#something ranging between disappointed to mad

[courviknight]

nope that was not it chief

[lostfracturess]

─── games and matches | ch. 03

pairing — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

summary — after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

word count — 12.5 k (chapter 3/3)

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, light angst, age difference, unprotected sex, public sex, sad sex?, masturbation, penetration, oral (female receiving), in need of heavy daddy issues to enjoy this.

author's note — hello again !! we've reached the final chapter of our story. brace yourselves for a bit of angst and emotion, but don't worry, a happy ending is on the horizon. so, get comfy, grab your fave snack, and let's jump into this last chapter & happy reading <3

masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

In the days following the party, your father had been livid. 

He'd ranted and raved, furious at what he saw as Satoru's betrayal and your reckless naivety. He'd had a long, serious talk with you, demanding that you end things with Satoru immediately and return to college to focus on your studies.

But the truth was, there hadn't been anything to end with Satoru. 

Not really. 

You'd tried to reason with him, to make him understand that Satoru was not using you and you wanted it too. But he'd been unmovable, insisting that he knew what was best for you, that Satoru was too old, too experienced, too much of a player to ever take you seriously.

Your dad was usually a gentle man at heart.

But you'd never seen him so angry.

But despite his anger towards Satoru, your dad couldn't find it in himself to be truly angry with you. Still, you could see the disappointment in his eyes, so you'd had no choice but to capitulate, agreeing to return to college and focus on your studies, putting some distance between yourself and Satoru. 

But somehow, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

You went through the motions of college life, attending classes and studying late into the night, all the while your thoughts wander back to the man that changed your whole world in mere days.

You counted the days until break, until you could see him again, touch him again, lose yourself in the heat of him again.

It was stupid, really.

You've known him your entire life, but this thing between you, it's new.

And it's irrational, illogical, and yet, you can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame, craving his presence, his touch, as if you'd never realized what you were missing until now. 

It doesn't make sense.

And then, one night as you lay in your dorm room, your roommate out at some party or another — your phone rang. Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw Satoru's name on the screen, your pulse picking up speed as you fumbled to answer.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite lawyer," you drawled, a smile already on your lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night call?"

"What, a man can't just call his favorite girl?"

"Aw, you're making me blush. But seriously, what's up?"

"Just wanted to hear your voice, check in on you. That's all."

Your smile softened, your free hand absently playing with the hem of your shirt. 

Oh, his voice.

There was something about his voice that always managed to put you at ease, no matter how stressed you were feeling. It was like a soothing balm, washing over you and melting away all your worries. 

You could listen to him talk for hours, getting lost in the rich timbre of his voice, the way it seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace. 

Again.

It was stupid, really.

"I'm okay. I mean, Dad's still not thrilled about...us, but he's coming around. He could never stay mad at me for long. You, on the other hand...you might want to steer clear of him for a while,” you said after a pause.

“Yeah, I figured as much. My jaw still hurts like hell. Can't say I blame him though. If I had a daughter, I'd probably want to throttle any man who looked at her twice, too."

“Flatterer. You're just trying to butter me up so I'll send you dirty pictures or something."

"Love, I don't need to butter you up for that. I've got a whole album on my phone that says you're more than happy to oblige me without any sweet talking necessary."

You could hear the grin in his voice, and you huffed out a laugh. "Shut up. I still can't believe I let you talk me into that."

"Oh, I didn't have to do much talking, if I recall. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was your idea to—"

"Anyway," you interrupted. "Other than missing my revealing pictures, how have you been? How's work?"

Are you seriously asking him about work right now? 

Stupid, really.

But somehow you genuinely wanted to know, wanted to know what's happening in his life.

Satoru hummed, and you could picture him stretching out on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head. "Work is work. Busy, stressful, the usual. But I'd rather hear about you. How are classes? How's tennis? Any campus heartthrobs I need to come beat up for sniffing around my girl?"

You smiled, your heart warming at the fond possessiveness in his voice, the easy way he called you 'his girl'. Like it was a foregone conclusion, like there could never be anyone else for either of you.

You laid back more on the bed, starring up the ceiling. “Things are fine. Classes are kicking my ass, but I'm surviving. And tennis is... tennis. Lots of training and sore muscles. The usual."

"Sore muscles huh, there's an image," Satoru purred, his voice dipping low, taking on that gravelly edge that never failed to raise goosebumps on your skin. "You know, if you ever need help with that, I'm more than happy to volunteer my ser—"

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"You're stupid."

"You love it."

"Mm. Debatable."

"Liar." But he was laughing as he said it, bright and boyish, and the ache in your chest eased a bit.

God, you'd missed this. 

Missed him?

No. That can’t be. 

He’s just an affair, right?

A beat of comfortable silence settled over the line, broken only by the soft sounds of your matched breathing. You closed your eyes, letting yourself pretend, just for a moment, that he was there with you. That if you rolled over, you'd find him sprawled out beside you, all tousled hair and sleepy eyes.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, breaking you out of your reverie. 

Your heart clenched, your throat going tight.

For what felt like an eternity, you held your breath.

“You miss fucking me,” you say eventually, needing to break the intensity with a quip, a tease. "That's what this is really about. You're hard up and looking for a steamy bedtime story."

"Oh, I definitely want to fuck you," he agreed readily, his voice pitching lower, darker. "It makes me lose my mind, if I'm being honest. But love, if that was all this was, I'd be watching porn and taking matters into my own hands, so to speak. When I say I miss you... I mean you. Your mind, your heart, your ridiculous snort-laugh that makes you sound like a drunken piglet."

"Rude."

"The point is," he continued, barreling past your interruption, "I miss all of you. The sex is just a very, very nice bonus."

You were glad he couldn't see your face in that moment, because you were fairly certain you were grinning like an idiot. "Wow. I think you missed your calling. You should have been a poet, not a lawyer."

"But then I wouldn't get to argue for a living. Where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah, true. The courtroom would be way too quiet without you there to stir things up."

"Exactly. Plus, I look quite good in a suit."

"Wow, so humble, aren't you?"

"Just spitting facts. But you know, I bet I'd look even better with you by my side."

"Is that so?"

"Definitely. We'd be the ultimate power couple. Me, the godly lawyer, and you, the brilliant and smoking hot...wait, what was it you were studying again?"

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "Nice try, Satoru. You know damn well what I'm studying."

"Mmm, it's not coming to me. Guess you'll have to refresh my memory...preferably in person."

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me just the way I am."

His words echoed in your mind, 'you love me', and suddenly it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Your throat went tight, your chest constricting as the weight of those words sank in.

He’s just an affair.

You had to remind yourself of it, because otherwise—

No. It could never possibly be.

For a long moment, you just listened to each other breathe, the silence comfortable and charged all at once. It felt like something was building, some inevitable tide that would sweep you both away if you let it.

"Are you alone?" Satoru asked abruptly.

You blinked, snapping back to reality as you glanced around your empty dorm room, taking in the half-cracked textbooks and rumpled bedding, the scatter of discarded clothing littering every surface. You knew your roommate was with her boyfriend tonight, likely wouldn't be home until morning, if at all.

"Yeah," you confirmed. "Just me and a truly alarming amount of dirty laundry."

"Perfect. Put me on speaker."

You paused for a second, but then anticipation rose in your blood, a thrilling shiver running down your spine at the low, suggestive tone of his voice. You did as instructed, placed the phone on your pillow and lay back on the soft bed.

"Take off your pants for me, love.”

You shivered, fingers already working at the tie of your sleep shorts. "You too. I want to hear your voice."

The rustle of fabric and the clank of a belt buckle echoed through the phone, followed by Satoru's drawn-out sigh of relief. "Fuck, that's better," he groaned, sounding almost pained. "I've been hard since the second I heard your voice, just aching to get a hand on myself. You drive me so crazy, you know that? Make me throb and leak, desperate to bury myself in you."

"God, Satoru," you whimpered, heat pulsing between your thighs. Your own pants were long gone, kicked somewhere off the bed. "Don't say things like that. I can't stand how much I need you. I'm already so wet just thinking about you."

"Fuck, such a needy little thing," he groaned. "Put your fingers in that pretty mouth for me. Get them nice and wet for me, love. Pretend it's my cock you're sucking on, my cum you're tasting on your tongue."

You hastened to obey, sliding two fingers past your parted lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, picturing Satoru's thick length sliding over your tongue, heavy and hard and leaking at the tip.

"God, you’re such a good girl," Satoru breathed, the slick sound of flesh on flesh suggesting his hand had found its destination. "Now trail those wet fingers down your throat, over your chest. Pluck and roll your nipples for me, let me hear those moans."

You did as told, your back arching off the bed as you circled and tugged at the aching peaks. Satoru's labored breathing and low curses spilled from the speaker, causing your core to clench.

"Satoru," you mewled, pinching harder, hips starting to circle restlessly against the empty air. 

"Slide that hand lower, love. Drag your fingertips through your slick folds, feel how wet you are for me. Circle your clit, get it nice and hot and ready for my tongue."

A broken moan tumbled from your lips as you touched yourself as directed, your hips bucking up to chase more of the pressure. Your clit throbbed under the pads of your fingers, aching and needy.

"Wish it was my mouth on you," Satoru panted, the slick, rhythmic glide of his hand over his cock filling the air. "Wish I could bury my face between your thighs and lick up every drop of you. Fuck, the way you taste, the sounds you make—”

"Satoru, please," you whined, two fingers dipping lower to circle your entrance, thighs fallen open. "I want to feel you inside me, want you to fuck me so bad."

"Do it," he commanded breathlessly. "Fuck yourself on your fingers, nice and deep. Picture me there, hovering over you, my cock sinking into you inch by inch. Feel me stretching you wide, filling you up, making you mine."

You obeyed, plunging your fingers knuckle-deep, your free hand flying to your mouth to muffle your cry. You started up a desperate rhythm, hips rolling into every thrust, the wet sounds of your own penetration mixing with Satoru's heavy breathing and latching groans.

"Good girl. Ride those fingers like you'd ride my dick. Fast and hard and greedy, taking every inch. Fuck, if you could see what you're doing to me right now.” His voice was absolutely wrecked, cracking and catching like he was barely hanging on to his control. “I'm so hard it hurts, leaking all over my fist. I'm fucking close already.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking into your hand as his words made your core clench harder. "Tell me, Satoru. Tell me what you're doing, how you're stroking yourself. I want to hear it, want to picture it so clearly it's like I'm there with you."

Satoru groaned. "I've got my cock in a tight grip, love. Squeezing the base hard to stave off my orgasm, because I'll be damned if I come before you do. Want to time it just right, want to hear you fall apart and know it's my voice that pushed you over the edge."

You moaned brokenly, thighs starting to tremble as your climax approached. "Close," you managed to gasp out, your free hand fisting in your sweat-dampened sheets. "Satoru, fuck, I'm so fucking close—"

"Come with me, love," he encouraged, voice breaking on a moan. "Rub your clit just how I know you like, just how I would with my tongue. Fuck, I can practically taste you, can feel you clenching around my fingers, my cock—"

And then his low, throaty groan cut through the air, and the sound — so intimate, so hot, so fucking reminiscent of all the times he'd spilled inside you — shoved you violently over the edge.

With a wordless cry, you shattered, your core rippling and gushing around your buried fingers. Distantly, you heard Satoru praising you through his own desperate grunts and moans, heard the rhythmic slap of his hand as it pumped his twitching cock through the aftershocks.

For long, panting moments, you just trembled and gasped in the aftermath, boneless and buzzing, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your skin felt too tight, your body alive and electric in a way only Satoru could cause — even from miles away.

"Fuck, what you do to me, woman," Satoru said after a moment, his words hitching a bit like he'd just stretched out real good. "You should see the mess I made over here. I'm covered in my own cum, it's all over my stomach and chest. Fuck, I haven't come that hard from just my hand in years."

"I wish I could see that.” You slipped your fingers out of your core and reached for a tissue before collapsing back onto the bed. “Wish I could watch you come, see every drop spill onto your skin. God, I'd lick it all up, every fucking drop, nice and slow."

"Fuck," Satoru choked out, and you could practically hear him trembling through the phone. "You're killing me here, you know that? I'm too old to get it up again this fast, but fuck if you aren't making me want to try."

You laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I'll behave. For now."

"You, behave?" Satoru scoffed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Guess you'll just have to keep me in line then, won't you?"

"Careful what you wish for. Next time I get my hands on you, I might not let you go for days."

"Hm. I’m scared,” you teased.

"Oh, love. You have no idea what you're in for. I'm gonna fuck you so hard and so long that we're gonna break that tiny dorm bed of yours, just you wait."

"Promises, promises, counselor,” you said even as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. God, you couldn't wait to have him in your bed, in your body, surrounding you with his heat and scent.

Suddenly, your phone chimed with a message notification. You pulled it away from your ear to check the screen and for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

It was a picture from Satoru — or rather his lap.

His sculpted abs and muscular thighs framed the shot and in the center a very familiar thick, generously proportioned cock, red and swollen and covered in milky cum, a pearly bead of liquid welling from the slit. 

Damn. 

He really had made a mess. 

"Fuck, Satoru. Warn a girl before you go sending porn of yourself, would you?”

"What, you don't like your presents? And here I put so much effort into the lighting and angles."

You huffed out a laugh, your cheeks flushing hot as you continued to stare at the picture. "Oh, I didn't say that. Trust me, this is going in the top tier spank bank folder. Might even make it my new background, so I can stare at your dick all day during boring lectures."

"Don't you dare. My cock is for your eyes only, got it? No sharing with the class."

"Aww, you're no fun.”

"Oh, I'll show you fun.”

“You know—” You rolled onto your side and hugged a pillow to your chest. "You should come visit me sometime."

There was a beat of surprised silence, then a sharp inhale. "You want me to come to your college?"

You shrugged even though he couldn't see it. "I mean... yeah. Why not?”

"But what about Suguru? I thought he made it pretty clear he didn't want me within a hundred miles of you.”

"My dad's not here though, is he? He can't exactly stalk our every move when I'm hours away at school. And besides, I'm a grown woman. He doesn't get to tell me who I can and can't see."

"You're really trying to give your old man a heart attack, huh?"

"To be fair, I think we both are," you said with a chuckle. "So, is that a promise? You'll come see me?"

"Sure. I'll drive up this weekend. We can grab dinner, take a walk around campus, whatever you want."

"And then barricade ourselves in my dorm room and not come up for air until Sunday night, right?"

A low, strangled groan echoed over the line. "God, I can't wait to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. Wanna make you scream so loud, the whole damn dorm knows exactly how well you're being taken care of.”

Your face hurt from how hard you were smiling. "Looks like we both have our work cut out for us then. Good thing we've got all weekend to cross some things off the to-do list, because I've already got a few ideas."

"Oh, really? What ideas?”

"Mm, that would be telling.”

"You goddamn tease," he laughed, the sound warm and rich and god, you'd never tire of hearing it.

A beat of comfortable silence fell between you, filled only with the soft sounds of your matched breathing over the line. It was intimate in its own way, just existing together in this quiet moment.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, “really miss you.”

You inhaled shakily, your heart racing in your chest. "I miss you too.”

Another pause, heavy with unspoken emotion.

"Sleep well, love," Satoru murmured finally, a soft smile in his voice. "Dream of me."

"Yeah, you too, counselor," you whispered back. "See you soon."

And then he was gone, the line clicking off, leaving you alone with the pounding of your heart and the swirling mess of your thoughts.

You rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the emotions churning in your gut. This thing with Satoru—it was supposed to be casual. Fun. Just a hot little affair between two consenting adults, no strings or expectations.

Just really good sex.

Mind-blowingly good sex, sure, but still just sex. 

But the way he'd sounded just now, so soft and earnest, the way your pulse raced and your skin tingled at just the thought of seeing him, being near him—

God, what was this feeling? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the tiny, traitorous voice whispering that it was so much more than that.

It couldn't be. 

You couldn't let it be.

Because you were married to tennis. And Satoru, with his high-powered career, was always jetting off to handle cases abroad.

This, whatever this was between you, it had an expiration date. 

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The sun beat down on the back of your neck as you bounced lightly on the balls of your feet, racket at the ready. Your hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, a few sticky strands clinging to your sweaty face.

You'd been out on the court for over an hour, serving balls and perfecting your moves. It was tough as hell, but damn did it feel good to push yourself, to feel the satisfying burn in your muscles.

Tennis was your escape, your passion. 

When you were on the court, nothing else mattered. Not school, not picking a major, not deciding if you should chase your pro athlete dreams.

Out here, it was just you, your racket, and the ball. 

Pure and simple.

You were so focused on your practice, so absorbed in the steady back and forth of the ball, that you completely missed the fact that you had an audience. At least, until a very familiar voice called out, cutting through the regular court sounds.

"Hey there, superstar."

You turned around, to see Satoru walking towards you, a rakish grin on his unfairly handsome face. He was dressed casually in dark slacks and a light sage button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms.

"Satoru?" you gasped, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming 'til tomorrow."

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets as he got closer. "Couldn't wait that long. Kept picturing you out here, all alone, in that little skirt..." His eyes raked over you, hot and heavy, lingering on your bare legs. "Let's just say it was a bit too much for my poor imagination to handle."

You flushed, a thrill chasing down your spine at the blatant appreciation in his gaze. Suddenly, you were acutely aware of your skimpy tennis dress, of the way the thin, sweat-soaked fabric clung to your curves.

"So what, you just decided to drive all night and ambush me on the court in broad daylight?" You crossed your arms, trying to look stern even though you were fighting back a smile.

"Ambush? I prefer 'surprise’, or maybe 'make your whole day’, given the way you're looking at me right now."

You scoffed, but couldn't stop the grin that broke free. "Awful sure of yourself, aren't you counselor?"

"With good reason." He reached out and cupped your face in one big, warm hand, his thumb stroking over your cheek so tenderly it made your breath hitch. "After all, I have it on very good authority that you've been pining for me. Yearning, even."

"Oh, is that so?" You leaned into his touch, your skin sparking at even this simple contact. 

God, you'd missed him. 

Missed this easy back and forth, the simmering tension that always stretched between you.

"Mhm." He dipped his head, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning hot over your parted lips. "A little birdie might have mentioned something about you sighing wistfully and doodling my name in hearts all over your notes. Very high school of you, by the way."

You huffed, giving his chest a playful shove even as you felt your face heat up. "In your dreams."

"Mm, always." His other hand found your hip, fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt to stroke over the smooth, sweaty skin there. "But looks like reality's even better this time around."

Your breath hitched, need spiking through you sudden and sharp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, wanting to feel more of his heat. "Satoru," you warned, but it came out breathy, wanting. "We're in public. Anyone could see..."

"Fuck it, let them," he said, his grip tightening on your hip, his eyes going dark and intense in a way that made your knees weak. "Let the whole damn world know who you belong to. How fucking gone I am for you."

You nearly moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, torn between dragging him closer and pushing him away. "But I can't suck you off in public now, can I?" 

"Fuckin' tease. You're going to pay for that.”

