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capr1pengu1n · 4 months ago

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And when I'm taking your innocence

Summary: After Edward last shared you with his criminal partner, a hidden outfit leads to yet another encounter between you three; one that has unforeseen results

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, threesome, dom!Edward and dom!Jonathan, the scriddler vibes are stronger in this one lmao, degradation, spanking, choking, fingering, rough sex, creampie

Words: 6.2k

Notes: This is a part two of a little victim-less crime that i wrote cause i'm 1.) constantly horny for these two, and 2.) i was enabled on ao3. I love writing dialogue for these two, apologies once again for the self indulgence.

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The fact your apartment door was unlocked when you got back from work, when you know for a fact you locked it before you left, should give a normal person cause for alarm, but you simply roll your eyes as you enter, shutting it again behind you. After all, The Riddler wasn’t one to need a key.

“Edward?” you call out, before you hear him inside your bedroom. You really should give him a key at this point, but he probably finds picking your lock a bit of added mental stimulation. Entering, you glance down, confused as your lover was on his knees, looking under your bed.

“Look what I’ve found.”

At your boyfriends’ almost sing-song tone, you feel the blush rise on your cheeks as he holds up the playboy bunny outfit he’d retrieved from the scrappy box beneath your bed, even fiddling with the bunny ear headband in the other hand. Suddenly, memories come flooding back, of being on your knees for two of Gotham’s most wanted while dressed in such a revealing outfit, being referred to as nothing more than a pet while they took turns using your mouth. You quickly go to grab the outfit, but Edward stands to his full height and lifts it above his head, smirking.

“C’mon Eddie, give it back.”

“You kept it?”

You hesitate, feeling the heat of your skin rise. “Of course I kept it…you bought it for me.”

“I did, but I’ve bought you a lot of things doll.”

“…it fits nice. I guess I figured I’d…or you’d…”

He laughs, dropping his arm and letting you snatch the fabric. “You thought I’d want you to wear it again for me? Well…it is tempting.”

You quickly bend down to stuff it back in its box under the bed, having to swat his hand away when he playfully tries to spank you. Standing back up, you teasingly glare at him.

“What were you even doing looking under my bed in the first place?”

“You know I store some things here I don’t want people to find.” He explains, digging into his pocket to pull out a lockbox key. “But it seems I found a bonus.”

You nod softly, before giggling and trying to grab the key. Edward scoffs, and moves his hand, dangling it over your head and forcing you to try and reach it. He smirks a little when you can’t, and it widens when you playfully pout at him.

“You really think that’ll work on me? Try a little harder, won’t you?” he says, before scoffing louder at your attempt to jump up to grab it. It’s almost like he’s having fun before his phone rings. A flash of annoyance shows on his features, before he excuses himself and steps outside your bedroom. You glance underneath the bed, thinking about that night. It made you feel good, feel powerful, to be seen as so desirable by two men like that. You can’t deny the encounter left quite the impression; you’d slept with both of them at the same time a few times before that night, each time thinking it would be the last. At first you were surprised, since Edward had the tendency to be possessive, but the last time…well. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was like Edward enjoyed the fact it was Jonathan that was there with the both of you. After all, he’s never suggested sharing you with anyone else.

“Sorry doll, something came up.” Edward says as he steps back in the room, noticing how lost in thought you seem. The cogs in his brain start to turn, as he cups your jaw. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay? Make sure you’re free.”

“Yeah, I will.”

He pats your jaw a little and goes to walk away, before you make a soft noise and follow him. Rolling his eyes, he leans in to give you a kiss, but you don’t miss the hint of a smile before he does. You know he adores this, feeling needed by you.

“So needy.” He chastises lowly against your lips, before pulling away completely. “Tomorrow night.”

You hum your confirmation, before he leaves. Trying to go about your day as normal, your thoughts are constantly straying to the idea of you being in that outfit again for him, of serving him. Perhaps even serving both of them again. That night, laying in your bed alone, the thoughts seem more and more tempting, the memories causing the ache between your thighs to worsen. You attempt to squeeze your thighs together, forcing your eyes closed in an attempt to sleep, but your brain keeps replaying the encounter like a video tape stuck on replay. Feeling yourself get wet, you slip a hand down to relieve the tension, before a better idea pops up.

You reach over your bed and grab the box, quickly stripping yourself and squeezing your curves into the tight outfit. God you forgot how revealing it really was, as you turn the lights on in your bedroom to have a better look at yourself. As you turn in front of the mirror, you know what you’re about to do is something that’ll certainly land you in hot water, but you can’t resist grabbing your phone from the bedside table and opening up the camera. Hesitating for a moment, you decide to get on your knees, straightening your back before snapping a picture, making sure to push your chest together so it looks extra obscene. Grinning at your little stunt, you send the picture to Edward with the text ‘I don’t know how I’m going to wait until tomorrow ;)’. You know it’ll most likely be a while before he sees it, so you grab your vibrator from your dresser and settle into bed, ripping off the crotch of your bodysuit and preparing for a good night.

Just before you go to sleep, you see a message from Edward. Opening it, it reads ‘you naughty minx, just wait until I get my hands on you. You’ll pay for that.’

Tomorrow night turns into tonight, as you get home to your apartment. Since he was vague about the time, you figured he wouldn’t be in as you open the door and see a gift box in a beautiful shade of emerald green sat on your coffee table. You go over and read the note, that gives you express instructions to not open it until 8pm sharp. Laughing softly at Edward’s theatrics, you obey the note’s instructions and wait, making dinner for yourself instead. However the time rolls around eventually, and using your phone’s time to be extra sure, as soon as it strikes 8pm you unwrap the box. Pulling out the fabric you see, your eyes widen. A…maid outfit? You’ve got to be kidding.

Just then, your phone buzzes with a notification. ‘I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, I expect you wearing that when I come through the door.’

You’re pretty shocked at that, looking back at the maid outfit. You figured he’d simply make you wear the bunny suit again…until you remember. You remember the conversation Edward had with Jonathan after they’d had their way with you.

“What was it between?” Jonathan pipes up.

“This, or a maid outfit.” He explains, looking at your form with a smirk. “I went with something classy.”

You realise he simply got you the other choice he considered, the other outfit he wanted to see you in. But you momentarily forgot you were on the clock, so you quickly get changed into the maid dress. How he managed to get one that fits you so perfectly in such a short space of time is beyond you…unless he bought both this and the bunny suit at the same time. Bastard.

You go to the bedroom to look in your full-length mirror, analysing the ensemble for the first time. It’s short, which was to be expected, with white lace trimmings along the skirt and the edge of the sleeves. It has a white apron that ties neatly in a bow at the back, as well as lace that goes around your wrists and neck. A lacy pair of white panties had been included, which you hurriedly pulled up. Finally, a headband sits on your hair, completing the uniform of a maid that would certainly be fired for violating a dress code. Still, it was very flattering to your figure, and you exemplified the look by applying some red lipstick, before anxiously pacing around your apartment until you hear a knock at the door. At least he knocked this time.

Opening it, you’re greeted to Edward’s smug grin as he looks you up and down. He looked good tonight, hair styled back with only a few rogue red strands falling out of place, green suit ironed and form fitting as he steps inside and shuts the door.

“What a fine-looking maid I’ve hired.” He teases, before you giggle and playfully swat his arm.

“When did you buy this?”

“Does it matter? I knew you’d look ravishing in it.” He says, and he revels in how you so obviously bask in his praise. Leaning down, he gives you a teasing peck on the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Come on, I’m a busy man. Aren’t you going to offer to take my jacket?”

You roll your eyes but walk around him regardless, helping him take his jacket off before hanging it up. When you return he’s settled on your sofa, legs spread as he gets comfortable. You go to sit on his lap before he stops you, tutting.

“No no doll. You see I have something…special planned for tonight.” You tilt your head, as he checks his watch. “Should have known the bastard would be late.”

He watches in satisfaction as realisation dawns on you. “Wait…is Jonathan-“

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his smile still adorning his features, but his eyes are clearly searching yours for any sign of discomfort. When you shake your head, he continues. “It’s been a while since our last escapade. I was feeling generous.”

You giggle softly, both in excitement and embarrassment. It’s true you hadn’t seen Jonathan since you’d dressed as the playboy bunny for them both, so it was a little mortifying to know he’d be coming and seeing you in yet another slutty outfit. You perch on the arm of the sofa as you ask Edward about what he’s been busy with, listening to his plans on how to humiliate his next targets: this time the employees of a company advertising a new chess set that’s designed to be easier to play than normal chess, not hard to see why your boyfriend would have such a petty intellectual objection to such a thing. Before long though, there’s a firm knock at the door, to which Edward gestures with his head.

“Well go on then, maid.”

You flush and glare at him, before getting up and walking to the door, seeing the always dishevelled appearance of Jonathan Crane. He gives a wolf whistle as he eyes you up, southern accent as charming as ever. “Well well well, looks like ol’ Eddie got ya in the outfit after all.”

Smiling a little shyly, you step aside and let him enter. Jonathan glances around your apartment idly, before nodding at Edward when he comes into view.

“Doesn’t she just look ravishing Jon?”

“That she does, gotta admit this is mighty fine payback.”

You frown a little in confusion. “Payback?”

You observe as Edward’s jaw clenches, while Jonathan lets out a throaty laugh. “Oh he didn’t tell ya? Can’t say I’m surprised. He never is fond of admitting when he’s screwed up.”

“Oh shut it Crane.” Edward says petulantly, but he clearly isn’t about to explain the situation, so Jonathan continues.

“Well me and Edward here were workin’ together on a little payback of our own for Mister Dent for meddlin’ where he wasn’t supposed to. And Edward was supposed to be in charge of procuring some product I needed, but he had to go runnin’ his big mouth to the supplier. Nearly got us both caught.”

“How was I supposed to know that buffoon would object so severely to being called out for having as much brain matter as a turkey in a coma, that he’d rat us out to the cops?”

You can’t help but laugh softly as Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking at you. “See what I mean? Big. Mouth.”

Edward grumbles, before you speak up again. “So Edward offered…”

“You? Well yesterday, he implied you might be interested in um, how should I put it? Being shared again? So I said if you were willin’, I’d be more than susceptible to forgivin’ Eddie’s little mishap.”

“And now you’re eyeing my girlfriend in a stunning outfit I paid for. Any man would be a fool not to be grateful for this opportunity. Let alone twice.”

You flush more at the comment, but you can’t deny the arousal that blossoms between your legs at the feeling of being desirable once again. Glancing between the two men, Edward smirks a little as he asserts himself as once again being in control of this situation.

“I figured you’d be interested in giving a bit of…disciplinary action. After all, my maid was a little whore last night when she attempted to tease me over text.”

Feeling your breath catch, you glance at Jonathan who steps closer. “Is that right?”

Knowing there’s no point in denying it, you nod shamefully. “I sent him a picture of myself in the playboy bunny costume.”

Jonathan lets out another throaty laugh. “Oh naughty girl. I bet that got him all riled up.”

You giggle softly, as Jonathan tilts your chin up. Looking up at him, you always get a little nervous when you’re at the centre of Jonathan’s intense gaze, dark eyes looking at you like you’re prey.

Edward seems to be enjoying the show, adjusting himself on the sofa as he speaks. “You can do as you wish, within reason. Just make sure she learns her lesson.”

Jonathan seemingly ponders Edward’s words, tilting your chin side to side as if he were inspecting you. You swallow, the feeling of embarrassment curling inside you once more as he smirks. “Edward, would you mind if we took this naughty maid to her bedroom?”

“Not at all.”

You follow the two men obediently before Jonathan pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. Hesitantly, you hold his shoulders as he runs his hands almost experimentally along your waist, feeling the material. “Gotta admit, I think I prefer this one to the bunny suit. Big fan of the details.”

He punctuates his words by tracing under the skirt, feeling your ass shamelessly, and causing you to arch into him a little. “Y’know, it’s a real shame I can’t see you with a little of my fear toxin in y’system. I bet you look beautiful when you’re afraid.”

“Crane.” Edward says darkly. A warning.

He hums, tracing your neck with one of his long fingers. “Pulse racin’, the way your chest would heave with your breaths, the way y’pretty eyes would look at me with tears in ‘em”

Glancing at Edward, Jonathan sees the death glare the other man is giving him as he leans against your dresser. So he seemingly takes the hint, deciding to lean in and kiss along your neck as you sigh and tilt your head. Little do you know he’s lulling you into a false sense of security before he smacks your ass hard. You jolt, gripping his shoulders tighter.

“Y’know, maybe a good old-fashioned punishment would help a little whore like you.” Jonathan murmurs in your ear, before pushing you off him. “Over my lap. Now.”

You scramble to do as he says, presenting your ass to him as you glance at your boyfriend, who’s now sitting next to where your head is on the bed. He looks at you with an expression unreadable to you, but you don’t have time to ponder it before Jonathan pulls the white panties so your ass is fully exposed before striking you once again. You let out a pitiful yelp at the sting, before he spanks you again. And again. And again.

Edward strokes your cheek in a mock display of comfort, but his greedy eyes betray his intentions as he speaks. “Oh darling, does that hurt?”

“Damn right she’s hurtin’.” Jonathan states, smacking your ass again hard to punctuate his words, “Need to make sure she’s taught a lesson, right?”

You let out a soft moan, nodding obediently at the statement, even if it wasn’t necessarily directed at you. Still, Edward chuckles softly and taps your cheek a few times absentmindedly. Jonathan gropes the tender flesh he’s struck, feeling you against his stinging palm as he uses his other hand to feel the material of your dress again. After a few more spanks, he notices the slight tears forming in your eyes and revels in it. Revels in the fear and painful pleasure he’s caused you, revels in the fact Edward is letting him defile you like this.

“Hm, how about y’apologise to Eddie here, for bein’ such an insolent brat. Say ‘I’m sorry sir, I will not be a naughty tease again’.”

Flushing at his words, you glance up at Edward shyly and start to speak. “I’m sorry sir, I won’t be a tease again.”

