#they always get there eventually but there's always a push and pull with them i think. they have to learn to really live together

[wxwrites]

she wants me

(sevika x fem!reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns for reader, praise, fingering, cunnilingus, softdom!sevika, sub!reader, bottom!reader, exhibitionism? not beta/proof read!) men, minors dni

your painfully annoying ex-boyfriend shows up to cause problems. sevika shows him exactly what he lost.

Your ex was persistent. Like… persistent– to the point of it being utterly overbearing. Your shabby apartment was no longer a safe place to stay at, as he would randomly show up at any and all odd hours he could find. Thus, one of your closest friends, Sevika, has offered you temporary relief in her own home.

Your friendship began almost three years ago when you began serving at The Last Drop, her attention was immediately drawn to how disgustingly nice you were. While she brushed off your kind words and attempts at friendship initially, she grew fond of you over time.

Presently, It’s been almost two months since you and your ex-boyfriend broke up. The man was absolutely obsessed with you. He was a manipulative, ugly, greedy little sump-rat who refused to leave you alone. While Sevika had no issues with putting him into the ground for his constant awful behavior, you and your tender heart continued to tell her off. 

In an attempt to pull you out of your own festering anxieties, Sevika drags you out to The Last Drop, trying to brighten your mood from the traumatic relationship. 

Now, you’re sitting next to her as she deals out the stack of playing cards to the men at the circular table. You’re dressed in some torn tights, small shorts, a cropped vest with a tattered t-shirt beneath it, accompanied by chunky boots. One leg is crossed over the other as you silently nurse your drink, peeking over at Sevika’s cards. You had never been someone who enjoys cards much, and playing against Sevika would’ve been a losing game anyway. 

There are never really any good nights in Zaun, there’s always the underlying anxiety of ‘maybe today is the day we all get raided and killed.’ So, tonight is going just about as well as it could, realistically. Sevika is winning (as per usual) and you feel slightly at peace, grateful for the fact that she had drawn you out of your blanket-filled cocoon inside of her house. 

Another deck is shuffled out, more shots are thrown back, and you finally feel a little less tense. Not drunk– it was never something you particularly enjoyed, but it was enough for you to drop your shoulders from your ears and slump back against the booth. 

“My little good luck charm, hm?” She mumbles, smirking at you as she rifles through the coins that were begrudgingly slid over to her. You roll your eyes playfully in retaliation, smiling softly and finishing off the last little bit of your drink.

She leans down to press her full lips to your neck, grinning as you gasp. She keeps her strong arm around you as she places a few more chaste kisses, finalizing her ministrations with a sharp nip to the edge of your jaw. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.

You move your eyes from her, to the table, and then to the crowd, absorbing the scene of Zaun’s nightlife growing. In the group of bodies dancing and bustling you spot the very last thing you wanted to see: Your ex-boyfriend. Staring directly at you. 

“Sev,” you gasp quietly, which immediately snatches her attention. She looks at you first, then follows your gaze over to the crowd– immediately landing on him. Her face twists into a deep snarl as she catches his gaze.

She slams her cards down and abruptly stands up, “Everyone, out!” she growls. In return, several patrons immediately scurry out, and the rest sit in fear. “I said go, now!” she adds, which eventually forces the rest of them out. 

Quick minutes pass by and you’re left stuck in the bar with Sevika and your ex. “Sevika, can we please just leave,” you huff out, standing up next to her. 

“Sit your ass back down,” she hisses, pushing your shoulder gently. Rather than arguing with her as you normally would, you concede this time. You huff out annoyedly before plopping back down, knocking your boot against the base of the table.

She steps over you, placing a large hand on the back of your head as she does so— a fleeting, comforting touch. “Sev, seriously,” you repeat irritably, reaching for the tail of her cloak. She swats your hand away before silently moving forward, slowly treading towards the man in the center of the room. 

“What do you want?” She snaps, crossing her arms over her chest as she stops in front of him. She stands over him, forcing him to crane his head up if he wants a half decent look at her.

Puffing his chest out, he responds with a short, “I just wanna talk to her,” and nods towards you. Irritation flares in your chest at his words and Sevika scoffs bitterly. “She doesn’t wanna talk. You dense?” she mocks back, sending you a brief glance.

“I think we should just go,” you say, attempting to dismiss the situation before it gets out of hand. She raises a hand at you, a silent gesture to stop talking before you make her mood even worse. 

You quickly snap your jaw shut, huffing in defeat as she reverts her attention back to the fuming man less than fifteen from you. The very same man who nearly ruined your life for two, excruciatingly long years. You clench your jaw and train your gaze on the seemingly very interesting scotch glass in front of you.

You drum your nails against the table anxiously, overhearing a “fuck you, she’s a stupid sleazy whore anyway,” from the skrunkly-faced man. This causes her to seethe, and you barely register the movement before her metal claws are wrapped tightly around his throat.

“She’s a what?” She questions nastily, pulling him in. “She’s nothing but a piece of ass,” he tacks on, attempting to keep up the tough bravado he is rapidly losing. As her grip tightens, he attempts to stammer out an apology but all she does is shake her head and pout mockingly at him.

The words settle harshly in your chest, causing you to shift in the booth uncomfortably. 

She flings his body to the ground, stepping on his back to keep his body pressed into hard flooring. She crouches down unevenly and leans in next to his ear, “you’re better off keeping your mouth shut for the rest of the night.” She hisses, lifting her foot off of him.

And the poor, unbelievably stupid man opens his mouth again. “I’m surprised you still keep her around. She’s grown boring— dry.” He spits out venomously.

You snap your head over towards them, feeling the shame morph into a different form of anger. You watch Sevika narrow her eyes at him before she scoffs bitterly and raises her foot up again. This time, her foot meets his jaw, and you hear a crack, and the yelp he lets out.

She straightens herself back up and rolls out her neck and shoulders, smirking down at his tattered form. She turns back towards your startled and half-ass trembling form, and her face softens into something more tender. 

The man attempts to push himself back up, but she quickly turns around and swipes his hands from beneath him, causing him to crash back into the ground.

“Stay the fuck down.” She says, punctuating her sentence with another jab to his ribs. He shakes beneath her cruel eyes, giving her a sheepish nod.

You really shouldn’t feel the familiar heat pool between your legs while you watch her, but it’s so hard when she just looks so fucking good. All big muscles, broad shoulders, scarred and tanned skin. She’s like a walking goddess— one you would dutifully worship if given the chance to.

She walks back towards you and reaches over to grab the still half-full glass of hers on the table. She knocks it back quickly and clears her throat after, finally looking back down at you.

“You okay, baby?” She inquires sweetly, tilting your chin up with the side of her index finger. 

You nod in response, still shocked into silence as you watched the scene unfold.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” She asks you, stroking her thumb over the bridge of your nose, and then over your cheekbone. You look away shamefully, knowing that you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the guilty pit that forms in your stomach.

“Oh, pretty girl— you truly don’t see how wrong he is?” She asks, giving you a sympathetic look.

“No, I— it’s not that,” you attempt to stammer out, but it’s hard when she’s looking down at you, almost predatorily. 

She picks up on your growing arousal— the flushed skin and barely dampened hairline. “Would you stand up for me, sweet thing?” She requests, tugging on the collar of your shirt gently. 

You nod immediately and stand up at her request, wrapping your fingers around her fleshed forearm. She guides you out of the seat of the booth and stops you in front of her.

You can see him writhing in pain, occasionally groaning, but he is far too scared to attempt to actually get up. 

“You know, I do remember the little imbecile calling you boring and dry. But something is telling me that his claim is very wrong.” She states, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip as she licks over her own.

“I think that the sump-rat just doesn’t know how to take care of a girl properly,” she says, staring him down as she slides her fleshy hand from your jaw, down to the collar of your shirt again.

“It's such a shame too, y’know? He had such a beautiful little thing to cherish, touch… all of it. Couldn’t even manage to do that, huh?” She coos, trailing her metal claws up the back of your thigh, feeling it snag against your tights. 

You gasp as she purposefully drags her hand up, effectively tearing them. “Sevika—” you stutter, but you’re quickly cut off as her thick lips press against yours. 

“Mmpf—” you moan, eyes widening in shock. Once you adjust to the feeling, you close your eyes and  grip onto her biceps firmly, rolling your hips into hers.

She nips roughly at your bottom lip, skating her hand up to grab a handful of your ass as she walks the both of you backwards. You make a confused noise but follow her regardless, making sweet little noises against her hot mouth. 

You whimper as she turns you over and presses your chest onto the hardwood table, giving him a perfect view of both of you.

“What—” you make a confused sound, but the question is answered when her hands begin to work on the buckle of your studded belt. She leans forward and you feel as her breasts press into your back, “This okay?” She asks, stilling her hands on your hips as she waits for a response.

You nod eagerly, bracing yourself up on your forearms. “Yeah, I’m good,” you reply, taking a second to catch your breath. 

“Yeah, you feelin’ good?” she teases, pressing her lips to your neck roughly. She suckles harshly on your skin before nipping at it, sliding one of her hands beneath the waistband of your shorts. 

She teases her fingers over your clit teasingly, rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves. Your mouth drops open as you moan, grateful as you’re finally able to get some relief.

“Yeah, that’s it. Make those pretty little sounds for me,” she demands from over your shoulder, sinking her teeth into the side of your neck. The action forces you to cry out and grind yourself against her hand. 

Your attention is caught by your ex-boyfriend, still battered and bruised on the ground. He growls and spits out a protest as he watches the debauchery play out.

“Did he ever make you feel like this?” She asks, pulling her hand away from your clit so that she can shove your shorts down to your mid-thigh. 

“Answer me, baby,” she says lowly, giving you a light spank to your ass. “No, no, he didn’t,” you stammer out, gasping as you feel her metal claws dig into the meat of your ass.

“That’s right, isn’t it? But here you are, all soaked through your tights and panties.” She murmurs, moving both hands to the center of the sheen fabric. 

“I really hope you don’t like these,” she comments. And before you can protest— she tears the fabric apart, causing you to gasp and shiver simultaneously. 

Her fingers hook into the side of your panties as she yanks those down as well, rolling all of the fabric to your thighs. “Well aren’t you pretty,” she says, sliding her fingers through your folds again. You flush in embarrassment as she practically devours you with her eyes. 

“Oh, fuck— Sevika,” you whimper, clawing at the edge of the table. “This all for me?” She asks smugly, rubbing her fingers against your sensitive bud again. 

“Mhm– ahh,” you moan loudly, trying to gain more friction against her hand.

She slides a thick finger into you, grinning wolfishly as you release a wanton whine. She curls her fingers, slowly pushing them in and out of you. Her fingertips brush against the overly-sensitive and gummy walls inside of you. You nearly choke on your own voice as it feels like a live-wire is shooting through you.

“You had all of this ass and a sweet pussy to play with. But you wanted to act like a selfish, bigoted little rat and lose it all, didn’t you?” She mocks him, narrowing her eyes at him as her fingers work inside of you. 

It’s painful for him, honestly. To watch one of the most beautiful women to ever grace Zaun’s presence get laid out by her best friend over a table. It’s humiliating for him, but exhilarating for the both of you.

"Isn't she pretty?" She asks, gently raking her claws through your hair.

"Tell her she's pretty." She commands, sneering at him as he stutters.

"Yes, she's— she's pretty," he stutters, averting his gaze back to the floor.

You finally get your revenge, and she finally gets to do the things she has spent the past few years dreaming about. 

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my fingers, c’mon, doll," she mumbles, sliding a second finger into you. Her mechanical hand presses into your lower back as she presses her fingers into you faster– harder. 

You moan and writhe against the table, doing exactly as she says. The wet sounds coming from between your soft thighs are unfamiliar, something you have so rarely experienced. (Much less from anyone else.)

“F-Fuck, fuck, Sevika,” you cry out, throwing your ass back against her large hand. She licks over her bottom lip as she watches you hungrily. She kicks your legs apart, pushing her fingers further inside of you. 

“She ever sound like this for you?” She sneers at him, chuckling darkly at the scowl that etches onto his face.

She pulls her fingers out of you and murmurs soft apologies at your incessant whining. “One second, sweet girl,” she says, slowly lowering herself onto her knees. 

She kisses along your ass cheeks and the backs of your thighs on her way down, wrapping her hands around the fronts of your thighs. She pulls you back onto her warm, eager mouth and moans once she gets her tongue on you. 

She laps at you feverishly, digging her nails into your thighs as she holds you against her firmly. With your back arched and cheeked smushed against the table, you become the spitting image of arousal and lust.

She wraps her thick lips around your clit and sucks harshly, determined to bring you over the edge with her mouth. 

Her moans vibrate against you and heighten the already intense pleasure. “Mmf— I’m gonna, ha,” you gasp. You feel her nod against you, a silent encouragement. 

You nearly scream out in pleasure as your vision blanks out and a white heat surges from between your legs, and up your body. Quiet sobs wrack through you as the orgasm washes over you, wave after wave, and your thighs begin to tremble. 

You reach back with a weak hand to push her away from you, continuing to suck in shaky breaths.

“‘Vika, please,” you beg, and she finally lets up. She presses a final sloppy kiss to your pussy and then back up your thighs.

She wraps an arm around your front and hauls you back, holding you against her. With you almost all the way up, she tilts your head towards her with her tanned hand and presses a wet kiss to your mouth. 

Her metal arm holds you up as she gently pries your mouth open with her tongue, shoving your slick into your mouth. You moan at the taste and the feeling, reaching back to tangle your fingers through her hair. 

She pulls away and looks back at him, “I hope you learned something from this. Now get the fuck out,” she snaps meanly, keeping your face in place. 

The trembling man scrambles up and ushers out of the bar, leaving the two of you in a long-awaited peace.

“You feeling alright?” she asks, gently thumbing over one of your nipples. You nod tiredly, “yeah, ‘m okay,” you mumble, biting your bottom lip softly. 

“Good, because you’re not sleeping tonight,” she replies, pressing another firm kiss to your lips.

tag list: @gracie-gloom @aurora-basin @abby-anderson-wifey @arcanestanmelvika @demonslayerfansstuff @mingitheii @helaenabugmom @wh1msyk1tten @happysmappy @lavender248 @clownesquekitten @iwillpokeyouwithmyknife @sevikas-whore @sevikasrightboob @therapyneeds @angelcorner @ghutzz4gutz @theflyingforklift @megamultifandomtrashposts @willow-nox @ugly-melon @goblin-creatcher @sevikas-baby @littlerebels @athena-winters13 @danityrell @heavenlyraindrops @eclipcee8 @depressedqueersocialists @thehotsweetie @trainboom @sapphicslearninglair @femininefables @sophhic

[beuxwhoyouare]

Dressing Room Score

All the couples wanted the day off for Valentine’s Day but I took those shifts so quickly because hello it’s free money! I took the apparel section because it’s the easiest place to get a peak at the dressing rooms. I’m not a perv I swear, but I can’t help myself. I always kept one vital of bodysuit serum on me. All the eye candy going into the dressing rooms was like a buffet of options. Men, women, pets! Shit I don’t discriminate I love trying on another persons experience to see how they live.

We were getting a weird crowd today since all the couples were out and about. The store was filled with miscellaneous randos so I went through most of my day thinking I struck out. As I locked in refolding some destroyed sections of t-shirts, a customer came up to me asking for help locating more of a certain item I absent mindedly answered looking at what was in his hand before looking up. My words stopping in their tracks as I saw his face.

He was so adorable and dorky looking in his face but the outfit he already had on told a different story. Leaving little to the imagination, it inferred he was going on a date or going out but I didn’t want to inquire too much. I like my mouth mindlessly answer his inquiries as I kept looking back to ogle at his outfit.

Eventually he asked to use the dressing rooms and I knew this was basically my chance. We walked slowly to the rooms and as he walked into the tiny space I quickly pulled the syringe out, stabbing him in the neck behind his back. The mirrors lining the room couldve saved him but he was oblivious of his surroundings.

He began turning into a suit hollowing out into a mound that looked like skin colored liquid latex. I quickly pushed him into the dressing room with me to avoid spectators. As I latched the door, I turned around to see the process completed. I knew I was operating on limited time and quickly pulled his skin on. I love putting on a new body that’s stacked with muscles that I’m not. It’s like you feel bloated, but in a good way because it goes straight to your muscles and any other places you differ in size…if you get what I mean. He was clearly a grower because I didn’t feel anything crazy there though.

I looked through his wallet to figure out a name and basic details. Okay, Reese is the name 5’9” is the height okay there’s the address. Wait the best part! I whipped back upright standing and smiling towards my new phone.

I decided to save the rest of the excitement for privacy gathered my new belongings and headed to the address on my ID. I fumbled through several keys before eventually finding the right one as I pushed my way into a very nice but neutral looking apartment. It definitely gave upper class gay which is what I always pretended to be so this would be easy to embody.

I quickly began stripping as I hastily searched for the closest full body mirror. I wanted to see the goods from every single angle. I ripped the belt holding up my very fitted pants, dropping them down to my ankles and I just gasped at what I could see.

Reese was had the type of body I was always afraid to have. He’s so conventionally attractive that while I wore him I felt like I couldn’t control myself. I needed to push it to the limit and see what I can do.

I headed down to the gym matching the sign in tag on Reese’s keys and just pretended to be there for a good workout. I mean I did go for a workout just not that kind.

I had a hard time breaking a sweat, which only intrigued me more but I headed to the locker room to take pics. I was just so obsessed with his juicy chest. Thankfully this was the better strategy because I kept getting passing glances until someone finally took initiative and approached me.

The man was such a daddy, something I could’ve only hoped to previously attract before. He nearly demanded I come with him after he got dressed and who would be to not oblige? I got in his big truck and we made our way to his home. I don’t know how I deluded myself into thinking I’d be the dominant one in this situation but the second the house door closed behind me. The burly daddy manhandled me and pushed me onto his bed. Gentle and slow was only a dream I could’ve hoped for because that man whipped his beer can out immediately and shoved his way in.

Don’t get me wrong he was BIG but that was the moment I learned what Reese did well. He was a power bottom. There was no moment of pain, me and my new hole took it like a champ. The in and out of his aggressive pace was matched by my new muscle memory eagerness to accept it.

He attacked my muscular backside as I finally began to break a sweat. Loud moans escaped my mouth. I couldn’t control it like an animalistic cry. As I thought I was reaching my limit I came on myself as he kept going. That would become a recurring theme.

Every day I’d show up to the gym and act like the slutty himbo I wanted to be. Ending up at a different home, condo, apartment every night putting my new orifices to work.

[slight-gaming-addict]

Hello!! May i request for the headcannons twisted wonderland characters?

Where reader is very affecionate person and kinda clumsy whenever they are dating with them (nrc characters), YET they are very smart that every class lesson, they will write the note until it's full, since reader when they are at their world back then was always get the 2nd or 1st rank academic especially that relate to sciences.