"Mm, can't wait. But for now, I've still got practice to finish up."

"Look at you, being all responsible." His lips trailed down your neck, making you shiver. 

"I mean, if I'm gonna go pro, I can't slack off, right?"

He pulled back a little to look you in the eye, his smile going soft. "You're really serious about that, huh? Going pro?"

You shrugged, feeling suddenly shy under the warmth of his gaze. "Yeah, I mean...it's not like, a totally crazy dream, right?"

"Not even a little bit, love. You can do anything you set your mind to. And I'll be right there in the front row, cheering you on every step of the way."

God, the sincerity in his voice, the absolute faith shining in his eyes. It made your throat go tight and your heart feel like it was ten sizes too big for your chest.

"Satoru, you..."

"—are incredible? I know," he cut in with a cheeky grin.

You just smiled, a soft, tender thing that felt too big for your face. 

Yeah, he really was incredible. 

He smiled in return, leaning in to press a quick, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. "Now, what do you say, we see if I remember how to swing a racket, hm? I'll even let you beat me, since you've been practicing so hard and all."

"Oh, you'll let me beat you? That's adorable. Try to keep up, old man. I remember you playing real bad.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Pretty bad, yeah.” You grinned, giving his chest a little shove with your racket. "Bring it, counselor. First to five wins and the loser owes the winner any favor of their choosing."

Satoru's smile was slow, wicked. "Any favor, huh? Dangerous words, love. You sure you wanna give me that kind of power? I might make you regret it later."

"Or maybe I'll make you eat those words," you teased, already backing towards your side of the court, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. "Guess we'll just have to see how it plays out."

"Brat.” He shook his head, huffing out a laugh as he moved into position. "Alright, challenge accepted. Just remember—" His grin turned downright feral. "When I win? And I will win, I'm gonna collect on that favor so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

A shiver chased down your spine, your core clenching at the blatant heat in his gaze. But you just smiled, slow and sure, adrenaline already thrumming through your veins.

This. 

Him. 

The push and pull, the electric charge that always crackled between you — god, it was everything. Invigorating and addictive and so, so right.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, counselor.” You bounced lightly on your toes as you readied your first serve. With a wide smile, you tossed the ball skyward. And then the sharp thwack of the ball as it met your strings, the satisfying smack as it hit the court on his side.

Game fucking on.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You did win, of course.

And Satoru wasted no time in making good on his forfeit.

"Fuck, don’t stop," you panted, your hips rolling shamelessly against his face, "feels so fucking good."

Satoru’s hands were firmly on your hips as you rode his face. Your core gliding over his lips and tongue, painting his face with your arousal. The obscene wet sounds of him licking and suckling filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and sighs.

Satoru licked and sucked and nibbled at your clit, alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and delicate flicks over your throbbing nub. He explored every inch, delving into your tight core and fucking you with the slick muscle until you were keening and thrashing above him.

Your hands moved from the headboard to his hair, tangling in the soft white strands, holding him in place as you started to move faster, grinding your clit against his nose, his chin, his lips.

"Satoru," you chanted mindlessly. "God, yes, just like that. Don't stop, don't fucking stop, I can’t—ah."

He groaned long and low, the sound muffled against your core, and doubled his efforts. His tongue delved deep, curling inside you in a maddening motion that made your vision blur at the edges. His nose rubbed your clit with every rock and grind of your hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Without warning, he pressed two thick fingers into your clenching heat, curling forward to rub over that spot just how you liked it. At the same time, Satoru sealed his lips around your clit and sucked.

It was too much, too intense. 

Your orgasm that had been building at the base of your spine, in the quivering pit of your stomach, exploded outwards. You bucked and writhed on his face, practically screaming as pure bliss crashed through you, pulsing out from your core in searing waves. Your core spasmed around his fingers, gushing release over his chin and his nose.

Through it all, Satoru worked you mercilessly, his mouth and hand never faltering, wringing out every last shudder until you collapsed forward, clinging weakly to the headboard. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head, shiny and sticky with your spend, the occasional residual clench making you whimper.

"Holy shit," you managed, still panting. "I'm so fucking glad you suck at tennis."

"Ouch," he said with a laugh. "I'd say I scored at least one point there."

"Yeah, because I let you.”

"Double ouch.”

Slowly, carefully, he eased you off his face and back onto the bed, shifting to hover over you on his elbows. His cheeks and chin were drenched, glistening with your release. 

You reached out to swipe a thumb over his slick skin, wiping away some of the mess you'd made. "You've got a little something there.”

"Oh, do I?" He turned his head to nip playfully at your finger, his tongue darting out to lick your arousal from the digit. "Hmm, wonder what that could be. Certainly not the evidence of you coming apart on my tongue. Multiple times, even. But who's counting?"

"Smug doesn't suit you, Satoru.”

He chuckled, low and warm, then sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. You watched as he stood and stretched, the lean muscles of his back rippling under perfect skin. He was completely unselfconscious in his nudity, utterly at ease with your heated gaze tracing over every inch of him.

Satoru padded across your dorm room, his footsteps silent on the thin carpet. He came to a stop in front of your bookshelf, his head tilting as he examined the various trophies and medals displayed there.

"Impressive collection you've got here.” He reached out to pick up a particularly shiny trophy, turning it over in his hands. "This from the championship last year?"

You sat up, hugging the sheet to your chest. “Yeah, that was a hell of a match. Went to three sets, thought my lungs were going to give out on me by the end of it."

He hummed, setting the trophy back in its place with care. "I remember. I was stuck in a conference room, listening to some blowhard drone on about market fluctuations, but all I could think about was you. Must've refreshed the score update page a hundred times, nearly wore out my phone battery."

Your heart stumbled in your chest, your breath catching. "You...you kept up with my matches? Even when you were abroad?"

Satoru glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes warm and bright in the golden afternoon light filtering through your blinds. “Of course I did. I've always admired your determination and drive, ever since you started college and made it clear tennis was your dream. You think I could focus on anything else when I knew you were out there absolutely crushing it on the court?"

Your heart raced. The idea of him, thousands of miles away, still cheering you on, still invested in your passion, your success—

It meant more than you could ever put into words.

"You know, it was strange for me, seeing you again after so long," Satoru admitted, trailing his fingers absently over a polaroid photo that lay beside your trophies — you, sweaty and beaming, holding a massive trophy aloft. "You'd grown into this incredible, self-assured athlete.” He turned to look at you. “Who would have thought we'd end up like this one day?"

"Not me, that's for sure. But just to be clear, I was always an incredible, self-assured athlete. You've just gotten old, Satoru. I mean, is your hair even more white than before or is it just me?"

"And here I thought I was being sweet."

You smiled slowly. "You are. Kinda."

He raised an eyebrow. "Kinda? Just kinda? Damn, tough crowd."

You grinned, stretching languorously against the pillows. "Can't let that ego get too big, or your head won't fit through the door."

"Oh, I think we both know it's not my head you need to worry about fitting, love.”

"You're ridiculous. Why do I put up with you again?"

Satoru walked back over to the bed, leaning down until he was hovering over you, his face mere inches from yours. "Don't even try to pretend you don't love it.”

"In your dreams.”

He cupped your face in his large, calloused hand, his thumb stroking tenderly over your cheekbone before he dipped his head to press a soft kiss to your mouth and you immediately melted into him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body arching up to meet his, before you tugged him down onto the mattress.

The kiss deepened, growing wetter, hotter, more urgent. Satoru's tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you parted for him, it was with a low, needy moan that made his lips move even greedier against yours.

His hand slid from your face to tangle in your hair, his fingers twisting in the strands as he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss. His body pressed closer, heavier, his knees pushing your thighs apart as he settled between your legs.

"Not so fast," you breathed against his lips, your hands splayed across his firm chest. With a deft twist of your hips, you rolled him beneath you in one swift motion, straddling his waist.

Satoru blinked up at you, momentarily stunned. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk, his large hands coming to rest on your bare thighs, his thumbs stroking circles over your skin. 

"Oh, so you wanna take control now, huh? Be the boss?"

"Please, you know you love it when I'm on top." Your hips began a slow, teasing grind against the rigid length of him nestled between your thighs. 

Satoru's breath hitched, his fingers digging into your thighs as you circled your hips just right, the slick drag of your wet core sliding over his aching cock. "You flatter me, love, because I lose my mind in any position with you. But you know, two can play this game."

His hands suddenly shot to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight. With a sharp jerk and a low, purposeful grind, he rocked you against him hard, the pressure on your clit just shy of painful in the most delicious way.

You gasped, your back arching, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked chest. "Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered, your hips moving of their own accord, chasing the delicious friction. "Don't stop." 

"What happened to being in control, hm?"

"Oh, shut up”

Every drag of your slick folds over his thick length made you shiver and gasp, lit you up from the inside. You could see the desperation in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched and his chest heaved with each teasing glide of your hips. 

He looked so needy beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs painfully tight, his hips moving against yours, seeking more of your friction.

"So, when do you want to end this torture?" he asked.

"What, can't you take a little teasing?"

"Oh, I can, but right now, I'm losing my mind here. If you don't let me fuck you already—"

"Then do it," you say breathlessly, your own need reaching a fever pitch.

He didn’t need to hear more.

One broad palm abandoned your hip to notch underneath your thigh, spreading you wider as the other hand delved between your rocking bodies to grasp his shaft, lining the thick head up with your entrance.

With a moan, you sank down onto him, your body accepting the slow invasion inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out, when the coarse brush of his pelvis met your clit, you both groaned low and long, lost to the connection, the perfect completeness of your bodies finally joined.

"God, you feel so incredible," Satoru gritted out, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought the urge to simply buck up into you, to set a bruising pace and chase his pleasure selfishly. "So damn tight and hot and perfect. Never gonna get over how good you take my cock."

"Fuck, Satoru," you panted. "You're so deep like this—"

Your babbling dissolved into a whimpering keen as he moved his hips, grinding the thick root of him against your G-spot. You braced your hands on his sweat-slick chest and started to move, rising up until just the tip of him kissed your entrance before slamming back down, a scream catching in your throat at the maddening stretch of him.

"Just like that," Satoru urged breathlessly, his neck corded with strain, his teeth sunk into his lower lip as he watched you bounce on his cock through a haze of desperate lust. "Ride me, love. Take this dick, milk me fucking dry. Wanna feel you come on me, soak my cock in it, fucking ruin me."

Your movements grew faster, more desperate, your cries becoming higher pitched and broken as you chased your rapidly approaching climax. 

Suddenly, Satoru sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. The shift in angle made you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly for balance as he sank even deeper inside you.

"Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered. “Feel so good—"

"Shhh, I've got you." One large hand splayed across your lower back, the other tenderly cupping your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "I'll always have you, love. No matter what."

Then his hips started moving in a slow, rolling rhythm again, each thrust sending heat straight to your core, making you temporarily forget his sincere words. You clung to him, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the narrow space between your lips.

"You're everything to me, you know that?" Satoru murmured softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. 

But before you could fully process it, his hands slid down to grab your ass, grinding you harder against him. A gasp escaped your throat at the sudden increase in pace as you rolled your hips faster to meet his thrusts, your clit rubbing maddingly against him with every downward motion.

In one smooth move, Satoru rolled you both onto your sides, your back flush against his solid chest, still intimately joined. The new position made you moan out, the angle allowing him to sink even further into you.

"Please tell me we'll never stop doing this," he moaned, his lips on your ear.

“No, never, Satoru. God, please never stop.”

One muscular arm banded across your waist, holding you firmly against him as he started to move. His free hand reached up your sweat-slicked body to tighten around your throat, arching your head back to rest against his shoulder.

"Satoru," you panted, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. "God, please never stop fucking me.”

"Never, love," he murmured against your skin, his hand drifting lower, fingertips ghosting over your quivering stomach. "I’m never gonna stop fucking you, wanna feel you come apart on my cock again and again until you can't take it anymore."

He rolled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your core clench. At the same time, his clever fingers found your aching center. A broken moan tore from your throat, your head falling back against his shoulder.

You were close, so fucking close.

But Satoru, god, he knew your body so well, knew exactly how to keep you riding that sweet, torturous edge without letting you fall. Every time you thought you couldn't possibly handle any more, he would change his angle or vary his rhythm, keeping you suspended in an endless loop of blissful torture that had you shaking and gasping his name.

“God, you take me so fucking good.” His teeth sank into the curve of your shoulder as the thick head of his cock slammed into you at that perfect angle. "You feel so amazing, so perfect around me, fuck, gonna fill you up so fuckin' full—"

His words were your undoing. 

With a sharp cry, your release crashed over you, your body clenching and pulsing around him as wave after wave consumed you. Your inner muscles clamped down on him, rippling and fluttering and milking his cock for all you were worth.

Satoru fucked you through it relentlessly, prolonging your pleasure until it bordered on pain, all while he chased his own release.

Without warning, Satoru flipped you over onto your stomach, his body covering yours as he pushed back inside you with a deep, almost desperate thrust. One of his hands snaked around to grip your throat lightly, his chest molding to your back as he set a punishing pace, driving into you with abandon.

"Oh fuck, love, I'm gonna—shit, you feel so fucking good—" His words dissolved into incoherent moans, his hips starting to lose their steady rhythm as his climax approached.

He pounded into you harder, faster, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. And then, with a guttural groan, he let go, his release flooding you, painting your walls with his seed.

You could feel every twitch and throb of his cock as he emptied himself deep inside you, your own clenching core greedily milking him for every last drop.

For long, blissful moments, you simply shook and shuddered together, his cock still buried to the hilt, hearts pounding in sync. Satoru's arms tightened around you, his face buried between your shoulder blades, his ragged breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin.

"I swear it gets better every goddamn time,” he mused against your lips. “Never gonna get enough of you, never gonna stop craving the way you feel around me.”

You huffed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "Yeah, you've really ruined me for all other dicks, just so you know." You turned your head to catch his eyes.

A slow smile spread across his face. He straightened up, his hands wandering over the curve of your ass before delivering a light, playful spank.

“Hey!" you yelped.

Grinning unrepentantly, he leaned down and playfully bit one of your buttocks. "God, I can't wait to see this ass in your little tennis skirts again," he growled, soothing the sting with a kiss.

"What, that gets you all hot and bothered?"

"Yeah, totally. I'm hard the second you shimmy into one of those tiny things."

"Well, good thing you'll be seeing me in them a lot more often then.”

"I’m counting on it. Can’t wait to see you in those skirts winning matches all over the world.”

You bit your lip, a sudden wave of uncertainty crashing over you. "Dad wants me to have a backup plan, you know? In case the whole tennis thing doesn't pan out."

"And since when do you give a fuck what he thinks?" Satoru challenged, his fingers trailing up your spine, making you shiver.

"Fair point," you conceded, your lips twitching. But the smile faded quickly, replaced by a frown. "I mean, It's a nice dream, but...what are the odds, really? It's not exactly a realistic goal."

Slowly, gently, he slipped out of you, both of you moaning at the loss of contact. He pulled you close, tucking you into the curve of his body like you belonged there.

"Says who?" he demanded, his voice fierce, almost angry. "You're incredible. You have just as much chance as anyone else, if not more so. You shouldn't give up on your dreams just because the path isn't easy."

Your heart clenched, your throat suddenly tight. "You really think I could do it?" you whispered, hating how small, how uncertain you sounded.

"I know you could." He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your bottom lip with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "You're so strong, love. On the court and off. When you set your mind to something, nothing can stand in your way. It's one of the things I lo—" He caught himself, clearing his throat roughly. "One of the things I admire most about you."

Your heart stuttered at his little slip, at the unspoken four-letter-word lingering in the air between you. But you pushed it aside, convinced you must have misheard him. There was no way he was about to say what you thought he was—right?

No, it couldn't be. 

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a bit of fun, a way to blow off steam. You needed to remember that, needed to cling to that truth like a lifeline.

You swallowed hard.

"I mean it, love," Satoru continued softly, his hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You should look at schools with top tennis programs. Places with the right coaches, the right resources to help you improve your skills and get noticed by the pros.”

"Yeah, I should," you said slowly.

"Wherever you want to go, I'm with you. But please, just choose a university with a remotely decent law firm nearby. Otherwise, I'm gonna be bored as fuck.”

Your heart stopped. 

You pushed back from him slightly, needing space, needing air. "What? Why?" you croaked, certain you'd misheard, misunderstood. Because surely he couldn't mean—

God, he couldn't—he didn't really—

Did he?

Conflicting emotions crashed through you, painful in their intensity. Disbelief and wonder, longing and panic, hope and fear, and a strange, bubbling rush that felt dangerously close to—

No. 

No, it was too soon, too much. 

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a casual affair, a temporary outlet for the attraction that crackled between you.

Wasn't it?

"I thought this was casual between us," you said.

As his words hung in the air between you, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable passed over Satoru’s features before he could mask it with casual nonchalance. For a moment, he looked almost — wounded. 

As if your dismissal of this thing between you had struck a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs and the hope from his heart.

But you couldn't let yourself dwell on it, couldn't let the ache in your chest sway you from your chosen path. Because this—tennis, your future, your dreams—it was everything. The driving force that had gotten you through countless early mornings and grueling practices, through blisters and bruises and the bone-deep exhaustion that came with pushing your body to its limits day after day.

It was your passion, your purpose. 

The one thing in your life that made sense, that gave you direction and drive.

You had to choose.

And as much as it killed you, as much as it felt like ripping your own heart out with your bare hands—

You knew which choice you had to make. Which path you had to take, no matter how steep and lonely it might be. Because tennis was your future. Your purpose, your calling, the one thing you'd built your entire identity around.

And Satoru — god, Satoru was a beautiful dream.

But he was only a dream.

And you can’t chase two dreams.

God, this was so fucking unfair. So cruel and confusing and utterly, devastatingly unfair.

Because you wanted him. Wanted him so badly it felt like a physical ache, a hollow void in the center of your chest that only his touch, his kiss, his love could fill.

But you wanted tennis too.

Wanted tennis more.

And you couldn't risk it.

Because falling for him, letting yourself want more than stolen moments and secret meetings — it was a distraction. A beautiful, tempting, utterly destructive distraction.

"I need to focus on my training, you know? I can't afford any...complications right now,” you said quietly.

Satoru's eyes closed for a second, his jaw clenching as if he were physically biting back the words that wanted to spill out. When he opened them again, his gaze was shuttered, unreadable.

"Yeah, you're right. You should focus on your career, on getting everything you want out of life.” Satoru cleared his throat, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your sweat-cooled skin. "Well then, Now that we've got that settled...what do you say we move on to more pressing matters?"

"Pressing...matters?"

Satoru's smile sharpened. "Mhm. Like round three...or is it four now? I've lost count."

Your breath caught in your throat as he settled between your parted thighs, the thick, heavy weight of his length pressing against your entrance. 

"Satoru," you managed, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "I think we—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his gaze so intense that any reply died on your lips. "Don't speak. Just feel."

