#the shading is a bit softer too I think

[myokk]

💘

[kurokmask]

*aqua voice* TERRAHHH

there is no greater pain that being unable to draw ur fav. terra for whatever reason has just been SOOO hard for me to draw. n i finally after over a yr have made something i think i actually like YAY

terra baby i love you so much

[dearsnow]

YOUR BAR BOYFRIEND

- after being harassed by a drunken stranger, your bar boyfriend swoops in to save the day (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is intended to be on the quieter/more introverted side, but if you’re not like that you can ignore that one line ⚠️ verbal sexual harassment, drinking).

PART 2

word count: 1,206

a/n - tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACKKKK!!!! i’m so glad to be back to writing, y’all have no idea how much i missed it. i’ll probably be a bit rusty until i find my rhythm, so please ignore the not-top-quality writing until then. also, feel free to send in requests or chat!!

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend.” You utter apologetically, side-stepping the arm of the man in front of you. He reeks of beer and a hard day’s work, his scruffy face all too unkept in the lighting of the bar. You can’t even fathom exactly why you’re in the bar in the first place- you’ve never been one to explore, but this man is making you feel like you never want to leave your house again.

Your eyes scan the room, but no one seems to notice your predicament. The bar is full of Navy men, surely one of them would be fine with pretending to help you. “C’mon, sugar, one drink. Thas’ all ya have to do. If it goes well, hey, I wouldn’t mind one fuck either.” He grins, winking. The hope that you held in your heart is quickly dissipating. “He don’t have to know.” You feel your stomach drop as he moves to grab your hand, but an firm grip shoves his fingers away instead.

“Honey, is this guy bothering you?” A voice behind you speaks. You quickly turn around.

“I… yeah.” You stutter. You’re staring right into the face of a guy in a uniform, his jaw set as he glares at the drunk through his glasses.

He moves in front of you, creating a physical barrier between you and the significantly shorter man. Relief floods you. “Then I think he’d better leave before someone kicks him out, huh?”

The intoxicated man rolls his eyes, but frantically shuffles out the door of the bar. His gait was evidently terrified.

The tension is pulled from your shoulders, and you unintentionally sigh. The guy with glasses turns around to face you. His expression is softer now that the threat is gone, and his concern is almost cute.

“Are you alright?” He asks. “I’m sorry for the pet name thing, but I overheard you and I couldn’t really just stand there and watch. I’m Bob, by the way, Bob Floyd.” He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and as you do, his hesitates through his rambling.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Bob, I’m fine. And I don’t mind.” His grip is firm but not crushing, just like his presence. You introduce yourself, and he nods like he’s desperate to commit the sound of your name to memory. The respectful tone is honestly a breath of fresh air with the raucous energy of the Hard Deck, causing your cheeks to be a few degrees warmer when you pull your hand away. Our of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his somewhat clammy hands on the sides of his pants.

“Also, I’m sorry for taking the place of your actual boyfriend. I assumed you just didn’t know where he was, so I stepped in.” His eyes search for your own, holding steady eye contact. They’re the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t actually have a boyfriend, but I thought a lie was the better choice. You saved me, and that’s all that matters.” Your voice has a certain breathy quality to it. You’ve completely transitioned from terror to being deeply attracted to the person who spared you an even more intense confrontation. Bob’s eyes widen just slightly.

He takes his hands away from his sides and motions to one of the tables in the corner, his face just the slightest bit pinker. “Would you want to sit down?”

You nod, and he leads the way. As he’s pulling out your chair for you, you can’t help but wonder how your night turned out this way. You went from having the worst night of your life to dizzily encountering the person you could only describe as being your bar boyfriend.

You just recently moved to this part of San Diego for a newfound job opportunity, completely unaware of your proximity to the Hard Deck and a Naval base. You didn’t know anyone or anything, and as someone who isn’t necessarily very outgoing, it was hard for you to adjust. Not even your coworkers were easy to make friends with, so you slowly became more and more isolated.

The bar was kind of your last resort. You didn’t expect to find anything great, and you still don’t know what compelled you to go, but some hidden part of you figured that at least you could get some form of entertainment. Finding Bob, though, you never expected.

Conversation feels easy with him. He seems like a quiet guy, but he knows exactly what to say to keep you talking, and he offers insights of his own that just further the subject you’re talking about. Words fly from your mouths, and you can say that you’ve never enjoyed talking more. You bounce from common topics like work and hobbies to deeper breakdowns of memories and experiences, your smile growing wider every second. You’re completely in a world that was built brick by brick for you and him.

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even notice the woman who rests her hand on the back of your chair until she speaks. “Bob, you of all people? Never would’ve expected you to abandon us for a pretty girl.”

Bob reddens as you turn to face her. “Sorry, Nat.”

She holds a hand out to you, which you shake. “Call me Phoenix. He’s my backseater, and apparently a lady killer tonight.”

Bob stands as Phoenix gives him a pointed look. “Sorry to steal him away from you, but he’s taken way too long of a break from our pool game. I’ll give him back to you later.”

“You say that like I’m a robot.” He grumbles, showing just a hint of disappointment at having to leave your conversation.

You wave him away. “Have fun, Bob. I’d better go anyways.”

“Wait-“ he starts as you stand up, “-could I give you my number first?”

You secretly cheer inside of your head. You nod, and he takes a pen out of his shirt pocket. “Here.” He mumbles, writing it on a spare napkin and handing it to you. His fingers brush over yours, sending electrifying sparks throughout your entire body. You could get used to this feeling, you think. His hand hovers for a split second before regretfully moving away. “It’s, uh, it’s up to you, but I’d really like it if you called or texted. I had a nice time with you.”

You tuck the napkin into your bag, eyes soft. Bob thinks he’s never seen a sight so beautiful- the sun is setting behind you, and it casts you in a golden light as your mouth quirks up. “Of course I will. I had a nice time with you too.”

Your voice is quiet, but a sound that he relishes all the same. He could’ve gotten lost in you if Phoenix wasn’t impatiently tapping her foot next to him.

She pulls him away, and though he knows he’s up for a lot of teasing, Bob can’t find it in himself to care. He just knows that he needs to see you again, and you know that no matter what, you’ll make it happen.

[sixosix]

summary you take it upon yourself to make it up to lyney when he couldn’t perform on the night he looked forward to the most—and lyney falls a little harder.

or, sickfic, basically, but it’s more than that

warnings wc 3k, mentions of injuries and blood, fluff!!! and a bit of angst oops

A/N @hiraethsdesires wanted to get tagged so here u goo!!! hope u like reading it <3

“For the last time, Lyney,” you sigh, shoving one more macaron in the small, red box with the same shade as the accents of his hat, “I can’t attend your show.”

It’s a stroke of luck for him that you don’t have a line right now, or else you would’ve kicked him out the moment you saw him enter, fully expecting he doesn’t intend on leaving right away.

Lyney droops dramatically, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Seriously? Not this week either?”

“Not this week either. Not ever, I’m pretty sure I told you.” You push the box against his chest, to which he responds eagerly by situating his free hand firmly over yours.

He keeps his grip firm when you try tugging your hands away. He bores his eyes into yours, too sincere and open for a performer such as himself—you feel a bit of your will chip away. “That night is special to me. Won’t you consider again?”

“Why is it special?”

Lyney’s lips curl into a smirk, striking right when you’ve faltered. “Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You jerk your hands out of his grip as he laughs. “Bold assumption,” you say, smiling a little when Lyney cries a ‘come onnnn’. “Lyney, I already said—”

“—That you have no one else to take care of the shop if you leave, I know, I know,” Lyney interrupts with clear disdain. “But don’t you think I deserve a bit of compensation? Surely you recognize my efforts in being this bakery’s most loyal customer. Most purchases and most compliments to the prettiest owner.”

You roll your eyes, but you do give it a bit of thought. Lyney has been the reason why your humble little shop tucked in some hidden corner of Fontaine’s city has been gaining attention. You’ve definitely increased in customers ever since Lyney took it upon himself to come over every day with a Rainbow Rose and a dream (and Mora).

“If I attend to one, will you promise it’ll be the last?”

Lyney’s expression shifts instantly. He beams, leaning close enough until your noses are touching. You swear you can see the sparkles in his eyes. “I can’t promise anything if you enjoy it so much you keep coming back for more.”

“Don’t push it,” you say.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Lyney murmurs, his smile turning softer. “You’re not joking around, right? That’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes, I guess.”

He kisses your hand three times, saying, “I’ll make it the best night of your life, I promise,” between them.

You look forward to it. You wouldn’t tell it to his face, but if he were to look closer and see the tremble of your hands to the smile on your face, he’d know anyway.

Lyney doesn’t come over the next day.

You will yourself not to feel too disappointed. You have no right to be. Every time he does visit, he’d just invite you to one of his shows under the guise of ordering whatever you tell him is the best seller of the day, and every time, you’d reject his offer. Yesterday was an exception—on a whim.

Maybe he got a revelation, thinking that he'll find it boring when he finally got you in his grasp.

It certainly doesn’t help that Lyney still hasn't come to visit the day after that, which happened to be the same day of the performance.

They canceled the show, you hear them say, from outside on the streets and even in the walls of your bakery. What a shame; I was looking forward to it.

So was I, you want to say through gritted teeth.

You knew their fame knew no bounds, but it was only then that embarrassment crept in when you realized that the show star, Lyney himself, frequented your small shop with a bouquet in hand to invite you personally. And you had the gall to reject him.

You also learn that the bakery feels much more empty without his blazing presence.

The moment you finish watching the customer exit the shop with two paper bags in their arms, you rush to fling your apron off and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’.

You don’t often leave the bakery in fear of missing out on what could be busy days, but this is more important than that. You can’t handle working idly for another hour with guilt in your stomach urging you to do something.

You must look like a sight: speeding through the pathway with a bit of flour on your clothes and a determined glint in your eyes. Only when you spot a familiar house overhead do you pause to take a deep breath.

You can do this. You need to find out what happened.

“He got sick?”

Lynette nods, sighing in defeat. “Would you like to come in? I’ll explain as I make tea.”

You glance around unsurely, feeling a little out of place. You occasionally break the heart of the brother of this woman currently inviting you inside their home. You can only hope that Lyney hasn’t been lamenting his bakery troubles to his sister.

Lynette directs you to the loveseat of their small living room before padding over to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says in her endearing ever-monotone voice.

“I’m okay, thank… you…” Your gaze catches on a picture frame on the desk beside the seat of Lyney, Lynette, and what you can only assume from stories he’s shared is Freminet. Lynette is far from the camera, staring into the distance and sipping tea. Freminet is smiling awkwardly with no teeth, and the one eye he has visible isn’t even staring at the camera. Then Lyney sits in the middle, holding the camera with two arms and a wide grin, eyes screwed shut and his face so open.

You feel as if you’ve just caught a glimpse of something so personal, and the thought of that twists your heart and pushes it to beat twice as fast as normal. You’ve never seen him smile like that before. (You briefly wonder what it would be like to see it happen personally.)

“I’ve never seen him get this high of a fever before,” Lynette says, rousing you from your trance. She hands you a cup of tea, steam emanating from the cup.

“How did he even get sick?”

“I’m not sure… It could be because of the thunderstorm yesterday—he was out at that time and came home like that. He seemed really excited for tonight, too. Lyney kept telling me that this one would be special.”

“Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You nearly choke in your first sip because of your own thoughts.

Lynette looks back up at you over the rim of her cup. “With the stress of not being able to perform tormenting him, I assume he wouldn’t be getting better in time for the show. Or at least, not tonight at all.”

“Ah,” you voice lamely. You can’t even imagine the look of pure distress on Lyney’s sweet face—it hurts to even think about it. He’s done so much for you and even promised a whole show, only to fall sick before he could make it come true.

Will he think he’s at fault for this?

With your fingernails digging crescents on your palms, you quietly ask, “…Can I come visit him? Or would that be too much?”

Lynette’s gaze sharpens a little. “Has my brother told you the truth of our identities?”

“Most of everyone found out after the trial,” you answer without missing a beat.

“And still, you choose to care for Lyney?”

Is this a shovel talk? Are you experiencing a shovel talk right now?

“He makes it hard not to,” you say weakly; it’s the truth. You’re here because Lyney, throughout his little visits, has made you care so deeply for him that you started to look forward to each visit. “…Is that a no? Was that too much of a request?”

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her face. “It’s perfect.”

The room is silent as you enter. You feel shame for visiting someone’s room without them knowing, even though you’ve been given complete permission by his own sister. Still, your face burns the closer you reach Lyney’s bed.

“Hey, Lyney,” you murmur as you kneel beside the bed. “I brought some of your favorites.”

He doesn’t respond, much to no one’s surprise. You wonder why you feel so disappointed that those lilac eyes aren’t looking at you, begging you, wooing you. Defeated, you place the bag of macarons on his bedside table, mostly an excuse to inspect his face closer.

His brows are furrowed, and a thin layer of sweat is on his forehead, even in his sleep. He looks nicer in casual clothes and his hair free from products.

A bowl of water is near his head, with a towel sitting in the bottom.

“You get really sick when you get it, huh?” you muse to no one in particular, gently wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then to his neck, where the warmth of his fever nearly burns you just by hovering close.

Lyney shifts a little. You pause with bated breath. Still, he doesn’t wake up.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, taking the bowl in your hands.

His nose is really red. You shouldn’t be finding it cute—really, what’s wrong with you recently?

But your movement brushed against the blanket over his torso and, with it, came revealing the side of his waist. His stomach is wrapped with bandages, and a spot of dried blood is seeping in on the bandage on his side.

Your eyes widen in horror, nearly making a loud, indecipherable noise before you catch yourself.

You rush to the door, finding Lynette in the same spot of the loveseat where you left her. Her eyes flick up to you, brows arched in surprise.

“Lynette, he—”

She catches on quickly. “He’s alright,” Lynette says, though her ears are curled back in distress. “He’s been given help. We knew of someone affiliated with Hydro and its healing properties. He’s alright.”

Well. Of course, she knew; she’s his sister. You can’t bear the thought of Lyney in the middle of a thunderstorm, finding himself in front of Lynette, bleeding. You feel sick just thinking about it. You can’t possibly imagine what Lynette has been going through, having to take care of her brother by herself.

You hesitate. “Can I come back here tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Wait—really?”

Lynette pauses. “Should I have not said yes?”

“I just thought you’d be a little more stern with me because of… you know…”

“I respect those who put my brother in his place,” Lynette says, then: “And those who don’t run from us when they find out what our identities are,” and that’s that.

“You brought a flower,” is the first thing Lynette says as soon as she opens the door the following morning.

“He gives me one every visit,” you explain, and you’re not quite sure why it’s humiliating to do so. “So, I want to pay him back at least this once.”

“Rainbow Rose,” Lynette notes as she shuts the door softly. You follow her into Lyney’s room, but she halts before you two can reach the door at arm’s length. “Do you know what this one means?”

You look at the Rainbow Rose nestled in your palm. It's been well taken care of since he gave it to you—all of them had been. “No, I can’t say that I do…?”

“He’s given everyone else Lumidouce Bells because this flower is a little more special.”

Lynette reaches for your hand, gently pushing the Rainbow Rose until you’re holding it against your chest.

She looks into your eyes. “That flower is like him giving his heart to you. Please, take care of it some more. Don’t give it back, okay?”

And as you mull over her words, she leaves. And left you standing in front of Lyney’s room alone, with your entire face feeling as if it’s been burnt by the sun.

But this is no time for distractions, no matter the implications. Lyney still hasn’t woken up yet, and it’s time to pay him back. He deserves that much.

“You finally feel better?”

Lyney blinks. Or, at least, he tries to, but his eyes weigh heavier than usual. He lays back down and chooses to close them back again. “Ugh…” he rasps out, “Lynette. My side is still hurting a little, but it’s much more bearable than yesterday. I thought I was about to die!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lynette says, handing him a glass of water. “You already caused quite a scene.”

“Hmmm?” Lyney answers absentmindedly, finding himself ready to fall asleep again.

“You didn’t get injured yesterday. That was five days ago. And the bakery shop owner kept coming over every day.”

Lyney’s eyes definitely open at that. “What did you say?”

Lynette’s tail flicks. “The bakery has been closed for about four days now, and no one else but I know that it’s because the person responsible for it has been here in this room instead, taking care of you. It was even on The Steambird.”

Lyney’s finding it difficult to catch up. “Wait… wait. Are you saying…”

“You made Y/N, Freminet, and I worry so much, you know,” she chides.