(The characters in twisted wonderland is up to you, can be only housewarden, or vice housewarden or the first years)

Sorry if my grammar is bad, love your writting and hope you have a great day! ^^

sweetest devotion

masterlist | ko-fi

characters with a smart & affectionate reader

characters: leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, vil schoenheit

warnings: fluff, i accidentally made vil's slightly suggestive, not proofread

𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓

he isn't really aware of how smart you are, mostly because he never shows up to class to begin with

gets annoyed when you initiate a cuddle session, only to pull back a couple hours later when you insist on having to go to class

he'll grip onto you so tight that you struggle to push out of his grasp, practically falling off the bed in your attempts to free yourself

you just smile at him when he looks at you with that grumpy look on his face, but will always say no when you ask him if he's going to class that day

you come to terms with him never wanting to go to class early on, just settling on giving him the notes after it's done

it doesn't really click in his brain whenever you give him the notes that you actually enjoy the class and do well in it, just grumbly skims through whatever stuff he already knows and doesn't care about

it's when ruggie threatens him for the nth time that week about going to at least one class that he gets annoyed at him and eventually just agrees

but that doesn't mean he's going to be diligent about getting to said class

he gets to the class twenty minutes in, ignoring the rest of the students and just slumping in vacant chair next to you

you smile when you see him in class for once, even if he is just slouching in the chair staring off into space

you instinctively grab his hand under the desk as the lesson continues

the warmth of your hand is the only thing really keeping him there

is genuinely surprised when he hears how much you actually know about the information in the class

watches in awe as you jot down almost everything the professor is saying without a pause

he's learning something new about you every day

𝑨𝒛𝒖𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐

gets so flustered every time you compliment him or hold his hand

tries to play it off but he's really bad at it

he's immediately captivated by you when he finds out how smart you are in the classroom

you'll find him just staring at you when you lift your head up from your paper

he'll turn away from you in embarrassment when he's caught

but he'll just go back to admiring you a couple minutes later

practically swoons if you offer to help him with any business related things

he'll be so excited to tell you everything about it, and let you help him out with things

it's all slightly new to you, so you'll feel bad if you make any mistakes

azul ensures you that mistakes are a given in the line of work and that it's a good learning opportunity

he prefers to work with you than the unpredictability he gets with floyd anyway

it helps when he's constantly getting complimented by you from the work that he does

he's ready to just permanently keep you apart of the team

𝑽𝒊𝒍 𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒏𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒕

he isn't one for much pda, he has a reputation to uphold after all

knows how affectionate you are and won't outright reject you, but the most he'll do in public is hold your hand

however, the first time he found out about how well you were in potions, he was taken off guard

he knew you were smart, but didn't know how much you actually knew

had to do a double take when he heard you answer the question in class effortlessly, hardly even glancing at your notes

had to stop himself from pulling you to him and putting his mouth on yours right then and there

instead, he scoots his chair closer to yours and grabs your hand under the desk

you're taken off guard by the motion, but you don't pull away

he stays close to you for the rest of the class, practically dragging you through the hallway after it ended

finally gets you alone and does what he's wanted to since the start of class

[mejaemin]

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　. ✦　˚　　. ★⋆. 　.   ˚　　* . ✦　. ˚ . ✦ ˚ 　.　˚ .

untitled - yoon jeonghan

wc: 0.7k summary: jeonghan always knows what you need, and won’t ever hesitate to give it to you warnings: being v sad, being comforted + taken care of an: crazy how the only time i write for my main ult is when i myself need comforting…

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　. ✦　˚　　. ★⋆. 　.   ˚　　* . ✦　. ˚ . ✦ ˚ 　.　˚ .

you walk in the front door, and jeonghan’s eyes light up from where he’s sitting in the living room. it warms your heart, truly, seeing the way he goes from all sunken into the cushions right into perfect posture, full of joy. you give him a half assed smile, too lazy and unmotivated to give him anything better. you can’t see it when you reach down to remove your shoes, but his expression softens and he’s on his way over to you to take your bag and help you.

when you stand back up, he’s got a hand on your shoulder, and all he needs to do is give you a look, silently asking do you want to talk? and it’s so sweet, seeing how much he cares to avoid even prompting a conversation when you’re not ready, you shake your head softly, immediately letting your head fall into his shoulder once the tears come.

he pulls you into him, a hand rubbing your back while the other runs over your head. “you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, voice deep and comforting against your body. “i’m here.”

your patience has been tested many times today, people yelling at you and overall disturbing your peace. you’re good at keeping your cool, letting yourself fall numb to these daily occurrences, and essentially going on autopilot for the entire work day. you were still in that mindset when you got here, but seeing jeonghan, so sweet, treating you with such fragile care, it brings you right back to earth and all that frustration falls down to nothing but tears, your vulnerability coming through. there isn’t even anger anymore, just a feeling of being tired.

you pull your head away, wiping at the wet spot on his shoulder. he chuckles, holding your face in his hands to wipe at your tears with his thumbs.

“come,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you into your bedroom. your feet drag, hurting and tired, yet he stays patient, matching your pace until he can finally push the door open and sit you down on the bed.

he sits next to you, letting out a little ‘oof’ as he does so. with calm, gentle hands he helps remove your clothes, gently lifting them over your head. it might be simple, but for every movement you make to help him in the process earns you a kiss on the cheek. words of praise fall from his lips all the way until your done, left in your underwear. wordlessly, you turn your back to him, and his cold fingers leave goosebumps on your arms as he unclips your bra. his eyes stay up as he grabs your discarded clothing, putting it away before grabbing a shirt for you. it’s one of his, on the baggier side.

he slips it on for you and it’s baggy enough to cover some of your legs and feel comfortable. with a gentle nudge he leads you to lay down, pulling the blanket over you before turning to shut the light off. when he comes back to bed, he gets on his side, covering himself with the blanket. he brings you close, draping an arm over your stomach, and eventually his breathing evens. you try to fall asleep too, but there’s too many thoughts plaguing your mind to let you do so.

“hannie..?” you speak up, voice tiny and hoarse due to being silent for so long.

after a beat of silence, you hear a ‘hmmm?’ come from beside you.

“can you..” feeling too exhausted to speak, you just tug on his arm, dragging him a little closer until his body is partially on top of you.

eventually he gets the message, picking the blanket up to scoot over, until he’s finally on top of you, he gently lowers his weight down, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. it’s a common occurrence to have him lay on you, the weight extremely soothing and healing to your mind. he’s more than happy to do it for you at any time, i mean, he’s not exactly one to complain about being held and cuddled every once in a while. finally, you relax, the pressure on your torso allowing your body to finally release its tension and sink into the mattress. jeonghan presses a few soft kisses into the crook of your neck before they finally still, resting against your skin as he sleeps. you’re right there with him, your arms tight around his body as your mind finally calms and you succumb to your own fatigue.

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　. ✦　˚　　. ★⋆. 　.   ˚　　* . ✦　. ˚ . ✦ ˚ 　.　˚ .

perm taglist: @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

[sensitivepluto]

Love Makes Me Sick

Short & Sweet - Day 14: VALENTINE'S DAY!

Touya Todoroki x Gn! Reader (Modern!Quirkless!AU) // suggestive fluff

[TW]: slightly suggestive content, swearing, Touya in general, alcohol mentioned, marijuana mentioned, kinkshaming/bullying, not proofread

This is @thewritingstar's prompt list - here's a link to the post!

Valentine's Day. The true consumer's holiday. Tricking the modern day citizen into spending outlandish amounts of money to appreciate their loved ones, even though they should be doing that every day anyway. You hated it. It did nothing but cause chaos for you at work, and make you hate that you were single.

There was one upside to it though. Your roommate, Touya (also painfully single), and you had created a game. Find the most ridiculous couples, and laugh at them together. Photos weren't necessary, but they always caused extra cringe-filled giggles to fill your apartment. So that's what you waited on.

This year, though, you decided to add in a little spice. You bought some shiny red heart balloons, and fake rose petals to fill the living room with. Tacky plush animals and appropriately themed snacks and wine for your date night with Touya. All ironic. All just for fun.

You'd just finished your decorating and changing into your pajamas -a nice satin set covered in red love hearts - when the door to your apartment clicked open. You stood at the ready, throwing more fake petals in the air dramatically when he entered. A cackle had already left your lips at the dumbfounded look on his face.

"What the hell is all of this shit?" He chuckled out, clearly not expecting this. As Touya went to set down the previously decided take out on the counter, he took in your entire display.

"It's Valentine's Day!" You giggled. "I thought I'd set the mood." You pulled at his shirt playfully and he pushed you back with the same energy. It was clear that your efforts did, in fact, have the desired effect.

"It's gross." Touya said, making his way to the bathroom to shower. However he didn't get very far because you stood directly in his path to the hallway. "Um...move?" It came out as a question. He truly had no idea what you were doing.

"I have something for you." The tone in your voice was dangerous. His eyebrow raised and you pulled out from behind your back a matching set of pajamas - covered in the disgusting red love hearts. The ultimate match.

"No." He shot down immediately, trying to shove past you. You, stubbornly, refused this and stood your ground.

"Come ooooon" You whined. Touya was getting ready to pick you up in order to move you, but your next sentence stopped him in his tracks. "I have bud if you wear it." You giggled at his face. Of course you had a bribe waiting for him just to wear the stupid set.

A scowl set in on his face, tossing the idea back and forth in his head. Eventually, he snatched the pajamas and marched his unhappy ass to the shower. You, elated, grabbed your stuff from your bedroom and set everything out, including the takeout. Everything was perfectly set for your night of bullying.

When Touya walked back into the living room, you were preoccupied with something. When he cleared his throat, very annoyed, you turned. There he stood, a scowl that could rip your throat out plastered on his face, clad in your ridiculous matching pajamas.

You laughed at his demeanor and made your way to pull him to the couch. "Come on. Do you wanna smoke first?" It was a silly question, and he proved that by the eyeroll he gave you before snatching the pipe laid on the table. You'd already done the work of packing it so it was ready to go.

The two of you shared a couple of puffs in silence, just drinking in the night. You knew he had an equally hard day at work due to this stupid holiday. Touya sighed out his puff and pulled his phone from his pocket. You popped the wine you'd set out earlier, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

"Alright. First couple of the night, right. This guy came in with her." He said, giving you the first image. It was a much older gentleman with a woman who looked just barely of age.

"Is that like her dad?" You asked, already knowing the answer. Touya snorted.

"I hope not he was open mouth kissing her in the lobby." You scrunched your face at the comment. The competition for the cringiest couple was already high. Likewise, you also pulled out your phone. Touya gingerly took the bottle from your hands and took his own swig of the tart wine you'd selected.

"Okay, so this couple looks normal right?" You showed him your phone. "But she never took her eyes off of her phone the entire night." He nodded slightly.

"That's not that bad." Touya hummed.

"I walked by their table and he said 'have I been good enough to earn your attention mommy?'" You mimicked the man's voice and it was Touya's turn to scrunch up his face.

"Fuckin' weirdos. Okay okay." He scrolled a bit through his phone, trying to find the next pictures. The two of you continued for hours. Drinking, eating your takeout, smoking another bowl, more drinking, and more making fun of the poor happy couples that had plagued your day.

By the end of it both of you were wasted, sloppy, giggly messes. Touya had you now propped securely in between his legs and against his chest while he lazed on the couch, dazed out of his mind. A calm had washed over the two of you and silence filled the room.

Touya traced his fingers over your arm delicately, just a small comforting motion. You turned back to look at him. His half-lidded eyes met yours and took you in. It wasn't anything new, he knew what was happening. His eyes trailed to your lips and slowly back up to your eyes. You bit your lip for a moment in thought, and in the end it was you who made the first move.

Your lips captured his, shared in a heated moment. You tasted the whine and the pungent smoke on his tongue. His arms pulled you in closer from your waist, and you obliged by moving to straddle his waist.

His hands snaked up your back, curling into your hair and pulling you back slightly so he could trail kisses down your throat. This happened every year. You would sleep with him that night. Hours of rough, overstimulating pleasure followed by a night of rare gentleness from your dark haired roommate. And in the morning you'd climb out of his bed, and wash away the shame of it.

Every year for the past...how long had you been living with him. Never dating. Always painfully single on Valentine's Day. But always ending up in his arms and in his bed. Just to blame it on the libations and recreational gardening and pretending whatever it was between you didn't exist.

Masterlist

A/N: this idea was originally thought of by @rueclfer - also sorry rue I didn't end up having time to write the whole scene out but I still loved the idea and wanted to get it out of my brain!

[bellaxgiornata]

You Are My Sunshine [5]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.4k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

a/n: Lots of Jax and Reader interacting in this update, which is quite lengthy in itself. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @mariamadison6-blog @moongirlgodness @kmc1989 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @fallout-girl219 @nfm-12

Closing down the shop tonight felt far more like a chore than usual. Today had been a long, busy day at Honest Coffee since you’d decided to run a special event this afternoon–half off drinks for a few hours during the time when most people in Charming usually finished work for the day. You’d called it Happy Hour, and it had led to a rush of revolving customers all late afternoon until almost closing time. 

Now you were exhausted closing things up by yourself. Miguel, the barista who you had on the schedule to close with you tonight, had an exam early in the morning tomorrow. Knowing how incredibly nervous he’d been about the upcoming test with how he’d been talking about it his entire shift after school, you’d rushed him out the door for some last minute studying instead of letting him deal with the cleanup. You figured you could handle the aftermath of the day by yourself. But as you swept the floors and wiped down the counters and tables tonight, even you were aware that you’d worked with far less enthusiasm than normal. 

Attempting to finish cleaning in a rush, all you wanted was to get done for the evening so you could settle down on your couch at home with some leftover pasta and one of your shows. But before that could even happen, you still had to walk all the way home first. Because on the nice evenings that you closed your shop, you usually walked home since you didn’t live too far from downtown Charming. Though, admittedly tonight you weren’t exactly looking forward to the added exercise that was just another delay before you could sit down and finally relax. 

It wasn’t until twenty minutes after you’d closed the shop that you were finally turning off the lights before making your way to the door. With your purse slung over your shoulder, you pushed the door open and stepped out into the warm evening air. The sun was beginning to sink closer to the horizon, the sky a wash of pretty pinks and oranges. Taking a moment as you stepped onto the sidewalk, you unzipped your purse as you turned back towards the door, digging through your bag’s contents. You searched for the shop keys before pulling them out, but you’d barely just gotten the key into the lock of the door when a voice nearby startled you so bad you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Head whipping to the side, you were surprised to see Jax sitting at one of the outdoor tables in front of your coffee shop. There was a lit cigarette in his hand, a trail of smoke drifting upwards from it as his blue eyes fixed on you. You noticed the way his mouth curved faintly upwards at how you’d frightened at the sound of his voice before his expression quickly shifted back into something serious. 

Clearing your throat, your attention returned to locking the door in front of you. You twisted the key as your racing heart steadily began to slow back to its normal rhythm after that scare, questions already starting to arise in your mind about why he was sitting out here. It was obvious he’d been there for a bit waiting on you, but you weren’t entirely sure about the reason as to why he’d been sitting here waiting for you.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Figured you saw me sitting here and were just ignoring me.”

“I didn’t notice you, actually,” you answered distractedly as you focused on locking up. “Was in a hurry to close the shop for the night. Been a long day.”

Pulling the key from the door, you slipped it back into your purse before turning around and focusing on Jax where he sat at the table. The cigarette was in his mouth now as he took a drag, your eyes briefly focusing on the way his lips pursed around it. He took a deep inhale before removing the cigarette from between his lips, turning his head and blowing the cloud of smoke away from you. As Jax sat further back in the metal chair, he stretched his legs out in front of himself on the sidewalk as if he was making himself comfortable, though he looked the furthest thing from it as he sat there.

“I was wrong,”  he said after a moment.

His eyes remained fixed on the cigarette between his fingers as he knocked some of the ash from the tip. Eyebrows raising marginally at his comment, you wondered if an actual apology was coming next or if that was going to be the extent of it. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you’d even expected him to actually say anything about the way he’d treated you the other night, so the fact that he’d shown up here of his own volition was a bit of a surprise in itself. 

“Those things I said the other night,” Jax continued after another brief silence, his eyes still intentionally avoiding you as he spoke, “they were shitty. I admit that. I don’t really know you and you’d done nothing to deserve me speaking to you like that. I just…”

He trailed off, his eyes still on the cigarette pinched between his fingers before he pulled it back to his lips for another deep drag. You watched him as the golden glow of the setting sun behind him swathed him in a soft warm light. It was an odd contrast to that distant, pained look lingering in his eyes as he kept avoiding the sight of you. 

“You just what?” you prompted gently.

As if the sound of your voice had broken through whatever thoughts were running through his mind, he withdrew the cigarette from between his lips before expelling the smoke. His head turned towards you, his eyes finally meeting yours again. For some reason you felt a little transfixed by them this time with how intently he was holding your gaze captive.

“I was pissed off that night about a lot of shit, none of it having to do with you,” he continued. “And I saw you in your shop looking all happy, like nothing could ever be wrong in the world, and it just, I don’t know–” he shook his head, an agitated expression crossing his features before it vanished, “–it pissed me off more. And for some reason I just wanted to knock the smile off your face. Wanted you to stop being so goddamned cheerful for once.”

Nodding slowly at his explanation, you crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed him. “And did that make you feel any better?” you asked, genuinely curious. “Upsetting me? Trying to bring me down to whatever you were feeling?”

Jax sighed deeply, almost visibly deflating in the chair as he drew the cigarette up to his lips for a final drag. Afterwards, he tossed it to the ground and stamped it out with his shoe. A steady stream of smoke blew out from between his lips as he stared at the butt on the pavement, a crease between his brows.

“No,” he finally admitted. “No it didn’t. If anything I felt like a massive piece of shit afterwards.”

He looked over at where you still stood just in front of your shop’s front door, noticing the way your arms were still crossed over your chest. His bottom lip rolled back between his teeth in silent contemplation as he just looked at you, his eyes studying your face carefully.

“I’m sorry for that, too,” he finally said. “You didn’t deserve me coming into your place and being a bastard. I know that, alright? But I warned you that I’m not a good man. I’m not nice. Certainly not the kinda guy you should be sending free coffees to, especially after I just insulted you.”

“You’re apologizing though, aren’t you?” you pointed out, uncrossing your arms before taking a hesitant step closer to the table he was seated at. “You felt guilty for what you’d said. You just admitted that being hurtful hadn’t brought you joy.”

Jax’s eyes narrowed back at you. It was obvious that now he was really studying you. Taking a few more cautious steps forwards, as if you were approaching a wild animal that might pounce instead of a man who looked worn down, you crossed the distance towards the table. Slowly, you reached a hand out and grabbed the back of the other metal chair before pulling it out, all the while aware of how he was watching your every move carefully.

“What’re you trying to get at?” he finally asked.

Lowering yourself into the chair, you focused solely on him and the way he was examining you. There was something guarded in his expression as he waited for your response, like he was trying to hide part of himself from you. 

“I’m getting at the fact that if you really were that awful of a person, you wouldn’t have felt bad for saying those things to me,” you answered, getting comfortable in the chair. “There’d have been no guilt, no regret, and certainly no apology.”

Jax scoffed, rolling his eyes a little. “Apologizing doesn’t suddenly make me a good man somehow, sunshine,” he replied. “It doesn’t just erase shit.”