And then he was pushing forward, the broad head of his cock breaching your entrance, splitting you open inch by maddening inch until he bottomed out.

For a suspended moment, he held himself still, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with your own. And in that pause, that infinite stretch of time, something shifted between you. 

When he started to move, it was with a desperate urgency, a possessive edge that bordered on rough. His kisses turned bruising, almost punishing, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks, to brand you as his own.

It was hot and messy, frantic and almost frightening in its intensity. 

He fucked you like he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of your skin, to make you his in a way that went far beyond the physical. Like he knew, with a brutal, aching certainty, that he would never have the chance to touch you like this again. 

Never feel your heat, your softness, the perfect give of your body beneath his own.

And despite yourself, despite the sickening knowledge that this would only make things harder in the end — you wanted it. 

Wanted him, all of him, in a way that defied logic and reason. 

Even if it was selfish, even if it would hurt him more in the long run, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. Couldn't deny yourself this one last taste of paradise, this fleeting glimpse of a future you knew you could never have.

So you clung to him, your hands scrabbling over the sweat-slick expanse of his back, your legs winding around his waist to pull him deeper, harder. 

You let him take you apart with ruthless precision, let him wring cry after broken cry from your lips as he pounded into you again and again, chasing oblivion, chasing connection, chasing the impossible dream of forever.

Even if it was just for one night.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body aching and spent. He gathered you close and held you like he never wanted to let go. Like he could keep you there, in the circle of his arms, in the warmth of his bed, if he just held on tight enough.

He stayed the night, his face buried in the crook of your neck as you drifted off to sleep. 

But when you woke the next morning, he was gone. 

The sheets were cold beside you, the indentation of his head on the pillow the only sign he'd ever been there at all. 

A note on the nightstand said something had come up at work.

He was a terrible liar.

And could you blame him, really? After all, you'd been the one to set the terms, to draw the lines. You'd been the one to put your career, your ambition, your lifelong dream ahead of your heart. Ahead of him.

So what right did you have to feel betrayed, to feel abandoned, when he was just following your lead?

No right at all. 

But that didn't stop the ache in your chest.

But it was too late now.

You'd made your choice. 

And it wasn't him.

No matter how badly you wished it could be.

Game. Set.

Goodbye.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

In the weeks that followed, life returned to its usual rhythms. 

Classes, practice, the endless cycle of drills and conditioning that made up your days. You threw yourself into your training with a single-minded focus, determined to chase your dreams, to reach the pinnacle of your sport.

But even as you went through the motions, even as you pushed your body to its limits and lost yourself in the familiar burn of exertion — something felt off. 

Different, in a way you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It was like a constant itch beneath your skin, a restless energy that had you tossing and turning at night, your mind churning with thoughts you couldn't seem to quiet. Thoughts of him, of the way he'd touched you, tasted you, the way he'd looked at you.

You couldn't seem to shake the memory of his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck. The way he'd held you, like you were something precious, something cherished.

Like you were his everything.

And god, how you ached for it. How you longed for his touch, his presence. For the easy banter and the heated glances, the way he could make you laugh even as he set your blood on fire.

For the way he made you feel seen, known. Understood, in a way no one else ever had. Like he could look into your eyes and see straight to your soul, to the heart of you. Like he knew you, inside and out.

But he was busy, consumed by his work. 

At least, that's what he told you.

Not that you had a right to complain.

You’d made your choice, and now you had to live with it. Tennis was your dream, your passion, and you couldn't let anything or anyone distract you from that. 

Not even him. 

You buried yourself in your training, in the familiar rhythms of the court. In the thwack of the ball against your racket, the burn of your muscles as you pushed yourself harder, faster. 

As you chased the high of victory, the rush of dominance. The sweet satisfaction of a point well-played, a match well-won.

But even as you poured your heart out on the court, even as you fought for every point, every game, every set — you couldn't escape your own head. The doubts, the second-guesses, the nagging sense that maybe, just maybe, you had made a terrible mistake. 

That in choosing your dream, you had lost something far more precious. And slowly, inevitably, you began to realize.

But god, there were so many reasons why you shouldn't.

He was so much older than you. 

He was your father's best friend.

And then there was your career, your dream. 

The goal you'd been chasing since you first picked up a racket, the future you'd sacrificed so much for. Could you really risk it all, put it all on the line for a man you'd only just begun to really know, to love?

Your head said no. 

Said it was too reckless.

That you had worked too hard, come too far, to throw it all away now. 

But your heart—

Oh your treacherous heart, whispered a different story. Whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Worth the sacrifice.

And so, torn between your head and your heart, you found yourself at a crossroads. Caught between the dream you had always chased and the love you had never expected to find. 

So with a deep breath and a racing heart, you made your decision.

Heart over head.

For the very first time in your life.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You stood outside Satoru's office, heart pounding in your chest as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The seconds seemed to drag on forever before you finally heard his voice, muffled but unmistakable, calling out, "Yeah, come on in."

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. Satoru glanced up from his desk, his eyes widening. "Wha—What are you doing here?"

You held up a small, prettily wrapped box. "I brought you macarons.”

"Oh, uh...thanks, that's really sweet. But I've got a meeting coming up soon, and I'm not sure now's the best time, you know?"

You walked further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind you with a soft click. "Yeah, I know. I checked with your secretary about your schedule."

"You did?” 

“Yeah.” You walked towards him, setting the box of macarons down on his desk. "I wanted to talk to you."

He leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes searching your face, like he was trying to read between the lines. "You know your dad's got an office here too, right? If he sees us together, he's gonna be—"

"I know," you interrupted. "That's why I asked for his schedule too. Looks like we’ve got at least 30 minutes to ourselves, give or take."

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket, as you stared at each other across the expanse of his desk. Your heart was a wild thing in your chest, your palms clammy with nerves and anticipation.

"I'm going to Stanford," you blurted out.

Satoru blinked. "I thought you were set on Princeton."

"But Stanford's got better law firms.”

His brow furrowed, confusion written all over his unfairly handsome face. "But what's that got to do with—"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, your resolve. And then you stepped around the desk, coming to stand before him, so close you could feel the heat of his body, the whisper of his breath against your skin.

"Move there with me," you said.

His brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I want you. Want this, want us. Together, for real. Not just for sex, but...but a real relationship.”

His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in shock. For a second, he just stared at you, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Like he thought maybe he was dreaming, or hallucinating, or—

"Are you serious? You really want that? Want...us?"

“Yes.”

"Are you sure?" he asked again, as if he's genuinely not able to believe it, hesitant even as his hands came up to settle on your hips, to tug you closer. "Because if we do this, if we go down this road...there's no going back.”

You nodded, your fingers sliding into his hair, anchoring him to you. "I'm sure. I'm all in, Satoru.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips. And then he was surging up, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that seared your very soul, that branded you as his own. 

You melted into him, into the heat and strength of his body, the desperate clutch of his hands on your waist. Into the slick slide of his tongue against yours, the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip. Into the sheer, overwhelming rightness of being in his arms, of being wholly and completely his. 

Body, heart, and soul.

And as you lost yourself in him, in the taste and feel and perfect inevitability of loving him — you knew.

Knew that this was where you belonged, where you were always meant to be. 

In his arms, in his heart.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your arms winding around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. Tugging him closer, ever closer, until there was no space left between your bodies. Until you were pressed against him from chest to hip.

He walked you backwards, never breaking the kiss, until you felt the edge of his desk digging into your backside. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of his desk.

Papers scattered, pens clattered to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. 

You gasped into his mouth, your legs parting instinctively to make room for him between them. He stepped into the cradle of your hips like he belonged there, like he'd finally found his way home.

Like you were his missing piece, his perfect fit. 

Frantic hands tugged at clothing, desperate for the feel of skin on skin. Your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, baring the smooth expanse of his chest to your touch.

Satoru's own hands were just as busy, slipping beneath the hem of your top and skimming up your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You lifted your arms, allowing him to strip the fabric over your head and toss it aside.

"God, you're beautiful," he rasped, one hand coming up to trace the curve of your cheek, to tangle in your hair. "So fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at you sometimes."

Your heart stuttered, emotion welling up thick and fast in your throat. "Satoru," you whispered, your own hands sliding up his arms, over the strong, solid breadth of his shoulders. "You know we don’t have much time, remember?."

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He claimed your mouth again, his kiss hot and deep and filled with barely restrained need. Hasty hands fumbled with the fastenings of pants, shoving fabric down and out of the way with an almost frantic urgency. 

And then he was stepping between your spread thighs, the hot, heavy weight of his erection pressing against your core, parting you, teasing you. You wrapped your legs around him, hooking your ankles at the small of his back to urge him closer. 

“You know, family dinners are going to be really awkward from now on."

"God, Satoru, don't say that now—" you began, but your words cut off on a sharp gasp as he surged forward, his hard length sliding home in one smooth, powerful thrust.

As Satoru thrust into you, each deep stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you, it struck you just how right this felt. Despite the age difference, despite how unconventional your relationship was, being with him like this — it was like coming home. 

Like your bodies were made to fit together, two halves of a whole.

It wasn't just the physical pleasure, though god knows there was plenty of that. It was the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, like you were the most precious thing in his world. The way he made you feel cherished, adored, safe and wanted and so incredibly loved.

He was your home, your heart, your everything.

"Satoru," you suddenly gasped out. "I love you."

His rhythm faltered, his eyes flying to yours. For a second you panicked, thinking you'd scared him off, ruined the moment. But then a slow, beautiful smile spread across his face, his gaze so full of tenderness it took your breath away.

"I love you too," he rasped. "God, you have no idea how much. I'm so fucking in love with you."

He leaned down to kiss you, messy and desperate, pouring all his love and longing into the press of his lips. You kissed him back just as fiercely, and soon you were both moving again, chasing that peak together.

It wasn't going to be easy, you knew that. 

There would be plenty of people who wouldn't understand, who would judge and condemn. But wrapped up in his arms, lost in the bliss of his body moving with yours, none of that seemed to matter.

This was right. 

This was real. 

This love you shared, it was the kind that could weather any storm, overcome any obstacle. As long as you had each other, you could face anything.

It wouldn't be a conventional life, by any means. But it would be yours. Yours and his, together. And really, that's all that mattered.

Because in the end, love was worth fighting for. And this love? This crazy, complicated, wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime love?

It was everything.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

"You nervous?" 

Satoru's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, his sky blue eyes framed by snowy lashes capturing your attention. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in his gaze, but then you inhaled deeply, centering yourself. 

Nervous?

You considered the question, searching within for the telltale flutter of butterflies, the icy clench of anxiety. But there was only calm, a steely determination, and a quiet confidence in your abilities.

"No," you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. "I'm not, actually."

Your eyes wandered back to the court, where the final preparations were underway. The electric atmosphere enveloped you, the excitement of the crowd palpable in the air. This was it — the Wimbledon final, the culmination of years of blood, sweat, and tears. 

Turning back to Satoru, you shook your head. "I should be though, right? I mean, it's the Wimbledon final. Feel like I should be nervous."

Satoru's smile was warm and proud, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. If you're not nervous, then that's okay. Trust your instincts, trust all the work you've put in. You've got this."

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "For being here, for always believing in me. I couldn't have done this without you."

"Yes, you could have. You're the strongest, most resilient person I know. But I'm damn lucky I get to be here to watch you shine."

Your lips twitched into a faint smile.

Footsteps approached, and you turned to see your dad, a water bottle in hand and a slightly anxious furrow between his brows. "Hey, champ," he said, handing you the water. "How you holding up? Nerves kicking in yet?" 

Before you could answer, Satoru chimed in, a playful grin on his face. "She hasn't decided yet. But either way, she's got this. Our girl's a champion, through and through." 

You shot him a look, cursing him a little for his choice of words.

Your dad's gaze flickered between you, and for a moment, you braced yourself for the inevitable awkwardness, the unspoken judgment. But then he smiled, warm and genuine, and clapped Satoru on the shoulder. 

"Damn right she is," he agreed, his voice filled with pride. "And we're here to support her every step of the way."

And in that exact moment, looking into their eyes, filled with unwavering belief, you knew one thing for sure — even if you lost today, you'd already won in all the ways that truly mattered. 

And really, what could be better than that?

Then, the announcement came for the players to take their positions. 

Satoru turned to you. "Alright, love, this is it. Time to show the world what you're made of. Get out there and crush it, yeah? You've got this." 

You nodded. "Yeah, let's do this."

Satoru's answering smile was proud and just a little wicked. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Melting into him, your mouth opened under his as the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. 

His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours in a dance that set your blood on fire, nearly making you moan into his mouth, forgetting, for just a moment, where you were and what you were about to do.

A pointed cough from your dad broke the spell. Satoru pulled back with a roguish grin, wholly unrepentant. 

You were breathing hard, your lips tingling and your heart racing, but there was no nervousness, no uncertainty. Only the bone-deep knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be, doing exactly what you were born to do.

Satoru's hands slid down to your hips, his touch lingering, electric. "Go get them, love." 

You flashed him a final smile, then turned to make your way onto the court. Satoru's hand found your ass one last time to give you a playful, proprietary slap as you walked away. You didn't see it, but you were sure your dad gave him a death glare for that.

The sun peeked through the clouds as you strode forward, the place buzzing with energy. 

It was the finale, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel like a dream come true. People screaming your name, the realization that you were really here, in this moment, living your passion.

As you took your place on the baseline, racket in hand, stretching one last time, adrenaline singing through your veins, you risked a final glance over to the sidelines. 

Satoru was watching you, his gaze intense and full of so much love and pride it took your breath away. When he caught your eye, he winked.

Your dad rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Will I ever get used to seeing you two like this?" he asked, the question directed at his lifelong best friend, but also, perhaps, at himself.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes still trained on you. "You're getting better. I remember the first few months, you constantly looked like you were about to lose your shit and murder me in my sleep. But you're managing okay now."

"Yeah, I still can't quite believe it. My best friend and my daughter… I'm not sure I'll ever fully come to terms with it."

"I know it's unconventional. I know it's not what you would have chosen for her. But I swear to you, I love that girl with everything I have. I'd do anything for her, be anything she needs me to be. She's it for me. The one."

Your dad was silent for a long moment, his gaze tracking your progress across the court. "I know you do. And that's the only reason I haven't killed you yet." 

Satoru barked out a laugh. "Well, thank you for your restraint.”

"Seriously though," your dad continued. "She's happy. Happier than I've ever seen her. And that's all that matters to me." 

They both watched as you stepped onto the court, your head held high. You began your pre-match routine, circling your wrists to loosen up. Your eyes were already locked on your opponent across the net.

As you moved through your stretches, reaching down to touch your toes, twisting at the waist, rolling your shoulders, Satoru's gaze never wavered from your form. A slow smile spread across his face as he watched you.

"Will you accept the offer they gave you?"

"Huh?" Satoru responded distractedly, his focus still on you.

"The offer to lecture at Stanford.”

"Oh, right," Satoru said, finally tearing his gaze away from you to look at Suguru. He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe. I haven't really decided yet."

Your dad huffed out a laugh. "You're probably the only person in the world who would even consider turning down an honor like that."

Satoru chuckled, his attention drifting back to you as you took your position on the court. "Ah, you know I never cared about prestige. And to be honest, I'm currently enjoying being a tennis husband. There's still so many places we haven't explored together, you know?"

"You're not a husband yet, though," your dad pointed out.

"Am I not?" Satoru grinned, fumbling with the back pocket of his pants. He pulled out a small case and held it up for Suguru to see, flipping it open.

Suguru's eyes widened. "You serious?"

Satoru's smile only grew wider, his gaze drifting back to you on the court. "I'm gonna ask her after she wins."

"And what if she doesn't win?"

A laugh escaped Satoru's lips. "C'mon, we both know she's got this in the bag."

Your dad was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant and thoughtful as he watched the shiny ring in the case. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "I'm damn glad she has you, Satoru. I really am. Even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes."

Satoru blinked rapidly. "Wow. That's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm touched, truly."

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head," Suguru grumbled. "You know I'll still kill you if you hurt her."

"Yeah, figured," Satoru grinned, slipping the ring box back into his pocket. "But trust me, that's never gonna happen."

"Good."

Satoru watched you for a moment, then turned to Suguru once more. "By the way, should I've asked you for permission or something? You know, since you're her dad and all."

Suguru rolled his eyes. "Don't make this any weirder than it already is."

"I can start calling you dad from now on, right? Or maybe pops? What do you think?"

"Absolutely not. Don't even think about it."

"Aw, come on," Satoru pushed, his grin growing wider. "We're practically family now, right? I mean, I'm going to be your son-in-law soon."

"Satoru..." Suguru warned, his tone dangerous.

"Ooh, I know! How about father-in-law dearest? That's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"I swear to god, Satoru, if you don't stop right now—"

"Okay, okay, fine," Satoru relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll stop. But just so you know, I expect you to give a heartfelt speech at the wedding. Something about how you always knew I was the one for your little girl, even when we were kids."

Suguru stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and clapped a hand on Satoru's shoulder, his grip just a little too tight for comfort.

"Satoru," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "If you don't shut up right now, there will be no wedding because you'll be six feet under."

"Jeez, no need to get violent," Satoru said, wincing under Suguru's iron grip.

"Then not another word about being my son-in-law, got it?" Suguru smirked, releasing his hold on Satoru's shoulder. "Just promise me you'll make her happy."

"Always," Satoru said, rubbing his shoulder. "I swear it."

"Great. Now, let's watch the match, shall we?" Suguru said, returning to his composed self in a split second.

"Please," Satoru agreed, still massaging his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the court, back to you, ready to cheer you on to victory.

Because you both knew that no matter what challenges the future might bring, no matter where this crazy, beautiful life might take you—

As long as you had each other, you could handle anything.

And that? That was a pretty damn beautiful thing.

Game, set, love.

Forever.

