#so don't give up if yours isn't picked right away

[lessi-lover]

before we broke (1) II p.bueckers x reader

you thought that everything with paige had been left behind, you never wanted to open that chapter of your life again. turns out life has other plans for you.

before we broke II p.bueckers x reader 5.4k

"you've been avoiding this conversation long enough, darling." you sigh at the sharpness of your mum's voice as she tries to push you into talking. "i'm your mother. i can read you better than you think." she teases, thanking the waiter as she offers her a glass of water.

"mum it's nothing. it's just-." you stop yourself again because the truth sounds more like an excuse than you were thinking it would. your mum gives you a look, one that says there's no backing away from this as much as you try to close it down.

"it's just not as simple as you think it is." you don't look up from your coffee, absently tapping the mug with your fingers. you hear her sigh absently at your words, her hand wrapping around your wrist. "nothing ever is." she replies gently, her voice comforting but you know her well enough to know she's trying to coax you into making a decision. "but you can't keep pretending like it's not there."

you bite your lip, fighting the urge to spill everything, the weight you were carrying pressing against your chest. it's hard to say it aloud, even harder when you know your mum will see through every word, because she knows you.

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mutter under your breath, barely loud enough for her to hear. but somehow she does. "darling, you couldn't disappoint me if you tried," she says, her hand falling to gently clasp with yours. "i just want to help you, but you have to let me in first."

"i know you're not excited but you should be, darling." your mum says, like she’s expecting you to open up and tell her everything your feeling. she leans across the table, picking up the brochure for your new college. "uconn, honey. it’s a huge opportunity for you. you'll be surrounded by people just as passionate as you, and you’ll be closer to some of the best professors in the country."

"i know, mum." you've heard all this before, the list of reasons why a transfer would be the best option for you right now, but none of it could make it any easier to leave and go to the place that makes your insides crumble.

"it's far from home. but you're going to take care of yourself and not burn yourself out like last time. right, honey?" you chuckle at the concern in your mum's voice that never failed to make you laugh at how the woman could be so overbearing over her last child.

"you're telling me this isn't what you wanted? we talked about this months ago, if your college didn't offer the practical we would set up a transfer for you, honey."

you don’t want to admit that there’s something more to this than just the transfer. it’s not about the college or the course It’s the fact that uconn is still uconn and it’s been five years. five years since you told yourself you were done with it.

you could maybe just convince yourself that there was still slimmest chance of you not making contact with the blonde at all, perhaps you would run your luck round and she would be too busy being the face of women's basketball to wander around the campus.

but you knew eventually the two of you would run into each other and the dread of seeing her face again made your stomach drop more than you'd care to admit. you didn't want to speak to her after so many years apart, the fact that you two had lost each other was for the better and a testament to how hard you'd tried to cut her out of your life.

"mum i really don't want to talk about it." she leans in a little closer to you, the corners of her mouth lifting. ��oh, come on. you’re acting like this transfer is a bigger deal than it is. something’s got you all wound up. is it the move? or is it…”

she trails off, and you know exactly where she’s going with this. your stomach tightens and you press your lips together, fighting the urge to snap. “mum, please don’t.”

her voice softens, but there's still an edge and she knows exactly how to crack your resolve. “is it paige? sweetheart, i haven’t heard you mention her in years. you used to be inseparable and then things just changed between you.”

you feel the sting of her name in the air, the same one you’ve cried over time and time again. your breath hitches and for a split second your walls seem to falter. but you quickly paint them back into place, determined not to let your mum see how much her name still hurts you.

“mum, please.” you say it more firmly this time, voice low but cutting through away any space left for your mum to keep asking questions you couldn't answer. “i said i don’t want to talk about it. i need to make this choice on my own.”

~

"tiny?"

you heard a familiar voice behind you, your heart skipping a beat because you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. you slowly spun around and there she was. azzi, standing there with a surprised look, the same toothy smile she had all those years ago back in minnesota.

"didn't expect to see me?" she teased, the familiar pull of arms bringing you in, and for a moment, everything felt too familiar, like you'd never left behind the people you once knew like the back of your hand. the force of her hold knocked the air out of your lungs, the girl had clearly grown since the last time you saw her.

“you��re... you’ve changed,” you smiled, a small attempt at pretending you weren’t caught off guard by how different she was, how much everything had changed since the last time you'd seen each other.

she smiled, a flicker of sadness in her eyes as she looked you up and down. "guess so," she said lightly, her voice carrying a tone that told you she wasn't the only one that was hurt from the aftermath of everything. "it’s been a while, huh?"

"you really kept up with your studies didn't you?" azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly referencing to how as a teenager you were the most avid studier and had been insanely gifted in school. "i’m living on campus now, i got signed after i finished my contract at st johns."

"wow, seriously az?" you blinked in surprise at the brunette, trying to mask your shock because you knew a part of you felt guilty for not reaching out to azzi over the years. you hadn’t known. you hadn’t even thought to check in with azzi about where her career had gone, but you were grateful she wasn't as bitter about it as you thought she might.

"yeah, didn’t think i’d ever be here either." she admitted, her body shifting slightly in its place as if she was thinking about something you couldn’t quite decipher. "but life’s funny that way." you nodded back at azzi, thinking about how you also never planned to move so far from home. "yeah, it sure is."

you didn’t want to admit there was more to it. you didn’t want to admit that there was a part of you that had missed azzi, missed the simplicity of what was supposed to be a lifelong friendship, before everything had become complicated. but that part of you was buried deep. it had to be. after everything you couldn’t afford to let it come to the surface.

you told yourself there was no chance of crossing your old path, that the odds were slim. after all, azzi had her life, her career to focus on. basketball was her world, and you were just a road of her path. maybe if you stayed in your lane, kept to yourself bar azzi, there’d be no reason to run into her. no reason to confront the past.

but no matter how much you tried to avoid it, you and azzi both knew the truth. you and the blonde would cross paths eventually. and when it happened, you had no idea how you’d react, but you knew it would hurt. the dread of seeing her again, of having to speak to her after what she did, had settled deep in you, and no matter how hard you tried to push it away, it stayed.

“wait, so why are you here at uconn? i thought you were still back in minnesota?” she said, her voice tinged with confusion that you had been expecting. “what happened?”

you sighed, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “the practical part of my degree wasn’t available back home.” you explained, glancing up at her. “so, i had to transfer to finish it here.” “your degree?” azzi asked, her eyes shifting to the couple books under your arm. “what are you studying, then?”

“i'm doing a major in sociology,” you said, shrugging. “it’s all about understanding societies, human behaviours, and social issues. but it’s just a lot of research and case studies. especially in the final year so i've been told.”

azzi nodded slowly, looking impressed. "sounds pretty intense. i’m doing communications, so it’s a lot of writing and media stuff. i can’t even imagine doing any of that data and theory work."

you chuckled, relieved that the conversation was light. "yeah, it's tough sometimes. trying to make sense and apply it to real-life situations." you frowned as she laughed and rolled her eyes. "that along with basketball i couldn't handle."

"you should come over," azzi suggested as she turned towards the student building. "we can study, grab some food, just hang out. it’ll be fun." you hesitated as she looked at you, the thought of spending time with her again made your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. "yeah, maybe," you muttered, trying to keep the edge from your voice. "but... i don’t know. i have a lot of stuff to catch up on."

"come on!" azzi pressed, nudging you gently. "we’ll get through the work together. it'll be fine." you knew it was pointless to argue with the girl, and the way she looked at you with the same expression from when she was your best friend, made it harder to say no. "alright, fine. i’ll come by i need to head over there anyway."

azzi had been your best friend for longer than you could remember. it was her with the chunky shoes and bright blue backpack that had taken you under her wing on the first day of school. she always claimed your worried nature had drawn her to you in the first place, it's hard to believe somebody as uptight and focused as you were could be such good friends with such a carefree and friendly person like azzi.

but it worked. azzi had introduced you to all her friends and before you knew you were telling your parents you would be home by 5 for dinner because the lot of you were going to play at your local courts. her friends never minded azzi bringing you, in fact many of them were disappointed whenever azzi would leave you behind because you had homework to do.

the brunette had been your ride or die. so it hurt to lose such an important person in your life. the first few months you had to stop yourself from making contact because you knew it would just make things worse. but you guessed that all roads lead back to each other and well you and azzi luckily had as well.

everything would be fine. nothing would go wrong.

until you walked through the door.

your stomach dropped as finally azzi opened her dorm and you walked inside, a tall blonde leaning on her kitchen counter thankfully in conversation with another girl you didn't recognise.

it gave you a moment to finally take her in.

gone was the heap of blonde hair who used to sit on your bedroom floor whilst you'd untangle it for hours and pretend to massage your fingers after throwing basketballs at your head, who'd laugh with you until you couldn't breathe.

in front of you was still paige though. your paige.

you knew that paige had always been fond of fashion when you were growing up, she'd clearly stuck with this fondness as you looked over her. you'd been the person she would sit up in bed with and talk to for hours about everything and anything.

gone was the tall, willowy teenager that she once was; now she stood taller, her muscles defined even through the thick fabric of her jumper. her arms were more defined, probably credited to the hours you guessed she spent training.

you couldn't help but let your eyes roam over her form as she leant against the counter. there was a new edge to her, her smile although still familiar to you, it lacked the feelings it once brought you.

paige had always been physically stronger than you. she could easily overpower you during your childhood pinning you to the floor with a grin that always told her intentions. you were forever teased by her for your slightly less builted frame, the blonde had won quite the count of 'fights' that she never failed to remind you off.

she had bettered you in strength for all of your life, you never minded though because playing as many sports as paige did was never really quite your thing. you had always preferred to lie on her bed, waiting for her practice to end before she would come home to you again.

of course, over the years, you’d both had your moments. growing up together, it was only natural that you shared quite a few. but the biggest moment of all was realising that your feelings for each other weren’t the kind you had for just any best friend. it was different, ike the way your friends talked about liking boys, except it wasn’t boys. it was paige.

those feelings, as confusing as they were at first, slowly turned into something deeper. without warning, the two of you had become each other's first everything; the first kiss, the first time you truly understood what it meant to have a special someone. but that was a secret, one you shared only between the two of you, one that never seemed to get out because it lived in every moment instead.

you and paige had never let it out to either of your families. you weren't afraid. just comfortable. to comfortable in the feelings of just being each others person, nobody needed to share that with you because it was yours for the keeping.

swallowing the feelings that washed over you, you screamed at your body to move, urging them to move further into azzi's apartment instead of the frozen position you were currently stuck in. a sharp inhale from the blonde forced you to close the distance between the two of you.

azzi's eyes flickered to you, her gaze lingering on you as if she was weighing the situation, wondering who would speak first. she clearly hadn’t expected paige to be here, and paige well, paige clearly hadn’t expected you to walk in either.

the girl paige had been talking to clearly noticed the tension and decided to leave, quickly packing up her things before heading to the door with a confused glace to the brunette beside you.

paige’s eyes met yours and for a split second, time seemed to pause. the years apart washed away. all the things left unsaid and said hung between you and yet, neither of you tried to move. it was as if the weight of everything came crashing down and neither of you knew how to escape it's claws.

paige snuck a glance at you, stopping herself from gasping as her breath got caught in her throat. much like herself, you had also changed over the years apart.

gone was the shorter, smiling kid that she used to force to practice 3's in the garden and was always tucked into a new book, instead replaced by a confident, composed woman. but you looked at her like there was no history between you, paige felt her heart pang as you looked at her so blankly.

paige moved towards you with a smile, but azzi quickly cut her off by bringing her into a hug. you watched as the brunette whispered something in the blonde's ear that she nodded at in response. "hey." you waved softly and paige could feel herself almost cry at how much she had missed your voice.

"hi." the basketballer responded, her tone wary but she maintained a somewhat confident smile, the two of you staring at each other for a moment before you both pulled your eyes away. you both hesitated to what would be the most appropriate greeting, the two of you stumbling towards each other before azzi stepped in.

paige glanced at azzi, leaving just enough space for you to face each other fully. you shifted on your feet, your hands fidgeting by your sides, while paige seemed rooted to the spot, her blue eyes darting across your face like she was trying to memorise every detail.

"so," paige began, her voice cracking slightly as she cleared her throat. "i didn’t expect .. this." she gestured vaguely between the two of you, her nervous energy palpable as she played with the strings of her jumper. "yeah, me neither," you admitted, your lips twitching in what was supposed to be a smile but felt more like a grimace.

it was azzi who finally broke the silence again, stepping back into the conversation with a casual air that felt just a bit forced. "well, it’s been a long day, and i’m starving. how about we eat before the awkwardness actually suffocates us all?"

you chuckled softly at her attempt to lighten the mood, but your smile didn't reach your eyes, they flickered back to paige, who gave you a small smile that didn’t mask how clouded her head was. "good idea," you replied, latching onto azzi’s suggestion like it was a lifeline.

"let me guess, azzi dragged you in here kicking and screaming?" paige teased lightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed but her eyes still as sharp as ever. "something like that," you replied with a small laugh, glancing over at azzi, who grinned knowingly. "she can be very persuasive when she wants to be."

"so," azzi interjected, leaning back in her chair with an almost smug look, her drink resting loosely in her hand, "this is... cosy." you shot her a warning look, but azzi’s grin only widened as she raised her eyebrows at paige. "you two catching up on old times, huh?"

paige shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable but trying to play it off with a tight-lipped smile. "something like that." she mumbled as she looked down at the floor. "yeah, definitely a lot to catch up on," you muttered under your breath, your fingers nervously tracing the rim of the drink azzi had offered you.

"oh, i’m sure," azzi teased, her tone innocent but her knowing smirk doing nothing to hide the fact she was thoroughly enjoying this. "must be nice to finally see each other after... how many years has it been now?"

"azzi," you warned, your voice low, but she just shrugged it off like always. "what? i’m just making conversation," azzi said with an innocent smile, though the mischievous glint in her eye gave her away. "it’s been a while," paige answered, her voice firm as she finally looked at azzi, her jaw tightening slightly. "but yeah, it’s good to see you."

you felt paige’s gaze shift onto you, the weight of her stare almost too much to handle as your heart thudded in your chest at the familiarity of everything. "good to see you too," you murmured softly, your voice barely audible but enough for both of them to hear you.

as paige fiddled with the bracelet around her wrist, azzi’s eyes zeroed in on it. "wait, is that the bracelet you got after the state finals? the one drew gave you?" paige glanced down at it and nodded with a smile. "yeah, he'd been saving for months before that game."

"that game was insane," azzi said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "you hit the buzzer beater, and the entire gym exploded. i thought the roof was gonna come down." paige chuckled at the memory as she twisted the bracelet between her fingers. "yeah, that was definitely a moment i’ll never forget."

"i didn’t just hear about it after the fact," you said quietly, your voice cutting through their conversation. paige and azzi both turned to look at you, paige’s brows furrowing. "what do you mean?"

you shifted in your seat, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. "i was there," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "i was in the stands that night. i saw it happen." paige’s lips parted, a flicker of shock crossing her face. "you were there?"

"a group of my friends had one a few tickets from some trivia competition at our local bar, it was lucky it happend to be a final because i don't think they would've gotten me there otherwise." your cheeks flushed bright red as you tried to explain how you had ended up at her match despite never liking the sport as a kid.

"i wish i'd known you were there." paige admitted, feeling her eyes burn into you as you stiffened in your place. "you were so good, i didn't miss that." you replied, messing about with the band around your wrist as paige and azzi stood before you.

paige chuckled as she crossed her arms. “you? at a basketball game? now that’s something i'd pay to see.” she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “last i checked, you couldn’t stand the sport. something about it being just people running in circles?”

you laughed, the sound nervous but genuine. “yeah, well, i stand by that, it’s still just running in circles. but… that night was different, it wasn’t about the game. it was… you.” you felt your face flush at the obvious pride of the blonde in your voice.

“i must’ve been pretty impressive to get you to sit through four quarters of it.” paige joked, throwing her head back as she laughed. “oh you have no idea. but seriously you were amazing that night, paige. the energy in that gym was unreal. and then you hit that shot, and it was like everything stopped for a second before it just exploded.”

despite that basketball was paige's one true love, the only reason you ever faked interest was to avoid upsetting her or making her feel like you weren’t being supportive of what she wanted to be. so, you let her sit you down time and time again to explain the rules, the fouls, the positions. all so you could cheer her on properly during her games, not that you ever understood anything. still, you never missed a single one.

that didn’t stop her from dragging you into the sport at every opportunity. her favourite was planting you in front of the basket, enlisting azzi's brothers to fire shots your way, laughing every time you flinched from the contact of the ball against the backboard.

you never lasted long before you’d sprint off, throwing your arms up in defeat when the blonde would tease you. but she’d always chase you down, grabbing your wrist and hauling you back, determined for you to make at least one three pointer. she’d promise to let you go afterwards, but you never did shoot that three pointer anyway.

"so i take it your growing love for basketball hasn't really changed then?"

