#v. secondary. — part one.

[joelsgoldrush]

“lovers once a year” | 9.4k

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

SUMMARY: One always craves what is out of reach. Like the forbidden fruit that lingers just beyond grasp, tempting with its sweetness. Joel became the town’s greatest sinner, and you, his best friend’s daughter, are the tantalizing temptation he knows he should never indulge in. Your very existence marks the path to his ruin. He can't help but follow it. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. joel’s POV. a lot of introspection. mentions of alcohol. miscommunication. no outbreak. dbf!joel. age gap (25 and 56). petnames. religious imagery. car sex. oral sex (f!receiving). fingering. unprotected p in v. riding. missionary. doggy style. orgasm denial. crying. hair pulling. thumb/finger sucking. cum shot. creampie. reader sits on joel’s lap and has hair. moodboard for aesthetic purposes only. A/N: the fact this idea has been sitting on my drafts for over a year is just crazy. i finally found the time to put into words, and i know i’m a little late to the whole dbf!joel trope, but i’m a real sucker for it... hope you like this one! <3

No one could’ve ever said Joel was a great best friend.

For one, he was terrible at remembering important dates. His mind just didn’t catch hold of details like that—never had, really. He wasn’t the sentimental type, either. At best, he’d manage a pat on the back or a firm handshake, maybe even a call on Christmas if he remembered. Emotional displays weren’t in his nature, far too used to keeping things at arm’s length.

Luckily for him, Stephen never seemed to care much about these things. They’d been friends for over forty years—which is, well, a hell of a long time, especially considering each had gone off to carve out his own life. They’d trudged through both primary and secondary school side by side, and Joel felt Stephen’s absence like a hollow ache the day his friend left for university in another state.

Technology eventually offered them more ways to connect, but it didn’t make keeping up any simpler. The years had tested them, and somehow, they’d held on to the quiet strength of their friendship—a bond they’d forged across decades and distance, held steady like the roots of an old tree.

Stephen was the laid-back type, always down for anything as long as a cold beer was part of the deal. It was rare for him to lose his temper, having a way of letting nuisances slide. Joel could bend every rule, yet Stephen’s patience never wavered. He was unflappable, hardly bothered by Joel’s mood swings, which was what made them a match made in heaven. Nothing could throw him off.

Though Joel doubts Stephen would stay so calm if he knew what he’d done to his daughter. As mentioned, Joel’s not exactly what you’d call a good friend—particularly considering he’s slept with his best friend’s daughter. Just once, to be fair. One ephemeral, impulsive encounter. Right here, in this very house, exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago.

His gaze drifts across the room, settling on you at a smaller table a few meters away, surrounded by your younger cousins, ages five to fifteen. He watches as you scroll absent-mindedly on your phone, your brow furrowed in concentration, only tearing your eyes away from the screen when one of the kids hurls a handful of salty peanuts at you.

You press your palms flat against the tablecloth, eyes narrowing as you scowl playfully at the child, a mischievous glint in your expression. “You’ve got ten seconds to run,” you utter in a tone meant to sound ominous, tickling his sides until he erupts in laughter, his giggles filling the dining room with raw joy.

Joel’s been here for over two hours, but he can’t recall a single detail about the night’s events. All he knows is you—he’s studied your every movement, following the shape of your silhouette through the crowd. He’s accepted a few drinks, engaged in shallow conversation with your relatives, trying his best to play the part of a man with nothing to hide. But despite his efforts, despite every attempt to appear unaffected, he feels a slow burn kindling in the pit of his stomach, an ache that curls through him in a deliciously destructive way.

It’s when you look up, locking eyes with him, that he nearly mutilates the chicken breast on his plate, the knife skittering over porcelain with a screech. He quickly mutters an apology, excusing his clumsiness and blaming it on one too many drinks. Meanwhile, you don’t quit glaring at him, a hint of a challenge dancing in your stare.

This shouldn’t feel the way it does, this hazardous, risky game you’re playing. At one time, he might’ve thought this was something only seen in movies, something imagined and unreal. But here you are, and here he is, and the indisputable hunger in your eyes is as real as anything he’s ever known.

Suddenly, his memories drift back to a year ago, to your grandmother’s 84th birthday—the night it all began.

Stephen had left Austin when he was eighteen to pursue a college degree. That’s how he’d ended up in New York, and from that point on, he never came back. It’d been amazing to see him as an equal when they were teenagers, but as they grew older, the only things they shared were the white hairs scattered all over their beards and the memories of much better days.

Whenever they got in touch—which didn’t happen often—your dad would talk about you. You were just a name without a face, an empty canvas. Close to graduating, with only a few subjects and finals left. Psychology was your major—weren’t you smart? Joel remembers typing back with a string of exclamation marks to show his contentment. His best friend’s daughter was a success; how could he not be happy?

One random day, Joel’s phone buzzed late in the afternoon, flashing with Stephen’s name. It was rare for them to talk outside the usual birthdays and holidays, so seeing his name on the screen sent a small jolt through him. A dozen scenarios raced through his mind as he picked up, each one edging between concern and curiosity.

Just like that, Stephen dropped the news without any preamble. “I’m moving back to Austin,” His voice came in clear, and there was something unusual about it, brisk but almost nostalgic. Joel gripped the phone a little tighter, processing the words. “In fact, I’m filling up the gas tank as we speak. There’s someone at home who wants to see you.���

That someone had been your grandmother. With a twinkle in her eye, she’d insisted on inviting Joel to her 84th birthday. “It’s the perfect chance for you two to reconnect,” she’d declared, her tone laced with warmth and hope. She adored Joel, practically worshipping the ground he walked on, often reminiscing about the vibrant young man he had once been.

Who could deny anything to an elderly person, especially one as cherished as her? He was strong, physically imposing, but not strong enough to resist her wishes.

The reunion was going as well as it could, given the circumstances. After all, it was a strange kind of delight, seeing his best friend for the first time in decades. Joel thought they’d do what friends do—sit back, drink, smoke, and trade stories about the good old days. 

Then you walked into the room, absolutely gorgeous and with a smile that was all teeth, and you reached out to shake Joel’s hand as you introduced yourself. The contrast hit him instantly—your skin was satin-like against his, smooth where his was rough and calloused from years of handling concrete and steel. A subtle heat bloomed where your fingers touched, the chill of the rings on your hand sending a shiver through him, as if his senses had sharpened in that brief instant.

You pulled away, taking a step back, your eyes flicking between him and your dad. Joel’s arm fell back to his side, his hand forming a tight fist, the bite of his nails embedded into his palm to keep him grounded. But he couldn’t stop himself from scrutinizing you—every detail of your face, the curve of your smile, the effortless way you carried yourself. Your beauty was at fault, not him. You were completely out of reach, yet close enough to marvel at. He was no more than a man, bound to notice the charm of a pretty girl like you.

That you happened to be the daughter of his best friend—that was just a cruel stroke of fate. 

“Oh, sweetie. I’m glad you got to meet Joel at last!” Stephen’s voice cut through his thoughts, an arm draping across Joel’s shoulders, pulling him into an affectionate embrace. “He’s that friend from school I’ve been telling you about.”

Stephen looked so at ease, so utterly pleased, that Joel could only swallow back the lump in his throat. What kind of sick joke was this? What could he have possibly done to deserve this twist of the knife?

With a soft laugh, you folded your hands behind your back, tilting your head to the right. “My father wouldn’t shut up about you,” you said, light and melodic, drawing him in like a lure. Joel found himself adrift in the sweet cadence of your voice, entranced by the delicate chain glinting at your throat, resting just above the neckline of your shirt, the v-cut hinting at a world of temptation.

He blinked owlishly, fighting the images clawing behind his eyelids. “Well, he’s a good man, your father,” Joel managed, his smile strained. Not because it wasn’t true, but because there was a blaring alarm in his head, warning him to get a fucking grip. He knew himself well enough to read the signs, the underlying meaning beneath these nerves, the quickened pulse, the quiet, undeniable urge to reach out and feel you.

He was gone already. He fancied you, and his mind raced with thoughts he knew he had no right to entertain. He imagined what you’d taste like, the way you might sound if he were between your legs, encouraging you to gasp his name. Yet, he was aware that these fantasies were as treacherous as they were forbidden, even more with you standing right in front of him. And your father, just inches away.

From the kitchen, someone called out to Stephen, and with a weary sigh, he unhooked himself from Joel’s shoulder. “Coming!” he shouted back, already angling himself toward the door. He glanced back at the two of you, half-smiling while rubbing his temples. “I forgot how exhausting it is to host a family birthday party. I’ll be right back. You two go ahead and chat without me.”

Fuck, no, Joel thought to himself. Don’t leave me here. Where the hell are you going?

Joel resorted to remaining silent, choosing instead to take a long sip of his beer to avoid the occasion of sin. He refused to look in your direction, fixing his gaze on anything that didn’t involve your bare legs—the same legs he’d just been eyeing in those damn denim shorts, which exquisitely hugged your thighs. But, then again, he shouldn’t even be noticing that.

As he peered down at the carpet, he couldn’t ignore the movement of your shoes as you stepped closer. He observed your fingers playing idly with the frayed edges of your shorts, your body inching nearer, and he braced himself in anticipation of whatever you might say next. When his eyes landed on yours, he was met with an aura of expectancy, a cocky smirk pulling at your lips.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh, Mr. Miller,” you murmured, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed with effort. Letting your hand linger beside your face, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, glancing at him through your lashes. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Joel felt the flush rise to his cheeks, and there was no mistaking it—you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to push him off balance, to see how far he’d bend before snapping? Was this just a game for you, a bit of mischief to spice up a family gathering? The idea irritated him, but he couldn’t entirely ignore the thrill woven into the discomfort. A quarter of his mind itched to play along, but the rest of him screamed to find the nearest exit.