Edward smirks, like he knows a cruel inside joke that you don’t, as he glances at the man still groping you. Jonathan returns the smirk, before he grips your hair tight and pulls. “Really are a dumb one, huh? Don’t tell me a couple of spanks have rendered you incapable of rememberin’ a simple sentence. Guess I expected more from The Riddler’s girl.”

You whimper in slight pain at the hair pull, as he spanks you harshly twice in quick succession. “I said, say ‘I’m sorry sir, I will not be a naughty tease again.” He says slowly, sounding out each word to make you feel more stupid. You’re much more used to this type of condescension from Edward, so you can’t deny the thrill of Jonathan also getting off to you making mistakes like this.

“I’m sorry sir, I will not be a naughty tease again.” This time you repeat it perfectly, looking up at Edward through fluttering eyelashes for added effect, which he seems to appreciate.

“I suppose that’ll do.” Edward says, feigning indifference.

You just about have time to breathe a sigh of relief before Jonathan’s long fingers are tracing against where your clit is over your panties, feeling how soaked the material is. “Filthy girl. You got off on me spankin’ your bratty ass.”

Choking back a needy moan, you do your best to stay still in order to hopefully escape any more punishment. He keeps gently circling, the material acting as a barrier to stop any true pleasure, but being so needy meant you enjoyed the attention regardless.

“Such a depraved little maid. I simply don’t know where I found you.” Edward remarks, tapping your lower lip with his fingers before pushing two inside. You whine softly around the digits, sucking gently as Jonathan removes your ruined underwear. Though just as Jonathan pushes two fingers inside your cunt, Edward shoves his further into your mouth, causing you to choke and moan at the same time.

The lewdness of what’s being done to you causes you to clench around the doctor’s fingers, closing your eyes to retain whatever scrap of dignity remains. Still, you keep sucking obediently as Jonathan fingers you. It’s technical and precise; almost cold in its simplicity and determination. Your g spot is stroked and prodded as you lay there, trying not to splutter and gag around your lover’s digits that seem desperate to reach the back of your throat.

“Does it feel good I wonder, to be this depraved? This wanton?” Jonathan speaks, like he’s diagnosing you. “Or do you feel the hint of fear up y’spine as you realise there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.”

You moan around Edward’s fingers, the words just adding to your near constantly increasing arousal. Jonathan has your dress skirt bunched up in his fist while his other works you, allowing him to see every part of you that he wishes. Although when your eyes look up to Edward’s, his gaze seems stuck between Jonathan’s fingers slipping in and out of your wet cunt messily, or the scarecrow himself.

A particularly audible gag from the back of your throat snaps him out of his trance though, as he quickly looks down at you and removes his fingers, realising he became absentminded and went that bit too far. He doesn’t apologise however, far from it, instead wiping his spit coated fingers on the shoulder of your dress, before smirking down at you.

“I bet you like it, don’t you doll? You like feeling so dirty.”

You nod at him, panting as Jonathan speeds up his fingering. You couldn’t really deny his words, the feeling was exhilarating after all.

“You’re lucky to have a girl like this Edward, so eager to debase herself f’your entertainment.” Jonathan laughs, curling his fingers just right.

“Oh, you should hear her on a day-to-day basis. She has a mouth on her, I can tell you that.”

The friction from Jonathan’s trouser material rubbing against your clit whirls in your mind to form a symphony of pleasure in your core, threatening to tip you over the edge, so you vocalise it as to not warrant more punishment from the two men.

“Oh look at that, the slutty maid wants to cum.” Edward says with a grin.

“But should she?” Jonathan asks, pretending to think about it as he doesn’t slow down.

“Well as much as I believe my opinion holds the most weight here, since she’s my lover, I suppose you can decide, so I can really demonstrate my repentance for the whole supplier business.” His tone is smarmy, almost rolling his eyes at the fact he’s hinging your chance at orgasm on the whims of a sadist.

“Gotta admit, I would like to see what she looks like if she’s edged. Bet she’s a fuckin’ sight.”

“Please,” You stutter out, hand that was laying limp by your face now gripping Edward’s thigh, which luckily he doesn’t seem to object at, “can’t hold it.”

With a fake hum, Jonathan pulls his fingers out, watching with glee as your pussy clenches around nothing. You can’t help the desperate whine of being denied, but the doctor simply smacks your ass once again to shut you up, gleefully observing the tears forming in your eyes.

“So, I get to fuck her? Or does your pride dictate you go first?” Jonathan snipes at Edward, smirking.

This time Edward really does roll his eyes, but waves his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Yes you can fuck her, she’s clearly desperate for something.”

He hides it with his words, but the truth is Edward wants to see his criminal partner fuck you more than anything, the visual image always turning him on so much he almost feels dizzy. While he wouldn’t dream of divulging to Jonathan how on many lonely nights away from you, he’s pumped himself to completion at the thought of seeing you fucked mercilessly by him, Edward definitely won’t pass up the opportunity to see it unfold now.

So he helps manoeuvre you into position, your back against your boyfriend’s chest as Jonathan quickly rids himself of the necessary items of clothing before settling between your parted thighs. Reaching back slightly, you relax immediately at the feeling of Edward’s hand on your own, thumb rubbing circles. Whether it was to comfort you, or to once again display ownership of you, it didn’t really matter in your hazy headspace.

“Gonna say please?” Jonathan remarks, dragging his cock up and down your wetness.

“Please sir.” You reply instantly, the denial making you horny beyond belief.

Jonathan laughs at your quick response, saying “Wow, really takin’ the whole maid thing to heart. Here I was thinkin’ you’ll only call Edward that.”

Before Edward can fit a smartass comment in, Jonathan pushes forward, filling you at a steady pace until he’s deep inside your cunt. A pathetic but pleasured cry echoes from your throat, head falling back against Edward’s body. Even Jonathan lets out a small grunt of satisfaction, feeling your walls around him like a vice as he drags himself out slowly before pushing back in.

“That feel nice?” Edward asks, knowing the answer already but chuckling at your whimpered confirmation. “How about you Jon? Gonna cum already?”

“Shut up Nygma.” He grits out, gripping your thighs tightly as he sets his pace. Lewd noises emit from your pussy, you truly are drenched as he fucks you, pussy eager to have something after being denied. With each thrust, you let out a soft moan, feeling completely enclosed by the two criminals. You were all so close…too close. “God, y’just had to sit so fuckin’ close.”

Edward laughs sharply. “Oh, are you complaining? I’m holding her up for you, and besides, I wouldn’t be able to do this otherwise.” He punctuates his words by grabbing your tits firmly under the fabric of your dress, massaging them and making you moan louder and more wantonly.

“I could do that.” Jonathan snaps back, and you can’t believe you’re being railed out of your mind and these two are bickering like an old married couple, cunt throbbing as Jonathan fucks you.

“Well I’m doing it. Be grateful I let you fuck her, or did you forget she’s my girlfriend.”

“How can I forget when you keep remindin' me of it every goddamn second.”

Your eyes roll back after a particularly delicious thrust, letting out a choked cry that causes Edward’s gaze to snap back to you.

“That’s it doll, just feel how much pleasure he’s giving you. Then remember how much better it’ll feel when I finally get inside of you.”

“God do you ever shut up, even when you’re a cuck you’re still fuckin’ whining.”

You feel Edward tense behind you, clearly taking umbrage at Jonathan’s choice of words.

“You really are a fool Crane, as if I’d ever let myself be a cuck. This is called a threesome; would you like me to pull up a definition for you?”

Both men were getting more and more annoyed at each-other, and that manifested in their rougher treatment of you. Jonathan was slamming into you with conviction now, having a point to prove. His cock stretching you out so completely, the intensity causing you to almost shake. And Edward was pinching your nipples roughly between his thumb and forefinger, needing to assert himself.

“Y’just so-“

“Fine, you really need more of an elaboration Jonathan? Then I’ll oblige you.” Edward snaps, before doing something you truly weren’t expecting. He quickly leans forward, almost folding you in the process, and captures the scarecrow’s lips in a fierce kiss.

Jonathan is clearly stunned, not moving for a second as his brain catches up. You half expect him to push Edward away; to yell or stop…but you watch with wide eyes as he matches Edward’s intensity. The kiss is brutal, all teeth and tongues mashing together, but you can’t deny it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. Edward bites Jonathan’s lower lip sharply, drawing blood that is quickly swapped between the two men in their exchange.

When they pull away, you observe the frenzied looks in both of their eyes, as Edward snakes his hand down to rub at your clit roughly. You cry out, clenching around Jonathan as he chases his own pleasure. Each thrust makes your ass rub against the obvious bulge straining in Edward’s suit trousers, causing your pussy to throb.

“Please…” you beg, hoping the endorphin rush from their kiss will make them take pity on you.

“Yeah, we’ll get y’there.” Jonathan says, voice a lower pitch that usual as he fucks you. Over and over he thrusts into you, until you’re sure that your brain is mush currently leaking out your ears. But with your lover’s nimble fingers tracing practiced circles on your clit, it doesn’t take long for you to announce your impending orgasm for the second time that night.

“C’mon darlin’, want to see you cum.” Jonathan remarks, to which Edward nods.

“I should have known the kiss would excite you that much, dirty whore. Make a mess for him.”

At their permission, you cum around Jonathan with a loud gasp, twitching in Edward’s hold. But Jonathan doesn’t slow down, too busy chasing his own climax. Sounds of overstimulation escape your parted lips, as Edward kisses your exposed neck and collarbone.

“Fuck, gonna cum deep inside ya.” Jonathan states, no room for argument, as you whimper and nod. A few seconds later, he’s buried to the hilt inside you, cumming with a loud groan you’ve hardly ever heard from him. His grip is bruising on your thighs, as you feel his release fill you up completely. Clearly he doesn’t do this often.

As he pulls out slowly, you hiss as his cum drips out of you. Edward looks over your shoulder, collecting the cum on his finger before rubbing it messily all over your pussy, making you look even more used. “Good girl sweetheart.”

You sigh happily at the praise, before you feel Edward grin and continues speaking. “But I hope you don’t think this is over. After all, I need to fuck my maid, don’t I.”

Biting your lip softly, you nod in agreement as Edward straightens you up, before bending you over so you fall unceremoniously into Jonathan. Luckily the doctor seems to have recovered from one of the best orgasms of his life, as he steadies you and helps Edward get you into position. Your dress is pulled over your head quickly, ‘roleplay’ long since discarded. Hearing a belt being unbuckled, you glance up at Jonathan as he smirks and rubs his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Well don’t you look happy to be used some more.” Jonathan says, wanting to see you embarrassed as you feel Edward press against your cunt, teasingly pushing the head of his cock in and out of you.

“Beg for me doll, just like you did for Jonathan.”

Gripping Jonathan’s forearms that are keeping you steady and upright on your knees, you turn your head and start to beg quietly. Too quiet for Edward’s liking, so he wraps his hands around your neck. “Come now, you know that isn’t going to cut it. Don’t make me punish you more.”

“Please sir,” you say louder, trying your hardest not to push back for extra stimulation, “please I need you, I need you to fuck me sir.”

After a few more pathetic sounding pleas, Edward pushes in quickly, causing you to lurch forward against Jonathan’s frame. Your gasp echoes around the room, as Edward groans at the sensation. Running his hands over your ass, neck now unrestricted, he savours the moment before starting his steady pace. He was gentler than Jonathan, but no less precise as you feel the pleasure run through you.

“Always feel so good around me.” Edward praises quietly, and you smile happily at the words and accidentally dig your nails in, causing Jonathan to hiss softly.

“Careful darlin’, can still punish you y’know.” He mutters gruffly, moving his hands up to pinch your nipples, giving you a taste of your own medicine.

“Fuck, she got tight at that.” Edward states, “Really are a little masochist aren’t you.”

You giggle softly at his words, turning as best you can to look at him. As he looks over your face, he can’t help but capture your lips in a kiss, swallowing your moans. His hand cups your cheek, moving your mouths together as he keeps snapping his hips against your own.

After you both pull away, your head rights itself to face forward, as Jonathan stares at your spit coated lips. You take initiative and kiss him too, which he quickly dominates by holding your neck firmly, controlling the pace. Hearing Edward make an uncharacteristically soft moan behind you only served to make your kiss more desperate, a tongue invading your mouth roughly. Gasping and whining, Jonathan pulls away to hear you, attacking your jawline and neck with his lips.

“Not gonna kiss me too?” Edward taunts towards the other man with a smirk, sounding slightly winded from his thrusts.

“Knew I was gonna regret that.”

“Oh please, as if you-“

Jonathan grabs your jaw, holding you in place as he leans over and kisses Edward once again, shutting the narcissist up. With his grip, you can’t quite turn your head to get a better view but you enjoy the show regardless. As they kiss, Edward speeds up, groaning into Jonathan’s mouth at the dual sensation.

When they pull away again, you swear all three of you moan in sync, the experience by far the most intense you’ve shared. Jonathan mentally curses his age that he can’t get hard again, wanting nothing more than to take your mouth as Edward fucks you from behind. Still, getting the show was a good second option, groping your chest.

You arch your back a little, pleasing both of them as you’re railed mercilessly. At your cries of pleasure, Jonathan starts to rub your clit messily, watching closely at where Edward’s cock is pushing into your cunt. The wet slaps are all you can hear, making your brain feel fuzzy before your boyfriend speaks into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me, for us.”

His words make you involuntarily clench around him, causing Edward’s moans to get louder, gripping your hips tightly. You feel overwhelmed, eyes blurry with pleasured tears as you get closer to your second orgasm. Scrambling, you hold the top of Jonathan’s arms tightly, causing him to laugh under his breath.

“Gettin’ closer ain’t ya?” Jonathan says lowly, keeping up the pressure on your clit. You nod, causing Edward to change his rhythm; clearly trying to last long enough for you to orgasm.

“Need you to cum around me sweetheart.” Edward gets out, his breath catching as he tries his best not to finish.