Lyney’s heart shatters. “Does that mean—my wound—”

“I wasn’t the one changing your bandages,” Lynette says with a tiny smile as she watches her brother’s face explode in red. “Do you still feel tired?”

“Not at all!” Lyney springs up from his bed, his grin wild and insane. His side will most definitely punish him for this, but that’s far in the back of his mind. “Ah, so Y/N does care. All my efforts weren’t in vain!”

Lynette sighs, but still stays to listen.

“And—bandaging my wounds? While I was out cold? How intimate… My heart is racing at the thought of it.” He clutches his chest, because it’s true despite his dramatics.

“I’ve never seen Y/N before; I’ve only heard of what you told me every time you came back from the bakery,” Lynette starts, urging him to lie back down. She presses a towel on his forehead, and he yelps because it feels ice-cold. “But you seem wrong about every assumption, Lyney. I know the face of someone who cares.”

Lyney falters, his expression softening impossibly. “Y/N’s not mad I missed out on the show I promised…?”

“Y/N was worried about the same thing, but in your shoes.”

Lyney hides his face with his hands, but that’s a fruitless attempt. Lynette has a clear view of his red ears. “I can’t tell if I’m elated or mortified,” he groans. “Both, perhaps?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lynette says, getting up at the same time the door swings open.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” you exclaim, though hushedly. “Lynette, I brought food to eat. Here, help yourself. Has Lyney woken up yet?”

“Oh, he…” Lynette takes your handmade lunch and glances down at her brother, briefly surprised to see him with his eyes shut and his breathing as steady as it had been when he was sleeping. “Excuse me, I want to eat.”

“Wait, Lynette—” you start, but Lynette is already walking away and eventually shuts the door. She must be very excited to eat her food.

You turn to Lyney, and the world falls silent. Lyney doesn’t know why he’s terrified of you finding out he’s awake. Was it guilt? Shame for a promised night in ruin, or humiliation for seeing him at his lowest point? He grips the sheet under the blanket tighter. His heart racing seems like it’s neither of those.

“Hello again, Lyney,” you say in a low whisper, and all of a sudden, his grip loosens, and his shoulders lose tension. “You should wake up soon. I promised Lynette I’d bake your favorite dessert if you do.”

You're not expecting any reply, ceremoniously reaching for the towel on his bedside table, like you’ve lived here as much as he has been.

The steady beat of your heart calms him, and he wonders how you aren’t hearing how fast his is beating yet.

Lyney finds himself enjoying being under your tender care, until the warmth on his side disappears and he panics instantly. His eyes fly open just in time for him to see you leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lyney slips, instinctively reaching out to hold your head in place.

You both freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed.

His thoughts race. Four days. You’ve closed the bakery shop you swore to him you wouldn’t ever abandon just for anyone—yet you did for him. You’ve been taking care of him. And kissing his cheek, for god’s sake. Four days you’ve been caring for him so sweetly, and he wasn’t awake enough to experience all of it himself.

“You’re—you’re awake!” you exclaim, your hands on both of his cheeks. “Lyney, oh, you’re— Wait, how long have you been—”

Lyney silences you with a kiss on the side of your mouth. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “You shouldn’t promise my dessert,” he says, and he winces when his voice doesn’t come out as smoothly as intended. “I don’t want any more promises to break.”

“You didn’t break any promise, Lyney,” you say softly, and he blinks when your eyes glisten. “You’re awake right now, aren’t you?”

“Then,” he straightens to sit up, grinning, “let me make it up to you. I promised you a night you would never forget, didn’t I?”

A/N not another lyney fic...

[jolalibrary]

midnight bedsheets

joel miller x f!reader | joel masterlist

summary: you and joel find some bedsheets.

wordcount: 1.2k warnings: fluff/little smutty - allusions to smut. mostly fluff those guys. i needed this. post outbreak. joel is smitten. soft!joel because he's my fave. AN: written on my phone so, mind the errors.

When the two of you had split up, Joel had a feeling that you wouldn’t look for one goddamn thing he’d asked you to.

He’d seen it.

That glimmer of fucking mischief shimmering in your eyes, tracing your lips with the tip of your tongue, hand on your hip, I’ll be sure to keep my pretty eyes open, Miller.

He doubted you would. But he wouldn’t, and couldn’t, doubt your eyes were pretty.

They had burned themselves into him by now. To the point he knows the exact shades that make them up; all well known to him, able to pick them out from a lineup, if he so needed to.

Having seen them in all manner of ways—looking up at him, next to him, underneath him. Seen them when the sun shined, when the snow fell; when the rain fell and the thunder clapped.

Kicking his foot against something picked over, he listens for your boots, for you turning over your side of the store. Clicking his tongue, shaking his head, heading your way, knowing, before he finds you, that you’ve located something they weren’t looking for.

Sometimes, he doesn’t like knowing you so well. Finding you on your hands and knees, ass in the air—hips wiggling as you stretch yourself, reaching and reaching, shirt having risen and exposing more of your skin to him. Tempting him, like the fucking temptress you are—

“Y’need any help there?”

He shouldn’t think what a sight it is, but he does.

Flicking his thumb against his finger, fighting himself about getting down onto his knees behind you and reminding you of how good he can make you feel.

Memories of you like this, his knees on the outside of yours, the feel of you enveloping him as he slid his cock into your—

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure—”

Whatever you’d been grasping for, must have come loose. Because you shoot up, resting back on your knees—head looking over your shoulder, a smirk on your face.

And not just any smirk. That smirk. The one that makes him hot under the collar of his jacket and makes blood rush to his cock.

It’s the one you sent him when out in the river washing two days ago, when you flung your soaked shirt at him—the slap sounding out in the quiet of the world. Should come warm me up, Miller. A thing he repeated in a grumble under his breath when he removed his boots, layers and trudged out to pull your wet, clean skin against him.

Now, though, he watches in real-time as the smirk shifts into something softer when you stand—when the thing in your hand comes into view. Wrapped in crinkling plastic packaging, the fabric inside folded intricately as he catches the words: Deluxe and Bedsheets.

He watches as you smear your fingers over the front, removing the thick dust, it clagging and clinging to your skin as you try to peer through the muck at what you’d found.

“What y’found?”

“Bedsheets,” you reply, not looking up—voice distant, soft, almost too soft for you.

His weight shifts as he swallows. Already imagining what you’re thinking. Remembering summer breezes in backyards, big sheets billowing, drying off as laughter plays. Hell, he can hear it himself—practically could lose himself to the memory if he tries hard enough.

“We’ve not got room for it.”

Looking up, your eyes narrow—a little bit of fury in your eyes as you roll your jaw. “But, we’ll make room. Right?”

Right. He thinks.

“Joel?”

“Fine.”

He’s not sure when he’s stopped being able to say no to you.

It’s days until the two of you are back in the familiar peeling walls.

The scent is both dire and familiar all at once as he helps you remove the bag from your shoulder, it thudding on loose floorboards as he begins to remove his.

He waits. Waiting for the moment you ask for it, the thing he’s somehow folded and squeezed into his pack. The thing which sat at the base, stared at him when he dug in for his bottle or foil-wrapped food.

You last thirty seconds.

He’d been counting. Grumbling for water as he tells you he’ll grab it, hands finding the plastic with ease—briefly, allowing himself to grasp at it, feel that familiar texture that reminds him of normalcy and shopping.

“You gonna help me?”

Shaking his head, Joel grabs the glass you’ve poured for him. Taking a sip. Letting you stew.

“Think of it like this, the quicker you help me make the bed, the quicker you can make these sheets yours.”

Chewing his tongue, he swirls the murky water in his glass, giving you a minute, not quite biting immediately. “How am I gonna do that?”

Shrugging, your fingers slide down the buttons of your shirt, popping not one, but two open. “Use your imagination, Miller.”

“Filthy, woman,” he snorts, glass slamming down as he moves around the table as you laugh.

A sound that’s beautiful, and warm. A thing he won’t admit, even as he helps, as he takes a side of the bed before your hand brushes his, handing him the packet. Reading you. Tilting his head as he rips it open, being sure to focus on your eyes, knowing they'll widen, biting the inside of his cheek when they do.

And he knows that look. The one that, if you weren't so stubborn, would be matched with your mouth falling open, all in awe.

It makes him half tempted to move around to your side of the bed and see if he’s right. Undo the button on your jeans, slide his thick fingers against the fabric covering your mound, and see if there's a patch, a damp slither as he spots you pushing your thighs together.

But, your face is blank. Unreadable. A thing you're good at, so easily able to bury the effect he has on you as you begin to hum.

A thing he tries not to shake his head at, because it’s nice. Normal. For a moment able to close his eyes and pretend they’re in a bedroom, in a house, something they’ve chosen rather than been given.

It running through his mind. As it does sometimes.

What you’d be like if the world hadn’t pushed you to adapt, whether you’d be as charmed by him as you are now. His eyes catching yours as the two of you shake your pillows in the new sheet—a smile there, kissing your eyes and gracing your lips.

And he hopes you would have been.

Thinks maybe you might have been.

It’s only when it’s done, the bed dressed, does he see the beauty of what you’d seen. The sheets a deep blue, almost midnight, decorated with intricately stitched swirls and stars that break up the expanse.

“It’s like that time we hunkered under that tree,” you say, eyes gazing down at it. “When we saw all those stars.”

He hums. Taking the corner between his finger and thumb, feeling the rich cotton—how it’s not over worn, likely has its thread count.

“Remember what we did under them?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he flicks his gaze up at you—chin still tucked to his chin. Seeing how another button is undone, exposing the valley between your breasts.

“Get on the bed.”

This time, he didn’t have to ask you twice. Thank fuck.

an: I’m a bit rusty with Joel, so forgive me 🩷

[anothermansjeans]

oooo i would LOVE if you could do a blurb where we see youtuber reader getting ready with spencer’s voiceover spliced in between your descriptions!

hehehe YES! i was wondering if anyone would have wanted to see it SO THANKS FOR GIVING ME A REASON TO WRITE IT!!

cw: fluff, spencer is a menace at times

wc: 599

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

The engagement of your most recent TikTok was off the charts. It wasn't something that you normally thought about. Yes, making content was your job and what helped keep the bills paid, but you always did well enough to not have to worry (you're very aware and never take this for granted). There was just something about Spencer in your videos that made the views and comments skyrocket.

The video went as follows: it was a simple set up, you were at your vanity with your makeup setup, and you sent a smile and wave to your phone. A voiceover of yourself talking. “Hey lovelies, I’ll be doing my makeup but Spencer will be doing the voiceover! Okay, bye!”

The video continued on with you massaging spf onto your face, followed by some primer. “This is Y/N doing her makeup routine, even though I tell her every day she already looks perfect.” Your awe was heard after his statement. “It looks like Y/N is putting sunblock all over her face. She’s not putting on the recommended amount which is about ¼ teaspoon. Many dermatologists recommend the ‘three finger rule’ when applying so that you know you’ve used enough.” Your scoff could be heard in the background, but Spencer continued. “She’s now using another product with the name ‘elf’ on it. I believe this is a skin primer, which I learned blurs pores and smooths your skin so makeup can glide on.”

The video continued on as you went through putting on concealer, foundation, and contour. “She’s now putting concealer under her eyes and on red spots. I believe this is for color correction, but she should be using a shade of green to neutralize the red and then put concealer or foundation on. She’s now blending in the concealer very vigorously.” His next words were a bit softer, most likely looking directly at you when he spoke “you should have a lighter hand so bruising doesn't occur or worse, when you're blending on your eyelid the possibility of popping a blood vessel.”

Your giggles could be heard as well as your words, “okay babe, you're missing some of the video though.”

“Right! Okay, now she's using foundation. This shade looks to be a shade too dark though. Y/N, did you run out of your winter shade?”

“Spencer!”

“Sorry, sorry, now she’s blending again, still very harshly, but now she's using a darker shade to contour under her zygoma and on her mandible.”

The video went on with Spencer’s commentary sprinkled in. He knew exactly what each process was (you think he watches more of your videos than you originally assumed), and he would only roast you every other step. It was the end of the video when you were putting setting spray on and Spencer let out a sigh. “And the last step. I think. She’s spraying something on her face. She told me this helps her makeup stay on all day, but her skin produces oils throughout the day so it's likely this really only works for a couple of hours at most.”

Your grumbled voice could be heard after his. “Outro, Spence!”

“Thanks… for watching? Was that good? I don't know how to stop the recording, Y/N–”

And the video was over. People were obsessed with Spencer just from his voice alone. The quips were funny, his voice was a bit raspy, TikTok declared they loved him (and you– they were obsessed with this relationship). You had a feeling Spencer would be a lot more involved in your content from here on out.

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: HE KNEW SO MUCH??? 😭

@ user1: he's so sassy PLEASE...sassy man epidemic is REAL

@ user2: his...voice... girl i would die a happy death fr

@ user3: SHE'S GETTING COMFORTABLE WITH SHARING HIM WE'RE WINNING

@ user4: why is he DRAGGING you ever so slightly LMAOSHSJDJD

@ user5: yall are so cute i want what you have 🫶

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[hamlets-ak]

sleepy boi ༊*·˚

m.list ◦ askbox

synopsis: dad timothée with newborn baby

« Is he sleeping ? », you asked, softly, almost in a whisper.

Timothée shook his head, utterly consumed by the small creature lying on the bed beside him. You had been waiting for him in agony for way too long, and now that he was finally here, it was impossible to tear your eyes away.

« He’s just staring at me, » Tim mumbled and turned to you. « He’s so suspicious. » You chuckled and at the sound of your laugh, Marc motioned his head in your direction. Timothée grinned behind his palm, looking down at him lovingly, with eyes softer than ever.

Fresh out of the shower, hair still wet, you tilted on the doorframe. Your gaze lingered on them as you melted on the wooden surface. You had never seen him like this. He had never seen you like this. No amount of future glances could have prepared you for this moment. 

Paradoxically, it didn’t feel strange or even life-changing, as everyone said. A new age had begun for you when you decided to fill your entire existence with a person. But nothing had changed. It was still you.

« You’re looking at mummy, Marcy ? », Tim asked and Marc averted his gaze to him as if he understood perfectly. You exchanged a furtive glance. 

You were both so tired; eyes maroon and hooded, bones heavy, doliprane after doliprane, and coffee after coffee. But there was something about him that managed to break through that fogged-up mist of fatigue and weakness, and give you an almost plasmatic sense of courage and vigour.

It was six in the morning, dawn. You couldn’t remember the time you last closed your eyes. The sky was a paradisiacal shade of pink, as if out of an adolescent dream. The final neon-lighted stands and street lights swang out of sight, along the city. 

« I’d kill to be on his mind, » Tim murmured. He touched his open palm, tiny and soft, and Marc curled his fingers around it, eager to touch, to test the warmth of his father’s skin. 

A smile grew on your lips and you disconnected yourself from the door. You caught a sweater as your feet brushed against the wooden floor, leading you closer to them. Marc turned to you, letting out a muffling sound.

« I really want to know what he’s thinking. » Tim turned to you.

You sank into the mattress and balanced on your elbow so you could look at him.

« Do you think he understands ? »

« Of course he does. »

« Of course he does... You understand us, Marcy ? », Timothée bowed and pressed a kiss on his cheek, his neck, his belly. He lightly leaned his head to the side and Tim chuckled.

« It tickles ? », you asked, tilting your face on your palm. You caressed his cheek gently, slowly moving to his forehead. Hair slipped between the slits of your fingers. 

He was perfect, from rounded cheeks to tiny toes, everything about him. You looked at him and recognized bits of every family member you had ever met, and you knew that there were bits of thousands of past family members you had never known and would never know. You could see kaleidoscopic visions of yourself in him and you could see Timothée.

« I want to show him everything, » you said.

Marc fussed a bit, but Tim scooped him and let him lay on top of his chest with his tummy.

« Yeah... I can’t wait for him to grow up. We’re going to play with cars. »

« You miss playing with cars ? »

« So much, » he nodded and you laughed. Tim chuckled as well. He motioned his head for you to snuggle and wrapped one arm around you, bringing you close. Your head rested on the crook of his neck, tiredly.

« You sure I didn’t wake him up ? », you glanced up at him.

« Only those who sleep wake up. » You smiled, your gaze not leaving his. « He hasn’t closed an eye all night. »

Marc looked at you lethargically. Peaceful, he blinked his eyes at the feeling of Tim’s heartbeat. He stared at you with that electrifying glint of his blurry eyes and you wondered what was hiding deep inside those abyssal irises.

« He needs to sleep, » you mumbled.