“Y’can just call me Joel. No needa be so formal,” he mumbled, lifting the beer bottle to his lips once again, the bitterness spreading across his tongue.

“But I like Mr. Miller better.”

His mind conjured all those images of fire and damnation, of being dragged to some dark, smoldering pit. Rotting in hell, he could already see himself within the flames. Tugging at the collar of his flannel, now too tight and hot, he gave a rough, clearing cough. “M’gonna—go find your dad.”

He was glad you didn’t try to approach him in public again. For a few hours, he felt something close to tranquillity—not fully, though, as he could still hear echoes of your voice in the silences. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye, he’d catch you orbiting near him, lurking in his peripheral vision, even though you sat at a different table.

Later in the night, he wandered upstairs in search of the bathroom, instead stumbling upon your father’s childhood bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he took the liberty to enter it, a familiar scent filling the room. He ran his fingers over the walls, still papered with posters he recognized well. It was as if time had paused there—everything remained as it had the last time he’d been in this very room. The framed portraits, the worn bedspread, and Stephen’s desk, scattered with foreign bills under a layer of glass, each one a memento from the different countries he had visited.

It was only a matter of time before you found him, a light knock on the open door drawing his attention. Joel turned on his heels, catching sight of you, acknowledging your presence with a slight bow of his head. You ambled toward him, curiosity alight in your steps, twisting the chain of your necklace, a restless gesture that betrayed the energy simmering beneath your calm exterior.

He scratched the back of his head, offering a half-hearted smile. “This isn’t the bathroom, right?” he joked, attempting a casual tone. The joke was a weak one, admittedly, but you laughed anyway, a nonchalant sound that showed the gleam of your teeth.

“No, I don’t think it is,” you replied, sliding onto the edge of the desk with an effortless ease. “What brought you here?”

“Birthday parties can be a bit overwhelmin', dontcha think?” 

“Totally.”

And then you went back to watching him, your eyes tracing his features with an almost stubborn intensity. 

“You gonna stop doin' that?” he asked, the words coming out sharper than he meant, though they didn't make you flinch.

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Lookin' at me all doe-eyed.” His voice didn’t waver, but he advanced in your direction. His knees nearly brushed against yours, the weathered denim grazing your bare skin, and only then did a flicker of uncertainty soften your confident stance. “Whatever it is you’re after, it’s not gonna happen. So quit tryin’.”

You drew in a slow breath, pushing yourself to your feet. “You sure about that?” Before he had the time to react, you were standing inches from him, your chest pressing against his, just close enough for him to feel the soft weight of your breasts. “Should I pretend, then, that I haven’t noticed you’ve been half-hard all night?”

Joel's jaw tightened, his teeth gritting almost painfully. His fists flexed by his sides, his entire body feeling heavier, muscles pulled taut by some invisible thread. "Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” You hooked a finger inside his belt loop, tugging him that much closer. Your breath, fresh and minty, mingled with the faint scent of your perfume, and he inhaled both, heady on the mix. “You’re gonna teach me a lesson?”

There was only so much patience a man like him could summon, and you were a thorn in his flesh, determined and unyielding. He leaned in, voice gruff as he uttered three words that made your brows knit together. “Close the door.” You stayed frozen, lips parting in surprise. “Did y’hear me? M’not into exhibitionism. Close. The. Door.”

You did as he asked, obliging, stepping back to close the door before returning to your place. Without warning, he turned you around, pressing your palms flat against the cool glass of the desk, a sharp chill that made you yelp. His hand settled firmly on your back, guiding you down until your chest was flush against the surface as well. In one swift motion, your shorts were gone, followed by your soaked panties, a damp spot where your arousal had begun to seep through.

He slipped his fingers inside you first, his hand covering your mouth to stifle the needy whimpers escaping your lips. The roughness of his beard grazed your cheek as he hovered over you, his breath hot in your ear as he spoke. “Bein’ too fuckin’ loud, doll.” Matching the rhythm of the slow drag of his fingers, his hips pressed forward, grinding against the curve of your ass, each movement making his mouth go dry. “Y’want this cock that bad?” He nipped at your throat, and you, against his sweaty palm, mumbled what could have only been a muffled Yes. “Then I need y’to keep real quiet for me, alright?”

His jeans and boxers hung around his knees, his cock leaking and throbbing at the tip. Joel realized what true desperation felt like, dangerously close to busting his load at any given moment before even getting the chance to be fully inside you. On top of the desk, your body trembled, and you reached back, pulling your top higher up to bare more of yourself to him. He unclasped your bra with one hand, while his other guided him to your entrance, his lips pressing reverently against your spine as he pushed inside, savoring the heat of your walls wrapping around him for the first time. It certainly didn’t feel like anything he’d ever experienced in his fifty-six years of life.

It had been short, and harsh, and fast. Borderline animalistic, what experts would label as a quick fuck. The moment he breached your entrance, you begged for more, fucking yourself back onto him until his thighs met your skin. You acted as if possessed by a greater entity, diabolic, though Joel didn’t mind it. He relished it, welcomed it. But he couldn’t let you take the reins. He asserted his dominance, snapping his hips forward with a force that drew moans from the depths of your lungs. He was the one in control, driving himself deeper and deeper within you. Suffice it to say you seemed to love it, if the sounds he elicited from you were anything to go by.

It was what you wanted, what you needed. One way or another, he’d caught onto what those lingering glances throughout the party had signified. Every glance you’d thrown his way had been leading to this—a silent promise that whatever was happening had been destined to be the night’s climax.

You bit down on his palm as you reached your peak, tightening around him, and perhaps it was the thrill of it all, the knowledge that he’d need far more time to become well acquainted with your body, that had him chasing after you. Holding back until you came had been a feat, pulling out seconds prior to his release, stroking his length once before painting your skin with his seed. A low, primal groan escaped him as he slid his length between your cheeks, prolonging his high, each heated pulse marking you in a way that felt undeniably his.

As he regained his composure, he watched you swirl your thumb along your lower back, collecting a trace of his release, and bringing it to your lips to have a taste of him. You softly laughed when he cursed under his breath, turning your face lazily to the side. “Damn minx y’are,” he rasped, closing the gap between your mouths, his claiming yours in an urgent kiss. Your mewls faded beneath the insistent press of his mouth as he sought to suppress the strange pull in his guts, reluctant to confront the unfamiliar sensations churning within him.

Things wrapped up quickly after that. You both returned to your places, resuming the roles you’d stepped out of briefly: Joel had been in the bathroom; you had been on the phone with a friend. When he reappeared downstairs minutes after you, no one thought twice about his slightly damp hair.

For the remainder of the party, the two of you exchanged no further words. The time for him to leave came, and he offered only a nod of his head across the packed living room. It was a farewell only Joel would give, a subtle acknowledgment that left you wondering about its meaning. There were no explanations, no parting words.

The next time he saw your father, the mere thought of seeing you again terrified him. If it’d happened once, then the temptation would still remain undiminished, strong enough to awaken the lust and the longing veiled in silence. But you weren’t there anymore—back in New York, focused on finishing your semester at college. The surprise must have been evident on Joel’s face, a bewilderment that prompted Stephen to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Remember I told you she hasn’t graduated yet?”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember now,” he said, wishing to convince both your father and himself.

You were out of the picture, no longer around. Yet, the two of you now shared a secret. You still do, to this day. He’s no stranger to the notion that some things never seem to change. After all, he’s a creature of habit—same breakfast every morning, same brand of bread he’s been buying for years. Like all his other preferences, he’s come to realize he likes his women a certain way. And though he hates to admit it, you fit the bill perfectly.

Betty, Stephen’s mother, was turning eighty-five tonight. A seat with Joel’s name was saved at the big table; they wanted him there, his best friend and his best friend’s mother. How nice it was to actually feel wanted. He liked that feeling. Still, he’d had to bite his tongue when your father mentioned you’d be there, too. You had graduated at long last, with your birthday having been just a couple of weeks ago.

“Can’t believe she’s twenty-five already,” Stephen muttered with a chuckle, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Sitting beside him, Joel gripped the arm of his chair, sinking his nails into it. “Me neither, man.”

His choices had led him to this moment. The clinking of glasses rings in his ears, blending with laughter and the rich aroma of food that fills the air. None of it manages to distract him. He can't help but track you down, eyes scanning the room, relentless in their pursuit of yours. The need to see you goes beyond any shred of restraint he might have faked to have. Joel can’t muster the decorum to feign indifference—God, not when you’re near, when the pull toward you feels like gravity itself. He’s keenly, almost painfully aware, that he’s not even pretending to be indifferent, his interest etched plainly in the way his gaze persists, refusing to pull away.

It’s his first time seeing you in a year. A lot can change in that span of time. He can’t help but be amazed, because you look just the same as you did back then. Only your hair’s a touch shorter. He wonders if it’s even noticeable, or if he’s just spent so long memorizing your features that he’s losing his sanity. He bets it’s the latter.

A light pressure on his shoulder makes Joel jump, breaking down his reverie. He turns quickly, eyes widening. "Betty," he exhales, patting his chest with a smile, eyebrows lifted. "Jeez. Y’scared me."

“Y’alright, Joely? Y’look a bit pale.” The older woman reaches up, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead with a gentle familiarity. Through her lens, he’s still young. “Doesn’t seem like you’ve got a fever, though.”

"That’s ‘cause I’m not sick." Joel takes her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "How’s everythin’ goin’ so far? Got all these people together just t’celebrate ya’."

"It’s a wonderful night, sweetheart. So happy y’found the time t’be here," she replies, pinching his cheek in that affectionate way that earns her a quiet laugh from him. Her eyes then catch sight of a familiar figure. "Oh, look who's here. If it isn’t my beautiful granddaughter."

