#this is always the hardest part for me. every single time it's like hitting my head against a wall

[swappermanent]

Laying the Foundation

Owning a general contracting firm isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it does have its perks. And by perks, I mostly mean the eye candy. Whether it’s a sweaty crew under the summer sun or a client’s husband who catches my attention during a site visit, there’s enough visual appeal to keep my day interesting.

I’m glad I can admit that now. For the first 40-something years of my life, I refused to acknowledge the part of me that liked men. It wasn’t just denial—it was an ironclad, church-fed certainty that I was the straightest man alive. I had the life to prove it too: a wife, two great kids, and a job that kept me too busy to dwell on feelings I wasn’t ready to confront.

But five years ago, I couldn’t lie anymore—at least not to myself or my wife. The realization hit me like a freight train one afternoon as I was scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and it scared the hell out of me. I’ll spare you the gory details of how I came out to her; it was messy, emotional, and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But if you knew her, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear how kind she was about it.

We got divorced. Not because she hated me—far from it—but because she deserved better. Someone who could love her fully, the way she’d loved me. She was understanding, even supportive, but understandably, she wanted a fresh start. She moved a few states away, which meant our boys, Elias and Remy, followed. They were in college by then, so it wasn’t like they needed me every day, but still—it stung not to see them as often.

Now, I only saw them on the breaks they got from school. Holidays, mostly. Elias was 22 and just starting to figure out his life, and Remy, at 19, was busy living his best college experience. They were good kids, and they didn’t resent me for coming out. At least, I didn’t think they did. But I could tell there were things they didn’t say, questions they didn’t ask. I tried not to push.

In the years since my divorce, I hadn’t exactly been a Casanova. You’d think that, as a newly single gay man, I’d dive headfirst into the wild world of dating apps and endless hookups. But it hadn’t played out that way. I didn’t know where to start, honestly. Bars felt too young for me, apps were overwhelming, and after decades of repressing this part of myself, I felt like I didn’t even know the rules.

And so, I stayed busy. Running my business. Keeping in touch with the boys. Pretending I wasn’t lonely. Pretending I wasn’t deeply, madly crushing on Tomas.

Tomas was one of my best guys—a foreman who had worked for me for almost six years. Early thirties, 6’1”, with the kind of lean, sculpted build that made work boots and a tool belt look like runway fashion. Tomas had short-cropped black hair, caramel skin that seemed to glow in the sun, and a confident swagger that made my heart skip a beat every time he walked past me.

He was also, without a doubt, the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. I wasn’t sure if it was his deep, musical laugh, the way his smile seemed to light up an entire room, or the sharp intelligence he brought to every project. Whatever it was, I was hooked. Hooked in a way that made my chest ache and my thoughts stray where they shouldn’t.

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. I was his boss, for starters. And besides, for all I knew, he was straight and happily taken. But every time I saw him in the field, bending over to check a level or cracking a joke with the guys, I couldn’t help but fantasize. About what it would be like to pull him close, to feel his strength, to hear him say my name in a way that wasn’t professional.

I tried to keep my distance. Tried to focus on the work, on the business, on anything but the growing knot of desire that had taken up permanent residence in my chest. But Tomas was always there. Always just a few feet away, making me laugh, making me blush, making me feel things I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

I didn’t know what to do about it. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was anything to do about it. But one thing was for sure: I couldn’t take my mind off him.

---

The worst part about my unrequited crush on Tomas was the fact that I knew he was gay. I hadn’t guessed or pieced it together from subtle clues—no, I knew. I’d stumbled across his Grindr profile late one night while I was lying in bed, half-torturing myself by scrolling through profiles I had no intention of messaging.

Seeing his photo there had been like a punch to the gut. He looked incredible, of course—shirtless, smoldering, his chest lightly dusted with hair. I had stared at the profile for longer than I should have, memorizing the details: 33 years old, "masc4masc," and then the words that dashed any wild hopes I might have been clinging to: Please no guys over 30.

I closed the app immediately, my face burning with embarrassment even though no one else was there to see it. For days afterward, I kept replaying those words in my head. No guys over 30. Meanwhile, I was 50. Twenty years his senior, his boss, and, apparently, the exact opposite of what he was looking for.

After that, I resigned myself to suffering in silence. I’d accepted that my feelings for Tomas weren’t going anywhere and that I’d just have to live with it. It wasn’t like I could quit my job or fire him—he was too damn good at what he did, and I needed him on my team. So I kept my head down and my feelings buried, figuring that was the best I could do.

That is, until Miguel came along.

Miguel was the newest addition to the team, just 21 years old and fresh out of trade school. He was the youngest guy I’d ever hired, but he came with glowing recommendations, and within a week of working with him, it was clear they hadn’t been exaggerated. Miguel was a dynamo—hardworking, quick to learn, and always eager to take on more responsibility. He had an upbeat attitude that set him apart from the rest of the crew, and he never let the tougher, more grizzled guys intimidate him.

But while Miguel’s work ethic was impeccable, his looks were something else entirely. The kid was gorgeous. A fuckboy face if I’d ever seen one, with sharp cheekbones, thick lashes, a sexy dusting of a beard, and a jawline that could cut glass. His hair was a messy mop of jet-black curls, and his dark brown eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that could make you question all your good decisions.

Even at his young age, Miguel had this natural charisma that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He wasn’t trying to be sexy—he just was. Whether it was the way he laughed or the easy confidence in his stride, you could tell he had everyone swooning at his feet. And that included Tomas.

I wasn’t blind. I saw the way Tomas’s eyes lingered on Miguel during lunch breaks or how he found excuses to talk to him on the job. At first, I thought it might just be professional—Tomas mentoring the new guy, making sure he felt welcome. But it didn’t take long to realize there was more to it than that. Tomas was interested in Miguel. You could see it in the way he stood just a little too close or laughed a little too hard at Miguel’s jokes.

The funny thing was, Miguel didn’t seem to notice his effect on everyone else. Despite his looks and charm, he had this air of innocence about him, like he didn’t quite realize the power he had. He worked hard, showed up early, and went home late, never sticking around for beers or banter with the guys. It was almost like he didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face.

Watching the dynamic between Tomas and Miguel unfold was like a slow kind of torture. On the one hand, I wanted Tomas to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. On the other hand, the idea of him falling for someone so much younger, so effortlessly magnetic, made my stomach churn with jealousy. Not toward Miguel, exactly—he hadn’t done anything wrong—but at the reminder of what I couldn’t have.

---

A few months into Miguel working with us, I reached my breaking point. Watching Tomas flirt with him day after day, while Miguel remained blissfully unaware, was driving me insane. Tomas’s lingering glances, the playful shoulder taps, the overly friendly banter—it was everything I’d fantasized about, happening right in front of me, but directed at someone else. Someone younger. Someone who didn’t even notice.

Damn it. Why couldn’t that be me?

I had to do something. Anything. The jealousy was eating me alive, and the hopelessness of my situation was unbearable. So, in a moment of desperation, I decided to use something unconventional. Something I’d never planned to use at all.

A few years ago, I’d taken a trip to South America—a solo getaway to clear my head after the divorce. While exploring a small town nestled in the Andes, I’d stumbled upon an old shop filled with trinkets, charms, and artifacts that seemed plucked from legend. One item caught my eye: a smooth, jet-black stone about the size of a silver dollar, etched with intricate carvings that seemed to shift when you looked at them too long. The shopkeeper had insisted it was a swapping stone, a relic capable of exchanging bodies between two willing participants.

At the time, I’d bought it as a novelty. A conversation piece. But now, staring at it on my nightstand, an idea took root in my mind—an idea so reckless and audacious that I couldn’t believe I was considering it.

The next morning, I pulled Miguel aside during a coffee break. He looked surprised but didn’t question it, following me into my office.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, plopping down into the chair opposite me with his usual relaxed energy.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Miguel, I’ve been watching you these past few months, and I’ve got to say—you’ve been doing a hell of a job. The crew loves you, and you’ve been busting your ass out there.”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Thanks, but I’m just doing my part.”

I nodded, then leaned forward, clasping my hands on the desk. “Look, I know how hard this kind of work is. It’s physically demanding, and you’ve been carrying a lot of weight for someone so young. So I wanted to offer you something.”

His eyebrows raised. “Offer me what?”

I pulled the stone out of my desk drawer and set it between us. “A swap.”

Miguel tilted his head, his confusion evident. “A swap?”

“Yes. A swap. With me.” I gestured toward the stone. “This… is a bit of a long story, but let’s just say it’s not an ordinary rock. It has the power to let us trade places—temporarily, of course. I’d take your body, and you’d take mine.”

Miguel stared at me, silent for a long moment, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Boss, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious.” I pushed the stone closer to him. “Think about it. You’re out there every day breaking your back, while I’m in here taking calls and pushing paperwork. If we swap, you’d get to enjoy the perks of being the boss—shorter hours, no manual labor. You could take my car, my house, my money. Do whatever you want for a while.”

His ears perked up at that. “Whatever I want?”

I chuckled. “Whatever you want. Look, I may be in my fifties, but I’m still in good shape, and I’ve got the resources to make it worth your while. You could have some fun. Live it up.”

Miguel leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Okay, but what’s in it for you? Why would you want to swap with me?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with something that didn’t make me sound like a crazy old man. “Honestly? I’ve been in this business a long time, and I want to understand it better. Really get a feel for what it’s like to be on the ground again.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“And…” I added, with a sheepish grin, “maybe I want to relive my youth a bit. See what it’s like to be in my twenties again. Humor an old man, will you?”

That got him. He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Man, you’re something else.”

“So, what do you say?” I asked, my heart pounding.

Miguel studied the stone, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. Then he looked back at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you’re serious, boss, then yeah. Why not? Let’s do it.”

Little did he know, my motivations had nothing to do with reliving my youth or gaining a new perspective. My eyes were set firmly on Tomas,

We both stood in my office, the stone resting between us on the desk. Miguel seemed skeptical but game, his trademark grin lighting up his face. I couldn’t help but marvel at his confidence—effortless, natural, the kind that came with being young and having the world at your feet.

“So, what’s the magic phrase, boss?” he asked, clearly humoring me.

“It’s in Spanish,” I said, picking up the stone and holding it out to him. “I did get it in Chile, after all. We both have to hold it and say, ‘Quiero cambiar.’ It means, ‘I want to swap.’ Simple enough, right?”

Miguel gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement, then shrugged. “Alright, boss. Let’s see this thing work.”

He wrapped his calloused hand around one side of the stone, and I gripped the other. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if this was really the right thing to do. But then I glanced at him, at the youthful energy in his face and the opportunity shimmering in his eyes, and I knew there was no turning back.

We spoke the words together: “Quiero cambiar.”

The moment the last syllable left my lips, I felt it. A strange warmth radiated from the stone, seeping into my palm and spreading up my arm like a current. My back arched involuntarily, and a sensation like liquid sunlight flooded my chest, pulling me out of myself. It wasn’t painful, but it was overwhelming—intense, euphoric, like every nerve in my body was alight.

Across from me, Miguel was going through the same thing. His head tilted back, his body trembling as the same warm glow overtook him. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, guttural moan. We both stumbled a step back, clutching at the air, though there wasn’t anything visible leaving our bodies—just the overwhelming sense of movement.

And then it stopped. Like flipping a switch, the warmth vanished, leaving me standing there, panting, in Miguel’s body.

The first thing I noticed was how much lighter I felt. My limbs moved easily, like I could leap ten feet in the air if I tried. My skin was smooth, my shoulders lean but sturdy. I raised a hand to my cheek, running my fingers along the softer, smoother surface, and then down to my abs—firm and defined, cobblestones under my touch. It was like my body had been built in a dream.

Miguel, now in my body, flexed one of my arms experimentally. “Damn, boss,” he said with a laugh, staring at my bicep, which was massive and veined from years of heavy lifting. “I don’t know if my body’s really any better than yours.”

He turned to the small mirror on the wall, lifting my shirt and giving my old body’s abs a quick once-over. “You’ve been holding out on me, man! If I looked like this at 50, I’d be showing it off all the time.”

I let out a nervous laugh, still getting used to the sound of Miguel’s voice coming out of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” I said, my fingers grazing over my new, perfectly sculpted abs. “This feels like a serious upgrade.”

Miguel smirked, striking a mock pose and letting out a low whistle. “You’re not wrong. Your body’s hot as hell now. Don’t break too many hearts, alright?”

I grinned, I had quite the opposite in mind.

[teeskzagain]

original post got taken down unfortunately😔😔, here is the updated version

Anonymous asked:

I keep imagining Mingi forcing you to cockwarm him at a movie theatre AHHHHHHSHSHH and like he teases you by occasionally thrusting up to hit all the right places and saying it was just him “getting comfy” or “he had a cramp” when he really just enjoys seeing you try to keep everything together 👹 I also feel like he’d whisper in your ear like “pay attention Angel, I didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” WITH HIS DEEP ASS VOICE AHHHHHH IK GENUINELY TWEAKING RN- 🙏🧎‍♀️AHEM- He would also SO massage your thighs and hips (IMAGINE THROWING YOUR HEAD BACK AND HE STARTS PEPPERING YOUR NECK WITH KISSESHSJSHSHHSJSGRRRRRRRRR)

There are so many “also’s” in that sentence 💀 BUT WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT HOPEFULLY 🤡 don’t feel at all obligated to make anything of this especially since idek if you take requests 😭 I just thought that this is such a YUMMY Drabble prompt 😀 and HAD to share it <3 take care pookemssss

OHH??? uh first off I would like to say I'D LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS (you're actually the first to provide me with a prompt) and second this is so absolutely delicious.

warnings: smut (COCKWARMING, exhibition, semi-public, teasing, kissing) 18+

wc: 1.2k

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this probably wouldn’t even be the first time you found yourself in this situation. no, it’d be a regular occurrence at this point, a developmental game if you must. that’s why bf!mingi absolutely loves the movies, because that’s when he get’s to play his favorite game.

‘how long are you gonna last this time around?’

imagine bf!mingi, who’s caressing your thigh tenderly with the backs of his fingers, shushing you and mumbling sweetly into your hair while your ass continues to squirm against his pelvis. getting situated always took the longest. so tedious, finding that perfect spot where you can just slide down and onto his lap, your walls gripping his cock and swallowing it whole.

he sits idly and unmoving, allowing you to move around for a bit. because at some point, bf!mingi’s gonna start the fun part of the game. the part that really tests your strength.

and once you finally achieve that perfect spot, the sensation makes your face scrunch pleasantly and a soft sigh floats out of you. so entranced, you almost don’t notice the pretty pink blanket, draped over the both of you, slip just slightly down your leg.