~

paige couldn't help but notice the little changes in you. the way you seemed a bit more steady now, your posture less sunken, your eyes a little less hesitant when meeting hers. you weren’t the same shy girl who used to shrink into the background because that's all you wanted was to be invisible.

there was a maturity that you actually wanted to be noticed now, a relisation that she would have never expected. yet, as she watched you laugh at azzi’s latest comment, something familiar flickered. your laugh was the same, the same sound that the blonde would try her hardest to bring out.

your smile, too, hadn’t changed, the same curve of your lips that made it hard for anyone to stay mad at you, no matter how much you tried to hide it behind a veil of indifference.

you’d grown, that much was clear, but in some ways, you were still the same to her. and despite the time and distance between you, there was a comfort in knowing that the things she had loved about you hadn't changed. and for all the changes, paige realised some things never needed to.

paige could see the shift in you before you even spoke. the subtle way your eyes darted aimlessly away from the conversation, the way your smile faltered, just for a moment, like you were trying to hold yourself together. the room felt suddenly too tight, the noise too loud, the lingering feelings pressing down on you.

it had been fine at first, comfortable even. but now, surrounded by all the familiarity, memories began to flood in, too many and too fast. paige noticed the way your fingers twitched, your breathing slightly uneven. she knew you well enough to recognise the signs you were becoming overwhelmed.

without saying a word, you stood up abruptly, excusing yourself with a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. paige opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it, watching as you made your way to the door.

you didn’t even glance back as you shut the door behind you, the slight smell of weed in the hallway hitting your face like a stone brick. you leaned against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself, the noise from inside azzi's apartment muffled by the distance. it was quieter out here. easier for you to breathe.

azzi watched you leave her dorm, she could see the concern in the blonde's eyes, the hesitance to go after you. without missing a beat, azzi leaned in slightly to paige.

“go,” she said softly, but with an air of certainty. paige’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, confusion littered in her features. “what?” paige asked, her voice quiet and unsure what azzi was insinuating.

“she’s not okay. go after her. she’ll need you.” there was no hesitation in azzi’s words, no second-guessing. she knew you well enough to understand that sometimes, a little space was needed, but not too much. paige needed to be there, not just to calm you down, but as someone who would understand you. she always had.

paige hesitated for a second longer, then nodded, a soft sigh escaping her lips. without another word, she pushed herself up and moved towards the door. paige was convinced she was the reason why you'd left in the first place so why would azzi think her coming to check on you would even really help at all?

she took a slow step closer to you. her presence was calming, never demanding, just there. her hand gently brushed against yours, a reassurance that you weren't alone. "hey," she said. her voice steady and confident, like it always had been when you were younger, she had always known exactly how to calm you down. "it's okay. breathe with me."

you glanced at her and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. your connection was still there, that understanding and you felt like she could read every thought racing through your mind. she took a slow breath, offering you to copy her and you followed her lead, inhaling until the tightness in your chest loosened and your breathing returned to it's normal pace.

paige gave you a small, encouraging smile, her thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand, grounding you with the simple, familiar feeling of her skin on yours. "you remember how we used to do that when things got too much? just breathe and focus on me." she told you, reminding you of the countless times you’d done this when you were a teenager.

you closed your eyes for a second, your breath had evened out, and the chaos of thoughts ceased their efforts. you hadn’t realised how much you missed her, how much she always anchored you, until now.

"you’re okay," paige murmured, her voice calming the sea of emotions that had been building their charge over you, her eyes holding yours with that same control that used to be your safe place. "we can figure this out. but right now, just breathe. i'm not going anywhere. i'm staying right here."

paige didn’t rush to fill the silence that had overtaken. instead, she gave you the time you needed, letting you breathe and collect your thoughts. “i know we’ve both been… through a lot. but i think, maybe, we deserve the chance to figure this out. together.”

“thank you,” you whispered as paige tried to keep her reaction minimal, though her insides were screaming for her to try and salvage this. "for... not pushing. for giving me space to figure things out."

paige’s eyes softened as she gave a small nod, her hand briefly squeezing yours before she pulled away. "anytime," she replied quietly, a smile tugging at her lips. "i'm not going anywhere."

"maybe we can start with something simple." paige stumbled over her words, suddenly feeling all the nerves she’d been suppressing rise to the surface. "i was thinking... maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? just the two of us. to catch up properly." the request hung in the air between you both, her gaze full of uncertainty but also hope, because she was bracing herself for your rejection she feared was coming.

"paige..." you started, your voice tight as you took in her nervous energy. you could already tell by the way she’d shifted her stance and the way her eyes searched yours that she was preparing for the worst. you noticed the subtle way she’d distanced herself from you all evening, the way she’d never once leaned into you like she used to, and the space hurt more than you’d thought it would.

her voice cracked slightly, trying to salvage what was the broken parts of your relationship. "please. just give me time with you?" she reached out to you, but as her fingers hovered near yours, you instinctively pulled your hand back, not wanting to give her any false hope of something happening again. she noticed, and her hand dropped to her side in defeat.

"paige, i’m not sure..." you trailed off, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the thoughts circling in your head. she could hear the reluctance, but the way she held herself, so desperately told you all you needed to know.

"we were close once. you were everything to me. i want to know what’s been happening with you. really know. not just surface stuff because we have to." paige’s words felt like a blow to your chest, not because they were harsh, but because they were so painfully true.

paige used to be your everything. she was yours. the only person who understood you in a way no one else ever could. she could read you like a book, inside and out, you could never hide from her even if you tried. you had shared everything with her. she was the person who could mend you when you felt like the world was falling apart, the person who could piece you back together.

she had torn you apart though.

it hadn’t been easy, watching everything slip away after the distance between you two grew. the awkward silence when your family members asked what she had been up to that used to feel so comfortable became unbearable. the times when you would have done anything just to spend a second with her became just a memory you couldn’t quite forget.

you couldn’t look at her then, not with the honesty in her eyes, not with the way she seemed to still see right through you like always. it was the same as before, as if nothing had changed at all, despite everything that had happened in between.

"i’ve missed you. more than i can to admit." the words stumbled out before either of you could stop them, and you felt them hit you like a freight train. crashing into you at full speed as you tried to hold onto the rails. "come on, just one coffee. it’ll be like we’re picking up right where we left off, five years ago. just two people catching up. no big deal, right?"

there was a flicker of hope in her eyes, and despite the walls you’d spent so long building up, the sight of her made your heart ache. she was trying so hard to bridge the gap that seemed impossible, but the sincerity in her words made you want to say yes so badly.

you hesitated at her offer, still battling with yourself to forgive the blonde. "alright. one coffee." you whispered, the mountain of tension between you falling by your sides. but as the words left your lips, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of mess you were getting yourself into.

~

[cherie-doll]

Cod men reaction .

He and reader were on a mall date and reader suddenly stopped to look at a kids toy/a book/a book series. The thing is, reader grown up as the oldest grandchild, they used to have that toy/book(s), but it was ruined by their younger siblings/cousins.

Based on my real situation. Sorry for the broken grammar, I was typing this with one hand while eating pizza.

this reminds me of how i used to collect the archie comics as a kid and i loved reading them until my younger sibling ruined it bc they slobbered all over the pages like a dog, also, i hope that pizza was good i'm lowkey hungry

༢ུ· Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price would turn right away when he noticed you've stopped walking. He's watching you, the skin creasing around his eyes as he smiles and his eyes soften. There's just something to seeing you in awe, recognizing that thing you've wanted for a long time, the nostalgia that must've bubbled up inside of you seeing it again. He'll come up beside you and say "why don't we buy it?".

Simon stared, confused at what could be so interesting, and when he saw it was only a silly stuffed animal. At first he thinks it only caught your attention because it was cute, but it was quite plain, a little ugly looking plush too. But you remember hugging it when you slept as a child, it had a certain smell to it too, until it got ripped apart by your sibling's puppy. You had cried but never got a new one. Without prompting from his part you start telling him the story of how much you loved that thing, and how you still sort of do. Silently nodding and already pulling out his wallet.

Johnny actually pointed out the game you mentioned playing when you were younger, the game you described to him because you couldn't remember the name of it. "Isn't that the game you've been talking about?". You excitedly reply that it is as he picks up the box, your eyes going straight to the price tag but he's already going to checkout to buy it. You ask him what he's doing, "you've been wanting to try it out again, right?" he replies with a smile.

Kyle remembers the time he helped you go through boxes when you moved in with him and how he opened a box filled with old stuff from your childhood. He had found a set of beat up books, some with pages missing, chunks ripped out or with crayon scrawled on them. You tell him it was a series you loved reading as a kid but was messed up by your siblings who played a mean prank on you. He later goes on out and purchases the same set of books and surprised you with them when he arrives home.

Roach once noticed a keychain made of seashells hanging on your bag, some of the shells were broken but it still looked like it had been a pretty little trinket. He played with it, fidgeting with it until he asked you why you still carried the old broken keychain. You tell him it was a gift from your late grandfather that he had made, kids had pulled at it and it had fallen to the floor, breaking in pieces. You had tried fixing it before but were missing pieces. He didn't buy you a new one, instead he spent an evening gathering seashells that looked close to the broken ones and rearranging them in the same order. It was difficult but was worth seeing you happy.

Alejandro could probably late to having to give up your toys to younger siblings or cousins because he had to do the same. So, it feels as if he heals something within himself when you both stop and look at the toys in a secondhand store that bring you a sort of nostalgia. He remembers summers spent playing outside and having to share the toy plane with his siblings. He notices you staring at a toy too and decides to give into making the little kid still in both of you happy.

Rudy has seen how you still keep the little dolls aligned neatly on your shelf. He's noticed how you put up a new one every time you find one when going through your old stuff. He's listened as you tell him how there is one specific doll you remember owning that was your favorite to play with, until it was either taken by some other kid who thrown away accidentally. He spots it at an antique shop and recognizes it because he's always thinking of you. Knowing this will make you feel complete he buys it and excitedly goes home to show you.

Phillip would have been walking along just like any other day he takes you shopping at the mall for you to let some stress out by swiping a credit card. He felt the absence of your hand on his arm and when he turned around he saw you in the toy shop through the glass display. When you held it in your hands, you felt your old emotional attachment to the toy reignite, it was smaller than you remembered but still as secure and comforting as ever. You turn to find Phillip beside you, he only nods, giving you the green light to just go ahead and buy it.

Makarov would hardly deny you from buying anything you wanted. It just strikes him as odd for there to be a change in the pattern you keep of buying clothes, jewelry and other luxurious items for a stuffed animal. But he knew that soft look in your eye, the reminiscing of a memory from long ago still etched in your mind that bloomed in your heart again. His eyes went from plush to you and back to the plush again. He told you to buy it and anymore you might have wanted.

Keegan found it slightly amusing that you had gotten so excited over seeing a children's series you thought had become lost media. He had taken you to the bookstore and instead of finding some cute romcom or some classical piece of literature you ended up in the corner of the kid's book section immersed in rereading the series that had become your escapism when you were a kid. You were going to leave it back where you found it when leaving but Keegan just chuckled and told you to buy the entire series.

König stared curiously at how entranced you were by the plush the kid held in front of you while at the food court. At first, he thought you were having baby fever or something, but really you were more interested in kid's backpack plush. You remember having one as a kid, you used to take it everywhere with you until you lost it, not knowing if one of your parents gave it away. You passed by a store that sold them, and König guided you inside the store to buy one for you. It was funny when the lady at the register asked if it was a gift for your kid.

Horangi knew you always had a thing for collecting adorable figurines, toys, anything that reminded you of when you were a kid. You took care of them so well too, placing them on shelves which he built btw, and dusting them off frequently. When asked why you were so particular about caring for them, you said it was because your old toys were always being broken from your siblings playing too rough with them. It must've broke your little kid heart to see them on the ground, all dirty and chipped off pieces. Now, he is always surprising you with one when he comes back from the store.

Nikto's first thought was that you had picked up the figurine as a gift for one of the kids in your family. At first, he couldn't understand that you were getting it for you, you were staring at the toy so fondly. What memory could have arisen in your mind at the moment? But he recognized the feeling of finding serenity in the little mundane things in life; in your case a toy. He offered to pay for it and as he drove home, he kept glancing over to you and seeing how you had the little thing in your hands, holding it instead of leaving it in the bag. He couldn't even tease you for it.

[svnriseblvdd]

neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

SYNOPSIS: when your car breaks down right as you need to pick up a friend in metropolis, clark offers to give you a ride (not the type you want) and you step up your game.

everyone thank my writer's block, because if not for that, this would never have been as out there as it is. like if i'd released this half a week ago, it would not be anywhere near this level. i still had writer's block while grinding this out, so every question of where to go next was answered with 'make it HORNIER'. and you're welcome.

WARNINGS: mentions of road head, brief palming, accidental crotch grab, innuendo, clark is perpetually horny and shameful (who isn't?), he's still so down bad and needs loving desperately. (someone let this boy get RAILED (that's my job, really, but i promise i've got one more chapter idea before he FUCKS))

part one! part two! part three!

You sigh frustratedly as you lift the hood of your car to try to gauge the problem. Perhaps the problem was that the car was old as hell, just repainted and spruced up a little to give the illusion that it was simply vintage, not a second hand metal bag of parts. 

“Everything okay?” 

You look up to find Clark coming over. Whether it's good luck or not, you've broken down in front of the Kents house. No family nicer than the Kents exist. It's entirely possible. They're endlessly helpful. The problem, as always, is their gorgeous son. 

It's hot out, he's been sweating enough to give him a particular entrancing sheen over his skin. And now you're frustrated for two very different reasons. 

“No. Stupid car broke down,” you muttered, chest heaving in a sigh. 

Clark’s gaze wanders, against his will. All of a sudden, he’s looking at your chest, the way your breasts have been pushed up by a combination of that gorgeous tank top and probably the bra beneath it. And now he’s thinking about your underwear. You in your underwear and nothing else. You standing in your underwear in front of him, begging for his help once again. 

He closes his eyes firmly and looks away, mentally smiting himself. He can’t think about you like that. You’re his neighbour, his friend, and you’re in trouble. 

He clears his throat, speaking in the hopes that he can distract himself from the sight of your cleavage and bare legs. “Okay, well, why don't we push it up to the house? We can take a look at it, see if we can get it started again. If not, at least it's not out in the road in the way.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks.” 

And so the two of you manage to push your crappy car up to the front of the house, where Mr Kent joins you to take a look at it with Clark. 

“Good news is, it's totally fixable. Bad news is, you'd need a mechanic to do it. We'll call them and they can tow it from here.” 

You sigh, looking at your watch. “Damn it. I'm supposed to pick up my friend from the station in Metropolis in a couple of hours.” 

“Well, I can take you in our car,” Clark suggests. 

“You'd do that?” You ask, and he nods, charming smile still there. You grin, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug as his arms slide around your waist. “Thank you, Clark, you're a lifesaver.” 

Clark can feel as the blush begins to set in. “Yeah, of course. We can get going as soon as you're ready to.” 

“I'm ready now, if that's okay?” 

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

It’s not until you’re in the passenger seat and on the road that either of you speak again. “So, who’s your friend?” 

“Just one of the girls from Central City. I told her she could visit once I was settled in. She’s fun, you’ll love her.” 

You play with your hair, and it sends a fresh whiff of your scent in Clark’s direction. He doesn’t know if it’s perfume or shampoo, but he knows he’s already addicted. You cross one leg over the other, and fold your arms. Clark glances over, a moment of weakness that he hates himself for. It’s like he wants to punish himself. Something in him that says that if he’s going to think like this, he can go unsatisfied and hurting. It’s not logical. In fact, he knows that looking is the one indulgence he’ll allow himself. A brief glance that he won’t let linger, thoughts he’ll bury as long as possible. 

“I’m sorry about your car,” he says, in an attempt to distract himself from your bare legs and accentuated cleavage. 

You smile a little. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you for helping.” 

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” 

“No, really, Clark, thank you,” you say, turning towards him and leaning over the console in the centre, hands resting on it and pushing your breasts up and together. “You’re always there whenever I need you. You’re so good, Clark.” He’s going to explode again. “Really. I can’t thank you enough.” 

Yet again, your attempts seem to have been either obliviously ignored or politely rejected, as Clark doesn’t respond to them. Granted, this was one of your more low-key comments, but he hasn’t even glanced at your tits, and they’re right there! 

So you decide to double down. Test to see if he’s just oblivious, awkward, or not interested. 

One of your hands lands on his thigh. He blinks, but doesn’t look at you. “You’re so helpful, Clark. Always happy to help when I need you. And I always need you. There has to be some way for me to repay you.” Your hand travels further up his thigh. In an ideal world, you’d be giving him road head right now, not halfway to it. 

Clark finally looks at you, his cheeks a little flushed, and as he turns his head, his gaze lands right on your chest. 

Immediately, though, a car horn sounds, and Clark’s eyes dart back onto the road in time to swerve back into his own lane. The road had been totally empty for a while now, it hadn’t even occurred to him that eventually they had to run into someone. 

He blinks heavily. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

You smile, eyes bright with mischief. “For the nearly dying? Or the other thing?” 

“Uh, both. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” 

You giggle. “It’s okay, Clark. Really, you’re fine. More than fine.” 

Your hand is still on his upper thigh, a dangerous place. A bump in the road underneath the right front wheel jolts you, and your hand accidentally slips onto Clark’s crotch, applying pressure. His eyes go wide as saucers, a strangled noise barely escaping him before he gets a hold of his vocal cords. 

“Oh!” You gasp. “I’m sorry, Clark!” 

You pull your hand off, returning to your side of the car. That had slightly ruined your entire plan. It was a total accident. You hadn’t meant to straight up grab the guy. Just tease him a little. Shit. 