« So do you, » Tim said and pressed a kiss on your temple.

« I’m fine. »

« How are you fine ? You haven’t slept since I don’t know when, » he murmured.

« Neither have you, » you pressed your lips and looked at him. He mimicked your expression and lightly raised his eyes.

« I’m nocturnal. »

« You’re not, » a smile grew on your lips and Tim let out a small grown as he threw his head back. You averted your gaze and softly brushed your fingers through your son’s hair. He kept staring at you, his lips pouted, and eyes half sealed. You slightly scrunched your face trying to imitate him.

« Paternity made me, » Timothée said, rubbing his hand through Marc’s small back. « Anyway, you have to sleep, » he turned to you.

« I’m fine, Tim, cut it. »

« No, sleep. We’ll go to the living room. » You looked at him momentarily, silently assuring him that everything was alright. « We’ll go to the living room. Right Marcy ? », he whispered and held him closer. He fushed lightly but Tim was quick to soothe him. « We’ll walk around the house, and we’ll talk, and eat, and wear clean diapers... » You laughed a little. « Mum is laughing... »

« You’ll wear clean diapers too ? »

« She’s just being silly, Marcus, but we love her, » he pressed a kiss on your lips as he got up, your son in his arms. « We do love her very much. »

« I love you too. So much, » you smiled.

« Sleep, » he pointed a finger in your direction.

[ayselluna]

Ascendant Astarion Recommendations!

I'm a fan of both Spawn and Ascendant Astarion so I do enjoy reading both. But if you want to explore and read some good shit~ Ascendant fics well here you go~

I've read a lot so bear with me, These are my TOPS~

I LOVE ALL OF THESE:

A Gift, A Curse by @elemit - This updates daily most of the time, the author is getting busy IRL but it should be back on a daily update again soon I think. This is one of the darker theme of Ascendant Astarion "50 shades of 'FCKNG LITTLE TWAT' Ancunin" as one of the comment says haha some scenes are "traumatic" but the rollercoaster ride of emotions you'll get on this story is one for the books! ONGOING!

Fangs and Fractured Hearts - by @fangsandfracturedhearts - This one's one of the softer sides of the Ascendant, the dynamic of Tav and Astarion here is exquisite! The cliffhanger on this one just uggghhhhh. i love it!! ONGOING!

Hellish Rebuke by @bludazey this one's a classic! the details on this story is so genius I swear. Also I think a lot of Astarion fanfic writers got inspired with the Devil's dealing here. Also Tav here is effing smart and just chef's kiss! such a great heroine! ONGOING!

His Star - His Queen [Originally titled Across Stars and Time] by ARandomIntrovert - Now this a bit different, What if multiverse exists? Now there's two Astarions fighting over you, Spawn VS Ascendant, where do you think this would go? :)) Story's definitely amazing and unique! I easily got invested. haha ONGOING!

In Another Life by @locallegume - Definitely a softer side of the Ascendant but Tav and Astarion's dynamic here is one of my fave! <3 Tav here is not the overly good role model we usually read, she's troubled too and definitely has effed up issues. but sometimes you just need to find your own freak and be together forever. ONGOING!

Pieces Still Stuck In Your Teeth - by @howlsmovinglibrary / @wetcatspellcaster - The amount of Banter and D&D Lore on this one is superb! you have to watch out for the writer's notes! I love how I get to learn more D&D stuff and godssss how many times I almost got so swayed by the Ascendant here! good thing Tav's so good at bantering haha ONGOING!

Remember ye not the former things by @brabblesblog - THE SEQUEL!! It focuses more on the aftermath and them working out their relationship, a lot more TAV bg story but gods, Astarion here , I just want to smother him with cuddles and kisses, TAKE MEEEEE ONGOING!

Whither is thy beloved gone? by @brabblesblog -

It has a sequel!!! - that's how good it is! <3 also The Ascendant here is my favorite! The confrontations are just so real and so true I caaaaan't. He wrote the Ascendant so good I actually sided with him more than Tav! A lot of smut ngl but I got into the characters more that I should have. you're missing out if you haven't read this. COMPLETED!

Most of these are still ongoing but I am updated w/ each, along with other Spawn Astarion fics :)) They are all good! some more soft than the others, some darker and evil :))

Let me know if you guys want to get some Spawn Astarion fics recommendations!

[koyagifs]

𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓰𝓮

pairing: san x reader au: idol | friends to lovers genre: fluff word count: 825 words summary: san had tried confessing through subtle messages but he finally had enough. warning(s): -

You laid on San couch, wearing his t-shirt as well as some shorts as Byeol laid on your chest. San had invited you over, saying he'll meet you there after he had finish up a few verses with Hongjoong. As you laid comfortably, San was standing by a flower shop, wondering which one to get for you.

The amount of times San had tried to confess, he had lost count.

As you relaxed on the couch, Byeol curled up on your chest, her soft purring creating a soothing rhythm. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow around the room. You smiled, feeling content in this little moment of peace.

San’s playful banter echoed in your mind—how he always teased about bringing you flowers. It was sweet how much thought he put into it, even if he struggled to actually confess his feelings. You could imagine him standing there, deliberating over the vibrant blooms, his brow furrowed in concentration.

What would he pick? Maybe daisies, bright and cheerful, or perhaps roses, classic yet romantic. You chuckled softly, imagining him overthinking the choice as he always did. He’d probably think about what you might like, what would make you smile.

Your thoughts drifted, imagining what it would be like if he finally found the courage to tell you. The way he’d smile shyly, those deep brown eyes sparkling with hope. The anticipation of that moment felt thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Just then, you heard the door click open. San stepped in, a goofy grin on his face, a bouquet of sunflowers in hand. “I figured you could use a little sunshine,” he said, his voice bright and teasing.

You couldn’t help but smile back, your heart racing a bit. “You know me so well,” you replied, glancing down at Byeol, who was now wide awake and curious.

As he approached, you could see the way his cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping into his demeanor. “I… uh, I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he started, his voice wavering just a bit.

Your heart skipped a beat. Here it was—the moment you both had danced around for so long. You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the unspoken words lingering in the air, and waited for him to continue.

San took a deep breath, his fingers nervously twisting the stem of the sunflowers. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “About how much I value our friendship and… how much I wish it could be more.”

The words hung in the air, a mix of hope and vulnerability. Your heart raced as you searched his expression, wanting to convey your own feelings without breaking the moment.

He stepped a little closer, his eyes locked on yours. “I just… I really like you. Like, a lot. And I’ve been too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we have.” His cheeks were flushed, the honesty of his confession making him even more endearing.

You felt a wave of warmth rush through you, and a smile broke across your face. “San,” you started, your voice steady despite the excitement bubbling inside. You sat up, moving an upset Byeol as you left the couch. San looked at you nervously, but was soon at ease when you took the flowers from him.

“i knew the whole time," you said, smiling up at him.

San’s jaw dropped in surprise, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. “Wait, really? You knew?”

You nodded, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Yeah! All those little hints? I might be slow sometimes, but I wasn’t completely oblivious.”

He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I thought I was being so subtle!”

“You were cute about it, but not as subtle as you think,” you teased. “Like the time you kept bringing up that café with the cute flower arrangements. I saw right through you.”

San huffed, " does this mean you like me?"

As you wrapped your arms around San’s neck and pressed your lips to his, the world around you faded away. His surprise melted into warmth, and you felt him lean into the kiss, his hands gently finding your waist.

The moment was electric—sweet and tender, yet filled with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you. When you finally pulled away, breathless, you looked into his eyes, which sparkled with a mixture of shock and joy.

“Wow,” he breathed, a grin spreading across his face. “So that’s what you meant by ‘liking’ me.”

You chuckled softly, feeling giddy. “Yeah, I think that qualifies.”

San let out a breathe he didn't realized that he held in, making you giggle. He placed another kiss on your lips, his heart racing as he finally got the girl of his dream.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hybrid!Cow Nagi x Reader

tw: Smut, afab reader, use of she/her, hybrid x human sex, Nagi is a bit mean, but he is also very very in love.

a/n: a small piece of a much bigger fic inspired by this official art. This is just the smut part, but I wanted to get this idea out of my system. It was set in a world where most people are hybrids, and just a few (like reader) are born human. Nagi is one of the local mailmen and the first person to meet you. It was going to be a long, fluffy fic ending with filthy smut. So take just the cherry on top, lol. Maybe one day I'll complete this.

Seishiro isn’t used to rough nights like he isn’t used to scratched knuckles and sore muscles, but it seemed the only right thing to do when that shit poor example of a cat hybrid treated you like that.

He lays on your bed, white hair sprawled on your soft sky-blue pillow, his large-fitting hoodie and blue pants miraculously clean.  “Smell nice” Seishiro thinks, cow ears fluttering when your smell on the pillow hits his nostrils. It’s relaxing after such an intense fight. For that dude, not for him.

“It’s an honor to be my partner-“ “Nobody wants a simple human as a partner, I’m doing it just because my parents asked, and anyway they should thank me since I could get much better-“ “I don’t want a loser nerd as a partner, they should start to dress and eat better-“ 

Seishiro doesn’t remember what came first, but the clear image of you crouched on yourself, lips trembling and fat tears hanging on your lower lashes keeps playing in his head. His tail beat nervously on your mattress, remembering the entitlement in that loser voice. Nagi bites the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw blood, your pillow now pressed to his face, trying to calm himself down with your smell. His leg twitches, remembering how hard he kicked that douchebag,  straight on his chest, making him hit a table behind and surprising all his friends.

It was already a pain to go out with everyone, but seeing you on a date with a guy that wasn’t him, and treated that badly was the cherry on top of his already poor patience.

“Is everything okay Nagi?” A shiver runs down Seishiro’s body, making every muscle twitch for the surprise. He moves away the pillow, side-eyeing you, before plopping it on his back to look better at you.

“I have to ask two things-“ You nod, prompting him to ask whatever he wants, while sitting on your bed, eyes locked with his ones.

“Call me Seishiro-“ You nod “and-“ He gulps, throat dry from the moment your figure met his sight. “Are you trying to seduce me?” His voice is calm as always, but the intensity of his eyes makes you jump on the spot.

“Seduce? I mean, I usually dress like this to-“ You turn around, not wanting to look at him, embarrassed by his comment. Your sheer nightgown, with cute sunflowers embroidered on it and matching panties, left very little to the imagination after all. Not to talk about you being braless, a sight that sent in short circuit his brain.

 “Usually, so not always-”  He whispers, almost into your ear. He can see a shiver running down your spine making you arch. The desire to run a finger from your neck to your lower back is tempting.

He lay his chin on your shoulder, letting out a sigh, annoyed by the whirlwind that is happening in his stomach. “Can I kiss you?” His greyish eyes lock with yours, trying to read your emotions. Seishiro doesn’t move, waiting to understand your intentions.

You nod, and to Seishiro's surprise, you make the first move. Your soft lips touch his ones, it’s a butterfly touch that lasts way too little for the white-haired guy's tastes. “Is it good?” Your voice breaks a little and Nagi has to keep himself from pinching your cheek. “Yeah, but let’s improve.” He mutters back, full lips locking with yours, tasting a different shade of love from the previous one. Seishiro’s eyes are closed but he can feel your softer hands cupping his cheeks, before sliding lower to his chin and neck. He worries that you may have pyrokinetic powers since every time you touch his naked skin he seems to get hotter.

You moan into his mouth when his big hands start to wander, one groping your mound, protected by his rough touch thanks to your thin nightgown. The other pushed you towards the mattress, making you both slide lower into your bed.

“Sei-“ You break the kiss, breath heavy and barely open eyes, just to notice your lover laying at your side, the end of his tail tickling your right thigh.

“Can I go further?” He is surprised by himself. Seishiro, Mr. Hassle man suddenly asks for more and more, knowing exactly that he’ll have to do most of the work. You nod, neck turned in an uncomfortable position. Nagi notices and decides to leave little pecks down your throat, trying to make you relax.

Such a gentle gesture as opposed to his deft fingers lifting the end of your nightgown, exposing the soft skin of your leg to his rough handling. Hand groping and slapping your thigh with no finesse and for his own enjoyment.

“Ngh, Nagi-“ You get interrupted by another slap to your leg, making your ass grind into his lap, a gesture that generates a choked moan in Seishiro’s throat.  “I told you to call me Seishiro-“ He spits out, leaving a small bite on your shoulder, not too hard to bruise, but still leaving a sign.

Nagi’s lips find yours again, his tongue prodding at your entrance, asking, wanting, to lap into your mouth, to drink your moans, and to taste your spit. You surrender immediately, your tongue weakly fighting against his, lost to the pleasure this entire situation is bringing you. The hand that was massaging your leg is sliding closer to your core, bunching your nightgown to your waist. A deft finger slides into your panties, playing first with one curl of your hairs, before pulling it, making you groan.

“She kept herself untouched for me, maybe she hoped to scare that loser off-“Seishiro thinks, pushing his hips, and therefore his boner against your ass, that idea clouding his brain even more.  “I like them, keep them for me, mh?” He pants in your mouth, your lips still slightly open from the previous kiss. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips and Nagi takes it as consent to his order instead of a response to his forefinger assaulting your clit.

Seishiro has never been a patient guy, and it shows even now when his fingers caress your outer folds before digging a bit deeper, but never enough for your taste, edging you constantly while playing with the bundle of nerves with no grace. He wants to see fat tears roll down your cheeks, he wants to hear you beg for him, he wants to feel desired, and he wants it now.

“Sei-Seishiro!” You half scream, closing your eyes and finally, making tears escape. Nagi keeps himself from smirking, but his heart roars in pleasure at the sight. “Good-“

“You-you are a bully.” You interrupt him, your own phrase is broken by sighs of pleasure. Breath gets caught in his throat, not expecting to hear that from you, dick twitching when hearing your voice in strain.

“So, you don’t like me anymore? You want me to get out?” Seishiro teases you, speeding up the movement of his fingers. Your head moving left and right tells him all he needs to know, together with the hand that keeps pulling at the collar of his hoodie to keep him close. He finally pushes his middle finger inside your wet core “So wet, for me.” He mumbles biting his lower lip, thrusting faster, and soon adding the ring finger, curling them so deliciously that your eyes cross in pleasure. You are a mess, but Seishiro is no better, grinding his clothed boner into your ass desperately searching for relief, while his tail keeps trashing on his side of the bed, trying not to hurt your softer, human skin.

“Ah-ah” You moan, almost into his mouth, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

“Why do you keep your mouth open? C’mon if you need to say something, say it-“ The malice in his voice is clear, teasing you so meanly, but he can’t really stop himself from trying to push your buttons.

“Ngh-bully!” You groan back, your hand sliding to his hard-on groping it through his gym pants, noticing the big wet patch.

And how big he is.

“Ah-“ He moans too, the touch of your smaller hand driving him almost immediately to completion. It soon becomes a competition on whom would crumble first, both your bodies hot and sweaty trying to pull away but at the same time searching desperately for each other touch.

You reach your end first, throwing your head back into his shoulder, and letting out a high-pitched moan that Seishiro is sure to remember till he breathes. He pulls away as soon as possible, laying on his back and immediately pushing down, just the needed amount, his pants and boxers, freeing his erection, which hit his still-covered abdomen.

“Angh-“  He groans half in pain and half in pleasure for being finally able to free his cock, all flushed and angry for being edged for so long.

“Sei-“ You turn around. The mixture of your sweet, wet eyes and soft voice almost makes Nagi cum on the spot. “G-give me a moment. Then I-I can try to ride you.” You say in between heavy breaths, still swimming in the pleasure of the previous orgasm.

But as much as Seishiro would like to accept “N-No, turn around like before.” He orders, but to your ears, it seems more like he is begging you. Nagi notices and damn himself for sounding so pathetic, but the image of you on top of him, wet eyes, pouty mouth, and trembling legs, still wearing that damn sheer nightgown, wouldn’t make him last.

To say the truth just that image is sending him over the edge.

You nod at his request, turning around just like he asked; you must have thrown your panties somewhere since your back is completely exposed to him. Some droplet of your essence stains the apex of your legs, making Seishiro damn himself for not going down on you, having now to settle for his fingers to taste you.

Seishiro doesn’t indulge too much in your taste, even if it matches your smell, intoxicating, therefore he rolls on your side, grabbing your waist to pull you closer, his erection grinding against your back, slick with all the pre that copiously rolled down during your intercourse.