Nodding, you feel yourself reaching the edge, just as Jonathan wraps his other hand around your neck, applying pressure. “Cum, and maybe I’ll let ya breathe.”

His threat, and the added stimulation, cause you to twitch before cumming hard around your boyfriend, eyes closing. A couple of rough thrusts later, and you’re filled up for the second time, Edward’s release pumping inside of you. Both of you are moaning and gasping for air, before Edward pulls out slowly, watching the mess that drips out of your thoroughly used cunt. If it wasn’t for Jonathan, you’d have completely collapsed on the bed, him holding you up as Edward shuffles around your body to hold your face, turning you towards him.

“Still with me doll?” he asks with a smug smile, but his eyes betray the fact he’s checking on you as his gaze darts over your features. At your nod and weak but giddy grin, he laughs and kisses your cheek, pulling you against him. Jonathan looks as awkward as ever, never quite knowing what to do afterwards. He observes silently as Edward soothingly touches you, before your boyfriend glances up.

“Are you going to sit there like a ghoul, or are you going to make yourself useful and grab a towel.”

Jonathan clicks his jaw in annoyance but does as instructed, making his way into your bathroom and rifling around for a small towel, coming back and cleaning you himself. His way of showing gratitude.

Once you’re suitably cleaned up, you cling to Edward like you always do, as he basks in the afterglow and your attention solely on him. Jonathan clears his throat, the weight of the encounter really settling on him now. Not only did he partake in sharing you again, but now he’s kissed his criminal partner, this’ll certainly…complicate things in his mind. Mainly because he’s already reminiscing about it.

“Well, guess this does make up f’you bein’ an ass Nygma.” Jonathan says, maintaining his aloof nature.

“Yes I thought so.” Edward says with a cheeky grin, “I suppose I have my own personal get out of jail free card.”

You slap him playfully at that comment, causing him to mock pout at you and theatrically rub his arm, before Jonathan scoffs. “Yeah right, as if that’ll work with anyone but me. Why don’t you suggest it to the bat next time he bruises y’pretty face.”

“I am pretty Jon, thank you for finally noticing.” Edward retorts, causing Jonathan to roll his eyes. “And obviously that wouldn’t work, Selina has him on a tight leash I’m sure.”

In a strange sort of way, their bickering is almost comforting to you as you continue to relax in Edward’s embrace. His arms hold you, almost instinctively reassuring himself that you’re still his, despite your…well, you aren’t sure what to call the nights like these anymore. But as you look between them both, and how Jonathan has made no attempt to leave the bed again, and seems to have actually sat closer, you can’t deny how excited this new prospect makes you.

“…I think she’ll agree I fucked her better though, as her boyfriend.”

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lndsismaeverything · 1 year ago

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"Come on let's go home " | Gojo satoru

Drunk Gojo x reader

Eating out with your fellow coworkers in a restaurant. Which ment eating and drinking knowing gojo can't hold his Alcohol. In which you had to dragg his ass to your apartment. But also got something inter turn

Fluffy fluff. Short. Not proof read

"Sorry I'm late " you said sliding the door open to see your fellow coworkers and friends

"Y/n! " Gojo and utahime called out to you, their faces brighted seeing you.

" I had a meeting with the higher ups . It took longer then expected " you said sitting next to shoko who had a few drinks already, judging by the dust of pink on her cheeks.

" we've already order your favorite it should be here any time " shoko handed you a drink which you thanked her

" by the way where's mei mei? " You asked drinking the beer

" she said she had better things to do,which was making more money " nanami answered your question

"Thats typical mei mei " you sigh. The doors opened and the waiter brings your favorite dish.

" woah that looks good " gojo said looking at at the dish wishing he also order one for himself , you grab the chopsticks bring the food to your mouth.

" it really is! " you eat some more, puffing out some steam as it was to hot .

" gojo don't steal y/n's food! "Utahime yells at gojo who is slowly picking up some of your food to his mouth.

" you could have order some if you wanted it " shoko said looking at the blindfold man

Gojo just pouted " I didn't know it would look so tasty, if I knew I would have order it in a heartbeat "

" I don't mind sharing " you push your plate of food towards him so you two can share

" your the best! " utahime just groaned at the white head man

" you know what would make this a fun night? more Sake ! " gojo clapped his hands above his head

" you can't even drink " nanami said flatly

" your the worst drinker out of all of us " shoko continue making utahime snicker

" don't worry ! Ichiji would drive us home right? " Gojo looked at the man with glasses .

" y-yea ...sure " he sigh

" don't bring ichiji into this gojo. " utahime called out, you just chuckled

" it's not like your paying. I'm the one paying here " since it was gojo idea to have dinner after the baseball game and the only way they would agree going out to eat , was gojo paying for the meal they are having.

" yea I need 6 beers , 2 bottles of wine and 4 bottles of sake. The most expensive one " Shoko ordered

" don't go over board because I'm paying! " gojo wined at shoko . He had it coming

" wait and some soda " you told the waiter which he just nodded

" damn you guys never drink that much last time " gojo said looking at his coworkers. Who just robbed him about a few hundred thousand yens.

" like you said.it's because you're paying " nanami said drinking

Two hours just passed as gojo is drunk. Like really really dunk. Nanami and shoko is still sober after drinking a lot , ichiji still fully sober as he is responsible of driving them home as for utahime she passed out after drinking too much beer and headache from gojo

" y/n~ * hicks * youre so pretty " gojo giggles like a girls while pocking your left cheek

" damn this is a new record." shoko said looking at gojo who's clinging at you

" he just hand a one beer " ichiji deadpaned looking at you while you try to get gojo away from you which just made him cling to you more.

" I think it's time I get home " you said , nanami looked at his watch reading the time " its 11.59 pm. I'm also going to head out soon "

" ichiji can you drive utahime back?" You asked which he just nodded. You looked at nanami and shoko " im guessing you guys can take care of yourself? "

" what about gojo? " ichiji looked at the drunken man kneeling next to you while casually resting his head on your lap mumbling some nonsense

" don't worry, I'll take him home " you smiled at him , playing with his soft fluffy hair.

" NoOoO....I d-don't wan-a Go HoMe ~ " gojo wines

" just bring the bill tomorrow " you said to the group. Gojo was to drunk to pay with his black card probably also forgot his pin.

" come on let's go, I'll take you home, satoru " you gently push him off you, in which he just started acting like a baby. Laying on the floor kicking his leg " I don't wanna go home just yet! "

" easy...there " you open the door to your apartment. One arm around your shoulder as you dragged him in.

You don't know how you manage to get him out of that restaurant and into your apartment. You planned on dropping him off at his apartment but he the kept on complaining how he doesn't wanna be alone. So you didn't really have a choice but let him stay at your place for the night

" you're alw-ays so sw-eeet ~" you get him on his feet which he can surprisingly stand.

" your cute, beautiful , hot and sexy~" he keeps on complimenting you. You push him to your living room

" why can't you take the hint " with a final push from you he plupps on the sofa face down

" what hint?" You tilted your head , looking at gojo

" see ...that what I mean you never noticed me.... Your so mean mean y/n. " you just laughed at his drunken state.

" I always like you y/n... I always have been ... For a long time now... But you just ignore my attempt of 'courting you' as me ' being nice to you' "

In all honesty you knew gojo like you and you also like him back. But he hadn't confessed yet so thats why you stayed silent. Would it be much easier if you confessed first? Yes , hell you guys would be a couple along time ago. But you just waited for him to confess first just because you wanted to

" I know you like me and I like you too " you admit which causes him to freeze and sober up a little but not fully.

" what did you say? " he ask looking at you through his blindfold

"Hm? I didn't say anything. You must be hearing things " you tease and walk to grab some water

" I clearly heard you say something " waving his arm up and down as he points at you , his other hand slowly removing his blindfold

" oh? What did say?"

" you said that you ....l-like m-me ...ba-ck..." He whispered the last part , lowering his hand as his face was turning red

" did I really say that?" You put your finger on your chin as if your thinking, You couldnt help but tease him some more .

He just stood there silently face still red while hugging your pillow from the sofa, deep in thoughts as if he really just made you up saying you like him back , you couldn't help but think how cute he look and made your way towards him.

Your hand on top of his broad shoulders making him to look up at you, ocean blue eye met yours. God you look so beautiful he thinks .

His eyes widened as you peck him on the lips.

" does this confirm your thoughts satoru? " you smile at him

" Y-yess... c-can I have another kiss tho? " He hugs the pillow tighter and blushes harder

#gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen

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jeonqkooks · 1 year ago

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First of all - I love obs so fcking much 🥹 Your writing is truly just.. chefs kiss!!

But I would really like to see how they handled their first big argument/fight (if they had one ofc), after they started dating

our beloved summer; a drabble

You fucked up.

You know it. Jungkook knows it. Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok know it.

You fucked up.

You were scared, and so naturally, that made you stupid.

Now here you stand, in front of his door, wondering whether you should knock or leave. Patch things up or make things worse. You don’t know if this is one of those times where you should let him cool off and everything will be okay again in the morning, or if it’ll blow up if you let him simmer for too long.

You’ve been dating for almost a year, and not once has your boyfriend looked so dejected.

Hurt.

Because of what you said, and in front of all your friends, no less.

It’s not like you and Jungkook have never fought before, because god knows you have. But it’s different this time. What you said was clearly out of line. The words didn’t feel right even as they were sitting on the tip of your tongue, but they jumped out anyway.

The whole group was supposed to spend a cute night together at Taehyung and Jimin’s place, eating cheap pizza and drinking even cheaper liquor. For the most part, it was a nice evening, until Hoseok asked what everybody was doing for Christmas.

You were already chewing on your lip when Jungkook mentioned that he'd be going back to Busan to see his family, because you had a good feeling of what he was teeing up to. By the time he asked if you would come with him to spend the holidays there, your stomach was in knots.

In response, you attempted a joke. A royally disastrous joke.

Because that's what you do. You hide behind nonchalance when big feelings are involved. It’s so easy to fall back into bad habits.

"Are you sure you want to introduce your parents to a girl who might not even be here for that much longer?"

Thinking back, you don't even know what you wanted the punchline to be. You meant it as a dig at yourself, but it didn't quite land that way. The way the guys went completely still, told you that nobody found it funny.

Your friends all stared at you - a question mark etched onto all three faces - then at Jungkook to gauge his reaction.

He blinked, and the hopeful smile from seconds before faltered. "Why is that supposed to mean?”

"I'm just saying, who knows what'll happen.” You shrugged. “There's a very real possibility that I might not spend the next Christmas with you. Hell, we might even break up tomorro-..." you trailed off when you caught Taehyung's eye, who subtly shook his head for you to stop before you could dig an even deeper hole for yourself.

The silence that embraced the room was chilling. Nobody said a word after that, because it was obviously not Taehyung, Jimin, or Hoseok’s place to comment. You watched as your boyfriend’s face fell, as he made himself small, and when you tried to reach for his hand, he stood up. Your fingers grazed his shirt before he slipped away entirely.

“That’s not what I mea-”

“‘Kay.” The single word was directed at you even though Jungkook’s body was facing the guys. "Sorry, uhm..." he said, turning toward the door despite you calling out his name. "I think I'm just gonna head home early."

Then he left, without even looking at you.

You touch the textured surface of his door, still not sure what you should say if you do decide to knock. Jungkook has been nothing but patient with you all this time, and you’ve been nothing but a coward. What you said tonight... You might as well have flat out told him that you didn't believe in this relationship.

You move away from the door to pace around for the millionth time in the past hour, but you jump when the barrier cracks open, revealing a tired-looking Jungkook on the other side.

“Don’t just stand there anymore,” he says, already retreating back into his home without looking at you. “It’s cold.”

You follow him inside, and close the door quietly behind you. “How did you know I was out there?”

“I could hear you pacing,” he says. For a brief moment, you’re flushed with embarrassment for thinking that you were so stealthy when in fact, he was listening to you the entire time. “And the guys texted asking if you got here okay. Why didn’t you let Tae walk you? It’s late.”

I can take care of myself, you think, but you bite back your default response. Instead, you tell him, “Okay. I won’t do that again.”

“Next time, let them walk with you.”

When Jungkook goes to sit down on the couch, you do the same. But something unfamiliar is there - an invisible wall that is the space between his end of the couch and yours. You don’t dare cross it, not with the way he refuses to turn his head in your direction.

It feels a lot like being shut out, and there isn’t a single part of you that enjoys it. He’s never distant when it’s only the two of you.

Is this how he feels whenever he’s with you? Every time he says I love you and you swerve the sentiment with a much milder and non-committal response, does his heart sink? Even though you love him, and you kiss him like you mean it, does he still feel cold right down to his bones?

It’s not a question of if you love him, but a question of if you’ll say it.

“Why can’t you walk with me next time?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

”Are we fighting?” The question comes out with a chuckle in an attempt to brush off the tension, even though this is no laughing matter.

“I don’t know.” He mutters, more deflated than you expected him to be. “What are we fighting about?”

"I'm sorry," you say, because you don't know how else to start, but you mean it. "I'm really sorry."

“Okay.”

You bite your lip, then fumble with your fingers in your lap, twitching with the urge to reach out and touch him. He’s right there but he’s not here. His head is somewhere else, somewhere far away from you. “I didn’t mean it like that. You of all people should know that.”

Jungkook lets you sit in silence for a short while. Two minutes stretch out like two hundred days, excruciatingly endless, and you’re just stuck in the middle of it with no way out. There’s a thought that pops up in the back of your mind, a thought that makes your stomach roll with anxiety.

Is this a countdown?

He finally sighs, the exhale of a deep breath that somehow makes him feel even heavier.

"I know. I do know that. I know you love me too even if you don’t say it in those exact words. But that’s what it sounded like tonight. Sometimes I feel like all you think about is leaving when all I think about is a future with you.”

It turns you inside out, that look on his face. His eyes twinkle sadly, and you feel like shit for being the reason why he looks so dejected.