There was a brief moment before you responded, noticing how he'd taken to calling you that nickname again so easily. Except without the malicious intonation that he’d used last time. It almost sounded affectionate.

“Well, taking your anger out on someone doesn’t make you a bad man, either,” you countered. “It’s not nice and it’s certainly not acceptable, but show me a person who hasn’t done that a handful of times in their life.”

A small, almost surprised laugh fell out of Jax in response. When he looked across the table at you, there was a look of disbelief etched on his face now. He shook his head, a slight crease between his brows as his blue eyes raked over you for a minute.

“I’m not saying what I did the other night alone makes me a bad man, sunshine,” he told you. “I’ve done far worse things than just saying mean shit to someone. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I do,” you answered. “But considering you’re able to apologize for something like insulting me–to feel bad about it–means you’re not quite the bad guy you make yourself out to be.”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing even tighter together at that. “What the hell are you even getting at with that line of thinking?”

A soft huff fell out of you as you relaxed back in the chair, a small smile finally making its way onto your face. He clearly needed it pointed straight out for him because apparently the view he had of himself was just that bleak. He wasn’t getting the point.

“You’re capable of guilt,” you explained. “Remorse. Which are good things that help guide a person to live with at least some semblance of morals. And besides that, you’re taking responsibility for your actions by coming here to apologize to me. If you were truly a horrendous individual, you’d have lashed out and felt nothing about it and never apologized.”

“So what?” he asked, confusion still written all over the way he was looking at you. “That makes me suddenly a good guy in your book? Is that what you’re saying?”

Biting your lip to fight back the growing smile on your face, you shook your head slowly back at him. What was it with everyone assuming a person was one thing or another all the time? That people were just so black and white?

“No,” you began slowly, “I’m saying that makes you human.”

Somehow, he only grew further confused at that. His head tilted slowly to the side as he eyed you skeptically for a long moment, a growing silence dragging out between the two of you. Then gradually, he leaned forward in his chair and rested both of his arms on top of the metal table, his hands clasped together as if you had his full attention. The sun behind him was sinking even lower now, the sky growing a dark orange and purple. 

“What’s that mean, sunshine?” he asked curiously. 

“It means,” you began, leaning forward in your chair, mirroring his posture as you rested your arms on the table across from him, “that you’re human. Capable of doing both good and bad equally. In my book, you can’t lump someone into one category. It’s not like a–” you paused, gesturing a hand in front of yourself as you tried to find the words you were looking for, “–a tally system or something. Good deeds don’t cancel out bad ones, and bad ones don’t just automatically make you a bad person. People are far too damn complex for that. There’s too many nuances and things to understand and consider.”

Jax’s brows pulled together on his forehead once more as you spoke, a deep crease forming between them as his eyes narrowed at you. It was as if he was hanging off of every word you were saying, sincerely interested in your point of view as he took in your explanation.

“I've never met anyone before who thought like that,” he admitted after a moment. “It’s always been black or white. Good or bad. Straightforward. And I'm always seen as the bad guy.” He paused, giving you a long, hard look before he spoke seriously. “Which I am.”

You breathed out an amused scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t think anything in life is necessarily that straightforward, Jax, let alone the idea of whether someone is morally good or bad.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered that. After a moment, he gestured his chin at you. “Fine, so how do you gauge who’s good or not then? How can you tell for yourself, sunshine?”

Shrugging a shoulder, you answered simply, “By getting to the heart of a person.”

One corner of his lips curved upwards into a small grin instantly, a light flickering behind his eyes at your answer. Almost as if he was amused despite the slight bit of intrigue at the idea.

“Sunshine, there’s no way in hell you can get to the heart of every person you meet,” he pointed out. “Let alone even a handful of people.”

With another smile spreading across your face, you playfully pointed a finger at him from across the little table. “Exactly,” you replied. “That’s my point. We never truly know people, therefore it’s not fair to lump them into a category and make assumptions. Because you have no idea why people do what they do, or how they feel about the actions they take, whether they're being eaten alive by the things they've done or not. And I think the guilt a person carries says more about them than most people think.” 

Something hard to decipher flickered behind his blue eyes as he listened to you, one of his hands running over the blonde hairs of his scruff. Another pregnant pause filled the air between you both, the street lights coming to life as the sun sunk down almost out of view now.

“You really aren't putting on a front as a friendly barista, are you?” he questioned back.

A soft laugh passed between your lips at the mistake he kept making before you once more corrected him. “I’m the coffee shop owner, Jax. I’m not a barista. I just like slinging coffee sometimes, too.” A genuine warm and friendly smile spread across your mouth next as you realized that he finally wasn't questioning you quite so much now. “And no, I'm not. This really is who I am.”

Jax continued quietly observing you, his eyes scrutinizing you closely. “So you view…everyone like they're just good then?” he asked skeptically. “That's how it works for you?”

Shrugging a shoulder lightly at the question, you didn't know how to necessarily answer that. “I mean, there are things that I personally have a difficult time reconciling with. Things that make it difficult for me to see the good sometimes. I’m only human myself,” you answered carefully. “But–”

Jax immediately perked up at that, his head cocking curiously to the side as one of his blonde brows arched back at you. “So absolute no's do exist with you?” he asked, cutting you off. “Enlighten me on that, darlin’.”

You hesitated for a moment at how he’d interpreted your explanation before carefully trying to answer him. “Well, I mean, I don’t know if I'd call it that exactly. That's sort of where the gray area comes into play, right?” you told him. “Because there are things that feel completely unforgivable, but how can you know someone isn't capable of change? That someone can't feel remorse and be reformed?” At the look on his face, you quickly added on, “I'm not saying I’m naive enough to think that's true of everyone, I'm just saying, you never know with a person. Which is where the weight of someone's guilt factors in and why I say the only way you can know is to know someone’s heart.”

Jax’s fingers slowly ran across his mouth as he studied you across the table from him, clearly considering what you’d just told him. You could see a question beginning to form in his eyes, like it was sitting there right on the tip of his tongue, and you were just waiting for him to finally say what he was thinking. 

“Okay, so let's say hypothetically that my club was more like a gang and less of a club,” Jax began slowly. His blue eyes intensely studied you from across the small table, as if your response to this question was going to tell him something he deemed important. “Would I hypothetically fall on your absolute no's? Assuming I did things you'd expect a gang to do–things of the unforgivable nature–am I one of those people you'd have a hard time ‘reconciling’ with?”

That had taken you entirely off guard. Wordlessly you sat there across from him, seriously pondering the question he’d posed you. It wasn't exactly an easy one to answer because you knew as well as anyone in Charming that the motorcycle club was in fact a criminal organization and not actually a group of motorcycle enthusiasts, even if you didn't know the full extent of what all they did. But at the same time, you'd lived in Charming long enough to also know that Jax’s father had been the one to start the whole thing and that Jax had grown up entrenched in that life since birth. He'd known that life to be normal. 

And yet here he was, showing up at your coffee shop to apologize for being mean and callous a few nights ago. Showing that he reflected on his actions, thought about how they affected others. Probably also had some things eating away at him internally judging by that dark glimmer often hiding in his eyes. 

So how did you judge someone for circumstances beyond their control? Jax couldn't help that he was born into the family that he was just as much as he couldn't be blamed for the way he was raised. And sure, you could argue that he was a man capable of making his own choices now, but considering how he was shaped and how his own moral compass was forged, it wasn’t realistic for someone to just know any different than what they always had. He was a product of his upbringing, but that also didn't mean he wasn't capable of change–if that's what he wanted. But you also had no idea what he wanted because you barely knew him.

So could you so easily conclude that he was someone you’d find unforgivable? Someone incapable of reformation and beyond redemption? No, not really. You hadn't seen enough of what was in his heart to make you think he was truly some evil villain.

Eventually, you slowly shook your head at the question. Jax's eyes widened marginally at that, as if he was surprised that was your response. 

“No, because I don't really know enough about you as a person to make that call,” you answered. “You've done illegal things–hypothetically–but I've seen your club do charity work, too. Help the community. I think you all care about this town more than it realizes. In my mind, there's just not enough for me to form an opinion on what’s in your heart, so to speak.”

Jax quietly sat there, his arms still resting on the table as one hand continued running over his mouth in thought, the tips of his fingers passing absently back and forth along his bottom lip. Your attention dropped to his rings, curiously wondering if there was any meaning behind them. He'd always had them on whenever you'd seen him and there were quite a few of them. 

“So you're saying,” Jax began slowly, his voice drawing your attention back to his eyes, “that you'd need to see more?”

Shrugging a shoulder, you nodded at the question. “Yeah, I'd say that's a fair assumption.”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing marginally at you before he continued. “Do you want to see more?” 

Yet again Jax had thrown out another question you hadn’t exactly expected. Surprise briefly flickered over your features as that question sat between the two of you. Was he…offering to let you get just a bit closer to him? 

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously.

He huffed out a laugh at you, that darkness in his eyes lightening a little as the smallest smile crossed his lips. “I'm asking if you genuinely don't mind me coming to your shop, sunshine. Especially after I was a massive prick to you. Do you actually not mind seeing more of me?”

“As long as you refrain from using me as a verbal punching bag,” you began, a smile once more forming on your face as you began to understand his question, “then no, I don't mind seeing you here. I told you the first time you stopped in Honest Coffee that you were welcome here just as much as anyone else and I meant it.”

The small smile on his lips grew into a wider grin, a warmth reaching his eyes that you hadn't seen there before. For a moment, you found yourself unable to do anything else besides sit there admiring the sight of him smiling back at you. He looked completely different than all those other times you’d seen him when he was tense and scowling across the street. The deep creases and frown lines had completely smoothed out on his face, and there was a light in his eyes that made them look somehow even more blue. He looked handsome in a way that had your heart beating just a bit faster when he looked like that.

“I'll keep that in mind,” he replied, pushing the metal chair back and rising to his feet. “But I won't keep you any longer darlin’. I just wanted to apologize for being an asshole the other night. I really am sorry.”

Pushing your own chair back, you rose to your feet as well. The day's exhaustion once more hit you, the aches in your body returning. The prospect of walking home in the warm summer night now that it was even later seemed daunting after the day you’d had, but you didn’t have a choice. 

“I appreciate the apology, Jax,” you told him, sending him a tired smile. “You're forgiven, by the way. Especially after taking the time to understand me better instead of continuing to blindly judge me.”

He laughed lightly, taking a couple of steps backwards towards the street, his eyes still on you. “Could say the same about you. You're definitely unique, sunshine,” he told you with a grin. “Don't think many like you exist.”

Hands wrapping around the straps of your purse, you took a few steps backwards down the sidewalk yourself. “Probably not,” you agreed. “You have a good night though, Jax.”

Turning around, you focused your attention on the sidewalk as you started to make your way down it in the direction of your street. It was about a fifteen minute walk, but after being on your feet so much today, you winced at how uncomfortable each step already felt. But you hadn't gone more than a handful of steps before Jax was calling out behind you.

“You're not walking home, are you?” 

Looking over your shoulder at him behind you, you stopped in place on the sidewalk. He was already walking back over towards you, something like concern written on his features. 

“I usually do when it's nice out,” you replied, turning around to face him.

Jax finished crossing the remaining distance between you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. That look of concern remained when he came to a stop a few feet away. 

“It's late, sweetheart,” he pointed out. “And dark. You probably shouldn’t be walking home by yourself. It’s not necessarily safe and all.”

Waving him off with a dismissive hand, you shook your head. “It's fine. I don't live far and it's not like I haven't walked through Charming alone at night before.”

“You’re too damn trusting of everyone for me to feel comfortable with that,” he teased. He paused for a second before he gestured his head behind him at the clubhouse across the street. “Let me give you a ride home. I'll feel better knowing nothing happened to you because I kept you so late.”

Eyes shifting to where he'd gestured, you spotted the ever present line of bikes in the lot. Something unexplainable fluttered in your stomach, but whatever it was wasn't exactly an unpleasant sensation. 

“You…want to drive me home on your bike?” you questioned carefully, attention returning to him.

“If that's not a problem, yeah,” he told you. “Strictly just to make sure you get home safe, sunshine. No ulterior motives despite the things I'm sure you've heard about me, I promise.”

Chewing your bottom lip in thought, you mulled his offer over. You really didn't want to walk all the way home tonight after the day you’d had, and it wasn't like he couldn't find out where you lived if he wanted to in order to do something shady. Considering the power the Sons wielded in Charming, you knew he could easily find your address if he wanted to–though you didn’t remotely get a feeling of being unsafe around him. So was there really any harm if he gave you a ride? It wasn't that far of a drive anyway.

“Okay,” you accepted after a brief deliberation. “I suppose I wouldn't mind not walking tonight, it's been a long day.”

A little grin slipped onto his lips before he gestured his head back towards the clubhouse. “Then c'mon, sunshine. Let me take you home.”

As you began to cross the street, Jax fell in step beside you. His hands were still in his pockets, that small grin on his lips as he walked. But you were focused on the clubhouse, faint music and laughter coming from inside. Were they already partying again? It was still fairly early, though you supposed that probably meant nothing to them. 

“My bike is over here,” he told you.

Letting him walk ahead of you, you followed after him through the lot. As he walked, your eyes drifted to the reaper patch on the back of his kutte, never having really examined it this closely before. You'd been curiously inspecting the scythe it was holding when a voice across the lot drew both yours and Jax’s attention.

“I was looking for you, Jax!”

Turning towards the voice, you spotted a petite blonde in short shorts and a cropped top making her way over towards him. She only noticed you long enough to send a sharp, piercing glare in your direction before her attention returned to Jax as she threw him sad, puppy dog eyes. Your brow arched curiously at her quick dismissal of you and the way she was interacting with him.

In front of you, Jax tensed at the sight of her before a deep, tired sigh fell out of him. “What is it, Ima?” he asked.

She continued closing the distance between them, her focus solely on Jax. Something about her seemed to give you pause, but you quietly stayed back and just watched the interaction. You had no idea who she was to him.

“I was hoping for a ride home,” she told him, stopping to talk to him at a fairly intimate distance. “I was having trouble with my car and I brought it in a bit ago, but no one had time to work on it today. And now I need a way to get home.”

You watched as she batted her eyelashes at him, flashing him a bit of a pout. Jax almost appeared annoyed in response as his shoulders tensed further, which was interesting considering how much of a show she was putting on and how familiar she seemed with him.

“Ima, the shop closed over an hour ago,” Jax pointed out. “You could have gotten a ride from any one of the guys in that time. You didn’t need to wait for me.”

“Well,” she continued, her tone dropping into something suggestive as she stepped towards him, raising a hand and resting it against his chest, “I was hoping we could…spend a bit of time together afterwards. You know, as a thank you for helping me out?”

At this point, you weren't sure if you should have just turned around or not. This was beginning to feel too personal, making you uncomfortable to be standing here listening to their conversation. But before you could even turn back around, Jax’s hand reached up and encircled her wrist before removing it from himself. 

“Find another ride home tonight, Ima,” he replied firmly. “It ain't gonna be me.” 

Jax focused back on you, raising his hand and waving you over with a faint smile. Ima finally returned her attention to you, a bitter glare on her face when she realized why she was being turned down. 

“C'mon, sunshine,” Jax said. “Let's get you home before it gets any damn later.”

You saw Ima beside him silently mouth the nickname ‘sunshine’ with a look of sheer contempt on her face. Not really sure what to do in this situation, you just followed after Jax when he waved you over again. When you neared Jax’s bike and he handed you the second helmet, you heard Ima let out something like a frustrated huff before she stalked off towards the clubhouse.

“Ignore her,” Jax told you as he put his own helmet on. “She's always bitching and whining about something.”

Pulling the helmet he had given you on, you eyed him curiously. “Girlfriend of yours?” you asked.

He laughed at that, a loud, hearty noise that drew a smile on your face. Not because of what he’d said, but because, like you’d noticed when he'd smiled at you a bit ago, he looked really good when that darkness behind his eyes dissipated.

“Hell no, darlin’,” he told you, still chuckling at the thought. “I don't do relationships, and if I did, that crazy ass broad would not be the one I'd pick.”

“Probably not the nicest way to talk about someone,” you gently pointed out. “But alright. Not a girlfriend then.”

He shook his head at you, still smiling as his gaze lingered on you for a long moment. Then he turned back towards his bike, swinging his leg over it before looking back at you.

“Hop on, sunshine,” he ordered, one hand patting the space behind him. 

Making your way over to the back of the bike, you ignored how awkward it was going to be holding onto him–a man you hardly knew–before you climbed onto the seat behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you also chose to ignore the strange flutter of something in your stomach as you pressed yourself to his back. 

Jax turned the bike on once you'd settled behind him, the noise even louder than when you always heard them from inside your shop. Glancing over his shoulder at you, Jax sent you a cheeky grin that had your heart stuttering unexpectedly. 

“Hang on tight, sunshine,” he teased. “Wanna make sure I get you home nice and safe.”

[thisisjustfanfic]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{Rafayel and Sylus have a chat. You go for a walk. Zayne answers some questions.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Eventual Smut. SFW (For now)

Chapter 6: Answers

“Naughty, naughty,” A cool voice rumbles when Rafayel slinks out of your room just as the sun rises. He’d only fallen asleep for an hour at most, and spent the rest of the time convincing himself to leave. 

The violet-haired man turns, already knowing who to expect. Only one member of the house had that gravely drawl. Sylus is rarely on this floor— preferring to keep to the low darker floors—and there’s only reason why he would be. 

“She woke up.” Rafayel defended in a whisper, “I kept her in bed.”

Sylus was moving. Not fast, but with purpose. His thick soled boots hardly making a sound as he closed the distance between them. Stepping across the hall to grab Rafayel by the back of the neck, and hauling him into the bedroom down the hall. 

Rafayel’s bedroom was no different than his studio– a mess. Sketchbooks and discarded papers covering the floor. Clothes piled in the corners and untouched shopping bags with the goo Sylus kicked the door closed as Rafayel let out a growl– too rough to be fully human. 

“What are you–?” Rafayel demanded, but Sylus was already shoving him up against the wall and shoving his face into his neck. 

“Its not fair.” Sylus snarled, sharp teeth dragging against Rafayel’s pale throat. “All  of you get to spend time with her. See her. Touch her. What do I get?”

Rafayel hissed at the contact, baring his teeth and grabbing Sylus by the hair to pull him away, “Don’t take it out on me that you hide in your den all the time.”

“Just let me–” Sylus groaned, less commanding and more plaintive now that Rafayel had him by the hair, “Just let me scent for a little longer. You reek of her. I can’t…I can’t go in there.”

Rafayel felt a thrill run up his spine. Sylus was always such a needy thing when it came to you. Desperate for even a little taste. Even when he had sharp claws, scales and an obsidian tail, Sylus was rendered puppy-soft for you. Imbibing on your scent and taste like an unapologetic addict. 

“So pathetic,” Rafayel hissed without any heat, letting go of the panting man’s hair so that he could dive back in. At first it was just his nose, dragging up Rafayel’s neck and inhaling the long forgotten scent of those bodies combined. 

