be friends," you said as you slammed a box of onigiri in front of Atsumu, a smacking sound resonating in the air making the rest of the boys look at your direction.

Even the sound of balls whooshing in the air stopped, replaced by the sound of them dropping suddenly on the gym's floor.

With his lips parted, Atsumu shifted his gaze from the onigiri, Osamu, Suna and you. "Ah..." he muttered as if he was just as shocked as you for having the guts to come inside the gym in the middle of their training.

Feeling your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment due to his lack of response, you looked down and started to fiddle with you fingers. "You said you wanted to be my friend and I kept on keeping my distance from you so I thought you might appreciate those onigiri as my peace offering." You scratched the back of your head before giving him an awkward smile. "A-anyway, that's all! I'll see you around, Miya!"

Atsumi could only watch you as you dashed out of the gym. Snapping out of his daze, he looked down at the box of Onigiri, smiling unconsciously as he noticed the sticky note posted on top with "Good luck on your practice, Miya! :))" written on it.

"Interestin'," Atsumu whispered before standing up, Kita's voice filling the air as he called the team back for practice.

-

It's safe to say that after that embarrassing moment, you became friends with Atsumu. You even became close with his twin because they were always with each other. It wasn't long then when the usual duo became three - Atsumu, Osamu, and you.

It was hard to adjust at first. Your female classmates would always glare at you and spout out some nasty remarks but the twins were always there to defend you. In fact, you even met the whole team and hanged out with them when you didn't have some academic tasks to finish.

It was fun, and you were thankful for your cousin who gave you the advise of giving Atsumu a chance.

But there was a downside on the situation.

Your feelings which you kept hidden for a long time was only growing day by day, and you were afraid that it was slowly showing signs.

How?

Everytime Atsumu was near, your heart would beat so fast that you felt like you just finished a 4 kilometer run. Your hands would become clammy, breath would hitch, and face would heat up whenever he teases you, and don't even forget to add that one time you literally froze when you spun around, only to come face to face with him - nose almost touching, lips ghosting against each other with only an inch keeping you apart.

You were playing a dangerous game and yet you had no intention of stopping, not knowing that it wasn't only you who had a secret.

Because Atsumu Miya was also playing a game - something much more dangerous than yours.

-

"Where's 'Tsumu?" you asked as you peeked your head inside the gym.

Kita, who was about to walk out, gave you a smile before opening the door wider for you to come in. "Atsumu's in the storage room. The twins made a mess again so I told them to go clean up before we start practice."

"Typical," you said with a short giggle. "Anyway, I'm just going to drop off Atsumu's hoodie that I borrowed last week. I'll watch over them while you do your business."

"That would be great. Thank you so much, y/n-san. Call me if something happens," Kita said, giving you a small nod before leaving.

As you entered the empty gym, you grimaced upon seeing something that looks like spilled milk on the floor. With a shake of your head, you made your way near the storage room sneakily in attempts of scaring Atsumu.

However, as you got closer, you heard two familiar voices. It was Atsumu's and Osamu's voice, and basing from the way they were speaking, it seemed as if they were in the middle of an argument.

"The fuck did ya say?" It was Osamu.

"I said I was only playin' with her. I mean, she's so easy, don't ya think? It basically only took me a couple of weeks and she came runnin' to me with that box of Onigiri, claimin' she wanted to be friends," Atsumu said, followed by a chuckle. "As if I didn't notice the way she acted around me. I'm telling ya, that girl is in love with me."

"And so, what if she is? That's not an excuse for ya to play with her feelings, dipshit."

Hearing Atsumu huff, you slightly backed away from the door, only to freeze when you heard his next words.

"Y/n is nothin' but a toy to me, somethin' I can dispose of when I got bored."

Biting your lower lip, you clenched the handle of the paperbag you were holding before running out with tears streaming down your face.

You ran as fast as you could, ignoring the worried looks you're getting from the people you were passing by. Even Kita was shocked to see you yet he didn't bother calling out, thinking that you might be needing some alone time for yourself.

You skipped class.

Throughout your whole Highschool life, this was the first time you skipped your class and it was a bummer that the reason was Atsumu Miya.

Stirring your strawberry milkshake from a nearby cafe, you thought about Atsumu's words, another batch of tears streaming down your face as you realized how pathetic you were for believing that he isn't what others say.

Maybe your cousin was wrong.

Atsumu Miya wasn't worth the chance he was given, because he only proved that once a f!ckboy, always a f!ckboy.

-

You blocked Atsumu's social media accounts.

In fact, you even blocked and deleted his number to stop getting in contact with him.

Even in person, you didn't bother paying him any attention unlike before. You stopped coming to their practices, stopped giving him food and stopped talking to him.

You basically acted as if he didn't exist.

It was hard because you knew that your heart belonged to him, but you had to endure it. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction for playing with you. You know your worth and there's no way you're going to let some f*ckboy ruin you.

"Y/n, would ya stop?!" Atsumu said as he grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping you from walking away from him any further.

"Get your hands off me, Miya. I don't wanna talk to you." You struggled against his hold, trying to take your hand back, only to fail when he tightened his grip.

"The hell's yer problem? What's with the sudden attitude? Yer basically ignorin' me and I don't have any idea what I did. Just tell me what I did wrong instead of actin' like a little brat." Letting go of your wrist, Atsumu groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. "I.. I don't like this."

You laughed, eyes squinting as you let out a fit of giggles before pointing at him. "You don't like this? Why not, Miya? I'm just a toy for you, right? So, I don't really get why you don't like this. Is it because you're not bored of me yet so you're not willing to dispose of me?" Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a serious expression. "Well, I'm sorry to say this but I'm not going to let you hurt me like the others. I'm not a plaything nor am I desperate like those girls pining over you. Have fun looking for a new toy. You're not worth playing with anyway."

That being said, you turned your back on Atsumu, ignoring the whispers that suddenly filled the hallway as the students parted some space for you, leaving Atsumu with his lips parted and feet frozen on the ground.

Serves you right, Miya.

-

Atsumu felt hollow.

With every passing day that you're ignoring him, conversing with people whom you never bothered associating yourself with before, the more he regret taking advantage of your feelings.

It was only supposed to be a game, nothing but a pass time and yet why did it felt like something was missing?