“I don’t want to say that you’re breaking my heart, because that would mean admitting I love you enough to let you keep doing it.”

Then he breathes in, like he’s bracing himself.

“But I do.”

Even the silence between his words is poignant.

“And you are.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not good at this.

You’re not sure how Jungkook interprets your stillness, your lack of a verbal response, but he sighs again, quieter this time. Just as you open your mouth - not to speak because you’re still hunting for the right words - he stands up.

Actually, you know what the right words are.

“You know what, we can talk about this in the morning. I’m tired. Let’s just… sleep on it. Take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he says, then he seems to realize something, like he could read your mind. “But if you want to leave, I won’t force you to stay.”

It means so much more than just that. He knows you understand it.

A way out.

But all it does is make you panic.

When he moves past you, you catch his wrist. “No,” you tell him, “let’s talk about it now.” You don’t know what expression you’re wearing, but it dilutes his anger, softens his hurt.

He looks at you, resigned, but he sits back down. This time, he sits right next to you and that makes you feel better, just by a fraction.

It’s always Jungkook who holds a hand out for you, waiting and wanting but never pushing. When the world is cold and you close in on yourself little by little, he’s always there by your side. You don’t want to admit that you’ve started taking him for granted somewhere along the way, but maybe you have. You get used to hearing those three words but not saying them back.

Thinking that he’ll continue to show up and be here and you won’t have to commit to anything. Thinking that if you don’t seal your fate, then it won’t hurt if it ends.

When it ends.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. It makes you feel stupid that you're just echoing this for a third time. “I didn’t mean it like that. I want to spend Christmas with you and your parents.”

“You don’t have to do it just because you think I’m upset.”

“I want to spend Christmas with your family, I promise.”

It’s weak, and you hate how you’re all too aware of just how weak of a reassurance it is.

He pokes a tongue into his cheek, eyes still sad, features still gloomy. “It’s okay, you know,” he says. “It’s okay if you want to leave. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

How do you make him understand that you don’t want to leave? That leaving him couldn’t be the furthest thing from your mind?

This isn’t playful banter. This isn’t a silly argument where one of you is shooting daggers from your eyes because the other pissed you off over something stupid and trivial. This is real, and you can’t weasel your way out of this one with finger guns and empty bravado.

As terrifying as it is to tell him those three words, to solidify how you feel, it’s nothing compared to losing him. The mere thought makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to drop to your knees.

You’re frustrated, because they’re sitting right there on the tip of your tongue but they’re stubborn and you’re afraid.

Suddenly, you crawl into his lap like a child and cling to his warmth koala-style, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck. He’s hesitant at first, a tiny bit startled, but then his hands are on your waist, your hips, drawing soothing patterns into your skin over your clothes. Now it feels like you’re the one who needs to be comforted.

You hug him close to your body like you could die if he were to let you go.

You run the words over in your head three times, because once they’re out there, you can’t ever take them back. They’ll be his to keep, for as long as he wants them. Isn’t it scary to think that your heart could belong to someone else, forever?

But he loves you and he tells you just as much. And you love him too. The only difference is you’re a coward.

It’s always the scariest right before you take the leap, right?

His gentle fingers are still soothing you. It feels nice.

Okay, here goes nothing.

For someone who’s highly uninterested in drama, you sure are dramatic.

“I love you.”

The very second you say those words, Jungkook goes still, his hands stopping their ministrations like you’ve frozen him completely. The one thing that isn’t motionless is his heart, hammering against his ribcage which you can feel where your chests are practically pressed together.

You swallow hard, then pull back slowly to gauge his reaction. His eyes well up, and you could probably make fun of him for it if you yourself weren’t on the verge of tears too. Crybaby, that’s what you’d tell him.

“Please mean it,” he says.

“You know I wouldn’t say it unless I mean it, and I mean it. I love you. You know I do.”

He looks at you for a few seconds longer to see if this is real, or if you’re just trying to appease him. There’s no trace of the latter.

He kisses you then, his tears spilling over and now you’re both crying as he picks you up with your body still wrapped around his and carries you blindly to where his bedroom is, clumsily knocking against some furniture on the way. He’s still emotional - in a good way, of course - as he lays you on his bed, as he helps you take off your clothes, as he fucks you nice and slow, like you’re the only thing he worships. When you come undone, you look him in the eye but tonight is the first time that he unravels with your soft voice whispering to him what he’s always dreamed of.

I love you. A third time.

The more you say it, the more you love him, and the more you want to keep saying it.

No, the fall isn’t scary. Not when he’s there to catch you in the end. You don’t know how much time you’ve wasted trying to convince yourself otherwise.

Even when you both gravitate toward each other’s warmth under the covers, you don’t tell him goodnight. You tell him you love him.

“Can you say it again in the morning?” he asks.

You kiss him like it’s a promise you intend to keep, because it is.

“I will.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts imagines #fic: our beloved summer #jungkook

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diaryofasentimentalist · 1 year ago

Text

— i dial drunk // ex!leon

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

tags: angst, exes, drunk dial, very mild sexual content

summary: your ex calls you in the middle of the night to reminisce on the good times, but you'd rather not. (2.7k)

a/n: lots of jumping between the current phone call and their past memories so just mind the verb tense!

The ringing finds you in your dreams, a vexing trill that you can’t seem to find the source of no matter how long you search, that doesn’t stop no matter how long you wait it out. When it finally pulls you from your sleep, you reach over and silence the tone without so much as twitching an eyelid. The grating vibrations of your phone against the nightstand continue as the call finishes ringing out.

Another shrill tone startles you, shattering the silence as soon as you feel yourself drifting off again. Groggily, you pat around on the nightstand until you find your phone again and bring it to your ear, eyes barely cracking open enough to find the green 'accept' button.

“Hello?” you mumble into the receiver, eyes straining open. It’s pitch black. Nowhere near dawn. Good news never comes at this hour.

“God, I missed the sound of your voice.”

That voice you’d know anywhere snakes its way into your ear, straight down your throat and into your chest, where it settles around your heart, squeezing tightly. You’re wide awake now, burning eyes forcing their way open, pulse quickening as you lay still in bed, paralyzed.

“Leon,” you say hoarsely, your voice still thick with sleep.

Your name echoes back to you on a sigh, your chest constricting at the homesickness of it all.

“I told you not to call me anymore,” you say, measured and even in spite of the way it feels like you can’t breathe.

“I know, baby,” he says, words slightly slurred. “But I jus’ missed you… wanted to hear your voice again…”

“You’re drunk.”

It’s not a question or an accusation, just a statement. It’s in his voice, in the way he called you multiple times at such an hour. In the way he’s calling you baby again, telling you openly how much he misses you. Leon has too much good sense— or maybe just pride— to pester you when he’s sober. Even on the rare occasion when he’s run into you in public since the break up, he just watched you from afar, a strange expression on his face. Get enough alcohol in him, though, and he’s right back to the desperation of the day you first left.

“S’that obvious, huh?” he says with a low laugh. The sound triggers the thing that has settled in your chest to tighten once more, sends another stabbing pain straight to your heart as you stare up at the dark ceiling. “Sorry, baby. I know you hate it when I drink.”

“Hated,” you correct. It doesn’t matter. Even if he remembers this conversation when he’s sober, it won’t stop him from talking the same way next time he drunk dials. “I don’t care what you do anymore, Leon, so long as you leave me out of it.” You shift onto your other side, breaking through the strange paralysis that had overtaken you. The digital alarm clock on your nightstand is waiting to greet you. 2:23 AM. “But you can’t even do that. God, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Nighttime?” he offers, sounding unbothered. “Did I wake you? We always used to stay up this late.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as an involuntary wave of memories floods through you. There were a lot of late nights when you were together. The lack of consistent sleep schedule never bothered you then. You were always just happy to be spending time with him in whatever way. Sometimes you’d be out on the balcony, lights off, clinging to one another as you talked on the wicker settee. Sometimes you’d watch late night tv, lying on the couch with him on top of you, nuzzling into your neck while you traced patterns into his back beneath his shirt. Sometimes you’d lie atop the mound of pillows on the bed, his head buried between your thighs as you gasped and sighed and moaned his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I have work tomorrow,” you say coldly, bidding the images to stop. “Goodbye, Leon.”

He cuts in before you can hang up, carrying on as though you hadn’t said anything at all. “Remember when you got that craving for muffins at midnight?”

Of course you do. You’d been having another late night with Leon, the tv droning on in the background while the two of you dozed on and off, when he’d finally suggested the two of you retire to bed. A commercial for some cereal came on just before the screen went black, and the second you saw the mock breakfast spread, that was it. You needed a muffin. Leon laughed off your suggestion at first. As soon as he realized how serious you were, though, he’d pulled you up and to the kitchen, and you’d gotten to work. His offers to help you culminated in him keeping a hand firmly planted on your waist at all times, watching you measure the ingredients out, and kissing the back of your head every so often. But you were at his apartment, and he wasn’t much of a baker, and so you’d only realized halfway through that he didn’t have all of the things you needed, no brown sugar or vanilla or even cinnamon.

Feeling defeated, you’d relented that you could just finish tomorrow. Wordlessly, Leon left the kitchen, returning a moment later with his keys jingling around his finger and tossing you a jacket. He took you to the nearest 24-hour supermarket, your hand never dropping his as you led him along the aisles, giggling. Even now, you recall the distinct domesticity of it all, how you’d felt so normal, like you could have a real life with him some day.

Leon kept a hand on your thigh the whole drive back, taking the long way home just to prolong the moment, and you were so glad you could watch the wind from the open windows rifle through his hair just a little longer, drink in the sight of the passing street lights flickering across his skin. When you finally got home, he was touchier than before as you finished your baking expedition. The moment the tray was in the oven you were upon him, legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted you onto the counter, pulling you closer, always closer. You’d been so distracted that you’d let the muffins bake a little too long until the smell reminded you what you’d stayed up for. The edges had started to burn, the cinnamon crumble on top hardening just a bit too much, and you’d insisted that you could do better, but he assured you—

“Best damn muffins I’ve ever had,” Leon rambles on. “Been to a million bakeries, can’t find anything like them…”

Why is he telling you all this?

Why is he making you remember?

Now that the memory has started, you can’t stop it, the scenes rolling in your mind like a film. After indulging in the baked goods, he’d carried you to his room, house still smelling of cinnamon and vanilla. It must’ve been well past three by the time he was laying you back against the bed gently, but neither of you were tired. The earlier impatience in his movements had dissipated, and he took his time with you, his hands caressing your body while yours explored his with equal devotion—

“I miss how you felt in my hands,” he says suddenly, as though his thoughts have followed the same natural trajectory as yours.

You remember his hands on your hips, firm, secure, anchoring you to him. The way his calloused palms felt against your smooth skin. The way his touch dripped with reverence, like he was perpetually caught between the desire to treat you like something delicate and the desire to have more of you, that hungry conflict always reflected in his piercing blue eyes—

“I miss how you looked under me,” he continues.

You remember throwing your head back, how he’d dip in to kiss along the exposed column of your neck before littering affection across your face. How it would suddenly stop, sometimes, and when you’d look up at him expectantly, you’d find him gazing down at you in equal parts awe and adoration. The moment you reached up for him he’d come back down and—

“I miss how your lips fit against mine.”

“You’re so selfish,” you interject, unwilling to entertain this any longer, afraid of what might happen if you do. “Waking me up on a work night so you have someone to reminisce with?”

“I know, baby,” he says, a self-deprecating laugh tumbling through the phone, twisting your stomach. “I was a shit boyfriend and I’m a shittier ex.”

That’s not true. He was a wonderful boyfriend, except when he wasn’t. He was always affectionate with you, except when he wanted to be alone… always warm and patient with you, except when he would withdraw… always understanding and attentive, except when he’d drink… It’s just that the times he wasn’t there for you were so hard, and over time, they’d gotten more and more frequent. Nothing you did to try to reach him, to be there for him, to support him, ever seemed to get through to him. Eventually, it was all too much.

Yet anytime you hear his voice, it’s always the good that comes to mind. It overwhelms you, makes you question why you ever left. A single word from Leon makes you curse the day you walked away. Only when you’re alone, in silence, away from the inexplicable effect of his presence, can you truly remember how the lows felt. The isolation of it all, the pain, the waiting. The disappointment over and over and over again.

The rest of that night comes to you now, floating in through the open window with the August breeze. How strange to think that was a whole year ago. After making love, he’d held you for a time, and you were content there, as sweaty and warm as it was, but he’d carried you to the shower with him. It was mostly silent, save for the pitter-patter of the water against the tile. He lathered your hair for you, and you scrubbed his back, pressing kisses against his wet shoulders. By the time the two of you were toweled and dressed in fresh clothes, it was late— or early— enough that you’d decided to stay up and watch the sun rise. You’d snuggled closer to him out on the balcony, the early morning air chilling you slightly as your still wet hair dripped onto your shoulders. He’d pulled you in, his body a natural furnace, and wrapped you in his arms.

God, you’ve never felt that safe anywhere else.

“Yeah, you are.” The words are laced with forced venom, and it burns to speak them. “That’s why you shouldn’t call me anymore.”

“I know.” There’s a pause on the other end. “You should block me.”

His words shatter something inside you. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” he drawls. “You could just block me. But you won’t.”

“Leon.”

“Because you still think about me, too, don’t you?”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“And if you blocked me,” he rambles on, “then you’d really never hear from me again.”

“Go fuck yourself, actually.”

Laughter filters in and out of earshot, like the receiver keeps drifting from his lips, but he doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches on for one minute, two. A part of your conversation from that night on the balcony strikes you.

“Why not?” you’d asked him, tearing your gaze away from the brightening horizon to stare up at him, at the distant look in his blue eyes. Somehow, the subject of past relationships had come up. It wasn’t something either of you really cared about, but he’d just disclosed that he hadn’t really had a long term relationship with anyone before you. Most women left before things got serious, he’d said, and he never asked them to stay, to give it a real shot. He shrugged, using the motion to tug you closer.