When you get out of the car at the Metropolis station to go find your friend, Clark takes the opportunity to do some breathing exercises, and uses the cover of his jacket to his advantage, palming at himself to relieve the ache a little for now. He bites the inside of his cheek to suppress the urge to make some sort of sound. He doesn’t know what it’ll be, and he’s alone in the car, but whatever it is, it’ll be embarrassing enough even if he’s the only one to hear it. So instead he just breathes a little irregularly, head tilted back a little against the headrest. 

He sees your friend with you as you approach the car again, and he tears his hand away from himself begrudgingly. Your friend has a grin on her face, eyes wide with excitement as you both talk with equal enthusiasm. 

You join her in the back this time, probably for the best, but you’re still on the opposite side of the car to him, so he sees you easily in the mirror, and all he needs to do is turn his head a little and let his peripheral vision do the rest. 

“Oh, you’re so right,” your friend says, and you shush her despite your giggling. 

taglist;

@blueeweeb

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[utterlyazriel]

to see you just right

word count: 5k... my freakin sweet spot apparently synopsis: Shooting practice reveals your less than stellar vision. Arthur determinedly hunts down some glasses for you and you realise what details you've been missing out on. mutual pining, friends to lovers (almost) set during horseshoe overlook ! this is my first rdr fic so... be nice <3

Times like now, squinting at the bottles in the distance, the question of why the gang still kept you around bugs at you like an incessant horsefly.

I mean, you knew why—you've been running with the Van Der Linde gang for a couple years now. If you hadn't already proved yourself as resourceful and sharp-minded, you would've been kicked to the curb quite some time ago.

But you certainly weren’t a hunter. Nor a shooter.

You weren't even very good at picking pockets.

What you had was keen ears; good for picking up leads and the hushed conversations of businessmen with deep pockets. Not to mention your adeptness at stitching up bullet wounds, better than anyone else at camp.

Yes, yes, you weren't useless by any means.

But still... that didn't mean you could shake the envy of others' skills. It didn't take away that simmering, uneasy feeling as you stared down the targets in the distance, helplessly blurred to you. The shot from your last bullet still rings out.

You can already tell it hasn't hit its mark.

Just hit the fucking target. You think to yourself scoldingly.

You're not sure why this is so much harder for you than just about anyone else in the gang. And as much as it isn't your job, you've grown determined to be able to handle yourself if trouble ever comes knocking.

You thought that with a gunslinger as fine as Arthur Morgan himself, you'd learn a thing or two — a foolish idea that's dissipating quickly before you.

Adjusting your clammy grip on the pistol cradled between both palms, you shift your stance and squint again, rolling your shoulders back.

Empty lungs. You pull back the hammer and line up your best shot, feeling the kick of the recoil.

The lack of shattering glass is answer enough, but even so you lower your extended arms an inch or so to see closer. Scrunching your eyes to try focus, you wince at what you can make out.

No bullet holes on any of the crates, all six bottles still standing.

You're beginning to sorely regret asking for shooting practice when it only seems like a surefire way to prove yourself a fool. And in front of Arthur no less.

Arthur who—well, you'd be lying if you said you weren't fond for.

Quick to boil, your frustration wells, an itch behind your eyes. You drop your arms, lowering your gaze to the ground with another sigh.

"How you do this every damn day is a miracle to me."

You force a half-hearted laugh into your words. It's better than letting him hear that wallowing, pitiful feeling you can feel rising up your throat.

"It's jus' lots 'n lots of practice," Arthur says gently, his voice somewhere behind you.

Christ knows his intense, watchful gaze isn't helping you either.

You can't help but feel it burning into your back every time you raise the pistol—and every time you fail miserably.

Your frustration rises again and you finally lift your head, turning back to the cowboy.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," You say sincerely. "I— this was a mistake." You begin to hold the pistol out in your outstretched hand, grip lax.

You don't get very far before he's stepping in closer, his hand reaching up to yours and pressing your fingers to close around the grip again.

"C'mon now," He rasps. "Yer not just gonna give up 'cos it's hard, are ya?"

Skin against skin is enough to draw your heart up your throat, rabbiting fast and all too revealing. You pointedly ignore the spike in your pulse and let him manoeuvre you, his hand moving up to nudge your shoulder. You face the targets.

Six bottles in the distance glint tauntingly beneath the afternoon sun, as if teasing you for your failure.

"Arthur," You sigh dejectedly.

It's kind of him to keep offering encouragement but you only need ten minutes of this to realise it's a severely lost cause. "It's not use, I'm awful—"

"Hush," Arthur cuts you off, voice gruff this time. "You ain't no such thing. Just—"

He hovers just behind you, the heat of his body blazing against your back. With a quiet hum, his fingertips square out your angled shoulders, fixing your stance. They trail down to minutely adjust the twist of your hips, pressing one further forward gently.

The sun seems to burn brighter suddenly. You fight to keep your face forward and pray Arthur can't heart the traitorous inhale you give at his touch.

"'Kay. Shoot again." He murmurs lowly, his hands retreating but staying close. "Lemme watch closer this time."

You're not brave enough to tell him that you're even less likely to hit the target with his close proximity.

Instead, you just follow his instruction, raising the pistol to the bottles once more. Slowing your breath as much as your racing heart will allow, you squint.

"Wait," Arthur's voice interrupts.

You falter, suddenly unsure. Moving out from behind you, his hand comes up to push the gun down, barrel facing the dirt.

Standing close, he tilts his head up, his eyes assessing you intently from beneath the brim of his hat. It's as though he's looking at a puzzle he can't quite figure out.

After a moment, his eyes cast out to the shooting range he's set up for you. You get a stolen glimpse of his chiselled jaw before he's stepping forward, broad shouldered, with one hand resting on his gun belt.

Turning to face you, he takes a few wide steps back, then halts, raising his hand.

"How many fingers?"

Brows raised, you will yourself not to scoff. "You bein’ serious?"

Arthur doesn't move, only his head tilting forward an inch, the brim of his hat dipping lower. He smiles wryly. "Humour me."

Dropping your arms, you let the gun swing idly to your side. With a shrug, you focus on his hand.

"Two."

Arthur nods. He turns and paces back til he's in line with the bottles this time. It's far enough from you that the details of him begin to blur out, but you can still see his figure just fine.

"And now?" He calls out, voice raised to reach you over the distance.

Your careless shrug from before is nowhere to be found. A sudden sheepishness crawls up within you as you quickly try to strain your gaze.

God, is he even holding up a hand at all?

You don't get a moment to guess before he's approaching you once more, his features getting sharper as he draws closer. You can see his smile, a rare sight. He seems to have solved his puzzle.

"What was that for?" You question curiously.

"It ain't yer aim, that's for damn sure," Arthur says, coming to a stop before you.

His blue eyes assess you once more, before he extends his hand out for the pistol at your side. You hand it over wordlessly, waiting for his explanation. A dragonfly swoops by you with a loud hum.

"It's yer eyes." He says, holstering the pistol without a glance.

You blink, confused at the implication. You're sure if there was something wrong with your eyes, you'd know about it at your grown age.

Your confusion must be clear on your face because Arthur continues, resting his hands on his gun belt casually.

He nods to you. "Not all bad. 'Betcha can see just fine up close. But in the distance, not so much."

"Oh," The word escapes in a soft breath.

It hadn't really been something you had considered—that your poor performance shooting was due to that blurriness surrounding the targets. That it was due to anything other than you being utter shit at shooting.

Turning your stare out to the bottles again, you blink and squint, as if to check. You realise he may just be talking truth.

"Lord, I think you might be right." You admit, a relieved laugh colouring your tone. The frustration you felt from earlier drains rapidly, taking with it your souring mood.

A different part of you deflates at the knowledge you'll never get better at shooting. Cursed vision. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, pushing down your bitterness.

Arthur gestures to the horses with one hand, lesson clearly over.

The pair of you begin to meander back towards your horses hitched in the treeline. Side by side, it doesn't escape you the nearness you're inclined to, drawn to him, a flower facing the sun.

The leather of his jacket brushes your bare arm. You think you must be suffering sunburn, considering how your skin seems to burn in response.

Eyes flashing in his direction, you think you see a hint of colour on Arthur’s face.

He’s tilts his head, his features covered by the brim of his hat, so you can't be sure. You chalk it up to a wishful imagination.

Always unknowable. Maybe it's his private nature that's part of what allures you to the man.

Pushing forward, you approach your mare, Dragon, with a gentle greeting. You're rewarded with the butting of her muzzle against your palm, a smile curling onto your lips instinctively.

“Y'know, chances are, you're not nearly as awful as ya think.” Arthur says, his tone softer than usual—perhaps sensing your blue mood.

Despite talking to you, he keeps his gaze steadfast on his own horse, Hypatia. He dotes on her with a loving pat, hands usually meant for violence, now gentle.

After a moment, he says. “I’ll see what I can do fer you at the general store.”

Pleasant surprise curls up in your stomach in a sharp bloom.

“Arthur,” You say with a smile, sounding a bit awed. He does look up at you this time, blue eyes bright from beneath the edge of his hat. “That’s very kind but, well, you needn’t do that—“

"I ain't makin' you any promises," He cuts your rambling response off. "I'll just have a look. That alright?"

Feeling your face glow warmly, you force yourself to meet his strong gaze. "Alright."

Then after a moment, you say, "I guess I'll allow it."

Arthur guffaws lightly at that. He pushes up on strong legs to mount Hypatia in one fluid motion, one he's done countless times before. You watch, pretending you aren't staring at the powerful flex of his thighs as he settles into the saddle.

Christ alive. It takes effort to avert your eyes, stepping up to sling yourself into your own saddle.

“If she allows it…” Arthur repeats, almost incredulously, his head tilted toward you. There’s a tug on his lips, like he’s holding back his smile, even as he shakes his head at you.

A laugh titters out of you and you nudge Dragon forward, if only so he can't see the grin on your lips.

And if you spend the ride to camp lingering on the feeling of his hands covering your own hands, adjusting the twist of your waist?

Well, that was your own damn business.

—

After your shooting lesson, Arthur leaves camp for four days.

Some bounty given to him by the sheriff in Valentine that he was tracking up into the mountains — at least that’s what he’d said as he bid you a polite goodbye, early in the morning light, the day after your lesson.

You’d murmured your drowsy goodbye over your coffee cup, eyes barely open — making Arthur snort quietly — and then watched intently, your sleepy gaze softened, as he disappeared between the trees on Hypatia.

Perhaps you’d been too spoiled with his company in these last couple weeks.

He hadn’t taken any longer jobs, always back at camp for the evening, with a tip of his hat to you. Always prepared to lend a helping hand or to escort you and the girls into Valentine. You'd almost call yourselves friends. The familiarity of his presence was something you'd gotten used to.

It was one of the good reasons you found yourself particular afflicted with him — Arthur Morgan was far kinder than he ever gave himself credit for.

And far nicer to look at than he seemed to think so too.

To say you’re a bit put off by not having your usual pretty-boy cowboy to provide somewhere nice to rest your eyes wouldn’t be a lie.

“Someone’s head in the clouds.”

The jeering words from Karen pair with a playful nudge to your shoulder.

Distracted, the dish in your hands slips and lands back in the water-filled basin with a splosh. Narrowing your eyes at Karen, you fish it out and resume your abandoned scrubbing.

“Ain’t sure what you’re talking ‘bout,” You hum, nonchalant as you can manage.

Liar. You’d definitely been casting your gaze towards the trail that leads into camp and slipped away into a daydream, sweet as the cowboy’s eyes you were imagining. Surely he wouldn't be away much longer, right?

“Mmhm,” Karen says, telling you exactly how much she believed you.

At her side, Mary-Beth smothers a giggle in her palm. Clearly your attempts at subtlety are wholly ineffective.

Despite your intent glances as you work your way through the remaining chores of the day, none prove to be fruitful. The sun lazes across the sky and sinks toward the horizon and even then, Arthur is absent.

Your lovesickness abates with a sigh. The outlaw could be gone for weeks at a time, you knew that. If it was a shorter trip, he'd be back already. Tonight, you depart from around the campfire earlier than usual, heading back to your shared tent with Mary-Beth.

It’s with an absentminded hum that you potter around, straightening out the space as the sunlight dwindles. You had worked hard today and it’s filled your bones with a weariness ready for sleep.

An oil lamp burns on the crate acting as your bedside table, casting a mellow, amber colour through the tent. The idle sounds of the wildlife of Horseshoe Overlook fill the background, mixing with the crackle of the campfire.

Maybe you should journal a bit, before bed. Eyes narrowed, you scan your cot for the little book you keep nearby—you had used it just last night.

Coming up blank, you huff and crouch to your knees to hunt for it. Countless times you’ve fallen asleep with it in your hand and found it gone in the morning. It worms its way down the edge of the tent with a mission to escape you, you swear.

Peering beneath your cot, the red leather of the book gleams back at you. You smile and reach out, having to duck a little further to reach it, giving a victorious little aha! when you close your fingers around it.

Shifting back, you sit on your heels, right as someone clears their throat behind you.

Spooked and not unlike a deer, you startle with a violent jump. Whipping around, pulse jumping, your panic recedes as you narrow your eyes at the cause of your panic.

“Christ, Arthur,” you seethe at him. You put a hand over your racing heart to calm it. “You damn near scared the mickey out of me.”

“My apologies, miss,” Arthur says, tipping his hat. He sounds sincere but even so, you catch the glimmer of amusement on his lips. “Weren’t my intention.”

He’s lingering at the entrance of your tent, not quite entering. His big hands rest of his gun belt, hovering somewhere between casual and proper.

How Arthur manages both is a mystery to you; every bit at home amongst the rough of tumble of camp, yet ever-so polite to you.

He treats you like a gentlemen treats a proper lady; though both of you are neither.

Pushing to your feet, you let your journal drop atop your cot. Then you regret it, wishing you had something to occupy your hands. The all too familiar buzz of nerves that come with being sweet on someone makes you prone to fidgeting.

You brush down your skirts just to do something. “And just what was your intention?”

Amusement abiding, a different expression skitters across Arthur's face. He raises one hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“Gotcha somethin',” He murmurs, dragging his hand forward, across his beard. Rather hastily, he stuffs his hand into his satchel.

He digs for a moment and then pulls his hand out, extending it out. Something shiny glints in the low light of the tent, resting in his big palm.

You step forward and squint for a moment, realising with a jolt of unexpected delight that it’s a pair of round spectacles.

An infectious smile tugs the corner of your lips up, your eyes brighter upon seeing the gift he’s brought you. Your hand reaches out, then halts in mid-air, glancing back up at him.

“May I?”

“‘Course. They’re for you.” Arthur grunts, feigning nonchalance even as he beckons you to take them from him.

Smile turning to a grin, you pluck them out his hand, stepping closer as you do. You turn them over in delicately, drinking in the details greedily. They’re finely made.

With an ebb of guilt, you realise they must’ve cost him a fortune. If he paid for them, that is.

“Took me all the way out past Emerald Ranch to find a fella who did them.”

Gaze snapping up, the ebb of guilt grows. He hadn’t just got them for you, he’d gone out of his way to find a spectacle maker specifically.

There’s a silver lining to the guilt — the feeling sprinkled through your chest like gunpowder, kicking up sparks. He certainly had to be keeping you in mind, to some capacity, to do such a thing for you.

The thought of being more than a passing thought in Arthur’s mind is enough to set the gunpowder alight. Your chest glows brightly like a firework.

“What happened to just having a nosy in the general store, hm?” You ask.

“Well, now,” Arthur begins, giving a hesitant cough as if it’ll cover the sincerity of his actions. He tilts his head down, the brim of his hat covering his eyes, as he always did when he felt too seen.

After a pause, he says lowly, “I know how much you wanted to shoot.”

“That’s... mighty kind of you, Mister Morgan.” You say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the racing of your treacherous heart. “Though, I’d hate for you to go to all this trouble if they don’t even work right with my eyes.”

Holding the pair of spectacles up, you unfold the arms and peer through the lenses. They’re certainly magnifying something—Arthur looking further away in the one lens you peer through. It’s almost like a funhouse mirror. The smile on your face widens, cheeks nearly aching.

“That don’t matter,” Arthur says. He pats his satchel gently. “If those don’t work, I got three more pairs in here.”

“Three?” You lower the glasses, bewilderment colouring your voice.

“Where the devil did you get so many?”

“Turns out, folk rich enough to take the stagecoach can usually afford ‘em.” Arthur chuckles.

Somehow the image of Arthur out there, picking through the loot box, then demanding folk hand over their eyewear is enough to inspire a laugh out of you.

You stifle your laughter behind your hand, endeared even more when he opens his satchel to prove it, a shy smile on his lips.

Sure enough, he draws three more pairs out. Even the thickness of the glass even varies from pair to pair — god, who knew one could be so thoughtful whilst robbing?

“You know, that might be the most sweet thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

The words come out softer than intended, your affections surely obvious.

You don’t risk a glance up at Arthur’s face, too fearful your feelings are written over your own, plain to see. In doing so, you miss the dusting of pink across his own cheeks.

Arthur clears his throat, sending a single prayer for strength to a god who’s surely abandoned him. The way you sound, he’d almost believe you’re sweet on him.

“Cmon, then,” He says, adding a touch more gruff to his voice. “Better try them on after all the damn time I spent hunting them down.”

You roll your eyes at his faux annoyance. There’s no real heat to his words.

Tilting your face down, you bring the pair up to tuck over your ears hesitantly. The world around you shifts as the lenses settle. Your sight is sufficiently more blurry than it was a second ago.

“Woah.” You murmur, looking up just to check.