“shhhh…okay baby, i need you keep still,” he’d tell you, and a part of him almost doesn’t want to go reposition it. what if he left you out and exposed? imagine, someone walking up and discovering the disgusting scene. it’s exciting him, these thoughts, but soon enough he’s lowering himself down and recovers you two, all the while holding back a smile. it’s enjoyable for him, just the riskiness of it all.

how the dark theatre somehow shadows your lewd actions, yet the monumental screen ahead provides illumination onto your struggling face, “if you wanna win, you know you can’t move.”

after many weeks of playing, you haven’t won a single round. not once. you would get so close, but then luck out whenever bf!mingi would buck a bit too hard, or your own desires began to consume you. every, single round, a loser had been made out of you.

“last time, you couldn’t even make it through the previews before you fucking came all over my legs,” he reminds you, a slow and sick grin spreading wide, “you gonna try harder? wanna get your prize tonight?” it’s pathetic how you have to bite back a mewl from his words.

this is always the hardest part for you: the taunting. it kills you every time.

at the start of the movie, it’s through his teasing voice; his low, grumble of a tone that buzzes perfectly into your head.

“see? already made it through the trailers,” he’d laugh. as a reward the aimless touch he provided earlier turns into a hard grab, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with a quiet groan, “one step closer. just needa make it through the movie.”

then, it’s through his touches.

as you become more conscious of your ragged breaths, his hand trails from your leg and drags up towards your shirt. teasing your breasts through the fabric, he grazes absentmindedly before running then back down your stomach, only stopping when he meets your bare pussy. it takes his full strength to not end the game by just simply fingering the orgasm out of you. but if that were the case, then he wouldn’t be able to see you whither. and that’s always his most favored part.

the most you could do is shut your eyes and pray your body doesn’t betray you. but even that doesn’t get you far, with just a few minutes into the movie, friction starts to build within you. while bf!mingi rests his back against the plush seat, grateful for his top view of the movie theatre, a slow thrust of his hips find a rhythm in your core.

it's torturous. the intentional, unhurried movements, leisurely rocking in and out of you. it's like he's rubbing himself inside you, and you're forced to seal your mouth.

"you holding up okay, angel?" he mutters and you give him a brisk nod, turning to the side momentarily. he finds that comical. your desire to always win. the need to prove him wrong.

but he knows you. he knows you're slipping with every second his leaking cock stays within you, radiating the pleasure you so desperately seek. he knows you're crumbling. you’re gonna unravel soon.

right when you think you've conquered this section of the challenge, a quick shift from underneath you has your eyes vibrating, a small gasp leaving you as bf!mingi practically buries himself closer to your cervix.

"ah, oops, sorry...just need to.." he moves around some more, adjusting his position, along with you, before halting once again, "alright, there we go. i feel much better. how about you?"

the angle he’s now hitting feels like it’s splitting you open and a strained yet airy moan tupples from your lips. with no more strength, your head falls down into the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes shut and brows furrowed, "i can't- i can't do it-"

"mmm, baby, no," he wraps an arm around your torso to reach your cheeks, clasping them together with a smush then forcing you back forward, "baby, you gotta keep your eyes open."

he drops his hand but that doesn't stop your whining, you sobbing out a, "no- i can't-"

"shhh y/n what did i say?,” he locks onto your inner thighs and widens them, “you know i didn't spend money on these damn tickets for nothing. come on, watch the movie."

as you feel him start up again with his quiet thrusts, you loll your head back with a grimace and hooded eyes, little noises now spilling out. your neck fully exposed, bf!mingi takes initiative to lean up and bring his lips to the vast area, nipping and kissing at it. he suctions onto your skin which sends a jolt throughout your core.

and just like that, you're done for.

"you're so close, i can feel it." he whispers on your neck as a devilish smirk overtakes his kisses, "i fucking knew it. i knew you would lose."

his words nearly egg you on as you accept defeat, allowing yourself to succumb to the slow pace of his length sliding against your insides. your fingers curl with the repeated motion, a continuous build up until eventually you burst and your orgasm hits you hard.

it causes you to wriggle against him, contracting your body so tightly you’re shaking then releases you, repeating this over and over again all the while bf!mingi keeps his kisses coming on your neck.

like said, this is always his favorite part of the game. the thing he looks most forward to. because no matter how hard you've tried, it always ends the same.

"aww," he notices your high coming down, excluding the occasional body twitches, "and the movie was almost over."

"you're awful." you could hardly muster that sentence, your back resting on top of his chest while you regain your composure. your cunt still pulsed every now and then around him.

he supplies a silent laugh before going in your ear once more, "well, look at it this way. now we can go home and play your favorite game."

while bf!mingi returns back to his seat, bringing you with him, a small whimper is produced by you. because absolutely not what was to come, your favorite game. in fact, it felt merely like an extension of this game.

‘how many different ways are you gonna make bf!mingi cum tonight?’

[ravcnism]

STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.

# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans

# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda

Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.

“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”

“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”

“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”

“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”

Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.

Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.

“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”

“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”

“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”

“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”

Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.

The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”

“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”

“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.

The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.

“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”

He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”

Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”

“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”

“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”

Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”

He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”

He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.

“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”

Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”

“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.

Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”

Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”

“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”

Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.

“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”

“Dad.”

“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”

“Dad!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.

Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.

“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.

Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.

Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”

Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”

Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.

“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”

Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”

The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”

“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”

This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”

“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”

“Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”

“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”

“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.

Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”

The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”

“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”

“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”

“Is it?”

Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”

“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”

Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”

Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.

“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”

Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.

“—Infatuation.”

You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.

“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”

Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.

And he would prove her wrong tonight.

Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.

Besides, how bad could you be?

With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’

“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.

You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.

“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”

“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”

“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”

“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”

He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”

You grinned. “Cheers.”

Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”

Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”

You nodded. “Neither can I.”

“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”

“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”

It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”

“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”

“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”

“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”

“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”

“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.

“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”

The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.

“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”

Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”

“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”

It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”

Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.

Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:

“I'm saying you won because I let you.”

Kenji blinked.

And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.

But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.

Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.

Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.

“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”

Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.

“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.

He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.

You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”

Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”

You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.

Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”

There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.

Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”

He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”

Kenji blinked.

“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”

Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.

A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”

Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.

You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,

“I'll see you on the field.”

taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

BBYG PART TWO OF GUILTY AS SIN PLEASE I LUV UR WORKSSSS

i hope you guys enjoy this!! i had a lot of fun with it. it’s technically part two but i gave it a different title sorry :)

~~~

Fresh Out The Slammer

James Potter x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, fingering, slight oral (f receiving), very slight underage alcohol but barely, morally idk how good this is, lmk if i missed any

summary: after you and Remus finally split, you and James finally come together…

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another taylor fanfic hahaha (i love this) lmk what you guys think of the end i thought it was really clever but maybe that’s just me being overconfident…

part one is here!!

~~~

I did my time

Now pretty baby I’m running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer

I know who my first call will be to...

~~~

When you look back on your days at Hogwarts, you always wonder why you and Remus stayed together so long.

It was a week after your monumental conversation with James on the grass that your overdue breakup occurred. You had tried your hardest to give your relationship one last try, you really did. But one night as you laid next to the tall lanky boy, all you could think about was a certain pair of hazel eyes. A pair that didn’t belong to the boy next to you.

That was the final straw.

“Rem,” you said, your voice cool. “I think it’s best we break up.”

You kept your eyes on the canopy above, but you could feel him shift beside you. “Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think this is overdue. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose so...” he replied.

You turned to look at him. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting calmly as could be with a book in one of his hands. A sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t say anything else. Instead, you simply stood and began to dress yourself. He was the one to speak again.

“Would it be all right if we remained friends?” He asked his eyes on you for what felt like the first time in a while.

“Of course. Let’s not make it odd for everyone else,” you answered.

He looked back down at his book. “Right. Good night then.”

On the walk back to your dorm you named every reason in your head why you broke up with Remus. He was distant. He didn’t know how to treat you like a true girlfriend. The spark had died between the two of you. The relationship had truly just run its course. But as you stepped into the common room your eyes found the most significant reason.

You refused to put him on your mental list.

~~~

You didn’t know if it was out of respect for Remus or if it was intentional at all, but James waited a few weeks before making any sort of move on you. You were glad. Adjusting to a single life was strange. You no longer spent time alone with Remus, you no longer cried or had fits because of his behavior. He was simply another one of your friends. You liked him better that way.

When James did give you a sign, it was far from subtle.

It came during Charms in the form of a small piece of paper. Of course, Charms happened to be the only class the two of you had together that Remus was not in as well. In fact, the only other member of your friend group who was in the class was Peter and he never paid much attention to anything. So, when you felt the piece of paper hit your lap, you didn’t hesitate to open it.

How’s the single life treating you so far? -J

You turned your head to look at James, a smile on your lips. He was already looking at you, a similar smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up as you scribbled your reply and threw it back to him.

It’s better than I expected, most things are the same.

He was quick to throw it back.

That’s true except now you’re free to do whatever you’d like..

You held in a breath.

More like whomever I’d like

You let out a shaky breath at his reply.

Yeah? Well, you know where my bed is

For a few seconds, you stared at the note, not sure if you should write anything more. You turned back to look at him and your eyes instantly met his. He looked at you with a gleam that you hadn’t seen in a boy's eyes in a long time, at least not one directed toward you. So, you picked up your quill and wrote back, not a single guilty thought crossing your mind.

I suppose I’m going to know what it feels like soon too

~~~

Another long week passed before anything happened between you and him. And each day that passed only filled you with more desire. You felt almost giddy at the thoughts. A secret hookup with James Potter. It was something you’d imagined for a long time, but for so many reasons you never imagined it would actually be brought to life.

But it was.

One night, there was a party in the Ravenclaw common room that everyone was attending. Everyone except you. Or so you thought.

“Are you sure y/n/n? It’ll be so much fun,” Lily questioned. You were all in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else was getting ready to leave, but you sat on the couch in your bedclothes.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the party mood tonight. Plus, I have some work that still needs to be done,” you answered honestly.

“Boring!” Sirius exclaimed. “Don’t worry lovely I’ll make sure to save some alcohol for you.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” you said with a laugh.

“Let’s go, Wormtail, Moony, Prongs.”

“Actually, you lot can go without me. I’m not feeling the greatest.”

Your eyes shot to James. What was he doing? You noticed what he was wearing. A wifebeater and flannel pants. You swore you never wanted to shag him more than at that moment.

“Are you serious?” Sirius groaned. “Whatever mate you’re no fun. We’ll be back later.”

“All right, have fun,” James replied.

“Bye, y/n/n!” The girls sang as they left.

You waved them all goodbye before getting up and turning to the staircase. You could feel James’s eyes burning into you from behind.

“Seems it’s just the two of us for once,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

Your stomach filled with butterflies. “Yeah, it seems that way.”

“I was wondering if you could help me with some Charms work, I know you have the homework as well perhaps we can do it together...” From the tone of his voice, you knew it wasn’t true. But still, you turned and gave him a slight nod. “It’s all in my dorm, let’s just go up there to do it.”

Deep down, you knew you should’ve felt bad. James was your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. If any of them knew about your sinful thoughts, you’d surely be thrown out of the group and shunned. However, while that knowledge made you feel uneasy, it didn’t stop you from following him up to the dorm.

The second the door closed behind the two of you, James’s lips were on yours. Though it came as a surprise, you didn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss him back. His lips were warm and soft, just how you had always imagined. It was messy and quick and when he broke it you found yourself breathless. All you could do was stare at him, your cheeks pink.

“James I-”

“We can take our time if you’d like, I’m sorry I’ve just wanted to do that for so fucking long,” he replied as if he could read your mind.

“Me too, you don’t understand.” You inhaled deeply and took a few steps deeper into the dorm you were all too familiar with. Only this time, you sat on a different bed. “This doesn’t feel real.”

He sat down next to you on his bed, his glowing hazel eyes locked on yours. “Believe me, I understand everything.”

“I just... want you,” you mumbled. It felt so good to finally say it. You placed one of your hands on his thigh. “I want you a lot.”

He smiled in a way that practically sent shivers down your spine. “I want you too.”

“So, take me. You don’t... you don’t have to be gentle,” you whispered with a confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Instead of answering you with words, James leaned closer and caught your lips in another kiss. This time though, it wasn’t messy and rushed. No. It was passionate, it was a kiss that would leave you giggling on your bed when you looked back on it. As your lips moved against his you followed his lead and laid back on the mattress with your legs parted for him to slip in between.

His hands were far bigger than yours. When he slid one of them up your thigh you almost couldn’t remember how to breathe. You kissed him harder and weaved your fingers through his soft curly hair. He toyed with your shorts for a moment before carefully slipping his hand beneath the fabric. It would be an understatement to say you were wet. You were soaked. And you could feel James’s smirk on your mouth when he discovered this.

“Are you always like this?” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “Only when it comes to you.”

“Good.”

He wasted no more time and moved his fingers under your knickers, finding your clit almost instantly. You gasped, one of your hands gripped his strong shoulder tightly, and your eyes squeezed shut.

“James,” you moaned.

He began to trail wet kisses down your neck as he continued to rub soft circles on your clit. Never mind thinking straight, you couldn’t think at all. Your stomach was warm, and waves of pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. You swore you’d never felt anything as good in your life. But when your hand brushed against his shirt you sighed.

“Take it off, take everything off. Please,” you whispered frantically.

You opened your eyes to see James’s bright smile. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without another word, he leaned back and pulled his shirt off. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His muscles were toned, yet he was still skinny. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but you settled on dragging your fingers up and down his chest for a few seconds.

“Your turn,” he said.

You silently sat up and lifted your tank top over your head and threw it down to the floor. Perhaps it was the amount of lust that consumed you, or perhaps it was the amount of comfort you felt with James. Either way, you didn’t cower or feel insecure as his eyes moved across your naked breasts. In fact, you felt confident. So, you laid back down on his bed and began to pull your shorts and knickers down, your eyes not leaving his.

Only when you were fully naked did you feel a slight feeling of insecurity. James must’ve noticed this though because he leaned over you and pressed a sincere kiss to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over one of your breasts. “So perfect.”

“Fuck me, James, please I can’t bear it any longer,” you replied quickly. It was true, you’d already waited so many months in silence. How were you expected to wait even a second longer?

“I think you can afford to bear it for a few more minutes. I want to have my way with you first.”

You were going to protest, but before you could he slid his hand between your thighs. He swirled his fingers over you, collecting your wetness before eventually carefully moving one of his fingers inside of you. You threw your head back and gripped his sheets hard. It was an even better feeling than you’d imagined. He kissed you hungrily as he slowly started finger fucking you.

As if that wasn’t enough, he kissed down your body minutes later before ending with his face between your thighs. You couldn’t contain your whimpers and moans. If anyone was near the Gryffindor boy's dorm, they’d surely hear you. The fact neither of you thought enough to cast a silencing charm only made it more thrilling.

By the time you reached your first orgasm, you were quite sure you’d never felt anything nearly as good in your life. Remus never cared enough to spend his time pleasuring you, at least not after the first few months. But James cared a whole lot. He touched you with his tongue and his fingers till you were shaking and panting for a break.

When he did stop you watched through heavy lids as he wiped his mouth on your thigh and began to pull down his last remaining articles of clothing. His eyes were glowing, and his glasses were almost falling off his face. You decided then that he was by far the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. And when your eyes trailed down his naked body you found yourself an even bigger reason as to why that statement was true.

“Are you on the potion?” He asked as he began to move over you.

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice weak.

He smirked. “You’re a dirty girl hm?”

“For you yes.”

“How so?”

You smiled sweetly and reached up to remove James’s glasses. “Truthfully? Sometimes I touch myself when I think of you.”

“You’ll have to show me next time.” He shifted and you felt his tip brush against your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. “Is this what you think about?”

“S-Sometimes yes,” you said with a shaky voice.

All you could do as he slowly began to thrust into you was gasp and wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his skin. He was big and you were still sensitive from how hard you previously came. Those factors only amplified how good he felt. Once he was fully in, he leaned down to connect your lips in another heated kiss before truly starting the shag.

Though Remus would fuck you hard, he never fucked you the way James did. James went hard, he went fast, but he also showed he still cared. At one point, he removed one of your hands from his back and pressed it against the mattress, lacing his fingers through yours. And his lips were either on yours, on your neck, or whispering sweet praises. Even the way he said your name was enough to tell you how much he cared about you.

You didn’t know how long it went on, but it was long enough that he started to grow tired. At that point, you’d already reached your second orgasm, so you decided he deserved a break. With all your strength, you flipped your positions and took some control. You lowered yourself onto him and nearly came a third time from the sounds he made.

When everything was done and over, the two of you laid next to each other out of breath and shocked at what had transpired. You felt your heart pound in your chest and a sticky feeling between your thighs. You turned your head to look at the boy next to you. He, of course, was already looking at you, his glasses back on.

“That was...”

“Better than any of my fantasies,” you told him.

“Mine too,” he agreed with a smile.

You bit down on your lip. “So now what?”

“Perhaps another go?”

That was an offer you could never refuse.