“Is-Is it gonna fit?” You look at him, and Nagi doesn’t have in him to lie to such sweet eyes “Maybe. I’ll go slow. If you were a cow hybrid it would have been easier-“ He brushes away some hair sticking to your forehead to land a sweet long kiss there “But I want you. More than any hybrid, ever. If it hurts I’m gonna stop.” He kisses your cheek, now dry after all those tears, before pushing just the tip inside your core.

Seishiro sees you wince, but you don’t tell him to stop. His left hand that was holding your waist is now entwined with yours, the other massaging your bosom, but not resisting the desire to pinch your pert nipple. Nagi pecks down your neck, to your chest, while sliding his throbbing member inside you, trying to ease your pain.

“Ngh-“ He groans, irises become liquid bliss. You are so warm and welcoming, sucking him in like you were made to fit together. All those hybrid theories could go fuck themselves because the white-haired guy is sure nobody could make him feel so ecstatic. “You are so good- so good for me.” He moans in between kisses, pushing your nightgown up to touch your trembling tummy, mouth now kissing and sucking your covered chest, pulling sweet moans out of your throat, while his tail tries to encircle your lifted leg to keep you impossibly close.

“You-You feel so nice Sei-“ You breathe out, scratching the little hair on his nape pulling a guttural groan from his mouth. He looks back at you, and you twitch feeling his hot mouth leaving your bosom, missing it already “Can I fuck you?” You tighten around his length and nod, biting your lower lip eyes looking at him so deeply he thinks he may drown in them.

He starts slowly, never really pushing out, not wanting to be separated long from your warmth. But things start to go downhill when your sweet, almost mellifluous moans meet his ears, calling his name so deliciously that he soon gives up on rationality like a sailor enchanted by a mermaid’s voice. His thrusts are deep and fast, making you both mewl out each other names.

“I’m-close-“ You slur out, one hand gripping one of the small horns on Nagi’s head to find purchase to reality in this frenzy. Seishiro just nods at your words, having noticed way before you told him, his length almost slipping out for how wet you are. His deft fingers return to your clit, rubbing furious circles on it to bring you to your apex “Ngh-no, together.” You grumble, trashing a bit and trying to pull away the hand that was bringing you so soon to delirious pleasure.

He looks at you from the nook of your head, not sure you are serious about this. But the look in your eyes, so determined and confident makes him crumble. “Ngh, ah-“ A pathetic mewl escaped his throat making him wince for how cringe he sounded, his thrusts now sloppy and with no finesse, just trying to grind the both of you to the apex. Seishiro kisses your already swollen lips when you reach your peak, too worried about the pitiful sound he’d make, but damning himself for losing the occasion to hear your voice one more time. Your walls spasm around his length trying to suck everything from his cock, desperate to have all of him inside you. He thrusts a bit more into your core, not wanting to leave your warmth so soon, but the overstimulation feels soon overbearing.

You break the kiss, both your breaths are heavy, lashes hanging low like you are waking up from a dream. You cup his cheek, your thumb tracing little hearts making his heart thump harder than before. It seems like you want to say something, you have a cute little smile on your face but Seishiro doesn’t give you the time, his plump lips against yours, tongue already begging for one more dance. The overstimulation subdues to desire, and from the twinkle in your eyes, Seishiro knows you are on the same page.

The night ahead is still long.

[twstedstoryshop]

Prize for @windalchemist001 from my fan event in August. I apologize deeply to the prize winners for how long these are taking as my life is taken up a lot by my new job and that drains me of working on these. But these are slowly but surely coming along, I assure you. Until then, please bear with me. -Shopkeep

Finding Out You Have A Crush On Him

Trey I believe would come to figure out your crush through overheard conversations or someone having to spell it out for him. Either due to Ace and Deuce unknowingly gossiping over your crush or Cater just straight up telling him in his own Cay-Cay way.

Now Trey wasn’t a romanticist at heart, especially considering how he blundered with the Ghost Bride way back when. So with this newfound knowledge, Trey would do the best thing he can think of… Sit on this knowledge and never let it surface.

What else is he supposed to do? Go charging up to you, declaring he likes you too and should totally start dating? That wouldn’t be fair to you, putting you on the spot.

Instead, he allows you to let you sort out your feelings, whether you pursue them or not. There’s no pressure in whatever choice you do.

Though it wouldn’t be too hard to notice on your end that Trey would start acting a bit awkward and stiff. He doesn’t mean to come off like that, but when in the face of someone he knows who likes him, he can’t help but maybe straighten his posture more. Maybe act a bit more softer.

Trey is always marked as the reliable older brother type. So with a highschool crush on him, it wouldn’t hurt to maybe act a little like his age. An awkward boy unsure of how to navigate this newfound affection. Who knows, maybe act a bit selfish and roll a little in your attention just for him alone.

Malleus could either or having someone tell him about your crush. Most likely Lilia in his teasing ways. Or perhaps with his keener senses, noticed your affections for him.

With the knowledge of your crush, Malleus would feely content in the way a satisfied cat would smirk after finishing its creme. It would be hard not to catch Malleus’ very good mood for the following days.

The weather would be pleasant, not a single cloud in the sky, and the wind is gentle. Something that may or may not catch some of NRC’s attention, especially if it’s expected to be cold or rainy weather for the season.

Malleus, while eager, would wait with baited breath to see what his dear child of man would do to convey their love. It gives him a great satisfaction to be wanted and chased after, so he would want to hear it from you first.

Even if you have stutters or slip-ups, Malleus finds it all so endearing and locks your attempts of confession under lock and key in his memory. What he wouldn’t allow is if someone dares to interrupt you when you’re working up the courage to tell your feelings.

A quick thunderclap and a venomous glare gets his point across before he immediately looks back to you with a softened expression. “You were saying, my dear child of man?”

It would be a relatively peaceful courtship until the confession is made thanks to some sway from the dragon prince himself.

Silver would definitely have to be told outright of your feelings. For comedy’s sake, it would be hilarious if the one who had to spell things out for him was Sebek of all people.

The loud-mouthed proud guard would be aghast of how oblivious Silver was. The fact that he could pinpoint something beyond Silver’s recognition has him smug one moment but also a little annoyed for your sake. Not that he would ever admit that.

Once Silver truly digested Sebek’s words, Silver’s handsome features would burst into a magnificent shade of pink. Flushed either from embarrassment over his crude unawareness and a part deeply flattered by your affection.

Silver wouldn’t make any moves though as you mulled over your feelings. He wouldn’t dare try to put you on the spot, but you do notice how lately he feels a bit more caring and gentleman-ly personally for you.

If Malleus or Lilia didn’t need him, Silver would often escort you wherever you needed to go despite you knowing your way around. He even tries to lend a hand in helping you study. Despite his own grades suffering a bit with his sleeping habits.

Silver would be uncertain about all this though, truth be spoken. He’s never really had romantic feelings before or felt much need for a romance in the first place. But the idea that someone liked him so innocently and sincerely does charm him profoundly.

Like a shy forest creature, daring to come near him and be in his presence, he only wished to offer his hand towards you. Who knows, maybe falling a lil bit in love wouldn’t be so bad during his high school days…

[scoops-aboy86]

Your Smile Is My Favorite

Prompt Used: Summer reading (@thehairandthebanished) and cheesy pickup lines (@softsteddieseptember) | Your Smile Is My Favorite | Rating: T | CW: mild body image issues | Additional Tags: chubby Steve Harrington, gay Eddie Munson, pining, bizarre communication through intricate pickup line rituals, Robin loves these two idiots

I wrote most of this while on a 11 hour car trip, I’ll post it to ao3 later. 🥱 Still the 4th in my time zone though!

It’s hard to stay absorbed in a book when Steve Harrington is swimming laps in his little red shorts, but Eddie is managing. 

Sort of. Kinda. 

Okay, not really. Or at all. 

But he’s read Return of the King so many times before that he can fill in any paragraphs his eyes accidentally skim over from memory, so it’s fine. And he definitely rolled high on stealth by being smart enough to bring sunglasses, because Middle Earth has nothing on his view of Steve’s chest while the guy does the backstroke. 

Earlier in the summer Steve would have been poolside with Eddie and Robin, sprawled out in the sun snacking on pizza and chips with them and letting Eddie draw him into their umpteenth debate on which is better, Coca Cola or Mountain Dew. Now he’s going at it in the pool like he has something to prove, or diving in over and over while complaining about his form. 

Which, Eddie thinks, is a very fine form indeed. He’s thickened up some since their harrowing adventures last Spring Break, transformed from merely good-looking to downright beefy in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water and fingers twitch with the urge to rake through that tantalizing chest hair, test the give of Steve’s deliciously softer pecs and stomach. It’s starting to become a problem. 

As if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, would have an easier time concentrating on a book about the Party’s adventures if Arwen were parading around in front of him while scantily clad, Eddie thinks, trying to make himself feel like a little bit less of a pining loser. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Robin says, sounding bored from the next lounge chair over. She hasn’t even looked up from her own book. 

Eddie considers protesting. He could; they’ve never actually discussed the way they’d clocked each other as queer during Spring Break, he has plausible deniability. 

Instead, he says, “Got a camera you can loan me, Birdie?”

She snorts, sliding her bookmark into place as she turns towards him on her lounger. “No, but now that we’re talking about it, can we talk about how your crush is visible from, like, space?”

“He is not!” The protest tumbles out of him before Eddie even thinks about it, and his cheeks immediately flare red under layers of sunblock. It’s not like Robin would talk about the way her platonic soulmate had recently put on some extra weight like that, Eddie is just a moron. Well, he’ll just have to blow past it and pretend he’d been… bluffing about his crush not being Steve. Yeah. “Uh, I mean. Fuck, I’m not being too obvious, am I?”

Robin’s grin is smug, and definitely a little bit at his expense. “Not really. You’re super easily distracted when there’s more people around, so the kids haven’t picked up on it yet.” She glances back at the pool and the expression softens to amused affection. “It’s written all over your face right now, but I’m pretty sure dingus over there has this fixed idea about your type being all dark clothes and leather and tattoos. He’ll never figure it out on his own, completely hopeless.”

That’s a relief to hear. Eddie relaxes beneath the shade of his poolside umbrella, glances down at his book again… 

And snaps it shut and scrunches up on his side to face her too. He’ll be able to find his place again later, more or less. The occasional splashes of Steve reaching one side of the pool and flipping around to swim back fades into the background for the first time all day in the face of this new, unexplored conversational territory. 

“So,” he says matter-of-factly. Because he’s reconciled with this a long time ago: Robin has literally helped save his life a number of times, she’s safe. “Clearly you’ve got me all figured out. And there’s no way you could be around that all the time and still get anything done without being… oppositely inclined.”

She nods, and the teeny tiny bit of him that had been braced just in case he was wrong relaxes. “Yeah. I don’t see the appeal, but I’ve literally seen a few girls walk into things when they catch sight of him.”

Eddie snickers, like the hypocrite slightly wired on nerves and relief that he is. Curbs, trash cans, the glass doors of Family Video… he’s been there, done that, and been forced to turn it into a bit so no one catches on to what all of those instances had in common. (Steve smiling at him. Steve looking at him. Just, Steve.)

“Not as many lately though,” Robin confides, a little sad. “Shallow bitches.”

“Shallow as hell,” Eddie agrees. One hundred percent. “They have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

“It’s taking a toll on him,” she continues. “You know, how his hair kinda deflates a little when he’s bummed out? Those great big puppy dog eyes come out and it’s all—” her voice drops in a possible Steve impression “—‘Is it me, Rob? What am I doing wrong?’”

Eddie huffs a wordless disagreement with that whole sentiment. Wrong with Steve? Wrong with Steve? There’s nothing wrong with Steve, in his opinion. Badass scars, heart of gold, hair of the gods, and a little more meat on his bones making him even more solid and dependable? Sign Eddie the fuck up. 

Sure, there’s also the nightmares and a general jumpiness whenever the phone rings or lights flicker or a radio starts to crackle, but the same can be said of pretty much everyone in the Party, Eddie included. It’s perfectly understandable after everything they’ve been through, the number of times they’ve helped save the world. 

“I think that’s why he’s leaning so hard into swimming again,” Robin adds. And even though she seems totally casual, there’s something… not pointed, exactly, but definitely not dull behind her words. She’s giving him a look that Eddie can’t figure out, because he just doesn’t have the same kind of in-tune-ness with her that she and Steve display on a regular basis, having conversations with nothing but stares, blinks, and funny eyebrow twitches. 

He tries anyway. Even pushes his sunglasses up into his hair for a clearer look, but message not received. Frowning, he glances over his shoulder at the pool again. “Because he’s… upset about not going on dates lately?”

Not that Eddie had been paying attention or anything. Not that he’d daydreamed hopelessly a few times that it was because Steve was hung up on him, lingering a bit more than necessary when dropping off and picking up the kids on Hellfire days. Inviting Eddie to hangout days like this. Taking Eddie up on it whenever he offers to smoke the guy out, usually when they both have dark circles from sleeping poorly blooming under their eyes and everything about the no longer in peril world around them feels like too much. Springing for fast food whenever they get the munchies, since Eddie supplied the grass…

“Because he thinks there’s something wrong about him,” Robin corrects, “that he needs to work out.” 

Oh. What—oh. Eddie blinks, reorients, and realizes that the thing he hadn’t been able to read before is concern. “But… he looks so good,” he says dumbly. 

Steve is self-conscious about his weight? Oh no, that won’t do at all. Eddie’s mind is already racing through ways to reassure their friend that he looks great, fantastic, amazing, all the positive adjectives that he knows. He wants to build Steve up, make sure he knows that there are definitely people who would absolutely jump at the chance to be with him. 

Or, you know, right here. Or something. 

Splashing sounds draw his attention back to the pool, and it’s Steve wading up the shallow end towards them, apparently tired out for the time being. And Eddie… panics. 

“Damn, Harrington,” he blurts out, “is it hot out here or is it just you?”

Which is. It’s. Something out of that terrible pickup lines book one of the Corroded Coffin guys found at a yard sale a few weeks ago—he can’t remember who exactly, maybe Jeff?—that they’d all howled over, reading the worst ones out loud in ridiculous voices. Why the hell is that what popped into his head?

Steve pauses with one foot still in the pool, squinting at him. “Uh… It’s definitely hot today. Are you… overheated or something? I could get you some ice water.”

“No, I’m good,” Eddie manages. And then, because he’s an idiot, he continues, “Have I told you lately that you’re very attractive? You must eat magnets for breakfast.”

He catches a glimpse of Robin out of the corner of one eye. For a second he hopes that she might step in and save him from himself, but nope; her face is frozen in a look of appalled fascination. No help coming from that quarter. 

“I,” Steve starts, stepping the rest of the way out of the pool and putting both hands on his hips like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “Dude, are you high?”

If only he were. The proximity of Steve’s naked, dripping wet chest and the gentle roll over the top of his swim trunks seems to have roughly the same effect on him though. 

“Nope,” Eddie squeaks. His face feels incandescent, and he can’t even blame it on a sunburn. And still he opens his mouth again, because he’s already gone this far, might as well commit to the bit. “But we should smoke up later, sweetheart. I think weed be really good together.”

That one wasn’t from the book. It’s an Eddie Munson original. If death took him now, he would not hate it. 

Steve looks to Robin, who shrugs and throws him a towel. He catches it and starts drying his hair, returning his attention to Eddie with a perplexed look. “Low blood sugar?” he asks, and it takes a second for Eddie to place that Steve is still trying to guess why he’s being so weird. 

As if the Freak of Hawkins needs something so pedestrian as a reason. 

“We can order pizza,” Robin suggests in a strangled voice. She’s trying so hard not to laugh, which is good. Probably. 

Eddie can muster a little gratitude for that, right up until he opens his mouth again and “Oh, are you craving pizza? Because I’d love to get a pizz-a you” falls out. 

… Maybe he does have low blood sugar. Or, like. A brain tumor or something. 

Steve sends Robin another look, then shrugs and heads inside the house. Presumably to order pizza, and hopefully for Eddie’s sanity to put on a shirt. 

As soon as the glass door slides shut behind him, Robin whips around and whisper yells, “What the hell was that?!”

Eddie throws himself back on his lounger and covers his face with both hands. “I don’t know. I wanted to cheer him up, make him feel good about himself or something, but—”

“And you thought hitting on him would do the trick? Very badly, I might add!”

“Oh, like you know anything about what works when hitting on dudes!” Eddie shoots back, even though she’s right. So very right. Cruelly correct, to a poor gay man who is suffering. 