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

author's note: wooooaaa here it is, the happy ever after for these two adorable idiots !! hope you enjoyed this fun short little story as much as i enjoyed writing it. so thank you for sticking with me and leaving all those lovely comments and messages, they always bring the biggest smile to my face !!

and please ignore any inaccuracies regarding american universities. i have no clue and just widly came up with things haha.

once again, thank you for reading, and i hope our paths cross again in another story. have the most wonderful day !! <3

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© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

[moronkombat]

Hi! Can I request Liu Kang sfw & nsfw headcanons please and thank you 🥺

SFW

He can be rather illusive. You don't often find him. He finds you. It can lead to startling you sometimes. You'll be grabbing something from the shelf and when you turn, there he is. You'll him to stop doing that but he doesn't. He finds it quite funny

Normal dates are difficult as Liu Kang doesn't exactly blend in with the crowd and he doesn't want too much attention on the both of you when spending time together

Liu Kang takes his partner to Wu Shi for romantic outings often. There people know him and won't stare and he gets that privacy he so prefers

Liu Kang is best described as a romantic tease. He knows how to wine and dine but also knows how to play. He's equally skilled in both

When planning dates for his partner, he is very secretive about them, always saying that it will be a surprise. Try your best to get him to crack but he remains tightlipped. He does find it amusing when you try to get him to crack, however

Dates range from simple outings to walking among the stars. He loves to see that wonder sparkle across your eyes as you look around at the spectacle he has brought you too

NSFW

The sex is positively divine yes that pun is intended. Liu Kang is a master at everything he does. I mean everything

You walk into his night and you can practically see the madness in his gaze. He wants you and he wants all of you completely

And he takes all of you. His pleasure and yours melt together throughout the night and your duet is a lovely one

Hands roam your flesh, no part of you goes unexplored. Palms lay on your chest and there is a heat there, one unnatural and you know this God of Fire is inciting this feverish sensation

Liu Kang is extremely fond of utilizing his unearthly abilities on his partner during sex. From just letting the tips of his fingers kiss fire to making love to you in a place in between places, every time you lay with Liu Kang, it is special

He often suggests different positions to try and he does not disappoint in his methods of execution

Prefers receiving oral rather giving but he still enjoys providing to his partner. There is just something so delicious about seeing your mouth take his cock to the hilt, how you gag and cough around it that he simply cannot deny

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Limbo

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Summary: You and Wanda reach an important step in your relationship

A/N: Simps, the both of them❤️😘😭. Take two, y'all

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut

“It’s really okay. I’m not mad.”

Despite your continued reassurance, Wanda doesn’t quite look convinced. The two of you had been cuddled close in bed, taking advantage of a rare chance to sleep in, when Wanda’s phone rang.

Last night Wanda hadn’t gotten back until 3am. You’d long ago fallen into a fitful sleep when your girlfriend let herself into your apartment, but you’d been thrilled to wake up in her arms. You’d gotten used to falling asleep alone and waking up with Wanda more often than not. As she continued to work hard during the days so she at least had the chance to sleep beside you at night, you were happier than ever.

It was only an hour ago that Wanda promised you the whole morning together. You were free of obligations, and even if you hadn’t been, you’d rearrange anything if it meant you could spend time with Wanda. It was only 9:50 when someone called on your girlfriend, leaving you slightly miffed and wishing you could give them a piece of your mind. Instead, you say nothing as you watch Wanda stand and look around for her clothes. She’s here often enough that she has a few suits in your closet, and you try not to let the fact that she’s using them now serve as another reminder of what you’d wanted to ask her this morning.

You wait until Wanda’s folded her outfit from yesterday before she grabs another and turns toward you with a frown. She needed to leave now but she hated to go back on a promise to you. Despite your insistence, you definitely look disappointed, and seeing this almost makes her want to change her mind. Well that’s not true. She definitely wants to change her mind, but she knows that she can’t. If she does, she’ll just have more to deal with later.

So Wanda sighs inaudibly as she changes quickly and pops into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. She stops at the sight of her exhausted expression, and this time she releases an audible sigh before she shakes her head. She’s dressed the part of a mobster with her suit and obscenely expensive watch that she’d left at your place last week. She tugs on the strap a little harder than necessary before fastening it with a frown.

This isn’t what she wants. She hates to leave you alone all of the time. She hates that her work is proving to cause a huge rift between the two of you. She feels like she’s living two separate lives when there’s really only space for one. She can either be the mobster that she sees staring back at her, or she can be Wanda who has a normal life, a loving relationship, and maybe something other than her job to take up all her time.

She shakes her head as she runs a hand through her hair. She can’t think about this right now. She has to stop the inevitable fire fight from breaking out before she has a chance to salvage her winnings. She reminds herself of the profit but even the astronomical number isn’t enough to wipe the frown from her face.

As she walks back into your bedroom, she finds that you’re not there, but the sounds from the adjacent room tell her you’re in the kitchen. She confirms this as she walks through the living room to see you pouring the entire contents of the coffee pot into a thermos for her. You don’t drink any caffeine, but you’d bought the coffee maker and her favorite coffee for whenever she could visit. She feels her heart stutter in her chest at the fact that despite being upset, you’re still taking care of her. It makes her feel even worse about her decision to leave and she’s torn yet again when you turn to face her with a bright, only slightly forced smile.

“Here you go. This should last you the ride there at least.”

You smile cheekily and Wanda rolls her eyes in faux annoyance before she meets you for a quick kiss. She decides it’s not enough and she takes her coffee from you and sets it on the counter before she’s reaching for you again.

“Thank you, Y/n."

You find yourself in Wanda’s arms as she pulls you into a hug and your smile widens as she holds you close to her. You sigh happily before closing your eyes and taking advantage of the few seconds you have left with her before she’s whisked away by work yet again. You hear her sigh, and you’re not surprised when she tightens her hold on you before turning her face so she’s hiding in your hair.

“I hate leaving you, detka. I love our time together.”

Your smile is bittersweet, and you’re glad Wanda can’t see it because you are sure you look pathetic. You hate when Wanda leaves you too, but you know what you signed up for. Well at least you know now, and you’d already told yourself that you can’t walk away from her. You’re not sure you’d be able to live with yourself if you did that.

So instead of saying what you want, and asking Wanda not to leave you again, you just turn so you can kiss the top of her head before letting your arms drop to your sides.

“I know, Wanda. Me too, but I’ll be here when you get back.”

You wonder if Wanda knows how true these words are. You imagine you’re going to spend a lot of your life sitting around and waiting for Wanda, but you’ve decided that the time you spend together is worth it. You know in an ideal world Wanda wouldn’t be off doing who knows what at all hours of the day. She’d have a set schedule and you’d see her every night for dinner before falling asleep in her arms, but that wasn’t the life she lived.

You couldn’t resent her for this no matter how much you felt that you probably should. You can only hope that someday you’ll have more time with her, and maybe you wouldn’t have to wonder when she’d walk through your door again.

Wanda seems to sense the resignation in your response and her face falls momentarily. You feel the need to apologize, but she doesn’t give you a chance before she’s hugging you again.

“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

You nod as you pick up Wanda’s coffee because you know that she’s late, before giving her one last kiss.

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.”

Wanda wasn’t back until late which wasn’t a surprise to you at all. You’d spent your day off lounging around and trying to keep yourself distracted. You’d baked and watched some TV, but mostly you read almost three books before you decided to call it a night around 10pm.

You had been optimistic to think that Wanda would be back by midnight, and when 2am rolls around, you’re fast asleep by the time your girlfriend returns.

Before going to bed, you’d read, a romantic, murder mystery by your all-time favorite author, but you’d stopped at a crucial part. The characters were amidst their investigation to find a serial killer, but there was still time for a dramatic rendezvous that had been in the works since the first few pages. You’d wanted to read on but you were so tired that you kept falling asleep as you attempted to read the same sentence 4 times. You’d turned off your tablet before setting it on the other side of the bed with a yawn. You promptly fell asleep but continued to shift and squirm underneath the covers restlessly.

You’d started to read the scene where a tentative kiss turned into a trip to the bedroom, but you hadn’t been in the mood. Reading about two people in love made you miss Wanda and as pathetic as it was, your thoughts kept going to her instead of focusing on the words on the page. You wanted to be with Wanda now, holding her close and kissing her lovingly, but it was just you. You fall asleep with a frown on your face, but the dreams that follow you into sleep don’t take long to wipe this away.

Wanda groans under her breath as she shuts the door quietly behind her. She locks it before checking to make sure that there’s no sound coming from the apartment. You are certainly asleep, but Wanda wanted to be sure before she heads to the guest bathroom to clean up. She flinches as the bright lights blind her on her way to the sink. She’s cringing by the time she reaches for the faucet to wash away the blood on her knuckles. She regrets punching the last person that she did. He had an obnoxiously large nose that almost broke her finger when she’d tried to knock him out.

She wishes that she hadn’t lost her gun because it was much more efficient, and far less painful than what she’d had to resort to. She sighs after she’s cleaned her hands and face of any remaining evidence of her scuffle. She nearly scoffed at the thought of describing the all-out brawl as something so insignificant. She’d known the day was going to hell as soon as someone called to tell her that she wouldn’t be getting the morning, off, and they certainly hadn’t disappointed.

She shuts off the light before taking off her shoes and leaving them by the front door. There’s a small closet that you use mostly to store extra blankets, but you sometimes threw your shoes in there so you didn’t have to look at them. Wanda contemplated doing this, but she didn’t have the energy to bend over and pick them up. Maybe she’ll do it tomorrow if you take notice of them.

Wanda starts to shed her dirty jacket as she reaches out for the door that she assumes you’re sleeping behind. She opens it slowly and turns toward the bed to see that you are definitely asleep. Your hair is splayed across your pillow and you’re curled up on your side with your back to her. She smiles at the sight of you as she shuts and locks the door behind her. She quickly sheds her ruined clothes before grabbing one of the two pairs of shorts and a t-shirt that she’s kept at your place.

She eyes the area of the shelf in your closet that her things have occupied for at least a month. She wonders if she’ll ever have a more permanent place in your apartment, but she quickly disregards the thought as she heads back toward the bed. She’s about to fall over she’s so exhausted, but the second she lifts the covers on the free side of the bed she stops short. She knows how you sometimes read until you fall asleep and your tablet’s been found in many places as a result of you throwing it haphazardly onto the bed. One time it ended up in the bathroom, and that was a mystery that you never solved. To see it beside you under the covers is less surprising, but the sight of the tablet isn’t what gave her pause.

You were hot natured and barely slept with a sheet over you if you could help it. Wanda realized very early that she was the one who would get all of the comforter and the extra blanket when she shared a bed with you. Like her, you slept in shorts and a tank most times, but tonight you must have gotten too hot. Wanda appreciates the lingerie set that you definitely hadn’t been wearing when she left this morning. It’s her favorite on you and she has to stop herself from groaning at the sight of you flushed and barely covered.

“You’re so pretty, detka.”

As Wanda sinks into bed beside you, she can’t help but lean over and kiss your bare shoulder. She watches as you shift slightly and release a whine that makes her stifle another groan. What she’s not prepared for is how your restlessness progresses to something that honestly surprises her.

The hand that had been under your pillow behind your head, moved down toward your chest at the same time that the one by your side drifts to your stomach. Wanda thinks that you’re just going to stretch as you sometimes tend to do in your sleep, but instead your hands continue to drift lower until you’re palming your breast and pressing against your lower stomach.

“Mhmm.”

You mutter something unintelligible under your breath as you continue to shift and touch yourself in a way that’s making Wanda’s pulse spike. She watches wordlessly until your right hand disappears between your legs.

“Y/n.”

Your response is to groan again under your breath, but you don’t stop and Wanda reaches out to grab your hand before it can slide beneath the thin lace.

“Y/n.”

Her borderline pleading tone is what rouses you from your sleep. You hum under your breath before forcing yourself to open your eyes to blink away the image of you and your girlfriend in this very bed. You smile at the sight of Wanda looking a little on edge, and you flip your hand over in hers before squeezing it gently.

“Hey Wands. You’re back.”

Wanda takes a moment to gather her wits as her gaze flits between your face and your joined hands. When she speaks up her voice is hoarse, and you can hear clear as day how desperate she is. Your smile widens and you both watch as you pull Wanda’s hand back to where you’d wanted it much earlier.

“I would have come home sooner if I’d known you were waiting for me like this.”

Wanda watches as your eyes widen and she sees a hint of something she can’t name but it excites her. Her eyes darken and she’s momentarily distracted at the first brush of her fingers between your legs.

“Fuck me.”

You actually laugh at this and Wanda’s cheeks heat up as you lean forward to whisper against her lips. You stop only a breath away from kissing her and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing again at Wanda’s frustrated look.

“I believe that’s my line.”

Wanda doesn’t respond with words but when she kisses you, you’re sure that she’s just as eager as you are. Your dream from earlier had gotten you so frustrated that you'd had no desire to wake up. You’d feared that doing so would mean that you would find that you were alone, and then you’d be stuck to stew in your aroused state. Wanda’s arrival was fortuitous for many reasons. Namely you wanted to have your girlfriend back safe and sound. However, the fact that she was now here to help you relieve your sexual frustration wasn’t something you’d ever complain about. Taking care of yourself had lost its appeal the moment you met Wanda.

You’re certain that touching yourself will never be the same again.

You nearly fly off the bed when Wanda’s cold hands meet your skin. She sits up and straddles you without breaking your kiss, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of Wanda sitting on your hips. You don’t bother to stop yourself from bucking up against her, and you smile against Wanda’s lips when you hear her groan under her breath.

“Shit, Y/n.”

Wanda can’t deny how turned on she is at the sight of you in your last anniversary present. Her need for you continues to climb with each touch and every sound that you’ve made as her hands roam your body. You’re squirming beneath her and you throw your head back with a breathy curse when her lips leave yours to trail down your neck. You feel like you’re crawling out of your skin, and you’re breathing like you just ran a 5k, but Wanda doesn’t seem to be in a rush which makes you want to scream.

Your hands leave Wanda’s hips and you bury one of them in her hair as gently as possible in your desperate state. Wanda hisses but doesn’t stop kissing you until you tighten your hold on her when she leaves a wet kiss on your collarbone.

“Wanda. I’ve been thinking about this all day. Are you going to keep me waiting?”

Wanda’s torn. She doesn’t know which she’d like to do more. She could drag this out and keep you on edge until you can’t stand it anymore, or she can give in to her near debilitating desire to touch you. Tonight, after the long day that she’s had, her desire to please you both wins out, and Wanda nods against your hand before she mutters against your chest.

“Don’t worry, detka. I’ll take care of you.”

Since Wanda has never failed to do this, you have no reason not to trust her. You sigh in relief as Wanda’s mouth starts to wander again. You gasp when a rush of cold hits you, but it doesn’t last long as Wanda’s mouth descends on your exposed breasts. You squeeze your eyes shut and your back arches as you try and get closer to your girlfriend’s glorious mouth. You curse, bucking your hips as Wanda’s lips close around your stiff nipple. Your hands find Wanda’s back and you try to be mindful of how hard you’re digging your nails into her, but she’s making it exceedingly difficult.  

As Wanda slides down your body, one of her knees settles between your thighs and you release another tortured groan that sends goosebumps across Wanda’s skin.

“Wands, please.”

You must know about the power that you hold over Wanda. The fact that she’s absent often, and happens to disappoint you more than she’d like means that she would do almost anything you asked, if she’s truly able. Short of asking her to hurt you, there’s very little that Wanda would say no to if she thought it would make you happy. She is likely overcompensating for the fact that her job keeps her away, but you haven’t complained yet, and you’re likely aware of how hard it is for your girlfriend to not give into you. You have an equally difficult time saying no to anything that may cause Wanda happiness. If you can manage it and it doesn’t put either of you in danger, you’re going to do whatever she asked of you.

You both were honestly so whipped.

So it’s not really a shock to either of you when only a few seconds later, Wanda’s fingers drag deliciously against the lace that’s just barely a barrier between you two. You miss Wanda’s eyes darkening further as her breath catches at how hot and needy you are for her. She groans when you fail to stifle a moan as you rock against her touch.

“What got you this wet, Y/n? What were you reading?”

Wanda barely remembers the fact that she’d seen your tablet a mere millisecond before noticing your state of undress. She watches with a wicked sense of satisfaction as you continue to try and find some relief before you seem to realize that she’s asked you a question. It takes a few seconds and Wanda pulling her hand away for you to respond. Luckily, she doesn’t go far by the time you shake your head and take a deep, steadying breath.

“No-nothing. I couldn’t focus on that. All I could think about was you.”

If Wanda had gained the upper hand a moment ago, you’d successfully snatched it back with your sincere response. It should be embarrassing how quickly Wanda rips the expensive lingerie to get to you.

You both moan and Wanda doesn’t notice that you’ve pierced her skin as your nails scratch down her back. After a moment of teasing your clit, Wanda steals your breath when she pushes two fingers deep inside you. You try and arch your hips in search of more but Wanda holds you down as she curls her fingers and makes you see stars.

“Oh god. Don’t stop. Please.”

You’re already shaking you’re so close but Wanda doesn’t seem to care about dragging this out any longer. You reach out for her arm that’s holding you still, but you don’t manage to do anything other than hold Wanda so tightly she groans under her breath. She’s a little sore from her shoot out earlier, but she’s not about to tell you that. Instead, she doubles her efforts and brings you closer with each drag of her fingers. You’re struggling to catch your breath as Wanda kisses her way back up to you. She stops for a few seconds to admire your flushed, beautiful face before she decides to be merciful.

“God, I love you.”

When Wanda leaves a bruising kiss on your neck, one you know you’ll have to cover up tomorrow, you nearly lose it. That said, you nearly sob as her thumb circles your clit and you’re thrown over the edge as her fingers press against your g spot. Wanda kisses your jaw as you continue to shudder from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You turn your face so your lips meet Wanda’s and she smiles as she kisses you deeply. She continues to stroke your fluttering walls until you shift and hiss against her lips. She understands and pulls her hand away before kissing you one last time.

There are a hundred things you want to say, and ask because it hadn’t escaped your notice that Wanda has a few new bruises. What leaves your mouth though is what you’d intended to say this morning before Wanda left unexpectedly.

“Move in with me.”

You’re not even sure that you said the words out loud, Wanda didn’t seem to react to them at all. It’s only the feeling of her hand tensing on your thigh that clues you in, and you have to stop yourself from showing your disappointment. Wanda doesn’t seem to realize that you took her lack of a reaction as a bad sign until you sigh and try to sit up. She’d been thinking about how much she loved you and how she never wanted to leave when you spoke up. She didn’t register what you’d said immediately, and then she took a few seconds to consider that she must have been imagining things. There was no way that you’d ask her this. Right?

When you sigh in defeat before starting to get out of bed, Wanda realizes that she hadn’t imagined it and now you must be disappointed in her yet again.

“Okay, never mind.”

Wanda’s shaking her head and reaching out for you before you can get far. She’s apologizing before you even turn back to face her, but she doesn’t let you go anywhere as she kicks herself for making you think that she doesn’t want to be with you as much as possible.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I mean-Are you sure?”

Despite being half out of bed and half naked you manage to shoot Wanda a hurt look that makes her feel even worse. Still, you try to play off your hurt by shrugging casually, but to Wanda the action looks forced.

“Of course, Wanda.”

When Wanda squeezes your hand, you force yourself to meet her gaze and you almost smile at the sight that greets you. Your girlfriend is shooting you an earnest look as she brings your hand to her lips with a small smile. She couldn’t think of anything better than moving in with you. Well at least for now.

“I’d love to. I might need more closet space though.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but crack a smile at Wanda’s joke. When she sees this, her own smile widens and she leans in to kiss your cheek. She ignores the stiffness in her back and the dull pain that she doesn’t remember feeling when she first got home.

Home.

Wanda smiles at the idea of sharing a home with you. She watches as you slide back toward the middle of the bed before reaching out for her. Your hands drop to her waist before they begin to fiddle with the hem of her t-shirt.

“I’ll get right on that Wands, but first it’s my turn to make you come.”