“I can’t ask that of anyone. I don’t really deserve to. If someone wants to leave, I get it.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That means you, too, when you finally get sick of me one day.”

“Never,” you said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek as he chuckled. A few strands of sandy hair tickled your nose. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?”

“Oh, darling, I know. I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with you long after you’re gone.”

The offhand remark didn’t make sense to you at the time, and when you asked him what he meant, he refused to elaborate, merely remarking on the emerging colors in the sky.

You get it now. And if you’d got it then, you would have been afraid, too.

Time moves on for everyone else, but not you two. Something happened when you stormed out of his apartment on that rainy night back in April, staining the fabric of time, marring your life with an inescapable loop. Just when you start to feel normal, you’re forced to relive the raw heartache all over again, as if it’s only been four days, not months, since you left. It happens every single time his name pops up on your caller ID. Every so often, when you think— with a surge of dread that you refuse to acknowledge— that he might finally have moved on, he calls again.

Never to ask you to come back, though. Never to ask you for another chance.

Just to reminisce.

Hot tears stream out of the corners of your eyes, landing on your pillow with muted plops. You make no effort to stop them or wipe them away, silent for fear that your voice will betray you if you try to speak now. You hate it, but even crying in bed like this makes you think of him, the feeling of his chest against your back, his silent strength when he’d comfort you during moments of weakness.

“Leon?” you call, wondering if he finally passed out. Hoping that if he did, he’s at least in bed, or on the couch, or somewhere safe. Warm. Not huddled outside of some seedy bar, or hunched over the filthy curb.

“I may be selfish, sweetheart” he says finally, his voice husky, “but you’re just cruel.” You can only blink up at the ceiling, tears momentarily stayed as you wrack your brain for what he’s responding to. “You answer my calls just to tell me how much you don’t want them.”

If the fight weren’t draining out of you, you might snap back at him that he doesn’t have to call in the first place, that he should take a hint, that he should delete your number altogether. Instead, all you can do is let his words hang there while you contemplate them.

Maybe it is cruel. When he calls you like this, asking if you remember, he’s asking something more. Questions he could never verbalize, but that remain implicit in what he says. Do all those little moments mean as much to you as they do to me? Do the memories haunt you like they haunt me? Do you miss it like I do?

Leon won’t ask you to come back, no. But he wants to know if you’ve ever considered it on your own.

“Goodnight, Leon,” you say suddenly, forcing the words past the painful lump in your throat. You can't keep doing this, can't keep letting him tear you down just because he's found himself at the bottom of another bottle. “I hope you learn how to take better care of yourself one day.”

“I hope you find someone better to take care of one day.” At first, you think he’s just scrambled up your words in his drunken stupor in an effort to throw them back at you. But then he speaks again, and you know he meant exactly what he said. “Hey, I’m glad you left. Happy for you, I mean. You deserve better than me." Something terrible is building up in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat if he doesn't stop. "I love—”

You hang up before he can hear the way your breath shudders.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #re fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #hi i'm just hoping this shows and i'm not still in tag purgatory since this is a new sideblog lol #my writing #.i dial drunk

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hauntedhokage · 1 year ago

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the distraction

Diavolo/Fem!MC/Lucifer

summary: Lucifer doesn’t understand what the appeal is. Diavolo is smitten, a couple of his brothers have made pacts, and he thinks you’re only going to be trouble and create more of it the longer you’re in the Devildom. A visit to the castle to check on an allegedly sick Lord Diavolo grants an invitation for Lucifer to see what all the fuss was about.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit sexual content, f!receiving oral, exhibitionism/voyeurism, double penetration, anal, hints of hatefucking from Lucifer, jealous!Lucifer, maybe Luci has a crush on Dia i’m not sure, some Diavolo/Lucifer action, overstimulation, i don’t know what this is (which is becoming my answer to everything now)

Lucifer thinks you’re a distraction. A mistake to have been brought into the Devildom because you distract his Lord Diavolo, and the rest of his brothers (but that was a different issue). You don’t listen, you’re stubborn, and it felt like every single day he was hearing about something you did - if not from his brothers then from Diavolo himself. The Demon Lord was smitten with the human exchange student who wasn’t supposed to be anything special but ended up turning the school upside down.

He didn’t get what was so great about you, and he hated the effect you had on everyone around you. It just didn’t make sense. You’d even made Diavolo late for council meetings a couple times, which was mostly excusable considering how busy the prince was and how desperately he wanted to make sure this exchange event was successful. The key to that success was the comfort and survival of the exchange students, and if you had a question for Diavolo, then he was going to answer it. Only for you, though, nobody else was allowed to make him tardy.

It must’ve been one hell of a question this time, since Diavolo was now more than ten minutes late to the Student Council meeting. Not only that, he wasn’t answering his phone, either.

“Where’s Diavolo?” The empty chair makes him more nervous than it should. There’s no way something had happened to him, but for Diavolo to be more than five minutes late with no contact was greatly concerning.

“He said he wasn’t feeling well and went home early.” Why wasn’t he told? Instead Mammon is the one told that the head of the student council wasn’t going to be in attendance at the council meeting? That was extremely irresponsible and out of character for Diavolo, which was cause for concern on Lucifer’s end.

But then he noticed that the human that was supposed to be with Mammon wasn’t there, either.

“Where’s the human?”

“Back at the house. Said she was tired.” It wasn’t unusual for Mammon to be unbothered, the health of the human had no bearing on how much money he had, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from wishing that his younger brother thought about things in a bit more detail than just the financial.

“Well, we can just cancel this meeting then. We’ll need to check on her, and I’ll go check on Diavolo.”

“Wouldn’t Barbatos have that taken care of?”

“It’s polite to check on people when you hear they’re unwell, Mammon.” Is all the eldest leaves them with, leaving the chamber in a calculated hurry. He has to maintain his composure to avoid suspicion or concern. Causing any sort of commotion would never bode well.

Upon his arrival at Diavolo’s castle, he’s greeted warmly by Barbatos with some slight confusion regarding his appearance. But nonetheless, he’s allowed to go up to where Diavolo’s office and bedroom were so he could check in on his prince.

He doesn’t hear the sound of pen on paper, nor does he hear what he would expect of a sick Diavolo. The prince was whiny when he was sick, begging Barbatos for more tea and maybe a tissue. Instead Lucifer hears what sounds like moans coming from the bedroom.

The respectful thing to do would be to turn around and leave Diavolo to his business. Who he spends time with is private, and he could be grilled about his extracurricular activities tomorrow. Leaving him to his guest was the polite thing to do, even if he was curious considering Diavolo hadn’t shown much interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with anybody. He didn’t want to ruin it.

“D-Dia, I’m so close. Please don’t stop.”

Yes, turning around and leaving would be the respectful thing to do. However he knows that voice, and it’s the current source of his recurring stress outside of his siblings. You’ve now proven to be a massive distraction for Lord Diavolo, and that needed to be addressed immediately. He needed to stop it, and convince Diavolo to send you back up to the human world so things could return to normal.

Lucifer is pushing the door open just as you’re crying out Diavolo’s name, and his eyes aren’t sure where to focus. Your blissed out face, or Diavolo’s back that he could see between your parted legs? Did he look at your body? Should he look at you at all considering you were naked in Diavolo’s bed with your hand gripping the prince’s red hair in a tight fist.

“I must not have told Barbatos I wasn’t to be bothered by anyone,” is all Diavolo says at first, and Lucifer watches as his dear friend kisses the inside of your thigh before wiping at his chin. It’s then that he sees Diavolo’s face, sees how pleased the prince is, and that just doesn’t feel right. “Good afternoon, Lucifer.”

“Is there anybody you won’t infect, human?” The question isn’t meant to be voiced, he’s immediately embarrassed as soon as the words come out. He’s supposed to be kind, inviting, setting a good example for his brothers and making sure not to disgrace Diavolo. But here he was, talking down to you while you laid naked in Diavolo’s bed. Here he was, disgracing Diavolo.

“I don’t think he truly means that,” Diavolo comments, looking between you and his right hand in concern. But you seem unbothered by the statement; in fact, you actually look amused to see Lucifer agitated and embarrassed. Usually it was him scolding Mammon for saying idiotic things, how the tables had turned.

“No, I’m sure he does. Lucifer doesn’t like me that much, Diavolo.” You’re even pouting up at the future Demon King, laying on the theatrics a bit thick for Lucifer’s taste but he knows Diavolo sees through it. “He thinks I’m up to no good.”

“The only no good thing you’re up to, darling, is when I’ve got you riding my cock.” Lucifer wants to puke at that, plus the way Diavolo leans in to kiss at your neck before murmuring “sinful” against your skin. “Oh!”

“What?” Lucifer asks in unison with you, not missing the way you rolled your eyes before Diavolo is kissing you again. As if it was his fault he had the same question at Diovolo’s outburst.

“Maybe,” the redhead starts, kissing you once more before he pulls back to look at Lucifer again. “Maybe Lucifer just needs a taste. You and I can help him lighten up a bit, I’m sure.”

“Is he even capable of having fun?”

“If I tell him to.”

“I don’t need Diavolo to tell me to have fun.”

“Then get naked, get in this bed, and have fun with us!” If it was coming from Diavolo, he’d see it as an offer. But coming from you, it felt like a challenge. And he wasn’t about to lose to a human, especially not one like you. “While I’m still wet, Luci. Don’t waste his efforts.”

Pain in the ass, he thinks to himself as he strips, trying not to start too hard at the way you and Diavolo were watching him. To have both of your gazes burning into his skin, to know that your hand is slowly jerking Diavolo’s cock while Diavolo’s mouth busies itself with your breast - you two were pleasuring each other to the sight of him. It should make him uncomfortable, but instead it only turns him on more.

“Do you trust that he’ll satisfy me, Diavolo?” you ask, winking up at Lucifer as Diavolo looks up at you. “And how can I satisfy you as he does?”

“I trust Lucifer with everything. If he fails in his task, I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He actually looks troubled at the thought that he would have to react should Lucifer not deliver, his brow furrowing until you smooth the wrinkles away with your thumb. “We’ll just have to keep at it until you’re truly satisfied. It’s a task not given lightly so, should he fail, I’d want him to work at it until he’s successful.”

It’s Diavolo who guides Lucifer’s hand to the apex of your thighs, Diavolo who encourages Lucifer to gather that wetness and taste it for himself, while you just lay there and watch the eldest of the seven brothers as he stares down at you. What was going through your head, he didn’t know and wasn’t sure he wanted to. Your mind had proven to surprise him numerous times during your stay at the House of Lamentation, what could come out of your mouth while Diavolo was here to protect you from his rage was something Lucifer wanted nothing to do with.

But he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful, especially among the lavish sheets and pillows that made Lord Diavolo’s bedding. If only you weren’t so irritating.

“Lucifer,” you murmur, sitting up a bit while waving him in closer. He obliges in your request, leaning in so you were almost nose to nose as he adjusts himself between your legs, only to be caught off guard when you kiss him. There was no intimacy in your kiss, only need, and he uses this moment to carefully push himself into your waiting heat. If you weren’t ready that wasn’t his problem, but the moan that reverberates around his tongue tells him that you enjoyed his intrusion into your body.

You pull him back with you as you lie back against the pillows, breaking the kiss in favor of looking over at Diavolo who is grinning in his own victory. Whatever he’d been plotting would have to be addressed later, as Lucifer’s one goal now is to fuck some respect into the bratty human living in his home. One of his hands snakes around to grip the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin as he gets close to your ear.

“Maybe there is something special about you,” he taunts, nipping at the shell of your ear as he presses his hips flush to yours.

“Gonna start sleeping on my bedroom floor like your brothers do?”

“Don’t let this make you think that you’ve got my interest as anything more than the human living in my house.” Despite his tone, he feels your cheek rise against his with a grin that only agitates him more. Did you ever care about what he said? “Insolent brat.”

He’s not very gentle as he grabs you, his hands keeping you connected to him as he pulls you back up into a sitting position. The demand is made that you work for your orgasm, something that has Diavolo chuckling from the side before he’s moving to box you in against Lucifer.

“Ride him well, darling, and I’ll reward you greatly.”

Lucifer was going to add spoiled to the list of things you definitely were, especially when he feels what could only be Diavolo’s hand near the base of his cock

“What are you planning?”

“She’s got another hole to fill, doesn’t she? Maybe you should try her ass, it’s just as wonderful as-”

“I will not make a habit out of fucking her.”

“So you say now.” Diavolo’s knowing smirk was just as irritating in this moment as your little smirks were every day. Knowing that Diavolo was on your side in this; that he liked you to the point of having sex with you frequently, that you were allowed to touch him so delicately behind closed doors, when you were just some little girl in a world too big and magical for you just had him feeling many different emotions and not one of them was positive.

“It’s okay to like me, Lucifer,” you whisper in his ear, your hips moving against him while your hands are firm on his shoulders to keep yourself steady. “If you need Diavolo’s permission for that, he’d grant it.”

“I don’t need Diavolo’s permission to do anything,” he counters, but follows to lie on his back when you push at his shoulders. It’s your quirked brow that has him gripping your hips harder as he starts to fuck up into you, trying to prove a point while also being mindful of where Diavolo’s positioned behind you. Something short circuits in Lucifer’s brain when he feels a tongue on his sac, and he tries to look past you and your pleasured expression to see just what Diavolo was trying to achieve down there - was the redhead trying to prep you or get him off faster?

But he does feel you getting tighter around him, the way your pace gets a bit less consistent and your moans grow a bit louder, Lucifer knows that the silly human is about to cum on his cock and Diavolo’s fingers that were working to stretch your other hole open. And as you’re coming undone, face twisting in pleasure as he fucks you through it, he thinks he gets the hype about you. You were pretty cute when you were babbling about how good you felt and begging the two demons not to stop, he was almost concerned that pleasure of this magnitude from demons would alter your brain.