But then there was his tongue, a white-hot streak painted from collarbone to up behind Rafayel’s ear, and the violet-haired man snapped out a growl, pushing Sylus back. Rafayel was not Sylus’ toy, and he would not let the fiend get confused about the power dynamic here. 

If Sylus wanted to play with dynamics and have something beneath him, he could go to confused little Zayne or fight for it with Xavier. Rafayel was not the one to be pushed down, or manhandled into the shapes Sylus desired. 

He missed the days with you between them. Beneath them. A feast with enough to go around. Nothing but exposed skin for Sylus to dine upon, the prettiest little sounds escaping your lips while Sylus got lost between your legs. Your eyes would go hazy, and you’d reach out like a lost little herring away from the school. 

Rafayel would let you cling to him. His perfect worshipper. He’d reward you with his own devotion. Hold you up against his chest with his hands in the crooks of your knees so that your pet dragon could devour you. Present you for slaughter while you sing for him. 

Rafayel would let you dedicate yourself to his cock with your tongue while you struggled to take both of Sylus’. Soft little mewls of delirious pleasure, and Rafayel would watch the domino effect that happened when he praised you. 

A simple word of praise, and he’d watch your face flush, your teary eyes brim, and then Sylus groan like he was being strangled as your body tightened like a vice. Torture for the both of you. 

A god. A dragon. And a divine supplicant. A sublime treasure both hoarded and shared. Simultaneously endless in your love and affection but none of them were ever satisfied.

For Rafayel, it had been close to a century since he’d last had a taste. Since he’d been anointed with the soft touch of your fingers or enthralled with the music of your voice. 

For Sylus, it’d been but a lifetime. But that youth made him hungrier. Gnawing at something he could only recall as if from a dream. Had it ever been real? Had any of it been real?

Rafayel let Sylus take what he needed, something carnal but deep as marrow satiated inside the both of them. They were more than men— more than mortal. Xavier and Zayne would never understand the things they did. The way their bodies craved you as much as their minds or hearts did. Beasts of lore and myths—dedicated to a single soul.

Sundays are your day off. A day of rest and recuperation— that’s what it’s supposed to be. So, when your alarm sounds, you promptly shut it off. Rolling away like a roach scurries away from the light, hiding your face in your pillow and letting your hand reach out to—-

To whom?

The realization of the halted movement makes you lift your head. Had someone been here? Who had you been wanting to reach out to? The other side of the bed was empty, the blankets barely shifted, and the pillow only slightly dipped. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d never have noticed it.

In a stroke of insanity, you leaned over to press your nose into the other pillow, inhaling softly and taking in any lingering scent. It was faint, barely clinging to the soft cotton but it was there. Something fresh and clean— like a masculine shampoo, tinged with salt and smoke. Warm like a campfire burning sappy pine. 

Rafayel. Your mind supplied, though you weren’t sure how it made that connection. Vaguely you recalled an image of him, rimmed in moonlight and smiling. His violet hair looked navy in the darkness, but his eyes still shine like multicolored amethysts. 

You were now fully awake— awake and confused. Why had he been in your bed? Did that cross some sort of line? Had you violated the contract??? Wait, no. There wasn’t anything in the contract about fraternization— not that you were going to fraternize! 

He was probably just lonely. Rafayel was odd, and you wouldn’t put it past him to come in, just to see if he could.

You collapsed back against your bed, wondering what you would do to fill your day off. It was tempting to just go back to sleep, or just scroll on your phone in bed. Zayne had already deposited your first month's pay in advance so you could afford a taxi to go get some things from your storage unit. Or even go get your bike? 

None of the options were sticking in your mind and so you found yourself lingering in bed aimlessly. The rest of the house was quiet, almost eerily so for home many people lived in it.

A part of you argued you should at least go downstairs and interact with the others,  but another reminded you that you aren’t their roommate. Aren’t their friend.

You weren’t sure whether you fell back asleep or not, but the smell of smoke pulled you back to life. Sharp and acrid, you were on your feet before you could think about it.

The smell only grew as you scurried down the stairs and the haze of smoke clouded your vision as you entered the living room. 

Flames flickered from a small skillet on the stove, producing more smoke than the poor vent above it could pull out. Xavier stood a foot away with a wooden spoon in his hand, the tip of it a dark carbon black.

You rushed over to the kitchen and from one of the cupboards grabbed a large flat lid and placed it on top of the flaming skillet, choking out the flames.

Xavier stepped back a bit, looking comically innocent as you literally put out his fire. When the flame was dead and the stove was off, you turned to him with an aghast expression.

“I was making breakfast.” Xavier explained as he wiggled his ruined spoon. “Omelets.”

You sighed and plucked the spoon from his hand and tossed it into the sink, “I think you bypassed the omelet and went straight for charcoal. I thought I told you last night not to put it past medium heat!”

Xavier shrugged, “I was worried you would wake up before it was done. I thought it would be faster.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll make some omelets. Just….give me a minute to get dressed.”

“No,” Xavier’s voice was stern, “It’s your day off. I should make it.”

“How about you mix and I’ll cook?” You offered, hoping this weapon of kitchen destruction would agree. You pointed to the skillet and then back to him, “Don’t touch it. I’ll be right back.”

You scurried back up the stairs, changing out of your thin sleep clothes and then pulling your hair out of your face. While in the bathroom, you paused, looking at yourself in the ostentatious mirror and taking it in. 

Who were you? Did you even look like yourself anymore? You weren’t particularly high-maintenance before…well before, but things looked different in you now. Routines disrupted and it showed on your face, a sense of exhaustion clear from the smudges of discoloration beneath your eyes. 

If they were still alive, would they even recognize you?

It was a horrible thought, one that you quickly tried to push away. Bracing your hands on the smooth stone of the countertop and hoping it would keep you grounded. It had hit you like a bullet. Striking you somewhere deep and vulnerable that you felt like you’d staggered. 

The fear of not being recognized was new. This rising panic as you wondered if one day you’d wake up and not recognize your own face. It felt wholly irrational but solid enough it could grip you. Clench around your throat. 

You inhaled again. In. Out. In, and out. You forced yourself to stand back up and look yourself in the eye, focus on the features of your face you knew to be yours. The curve of your nose and the angle of your jaw. The shape of your eyes and the color of your iris. No matter what depressive hole you fell into, those things wouldn’t change. Those who loved you would recognize you. You would recognize you. You didn’t realize how terrified you were to lose yourself until you were almost gone. 

Existential crisis bypassed, you returned to the kitchen. Focusing on the moment and not the past. 

Xavier was standing in the same place, having moved the charred skillet and pulled out another one. Only he had listened and not touched the stove again. The carton of eggs was still out as well as some containers of veggies and some cheese. 

“How do you like them?” You ask as you sidle up to him, a gentle hand on his arm putting him in front of the cutting board and away from the stovetop.

“Ham and cheese.” Xavier replied, “But Zayne says I should include something green, so…scallions?”

You chuckled softly, “Zayne rarely follows his own advice, I doubt his omelet has any greens in it.”

The two of you worked in tandem to make breakfast; his cut veggies varying wildly in shape and size but that hardly mattered. You cooked the eggs and set each omelet on its own plate, until five plates sat in a line on the counter. 

Xavier took yours and his and sat them next to each other on the bar, and then pulled out his phone to send a quick text. 

Zayne was the first to arrive after receiving his breakfast call. You noticed his still damp hair as he adjusted his shirt collar. A glance down and you noticed the lack of ID tag and smiled– so it was his day off too?

Xavier lifted his head, and like before Zayne came over– though his eyes were examining the food– and reached out to place a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. Sliding down in a lingering way that was more than roommates. 

It made your stomach flutter. Your imagination taking this train ticket and riding with it for all it was worth. You’d seen Zayne and Xavier share two instances of affection– once is an instance and twice is a hobby. Were they together? 

You were quiet for the rest of breakfast, offering the two of them a little morsel of conversation while you flip flopped between denial, curiosity, and dejection. If Zayne was with Xavier, that meant you didn’t stand a chance. It was fine. It wasn’t like anything had happened between you and Zayne that wasn’t painfully platonic, besides that mistaken goodbye kiss to your forehead. 

Despite your hopefulness, that hadn’t happened again. 

You hadn’t realized how much you had been riding on the idea of something potential between you and Zayne, and it settled like a stone in your gut. The omelet lost its appeal, as well as the idea of spending the day in this house. You needed some air. Some space. 

So, when you were done, you grabbed your coat and decided to go for a walk. Rafayel caught you on your way back down the stairs and followed you, and when you passed by Zayne and Xavier in the living room, they also approached. 

Like magnets being drawn in, they questioned where you were going. How long would you be gone? Did you need a ride? Did you have your gloves?

The attention only made your frazzled nerves feel more raw, and you hastily answered their questions to make your way towards the front door. Insisting it was just a walk. That was all. You’d be back soon– you just wanted to see the neighborhood.

Xavier went to grab his coat, mentioning kindly that they would join you, and you had to stop. Turn and insist a little harsher that no, you would be fine. Just a little walk. You needed some air. 

You tried not to look at them as you left the house, shutting the door behind you as gently as you could. You had tried to not see the incredulity in Rafayel’s eyes, or the concern in Zayne’s. 

Snow still covered the flat areas of the city, but the roads and sidewalks were clear. You ducked your head down, hoping they weren’t watching you leave through the window, but imagining them lined up like sad little puppies with their nose pressed to the glass anyway. 

You didn’t have a direction in mind, just the movement. You needed to keep moving, keep your feet moving, and your mind at least a little preoccupied. 

You felt like you were going a bit insane. Sensations that felt like being remembered in a dream arising unprovoked and unwanted. Why did it hurt so badly? To realize there was no potential with Zayne?

Maybe because it had always felt inevitable, in a way. Even as children, he was always just there. Although his family and yours didn’t run in the same circles, you always found him some way. At the park, or at a festival. Orbiting each other like asteroids careening through the void, spiraling alongside each other in a coiling parallel. 

It made it worse that Xavier was so good. That Xavier was kind and gentle and something that felt like a familiar blanket– fuzzy and warm. You couldn’t even be jealous. Couldn’t even pretend that Xavier wasn’t good for him or that you weren’t almost equally as disappointed that Xavier was out of reach too. 

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel bit out the minute you’d closed the door. He turned to the other two imbeciles standing in the entryway and crossed his arms, “What’d you do?”

“Me?” Xavier looked offended, “We made breakfast. She seemed happy enough until you showed up.”

Zayne placed a plaintive hand between them, “She is a rather independent person. She was likely telling the truth– she just needed some space.”

Zayne’s voice was still calm, explaining like he explained a treatment plan or directions. Precise and void of emotion, but his eyes were tight. His brow a bit furrowed in confusion, because you were an independent person but you also were social. You always had been. Connecting to people in that effortless, confounding way that Zayne had always marveled at.

“Which reminds me,” Rafayel turned his attention to the soft-spoken doctor, “You never mentioned her. How long have you two known each other?”

Zayne looked caught off guard, “She’s a friend. We’ve known each other for years. Since we were children.”

“ Children?” Rafayel was nearly seething now, “You hear this?” He snapped, turning to Xavier, “They’ve known each other since they were children! So what? A decade? More?”

“You can’t blame him,” Xavier defends with a stern expression, “He has no idea. And he doesn’t understand.”

Rafayel clenched his teeth together and pointed angrily, steaming, but unable to find more words. Evol brimming at the edge of his control, buzzing like a sheathed weapon ready to be unleashed.

“Do you two know her?” Zayne asked, his expression a touch darker than it was before. 

Xavier and Rafayel shared a glance, silently debating the next remark. They hadn’t exactly discussed what to do if you showed up. They’d all assumed you didn’t exist. Of course, amnesiac Zayne would be the one to find you first. He had no idea what he’d run into, and could hardly be blamed for not sharing with the others. 

But– But they couldn’t necessarily be honest with him. His sanity teetered sometimes– consciousnesses crossing over from one reality to the other. Xavier had argued that keeping Zayne in the dark was for the best, while Sylus had tried to argue the opposite. While Zayne may not understand all the time, it was better for him to know. 

Rafayel had been the deciding vote, and he had decided to keep Zayne in the dark. Let him believe they were just a group of four individuals that got along really well and understood each other better than most. Let it be an unconventional relationship but all in good fun, and not the truth– which was they were clinging to each other for survival and holding onto what remained of the life they had lost. 

It felt like a mercy to not remind Zayne of what he would never have again, but lo and behold! He’d had it the whole time! You were by Zayne’s side, hidden behind him and behind that block on his memory like a duckling beneath its mother’s wing. 

“She just seemed upset– when she left.” Rafayel grunted, turning to look towards the window and not at the incredulous Zayne. “I like this one, and I don’t want to have to find another housekeeper.”

“If she was truly upset, I’ll talk to her when she gets back.” Zayne said benevolently– his blatant spark of jealousy soothed for the moment. “I need her to want to stay here, and if she quits I– Let’s just say I will not be happy.”

Xavier chuckled and clapped his hand onto Zayne’s back, “Of course. We’ll let you handle it, alright?” The blond turned to Rafayel and continued, “Right?”

Rafayel huffed and turned on his heel, “I’ll be in my studio. Let me know when she gets back.”

“If she’s not back by lunch I’ll go get her myself.” Xavier answered. 

So, you were definitely being followed. 

That wasn’t a fun feeling nor a happy realization. It wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with some shady character, but that had been on missions. When you were active duty and sent to infiltrate or to sniff out an informant’s tip.

You had always liked those missions. The ones where you were dealing with bad people and their illegal syndicates. Smuggling, trafficking, illegal experimentation. It felt like justice. It felt like making a change and doing good. 

Fighting Wanderer’s was good, but it felt like an uphill, endless battle. Sisyphus and his boulder, continually pushing but always ending up back where you started. 

This guy had followed you down three left turns. He was a good distance back, but you could see him in the reflection of your phone screen. At least he was halfway decent. You would have never noticed him if you hadn’t stopped to stare at some  geese in the canal alongside the walkway for a few minutes. 

You’d been so preoccupied with the geese as they attempted to find the water beneath the ice that you’d almost missed it. A man in a grey coat and black hat, the lower half of his face was covered by black mask– not too odd for such cold weather, but he kept his hands in his pockets, looking down at the canal like you were, but there weren’t geese there. And he kept shifting on his feet like he was eager to get moving. 

So you kept walking, typing nonsense into the notes app of  your phone so you could keep it out and looking in the reflection of it every so often, and there he was. Always there. Even after you turned once, twice, three times. You were now walking down a narrower street, the sidewalk barely populated and the shops mostly closed. 

You didn’t bring a weapon. That sucked. And you didn’t have a convenient knife aisle to grab one either. 

It could be a coincidence: a really, really suspicious coincidence, but your gut told you that wasn’t the case. He didn’t look to be heavily armed, but he could have anything on under that coat. A gun was one thing, but a tranquilizer could be another. A switchblade. Mace. Taser. He could even have some half-assed homemade bomb under there. Not knowing was dangerous, and so you kept walking. 

It was one thing for you to get hurt, and another entirely for the innocent people around you to get pulled into whatever this was. 

You were walking further into the city now. More cars. More crosswalks, and you found yourself standing and waiting at one with two others. They weren’t looking at you, too busy in their own lives and their own business to care about you. 

The man approached, standing that socially acceptable distance away and waiting for the light. The numbers counted down, and you felt your heart begin to race. He was closer now. Close enough he could grab you if he wanted to. Close enough to press a gun to your back and fire before you could even turn around to see his face. 

You should bolt. Wait until it turns green and then run. That’s it. That was the plan. As soon as you could, you would take off and lose him down an alley or something. Climb up a fire escape if you had to. 

“There you are,” A warm voice said the moment before a hand slid across your back. 

You jumped and whirled to the side, ready to strike your stalked in the throat, only you found it much higher than you thought it’d be, and he grabbed at your wrist before your fist could make contact with his adam’s apple. 

“I’ve been looking for you. Is this how you greet a friend?” His carmine eyes danced with mirth, and you moved to step back but found his arm had familiarly wrapped around you, holding you close. 

The light for the crosswalk turned green and the others began to cross, but Sylus held you in place. 

“Sylus?” You blurted out, confusion overtaking you for a moment before you noticed your stalked stride by, unable to find a good enough excuse to wait for you and so he had to cross. 

Sylus’ eyes were on your face, but flicked up as the man passed. His arm shifted around you, moving you to be standing next to him as he let go of your wrist. “That was peculiar. How long were you being followed, kitten?”

You scowled slightly, “I’m not a kitten.”

Sylus chuckled and you could feel the rumble of it in the shoulder you had pressed against him, he turned the both of you down the corner and away from the intersection, his steps making up two of yours. Though, he seemed to be walking slower to compensate. 

“I can almost hear the hiss in your voice,” Sylus taunted, the hand on your waist squeezing slightly, “Come one, you can tell me. Who was that?”

You sighed and let yourself be led down the sidewalk, passing into the shade cast by a tall building, “I have no idea. I caught him following me a few blocks away from the house. I was trying to lose him when you showed up.”

“Do you find yourself the attention of strange men often, kitten?” You could hear the way he tacked on the pet name at the end, a clear barb to see if you’d react. You refused to. 

“Only recently.” You replied, “I took a job and suddenly I’ve got all sorts of attention.”

You made Sylus chuckle again, and you watched as he began typing at his phone with his free hand. You couldn’t see what he was typing, but it looked like a text message. 

“Here,” Sylus said as he stopped suddenly, and when you turned you found yourself in front of a luxury store, the shiny glass windows edged with frost and showcasing a winter line of watches on one side and neckties in the other. You half expected to be dragged into it, but instead Sylus turned to a motorbike paked just outside of it. 

“Is this yours?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Sylus walked over and removed the helmet coming back to your side and silently putting on your head, “Are you allowed to park here?”

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Sylus answered. He took your hand and led you to the edge of the sidewalk. He mounted the bike and then shifted forward, motioning with his head, “Get on.”

“Why would I do that?” You ask, as you place your hands on the sides of the helmet to remove it. “I was just out for a walk, I can walk back.”

Sylus reached out with his long arms and his leather jacket shifted so you saw the pair of handguns at his hips. It wasn’t threatening but it was surprising. Though, after the initial shock of seeing them, you realized it wasn’t all that surprising actually. If anyone was going to be concealed carrying, it would be a man like Sylus. All leather jackets and jackal smiles. 

“I’ve gotten six texts from Zayne alone about you,” Sylus said, his grin showing just a bit too much canine, “Let me take you home, before the poor doctor faints.”

You paused in removing your helmet and instead let it hide your face from the blush that rose there. While you hadn’t meant to, it was almost endearing to hear Zayne was worried about you. You had left in a rush, and you were poor at hiding when something was wrong. 

Though, with a stalker on your heel, you hadn’t actually spent much time digesting your morning revelations. You didn’t get the air you needed to come to terms with your lost fantasy. Though it might only be a silly crush, it still stung to see it squashed. 

“He’d be fine. He’s just worried because I left in a rush.” You argue, more to yourself than to him. “Did he send you to find me?”

Sylus sat up, “No. Did you want him to?”

“No.” You partially lied. You were a big girl and didn’t need Zayne or anyone else sending out search parties and dragging you home like a petulant child. It was that pathetic part of you with rose-colored glasses that fawned at the idea. 