Arthur’s figure swims before you, entirely out of focus. You blink, unbeknownst of the way the glasses magnify your eyes to a comically large size. It makes Arthur's smile grow, teeth peeking out, knowing for sure you can’t see for shit.

“Not those.” He says decidedly and when you slide them off, he’s already holding out the second pair, arms unfolded this time.

You mutter a quiet thank-you, feeling warmth creep your neck at the simple, polite motion.

This pair, when you slide them on, has a rather different effect. Instead of the blurriness alike to being underwater, the entire world sharpens.

You inhale at the difference. The sounds of the campfires and people around you dims and you blink rapidly, eyes jumping from detail to detail. There's something new to notice in every corner.

Head dipped down, you can pick out the individual blades of grass underfoot. The stitching on the hem your dress, the same as on the sleeves, you can see properly now. As in, see the stitches.

You swish you dress, watching, entranced.

Arthur’s comment during shooting practice may have been wrong —saying there was nothing wrong with your vision up close — because suddenly everything seems so much more. Maybe you’ve been blinder than you think.

Swinging your head round, you survey the inside of your tent with a renewed interest.

The fraying hole in your blanket, scribbled words in your opened journal, the splinters in your wooden crate bedside table — things you normally need to see up close, clearer than ever.

“I take it those ones are workin’ just fine.” Arthur says amusedly, having watched your wide-eyed and wandering gaze.

At the sound of his raspy voice, your head jerks up — and then your heart lurches forward with a hiccup, nearly tripping over itself.

Arthur is… He’s… Holy heaven, has he always been that handsome?

A dozen new details spring out at you, little secrets you've been missing. You can see the crook in his nose from being broken too many times. A scar you’ve never noticed on the edge of his chin, given away by the small patch in his beard.

He has freckles, dozens of little ones, from all his time spent under the baking sun. They gather at the edges of his eyes, blending into the crows feet. You can trace the cupid's bow of his lips.

It occurs to you that you should totally, definitely say something. You’ve been silent too long, just taking in the lines of his face, awed, but your throat has dried up.

Lord above, he’s pretty.

How are you expected to continue your day with the knowledge that Arthur Morgan might be the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on?

Lord, if you’d been fond of him before, you’re surely smitten with him now.

Arthur shifts uncomfortably under the attention, taking your prolonged silence for the worst. His already jittered nerves fry under your stare and he ducks his head to hide himself from you.

“Probably can see what an ugly bastard I am, now you can see proper.” He huffs offhandedly, scratching at his beard and keeping his gaze low.

It hadn’t occurred to him, this downside of fetching this gift for you. You’ll see him clearly now — flaws and all.

“What?”

You sound a mixture of bewildered and crestfallen and it draws Arthur’s gaze up.

Your eyebrows have knit together in the middle and you take another step, bringing you closer together still.

Arthur forces himself to keep breathing, even as his nerves flutter. It’s an awful lot like one of Mary-Beth’s books, where she talks about romantics getting butterflies.

It feels more like a hive of bumblebees, Arthur thinks, trying to shove the feeling down. ‘Sides, the two of you weren’t romantics. You didn’t see him that way.

“Not in the slightest.” You say, eyes never leaving his face.

Arthur isn’t sure what your expression means but even as the attention makes him shift, something within him more selfish preens. Having your undivided attention when he’s surely unworthy of it has him standing a little taller, chest puffing out more.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you have…” Your voice trails off, your words soft as the dawn’s first rays of light. Arthur forces himself to meet your eye again. “A little bit of green in your eyes?”

This time, you don’t miss the flush of colour that creeps up Arthur’s neck.

He clears his throat, breaking your stare so he can rub the back of his neck; a futile attempt to cover his nervousness.

How in the hell else is he supposed to react to you all but waxing poetic about his eyes? You, enigmatic and more beautiful than a mayflower in the spring?

He’d wanted your attention, getting you the glasses, but now he has it, he’s melting beneath it like butter in the sun. He's a grown man for heaven's sake. How is it that you can make him nervous like nothing before?

“No, er, can’t say they have.” He says, stealing a glimpse back at you.

God, Arthur was a fool. You look even more beautiful in the spectacles. He’ll surely embarrass himself with his besotted stare, unable to curb his fondness for you.

There’s something new in your expression too. Your smile turned more feline, as if you’ve clued in to something he hasn’t.

His hands fall to clutch his gun belt, prepared to retreat and perhaps spend his evening drowning himself in the river to escape the mortification of feelings. He's giving himself away — and if he isn't, the heat colouring his cheeks sure is.

“Right, well,” He nods, clearing his throat once more. “If they workin’ jus’ fine, I’ll leave ya be.”

“Will you let me thank you first?” You ask tentatively.

Arthur doesn’t know what that means but he nods nonetheless. He tries to keep himself from fidgeting, his hands flexing on his belt all the while. Blue eyes dart from you, to the ground, then back to you.

You only need another half-step to get close enough to do what you wish. Pressing up onto your toes to reach, you bestow a gentle kiss onto Arthur's cheek, just above the scruff.

It takes a great deal of courage to keep your eyes steady, heart in your throat, as you sink back down onto flat feet. You don't relent your closeness.

For one long moment, you drink in the politely stunned expression on his face. This close, you can smell the scent of cigarettes and woodsmoke on his clothes. It makes your head spin. Makes your heart tremble. Your lips still sear from the kiss.

Though your heart threatens to bruise your ribs with how hard its beating in your chest, you refuse to regret your boldness.

Besides, as Arthur seems to grapple with what's just happened, his smile and blush return in equal measure.

"...Why'd you think she left dinner so early? She's probably—oh!"

Mary-Beth's voice cuts through the charged air.

Snapped from your tender reverie, you tear your eyes from Arthur and take a timid step back. You're well aware it's too late and both Mary-Beth and Tilly had seen the nearness you had been sharing with Arthur. You'll be hounded about it tonight, no doubt.

"Sorry, didn't realise we were interrupting." Tilly finds her voice before Mary-Beth does, the latter spluttering her agreements. Before they can retreat, Arthur cuts in.

"Weren't—" His voice comes out rougher than usual and he clears his throat, hat tipped down. "—interrupting nothin'. Don't worry bout it, I was just leavin'."

He takes a few steps back and then pauses, heaving a heavy breath as if he was gathering his strength. Still lingering just beyond the entrance of your tent, you wait with baited breath.

Arthur's eyes dance over to the other girls. If you could be bold, hell, so could he. He finds your gaze.

"Shootin' tomorrow? You 'n' me?" He asks, voice low.

If you didn't know him so well, you might miss the slight apprehension in his tone. As if you'd say no.

You have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to try contain you smile. Your fervent nod betrays your excitement anyway.

Arthur smiles then, more brazenly than you've seen before, before he bids you a goodnight with a final tip of his hat.

—

The crates where targets once stood are now gloriously empty, the six shattered glass bottles banished to a life in the dirt.

You stand, pistol still smoking in your grip, and grin triumphantly. The sun glints off the delicate frames of your new spectacles. Your vision is clear and your aim is true.

Hovering just behind you, as he had some days ago, Arthur hums his contentment. "'Atta girl."

You turn, looking over your shoulder at him, and in an instant, your smile in reflected back. More reserved than your own, but entirely for you. Arthur nudges you to look forward with a gentle hand, gesturing to something out in the field.

"See if you can hit just the edge of the crate next. We might make a gunslinger of you yet."

You huff, leaning back an inch to feel more of his warmth. Arthur smiles to himself, well aware of your tactics.

His hands drop to your hips, twisting them in a minute adjustment they don't need, just to hear the slight stagger in your breath.

"Why, Mister Morgan," Your voice is threaded with humour, exactly the colour of sunlight. "I'd nearly think you're just making excuses to put your hands on me."

With a low hum, Arthur lets his hands drag up an inch to rest on your waist. Your skin is warm, as is your smile. He can pretend the hot buzz of the day threatens make his knees buckle, though he knows it's entirely your effect.

"Maybe. That a crime?"

"Even if it were," You say, gaze slicing back to meet his. The taunt of a smile on your pretty mouth rivals all the beauty Arthur's ever seen. "Thank heavens you're an outlaw."

—

i get the privilege of bugging @illyrianbitch @wildfloweroutlaw with this new fic <3 heheh thanks for the hype that lead to this actually getting finished n posted !!

[glitterslag]

bureaucracy...

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

[milkmily]

Together

ᝰ.ᐟ❣️⋆˙──────────────────────────

Mr.Scarletella x fem Reader

Smut I Saw like a theory in tik tok where it said (something like this not quite sure) that MC would leave bodies right and Mr Scarletella would think that she'd do all of that for him so he would be super interested in them. So imma use that :D also reader Is in college because I don't like using the term “school” cuz its uncomfortable and i'm writing smut.

Ahead: Unprotected Sex(stay safe:p) and biting also sorry it's super short 😔

“Me want your name.”

This had always happened. Well, like maybe 2 times. But now, he won't leave you alone after you have found out what you have done. What you really are. You just aren't some cute woman who goes to college. You were a murder. Why? Just to get that adrenaline that would come with it.

As you took their lives, you had always had this feeling as if someone was looking at you. Eyes. Always, always, Always on you. At everything you did. But you'd turn and check every corner and nothing. No one would be there. Maybe you were just paranoid. You haven't even been caught yet. So it wouldn't matter. And now here you are, face to face with what has been looking at everything you have ever done. Mr. Scarletella.

“You give your name?”

He asks. You had two options. Try to beat him, even though you knew that wouldn't work, or finally give your damn name to him. You remembered the telephone had told you to not give your name. Mr. Crawling had protected you the first time you had met Mr Scarletella. You threw your crowbar at him and he started to glitch. He asks again and you didn't answer, attacking him but again, it went right through him. And everything changes. You open your eyes and see him face to face with you. You hold your crowbar high and your eyes go wide at what he said.

“You like me? Me like you.” He says and you give him a puzzled look. “What?” You asked as you lowered your crowbar. “Let us go together. You teach name?” You groan and throw the crowbar at him again. And you start to speak back to him. And finally.

“like you.” You say and everything is back to normal. You open your eyes to see an umbrella. You picked it up and looked up at it. It's a normal umbrella. It isn't red. You looked down and saw a hand on top of yours, you screamed and threw the umbrella. You looked around and saw Mr Scarletella looking back at you. “Together.” He says as he is now in front of you. You gulped and took some steps back. You blinked and he's gone, but you feel warm breathing behind you. You felt his hands on your arm as he said again, “Together.”

“W-What?!” You ask and feel his warm breathing on your neck, goosebumps all over your body. “Together.” He says again and you feel small kisses on your neck. You gasp and feel your body heat up. “W-Wait-” you felt his hands start to go all over your body. they'd move from your arms down to your hands and move to your stomach. He'd gently and softly move them up and his hands bumped onto your breast. You softly gasp as his lips meet your neck. “You give.” He says. “You give. Grateful.” He says as he keeps kissing your neck, making you moan. “Grateful.” He whispers on to your neck as his hands move under your shirt.

Oh. You remembered now. The bodies. The things you'd say while killing them. “If someone is here watching, these are all for you.” Oh. “You're returning the favor?” You ask but his hands continue to move higher and his kisses move to your shoulder. You shiver and hold your arms up as the shirt is lifted up to reveal your breast, your nipples hard from being turned on. You should Be scared but…you aren't. You've always been interested in Mr Scarletella. You just never could get close to him or else he will keep asking about your damn name.

And now here he is. His hands cupping your breast as he kissed your neck. Your moan and gasp. You pulled his hands away and he stopped kissing your neck. “Why?” He asks and you turn to look at him. You smiled at him and he gave you his wide smile. “Me like you. You like me?” He asks again. “Me like you.” You say to him as you try to reach up to him. He lowers himself to your height and you cup his face. “You like me.” He says and you nod. He tilts his head to the side as he grins and holds your hand.

“Together.” He says. he moved his hands to cup your breast again, moaning. He knew you were feeling good with the sound you made. The expression on your face. He hummed and looked at you. You were perfect. You may not give him your name, but that can be for later. You were his now. You are his now. No one else's. You are his either way.

He pins you on the floor, straddling you. The floor is so cold against your bare back. You yelp and look up at him who was on top of you, his hands on the floor as he was on top of you, Grinning. His red hair still somehow covered one of his eyes as He looked down at you. You looked at him and tilted your head. “Together.” He says again as he moves his hand to cup your face. His hands are so big compared to yours. He only really only needs one hand to perfectly fit your face. His face got closer To yours, his breathing on your face.

You couldn't help but whimper at how close he Is. You could already feel how wet you were. Your pussy is aching for him already. He grins down and looks down at the clothes you were wearing. He slowly lifted up the coat you had on and pulled your pants with your panties down. You lift your hips up to help him. You continue to look at him as he keeps looking at you. The way he looked at you had your body reacting. And then you asked yourself: He knows what to do already? Maybe he had seen a lot of incidents where people would Go where he is to ya know, just have sex. Or who knows. All you know is he already knows what he is doing.

He looks at you and grins as his fingers rub between your wet pussy lips. You softly gasp and look at his hand. He closed your lips together, making You jump. “Like?” He asks and you nod. He greatly presses his finger to your clit and starts to rub. You open your legs more as he keeps rubbing. He lowers his head as he brings your nipple in his mouth. You whimper and look down at him. He picked and gently bit down on your nipple. “Ouch.” You whine and look up at you. He grins and continues to suck on it.

He brings his hand back up and Teases your other nipple. He starts to rub himself on you. You felt how big he was though his pants already. You gulp and moan.

You suddenly felt something warm and wet rub up and down your clit. You looked down and saw his cock out, rubbing between your folds to get his tip wet with your arousal. You couldn't help but moan at the sight. He was still sucking your nipple and It was starting to get sore. You pull his head away and he looks at you. He grins and presses his tip at your cunt. You open your legs a bit more and your hips closer to him. He lifts your hips Up, making you yelp. You looked up at him and he gently pushed Himself in your cunt. “Together.” He says and groans. You rolled your eyes back quickly as you felt how he stretched you out. You moaned and looked at him.

He starts to move his hips as he looks down at how your pussy would suck him in. He brings His thumb to your flit and starts to rub it. You moan and hold on to your hair as he keeps thrusting.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You were on the cold concert floor, your face on the floor, ass up as Mr Scarletella moved his hips, he was panting fast and groaning as he kept pushing his cock in so deep and fast. “Ah! I can't!” You moan but you knew you wanted more. How many times have you come already? Jesus. He kept making you switch positions every time you came. He First had you laying down as he held your hips up. The next one was you riding him but you soon gave up so he simply grabs your hips and pushes you up and down. He's really strong. He had you laying down again but he held both of your legs just to go deeper inside of you.

Now he has your ass up as he keeps pushing in and out of you. His thrusting became harsher. “Mr Scarletellaaaa- ah! There!” You moan. You could feel how his cock came in and out of you, how warm and wet he felt. You whine and moan as his cock brushes your g-spot. “Together.” He kept saying and moaning. He really loved that word a lot.

You hold onto his hand that was on your hips. You turn to look at him, teary eyes As you moan. You were close again. You needed to cum on his cock again. You whimper and whine as he keeps thrusting into you, this time even faster. You scream and your toes curl as you bury your face on the floor, eyes rolling back as you cum on his cock. You hear him groan and feel something warm dripping out of your pussy.

You pant and whine trying to catch your breath but he quickly makes you turn around and lifts up your right leg. You whine and shake your head. “No-” You say and moan as he pushes his cock in again, slipping in so easily. He buried his face in your neck and groaned. “Together.” He says again and he thrusted. His thrust is a bit slow and more softer now. you wrapped your arms around him as he keeps moving his hips. You could hear a short whine coming from him as you tug at his hair. You whimper and whine. Every thrust Made you so sensitive and feel everything.

Mr Scarletella kisses your neck and whimpers. He's sensitive too. He could feel everything about you. But he just loved that he was finally with you, be with you, be in you. Be together.

A couple of more thrusts and he cums inside of you. He pulls out and pants as he looks down at your pussy that dripped out his cum. He groans and rubs his cum between your folds. He pressed his cock inside your entrance and said, “Together, again…” as he pushed his cock in, making you whine.

Hey @kita-01 and @misaamanekinnie21 , patiently waiting 🫡

[lymtw]

Drunken Lover

Toji can never shut up about you when his friends get him drunk. It's the one topic that never fails to be discussed when his friends manage to drag him away from your warm security for a night. Once the amount of alcohol he drank starts to hit and his overly chatty side is lured out, he spends the entire time talking about you, and the others just kind of listen to his ramblings and remain utterly shocked by how smitten he is. He talks so much about you, like he's trying to make up for the time he isn't spending with you.

It's always, "Shh... listen, shut the fuck up. Listen, listen, she smells so fucking good. Like she's fresh out the shower all the time" and "God... she purrs like a little kitten when I take her to bed" and "She's out of my league, but i'm not gonna fuck up the chance she gave me".

If it weren't for Shiu taking his phone, he would constantly be trying to reach you. Sometimes you're the one who calls when it gets late, just to see how things are going, and Shiu's always the one who picks up before he hands you over to Toji.

"Hey, Shiu! How is everything?"

"It's going pretty well, aside from Toji being a drunk mess." He scouts the area in search of your boyfriend and spots him next to another friend. Toji's all starry-eyed as he talks the poor man's ear off about you. "Wanna talk to him? He's been talking about you nonstop and it's starting to make the other guys jealous."

You giggle. "Sure. Let me talk to my idiot."