He rolls over on the chair, only putting a knee or elbow through the plastic straps beneath him a few times before flopping face down and tugging his own unused towel over his entire head. It’s almost restful under there. The lounger cradles his face a little too high because the back is still angled slightly up for, you know, lounging… and Return of the King is dry and solid under one shoulder, twisting his frame a little oddly, but other than that…

~

By the time Steve comes back outside, Eddie barely notices. He feels slow and drowsy from the heat, everything muffled by the towel. But he does hear a scrape over the concrete beneath him and cracks an eye open to peer through the gaps in the chair. 

It’s a slice of pepperoni and extra cheese on a paper plate, positioned directly below his head, right where he can smell it. 

Fuck, okay. He can’t not get up for food freely offered. It’s just not how Wayne raised him. 

“There you are,” Steve says brightly when Eddie emerges and resituates himself with the plate in hand. “Feeling better? Seemed like the heat was getting to you there.”

“Must’ve,” Eddie replies with a weak laugh. “Thanks.” For the pizza, and for allowing him some semblance of dignity to fall back on after… whatever that had been. Because Steve, above all else, is a good dude; something Eddie has been all too aware of for over a year now. 

Steve passes him a can of Mountain Dew and taps his own Coke can against it like a toast. “Don’t mention it. And, uh, Eds…” He’s starting to smile, just a little. “I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I think you're the gratest.”

Somewhere to Eddie’s other side, Robin chokes on her drink and has to cough a few times to clear it. 

Eddie just stares, jaw dropped open and feeling flushed all over, heart in his throat. Even with his hair still wet and smelling strongly of chlorine, Steve has somehow retained that signature swoop. Maybe he fixed it while he was inside, procuring pizza and slipping into an old and raggedy high school gym shirt that makes him only slightly less biteable. 

And that smile, fully bloomed now and brighter than the afternoon sun. Like he’s decided, playfully, to meet Eddie at his level no matter how dumb it is. 

“Alright,” Robin rasps. “Okay. I’m just gonna go inside to finish my summer reading while you dingi do… whatever this is.” Followed by the creak of her chair as she clambers off. 

“Don’t mess with the thermostat,” Steve calls after her. He turns slightly to do it and releases Eddie from his tractor beam stare, letting Eddie breathe again—when had he stopped doing that? And then those hazel eyes are back on him, hypnotizing. “Well? Cat got your tongue, or do you have any more?”

The words are… different, now that they’re alone. Quieter. Steve is leaning forward slightly, legs over the side of the chair as he faces Eddie. Elbows on his knees and Coke can dangling forgotten from one big hand. His stare is intense in a way that is almost too terrifying to try to read into. 

Eddie wets his lips nervously. “No, I… I’ve got more.” He sits up a little straighter, turns to put his feet down on the shaded but still warm concrete and face Steve head-on. “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”

It sounds, feels, almost terrifyingly like a confession. 

Steve’s grin gets impossibly brighter and Eddie is back to not daring to breathe, because what is happening. “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.”

Which is. That’s. Does he? Eddie is having some sort of out of body experience trying to think back. 

The part of him that’s still anchored in bones and nerves and skin takes a deep breath. Committing to it. 

“Of all the beautiful curves on your body, your smile is my favorite,” he hears himself say, and it’s probably the plainest, most honest words he’s uttered in his entire twenty-one years of life. 

It’s not like he thinks Steve is going to punch him for saying it. Or even for saying it like that. Good dude, inescapable. But he wasn’t expecting the guy’s eyes to go big and molten, or for him to swallow hard, all while that amazing smile never dims. 

“I’m… Shit, I’m going to give you a kiss, Eddie. If you don't like it, you can return it.”

And then Steve leans forward, and does. 

~

Half an hour later, Robin comes back outside to check on them and finds the two young men twined together on one lounger. Steve is sprawled half on top of Eddie, who looks like he’s holding him in place with both legs and teasing a half eaten slice of pizza against Steve’s mouth. Steve snaps at it with his teeth, and Eddie yanks it away but then goes back in to tap it against his lips anyway with a laugh, loose and easy. Happy. 

They both look so happy together. 

She knew it. All she’d had to do was get those two pining idiots talking about something real—even if Eddie had surprised her with a deeply unexpected means of doing so. Whatever, he’s weird, nothing new there. The important thing is that her plan to end her two best friends’ ridiculous mutual pining for one another had worked. 

And Steve hadn’t believed her when she’d insisted that the metalhead definitely doesn’t think it’s a bad thing that his clothes all fit a little more snug these days. Ha. One more tally on her own You Rule column. 

Feeling magnanimous, Robin decides to wait until they’re done with lunch to turn the hose on them. 

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[aajxs]

DRESSED FOR REVENGE OSAMU MIYA !

🍙 : ̗̀➛ when you find out your boyfriend of three years cheated on you for months before finally breaking up with you, payback is the only thing on your mind. what more are you to do other than get with his twin brother as a form of revenge, and maybe something a bit more.

CONTENTS // mentions of cheating / atsumu slander (still my husband don't get it twisted) / reader getting her get back / NSFW! / fingering / oral (f! receiving) / biting / praise kink / hair pulling / mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption / pussydrunk osamu / cum eating..? / vulgar language / pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, good girl (is that even a pet name??? girl idk), sweet girl) / unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it) / the d was fireeeeee ( unedited; 4.5k. )

PAIRINGS // osamu miya x fem!reader

A/N // where my fellow osamu girlies at 😓???

I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO. . . ESCAPISM. BY RAYE . . .WHILE READING.

// MASTERLIST .

OSAMU MIYA thinks his brother might be the biggest idiot he's ever met.

You and Atsumu have been dating for three years, and he's thrown it all down the drain simply because you'd been too busy to have sex. It's almost hypocritical. He's just as busy as you, and yet he broke up with you over something so simple. What ever happened to communication is key?

Atsumu has always been the friendly type, and honestly you think you're too numb to care when his brother texts you to tell you that he moved on pretty quick. Too quick, if you're being honest.

You decide that, in your horrendous post breakup state, you should go to a club. Seeing as the entire fucking world knows that you're the girl famous volleyball player Atsumu Miya fumbled horrendously, (at least according to the thousands of comments on his Instagram telling him he downgraded) you think it'll be pretty easy to find a guy to fuck and post on your own Instagram.

A halter top hugs your figure, cropped just above your bellybutton piercing. The black miniskirt you're wearing doesn't leave much to the imagination. The golden bracelets on your wrists create a satisfying jangle with each movement, and a golden necklace is paired to match. Your makeup is simple yet flattering, and it's obvious you're here for straight business as you strut inside the massive club.

Although, you don't even get the chance to find a seat at the bar when you find a familiar face. At first you think it's Atsumu, but you're quickly proved wrong.

Osamu didn't always have slightly softer features than his brother, they used to be identical. But, after highschool, you think he got tired of being the other Miya and decided to look striking in his own way.

You're met with dull and dark blue-grey eyes when your gaze locks with his. His hair is a bit more brown nowadays, but it still has that unmistakable shade of grey box dye mixed in. You don't miss the way he lights up at the sight of you before waving you over with a smile. You pause in thought for a few moments.

Is Atsumu here with him? What if him and his new girlfriend are here? If so, you're probably cooked. Although, when it comes down to it, you have no reason to be so intimidated. You're here for yourself, aren't you? So with that, you return Osamu's charming smile and walk over to him.

He gets up to greet you with a hug, and you happily accept it. "What's got you all dolled up?" He smiles playfully.

"I finally decided to get out after being cooped up for so long after the breakup. Think it's about time I get back out there, don't you?" You tilt your head as you sit down on the cushioned stool next to his.

He hums, "Ah shit, almost forgot about that." He says a bit nervously. A large hand meets the back of his neck as he sends you a closed eyed smile. Your eyes land on his bicep almost immediately, but you're quick to avert your gaze as to not get caught staring.

"It's alright. He's moved on hasn't he? I need to catch up." You sigh as you order a drink. Osamu, with a few protests from you, puts it on his tab.

"Oh yeah, how long have they been datin'? Four months now, if I recall." He says casually, watching as the bartender places the cold drink in front of you.

You thank the bartender before pausing. Four months? You and Atsumu only broke up two months ago. Osamu must notice the way you freeze because he tilts his head curiously.

"You alright?" He asks, blinking. The first thought that comes to his mind was that maybe it was a little too soon to mention how long they've been dating.

You don't answer the question, but quickly ask another. "When did Atsumu tell you we broke up?" You ask, your perfect brows creasing together slightly. Osamu narrows his eyes in thought.

"Uh.. around the time him and the new girl started dating." He answers. You pause again.

"We broke up two months ago." You say, rubbing your brow. Osamu stares at you in shock for a few moments. He's no longer leaning into his hand, now staring at you as if you'll break down at any second.

Honestly, if it were up to Osamu you would've never gotten with his brother in the first place.

You met Osamu during your first year of highschool and only when you became the manager for their volleyball team did you meet Atsumu. You hit it off instantly and started dating a few months before your second year.

Osamu was bummed because he obviously wanted you first and his brother knew that yet still got with you because the majority of the time Atsumu only cares about himself. You were basically the only person who liked him in highschool aside from girls who'd never met him and only chased after his looks.

He watched from afar as his brother treated you like shit and talked about other girls behind your back. Atsumu never acted on them (at least as far as Osamu knows), so there was never really any reason to tell you unless he wanted to sabotage your entire relationship for his own gain. Back then? He would've never done that because as long as you're happy, right? But now.. Osamu has waited too long to be this close to you without his brother at your side.

And right now, Osamu thinks that he could still have a chance. You're obviously still upset about Atsumu, but you wouldn't have come to this specific club if you didn't think you'd find a one night stand.

"You good?" He asks. Osamu has never been good at reading feelings (he's much better at expressing them, you know because you've watched him and Atsumu go at it multiple times over the smallest things. Maybe it's just a twin thing, but they always fought more than most siblings), so he isn't exactly sure what to say as you disassociate for a few moments.

Your nose scrunches slightly, "I'm alright. I guess I just didn't expect him to cheat after all we went through together." You respond belatedly.

Osamu let's out a small oh as he continues gazing at you.

Atsumu didn't just fumble you, he had the bag and watched as every single item fell out of it. How he could ever cheat on you, Osamu will never know. His brother has always been the more idiotic of the two.

"Anyways," You speak up a bit hesitantly, obviously still stuck on the unbearably recent new that your boyfriend of three years cheated on you, "What're you doing here, 'samu?" You ask, blinking away your thoughts as you tilt your head.

You take another sip of your drink, swirling the ice for a moment before you down the alcohol. Your eyes are still locked with his as you do so, awaiting a response to your question.

He stutters for a few moments, averting his gaze before answering. "I jus' needed to get out. Onigiri Miya has been pretty busy lately 'nd I think I deserve a break." Osamu responds, quickly chugging the rest of his drink.

You have to hold back a gasp as you watch some of the liquid drip from his plump lips and down his neck. The bead trails down his adams apple and he quickly wipes the liquid before it can disappear under the white button down shirt he's wearing.

The top few buttons are undone, giving you a peek of his chest. There's a necklace around his neck that you don't recognize, but the way the tiny chain falls on his tanned chest catches your eye.

He's always been attractive, but he just looks so painfully good under the strobing lights inside this crowded club. The multicolored lights ignite his features in ways you've never exactly paid attention to, and you can't help but trace each and every detail of his face with your eyes.

Osamu eyes you for a moment before they trail over to your empty drink. "D'ya want another?" He asks, snatching you away from your lewd thoughts about what you might do with his mouth.

"I don't think you want to know what I want." The words fly out of your mouth before you can think, and you quickly regret them as his wide eyes lock with yours.

You're stammering to find an excuse, but when a cheeky smirk appears on his face, you pause.

"I think I do." He tilts his head playfully, and you can't conceal the intake of breath those words cause.

A sudden confidence spikes through you, "I want you to take me back to yours." Your lips twitch up, and his smile grows.

"Careful. I might take you seriously if you keep lookin' at me like that." He clicks his tongue in response.

You trace the brim of your glass with your fresh set of nails, a low clink sounding out when you tap it a few times. "And who said I wasn't serious?" You flirt shamelessly, not shying away from his strong gaze.

And that's how you got to his house, your lips smashed against his as he guides the two of you through the front door. He uses his foot to kick the door shut before pinning you to the nearest thing possible.

He can taste your flavored lipgloss as your lips move in perfect synchrony, a sweet mix of strawberry and the slightest bit of bourbon. Your tongues are intertwined and you're basically eating each other's faces.

Osamu's strong hands are on the exposed skin of your waist, tightly gripping your sides as he pulls away from the sloppy kiss. A curse leaves your lips as his lips meet your jaw, then begin moving down your neck. He nips and sucks at your supple skin as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly.

Gasps leave your swollen lips as he carries you to his bedroom. If not for you, he would've hit the wall on his way. As soon as he reaches his room, he closes the door with his foot once again and lays you down on his King bed.

He skillfully pulls off your strapped heels, softly putting them on the floor near his bed as he climbs on top of you. "Take off your shirt, 'samu." You order breathlessly, and he hazily smirks.

"Of course." He says playfully as he tugs the black shirt off his body. Your eyes are met with thick muscle, something you should've expected but didn't. Your nails run down his abs, tickling his skin. Your fingers trace every indention of his toned chest his his lips meet with your neck again.

The softest moans leave your mouth as he suckles on your skin, focused solely on leaving marks. He only pulls away to take your top off before he gets straight back to work. Crisp air hits your once covered skin, sending a subtle shiver down your spine. His thumbs run over your hardened nipples, a shaky gasp leaving your lips when he pinches them.

You don't think you've been this wet in your life. Your arousal is painfully obvious as your legs squeeze together, a lousy attempt at taming the waterfall between your thighs.

Osamu suddenly swirls his tongue around one of your sensitive nipples, making you moan out loud. You bite your lip to conceal anymore noises.

"Don't get all shy now, pretty." He hoaresly mutters into your breast, his voice sending vibrations through your body. Your lips part at the statement, and you can feel him smirk into your skin as he licks and sucks and nips at your sensitive nipple.

Your hands make their way to his toned back, trailing over taut muscle as you reach into his hair. Your tight grip and occasional pulls have Osamu going crazy.

Honestly, he could care less if he's just a rebound. You're the most beautiful woman alive and he gets to feel you. You might consider yourself his brother's leftovers, but he considers you as a full course meal.

Your entire being is encased in warmth, and every time his lips touch your body you only get hotter. Every single touch and lick and bite only grows everlasting fire in the depths of your weak soul.

You're so fucking pretty under him, making the sweetest noises he's waited years to hear. It's not long until he's finally pulling your skirt and lacy panties down to your ankles, basking in the mess between your legs.

"All this for me?" He says playfully, glancing up at you. You tug his hair out of annoyance and he groans. You must've liked that sound because he doesn't miss the way your pussy clenches around nothing.

"What do you want me to do?" He asks, gazing up at you with sincere eyes. The deepness in his look ignites things that you've never experienced before. He's driving you mad.

You gasp, "Just fuck me, Osamu." He smirks at your bluntness.

The whimper of his name has him tugging his pants off in mere seconds. He licks his lips as he swipes two fingers along your wetness, eliciting a moan from you.

You look so good from this angle.

He inserts two fingers without any trouble, your pretty cunt sucking his fingers in as they graze your gummy walls. He pumps thick fingers in and out of you for a moment before pulling them out and placing them in his mouth. You taste like heaven, and he hopes you miss the way his eyes roll back.

"Holy shit," He groans as he licks his fingers clean, "'m sorry, I gotta taste you first." He apologizes for no reason in particular. It's not like you don't enjoy the way his mouth latches on your cunt.

He's taking his sweet time, and it seems to you like he's afraid of what might happen if he goes all out.

You grab his hair and pull him from between your legs, leaning forward to cup his jaw a bit roughly. "If you're scared to do it right, Osamu, you don't have to eat me out at all." You say breathlessly and demandingly. You could probably cum just by the look on his face right now. His mouth and chin is dribbling with a mix of your slick and his own saliva, and his dark eyes are half lidded in a haze of pleasure. He's staring up at you like he's never seen anything greater (he hasn't).

He nods, but you're not quite satisfied with the curt movement. "Use your words, baby." You order as you angle his head up a bit more. A small gasp leaves your lips when his grip on your thighs tightens.

"Yes ma'am." He responds, a slight attitude in his hoarse voice. You're so hot when you order him around.

He smirks and when you let go of his face he gets straight to work. He's slurping up your juices and shoving his tongue inside your sopping pussy like a man starved. Osamu has never been one for messes, but he can't help but be sloppy as he eats you.