He stops smiling. In fact, he thinks he even stops breathing for a second as you intrude yourself into the scene, settling yourself beside your grandmother, flashing him a knowing grin. “I was getting kind of bored with the little ones.” 

“Y’know Joel, right, dear?”

“Yes.” A pause, a beat you draw out between breaths. “Yes, I do.”

Betty leans his way, her warm hand still on him. “Have y’heard the latest news? This young lady just graduated.”

“Stephen told me,” he answers, looking up at you with a reserved nod. “Congrats, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

There’s that damn name again. Were he alone with you, he’d laugh in your face, but he can’t. Under the scrutiny of family and friends, he knows he’s cornered. Joel’s starting to believe you think you’re untouchable, that there are no consequences to your actions. You might look the same, maybe a little older, but that teasing, provocative spark in your eye hasn’t changed a bit.

“Always so polite, my child,” Betty says, cupping your cheek with a light pinch, a grandmotherly gesture perfected over the years which she seems to repeat often. “Any boyfriends back in New York?”

This would, without a doubt, be the perfect moment for him to excuse himself and stand up—a conversation he’d rather not be privy to. But with you positioned right in front of him, escape isn’t an option. “Still single, grandma,” you respond unfazed, as if you know exactly what you’re doing. “No one to worry about. Better like this, anyway.”

“But what’s the problem? There aren’t any boys y’like?”

He doesn’t even know what makes him say it—some impulse, some hidden tension surfacing—but he jumps in, his voice carrying a slight, sardonic edge. “Boys are more foolish than ever these days, Betty. Surely y’wouldn’t want her to settle for the first idiot who crosses her path.”

Betty clutches his arm, shaking her head in feigned shock. “Oh, not at all! It’s all about waitin’ for the right person. There’s no rush, for either of you. You’re still on your own, Joely?”

Time to drink again. He drains the last drops of alcohol remaining in his glass, feeling your eyes on him, intense and searing, and then he clears his throat, swallowing down the words he’d rather say. “Affirmative.”

“Well,” she sighs contentedly, patting each of your hands as though binding you both with some invisible thread. “Just means y’two have to wait a bit longer, right? Time has its way.” She chuckles, eyes soft with memory, turning to you. “Darlin’, this man here was quite the heartbreaker in his day. He and your dad would find all kinds of trouble with the ladies!”

“How so?” You cross your arms, playfully tilting your chin up. “Joel Miller, the charmer of the town?”

“Guess I’ve been known t’make a fool of myself,” he shoots back, silently cursing the moment he missed his chance to slip away. “Stephen got more fans than I did, though.”

“I did what?” Joel feels an elbow nudging his back, and there’s his friend, grinning in his usual easy way.

Joel's luck in life had been more bruised than blessed, a string of hardships that seemed amplified compared to what most people experienced. Being drawn in by you—in which category did that fall? Good luck or bad? He couldn't decide. Every glance and delicate smile you aimed his way stirred something reckless within him. Was it pure thrill, or a warning?

He laughs every time Stephen cracks a joke, but he’s barely listening, his mind half-tethered to the present. It’s like he’s watching himself from afar, observing his reactions as if he were an outsider. He isn’t stoned or drunk, just acutely mindful of your presence. He catches himself peeking up at you from where he sits, jaw tight, his brow creased. You meet his gaze with a slight squint, a polite look that hides something far more dangerous.

Boys are more foolish than ever these days. He’s sure of that much. They’re young, untested. But what about him? He’s no model of virtue, either. He’s made his share of mistakes, left good women behind—women who were willing to love him in spite of his flaws. They’d seen through the layers he wore like armor, and yet, in the end, he couldn’t hold on to any of them. He carried the ghosts of every past life, fragments of who he’d been and what he’d left behind, and he knew those shadows weren’t for everyone.

A thought pierces through him, sharp and sobering: what would Sarah think? His lovely daughter, grown and settled into her own life, would likely be mortified to know her father’s infatuation with a twenty-something. The weight of that realization sinks into his chest, and that seems to be his last straw.

He can’t possibly take it anymore. Rising from his chair, he mutters something to Stephen about needing fresh air and makes his way to the backyard door, exhaling deeply and gripping his car keys. The cool night air hits him, stepping outside, a temporary relief as he heads toward his truck.

Just as he’s about to open the door, he hears your voice. You call his name, your tone soft but distinct. He doesn’t turn, only lets out a long, weary sigh. “What?”

“Where are you going?” You stop a few steps behind him, watching the way his shoulders visibly tense. “Are you mad at me?”

“What?” He faces you, almost snapping his neck in his rush to look at you. “Why would I be—I’m not mad at ya’.”

“Then what’s wrong? Why are you leaving so early?” 

He scrubs a hand over his nape, fingers pressing into the tension gathered there. “Would y’like me t’break it down for ya’, how messed up this is?” His gaze drops to the ground, unable to meet yours. “I’m riskin’ the only real friendship I’ve had here for… for somethin’ that I can’t even wrap my head ‘round. This isn’t okay, no matter which way I look at it.”

In that moment, it’s as if reality pulls you under. The mask of subtle, practiced arrogance falls apart, scattering in fragments around you. He watches, waiting for you to gather them up, to hide behind that composed veneer again. But you don’t move. You leave the pieces where they lie. Instead, you confront his gaze, unguarded, and ask, “Do you regret what happened between us?”

Another question. You seem to be full of them. They just keep coming, one after the other, as if you already had them prepared. I don’t, he thinks to himself, but would it do you any good if you knew it? “Don’ start with those mental games.”

“Then come back inside.”

“I know myself well enough to know what’s gonna happen if I do that, darlin’.”

Neither of you breaks the silence that’s settled between you, thick as the night air. You slip your hands into the pockets of your jacket, shoulders slightly hunched, head hanging. Once again, like all those times before, he’s struck by how young you are compared to him. The difference stretches between you like a chasm, bridged only by these stolen moments. The weight of his years presses down on him, the choices he’s made—the mistakes and the half-hearted attempts to mend them. He’s got decades on you, three of them to be precise.

Joel never thought of himself as an ever-lasting free spirit, the kind of man who clings to youth or pretends to be something he’s not. Right now, with you here, he feels reckless, like a boy again. Stupid, impulsive, like the foolish young men he used to shake his head at—the very ones he’d warned your grandmother about.

“You left without even saying goodbye last time,” you mumble, low but clear, as you scuff the toe of your shoe against the grass. “And now you’re doing it again.”

He inhales sharply, clenching his keys, feeling the edges of the brass biting into his palm. For a moment, he thinks the sharpness will give him something to hold onto, but he knows the sting is nothing more than a weak anchor. “You’re a smart girl. Don’ need me to spell this out.”

“I know exactly what you mean, trust me. I get it.”

“Then why do you keep pushing?” His pent-up exasperation slips through despite himself, and he can see the hurt flicker across your face, the way your forehead barely puckers as his words hit harder than intended.

Even as you look away, a trace of that hurt fading, you stand firm. You shake your head after a beat, seemingly trying to brush off your doubts and confusion. Joel can’t decipher if you’re feigning innocence—if you are, he thinks, you could be one hell of an actress. “I don’t know. I guess I want to see how far this can go.”

You take a small step forward, testing the waters. Your feet move cautiously, not aiming to scare him off. Each step draws you nearer until there’s only a whisper of space between you, close enough for him to catch your scent, and he has to force himself to peer down to meet your eyes. They hold a quiet intensity: pleading, wide and earnest, already trained on him. Gleaming like two lone stars cutting through a moonless, empty sky. 

It baffles him, the question forming unbidden in his mind. He goes even further, can’t help but wonder: why him? What is it that you see in him? What makes you keep coming back for more? You’ve already had a taste, a story you could tuck away, a secret to be shared with your friends someday around a campfire. So why, he would like to know, are you still here, seeking something from a man like him?

“I like you,” you blurt out, fingers drifting to skim over the worn fabric of his flannel, almost hesitantly. That tentative gesture sparks something raw in him, a low rumble of desire that feels like it’s been lying dormant for too long. Heat pulses through him, hot blood racing through his veins, awakening every nerve, each beat of his heart more insistent than the last one. “I think you like me, too.”

“You’re insufferable,” he bites out through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching so hard it nearly hurts. He closes his eyes, half hoping you’ll disappear, that he’ll find some reason, any reason, to call this off. Though when he opens them, you’re still there, waiting, unshaken. “I wish I knew how to stop this. How to walk away.”

“That’s not what you want.”

“We don’ always get what we want, kid. You’ll figure that out soon enough.” He means it as a warning, but even he hears the way his voice falters, his defenses crumbling in the face of your unflinching state.

You let out a slow sigh, your arms falling to your sides, eyes roaming over his features as if you’re memorizing every line. Your focus dips to his mouth. “Maybe,” you murmur, and he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin. “But some things are worth fighting for. And sometimes, those who don’t give up… get the best in the end.”

With a gentleness that stuns him, you lean in, bringing your lips to his in a featherlight kiss. You pull away, and he helplessly notices the way your lips part, how your breath hitches, and for a split second, the guilt becomes palpable, the significance of wanting a woman he knows he shouldn’t. You stand there, chest rising and falling, skin tingling, a faint trail of goosebumps visible where your neckline meets your chest. 

Apart from the glint in your eyes, he catches the persistent, quiet ache of want. He isn’t sure if it’s just physical attraction, if it runs deeper, or if that’s all it is for him, either. He doesn’t need to know. The simplicity of it all is a short-lived relief. It’s an easy escape, though, this bare minimum of understanding—you want him, he wants you. Let it be enough for one more moment, for tonight, just another memory he’ll have to lock away. Yet he’s aware, deep down, of his own pattern: promises broken just as easily as they’re made. He’s only fooling himself. The part of him that knows this isn’t something he’ll let go of so easily sits there, silently taunting him, daring him to make another compromise he won’t keep.