You can hear the commotion as well as the faint sound of Shiu alerting Toji of you being on the other end of the line.

"Heyyy, baby. You miss me? You need me?" You can hear the smile on his face. He's pacing back and forth as he waits for your voice to come back on the line.

The sound of Toji's voice makes your heart beat a little faster. It sounds like he made good use of his night out.

"You know I do, baby. Be safe, alright? Have Shiu send you home in a cab when you're ready to go and text me when you get home."

"I love you, ma. I fucking love you. I don't wanna be here anymore." He sighs, heavily. "Can I just go home, already? I've been trapped here for like five days now."

"I love you, Toji, and it hasn't been five days. More like five hours, but yeah, you can head home if you're done. Put Shiu back on the phone."

"No." He simply says, as he continues to pace around the crowded bar. "I miss you so much. I don't wanna see anyone else, anymore."

"Okay, baby. Tell Shiu you're ready to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you," he says once more before putting the phone down, leaving you to do the hanging up.

–

"Shiu, i'm leaving. I'm ready to go, man. She said okay and I... Well, I wanna go see her."

"You're not going over there like this," Shiu responds. "She's not gonna be able to handle you alone, right now. I'll call you a cab and you're going straight home."

He was so wrong about that last part. Toji got in the cab, and Shiu told the driver his address. He wouldn't ever find out about how Toji ended up redirecting the cab to your place.

"Psst, hey. I'll give you another ten bucks if you turn around and go to this address."

Without hesitation, the man accepted the money and dropped Toji off at your apartment. He slowly made his way to your front door, ringing the doorbell and knocking right after to make sure you hear him.

You put down the dish rag you were using to dry dishes and headed to the door. You looked through the peephole and as soon as you see Toji standing on your doorstep, you gasp. Your brows furrow in confusion as you continue to stare at him for couple more seconds, just to make sure it's actually him and not some random, sketchy man.

"Babyyy... Open. Your boyfriend is here." He knocks again, his fist like a mallet on your door.

"Toji, shh. Stop," you say, voice low. You quickly pull him into your apartment, dismissing his laugh as you shut and lock the door when you both make it in.

"Oh, baby." He smiles as you approach him again. "Baby, baby." He pulls you into an overly tight embrace and sways you side to side, effortlessly. You smell a mixture of alcohol and cologne on his shirt. "My pretty girl. Fuck, I missed you and your body." He buries his face into the crook of your neck and allows his hands to settle on your lower back. You hear him take a whiff of your scent before carrying on with his rambling. "I didn't even wanna be there..." he mumbles. "...but they stole me away and I-" He hums in confusion when he realizes you aren't reciprocating the hug and pulls your arms around him before putting his hands on your lower back again. "I'm just gonna say no next time. Those drinks were disgusting."

Normally, you reciprocating his affection wouldn't be an issue, but you're still stuck on how he's there, standing a couple feet from your kitchen and not at his place. You can hear his quiet, labored breaths beside your ear. His looming frame and the tightness of his arms around you bring a lot more reality to the situation.

"Let's get you ready for bed, okay?" You say to the giant who threatens to tip you over. You gently tug at his arms for him to release you and create some distance.

You take his hand and guide him to the bathroom first, where both of you do your nightly routines of brushing your teeth and washing your faces. He made a mess with the water when it came to washing the cleanser off his face, but you paid no mind to it as you grabbed a towel and dried it up.

You walked out of the bathroom and Toji was hot on your trail, toothbrush still in his mouth as he followed you into the kitchen. "I'm just grabbing some water. It'll just take a quick second." You smile as he continues to sluggishly brush his teeth. He pauses to respond.

"Why do you wanna leave me so bad? You didn't tell me you were leaving the bathroom. You were just gonna go and leave me alone in there?" he says, slightly muffled by the toothpaste that fills his mouth.

You laugh when some of the foam falls to the floor.

"Okay, okay. Let's go back to the bathroom together, then."

"You can't leave me on the couch," he says, out of nowhere, more suds falling onto the floor. You push him a little so that by the time he reaches the bathroom, at least some toothpaste remains in his mouth.

He dips his head and spits out the foam into the sink, rinsing his mouth after. You have to go back and tidy things up, like the cloud he didn't make sure was washed away before stepping away from the sink, and the bubbly spume that spilled out of his mouth in the kitchen and the hallway.

He's following you again, like a lost puppy because you didn't comment on what he said about not wanting to stay on the couch. He's quiet because you're quiet. You're not saying anything because you're focused on wiping up the cleaning spray and toothpaste mixture on the floor with a paper towel, and he's leaning against the wall, silently watching, feeling like you're mad at him.

You stand up straight and make your way to the trashcan before washing your hands. "Let's go, Toji," you say. He's looking at you like a scolded dog, reaching his hand out for you to hold. In his mind, if you take it, you can't be too mad at him. His chest feels so much lighter when your soft palm meets his. The heaviness is replaced with a racing heart as you take him to the room with you. You're not leading him to the couch like he thought you were going to.

"You're letting me sleep next to you?" He asks, watching as you put up a couple more pillows for him to use.

"Since when do you sleep on the couch? You know I need you here with me whenever you sleep over." You turn around and pinch his cheek, stepping behind him to creak the door shut.

"Yeah? You like when I stay in your bed?" His voice goes low with the question. His hands go to your waist and he's walking you backwards towards your bed. "Well I like staying in your bed too, mama." He lays you down, your head cradled by his hand before he slides it out of the way for your pillow to take its place. He grins as he takes up all the space between your legs, his hands taking their position on your waist again. He takes your lips in his, the minty flavor of his mouth seeping into your taste buds. It's a short lived moment, because the second his hands try to tug your shorts down, you put a stop to everything, your own hands pulling your shorts back up.

"Mm..." you hum, releasing his lips with a quiet smack. "N-No, Toji. Not like this."

"No?" He repeats, a small crease of confusion between his brows as he pulls his hands away from your hips. "Okay," he complies, quickly diverting the situation by resting his whole body down on you. His chin rests on your chest and he just looks up at you with the most loving expression. You have to try not to laugh when you notice he isn't blinking.

You gently scratch the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair. "What?" You ask, a soft smile following the question.

"I don't know," he says, sighing with that same adoring gaze still fixated on you. "I can't explain the way I see you." Not having the sufficiently accurate words to describe how you are depicted in his eyes is a strange, void-like feeling for someone who could talk about you for days on end.

You just hum at the declaration. His mind isn't exactly operating at one hundred percent, so you won't judge him for his inability to think of ways to describe you.

He lowers his gaze and buries his face in your warm chest. You can feel him kissing you through the thin material of your tank top. "Love you," he mumbles. "You mad at me?" He asks, not pausing his kisses as he waits for your answer.

"No, baby. There's nothing to be mad about." You smooth down his hair when you're done playing with it and rest your hands on his shoulders.

"Just wanted to see you." His warm breath filters through your shirt. "Shiu told me no, but I didn't care. I just had to see you, and now... i'm here." He inhales and lets out the breath slowly. "And I don't wanna go home." As if he's scared he'll be denied of you again, his arms go under your back, and he effectively molds his body into yours.

"You could've let me know over the phone rather than giving me a heart attack. You know you're always welcome here, my love." You rub soothing circles into his back with one hand, and the other goes to the back of his head again.

"Surprise," he says, lacking so much enthusiasm that it even makes him chuckle. He pushes his face further into your chest and lets out a sigh that reveals his tiredness. "Mm... you're gonna put me to sleep if you keep doing that."

You laugh, slowing your movements until your hands are just flat in their positions.

"No, ma," he groans, frustrated by the lack of your soothing touch on him. "Do it again, please. Feels good." He turns his head so that the side of his face rests on your chest.

It's impossible to deny him, especially when he asked so nicely. You like being able to help him relax this way. Never mind the lack of feeling in your legs from his weight and the minimal movement you've been allowed. You just can't seem to find it in yourself to whine about your position when the sound of him rhythmically breathing through his nose takes over the silence of the room. You tilt your head slightly to get a look at his face and as you suspected, he's out. His eyes are shut and he's motionless, save for the slight rise and fall of his shoulders and back as he breathes.

A kiss to the top of his head was your show of making peace with having him as your weighted blanket and human teddy bear for the night.

Shiu said you wouldn't be able to handle a drunk Toji all alone, yet there you have him, piled on and drooling on you like he's getting the best sleep.

[k-hotchoisan]

sticky web

<yunho x fem!reader>

when the Spiderman movie night with Yunho has its sticky complications because you're in a spider suit for him.

warnings: smut, pwp, suit fetish (kinda), reader is in a skin-tight venom suit, blow jobs, getting your lil suit dirty, unprotected sex, Spiderman movies and chill, Yunho fucking you through the suit, breeding kink

w/c: 2K

a/n: i'm posting this to appease my lovely readers (y'all) while I work thru your wonderful requests and my shitty writer's block )-: pls take this peace offering! <3 you know i love you guys sm 🩷 (also if you're wondering, spidey isn't my fav superhero but Dr Oct is one of my fav villains!!)

“You're really gonna get him fucked up when he sees you in this”, your friend teases, zipping your body con suit up. “His own girlfriend? Dressing up in a venom suit?”  

You roll your eyes playfully. “It's a reminder that I'll be his little Symbiote.” 

You look over to the mirror, feeling slightly subconscious at how much the suit is just hugging your curves despite how impressively breathable it was. And the reminder that you weren't wearing it out, at least for now, comforted you, mostly because, well, you weren't really wearing anything underneath this body hugging attire.

You had invited Yunho over for a Spiderman movie marathon to spend the Friday night, and the way his eyes lit up when you did? It's the cutest thing ever. You did your best to boost the ambiance too–dying the popcorn with red and blue sugar dyes, making spider web and spider-shaped cookies alongside some crystal candy that fit the theme for that extra crunch.

The doorbell rings, and you jump immediately to answer it when your phone reflects the text of Yunho mentioning that he's reached. 

Unfortunately, you did severely underestimate the effect it had on Yunho, because the moment you opened the door, Yunho definitely got distracted, evident by the reddening of his ears when his gaze rests on your cute little costume. 

You did tell Yunho to come in costume too, and he definitely did–in a red and blue spiderman patterned hoodie and red shorts. 

“What? Don't you like my costume?” You poke for an answer, giving Yunho a full spin, missing the way Yunho swallowing hard, trying not to eye fuck you. 

“You're… definitely dressed for the part”, Yunho manages out, his slender fingers covering his lips and nose, hoping you don't realise that he's growing as red as his hoodie.

He watches the material hugging your body tug and fit you just right, pulling at just the right places corresponding to your movements, and his feels his fingers twitch. 

Yunho turns away, his attention on the assortment of food presented on the table. 

“Red and blue popcorn?” He questions with a raised eyebrow as he settles onto the couch.

“It's just sugar dye”, you assure, sliding next to him, picking up a kernel, pressing it against his lips, your other hand mimicking the same action but to your own lips. Yunho smiles as he chews, the sweetness spreading all over his taste buds. 

“What should we watch first? Should we start all the way from the first Spiderman movie?” You suggest flickering through all the Spiderman movies back to the first. Yunho nods in agreement, stuffing his mouth with a couple more colourful popcorn. Pressing play, you absentmindedly huddle yourself against your partner, not that he minded, and Yunho lets his hands curl around your waist. 

Yunho is engrossed in the first thirty minutes of the movie, periodically munching on the snacks as the flick plays. 

You're leaning lazily against his arm, letting Yunho feed you from time to time, mostly because you didn't want to get your costume dirty. 

He blinks, wondering if he saw wrongly–your nipples poking through the fabric.

You're not wearing a bra underneath or anything?

Yunho shakes the thought off, trying to focus on the movie. Unfortunately his peripherals can't help but betray him, ever so slightly always trailing back to you. 

You look up at him from below, and point to the popcorn. 

“Yu, I want one more”, you request. Of course your boyfriend would feed you another one. When his fingers linger a little too long on your lips, you realise that his eyes aren't on the screen. 

He's staring at you. 

“Someone’s distracted”, you point out with a smirk.

You straddle his lap. 

The movie is paused.

Yunho’s hands are running up your body, and even though it's separated by a layer of fabric, his touches give you goosebumps.

“I can't concentrate when you're looking like this”, he mutters to your lips, and you feel his palm grab a handful of your ass. 

“Then concentrate on this”, you redirect, pulling him into a dizzy kiss–one that's just filled with moans and teasing. The both of you taste sweet, thanks to the popcorn.

 You're rubbing against his erection while he dry fucks you, and you're both not lasting long. 

You climb off him and sink to face his thick erection. Soft sighs as vibrations through the fabric of his shorts make Yunho shiver too. You palm his little problem, and hearing him groan while spreading his legs open is enough to make you clench your thighs. 

Pulling his shorts down, your heartbeat accelerates at his fucking length–precum trickling down his bare cock, veins so thick and prominent.

Your tongue travels up his thick length, and your mind almost go dumb when you feel Yunho’s fingers tug against your scalp. You look up at him through your lashes, visually savouring the way he's getting undone with your lips around his cock, in his favourite costume. Yunho wants you to just choke you on his dick, maybe get his cum dripping down your tits on the tight fabric. 

He only grows bigger in your mouth at the perverted thought and the way your eyes are slowly watering from his dick reaching to the back of your throat? He's not lasting long.

“Shit, that feels so fucking good”, Yunho groans, throwing his head back, pushing your head deeper, enjoying the sick sounds of you choking. Your mind is flooded with how good Yunho feels and fills your mouth, and it’s making you soak through your costume. 

Yunho groans with every squeeze your throat gives him, pushing himself to hit the back of your throat.

“Gonna cum in your tight pretty mouth. You're gonna swallow it all, yeah?”

You nod quickly, trying to keep up the pace of him fucking your mouth. With a strained groan, his cock pulses in your mouth, warm cum seeping through, and it makes your mind so dizzy. 

“Open”, he instructs, and you do, letting some of cum sleep past the corner of your lips and down your throat, then down onto your tits. 

Yunho is getting harder.

Yunho grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, leaving you surprised, and he marches into your bedroom, then drops you onto your bed. 

“Yunho-” you squeal when you feel his fingers press against the soaked fabric hiding your pussy. 

“It's in the way, don't you think?” He asks rhetorically, eyeing the way the damp patch grows bigger when he massages it against your sticky folds, making you bite your lip. Of course you're not wearing any fucking underwear. Yunho should have realised. 

Unfortunately, Yunho doesn't have the patience to take his sweet time to look for the zipper, so he does the more sensible thing–ripping a fucking hole at where your pussy is. 

You blink in shock.

Shit, he really ripped a fucking hole down there. 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“Yunho! This wasn't cheap!” You pout, closing your legs in protest with much futile effort, considering his arms are keeping them open.

He looks at you with indifference. “Then I'll get you a new one. Promise.”

Yunho grabs your thighs and drags you closer to him. His cum on his dick dribbles onto the suit, and Yunho smears it further, sliding his cock down, pressing it up against your creamy and puffy folds, with almost little to no friction. 

“I was thinking of how far I can ruin this suit anyway.”

He swears he's fucking blessed–his gorgeous partner making such an adorable movie date night of his favourite character, dressing up for the occasion, and letting him fuck her dumb in this cute spider suit? He couldn't ask for more.

Your eyes slowly roll back when you feel Yunho’s cock push into your warm pussy, filling you up almost instantly. You hiss softly at the pressure, feeling your tight walls trying to accommodate him. 

“So warm. Oh, fuck,” Yunho groans, already losing himself in your heat. He’s gotten a little more sensitive but he's gonna make it last as much as he can.

There's something so perverted that Yunho enjoys so much–fucking you fully clothed like this. He realises it gets him off so fast. He watches hungrily–the way your tits bounce under the suit when he thrusts deep into you, and how it's as if he's fucking you through the thin suit. His fingers trail up to your tits, and his thumb brushes against your bare nipples that harden under the fabric, throwing you into an additional layer of pleasure.

“Have I told you that you look fucking delicious in this? The Symbiote suits you so well.” 

It's hard to formulate an answer when your boyfriend is fucking your brains out like this, but you know he doesn't mind the silence and the broken moans–it’s your answer.

A couple more heavy thrusts into you, the wet sounds accompanying your sobs before he instructs you to turn around for him.

You go on fours, and Yunho wastes little time to pin your head down onto the mattress by your neck before he fits in wet dick right into you again.

His free hand wanders across your ass, then he gives it a tight slap, making you squeal and tighten on him.

You're clawing the sheets, the pleasure filling you up and you can't concentrate on anything else other than Yunho’s cock filling in and out of you, hitting your sweet spots over and over again. You've surely soiled the costume to hell, but honestly, at least Yunho was making full use of it. 

“So good”, you mutter, your pussy clamping down on the feeling of Yunho stretching you out with his fingers pressing the sides of your throat. You swear you were drooling.

“Is it?” Another heavy thrust. 

Oh shit, you're not sure how much more you could handle. And it seems that Yunho is in a similar situation–his thrusts are getting heavier and sloppier. His mind is in the gutter now, especially when he's forced to watch your pussy leak sticky cream down your folds and stain your inner thighs, mixed with his cum. 

“Cumming-” you cry, your legs shaking. “So good. Can't think-”

“Make a mess for me, babe”, Yunho chuckles, his palm stroking your ass, grabbing a handful before he fucks himself deep once more.