"I wasn't supposed to care," Atsumu said desperately while clutching his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table as he opened up to his twin. "F!ck...I think I like her, 'Samu."

"No shit, idiot," Osamu answered without taking his eyes off the stove. "I told ya several times to stop messin' with people's feelings and did ya ever listen? No. That's what ya get for bein' stupid."

Groaning, Atsumu rested his cheek against the table, facing Osamu's back. "Help me."

Slowing down from stirring the pot, Osamu looked at Atsumu through his shoulder. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, I'm yer twin. Aren't ya supposed to help me? Plus... y/n acts fine around ya." Atsumu sighed before sitting up properly. "I won't bother ya fer a week if ya help me out. I already did everythin' I could. Flowers, chocolates, even payin' attention in class just to impress them! Nothin' worked."

Osamu chuckled at the desperation and frustration in Atsumu's voice. "Deal." He turned the stove off, covering the pot before making his way to Atsumu. Sitting down, he crossed his arms over his chest while staring at the brokenhearted Miya. "Y/n is actually kind. Well, not until that moment she found out about yer stupidity. Have ya tried showin' her that yer willin' to change?"

Atsumu nodded. "I did. I even gave her the usual things girls like."

"I asked if ya showed her that yer willin' to change, not tried winnin' over her through bribery." When Atsumu didn't respond, Osamu let out a 'tsk' before continuing, "Just stop botherin' her and prove that ya regret what ya did."

"Easier said than done," Atsumu grumbled which earned him a smack on the head.

"Will ya stop bein' a sad boy already? I have a plan."

-

Its been two weeks.

Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu trying to apologize. Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu following you like a lost puppy while holding either chocolates or flowers.

Instead, what you were getting were these random post it notes on your locker, your desk, everywhere. Wherever you go, there would be random post it notes with various messages. Some contained cheesy quotations, the others short apology letters.

And despite how mad you were at Atsumu, you wouldn't be able to deny how cute the act was. Not only did he gave you space but also exerted an effort of silently letting you know that he'd be willing to wait for you.

You noticed how he stopped acting like a boss in class, opting to jot down notes instead of chattering with Osamu like usual. You also noticed how he stopped having a random girl beside him during breaks. Everytime you would pass by, no longer would he try to block your way and flick your forehead, but instead give you a hopeful smile before proceeding on his way wordlessly.

But what made you realize that he indeed regret what he did was that one time.

You were walking back to your classroom after forgetting your umbrella. The sound of the heavy rain tapping on the ground resonated on the empty hallways, the cold wind making you shiver as it whooshed in the air.

Wrapping your arms tightly around you, you entered your classroom, eyes widening as you saw Atsumu trying to fit something on the space below your desk while mumbling something.

Clearing your throat, you noticed Atsumu jolting up slightly before turning around to face your direction.

He smiled sheepily before scratching his nape. "I know it's yer birthday tomorrow so I was tryin' to fit this here. I guess there's no point hidin' it already since ya caught me anyway." Sighing, Atsumu picked up the fox stuffie and handed it to you. "Happy Birthday, y/n. I know yer still mad at me and ya probably hate me but I still wanted to give ya a present."

You stared at the fox in your hand, your fingers poking the fluffiness of the material as you fought back the urge to smile. "Thanks," you answered with a dismissive tone.

For a split second, it was silent, and you were aware of the intensity of Atsumu's gaze burning on your forehead, yet you refused to look up, knowing that once you did, you won't be able to hold yourself back and might just forgive him there and then.

"I like ya, I really do. I know I messed up big time fer taking advantage of ya and I'm sorry fer that. It was stupid and childish of me to think that the people around me are nothing but mere toys fer me to play with. I regret hurtin' yer feelings and I'll be willin' to wait until ya forgive me. Just know that I won't stop until ya do."

Hearing something rustling, you looked up and noticed Atsumu taking off his jacket. Within a few steps, he was already infront of you, draping his jacket over your figure. "I'll see ya around, princess. Don't get sick, alright?" Smiling, Atsumu gave your cheek a small pinch before heading out.

You were left in the empty classroom with nothing but the fox stuffie serving as your company. Atsumu's scent was swirling around you from the jacket you were given and at that moment, you haven't notice the single tear sliding down your cheek.

Because of all people, you never expected for Atsumu Miya to be the first one to greet you without having to remind them.

He was the first person you knew outside of your household to ever remember your birthday.

You hugged the stuffie close to your chest, burrying your face on top of its head as you let the comfort it brings envelope you.

-

You stared at the empty space infront, your head swirling as you thought of the possible reasons why Atsumu haven't been in class for three days now.

It's currently your last subject and throughout the whole day, you've been doing nothing but wonder where he was. You haven't asked Osamu about it yet since he was excused from the class due to the preparations for the upcoming match.

And so, the moment your class was dismissed, you rushed your way out, making your trip to the gym. You were thankful that they were in the middle of a water break so you had the chance to call out Osamu's name without having to worry about Kita.

"Y/n?" Osamu's eyebrow shot up upon seeing you. Suddenly, a knowing smile made its way to his lips. Standing up, he walked over to you. "He's sick," he said without even waiting for you to say something.

"Oh.." you muttered, shifting from one foot to another nervously before tugging at the hem of Osamu's jersey. "Do you... uhm, do you think it would be alright if I visit him after your practice? I wanna see if he's doin' alright."

"Alright. I think 'Tsumu would appreciate that. Why don't ya sit on the bench and wait a little for us to finish practice then ya can visit our house after?"

Upon hearing that, your face instantly lit up. You smiled at Osamu as you nodded.

Osamu only chuckled at you and fondly ruffled your hair, a habit he and Atsumu shared.

You waited patiently, and it wasn't long then when their practice finally finished. After Osamu took a shower, you both went on your way to their residence.

As you entered their house, Atsumu's voice immediately met your ears.

"'Samu! Cook me somethin', I'm starvin!"

You looked at Osamu who only shrugged as if he was already used to it. You took your shoes off and wore the slippers you were given before placing your bag on the couch.

"Our room is on the right. Go ahead and talk to him." Osamu said as he pointed on the door at the end of the hallway.

With a nod, you slowly made your way to their room, knocking softly before sliding your way in.

The first thing that greeted you were the mess of opened junk foods on the floor. Roaming your eyes around, you grimaced at the sight of empty water bottles littered around along with the volleyball laying on the ground.