~~~

Hours later, past midnight at least, the door to the boy's dorm opened and the other three Marauders stumbled in. Sirius was far too drunk; he could barely stand up straight. That left Remus and Peter to stand on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his back protectively. All their eyes found you and James after a few seconds. The two of you sat on his bed, a foot of papers between the two of you.

“Oh, hello y/n,” Peter greeted you.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Remus questioned.

Sirius only gasped overdramatically. “They’re shagging! Prongsie and Lovely are shagging!”

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Why don’t we get you to bed?”

“Can I have a go first? Before bed? Please! Is that all right Moony?” Sirius stumbled over his words as his friends dropped him into his bed.

“Nobody’s having a go unless it is Moony,” James said.

Remus turned toward you, a questioning expression on his face. “What are you doing up here?”

You pointed at the many papers on James’s bed. “Charms homework, I told you lot that’s why I wasn’t going to the party. James felt a bit better, so we just decided to work on it together.”

“Will I be allowed to use that work?” Peter asked innocently.

“Of course, Pete,” you replied. You turned back to James’s bed where he still sat, and you began to gather your work. “I should be going then.”

You held your papers close to your chest and tried your hardest not to look at James. You knew if you did, something on your face would clearly show what had really gone on. So, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could to their door.

“Same time next week then?” James’s voice caught your attention as you were about to leave.

You looked over your shoulder and nodded, trying your hardest not to blush. “Or sooner, I’m very eager to get this work done.”

“All right, sooner, goodnight then,” James replied with a knowing look.

The last thing you heard before leaving was the innocent voice of Peter asking if he could join in and the loud laugh that James let out.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

look at you || Fred Weasley

Title: Look at you Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Warnings: NSFW - minors DNI! This contains, vaginal sex, female receiving oral, breeding kink, mentions of cum marking, dirty talk, praise, mentions of sex toys/sexting and pregnant sex.  A/N: hockey!fred could hit me with his car and I would say thank you. Anyway as always this is dedicated to @darthwheezely b/c she always encourages my shenanigans. 

The away games are always the hardest. 

Fred is usually gone for a week, and between traveling, playing multiple games and the time differences they mainly communicate via text and maybe a phone call if they’re lucky. At first the lack of communication bothered Y/N. They moved across the country after Fred got drafted and it felt isolating to have the only person she knew in Washington unavailable most of the time. But now that Fred’s in the fourth year of his contract Y/N is a pro at handling the distance. Her and a bunch of the other WAGS always get together to watch the games at someone’s house, and usually do dinner or brunch on some of the days the guys are gone. And now that she’s working and more involved in the area she’s got plenty of friends and activities to keep her busy while Fred is away. 

She figured this season would be just like the others, that it would suck while Fred is gone but she’d just keep busy until he was back home in their bed. 

Until those two little pink lines stared up at her from the bathroom counter the night before training camp started. She wasn’t totally surprised at the result, considering her and Fred had been together for a decade, married for half of that and regularly relying on the pullout method as their main form of contraception. And of course they’d talked about having kids, but their general consensus had been that they would start trying once the season was underway, hoping to time it just right that their baby would be born at the beginning of the off season, so they could spend the first few months as a complete family unit before hockey took over Fred’s life again. 

But of course life decided to say fuck their plans, and now Y/N is due to give birth just before playoffs begin in April. 

Y/N had thought that having Fred gone during her first trimester would be the worst part of it, having to deal with morning sickness and those first few doctors appointments by herself. But the nausea and vomiting left her feeling so gross she was glad Fred didn’t have to see her like that, and they were able to work with her doctor so that Fred didn’t miss a single appointment. 

It’s now, with Y/N into her second trimester that Fred’s absence seems to be hitting her the hardest. Her bump has finally popped, and she can barely keep her hands from stroking over the smooth skin at all hours of the day. The baby has started to move around too, starting off as gently flutters she assumed was gas that have now grown into distinctive pushes against her belly. Not to mention the nausea and vomiting that plagued her first few months of pregnancy have faded away, and Y/N finally understands what people say when they talk about pregnancy glow. Her skin is the clearest and softest it’s ever been, and her hair and nails look amazing thanks to her prenatal vitamins. 

And just as she passed the five month mark her newest, and most annoying to deal with on her own, pregnancy symptom started. 

She’s unbelievably horny every hour of the day. 

Her newly filed out breasts constantly ache, and some days her nipples are so sensitive just the material of her bra sends a shiver down her spine. Her pussy is almost constantly slick, her clit throbbing and her cunt aching to be filled. Once the seam of her maternity jeans pulled so deliciously against her as she was driving that she nearly crashed the car as she came from that brush alone. 

Everything seems to turn her on these days, no matter how inconvenient the time or place is. 

Like right now, the guys are on the last leg of their longest away game stretch, the final game of a two and a half week trip, and her cunt is dripping as she watches Fred punch the other team’s center in the jaw. Not only is it inconvenient because she’s sitting on Melaine, the goalie’s girlfriend’s couch, but because Fred isn’t due back home until tomorrow afternoon and she passed out last night before she could put her vibrator back on the charger. And her own fingers will never live up to the memories of how worked up Fred gets after a fight, and how the only thing that seems to calm him down is taking Y/N from behind as he growls in her ear. 

She tries to shift subtly as the ref throws Fred in the sin bin, his mouth still moving wildly as he throws insults at the other team, but when Rachel throws her a look Y/N knows she’s been caught. Rachel is the wife of one of the defensemen, and had been heavily pregnant for most of last year’s season, so Y/N figures she knows exactly how she’s feeling right now. 

“Tomorrow afternoon can’t come soon enough,” Rachel teases, voice low enough so only the two of them can hear. 

Y/N snorts in laughter, nodding in agreement. “You have no idea.”

-

Fred throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he rushes towards his truck, causing his teammates to laugh even harder. The bus had barely stopped before he was up out of his seat and making his way to the front, far too eager to get home to Y/N. Because the texts she’s been sending since he got off the ice last night have had him perpetually hard in his pants and the only thing on his mind is getting home to his wife. 

He drives well over the speed limit on his way home, praying to whatever deity that exists out there he won’t get pulled over, since he’s pretty sure his urgent need to fuck his wife is not a good enough excuse to get out of a ticket. The car is barely in park as Fred throws the door open, hockey bag left behind in his haste to get inside. In a matter of a few seconds he’s barreling through the front door, taking the time to lock it behind him before he heads for the stairs. 

“Baby?” he calls as he climbs, ripping his shirt off as he goes. He pauses to kick his shoes off, just letting them tumble back down as he continues up. 

“Hi,” Y/N greets breathlessly when Fred appears in their doorway. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the way his jeans hang open, his cock clearly fighting against the material of his boxers. 

Fred groans as he takes Y/N in, cock throbbing at the way she kneels on their bed in nothing but his jersey. The curve of her bump is visible even in the oversized garment, and Fred almost can’t believe that this is his life. He makes a living playing the sport he loves and every night he gets to come home to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen who’s beauty has only grown as he watches his child grow inside of her. 

“Fucking hell,” he practically growls as he steps into the room, his complete focus on Y/N. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are, wife? That picture of your pretty pink pussy all wet and begging for my cock has been driving me crazy. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were all alone in our bed, desperate for my cock wearing nothing but my jersey.”

Y/N practically pants as Fred stalks toward her, hands clenched in fists at her sides to try and resist the urge to touch herself. She had to give herself a pep talk before taking the photo she sent, so to see Fred’s reaction to it here in the flesh makes her cunt throb with want. Before falling asleep Y/N had managed to work herself up to a few weak orgasms with her fingers, but those are nothing in comparison to what she knows Fred is about to give her. 

“Sexy?” she asks teasingly. Fred has finally made it to the edge of the bed, and she runs her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, resting her palms against the sides of his neck. “Even with my big old bump in the way?” 

“Especially with your big bump in the way,” Fred practically purrs. He finally gives in to his urge to touch his wife, one hand hooking around her thigh while the other fists the front of her jersey, yanking her closer to him. “Just knowing that you’re full of my baby, that I did that to you is enough to make me cum, something I know you’re well aware of.”

And she knows Fred isn’t lying. He’d always been possessive in the bedroom, and it only intensified when she got pregnant. Once her bump popped Fred was like a man possessed, needing to have one hand on it at all times. He’s finished on her bump more times than Y/N can count, rubbing his cum into her skin so he can claim her fully. 

Instead of responding Y/N lets Fred pull her into a kiss, her fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his skull as he nibbles on her bottom lip. He claims her mouth with his, crawling up on the bed so he can get even closer. The hand he had on her jersey makes its way up to cup her jaw, angling Y/N’s face so he can kiss her deeper, while the one that was on her thigh starts to travel further up.  

“Fuck,” Fred moans into her mouth as his hand brushes her bare hip. “No panties? Dirty girl.” He lets his hand cup the swell of her stomach, thumb slowly brushing back and forth in a sweet gesture that is the total opposite of the way he kisses his wife. 

“Please,” Y/N pants as Fred’s mouth finally leaves her’s, starting to press kisses into her neck. “Need you to touch me, Freddie, only feels good when it’s you.”

“Well how can I deny my wife when she asks so nicely?” 

Fred kisses the juncture of her throat one last time before pulling away just enough so he can pick her up under her thighs. He positions her back on the bed just how he wants, her back flat against the mattress with her legs spread wide, a hand on each thigh to keep them open for him. 

“You’re fucking cunt,” he groans, his eyes drawn to her slick pussy as he bites his lip. He sinks down on the bed so he’s resting between her thighs, thumb and forefinger spreading her pussy apart to put her clit on display. “This pussy is going to be the death of me.”

Y/N gasps as Fred finally puts his mouth on her, hips nearly lifting off the bed as he sucks her clit between his lips. Her toes curl as his tongue flattens against her, thighs already quivering as Fred’s thumb presses against her entrance. “God, please, Fred.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs to fuck into her with his index finger, curling it to press against the front wall of her cunt, right against the spot that has her moaning his name. His cock twitches as Y/N’s hand tangles in his hair, curling his tongue around her clit as she tugs. 

“Such a good girl,” Fred praises as he presses another finger into her slick cunt, letting his thumb rub small circles into her clit. “I love this pretty pussy so much, wife. Gonna eat it every fucking day of the week.”

He takes her clit back between his lips as he fucks her with his fingers, needing her to cum before he can give her what they both desperately need. His cock aches as Y/N grinds down against his face, the feel of her taking control of her pleasure only turning him on more. Fred’s tongue flicks at her clit as his lips suck, and he can tell by the way her cunt grips his fingers that she’s close. 

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my hand so I can have you cumming all over my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Y/N babbles as Fred licks her, fingers tugging him even closer into her as she grinds against him. Waves of pleasure are swirling in her core, electric shocks radiating all down her spine as Fred brings her closer and closer to the edge. He makes her feel like she’s on fire, completely erasing the few weak orgasms she had last night from her memory.

Fred wraps his arm around her thigh to keep Y/N in place as her orgasm takes over, his fingers and mouth still working her through the pleasure. Y/N’s toes curl as pleasure consumes her, thighs quivering as a cry of Fred’s name leaves her lips. Aftershocks of pleasure send shivers down her spine, and Y/N has to use her grip on Fred’s hair to separate his mouth from her cunt as she comes down. 

He doesn’t say anything as he crawls back up the bed, letting Y/N catch her breath before he leans down to kiss her softly. Her legs wrap around his hips, the need for Fred to be close overwhelming her need to get off for a brief moment. 

“Need you inside me,” Y/N murmurs against Fred’s mouth, her legs tightening around him. 

“Needy girl,” Fred teases, nipping at her jaw. But with one final kiss to her lips he pulls back, climbing off the bed so he can rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Who is he to deny the needs of his wife, the woman growing his child? 

Y/N makes a move to pull the jersey she’s wearing up over her head, and Fred grabs her wrist, shaking his head. 