Masterlist

[utilitycaster]

As someone who hasn't watched majority of c1, reading your thoughts on how tlovm compares is really interesting! I've been in the fandom since c3 began and have seen all of c2 and c3, and I've picked up a lot context.

However, I watch tlovm with a friend who has only seen tlovm at all (and like, 1 hour of exu calamity e1 that we never continued lol, so he did recognise Zerxeus' name). From his perspective of seeing the show as it is on it's own, he's been having a great time, something I do think speaks to the strength of this adaptation - that one of the things CR set out to do was to make something that stood on it's own, and I think they've succeeded in that.

How do you feel on that aspect of tlovm?

I agree - I think a lot of the criticism does come down to disappointment that we're not seeing some of the peak moments of Campaign 1, and I want to be clear that I share some aspects of that disappointment! It is just that like, again, I don't see how you make a scripted show where A Bard's Lament hits if you haven't seen the original, or where Glintshore hits in the same way at all.

I've been thinking about this a lot because I have gotten into some things for which I am unfamiliar with the original/prior installments through mutuals. For example, I have now read some of The Wheel of Time series (gotta get back into it) but I watched the show without any sentimentality for the original, and I think many people who haven't liked it have been mad about changes from the books, not how the TV story holds up. Similarly, I'm very intrigued by Veilguard despite zero past knowledge of basically anything Dragon Age, and I know a lot of longtime fans in particular are mad about changes. The challenge of adaptation, or further installments, is to straddle that line of appealing to new fans and old fans alike. And it's possible - I think TLOVM could have done some things better, but I'm here and I'm not mad about it and while I cannot claim OG C1 fan status I was around in time to have watched C1 and backed the kickstarter, but at the same time it's clearly working for people unfamiliar with the source.

I don't think you should totally abandon everything old fans liked about a series; but the fact is, old fans are a spectrum ranging from people who will love it no matter what because it's their blorbos some more! to people who will nitpick the fact that a specific phrase they have an emotional attachment to didn't appear, and everyone in between. You can't gain more old fans; you can only lose them. And in the end, you should tell a story that works for the medium and what you are trying to do. That doesn't mean every series or adaptation is good, to be clear; I think people who hate on Game of Thrones are 100% valid and not just bitter ASOIAF fans, and we all know that the MCU's attempt to build both a coherent universe but also be accessible to new fans turned it into an absolute trainwreck. But I think that an adaptation should not only be the original but in a new medium, and it should be something a new viewer would enjoy, and yes, I think TLOVM achieves that.

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love pt. 8💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem!reader]

TW: Cussing, angst, some tension

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hi everyone! Posting in Elvis hours again! Hope you like where this next part is heading! More to build upon and can't wait to share with you what's next! I Hope you enjoy!

*

July 8th, 1969

The next few days felt like an eternal hell. It almost felt like you had to start your life over. It was lonely and quite depressing. You were so mad at Elvis for how he’s treated you after all these years and the other night was your breaking point. You thought a person could change but you might have been wrong. You didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened over dinner. You kept to yourself for the next few days and no one seemed to mind. John didn’t bring up once why you stormed out of Elvis’ house. It was a better idea for him to do that. You didn't want anything to do with him. 

You had to get yourself out of this funk. You can either let this define you or do something else to make a difference in your career. You started taking fewer hours at the diner which was a scary choice because you knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting new auditions and getting booked for them. It had been three years since you’d gotten anything remotely interesting. You were afraid you didn’t have it anymore. 

You tried to push that negative energy out of your mind and focus on some good. You had to try and go out there. It was still your passion and something you would tirelessly work for. 

For the next few days, you set out for any audition you could find. You'd wake up early to go to the diner for a few hours, then change into new clothes to go search for audition notices around the city. There were quite a few you found and it made you feel hopeful one of these projects could be yours. 

You hadn’t spoken to Elvis this entire time. It was almost strange after you were so used to this new routine you two had. You had too much anger towards him to speak to him about everything without yelling at him again. You were surprised that he didn’t even try calling you. Every time the phone rang, you always expected to hear his smooth southern drawl ring in your ear but you were left disappointed. 

After a few days of nothing but empty promises and bad auditions, you had to keep trying. You knew there would be a hundred nos before there would be one yes. You were about to head out for the day and go to another audition you had scheduled when the phone rings. You were home alone and wondered who could be calling this time of day. 

You quickly pick it up, “hello?” 

“Hi, may I speak with y/n?” A woman’s voice says on the other end of the line. 

“Speaking?” You say, not recognizing the woman’s voice. 

“This is Nancy from Paramount Studios. We’re holding open auditions today for a new production. Your resume was passed onto us from a friend and we were wondering if you’re free to come in today around one?” She asks you. 

You were a bit taken aback. This was unheard of for you. No one was calling you for auditions, you were normally the one on the phone begging them for a chance to be seen. But you had to push that self-doubt away and seize this opportunity now. 

“Oh yes, I can be there no problem!” 

“Wonderful, we’ll see you then,” she says. 

You were thrilled, this could be a new start for you. Your brain couldn’t help but spoil the moment with doubt. This all felt too easy. You had only been out looking for new jobs for a few days and this fell into your lap? It didn’t settle with you, right? 

It had Elvis written all over it.  

He did something to get you this. Sure, it could be just dumb luck but with Elvis around, that wasn’t a thing. He needed to stay away from you, you didn’t want him around screwing up anything else for you. 

You raced to the studio and got there early to get your hands on the script they wanted you to read from. The audition went really well. The scene they had you do dealt with a girl pleading for her boyfriend to tell her the truth whether he loved her or not. It wasn’t too far off from your real life you realize. You connected with the script and let your emotions over your whole situation with Elvis fuel your performance. You left the soundstage feeling positive but still not that hopeful you had the role. It had been a while since you worked so you weren’t sure if your lack of work would hinder you. 

The next day, you get a call and it just about makes you scream with joy. You got the part and you needed to be on set in two days. You couldn’t be happier. It was a shorter production for your character but you didn’t mind it. You get to be on set for five days and do what you love. It was going to be a new start for you, just like you hoped. You had a new sense of optimism. Things were going to be alright, and maybe you needed Elvis out of your life for it.

That thought made your heart cry.

*

The first day of shooting went well and the entire cast and crew were wonderful to you. You had some jitters at first but they disappeared when you started to work with everyone. Everyone showed you respect and appreciation for showing up and being prepared for the day. 

You’re always surprised how much waiting there was when you’re on set. Your call time might say for you to be onset at three, but you won’t start shooting til four. That’s Hollywood for you. It takes the crew a while to set up the new camera or change locations. Thankfully you had the patience for this waiting game.

You weren’t called onto set for another three hours so you had time to kill. They were kind enough to give you a small trailer to get ready in that you shared with another co-star. It wasn’t like what the big stars got but you were thankful you had a couch in there you could take a nap in if you wanted. Sometimes you have to take advantage of the downtime and get a few minutes of sleep. You were going to be on set late today for scenes that were going to be shot at night so you needed the rest.

You lay down on the small, two-seat sofa and try to get comfortable. A knock on your trailer door snaps you awake and you sit up. You couldn’t have dosed off for more than a few minutes and became fearful that you overslept and they were looking for you on set.

“Come in,” you quip, straightening out your hair and smoothing the dress you had on.

Sunshine pours into the trailer and a tall shadow walks in. Your heart stops when you see his face. That beautifully sculpted face that people dreamed about was standing in your trailer. 

Elvis.

He wore tan slacks and a white button-up, looking at you like he did when he first saw you a few weeks ago. He looked so put together and effortlessly beautiful. His hair fell down on his forehead, just how you liked it. He wore these gold sunglasses that had his initials on the sides of the frames. He takes them off and his blue eyes melt into you. God he was beautiful, it shouldn’t be that distracting but he was! You blamed it on not seeing him for the last week that you were jarred by his presence but who were you fooling, he was just too damn beautiful to look at.

Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him longer, not expecting him to be here. 

“What are you doing here,” you say a bit coldly. 

He continues to stare at you and doesn’t say anything right away. 

“How are you, honey?” He asks softly. His voice has you melting. You curse at yourself for feeling this way for him. Even after everything he did, you still feel weak around him. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly. 

He stays quiet and looks around your small dressing room. You didn’t want him here lingering, he came here for a purpose and you wanted to get him out of here as quickly as possible. You also had things to get off your chest. You didn’t want him to stall or try to do anything drastic. 

“How much did you pay them to get me in this movie?” You ask him, crossing your arms against your chest.

He turns around quickly, confusion covering his face.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, taking a few steps closer to you, and taking off his sunglasses.

“Oh come on don’t play dumb, I’m not an idiot. I haven’t gotten an acting job in over three years. Then all of a sudden I get a call that I was recommended to them by someone? It doesn’t make sense,” you huff.

“I didn’t pay them, honey,” he says calmly.

“Stop calling me honey,” you snap, “and stop lying to me!"

His lips form in a scowl and his blue eyes burn into you menacingly. He stands before you and takes a slow breath in while looking at you. He makes you feel on edge, being this close to him again was too much to handle. He was so provocative without even trying. His presence pulled you in so easily and made it hard to focus even when he was mad. He gently lifts your chin up to look into his eyes. His skin on yours again made you feel like a puddle. You defiantly look at him and wait for him to say something.

“From what I remember, you like me calling you honey quite a bit,” he teases, eyeing you up and down slowly. You hold your breath as you feel yourself crumble for him. He was right, of course he was and it pissed you off. 

“I’m trying to be civil with you. I just wanted to see you,” he says low.

You quickly push his hand off of your face and scowl at him.

“Did you think this would make up for what you did? Like I’d forgive it all?” You ask him.

“I didn’t do anything about this role. I didn’t pay anyone anything,” he says fiercely. Your heart gallops away at his tone and the way he continues to look at you.

“I did pass your information to producers here, yes, I did. I still know people here and met with one of them last week for lunch. They were saying they were having a hard time casting this movie. He explained to me the role and… of course, I thought of you. It’s like second nature to me… but I just passed on your information, that’s all. I helped you get the call sure, but you did the work. You were the one who impressed all the producers and director. You got yourself here, I just wanted to help from a distance, that’s all,” he explains.

You sit down quickly on the couch behind you, feeling the wind get knocked out of you. 

He was just trying to do something good.

He did something kind and stayed out of the way.

He’s letting you shine and do what you love.

Damnit he's impossible to hate.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You felt bad for snapping at him like this. You’ve had so much pent-up anger towards him this last week you couldn’t think straight about the whole situation. The sight of him on a magazine cover in the grocery store ticked you off. The sound of his voice on the radio put you in a foul mood for the rest of the day and you almost always drove in silence because of it. You still hadn’t listened to his new album even though it was everything anyone was talking about.

The guilt wracked through you the longer you looked at him. You couldn’t find the words to start to apologize to him. He still put you through a lot of strife. This wasn’t going to make it all magically disappear but it was a good start.

“I… I didn’t know,” you say timidly.

He stays silent, letting you find the words you want to say.

“I appreciate the help,” you continue.

“It’s the least I could do… you know I care for you don’t you?” He asks, taking a seat next to you on the sofa. “I’ve missed you terribly. I hate not seeing you.”

He looks at you softly, his eyes pleading for you to keep looking at him. He places his hands on either side of your face and gently rubs him thumbs across your cheeks, studying every detail of your face. It felt so good to be touched by him again. He was so comforting and intoxicating to be around. He keeps staring at your lips, parting his slightly as you’re both sitting there and he leans in a bit more. Both of you breathe in sharply as you get closer.

You were nervous for this to go any further. On one hand, you wanted him to kiss you like he used to, you missed how his lips made you feel on fire. You wanted to let your guards down with him. A part of you wanted him to hold you in his arms again and hear him say how much he’s missed you. What you would give to hear him plead for you over and over and over…

You let that fantasy wither away and slowly pull your face out of his hands. You take a sharp breath in, you were holding it the entire time he was touching you. He looks like he just got his heart ripped out of him. He was so physical and emotionally hurt by you.

“I want to believe every word you say, but you have to understand why I have the hesitancy not to,” you sigh. His eyes fill with hurt as he looks at you.

He gets up and runs his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated even though you can’t see his face anymore.

“Please come by the house after you’re done here, so we can talk. I just want to talk to you again,” he says firmly as he heads for the door.

“Elvis I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, trying to stop him.

“Y/n please, I don’t want to fight with you here. Just come to the house after you're done here okay?” He says sternly.

“No, I’ll go over when I’m ready to talk to you. I have to be back here really early too so I can’t come by,” you snip.

“Goddamn it,” he mumbles under his breath and goes to the door furiously, not taking another look at you. The sound of it slamming made you more upset at yourself. You didn’t know what to say to him. It was hard to have him look at you with those soft eyes that could make you do anything. You didn’t want to talk to him about everything you’ve been feeling these last few days. You wanted more time to process this all. It wasn’t going to be easy to stay away from him.

*

The next few days on set were wonderful and went by too quickly. You wished you had more days to work with all the kind people in the production. Elvis weighed in the back of your mind though. All you could see were those hurt, pleading eyes of his that begged for your attention. It had been over a week since the huge fight you two had. You still weren’t ready to talk to him. You knew it would go the same way when you saw him in your trailer the other day. You didn’t want to blow up on him again, you needed to have a civil conversation. 

It was a sweltering night in LA. The city was experiencing a heat wave and wasn’t letting up for a few more days. You were looking forward to being in your air-conditioned apartment and relaxing. It was well after midnight and started to drive home. There was no traffic this time of night but the lights of office buildings in town poured onto the darker roads, illuminating your way home. 

You unlock the front door and feel the warm, stale air hit you in the face. It was also pitch black in there and couldn’t see a thing in front of you. John had to be home, he didn’t stay this late at Elvis’. 

“John?” You say loudly. The flick of a match makes you stare into the darkness, trying to see who’s in there. 

He was in the kitchen and stepped out, “yeah?” 

“Why are all the lights off? Why is it so damn hot in here?” You say grumpily. 

“The powers shut off,” he says lighting another candle. 

“What do you mean? Was there a blackout or something?” You say confused. 

“The bill wasn’t paid on time,” he grumbles. 

You were taken back. John took care of the rent and the electric bill. He made more than you and that’s just how you’ve always done it. He had never missed a payment like this, even in hard times. He never asked you for the money even if you two were having a really hard month.

“What do you mean? Elvis paid you right? You’ve been working three weeks for him. I’m sure that’s been plenty to pay the electric bill,” you press. 

“Well it wasn’t, we’ll figure it out in the morning.” He snaps at you, taking the candle to the bedroom with him. 

You knew he was lying. The man was lying right to your face. You just about had enough of it with all the men in your life lately lying through their teeth when talking to you.

You follow him to the other room, needing to understand what’s going on.

“Please don’t walk away from me. I don’t understand how we didn’t have money to pay the electric bill. This has never happened,” you press.

“I said I’ll figure it out in the morning! Get off my back about it. Should probably get used to it if you’re going to be out there acting again,” he huffs.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you blaming this on me?!” You protest.

“Well you’re not helping very much,” he snarls at you.

You look at him in disgust, not believing this is how the man you thought you loved is treating you.

“How dare you. You’re unbelievable, you know that. I know Elvis is paying you more than you’ve made in a long time so I don’t understand where our money is going,” you seethe.

“I guess it’s none of your concern since it’s not your money,” he barks at you.

You had enough. You couldn’t be anywhere near him at this point. You needed to know where all that money was going but you didn’t have the patience tonight to go back and forth with him. It was ridiculous the way he was talking to you. It seemed the happier you were, the meaner he was to you, sucking all the joy out of your life.

You quickly push past him and reach under the bed for your duffle bag. You open your closet and pull articles of clothing off the hanger and shove them into the bag. You then go to the dresser and put more clothes in there before rushing to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” John asks annoyed.

“I can’t be here. I’m going to stay at a friend's tonight,” you snap.

“Come on,” he says dumbfounded, pulling at the duffle bag, trying to get it out of your hands.

You quickly pull it back though and don’t let him get it out of your grasp.

“No, I’m going. I’m tired of your shit,” you yell, quickly getting out of his sight. You rush out of the apartment and get back in your car. You drive almost on autopilot, leaving your neighborhood and driving up to the Hollywood hills, towards Elvis.

*

*

*

Tagging: @loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis

@ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers

@idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[theobjectofmyobsession055]

Boothill x SingleParent!Reader: Lassos and Lullabies Chpt. 2

Previous part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boothill found himself looking forward to that Sunday. He didn’t have another job lined up for another couple weeks, so miraculously he had the time to help out. He was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to flirt with Y/N, but the thought of seeing Charlotte again made up for it.

He arrived at Y/N’s apartment at around two o’clock to find her scrambling. Her hair was messy, and she had a frazzled look in her eyes when she opened the door. Instantly her shoulders dropped in relief. “Boothill, thank God you’re here. I’m so so sorry to dump this on you right when you just got here, but Lottie was not very fond of the vegetable soup I made for lunch and I’ve really gotta get going now or I’m gonna be late. I managed to clean up the table and floor, but she desperately needs a bath.”

He gave her a good-natured smile. “Easy, easy, no need to be sorry. You head on out, I’ll take care of it.”

She let out a relieved sigh, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I could seriously kiss you right now.”

He grinned wolfishly and tipped his hat at her. “From a pretty lady like you? I wouldn’t say no.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she cracked a smile. “Oh stop it. But seriously, thank you. Here’s the spare key.” She reached into her purse and fetched a keychain with a bright pink pompom on it, handing it to him. “I should be home around eight or nine tomorrow morning. Good luck!” And with that, she was out the door, leaving him alone with Charlotte.

“Hoo-boy, well lookee here,” he said, taking in the sight of Charlotte absolutely drenched in soup, little vegetable pieces sticking in her hair. “Your momma worked hard on that soup, y’know. Whatcha doing spillin’ it all over yerself for?”

She bounced in her highchair, clapping her hands excitedly. “Hat! Hat!”

He chuckled, kneeling down to her level. “Is that all I am to you, little missy? Tell you what, you take a bath without fussin’, and I’ll let you wear my hat again, okay?”

“Hat! Gow-boy hat!” She seemed to get even more excited at that idea, waving her chubby hands in the air towards him.

He laughed. Oh she was just precious. “Yer right, little lady, it is a cowboy hat. Now c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” He picked her up out of her highchair and set her down on the floor. She started to waddle down the hallway.

He grinned. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He thought wrong.

It was one thing to draw a bath, it was another thing to get a squirmy toddler in it. He thought he was home free once he managed to wrangle her out of her clothes, but then she slipped out of his hold (still slippery with soup all over her) and made a mad dash around the apartment butt naked.

The sound of her little feet slapping against the hardwood and her delighted squeals rang through the apartment, followed by the much less endearing sound of Boothill’s metal boots clanking as he chased after her. Damn, he’d forgotten how fast little kids were. He stood with his arms and legs out like a goalie, cornering her in her bedroom. “End of the line, little lady.”

Usually when he said something like that, it struck fear into the hearts of his enemies (well, usually it was accompanied by a bullet between the eyes), but Charlotte just giggled.