Osamu has never been anything less than diligent when it comes to things that he deems important, so he's making sure to put his full focus into devouring you whole.

A chainlink of moans exit your mouth as he rubs your clit in circles while practically drinking your insides. With every buck of your hips and mewl from your plump lips, Osamu groans ever so slightly into your tight hole. They send shockwaves through your body, that familiar knot slowly tying itself in your stomach with every grunt.

The chants of his name rolling off your tongue are like music to his deprived ears. You sound like an angel to him, and all he wants to do is keep eliciting lewd sounds from you. Your tight grip on his hair is making him even more aroused.

Salty tears are starting to run down your face, staining your face with your mascara. Osamu feels like an asshole for enjoying your cries and pleas for more.

"F-f-uhh-ck, 'samu!" You manage, loud moans leaving your throat. You don't remember the last time you felt this good. The knot in your abdomen grows tighter by the second and your moans grow louder with each particular flick of his tongue. You're seeing actual stars at this point.

"Ah, shit- G'na cum, Osamu!" You moan just as your high hits. The earth seems to stutter on its axis as you release on his face, your vision fading into a blinding white and your legs shaking profusely. He laps it up like a dog in heat, aiming to drink your cum like water. He doesn't even pull away once your plethora of moans is over, his tongue still licking stripes down your folds.

It's only when you reach into his hair and pull him away from your sensitive hole that he realizes you came. A string of saliva goes with him as he detaches from you. He almost looks intoxicated as he gazes up at you, licking his lips and wiping his cum covered face with the of back his hand. Osamu rests his head on your thigh, looking up at you hazily.

It's near silent as you calm down from your high, the only sound being your uneven pants and his deep breaths.

Osamu sucks on your skin as he kisses up your torso. His grip on your hips is tight and he whispers words of praise as his lips attach to supple skin.

"Y're so fuckin' beautiful." He sighs into your neck. All he wants to do right now is give you backshots into oblivion, but he has a bit of self control.

You hum, "Keep talking like that and I might fall in love." You murmur sarcastically in response. He hopes you miss the way he tenses up.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks bluntly. His dick is almost painfully hard right now and he doesn't think jerking off will do much knowing that he just ate you out.

You smirk, "Be my guest, 'samu." You lick your lips and tilt your head at him. He exhales shakily before leaning forward to kiss you sloppily. You can still subtly taste yourself on his lips as his tongue re-explores your mouth.

Osamu's hands trail from your hips and towards your legs, tightly gripping the fat and muscle of your thighs. You sigh slowly, your eyelids fluttering closed as you anticipate the actions to come.

He positions himself above you, dark greyish-brown hair falling towards your face along with the small chain. His hands reach towards his boxers, pulling them down. You try not to watch as he pulls his thick cock out but it's honestly hard not to.

A few protruding veins catch your eye, pre cum glistens over his slightly red tip, and you can't help but feel like he might just have the prettiest dick you've ever seen.. For an identical twin, Osamu seems to be bigger than his blond counterpart.

He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance, dragging his dick between your folds. You let out a shaky breath as he smears around your wetness, an airy laugh leaving his swollen lips.

You have absolutely no idea how long he's been wishing for this exact moment. How many times he dreamed of having you in positions much more explicit than this.

He doesn't think you ever will know. He'll save himself the embarrassment.

"You asked to fuck me, now you won't put it in?" Your hips jut forward with your words. Osamu smiles at the action. He hooks an arm around one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, your calf resting on his muscular shoulder.

He locks eyes with you as he finally begins slipping himself inside you. Your gummy walls hug his shaft tightly. A chainlink of his grunts and your moans bounce off the walls.

"Why're you so tight.." Osamu mutters. It's mostly to himself, but you can't help but hum at his words.

He curses lowly before pushing the rest of his length into you with a strong thrust. You moan loudly, whether in pain or pleasure neither of you can tell.

A deep breath leaves his lips, "R'ya alright, sweetheart?" Osamu asks, his tone concerning.

"Fuck, y-yes." You breathe, eyelids fluttering shut in ecstasy. You're inadvertently clenching around him, attempting to get used to his length.

He's placing gentle kisses along your collarbone, awaiting your permission to move. You take a good twenty seconds, basking in the silence as he leaves small marks along your neck and chest.

"Please, 'samu." You mutter, and he hums into your chest as his hips begin moving and the quiet noise of skin against skin sounds in his room.

You're whimpering, and little do you know he hasn't even begun yet. His strokes are soft and slow and he's barely moving, but the way your gummy walls clench around him have him itching to fuck the soul out of you.

Shaky breaths leave his plump lips, and your gasps match his. "Fuck, baby, 've gotta move." He grunts as his pace quickens and his thrusts harden.

It doesn't take long for the skin to skin action to get louder, plap plap plaps bouncing off the walls as he thrusts his cock in and out of you.

"Y're fuckin' made for me, aren't ya?" Osamu moans, and your noises grow louder by the second.

You've had sex, made love, been fucked, and everything in-between. But the way Osamu thrusts inside of you with such precision and bottled need has you going fucking crazy.

Your bodies are intertwined so tightly that you can barely tell where you begin and he ends. It's hot and sticky and disgusting but it's so fucking good the way he doesn't hold back.

That tight knot in your abdomen is coming back and the gasps you let out grow louder as he fucks into you, raw and unadulterated.

"Fuuuck- 'samu 'm gonna come soon—" You stammer, your hips grinding helplessly into him. When he pulls out you buck forward and it's like he never even leaves.

(You aren't sure how long he's been rutting into you, but you're sure you'll be sore in places you didn't even know you could be sore by the time he's done.)

Osamu's lips latch onto yours and it contrasts the way he's fucking into you at first. His kiss is sloppy and open mouthed yet just as slow and calculated as always, but he's growing hungry as he reaches his own high.

He's desperate, more desperate for you than he's ever been for anything else in his entire life. It's pathetic, he thinks, but you taste so fucking good and the way you clench around his cock makes him think you want him to cum inside.

"Keep fuckin' grippin' me like that 'nd I'll have no choice but to cum inside, princess." Osamu groans into your lips, and you swear to god if he keeps hitting that extra raw and gummy spot inside you you'll have his fucking kids.

Your nails are digging into his shoulders, but he doesn't seem to care. "Never been fucked like this, have ya?" He smugly questions. You decide not to answer because no, you haven't been fucked like this but you don't think you'll ever want it any other way after you're done.

And then, in one swift motion, he pulls out and flips you on your stomach before pounding into from the back. With your face squished uncomfortably into the pillow and drool pooling from your swollen lips, his hand practically gripping your scalp as he pulls on your tussled hair, you don't think you'd have this night any other way.

Osamu's other calloused hand latches to your hip with a bruising grip, and suddenly his pace quickens and hardens and you're everywhere and nowhere all at once. He leans forward, a breath trailing up the deep arch of your back as he thrusts into you with no remorse. He's waited too long to hold back, and now that he's got you he doesn't think he's ready to let you go quite yet.

"Such a good fuckin' girl f'me," Osamu moans. If it weren't for him being so close to you, you might've missed it in such a fucked state.

A gasp leaves your lips, "All yours, 'samu!"

"Yeah, all mine," A vibration trails down your back, and you're hit with the realization that he is just as much yours as you are his in this painfully blissful moment when your moans sync up.

The room is stuffy and reeks of sex and neither of you would have it either way. "C'mon sweet girl, come with me?" Osamu asks deeply in your ear, and you bite your lip so hard you think you might taste metallic.

A loud moan, "Fuck- yes, Osamu, please!" You practically scream, pleas leaving your wet lips. He can't quite see the way your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues grinding so deeply into you, but he knows you look so fucking good from this angle.

"Inside, f-fuck, do it inside Osamu!" You gasp, and he doesn't sense even a tinge of regret in your demeanor once the words leave your pretty mouth, so that's exactly what he does.

Just as a deep groan leaves his mouth and his hot seed plants itself inside you, you're seeing galaxies as your reach your peak. That tightly knitted rope snaps in half and you're cumming all over his cock at the same time he coats your insides with his own white juices.

He pulls out and nearly collapses on you. Thankfully he doesn't rest his full weight on you, shifting slightly to the side so he can, not only rest his head on the pillow next to yours, but lean in to give you a gentle kiss.

You kiss him back, half-lidded and tired eyes slowly falling closed as you rest next to one another. A strong arm pulls you into him, and you wrap a leg around his own. Neither of you can ignore the way a lewd mix of each other's cum thickly drips down your thigh.

"Quick power nap, then another round. How 'bout it, sweetheart?" He asks, voice raspy and deep in your ear.

"You just fucked the life out of me, 'samu. Give it a minute," Your throat is raw, but your words come out clearly. He chuckles softly, lightly muttering a 'yes ma'am' into your ear.

You'll have to remind him to thank his dear brother for keeping it tight.

© AAJXS !

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ ADORE L'AMOUR

tw. noncon/dubcon, implied yandere, forced emotional cheating, virginity, service dom, coercion/manipulation, corruption kink, size kink, creampie, service dom! tsumu, degradation and praise wordcount. 5.5k

a/n. commissioned by a lovely person who wanted to stay anonymous, thank you so much for commissioning me and trusting me with your story, and i really really hope it delivers and you enjoy!!! this is kinda softer than my usual stuff but also still read the tws pretty please ♡♡♡ ya and ty and enJOYyy some tsumu

miya atsumu x fem!reader

“Come up, will ya?” he smiles, grabbing your hand and swinging the interlaced pair back and forth. You can’t help but have to bite back a tiny smile at the way his rougher hand links into yours, and butterflies still erupt any time his hazel eyes find you.

“Shin, I-” you sigh back, before quietly chuckling as he heaves you up onto the bleachers and tugs you along to slide in right next to the familiar face. Aran rolls his eyes, but you can tell that there’s too much fondness in his look to seriously mind the lovey-dovey shit— and really, you can’t help it.

Any girl your age would be expected to go all heart eyes when their boyfriend looks at them that way. “Happy now?” you ask as you’re pushed between Aran and the escape to the outside fresh air, void of all the sweaty teen musk and squeaking sneakers, and Shinsuke smiles ever so slightly at the sight.

“Yes, I am. Keep our long-suffering ace company for a bit while he patches up his ankle, won’t ya?” He’s already escaping down from the stands with the knowledge that you will, because if nothing else, you love watching the guys play. You’ve loved watching Shinsuke play ever since middle school, and Aran’s expression gives you the idea that he knows this too. Because he simply shrugs, and re-wraps the ice pack a little better around that wounded ankle.

“Aye aye, Captain,” you shoot back as he makes his way back to the court, and this time, he gives you that wonderfully cheeky smile that made you fall head-over-heels in the first place. “And you, you’re a third year. You’re supposed to be one of the responsible ones.” You give the tall ace to your side a side-eye as he laughs full and loud, and nods.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kita. It won’t happen again.” Practice continues for another half an hour in peace, as you joke around with your boyfriend’s best friend for a while, tossing the occasional stray ball back onto the court, but mainly, just watching the guys play. You didn’t use to have such a love for the sport. When you were a ball-girl back in middle school, you only did it because it was an easy extra grade on your report card, and kept you sort of busy during hours you wouldn’t have anything else to do.

But now, sometimes it seems as much your life blood as it is theirs. You probably wouldn’t have developed such a crush on the quiet, well-spoken boy with the fluffy tufts of hair that flopped about if you hadn’t kept with it, wouldn’t have dated him, wouldn’t have laid in the dark talking about what your life together might look like. Watched Shin grow into the person he is today.

You smile and wave as Shinsuke looks up at you yet again and throws back a wink, and a few of the guys follow his gaze. Familiar lazy gazes of differing shades of brown. But they stay quiet, for now, and the team captain claps his hands to call for a break. And the lankiest of your middle blockers groans and reaches for a bench too quickly, as everyone disperses. Aran makes his way down the stands for the toilet, Ginjima follows suit, and your boyfriend goes through the trouble to start collecting the balls with the same single-minded focus he always has while practicing. But before you can so much as manage to make it down the stairs to help him out, a familiar figure comes up beside you.

“Captain’s got it, I think,” Atsumu smiles as he comes to walk beside you, not the slightest bit winded despite having jogged up to you after an hour of intensive training— and blinks down at you with the self-assured grin you’ve come to expect of the star setter. “Yer still comin’ to our practices, huh?”

“Yes, Miya. Believe it or not, I actually like watching you guys play, ‘m not just here to waste time and gawk.”

“Whoa, doll,” the blond isn’t fazed, and simply throws up his hands in mock-defense, “I wouldn’t dare question the validity of yer visits. I mean, ya brighten up the place, really.” The comfortable way he swings an arm over your shoulder and leans in a little isn’t too far out of how he usually acts, and you do know that Atsumu’s pretty damn touchy with everyone. But his smile, and the way his eyes flick down your face with an almost grating intensity— will never stop feeling flirty- and therefore- inappropriate. Though you try to find something fitting to say, he’s already running his mouth again before you get the chance to.

“Would be even better if ya’d put on a shirt with my name on it and took some cheer classes,” he gloats, and the way he walks leaned into you keeps his face much too close to yours as you go to frown at him, “bet ya’d really suit the Inarizaki colors when you glare like that.” It sets you off, and he knows it does, because he’s dodging the way you go to swing at his arm with a chuckle before you get to, and catches your fist in his hand to squeeze it a little. “Hah, always so mean to me. Getting predictable, pretty girl.”

Your bottom lip is sucked to slot between your teeth, and you roll your eyes, shrugging off the other hand that he tried to ruffle through your hair. “You’re exhausting.”

“Sure is,” Shinsuke suddenly mumbles, tossing a ball at the setter that he manages to catch, before raising a brow. “That’s my girlfriend, Atsumu. If you would, please.”

“Ya got it, Cap’n. Of course,” he chants back with a sing-song-y voice, but his thumb still rubs another few circles into the soft skin of your hand before he goes to annoy Osamu and Suna instead. It sends a cold shiver down your spine, but he’s pulling away before you have the chance to really acknowledge the touch. And if Kita has any concerns about what he just saw, you sure as hell can’t tell, when he pulls you close and places a loving kiss between your brows. But you still have to force yourself to ignore the way Atsumu gives you a once over and -if you didn’t know the guy better than that- undresses you with his eyes.

+

Graduation should feel a little bittersweet, you guess. The party isn’t too wild, considering, but it’s still loud and a little over the top— so you confine yourself to the area further away from the pounding music and sip reasonably mild drinks while the rest of the team and their plus-ones take their best attempt at rattling Suna’s house off its’ foundations. It’s warm for a spring night, and sweat sticks to the back of your neck and chest from the earlier forced dancing you were pulled into. But now the pool table has been abandoned for the garden, and you take the few quiet moments to breathe.

Most of the guys will be moving on to professional level, a few of them to university, and another few have jobs lined up. Just last year, Shinsuke moved back out to the countryside, and Aran to Tokyo; and while you’ve all tried to keep up communications, distance really does play a big part in it. And now it’s all your turns… It’ll be safe to say you won’t see some of them again much in just a few quick months. The thought already fills you with a strange sort of nostalgia. You don’t get too much rest though, because a flash of blonde followed by an equally handsome, dark-haired copy filter back into the house. Atsumu brightens a little when he spots you, lazy eyes sharper and more calculating in the low light of the house. Of course he does, he seems to have a strange fascination with annoying you to bits.

“Well, pretty girl, ‘ve ya been abandoned by yer human defense robot?” His handsome face paints on a grin, with slightly rosy cheeks and ears, that almost makes him look a few years younger. Almost makes him look innocent. You know better though, and swallow down the want to give back some snarky comment that would surely have you in a battle of wits until someone puts a stop to it. And his twin… isn’t that person. You wonder how much he’s had to drink. Not that you’re doing much better, anyway. You can feel the buzz in your blood and the heat on your face.

Osamu’s hair is messy and fluffier than usual, probably courtesy of the girlfriend he brought and— with a quick glance around the room— has been left on her lonesome somewhere in the partying group outside. You pity her just a little bit, but it doesn’t exactly surprise you that the Miya twins aren’t the most consistent with their affections. The guys started having groupies all the way back in freshman year, and the years have only built upon that fame. The darker haired of the two puts a fist into Atsumu’s shoulder, before crossing his arms. “That’s our last Captain yer talkin’ about, stupid Tsumu. Show some respect.”

“Aw, Samu. I’m sorry, alright.”