He knew better now.

But then the bed is shifting beneath him again, and he looks away from your face to see Diavolo on his knees behind you.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” The question sounds so gentle leaving him, as if he’s asking you if you’re ready to go out on the town and not have both of your holes penetrated by two demons at the same time. And you respond just as sweetly, looking over your shoulder and whispering a “yes, please” to Diavolo that has Lucifer holding your hips just a bit tighter.

“You know, we’ve done anal before,” you comment, smiling down at Lucifer and taking the chance to push his hair out of his face. “Worried about me?”

“You’re human, so yes.”

“Oh really? I had no clue that I was- oh, fuck.”

Diavolo was making his entrance, so Lucifer just waited while also basking in the feeling that was your pussy getting tighter with Diavolo working his way into your ass. You’re biting your lip until he’s carefully coaxing it from between your teeth but pushing his thumb into your mouth as Diavolo is whispering reassurances into your ear.

“You’re not gonna cum already, are you?” Lucifer asks, grinning when you gently bite down on his thumb in response to him rolling his hips into yours. “He’s not even fully inside you yet. But I bet you want Diavolo to touch that pretty clit of yours. Would that be your third orgasm, or did I miss one on my way over?”

“Missed two,” Diavolo corrects while snaking his arm around your waist, bringing a look of surprise onto Lucifer’s face at the information. “One of my own, too.”

“That’s less interesting.”

“Mammon says you’re in love with me, though.”

“And I’ll lecture him about that once I’m home.” It was almost like they weren’t both trying to fuck their human exchange student right now. Almost; but he can feel the way you clench impossibly tighter around them, see the way Diavolo has to compose himself while pressing his face into your shoulder due to how tense you were getting with your impending orgasm. He’d try to edge you, but he doesn’t think it’d be possible with how stuffed full you were at the moment.

He also doesn’t think Diavolo would allow him to deny the precious human what she wanted.

Diavolo sends you over the edge with a snap of his hips, chuckling at the wail you let out as you cum around both men. Lucifer is kissing at the skin he can reach while the redhead continues to fuck you - both men riding that high in their own way and trying to keep you on that edge and clenching around them for as long as they could.

“And there’s four,” Lucifer murmurs, biting into your neck as his own patience wears thin and he's holding you in place so he could fuck up into you at his own brutal pace that matched the prince’s. “Can we get you to five, brat?”

“We definitely can.” Diavolo assures, winking at Lucifer over your shoulder. “Can’t we, darling?”

You're nodding while begging for it, and Lucifer can’t take his eyes off of your face. Your body is so warm, and would likely be exhausted after this last orgasm and he’s not sure how he’d get your back to the house but that’s a problem for later. Right now is about how incredible your pussy feels, and how right it feels to feel Diavolo’s cock working alongside his own while being held in your inviting warmth. He could spend years in this position if it was allowed, you felt that good.

"So tight, darling," Diavolo groans, his forehead pressed against your shoulder while one of his hands grips your hip and the other keeps his weight off of you. "I won’t last much longer with you like this. But I think it’d be divine if both Lucifer and I filled you at the same time. Would you like that?”

You nod quickly, babbling your approval of the idea as Lucifer’s hips pick up their pace to something he could only think would be brutal for someone in your current state. You were so close to cumming again, they just needed to get you there and Diavolo’s hand frantically rubbing against your clit proved to get you there rather quickly - but that showed how well the prince knew your body at this point.

“You can cum too, Lucifer.” He didn’t know that he needed permission, but getting that permission makes it impossible for him to hold off any longer and he’s painting your walls with his cum as Diavolo finally stills above you with his own orgasm.

The bedroom is quiet save for the heavy breathing of all three parties, the room settling more when Diavolo carefully pulls out before he removes you from on top of Lucifer. The demon watches as the prince guides you onto the pillows, gently stroking your face as he praises you for your performance.

“You good, Lucifer?” you ask when Diavolo stops to breathe, propping yourself up to look at Lucifer as he finally sits up. “No bullshit.”

“I’m good, that was good. We should do that again sometime.”

“Just stay the night, we can do it a few more times.” The suggestion from Diavolo has you winking at Lucifer before you drop back onto the mountain pillows. “My bathtub will fit all three of us, too.”

“Hear that? All three of us.” Your addition pulls a sigh from him and a chuckle from Diavolo, and Lucifer knows what the answer was. He wasn’t going to be able to pull you away from the prince anyway.

“I’ll text the group chat and let them all know that we’re helping tend to Lord Diavolo,” Lucifer states, looking over to see that Diavolo had wasted no time in curling himself around the tired human. “Not that either of you really care.”

“I care a little bit,” you mumble, eyes still closed as Diavolo starts kissing at your neck. “Don’t want the boys worrying about me too much.”

“I care, but only because I don’t want them barging in while we’re ravishing our exchange student. I don’t think she can take more than two at a time, Lucifer, and your brothers are rather impatient.”

“You’re awful,” you giggle, gently swatting at Diavolo as Lucifer rolls his eyes. As if he’d share something like this with his younger brothers. But that would be left alone for now, seeing that Diavolo had you rolled over onto your stomach to prepare you for another round.

#bruh don't ask #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me smut #lucifer x mc #diavolo x mc #lucifer x female reader #diavolo x female reader #diavolo smut #obey me imagines

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asumi2020202 · 8 months ago

Text

A Family

Pairing: Xue Yang x reader x Xiao Xingchen

Summary: After escaping from a haunting past, you're found by some unknown people whom you have never seen in your life. It is as if fate brought you all together.

AU: Xue Yang doesn't betray Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing.

About Reader: You have been described as a female. You have heterochromia which is basically having two different eye colors. You come from a clan called the Zenin clan. { not the one from jjk........ Exactly the one from jjk (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠) }

A/n: I know I haven't been writing anything for a long time but now that i'm back, I shall enlighten you all again.(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠). I'm sorry it's a bit cringe .

T/W: abuse, traumatising past.

____________________________†___________

Chilled Breezes came and blew away, people laughed and strolled through the path they were walking.

Children chasing each other playfully.

Suddenly all seemed silent, as a child's cry filled the atmosphere. A h/c haired child stood under tree, getting scolded by a man while a little boy, a year older from her perhaps, stood beside the man crying.

Tears slowly started pouring from the h/c haired girl, but the man paid no mind to it. She had a cut on her arm and blood dripping from it. Yet the only thing the man cared for was the tiny little scrape that the little boy had on his hand.

That man was no other than the father of both the children. The leader of the Zenin clan.

The leader of the Zenin Clan was known to be a cruel man. Only caring for his sons and mistresses.

His wife on the other hand, was a gentle lady. She cared for everyone around her and helped them. She loved all her children equally yet she was not allowed to be with her only daughter, her little Y/n.

Y/n was the only daughter of Lord Zenin. Everyone was delighted when she was born, but that was until she opened her eyes, her adoring and curious eyes.

It was as if everything stopped for a time. She was born with two different colored eyes. One was a fierce e/c eye whereas the other was a bright and shine filled gold eye.

Her father ruthlessly took her from her mother's embrace to further inspect her. He was... shocked. Unable to accept his daughter being different he called her cursed.

She was seperated from the rest of her family. Her mother was heartbroken that her child was taken from her by none other than her husband. As Y/n grew older, her mother would sometimes gaze outside only to see that her daughter was either bullied by other children or framed by her brothers about something and getting scolded and hit by her husband. That poor child was mistreated and abused.

Time went by as y/n grew older. By now she was 17. She had been busy all day with work. She was treated no more than a maid, sometimes even worse.

She sat down to watch her brothers and their companions train . She was suddenly called by a servant, asking her to follow him as the lord was asking for her presence.

Upon her arrival Lord zenin's face turned into a disgusted one. Without any further discussion he told her that she was to marry a lord of another clan. Perhaps it would have been easy to bear if the lord has been somewhat around her age. But no he wasn't rather he was almost like a uncle to her.

"you have never been useful for me ever since you were born . You are a cursed child, atleast marrying you off to the lord would strengthen the bond between our clans and I would be able to get rid of you." Said Lord Zenin as y/n stood frozen.

After a second, she replied "How could you do this to your own daughter?! I have done everything i could just to be acknowledged by you, just to get the love my brothers get too. Yet you try to marry me off to someone who almost as old as an uncle to me. I won't! I won't do it!" To which Lord Zenin replied " I have no daughter. You are just a curse living inside the Zenin household. Hence you will agree to what I say, you have no will of your own! Your marriage will be held the day after tomorrow, so be prepared."

Later that same day, when all was silent and night had fallen, she planned her escape. Yet after a while she had fallen asleep without even noticing.

The dreadful day came, she woke up early when it was still dark. The gates were all closed and guarded so she had no option but to climb over the walls.

While climbing, a guard had noticed her, instantly informing the lord. Y/n tried to run as fast as she could. On the other hand, lord zenin ordered that the guards catch her by any means even if it's violence.

Y/n ran and ran when suddenly an arrow was shot at her , piercing her upper back. She ran near the town and tried to disappear between the crowd to which she was successful. She sat down near a broken house and took the arrow out of her back. She was loosing blood . She fell and her consciousness started to fade as she saw a figure crouch down above her.

_________________________________________

Y/n POV

I opened my eyes slowly, trying to focus my vision. I sat up and noticed that my back and chest was bandaged. I was about to get up when someone said " don't move too much, your wounds might open." I got startled. It was a man in full white, he had a piece of cloth cover his eyes. He later clarified that he was blind.

He started to converse with me when two more figures entered the room. This time it was a girl and behind her was another man. He was wearing all black.

After sometime, I got to know the names and identity. The white clothes man was called Xiao Xingchen. The girl was called A-Qing and the black clothed man was called Xue Yang.

Xingchen offered that I live with them when I healed after sometime and opened up to them. The four of us grew closer and closer.

It was as if I found my family. Not the one who threw me aside because I had different eyes, not the one who called me a cursed child. It was a new feeling to me.... Being loved, feeling loved.

_________________________________________

1 year later

Slowly and slowly, Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen felt a connection towards each other and y/n. Xue Yang even shared his story with the two. Both felt the need to comfort Xue Yang.

The two men had figured their feelings for each other. Both deciding they would confess to y/n together and ask her to be their second mate.

Love certainly effected them both. Xue Yang forgot about the murders and crimes he did. He was mesmerized by his lover and y/n. Though he would certainly stab anyone if they give too much unwanted attention or make his mates uncomfortable anyway. He is the most jealous one out of the trio.

Whereas Xingchen offered to help y/n whenever Xue Yang left to get food and requirements with A-Qing.

A-Qing had become a little sister to y/n. Y/n had found out that she was not blind, but that remained a secret between the two.

A week after their discussion, the two decided that it was finally time to confess. They took the girl to somewhere quiet . They confessed to the girl who actually had been in love with the both of them ever since they saved her.

A-Qing was both worried and happy for y/n. She was delighted because y/n finally felt loved and worried because she thought y/n might get hurt knowing that both the men are cultivators.

_________________________________________

Years Later

Over the years their bond grew stronger and unbreakable.

Xue Yang had slowly started to accept the revenge isn't all and tried to be forgiving even though his past still haunted him but with his lovers by his side, he felt at ease.

Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen and Y/n Zenin had gotten married to each other. It was not known by many as not many people came to the coffin house. A-Qing acted as the priest and witness of their love.

They had re-constructed the coffin house . Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen helped heal injured people, A-Qing as their helper. The physical part is mostly done by Xue yang under Xingchen's guidance.

Y/n on the other hand would take care of their household. Cook them meals to eat and create a warm place for them to return to.

Xue yang, tho difficult, tried to forget his past and move on. He would sometimes get nightmares of them. During those time, Xingchen would sit up supporting y/n, while she held Xue Yang close to her chest as both of them comforted him.

Same with the others when they would get nightmares of their past.

Y/n learned different sweet dishes, even chocolates, knowing both of her lovers love sweet things, especially Yang.

Xingchen loved to lay on y/n or Yang's lap when resting or napping. The way their hands moved through his hair , lulled him to sleep. He could rest at ease with his mates by his side.

The three of them could never be separated from each other. Even while sleeping, all took turns to be in the middle and hold each other close. Even while making love, they would appreciate each other making no one feel left out.

So, even if any of their past comes to haunt them, they know that the other two would give their life to protect them. After all.......

......They are A Family. One that they always craved to have.

#The untamed #xiao xingchen x reader #xue yang x reader #xiao Xingchen x yn #xue yang x yn #the untamed x reader #the untamed x yn #polyamory #xue yang x xiao Xingchen #series x reader #alternate universe #a qing

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toadbreath · 11 months ago

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the sun after the storm;

john mactavish is alive. simon visits him in the hospital, but something is wrong. johnny doesn't remember.

☀︎ w.c: 3,9k

☀︎ pairing: ghost x soap // simon riley x john mactavish

☀︎ rating: pg

☀︎ archive of our own: link here

☀︎ genre: angst, fluff, pining

☀︎ warnings: modern warfare 3 spoilers. writing soap's lines in a scottish accent lmao

☀︎ author's note: i haven't written a fic in ten years please be gentle and kind

What do you mean, they found him?

Simon hated hospitals. The sterile nothingness, the god-awful swishing sound scrubs made when nurses walked by, the machines beeping, the artificial plants that are there to provide a facade of comfort; the illusion of life in a building where it is so often taken.

Third floor. Room 503.

None of that matters. Not when the man he loves is alive — the man he thought was dead for six months. The man whose ashes he gifted to the wind on that cliff as the sun set behind the ocean. None of this makes sense. Simon strides through the hospital lobby, b-lining towards the elevators.

Third floor. Room 503.

Simon’s skull balaclava is earning him some strange looks from various medical staff, but he has tunnel vision and doesn’t take notice, brown eyes locked on the glowing button that has a faded three printed on it. How many times has that button been pressed with the same urgency Simon feels in his gut? The elevator doors open to the third floor and he’s at the reception desk in four strides. “Room 503?” he asks gruffly.