“Did you get into an argument?” Sylus probed. His voice was less serrated, and his grin gone. 

“No. Nothing like that I just–” You stopped yourself and took a deep breath. “Fine. Take me back.”

You saw the spark of intrigue in Sylus’ eye and all but pushed him forward on the bike to place yourself behind him. Though you tried to just hold onto the leather strap along the back part of the seat, Sylus wasn’t having it, and grabbed your arm, pulling it around his waist. He did the same with the other arm, and then reached back again, placing his hand on your lower back and sliding your butt up until you were as flush as you could get to him.

“Hold on, sweetie.” His drawled as he started up the monstrous bike, and took off. 

He drove like you drove. Faster than you should and weaving around traffic as if it had personally offended you– only, if it was possible, Sylus was more aggressive at it. He streamlined down the streets and around corners like a bird of prey. Like a Peregrine falcon, careening at breakneck speeds to capture prey. 

You clung to his waist and let the sensation of the thrill ride thrum your speeding heart. You were glad for the helmet, which muffled your gleeful squeal when Sylus pulled around a corner and it caught at your tummy. 

Though, just after that, you felt his chest rumble with a soft laugh of his own. 

He slowed down as you entered the familiar block of the house, and was surprised when he didn’t pull into the garage, but instead stopped in front. With a few gentle pats to your arm, he let you let go of him, and stepped off the bike. 

Before you could take off the helmet yourself, Sylus was there and plucked it off your head. You blinked at the sudden brightness which had been dimmed by the tinted visor. Sylus cocked his head at you and laughed, low and soft. 

“Now you really look like a kitten.” He teased as he placed the helmet back onto the seat of the bike, “All fluffed up.”

You began to try and straighten your hair and scowled at him, “Thanks for the ride, and for getting that guy off my tail.”

“You don’t seem as concerned as someone should be that you were being followed.” Sylus said with amusement as he opened the front gate, letting you enter first before following behind you. 

“I am concerned,” You argued back, “But I’m not exactly in a place to do much about it. He didn’t do anything. Didn’t hurt me or threaten me. Even if I went to the police I don’t have anything to really report.”

“What was your plan exactly?” Sylus crooned as he opened the front door and led you inside. The warmth immediately enveloping you and melting the ice that had begun to form on your toes and fingers. 

You huffed out a laugh, “Run? Well, I was going to bolt. I couldn’t tell if he was armed–”

“He was.”

“Well I didn’t know that. And so I didn’t just want to turn around and confront him. There were too many people around, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt either.”

You went to remove your coat and Sylus was suddenly behind you, sliding it off your shoulders and hanging it up on the rack. 

“So, the plan?” Sylus took off his leather coat and hung it next to yours, then placing his broad hands on narrow hims and you found yourself a little tongue tied for a half a second.

“I was going to run, like I said.” You crossed your arms, hoping to block whatever leather-magic he head that made your eyes seem to draw down his body. From broad shoulders to the wide expanse of his chest. All of the men here were tall but Sylus was big. What was in the water here?

You cleared your throat and continued, “As soon as the light turned I was going to run as fast as I could. Either he’d let me, realizing I’d caught him. Or he’d chase me, which is where I’d try and lose him in a store or in an alley or something. Worst case, I face him head on behind some dumpster.”

Sylus so hard he tilted his head back, “A kitten and an alley cat?”

“Call me kitten some more and I’ll scratch your eyes out.” You huffed, turning on your heel and leaving the entryway. 

“Oh I might,” Sylus’ voice was in your ear as he stepped just behind you, leaning down to purr too close to you, “Just to see you try.”

“Y/N,” Someone else called before you could whip around and hiss something a little more colorful at your silver-haired savior. You were beginning to think his benevolence would come with a price. 

You turned and saw Zayne approaching from the couch. Had he been waiting on you?

“Hey Zayne.” You greeted as sweetly as you could, though the sight of him made your tummy hurt. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Zayne said, his expression stony and unreadable. 

“No, thank you?” Sylus asked from behind you, leaning over to place his elbow on the top of your head to lean on you like one leans on a counter at a bar. “I found your housekeeper, Zayne. She was almost six miles away.”

Zayne looked over your head at Sylus, and then where he was leaning on you. His hazel eyes turned a little more icy than usual. In a show of boldness he usually didn’t show, Zayne stepped forward, placing himself in your space and removing Sylus’ arm from your head with a firm hand. 

“Thank you,” Zayne bit out, though it hardly sounded sincere, “What were you doing there?”

Sylus’ brows rose and then fell, “I was buying a few things for the auction coming up. I got you something too– you’re welcome, by the way. I happened to see her walking by, and I said hello.”

You looked at Sylus in mild surprise, stunned that he hadn’t mentioned the man following you. Was it a secret? You hadn’t planned on mentioning it only because there wasn’t anything Zayne or the others could do, but why would Sylus hide it? What was his motive?

“Thank you,” You said to Sylus with a slight nod, “Again, for driving me back. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“Hardly,” Sylus replied. His eyes shifted back towards you and you felt like the red there might actually burn you alive. There was something all-encompassing there. Like the beacon of his attention weighed a thousand tons, and to take the brunt of his undivided attention, it left you a bit breathless. 

“I was hoping to speak to her alone,” Zayne said, inserting himself again.”If you don’t mind.”

Sylus paused, looking at Zayne and examining him for a moment. Like two grey wolves crossing paths in a forest. Eyes of predators sizing each other. There wasn’t malice or aggression there– yet. Only the assessment of someone formidable, and a conversation happening that only they could understand. 

“Alright then,” Sylus said, letting the hand he had shifted to your back fall away. It cut in between you and Zayne, grabbing the dark-haired man by the side of the neck and pulling him in until their faces were but a breath away from each other. 

Zayne grunted, ears turning red, but he didn’t pull away. Sylus’ grin was predatory, amused by the easy way he moved the other man as he whispered almost against his lips, “Be careful, Zayne. Be nice to the kitten. I’d hate to have to go catch her again.”

Sylus let got of Zayne, and he gasped. The white haired man admired his handiwork for a moment, shooting you a look that had you breathless before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall. 

Zayne turned, dragging his middle finger across his lower lip and going back to sit on the couch, “I…apologize, for his behavior.”

It took you a moment to gain your bearings, and when you felt like the blood had returned to your brain and not your pussy, you whirled on Zayne, “What the hell was that Zayne?”

Zayne sat on the couch, hands on his knees and eyes avoiding looking at you, “What do you mean?”

“Are you with Xavier?” You demanded, “Or Sylus? Or both? I don’t understand what this is, and I– I know it’s none of my business but…”

Zayne sat up and shifted, clearly uncomfortable, “We aren’t…it’s hard to explain…”

Your face was burning with heat, and you immediately regretted asking. But this was going to drive you insane if you didn’t get some answers. So, in an act of peace, you went and sat down. Not next to Zayne, but across from him on the loveseat instead of the couch. 

“We aren’t together.” Zayne said, looking down like he wasn’t sure of the words he was saying, “But we aren’t…. not together, either.”

You tried to keep your expression as even as possible. Heart pounding, and mind reeling. You weren’t even sure whether the news hurt or not. “You and Xavier.”

Zayne looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His face and ears were crimson and he had to clear his throat again before he spoke, “A-all of us.”

The conservative posture you had crumpled, “ All of you? Like you and Sylus, and Xavier. Even Rafayel?”

“I know it's peculiar.” Zayne said as he adjusted his glasses on his nose, “It isn’t– I certainly never thought I’d find myself in this position, but it– ahem, I apologize if this makes you uncomfortable. I understand if you wish to leave. I can find you an apartment nearby– I’ll pay for it of course.”

Zayne was rambling? You were so caught off guard by seeing Zayne’s disposition so flustered that you wondered if you were dreaming. Zayne, for as long as you’d known him, had never been rambled on like this. Defensive , your mind supplied. Vulnerable, it added after that. 

He was afraid of what you thought. 

You stood up and went to sit beside him, but kept your hands to yourself. “Zayne, it’s fine. It’s…it’s surprising, but I don’t judge you for it. If this is what makes you happy, then I’m glad. I…This morning I was just confused. I didn’t understand, but now that I do I’ll be fine. I don’t want to leave, I promise.”

Zayne bridged the distance between you, taking your hands in his and squeezing. Your hands are only slightly warmer than his. 

“I can’t lose you,” He said softly, “I don’t think any of us knows what we’re doing. What this is, but I know…I know that you matter to me. Deeply. And I don’t want to lose you.”

The confession stung. Words you would have given your soul to hear if only in a different context. How could you even pretend at this point that they meant anything more than kinship? Sweet and affectionate as they may be, they didn’t mean what your heart wanted them to, and so your face fell. Unable to hide the disappointment. 

“You mean alot to me too,” You whisper, voice raw. “I’m happy for you. If you’re happy.”

Before he could reply, you unlatched your hands from his and stood up. You avoided looking at him as you went to leave, the pit in your stomach heavier than ever.

“I’m going to go take a nap.” You said as gently as you could, “I’ll be down later.”

Zayne stood up, “Y/N.”

You didn’t turn. Escaping away to your bedroom with heavy feet. You spotted Rafayel at the door to his studio, and he paused to look at you. Damn him and his pretty face, because by that point your eyes were misty and stinging. 

You rushed into your room and shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. The room was warm, but your skin felt cold. You shook your head. You had no right to be sad. Zayne was never yours, and it was better to know the others were off limits too. It was better this way. 

You continued to repeat that for the rest of the day. Hiding under your covers and sleeping the day away.

<- Previous Next ->

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

((⚠️Tw: Aduse ⚠️))

What if Adam dealt with abuse in the garden? Everything was pretty new, so many even the angels didn't know how to act with the humans.

Adam was always excited about his task of naming every animal, but sometimes, he liked to just enjoy his time in the garden. Just relax and spend time with the animals he loves.

But, maybe he stopped doing that so often after Sera flew down and saw him just lying in a field with the horses. She was fine with him until she found out he wasn't even halfway through naming the animals.

She slaps him a few times, leaving a deep bruise on his face. He's never felt pain before, so he quickly crawled backwards, away from Sera but the Seraphim kept getting closer, reminding him of his tast and how he's letting down not only the garden, but also Heaven.

Adam dreads seeing Sera or any of the angels. He's able to play off his fear and keep to himself. That was until a random angel was walking next to Adam and stood in a mud puddle. They weren't happy and scolded Adam for not warning them about it. He goes to cover his face, but the angel grabs his wrists and pulls them away, and quickly hits him a couple of times.

He watched the angel fly away in a huff. He didn't get the big deal. It had just rained in Eden, didn't angels know what happens when. Water mixes with dirt?

Lucifer eventually pulls away from Adam as he starts getting distant and closed off. He doesn't want to risk doing anything to make Lucifer mad.

He's never seen the archangel angry, but as the days went on, Adam wouldn't hug him, or his smile was more forced. He was afraid Luci would punish him like the other angels. And he doesn't know how he would handle his sweet angel hurting him. He hates the pain so much.

Lilith, on the other hand, is more aware of what is happening, but it annoys her that Adam wouldn't stand up for himself.

She screamed bloody murder at the first- and only angel to cause her pain, and they never did it again.

But Adam was more scared and wanted the angels' love, not hate.

-

Lilith: I don't get you sometimes.

Adam: Me? Why?

Lilith: ...Seriously? They constantly hurt you, even over things that aren't your fault, and you just let them. Fight back, Adam! They have no right to come down here and do that!

Adam wrapped his arms around himself: T-They have every right, Lily. Their... you know. Important.

Lilith: ...Important? And you're not?

Adam: Not as much as-.

Lilith: Am I not important?

Adam: You... you're important. You're e-everthing to me.

Lilith glared: They hurt me, Adam. What will you do about it?

Adam's eyes widened: They what? When? Why? Why didn't you say anything-?

Lilith growled as Adam came over and started fussing over her and checking her for wounds. She slapped his hand away, making him squeak and take a step back.

Lilith: See? You won't even fight for me! What will it take, Adam?! For you to fight back?! To stop them from doing this?! From hurting you?!

Adam: I... L-Lily, I deserved it-.

He freezes as Lilith hits him: Did you deserve that?

Adam: I-I... y-yes-.

She wacks him again and again, asking him if he deserves it. Adam starts to panic as Lilith keeps hitting him, her nails scratched at the skin on his face, neck and chest.

Without thinking and letting his panic fully take over, he pushes her away from him, and she smacks into a tree, her shoulder and hip getting grazed by the bark.

Adam: N-No, I'm sorry- I'm so sorry, Lily-! I didn't mean to- are you okay?

Lilith glared: You're pathetic, Adam.

He rubs his face as he watches Lilith walk off deeper into Eden.

-

The next time he sees her, she's with Lucifer. But Adam runs when Lucifer's eyes land on him, and he has the same look as the other angels. He looked furious, and that terrified Adam. He didn't want his angel to hurt him, even though he deserved it for hurting Lilith.

-

Each time he saw Lucifer after that, he hurt him. Maybe not physically, but mentally. Each jab at the meeting table, each time he touched or kissed Lilith.

But what really hurt Adam was when Lucifer mentioned his new baby in passing. Sera giving a half passed congratulations. Adam smiled when he heard they had a daughter. He loves his daughters, so he knew they were going to love theirs.

He made sure to keep his smile small so his mask wouldn't read and display it.

-

The only time his angel physically hurt him was when he was beating him into the ground of the Pride Ring. He hurt him like every other angel, but Adam didn't understand why he felt more pain this time. Was it the fact it was Lucifer? Or was it because Adam realised he was going to die before getting his angel back?

My fucking heart 💔💔💔💔

[waynes-multiverse]

Oh, I know that cliffhanger was so mean 😂 But I'm happy we're finally here at the (soon) happy end 💕

Me presenting the mess lmao:

First, I've gotta say how pretty the color scheme and art is for this fic, Wayne. So delicate and lovely. 👌🏽🩷🩵

Aww, thank you, Alex! I fully went with the fic title inspiration for that one lol. Can't beat the Swiftie outta me after sixteen years 😂🩵🩷 (And I genuinely love the new tumblr functions. About damn time!)

Clearly Ben isn't taking this well (nor should he, tbf). It really got me when he said that she was his best friend -- his only friend as well as his love. I get that he feels betrayed, but though he's come a long way, he still hasn't matured enough not to lash out at her over the phone. 🙄

Ooof, that phone call was rough, wasn't it? But I think he really panicked when she said that and instantly reverted back to his old self that probably gives him more confidence and protection 😭💔

I love and melt every time when he calls her his only (and best) friend because he certainly realized that when he was in rehab lol. But let's face it – he's not a people person that makes friends easily 😂

askasdnawjf omfg, BEN. 💀💀💀

Oh, you just know that man shamelessly enjoys Mrs. Brooks' flirting 🤣🤣🤣

Awwww Benny. 🥹 This kid's probably the only reason Ben's holding it together. I loved Ben's internal monologue of how he's trying to do better for his son, but also feels guilty for even saying in anger that he's not his real son. 😭 I truly hope the kid never actually hears about that later. Idk if my heart could take it! 😂

I was a little worried it might be too OOC, but he did learn and grow a lot in rehab and after that whole Homelander thing, I could really see him accept the boy as his own eventually, especially since it's just been the two of them alone all this time. I think if reader were there, they might not even have bonded as much 💚

But it's so sweet when he really tries to do better than his own father, even though some methods are still a little quesionable 😂🫶

Oooh this makes so much sense that he would keep a vial of V for emergencies. Like as much as we don't want that for him at this point, the danger of this world and how it views Ben might push him to do something drastic to save his family.

There was no way he wasn't keeping something for emergencies. Although he's happy where he is now, I don't think he'll ever fully trust the peace and will always cling to Soldier Boy as his go-to protection lol

And kudos to him for not using it so far! God knows that would've been an easy fix for him to be with his wife again 😭

lol at least she knows him well. 😅 She knows he didn't mean the shit he said, even if it did cut her down to the bone.

She does lol. And I found her whole attitude toward it really gracious. We all mess up sometimes and no one's perfect. Sometimes things we don't mean slip out in the heat (or hurt) of the moment... 🙈

loll baby steps. 😅

Their little breakfast together as a family was so wholesome and lovely (despite Ben's mouth lol)!

lol all the baby steps with him 😂 But I loved showing how Ben was slowly adjusting to the new world of the 21st century

LOL yeeeah, kids are hard work, Ben. Now he sees for himself. 🤣🤣

We all know that man just wants to spread his seed and not put in any of the work 😂😭 But Benny surely taught him a lesson on that one lmao

I never thought of it this way, but that's such an interesting (and delicious) power imbalance with SB that you would never see coming in a fic. Such good storytelling. 👌🏽

Aww, thank you! I loved the opportunity to show some reversed roles for once. And it really opened Ben’s eyes to how some of his lovers might have felt lol

Oh GODDDD. Are you pulling in the Gen V virus?!

I did – kinda lol. I wrote Rehab before Gen V and S4 came out, but I figured this is good way for a cure loophole haha. But since the series is already its own AU/timeline, I made some minor adjustments to the OG virus 🤓

I have to wonder if Neuman in on it and that's why she sent our girl home. Or maybe someone else is targetting her, or she caught the virus somehow by accident? Oh good lord. 😰 Ben's REALLY gonna need to step it up if he's going to save her (and himself really).

Honestly, I could’ve easily turned this into a multi-chapter conspiracy, but I tried to keep it short, sweet, and uncomplicated for once before I accidentally ruin their happy end again 😂🩷

But I figured just all the traveling and airports would expose her more, and it all just trickles down to bad luck (or maybe a blessing in disguise) 😉

Lover – Part 1

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, angst, discussions of divorce, Dad!Soldier Boy, human!Soldier Boy, SB trying to be an ally (trust me it's a warning lol), fluff, (the beginnings of) smut

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Sid and Nancy are back to finally get their happy end for Valentine's 💕 The road might be a little bumpy until then, but we'll get there 😉

Disclaimer: This is a sequel story. The reader and Soldier Boy met at a rehab facility in 2025 after both being cured of Compound V. Reader became a supe again at the end of the series and is still currently a supe with acidic powers. Seriously guys, catch up with the links above. I can't explain everything... 😝

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 1: Lovelorn

The crystalline water of the small lake is peaceful, a calm Ben appreciates as he sits on the dock, his bow legs hanging down and feet almost touching the perfectly still surface. But underneath the serenity roars a thundering storm, his mind reeling like the fishing pole in his grasp without an end in sight.

“Fuck that! Fuck all of that shit, Y/N! I fucking love you. I’m sick and tired of those games. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I miss you, huh? I don’t wanna do this anymore. I don’t wanna call you and hope you have time to pick up. I don’t wanna text you and wait hours for a fucking answer. I don’t wanna fuck you through a dumbass screen. I miss you. I miss my wife. I miss actual goddamn sex, for fuck’s sake!”

“I know. I miss all of that, too. Maybe it’s time. Maybe we should finally talk about it.”

“Talk about what?”

“Divorce.”