“No, the jersey stays on.”

Fred’s pretty sure he hears her mumble something about him being a possessive idiot, but he doesn’t even care. Settling on the bed, back against the headboard with his cock leaking against his stomach, he beckons Y/N closer. “Come sit on my lap and make yourself cum on my cock, baby.”

Under normal circumstances she’d make some joke about how he’s making her do all the work, but her cunt is already aching again and if she doesn’t get Fred’s cock in the next three minutes she may die. Y/N crawls up the bed, shivering at the look in Fred’s eyes. It’s full of nothing but pure desire, and she can feel her heartbeat pulsing in her clit. At one point she feared that pregnancy may change the way Fred looks at her, and now as she straddles his waist Y/N can’t believe what an idiot she had been. 

One of Fred’s hands lands on her hip, the other on her bump and the contact sends a shiver down her spine. It takes a little bit of finesse with her bump in the way, but as soon as Y/N has Fred’s cock pressed against her cunt she’s sinking down. She’s slick enough from Fred’s mouth and her previous orgasm that she presses down until she’s fully seated in his lap, and her eyes flutter shut from the pleasure coursing through her veins. 

Fred is so thick and full inside her, and Y/N just sits there in his lap, eyes closed and her head tilted back as she appreciates the feel of him inside her. Y/N’s cunt pulses around him, and with how desperate she’s been to feel her husband like this, she already feels embarrassingly close to her climax already. 

“Fuck you are perfect,” Fred groans as her hips start to gently rock. He fixes her jersey so the hem rests on the top of her bump, wanting to see it in all of its glory. With one hand squeezing her thigh, Fred places the other on her stomach to help keep her balance. “So fucking full aren’t you, wife? So full of my cock and my baby, hm? Love being full of me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she responds breathily, leaning back to brace herself against Fred’s thighs. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and a sharp gasp falls from her mouth at the sensation. “Always wanna be full like this.”

“With my baby or my cock?” he teases. 

“Both,” Y/N hits back truthfully.

“Fuck,” Fred growls, unable to keep his hips from thrusting. The moan that comes from Y/N spurs him on, and he continues to match her movements with his own. “Whatever my wife wants my wife gets. Gonna keep you nice and full with my cock and my cum and my babies until we’ve got a whole fucking hockey team, baby. And no one will ever doubt who you, who this fucking pussy, belongs too.”

Her cunt clenches even tighter at his words, encouraging Fred to keep talking. 

“Look at you, my pretty little wife, fucking herself on my cock. Bet you thought about this the whole time I was gone, didn’t you, love?”

“Fuck, yes,” Y/N moans. She’s inching closer and closer to her orgasm with each of her movements, thighs quivering from a mixture of the pleasure swirling in her core and the effort it’s taking to fuck herself on Fred’s cock. 

“Fuck you look so good like this, baby,” Fred praises. “Not gonna be able to take you like this much longer, am I? I swear everytime I look at you, your belly is bigger. It’s not long until you’ll be too big to ride me like this, isn’t that right, love? But that’s okay, because you look so fucking good all full of my baby. Seeing you like this, knowing I did this, makes me feel fucking feral, baby. You’re doing such a great job, growing our baby. Gonna be such a good Mama.”

The combination of Fred’s cock stretching Y/N to her limits and the constant stream of praise coming from Fred pushes Y/N over the edge, and her back arches as she comes. Shocks of pleasure jolt out from her cunt, her clit aching and her toes curling as her orgasm washes over her in waves. 

The feel of Y/N’s walls pulsing around Fred’s cock as she moans his name pushes him to his own climax, his hips just barely pushing up into her as he empties himself into her eager cunt. 

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

He places a hand on her lower back for support as they both come down, the hand he has on her bump rubbing soothing circles into the skin. When having her in his lap starts to get uncomfortable, Fred carefully lifts her off, maneuvering so he can lay Y/N next to him on the bed without jostling her too much. 

Finally feeling satisfied, Y/N watches Fred move around their room through her barely open eyes, too tired to try and stay awake any longer. She lets him move her around too clean up, a soft whine coming from her lips when he pulls the jersey up and off over her head. But she’s immediately placated when Fred helps her into one of his old t-shirts, and she doesn’t even fight him as he pulls sleep shorts up her legs. 

He disappears into their bathroom then, and Y/N is practically asleep by the time he reemerges and gets into bed beside her. But instead of Fred pulling her into his arms like she expected, her eyes open in surprise as Fred pushes up the hem of her shirt just enough to expose her bump.

“What are you doing?” she murmurs, tone laced with humor. 

“What does it look like?” Fred responds as he pours lotion into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it up. He cradles her stomach carefully, slowly starting to massage her skin. “I’m taking care of both of my girls.”

[gor3-hound]

are you lonely?

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, incest, dad leon, 18+ reader(obviously), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon??(just to be safe), a lot of self-loathing and guilt on leon's part

a/n: i apologise wholeheartedly if i tagged anything incorrectly, this is my first time ever posting something i've written(and one of my first times finishing an idea), but i will try my hardest. THIS IS DARK CONTENT, so please be careful reading and scroll if you don't like it!! also genuinely please tell me if i missed any tags! hope you like it :)

word count: 2.4k words

It never gets easier. Every single mission manages to drain Leon more than the last. He almost just gave up on it all a long time ago - he would have if it wasn't for one thing.

You.

As he opens the door from another exhausting mission, he's hit with the smell of home cooked food that has his mouth watering. The house is spotless, as always. Floors completely polished, the sound of music coming from the kitchen has him dragging his feet there on autopilot, eyes settling on you.

His sweet daughter is at the stove, stirring something in a pot. You haven't even noticed he's home yet, humming along to the music coming from your phone softly as you cook. He leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, just gazing at you for a few moments.

God, he missed you.

“Hey, honey.” He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching in a close approximation of a smile, about all he can manage after the shit he's seen this past week. Your movements pause, and then you're tilting your head over your shoulder to look at him.

“Dad! You're home!” You exclaim, shooting him a smile that lights up your whole face. He barely has time to react before your arms are wrapped around his torso, giving him a tight hug. He never feels like he deserves your affection. He's barely even around, but you're always clinging to him like a needy puppy when he is. 

“Mhm. Managed to finish up a little early.” He mumbles, a hand coming to your head to press it against his chest, giving your waist a little squeeze with his other one. Doesn't bother telling you about what he was doing. Doesn't want you worrying. “You miss me?”

“Course I did.” You reply without hesitation, giving him a squeeze in return before pulling away from him. “Gotta keep cooking before it burns, though. You hungry?” You ask softly, returning to the stove.

He hums softly, eyes lingering on you as he walks away. He finds himself looking at you for a little too long, blinking his eyes to snap himself out of it. “Yeah, I could eat.”

His gaze finds you again before long. His eyes flick over your form, hovering on your curves for a moment before he frowns. Jesus. Since when did he look at his daughter like that? Since when did his daughter look like that? Must of been a while, but he's only really noticing it now

He's only been gone for a week, but it feels like a lifetime. You're always so happy to see him, always acting so domestic. You cook for him, clean for him and cuddle up to him after he's had a particularly tough day.

You'd make a good wife for someone one day.

His frown deepens as his brain supplies that thought to him. Is this what's happening to him now? He's so sick that he's attracted to his own damn daughter? Is that really how fucked up his life has got? 

He gets a little weird after that, eating dinner with you in silence when it's done before rushing off to the bedroom. You ask him about 100 times what's wrong, but he always gives you the same ‘it's nothing, honey, just tired.’ You don't believe a word of it, naturally. You know your dad better than that, know when something’s bothering him

And you're a sweet girl. Too sweet for him, if he's being honest. So he shouldn't be surprised when you go to check on him after you clean up the dishes before you go to bed. But he wasn't thinking right, and you walk in on him right as he's pumping his dick to the thought of you.

“Shit…” He breathes out as he sees you in the doorway. He thinks he's going to be sick when the sight of your surprised face is what tips him over the edge, your pretty lips parted in shock as he cums harder than he has in years.

Post-nut clarity hits him like a train, guilt clawing its way up his chest, nausea setting in. “Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry.” He says quickly, too stunned to move. His hand is still gripping his cock, still hard and leaking, his hand coated in his release.

And you're just staring, unable to take your eyes away. Makes your stomach flip and your heart beat faster. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He quickly seems to snap out of his daze and yanks the cover over himself, his jaw tightening as he refuses to meet your eyes.

You find yourself disappointed that you can't see him like that anymore, a frown tugging at your face. “It's okay, dad.” You manage to say, voice a little strained. Heat pools in your stomach, and you fidget a little as you stand in the doorway, your common sense warring with what you wanted.

“I just wanted to check on you.” You say after a moment of silence, Leon still not looking at you. “You seemed… weird at dinner. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You continue to stand awkwardly in the doorway before you shift further into the room. Against your better judgement, you sit on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his eye.

“It's okay, dad. Really.” You tell him, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. He lets out a stifled groan, his eyes squeezing shut. You're too good for him. “My fault for not knocking.”

His eyes crack open to meet yours, and he slowly realises he's found you beautiful for a long time - more than what's considered acceptable as a father. Ever since you came back from college during one of your breaks, filling out your clothes in a way you never had before, looking up at him with those pretty eyes…

Fuck. He's sick. He deserves to rot in hell. He'd noticed long ago, pushed the thoughts away so he could be the father you deserved. And you're perfect. So goddamn beautiful, like you were made for him. Your hand is so warm and soft where it cups his cheek, your touch so gentle.

He's been so, so lonely. And you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, brows furrowed in concern as he refuses to answer you. Knows if he opens his mouth, he's gonna say some shit he regrets.

He ends up doing something he's gonna regret, anyway. Can't help himself when you're giving him those eyes. He's grabbing you by the cheeks, pulling you into a kiss without even thinking about it.

You pull away, and he whimpers. He tugs you back in again, kissing you with more fervour this time. Your body freezes up, then you find yourself kissing back, and he's not sure if that's worse or not. Guilt is eating him alive, but he can't help himself.

“I'm so sorry, baby.” He murmurs between kisses, desperately tugging you closer to him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and he moans softly as your own prods against his. “Can't help it. You're so pretty.”

This time, you're the one deepening the kiss. His hands find your waist, his grip tightening. He didn't realise how badly he needed this. Needed you. He can feel how badly you want him, the way you're pressing up against him as he kisses you.

It's so wrong. He wants to do so many things to you. You want him in a way no one has ever wanted him before, even more than your mom ever did. It's intoxicating, makes him dizzy. He feels so pathetic. What kind of sicko wants to fuck his own daughter? He's your dad. He should be protecting you from creeps like this, not making a move on you.

“Baby…” He breathes out, pulling away from your mouth, his heart hammering in his chest at the disappointed look that spreads across your face. “We can't do this. Y'know that, yeah?”

But his hands move to settle on your hips, tugging you into his lap, the duvet the only thing separating you from sitting on his bare cock that he never had a chance to shiver back into his pants after you caught him. He's not strong enough, needs you to be the one to bring him to his senses. You just needed to say no, and he'd be able to stop. But you don't, and he's too weak to do it himself. Far too weak.

“Daddy…” You breathe out, frown tugging at your lips. “Please? Just this once?”

How is he meant to say no to that? He buries the guilt, buries the self-loathing. He's good at that - pushing away his feelings and pretending that everything's okay. He can't deny his pretty girl of anything, especially not when she asks so sweetly.

So he kisses you again. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, one that has him groaning and rocking his hips up to get some kind of friction on his aching cock. It twitches, already leaking pre-cum. He can't even remember the last time he fucked someone. Can't believe he's about to fuck you. He's tempted to cut his dick off after this. Doesn't deserve it.

It's not long before his hands are pawing desperately at your pants, tugging them off along with your panties. He keeps your shirt on, pretends that makes him better, even if he wants to see how your tits bounce. Hey, he thinks, at least I had some self-control.

You moan so prettily when his thumb brushes your clit, rubbing slow circles into it. You're already so wet, his cock jumping with interest. Even Hell is too good for him.

Your hands slip down to tug at the fabric separating the two of you, your hips only hovering long enough to pull the duvet down and expose him, a low whine spilling from your lips.

“Want it, daddy. Please?” You murmur, dipping your head down to kiss his neck, making him suppress a groan.

“Yeah, baby. Anything you want.” He breathes out, his free hand reaching for the base to make his cock stand tall, offering it up like some kind of treat while his other hand still rubs lazy circles onto your clit.

You both moan in sync as you lower yourself onto his length. His hand slips to your hip, gripping it to guide your movements. His hips buck up into you, his tip brushing your cervix whenever you sink down fully onto him.

You're so wet, and you squeeze him just right. He's going to go insane. There's no way he can help himself now. He's never gonna stop thinking about how good you feel wrapped around him.

“Fuck, honey. Pussy's made just for me,” he groans, cringing as he says the words. He's never been a fan of dirty talk, feels awkward. Worse when he thinks about who he's fucking. But you feel so good, he really can't stop himself. His brain isn't working anymore.

“You're so big.” You whine, grinding your hips down against him more than actually riding him, like you don't want his dick to leave you for even a moment. Cute. He almost cums just at the way your face twists as he fucks up into you.

“S’all yours, baby. C'mon,” he coos, thumb slipping away from your clit and making you whimper, just so he can grab your waist with both hands. “Ride daddy.”

He lifts you up and down, helping you ride him. You rock your hips desperately, moaning as he presses up against your sweet spot with every thrust, picking up the pace as he fucks into you. He's able to manhandle you so easily, which only has you moaning louder, your eyes fluttering shut.

With his hands occupied with gripping your waist as he helps you fuck yourself on his dick, you bring your own hand down to rub at your clit, making the heat in your stomach build rapidly.

The bed creaks as he picks up the pace again, rutting deeper into you than before, your pussy making the most obscene squelching noises. It's downright sinful, Leon has to use all of his focus to stop himself from cumming right then and there. Fuck, if it wasn't for him jerking off right before you came in, he'd have cum as soon as he saw your pretty pussy.

You're close, biting your lip to sniffle your moans as they grow louder, fingers moving faster against your clit. Your dad notices, shifting his hips until he's pounding relentlessly into your sweet spot, making you see stars.

He feels his chest swell with pride when he feels you tense up, pussy clenching around his cock deliciously as your orgasm hits, juices gushing past his cock and coating his balls. He didn't even know he still had it in him, thought his dick game died in his 20s. This was a pleasant surprise.