The nurse, an older woman, furrows her eyebrows. “…Sir, visiting hours ended 5 hours ago. You can come back tomorro-“ Simon’s eyes glazed over with fury at the thought of having to spend another minute in this miserable place. He didn't have time to wait for tomorrow. Not when the man he thought he had lost forever was just down the hall. He stared at the nurse, his silence the only indication of the rage boiling up within him. His words cut through the air like a knife. “I’m not here as a visitor.”

The nurse is caught off guard by Simon’s reply. He was an intimidating man, even in civilian attire, the mask he had kept on just out of habit. She clears her throat and looks down at her clipboard to avoid Simon’s icy glare. “If you are not a visitor then what is your business here? Do you have identification on you?” She asks, flipping through papers until she finds the file for the patient in room 503.

Simon had no patience for these stupid questions. He had waited months to find out that the man he had thought was dead was alive and he wasn't going to be held up over some petty bureaucracy. “Identification?” he scoffed, the venom in his voice evident. “I don't need identification. I'm here to see John MacTavish.”

The nurse lets out a frustrated breath. “What is your relationship to the patient?”

What is his relationship with the patient? He worked alongside MacTavish. He joked around with Soap. His chest feels warm and strange whenever he saw Johnny. Technically, they’re nothing more than colleagues, friends. There’s always been something else, though — something just below the surface that neither of them had been brave enough to act upon. Simon paused at the question and the nurse could see the uncertainty in his eyes. What was he to Soap? More than friends, less than lovers. A feeling he had never been able to name or put into words.

"We have a close relationship." he replies quietly. The fact that they had never explicitly defined their relationship made the situation even more awkward. What was he meant to say? That they loved each other deeply, but not in a manner that anyone outside the two of them had ever known? It sounded pathetic. It sounded desperate. It was true.

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I need more information than that. I have to know who you are and how you know the patient before you can go into his room."

"I'm..." Simon started, his voice trailing off. He had known MacTavish for a few years now. He had gone to bars with him and watched him get smashed beyond belief on that god-awful scotch. He had found comfort in that Scottish accent he had grown so fond of over comms. He had spent sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling, replaying the night Johnny got shot over and over again. Everything he had done, and everything he could have done differently. Price’s words repeated in his head like a broken record: All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe.

One KIA.

The idiot had to go up behind Makarov and be a hero. What was that saying? Never bring a knife to a gun fight? If there was anyone that would bring a knife to a gunfight, it was Johnny. He was too stubborn, too proud. Always wanting to be the one to finish the job. That stubbornness, that pride, had gotten him killed. And Simon had to watch him die. Had to hold that cold urn of ashes and pour them out over that cliff and hold himself together long enough to not break down in front of the captain. He had spent six long months seeing Johnny in every sunset. He had spent five months avoiding sunsets altogether.

"...I'm his partner."

That wasn't the answer the nurse was looking for, but it was the only answer that Simon could give her. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears. “Right,” the nurse conceded after a moment of consideration. “When you go down the hall, it’s the third door on the left.”

Simon nodded and took off down the hall without another word. He could hear the nurse mumbling something about the strange visitors in his wake, but didn't pay her any mind.

He came to a stop in front of the door to 503. It looked just like the rest of the doors in the hallway. White. Sterile. Unassuming. Simon had been waiting for this moment for half a year. Now that it was finally here, he couldn't bring himself to go in. What if he had heard wrong? What if someone had made a mistake and it wasn't MacTavish in the room? What if he got his hopes up for nothing? John MacTavish wasn’t exactly a unique name, after all. What if-

A doctor came out of the room, a clipboard in his hand. He was tall and slender, the kind of man who had a face you would never remember. He looked up, a bit startled from Simon’s unexpected presence but polite nonetheless.

"May I help you?"

Simon swallowed his nerves. "I'm here to see John MacTavish." The doctor's expression turned somber. "He's alive," Simon said, the words coming out as more of a statement than a question. “Yes, he’s alive…” The doctor says slowly, closing the door to John’s room behind him with a soft click and studying Simon’s eyes with his own. “Have you been informed of his condition?”

Condition. The word makes Simon uneasy. "His condition? What happened to him? Is he okay?" He couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. Simon was usually more collected than this, but the news of Johnny's survival was throwing him off.

“John suffered a gunshot wound to his right temple. We were able to extract the bullet and its fragments, however…” The doctor paused, choosing his words carefully. He had given this speech many times before, but that never made it easier. “The trauma resulted in retrograde amnesia. We don’t yet know if it’s permanent. If you go in that room… it’s very likely he will not remember you.”

Retrograde amnesia. The words crack his chest open and squeeze his heart like twine. It didn't matter how hard he had trained, or how much experience he had. There was nothing Simon could do about this. No target he could eliminate. This wasn’t something Simon could fix, and that infuriated him.

"Is there anything you can do? Anything I can do?"

The doctor shakes his head. "We've tried everything. There is no telling what will happen. He is stable, and his memory might come back in time. It might not. The only thing we can do is wait, let him heal.” "But I don't understand, I... I watched him get shot, fall to the floor. I watched him die. I held him. How is he alive?" Simon's voice cracks, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. Johnny, lying on the floor, eyes glazed over. Johnny, slumped lifelessly over his shoulder. Johnny, the ashes of his corpse blown away into the sea. "You must be mistaken. The man I buried is dead. MacTavish is dead. I held his ashes."

The doctor shook his head again. "He was pronounced dead on the scene. He was rushed to a medical facility and they were able to stabilize him enough to fly him here. There was a mix-up with the body tags, and the body you received was someone else's. The hospital called and told us who the urn belonged to. That's how we were able to contact you and inform you of the situation." The doctor pauses. "We have no record of this other person, no information about their family or who they were. The best we can guess is that the hospital was trying to save face, and they handed you the ashes of the first dead body they could find." Simon's heart sinks. How long had he spent grieving, mourning a man who was still breathing? The guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. He felt sick. "I want to see him."

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea-" the doctor starts, but Simon cuts him off. His hands clench into fists. The thought of Johnny waking up, alone and confused in a hospital bed is enough to make him want to rip the door off the hinges and break whatever machines had the nerve to beep so obnoxiously. “Move,” Simon blurts out, pushing his way past the doctor and opening the door to Johnny’s room, stepping inside.

The air is stolen from Simon’s lungs as soon as his eyes landed on Johnny's prone form in the hospital bed. His head was wrapped in bandages, a white gauze patch over the wound on his temple. He was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm that indicated peaceful slumber.

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

All those months, and he was here. In a hospital. Alive. Simon felt weak.

"Johnny?" Simon whispered, stepping forward hesitantly. MacTavish stirred, the sound of the other man’s voice unfamiliar and foreign, but soothing, nonetheless. It was comforting, like a warm cup of coffee or the smell of a burning candle. It felt like home. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a deep blue iris that scanned the room, the bright fluorescent lights temporarily blinding him. He groans softly, slowly propping himself up into a sitting position on the bed. His paper-thin hospital gown rustles, the fabric scratchy and stiff. Johnny notices the masked man standing awkwardly by his bedside. His eyes scan him slowly, taking in his dark eyes and the black fabric of his balaclava. “They send security in ‘ere?” he mutters, squinting, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Do you..." Simon began, his voice trailing off as he pulled off his mask, running a hand through his shaggy, blond hair.

Johnny's eyes widened. He had never seen this man before, but the sight of him made his heart swell. The blond man had a heavy British accent, and scars of all shapes and sizes littered his pale face. He had brown eyes that shone like honey in the sun, his jaw strong and set with an expression of relief. The blond man's face was the most beautiful thing Johnny had ever seen, and he swallows nervously.

"Do you recognize me?" Simon whispered, placing his hand on the rail of the bed. He could feel the tears threatening to spill over, and his vision was starting to blur. He was going to cry, and he hated himself for it.

Johnny shook his head. "Sorry, lad. Cannae say I do,” I would remember a face like that, he thinks. “Yer a familiar stranger, though."

"Familiar..." Simon echoed, his voice breaking. He could feel the knot in his throat. This wasn't fair. He was alive, and that was what mattered, but Johnny had no idea who he was. MacTavish was about to ask the stranger his name when the man suddenly burst into tears, sobbing softly.

“Oh, I…” Johnny says softly, reaching a hand out to comfort the stranger, squeezing the man’s bicep gently. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. What’s yer name?” he asks gently.

Simon's chest is on fire, and he's gasping for air. This was all wrong. All wrong. This wasn't the first time Johnny had died. The last time, it was a bullet in the head. This time, Johnny was here, alive, but Simon lost him all the same.

"Simon," he croaks. Johnny repeats the name back, his hand still gripping the other man's arm. He can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and thick, and he realizes he's crying, too, but he doesn’t know why.

“Simon…” he repeats, the name on his tongue felt like velvet, a word he could never tire of saying. Simon sniffles. Johnny looks at him expectantly, a single tear rolling down his cheek, and Simon can feel the weight of the silence pressing against his shoulders, suffocating him. “Simon. Why are ye cryin’?” he asks softly. “And why am I cryin’?” he chuckles a little, trying to lighten the mood. "Because we're both idiots," Simon laughs bitterly.

"I'm sorry, Johnny." he says, his voice hushed and solemn. “Sorry?” Johnny says, his eyebrows knitting together as he studies Simon’s face. He sits up a bit straighter. “What are ye sorry for?”

"I'm sorry because I..."

Simon's voice trails off. He can't look Johnny in the eyes. It's like staring into the sun. Johnny leans forward, his hand sliding down Simon’s bicep to his forearm, the cool feeling of leather under his palm as he goes. The blond man flinches, and the Scotsman feels a sharp stab in his gut.

"Yer wearing my tags," he murmurs.

"What?" Simon looks down at his chest, where Johnny’s silver dog tags hang unceremoniously on top of his black hoodie. They had become a sort of talisman for him, and he had worn them every day since Johnny's death, never taking them off once.

"Right." he breathes, his fingers brushing against the metal, a nervous habit — he often found himself clutching the only thing he had left of his best friend.

"I must mean somethin' tae ye," Johnny says quietly, his Scottish brogue rolling off his tongue.

"You mean everything to me," Simon whispers, his voice cracking.

Johnny feels like his breath has been stolen. The weight of those words hit him harder than he expects, and his head spins. He looks at Simon, his eyes filled with curiosity, the tears on his cheeks drying. "Tell me about myself. B’fore, I mean. What was I like?" he asks, and it's more a request than a demand. His eyes linger on his dog tags around Simon’s neck; Simon’s own are tucked underneath his shirt.

Simon can feel the lump in his throat returning. "Well," he says, swallowing hard. "You were — are —stubborn, and brave. Always getting yourself into trouble. You never asked for help, and you had a horrible habit of drinking alone. You always tried to finish the job, and never trusted anyone but yourself. Loyal to a fault, one hell of a friend. You're also an insufferable idiot who has no regard for his own safety. A total dumbass. A bloody moron, really. And you know what else? I loved you, you Scottish bastard. I loved you, and I thought you were dead. Do you know how long it's been? Six months, Johnny. Six months, and now you're here, and you don't even remember me, and I can't even be mad. I’m not allowed to be mad because you're alive, you’re alive, and it's all that matters, but I lost you all the same, and it fucking hurts, you son of a bitch."

The words came out faster than Simon could stop them, and now he was gasping, tears pouring down his face, his cheeks burning, the air leaving his lungs and being replaced with something cold and empty. He hadn’t realized how angry he was, how angry he had been all these months. The anger he had buried deep, and let fester inside him.

Johnny just stared at him, his eyes wide. “Love?” he whispers incredulously.

"Oh, shit," Simon mutters. His face burns red, and he wants to turn and run away, pretend he had never been here, never said any of those things, but he's frozen, and Johnny is looking at him with those stupid gorgeous blue eyes and it's all Simon can do to hold himself together.

"We weren’t just friends, were we?” Johnny whispers, his hand tightening ever so slightly on Simon’s forearm. Simon is silent. The answer is obvious.

Johnny nods. "And... we never got tae say it, did we?"

"No," Simon replies, his voice a strained whisper.

"That's why yer here."

"That's why I'm here," Simon echoes, his voice a whisper. Johnny swallows, his mouth dry. "When did ye know?” he asks softly, his eyes locked on Simon's.

"That I loved you?"

"Aye."

Simon is quiet. He doesn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved Johnny. It had always been there, a feeling just below the surface, a constant presence. He had never given it a name, but it was a feeling that he couldn’t deny, even if he wanted to. He remembers the day he had realized how he felt, the moment when his feelings had finally made sense.

It was late summer, and they had just finished a mission. Price had gone off somewhere, and it was just him and Johnny sitting together in a shitty motel room. They were exhausted and sore, their bodies aching, and Johnny was nursing a few scrapes and bruises from when he had taken a nasty spill off a building. Simon had a concussion, and his eyes were bleary. Johnny had gotten up to grab the first aid kit and started to clean up Simon's wounds, a task that required a lot of careful concentration, which he did with a furrowed brow and his nose scrunched up. Johnny's fingers were gentle as he dabbed at the blood, his touch warm and reassuring. That was the first time Simon had felt comfort in years. That was the first time Simon had felt safe.

"Since forever."

Johnny takes a shaky breath. "Do ye still?"

"Are you kidding me? I never stopped."

"And if I can't remember? If I never remember? Will ye love me then?”

"Always," Simon replies without hesitation.

Johnny feels his heart swell at the reply. He smiles, his cheeks flushed pink, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Then I think I could learn tae love ye again," he murmurs, his eyes searching Simon's face.

"Again?" Simon echoes.

"Again," Johnny replies.

Simon laughs. It's a hollow, bitter laugh, but it's a laugh nonetheless.