Remembering the word brings forth another surge of paralyzing anger. His jaw clenches, the grip around the pole tightening. He’s sure even the fish can feel his fury since they refuse to bite this evening. A flicker of sunlight that reflects on the water’s surface then hits his green eyes, flashes of the haunting night flowing freely into his mind.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You wanna fucking divorce me?!”

“Ben, just listen–“

“No, you fucking listen! You’re my fucking wife, and you’re not fucking leaving me! You understand? Till death do us part, sweetheart, and I fucking mean it.”

Ben’s heart twinges at the memory. He recalls how she startled at his threat, not knowing he regretted those words as soon as he said them. He remembers how her breath halted, how her hands jittered, and how the tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Ben, I just want you to be happy. You’re supposed to have a family. Everything you ever wanted…”

“So were you. You’re supposed to be fucking here. With me. And the kid. We’re supposed to do this fucking thing together. Remember?”

“But I can’t!”

“Can’t or don’t fucking want to, huh?”

“Ben, I don’t wanna keep you trapped. This way, you can find someone new. Someone who can give you want you want.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you? No one can give me want I fucking want but you. I wanna fucking be with you!”

“Ben…”

“No, you know what? You wanna fucking leave me like all the others, go fucking right ahead!”

“Ben–“

“You want me to fuck someone else so badly? Be fucking happy? Fucking fine! Consider your wish granted, wifey. Guess, I’m going out tonight and fuck some other slut. Who knows, maybe I’ll fucking knock her up, too! Get a real fucking kid…”

“Ben!”

“Fuck you, my love!”

Ben doesn’t even remember if he hung up before he flung the phone against wall. All he knows is that he had to get a new one the next morning.

And moreover, he did go out that very same night. He called the neighbor, Mrs. Brooks – a fine, older widow in her 70s – and asked her to keep an eye on the kid while he went to the local watering hole. She was the kid’s usual babysitter and very fond of both him and the little slugger. She was also constantly flirting with him. It was only too bad Ben couldn’t get her pregnant…

At the bar, he then met Cynthia – a petite redhead with a huge rack, a perfectly shaped ass, and ideal child-bearing hips in a tight, glittery, emerald dress. It shone like a neon sign.

He bought her three drinks, and she constantly touched his arm as he whispered dirty things into her ear. He could’ve easily persuaded her to come to the dingy pub’s bathroom with him, where he’d rail her from behind till she saw fucking stars and was dripping his cum. But the scrape of her nails against his skin caused him to shudder over and over again – not in the good way – and he cursed himself for fucking missing his wife. He also remembered how shitty he'd felt the last time he had executed similar revenge plans…

This wouldn’t do, so he ditched the floozy there on the spot and returned to an empty house, angrier and more frustrated than before.

Ben fucking hates everything and everyone.

“Dad, look! I got it on by myself,” his six-year-old announces and holds up both hook and worm with a proud and wide grin to show him.

Ben forces a smile to his lips. “Good job, buddy.”

He tries his best to hide his envenomed mood from his son. He recalls how he always hated it when his own father took his personal shit out on him. Ben vows to do better, although the focus should really be on the term trying.

He fails more often than not.

Another regret of that night trickles into his mind then, one that haunts and tortures him more than the other hateful things he’s spewed.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll fucking knock her up, too! Get a real fucking kid…”

Sure, in the beginning, Ben thought he’d never really view the kid as his own flesh and blood, but he would’ve gone along with it for her. Y/N once called them a family of misfits – forgotten and lost souls cast out by the rest of society. But they’d always have each other and that was what counted.

Where the fuck is she now, though?

When she didn’t come with them to start their new life, Ben pretty much wrote the whole ‘found family’ bullshit off as a lost cause. He’d never get along with the kid, he was constantly frustrated by the little rascal’s shenanigans and outbursts, all the while his long-distance wife urged him to be patient over a fucking phone.

Ben’s felt fucking alone most days.

However, with a firm hand, a level head, and some old-school discipline, Ben’s managed the impossible and set the kid on the right track. Now, little Ben’s staying out of playground trouble, being nice to his teachers, and getting straight-As.

Alright, fine…

Out of sheer boredom and not because he was desperate, Ben might have read those stupid parenting books Y/N got him for Christmas: The Gentle Parenting Book, Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child, and Parenting from the Inside Out.

Bunch of sissy bullshit if you ask Ben. He wanted a fucking Rolex under the tree and not coded messages wrapped in nice paper. And moreover, he’ll never admit that hogwash has actually helped, even if the Russians take him and torture him for another forty years.

It’s been a fucking struggle, but the boy’s grown on him. And in all honesty, the kid probably resembles him more than the firstborn who shares his bloodline. Sometimes, Ben even (quietly) thinks it’s a fucking good thing the kid doesn’t have an ounce of his DNA.

So, now they go camping and fishing together. They go to the bowling alley, the arcade, and to local high school football games. Ben tries to teach the boy what he knows (to the best of his abilities). And a few weeks ago, the kid suddenly started to call him the D-word. Y/N, on the other hand, has received the M-word pretty instantly – and she’s a fucking great mother, even from afar.

And at first, Ben surely considered it fucking weird since the kid isn’t really his, but, well, the word’s grown on him as much as the boy himself.

Ben still feels fucking guilty for even merely suggesting he wasn’t his real son – because he is, and he hopes the kid never finds out he ever uttered those words in the first place.

The former supe sighs internally. What has she fucking done to him? He wouldn’t mind the change as much if he got to keep the reward…

His mind flickers with a glimmer of an idea when the fading sunlight hits the shimmering veil again. The solution to everything, one little blue vial, is hidden right underneath the wooden floorboards of his bedroom. He’s thought about it a lot.

He could be with her. She wouldn’t have to be scared to hurt him. He could be someone again. Nothing could break him anymore.

Sometimes, that shit was harder to quit than fucking drugs. No wonder they needed a whole-ass rehab for it.

Ben’s keeping it for emergencies, though. In case he needs to protect her – or his family, his kid. In case that Neuman cunt turns on her because he surely doesn’t trust that booger-brain bitch. He keeps it in case he feels weak.

He also keeps a vial of the cure in case she changes her mind and takes it after all. But sometimes he’s scared to ask or push too hard because it very likely would kill her, and he couldn’t fucking live with that.

Because of what? Because he’s being a whiny pussy who wants to risk his wife’s life over a fucking kiss? A fuck?

It sounds insane. He doesn’t want this.

She’s more than his wife, too. She’s his fucking best friend and the only one he’s ever had. Maybe that’s why it hurts so fucking much. How could she even think for a second he’d rather fucking leave and do this with some fucking stranger?

Doesn’t she believe he’s changed? Not even her? Who else is there, then?

“Dad?” His son blinks at him with that look he can’t say no to. Why the fuck are children always doing that? “Can we order pizza? I don’t think the fish are biting.”

“I think you’re right. And hey, I can always go for pizza. Great idea, buddy,” Ben says and can see the kid brighten up at his words. He’d always wanted his father to call him “buddy” or “slugger” – or something other than a fucking disappointment.

What about the kid? pops into his mind. If he takes Compound V again, what happens to his son? What if he becomes one of the monsters Ben’s trying to protect him from? He knows all too well how that shit fucked with his mind the first time around. It’s not as easy.

“Hey.”

Ben’s heart stills like the water in front of him as the soft melody of her voice reaches his ears. He presses his eyes shut as the kid ditches his fishing pole on the dock and dives straight into her waiting arms.

“Mommy!”

“Hey, buddy, I missed you.” She smiles and tousles his hair, but her eyes drift to the far end of the dock where her husband still sits and doesn’t bother to even face her. “I got a surprise for you inside in the kitchen, Benny. You wanna go run ahead and check it out? Your dad and I will join you soon.”

“Cool! Awesome! See ya!”

Their son bolts so fast toward the house, Y/N’s surprised he doesn’t stumble in the grass once. She then lets out a sigh when her attention turns back to her sulking husband.

“You’re gonna acknowledge me at all or just ignore me for the rest of your life?” she prompts, a bit of venom on her tongue.

Yes, she knows her words hurt him, even though they were said with the best intentions. She knows she’s failing as a wife and mother. She knows they both deserve better. She just wanted him to have the option.

However, she can’t say his words haven’t hurt her, too. And it hurt even more when he ignored her for two weeks straight, kept her from their son, and never returned any of her calls or messages.

She knows Ben’s a big man-child, though. Rehab didn’t entirely fix that.

“Not sure yet,” he finally answers but still doesn’t even gift her a glance over his broad and brooding shoulder.

“Oh, it speaks.” She can’t help the bits of sarcasm but is aware she has to tread carefully now. “You’ve been ignoring me for two weeks.”

“Don’t have much to fucking say to you…” Ben grabs a bottle of beer from the cooler next to him, twists it open, and occupies his mouth with a gulp before he says something else he regrets. “‘Sides, my phone broke. Got a new one.”

“Something you usually tell your wife,” she mutters bitterly under her breath.

“Yeah, but not you’re fucking ex-wife,” he retorts.

“We’re still married.”

“Does it fucking matter?” Ben counters and takes another sip.

“I hope it does,” she mumbles and sighs once more, pocketing her hands in her jacket. It’s gotten cold outside – much like their marriage. “Guess that means you haven’t seen my press conference this morning?”

“Nope. Don’t fucking care,” Ben scoffs. He sounds more than a little bitter before his raspy voice ramps up with pettiness. “Already got a new piece of ass. Better fuck than you ever were. Sorry, doll.”

Y/N purses her lips, her head bobbing when he throws the dagger that aims for her heart. He could’ve still been Soldier Boy, and she would’ve believed him. And somehow, she isn’t surprised by his reaction, which really is the sad part. Her heart floods with hurt; her mind berates him and calls him every goddamn name in the book she’s ever learned from him.

Broken promises – that is the theme of their marriage.

Instead of pouring oil into the fire, however, she decides to stay calm. They’ve been through so much together. She’s already forgiven him once, she can do it again.

No one’s perfect. Not her. Not him. Especially him.

“I resigned this morning.”

Yup. Ben feels immediate regret for the lie he’s told.

He’s so stumped by her words, his head finally twists over his shoulder with wide eyes and a raised brow. Their gazes meet for the first time, and Ben is reminded why he had avoided eye contact.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

“Look, uhm… I know this is my fault,” she starts and swallows thickly. Her eyes are so focused on the tips of her boots, she doesn’t even notice he has gotten up from his spot and is strolling closer to her. “I shouldn’t have said it. Not over the phone, not like this. I don’t wanna divorce you, okay? I don’t wanna fucking leave you. I love you, even when you drive me nuts, which you do quite a lot… But the point is – I want this with you. I’ve always wanted this with you… I’ve been working really hard to control my powers and doing meditations, and Vicky even got me a trainer… I want this to work, ok–“

She’s cut off by his lips on hers. His massive hands cup her entire face and hold her so close to him, she’s not sure they’re not melting into one person altogether. He kisses her so deeply as if he hasn’t done it in ages, which he hasn’t.

And sure, surprising her is probably not the smartest idea, considering she could accidentally kill him. But he’s always lived for a good adrenaline rush.

“Ben!” she gasps, eyes wide. But she doesn’t pull away like she usually does. She even keeps her palms placed on his beating heart. She giggles a little at his eagerness and is positively baffled by his reaction. It patches the wounds on her heart a bit.

“I fucking lied, okay? It’s not true. I didn’t-… There’s no one else, alright?” he assures her quickly, thumb brushing her glowing cheeks. “You believe me?”

He’s almost nervous that she won’t. He can’t even blame her, considering his track record. But to his relief, her lips rise to a soft smile.

“I do,” she replies, causing his heart to downright soar. “Don’t ask me why, because I have no fucking idea, but I do.”

Ben smacks his lips. There’s more weighing on his crumpled, old, and heavy heart. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said that night too, alright? I would never hurt you, I swear.”

She nods in his hands. “I know. Don’t worry, okay? Sometimes we say things we don’t mean. Doesn’t make them true. You know I’m kinda the queen of that,” she says and offers him a wry smile.

Ben then pulls her to his lips and kisses her – feverishly and fervently. This time, he even dares to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands graciously exploring her curves that mold perfectly to his frame. When he generously palms and squeezes her buttcheeks, she breaks from the kiss with a laugh.

“Slow down, Casanova,” she says, giggling, her cheeks blushing and hurting furiously. “Take it easy on me, alright? Baby steps.”

“Not even a little sorry.” He chuckles quite cheekily and reluctantly lets her go but stays close. “So, you quit? What about the deal? What did the bitch say?”

“Well, good things happen when you’re nice to people and actually make friends,” she says with a mischievous smile that’s supposed to hide the lecture. But Ben knows there’s one somewhere in there. “Vicky just wants me to be happy, so she reluctantly let me go because I’m still an awesome Chief of Staff. And granted, she doesn’t necessarily understand why my happiness includes you, but she’s a great friend, so…”

Ben frowns slightly at her words but tries not to take too much offense. His wife is here, and that’s all that counts. But: Fuck that cock-juggling thunder cunt…

“You’re staying? For good now?” he checks, not trusting the peace entirely. When could he ever?

“I’m staying for good,” she confirms, smiling brightly. “Unless you don’t want me t–“

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” He kisses her faster than her mouth can move, hot and rough. As he slowly draws back, his nose brushes hers, and he looks deeply into her eyes. “I’m gonna show you how much I want you tonight.”

“Ben, I told you – baby steps,” she reminds him gently but still giggles when he continues to tease her, beard tickling the spot behind her ear.

“I promise I steer clear of the home runs, but I will make it to third base, my love,” he all but swears and places a wet kiss on her forehead. “Now, let’s get inside before the kid burns the house down…”

Y/N laughs as she takes his hand, sauntering back to their home together as the sun sets behind them.

“Mom, you wanna come to a football game with us tonight?” her son asks as he eagerly shuffles his breakfast into his mouth.

The boy hasn’t left her side since she’s come home last night, even sneaking into their bed to cuddle with her – a little to Ben’s chagrin. But after a few scolding looks from his wife, he relented to sharing the attention.

She swears she has two children sometimes…

“Yeah, I’d love to,” she agrees with a wide smile. Little things like that are all she’s ever wanted.

Ben can tell she’s moved because there are tears stinging her eyes again. He thinks they might be a permanent addition at this point, considering they haven’t disappeared since she came home.

“Just a heads up, though, the football coach is a twink,” Ben informs her and actually believes it’s helpful.

Y/N furrows her brow and tilts her head. “Ben, what–“

“Look, I don’t mean any offense by it. The guy’s… alright,” Ben says and clearly struggles to get the words out. “His plays are good. I even think he can get the team to state this year.”

“Wow, high praise,” she comments and hides an amused smile behind her coffee mug. It might not seem like much, but it’s the most acceptance he’s ever shown someone from the LGBTQ community.

“Oh, yeah, I’m a full ally now.” He grins broadly. “Even the lesbians said so.”

“What lesbians?”

“Alec’s parents,” he replies as if it’s obvious, referring to their son’s best friend in school.

“You never said they were lesbians,” she points out, the wrinkles on her brow deepening.

“Sure, I did.”

“No, you said Alec’s parents were a ‘hot blonde’ and some ‘burly dude.’”

“Yeah.” He shrugs simply. “And the burly dude turned out to be a woman. Took me a while to realize, though. Was hard to find boobs under that flannel…”

“Alright, and I think that is enough grown-up talk around the kid for now,” she says, shaking her head in amusement.

“I don’t mind,” Benny quips from his chair and grins slyly at his parents.

“Uh-huh, keep eating your breakfast,” she says and ruffles his hair as she gets up from her seat by the island next to him.

They spend the whole day together, taking Benny to the batting cage at the park and the food court at the mall before attending a high school football game. As they return home late that night, the kid is so exhausted he falls right into his bed and passes out, and Ben hopes to God he goddamn stays there for the rest of the night.

He has great plans for his wife tonight.

“Alone at last,” Y/N says as she slings her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply as she sways in his embrace in the living room, his large hands resting perfeclty on her hips.

“You can say that again,” Ben huffs, but there’s amusement in his voice.

“Still want ten kids?” she teases. His brow raises comically at her words, making her giggle.

“Maybe three are enough,” he admits. Before, he never thought kids could be that much work. He also thought he wouldn’t be as involved in… well, raising them. “Or two. Maybe just one more…”

She laughs, throwing her head back. “Yeah, two sounds nice.”

“Wanna get working on one right now?” Ben suggests with his best flirty smile and a wag of his brows but can quickly see her reluctance and cups her cheeks, lifting her gaze to him. “We’ll go as slow as you need to, alright? But I believe in you. I know you got this shit under control.”

For a heartbeat, she licks her lips in contemplation, and Ben already thinks it’s a lost cause, but then she actually nods.

“Okay,” she agrees and stretches on tiptoes to tentatively catch his upper lip between her soft, plush pillows. Her fingers crawl up his jaw, card through his beard. “But you’re gonna have to let me be in control if you don’t want me to kill you.”

Ben only entertains it with a cheeky smile. “Well, might be fun for a change,” he says and lifts her back to his lips with a finger under her chin.

He takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom. He only turns on the small lamp by his bedside before his ravening eyes turn their full attention back to her. He marvels at her beauty in the soft, warm glow for a moment before lifting the t-shirt over her head and tossing it aside.

He kisses down the column of her throat, teeth biting skin and soothing it with his tongue as he works his way inside her bra. A hunger is spreading inside of him at her taste, her smell, her noises. He tries to tame it as best as he can on her behalf, but it’s fucking hard. He’s fucking hard.

She hums, moans the further he travels, the rougher he gets as he devours every free inch of her body. He tests the waters, sees where he can bite. Her skin is more durable now. Ben still remembers the feeling – the numbness.

Her fingers jitter nervously as they fumble with his belt buckle and zipper. Ben thinks it’s cute. He’s never seen her like this before. He’s almost sad he doesn’t have super-hearing anymore to listen to the wild beats of her heart.

But he wouldn’t trade what he’s feeling right now for the world. He has almost forgotten what it all felt like before the blue poison made him so indifferent and callous. He never thought he’d wish her to be human. And not out of petty, jealousy, or selfishness – out of love.

Ben wants her to feel exactly what he feels and knows she fucking can’t right now.

The rest of their clothes land in a pile on the floor as they peel off each item, carefully working their way to bare skin. Ben’s fingers almost twitch from holding back – he’d love to tear and rip it all off. Baby steps.

When she’s left only in a pair of delicate lace panties, she gently pushes against his chest, forcing him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Ben can’t lie and say he isn’t a little nervous, too, rubbing his palms along his thick thighs in anticipation. She’s stronger than him now, which makes his heart flutter slightly. He feels a bit like he’s playing with matches, trying to set himself on fire.

Was this how his human lovers always felt when he was still Soldier Boy?

Little scary…

She straddles his thighs and takes a seat in his lap, teeth biting her bottom lip back and hiding half of the smile that graces her lips. Her hips rock against the achingly straining bulge in his boxers.

Ben’s been as hard as tungsten since she’s kissed him last night. Forty years imprisonment haven’t cost him this much restraint as one year without touching his wife, who was practically right underneath his nose the whole time. He figures it was the sheer temptation that constantly triggered his need for her. The Russians never were that fucking pretty.