His balls tighten, and he knows he's about to cum. He grunts and goes to pull you off of him, but you whine and shake your head, pushing yourself down. “S'okay, daddy. I'm on birth control. Wanna feel it, please.”

He frowns a little at that. He doesn't like thinking about other guys fucking you. You're his princess, a sweet girl. Your daddy will take care of you, not these other losers. God, he's fucked up.

“Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fill you up?” He grunts, flipping you over with ease so your back's pressed to the bed, him hovering over you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, head hanging and bangs covering his eyes.

“Fuck.” He hisses as he buries himself balls deep in you, cock kicking inside your pussy as he cums. He pants a little as he fills you, he's not quite as young as he used to be. Takes it out of him sometimes.

He pulls out and slumps next to you. You cuddle up to him instantly, and that guilt and shame comes to the surface again. He pulls you close to him, pets your hair and kisses your forehead like he always does.

“Love you, baby girl.” He murmurs, his free hand pulling the covers up and over your body, his fingertips scratching your scalp lightly.

“I love you more, dad.”

[allurilove]

Yandere Husband, Yan!Prodigy, Yandere Classmate and Yandere Stalker x fem!reader who has large breasts and tries to hide them under several layers of clothing. Despite her attempts to hide them, the yanderes persist and end up convincing her to let them worship her breasts.

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

You said yandere classmate so I’m gonna guess you wanted yearbook guy?, if not, ill just add both yearbook and boyfriend too!

Yandere Husband:

“I’ve seen everything before,” your husband approached you slowly, his eyes looking you up and down before he licked his lips. “Why do you feel like you have to hide yourself from me?”

He grabbed the bottom of your sweater, and you felt him slowly lift it up as he bent down to kiss your stomach. You could feel the vibrations from his voice on your skin. “I love every part of you.”

He stood back up and pushed you down onto the bed. Your yandere husband straddled you and tilted his head. “Are you going to strip for me, or do I have to make you?”

You give him a little pout, really trying to convince him that he doesn’t need to see your chest, but really… it’s one of the best qualities about you. He likes fondling them when he reads, when he goes to sleep, or even when he’s bored. Your husband just likes to have a hand on you at all times.

When you finally give in, slipping off all the layers and your chest was free from your bra, he let out a low whistle at the sight. “…so perfect.” he mumbled and he leaned down to suck on your nipples.

Yandere Prodigy:

He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help but overhear how badly you felt about your body. You were just talking to another girl in your section, and you were packing your instrument away. Yandere prodigy did notice how you wore thick layers, and tried your damn hardest to cover any cleavage. He did wish you would flash him every once in a while.

He cleared his throat and looked away shamefully. He felt like a pervert for always staring at your chest, just trying to imagine how it would look like.

His ears tingles as you continue to complain about your back pain and how sensitive your chest could get. “I can give you a massage.” he blurts out and he had to look confident as you turned around to look at him incredulously.

He thought that you would turn him down. He never once thought that he would be backstage touching you. He cleared his throat. “Tell me if anything hurts…” he had no idea what he was doing, and he definitely realized how bad this looked it anyone saw you two. He continued to massage your body, his hand slowly trailing upwards towards your chest.

He did an experimental touch, gently pressing one finger right on your breast, and he looked at your face to see your reaction. Your eyes are closed and a single sigh left your lips. He then took his other hand and placed it right on your tit and he squeezed it. He took a step forward to trap you against the wall and his knee found its way in between your legs. “Is this okay?”

Yandere Classmate:

You came to one of his swim meets. You were hit with a wave of humidity as you opened the doors to the pool area. He was already in the pool, swimming cap on, and he was warming up. You saw his strong arms and legs propel him through the waters, and occasionally his face would pop out to breathe.

You set your stuff by the bleachers and watched the coach usher the team out of the pool. The meet was about to start. Yandere classmate pulled his body out of the pool, he’s wearing one of those tight speedos, and you can see the tan on his legs. His back is wide and strong, the water dripping down his muscled body, and he meets up with the rest of the team.

As the swim meet went on, you were sweating underneath your sweater, your face bright red and you couldn’t help but pull at the collar of your shirt for some air to cool you down.

Towards the end he finally approached you. “You look hot. Quite literally and figuratively.”

“Follow me, I’ll give you one of my shirts to wear.” he pulled your hand and he dragged you towards the locker rooms. He smiled as you instinctively covered your eyes. “Relax, it’s just you and me in here.”

He handed you one of his shirts, it’s bigger than you thought, and you sigh in relief as you realized it could cover your chest. He stood there, ready to stare at you as you changed. When your chest was out he immediately put his hand to feel them without a second thought. “Woah…” his thumb circled your nipple on top of your bra. “Can I take a pic?”

He got down on his knees, pulling out one of your tits, and his mouth opened. He gently bit down onto the flesh and raised his phone higher to take a picture.

Yandere boyfriend:

Your boyfriend gripped onto your hips as he thrusted upwards. You were on top of him and kept riding him to meet your release. He noticed how you always wore a shirt when you two were intimate, and if he wanted to see your tits he would only get to feel them instead.

He gasped as he felt your pussy clench around him. His nails digs into the fat of your hips. “I wanna see you… please?”

“Ah~” his back arched as you grind on top of him. When you see the euphoric expression on his face you finally gave in. You took off your shirt and bra, you tossed them to the side and his eyes widen.

It drove him crazy to think that you hid your glorious breasts from him, his eyes followed the way they moved around as you hopped on his dick. He sat up onto his elbows and he kissed your chest, his hands then moving to sandwich his face in between them.

Yandere Stalker:

Your stalker bought binoculars to look into your window. You stepped out of your shower, your towel wrapped around your body, and he prayed that you would drop it.

You’re quite bold, you know? You have huge windows and yet you get changed in front of them. It gives creeps like him be able to see you. He felt his cock strain in his pants and he bit his bottom lip.

Your hips swayed as you walked over to your lotion bottle. Oh I get to see you rub yourself with white cream? Lucky me.

The moment you flashed the world with your body he quickly pulled took a picture of your form. He got back into his car and drove home.

He was now sitting in his bed, his arm furiously jerking himself off, and his eyes were glued to the zoomed in pic of your tits. His tongue stuck out to lick the screen, and he swirled his tongue. He would pay you a generous amount just to be able to fondle them, to feel the heavy weight, and to keep one of your bras. “…you’re so pretty-“ he whined as his eyes rolled back and he came all over his hand.

[atinystraynstay]

One Day At A Time - Choi San

Synopsis: Work is a major source of anxiety for you. You try your best to leave the stressors of your job at work, but sometimes, the little voices in your head get louder the moment you walk in the front door. Luckily for you, your boyfriend San is there to rid of every worry you might have.

Pairing: Idol!Choi San x Teacher!Reader

Genre: established relationship, fluffy comfort

Warnings: contains descriptions of anxiety.

Always remember to take care of yourself, whether you have anxiety or experience any other type of mental health decline. You are stronger than your toughest days. My DMs are always open if you need to talk/vent!

Word Count: 1.7k

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Your shoulders were slumped as you trudged up the steps to your apartment. All you wanted to do was curl up underneath the covers of your bed and hide from the rest of the world.

This was an ongoing feeling when you came home from your job. Often, you give all your energy in the classroom so it is easy to disassociate because of the low energy level you had once you exited the classroom. You would give your 100% to your students.

Today, you began to question if it was worth it. Not when your principal viewed you as falling short of expectations. You always found yourself working on lesson plans, on PowerPoints, and on other deliverables. All you wanted was to give your students everything but it still seemed like it wasn't enough.

Slowly, you slipped your shoes off by the door and placed your pink backpack on the floor. Not even shrugging off your jacket made the weight you feel lighter.

"Baby? Are you home?"

Your heart fluttered at the sound of your boyfriend. San. Your wonderful, amazing San. He was the ideal boyfriend, almost too perfect. He was there to let you rehearse lesson plans with you, letting you practice your delivery over and over again. You always heard the first year of teaching was the hardest, but this felt impossible. Yet, San was not going to let you give up on your craft.

He was constantly cheering you on. When you came home tired from a long day at work, he was there with a glass of wine ready to help you decompress. Often, he slipped little notes of encouragement either in your backpack or in the lunch. It was as if he knew those notes were your encouragement to get through the hard days.

When you decided to become a teacher, you thought that your toughest obstacle would be connecting with your students and handling uncomfortable parent-teacher conversations. What you didn't consider was having passive-aggressive school leadership that made it difficult to approach.

Honestly, most of your anxiety from your principal. Every single time you saw her, you felt your chest tighten. She was just unpredictable. You felt like you were walking on egg shells around her.

"Yeah, it's me," you called out.

Immediately, footsteps began to descend from the bedroom into the main part of the apartment. His footsteps sounded urgent as the padding of his feet hit the wooden floor.

All you could do was stand there. You didn't like being this type of person, not when San dropped everything for you. There was a part of you deep down that felt guilty because you know how crazy his schedule is. Yet, he still makes sure you know and never doubt not only his intentions with you but that he was constantly going to be here for you.

His heart broke at the sight. You looked so defeated, so burnt out. San knew your passion for education and making a difference. It was one of the reasons why San fell for you.

Yet, what he didn't like was that his angel was clearly upset.

"Bad day?" "The worst day."

If only he could absorb all your sadness. Honestly, he adored watching you on the day-to-day prepping for your students. You genuinely enjoyed that aspect of the job, learning the material and discovering the best methods of presenting it to your students. He always saw the passion and drive you held.

It was like you were center stage when you stood in front of the TV in the living room and presented the lesson to him as if he was one of your students.

Yet, right now, it looked like you were completely drained. And hated that.

Words didn't need to be exchanged. He knew what you needed, especially as you stood in front of him with tears in your eyes. The moment he saw a few were threatening to fall, he jumped into action.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. One of your favorite things about San was his hugs. It was as if he tried to squeeze all the sadness out of you. He made sure to keep one arm wrapped around you, so his fingertips could run up and down your spine. Your head nuzzled into his shoulders where your tears immediately began to soak the black t-shirt he had slipped on.

"I've got you. You can let it out. Whatever you need, sweet girl. I'm ready to give it all to you," he murmured to you.

Tiny kisses to your head were placed. His free hand moved to let the hair fall from the scrunch that had your hair pulled back into a low bun. He slipped the scrunch around his own wrist, ready for duty if needed. However, he knew one of the things you looked forward to doing when you stepped through the door was letting your hair down.

And it worked almost every time. Tonight, you needed something a bit extra.

"It was awful," you murmured into his clothed shoulder.

San knew immediately what you were talking about. You've been anxious over the past week and a half about your mid-year review at work. The anxiety only got worse when you received the Google Calendar invite.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shit show you walked into. It seemed as if everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. And San hated knowing all the hard work you put in was not getting acknowledged. You've been warned about coworkers how the first mid-year review tends to go. She tends to lean in hard, almost showing no remorse.

It felt like you had gone to a squaring match with a grizzly bear with no protection. You felt like you were beaten down to a pulp.

"What can I do for you?"

Once again, San proved that he was the best guy. Even after a long day of rehearsals for Coachella next month, he was in boyfriend mode. You tried your best to pour just as much love as possible back into him. Often, you wonder what you did to get so lucky to get such a considerate guy.

Not to mention he was attractive. He was honestly a dream come true. But to San, he was the one living the dream come true. You were his world, his princess. He would move mountains for you if you asked. You pulled your head back, so he could hear you better. "Just be here. Please. I don't want to talk about it."

That's all San needed to hear. With ease, he lifted you up and kept his hands underneath you to support you. Your arms wrapped around San's neck with your fingers running through the hair at the back of his head. This was what you always did as a comfort, and it also benefitted San because he loved the feeling of your hands on him.

He walked the two of you over to the couch. He knew in the moments you got emotional, you either wanted to be close like this or sprawl out. The couch offered the opportunity to switch if you desired, or he would be willing to carry you to your shared bedroom. You had San wrapped around your finger, but you didn't even know.

Everyone always commented on how he looked at you. His gaze always got compared to a Disney prince. You never doubted his love for you, but you almost couldn't believe it. San has never been happier, even when his members might tease him a bit about being whipped.

San had got himself situated on the couch. His hands left from beneath you to wrap fully around you. His arms pulled you in close, which caused you to sigh in relief. Both to be wrapped up in his arms but also feel his body heat against your body. The sigh was a good sign that you were on the road to recovery from your harsh day.

"You are such a hard worker, doll," he whispered into your ear. He kissed your cheek lingeringly. Your eyes fluttered shut to just soak in the moment of being this close with him.

"Watching everything you've done for your kids, your classroom, your school community. They are foolish for not recognizing what an outstanding teacher you are. But I see it, your coworkers see it. Your kiddos are so lucky to have such a caring, amazing teacher as you."

You sniffled as the tears began to fall again. The ache in your soul was being replaced with the love San had for you. Your heart was swelling with the amount of gratitude and love you had for him.

He was convinced each day that he fell harder in love with you. Everything he did was to make you happy in this shared life together.

"I don't wanna go back there," you sighed. "Just want to stay in your arms. You don't think the guys would mind?"

There's the woman he knew well. San wasn't afraid to conquer the hard days with you. He adored experiencing life with you. Yet, he never liked seeing you upset. When you were joking around, that was the woman he knew. You were starting to feel better, and he took pride that he was responsible for that.

"No, the guys won't mind. They know you're my everything. Do you think you can learn the choreography quick enough though?" "You know, I wanted to be a professional dancer when I was little."

His eyes widened slightly and a smile was on his lips. Even with your slightly puffy eyes and your red, runny nose, - he still viewed you as the most gorgeous woman in the world. And you were all his.

"Full of surprises, y/n. Always keeping me on my toes." "Me? What about you? You come home from a hard day of dancing, of probably jumping," you giggled.

He also shared that laughter with you. San definitely had gained quite the reputation for his wild dance moves and impressive but dangerous jumping ability. Hey, whatever happened in the KQ practice room, stays in the KQ practice room.

"But regardless. You always show up as the man I need, the partner I need." "It's not a surprise, pretty girl. You're mine and I'm yours. You allow me to live out my dreams and I'm here to support you in your dreams. I will do whatever it takes to make you smile and ensure your happiness."

—————————————————————————————

Selfishly wrote this for myself hahaha I had my mid-year review and let's just say, it was not the best 😅

But it's ok! I quit my job and have a new BETTER job starting this weekend.