Averting your eyes away from the trash, you looked at Atsumu whose back was facing you, his shoulder raising up and down evenly, indicating that he must be asleep.

Carefully, you walked claser and sat on the edge of his bed, your hand immediately feeling his forehead. "You're burning up," you mumbled, brushing his hair away from his face.

Suddenly, Atsumu's hand gripped your wrist, his eyebrows furrowed as he squinted his eyes. "Am I dreamin' or are ya a ghost?" he asked with a raspy voice.

"I'm not a ghost, 'Tsumu. I'm really here."

You watched as Atsumu slowly nodded before letting go of your wrist. "What're ya doin' here? I thought ya were still mad at me." Sitting up, Atsumu held the comforter close to him as he shivered.

"I heard you were sick. I'm no longer mad at you. I guess I'm still upset but I just can't hold a grudge against you forever, can I? That's not something I can do," you said with a shake of your head. "I really like you, you know? Despite your title of being a f!ckboy, I still fell for you. You were the first person I tried opening up to aside from my cousin. It's just a bummer that you ended up taking advantage of that vulnerability."

You felt Atsumu reaching out for you, his hand enveloping yours as he gave it a small squeeze. "I know, and I'm sorry. I really am."

"And if I give you another chance, will you prove me that you deserve it?" you asked as you looked at him, "I'm still hurt about what happened so I hope that if I give you this chance, you won't waste it."

"Yes. God, yes," Atsumu answered breathlessly, "I promise it won't happen again and I'll try to be better."

Suddenly, Atsumu wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you on his lap as he settled his head on the side of your neck. "Thank you," he mumbled repeatedly against your skin, his arms tightening around you as if he was afraid of letting go.

And he never did.

Indeed, there was something about Miya Atsumu that kept drawing you in, and despite the bumps and dangers that came along your way, you didn't withraw.

Because as you closed the last page of your photo album eight years from then, you realized how right your cousin was alll along.

Atsumu Miya was worth the chance he was given, and he proved it to you every single day, sealing it with the diamond ring now resting on your left hand.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

[honeyabyss]

Different ways to say I Love You (minus Luke)

Lucifer:

Lucifer isn't the best at saying what he actually feels due to his pride getting in the way, but he makes it up with small gestures

he is very observant and often knows what you need before you know it

putting on the fireplace in his study when he notices you start to rub your hands or shift your legs to warm them subconsciously

refilling your cup/glass while he pours something himself

"You should have dressed better, I can see you're shivering..."

his snarky side comments might sound like he's annoyed, but he actually cares and worries

he will most definitely put his cloak around your shoulders and keep you close to him with a hand on your waist

he's conflicted between staying subtle and showing you off all the time

"Aren't they looking amazing today? Haven't you stared enough yet? You're making them uncomfortable!"

when you're in private he becomes more open and affectionate, but still tries to play it down

him moving with his work away from his work desk to the small coffee table, sitting side by side with you, just to have you close

when he's feeling stressed he tends to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking the comfort and familiarity of you

Lucifer tries to give you the same he feels when he is with you comfort, peace, a place to hide from the rest of the world

"You are my save haven! I don't always have to be at my best when I'm with you!"

Mammon:

"Hey! Look what I've brought you home. Ain't I the best?!"

small gifts are a regular occurrence with the Avatar of Greed, which don't always have to be the most expensive, extraordinary or thoughtful ones

"I was on the way home when I saw this and thought of you...you needed this right?"

it could have been the most ridiculous thing like a single paperclip, but he'd be so proud to have noticed and remembered you were having troubles organizing your papers yesterday

him being a tsundere makes it hard for him to openly admit or show his love for you sometimes, his thoughts are full of you and he is constantly complementing you and how much he wants to hold you in his arms or kiss...but actually vocalizing or holding and kissing you seems to be way harder

though that doesn't hold him off to keep you close and hold hands in front of others, you're his human and everyone shall know, you're his and his alone, they'd be mad to try and steal you away

as his sin is Greed, hoarding stuff happens often, most of the times he sells them to be able to get money, but every single thing you'll give him will hold a special meaning in his heart, will show off your gifts to brag

but material love isn't the only thing he can give, he'll also gladly give you all his time

he'll randomly invite you to go take a drive with him, just get in the car and go, no set destination, just Mammon and you away from his brothers and all the others

when you're alone he'd still be nervous, but cuddling will happen a lot, though he is always blushing a bright red

"If I could choose to have one treasure in my whole life, I'd choose to only treasure you!"

Leviathan:

being the Avatar of Envy, he is quick to loose his temper when you're talking or even dare touch other people, he'd be rather alone with you, but that doesn't always work, so being open and mindful about his sin is a must

"Soo what did you two talk about? Not that I mind...but you can also talk about everything with me, you know that right?"

he knows that his social skills aren't the best and that he doesn't know about to many normie topics, but he'll try his best to listen to you and come up with responses and ways to keep the conversation going

he wants to make sure you know he loves you so badly, but all he knows about love is from animes or games, so he often tries to recreate romantic scenes only to get thoroughly embarrassed

"d-d-don't laugh! This i-i supposed to be ro-romantic...."

he tries to keep you close to him as much as he can when you're outside

he knows how anxiety inducing it can be for him, when someone suddenly touches him, so he always asks you first, as embarrassing it is to ask you to hold hands or kiss, he feels better knowing you want this too

when he is playing his games, he dislikes it when you disappear out of his vision, wanting to make sure you're still there and letting you know he hasn't forgotten about you even though he is currently concentration on his gaming, he'll keep you in his lap with a furious blush on his cheeks and he might see the game over screen more often but it's definitely worth it

"You make me overcome my weaknesses, just give me time and I'll make you happy!

Satan:

"The weather is nice...do you want to take a walk with me?"

Satan enjoys spending his time with you in any way possible, a simple walk, reading sessions, visiting your favourite places, discovering new cafés, exploring galleries and museums, as long as you're around he is open to try anything

lazing around in his room cuddled up next to you with a good book will stays his favourite though, he has you for himself and it feels reassuring to know you stay with him even on the normal and eventless days

Satan isn't too handsy, but he does keep your hand in his wherever the two of you are, even if you only making your way to the kitchen, he is not exactly jealous just happy to call you his and show it

the subtle intimacy of handholding speaks volumes to him, to others it may seem like the most ordinary couple thing, but he likes to experiment and if his stupid idea of only holding 2 fingers makes you laugh then it was a full success to him

no matter how much control over his sin he has sometimes he breaks too, after getting out all his anger, he tends to be exhausted and feels vulnerable, he'll just sit down with your hands intertwined and his head resting on your shoulder, seeking comfort and affection

"Have you smiled yet? I smile every time I think of you!"