Your mind melts with your orgasm hitting you in waves, your pussy convulsing uncontrollably on his dick, your moans forming a melody for his ears, and it pushes him far enough to make a mess in you, thick and warm cum filling you up that you’re forced to take. You hear him curse and groan behind you, and you drop your hips onto the bed, his cock popping out of you, completely covered in a glisten of cum, some still seeping out from his cock head.

He tugs your ruined folds open, watching his thick cum leak out of your spent hole, dripping onto your thighs, soaked up by the suit. Yunho takes in the sight of you panting, with probably more than half of the suit soiled with fluids, and your pussy, other than your face, both uncovered and in a complete mess. 

Fuck, he just might get hard again. 

“Yunho, this isn't a good idea–fuck”, you whimper, completely losing yourself to him once more. 

Yunho had washed you up a little after that, and he wouldn't let you take off the suit, at least, not yet. You thought finally, maybe you and him could actually watch a Spiderman movie or two, but when Yunho pulled you onto his lap, you knew that plan was out of the window considering that he got hard again, and had you seated right on his cock. None of you are focusing on the movies. 

“Don't be mad at me, babe. I'm just making sure that I make full use of this movie night you're giving me”.

Another thrust into your spent pussy once more, and your thoughts leave your head. 

He's certain of having you fucked and filled with his sticky web by the end of the first movie, that's for sure.

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3@mcarebearsstuff. @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia  @yeosangiess @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @skteezcursed @jeon-ify @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319  @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @jwnghyuns @everythingboutkpop @skz1-4-3  @minalizasworld @seomisaho @tunafishyfishylike @songmingisthighs @comicnerd557 @yuyusgirl

[radiance1]

Pariah Dark: [Gets defeated]

Ghost King status: [Doesn't go away]

Pariah Dark: <:0

Pariah 'Right of Conquest' Dark: >:0

I don't know where I'm going with this but BASICALLY my thought process for this au is that Pariah is let out to be redeemed or whatever BUT is incredibly upset that he still has the Ghost King status after having been defeat.

I mean he could just take it back since Danny doesn't have the armor anymore but who cares-

But you see.

The thing about that is.

The Infinite Realms doesn't wanna give him up, like, at all.

Danny doesn't want the title either so it works in the Infinite Realm's favor as well.

Yes, I AM implying that the Infinite Realms is both sentient and decides who gets to be king. Usually, it just went with the flow of things, because what is change in the face of infinity?

But then looked at Pariah Dark and went: "Yea no I'm keeping him."

Then looked at Clockwork and was like: "Yea this one too."

Then Danny and was like: "Why not room for one more?"

Basically, the Ghost King, the Master of Time, and that one Halfa are viewed as the Infinite Realm's special little blorbos and get favorite privileges.

Which is unfortunate, because Pariah, Ancient of War that believes fully in the Right of Conquest, wants to give up his crown. The Observants want him to give up his crown, Clockwork doesn't give a shit about the crown, Danny doesn't want the crown.

The Infinite Realms isn't about to change its mind anytime soon.

So what does it do? Make up a completely new title and bestow Danny the title of Ghost Prince as a compromise.

Which is also unfortunate because Danny gets summoned, and Danny being summoned isn't good because Danny doesn't want to be summoned, but Danny not wanting to be summoned is completely and utterly uncared for.

Which brings us to our next point.

The Infinite Realms is kind of... Nosey.

So it's there whether Danny wants it to be, or not. Which, means, that those who have summoned him for the first time gets stared down with the weight of infinity because it's a nosey little shit but also doesn't want it's blorbo to be taken advantaged of.

It did the same for Pariah too in his earlier years.

Makes this even worse when the JL or YJ (Your pick) had already pulled up to stop the summoning, failed, and then faced this.

[bi-writes]

you don't think ghost likes you very much. (part 2 of this, but can be read standalone) (18+, semi-dark content ahead, ghoap x fem!reader)

he doesn't like you. no matter what you do, what you wear, what you say, you know he doesn't approve of you, not really.

not like johnny.

johnny adores the ground you walk on. his lips are always on you. in your ear, along your neck, against your collarbone. his tongue is warm, and it slides along your jaw, around your fingers, sucking on your skin.

"what a nice gift, LT," he always says. "got the nicest pussy 'v e'er had." and then he puts those eyes on, those big, soft, blue ones, and he asks, "can i keep 'er, LT? can i have 'er?"

and johnny is so good. johnny does what he's asked of. johnny says yes, he never says no. johnny smiles and nods and does what he is told, and so johnny gets to have you.

johnny gets to keep you.

but you are a pet, and you are nothing more, and ghost never lets you believe otherwise. he doesn't even give you his name; it's ghost, and ghost only, and he never touches you. not the way the johnny does.

he competes with you, but it isn't a competition. johnny doesn't listen to you, not if ghost contradicts you. he will win, and he will win every time, and even though you are aware of this, he reminds you, all the time.

"johnny, please--" you sob, and he laughs, rubbing his stubble against your thigh gently. it's wet, because he's slobbered all over your cunt, and your hole pulses because it wants more. "johnnny...j-johnny, please--"

"oh, relax, my little lamb..." he sucks your clit into his mouth gently, suckling on the puckered bud. you whine at that, reaching down, pulling on the long strands of hair down the middle of his head, and he groans. "makin' a right mess..."

you're crying. tears falling down your face, pleasure like fire at the base of your spine and crawling up your back, and you reach up and squeeze the swell of your breasts, pulling on your nipples gently. johnny always gets you here--right at the top of a glorious fucking hill, and when you come down it, he carries you, keeping you high for as long as he can before he tries again and again and again--

"fuck are y' doing?" a rough voice growls. johnny's ripped off of you, his back arching as a gloved hand yanks on his head. johnny grunts, hissing, and you whine when you see ghost gripping him by his neck, holding the back of his head to his chest. "spoiled. you spoil her, johnny."

"she's so pretty, LT...i--"

"you spoil her." ghost tilts his head to the side, and you see his eyes narrow, a harsh glare at you from under the mask that makes you shake a little. "spoil her fuckin' rotten."

he doesn't let you come. he's a selfish motherfucker.

you don't know why he doesn't like you. for all intents and purposes, he chose you. and he had all but asked you to leave. tortured you, yes, but he hasn't asked you to leave. he still wants you here, doesn't he? if he hated you, if he was jealous, if he really disapproved of you, a man such as he would just kick you out, wouldn't he?

johnny and ghost are gone today. you're alone, and you've decided to occupy your time by cleaning. you put away the clean dishes, fold the laundry that was stuck in the dryer, pick up around the kitchen. ghost keeps the place very clean--but they were pressed for time in the morning, so johnny left you with the softest kisses, and ghost with just a grunt.

you're arranging fresh flowers in the living room when you hear the front door shut. you bounce into the hallway, a big smile on your face ready to greet johnny, but you freeze when you see only one big shadow shrugging off his rain jacket.

ghost is by himself, and he rolls out his neck as he toes off his boots. he hangs up his jacket, still not looking at you.

"wot?" he snaps. "cat got your tongue, little rabbit?"

you swallow, shaking your head.

"sorry...i thought...thought it was johnny."

"yeah? and wot? just 'cause it's not johnny, gonna not greet me like y'should, yeah?" he bites. you stand still for another minute before coming towards him. you lean up on your toes and kiss his cheek, but when you pull away, he reaches down and grips your ass tight, forcing your pelvis against his and rumbling low. he snarls a little, and you tilt your head back as he presses the front of his mask against your lips, kissing you through it. "tha'sit. good girl."

a soft sound comes out of you, a moan, a whimper, you aren't sure, but he smacks your ass gently, nodding his head.

"go on," he mutters. "on the couch."

he eyes you as you walk away.

"'n why the fuck are y'wearin' all those clothes?"

your insides warm at that, and you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

"oh. sorry." you slide your sweats off and toss them aside. it's then that ghost realizes you're wearing his shirt. he runs a hand over his taut stomach, adjusting himself shamelessly in his jeans as he watches you bend over to get onto the couch. you wear no panties, and he hums under the mask, tilting his head to the side.

"johnny got held up on base," he murmurs, coming into the living room. you take a seat on the couch, looking up at him, squeezing your thighs together.

"so...we're all alone?" you ask. this is your chance. this is the opportunity you have been waiting for. with no johnny to distract him, all he has is you, and he can't ignore you. not this time.

"all alone, sweetheart."

you swallow hard. "why don't you like me?"

the question is blunt and clear. ghost clicks his tongue under the mask, focusing on you, and he shakes his head.

"tha' isn't wot it is."

"then what is it?"

he just stares, and you shake your head. you need answers. you need to know what you're doing wrong--you want to be good.

"not you, luvie. it's my boy, my poor johnny..." you watch as he grips himself through his jeans again, visibly hard as he squeezes his cock over his zipper. "fuckin' annoying when he isn't the center of attention. my attention. you understand, right?"

you watch him, licking your bottom lip.

"b-but...but--"

"turns into a bloody muppet. pouts like a baby." ghost comes closer, leaning over you, gripping your chin gently. "wot, huh? thought i didn't want y'around?" you whimper when he squeezes your face between his big hand, squishing your cheeks. "'n how could i not, yeah? look at ya..."

he growls under the mask.

"y'wet, sweetheart?" he asks, and you lean back, spreading your knees, and he grunts when he sees between your thighs. the skin is wet, soft and slick, and he hums lowly when he sees how you clench around nothing. "wanna taste, luv. give it t'me."

you reach down gently, sliding two fingers through your folds. you whine a little, scooping a nice handful of slick, and then you pick up your fingers for him. he pushes his mask up, and you shiver when you see the wicked grin on his scarred face. then he takes your fingers into his mouth.

he leans over you. his mouth his hot, and you shake a little when his tongue slips over your fingers, warm muscle swallowing as he tastes you.

"fuckin' hell," he murmurs when he lets your fingers go. "know why johnny spends all his time down there, yeah?"

you giggle, arching your back a little, pulling his shirt up.

"ghost...why dont...why dont you come here?" you reach for the waistband of his pants, tugging gently, and he falls over you on the couch. you meet his eyes as you start to unbutton his jeans. "i want you to spend time here, too, y'know."

"tha' right, sweetheart?"

you smile, "y-yeah." you unzip his pants, your jaw falling open when you pull him out. he's so big, nice and girthy and pretty, and the tip is so pink, dribbling precum and just aching for your tongue to taste him. you rub your thumb over the tip, and he hisses. "and...a-and i love johnny..." you look back up into his eyes. "b-but...i..."

he reaches around and fists your hair, growling against your lips.

"need a right beast to fuck this pretty pussy, yeah? need someone to--" you cry out as he yanks your head back, exposing your neck to him. "--fuckin' ruin ya."

you squeal, arching your back, and he chuckles, but it's mean. you wrap your arms around his neck, and he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

"yah, luv, y'r mine, just as much as johnny--" you gasp when he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, "y'belong to me. gonna write my name across your fuckin' cunt, sweetheart, fuck that idea right into your pretty head--"

you cry when he fucks you. when he sits up on his knees, gripping you from under your thighs, fucking into you with a reckless rhythm that leaves your thighs shaking and warm tears coming down your face.

"look at you..." ghost hisses, and you cry more, keening as he stares down at where you're connected and the squelch of you dribbles down his thighs. "bloody hell..."

your back bows, your thighs clamping around ghost's hips as he fucks you into the mattress. you can barely think, the only sensation you can really absorb is the way his thighs smack against your ass and the feel of his big, gloved hands spreading you open.

"just needed me right here, yeah?" ghost grunts, slowing his pace as he nestles his pelvis right against yours. you whine; he's so deep, it hurts, but it hurts so good, you don't tell him to stop, you can't. he's so much bigger than johnny, in every way, and you feel suffocated, but if this is how you die, so be it. getting fucked brainless is not the worst way to go, not like this. you gasp when he smooths a big hand over your stomach, pressing the pad of his thumb to where you know the tip of his cock sits. "right there, luv, tha' place is for me, yeah? 's mine, my spot--"

ghost leans down, growling against your neck, a firm grind of his hips punching your cervix again. you claw at ghost's back, and it's painfully obvious how desperate you are--you nearly rip ghost's shirt in pieces.

"this place is for me," he murmurs, spreading his fingers. he grips your waist in both hands and gives you a hard thrust, leaning his head back as he feels you clench hard. you like it when he talks, he can tell--the sound of his voice has you that much wetter, and he clicks his tongue as he leans back, rubbing a gloved thumb over your pretty little clit. "wanna live here...want ya to be my little pet..." he smirks under the mask when you cry, so sensitive. "whenever i want, want you bent over, spread nice 'n wide f'me." he hums low, "whenever i want, yeah?"

he talks like you aren't there. like he isn't cock-deep inside of you, molding the soft places of your pussy to the shape of him. ghost, despite being a little breathless, has no tremble in his voice despite how hot he feels, and he knows, suddenly, why johnny fawns over you. there is nothing that compares to this--there is nothing quite like fucking this pretty princess, watching her tits bounce, her thighs shake, feeling how soft and lovely she is when he gets her right where she belongs--stupid and cumming.

"a princess ya are, yeah?" ghost chuckles. "a right spoiled one, innit?"

and maybe you are a little spoiled. you had no idea you would be getting two for one--johnny and his looming shadow.

you grip ghost's shirt from the front tight, balling it up in tight fists and pulling him close.

"please!" you squeal. "please, please, please--" you moan and sob against the front of his mask. "w-wanted you for so long--w-wanted--"

"ya did?" ghost tilts his head to the side, picking up the pace. he cradles your head between his arms, pressing his face to yours. "even though i was a bastard?"

you mewl, nodding, reaching down and gripping his lower back as he grinds mercilessly. the curls at the base of his cock are rubbing against your clit now, and you angle your hips to catch the feeling every time, and you know you're getting close. you're there.

"almost said your name--" you gasp. "w-when...when he..."

"poor thing--" he chuckles. "thought johnny was what you wanted?" he knows you like the way he's fucking you, and he slows down, wanting to see your face and every expression you make. "what you needed?"

you nod. "i need him," you whisper. "but it isn't enough."

"no, you're such a greedy bunny--" he grips your face tight, sitting up, and you cry when he fucks you. he's an animal, he's lost control, and you are helpless under him. all you can do is spread your knees wider and moan. "johnny can't tame you, but i can, yeah?"

you meet his eyes, big and soft and wet, and he hisses. the look in your eyes, he cums instantly, falling over you and barely having enough time to put his hand out and catch himself. you gasp at the feeling, reaching down, and with a few soft circles of your fingers, ghost lets out a strangled sound as he feels you tighten and cum. the front of his thighs are soaked, and he nudges your chin up with his nose as he breathes in the scent of you from your neck.

"don't say of word of this to 'im, yeah? got ourselves a jealous little bastard," he murmurs against your ear. you nod, and when he kisses you, you can't help the way you relax. cupping his scarred face, licking into his mouth--ghost is your keeper, and he's johnny's keeper, and you know suddenly why johnny does whatever he says, whenever he wants.

ghost is in charge. he just is, and even though you're just a little, innocent civilian, ghost has given you orders, and you will follow them. there is a soft, aching place inside of you that wants to please him so badly--wants to impress him, show him how good you can be. and you imagine, wonder, if johnny has that same feeling in him, that same little press on the inside of his ribs that screams, be a good boy, a good girl, do just as he says, he'll give such a nice reward.

and when johnny comes home, there you are, all soft smiles and tender touches and little giggles that make his belly hurt so nice. and when he tells you he's hungry, you spread your legs, using two fingers to show him your pretty, wet cunt. and he dives in, like he always does, because one of his favorite places is feeling the rub of your thighs against his stubble and your fingers tugging his hair.

his tongue spreads your folds, and he hums with delight when you fall onto your back, pliant and soft and warm. and then he tastes you, and he swallows, and his eyes flicker when there is something else there, something that he knows.

johnny's eyes dart up, looking over you, and he can see ghost lingering in the doorway, watching, and then johnny understands what it is he tastes--and why he likes it so fucking much, and why it tastes like something he knows.

he meets ghost's eyes, and they look at each other, and johnny knows what it is that he's done, what it is he's eating out of you. but ghost knows johnny is a good boy, and he won't pull away, he won't make a scene. no. johnny pulls back a little, wiping his face.

he smiles. and then he leans in for more.

[reilemon]

🍷Ambrosia🍷

♡︎ synopsis: You give Sylus a private pole dance show.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: pre-relationship, pole dancing, lap dance, cowgirl, missionary, creampie

♡︎ word count: 4.2k

♡︎ a/n: If you don't like how I wrote Sylus pls don't say anything. 😭

♡︎ a little gift for my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @cafekitsune

"Why are you walking by yourself in the city at 1 am?" Sylus asks you over the phone.

You look around, searching for Mephisto. You sigh when you fail. "I just wanted to sober up on my way home."

"You can sober up in my car." And as if on cue, a familiar black car pulls up next to you.

The other line cuts off and Sylus exits, walking around and opening the passenger's door. "Get in, sweetie."

You cross your arms. "I don't wanna get car sick."

"You won't. I'll drive slowly."

"But I'm like five minutes away from my apartment." You look around at the empty street. No people and no surveillance cameras. You did pick out a weird route, but it was in a peaceful neighborhood. "Why don't you walk with me?"

Sylus' shoulders slump at your request. Not because it's unreasonable, but because he hoped the car ride would be more than five minutes long.

After parking the car, he returns to you carrying a water bottle and a paper bag with a logo of a donut shop. He hands them over, and you accept, feeling guilty.