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

Wrath of Venus

idea credit to @floating-in-the-blue courtesy of this reblog (I also recall some back and forth in the tags but i can't be bothered to find them). Title/band name credit to @legolasghosty. And motivation credit to every single person who sent a rose. This happened exclusively because I didn't want to give Bex snippets to people who don't read Bex 😅. It'll hit ao3 eventually. When i can think of tags. May or may not become a proper AU. Hope y'all enjoy.

JatP | 1404 words | G | ambiguous/pre-Juke | alive AU

Julie’s thoughts are interrupted by an unexpected voice to her left. “Hey, you come here often?” 

Julie turns toward him, eyes narrowed as she takes him in from head to toe. Brown shaggy hair, captivating smile, broad shoulders… She grimaces as she notices the cut off tee but continues her inspection anyway, taking note of his black pants - surprisingly absent of tears or holes, the countless chains hanging from his waist complete with dangling folded wallet…

“How does anything stay in that?” she asks, pointing to the offending accessory.

He scoops it up and flips it open. “Little secret I have,” he responds with a sly grin. “If you keep it empty, you don’t need to worry about it.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Broadcasting your poverty isn’t as cute as you seem to think it is.”

He offers a resigned shrug in response. A pause and then, “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Julie.”

“Julie.” He repeats, saying it slowly like he’s feeling her name out in his mouth. She does everything in her power to keep from rolling her eyes. This is one of the worst parts of being involved with the music scene in LA. Men who feel like they’re entitled to her because she exists. Them and the men who feel like she’s an interloper who doesn’t belong there. If she’s really lucky, she’ll encounter a two in one. She’s trying to figure out which this Luke guy is when-

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” 

Sure, the dingy bar isn’t a great place to hang out or be found, but it’s unfortunately one of the few places for some of the best acts to get their start. And if she wants to keep her edge over her competition, this is where she needs to be. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Could ask the same of you,” she counters. 

He sputters for a moment and Julie hides a proud smile behind her glass as she takes a sip of her drink. 

She waits patiently for him to recover. 

“My band’s playing tonight,” he finally says. 

Great. He’s one of those. 

She nods politely, choosing to keep her thoughts about guitarists and lead singers to herself. He gives off lead singer energy. 

She starts to spin herself back toward the bar when she feels him slide onto the stool beside her. His energy seems to have shifted from that of casual bar patron looking for a hookup to overly excited puppy desperate for attention. She eyes him curiously.

He immediately takes the opening she’s inadvertently offered. “We heard this is the best place to get noticed by this killer agent. Took us weeks to even get booked. And everyone’s so good! Can’t wait for our set.” He looks out toward the floor, scanning the small crowd that’s gathering. “Hope she’s here tonight.”

Julie looks up at the bartender who’s trying their hardest not to laugh. She sends them an amused wink. Julie knows that the staff here are discreet, she’s built a solid relationship with all of them over the last several years and they’ve always got her back when needed. Willie’s been a constant through the ups and downs of her wading her way through this world.

Julie hums in acknowledgement as she tries to decide if she wants to brush this guy off or find out more about him. You know, for work. Obviously.

Curiosity wins out. 

“Have I heard of you?”

This time it’s Luke’s turn to consider her carefully. 

“I don’t know. We’re still pretty small and-”

“Try me.” Julie can’t help but be amused by how quickly this guy’s energy seems to shift.

“Well, uh…” he stammers.

“Unless you’re lying to pick up women in the bar?”

His eyes widen comically. “What?! No! I promise I’m in a real band that’s playing a real show tonight. Well, set. A small set.”

“Okay,” she gestures toward Willie, silently asking for a copy of tonight’s event poster. They’re not even hiding their eavesdropping at this point and immediately hand her one. She reads through the list, glancing back up at Luke once she’s done. 

“Well you’d be cutting it too close to be the next act. I know for a fact that you’re not Midnight Madness or Whisper Cats. And you said it’s your first time playing here so I doubt you’re the headliner. Which means you must be Sunset Curve?”

He sputters at her again. This time she doesn’t bother hiding her grin. 

“How did you do that?!” he asks once he’s recovered.

Julie shrugs. “I know things.”

This is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. He eyes her carefully and oh, Julie knows that look. That’s the dude in any male-dominated space’s “I’m about to test you” look. She loathes that look. 

He glances up at the bartender, as if he’s considering ordering a drink to fully settle in next to Julie, then back at the stage, then back at Julie. 

She raises an eyebrow, part curiosity, part challenge. She’s been here before. Her part in the game never changes, she just needs to wait for them to make their move.

“So who’s your favourite band, then?”

And there it is. She narrows her eyes at him. His tone is just slightly different than most of the guys she encounters but she can’t quite figure out how or why.

“You wouldn’t know them.”

He scoffs. Julie suppresses an eye roll. 

“Try me,” he challenges. 

“Fine.” She leans forward, into his space, and stares at him. “Wrath of Venus.”

He hums consideringly and takes a long moment to think. Julie waits for the inevitable response of his made up opinion, usually negative, of her completely made up band. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” he finally answers, far too earnestly. “What kind of music do they make?”

This time it’s Julie’s turn to sputter as she’s completely caught off guard. She glances back at Willie who offers her a sympathetic shrug and smile but no actual aid. She glares at them before turning back to face Luke.

“They’re a hard rock girl group,” she finally blurts out.

Luke hums thoughtfully. “That makes sense. I still don’t know enough women-fronted groups. I’m working on it though.” He shimmies his phone out of his pocket. Or tries. From the look of things, his pockets are deeper and tighter than is ideal. 

He lets out a small, victorious shout once he finally succeeds. He unlocks it and taps around. “Can you tell me their name again? I want to look into them later!”

“Uhhhhh…” Julie stalls, trying to come up with literally anything to cover her ass. “They’re not on any streaming services yet. Still really new. Up and coming.”

“Oh,” Luke says, dismay clear in his voice, as he pockets his phone again. “I guess I’ll have to keep an eye out for some shows. They’re from here?”

“Uh, no. They, uh… They just come through town once in a while. When they can afford it, you know?”

Luke nods. “Yeah, I do. I’m so glad we actually live here.”

Julie notices the current act finishing up from over his shoulder. She nods toward the stage. “You’re almost up.”

Luke turns toward the stage in a panic. He scrambles off his barstool. “Nice to meet you, Julie!” he calls as he darts off. 

She breathes out a sigh of relief. Willie sets a refill of her drink down next to her. 

“Say. Nothing,” she warns them. 

They mime zipping their lips shut but don’t bother trying to hide the amused grin. 

“Watch them actually be good,” she grumbles as she lifts her glass to her lips. 

And they were. Really good. Enough so that Julie had to go and properly introduce herself after their set. Thankfully, there wasn’t any real opportunity for Julie’s fake band to come up again as she was introduced to the other band members and they exchanged contact information. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for managing to maintain a professional front through it all. 

And after getting over his shock that she was indeed the Ms. Molina from Dahlia Records he’d been hoping for, a downright giddy energy overtook Luke. It would take much longer than is reasonable for Julie to admit how endearing she found it. And would continue to. For better or worse.

[diazsdimples]

You wanna talk fic?

Tagged by @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks and @inell thank you friends!

1. How many WIPs do you have currently?

9 - which I think is the most I've actively had on the go at once. We've got Single Dads AU, Frostpunk AU, Ballet AU, Doctor AU, Olympics AU, Bathena Ranch AU plus it's buddie and bucktommy versions, Disaster Date fic and Sleepy Mornings

2. Which one are you finding the hardest to finish? Why do you think that is?

A toss up between Single Dads or Frostpunk and that's probably because they've been around for so long and they're so big. Right now they're both hovering around the 20k mark and they both seem to far away from being finished and that makes me so reluctant to do more fsdkjds

3. What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

99% of the time I'm in the shower tbh, and the other 1% is when I'm driving. And then it's me muttering to myself so I don't lose the idea until I'm less wet/not driving so I can write it in my phone. If, on the rare occasion it strikes when I'm free, I'll write 1-2k in one sitting and then never touch it again 😅

4. Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

I've made one playlist for one of my fics and that was for Musician AU, and that was literally the pieces they played. I can't write with words so songs with lyrics are always out of the running, and tbh I don't really listen to enough mainstream music to create good playlists? Music plays a very minimal part in my writing

5. Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organised?

Used to be very organised and wrote in perfect chronological order, now it's just a word here and there when the Beans hit. I'll start my fics with a loose outline of what I want to have happen but after that it's every man for himself really. Don't force me to write in order/ organised or I might cry

Not really sure who's writing atm/ who wants to be tagged in stuff like this so np tagging (use this as an open tag if you want to share!!)

@theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @bidisasterevankinard @buckera @watchyourbuck

@bucksbignaturals @actuallyitsellie @perfectlysunny02 @wikiangela @rainbow-nerdss

@cal-daisies-and-briars @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @lonelychicago @monsterrae1

@steadfastsaturnsrings @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13 @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights

[codfanficedits]

Cheating Ghost part 7

Soap POV:

He was waiting in the living room for her, nearly falling over his own feet as he made his way to the front door. The sight of you standing there, with your broken heart is the hardest thing he had to watch.

‘Even in her agony, God is jealous of her beauty.’ Soap pushed that thought away, he wasn’t here to hit on you, he was here to be the friend you needed. He stepped aside to let you in. “It’s not much, but it’s safe.” He said, gesturing around his living room. It was clear a single man lived here, the pizza box from last night still on the table, his dirty socks and shoes next to the couch. A sheepish smile on his face, hoping that you wouldn’t judge him too much.

He was mesmerized by your eyes, but he could see the sadness, the hurt in them, and it made his heart ache.

He signalled for you to sit on the couch, handing you a beer, his own in his hand, as he took place in his recliner, wanting to keep a distance. There was a silence between the two of you, but to him it didn’t feel awkward at all. It felt like coming safe home after a long, stressful day.

He glanced over at you. You looked so fragile on his couch, a large pillow being used as a shield, as your gaze met his. A nervous smile.

Your phone buzzed, and he could see it was from Ghost, his eyes narrowing as he read the text. “At least have some fucking respect and answer me.”

But you were strong and you didn’t pay any mind to his text, you tossed the phone next to you and met his gaze once more.

Then the words started to pour out, and you told him everything. How you couldn’t believe it at first, how you finally started to connect the dots. How Ghost dared to come home smelling like another woman, the video you had watched. He took an occasional sip from his beer every now and then.

With every full sentence he could see your mind working overtime, telling you to not go back to that relationship anymore. It made his heart beat faster in his chest.

As if it’s natural the conversation shifts to a lighter one, as if you want to leave Ghost and the darkness that he brings with him in the past, and Soap was happy to oblige.

You tell him about your job, your hobbies, your favourite crystals and he takes in all the information as if it is the most important thing he has ever heard.

Your phone buzzed again and the both of you look at it at the same time.

“You’re gonna get it when you get home.”

Those words made Soap’s stomach drop, he had always known that Ghost had a temper, a bad one, but even this felt low for Ghost. He looked over at you, expecting to see fear in your face, but instead you just laughed. As if you were freed from the chackles Ghost had put on you.

“Shit.” Your voice sounded like giggle. “I should really put him in his place for speaking to me in this tone.”

‘God, her laugh could light up a room without trying.’

No stop, he shouldn’t think like that.

Maybe it was the beer talking, maybe it was the lack of common sense from the whole situation, but he had an idea. An idea that would put Ghost in his place.

“Come with me.” Soap told you, as he made him way to his bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy compared to his living room. Sure, the bed wasn’t made, and his backpack was casually tossed into the corner, and now that he looked around, his nightstand were a mess too. But the dirty socks were limited to the bathroom only and that was something.

“I need you to trust me, I’m not a pervert, I promise.” Soap was rambling, a treat he had when he got nervous. He swallowed some air before he started explaining. “I need you to get on my bed on all fours, I promise I won’t look okay.” The rambling continued.

You didn’t even question it, you just did what he asked you to do. He took a step closer to your ass, his breathing getting hard to control. “Look at the wall.” He muttered. The shadow being rather, suggestive.

‘Life was an artist and you were the fucking masterpiece.’

He couldn’t help but look down at you, the sight of you presenting yourself like this, God it got him hard, the blood going straight to his growing erection. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, he had to contain himself.

You handed him your phone, allowing him to take a picture. If he didn’t know any better the shadow suggested he was actually fucking you. The thought of how tight you would be, how good you would take it, it was flooding his mind. Shit shit shit. He needed to stop.

He handed you your phone back, stepping aside, it would drive him insane if he kept looking at your ass.

Soap looked over your shoulder as you sent Ghost the picture. A grin on your face when you started to type.

"Sorry, I was busy."

[kyojurosprettygirl]

If you're willing to write for demons, can you do a short Akaza x fem slayer story?? One where the reader keeps chasing him because he refuses to fight her on account of her being a woman? It could be a cute enemies to rivals to lovers, maybe even be a little angsty. I would imagine the y/n's bewilderment that the gosh darn uppermoon 3 wouldn't kill her, or that she's insulted that he refuses to fight.

a/n: OH EM GEE. NONNIE THIS IS PURE GOLD. i feel you've read my mind , and it's a little scary . i've had smth similar in my head for MONTHS and you don't know how excited i am to write this now that i have a baseline!!! XD this has given me much more inspiration for it and surprisingly more leeway . it's kind of hard to keep my stories short... ;;; I HOPE YOU ENJOY REGARDLESS X)))) I WONT LIE, this was super hard to write.

the sun will always rise.

Akaza x Demon Slayer! Fem! reader

for each and every kill a slayer makes, it counts as a single but notable step toward the designated finish line. the finish line where humans will be safe from harm; where a corps dedicated to killing demons wouldn't have the need to exist. it should be a simple thing, you realize. in hindsight, people think you just train, kill, and repeat, until finally your flame dies out and your just another warrior who's sacrificed their life without a name left behind, depending on how much you killed that is.

In reality, though, the corps is much more complex. There are ranks, hidden villages, hidden faces, and most notably demons who were once human too. who were once filled with their own ideologies, their own minds and voices, they were once a full glass rather than an empty shell of what once was. Some, too far gone, others, just unfortunate people who fell into the deep end. It is when you fight with a demon when the complexity really set's in, you hear them, feel them even, and although some are easy to ignore, other's are much harder. and for you, it was always harder, your empathetic nature toying with your mind and heart. it was something you connect well with the young slayer you've come to know as Tanjiro, but you differ in one thing, you find killing the demons much easier than he does. choosing to ignore their pasts to reduce the risk of dying, using the most painful form you know on them. It's how you got into this mess to begin with.

your feet ache, burn even, trying their hardest to keep up with your mind who seems to not have any limits. your fingers are numb, your cheeks burn, and your neck itches from the cloth constantly rubbing on it because of the frantic movement. for the second time tonight, another strong demon made it's way into your line of vision. though its more unfortunate for them than it is for you, you're still human and your body begs to succumb to the comfortable earth below you. the fight was drawn out, too much for your liking, making your patience to run extremely thin. dodging it's attacks left and right, you spoke out to the demon, surprisingly finally hitting a nerve. when the demon had stopped to tell you it's sorrows, how it feels, you called a form and decapitated it without second thought, it having given you an opening. you dropped your blade and keeled to where it's head laid and you gently picked it up, facing it toward you.