Satan will leave small notes to make your day or send you messages on your DDD when he can't be around you

"Did I ever tell you that you feel like home to me? I hope I can be your home as well!"

Asmodeus:

so many praises and compliments, like you can just sit there looking at your phone and Asmo just coos

"You look sooo pretty!~ let's take a picture together to remember this moment!"

he will take a lot of pictures of you and him, just to look at for himself when he misses you, to show off to his brothers and Solomon, or to the whole Devildom through posting it on Devilgram

he simply enjoys to look at you, though it always ends in a warm hug , kisses and praises

he may not be very poetic or thoughtful with his touches, but he always gives it his all, some feelings he just can't describe in words so he just holds you close to show you his feelings

spa days, shopping tours and going into the club happen often, though he understands if you're not up to it some times, but he will whine and demand to spend you day differently with him

he can't help it he wants to spoil you and show you off, he's is almost never jealous, rather proud even when someone flirts with you, that doesn't mean he'll give you away

"Come here, let me just hold you. You fit perfectly into my arms..."

as the Avatar of Lust, physical touch means a lot to him, not only in the sexual way, but most in importantly in the way of craving affection, he wants to be hold and to hold you, give him all your attention and he'll be happy

"Thank you for staying and accepting me!"

Beelzebub:

sleepily walking through the hallways into the kitchen to keep Beel company while he has his midnight snack and just sitting next to him talking about your day

"Thank you for staying awake with me, do you want me to get you food as well?"

with Gluttony as his sin, food is big part of his daily life, but he doesn't just eat to satisfy his hunger, but also because he enjoys the food, no matter how hungry he is, he'll offer you even the last piece to make you happy

sharing new food and old favourites of his alike, Beel likes to share his food with you, as he feels less hungry in your company anyway

seeing you happy and full makes him happy and full as well, so he puts you first most of the times, letting you choose what you want and going along with your preferences

"Anything is fine with me, you can choose for us."

Beel is also very active, playing Fangol, training and etc, he often invites you to train with him or tries to teach you new stuff, if you don't want too that's fine as well, you can watch and he may try to impress you a little bit, but he won't train much when you're around wanting to rather spend time with you

bear hugs. just you walking basically anywhere and Beel suddenly hugs you tight against his chest, nuzzling your face and having a huge grin plastered on his face

his affectionate hugs and kisses come out of nothing, surprising but welcome, some times he forgets his strength and you'll have to remind him, he'll hold you very carefully then asking if this okay

"I feel complete with you, so just stay by my side!"

Belphegor:

"Lay down with me, I nap better with you at my side!"

obviously nap time with lots of cuddling, he just drapes himself over you, holding you close and sharing his warmth with you...if you're lucky you'll even get a small goodnight kiss, but only if he's in the mood

Belphie is a bit too straightforward with his words and sometimes ends up being a bit mean when he doesn't really want to, so in crucial moments with you he tends to become quiet and seek out to hold and hopefully show you his feelings

Belphie isn't handsy but he loves to cuddle, he may not always hold your hand when taking a walk but as soon as you two sit down he'll hug you close without saying a word

when he finds you sleeping somewhere without him, he is a bit hurt at first but he recovers quick, he'll make sure you're resting comfortably, the pillow is soft enough and that the blanket keeps you warm, even going to the length to bring you his own blanket if fell asleep anywhere but you're room, without a doubt he'll feel tired after taking care of you and will fall asleep right next to you

"Sleeping without me...unbelievable...I'll just have to squish myself next to you then.."

his other passion stargazing always ends up with him hugging you and telling you about the different constellations and it's stories until you fall asleep...only when he is sure you're dreaming he dares to run his fingers through you hair and lowly hum a lullaby into the otherwise silent night

"Let's dream our life together and promise to make it true one day!"

Diavolo:

as the prince of Hell, Diavolo only ever knew people who treated him with respect, always leaving him to feel lonely and out of place, but then you came and you weren't scared neither did you treat him like a prince, you made him your friend and soon more

with you he feels finally complete and he tries to show you his appreciation and affection any free moment of his time

he'd buy you anything you want not caring about the price, but please tell him that a small and thoughtful gift makes you just as happy as anything else

being with you always has him giddy and bursting with love, he can't hold back and will shower you in attention or at least watch you do your thing

"You're looking radiant my love! I can't believe you're mine!"

similar to Beel he has these affection attacks where he'll just suddenly have the urge to hug you and shower you in kisses

being prince requires a lot of paper work, which he dislikes, when you're around he'll indulge himself in a few more breaks than he should, ending in him having to work overtime much to his dismay

"Will you stay up waiting for me at home?"

He knows it's a selfish thought, but he loves the feeling of coming home to you and getting greeted, he feels at peace when you're there and wait for him

"I'll never have to feel lonely again, when I have you!"

Barbatos:

as a butler time isn't something he has much of, so he some times feels like he can't give you enough, he'll try to meet as often as possible but often it's only for an hour or so a day

"Do you need anything else? More tea? Anything?"

He'll probably be stuck in his butler role and try to serve, completely disregarding himself, just grab him and make him sit down

Barb isn't used to physical touch and feels less comfortable to hold you in public, handholding is the maximum for him, he probably needs some time to get used to the more affectionate things

but when in private gentle touches, soft hugs and small kisses are his thing, just small reassuring stuff while you two relax and talk about daily life

he is more of a listener and he enjoys listening to your voice, it's one of his comfort things, hearing your voice means you're safe and that helps him keep calm a lot...he may not show it, but on the inside he is always worried for you living in between demons, he's on of them he knows how dangerous it can get

phone calls while he works happen more and more often as your relationship progresses, the need to see you gets stronger, but he can't just leave work, so you'll talk over the phone

"I missed you so I had to call. How is your day?"

night-time is his favourite, no work, no on watchers, just you two and your love for each other, if only it could be always like this

"One minute with you feels like eternal bliss, imagine our happiness if you'd stay with me forever!"