You smile softly, and nod your head towards the door. “Not abandoned. He stepped out for a minute for a smoke,” you cut them off, knowing full well they could continue their bickering for hours if left to it. It’s not like you don’t like the twins. They’re obnoxious, and boisterous and hyper at the best of times, but they’re insanely talented too. You would like them, if not for— Atsumu feeling too comfortable hanging his arm over your shoulder to pull you in for a hug, heavy cologne mixed with a scent that is distinctly more him enveloping you as you freeze up. “Miya-”

“‘S gonna be weird without everyone ‘round, huh? I’ll miss ‘em,” he lowers his voice as he keeps your face into his chest, and simply out of a desire not to feel too awkward, you allow your arms to wrap loosely around his back. You give a little motion to be let out of the hug to nod, and smooth your hands down your pants.

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s a sort of glint in Atsumu’s eyes that seems like tenderness as he pats your shoulder, then smiles. “Well, a’least you’ll know me.” Your expression must give away your confusion, because he continues. “Yer goin’ to Tokyo uni, I’m goin’ to Tokyo to check out some of the teams there. It’ll be good. Don’t tell me yer just gonna ignore me when we’re gonna live so close together.”

You don’t think it over- Shinsuke must’ve told him. As the buzz washes over you and the music picks up outside, Atsumu’s large hands find your shoulders and he turns you around towards Osamu, who has already poured three large shots. “Oh, I don’t-”

“Come on~ for prosperity,” Osamu chants, his hand finding yours to unfurl it and place one of the large shot glasses in your hand. And Atsumu nods behind you, basically glittering from excitement. You’re normally a bit more -standoffish, by necessity- but the atmosphere of the night is light. And Tsumu’s hand on your lower back as he pushes you towards one of the chairs and sits you down is nice; even if you only realize a second or two after that he’s sat below you.

“Ya owe me a couple cheers at least,” Atsumu basically coos into your neck as he taps his own glass to yours. “‘Sides, I think Shin went ta go drop off some of the other guys, no need ta wait up for ‘em. Right Samu?”

“That’s what I heard, Tsumu.”

+

You don’t expect university to be the thing that breaks you, but the distance, the lack of communication, of support— all drag on you. You and Shin both promised to make it work, but he’s busy a lot. The farm keeps him occupied. At least- that’s what you have to assume when most of your messages get read and not answered. It isn’t like Shin, but then again, you suppose it’s a growing period. It’s natural.

More surprising than that is that through it all, Atsumu is there a lot more than you expected. The giant, prestigious sport center where he trains isn’t too far from your campus, but he still goes out of his way to swing by whenever he can to keep you company, which isn’t so self explanatory as you had hoped it would be. It’s not that you don’t make friends, or can’t make friends, it’s just that- after a few weeks- they just seem to vanish off of the face of the earth. Like they were never even there to begin with. You even catch some people purposefully avoiding you on campus as the year goes on.

But the workloads are heavy, and hard, so you sadly don’t have enough time in a day to worry about it as much as you would like to. You still have Atsumu, at least, and as much as you wouldn’t have wanted to admit it shy of a few months ago, his persistence about wanting to be by your side does slowly have you bending just a little.

“I swear it, cross ma little heart,” the blonde dramatically says while walking the grounds with you- on his free day- “am I not the best goddamn setter in the prefecture? What choice is there?” He runs a hand through his hair, then looks over at you to pout. “Make me feel better, c’mon.” Before you can really analyze the moment or how he looks at you with those warm brown eyes and too much fondness, his hand wraps around yours, slipping his fingers between yours with a strange determination.

You stop walking, and your school bag hits your thigh hard because of the abrupt stop. “Atsumu.” You’ve had this conversation with him about a million times. You are with Shinsuke. You have been with Shinsuke since middle school, and though dealing with the distance is hard right now, you promised to try. And he says he understands, and you’re making a big deal out of nothing— but it sure doesn’t seem like he does. “I am d-dating Sh-”

“Ya keep sayin’ yer dating, but where is yer boyfriend? Didn’t ya say he hasn’t been responding to yer messages?” Though he tries to keep his voice down, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and stares like he’ll burn holes through the shape of you. “Ain’t that proof enough?”

“I know Shinsuke, and you know Shinsuke. If he wanted to break up, he would say it.” You puff your chest out a little, and swallow, trying to untangle your hands from his grip. “He’s busy, and this is a transition period for us both, and I just- I want to make it work.” Atsumu seems to cling on for a second longer with a slight kink in his brow, but then he lets go and sighs, rubbing his hands back and forth through his lighter blonde hair with a groan.

“Fine— fine! If ya gotta hear ‘im say it…”

+

The irony tastes bitter. It stings with every swallow, really.

‘I think it’s not working out. I’m sorry. We should break up.’

You’re staring at the message for the nth time this evening, burying yourself in your cocoon of blankets and an almost empty back of chips yet again. You must’ve breathed it into existence, right? There’s no way around the timing of the message, and the sick way it churns in your stomach. You’re halfway towards another crying fit when Atsumu plops himself down onto your bed and grimaces. “Put that down,” he mumbles, snatching the phone out of your hand despite your glare, “you’ve been cryin’ all fucking evening. You really wanna do more of that?”

“I didn’t ask you to come over,” your voice is a murmur, pinched and sad and tiny, because who wouldn’t be heartbroken at a moment like this. “You just invited yourself in, which- hck- is the worst timing you’ve ever had.”

“But yer glad I’m here. I know ya are.” Whatever. Maybe you’re a little glad for the company, but Atsumu’s flavor of bluntness is really doing a number on you. Instead you reach for a tissue and blow your nose again, and try not to cry yourself to death. “He didn’t treat ya right anyway, don’t lie t’ yerself. Hey- look- look at me, c’mon,” his hands are on your face as he tugs it towards him and stares too deep into your eyes, brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones. “No more cryin’ about yer shitty high school crush. Not while I’m here, and I’m yer amazing, incredible support system that yer so very grateful for-” He breaks off in laughter when you have to bite a chuckle back despite your heartache, and try to pull your face out of his touch.

But he lingers, and leans in a little. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong, and I- I’m glad you’re here-” It isn’t a lie, but he’s still leaning in, and his face is growing awfully close and it’s- it’s too soon— and you shrink into your cocoon and look away in an attempt to save the situation. Shin broke up with you hours ago. “Atsumu-” you start, only to be cut off as he tugs the blankets down somewhat harshly, and clicks his tongue.

“Stop runnin’. Yer always doing this crap, I’m…” He sighs, and tries to coach you back out with thinly veiled patience. “Am I really so bad to ya? Hm?”

“Of course you’re not.”

He sits back, before patting his lap, and looks at you. In the last light of the sun that falls through your window he’s cast in the prettiest oranges and pinks, and looks almost ethereal to the world. You’re not blind. That was never in question. “Come here.” Despite being conflicted, there’s a glint in his eye that worries you. That if you were to disagree, he’d leave. And you’re not sure you could handle that right about now. As he leads you out of the blankets you notice how cold your room is in just a shirt and some ugly shorts, and Atsumu mumbles something under his breath. “Ya weren’t this shy at graduation, y’know.”

Your frown digs into your face, but his hands settle on your hips as he pulls you in and pushes you down into his lap with a soft hum. “What do you mean- graduation?”

“Just settle down, will ya? Jeez.” Warm hands that slide to the small of your back to force you ever so close to him, your heart basically stuttering out of your ribcage. “Always so damn skittish ‘round me.” You always wondered a little, truthfully. If the way Atsumu’s touches would linger on you was something to worry about, keep an eye on. If you should have been more careful about setting boundaries- and how he looks at you now, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he gives you an up and down… it says enough. Too much, even.

And though you admit that your heart is pattering like a hummingbird, there’s a much larger issue here. You love Shinsuke, you want- Shinsuke, p-promised you’d make it work for him— and it's barely been a few hours. You can’t, so you try to find the words to say; but the blond leans down to start pressing kisses down the side of your neck with a soft chuckle. His arms wrap tightly around your back, even though you place a hand on his chest and shake your head. “Tsumu, no. We can’t, I- can’t, let go.”

The noise he makes into the kisses trembles through your skin and seems to reach bone, before he squeezes a little harder to keep you slotted against him. “Yer so pretty, baby. Always were so fuckin’ pretty,” he goes from keeping you in his lap to slowly pushing you back in bed, sending your breathing into shallow spikes.

“Tsumu, cut it out!”

“I know yer nervous,” his pretty brown eyes are blown out when he pushes you down by your shoulders and you’re buried in your blankets, before he descends on your throat and chest again, kissing and leaving biting nicks, “didn’t do nothin’ like this before right? Know ya were waitin’- but I got ya now. Relax, I’ll make ya feel good. Promise.” The idea that Tsumu knows something so personal about you doesn’t even cross your mind— though it should, more than the way his weight and size locks you in place under his strong, athletic body.

“No, no, I- Shin just broke up with me- and I-”

His expression darkens, eyes narrowing a little as he comes to hover over you, one hand brushing your cheek as the other wraps tight around your wrist. “Don’t say another man’s name when I got ya under me.” He takes a long breath, before descending on you, mouth to mouth, and then pushing his tongue into your mouth too hard for you to keep him out. You try to call his name, but he kisses you without regard, uncaring as he grips your face and makes a noise of agreement when you relax your jaw out of sheer necessity. “Ya’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted ya, doll. Really, hah.”

His hand slides down your chest to start picking the shirt up your body, and though your rapidly rising and falling chest is exposed, his eyes stay sharp on you, and you can’t help but choke on your cries. He doesn’t look right. His eyes are wide and so sharp, mouth slightly curled as he forces your both wrists next to your head. “Thought I was gonna have ta kill ‘im for you ta finally give in, but-” He kisses you again, before the hand gripping your face snakes down between your bodies to grab your tits through your shirt as he repositions his thighs to lock your lower half in place under him. “Yer gonna be a good little thing for me, ain’t ya?”

“Tsumu,” you squeak, fisting your hands into his shirt by his shoulders, but it only makes him groan in response. “Let me go, I want-”

“You don’t know what ya want.” He takes a deep breath, before slipping his hands under the garment and brushing his thumb over your raised nipples, peeked from the cold air. “But I do. ‘N I’m gonna make ya beg for me so fuckin’ good.” He lets you go for a moment to take your shirt off with rough tugs, before staring again. “See, Samu said I should give it a rest. But how can I, when I knew you’d be the prettiest little virgin cunt ever? Hm?” He licks his lips, before leaning down to start kissing all over your tits, sucking and tugging at your nipples with noises that make you grow from the inside. A cold shiver rolls down your spine, and you find yourself pulling his hair despite yourself. Because it feels good, and heat pools low in your belly.

“Tell me ya want it. Tell me ya want me.” The fire that seems to glint behind his eyes takes you aback, and you try to scramble from under him, but he’s back over you before you get a chance to. Gripping your face and forcing you into another kiss, the taste of his tongue on yours, deep and heavy. “People here hate ya, don’t ya know that? Think yer a real bitch. That’s why no one wants to be yer friend.” He rests his forehead to yours, so that you’re basically breathing each other’s air, and hums. His free hand starts taking off the sweats he’s wearing in a smooth motion, leaving him hard in just boxers. “But I’ve been ‘ere for you.” Another kiss. “I’m good to ya, too.”

The room is so hot, and your brain completely thrown off with the mix of all emotions you’ve felt in these short few hours; and it has you all fucked up. Tsumu must know this, but he doesn’t care. And you take a few panted breaths, looking between your two bodies at the was your tits brush up against him each time you move— he’s so close. “So say you want it, or I’m leavin’.”

“I want it.” Your voice shakes as it comes out, eyes stinging, head floaty— it barely feels like you said anything at all. “I want you.” He takes that as all he needs before grinning, kissing your temple and shuffling off you to shove his boxers down his thighs, before grabbing himself by the base and stroking a few lazy pumps along himself.

“Here, kiss it,” he nods his head towards it, helping you up and then right back down so you’re on your hands and knees. You’re getting wet. Sadly, you didn’t exactly think to put on any nice panties, but Tsumu doesn’t care as he makes you lean in and down until you can rest your lips to his cock, and he makes another noise. “I know it’s kinda bad but- I’ve been wanting ta fuck yer face for years now. Put- yer tongue out.” The admission only makes you feel more hot and hazy, and you do as you’re told. “Ahh, mhm.” He tastes weird when he pushes the glossy head to your tongue, translucent precum coating your tongue, but he takes a few more pumps, then pushes you back over.

“But not now, I wanna fuck you first. Yer gonna let me fuck your tight, little cunt, right?” The plush in your face doesn’t hide the heat as it floods to your face, your belly, down your legs— and he manhandles your legs up to start peeling off your shorts and panties. You can feel the strings of slick as they connect your wet pussy and the fabric, and hide your face into your shoulder before he groans your name again. “Yer so fuckin’ wet, look atcha. Already a little cock tease, and I haven’t even done nothin’ yet.” Your hot, puffy pussy is revealed, and he swipes two fingers out to circle around the wet hole without hesitation, only pulling back to slot the digits in his mouth. He shrugs his shirt off and tosses it next to the bed, then comes to kiss you again.

“Ya taste that? That’s yer pussy gushin’ like a whore for me. Only me.” He kisses like he’s got something to prove, taking your mouth up until all you can think of is him, and the places where your skin seems to zap under his rough hands. Each touch leaving you more breathless than the next. And you’re forced to just nod along and abide, because you couldn’t ask for what you need if you tried. He plays with your tits while pushing first one prodding digit in, but soon pushes up with two. “Gotta- prep this little hole before I fill you up, right? That’d be the nice thing to do. Even though ya haven’t been very nice to me, babe.”

“‘m sorry- Tsumu-” you hold back a whimpering moan as he squeezes your tits hard and flicks your nipples, and his fingers slowly push into you. The wetness dripping down your slit and along your inner thighs is hot, and your body curves instinctively as he slowly slides in and out a few times, while the man above you chuckles.

“No, you ain’t, little minx.” His grin is still wide though, hiking your one leg higher to get a better look at the way your greedy pussy swallows up his long fingers and he fucks you open so easily. “S’okay tho, I forgive ya. ‘Cus I’m gonna get to fuck this pretty pussy first.” The slick sounds fill the room and sound so, so loud, and lewd, and yet, there’s still more noise coming from your throat as he goes deeper again and his thumb finds your puffy clit with a little hum. “Uhuh, that feel good? Look at you enjoying this. Didn’t you want me ta stop? Huh?”

“Hm,” you just answer, grabbing your own chest with one hand, his arm with the other. He’s so much bigger than you like this, so muscular and intimidating. You look between your bodies to watch his fingers bottom out, and though the stretch is a little uncomfortable, it’s mostly just really, really good, filling your head with fog. Tsumu’s thick cock twitches between his legs, and he leans in to kiss you again. This time pulling his hand back to slide it into your mouth instead, making you gag when his fingers hit the back of your throat. You taste heady, a little musky, and lick your lips for the thin thread of spit when he pulls back.

“Alright, say thank you, Tsumu.”

“-thank you, Tsum-” you parrot, and also freeze under him when he goes to reposition himself and his cock head pushes at your sloppy, wet slit. “Wait- condom-”

“Shhh, just relax. If you freak out it’ll hurt ya.” He places one elbow next to your head, and lines himself up better, before starting to push into you already, and your leg jerks. He’s really big. Too big, you think, trying to take a deep breath as he starts breaking open your slick walls and slowly moving back and forth through it. “Aghh, that’s- it, that’s it, thatsithatsit-” He moans loudly, pushing your cheek up and kissing you back long and deep, tongues messily tangling and tasting each other, bumping noses as he fucks in, and in, and in. It pulls every thought out of you, every fiber filled with electricity. The tightness is painful, but you don’t want him to pull back, and judging by the way he groans into your mouth, he won’t anyway.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m fucking my tiny virgin cunt with a condom,” he pants when pulling back, eyes blown wide. His hand pushes your knee up more to stare at where you’re connected, before pulling back halfway and fucking back in, and the pressure on your womb and belly is enough to have you whining out so loud it barely sounds human. “That good, huh?” He bottoms out again, feels so fucking deep inside you that you can feel him high up in yourself bumping against your walls, and it feels so good, so, so good your toes curl and your knees lock around him.