From where you remain frozen, he’s certain you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs every possible outcome. “It’s gonna happen, isn’t it?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and before you can react, his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and turning you toward the car door. The cool metal pressing against your back startles a gasp out of you, but the suddenness only heightens everything—the heat of his body, the toughness of his hold. 

He doesn’t waste time with words, having always been a man of action. His hand cradles your face, inspecting your features to later crush his mouth against yours. Your tongue finds his without hesitation, seeking him out, hungry and unrestrained. He savors your eagerness, the way your hands roam over him, clutching at his shirt, tugging him closer by the belt until your lower halves are pressed tightly. The taste of beer and mint clings to your lips, and a husky groan rumbles from him as your fingers find their place in the longer strands at the nape of his neck, twisting and pulling him impossibly closer. 

He could lose himself in this, the simple, electric thrill of kissing you, how you fit so perfectly against him. Hours could slip by, and he wouldn’t mind, but then reality pulls him back; it’s too exposed here, right outside his truck where anyone could stumble upon you. “Get in the car,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, fumbling to unlock the door. It takes him three tries, and he chuckles, feeling the warmth of your laughter beside him as you tease him.

Once inside, his mouth finds yours again, this time more urgently, his hand pressing against your back, tracing the line of your spine through the clothes. “Tell me y’want this,” he breathes, his kisses trailing down your throat, latching onto the tender skin there. “C’mon, baby. Tell me y’want it. Tell me y’want me.”

A soft, breathy sound escapes you as his mouth fixates on that sensitive spot just below your ear. You tilt your hips instinctively, craving contact in search of relief, and he shifts you onto his lap, guiding your thighs to settle over his. Desperately working to undo the buttons of his shirt, yearning to uncover him, you pant against his cheek. “J-Jesus Christ, I need you. Please, touch me. Anything will do. Just—”

He’s silently grateful for your choice of a dress tonight. It makes things easier for him, and he gets right to it, bunching the fabric around your waist, hands roaming over the soft skin of your hips before moving his fingers lower, tracing teasing lines over your clothed center. He can’t fully make out the murmured words you breathe into his ear, but your voice drives him like a lighthouse guides a sinking ship, and he adjusts his movements, pressing with more intention. The only sounds filling the car are his ragged breaths and your gasping moans, and he holds you close to his chest, cooing softly as you start to rock into his hand, asking for more. 

His fingers find their rhythm, circling your clit in deliberate flicks. Joel watches as you unravel, trembling in his arms, a hint of drool spreading over his shoulder from your parted lips on his skin. His grip tightens as he tugs your underwear down your legs, grinning when you kick them impatiently to the floor of the car. Now, as he strokes his digits up and down your folds, you turn to putty on his lap. In another world, he’d have you laid out in his bed, enjoying each inch of your body. But here, in the cramped, dim backseat, he keeps the lights off. He knows it’s reckless, yet that barely slows him down. His cock throbs at the very risk of getting caught, at the edge he’s walking just to have you like this.

“Goddamn, you’re soaked, aren’t ya’?” He doesn’t expect you to answer, at least not in any coherent way. He sinks his middle finger into your bare heat, searching your face in the dark, contemplating the fluttering of your lashes. His hand weaves into your hair, a firm tug guiding your gaze to his. Your head tips back, a moan spilling from your lips at the new sensation, rolling your hips into his palm with earnestness. “It’s gonna be a tight fit, huh? If this is how you’re grippin’ my fingers, I can’t imagine what that cunt’s gonna feel like wrapped ‘round me.”

Studies suggest that in those final, fleeting moments of life, memories flood the human mind—a last journey through a person’s years before crossing over. If he were to die after tonight, he knows your face would be there, etched into his last breath. He can almost picture it: struggling for air, teetering on the edge, with that reddish, towering figure of mortality looming over him. But even then, he’d find solace in the thought of you, thrown into oblivion. You’d grant him a last-minute reprieve, easing the ache. You’d be the one who’d hold back the shadows. This constitutes the apex of his life, and he knows he should be worried, yet intellectual dominance doesn’t stand much of a chance when confronting the heart of a man. Not when that heart, so long starved of its pulse, has finally found someone worth remembering.

He makes space for himself, thrusting his long fingers into you until he’s got your slick coating his palm. One hand settles firmly at the small of your back, guiding your movements, while he feels his collected composure faltering. You mouth at the rough stubble along his jawline when you start to get close, breathless whimpers clouding his thoughts. “Joel,” you call out to him, as if that alone would make wonders. “Oh, fuck. Please, I waited a whole year. I need to come.”

A whole year. You were his once a year, and he was yours, a bittersweet ritual bound by time. He never would’ve thought this party could bring him such pleasure, though he can’t pretend he’s against it. Last time, he hadn’t taken the chance to pull you under and make you fall apart as many times as he’d wanted. He’s intent on making up for that missed opportunity, determined to make you enjoy every moment.

He withdraws his fingers abruptly, and a sharp laugh nearly escapes him at your reaction. You reach instinctively, grabbing for his hand, trying to guide him back to where he belongs between your legs. But he’s already moving, maneuvering you down until you’re lying on your back, fully under his command. He lowers himself, replacing his fingers with the warm insistence of his mouth. The sound that escapes your lips as his mouth presses against your center is nothing short of a scream—a wild cry that fills the space around you. He’s grateful he parked far from the other guests, because that sound would turn more than a few heads. 

Joel laps at your arousal as if it's the fountain of youth, the very essence of everything pure and precious in the world. He presses down on your thighs until they rest on either side of him, unclamping your legs from around his head. The suppleness of your skin feels divine under his fingertips, and he brushes his thumbs over your trembling form, coaxing you into calmness, to let him have his way with you at his own pace. It's an absurd paradox—aiming to soothe you while his mouth continues its fervent worship, tracing intricate patterns against your most sensitive flesh. His beard, streaked with gray and freshly trimmed, glistens with your slick, and Joel smolders with all-consuming passion.

When his friends had told him to go out more, maybe find someone to date, he's certain they didn't mean this. The smart choice (scratch that: the correct one) would have been to pursue a woman his own age. But fuck it—he's spent a lifetime doing what's right. Every road he might've taken would've led him here, to this moment, with you. Part of him believes he must still have something left, some spark of appeal. To have a pretty little thing like you, so eager, so willing, offering yourself to him? He has to have something. His knees ache from where he kneels on the unforgiving surface, but the burn is inconsequential, and he’ll endure anything to be what you need.

Joel trails his hand up your body, over the curve of your breast, before gently groping it, his palm covering yours in a shared grip. He runs the tip of his tongue along your folds, his saliva mingling with your wetness, aquiline nose grazing your sensitive bud. “You’re tellin’ me you’re this tight ‘cause you’ve been savin’ yourself for me? You do know what t’say t’make a man happy.” He spreads you open slowly, his gaze lingering on the way your cunt glistens, a sense of satisfaction rippling through him. You remain silent, your breath shallow. “Still with me, sugar?”

“It’s just that—I’m so close.” You bite back a moan, nails digging into the soft leather of the seat. Joel hums in response, his lips closing around your clit. Agitation flickers across your face as you try to grind your hips against his mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

The pressure is gone as he notices your thighs quivering again, his movements halting immediately.

“No, Joel. Please—”

“You’ll come when I tell ya’.”

He’s having the time of his life. Damn right he is.

He suddenly realizes he's still dressed from head to toes, the heat building in his body becoming too much to ignore. With a frustrated grunt, he undoes his belt, yanking the metal zipper down, longing to rid himself of the constricting denim. A strangled noise escapes him as you suck on his neck, fisting his base, giving him a few purposeful tugs.

“Now, you’re gonna ride me,” he murmurs, making a pause to shrug his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor of the car, “and you’re gonna like it. Don’ want you t’hold back this time, understood?”

His back ends up against one of the fogged-up windows. The air is thick with the apparent scent of sex—a phrase he’d only ever heard in movies, but now, it’s undeniably real. Joel holds his cock, aligning the tip with your entrance as his lips crash against yours in a hungry kiss. A deep groan escapes him, vibrating over your mouth, nipping at your lower lip. The sensation intensifies when your wet interior welcomes him, velvet walls molding to his size. Your brows scrunch together at the stretch, a choked whimper catching in your throat. As your hips sink fully, your ass flush against his thighs, your body clenches around him, that abrupt tightness drawing a stuttering gasp from him.

“For God’s sake,” he exhales, the words rough as his forehead bumps into yours. His hand splays over your ribcage, fingers curling slightly. “Sweetheart, you’re—killin’ me here.”

“I can feel you everywhere,” you huff, your arms looping around his neck to pull him closer, holding your breath. He takes the moment to capture your nipple between his swollen lips, leaving a shiny trail of spit in his wake. You lift yourself, the motion teasing, before sinking back down onto his lap, taking him in fully. “Can feel you in my stomach.”

When you begin to move, Joel loses track of everything else. Time seems to stretch, bending and reshaping itself each time his tip finds some hidden place inside you. He’s fifty-six years old, yet in this moment, his soul feels infinite. Invincible. He brings his hand to your lips, thumb grazing over them before slipping inside. Your warm tongue envelopes it, and when you start to suck dutifully, muffling your moans, his body jerks in response. His eyes drift to your glistening chest, where a sheen of sweat makes your skin glow in the dim light. You’re the most captivating woman he’s ever seen, and he knows he’ll never look at anyone the same again. He can’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way your body merges with his, the way you undulate your hips on top of him.

You move back and forth, and he drives into you, filling you to the brim with every calculated thrust. He thrusts upward, stealing the air from your lungs, the sharp motion making you sputter as your body struggles to keep up with his.