"Did you get these for me?"

He shrugs. "I always drive by that place, so I got curious and bought some."

"Oh... Oh?" Your eyes land on a stain on his shirt. Blood? No - "Is that jam?"

He glances down "Right, I tried one and it spilled on my shirt. I can just get a new one."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you can. I have something that can remove the stain."

When you turn to start walking, he grabs your hand and loops your arm around his. "Slow down, I don't want you to trip."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Just when you locked the doors of your apartment, it hit you that Sylus, the infamous leader of Onichynus, your friend (?), is in your apartment. At 1 am, for the first time. The apartment isn't messy, but you still would've prepared it more. For instance, you would've put away the pole standing in the middle of your living room.

Of course, that's the first thing Sylus notices. "You like to pole dance, kitten?"

The question sobers you up immediately. Your face and ears burn in embarrassment, and you can feel sweat forming on your back. "Um, sometimes. When I have time." You scurry away to the kitchen to put away the food, Sylus chuckling behind you. You wouldn't be so flustered if you knew those cool, energetic moves. No, instead, all you know is the sensual, seductive ones. They're like a breath of fresh air, given the nature of your job.

You go back to Sylus who made himself comfortable on your sofa, taking in the new environment. "I have a men's t-shirt that could fit you, and I'll return your shirt the next time I see you."

With a slight glare he responds "I'm not wearing another man's clothes."

You sigh "It's mine. I like to wear baggy clothes around the house." Although, you can't help but smile a little at that display of jealousy. Was it, though? Or are you just being delusional?

You wish it was.

His face returns to the neutral relaxed state, with his usual amused smirk. The face, you noticed, he only has when he's around you. It wasn't like that in the beginning (let's not talk about the beginning), but the more time you spent with him, the more you got to see his gentle side.

Lost in your daydream, you didn't notice that he was almost done unbuttoning the stained shirt, revealing he doesn't have anything underneath.

When he completely takes it off, your eyes are glued to his torso. This is your first time seeing him completely shirtless, leaving you unable to peel off your gaze from his chiseled muscles, broad shoulders-

"It's rude to stare, sweetie."

You blink, snapping out of the shameless ogling, taking the shirt that was lingering in his hand for a moment as he was trying to hand it to you.

"I wasn't staring." You, again, make a run for it, this time to your bedroom to fish out a clean oversized t-shirt for him. When you return to the living room, your eyes are fixated on his face, fighting the urge to look down and stare at his physique.

He thanks you and puts it on. It fits almost perfectly, and although he's covered, the sight is making your heart flutter.

He takes a whiff of the fabric. "Smells nice."

After a brief chat about laundry (of course Sylus doesn't do it, but knows how to, apparently), you turn towards the bathroom, claiming "Trust me, I'll make that stain disappear."

"I bet you can't."

The accusation makes you stop in your tracks. "I bet I can! And if I win, you'll get me something pretty."

Sylus chuckles, eyeing you from head to toe. "If you lose, you'll dance for me."

Fell right into his trap.

With a shaky voice you refuse, "I don't think so. Pick something else."

Sylus raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised at your declining of the bet for the first time. "Oh?" He notices how you're shifting where you stand, averting your gaze. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

You shake your head "You didn't, it's just that - " You trail off, an idea popping up in your head. By now, Sylus can read your face with ease, so he smirks when your eyes light up and he listens intently. "How about, if you actually want me to put on a little show for you, you buy me a bottle of my favorite perfume?"

You've been running low, and it's currently out of stock literally everywhere you looked. If he actually wants to see you dance, he'll have to put in a little bit of work. Not only is the perfume out of stock, he doesn’t even know which one is your favorite. At least you never told him. And even if he, by some miracle, finds it, you'll just do a few spins and take your perfume. It's not like he asked you to give him a lap dance. You probably wouldn't be opposed to it, though.

He raises his eyebrows before nodding. "Deal."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

As you shut the door of the bathroom, Sylus slowly sneaks his way into your bedroom. Actually, it’s not sneaking in if you left the door open, right?

However, he's not a creep who uses this opportunity to go through your underwear drawer. No, he goes straight to your vanity and takes a sniff of every fancy looking perfume, remembering almost every single scent and occasion you wore them on.

The water stopped running in the bathroom. He needs to wrap this up. There's one more bottle, the printed logo and letters worn out, almost empty. He chuckles, as he wonders if this is the one since you're running low and want him to replace it. You could've just asked him to and he'd get you ten more.

His eyes roll back as the ambrosial scent hits his nose. That's it, that's the one. Oh, how he adores it. It smells intoxicating when it's on you. And you're wearing it tonight, him catching a hint of it when you met up and he had to fight every fiber in his body not to bury his face in your neck, taking in your perfume and the feel of your soft skin.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

At the doorway of Sylus' bedroom, you stare at the pole installed in the middle of the room. When he said to take the now stain-free shirt to his bedroom, you thought it was odd since, well - why would you go into his bedroom? The last time you were here, was to search for that brooch and he kicked you out every time. Except for the last time, when you succeeded in finding it, the moments on his bed that you fantasize more often than you'd like to admit, where you wish it led to something more.

"You know you're allowed to enter?" Sylus' teasing voice appears behind you.

You peer at him over your shoulder "You already have the pole installed? Without even getting the perfume first?" After all, it's only been a few days since you last saw him, and when you gave him the challenge.

"Take a better look, sweetie." He nods in the direction of the desk.

You take a step inside to get a closer look, with Sylus trailing behind you to stand next to you. Of course, there it is - the bottle of your favorite perfume waiting for you. Sylus smirks in self-satisfaction as your face is too easy to read now, you can't lie your way out of this.

Nor do you want to.

"Well," Sylus gestures towards the bed, "I took the liberty of ordering some outfits for you."

You then eye the clothes that you didn't notice earlier, gawking at the stunning pieces that ranged from coverage to more provocative, and all in your favorite colors.

You turn to him, eyes wide "I - " You don't even know what to say - you want to thank him, but at the same time you didn't expect him to do all this. You know that he is as generous as he is wealthy, but his thoughtfulness always catches you off guard. One of the main reasons why you like him so much.

He chuckles at your cute reaction and pats your head. Then he takes the shirt that was still in your hands and walks towards the door. "I'll give you half an hour to pick out an outfit and warm up."

"Wha - ?"

He shuts the door behind him.

Fuck.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You took more time trying on your new pole outfits than warming up, leaving you with only five minutes to frantically pack them in an empty box you assumed was for the clothes, and to actually warm up. There was nothing underneath the skimpy outfit you picked out, since you had to get rid of your underwear that was ruining the look. There were even some heels waiting for you, and even though you didn't have to wear them, you couldn't resist. You put some of your favorite perfume on, of course, and in the middle of the brief warm-up you thought of one more detail.

There's a soft knock on the door and you frantically exit Sylus' closet, almost tripping in your high heels as you go back to the pole.

Sylus enters the room and you can see that he's stunned for a brief second, as he sees you wearing heels and one of his silk robes.

He closes the door behind him and comments with an amused smile "I don't remember displaying my robe on the bed."

You fidget the soft fabric of the belt, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart as the reality of the situation is starting to settle in. The pole next to you, Sylus asking you which playlist he should play, your nose picking up the familiar scent of his fabric softener.

You must've looked like a deer in headlights, because Sylus' concerned frown as he calls your name snaps you back to reality.

"Are you okay? You don't really have to do this -."

"No, I'm fine!" You clear your throat, steeling your resolve. You want to do this. "I was just trying to remember the song..." You grab your phone and hand it over to him to connect it with the stereo and go back to wait by the pole.

You may have fantasized about dancing for him more than you'd like to admit - and not just in these few days since you last saw him. You also may have more than one song that reminds you of him and that you created choreographies for.

While setting up, Sylus sits down on the sofa in front of you.

He can feel your eyes on him.

"What?" He asks, still setting up.

“Nothing.” You look away and do some of the last warm up moves. You wanted to jokingly ask if he expected a lap dance, but you chickened out. The deal was for you to just show off some of your pole dance moves, that’s it. No striptease, no lap dancing…

You collect the courage to make the joke anyway, but just as you open your mouth the first notes of the song you picked out hit your ears.

He puts your phone away and makes himself comfortable in his seat - legs spread, hands resting on his thighs, lips pulled in that smirk, his eyes fully focused on you.

So you give him your most confident-looking smile, grab the pole with one hand and start walking around it. You drag the platforms of your shoes across the floor, just gliding around before getting into the show-off moves. Your movements are fluid, making it looks so easy - from spinning around to air walking. The music and the dancing soothe your anxiety and lift your mood. You know you look good. After a few spins, the silk robe starts getting in the way. With your back turned to him, your hands untie the belt and slide the robe off your shoulders. You look back at him with a playful grin, and you can't help but feel smug at how immersed he is in your performance, one arm now resting on the backrest, eyes raking over your whole body and face, anticipating your next move.

The robe slips off completely and you toss it away somewhere. You feel your cheeks heat up as the air hits your newly exposed skin. This is the first time you've showed so much of yourself to Sylus, and you couldn't help but feel a little shy. But then you see him shifting in his seat, face a little more serious, the attention giving you butterflies. With so much of your skin exposed, you show off some of the advanced moves, and you feel a new boost of confidence. You know it’s stunning - the way you look in your revealing outfit and how you perform these moves with ease.

The other half of the song starts playing, and you decide to shift from the pole to the floor. Fixing your gaze to the side, on Sylus, you go down on all floors, slowly gliding your upper body, your butt propped up, giving him a perfect view of your silhouette. Red eyes follow every step and take in your expressions that go from focused to playful and a little flirty.

Maybe more flirty than you realize.

You lie on your back, lifting your legs and move your hips side to side, making slow waves with your legs. With every next move, you're bolder, more provocative, locking eyes with him as you move.

In the brief silence between the songs, Sylus chuckles "Is that all, kitten?"

You know he's teasing. After all the time you spent together, some of them literally tied to each other, you know how to recognize the slight differences in his tone.

You know how to tease too. Smiling mischievously, you get on all fours, back arched, and slowly crawl towards him, cat style.

Sylus' lips stretch into a half grin as he watches you close the distance, with you now on your knees by his feet. He loved every second of your performance, his admiration for you only growing, always unconsciously proving to him that you are worth every second of his time and every bit of effort to be more patient. But every moment of that performance made his patience run thin. The craving, the need for you – it’s starting to overtake him. The sensual moves, the most provocative outfit he picked out but thought he was pushing his luck with, they made your body, made you, irresistible. He needed to deflect. He loves teasing you because your reactions are always so cute and amusing. He expected a pout or a snarky comment but instead you started crawling towards him and-

You graze your hands over his thighs, feeling the muscles under the fabric of his pants twitch with your touch and stopping just around his hips. Then, you gracefully stood up and turned around, arching your back and moving your hips to the rhythm, giving him a nice view of your butt. As you look over your shoulder, you have to bite back a self-satisfied grin when you catch his gaze raking over your body, not being subtle about it at all. You turn to face him, hands grabbing onto his shoulders as you position yourself to kneel over him, and with every fiber in your body, you fight the urge to just sit on his crotch, to feel if he's hard at all. So you lean back, arms behind your back and holding onto his thighs as you stretch your torso and you roll your hips, your eyes locked with his.

With the second song almost over, you lean towards him, your lips tickling his earlobe, your eyes catching the goosebumps on the skin of his neck and the redness on his ear. "I guess this is all I got."

And just when you're about to push yourself off the sofa, Sylus' strong hands grab you by the hips, pressing them down on his clothed erection, a yelp escaping your lips upon contact.

"Are you sure?" His red eyes, illuminated by the low lights of his bedroom, are on you, lidded with lust.

Just a bit more.

You sigh innocently and avert your gaze, resting your arms on his shoulders, your hips moving lazily over the rock hard erection, earning a choked grunt from the man under you, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your hips and butt.

"Well..." You trail off, steadying your breathing as arousal started rapidly coursing through your body, making your mouth dry and pussy wet. "I think - !?"

Sylus' hand wraps around your jaw, making you look back at him. His lips are parted, cheeks flushed, and you don't think you've ever seen his eyes looking at you with such intensity.

Out of breath, he asks you, "Can I kiss you?"

"Y-yes."

His lips take yours in a searing kiss, the hand on your hip trailing over your back and pressing between your shoulder blades, while the hand on your jaw finds its way to the back of your head. It feels like an out of body experience to finally kiss Sylus, to feel his soft lips you've been eyeing for so long, to bury your fingers in his silver hair, to taste mint and red wine on his tongue, to feel the pulse on his neck under your hand. Your clothed pussy was fluttering, desperate for some attention, so you started moving your hips again, grinding against him, drawing out a low groan from the man.

"If you keep doing that I can't hold back any longer." He warns in a low voice against your lips.

You take his 'warning' seriously and suddenly sit up, kneeling above his lap once again. A flash of confusion (or disappointment) on Sylus' face gets quickly overwritten with surprise, followed by a cocky grin as your hands go to his belt.

He puts his hands over yours, making you look back at his eyes that softened a little. "Are you sure?"

You nod and try to shift your attention back to his belt, but he grabs your chin, his face a breath away from yours. "I need you to use your words, kitten."

You swallow thickly, the blood rushing under your cheeks and ears "Yes, I can't wait anymore."

Sylus gives you one more breathtaking kiss before he opens his belt and unzips his pants, hissing in relief as his hard cock is freed from his underwear. Your eyes widen as they stare at the sheer size of it, your pussy fluttering in anticipation.

You move the bottoms of your outfit to the side, making him groan as he catches the sight of your naked pussy lips, "Fuck, you had nothing underneath this whole time? You'll be the death of me."

Your chuckle is replaced by a soft whimper as he grabs his cock by the base and guides you by grabbing your hip, the tip sliding along your wet folds, grazing your clit. It slides right against your entrance, dipping in and out of your hole, each time a little deeper, before the tip is fully inside and you're already seeing stars. Now both his hands are on your hips, slowly guiding you down as he watches your face intently, a single drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

"You can take it, pretty girl." He chokes back a groan as your walls squeeze around him as he enters you deeper. It takes him every last bit of restraint not to thrust up into you and fuck you senseless.

He rubs soothing circles on your bud, making your legs twitch, the stretch of his dick already stimulating enough to send you over the edge. With a few shallow pumps, he fully enters you.

"That's it, you're doing so good." Pulling you into a tight embrace, his lips find yours, teeth nipping and tongue licking your bottom lip before he trails over your jaw to the sensitive skin of your neck. Holding onto his broad shoulders and nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, you slowly start moving your hips, sweat starting to drip from your back and your chest. He takes off your top, leaving you with only your bottom and the heels on your feet, while he's still fully clothed as you ride him. His tongue drags over between your breasts, drinking up your sweat, his lips then latching onto your pebbled nipple while his fingers play with the other one.

Your sensitive swollen clit keeps rubbing against his pelvis, as you roll your hips on his length.

Sylus hisses against your breast, "You're squeezing me so tight." He grabs you by the back of your neck, his face now close to yours. With his other hand squeezing your butt cheek, his hips thrust up, meeting your pace. "You gonna cum, darling?"

You can only mewl and nod in response. He notices your leg muscles shaking and hips staggering in their movement.

"Let me take over." He knows you're getting tired, but too lost in pleasure and probably too proud to admit it. He slides further down in his seat, letting your body rest completely on top of him. He holds onto your ass in a bruising grip, holding your hips in place as he starts vigorously thrusting up, the blunt tip hitting all the right places and the base and pelvis hitting your clit over and over until you're a panting moaning mess on top of him. His teeth latch onto the flesh between your neck and shoulder as your intoxicating smell, your voice, and pulsing cunt bring him closer to cumming too.

Just when you're about to come down from your high, Sylus suddenly sits up and throws a pillow from the sofa onto the floor.

"Hold onto me." He instructs and you do as you're told, wrapping your arms and legs around him, allowing him to, as gently as possible, lay you onto the floor with the pillow under your head.

He adjusts himself between your legs and continues the relentless pounding. The view on top of you makes your pussy flutter again - strands of his silver hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lust dazed eyes fixed on you, pupils dilated you can barely see the ruby red irises, wide shoulders and his whole fucking hot face and body you could stare at forever. But you need to feel his weight on your body.

As if reading your mind, he lies down completely on top of you, using one elbow for support while the other arm sneaks behind you and grabs your butt. "I'm so fucking close." He grunts against your lips, but you're too lost in pleasure to say anything back, only moaning and burying your face in his shoulder as your walls clench around his throbbing dick, the pressure of another orgasm building up.

The hand moves to grab your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone, the gentle touch contrasting with his ruthless hips, "Let me see you, darling." His voice is both soft and strained.

You're the first one to break the eye contact as another orgasm crashes through you. Sylus' orgasm comes only seconds later, enhancing the intensity as his twitching cock spurts hot liquid inside your pussy.

With the last lazy rolling of his hips, you come down from your own highs, foreheads pressed together as both of you catch your breath. He gives you a soft kiss on the lips, and then just gazes at you with a tenderness you haven't seen before. His fingertips trace over the features of your face. "I hope you can spend the night here."

Of course, you accept the offer. And of course, you didn't sleep at all that night.

[mintmatcha]

Continuation.

Bakugo Katsuki swore that he would die before he let you have Izuku's number.

And yet, somehow, the three of you have ended up together for drinks.

He thinks it's a fair compromise; Izuku can ask his million questions, Bakugo can kill the rumors that the two of you are together, you can-

He's not sure what your goal is, but he can see it shining in your eyes.