She sucks the skin on his throat purple and blue and leaves bite marks behind. Ben knows she loves staking her claim on him, and he always enjoys inspecting her little art projects in the mornings. He’s gladly hers as much as she is his.

His massive hands wander her curves, squeeze taut flesh and perfectly frame her perky tits. Her skin feels smooth and soft and warm, hot even. Too hot…

“You’re hot,” he murmurs breathlessly against her lips.

She doesn’t understand what he means and smiles, although her brow furrows slightly as if she found the question at least a little odd. He was usually more direct, more racy. “Thank you. So are you?”

She tries to kiss him again, but he pulls back, his hands grabbing her upper arms and holding her at a distant as he inspects her closely. His brow knits deeper and deeper as he cups her scorching cheeks before his palm slides to her forehead.

“No…” He shakes his head, worry stirring his blood. His heartbeat accelerates, but not for the purpose he expected it to. “You’re burning up.”

As Ben looks closer at her face, he sees how pale she is, how hazy her eyes are. He worries more.

“I do feel a little warm, I guess,” she admits and then forces a weak smile. He could’ve almost mistaken it for lust. “But I’m fine, okay? Probably just nerves.”

Ben would love nothing more than to believe that, but he can’t. Something’s wrong. But it’s his job as her husband to not make her worry and take care of her.

“How about we postpone this to tomorrow, huh, my love?” Ben suggests and gently cards his hands through her hair.

“You sure?” She is surprised, considering how adamant and persistent he’s been to get her here. But she honestly feels too exhausted to argue for long.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says and lovingly pecks her temple. “Just get some rest, okay? It’s been a lot for you those past two days.”

Ben helps her gently into bed, ensures the blanket covers her thoroughly, and places a goodnight kiss to her hairline. She’s fast asleep by the time he leaves the bedroom.

His smile fades, though, once he’s out of view. He knows better than anyone Y/N shouldn’t be feeling sick. She’s a supe, so he knows something is off – and it’s more than nerves and exhaustion.

And then, fear sets in.

Part 2: Lovesick – TOMORROW 💕

*coughs a little angst* We might have a teeny-tiny virus going around... 👀

What did you guys think of this part? Did you expect him to postpone sexy times? Someone finally give that man his fucking Rolex for those heroics 😂🫶

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TAGS:

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@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

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@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato

Soldier Boy: @deans-baby-momma @snowayumi

Rehab Series: @nancymcl @sparkydonugh

[babybearnation]

Paul and Dino (poly) with very far sighted reader, so they (I feel particularly Dino lol) try to show reader memes on their phones and reader is just squinting and holding the phone at arms distance before giving up abd grabbing their glasses

i'm short sighted but my dad is far sighted so he's my frame of reference here lol

paul aron x gn!far sighted!reader x dino beganovic

dino and paul knew nothing about your far sightedness at first because you were often in a position where you didn't need the aid of your glasses

you always carried them with you in your bag but, again, never felt the need for them when you were around paul & dino

you were never close enough to any screens or small text for your vision to become an issue so you managed to unintentionally hide it for a good six months

and then, whilst hanging out together one night, paul hands you his phone, a video on it he and dino want you to watch

you try and watch it with the phone held as close to you as paul had put it, but you didn't have your glasses on so you had to hold it back from your face

still no use

paul and dino are both so confused until you sigh and stand up, putting the phone on the coffee table before sitting back down again

you finally watch through the full video like that and snort with laughter before getting up and handing the phone back to paul

since both of your boyfriends are confused, they ask you about it and you quickly explain your far sightedness

dino goes full on drama queen and asks why you didn't tell them before and why you didn't trust them with that information but paul, ever the rational one, reminds him that it never really came up in conversation before

unfortunately for you, however, this means dino is fully about to become your worst enemy (not literally, obvi)

dino will constantly snatch your glasses from your bag and then shove his phone into your face, laughing when you squint and try and pull back/push his phone back

and, of course, when you go to find your glasses to assist you, dino waggles them at you tauntingly

paul loves to undercut dino's teasing by appearing behind him and snatching the glasses from his grip for you which always makes you laugh and dino pout

paul does the same phone-shove-in-face but not on purpose - he legitimately always forgets that you're far sighted

once he realises though, he'll wince and pull his phone back, sorry falling from his lips repeatedly

it takes a while for him to stop doing it but he eventually does

dino, on the other hand, never stops

he's a menace for life

do NOT let him sit in the room with you when you go for an eye checkup because he will laugh at your squinting faces and "i can't read that" answers

paul is the best help but sometimes he does get so fucking baffled by just how blind you are

they mean well... i think

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[thousand-winters]

(So sorry if you got this already tumblr has been eating my asks recently gahhh)

In my head, there's this very angsty scenario of how things would play out between Darius and Hunter in the aftermath of All The Shit, where Darius basically pushes Hunter away because of his own internal guilt over how he treated Hunter during his time in the coven, not necessarily because he just feels bad about it, but because he recognizes that if he and Hunter get closer, Hunter would not allow himself to get mad at Darius for his bullying and dismissal -- the same way Hunter never allowed himself to get mad at Belos. And Darius would think Hunter deserves to be able to get angry at him, (projecting his own anger at himself, of course), so he puts distance between them in the hopes that Hunter would eventually be angry at him for the things in the coven. And poor Hunter would be so lost and confused about it -- he thought they were getting closer, that they were friends. It would take a stern talking to from one of the unexpected parents (Eda, probably) or just a smack upside the head from Camilla to set him straight again. "Darius, it doesn't matter what you think might not happen -- he's made his choice already. He wants you. And if you make him feel safe enough, whether he gets mad at you initially won't matter either, because he'll feel safe enough to deal with it eventually."

(No worries!!! Tumblr is so wonky sometimes)

Oh, my goodness, I love that.

Something I really love to play with when it comes to Dadrius early dynamic after the finale is that it can be such a mess of misunderstandings because Hunter doesn't feel like he's quite enough (right enough, worthy enough, normal enough) to be someone's child, while Darius doesn't feel prepared to be someone's parent, let alone Hunter's, which is so ironic because I think for Darius part of that doubt would come from the fact he's perhaps the adult who knows the best how much help Hunter will need and the one with the best idea of the extent of the trauma he suffered while at the castle, which means to him it feels like a more daunting situation; he does NOT want to mess things up when Hunter is currently in a bit of an emotionally fragile estate.

This would definitely play a big part here because Darius, who knows Hunter used to justify what Belos did to him because they were family —for the most part Hunter probably didn't realize some of the treatment was messed up, but when he did, he learned well to find excuses for Belos—, knows very well too how Hunter tends to let authority figures he even just remotely admires or respects walk all over him (he did that himself once, after all), and while that's definitely something that can be unlearned, he would be afraid that his own actions back then might influence too much how things go now. Especially because I think that while obviously he made up for that, at the time Hunter was a bit like a wild animal you don't want to scare by offering too much human decency at once 😭 He couldn't say "hey, Hunter, it was a bit fucked up of me to project my grief on you and insult you, you are not responsible for other people's, especially adults, emotional troubles" or else Hunter would have been jumping through the window.

So because he had to work slowly through Hunter being comfortable and not weirded out by being treated kindly and taught some level of boundaries, Darius could feel like Hunter might have a skewed vision of things and might think it's okay if Darius mistreated him, and while that might be sort of true, it's no more so than how Hunter is with any other adult with power over him.

Poor Hunter just feels like Darius was kind to him to the extent of making sure he was safe and out of Belos' reach and now he doesn't give a damn about him... and why would he when Hunter has nothing to offer? 😔 With Camila things were temporary, and with Belos he had to earn his place, so he can't just expect Darius to want him around forever or at all without doing anything for him, right? So he probably wouldn't even try to insist one bit to Darius, he would respect that distance.

Hunter and Darius are truly such a pair, out there thinking the worst of themselves and creating a conflict where there's none.

I figure Eber would be the first one to try and talk some sense onto Darius, and then probably Eda or Camila or whoever Hunter is staying with for now, since then Darius would not only have the objective view of things from Eber, but also a glimpse of how Hunter is feeling, which is very important if he's assuming that Hunter is just gonna forget their bond and thrive somewhere else if he just tries hard enough.

There's definitely going to be such an awkward period after this too, I think the whole "you can be angry at me" matter would have to be one of the firsts they tackle considering how much it escalated. Darius might not be so convinced at first, caught up as he is in his own self-doubts, but it would be very good for Hunter for his parent to say that to him, since it already shows from the first moment that this isn't going to be any kind of dynamic of servitude or anything of that sort. And you know, Hunter might not even mind that much what happened at the coven because he understands how that environment can make you angry and spiteful, and the kindness Darius showed afterward was very significant to him more than a simple apology would, but ironically he might be upset at Darius pulling his whole distancing himself move.

Not exactly how either of them expected things to go, but they can work with it, and seeing that it won't be a deal breaker will help them form a stronger bond because they know they don't have to walk on eggshells around each other... as far as it comes to this matter at least. There's quite a lot both of them have to learn.

[electric-plants]

hehe new week which meanssss it’s time to finally get inazuma’s glider which is ALSO the last one i need :3

[hypnoshatesme]

I've been meaning to write something based on this lovely comm I've been continuously staring at since getting it so I finally did <3 happy valentines~

All was silent in the House of Hope as Delirium stepped through the entrance. As quiet as it ever got, at least. They were used to the debtors and had no problem blocking them out by this point; paid them no mind as they walked down the hallway, wondering where the master of the house might be hiding. 

If he was in at all. He hadn't been in the Caress at least, so there was a chance.

The boudoir was empty, and so was the balcony. Haarlep must be out, and Delirium was unsure if that made it more or less likely for Raphael to be here. Surely he'd take the opportunity of uninterrupted quiet to get some work done.

They found him eventually, bent over the candle-lit desk on the interior balcony, quill in hand and books spread out around him. For a moment, they stood in the entrance and watched the idle dance of the candlelight against his figure. He had probably heard them — Delirium had yet to figure out how to approach him unnoticed — but he gave no sign of it, unhurriedly wet the tip of his quill to bring it to paper again. 

With a grin, they pulled out their knife before closing the last of the distance to the desk. In one smooth movement, they pushed some of the books and papers aside before taking a seat on the edge of the desk. That did get his attention, made him look up, brow arched.

Before he could speak, the tip of the blade was at his throat, “It's time for a break, don't you agree?”

Neck arched and eyes lidded, he held their gaze for long enough to make them fight a shudder. A slight grin spread on his lips. “How much of a choice do I have in my response?”

Delighted, they ran their thumb over the hilt of the knife. “You can answer as you please.” They lowered their voice, conspiratory, “I might hold you there until you say what I want to hear, though.”

A chuckle from him, and his hand holding the quill moved up to tickle their chin with the tip of the feather. Delirium twitched at it, tightened their grip on the knife to keep it still.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” they hummed, a little breathless.

“Oh, but maybe I can tickle you into submission,” he pondered out loud, mischief in his eyes and a grin on his lips.

They laughed, leaned in closer and let the knife wander up his neck until its tip was right under his chin, forcing him to move his head back further to avoid getting cut. Candlelight played in his eyes, turning them orange, caressing long, dense lashes.

“You wouldn't want that.” 

It was his turn to laugh, the feather in his hand wandering down the opening at the front of their shirt. Delirium exhaled, slowly, through their nose, very aware that their faces were much too close now for him not to notice.

“I would not,” he conceded after what felt like an eternity of silence.

Impatient as always, they couldn't take it anymore and bridged the gap between their lips. Clearly expecting it, Raphael returned readily, his hand coming to rest on their knee, his other presumably still on whatever page he had been writing on. 

It made them itch to touch him back, but the thrill of him letting them hold something sharp to his skin was too great to give up the privilege just yet. They pressed the flat of the blade to his jaw, a cold caress, as loving as the daggers edges were sharp. Delirium had made sure it cut easily before coming here. Nothing shy of the best for the devil. 

He tensed, and they revelled in it and deepened the kiss. Raphael’s lips parted easily for their tongue, his fingers digging slightly into their knee.

They did really want to touch him. And once their free hand wasn't necessary in them holding their bent over position on the desk, they would be able to. So, slowly and not entirely willingly, they pulled away from the kiss, enough to look into eyes grown darker. 

He licked his lips, and they forgot what they had wanted to say. His teasing grin and expectantly raised brow did not help their memory.

Eventually, it came back to them. “Then I suggest you let the ink dry and come with me.”

“Very well,” he hummed, and to their dismay, his hand left their leg to set down the quill still held between his fingers. It did not return. His eyes met theirs again, a challenge in them, “I’m afraid there is a dagger preventing me from getting up, little mouse.”

Delirium grinned at the unsubtle dare. They could ask him to beg, or at least to ask nicely, and Raphael would refuse, and this game would go on until one of them — Delirium, most likely — yielded. Only willing to indulge him so far in their state, they angled the dagger just so the edge of the blade nearly grazed his skin, forcing him to hold very, very still, thrill undeniable in his expression. There they held him a moment, appreciating.

“I can assist with that,” they mumbled, removing the blade slowly, with the same casualness they had put it there in the first place. 

Disappointment flashed in Raphael’s eyes, turning to intrigue when they jumped off the table and held out their free hand to him. He took it and they pulled him to his feet, pressed a kiss to the back of his hand before leading him out into the hallway and towards the boudoir. 

Raphael’s fingers idly freed themselves from their loose grasp, wandered up their arm and down their back at leisure. “A new shirt?”

Delirium shuddered at the warmth of his touch. “At last,” they chuckled, met his eyes. “Do you like it?”

He pressed his hand flat into their lower back, pulling them closer and putting an end to their walking. They had reached the bed anyway. “It’s a lovely fabric,” he hummed, digging his fingers into it and kissing them.

All too happy to oblige him, they kissed him back and kissed him hard, delighted to finally have one hand free to run up his chest, work on undoing the buttons of his doublet. The dagger was still in the other, and they wrapped that arm around his neck loosely, breath hitching when Raphael chose that moment to slide his hands below their shirt, fingers near-scalding against the perpetual chill of their skin.

Still, they arched into his hands as they ran up their back, bit at his lip and undid the strings keeping his shirt closed at his neck. The bite earned them a pleased hum, turning into something more breathless when they ran their fingers down his bare chest, dragging their nails through the hairs on it.

“You're still holding the dagger,” Raphael hummed when they moved to kiss his jaw, breath catching when their teeth grazed his skin. “Are you planning on bringing it to bed?”

Delirium wondered how he had noticed as they had made sure not to touch him with it. The mystery did not hold half the intrigue Raphael’s question held, however, his tone still teasing in his breathlessness, his eyes bright with thrill and challenge when they pulled away enough to see them. 

They took him up on it eagerly, put their hand in his hair, grabbing a handful without quite pulling. Partly to steady themself, partly because they loved how it always made Raphael’s eyelashes tremble a little. 

“And what if I did?” they mumbled, replacing the now-gone hand on his chest with the tip of the blade, cool metal instead of dull nails as they led it idly along the same path. 

It still did not cut, but they let it catch in the hair on his chest, which seemed to give Raphael some trouble in keeping his breathing steady and shallow enough not to cut himself on the knife. 

They grinned, satisfied in how long it took him to get his bearings before answering their question, how rough his voice sounded when he did, “That, dearest, depends entirely on how you intend to use it.” 

A hum was their response, for they were well aware they'd sound just as flustered as he if they tried to speak. They pushed against his chest and he went down onto the bed, Delirium following to straddle his hips and press a kiss to his throat and the dagger to his breast.

cmm ✨

[llitchilitchi]

:/

[lxnarphase]

𓇼 FUCK HER, FLIP HER, BEND HER BACKWARDS !

❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : the church always says sex for pleasure is a sin, and nanami kento is a man of the lord. but fuck, if his wife isn't worth sinning for. wc: 4.3k

❤₊‧⁺...cw : n. kento x fem!reader, religious themes, traditionalist views on sex and marriage, loss of virginity, missionary to mating press, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, nanami loses himself in your pussy, slight cum play, dirty talk

❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : am i unintentionally coping with religious trauma? possibly but it is fun :33 anyways based of this! forgive me if my writing is a bit rusty, it's been a while but enjoy !!

the two of you have spoken about eventually having children many times, but knowing the steps it took...it kept you both pushing it back, knowing eventually you'd both be ready.

after speaking with doctors, asking for advice from the church, and having you grumble about the neighbors who welcomed a cute baby girl, the two of you figured it was time.

you did your best to act normal all dayl, trying not to seem to nervous or too excited as you went about your chores for the day.

it may just be an act to procreate, but...it's still your first time with nanami. you want it to at least feel special.

there was nothing in the bible that went against that, right?

well, you have plenty of time to overthink since it seems that your dear husband will be at work late. to pass the time, you wait upstairs in your shared bedroom, the TV on as a distraction.

you're so stuck in your own world that you don't even notice him in the doorway before he clears his throat, leaning in the doorway. "oh! hi, honey, welcome home!" you go to stand up, but he holds up a hand, making you stop before you can get up from the bed.

it's silent, aside from the noise from the TV, and you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation.

has...has he always looked that handsome?

he continues to stand by the door, still not making eye contact. "you said it...starts today, correct," nanami questions, focused on undoing the straps of his watch. it shouldn't be attractive, it's such a simple task...yet it has your stomach doing flips as you nod.

"mhm, my, uh...ovulation starts today." it's such a weird thing to say, it just makes everything feel so...clinical. but that's how it's supposed to be, right? those who use sex for pleasure instead of procreation are sinners, or whatever the reverend at the church says.

"mm."

slowly pulling it off, he sets the watch on the dresser before shutting the bedroom door

"good."

dear god in heaven, you think to yourself, struggling to swallow the saliva pooling inside your mouth as he starts to undress. please forgive me for such inappropriate thoughts about my husband.

he removes his suit jacket—black today, it seems—placing it carefully on his desk chair, followed by his cufflinks and tie. his shirt is next, each button popping to reveal his strong, well-maintained physique.

you have to stop yourself from pumping your fist in the air for getting so lucky with such an attractive man as your husband. too busy ogling him like a horny teenager, you miss him undoing his belt before tugging them down and stepping out of his boxers.

once you do realize he's fully undress, you blush hard once he approaches the end of the bed—it took everything out of you not to stare at that...monster hanging between his legs, dear lord—and climbs onto it, making his way to hover over you.

his eyes roam up and down your body, taking in the pretty silky night dress you had on. It’s a soft blue with lacy white trim with little intricate flower designs.

modest, yet sensual.

"this is new," he comments, voice low and sultry. you can't help but wonder if he meant to sound so...so...

you don't find the correct word for it, but this new tone lights a fire in your stomach that has your r thighs squeezing together just a little bit.

"well, i figured it was an important night...you know, finally popping our cherries a-and starting a family?"

it's a weak attempt at humor, your voice clearly giving away your nervousness. you just pray that he ignores it.

a soft hum leaves him, his fingers playing with the intricately designed lace trim. the idea that you want to make this whole ordeal special, that you want to give yourself to him wholly, and that you want to swell with his child...

it pleases him greatly, a small smile touching his lips.