“I cannae explain it,” Johnny whispers. “I have no memory of ye. But when I woke up and saw ye in this room — I felt *warm*. It’s like my nervous system recognized ye. And I…” He sighs and pulls out a small sketchbook from his bedside table, flipping through the pages. There’s lots of little doodles, like the view from his hospital room window, stray cats, food he’s eaten, nurses, the sunset, but there's also a few sketches of a handsome blond man, and a page entirely dedicated to the curve of his jaw, the scars on his face, and the shape of his lips. "I think I drew ye, or wanted tae.” he murmurs. “It’s kinda cool, drawin’ a stranger and havin’ him show up tae my room the next day. Ye think I should draw a million dollars next?”

Simon is stunned, and an amused sound escapes his lips. Johnny had drawn him. He had drawn him, and he hadn't even known his name. "I didn't know you could draw," Simon says quietly, his cheeks burning. "I dinnae either,” Johnny chuckles. “But I had tae pass the time somehow.” He smiles. "I guess we had somethin' important. If I was able tae draw a handsome face like that when I cannae remember my own birthday." Johnny closes the sketchbook and places it on the bed.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember,” he says softly. “It doesn’t mean what we have is gone. It just means I get to fall in love with ye all over again.” Simon blinks, unsure of how to respond. He had never considered the fact that Johnny might have fallen for him too. He had never even entertained the idea that his feelings could have been reciprocated. Simon had spent so much time pining after the other man, trying to suppress his feelings, that he had never stopped to consider that Johnny might have been struggling with the same inner conflict.

"We fell in love twice," Johnny says softly, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Fell in love twice," Simon repeats. "What a pair we make, huh?" he chuckles, his voice thick with emotion.

"Aye," Johnny says softly, smiling. "Ye think we could fall in love a third time?"

"Maybe," Simon says, a faint smile on his lips. "Try not to get shot again, though, yeah? Really pissed me off the last time.” Johnny chuckles and grins. "I'll do my best, sunshine."

"Sunshine?"

"Aye. That's what ye remind me of. Ye make me feel warm."

"I'm not much of a sunshine."

"Maybe yer right,” Johnny sniffs, studying Simon carefully. “Yer a…” Simon raises an eyebrow. "I think yer more like a storm."

"A storm."

"Aye, a storm. All rain and thunder and lightning. Yer beautiful, but ye have a temper."

"You've only known me for thirty minutes," Simon says, laughing.

"And I know that ye've been cryin’," Johnny replies, reaching up to gently wipe a tear from Simon's cheek. "But storms clear the skies, and bring the sun after. Ye've been cryin' and yer still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Maybe that's a sign."

"A sign?"

"Aye. That maybe I was meant tae find ye again. Maybe that's what I'm meant tae be. The one who reminds ye to come out and play when it's stormin’."

Simon stares at Johnny, his cheeks burning red. "Johnny..." he whispers.

"That's my name, lad," he murmurs, smiling softly. “Don’t wear it ou-“

Simon leans forward and presses his lips to Johnny's. It's a tentative kiss, a gentle meeting of lips. The world seems to stop. Simon can feel the tension leaving his body, the knot in his throat loosening. It's like he's finally breathing for the first time and he can’t get enough. His hands move to cup Johnny's face and his heart feels full and heavy in his chest.

Johnny kisses back, his lips moving slowly and softly against Simon's. He can taste the salt from Simon's tears and the faintest hint of something else — mint and coffee and a scent that is distinctly Simon. It's familiar, even if he can't place it, and Johnny finds himself clinging to it.

The two of them pull apart slowly, and Johnny is grinning.

"That was some kiss," he says, his cheeks flushed pink. "I could get used tae it."

"You should," Simon whispers, smiling.

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sokkaxmoon · 4 months ago

Text

A Night Under The Stars

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a serene glow over the quiet training grounds at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The usual cacophony of students and teachers was absent, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of a nocturnal creature. You had stayed late, your mind racing after a long day of lessons and practice.

Sitting on a bench beneath a sprawling cherry blossom tree, you tried to clear your thoughts, the gentle breeze rustling through your hair. The scent of the blossoms filled the air, and you found solace in the peaceful night.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar, light-hearted chuckle from behind you. Turning around, you saw Gojo Satoru strolling into view, his trademark white hair glowing softly under the moonlight. He wore his usual casual attire—a dark, fitted shirt, his signature black blindfold, and a relaxed smile.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice as smooth and playful as ever.

You shook your head, trying to offer a small smile. “Not really. Just needed some fresh air.”

Gojo approached and plopped down on the bench beside you, stretching his long legs out and making himself comfortable. “Ah, I see. Well, you’re not alone in that. I was just taking a break from some… well, let’s call it ‘supervision.’”

You glanced at him curiously. “Supervision? Of what?”

He grinned, tapping his sunglasses. “I have to keep an eye on all the shenanigans happening around here, even when I'm not on duty. It’s a full-time job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I bet it is. So, what brings you out here tonight?”

Gojo leaned back and looked up at the star-studded sky, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes I just need to get away from the chaos. You know, enjoy the simple things. Like how peaceful it is out here.”

For a moment, there was a rare, genuine silence between you, the kind that spoke volumes without words. You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over you.

“You know,” you began, hesitating slightly, “you’re not always as carefree as you seem. Sometimes it’s like you’re carrying a lot on your shoulders.”

Gojo turned to you, his usual playful demeanor softening. “You noticed, huh? I guess I do have a lot of responsibilities. But I try not to let it get to me. I have to stay positive for everyone else, after all.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “It must be hard, though. Balancing everything while keeping up your own image.”

He chuckled, a genuine sound that made his eyes crinkle with warmth. “It’s not all that bad. I have people like you around who keep me grounded.”

You blinked in surprise, feeling a warmth in your cheeks. “Me? How so?”

Gojo shrugged, his grin returning. “You’re always so dedicated, so hardworking. It reminds me why I do what I do. Besides, you’re not so bad to talk to when I need a break.”

You looked down, feeling a mix of shyness and appreciation. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

He leaned in closer, the playful glint in his eye never fading. “Well, you should know that I have a soft spot for those who can keep up with me. And you definitely do.”

As the night wore on, the conversation between you and Gojo meandered from light-hearted banter to deeper, more personal reflections. The stars above seemed to twinkle in agreement with the connection that had formed.

When it was finally time to leave, Gojo stood up and offered you a hand. “Let’s head back. It’s getting late, and we both have a full day ahead.”

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch, and stood up with him. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you walked side by side back to the dorms, the moonlight casting a gentle glow over your path, you couldn’t help but feel that this quiet night had somehow made everything a little clearer. In Gojo’s presence, amidst the tranquility of the night, you had found not just a mentor but a friend who understood more than he let on.

And as you parted ways at the door, Gojo turned with a final, genuine smile. “Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of contentment. “Goodnight, Gojo.”

As you entered your room, you glanced out the window at the stars one last time, feeling a renewed sense of calm. The night had been a reminder that even amidst the chaos, there were moments of peace and connection worth cherishing.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo/reader #jujutsu kaisen

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silent-raven13 · 9 months ago

Text

Flower Shop Across the Music Store

(AU: Miles works at a flower shop. Hobie owes his music Store.)

The sound of the machine printing out a long list of receipts had the young man ripped it off to had to the customer. "Here's your receipt. Remember no returns if it's open." The Punker said in a serious tone before going back to reorganizing some CDs.

The customer left with a nod before taking his leave with his skateboard in his other hand. The front door opens with its bell ringing, a group of three teenage boys wearing Y2K outfits; large baggy pants, and oversize shirts. Very old school style of New York, with Jordans, and timberlands.

Hobie glances over, "Manny, did you do your homework?" At a brown teenage boy wearing bright red oversize t-shirt, baggy pants and Jordans. The one called Manny had a buzz cut with one earring in his left ear, he sucked his teeth in with an eye roll.

"Man," Manny frowns at his adopted older brother, "I was."

"Oh yeh? Let me see it?" The owner of the shop asked.

"Come on, bro." Manny grunts.

"Don't give me that. Go to the back and do your homework. Those are the rules." Hobie crosses his arms. "Unless you wanna go back to yer mama?"

Manny groans, "No. But can I just go skate for a bit. I swear I'll be back at five and do my homework!"

"Alright. But I better see you here before those lights turned on." Hobie pointed at the lamp lights on the street. "I'm gonna make jerk chicken and rice and peas! So you better get home by dinner time."

"Ight, bro! I will." Manny walks out with his friends going to the park to skate and hang out.

The punker merely rolled his eyes, he felt more like a dad to this kid than a brother at times. He heard the boys calling all at once, then one of them said, "Aye, look over there! it's a gonna be a Flower shop."

"Nah, mane. Who goes buy flowers?" A friend of Manny said.

"Who knows but it's better than that wack ass junk store."

"Ya that place was cover in dust."

Hobie saw the boys walking away laughing, he peeks over the shop across his store to find a flower shop being set up. Huh, he never noticed that. The Grand Opening show it's today with a free rose.

Two older Latina women went inside the shop to buy some flowers, coming out with their own bouquets. The punker arched his eyebrows being interested in the shop, during his lunch break he decided to go check it out.

Of course, by the looks on the Flower Shop it look a bit to posh for the neighborhood of Brooklyn. So he wore his black leather jacket and went full Punk on his aesthetics to see if the owners would freak out. He's biggest worry if it's a rich white owner trying to take over a black and brown neighborhood.

"Not on my watch!" He thought to himself before going over to the flower shop.

The door bing with an automatic ringer whenever the door open. The flower shop is small, but had many beautiful flowers with decent prices. "Coming." Hearing a male voice.

Hobie checks around seeing a lot of roses, so many in different types from white to pink to yellow to the iconic red ones. Then, he heard footsteps behind him. He turns around as he heard, "Sorry about that. I was setting up the vases behind the counter."

The moment Hobie's eyes saw the young man, it felt like love at first sight. He never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. The young cashier had big hazel eyes with a cute wide nose and dimple wide smile with those plump lips. The young man have dark skin and coily tapered Afro, with earrings on both ears. He wore an apron over his sunny yellow collar shorts and overalls that have Sunflower embroidered and OG Jordans.

"Uhhh..." Hobie felt like he was styling a sun by the way this man's face glows so brightly.

"Hm?" The cashier tilted his head to the side with those big doe eyes.

The punker saw the cashier's name tag, "Miles. Um, are you the owner?"

"Me? Nah, this is my aunty's shop. I'm working here part time." He looked worried, "Oh do you need to speak to her? My aunty and Uncle will be here tomorrow!"

Hobie never thought he would see someone this cute. "No. No-no!" He raised his hand up, "It's all good. I just wanna say I own a music shop across the street."

"OH! I always wanted to go there! You're the owner! Wow, you dress so cool." Miles' big hazel eyes gleams with excitement.

"Heh, I guess so. It's pretty crappy."

"Oh, I don't think so." Miles giggles, "I think it gives a bit of personality."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

"Never thought it that way." Hobie crosses his arms then slowly asked, "So, what you got for sale?"

"We got twelve dollar bouquets roses." Miles pointed out, "They are small but enough to be romantic." He to hold a bequest of Sunflowers, "Sorry, I need to fix this." He wanted to have the Sunflower flowers their own attention.

"Huh, you look like a Sunflower." Hobie's hand reach out to touch Miles' cheek, "Sunflower." There eyes met.

The young man felt his body heated up by this handsome Punker. Seeing him so tall and having Heterochromia eyes made him look so damn cool and attractive. "Oh, no one ever called me that or any flower."

"I think Sunflower fits you perfectly. Anyway, I like to buy that Sunflower." He offer.

"Oh this one?" Miles is holding it with great care.

This is what Hobie wanted to hold Miles and the best way was that Sunflower. He casually chuckles, "I like that one."

'Okay, I'll ring it up for you." The cashier nodded heading to the front desk to charge the flower. The two stay quiet it until Hobie couldn't take it anymore.

"Here, luv. Maybe you need a discount from her." He slid his phone number on a piece .

"Ehh?" Miles felt his cheeks warm when seeing the phone number on a piece of paper. "Don't you think that's old school?" His hazel eyes onto the punker.

"So? I wanna make my point across." The Punker flirted.

"Okay... but I didn't catch your name." The cashier went to wrap the sunflower.

"Hobie. Hobie Brown." He grins at Miles. "Let me take you out for a cup of coffee."

"I do like coffee." Miles flirted with him, having this warm smile. He could stare at Hobie's one silver blue eyes and the other being brown.

"Yeah." Hobie flirted back, "Hopefully, you and I can go further like dinner or a movie."

"Hehehe," The cashier giggles, "I would like that if things go well."

"I think you and I both know, luv, that we're gonna get along super well with each other." He smirks at him.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

The two were staring into each other having big smiles on their faces. Miles couldn't help but be attractive to the punker. "What about tonight?"

"Cup of coffee?"

"Maybe or a movie, since you already said we fit goo together." Miles hums having to charge the Sunflower. "That'll be five thirty five."

"Heh, alright." Hobie grins having to pull out his wallet to pay in cash, "How about this? I take you to a nice Dominican restaurant down there, and see where it goes."

"OKay. I do like Dominican food." Miles' eyes on him, they were interested.

"Alright, when you get off?"

"Around five. My uncle comes by to help close the shop." Miles said, "I'll be ready by then."

"Okay, I'll come by. I normally close shop early too." Hobie grins at the cashier. "See you then, Sunflower."

"See you, Hobie." He smiles at him watching him leave the store.

Hobie could only fantasize about Miles and the smell of Sunflowers just reminds the punker of him. His heart race thinking about it, then he remembers about his adopted brother.

He quickly texted him.

Hobie: Yo, I got a date at five. You can hang out with your friends longer.

Manny: Sweet, can I stay over at Luis till ten?

Hobie: Sure. Do your homework!

Manny: Sure thing bro.

Hobie smirks with that. Now he gotta think what to wear for this date. God, he knows this is the one. His soul mate, he could feel it in his bones!

#miles morales #hobie brown #punkflower #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse #fanfic #flowerpunk

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