He couldn’t help but crack a smile. “This a game to you, missy?”

She giggled louder. “Game!”

“Oh yeah, this is real fun for you, ain’t it?” And despite the situation, he couldn’t deny that he was having a bit of fun too.

She tried to dash around him, but he caught her right at the last second before she could get away, scooping her up in his arms to the tune of her excited little shrieks. He made sure to hold onto her tightly, so she didn’t wiggle away again. “Yer harder to catch than some ‘a my bounties, little lady.” He carried her off to the bathroom and finally, finally managed to get her in the bath. Once she was in, everything was peachy keen—she was too distracted by the bubbles and rubber duckies to try slipping away again. Water plus intricate circuitry usually didn’t mix well, but luckily he’d had his mechanic give him a waterproof coating after a job landed him on an island in the middle of an ocean, so as long as there were no exposed wires, he’d be fine.

His phone dinged right after he finished washing the shampoo out of her hair. He smiled as he saw who it was.

Hot Momma: Is everything okay? Did you get her to take her bath?

He snapped a quick photo of Charlotte in the bath putting suds on her rubber ducky’s head like a soapy crown. He sent it to Y/N with the message:

Doing fine and dandy. She ran from me a bit, but I managed to catch the little rascal.

A few seconds later she responded with nearly a dozen heart emojis. Precious! Pls send more pics when you can.

Will do. Aren’t you driving? Eyes on the road, dollface.

Haha you caught me. At a stoplight. Tell Lottie I miss her already!

He sent a thumbs up before tucking his phone back in his pocket and relating the message to Charlotte, who was far too absorbed in playing with her ducks to care.

He finished giving her her bath and helped her dry off and get dressed. She reached her arms up toward him, jumping up on her tip toes. “Gow-boy hat!”

Boothill chuckled, endeared by her pronunciation of ‘cowboy.’ “You still wanna wear my hat? I think our deal was you’d get to wear the hat if you took yer bath without fussin’.” He ruffled her still-damp hair, causing her to giggle. “Buuuut, I think I can make an exception for ya, just this once.” He took off his hat and placed it on her head, tipping the brim back so she could still see.

She jumped up and down, babbling happily. “Gow-boy, gow-boy!” She ran off out of the bathroom, laughing her little head off.

He smiled fondly, lazily following her with his hands in his pockets. “Where’re you runnin’ off to, little lady?” He peeked his head into her bedroom to find her playing with a stuffed horse, waving it up and down in the air like it was galloping.

She ran up to him with her plush horse, holding it up to him. “Pony! Gow-boy and pony!”

He kneeled down to her level, a wide grin on his face. “You like horses do ya, little missy? Yer on yer way to bein’ a bonafide cowboy already.”

“Play ponies! Ponies and gow-boys!” she chirped in her adorable little voice, waving the stuffed horse in front of him.

He chuckled, taking the pony from her. “Yes ma’am, ponies an’ cowboys it is.” He made a sound like a braying horse and shook the stuffed pony in the air, pretending it was rearing back on its hind legs.

Charlotte’s face broke out into a wide, toothy smile as she erupted into a torrent of giggles and squeals. Boothill wasn’t completely sure what a game of ponies and cowboys entailed, but Charlotte seemed to be satisfied with him just waving the pony in the air and making horse sounds.

After a while of playing, she reached her grabby hand up towards him again, the other adjusting his hat on her head that kept falling in her face. “Up! Up!”

He complied, easily hooking his hands under her legs and scooping her up into a piggyback carry. He carried her around the apartment, stomping around and neighing. The sound of her laughter in his ears made his chest feel full in a way it hadn’t since he’d lost his daughter. He could practically feel his circuits and servos thrumming with warm energy.

Even though Charlotte reminded him a lot of his daughter, he was beginning to notice a few key differences. Firstly, while his daughter had been more of the rough and tumble type of kid, Charlotte was a bit of a girly-girl. Along with playing cowboys, she wanted to play dress-up and have a tea party with all her stuffed animals (most of which were horses, he noticed). She asked him to braid her hair, though not in so many words, and he did his best to make sure her beautiful curls didn’t get caught in his mechanical joints. He was pretty proud with how it turned out, despite him being so out of practice. She seemed pleased with it too, swinging her head around and watching her two long braids swish to and fro.

Another difference was that Charlotte was picky. He supposed he got lucky with his little girl—for all her orneriness, she ate whatever you put in front of her. Charlotte not so much. He should’ve been prepared for a battle at dinnertime, what with the soup incident at lunch, but he didn’t expect to get pelted with dino nuggies.

He begged and pleaded and bargained with her, even offered to let her wear his hat again, but for the life of him he could not get her to eat her dinner. He didn’t want to bother Y/N with something that he should be able to easily handle on his own, especially not when she was at a work conference, but he was starting to run out of options.

Then he got an idea. “Hey little missy, do you wanna play a game?”

“Game! Game!” she cheered, bouncing in her highchair.

He grinned. “Yeah ya do. Here’s what we’re gonna play—we’re gonna play another cowboy game. Y’know cowboys got a lotta animals, doncha?”

She perked right up at the mention of cowboys. “Gow-boys! Naminals!”

He bit back a laugh. Gosh darn it, she was just too cute. “Yeah lotsa naminals. Well this cowboy—” He pointed a thumb towards himself. “Has got a lotta dinosaurs.” He pointed down towards the dino nuggies that were still on her plate instead of halfway across the room. “An’ yer trap right there is their pen. Can ya help me get all my dinos back in their pen?”

She clapped and squeezed, suddenly excited at the prospect of eating her dinner.

It was all smooth sailing from there. All he had to do was make some silly noises as he pretended to wrangle the dino nuggets and she ate them with no complaints. He’d always been told growing up that you shouldn’t play with your food, but surely he could make an exception for this case.

Soon after dinner it was time to put her down for bed. Boothill had to admit, he was pretty worn out from the day, and he could’ve used a nap himself. Charlotte didn’t seem to agree with him, however. He sighed, running his hand down his face in exasperation. “C’mon, Lottie, we’ve been playin’ all day. Aren’tcha even a little tired?”

She shook her head defiantly. “No! No bedtime!”

Well this was a pickle. He’d never raise his voice at a child, not in a million years, but he couldn’t deny he was starting to get frustrated. He wracked his brain, trying to think of things that helped put his little one to sleep when she was being fussy. Then it hit him. When Y/N gave him her tour of the apartment, he noticed an old acoustic guitar sitting on a stand in the back of her bedroom. Surely she wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it for a spell.

He'd given up playing long ago, but it felt like only yesterday when he started tuning the pegs. It sounded a little tinny when he plucked the strings, the sound reverberating through his metal hands, but he could live with it. He’d sworn he’d never play again on that fateful day all those years ago, but if it helped Lottie sleep… he could make another exception for her, just this once.

She looked up at him curiously as he sat down on the couch, idly stumming the guitar. Even if he didn’t have many muscles left to remember with, his hands still easily fell into place picking an old song that Nick used to play for him when he was a tot. Charlotte climbed up onto the couch and sat on his lap. She blinked up at him with big, owlish eyes as she listened to the music, and a smile formed on his lips. Well, he’d gotten her to sit still, that was an accomplishment if nothing else.

Charlotte leaned back against him, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes, and he continued to play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door opening and closing caused Boothill’s eyes to blink open. The guitar hung loosely from his hand, propped up against the couch, his other arm curled around Charlotte’s sleeping form. He let go of the guitar and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, finding Y/N standing in front of him with a warm smile on her face. “Y/N…?” he mumbled, voice still raspy from sleep. One quick glance out the window revealed it was still dark out. “Thought ya weren’t gonna be back till mornin’…”

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” she whispered as she set her purse down on the table, careful not to wake up Charlotte. “But I couldn’t spend the night away from her, even if I knew you were watching her.” Her eyes flicked down to where Charlotte was huddled up against him, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her gaze softened as she looked back up at him. “I see now I shouldn’t have worried.” She approached, lightly stroking Charlotte’s hair. “Thank you for watching her, Boothill. I know it’s late, feel free to spend the rest of the night if you’d like.”

He was about to mumble out something about not wanting to impose, but the feeling of her soft lips brushing against his cheek shut him up real quick. She gently picked up Charlotte and carried her off to her room, leaving him dumbfounded, his face burning red.

Sleeping on the couch never felt quite so good.

[moxfirefly]

you've unleashed something with this and you already know I want my leader in blue going feral for reader

[ REMIND ] for our muses to have passionate sex meant to remind one party who they belong to.

❝ i want everyone here to see that you’re mine. ❞

❝ are they making you uncomfortable? i can do something about it. ❞

❝ you wanna lose a limb? beat it, fucker. ❞

Tried to stay in the limit, can't wait to see you work your magic!!

Friend you never disappoint 👌

Let’s do this,

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

“Once I start, I cannot stop myself”

His peripheral alerted him immediately.

Because Leonardo always had some part of him keyed into your moods and their various shifts.

Right now he could tell you were bothered, annoyed.

Naturally once he saw the reason for said annoyance he could empathize.

Vern Fenwick wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

Yours and Leo’s thing had started a few months back and the two of you had opted to keep a low profile. So of course Vern didn’t know which meant he thought he had the go ahead to pathetically flirt with you.

And that little nugget of information had nested within Leo’s stomach in the worst of ways. The basket ball game felt like a thing of the past now, Casey and Raph’s bantering far away. Mikey and April’s hushed laughter white noise, Splinters even breaths as he meditated a simple hum.

He doesn’t quite remember getting up from the couch, his large frame standing at full height had been your alert. Your eyes going back and forth between his approaching steps and Vern’s close proximity.

Something screamed in the back of your mind the second that Leo was behind Vern. All you could envision was the large terrapin suplexing the Falcon into the eighth level of hell.

“So how about it? You and me, a flight to the vineyard and a bottle of rosé?” Vern’s smile faltered the second he felt a large none human hand fall on his shoulder. There was a little jump but soon a sigh of relief. He must’ve thought Leo was Raph, who wasn’t too fond of him either.

“Hey Leo-oomph!”

Vern was not so gently shoved behind him. Leo’s she’ll serving a shield for privacy.

In a hushed whisper he simply asked, “is he making you uncomfortable?” And Christ, Leo had never looked this serious before. Not just serious but downright mad.

“Hey Blue, I was in the middle of something here with Y/n, you mind?” Vern’s eyeroll could be heard more than seen.

You huffed at his words, to which Leo added.

“I can do something about it”

Stern. Truthful. A vein on his forearm more evident as he fisted his hands.

You didn’t want conflict, any moment now everyone would look over and nothing about this screamed ‘friendly banter.’

But Vern naturally had to fuck things up further.

You didn’t hear it, Leo’s large frame was in the way but the way his eyes widened and the way he turned to face Vern was very telling.

“Run that by me again” Leo’s voice was in what everyone joked as ‘leader mode.’

Vern audibly gulped and whispered closer to Leo.

“I said I’m trying to get something going here with Y/n, be a pal and let me close the deal here will ya?” there was a little scoff and laugh as if trying to keep his cool but that quickly went to shit when Leo leaned down closer to Vern’s face.

“You wanna lose a limb?” Was the simple question Leo posed.

“E-excuse me?” Vern visibly shrunk.

“You have two working ears, you heard me” whatever looked Leo was casting at Vern had the man turning pale as a sheet of paper. You felt a small exhilarating rush.

“Well of course not, no-“

“Beat it, fucker”

Oh.

Oh shit.

It dawned on Vern, the warning bells rang and before he could come to the conclusion to what really was going on here, he had scurried off to the living room like a robot.

“Holy shit Leo-“ Before you could finish your sentence his lips had found yours. A three finger grip on the back of your neck kept you in place as he kissed with every intention of everyone finally knowing.

When he released you, the gang (sans Splinter who was deep in meditation) was staring and blinking. Your nervous smile faltered when Leo grabbed your hand and pulled you in direction of his room.

You didn’t miss Mikey’s “good for them” as the door closed.

“Jesus is it spring or are you really this upset?” You smiled and laughed nervously some more once Leo backed you up against the wall.

“No, but if I ever see anybody talk to you like that, I’m going to break their legs” His fingers found the button of your jeans, he undid it and knelt to roll the fabric down vast your knees. Your face heated, pink and red and hot at the sight of his hands giving your underwear the same treatment.

“Leo everyone’s here, they’ll-“

“I want everyone here to see that you’re mine”

The words knocked the air out of you.

Before you could fathom an excuse he used stuck a digit into his mouth and wet the appendage. He found your clit and drew circles. Knees buckling and lips twitching you forgot what sentence you were creating. “I’m going to cover you head to toe in marks…” He stood back up, finger never seizing its movements.

“When you leave this room, you’re leaving smelling of me, on you, in you…” A finger slipped inside of you, thumbs continuing to circle your clit. The action made your hands shoot out to grab at his plastron. “Oh f-fuuuck” You muttered out, a hand slipped to grab his wrist.

Leo’s other hand cupped you’re face, a loving stroke across your lips made another gush of heat pool at his knuckle.

He smiled.

“Please-oh-Leo!” You squeaked as he turned you around and pressed you against the wall.

“Everyday, if I have to remind everyone everyday from now on, I will” His teeth found your shoulder and sunk, hard enough to see the indentations of his teeth on the flesh. “Is that a pro-promise?” You smiled against the concrete wall, stuck out your rear and relished the growl like churr that escaped him.

The rustle of clothes made you bite your lip.

You felt him, inch by excruciating inch.

Felt the desperate need to claim you overtake him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and fucked you.

His mouth found your neck and sucked a bruise onto it, hips rhythmically slapping against your rear. The finger that had been rubbing teasing circles was now in your mouth. Your eyes fluttered, palms against the cold concrete, his heated body a delightful contrast.

He muttered praises at your ear, the ones that with each syllable made you stand on your tippy toes as that familiar pressure overtook. He boxed you against that wall, his massive body pressing up against you wantonly, deliberately, with every intention of your orgasm bouncing off of the concrete against his very soul.

It was a rush, everything weightless and then so very heavy when it hit you. You bit down on his finger and felt your bones turn to jelly as he held you through it. The shaking alone made Leo smirk as he continue to thrust, to push as much of his essence into you. Your drool dribbled down his finger, his own seed doing the very same down your inner thighs.

You felt your world spin as his teeth found another spot on your shoulder.

[zapreportsblog]

Hiiii~!!! Can I request miles 42 with super chill/patient gf reader. Say like he is late, doesn't mean to flake on her, or keeps breaking promise time to time but reader is like "its ok love, things happen" only for miles to be something like "I am grateful you're not mad but why arent you mad?"

Omg, you are my first requester for a fic 😳 thank you so much for entrusting me to write this for you and hopefully you enjoy it :)

The Ebb and Flow of Love

➥ summary: miles is always canceling dates but his girlfriend doesn’t mind, she understands that he’s busy and he’s thankful for her for being so patient with him.

➥ earth 42 miles x reader

➥ a/n: hopefully I did good!!

In the bustling streets of New York City, Miles Morales—known to some as the Prowler—grappled with the challenges of juggling his double life as a hero and a boyfriend. The weight of responsibility often forced him to cancel dates and hangouts, leaving his girlfriend, (Y/N), feeling disappointed. Yet, amidst the chaos, their love remained steadfast, as (Y/N) embraced a deep understanding of Miles' commitments.

•••

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, (Y/N) sat patiently in Miles' apartment, waiting for his arrival. She had chosen a cozy spot on the couch, her favorite book in hand, knowing that their plans might yet again be disrupted by the demands of Miles' heroic endeavors.

The door creaked open, and Miles stepped inside, a mix of exhaustion and determination etched upon his face. He offered (Y/N) a sheepish smile, his voice filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, mi amor. It happened again—I had to respond to an urgent call. I didn't mean to cancel on you."

(Y/N) set aside her book, her gaze soft and understanding. "It's alright, Miles. I know how important your duty is to you, and I fully support it. We can always have a rain check for this date. Your safety and the well-being of others are paramount."

Miles sighed, relief washing over him as he realized the depth of (Y/N)'s understanding. He sank down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Thank you, mi amor. Your understanding means the world to me. It's not easy, balancing everything, but with you by my side, it becomes a little easier."

(Y/N) leaned into his embrace, her voice filled with reassurance. "We're in this together, Miles. I'm here to support you through thick and thin. Our love can weather any storm."

As time went on, the ebb and flow of Miles' responsibilities continued to present challenges. (Y/N) remained a constant source of support, always there to provide a listening ear and a warm embrace when Miles needed it most.

They established a routine of communication and understanding, openly discussing the demands of Miles' heroic life and finding ways to navigate the obstacles it presented. They learned to treasure the moments they did have together, whether it was a stolen hour for coffee or a quiet evening at home.

On those rare occasions when their plans were interrupted, (Y/N) would offer a range check—a time to reconnect and reschedule their missed date. It became a ritual that embodied their resilience and unwavering commitment to one another.

One evening, as (Y/N) and Miles settled into a cozy café, sipping their favorite drinks, (Y/N) couldn't help but voice her admiration. "Miles, I'm continually amazed by your dedication to others. Your willingness to sacrifice your own time and desires for the greater good is truly inspiring."

Miles smiled, his gaze meeting hers. "And I'm constantly in awe of your understanding and support, (Y/N). Not everyone would be as patient as you have been. Your love has been a beacon of light during my darkest moments."

(Y/N) reached across the table, her hand finding Miles' as she spoke from the depths of her heart. "Love is about embracing each other's dreams and aspirations, Miles. I believe in you, and I'm honored to stand by your side as you fulfill your purpose."

Their hands intertwined, the connection between them palpable. In that moment, they understood that their love was a force that could withstand the challenges life threw their way. Together, they would navigate the ebbs and flows of their journey, their commitment to each other serving as an anchor through the unpredictable tides.

As time passed, Miles' understanding of the importance of balance grew. He learned to prioritize self-care and to communicate his needs to (Y/N). Through open conversations and compromises, they found a way to maintain their connection amidst the chaos of their lives.

And so, in the vibrant tapestry of New York City, Miles Morales and (Y/N) embraced a love that transcended canceled plans and rearranged dates. Their bond grew stronger with each challenge, reinforcing their shared belief in the power of understanding, patience, and unwavering support.

Together, they wove a tale of resilience, knowing that their love could conquer the obstacles they faced. They celebrated the small moments, cherishing the range checks and the stolen seconds, understanding that their connection would endure, unyielding and unbreakable.

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hello polter! What do you think about the new cuphead dlc? I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for Chef Saltbaker, but i was very wrong. Could we please have some headcanons sometime?

A/N: Man you could really tell how far behind I am on some of these requests– man, I didn’t even know how long I’ve been in this rut until now. Especially since the DLC came out 2 years ago. Even as I am typing out this little note, I can’t help but grimace and feel awful for only now getting to this (シ〒﹏〒))シ

Now, I wasn’t sure if this was referring to just general headcanons or x reader ones, so I decided to go for the former for the time being!