“Fuck,” you can just barely gasp, before he pumps into you again, and starts really grinding himself into you. Slick drips out of you with each thrust, and makes the bed rattle under his weight. His hair sticks matt to his forehead, his lip pulled between his teeth, and the wet slapping of his hips meeting your skin is so distracting. Everything aches. Everything feels so good. You can barely even feel the sting anymore, jerking on his cock like you are. “Tsumu, I-”

“Gon’ have ta wait, princess,” he suddenly chokes, “yer clamping down on me like crazy— fuck.” He lifts one knee to push your legs open more, and then just shakes his head as he starts speeding up. “Oh, fuck it, gonna fill you up first. So fuckin’ tight, god, fuck-” The heavy thrusts go more sloppy, rapid as he chases his own orgasm and squeezes your thigh hard, yanking your teary cheeks back towards him as you pant to slide a finger between your lips and dropping a glob of his own spit into your mouth like it’s normal. Groaning into your mouth, and fucking his fat cock so deep into you you see stars. “One experience at a time, right?”

“Ah, Tsumu- p-please, fuck-me more, more, touch- more.” Your head rolls back as he pulls your hips back into him again and again, before suddenly locking up, and feeling how hot ropes of cum fill you up and he pants out your name in between a string of swears that all melt into a long growled moan as he stills. Only for a second though, because he’s quick to pull out and roll you back so that your knees are by your head, and he’s on top of you. He strokes his cock a few times, watching the last of the strings of thick cum land between your thighs. “Tsumu-” you pant, and take a breath, and pout- all at once. Because he stares at the way his cum comes out of your sloppy hole, before pushing it back inside. “Ughn-”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’m not done. Not even close.” He spits onto his hand before bringing two fingers back to your pussy, and his thumb over your needy, puffy bud. And you jerk, blinks stuttering as you moan high and needy. Can’t help it. “Yer gonna wish I was done with ya long before I let ya out of this bed. I’m not done playing with my pussy.”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

the garden

anthony bridgerton x female reader

The ballroom glittered with candlelight and the murmur of polite conversation filled the air. Y/N moved through the crowd with grace, a vision in her deep purple gown. Tonight's ball was one of the grandest of the season, hosted by the Bridgertons themselves, and every eligible lady and gentleman of the ton was in attendance. The eldest Bridgerton, Anthony, had a reputation that preceded him a rake through and through, with a notorious string of mistresses, the latest being the opera singer, Sienna Rosso.

Anthony Bridgerton stood near the entrance, greeting guests with practiced charm. As he glanced across the room, his eyes landed on Y/N. She walked in with an air of confidence, her gown a striking shade of deep purple that accentuated her every feature. His heart skipped a beat, an unusual reaction for a man known for his composure.

He found himself wondering what she might smell like tonight. Lilacs, perhaps, he mused. It seemed to suit her, a delicate yet captivating fragrance. As she moved through the crowd, her eyes caught his, and he felt a strange pull, as if the room had suddenly become smaller and she was the only one in it.

Y/N found herself in the company of her friends, who were eagerly discussing the night's prospects. Despite the glittering environment and charming faces, Y/N’s thoughts were clouded. She had seen Anthony Bridgerton earlier in the evening, his eyes lingering a bit too long on several ladies. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her a few nights ago, and she had followed him, only to see him disappearing into a house that was clearly not his own. The scandalous whispers about Sienna Rosso had turned out to be true, and it only solidified Y/N's opinion of him as a rake.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Anthony Bridgerton appeared at her side, bowing with impeccable manners. "Miss Y/N," he greeted, his eyes warm but guarded.

"Lord Bridgerton," she replied coolly, offering him the barest of curtsies.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance?" he asked, his tone smooth.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Of course."

As they moved to the dance floor and began to waltz, Anthony’s grip was firm but not overbearing. "I believe we have not had the pleasure of a conversation before tonight, Miss Y/N."

"That is correct," she said, her eyes not meeting his. "Though one hears enough in the drawing rooms of the ton."

Anthony raised an eyebrow, clearly catching her meaning. "One must not believe everything one hears," he said lightly, though his eyes sharpened.

"Indeed," Y/N replied, not bothering to mask her sarcasm.

The dance passed with strained civility, and when it ended, they parted with polite nods. But throughout the evening, Y/N found her gaze drifting towards Anthony, and more often than not, he was watching her too. She told herself it was merely curiosity.

The weeks that followed were filled with similar encounters. They argued over trivial matters at every gathering, each encounter leaving Y/N more convinced of Anthony’s rakish nature and Anthony more intrigued by the spirited woman who seemed immune to his charms.

One evening, Y/N was standing alone on the terrace, enjoying a moment of solitude, when she heard footsteps. She turned to see Anthony approaching. "Miss Y/N," he said, his voice softer than usual.

"Lord Bridgerton," she acknowledged, her tone guarded.

"Why do you despise me so?" he asked bluntly, stepping closer.

Y/N’s eyes flashed. "You think very highly of yourself if you believe I spend my time despising you, my lord."

Anthony’s mouth twitched. "I think you are avoiding the question."

Y/N took a deep breath. "I saw you. With Sienna Rosso. Late at night."

Anthony’s expression hardened. "You were following me?"

"Purely by chance," she lied. "And what I saw only confirmed what I had heard."

"Perhaps you did not see the entire story," he said, his voice tight. "Sienna and I are no longer... involved."

"Oh, how convenient," she said, turning away.

Anthony stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at him. "Believe what you will, Miss Y/N. But I assure you, I am not the man you think I am."

She wanted to argue, but the intensity in his eyes made her pause. Before she could find her words, she turned and fled into the garden, needing space to clear her tumultuous thoughts.

The night air was cool and the garden was quiet, a stark contrast to the noisy ballroom. She wandered deeper into the maze of hedges and flowers, her anger and confusion bubbling to the surface. When she heard footsteps behind her, she spun around, ready to berate whoever had followed her.

Anthony stood there, breathing heavily as if he had run. "Y/N," he said, his voice raw. "Please, listen to me."

She shook her head, tears of frustration prickling her eyes. "Why do you care what I think?"

"Because I care about you," he said, stepping closer. "More than I can explain."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then, driven by a force neither of them could control, Anthony closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was fueled by weeks of frustration, misunderstandings, and an undeniable attraction. Y/N’s hands found their way to his shoulders, and she kissed him back with equal fervor.

The world seemed to fall away as they lost themselves in each other. Anthony’s hands were in her hair, pulling her closer, and Y/N felt a fire ignite within her. They stumbled backwards until Y/N’s back hit a tree, and Anthony’s lips moved to her neck, trailing kisses that made her shiver.

Their breathing was heavy, and for a moment, they simply held each other, the intensity of their emotions leaving them both stunned. Anthony pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough. "I want you to know, I am serious about you. I want more than just this."

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked into his eyes, seeing sincerity and vulnerability that she had never expected. "I... I believe you," she whispered back, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He kissed her again, softer this time, and she felt herself melt into him. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s arms under the starlit sky, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

The garden became their refuge, a place where arguments turned to understanding, and dislike blossomed into a love neither had anticipated. And when they returned to the ballroom, hand in hand, it was clear to everyone that Anthony Bridgerton had finally met his match.

As they made their way through the crowd, Anthony pulled Y/N close and whispered in her ear, "We need to talk to my mother."

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. They found Violet Bridgerton near the refreshment table, her eyes lighting up as she saw them together.

"Mother," Anthony began, his voice steady. "I have an announcement to make."

Violet turned, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight of her son and Y/N together. "Anthony, what is it?"

Anthony squeezed Y/N’s hand and looked at his mother with a proud smile. "Miss Y/N has agreed to become my wife. We are engaged."

For a moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Then Violet’s face broke into a delighted smile, and she embraced them both. "Oh, Anthony! Y/N! This is wonderful news! I am so thrilled for you both."

The room erupted in applause as word of their engagement spread. Friends and family came forward to offer their congratulations, and Y/N felt overwhelmed by the warmth and acceptance she received from the Bridgerton family.

As the night wore on, Anthony and Y/N found themselves alone again, standing at the edge of the ballroom. He looked at her with a mixture of love and amazement. "I never thought I would find someone like you, Y/N. You have changed my life in ways I cannot even begin to describe."

She smiled, her heart full. "And you have changed mine, Anthony. I cannot wait to start our life together."

After the party, they went to Bridgerton House to formally announce their engagement to the rest of the family. The Bridgertons welcomed Y/N with open arms, and the house was filled with laughter and joy as they celebrated the upcoming union.

Violet took Y/N aside at one point, her eyes shining with happiness. "You are going to make a wonderful addition to this family, Y/N. I can see how much you and Anthony love each other, and I am so happy for you both."

Y/N felt tears of gratitude prick her eyes as she hugged Violet. "Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. Your support means the world to me."

As the night drew to a close, Anthony and Y/N found a quiet moment together, looking out over the grounds of Bridgerton House. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "This is just the beginning, Y/N. We have a lifetime of adventures ahead of us."

She leaned into him, feeling a profound sense of peace and contentment. "I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else, Anthony."

With the moonlight casting a gentle glow over them, they stood together, knowing that they had found something truly special. Their journey had been unexpected and filled with challenges, but it had led them to a love

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 28

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

As you come outside, your mom sits on the deck, under the umbrella with a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. You can hardly tell if she’s awake. You hug yourself as you come into the summer light and look around. There’s a bottle of sun lotion on the railing of the deck. 

You cross the wooden planks and grab the bottle. As you pop the cap, your mom mutters. You turn as you squirt some into your hand. You look at her. 

“Do you need some?” You ask. 

“What in the lord’s name are you wearing?” She snarls. 

“Um,” you look down, once more shocked by the sight of your own body. “A swim suit. I... I’ll put a shirt on.” 

“Hey, Hol,” Steve comes out in a pair of lilac coloured trunks, “what do you think? Got the kiddo a swimsuit so she can enjoy the pool.” 

“Oh, you did?” Your mom hums as she leans her face in her hand, “how nice.” 

“Too bad you can’t join us,” Steve approaches and stops between you and your mom’s chair. “Got myself some new shorts.” 

He turns to her as you’re left watching his back. His muscle is thick and you can see it tense with his movement. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, his arms burly too. Age has only seemed to add to his strong form. 

“Those are nice,” your mom says without much conviction, “I got a suit somewhere but... the water makes me sick. It’s these damn meds.” 

“Yeah, but they keep you going,” Steve nears her and bends to kiss her forehead. “You can be our lifeguard, how about that? Been a while since I’ve been in the deep end.” 

“You’re so...” she pauses and measures her words, “silly.” 

“It’s a nice day,” he booms, “did you try the smoothie? I put some vitamin C in it, too. Should help you feel a bit better. Oh, kiddo,” he claps and turns to face you, “did you want a smoothie? I got fresh raspberries.” 

“Erm, no thanks, I’m good,” you affirm and back away, focusing on spreading the lotion up your arms. 

“Towels are down on the chairs,” he says, “Holly Berry,” he gives your mom a strange nickname, “you sure you don’t wanna move closer?” 

“I needa stay in the shade,” she fans herself and reaches for the bright orange smoothie, “that damn inhaler. I told the doctor take me off it--” 

“Now, he’s just doing his job--” 

“I know. Don’t gotta keep saying so,” she slams the cup down and you glance over as her hand shakes violently. She’s worked up. She sits back as she tries to still herself, only for the tremor to quake through her. 

“Right, well, chill out,” Steve shrugs and backs off, “we’ll go cool off in the water.” 

He turns to face you and nears, “can I get some of that?” 

You offer him the bottle then work at smearing the lotion along your collar bone and around the top of the suit. You bring your hands to your tummy, rubbing the oiliness into your skin as Steve takes the lotion. You notice his eyes linger on you for a moment. 

“Come on, gotta check the temperature,” he waves you down the steps. 

You follow as you continue to work the lotion into your skin. You still need to get your legs and face. You continue across the lawn to the pool and Steve dollops a health heap of lotion into one hand before giving back the bottle. He slaps his hand against his chest and rubs in the sunscreen, his fingertips pressing into his muscles as he works down to his softer tummy. 

You bend to your legs. You would’ve rather a one-piece just so you wouldn’t have to use as much. As you put a light layer on your face, Steve grabs the bottle from where you left it on the lounger.  

“Here, turn around,” he squirts out the lotion into his palm. “I’ll get your back, you get mine.” 

You can’t argue. Besides, you can barely look at him. You’d rather stare at the fence. 

You turn and drop your arms. He puts his hands over your shoulders, jolting you, kneading harder than you expect. You feel his breath fan over the back of your head and he traces his thumbs around your shoulder blade, catching on the tail of the tie behind your neck. For a moment, you think he might pull it free. 

He spreads his hands, dragging them down, working in the lotion around your hips and sides, sending shivers through you. A trickle of sweat rolls down your spine and you draw away. His fingertips trail along your lower back wistfully.  

“Here,” he snatches up the lotion and hands it to you, smiling. You nod and take it. 

He turns his back to you and you gulp. Oof. You don’t know what’s worse. Being touched or touching him. It all seems so... strange even if it’s completely innocent. You’re just helping him. He does have a lot of back. 

You squeeze out the cream and rub it between your hands, hovering them before his back before you make yourself touch him. You swipe your hands up and down and side to side, working around the lotion to full cover his back. He groans and twitches as you come along the back of his ribs. 

“Careful,” he turns his head to speak over his shoulder, “old college injury. Don’t think it ever really healed.” 

“Oh,” you ease up, “sorry.” 

“Nah, you can’t hurt me, sweetie,” he insists and leans into your touch. 

You finish up and retract, trying to absorb what’s left into your palms. The greasy sensation irritates you. He turns as you reach to fix the tie behind your neck, making sure it’s tight as it feels like the suit is slipping. He blinks and his eyes flick up and down. 

“Well, are you gonna dive in?” He asks. 

“Erm, uh, I can just use the ladder,” you say as you tiptoe around him to the edge. You look down into the crystalline water, “it looks cold.” 

“Got the heater going,” he says, “shouldn’t be too bad.” 

He stands beside you and extends his leg to dip a toe into it, “not bad at all.” 

“Mm, maybe in a few minutes,” you cross your arms again, “I’m not a great swimmer.” 

“Well, I can keep an eye on you,” he reaches to tickle along your upper arm, goose dumps rising across your skin. 

“Sure, uh,” you edge away from him and run your fingers along where he touched. His hands are always on you. At least that’s how it seems to you. “Just... gotta build up my nerve.” 

“Mm,” he backs up, “sure, well, there’s the diving board and... I guess you could just sunbathe.” 

“Yeah, mayb--” 

Before you can finish, you’re scooped off your feet. You cry out as Steve lifts you up and launches himself into the pool. He keeps you in his arms as he splashes into the water and you flail wildly. You’re swallowed up as the chlorine floods your mouth and nostrils and you choke beneath the surface. 

You writhe against him, his thick arms around you, and try to free yourself. The knot at the front of your bikini catches your pinkie and you struggle to untangle both your hand and your body at once. You finally come up above the water and gasp as Steve follows, laughing as he keeps his embrace loosely around you. 

“Sometimes you just need the extra push,” he beams, “isn’t it refreshing?” 

You push the water away from your face and cough. As you do, he goes quiet and you spit up behind your hand. You can only taste the chlorinated water as you hack. You look up at him as his hands slowly creep up your sides. His blue eyes are fixated on you but not on your face. 

You look down at your chest, the knot on the front of the suit barely clinging together as you spill out from the fabric. The top merely acts to frame your nudity and you sputter as you try to cover yourself and his hands continue to ascend. You back away from his grasp and turn away. 

“Sweetie, it’s fine, all good,” he assures you. 

“Why would you do that?” You sniffle. 

“It was only some fun. I didn’t know... I’m sorry. I didn’t know the suit didn’t fit right.” 

“It’s not the suit,” you stretch the wet fabric across your tits as best you can, keeping your back to him. “I said... I told you... I wanted to wait.” 

“Ah come on, what good is having a pool if you don’t go in it?” 

“It’s your pool,” you snap, your cheek on fire as the rest of you buzzes. You wade through the water with effort. “I never asked for it.” 

“Now sweetie, don’t be like that.” 

“Please,” you pull yourself up the later, the water slaking off you and threatening to drag down the top once more, “leave me alone.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, hooking your hands over your shoulders, and rush away from the pool. You glance up at your mother as you pass the deck, hooking around to the gate instead. She doesn’t react as her head lolls over the back of the chair and her feet are splayed wide. You should get her inside but you can’t stop. You’re too humiliated. 

You race through the gate, not bothering to close it behind you. You clammer around into your mother’s yard and storm up the steps, crashing through the front door. The tears spring the moment you break the threshold as it sets in. You can’t believe that happened. You can’t believe he saw it. You just... can’t.