"well, aren't you sweet, my dearest?"

such simple words, yet they relieve so much tension from your shoulders. you can't help but smile back before a little gasp falls from your lips when his hands start to lift the dress up. his hands, they're so big, so hot on your skin.

It's a struggle to remember that this is for the purpose of producing offspring and nothing else, but you try, you try so hard.

but when you hear the hitch in his breath at the realization you didn't have anything else underneath the dress after he pulls it over your head, it's hard to remember.

the thought just about completely leaves your mind at the way nanami, your usually put-together husband, looks so hungrily down at you, a look you've never seen before in those pretty hazel eyes.

his gaze lingers on your body for a moment, mouth opening before shutting instantly, preventing himself from saying something he'd likely regret.

calm down, kento, he reminds himself, taking a second to clear his mind. this is for the purpose of family, not sinful and carnal desires.

even so, he's drinking in the sight of you, unable to stop his hands from rubbing up and down your sides, the soft skin of you, his wife, warming his palms. all his.

"gorgeous," he mumbles, unaware he even said it.

the moment you feel his leaking cock brush against your leg, a thought occurs to you.

neither one of you has a single idea of how to do this.

sure, you both know enough about putting it inside and moving, but that was about it. is there something else you should do? things you should say, places you should touch to aid in the process?

they never explained the actual process of sex in church, and lord knows your mother and father would've keeled over and died instantly if you were to ask them.

'it comes naturally when god deems it your time' the reverend stated once during a sermon. you fight back a frown, realizing that man probably had even less of an idea of how to do it.

however, the feeling of his tip nudging against your slit rips a gasp out of you, bringing you back into the present.

"are you alright? you left me for a bit there," nanami asks, his brow furrowed in worry. if you weren't ready, he was willing to back off. he may want to fulfill this important aspect of marriage, but...not if you don't want it.

"n-no, i'm okay! just...wondering how all of this is going to work out," you softly reassure, giving a weak giggle.

he can't blame you, he isn't very sure either. but as the man of the house and as your husband, he didn't plan on letting you worry. he would do all the work, you just needed to lay there looking so pretty, so soft, so...he realizes he's doing it again, letting his mind wander to places it shouldn't.

"just...j-just relax, we will figure it out as we go along."

with your silent nod, nanami starts to push his hips forward, hissing silently when he realizes the wetness that greets him.

you were this aroused just from...talking?

the thought of scolding you for letting your mind wander crossed his own, but...it would be hypocritical when his cockhead is dribbling precum all over your soft mound.

you choke out a noise of pain when his cock finally notches onto you and starts to push inside. sure, your wetness helped get the tip and the few inches after it inside, but just that is already too much for you, and you're expected to take all of it?!

you do your best not to move, not really sure what you should be doing. you'd be a good wife and bear with the pain if you had to, your nails digging into the pillow under your head as you braced yourself for the rest of his cock.

but this is absolutely unbearable, how do other women bear with this and have 6 or more children?!

a flicker of concern flashes through nanami's eyes at the sound you made, and he stops moving forward. he may be a bit mean sometimes, but he wasn't cruel.

if you both are going to go through with this, he is not going to make you suffer and nor is he going to force you to endure a painful experience.

no true man of god would do such a thing.

"breathe, don't hold it in," he instructs, his voice somehow calm and collected. one of his hands laces with yours, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as his lips brush against your forehead. "i've got you, darling, the pain will pass, just...tell me to stop if it gets too bad. don't hold it in."

giving a soft nod, you try to match his breathing, your body relaxing and making it easier for nanami to slip the rest of himself inside, a near silent sigh escaping him. the tightness and initial resistance that greeted him nearly made him moan, his cock twitching violently inside of you.

something about the physical feeling and knowledge that you saved yourself for him like you promised years before you both got married sent a surge of possession and pride, knowing he has such a loving and faithful wife who is so willing to give herself up to him like this...he can only hope you feel the same knowing he saved himself for you and only you.

so, as a 'reward'—and totally not because he fears you'll strangle his cock off with how tight you are—he's so gracious to you, not moving to let you get used to the stretch and feel of him inside, the room silent except for your matching breathing.

a few moments go by, and you should feel embarrassed when you feel slick drip out of you and down your ass. the realization that your dearest husband, one of the most faithful men of the church, is letting his cock soak inside of your hot cunt makes you whine a little, slick walls fluttering around him.

he's so fucked.

"a-ah...i'm going to move now," he warns, taking your sudden noise as a good sign. nanami shifts his legs just a bit before giving an experimental thrust, his brow furrowing as he slowly finds a rhythm.

the feeling of your hot and gummy walls is absolutely intoxicating, divine, nothing he's ever felt before.

this is what it felt like?

this is what he waited for?

fuck, it felt...it felt so good.

too good.

for you, the pain completely melts away, and you silently thank god and the angels above for giving you a merciful husband who is so kind as to wait for you to loosen up around him.

little do you know, he would rather kill himself than start moving when you're still adjusting to the pain and stretch.

his gentle movements make you all but melt under him, your eyes fluttering at the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your veins.

no wonder your parents preached about saving yourself until marriage, and thank the heavens you listened.

the very thought of feeling this way with anyone but your kento puts a bad taste in your mouth.

meanwhile, nanami chants prayers in his head over and over again as he tries his best to focus on the 'true' purpose for this.

the sticky, wet, and gooey sensation of your plump cunt sucking him, practically weeping each time he pulls out is just unfair.

the poor man, he's fighting so hard to maintain his composure, to not succumb to the base instincts that those soft moans of yours are beginning to stir within him.

"s-shush, darling," he grits out, hips still following his slow, deep pace. "don't...don't make such noises," he all but pleads, voice tinged with a huskiness that betrayed his growing need for you.

“i-i’m sorry! just, it...feels good, y-you feel good, feels s-so good,” you whisper, hands coming up to cover your mouth and stifle those sickeningly sweet noises.

but of course, that isn’t enough because each push and pull of his cock stirs your drooling cunt, filling the room with wet, filthy squelching sounds.

nothing about this is holy, nanami thinks as he grits his teeth, hands fisting in the sheets next to your head.

look at her.

those soft, muffled noises are truly music to his ears, his pace morphing from the slow, deep grind into a faster pace as your soft body gives into the pleasure.

so wet, so damn tight around my cock., like she never wants to let me pull out.

"k-kento, y-you're goin' too deep, i-i can't be quiet, s'too much!"

messy little pussy, 's beggin' for cum, needs it, needs to feel my tip kissin' her cervix as i pump load after load into her womb.

he knows what that little voice is, and no matter how much he wants to claim that it’s the sound of demons pouring their sinful words into his mind, he knows that it's his thoughts, fueled by those dirty little noises that she can't hold back.

how pitiful, how sinful, doesn't she know she's going against all the teachings they've heard preached every weekend in their church?

doesn't she know she's giving into lust?

doesn't she know her pretty sounds are making his dick throb, painting her insides with his hot, gooey precum?

"hush, 'm not going to t-tell you again, you...you need to be quiet," he growls, the command lacking its earlier authority.

nanami also knows lying is a sin, and he's doing a damned lot of it right now as he tries to convince himself that you need to stay silent. after all, this—this is just a process of giving you both a child, just like you wanted, and nothing else.

but he's lying to himself.

he needs you to be quiet or else he'll lose it.

the poor man is barely holding onto his restraint, and these sweet noises pouring from your mouth aren't helping at all.

"y-you make this so difficult sometimes, my dear..." his voice is rough with need and desire, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. "but, by god, you're...you're. absolutely. exquisite."

he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his hips into you in a way that has the coarse hair on his crotch to rub against your clit. the pleasure it gives you is electric, your legs coming up to squeeze his hips as you try to grind with him.

his words, his simple praise only makes you hiccup his name, crying out louder as your watery eyes roll back as your needy cunt squeezed down on his fat cock.

you're such a sweet thing, trying oh-so hard to mute your sounds. each snap of his hips is all but driving you insane.

“i-i can’t, ken, y-you don’t understand, i-it feels so good, i-i’m so full! you’re pressing against all the good spots, kentoo, i-i love you s' much, b-but i can't!”

be a good fucking husband and do what you were made to, nanami kento.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip, trying to hard to ignore that temptation purring in the back of his mind.

the voice is so much louder now, echoing throughout his mind and muting any prayers or pleads to be mindful of the sanctity of this whole process.

fuck her. give her what she needs, what she deserves.

but it's too fucking hard, he can't his hips are speeding up, his strong hands moving to grip your thighs, unaware of how they start to anchor behind your knees.

breed your pretty little wife and give her a baby like she deserves.

with a deep groan, nanami finally loses all control, fingers digging into your supple thighs to push them to your chest and practically folding you in half.

this new angle has him openly moaning like a dirty whore, allowing him to plunge even deeper into your tight, gummy walls, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each and every deep thrust.

"k-ken, kenny, k-ken," you sob, tears catching onto your lashes as your entire being is assaulted by the endless pleasure your husband is giving you. he doesn't even look like your kento anymore, his pupils blown so wide that you can barely see the ring of greens and brown of his iris.

"f-fuck. 's all your fault, you know that," he hisses, eyes narrowing as he weakly glares down at you. but you can see the hearts in his eyes as he gives in to the pleasure.

his dark eyes bore down into yours, the wet plap plap plap plap of his hips slamming into yours almost overpowering his voice. "if y-you just stayed quiet like i asked, w-we wouldn't be here."

a little spurt of wet gushes out of you, making his fall forward into the juncture of your neck with a groan at the dirty noise it makes,

"god, i-i can feel it, y'know? can feel this sticky pussy—such a dirty little pussy—makin' such a mess. saved it jus' for me, didn't you, baby? mmhm—fuckin' hell, 's tight—thank you god f' giving me such an angel of a wife." nanami is huffing nonsense against your neck, pounding into you with a force that has the bed creaking loudly.

if you weren't being fucked stupid, you would be worried he was about to break the bed.

"you can keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, b-but you jus' had to have the noisiest little cunt."

he's so mean, but it only serves to make you gush even more, the way juices pour out of you and only make the already filthy noises even nastier.

"she's talkin' to me, baby, y'hear it? i'm...i-i'm gonna breed you," he manages to whine into your ear, pulling away to press his sweaty forehead against yours.

his tongue, so pink and pretty—you want it in your mouth, want to taste it want to feel it against yours—runs over his top lip as he watches drool drip down the corner of your mouth while you nod brainlessly.

nanami's never felt so dirty, so unhinged, but it feels so right, feels so fucking good. he never wants to leave your pussy, never wants to pull out, this is where he belongs, buried deep inside you as his cock pumps load after load right into your tummy, giving you what you need, what you deserve.

"yeah? you want that? i'll give it to you, baby, promise, 'm gonna be a good husband a-and knock you up, gonna make you a mommy."

that has you keening, tears pouring down your cheeks at the pleasure it shoots up your spine. you know you're close, but it's different.

it feels different, feels too much, there's pressure you've never felt before from the few times you'd cave in and play with your puffy, swollen clit in the shower when you waited for nanami to get home from work to kiss you to sleep.

no, you feel like you are about to fucking explode. "ken, i-i can't, 'm gonna—s-something's coming," you try to warn, your hands fisting in his hair as you tug and tug and tug.

the pull of his hair makes him moan like a slut, it sounds so fucking good. his eyes are rolling back before he rushes to comfort you, pressing soft little open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

you don't need to fight it, you just need to give it to him, give him what he needs.

"shh, shh, don' cry, y' look t'pretty, honey. l-let it happen, cum for me, i've got you, angel, cum for me s-so i can fill you up," he coos, his hips growing erratic as he feels your silky walls starting to fluttering around him, feeling you teeter on the edge of release.

he shifts, just barely, just enough to better position himself to fuck deeper into you. but that slight movement has his cock smushing against something soft and spongy that makes you sob, growing softer and more pliant under him, and you know you are done for as all you can do is wail his name.

"please, pretty girl, cum for me, show me how good 'm making you feel, soak my cock, c'mon, you can do it."

with a loud mewl that nearly has nanami soaking your walls in cum, you dig your nails into his biceps as you finally, finally cum. and you're right, it is different, your cute pussy squirting and creaming all over his dick.

the poor man is choking back a whine, eyes wide in shock as your cunt just gushes slick everywhere, clenching around him like a vice as you cum.

your juices are soaking his cock and balls, splattering against his lower abdomen obscenely. the thought of making you do that again crosses his mind for a split moment before the need to fill you up for being so good overpowers any other thought.

not giving you a break, he continues his unforgiving fucking, ignoring your cries and pleads for him to slow down.

"nonono, shh, shh, shush, you can take it," he coos against your lips, no longer caring if this was sinning or not. all he could think about was the constant squeezing and spasming of your poor overstimulated slit that was milking him toward his orgasm.

you try to squirm away, but the way he has you folded in half has you unable to do anything but accept his stupidly deep thrusts that make you swear you can taste his cock in the back of your throat.

"t-tha's it." he's panting, slurring his words, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. it’s so wet, so messy now, but he can't find it in himself to care.

no, all he can think about as he looks down at you is how you'll have that angelic glow as you grow round with his baby, and everyone will know you're his, that he knocked you up, he pumped you full of his cum, that you're his you're his you're all fucking his—

"f-fuck, honey, i-i can't..." his hips stutter as he does his best to maintain his rhythm, but his own release is barreling down on him. his heavy balls are drawing up tight as they slap against your ass, your juices still pouring out and soaking all of him.

"'m gonna fill you up, 'm gonna pump this—this sinful little cunt f-full of m'cum, angel, gonna knock you up, gonna have you drippin' with me, g-gonna give you a fuckin' baby, shit—"

with a deep, guttural groan, nanami hisses your name as he buries himself as deep as possible, his hot tip kissing your cervix as thick, hot ropes of his potent cum pour right into your womb, hips grinding into you and giving little thrusts as you milk his cock weakly despite your overstimulation.

it's—it's so much, he's still cumming, how was all of this inside of him? you can practically feel it sloshing around inside of you, and you whimper when you feel it gush out around his now softening cock, dripping down your ass onto the bed.

a moment or two passes, and he sits up, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face and looking down at you.

oh.

you sweet thing, you're an absolute mess. you have tear streaks down your cheeks, your lips swollen from him unknowingly biting them between the little kisses he was giving you, a pretty sheen of sweat on you, and...

his eyes trail lower to where his dick is still nestled inside of you, and it takes everything in him to not accidentally thrust his hips a little bit.

it's a creamy, sticky mess, a mixture of his and your cum seeping out your poor, abused pussy.

"o-oh. sorry, my love. i'm...not quiet sure what happened there. i apologize for such...foul language," he mumurs, his hand stroking your hip. "'s okay," you softly coo back to him, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to catch your breath. "i-i liked it..."

but you quickly learn you've married both a man of god and a curious, insatiable bastard who can't help but drag his cum all over your pussy, quickly finding your clit. and the reaction you give him is one he decides he likes, your hips canting up as your soft, oversensitive walls squeeze around his cock again.

"k-kento, that's nasty!"

all you get in response is a grumbling noise in his chest as it takes you weakly slapping your hands against his chest to get his eyes to snap away from your gooey, creamy pussy.

clearing his throat, he looks down at you, that heated look slowly creeping back onto his face. "perhaps we...we should try once more. just to ensure it takes," he states, doing his best to show some semblance of dominance.

but it's impossible when his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, his pupils blown as he gazes down at your panting form like he's about to devour you whole.

"after all, a...a big family is what god wants from man and woman, right? so we...shouldn't delay and keep trying." his hand trails up your side before finding its way to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh.

his thumb experimentally rolled your nipple, and the way your body reacted, a soft gasp of his name...how is he supposed to explain the feeling he's getting in the confessional booth?

"y-yeah," he gulps, leaning his head down. you can feel his hot breath against your tit, and you swear you feel drool drip onto your breast. "w-we'll keep trying. jus' to make sure w-we do what the scripture asks."

may god forgive him for being such a fucking liar and a damned bad one at that.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[skylar36]

I think he is getting there. He’s just also a total tsundere and he’s trying to play cool and tough for his friends. We gotta remember that he is like a 1st grader.

His friends want what’s best for him tho so once they realize that making fun of Anya isn’t what makes him happy (other than the teasing they all do with each other), then they’ll be pushing for him to talk to her like Becky does with Anya. All they want is for their friend to be happy and if this girl makes him happy, they’re all for it.

They’re on top of ganging up on her now because they haven’t really caught onto the fact that Damian’s attitude towards her *has* changed. His behavior towards her *has* changed. He just keeps catching them looking at him confused and he pulls a full 180. But they’re nice boys at heart and kinda haven’t realized that they’re already friends with Anya and Becky. Eventually they will catch on. And they’ll push him to do what makes him happy like they’ve always done.

And then Damian can at least stop worrying about his friends thinking less of him for liking a girl. And maybe that’ll let him chill out a bit.

I also think that him interacting with Anya one on one would help a lot with this too. Most of the time that they see each other, his little friends are stuck to him like glue and he can’t get out of his head about keeping up appearances. And Becky is always hanging around trying to mediate between him and Anya when he says something stupid and sometimes the callouts help and sometimes they make him think he has to double down.

Even when Anya sent him a note asking to meet up with him alone, and they ran away from their friends to try and talk for literally 5 minutes without anyone watching them, they couldn’t get a second of alone time to talk about anything.

I wonder how much of Damian’s front will fall if they spend a little more time alone with each other. He’ll still catch himself being “too friendly/too nice” and say stupid stuff. But I think he’ll get lost in the moment with her more and she won’t get hurt since she can hear his thoughts on what he really meant.

A better relationship with his mother would probably help a lot too. She seems like a good woman, though she definitely scares the hell out of me with some of her thought patterns. I’m excited to see more of her and see her interact with Damian directly once she works through some of her fears.

I’m really hoping one of these days that Anya invites Damian over to *her* house as part of Plan B. If he doesn’t want to invite her over to his house cuz they’re not close enough to go to each other’s houses, then clearly she needs to breach that barrier herself like she has with every other one in their relationship.

I just think he would benefit from seeing what loving and supportive families look like. Kids need models for shit like that. If he can see firsthand what it looks like in action I think it would be good for him.

Even if it hurts because he would be comparing his family to hers and feeling the lonely divide of his family a bit more keenly. I think it’s still better that he knows what being a family should mean.

I don’t want him to be sad, but I also worry about him. About his reaching for a father that doesn’t seem to care for him but also seems to care for him when they interact. He tells him to take his time at dinner and chew his food so he doesn’t make himself sick. But he also leaves Damian alone at the table.

His brother and mother also left him alone there with his father. Dispite Melinda’s fear of her husband, she left her youngest son there with him alone. And I know she feels guilty about it and about not talking to him then or encouraging him when he seemed like he wanted to say something so badly. It just still sucks that he was left all alone, seemingly without a second thought from anyone but his father.

Anyway I want Damian to see what a real family dinner looks like. And what it looks like for parents to help their kids study. And to let their kids play and be silly and watch cartoons with their friends when they have a playdate. But they can’t call it a play date because that would be too juvenile for him lol