“That’s it.” His voice is a husky growl as he wraps his arms tightly around your back, your chests sticking together with sweat. His pace quickens, the rhythm becoming more insistent. “Takin’ it like a good girl. You feel exquisite, baby. Makin’ me lose my fuckin’ mind.”

“So big inside me,” you pant, your own pace faltering as you surrender to Joel’s unforgiving tempo. His hooded eyes flicker to yours, catching the way your pupils have swallowed up your irises, dark and blown wide with desire. A shiver runs through him as your fingers dig into his shoulders, your grip leaving faint crescents in his skin. “Missed your cock so much, Mr. Miller.”

Fuck, not that shit. If it’s possible, he grows impossibly harder. He pounds into you with renewed intensity this time, his singular goal to leave you speechless, boneless, completely undone. He wants you limp and shuddering, with nothing left to give. “Enough of that.” His hands find their place on the soft globes of your ass, molding and squeezing until the pressure has you mewling, the sweet sound shooting straight through him. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “Responsive everywhere, honey. Have any idea how much fun I’m gonna have with ya’?”

Who would’ve believed him back then? It proves this isn’t some once-in-a-lifetime fluke. It happened before, and now it’s happening again. He might as well surrender to it—accept his fate and move through the motions like a man resigned to what’s already written.

There’s a moment when your moans sharpen, turning high-pitched and dazed, and the way you constrict him sends his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, a guttural noise tearing from his chest. His movements still, clutching your waist to pin you in place, denying you the chance to move, to bounce on him.

Then you break. A sob wracks your body, tears spilling over and tracing hot paths down your cheeks. They gather, fusing together as they slide along your throat and pool in the hollow of your jaw before disappearing lower. “Asshole,” you hiss, the word fragile as you push your face into the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in his embrace.

“Sorry? Couldn’t catch that.” He makes sure to keep you securely tucked under his chin, tilting his lower half upward. “If you want me t’stop, just say the world and I will.”

He’s messing with you, plain and simple. He doesn’t actually expect you to take his words at face value. But you do, grinding down harder, impaling yourself further on the length of his cock, and your arousal trickles down, slicking the coarse hair of his thighs.  “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” Slotting your mouth over his, you attempt to move, chasing any sort of friction against your clit. Sadly, pleasure doesn’t come on its own—it’s Joel who can make you feel good, and he’s not obliging. His hand seizes your hair in a rough grasp, tugging sharply. Eyes fluttering shut, you hunch forward, submitting to the sharp edge of his control.

“What an impatient little thing y’are.” Joel grabs your thighs and turns you over, your back pressed against the leather seat. The brusque shift pulls him out of you, the cool air a cruel tease before he taps his head against your swollen folds, then fills you again in one powerful thrust, kissing your cervix in the process. A deep moan rips from your lungs, deep and guttural, as your legs tremble uncontrollably on either side of him. Your ankles dig into his back, fervent to keep him close. His balls rest heavy against your skin, full and aching for release. “Gonna give ya’ what y’want, okay? You’ve been on your best behavior,” he mumbles with his lips stuck to your forehead. “That’s a good girl. Think she deserves to come after all.”

Only then does he find his rhythm again, ramming into your drooling hole. For the third time tonight, he’s captivated by how you teeter on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. He has you eating out of his hand, taking all that he offers, and you do so willingly. He knows he could ask you for anything, and in exchange for an orgasm coaxed by him, you'd comply without thinking twice. In many ways, he’s not so different. He gathers some of your saliva, using it to moisten his fingers before slipping them between your bodies, rubbing your clit as he continues to hit your bundle of nerves. Where his stamina comes from, he has no clue, though he’s determined to keep pushing.

Your face becomes a living poem, each cry of yours adding to its verse. Your head nearly reaches the door, but he cradles it with his arm, ensuring you don’t hurt yourself. “Close,” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes from falling shut. “Joel, please. Let me—”

“Give it to me, darlin’.” Another thrust, another moan. “Drench me, c’mon. That’s what y’want, isn’t it? To come all over this cock?”

The way he’s worked you up has its rewards, leading to a release that feels like an eruption. You bite down on his shoulder, your cries growing louder, chanting his name without pause. It loses all meaning after being chanted so many times, but the way you say it still has an undeniable weight. He doesn’t mind it one bit, not when he’s finishing right after you plead him to fill you. His jaw hangs open as ropes of his seed spill inside you, and he sags against your frame, giving short thrusts to push his cum deeper into your warmth, your pussy milking him dry.

“Oh, God…” he groans, fumbling with one of your breasts, holding onto something for dear life. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Don’t pull out yet,” you say, grinning when you feel him twitch. “Stay a little longer.”

Too personal. Too intimate—dangerous in his books. Normally, he'd tuck himself back into his briefs, drive the woman he’s slept with home, and that would be the end of it. No happy endings in his story. So he’s surprised when he supports his weight on his forearms, claiming your lips in a voracious encounter of tongues and teeth. He caresses your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, and you sigh contentedly.

The two of you lapse into a heavy silence after that. He clears his throat, and says: “I should’ve asked you for your number that one time.” In the heat of the act, he’s being too honest. Regret will come knocking on his door once his excitement fades. His eyes bore into yours, dubious. “M’sorry for that.”

“Well, you could ask me for it now,” you admit from beneath him, and Joel pulls away for a moment, trying to gauge if you’re serious. He doesn’t think you’re joking. “To make up for lost time.”

This must be the onset of something else. He can't quite put it into words, but he feels it in his chest, in every place where your skin merges with his. He's no fortune teller, and there's no way for him to know where this path will take him, whether it leads to ruin or salvation. Though in this moment, he doesn't care—not now, at least.

At last, Joel blindly reaches for the pocket of his jeans with one arm. “How long are you stayin’ in Austin?”

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[anantaru]

DAY 2 — CUNNILINGUS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — heizou, venti, scaramouche, xiao

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, oral (fem! receiving), face sitting, fingering, really messy just how we like it <3, feral anemo boys who tease you but are so damn in love with you

𖧡 — HEIZOU

heizou watches you writhe under him as he kisses your clit, it's piercing, and he swiftly sheds his shirt before taking more action, yet the renowned detective works unhurriedly and oh, it drives you insane, his ability to make you both frustrated yet also lust and open for him had your blood boil through your veins— and each button he'd undo of his shirt, so painfully slow, it's wonderful when it reveals more of him, his milky, flawless skin showing off his chest.

you lick your lips, closing your eyes, noticing a low, continued knock in the pit of your stomach when he slants his face into your cunt again. you taste the desire pressuring your sex, a hot blaze bristling inside your doused core as heizou sinks his tongue on your hole, licking up a long, slow glide from bottom to top, the taste of you so delightful, he feels himself become hard just from the mere connection of your slick settling heavy on his muscle, clinging onto him and tasting slightly bitter on his tongue. 

and well, his tight pants, so bothersome, seem tighter and all the more bothersome in a sudden glimpse down, his thudding erection beginning to press and rub against the mattress and oh, you see how he was slowly beginning to hump the bed, secondary to buckling his tongue over your folds, your liquids making his mouth water and more craving, more desiring. heizou was passionate about eating you out and fulfilling your needs, obsessed with having you rut your hips into his mouth until you're cumming all over, driven by the thought of pleasing his darling until you're writhing and shaking underneath his scorching handle.

low moans split from your mouth as you look down on your boyfriend having his amorous eyes set on you, with that damned smirk on his smooth lips again, fingers grasping desperately at your thighs as you arch your back off the mattress, slanting your head back against the pillows as each and every flick of heizou's feverish, fast tongue, rattles fiery sparks of bliss inside your bones.

𖧡 — VENTI

you're just so hard to resist, venti thinks, it makes him push his groin into his palm whenever he sees you gleefully sway around diluc's tavern— all confident and almost, shameless, as if you were making sure he's getting a real good look on you, so he could imagine himself fucking you afterwards, in his dreams at least, or that's what you originally intended to induce on him.

but without delay, in your present dilemma, you could doubtlessly smack yourself against the head— the reason you ask? a simple one although quite troublesome. your, for the most part, strong willpower in resisting the anemo archon, had slowly but surely faded away and left behind your rational thinking skills to fight alone that now— you were right underneath his unbearably hot trace, your pretty tits being graciously fondled with while venti shamelessly moans into your pussy, striking his tongue against your hole like a sweltering surge taking you captive, outbreaking a spreading swell inside the pit of your stomach before inserting the skilled muscle inside, fucking his tip in and out of your pussy.

barbatos likes what he sees, especially what he hears, with your gasps having now reached a higher pitch and tune, most importantly the second he wiggles his head from left to right to capture your slick on well, on his whole face— do not misunderstand, he doesn't believe he's done a most adequate job if not before you're claiming his cheeks and chin, let alone his throat and mind with your gummed liquids clinging on his flesh.

you're jerking your hips into his mouth, head spinning and in need of fresh oxygen, "v-venti... archons.." and his fast suckles continue to nurture the knot in your stomach as you close your eyes due to exhaustion, your hole clamping down around his tongue as best as possible, bordering on feeling the impending orgasm flourish on your skin.

but the man suddenly cocks a brow at you, stilling his lips on your pussy, just for a second, "archons?" he laughs with a mocking tune hidden behind his wording, full of jest, in a shade like gravel, his fingers pressing themselves into the fat of your thighs before kissing your clit, breezing down and glissading his tongue on your folds, adding yet another kiss of adoration, whilst ending it right above your tight hole.

in shock, you suck in your breath through braced teeth when venti suddenly decides to pull a finger inside your little hole flickering around the slender digit, "hey.. it's okay." he coos, biting his lip, "your archon, *barbatos*, takes care of you." and your eyes swiftly flare down at him— how desperately you craved to rub that smirk off his face, whilst also regretting moaning out your words from earlier.

stirring and feeling the heaviness of a finger, or the sound of his digit meeting and bulking deep inside, on top of that being "punished" with wet, sloppy sucks of venti occupying your clit, each of his special kisses trash your body to a new faculty of discovering a sharpness to your active pleasure— it's too much and too late now, everything he inflicted on you made you open up a lot more.

therefore, what else was there really to be expected from the so called god of anemo?