"I wish you a comfortable trip to hell." you rasp out. gently placing it's head on the ground as the sun rises, it's body ashing out into nothing. you sigh and look at the unlit part of the forest, noticing piercing eyes in the shadows. in curiosity, you appear infront of the demon in a split second, him barley dodging your blade. his eyes go wide in surprise and he groans in frustration, disappearing into what's left of the dark. he was gone just as fast as you appeared and you decided to ignore it, convincing yourself it was simply your lack of sleep.

but it happened again. and again. and you began to grow frustrated. you began to seek the demon out, and every time you got close, he'd dodge and refuse to fight you. At first, it was one-sided, where you seeked him out, he tried to avoid you, just wanting to complete muzans orders, but the closer you got to tracking him down, you began to interfere greatly with his orders. orders of which when failed to complete, he'd have his blood wrung dry, but still keeping his morale of not intentionally hurting you. you were a woman, it would be wrong. and, it was your job. could he really blame you?

"what the hell." he thinks, as he dodges another one of your hits, you're much faster than what he's used to, so you must be a high ranked slayer. He splays his arm out in an attempt to grab your blade from you when he heals the blade into his skin , but it's futile when you catch onto it and twist, creating another wound where you have enough time it grab it back. as the sun began to creep up, he knew he had to get out of the fight quickly, but he knew you well enough to the point where you wouldn't drop it that easy. you huffed, a slight smile gracing your features, and for a moment he's enamored, your strength is admirable and your beauty shines through the roughness of your hits, but he doesn't stare too long. Instead, he runs from under you when you jump, and runs deep into the dark forest. He hears your scream of frustration as you begin to chase after him, except going the opposite direction. he exhales, you were going to be a problem, he could already feel it. so he opted from then on to hide away from you, knowing you were constantly chasing to kill him.

sooner or later though, for every slayer he was ordered to kill, you'd come in and save double. For every place he managed to hide himself in, you'd cover them head to toe in wisteria poison residue. For every item he'd need to retrieve, you'd try to combat with him, leaving him no choice but to leave and go back empty handed. you can only imagine how angered he was becoming. where he'd usually draw fights out, get to know the powerful slayers, and even give them more chances to kill him, he found himself just wanting to kill them immediately as a means to save himself from your wrath. you were everywhere, wherever he was, you somewhere were always there. he figured it was your crow. It was getting to the point where he was thinking of letting go of his morals, maybe you would be the only exception to his rule. he hated your existence, and was hoping another demon would do the job for him. he realized you were specifically targeting him, and it's what angered him even more. he decided he'd start to put his hand's on you, and use a few words, maybe then you'll get off his ass.

you panted as you finally managed to get him on the ground. he had no way out of this, unless he hurt you, and oh was he tempted. you make a move to cut his head off, a gleam of relief running in your eyes, one he caught onto. he then grabbed your hips and rolled into a position where you laid under him, getting off as fast as he could and attempting to take his leave. you grunt, chasing him and he grabs your wrist before your blade could make contact with him. 'why won't he just fight back.' you think, your eyes widening at how gentle his grasp was. you furrow your brow, jerking your hand off and kicking him, creating a wave of dirt dusting over your vision. "why do you run from me! just get up and fight me!" frustration was evident in your voice, and he laughed at it. god, you sounded like inosuke, you realize. "you just don't give up." he grunts, he looks you in the eyes and you realize he's an uppermoon. "because you are a woman." and at that your face is one of bewilderment. 'this entire time!' you think. you make a move to throw him deeper into the forest but he dodges and runs into the forest. again. you groan and notice the sun was beginning to peak from the horizon. "it's now or never, demon!" you scream, and chase after him. it was a fruitless chase.

he thought it would have led to you giving up, but it instead became a game of cat and mouse. whenever you did encoutner him, you'd push for answers, for him to just hit you back, deem you worhty of his time, but he just rushed out of the match. leaving you at the same time the moon did.

his comment made you assume you thought he was weak, and knowing he was uppermoon three fed into those assumptions. he only ever fought the highest rank slayers, you noted, and he was almost always victorious in them, except for those who made it til sunrise, two to be exact, and they would talk about how he just never gave up, how he seemed eager to elongate their fight. although, that was years ago, and you weren't even sure if he was considered the third uppermoon then. this continued on for months, and fueled your ambition even more. yet as the days passed, you began to falter more and more, your spark dimming by the seconds. you felt weak, and knowing you weren't was different than feeling you weren't, you felt unworthy, and a demon's word's shouldn't hit as deep as Akazas did. he fought Rengoku, a hashira you grew to know well, and from what he had told you, you just grew insecure. you felt guilty, he survived by a single thread, and instead of wanting to avenge him, you just wanted to be recognized by the demon. you selfishly wanted him to ask you to be a demon, to ask for your name and say that you were gifted. you had soon given up on the chase, guilt eating at you faster than the fire you had in you did. but the fire of wanting to kill him remained in you regardless, laying dormant and behind your old wounds.

as you walk mindlessly, you only notice the moon when you walk into a small running river, the coldness easing the ache in your feet. it was a long day, and you'd just completed a mission the master had given you. you sit on a rock and let the water dance around your ankles, giggling when small pebbles tickled you. you sigh and close your eyes and enjoy the night, trying to find the person you once were before encountering the demon. he hadn't left your mind since, and knowing his name had simply made it harder. your brows furrow in subconscious annoyance. you were sick, sick of him unintentionally controlling your life. "fuck off , Akaza" you groan, opening your eyes. and as the saying goes, speak of the devil and he shall appear. you jump and squeal when he suddenly appears next to you, the height difference increasing as he isn't sitting down. "what the Fuck." you say, trying to get your blade, but stopping when he just laughs. it's soft, and you decide to just give up. he notices your lack of reaction, and sits next to you on the ground. at this point you were both at eye level, and you felt embarrassed that you needed a rock to reach his eyes while sitting. he doesn't know what to say, and neither do you, your interactions were only your attempts to kill him, and him trying to avoid your strikes. you break the silence. "why are you here." and he hears your voice differently for the first time. rasps he's gotten used to aren't there, and it lacks loudness. it's silky, and it pricks at his skin. he can admire you now, he thinks, and he savors every second. he decides to respond truthfully. "i want to know your name." you gasp, its almost ghostly sounding, but he catches on. you feel regret fill your mouth the same way saliva does before you vomit, but instead it's for being happy about a demon asking for your name, and the acidity soon to come is you giving it to him. you contemplate it, and you face him, his breath hitches at finally seeing your relaxed face. your crazy wild eyes are now sharp and gleam the same way gold would, your mouth isn't in a tight frown but instead a slight smile, he assumes it's how it naturally falls. you open your mouth to speak, before your brows furrow, an expression he's gotten used to. "you don't need it." you state. your tone is firm and a familiar coldness returns to it. he hums, "but i wan't it" you tilt your neck back, and sigh, 'oh what the hell'. "y/n." your gaze turns to him and he feels his blood rush, he hates how you easily put him in a trance. "i wan't to kill you." you say boldly, and he lets out a laugh before he realizes your serious. "do you even hear yourself?" and he laughs again. you grab your blade and stab it into his heart, a hit that would have killed anybody normal. "loud and clear, uppermoon three." and he gets goosebumps from your voice. Akaza decides to humor you, and grabs your blade to throw it at you, knowing you would easily avoid it. he sees excitement in your face and smiles at it, it wouldn't hurt to humor you, he just needed to be very careful. Although your skeptical you decide if you die fighting him, people would see it as an honorable death, and it would ease you in your final moments.

Akaza felt guilty. he was there for one reason only. to kill you. it was an order from muzan, and as much as he wanted to remain loyal to the man, he couldn't. "you aren't serving me as efficiently as before, I believe it's the Kinoe." he was right. and it was then when he stated he was to kill her, or he'd kill them both himself. He wasn't going to kill you himself, he was going to have a smaller demon do the work for him, but he wanted to know you, wanted to do what he couldn't do before. He was gravitating toward you, and he wasn't given any room to pull way. He thought it'd be okay to let you spend our last moments doing what you wanted. To fight him.

But the fight turned a different way than he thought.

each sentence you spoke, each sassy remark, you'd made him more intrigued. he found himself wanting to know everything about you, and as the night went on, after you cleanly sliced the lower demons dead and continued to speak as if nothing happened, he felt he was ready to give up his loyalties. he was afraid, you spoke for the entire night and he had to decide to kill you and execute his duties as muzans right hand, or, if he'd die with you. as the sun rose, reminding him the same way an hourglass would, he decides to run. again. but this time, with a promise to see you again. you land one more hit and he trips you, catching your arm before you hurt yourself on a jagged rock. he positions you as you catch your balance, and he holds your blade in his hand, his palm bleeding as he digs it deeper. "you could use more work on your form." he chuckles, and you simply snicker. "i haven't done this fighting style for hundreds of years y'know." he hums, and walks into the forest, he needed an excuse, and a way to hide the night he went through from muzan.

deep shit, you think.

this continues again, and again, until eventually, you know more of Akaza than you do your own family. night after night, saying goodbye when the sun rose. he was able to make it seem like you'd been killed, ofcourse not with his own hands, muzan wouldn't believe it, and you never got in the way of his missions.

it felt wrong, but the way he ignited you pushed you to continue the growing relationship. but you knew deep down, eventually it would slip, and muzan would find out, if not him, then your comrades. but to both you, you stopped minding it.

you were killed, in a torturous way infront of akaza, muzan had found out, and it was one of the moments that made it easier for him to not grow his head back when decapitated. he figured if it was you who he was meeting again, then maybe death was the answer.

funfact! he refused to let you walk with him to hell. he made sure you both wen't separate ways, but once he made it far enough, you ran back to him and you both fell to the depths together.

'you don't belong here.'

'i do. if i was a saint, i would have never met you.'

[philhoffman]

Loving Phil comes as easily to me as breathing. Easier, sometimes. From the first moment we met through the screen. Much like Paul Thomas Anderson, I saw PSH make a single gesture—a little smirk, barely able to restrain his soft smile, intelligent and warm—and fell in love with him. Or, more accurately, I saw him and was overcome by the feeling he was special, that he would be an important person in my life. And now here we are.

I’ve found myself saying the same thing a lot lately—“There are no words,” or something to that effect. The enormity of Phil’s loss, his absence over the last 10 years, is mind-boggling. It’s crushing. There are many great works of art and music and literature and film about grief and loss, warnings about what pain this intense could feel like, but even the masters can only capture a fleeting moment of it. It truly exists beyond words. 

Equally impossible to capture in words is the good, the beautiful, the glimmers of hope and love. It's often beyond mere glimmers—seeing the world through Phil's eyes is a sledgehammer of life. For a few years I've kept a notebook just for my thoughts to him. I was thumbing through it last night and read an entry in which I said the enormity of the happiness I felt since he entered my life was unlike anything I'd experienced before. It's far beyond a crush on an actor, lol. It's—words are failing me—absolutely everything. His films, his soul, his eyes, his community, all the words, the way he's shaped how I see my life, my relationships, my future, my world. I can't overstate it, really. He's stitched into the fabric now, the blood in my veins, his heart beating in my chest, arm around my shoulder. The most important artist and person I've ever known.

So there won’t ever be enough words to fully capture what every frame, every laugh, every freckle, every moment means—but there are a couple words that say enough for now, tonight, 10 years after Phil’s death. Like—I love you. Like—I miss you and I’m sorry and 46 is so, so young. Like—every night and every day, somewhere in the world, someone is watching one of your film’s and laughing or crying or raging or smiling along with you. You said you hoped the art would outlive you, outlive all of us, and it does, it will, and you’re always part of it and with us and remembered.

Like—now having the privilege to know your wonderful family and community, it’s easy to see how you turned out to be such a kind, thoughtful man and generous, passionate artist. Their refrain is true—great actor, even better friend.

Like—countless individuals are in recovery and alive because of you, whether they’re 10 years or 100 days or 1 hour sober. The support you offered friends and strangers during your life, the impact of your death from a drug overdose—I can’t begin to guess how many people you helped, how many even I've spoken to who credit you with helping to save their lives.

What I'm writing now is one of the hardest things I've ever tried to say in my life, I can't stop tearing up. I hope I get it right. This is the 10th anniversary of Phil's death—his life is now a decade away from us in the past, a milestone I've been dreading, a reality that shocks and breaks my heart.

Grief is timeless and endless. There are moments when it hurts just as badly as that first day. But with time, hopefully, that most intense pain bubbles up less often. It comes up on anniversaries, special occasions, when the sunlight and the breeze hit you just right, when little signs and reminders show up—but not every day. I think that's healthy. When I was relatively new to this loss, the pain fresh but I was deep, deep within it, I used to think, "How did anyone who loved him survive? Why aren't we all screaming all the time?" I understand now. Today I fell to the floor and cried and screamed about it—yesterday, too—but I don't every day, not anymore.

The grief is ever-present but it changes. The change hurts. It can feel like a betrayal, like guilt, like abandonment. That's the season of grief I'm in, weird complicated emotions I'm struggling with. I've felt it in my gut ahead of this anniversary and kept it bottled up so tightly, ashamed. "Letting go" are the words that kept coming to mind, but I fucking hate that phrase. I'm not letting go of anything. But tonight I heard from two of the people closest to Phil, who both shared the same feeling that this year is different. That maybe Phil is telling us that it's okay to move forward—not move on, move forward—and find new ways to love and honor and remember him. Let go of the ways that aren't serving us or him anymore. There will always be new ones. He is buried so deep in our hearts, in who we are, that we could never be separated—we will always find him.

In a way, a weight is lifted off my chest. In another way, I've been crying so hard I'm going to be sore tomorrow. Nothing is going to change in my day-to-day, I think. I can't even imagine what would. But this is a new step of our journey, I can feel it in my chest. Of my journey, at least. I'm terrified and hopeful and so, so, so deeply in love and in gratitude with this incredible, larger-than-life, beautiful force of a human who changed the world—the whole world, and my world. Blessed doesn't begin to cover how I feel knowing my life is tied to his, that I'll be learning from him for the rest of my days. I'm still beyond devastated his were cut short so soon.