General Chef Saltbaker Hcs:

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Even before his scheme to finally bake the Wondertart came to light, the residents of Inkwell Isle Four sensed something was… off about Chef Saltbaker. The way his  jolly smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes; how he’d often lash out at random intervals before suddenly slipping his cheerful mask on; the numerous backhanded remarks he’d dole out to customers— and god forbid he becomes passive aggressive. 

Point is, he wasn’t really a friendly fellow to begin with– and everyone was able to catch on relatively quickly. However, there was a tense, silent agreement between the other Island denizens and Chef Saltbaker: they stay out of his business, and he’ll play nice. And with gourmet treats to sweeten the pot, it’s enough to make most people look the other way. 

He kept his life incredibly private prior to his rehabilitation. Chef Saltbaker wasn’t originally from the fourth Isle, having quietly set up his bakery to little fanfare. The man hardly ever left the building, either. During the late hours of the night, long after closing hours, a few onlookers even caught him opening the door that led to the basement of the bakery; leading to a few crazed conspiracies and theories of what exactly he did down there.

Granted, considering how Saltbaker had a lab down there, they weren’t wrong. But he also just had a nook that he lived in. Rent could be expensive in the city blocks of the Isle. He’d rather spend most of his budget towards ingredients, so living within the bakery was just naturally the better option. 

Honestly, baking the Wondertart was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events. A struggling career in the culinary arts, years of being taken advantage of by restaurant owners– who dangled the empty promise of a promotion if he just was more passionate, constant stress over meeting rent, funding the bakery, and himself, rude customers; it could go on forever. After continuous disappointment and admittedly isolating himself, it was easy to see why he went a little, ah, mad. 

Saltbaker’s gotten a lot better though! Albeit, there’s still remnants of that bitter, passive aggressive (hell, even just normal aggressive) personality lurking underneath his much more positive self. Now that he has gained the trust and friendship of the Isle denizens– finally gaining a sense of belonging and community he didn’t know he was missing– he’s calmed down significantly. 

Complete and utter neat freak about his kitchen. Organizes all ingredients and spices alphabetically and dedicates separate drawers to each cooking utensil. Not to mention that at the end of each shift, he’ll make sure that the kitchen is absolutely spotless. He does not care if it’ll take him an extra hour; if everything is not in order like he left it, he’ll go mad. 

After doing community service, Saltbaker mostly just uses his laboratory to experiment with different flavors and batters for his deserts. Some of his concoctions range from mere enhancements to common flavors like strawberry to exotic flavors like dragon fruit or lychee. He’s open to new flavors!

While his large, pot-bellied frame may not look it, Chef Saltbaker is incredibly fast. When you’re working a one-man show and have a line of customers waiting for their orders, it’s completely necessary for him. Granted, a lot of the people who come in are usually complete sweethearts and are willing to wait. Nevertheless, the man’s practically a blur as he’s speeding from station to station, kneading dough one second and then preparing a batch of frosting the next. If he finds himself needing extra help, he’ll usually use magic or conjure up a salt clone. 

Though the latter doesn’t happen all too often since said clones tend to make his desserts much saltier than he would like.

Food gore makes him irrevocably angry and stressed out. Why on earth would you show him this? Saltbaker already hated wasting food, but downright ugly food or disgusting looking combos will genuinely mess him up for the rest of the day. Same thing with those images of people gripping their food too tightly. The first time Cuphead did it to an eclair in the bakery, it took every muscle of self restraint for Saltbaker to not jump over that counter and clobber a child to death. 

Speaking of, don’t ever suggest to add breadbowls to the menu in front of him. He took pride in baking that loaf of bread and you want him to massacre it?! How very dare you. He doesn’t care if it’s a popular trend, he’ll sooner slap the person who asked than waste a crumb of that bread. 

Incredibly strong, but that’s a given. The man kneads dough by hand all day and usually carries in crates and heavy bags full of groceries into the bakery. Could pick up around five grown men with ease. 

Ms. Chalice usually pops in to get extra cookies, and will often offer to help out where she can in the kitchen. She and Chef Saltbaker were kind of awkward around each other for a bit– given the whole “Hey I lied to you and your friends and tried to steal their soul” bit. However, after some time, they’re comfortable around each other to the point where you’d usually overhear their banter while they work. 

“Oh, come now, Saltbaker! You can’t put a price to our friendship!”

“Yes I can, dear. Fifty dollars.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

[meaningofaeons]

Hi! Congratulations on 500 followers!!!

I'd love to visit the cafe with Geppie and play with a white himalayan kitty. We would also like to order a glass of cider~

Thank you 💛

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ could you be any more dense?!

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau ⊹ word count - 1.1k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, hurt/comfort

⊹ katze's 500 follower writing cat-baret

THANK YOU!! AND ALSO TY FOR BEING THE VERY FIRST CAT CAFE REQUESTER ANON!!! <3 I hope you enjoy your "cat cafe date" with geppie!!!! (=^･ω･^=) also sorry this got a LOT longer than I was expecting these are meant to be short but I doubt I'm gonna manage to keep them short LMAO

Gepard is a very courteous man.

Sweet, patient, and above all, cordial. Gentlemanly, if you will.

However, that can definitely get to be... too much.

Especially when you feel like you've been just about as upfront as you can...

Or perhaps not—but at the very least, you're obvious enough, even if unintentionally, but...

It starts to get ridiculous.

Gepard is close to you, but painfully dense.

He's started keeping you at arm's length, a polite distance to maintain between two friends.

Friends, and nothing more.

You can try all you want, but in the end, he continues to put up that front around you.

It starts to even get... uncomfortable.

Like he's intentionally beginning to step back from involving himself with you.

It wasn't always like this—before, he was as open and close with you as he could be.

Even his sisters didn't know some of the things he'd share with you.

However, now...

You went to see him after his shift?

Sorry, he was invited to a function with some other nobles. Can't disappoint his family, now, can he?

You were at his greenhouse helping take care of his flowers (and waiting for him in the process)?

He would try to tactfully avoid the space until he was sure you were gone.

And really?

It started to hurt.

"Gepard, you're being ridiculous."

"Hardly, Serval. If you thought about it from my perspective—"

"Geppie! Hey, Gepard!"

Your familiar voice rang in the Landau siblings' ears.

As much as Gepard wanted to whip his head around and rush over to you, ask about your day and see what you've been up to, he instead turned away.

He began to speed walk in the opposite direction, making a beeline for Serval's workshop.

And only his elder sister bore witness to the way your facial expression crumpled.

Serval tried her best to give you an apologetic glance, clasping her hands together as if to say, 'I'm going to figure this out for you!' before chasing after her brother.

"What was that?!"

"I already told you—"

"Gepard Landau."

The blonde stopped in his tracks, wincing at the use of his full name.

He turned to his sister's fiery expression, trying his best not to back down, but it was frightening—Serval could be scary when mad, and she was your friend, after all. There's no way she wouldn't be up in arms.

"I don't care about your crap excuses anymore! Y/N is clearly hurt by what you're doing, ditching them everywhere, avoiding them... They're going to be more hurt by this than any danger you could put them in! For Aeon's sake, it's not like they've ever followed you to the front lines!"

Gepard knew Serval was right. She usually was.

But if the Supreme Guardian could be lost to the Fragmentum... even if it was contained...

Gepard also knew his worries were groundless.

However, what he was most scared of was caring for you too much, only to have you taken away by an accident.

Or coming to find out that you felt the same way (truly, deep down, he already knew you did) only for something to make you dislike him.

Ironically, the thing he feared most was more likely to come to pass by his current actions.

Serval only sighed at her brother's conflicted face, rubbing her temple.

"Oh, my aching head... Just go to them, would you? Talk it out! I'm tired of seeing Y/N sad, and I'm tired of seeing you being a mope!"

"But I—"

"No buts!"

Before he could protest further, his sister had promptly shoved him right out of the front door of the workshop... directly in front of your waiting figure.

"A-Ah, Gepp- I mean, Gepard—" you stumbled over your words a bit, having expected the man before you to have hidden out in the workshop and for Serval to have greeted you instead. "Sorry, sorry, um, I'll get out of your way—"

"No, n-no, wait—" Gepard stammered himself, both of your cheeks slowly turning pink at the awkward contact. You glanced up at him at that, acknowledging the first words he'd really spoken to you in quite some time.

"Um..."

You both spoke at the same time, which only worsened your collective anxiety.

"Oh, you go first—"

"Ah, sorry, go ahead—"

You stopped at that, as did Gepard, and then, you slowly began to giggle. The blonde smiled fondly at that, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Really, I insist you go first."

"Okay..." You took a deep breath, fiddling your fingers as the mood soured somewhat again. "I was just... wondering if I did anything to upset you, or..."

"Never!" You jumped at the loud response, staring at the man as he cleared his throat, looking about ready to run for his life (and dignity). "You haven't, um, done anything of the sort."

"Right..." You stared a bit longer. "Then, why do you keep avoiding me? Do you just not want to be around me any more?"

"That's not it either! I just... um, listen, Y/N... to tell you the truth—"

"Good lord!"

Serval slammed the workshop door open, glaring at your duo with ferocity. It sent Gepard barreling into you, the blonde man catching you in his arms just in time to prevent your fall. You both stared up at the eldest Landau with wide eyes.

"He likes you, and you like him, so quit umming and ahhing outside of my workshop! Go on a date! I have a show tonight, so go!" The woman wasn't truly angry, but... she was definitely exasperated.

As she shut the door and stomped back inside, you could hear her muffled voice.

"So obvious! It's so embarrassing!"

Silence settled over the space, and then, you broke out into a slight giggle.

Gepard smiled soon after, chuckling a bit as the two of you began laughing more and more at his sister's loss of patience.

"S-She meant it?" you asked through tearful laughter, "Y-You actually..."

"Yeah," the man stammered a bit, his own chuckles subsiding as he tried to contain his embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Y/N. I just didn't know... if you felt the same, or if... I don't know, I was being stupid—"

You gave him a small smile, reaching down to clutch his hand tightly in your own.

"Yeah, you were. Next time, just talk to me."

"...Gladly."

"Now, about that date... Your treat?"

"I suppose that's only fair, considering how rude I was to you..."

"That's right! And I'll never let you live it down!"

[step-on-me-khun]

Hello, I saw that your request are always open! So can I request a scenario with Khun A.A x reader, where he has a crush on the reader and they are always about to kiss but somehow they get interrupet every SINGLE time. And after a looong time they get to kiss? Please!

Have a nice day! <3

Hello ❤️❤️

my drafts are full of white requests and i need to focus on something other than him

warning(s): none words: 1016 taglist: @unexceptional-h @rizonacigaravenue @koi-chairowo @aoi-turtle @bangchanbin - ask or message to be included

Everyone had gotten on Khun's nerves at one point. Even Bam, when he first met him, that is. Shibisu, Hatz, Endorsi - they were tolerable and convenient. Still, they were annoying to Khun. It would take a lot to make Khun truly mad, to annoy him altogether. Very little had made Khun this way. 

Khun's breath tickles your face as both your eyes linger from the other's eyes to their lips. 

"Khun, we need your advice," Bam's voice rang, keeping you as you were. 

The last thing you wanted was this. All feelings should just be straight to the point. It disappointed you. Khun sighs before leaving. 

At first, the interruptions were for urgent situations. 

The second interruption was something else, but it left you feeling depressed and tense for a while. It was after an enormous battle. Khun had been looking for you, rushing through every corridor and room. He wanted you in his arms, to feel your warmth and to have you safe. The brain in his head was telling him the worst, but his heart knew better. Khun could never lose someone like you. 

Khun's footsteps quicken, and he bumps into you. The fear on your faces was there as you stood staring at each other for a second before realization kicked in. Khun pulls you into his arms, gripping you. Tips of your fingers brushing against the back of Khun's shirting. 

"It scared me. I thought you were dead," you cry into Khun's shirt. 

"I'm here right now. You don't need to worry," Khun whispers, his hand brushing calmly through your hair. 

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode. 

As the rapid beating of your heart slowed, you moved away from Khun's chest. Your eyes immediately locked onto his blue ones. The atmosphere around the two of you calmed considerably. 

"Never leave my side," Khun quietly requests, his hand sliding down your head to your cheek, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. As his forehead touches yours, both your mouths inch closer. 

"There you are!" Endorsi shouts, stopping you from doing anything at all. You both sigh, feeling defeated. 

"It's fine." You whisper, "You're needed." 

The constant embarrassment you felt after every one of these situations left you saddened. Like an invisible force was forcing the two of you apart, it was unfair. 

Things were awkward. You could avoid each other all you wanted, but the amount of tension inside you both would come up and erupt. The uncertainty of when that would happen was what worried you. 

Being close to someone was nice, but you wanted to be closer to Khun. Just thinking about it made your insides flutter. All you wanted to do was cry because of your emotions. 

Khun was never clingy, but the way he pulled you close to him. It was so unexpected. You wanted more of that feeling, to stay by him. 

This madness would have to end. You would become desperate if something didn't happen. Well, Khun was pretty blunt and straightforward when he needed to be, and hopefully, he would be calm and patient with you. 

Even after catching him late at night, there was no privacy from anyone, and even when it looked like something was going to happen between you and Khun, the sound of a door shutting stopped you yet again. 

Before anything else happened, you walked back to your room. It was as if all of your emotions surfaced, and as you reached your room, tears spilt from your eyes. 

Khun was brilliant, but he couldn't figure out how to make things easier for the two of you. Reaching the top of the tower was his goal. Distractions were likely to occur, and he was glad you were one of them. 

In terms of feelings, Khun had an inkling that you had some feelings for him and how you acted gave it away. Endorsi teased you now and again about your feelings for Khun. So, it was only a matter of time before something happened. Unfortunately, those times got taken away from you by the surrounding people, unknown to them - if they didn't know. 

You made it a point to avoid Khun if a lot was happening around you. But that was rare. Bam was a person of interest. You never complained. 

With how many families were keen to get their hands on Bam, everyone was constantly around him, and with Khun being his good friend, he stayed by his side. 

There was hardly any time for yourselves, so if one of you had to make your feelings known, it would be when danger was present. You would look for each other again. 

As you headed to safety, you saw Khun beside Bam and let them be. 

You find yourself in the ship's corridor, and suddenly, Khun grabs your wrist, spinning you around to face him.

"You should be with the others," you mumble. 

"They can wait for a moment," Khun says before cupping your jaw and aligning your faces, your lips merely inches apart. 

"Blue turtle! Where did you wander off to?" Rak's voice booms. 

"See? Rak's already-"

His thumb traces along your lower lip, brushing it slowly before doing the same with your upper lip. Khun wanted to take his time. His patience was wearing thin, but he was calm. 

Just as his lips were about to touch yours, Khun whispered teasingly, "I'm not letting you get away from me again."

Before you can smile at his response, your lips connect. You close your eyes and relax. At that moment, it felt like everything stood still. The nervousness you felt before melted away as your hands grabbed Khun's upper arms. 

As the two of pull apart from each other, your hands remain clinging to Khun. Your eyes find each other again. A soft smile lights up your face. 

"Are you okay with me finding you when I'm stressed?" Khun asks. 

"That's fine with me, as long as I can come to you when I'm stressed."

Khun chuckles. "I'm fine with that,"

please don't steal or translate

[cherryhazee]

gold rush | Quinn Hughes

Warnings: Slight mention of blood and alcohol.

"Everybody wants you, but I don't like a gold rush..." inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'gold rush'.

When Madeline first met Quinn she started crying, not because she disliked him, but because he had stepped on her hand with one of his skates. Of course, there wasn’t any blood because he still had his skate guards on, but 5-year-old Maddie didn’t know.

From there, their meetings became a much more constant thing until the point where 13 years later they were in his dorm room, preparing for his draft day.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything in there?” Maddie asked Quinn, doubting the boy’s packing skills.

“Yes Mads, I’m sure. You can stop worrying about it”—he said, caressing the crease between her eyes with his thumb, relieving the stress he noticed she had accumulated in the past few days.

“I know, I know. But I can’t stop worrying, it’s the most important day of your life so far and I’m not gonna be there”

“I already told you it’s fine, You’ve got work here, and besides, you will be with me” Quinn assured her.

"Yeah but through the TV" she sighed, stuffing her face against her hands.

“Hey, no moping around. I need you to be happy” 

“I am! I swear. Now you gotta go, or you will never catch your flight” she said standing up and pushing him out of his room.

“Fine, I’ll go. Promise me you’ll be fine” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“I should be the one telling you that, but yes. I will be fine” the sound of her voice coming out muffled by his chest.

When the next day came, Maddie was all over the place. Every time they showed Quinn on the TV she felt how her nerves grew and another feeling she couldn’t quite decipher yet, but she brushed it off as Vancouver was the next team to select.

When they called Quinn’s name, Maddie couldn’t contain her happiness as she watched her best friend climb the steps of the stage and put on his Canucks jersey. She couldn’t be prouder. Her best friend was selected 7th overall, he was going to play in the NHL, and he was going to fulfill his dream. 

A few hours later, Maddie was in her room yet to hear a response from Quinn when her phone rang signaling the arrival of a text, she couldn’t help but get excited when she thought it was from him.

But her smile nearly dropped as she saw that it was Jack who had texted her. Opening the text she felt how her stomach dropped. It was a video that Jack took, clearly after taking one too many shots, but that wasn’t the issue, the issue was at the back of the video as she saw Quinn dancing with a gorgeous girl with her arms draped around his shoulders and his around her waist.

She didn’t want to watch the video anymore so all she did was like it. That’s when she deciphered the feeling she was having earlier, she was in love with Quinn Hughes. She had always been in love with him, but she hadn’t noticed until now when she thought it was too late.

She then realized that she would never have a chance with him, let’s be honest, he just got drafted into the NHL, and it was a matter of time before he had thousands of gorgeous girls dying to feel his touch, wondering what would be like to love him. 

Meanwhile in Dallas, Quinn was too intoxicated to see that the girl he was dancing with wasn’t his Mads. The Mads for whom he had always felt more than a friendship.

In a lucid moment where the alcohol lowered its effect, he realized the girl wasn’t Maddie so he excused himself and decided to put an end to his night. He went to the hotel with his family to finally rest and then return home to Maddie.

When the Hugheses returned to Michigan, Quinn could only think about going to Maddie’s house and spending time with her. So when he finally arrived at her house he was more than disappointed when he saw that Maddie was acting distant.

“Mads, look at me. Are you okay? Did something happen while I was gone?” he said putting two fingers under her chin so she would look at his eyes.

“Uhm…I wanted to tell you something. I know you just got drafted and that you’ll be staying here for another year and all that, but I feel that the best thing for us would be to distance ourselves, you know so your departure doesn’t hurt as much in the future” she said still trying to avoid eye contact because she knew that wasn't the truth, the truth was she couldn't handle being with him and not doing anything about her feelings.

“Where is this coming from? Do you think I could go to another country without you? Mads, I was planning on taking you with me” he said worried about her reaction, thinking it would be too much for her.