𖧡 — SCARAMOUCHE

between one second and the next, you climb on top of scaramouche, to be specific, on his darling face that was anticipating for you to sit down on him— above all, whenever he needed your thighs to wholly engulf his head, kuni tells you to sit down with your flesh sticking onto him, so he could taste you, fundamentally jerk and lurch his tongue on each specific flutter of your warm, wet pussy.

he makes a low, thoughtful noise before helping you lower yourself on him, licking his lips in eagerness, alighting his hands on top of your trembling thighs. your throat was tied with need and the expectation of him to start pleasing you, just like he always did, your whole body vibrating the very moment he pries his tongue against your folds.

his eyes— half lidded, focused on you, and scaramouche notices a spark of proudness housing in his chest when you throw your head back because of him, your fingers instantly searching for his silken hair to keep him squished close against you.

scaramouche was shameless, groaning and pummeling your pussy against his face just how he wanted, no, desired it. it's both terribly sweet and blisteringly hot when he hollows his cheeks to suck on your clit and feel how it's becoming more swollen, in combination with his slender hands touching up and down your chest, immediately finding your exposed tits— whilst your eyes fall at the touch, captivated, to where his palms fondle your breasts and hungrily feel up the mounds, his digits being stretched so tightly against the entire skin that you're feeling how your cunt was turning hypersensitive, sobbing uncontrollably with a light coating of sweat on your forehead becoming visible.

faster and faster, you gloss your swelled pussy against his tongue, though you know him so well and he keeps your hips in place, demonstrating how it's really done, hard and fast, pushing your core back and forth his lips before swiftly pulling you away— just for a second, to collect his breath while you're looming over him all panting with your heart thudding fast under your ribcage, engraving his expression in your clouded psyche, his flustered cheeks evolving in a delicate pink blush, sweat and your lubricants snugged on his skin as he watches you through low, desiring eyes.

"don't hold back." he almost whispers his utters out to you, but the strong, dominant color of his voice was present, holding you hostage, "it feels good, right?" he asks now, the huffs of his breath on you, warm and humid, touching your inflamed pussy and having you sob out at the loss of contact, the immediate craving to have his tongue back on you.

"it does.. it feels so good."

you bite back a moan when he places a kiss on your cunt, and whine out the very words he wanted to make you say out loud, the very ones he needed to listen to before he was able to actually continue and have you cum on his tongue.

you say, "i won't hold back— i promise." and slowly, the heat was growing in your belly and expanding when scaramouche clicks his tongue at your words, but he nods right afterwards, humming before licking a heavy, straight line inside your folds again.

"you better keep your promise." he mumbles out, barely perceivable if not for the vibrations on your sex having you twitch your body together, almost crumbling right above him, yet not now, scaramouche thinks— you will cum soon enough, and if you didn't know any better his previous words sounded like a threat, but for that, there wasn't much time to think about it, nor did you really care, because in this night, your hips couldn't stop aching and moving strongly on his face, whilst scaramouche drags your cunt against his mouth, gulping out raggedly for air.

𖧡 — XIAO

there was never one way or the other with adeptus xiao, because the way he saw it, he had to use it both at the same time— well, by that, he means that while having his long, slick fingers knuckles deep inside your little hole, stretching you in ways you had long since forgotten as his lips are tightly sealed on your clit.

the sounds of his tongue sliding over and under your wet pussy was exhilarating, the visual perception of it alone, xiao taking your cunt in his hot mouth, owning you with his slippy muscle and assuring himself you're having the fathomless pleasure inscribed in your trembling frame, for decades on end.

you swallow shakily, cupping a hand behind xiao's head as you cry out at the intensity, it's utterly unreal— and the pleasure almost vaults out of your body and mind by how he's darting his tongue along the fat of your folds before suckling down harshly, adding another finger all of a sudden, making it two in total, listening to you hiccuping out blissfully as a strong jolt of bliss roars through your entire skin, setting your body aflame.

xiao sees no reason as to waste more time then, slipping his hot mouth against the entire nerve bundles of your silken pussy before curling his fingers up, sucking on your clit just right— suddenly having a sneaky idea greet him; he starts grazing at the skin, only distantly, obviously he was aware on how sensitive you were down there, yet the man glances up at you when he feels how light pain fizzes through your aching core, bristling into parts of bottomless shocks of pleasure like electrical charges, your eyes glassy and red at the edges of your half-closed vision.

you lose your cool, working your pretty hips against your boyfriends mouth as he groans into your pussy, "xiao, baby.. please!" and he knows what you demanded, wanted, keeping his focus on your clit, massaging it, moving the two fingers, now three, working fast but intently until he could perceive your little hole clamp down on him— noticing how your chest was moving up and down in a rhythm of short breaths, realizing that you're teetering on the edge of cumming, while it was him who had the authority to grand you your ever so sought after, anticipated wishes.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[b0yds]

final part.

[chelseeebe]

never leave (nevermind)

18+ mdni. canon compliant sorta kinda. takes place during the events of s4. violent scenes described. r and eddie are exes. reader gets vecna'd. lots of angst.

a/n: i've been writing this on and off for what feels like months and it's definitely noticeable in parts where my writing improves drastically. howeverrr, i've been wanting to write something s4 related for a while bc most of my fics are au's and as fun as they are, the canon material is also v fun (just very difficult to translate into a fic)

8.9k words.

being home for spring break meant one thing; avoiding eddie munson like the plague. 

it wasn’t exactly easy what with being practically neighbours but you’d certainly tried to make yourself invisible around the trailer park. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you hadn’t seen him for eleven months, not even a trace of that wild hair until one friday night when his van screamed down the gravel road, music bleating loud enough for you to hear inside. you’d known it was d&d night, he still held the club at the high school and no doubt would still be in charge of it, even after he eventually graduates. 

you shouldn’t have even looked. it’s not like you wanted to see him. just curious as to why he felt the need to make so much noise so late at night. 

that’s when your eyes saw her, green hawkins high skirt and the fluffy ponytail to match, flouncing out of the van without a care in the world. 

chrissy cunningham wasn’t exactly who you’d imagined eddie would go for. she was prim and proper, wasn’t into smoking weed and talking about ozzy osbourne but pom poms and cheer routines instead. 

it shouldn’t even hurt. 

you’d been broken up for the best part of a year, away to college, living what was supposed to be your best life. 

but it does. 

pangs through your chest in insurmountable waves, rushing to duck down beneath the window before either of them saw you peeking. 

you don’t dare look out again, maybe it was the fear of being caught or more likely for fear of hurting yourself anymore. 

eddie’s single, he can do what or whomever he likes. 

slinking back into the couch, hoping the crackly tv would drown out any of the lingering thoughts. 

a sharp, stabbing sensation rings through your head, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to shut it down. 

only since you’d been back here, in hawkins had you felt it. people always whispered about how this town was cursed, perhaps it was you after all, bringing the bad luck to the innocent people of this shit hole. 

you drag your feet along the corridor to your bedroom, deciding that being buried beneath your blanket was better than constantly punishing yourself with sly glances out the window. 

-

a multitude of fists pummel at your door, sunlight just barely breaking through the clouds as your eyes open. 

nothing in this world could be so important to cause this reaction, especially not at this time of the day. 

you slink to the door, grumbling your way through the trailer. 

the door swings open, revealing a very out of breath dustin henderson and max mayfield, looking frantic as they pant on your doorstep. 

“what the hell? it’s nine am,” you grunt, wondering how the two even knew you were home. 

being with eddie had meant you’d come to adopt the gaggle of kids he played d&d with, driving them to and from games, offering a place to stay when their parents thought they were at each others houses while they were actually fighting monsters. 

the usual. 

the monster stuff was secondary, getting thrown into the deep end last summer after what was supposed to be a shitty mall job to save up for college, had turned into slimy monsters trying to kill you. 

eddie had only really seen the aftermath, the piles of what remained of starcourt on the floor and the cuts that littered your limbs. you had told him that night what had actually happened, terrified that the government were listening at your door, ready and waiting to throw you in jail for speaking about what you’d seen. 

dustin had made it very clear that you had to be careful not to talk too openly about it, delving into the whole world that rumbled beneath your town. 

you weren’t exactly eager to relive that night in the mall, a haze of slobbering monsters and telekinetic little girls. putting it to the back of your mind as some weird fever dream, a symptom of living in hawkins. 

“eddie’s in trouble,” dustin frowns, “is your mom here?” forcing himself into the trailer, max at his heels. 

“no she’s not-” closing the door behind the rude tweens, “i’m sorry- what’d you say?” hoping you’d misheard him. 

he peers down the hall, lousily checking the perimeter, “eddie’s in trouble,” completely serious. 

“and what does that have to do with me?” putting your hands on your hips, hoping to display some sort of authority, though it rendered useless against their stubborn attitudes. 

“remember the mall?” he deadpans, grabbing the phone from your wall as max pulls out a list of numbers. 

“yeah? i’m still not.. why’re you here? you can’t help him at his trailer?” 

dustin sighs, long and exaggerated, “he’s not at his trailer. we don’t know where he is,” aggressively punching in numbers, “and why didn’t you tell me you were back? i thought we were friends!” ever the sarcastic little dweeb you’d always had a soft spot for. 

“i didn’t tell anyone,” shrugging as you slink into the kitchen, deciding that if they were going to stay, you were at least going to need coffee, “i still don’t understand what’s going on!” 