I love you, Phil. The man, the spirit. Nothing else matters more than that. I love you.

(Oh, and I'll always buy the donuts. For you, for us. Always. I promise.)

[sarcastic-kai]

Kakashi Hatake headcannons

I copy and pasted this from my wattpad lol since i havent written in a hot second and I feel bad about it :/

•What he's like in the mornings•

Kakashi isn't a morning person. He hates the feeling of being in a deep, peaceful sleep, then having that ruined by his alarm clock or the sharp, unforgiving rays of the sun.

That being said, he always tries his best to be pleasant for you in the mornings, and he usually doesn't have to try very hard because waking up next to you is always worth waking up.

˚˚˚˚˚

You run your fingers through your lover's hair, giggling as the motion only seems to make it more fluffy.

"Darling," you whisper. "It's time to wake up, my love."

A soft grunt leaves Kakashi's lips before he shifts defiantly and rolls to face away from you.

Rolling your eyes, you huff with irritation. Every single morning it seems to be the same routine. Kakashi ignores his alarm, you try to wake him up, he ignores you.

A small, mischievous grin snakes up your lips. Now it's time for your favorite part.

You sit up and shift to kneel beside your husband. Still grinning, you bite back your laughter as you snatch up your pillow, raise it above your head, and swing it down onto his with a loud, "HATAKE YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

The pillow makes contact, followed by a muffled "oof!"

Kakashi sits up, glaring at you as you double over in a fit of snickers and giggles.

Grabbing the pillow, he throws it back at you, hitting you square in the face and sending you rolling off the bed in surprise.

You get up, scowling playfully at Kakashi as he smiles sheepishly at you.

"Oops. I guess I used too much strength."

≈≈≈≈≈

•His favorite date idea•

Kakashi isn't one for over-the-top, grandiose gestures of romance and love. He's more of a laid back, simple outing sort of guy. He's different from a lot of people. While some people are made of  bright bursts of violent vibrance, he is composed of gentle swirls of pastel tones. So while some people may set up an elaborate evening of fancy dining, extravagant entertainment, and romantic candlelit beach walks; Kakashi Hatake prefers to keep it relaxed and fun. His go-to date ideas are either a walk through the village, a stop at Ichiraku, and a movie at his place; or a lazy night in with take out, movies, and lots and lots of cuddles.

˚˚˚˚˚

"Y/n!"

You look up from your homework to see your best friend, f/n, standing in your doorway with their arms crossed and a start expression.

"What're you doing?" They ask, and you wonder why they sound so irritated.

You look at your textbook then back to them. "Uh... homework."

They roll their eyes and point to your phone next to you on the desk.

"Well, dummy, it's 8pm and you said you had an outing with Kakashi at 6:40."

"oh shit!" You jump up, knocking your chair back and snatching your phone off the desk. To your dismay, you scroll through your notifications to see multiple texts from your boyfriend, the last one dating to 20 minutes ago. you bite your lip, guilt and anxiety beginning to grow in your gut.

"Fuck," you mumble, running a hand through your hair. "he's been waiting for so long. Oh god, he probably hates me now."

"Actually, I don't."

You look up to see Kakashi standing behind your friend.

You expression drops, staring at him in shock and dismay. "oh my god..." you whisper.

Coming to your senses, you rush to him, nearly tackling him with a hug. "oh my god, Kakashi! I am so so so sor-"

Before you can finish, he plants a solid, loving kiss to your lips, cutting you off effectively.

Pulling away with a grin, he says, "don't worry about it. I cancelled the reservations because I remembered the big test you have coming up, so I let you study for a little longer. I ordered pizza to my place, and I am ready to walk you over there right now."

≈≈≈≈≈

•When you're sick•

Kakashi is a very gentle, concerned individual. After all he has been through, one of the hardest and more reoccurring lessons he has learned is to cherish those you love, and to take care of them. So when you're sick, he does just that. He spends extra time with you, gives you cuddles, brings you soup, the whole nine yards.

˚˚˚˚˚

"'Kashi..." your throat is horse and quiet, and you barely manage a whisper. But even that amount of effort sends your throat back into its painful, stinging blaze. You let out a whimper, but it quickly turns into a erratic fit of coughs.

The grey haired shinobi leans closer to you from his chair beside your bed, his brows furrowing with concern.

"Hey... y/n... is there anything I can get you? Maybe some cough drops or some tea?" He puts the back of his hand to your sweat-slicked forehead. "You're burning up. Your fever still hasn't gone down."

You try to say 'thank you captain obvious', but it comes out as a raspy, "thank... obvious", as your voice cuts in and out with the effort it takes to speak.

Kakashi seems to get the message though, and his signature mask crinkles in the way that you have learned to detect as his smiling underneath it.

"You're welcome y/n. I'll get you some tea to help your throat, okay?"

You close your eyes and nod, but just as he gets up to leave, you reach out and grasp his sleeve. He turns to look down at you, curious.

You smile up at him weakly. "Read... to me?'

Kakashi stiffens up, and you can see just a hint of a blush creep up his face and around the tops of his cheeks that arent covered by his mask.

"I- I really don't think you want that."

≈≈≈≈≈

•What he's like in bed•

Kakashi can be both a very gentle lover or a very rough one, depending on his (or your) mood. But either way, he is very considerate and very giving. He makes sure to make you feel loved and satiated, littering your body with kisses and showering you with praise.

He's open to a lot of things, and will try anything at least once if you ask him to.

He'll usually last about 1-3 rounds, depending on how wound up he is. He's very... needy after being on a long mission, but he always puts your wants before his own.

He's a king of aftercare. He'll draw you both a bath and massage you, peppering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your shampoo sud-covered hair.

˚˚˚˚˚

You moan against your lovers neck, tightening your grip on his grey locks.

With every shift of his body and roll of his hips, he fills you up, stretching you around his member in the most delicious way imaginable. His thrusts are strong and consistent, hitting your sweet spot every time, driving you to the brink of insanity.

"oh god, 'Kashi," you whimper, moving one arm to wrap around his back and pull him impossibly closer to you. He grunts in response, his hot, labored breaths fanning across your neck and shoulder that he is nestled into.

Without warning he bites your collar, eliciting a sharp gasp and drawled out moan from you as you arch your back, pushing your breasts into his chest.

You can feel him smile against your skin, but you don't pay any attention to that, since all your focus is on your impending release. Kakashi's thrusts increase in speed, only serving to tighten the coil in your lower abdomen. Your entire body is tingling with arousal and lust, and with a few  more thrusts you come undone.

Your entire body tenses up and you cry out in pleasure as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mind goes blank. Kakashi keeps going, only faltering from his rhythm for a couple thrusts before he finds it again.

You want to tell him to slow down, but nothing comes out of your thoroughly fucked self. Instead, your moans increase in pitch, drawling out into some sort of desperate whine. But if you are whining for more or less, Kakashi can't tell, and you truthfully don't care.

Once your orgasm has finished wrecking your body it winds down, but it is quickly flailed up again by Kakashi's own chase for release. Within seconds your extremely sensitized body is driven to another orgasm, and for a few seconds, you swear you lose consciousness.

Pleasure envelops your entire being, blinding you with its enticing white light. You writhe and scream with bliss, the erotic sensations are like you've ever felt before, they're breath taking.

Once You float down from your high, and your stomach is coated with Kakashi's release, your eyes reluctantly flutter open to gaze up at him.

His grey hair is messy and matted with sweat, falling unusually flat on his gorgeous face.

He grins down at you, before quickly leaning down and kissing you passionately. You smile into the kiss, returning it with a spent effort.

Kakashi pulls away, brushing his knuckles against your face in a loving gesture.

The way he gazes at you, as if you're the most beautiful and precious creature on earth, makes you blush furiously and you cover your face with your arms.

Kakashi chuckles, pulling out of you and running an arm along your side comfortingly.

"Come on, y/n. Let's go get cleaned up."

[eyesontheskyline]

😭💰📌

And not an emoji but a question. Which chapter of no such thing did you find the hardest to write!?

Hi!

😭 Have you ever made yourself cry writing a fic?

Yeah. I'm a crier honestly, so it doesn't take much, but reckless was a lot. I'm the lapsed Catholic child of teen parents, and I had my own baby in lockdown with the world falling apart around me, isolated from pretty much everyone who would've been supportive, and basically entirely without any sense of like... happiness or normality. So yeah, various parts of all three chapters of that made me cry lol.

💰 What’s one trope you wouldn’t write, except for money?

Note a trope really, but I wouldn't touch x reader (except for money loool, there's definitely enough money out there to sway me).

Any sort of dubious consent is also very much not for me, and anything kind of age play / daddy or mommy kink... all that stuff.

📌 If all your fics/WIPs fell off a ship and were drowning (go with it), and you could only save one, which would it be?

This is a brutal question hahaha I love all my babies! But probably no such thing as over this? It's still fun for me to reread, and it was always my answer to 'what's one fic idea you'll probably never write' because it felt too big for me. Like I felt like I couldn't do it justice or I'd never follow through or whatever. So I like it and I'm proud of it and honestly just the fact of having both started and finished it is a big deal for me.

Aaaaand which chapter of no such thing was hardest to write?

Ha there are so many contenders for this! My first thought is maybe chapter three - I did a lot of deleting and restarting and restructuring. It was quite a lot of ground to cover practically, and initially the whole team helped Emily move in instead of just Morgan and Garcia, but it just didn't feel right. (It felt too much like the shortcut the show started taking with that pasta cooking lesson and then didn't stop honestly - just jamming all the characters in a room and not really doing anything with them.) So yeah I had a lot of false starts with almost every single part of that chapter lol. I was still figuring out how to write around canon too, really wrestling myself away from the impulse to try and fill in every little moment.

And it has Emily crying on the floor by herself with her cat, which I really liked, but also found really hard to write. Like, my writing style has been (very generously lol) described as 'practical', and I consistently struggle writing characters crying (or doing any other sustained activity to be fair) for any amount of time. For the reader to end up with the impression that it's been a long time, they need to be reading about it for more than one sentence, and it just took me a while to figure out how to write it well. I think (on this one occasion) it turned out okay.

Chapter six too though, which spanned four episodes and had no particular plot points for me to hit but I needed to lay the groundwork for Emily and Garcia's friendship and end up with an Emily and Hotch who might plausibly have an open, vulnerable version of the "having a bad day" conversation with each other.

I struggled in a lot of places and I had a lot of blank page anxiety every time I moved onto a new chapter, but I think these were the ones I really struggled to make work.

Thank you so much for asking, I appreciate you, kind anon ❤️

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week: Day 7

Prompts: Gen / Team Fics! (IIIIITS THE GRAND FINALEEEEEE)

lloyd garmadon makes kai smith cry on his birthday- Has been recc'ed a couple times but *I* just read it and now *I* have to rec it too! The brotherly dynamic between the two already has me by the throat, but then both of their perspectives on birthdays just really helps drive the point home!! So pleased to have this fic shown to me!

Aftermaths: Lloyd and Kai post-MotO and oof they both go through it emotionally

Visionary- A fic jam-PACKED with introspective and dynamics with the main six, consisting of Lloyd getting a glimpse of what the other's went through prior to becoming ninja (and other hardships), while the other five use their experiences to help Lloyd move forward with his own troubles. That's...literally the barest I can break this fic down into, but there's soooo many emotions and moments and perspective and AAAAAA

An Endless Light: Made ME weep, man. WEEP I SAY. An immortal Lloyd just loves his family, man. AND GODDD THE ENDINGGGGG

the L-word: FIVE TIMES THE NINJA TELL LLOYD THEY LOVE HIM (and the one time he says it back) THE FOUND FAMILY VIBES ARE STRONG WITH THIS ONE!!! PLATONIC USAGES OF I LOVE YOU *throws flowers petals* LET THE PEOPLE LOVE OUT LOUD!!

The Sun Rises Every Single Night: TIME TRAVEL FIC of Lloyd contending with holy crap how much things have CHANGED but also, despite everything, he is still himself. Kind of a character study, but all entertaining and wholesome ;w;

Time Marches On: A fic that is lamentably not finished, but the chapter that IS there is a wonderful reflection by Wu on how his students have changed (I like time-reflective fics, I suppose) punctuated with a heart-wrenching conversation with Lloyd, which is something I will always love to see~ (but pls if for nothing else the Wu+Lloyd convo is so GOOD *rolls around*)

Thank You, For Giving Me Wings: Or, Five Times the Ninja accidentally called Wu 'Dad' (and the one time one of them didn't on purpose). Oh look, another time-reflective piece about Wu and the Ninja, but this time by me! And could be finished if the Nya chapter didn't give me such a writer's block on how to phrase what I want to saaaay *wails* Anywaaaay, lot of Wu and lots of family emotions and lots of the ninja being vulnerable and soft in their "father's" presence ;w;)/

Some Burn Hot, Some Burn Cold: A story about Lloyd, Elemental Powers, and the effects both those things can have on the ninja's emotions. Everyone's got a role to play in this one, though the parts with Cole and Lloyd hit me the hardest, man. Also may or may not have been my inspiration for Elemental Outbursts ;P

All I Want For Christmas is You: If I had a nickel for every time I recc'ed a Christmas fic in the middle of July, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's (about to) happen twice (aka Lloyd experiences Christmas for the first time and attempts to hide that fact and the ninja simply love him very very very much in the process).

All I'm Asking For- And last but most certainly not least, my other very favorite Ninjago fic ever, the masterpiece that inspired me to get back into writing to begin with ;w;

Kind of a (Christmas-y) AU the diverts from MotO but doesn't necessarily contradict it either, my mere meager description just cannot do it the justice it deserves! Everyone gets some form of closure after all these years of fighting to just be okay, even if for a little while, all sprinkled with marvelous character moments and interactions and holiday shenanigans that are guaranteed to warm your heart at one point or another. A great pick me up to dive back into year round regardless (as I do)

(this fic is technically and obviously about everyone, but the way it starts and ends with Cole's perspective on his team............ *bursts into tears* something about it just feels so perfectly right in a way I still can't manage to explain. But know I hold this fic so very near and dear to my heart and you should too <3)

And that is it! Woot, didn't think I'd make it every day, but turns out I read a lot more than I think! Shoutout to @21st-century-ninja for putting this all together!!