Solomon:

Solomon has watched many people die in his life, so he got used to not getting attached too much, falling in love with you wasn't planned, but he can't help feeling clingy with you now

he'd play it down, aloof as he always seems, but on the inside he is screaming at you to not go at the end of the day, just one more hug, one more kiss, maybe stay over the night?

he'd never say it out loud and every time he does say something affectionate something teasing or a 'just kidding' follows, scared he might seem too clingy

"You're my everything, without you I feel like I'm suffocating...just a joke I'm breathing fine, see?"

he's always touching you in some way, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, his hand on your waist, back or knee, whatever he just wants to feel the warmth of your skin telling him you're still there

he has lived through so many human lifetimes and experienced so much, he's happy to share all the good stuff with you and show you the most wondersome places in all three realms

the bad stuff though he keeps to himself, guides you away and hopes you'll never experience it

"Hey! Surprise I was close by and I thought we could take a walk?"

Solomon loves spending his time with you in whatever way, just whisk him away to whatever activity you'd like, surprise dates are his favourite, he doesn't want to plan out his whole life

"Now is my favourite moment with you. Why? Because I'm with you!"

Simeon:

Simeon as an author has his way with words, being able to spin them just right so every moment will become perfect, but he's more used to writing than talking and he'll use that to his advantage

"Even in the darkest of nights, your beauty lightens the room!"

expect love letter, sweet notes and poems written by him, hidden your schoolwork, waiting for you on your desk in RAD, on your pillow at HoL, anywhere he can sneak them to he will

and trust me he'll get so happy when he finds out you kept every single one of his writings

he also loves cuddles but only in private, in public he'll restrain himself to simple handholding or guiding you through the streets with your arms linked together

he enjoys to spoil you with attention, doing whatever you want, often it leads to cooking where as Luke likes to join in too, long walks, reading sessions, late night movies and cuddles, or even just long conversations about everything and anything you two can think of

"My lamb, may you come over and help a poor author who has lost his inspiration to write?"

when he is stuck with his writings he likes to take a break with you and hold you tight in his arms listening to your suggestions until he feels inspired again, no pressure though he can keep writing any time he doesn't have to come up with something on the spot, just distracting him for a bit works too

"I may have found paradise in your arms tonight, do you think your heart may be so kind to let me stay?"

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[relaxxattack]

hi im asking u this bc u seem to be bee duo enthusiast so

ive been calling c! beeduos relationship platonic because i thought that was what their cc’s said, and i thought they had said that they were uncomfortable with ppl shipping the characters. But ive seen a lot of posts that say their relationship is canonically romantic? and i absolutely do not want to come across as homophobic by watering down a mlm relationship to just friends because that happens so much in media so.

what is the canon state of their relationship / ur opinions on the platonic thibg

dont worry abt answering if u dont want to!! i see a lot of differing opinions and i trust yours :)

aw it’s totally fine, im flattered you asked me about this!

let me put it simply: it’s a whole mess, lol.

first im going to talk about what’s happened fandom-wide that caused differing opinions, and then i’ll explain my own opinion/interpretation. :]

(this got really fucking long im so sorry)

ranboo and tubbo initially proclaimed the relationship was romantic, specifically in argument with the wiki editors who had set it as platonic by default. (you can see this in the vod where they decide they’re canonically married— it’s very funny. chat tells them the marriage is already on the wiki, they check, tubbo is jokingly offended that it says platonic and asks if he needs to up the romance).

tubbo also makes jokes about adultry, which sort of implies the relationship is not necessarily a platonic one.

(theres definetly more in that stream alone but it’s been a long time since i watched it so i don’t remember a lot of it.)

the wiki, because of this, suffers from going back and forth on platonic and romantic, seemingly unsure where the joke ends and the canon begins, or if its canonically a joke! a mess, as you can already tell.

this gets more complicated as the marriage bit goes on: outsiders, such as phil and scott, both at one point say “platonic marriage”, which then ranboo and tubbo agree with. however, when chat asks them if they’re platonic, they say the opposite. so there is a lot of confusion there.

there’s also the difficulty of being able to tell streamers and characters apart. ranboo and tubbo both don’t like being shipped irl, and that’s their boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. (they’re also minors, but tbh when they’re 18 in a year i will still be following their boundaries regardless of their legal age).

due to people not wanting to be accused of minor shipping, they started adding the platonic tone indicator to most of their drawings— basically a way of saying “no homo”. meanwhile, tubbo frequently on stream flirts with ranboo and makes quite a bit of nsfw comments towards him that are frankly hilarious.

this goes on for a while with nobody really sure what’s canon, but a lot of people assuming it’s probably platonic, until: the drama of the mods night. a few mods dmed all the wiki editors telling them ranboo wanted his canon character relationship officially set to platonic.

unfortunately for those mods; the very same day, a few hours later, ranboo on stream makes fun of puffy delivering him and tubbo “friendship flowers”. because, and i quote, “bruh. we’re literally married. this must be how the ancient greeks felt.”

in case you don’t know, the internet often jokes about how historians will call ancient greeks ‘very good friends’ when they are quite obviously gay. so in this context, ranboo is joking that people will call him and c!tubbo, who are married, “close friends”, when he doesn’t think they are.

basically, ranboo canonized romantic bee duo, the very same day the mods told everyone he’d wanted a platonic one.

chaos and drama immediately erupted everywhere. on tumblr, we were talking about how weird it was of his mods to do something like that without asking him first. we ALSO talked about how weird it was of them to assume that ranboo can’t make his own decisions, or assume teenagers cannot be in relationships without it being sexual. twitter did the same thing but in the opposite direction: called ranboo mods homophobic, or said they were mad ranboo felt pressured into making a romantic relationship canon ‘just so people could have mlm rep.’

i dont want to go into detail about the drama that happened that night because apparently official people follow me and i dont want to stir it up or have them come “clarify” things. im just saying what we talked about.

ranboo in typical ranboo fashion apologized quickly and seriously. he was deeply sorry for possibly offending anyone with how he’d portrayed his rp relationship with tubbo, and he also assured everyone the mod thing was just a miscommunication.

he said he would talk to tubbo and they’d decide once and for all whether it was platonic or romantic, and then announce so everyone would know.

it’s now been a few months and we've had no word from them on that development. we still have no clue.