“we’ll explain later,” max yells, fumbling around in her backpack. 

you tut, relieved that the pounding in your head had subsided at least. 

-

you’re somehow roped into driving the two to family video, receiving the details on the drive over. 

cops had swarmed the trailer park by the time you were ready, piling into wayne’s trailer, talking in hushed voices and yelling at anyone that dared to leave their own homes. 

wayne had come back from work this morning to find chrissy cunningham’s body on his floor. limbs broken and her eyes weeping with blood. 

any sane human would assume it was eddie’s doing. he didn’t exactly hold the best reputation in this damned town, but you knew murder wasn’t anything he was capable of. 

“that monster, from the mall,” dustin continues, leaning over the centre console, “that has something to do with this, i know it,” speaking with such confidence that you had no choice but to believe him. 

“how do you know that?” you question wearily, pulling into the parking lot, “i’m not saying i don’t believe you, but how do you know for sure?”

“well,” he buffers, “i don’t, but i’m 99.9 percent certain,” hopping out of the car before you can get another word in. 

you contemplate just waiting in the car for them to be done with whatever the fuck it is they’re even doing. not keen on seeing more people you really didn’t want to. 

you follow them in either way, ducking your head in some half-assed disguise. 

“-dustin!” robin squeals, reaching out to grab his arm, “those are my returns, you dweeb!” 

she and steve turn to you, perfectly in-sync, “when the hell did you get back?” speaking in unison. it’d be unsettling if you hadn’t spent the entirety of last summer with them both. 

you shake your head, “uh..” regretting your decision not to just wait in the car, “a few days ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” robin huffs, thankfully distracted with the mess dustin was inflicting upon her store to chastise you too badly. 

“sorry,” you say meekly, picking up the fallen tapes from the floor as a shitty kind of apology. 

she smiles gently at you, before turning back to dustin with a seeding hatred in her eyes, “what are you little nerds even doing here? do you not have anyone else to piss off on a saturday morning?”

“eddie’s in trouble,” dustin repeats for what is probably the thousandth time today, holding the receiver up to his ear. 

“oh eddie?” steve quips, “what’d he do this time?”

dustin holds his finger up to shush him, unloading his rehearsed spiel down the phone to whoever. 

steve looks over to you for some clarity but you just shrug, not really any wiser on what was actually going than he was. 

this goes on for what feels like hours, listening to dustin and max inquire about eddie to each and every person on their call list, just to end up with a dejected frown when absolutely nobody has heard from him. 

“rick,” dustin nods, drumming his fingers against the desk, “rick! he said he was going to meet rick today! d’you know where reefer rick lives?” swivelling in his chair to glare at you. 

“reefer rick?” robin repeats with such disdain, it’d honestly have been nicer if she’d just laughed in his face. 

you shrug, “i don’t know.. maybe?” offering absolutely zero insight whatsoever. 

“you know, you were only together for four years,” he snarls, doing nothing to help his cause. 

“oh i’m so sorry that i can’t remember every single place we went together,” you hiss back. 

dustin eyes the empty computer and you can almost see the lightbulb go off above his head. tapping into the family video system as if he had any right to be here. 

“you’re not supposed to be on that!” robin hollers, reaching for the mouse though his hands are quicker. 

“stop it!” he screeches, typing rapidly into the computer, “jesus christ, how many rick’s are there?” scrolling the plethora of rick names that had appeared. 

he figures it out pretty quickly. 

realising that reefer rick probably wasn’t using the local video rental store to watch sixteen candles or risky business. 

“you know where that is?” he asks steve, tapping the address on screen. 

“uh.. i think so,” steve wavers, squinting his eyes. 

“great,” dustin shoots up, grabbing his backpack without a second thought, “you drive,” pointing at steve, “you follow,” turning to you, giving zero alternative or chance to protest before he’s out the door, tugging at the handle of steve’s car. 

-

you do as he says, obviously. fearing that if he were to be left alone with robin for too long, she might just wring his neck. 

eddie’s nowhere to be found, the house looks empty and his van isn’t here leaving you back at square one. 

“he has to be here,” dustin frets, pointing at the large shed on the other side of the yard, “let’s just have a look.. you wanna find him don’t you?” turning to you specifically. 

a few years ago you would’ve said yes with zero hesitation but now you’re not sure if you even care. the thought of seeing eddie again makes you a little nauseous. not even owing to the fact that he was a potential murder suspect. 

“why’re you looking at me?” you scowl, “i think we should just leave this to the police.”

“no!” stopping dead in his tracks, “they’ll kill him and you know that,” his eyes sharp as everyone falls into silence. 

he was right, as he often is. which makes this all the more irritating. 

you nod, gesturing for him to continue to the rundown shack behind the house. 

there’s nothing in there, at least no signs of one eddie munson. 

it all just seems useless. if eddie had used the neglected brain in his head, he’d be far away 

from hawkins by now. he was nifty enough to survive on his own, you were sure about that. 

steve jabs at the tarpaulin as you peer out of the door and into the quickly darkening night sky, spinning rapidly as the tarp crinkles and something comes flying out. 

eddie. 

with his hands now pinning steve back against the wall, chest heaving with sheer, seething anger. 

only dropping his hold on him when it registers who it actually is, eyes wide and startled. 

a million and one feelings rush through your veins. you hadn’t prepared to actually see him again, to now be stilled by the sight of him locking eyes with you. 

the slow realisation dawns on him, quickly forgetting that he was a wanted man, all encompassed by your presence in this suddenly stifling shed. 

steve gasps for air, breaking the tension and pulling the attention back to him. robin’s quick to soothe his arm while dustin launches into a quick scolding for eddie. 

it’s not long before he moves onto the next phase of his master plan, dragging max to the corner to loudly discuss what they should do. 

“when’d you get back?” eddie asks, leaning against the dusty wood panelling, “i haven’t seen you..” his voice cracks but he’s unwavering. 

good, you thought. though really it was all useless now. 

“couple’a days ago..” picking at the wood splinter on the wall, “when’d you start murdering teenagers?” hoping it wasn’t too harsh of a dig. 

“ha ha,” he deadpans, running his hand over his face, “you don’t think i did it, do you?” worry seeping through his tone. 

you shake your head no, choosing to meet his eyes, a little reassurance that even if you did think he was a loser, you definitely didn’t think he was a murderer too. 

he nods, sighing into his palm, “fuck,” deflated, exhausted by the day he had endured, “they’re gonna kill me,” shrunken into himself, resembling a dejected little puppy. 

“they’re not gonna kill you,” but your voice shakes a little, not unnoticed by eddie. 

“you don’t sound so sure,” he chuckles, turning his gaze to the rotting floorboards. he looked horrible, to put it nicely. the bags under his eyes were dark and his hair an even wilder mess than usual. 

“i’m not really,” refusing to lie to him, even now. 

he looks up again, unwavering melancholy in his eye, “how’d you find me?” 

you glance over at dustin’s busybody, passionately explaining the next steps to an exhausted looking steve, his hands gesturing for a fight. “he tracked down rick’s address from family video and then wouldn’t let us leave until we found you.” 

eddie grin grows, finding the motivation to get himself off of the dirty floor, “yeah.. sounds about right.” 

you’re too close for comfort now that you’re eye to eye, uncomfortably close while your relationship was still so fragile. 

he breaks away first, striding over to dustin, “what’s the plan? i really need you to save my ass, dude.” 

dustin nods, vowing to keep eddie alive, no matter what it takes. 

-

dustin doesn’t hang around. 

the minute the suns risen, he’s pounding on the bedroom door, waking the sleeping pile of limbs you’d collapsed in. 

“i’m gonna kill him.. i’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” robin grumbles, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, staring daggers at the door. 

“eddie’s not answering!” he hollers, busting through the door, “we have to go back to rick’s! now!” pulling at nancy’s arm, presuming that steve had told him no to driving him around this early. 

you rouse just enough to really see the panicked look on his face, swinging your legs off of the bed to grab his shoulders, “what happened? we can go i just need five minutes.”

“he’s not answering,” panting between his words, “i told him to check in at six! it’s nearly six thirty.. something’s wrong.”

“okay,” you nod, trying to wake yourself up, “okay.. let me get dressed,” finding your discarded pants and practically jumping into them. 

dustin’s in the passenger seat before you can even run a brush through your hair, only just able to brush your teeth before he’s got his fist on the horn. 

“jesus christ dude,” you exclaim, shoving the keys into the ignition and speeding off before he has the chance to chastise you again. 

you’re grateful that it’s still early and the chances of getting a ticket are slim because you most definitely had broken some kind of speed limit, but truthfully it was mostly to get dustin to shut the hell up. 

knowing eddie meant that you knew he was probably fast asleep, ignoring the cracklings of the walkie for the sake of a couple extra minutes of shuteye. 

you turn down the long wooded drive, wondering if rick was back yet and just how he’d react to eddie’s ex-girlfriend and some random kid showing up on his doorstep at seven in the morning. 

you’re forced to slam on the breaks, almost sending dustin through the windscreen as eddie’s face appears before you, his hands slam the hood, screaming something nonsensical. 

“ohmygodohmygod,” he rushes, throwing himself into the backseat of your car, “you need to drive!”

“what the hell happened?” dustin probes as you turn around, only now seeing the barrage of cars parked outside of the house. 

“jason..” he gasps, “those fucking meatheads he hangs around with.. they just showed up,” sliding down into the footwell just as jason rounds the corner of the house, yelling something about your car as you hightail the fuck out of there. 