"I don't think I can Quinn," she said playing with her bracelets, a habit that Quinn didn't let go unnoticed since she did it every time she lied.

"I know you're lying! Just tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you" he pressured her to the point where she couldn't handle it anymore.

"I saw you after the draft dancing with that girl Quinn, and I know I don't have any right to be like this but I'm out of my mind in love with you, and-"

She couldn't finish her sentence as Quinn's lips crashed against hers. It was like everything they both had ever desired was there, everything was as it was supposed to be. It was the kind of kiss to create stars and they would climb into the sky and light up the whole world.

That kiss made Quinn know that he would never be as happy as he was kissing his Mads, the girl he had always loved.

"God I've waited a whole lot of years for this" Quinn confessed as he pulled his lips from hers, closing his eyes to savor the moment.

"Wh-what do you mean? What about the girl?"

"I'm gonna sound like the shittiest human alive but I thought that was you. Mads, I've loved you since you read that corny poem about butterflies in 3rd grade. At that moment I noticed how your eyes twinkled so beautifully that I swore I could drown in them"

"God you're cornier than that poem," she said as she giggled.

"I don't care, I finally have you," he said while pulling her into another kiss. "I've never felt or seen love as pure as ours, Mads. I love you"

"I love you too, Quinny. Now keep kissing me, you've got a lot to catch up on" she said smiling, never being as happy and loved as at that moment.

[trashbag-baby666]

Pull It Together-Clegan

What's Waited Till Tomorrow Starts Tonight (mota hs au)

summary: Emotions are flying high and neither party knows how to soothe the other. Gale need's to get his head on straight before he ruins everything he has.

WC: 2,840

C/W: None (?)

mota masterlist! | ao3 link

The damp, cold clay drifted through his pointer finger and thumb. His other hand holding a straight tool to even out the vase he had just spent the last half hour on. Sixth hour was his favorite time of the day, Ms. Simpson had a drawing class that hour. John had been granted permission this semester to have an independent study in ceramics. He had already taken all the ceramics classes they had, something about the messy art medium grounded him. Maybe it was because he liked the sensory feelings from the smooth, wet clay. 

But his favorite time of sixth hour was when Gale would come visit him fifteen minutes before the bell rang. Gale had a free period and usually would read or work on homework in the library. He'd find himself walking to the art hallway to check in on John. The last few months had been difficult and he just wanted to look out for him. 

"Buck!" He perked up from his squatted over position, revealing the vase. The blonde smiled and waved at him but walked past him and sat by Alex. John felt his heart tinge a moment and he nearly squashed the vase...he would've if he had just been messing around on the wheel and not actually working on a project. 

John tried to remind himself to calm down a moment, he had no reason to be worried. Him and Alex had just been working on a project together in their ap lit class. Plus him and Gale weren't even together...he couldn't be mad...even if he wanted to. 

John stood at the sink cleaning out his tools and sponges watching the two talk. Gale started laughing at something Alex said and John tried his hardest not to cringe. He wanted a reason to hate Alex right now in all honesty. He wanted to be able to tell Gale that he shouldn't talk to him, that he had done something to wrong him. That he could then blame him to be at fault for and tell his best friend who he has a crush on. Truly, he couldn't even think a single negative thing about Alex, though. He's a sweet kid and always had been really nice to John. He would sit next to him in class if he was hand building a project or glazing. He'd also sat next to him in ceramics one last school year, he also was friends of Rosie and Croz.

He's nice to everyone and always seems to be able to find kindness in everyone. So of course him and Gale got along wonderfully. That just fueled John's anger further thinking about how Alex most definitely was a better person than he himself is. 

John had finished picking up his area and got his vase on the drying rack. He put on his backpack and went over to Gale and hugged him from behind, "Guess who?"

"Hey," Gale smiled looking up at him.

"Are we gonna watch the new episode of Drag Race tonight?" John pulled the chair out besides Gale and sat down backwards on it. Friday nights at seven the new episode of RuPauls Drag Race would be airing and he and Gale never missed an episode. He watched in already knowing disappointment as Gale sucked in a breath between his teeth and his blue's immediately softened. 

"I'm going over to Alex's tonight, but I'll be home in time for Untucked?" Gale's eyebrows furrowed apologetically. John just shrugged, now he really wanted a reason to hate Alex and Gale. He felt his anger's irrational, Gale didn't owe him anything...especially not spending one singular night without him. They could just re-watch it together tomorrow after he's done working. But Gale had off tomorrow so that could mean anything, he could decide to go and make plans with Alex. 

"Okay," John nodded, standing himself up from the chair and pushing it back in. He hooked his thumbs into his backpack straps and began walking towards the door. The bell rang quite literally saving John, until the bell rang at the end of eighth hour and he would have to ride home with Gale...or he could take the bus and go back to his dads.

Gale would be mad at him though, but at least he would have his attention at the very least. 

———————

He did just ride home with Gale though, he put on his headphones hoping Gale would just think he was overstimulated and didn't want to talk. He didn't really talk to Gale when he got home either, he just went up to the guest room marked his with a slam of the door. 

Gale didn't really know what was up with John. he just had let him be while he had finished making sure Addy and Zoe were settled after getting them from the bus stop. Their laughter echoed faintly from the living room where they were watching cartoons. His parents would be home soon, and they would take over.

He took a moment to glance up the stairs, knowing John was up there, stewing in his own world. Something was clearly up with John. Gale could see it in the way John’s shoulders tensed, the way he avoided eye contact, the clipped responses. Gale was used to John’s moods, but today felt different. Something deeper was eating at him.

Why is he so upset? Gale wondered, leaning against the banister, staring at the closed door of the guest room. He replayed the events of the day in his mind, trying to pinpoint the exact moment John’s mood had shifted from its usual brooding to this outright anger. Was it something he did? Was it Alex?

Alex. Gale frowned, feeling a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to make John feel left out. It’s just that Alex was easy to talk to, always smiling, always kind. Gale enjoyed his company, but he had never thought it would bother John this much. Then again, maybe he had been blind to how John felt. Gale knew John wasn’t just another friend. They had a connection, something deeper, something unspoken. But why was it so hard for John to just tell him how he felt?

Gale felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He wanted to help John, to make him feel better, but he couldn’t do that if John wouldn’t talk to him. He pushed off the banister, deciding to give John some space. Maybe he just needs time to cool off.

He walked into the kitchen, pulling out his phone and shooting a quick text to Alex, letting him know he might be a bit late. Alex would understand. Gale needed to sort things out with John first. He grabbed a can of diet coke from the fridge, taking a long sip as he leaned against the counter, his thoughts still tangled with worry and confusion.

John was one of the most important people in Gale’s life. They had been through so much together. Gale had seen John at his lowest and at his best. John had always been forthright with his emotions, especially when he was upset with Gale. This silence, this avoidance, it was unlike him. It worried Gale deeply. He wanted to help John, to make him feel better, but he couldn’t do that if John kept this wall between them.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs pulled Gale from his thoughts. He looked up to see John coming down, headphones on, eyes averted. Gale took a deep breath, stepping forward.

“John, wait,” he said, reaching out a hand.

John paused, his expression unreadable as he slowly took off his headphones. “What?” he asked, his voice flat.

Gale struggled to find the right words. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting...different today. Did I do something?”

John’s eyes flickered with something Gale couldn’t quite decipher. “It’s nothing, Gale. Just...leave it.”

But Gale wasn’t convinced. “It’s not nothing, John. I can tell something’s bothering you. Just talk to me.”

John looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Gale sighed, feeling a pang of helplessness. “Alright. But you know I’m here, right? Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”

John didn’t respond, just nodded slightly before opening the fridge door and grabbing a can of his Dr Pepper out. Without a second word, he turned and headed back towards the stairs. Gale watched him go, feeling a heavy weight settle in his chest. John always talked to him, always told him when something was wrong. This silence was new, and it scared Gale. He wanted to help John, but he couldn’t force him to open up. All he could do was be there, waiting, hoping John would eventually let him in.

———————

The hot air blew right into Gale's face from the car's vents. The heat felt dry though, dry in a way that would cause a nosebleed. They'd spent the last fifteen minutes sitting quietly in the parking lot of the trail head they'd been going to. By no means was Gale even near impressed with himself and his actions of the past two and a half weeks. He felt guilty. So guilty. Kissing and touching Alex felt way different than kissing and touching some girl. Maybe the guilt didn't carry with the girls because he never really liked them and he knew that. He already knew that going into it and knew that it would just be meaningless.

But this he had sought out and he found himself not wanting to make Alex stop fifteen minutes ago when they came out here. Originally he did intend to come out here for more sexual favors but now he couldn't shake John out of his brain. He owed Alex an explanation. But he also owed John one too. He had a sacred bond with John he couldn't understand. When he touched Alex he imagined he was touching John, except his thighs were much wider. His touch, warm and familiar like his own mother's. His shoulders broader and muscular. Alex wasn't John and that was his problem. But it confused him further, he didn't know if he had always felt like this. He wanted to keep going to Alex and that's why he needed to run far and cut this off like a diseased limb.

"I think you owe me that, at least." Alex swallowed, his gaze shifted down at his steering wheel. "Yeah, I know." Gale chewed on his lip and ran a hand through his hair not knowing where to start.

"I couldn't tell if I liked him that way." Gale shrugged, he couldn't think of anything else.

"Who?"

"John."

"Oh."

Gale wondered if he may have seen it coming, maybe he should have seen it coming too?

"I...I...I love him, Alex." He bit down on the inside of his cheek and began to really wish he had just stayed home with John.

Alex's eyebrows separated and arched, "That isn't much of an explanation, Buck."

He didn't like the sound of that name coming out of his mouth...

"I didn't want to sleep with him first..." He trailed off knowing his sentences lacked much of any explanation but he truly felt horrible.

"I'm taking you home," Alex reached back for his seatbelt.

"Look, I meant to tell you sooner...I meant for it to be a one and done kinda thing...I swear."

Alex scoffed with a smile, shaking his head, "Like that makes it any better."

"I know, I'm sorry, really I am. I know it's not enough."

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

Panged him over and over again, Alex didn't respond. Instead he turned his music back on and turned it up. He was done talking and Gale needed to take the hint. Part of him wanted to beg him to drop him off on the side of the road right here. Make him walk home, not like he's in a rush to go there. John was there and upset too. He'd just be reminded of his self damning actions.

———————

John sat on the worn couch in the Cleven basement. The lights turned off and the only light coming from the mounted TV as Drag Race played. Meatball laid across his lap, his head resting on John's chest.

"I love you, boy." John pressed a kiss to the husky's fluffy head, "I'd never abandon you, baby."

Meatball responded with a couple licks to John's cheek. John knew he'd always have his little buddy to keep him company. Meatball was basically his son anyways, "Yeah, mama abandoned us again, mhm." John leaned into the dog's licks.

Meatball's ears perked and he sat up off of John as they both heard the sound of Gale getting back. Meatball launched himself off John and ran up the stairs barking. He remained there on the couch knowing Gale would be down in a few minutes with some strew of an apology. He picked up his phone and saw the time, this was probably the last ad break before the episode would be over. At least he had made it back in time for Untucked as he promised. Part of him wanted to just go up to his room without any words to Gale. At the same time he wanted to hear what he had to say, maybe just in a selfish sense. Have some validation to himself that maybe Gale had actually missed him.

He sucked in a deep breath and focused his eyes back to the screen, pretending to be interested in the Viagra commercial playing. Meatball came running down the stairs knowing that Gale wouldn't be far behind.

Gale descended the stairs slowly, hearing the distant chatter of the TV. He found John sitting on the couch, the glow from the screen casting shadows on his face. Meatball trotted over to him, but Gale's eyes were fixed on John.

“Hey,” Gale said softly, trying to gauge John's mood.

John didn’t look away from the TV. “Hey.”

Gale took a deep breath, crossing the room to sit on the other end of the couch. “John, we need to talk.”

John finally looked at him, his expression unreadable. “About what?”

“About everything. About why you've been so upset lately.”

John's eyes narrowed. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, John,” Gale insisted, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re shutting me out, and that’s not like you. I need to know what's going on.”

John clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking back to the TV. “Why do you care? You’ve got Alex now.”

Gale winced at the bitterness in John’s tone. “John, Alex...Alex isn’t you.”

John scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gale ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “I thought being with Alex would help me figure things out. But all it did was make me realize how much you mean to me.”

John's eyes softened slightly, but his voice remained guarded. “And what does that mean?”

Gale took a deep breath. “It means that I care about you, John. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone else. And I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. That was never my intention.”

John stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re an idiot, Gale.”

Gale felt a pang of hurt but nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’ve been selfish and stupid. But I want to make things right. If you’ll let me.”

John sighed, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “I don’t know, Gale. You’ve really messed things up.”

“I know,” Gale said, his voice earnest. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix it. Just...give me a chance.”

John looked at him, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to something softer, something more vulnerable. “You hurt me, Buck.”

“I’m so sorry,” Gale whispered, his voice breaking. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

John looked away, blinking back tears. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant chatter of the TV. Then, slowly, John reached out and took Gale’s hand.

“Okay,” John said softly. “But this doesn’t mean everything’s fixed.”

Gale nodded, his heart aching with relief and anxiety. “I know.”

John didn’t let go of his hand, but the grip was tight, almost painful, as if reminding Gale of the fragile state of their bond. The tension hung heavy in the air, unspoken words and unresolved feelings filling the space between them.

Gale knew this was just the beginning of a long road to mending what had been broken, and the uncertainty of where it would lead left a knot in his stomach. For now, all he could do was hold on and hope that, in time, they could find their way back to each other. Hopefully this wouldn’t leave some weird underlying tension between them. John had been through enough the past few months, he didn’t need Gale’s bullshit too.

-

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Taglist: @austeenbootler @executethyself35 @coastiewife465 @slowsweetlove

[rattlyglitch]

Advice from the Knowing

Epel held his phone as it rang waiting for his Meemaw to answer. A part of him wondered if she was asleep since it was so late in the night. He wasn’t left wondering long because, within a few seconds, the phone was answered. “Epel I was wondering when you would call. How have you been? Are you ok after you visit the museum with Vil?” Epel smiled to himself. “I’ve been well, Meemaw. O’ course I’m ok after visiting the museum with Vil. Why were you askin’?”

Epel knew he was lying through his teeth; he just hoped his Meemaw couldn’t tell. “I saw what happened on the news. You looked scared, Epel. I know you’re a lyin’ to me.” Epel felt himself freeze. If his Meemaw had seen what had happened on the news would everyone else? Cater or Idia would no doubt be the first to know. Hell, everyone at the school probably knew by now. They were just waiting to point out how Epel was poison again.

Maybe that was why Vil seemed mad when Epel passed by. His image had been ruined and now Epel was being put as the blame? He had become the poison to his housewarden and most likely half-brother. “EPEL!” Epel looked around his room. He forgot he had been on the phone with his Meemaw. Why was he breathing so hard? “Epel you better listen to me now boy! You need-!” Epel heard his Meemaw's voice lower and become softer than it had been.

“You need to calm down ok? Take some deep breaths and listen to my breathing ok?” Epel gave a hum of understanding and listened to her and tried to match his Meemaw’s breathing. “Now Epel you’re calm right?” Epel waited a few moments before saying “Ya I’m calm Meemaw.” He could hear her sigh in relief. “Was there a reason you called Epel?” Epel had almost forgotten.

“Yeah, I was wondering how I should take on goin’ about to my housewarden. I was hopin’ I could just ignore him an’ it would be fine.” The disappointed sigh from his Meemaw was loud enough to not be ignored. “You’re just gonna have ta talk to him head-on. Not talkin’ with him isn’ gonna do ya any good especially now that he’s knowin’ about your ma.” Epel gripped the end of his shirt. “But maybe I can just blow over-”

“Boy it ain’t somethin’ you can jus let ‘blow over’ that won’ help either one of ya. Promise me ya will.” Epel sighed before smiling. “I promise I will Meemaw. Can we talk about something else like how the farm’s been goin’?”

///////

Epel hadn’t lied to his Meemaw. He just hadn’t interacted with Vill for over a week and barely had talked to Rook. Rook somehow still seemed oblivious to the situation or at least was trying to be. Epel wasn’t stupid he could see the look of pity he had in his eyes when talking to Epel. He hated the look and tried to limit his time seeing Rook as well. It was a wonder that no one else seemed to be trying to get any information out of him. Rook must have been behind it. It was a welcomed thing though. Maybe he could continue to ignore everything that happened.

Vil seemed to be able to ignore it well. Besides, if he was now a poison to Vil it would be bet that the situation was never brought up again. Epel couldn’t ignore Vil anymore. The housewarden seemed to be almost everywhere now. It had been two weeks since Epel had talked to Vil and now others were trying to get him to talk to the housewarden. They stopped hiding the fact that they knew what happened between the two.

Jack had been the first to approach Epel. It happened on a Tuesday afternoon when Epel was wandering around the schoolground and trying to sing to himself. Singing sometimes helped calm him. It had been something that Epel had wanted to do in the future. If he ever met his mother Epel dreamed of singing with her like he had seen in the movies she was in. Jack had scared Epel at first causing the shorter to get into a defensive position. “It’s just me, Jack.” Epel lowered his fist and waved.

“Hi, Jack. It’s odd seeing you out here. Usually, you’re with Yuu and Grim.” Jack shrugged. “I thought I should come and see how you were doing.” Epel smiled to Jack. “I'm doing fine.” Epel sat on the grass and patted a spot next to him for Jack to sit with him. Once the wolf beastman got situated he sighed. “I can tell you’re not ok, Epel. Everyone has.” Epel didn’t think that many people had noticed. He guessed though that it made sense that they would worry.

“You’re trying to ignore what happened. Vil is doing the same and it’s not helping either one of you. You both need to talk. If you want I can help you talk to him.” Epel flinched away from the hand Jack offered to him. “It’s for the best that we ignore what happened. If we do then it’ll be forgotten about and everyone can move on.” Epel had a small smile on his face trying to stay calm but Jak looked angered. “Did Vil tell you that?” Epel was quick to deny that his housewarden had.

“He didn’t but I’m sure that’s what he would want. I became a poison in his life and I’ve become that in other people’s lives. It’s best to ignore these things because if you don’t then you’ll only make more trouble for yourself.” The look Jack now had on his face seemed to be one of horror. “Epel I-” Epel held up his hand. “Don’t Jack it’s fine. I have to go get to spelldrive practice anyways so I have to go see you later.”

As Epel walked to spelldrive practice he couldn’t help but think how he had become a poison to his own school. Everyone believed he had parents. Heck Epel had lied to Idia, Jade, Sebek, Grim, Yuu, and Jamil when they visited Harveston by saying his grandparents lived in the same house as him and the rest of his family. If he was a poison now then there was no reason for him to speak to anyone about the situation. He couldn’t change how they saw him now so what was the point? Epel knew all he needed to do was man up and not let it bother him too much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7