-

now, here’s my opinion:

i want to take ranboos word for it that it was a miscommunication with his mods, but... we had it on good authority from people on the wiki team and people in the discord with the mods that (while it was happening) they were really going after the wiki admins, and also made some weird comments about it. that combined with the way ranboo seemingly had no clue (considering he canonized their romance that very same day).... it’s very. sus of the mods.

then there’s the canon we’ve got since then. although occasionally adults in the room have called it a “platonic marriage” and tubbo once (back when it first started) called it a “plankton tectonic” marriage, in roleplay it’s been... kind of not that. tubbo and ranboo make nsfw jokes about each other in character, and their characters also share a master bedroom and bed in the mansion. there's also the way c!tommy really thinks it’s a romance between them as well, and they agree with and play off that— for instance confirming that they “fell in love” when he asked, or ranboo confirming that they “make out on occasion”.

people will still put platonic on their art and posts, imo, because they’re worried about breaking ranboo and tubbo’s irl boundaries by looking like they ship them. or even just being accused of shipping real life minors. and that’s a valid fear to have.

the thing is though: c!bee duo are not cc!bee duo. they’re roleplay characters. cc!bee duo are not okay with being shipped, but they made their characters get canonically married, and call each other “husbands”. so it’s okay to write the word “husband” in your comic without adding “platonic” to it, i promise.

telling the ccs that their characters have to be platonic is... weird. it comes off as not only babying them, but also as saying teens can’t date without it being gross. which isn’t true.

(this is why seeing people overuse “platonic husband” so much bothers me. like, they ARE husbands. you can just say it. what are you trying to hide...?)

-

do i think they’re canonically romantic? ehh, its likely. it’s still okay to interpret them as platonic, because again, it’s hard to tell where jokes end and roleplay begins. like, maybe it’s jokes in the rp too, and c!bee duo are just friends. friends can and should be allowed to make jokes like that with each other! aro & ace marriages exist!

or, maybe it’s actually part of the rp, and they’re very much romantic. we don’t know!

some people say they could be a qpr (queerplatonic romance), which i could see. (a qpr is a relationship that fluctuates between, or can’t quite be sorted into, “romantic” and “platonic”. people in a qpr can do romantic things while having platonic feelings for each other). in my opinion this is a very valid interpretation as well!

-

CONCLUSION (sorry this got so long omfg):

are c!bee duo romantic?

its likely, but you can still interpret them however you like!

should i put /p on bee duo content?

ehhh? i find it annoying when it’s overused (as do others), but if you’re worried you can. its up to preference. putting it too much is weird though

should i put /p on things cc! bee duo do?

no. you’re not the one saying it so you can’t decide the tone tags for that. imagine you said something to your friend and a random stranger came up and was like “haha but that was /p right...?”

can i ship c!bee duo?

mmm. i’m not sure on this one. they are canonically married and very flirtatious, but the ccs don’t like being shipped and they’re close enough to being the ccs that actively shipping might be against boundaries.

can i treat c!bee duo as romantic?

yes. literally just don’t be weird about it. it’s not that hard! you can understand that two characters are husbands without making it weird

here’s the most important thing: boundaries. cc bee duo still haven’t told us what their preferences and canon is about this whole thing.

right now, i am assuming based on what they already show us they’re comfortable with, but! the second they give us any more info! all these opinions will change!

i am only going off what they do. i would never want to cross boundaries at all. i just wish they would make theirs a little more clear.

..... i hope that helped anon, i went way off the rails... i need to go to sleep.

[moonknightly]

now all you see is red : santiago garcia x reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

Excerpt: “There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.”

Warnings: Smut (18+), choking, spanking, light bondage, dom/sub dynamic, light degradation/humiliation, rough sex, angry sex, dirty talk

Santiago is familiar with anger.

He knows it well, he’s used to the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, the smoke he can never fully push from his lungs, the way flames lick at his fingertips as his blood boils in his veins. He’s used to the sharp bite and unrelenting sting, he knows the exact sound his fist is going to make when it meets drywall, can hear each bone crack on impact and can feel the sensation of his knuckles splitting open, can visualize the black and blue bruises that will mark his skin for weeks to come.

They might as well be permanent, he never feels like himself without those damn bruises anymore. They’ve become an integral part of him, just like the scar on the back of his neck and the weight he carries on his shoulders day in and day out.

Just like his anger.

He needs it, he doesn’t remember how to get through without it. Anger isn’t a stranger to the ex soldier, but a lover.

It’s a dance so intimate, one he’s performed thousands and thousands of times before. It keeps him grounded, reminds him that he’s real, that he’s here. He’s alive and he’s breathing, he’s not lying at the bottom of a ditch in a foreign country with a bullet in his side, rotting. He made it out, he’s earned his temper.

He’s in control. He has the power, and nothing is going to hurt him again. He won’t let it.

Except, that’s not entirely true.

There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.

And you have, you so have. You’ve fucking wrecked him, but he refuses to let you see it, he doesn’t even fully understand it himself. In all of the years you’ve known each other, Santi’s been able to keep that little secret to himself, and he’s not about to give it up now, he doesn’t need that shit.

What he needs is the control back in the palm of his hand after losing it for the last week. He needs to feel some sense of power after spending seven days in unfamiliar territory, feeling utterly torn apart by grief and worry.

They’d lost contact with you on your last assignment, and an entire week had gone by without so much as a word until you suddenly showed up at base, seemingly fine. Santi hadn’t been able to find even a scratch on your perfect skin, and he’d checked several times just to be sure. You’re fine.

But Santi isn’t. Fuck, he is so fucking far from fine, he feels like he’s going to be sick. His initial relief is fading fast, threatening to turn into something that he has no desire to feel, something he doesn’t know how to handle. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t need it.

He needs his control, his power. He needs familiarity.

So he latches onto the subtlest spark of anger the moment it strikes. He takes it and he fucking runs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

His voice is eerily calm, almost chilling and it doesn’t waiver for even a second. It’s collected while the rest of him isn’t, but it’s enough to get him through. It’ll do.

“What do you mean?”

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, unlacing your boots, desperate to get out of them and into something comfortable. Santi keeps his eyes glued to you, tracking your every movement with expert precision that he’s spent his entire life mastering.

“A week. You went a fucking week without report.”

You seem almost annoyed, and really, you are — you’d spent the last hour getting the same lecture from your boss, you don’t need it from your boyfriend too even though it’s inevitable, so you shrug in response, and Santiago feels another white hot flash.