Izuku is still in his teaching clothes, a pristine button up rolled up to the elbows and a pressed pair of pants. There's an extra shine and coil to his curly hair, and it smells like sandalwood; he put effort into his appearance and Bakugo knows it isn't for him.

Your words echo in the back of his mind: people always want what they can't have.

"You worked for the commission? As a hero?" Izuku asks you.

You never give direct answers- just these convenient truths delivered with a pretty smile.

"I'm retired."

Lipstick clings to the rim of your drink. It makes your lips looks soft and round, even when you run your tongue across your teeth.

"Retired?" Izuku asks. "Wow, I'm kind of jealous."

"She's my social media manager." Bakugo cuts in. "And a tiktok person."

Not his girlfriend, he wants to add, but he refrains.

"Kacchan says you have a cool quirk." Izuku talks without pause, rambling mostly to himself in that way Katsuku has taught himself to find endearing. His attention never wanes away from you, but you don't blush or squirm. You sit and endure with that damn smile on your face. "What is it called? How does it work? I tried to Google it, but nothing comes up. You are so young to be retired, I just-"

You lean forward and place a hand on Izuku's upper thigh, cutting him off midsentence.

"You have very beautiful eyes," you say, slow, stepping gently over every word. "Wide, wet: like a rabbit's."

Izuku snaps silent. Each one of your nails taps against his thigh, one by one. Bakugo watches how your thumb swipes side to side, how your lips part with your exhale, how your smile creeps up all on its own as you lean even closer-

"You twitch like one too."

"Oh, wow, uh-" Izuku stutters, his whole face flushing a dark pink, so strong it eats his freckles. Finally, someone else understands your goddammit issues. Bakugo swallows down the strange feeling in his chest with the last dregs of his beer.

"I'm going to get a drink, I think." Izuku stands, pulling away from your touch.

"Grab me a beer?" Katsuki shakes his empty can. Izuku nods, then looks at you.

"Soda water with lime."

"No alcohol?"

"I like to keep my wits about me."

The man nods, then practically scurries off to the bar. You huff, content, like a dog that's bought it's master their hunt.

"You scared the fuck outta him."

"He liked it." You pick a piece of lint off of your skirt. "They always do. Watch: he'll come back and sit even closer to me."

Bakugo throws himself back into his seat, arms crossed. "You're so damn cocky."

"Look who's talking, Kacchan." You tilt your head, pouting your lips with fake sincerity. "I can call you that, right? As your girlfriend?"

He sinks even lower in his chair. "You aren't my girlfriend."

"I could be." You mimic him. You lean back and let your knees spread just a bit, just enough that he could see what under if he tried- "The sex would be phenomenal."

That hits him like a shot. It's not that he wants to have sex with you, but he can't deny that the thought crosses his mind every now and again. He thinks about it when he's alone, when the bed feels too big, when he's-

"You don't fucking know that!" He's too angry already, especially compared to your nonplussed response.

"I do.'

"You don't even fucking know me." He points a finger back at you. "And I don't know anything about you."

"It's better if you don't know."

Bakugo sneers. Another nonanswer. He looks back towards Izuku, who's locked in conversation with the bartender. Why would you even bother with him? Someone like you would rip through him like tissue paper. You're right- he is a rabbit, and you're a dog, waiting with your sharp teeth to-

A hand cups his ear. Bakugo watches as you lean in over the table, bringing your lips to his ear.

"I grew up in the commission. One of their little project kids," you whisper. Sometimes, your lips make contact with cartilage and his skin sparks with heat. "I did things for them. Bad things. Illegal things."

"You kill people?" he whispers back.

"You know the answer to that." With every word, you creep closer, until your hands are on his thighs now. "They forced me to retire when Hawks took over. No more need for girls with bloody hands."

It's the truth. Your voice is painfully sincere for once, a strange change from your usual composed self. You're just giving him what he wants, but it's working. It's working. He almost puts his hand around your waist.

If Izuku is a rabbit, he's a fox, and you've lured him out of his fucking burrow. At this point, he'd welcome your teeth in his neck.

"What else should I tell you? My favorite color's red, I love the beach. You're not allowed to pull my hair, I never sleep over after sex," you continue. "I have a scar on my chest. So, you're not surprised when you see it later."

"Stop assuming that I'm going to fuck you."

"Oh, you're going to." You slink back over to your seat. Hands folded over your lap- a snake ready to strike. "I'm going to flirt with Izuku until you break-"

You turn your attention away from him, waving towards the approaching Izuku. "And then you're gonna fuck my brains out, Kacchan."

There's no time to respond before Izuku teeters back, blaming three drinks with a little difficulty. He hands then out, then sits back down-

So close to you that his thigh brushes yours.

"Thank you, little rabbit," you tease, eyes flicking back to Bakugo with a knowing, smug smile.

Fuck, Bakugo thinks. Fuck.

[heich0e]

"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

[mrsshabana]

𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐫. 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 :･ﾟ✧

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mr. Crawling x gender!neutral!reader, MDNI, nudity, fluff, suggestive but no smut ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words. Mr. Crawling is so cute, I just had to write a fic where we take care of him. He deserves it (╥ ‸ ╥)

He followed you like a lost puppy.

The entity that clung to you like his life depended on it, refusing to return to the world in which he came from. His intentions aren't clear, but he isn't causing any harm so you had no issue with him sticking around.

Mr. Crawling was what you called him. He spoke a strange language you couldn't understand at first, but after spending so much time with him you picked it up after a while.

When you get home from work he's always so excited to see you, chirping excitedly and grinning widely at the sight of his favorite human.

As soon as you arrive he sticks to you like glue, watching you as you do mundane tasks or relax around the house.

Tonight you were making spaghetti, and Mr. Crawling seemed extra intrigued by you cooking the dish.

He peers up at the stovetop, watching as you heat up the tomato sauce. His curiosity gets the best of him as he tries to get a better view, he bumps into you. Causing the red sauce to topple over and spill all over him.

"Mr.Crawling!" you shout, "I'm so sorry!"

He just smiles and licks the sauce off of his face. Seemingly not affected by the hot temperature or the fact that it has splattered all over his clothes.

"You ok?" you ask in his language.

"Me surprise! Saturate clothes, hair, body!" he says between giggles.

You're glad he finds it funny and he's not upset. You don't know what you'd do if you ever saw Mr. Crawling cry.

But he's right, he's completely covered in sauce and his clothes will need to be washed right away.

You kneel down to his level and wipe away the excess sauce with a paper towel, "Me take care of you."

"Me grateful," he smiles wide, leaning into your touch as you clean him off.

You know this won't be enough though, he needs a bath. But you feel slightly awkward giving him one. Not that you mind caring for him, but as far as you know there isn't a word for bath or clean in his language so you don't know how to ask him if he's okay with it. And the thought of seeing Mr. Crawling naked... well you've never really considered it before. But thinking about it makes your cheeks redden and your body heat up.

First things first, after cleaning the chunks of tomato you take his hand and lead him into the bathroom before you try explaining to him.

"Um... Mr. Crawling," you mumble, "Me change you clothes. Water container. You give clothes?" You try to explain it to the best of your ability as you hold out your hand.

"Saturate clothes, water correct! Me give," he nods and takes off his clothes.

There's no embarrassment or shyness evident as he removes his clothes. Mr. Crawling is either just too innocent, or he's just so comfortable around you that he knows he has nothing to be shy or embarrassed about.

You try not to look at his body as you take his clothes. Hurried walking to the laundry room and shoving them into the machine at a rushed pace.

You know he's waiting patiently for you to return and give him his bath but you have to try to calm down first! Your creepy cute ghostly roommate is naked in your bathroom right now and you're freaking out!

Mr. Crawling may act like a pet, but this isn't like giving your dog a bath or something! Maybe it feels so strange because your relationship with Mr. Crawling isn't well-defined.

He's obviously obsessed with you and adores you in every way, but is it romantic? You aren't sure...

However, you do feel confident that Mr. Crawling wouldn't say no to being in a romantic relationship with you if you asked. Judging by how he constantly craves your affection, touch, and attention - he'd probably love it.

And you'd be lying to yourself if you ignored the feelings you had for him. Sure he's not human, but he's so sweet and genuinely cares about you.

Before you met him sometimes you felt like if you disappeared no one would care. You felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things. On lonely nights you'd question why you're even here at all. Is there even a point?

But Mr. Crawling changed all of that.

When you leave, you know Mr. Crawling is always waiting in front of the door for you to return. No matter how long it took, even if it was 100 years, he would still wait for you.

He makes you feel important for the first time in your life. Like if something happened to you he wouldn't rest until he was able to have you again - even if he spent eternity searching for you. He wouldn't stop looking for his favorite human. That's how much you mean to him.

And if that's not the definition of love then you don't know what is. Because it's obvious that Mr. Crawling loves you, and honestly you love him too.

"Mr. Crawling..." you whisper as you walk into the bathroom again.

He turns and makes that high-pitched sound he makes when he's happy.

"Water container, correct," you say, patting his head as you start the faucet.

"Me go into?" he tilts his head to the side, not sure what to do. The gesture is cute and makes you smile.

You nod, "You go into container."

Even though he's never had a bath before, he trusts you and gets into the tub. Watching in awe as his long hair floats to the surface, creating long black streaks within the water.

You can't help but blush as you look at his body. Never had you expected him to be so toned under his loose-fitting clothes. Especially his chest and arms. But it makes sense, he crawls around all day so his upper body strength has to be good, right?

Now that you're seeing him like this, you can't help but notice how long his legs are too. You've never actually seen him stand so it never occurred to you how tall he could be. Judging by how he fits into the tub, he must be taller than any person you've ever met before.

Imagine if he stood up like this...

Your thoughts drift and you get distracted, accidentally pouring loads of bubble bath into the tub instead of just a tad to keep him occupied.

"Fun! Fun!" He shouts excitedly as the tub fills with foaming bubbles, completely covering his body and overflowing from the tub.

"Shit!" you say under your breath, cursing yourself for letting those perverted thoughts sneak into your head. You can't stay mad though as you watch him giggle and play with the bubbles. Why does he have to be so freaking cute?

As he has the time of his life, you dig through the bubbles to clean him. Starting with his body and finishing with his hair. Taking over an hour to wash his hair alone.

As you clean his hair he experiments with these fluffy white things he's never seen before. Curiously eating them, sculpting them with his hands, and even putting them on you. He takes a clump of bubbles and forms them into cat ears on the top of your head.

"You cute!" he shouts excitedly.

You smile and do the same for him, "You cute!"

"We cute together!!" he smiles, having the funnest time with you.

Finally, once he's been all cleaned you help him dry off as he sits on your bathroom floor, watching curiously as the bubbles get sucked down the drain.

His clothes aren't quite done yet so in the meantime you let him wear an old pair of pajamas. They're pink Hello Kitty pajamas to be exact. Sure you had a plain black set that would do as well, but you just couldn't resist putting him in this. He looks so adorable as he crawls into the bed with you, laying on your lap as you brush his hair.

"Water container fun..." he mumbles on the edge of falling asleep, "Again again."

"Fun again," you smile, promising to give him another bath someday.

"Thank you," he nuzzles into you, "Me like you. Like you much..."

"Me like you much," you kiss the top of his head, "Me take care of you, you rest."

He doesn't want to sleep, he wants to stay up with you all night taking baths and playing with bubbles. But being in your embrace as you take care of him is just too much to resist. He hopes you'll do this again soon, or maybe you'll let him give you a bath and brush your hair next time.

He quickly drifts off to sleep, thinking about all of the fun things he wants to do with you. Meanwhile, you sit there and brush his long hair for another hour. Though you don't mind. Sitting here with him, brushing his hair as he sleeps on your lap, it doesn't get any better than this.

[morthstaar]

Please, PLEASE Tulpar crew x a very shy/introverted reader who is like crushing on the crew really hard but way too shy and embarrassed to tell them but like the crew starts to slowly catch on to them and the way they act different around them. Also I don't mean the crew as a whole I mean the separate characters 😭🙏🏽

ask and u shall receive 😈

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OH GOD, YOU CAN TELL?

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Captain Curly

-oh.. curly knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that you had the biggest crush on him.

-there is no slow realization.

-not at all oblivious to it.

-everytime your eyes would seemingly uncontrollably and totally unconsciously drift to him he would try to meet your gaze with a friendly, boyish smirk.

-does that happen? HELL NAH. you are much too shy to even look the captain in the eye.

-your little heart almost beats out of your chest at any interaction. little or big.

-"Hey, just the person I needed to see. I have a little favor to ask you."

-oh god. suddenly words seem hard to pronounce and the entirety of the english language is no where to be seen.

-after a few weeks, curly would definitely find this endearing.

-i feel like since curly is so outgoing, he would be very intrigued by someone who is the complete opposite.

-curly wouldn't act much different when it comes to you, due to maintaining professionalism as his role as captain.

-he may due small acts like making a cake simply to indulge in your sweet-tooth that he somehow knew about you.

-"oh, we just had extra packets of sugar. i just thought id bake something. you like cake right?"

-cheeky motherfucker.

Intern Daisuke

-dude is so so so oblivious even though you make it perfectly clear...

-you could be making like.. making out with the guy and he'd be like,

-"yoo, we are literally besties right?"

-deadass, he prolly had no idea you liked him for weeks.

-you could be laughing extra loud at his jokes then realize ur laughing too loud, look at him while he isn't looking at you, sneak an extra sweetener packet on his bed when he isn't around,,,,

-his ass still is clueless.

-it takes either curly or swansea's help to realize that you had a massive crush on him but were just to shy to say something.

-once he realizes, he is now all over you and following you around like a lost puppy. not nonchalant at ALL.

-literally tries to pick up the polle statue to show his 'guns' but the statue moves only an inch..

-now he is hyper aware of your actions and reactions, he finds your shyness just SO CUTE WTFFF.

-compliments you to see what you would do.

-"man, have you always been this hot or is it just the sweetener talking?"

-runs away.....

-would steal sweetener packets just for you two to share :)

Nurse Anya

-i feel like she notices how different you act around her, but she just thinks its because you two are good friends.

-she never assumes anything, just her friend being friendly.

-even though you sometimes make it unintentionally obvious..

-like this one time you recommend her a book from your quarters library and her fingers lightly grazed yours reaching for it.

-oh shit. her soft hands touched yours. oh god what does a normal person do in this situation??

-"thank you for the-oh... book."

-well, they don't smile awkwardly, sweat pouring down their face and leave in a hurry with the book still in their hand.

-anya isn't stupid or completely oblivious by any means. she definitely knew from this encounter of your little crush on her.

-she is quite flattered honestly. someone so similar to her truly likes her?

-when she fully processes this information, she is very subtle with how she shows her affection back.

-during check-ups, she sometimes gives you a treat from one of her desk drawers for being a good patient.

-other times she lets you join her late at night in the lounge to just look at the pretty night time screen.

-"this makes me miss home. it's so beautiful."

-you'd look over at her and her eyes are not on the screen, far from it actually.

-her eyes are on you.

-so this is what a heart attack feels like..

Mechanic Swansea

-unpopular hot-take, swansea is actually a dilf and he often has younger men/women confess their feelings to him.

-so because of that headcanon, swansea definitely knows how you feel from the first time y'all met.

-your eyes would subconsciously peek at his open shirt revealing his chest. suspiciously, whenever he would look back, you quickly turn away shyly...

-he immediately thinks he is way to old for this shit. he just got out of a divorce and prolly never wanted to try again. especially with someone younger.

-"what is with this damn younger generation with old people.."

-he tries to avoid you even though you two are co-workers and.. work together. on the same ship.

-as weeks go by, your shyness starts to grow on this grumpy man. he... he thinks it's endearing in a sense..

-he rather likes how reserved you are, and how are aren't as loudmouthed as daisuke.

-he won't act much different to you, but according to the rest of the crew it is obvious.

-swansea leaves little sticky notes reminding you to eat or sleep because lets be honest.. you are quite neglectful, and the sticky note quotes,,

-"..the crew doesn't need you passin' out while doin' your job. so eat or i will make you."

-swansea is also much more soft-spoken with you than anyone else.

-he has never raised his voice or spoken down on you. his usual brashness and snarky remarks are now toned down (but not entirely) around you.

-"hey. i didn't say you had to leave, did i? stop puttin' words in my damn mouth and sit."

Co-captain Jimmy

-jimmy prolly doesn't even acknowledge you at first.

-you could be looking at him, thinking he doesn't know that your eyes are skimming over his face and body.

-oh but jimmy.. he does know,,, but he never shows that he does.

-he likes the attention on him. your eyes looking him over when she doesn't even know that he is soaking it up.

-im sorry but he definitely gets off to the fact that you are shy and get flustered easily.

-he loves how malleable and submissive you are due to your shyness. and he uses it to his advantage.

-he shows his affection strongly after he knows your crush.like sometimes he would purposefully follow you places and when you turn around he'd be like..

-"do you mind? you're in my way.."

-i feel like he wouldn't know how to properly express his feelings so he would be kind of unnecessarily mean and cruel.

-and after he would be mean he would be nice and extra affectionate so you would still like him.

-like you could be working on something and is critical about your work.

-"are you serious? tsk.. move, since you clearly cannot perform a basic task."

-then later he's like..

-"im glad someone on this ship is helpful, like you."

-basically, he purposefully plays with your feelings to get you to confess bc i feel like he likes when women come to him.....