It’s perfect. He’ll take it.

“It would’ve compromised the mission, he was onto me. I’m fine.”

You’re fine. He laughs bitterly at that.

“I’m glad you’re fine, princesa,” he hums, not thinking about how he enunciates his words as he stalks towards you, painstakingly slow, brown eyes never straying from his target.

He’s quick, his reflexes sharp, and he has your chin between his fingers before you even register his hand moving.

“But that’s not a fucking excuse. You know your safety comes before anything else and we had no way to help you.”

“But I was safe.”

“But how were we supposed to know that, huh?” He shakes your head in his grip, like it’s enough to get you to see his way. “You could’ve been dead for all we knew. Do you have any idea what-”

He stops himself. That unfamiliar emotion is bubbling in the pit of his stomach again, and he pushes it away, down, down, down where it can’t touch him, can’t hurt him.

He needs another spark.

But now, he’s struggling to find it, and it’s clear. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him wrestle with himself and hesitate, and he panics when your lips part because he knows you’re getting ready to ask him if he’s okay and he doesn’t fucking want you to. He doesn’t want to answer you.

So he just growls again, his hand moving to the back of your neck where he pushes your head forward until your lips meet his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s all teeth and desperation and frustration and just like your annoyance, it’s perfect. Santi clings to that frustration to fuel his anger again, and he’s satisfied when it works and he feels the familiar tendrils of rage wrap themselves around his body. His free hand moves to your shirt, and he uses his grip to haul you to your feet only to shove you towards the dresser. You catch yourself, knocking a few things off in the process but you don’t care. You love it when he gets like this.

“Santi-”

“No.” He’s behind you again, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back so your neck is perfectly exposed to him, breath hot against your skin. “Don’t you dare say a fuckin’ word, understand?”

You nod obediently — you’ve always taken orders as well as he gives him.

“Good girl.”

He nips at your neck once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth in, biting down, marking you and he smirks when he feels your knees buckle just slightly. You’re struggling to hold yourself up already and he’s hardly touched you.

His hand travels around to the front of your neck and he wraps his fingers around your throat, not applying any pressure, simply just holding them there. He feels your pulse thrum under his fingertips and he counts along for a moment, smirking at just how quick your heart is beating.

“Nervous baby?”

You hesitate, and he feels you gulp, feels the way you shift just slightly under his touch.

“No.”

He tsks, sighing in your ear almost disapprovingly. He lets his grip tighten around your throat, and he revels in the sound of you trying to pull in air before he cuts you off completely.

“Maybe you should be.”

His free hand slams between your shoulder blades and you’re suddenly flat against the dresser, the force of it knocking what little air you had left in your lungs out. He gives you a second, just a second to use your safeword or to tell him to go a little easy, but you don’t.

He knows you’ll tell him if he needs to take it down a notch.

There’s nothing slow or patient about Santiago’s touch. It’s urgent, each movement made with purpose, never lingering, he doesn’t have time for that. He just wants to feel you, just wants to feel that anger and the pleasure and nothing else.

He pulls your jeans down your thighs, not bothering to get them all the way off or worry about your shirt. His eyes are immediately on your ass, and he growls when he sees that you’re wearing his favorite color — red. He loves you in red.

Not enough to save the panties for another day though. He rips them clean off your body, the stretching, tearing sound of fabric making him groan alongside your gasp.

“Open your mouth.”

You don’t hear him the first time, too absorbed in the feeling running through you. He smacks your ass, hard, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. The moan that leaves your lips might just be the most sinful sound Santi has ever heard.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

This time, you hear him, and you obey just like he knew you would, opening your mouth for him to stuff your panties into.

“Fuck I can smell you on them from here princesa.”

He loves it. He loves it so fucking much. He smacks your ass a second time, feeling it turn hot under his touch, then he does it again and again and again until he’s satisfied with the way you flinch, until you’re laying limp against the dresser with tears running down your cheeks.

“Color?”

Like he said before, your safety means more to him than anything else, and through his anger he still always checks in to make sure you’re okay to continue. He never wants it to get to a point where he actually hurts you, even though he knows what your body can take, even though he knows you’d let him, you’d even ask him to.

You can’t speak with your panties in your mouth, but one finger means green, two means yellow, and three means red. You hold up one, and he lands one final blow just to see if your answer changes. You still only hold up one.

“Good girl.”

He grabs your wrists and drags you back towards the mattress, and you immediately fall face down ass up just how you know he likes, but now he hesitates.

His knees are bothering him today, more so than usual, and he doesn’t know if he can kneel behind you long enough to fuck you how he wants to.

That only makes him angrier, feeling like he can’t perform. Feeling like he’s not good enough, like he’s failing in a field where he’s always personally felt like he’s excelled.

All he sees is red and you and it’s the exact distraction he’s been looking for, the perfect combination. His blood burns, his fingers burn, his mind is fucking screaming your name and nothing else. There’s nothing but you and the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s intoxicating, it’s everything, it’s familiar.

“No, no no,” he laughs, shaking his head as he undoes his belt, hastily pulling it through the loops of his jeans. “On your side, hands behind your back.”

He’s on you the second you're in position, tightening his belt around your wrists so you can’t move them, can’t touch him. He chuckles darkly when your fingers wiggle around in search of something to hold onto.

“Poor baby,” he hums, voice completely condescending and he loves the way your eyes roll at the tone of his voice. He loves that you get off on this just as much as he does, he loves that you dance with his temper, that you know it almost as well.

He’s so fucking hard. He can’t wait any longer.

He doesn’t check with his fingers to make sure you’re wet enough to take him, he knows you are. He can smell you, he can see your juices glisten when he hoists your leg up to reveal your pussy to him. You’re always so wet, always so ready for him.

And he’s more than ready for you, stroking himself in the palm of his hand while he looks you over with hungry, dark eyes. His hand is nothing compared to the warmth and pleasure he knows you’ll bring him, there’s not a damn thing in this world that can make him come as hard as you.

He lays behind you, continuing to pump his length as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, nudging at your clit and smearing his precome all around. He can feel you clench, can feel you try to pull him in as you start rocking your hips against him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re acting like a fuckin’ whore for my cock babygirl. You need it, huh? You need me?”

You immediately start trying to beg through your makeshift gag and normally, that would only earn you more teasing but just like you, he can’t take it. He needs you just as much, if not more.

His nails dig into your left hip as he pushes himself against your entrance, leaving little crescent shaped indents in your skin, his grip so tight you both know it’ll bruise but it’s more than fine, it’s so good. He stops, wanting to drag it out for just a moment longer and your begging only continues, growing louder and louder until Santiago finally gives in.

All it takes is one sharp thrust and he’s so deep inside of you, spreading you open on his cock, tearing your walls apart to make room for his length, your bodies flush against each other. His free arm is wrapped underneath your body, his hand finding your neck again as he quickly sets his pace, not giving you more than a single second to even attempt to adjust to him.

It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s dirty and your cunt is squelching around him so deliciously, the sound only pushing him further — he doesn’t know if he wants to slow down so he can listen to it properly or if he wants to go faster.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your ear, his voice gravely and rough and he thrills in the way it makes you shiver. “Fuck you’re so tight, you’re squeezing my fucking dick baby. How’re you this tight?”

You only let out a moan that’s somewhere between a sob and a scream, and that sound alone is so entirely hot in itself, it’s enough to make his toes curl. He wants to pull that noise from you again and again and again, he wants you shaking and gasping and writhing. He starts using your hips for more leverage, knowing that he can get you to cry and whine for him this way.

You squirm and jolt each time he brings you back onto his cock, every time he hits that spot you didn’t believe existed until he fucked you for the first time and he wants to explode as he watches you struggle to take it.

He knows you’ll hold up your fingers if you need him to stop, but he still pulls your panties out of your mouth just so he can hear it, just so can listen for your words. You never say them, you only scream and cry and moan about how good it feels, how he’s pounding your pussy better than anyone ever has and how you never want him to stop.

“Yeah baby?” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe, tugging on it as he thrusts harder and harder. “This my pussy princesa? Tell me.”

“It’s yours,” you sob, clenching around him over and over. “God Santi, it’s yours, I’m yours.”

“That’s fuckin’ right baby, that’s it.”

He tightens his grip around your neck, his left hand moving from your hip to your clit, fingers matching the pace of his thrusts. He’s rubbing you so hard, he’s almost surprised when you angle yourself closer, but that’s his girl. That’s his fucking girl.

Santi can tell you’re close when your sounds grow higher in pitch and when he no longer needs to drag you back into his thrusts — you’re doing all the work for him, moving on your own accord, searching for that last little push you need to get over the edge and he lets you.

He lets you control the pace, lets you take what you need and that’s when that unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling enters his stomach again. He tries to ignore it, tries to push it away, tries to tap back into the anger but once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Now he’s just frustrated, but he doesn’t let himself get distracted, not when you’re on his cock, bringing yourself closer and closer to an orgasm he doesn’t want to miss a second of.

He rolls onto his back suddenly, catching you off guard but he steadies you on top of him and uses your bound wrists to continue rocking you on his length while you get adjusted again. He brings his free hand back to your clit, just like before and it’s not long before you’re right on the brink of coming again. Santi’s right there with you, watching you roll your hips and bounce on his cock, impaling yourself on him again and again. You’re so full of him, he only wants to fill you more.

He thinks he might actually let go first, but then you’re falling apart on top of him in a matter of seconds, sobbing his name so loudly while your thighs quiver and your body trembles. That’s what finally does it for him, and he comes inside of you with a deep groan that echoes in his chest, his back arching completely off the bed in an attempt to get even closer to you. He quickly grabs your hips again so he can continue to piston himself up into you, watching your combined release leak out of your pussy and coat his cock in glistening white. He only moans, quieter this time, and fucks it back into you, his pace slowing as his cock twitches over and over and quickly becomes oversensitive.

He doesn’t forget to undo your hands before he pulls you back onto his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face into your neck. He’s working hard to catch his breath, and he hopes that that’s all you think he’s doing when really, he’s having to put twice as much effort into not falling apart.

His chest is heaving with emotion, his eyes are filling with tears that he refuses to let spill over. His anger is completely gone and only this remains. He doesn’t know how to control it, doesn’t know what to do with it and he hates it. He hates it so much.

And you notice, of course you fucking notice. He’s slow to launch into aftercare and it’s obvious that he’s distracted through it, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Santi, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t fucking call.”

His voice waivers and cracks and his cheeks immediately turn red, though he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or this feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“What if something happened to you? You didn’t call.”

“Santi,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, and he’s frustrated all over again. Usually he’s so good at reading you, he knows you like the back of his hand, but again he’s unsure about the emotion. He doesn’t know if you’re exasperated or if you’re concerned. He doesn’t wait to find out.

“You have any idea what was going through my head,” he bites, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

He doesn’t see the expression on your face, doesn’t see how his words hit you right in the chest and shatter your heart. He misses the way you swallow the lump in your throat and he doesn’t see your hands start to shake, but he feels them when they cup his cheeks. His shoulders slump at the contact, and then Santi just breaks.

“You didn’t fucking call, why didn’t you fucking call?”

He chokes on a sob, coughing to try and rid himself of it but it doesn’t work. He hides his face into his hands, shoulders shaking as he softly cries and he’s just happy that he’s able to keep himself quiet.

“Oh sweet boy, come here.”

Santi let’s you pull him into your arms, he lets you comfort him in a way he didn’t know he needed, in a way he never even imagined wanting.

And he lets himself feel all of that unwanted emotion, because he needs to get it the fuck out. He doesn’t want to hold onto it like he does with his anger, he doesn’t want it dancing in his veins. He never, ever wants to feel this way again.

Santiago is familiar with anger.

But he’s completely unfamiliar with the fear of losing you. He’s not used to the nausea or the way his hands shake with panic, the way his chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. He’s not used to any of it, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.

But at some point in the middle of the night, he looks up and he sees you, still holding him, still comforting him, and it suddenly hits. Suddenly, he understands.

It’s you.

This is how you’ve ruined him.

You’ve made him feel things he’s been pushing away for so long, things he’s tried so desperately to keep under lock and key where it can never hurt him.

You’ve stripped him of his control, his power. You’ve taken away his anger and you’ve replaced the throbbing bruises on his knuckles, the smoke in his lungs and the blood that paints his vision.

He doesn’t see red, he only sees you.

Santiago is familiar with you.