“they.. they- they think i’m the devil or some shit,” eddie gasps, his petrified face appearing in the gap between your seats, “they’re fucking crazy man.. fuck!” 

your fingers tighten around the steering wheel, hoping to speed away before they got wise enough to follow you. 

jason wasn’t much but his lackeys would have zero issue beating the shit out of eddie, or you for that matter. 

you instinctively go to the first place you can think of, which in hindsight seems like a mistake now the gravel is crunching beneath your wheels. 

forest hills was still crawling with cops trying to determine who or what had killed chrissy, though thankfully at daybreak their presence seemed to have dwindled a little. 

“we should be okay here for a while.. stay in the car until i get the door open,” flashing him a harsh glare to make sure he really understands. 

the three of you barrel into your trailer, grateful for the silence, unsure of how you’d ever explain this entire situation to your mom. 

“shit man,” eddie marvels the walls, mouth hung open, “haven’t seen the inside of this thing for.. a while,” a sadness to his tone. 

“yup,” choosing to ignore his glum cadence in favour of keeping the peace, “you can sleep in my bed,” tossing your keys into the bowl. 

“you sure?” eddie asks, though he’s already making his way up the hall, all too familiar with your trailer. 

“knock yourself out,” collapsing onto the couch to resume your own interrupted slumber. in a time not so long ago, you’d have relished crawling up next to eddie in bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to tuck you up under his armpit. 

you brush off the glum feeling, wrapping your own arms around your body instead. 

dustin gets to alerting the wheeler residence, informing them all that eddie’s okay and you were going to hang out here until he came up with some plan.  

it’s almost noon before eddie rises again, asking if he can take a shower before dustin unleashes his plan. 

that horrid buzzing niggles it’s way back into your brain. a dull pain that quickly becomes sharp, stabbing at the sides of your head. 

“are you okay?” dustin questions nervously, ditching his notebook to step closer with caution. 

your fingers clutch your temple, unable to form a coherent sentence as the pain throbs through your frontal lobe. features screwed up in searing pain. 

“eddie!” he screeches, his fists pummelling against the bathroom door. 

eddie emerges, towel slung around his waist, barely able to turn the water on yet, “what? what the hell is going on?” quickly shutting up when he sees your sorry state. “are you okay? what happened?” rushing over without a second thought. 

dustin stands in horror just behind, watching as eddie’s thumb swipes the underside of your nose, coming back an unexpected shade of maroon. 

“she just dropped! i-i don’t.. i’ve never seen this before!”

“you’re bleeding,” eddie fuses, “dustin.. tissue now,” tilting your chin upwards. 

the pain subsides slightly, allowing your eyes to reopen and meet his, “there’s.. tylenol in the drawer,” letting him keep your chin between his fingers.

dustin speeds around the room, collecting supplies as your laboured breaths become easier, the ache dissipating as quickly as it came on. 

eddie dabs at your nose until it’s clean, shaking out two of the pills onto his palm for you to take. “what the hell was that?” nagging yet concerned all rolled into one. 

“i dunno, i’ve been getting these.. headaches, since i’ve been back,” looking between dustin’s horrified face and eddie’s distressed one.  “it’s probably nothing.” 

“that didn’t look like nothing,” dustin adds, still wary of your state. with all of the supernatural happenings at the moment, he had right to be. 

“it’s fine,” shrugging them both off before the questions got too much. “what’s the plan dustin?”

he and eddie share another glance, pretending that you weren’t right there in front of them. “uh..” erring the line of caution before jumping right into it, “okay so we need to go down.. down there.”

-

it’s stupid, reckless even. 

but what other choice do you have when the world is caving in and your ex-boyfriend is on the run from the police? 

eddie climbs through the window of the rv, pulling your eyes away with a quickness as his shirt rises up to reveal his lower back. 

the door swings open some moments later, gesturing for you all to climb inside as he gets to hot-wiring the gargantuan vehicle. 

you pile into the back, ducking below the windows while his fingers fiddle with the live wires. 

“do you even know what you’re doing?” nancy asks, her eyebrow raised in quiet concern. 

“nancy please,” eddie huffs, “while your dad was teaching you how to ride a bike, my dad was teaching me how to hot-wire a car.. i know what i’m doing.” 

she hums, settling into the passenger seat without another word. 

it shouldn’t be attractive. you should think it’s utterly reprehensible to steal and engage with such criminal behaviour. 

but you can’t. 

not with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth like that, his hands whirring away as robin looks on with a screwed up face. 

the engine roars loud, alerting the entire trailer park to your existence. eddie hightails it into the back, choosing the empty spot next to you as he yells for steve to drive. 

this all so ridiculous, flying about the back of the rv as steve speeds out of town. finding somewhere solitary for you all to prepare. 

-

everyone seems to be in cahoots about something, scarpering from the rv the second you walk inside. leaving you and eddie to navigate through the uncomfortable tension alone. 

you take a seat anyway, picking up the discarded knife on the table, running your finger along the dull blade with a sigh. 

you’d never imagined that the two of you could ever be so awkward together, having been close for the entirety of your lives, it felt awful to not even want to look at him now. 

“i’m sorry.. about chrissy,” you swallow, still sharpening the knife, hoping he won’t say something to make you drive it into his throat. 

the rest of the group ‘prepare’ loudly outside. dustin screeching at the top of his lungs for steve to put him down while robin tuts in annoyance. 

eddie looks up, a little glum, “yeah.. she was a good girl, she didn’t deserve that,” dropping his own knife on the table in front of you with a clatter. 

“i didn’t realise you two were.. together or whatever,” the look on his face immediately forces you to regret your words, hoping the ground would just swallow you whole. 

he scoffs, “together?” knocking his knee into yours softly, “you thought we were together?” 

oh my god. it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. cheeks burning as your eyes meet his, “oh! i thought.. someone said.. i don’t- i don’t know,” clinging onto the knife with sweaty palms, deciding whether to slice your own mouth off so nothing else could fall out of it. 

“she was buying weed,” he laughs quietly, “pretty girl but.. not really my type, you know?” 

you nod, looking back at the table in hopes that he’d just drop it now. so much for being the nonchalant, cool ex. all you’d done is solidify your psycho status. 

“i haven’t really..” he begins again, never knowing when to leave well enough alone, “i haven’t moved on, i guess,” shrugging as his own gaze slips. 

if you were going to live through the end of the world, you hoped it’d come soon. the tension in this cramped rv was enough to make whatever was happening with the underworld seem like a dream. 

“oh!” is all you can conjure up. unsure of what response he was expecting from you. the breakup had been amicable.. sort of. to you, it made sense to breakup. you were away to college and he was repeating senior year again. you had almost died in the town you grew up in, he hadn’t. 

it was a multitude of happenings that forced you apart. grief and it’s intertwining webs of despair had proved too much for your relationship. too much for you to handle on your own. 

eddie hadn’t agreed. 

he couldn’t understand it, why you needed out of hawkins so bad. but he wasn’t there, hadn’t seen the things you had. 

the guilt had wrecked you for the first few months, afraid that you’d abandoned him in that very town for a new life after promising for so long that you wouldn’t. 

“sorry, i shouldn’t have said that- i didn’t mean anything by it,” he fumbles, pulling on his bottom lip, “well i did! just.. not the time or place, you get me?” digging himself further into his hole. 

your eyes meet his again, gnawing at the skin on your bottom lip, “it’s okay.. you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“i think what i meant to say was that i missed you.. i’m glad you’re back,” eddie coughs, un-jumbling his words at last. 

it’s simple enough and really shouldn’t make your heart swell the way it does. you weren’t together. he wasn’t yours. that was that. 

but maybe there’s something about experiencing the end of the world with someone that makes you a little reminiscent. 

“i missed you too,” you smile, hoping that the overwhelming feeling of adrenaline is just from the interdimensional monster that lay beneath you and absolutely nothing to do with his doe eyes and plump lips. 

his eyes flicker, trailing from your eyes to your lips. the air seems to shift around you, leaving the room at an expedient rate. 

“you missed me?” eddie growls, looking back into your eyes, “then why’d you leave me here?” a deep set frown forming on his lips that wasn’t there a minute earlier. 

“what?” you question, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanour. 

“you left me. you left me here to die after you told me you wouldn’t,” he snarls, leaning closer. 

his eyes are glossy now, glazed over with what looks like tears. 

“i didn’t.. no,” backing away from him, “you were supposed to come with me.. you.. you..” shaking your head. 

eddie’s eyes change completely now, pupils turning a slick grey. a dark cloud fills the room, overflowing out of the tiny window, covering the furniture and your body with the thick smog. 

“it’s your fault,” the voice rumbles, no longer bearing any semblance to eddie’s, the walls decay in front of your eyes, wallpaper rotting as they crack and crumble. 

“it’s your fault,” it repeats, louder this time, “he’s going to die,” it cackles, filling the room with the booming voice. 

“no,” you scream into the void, thrashing around to find the source, “take me! take me instead!” yelling as loud as your throat would allow, but it’s futile. 

there’s no one here. 

eddie had gone. crumbled into a pile of ash on the floor, left on your own in some barren wasteland, the blood-curdling screams of menacing creatures travel through your body. 

“you can’t save yourself,” the voice booms, pulling your eyes to the horrific humanoid figure stood amongst the ruins. 

“what do you want?” you scream, stepping backwards over the rubble. 

the man.. thing just smiles, “i’ve been watching you for some time, you shouldn’t have come back here,” walking towards your cowering frame. 

“w-why? who are you?” fingers trembling as you attempt to grab onto something, anything to bring you back to earth. 

everything you grasp crumbles into ashes, disappearing before your eyes as you struggle to breathe. wheezing through the dark clouds, not an inch of relief. 

“we’ve met before,” completely ominous, “you don’t remember me?” tilting his head to the side. 

it feels like you’ve seen it before, somewhere in a far away dreamland. 

that’s when it clicks. 

the bad dreams you’d been having, there had always been something there, a presence you couldn’t ever see clearly. 

but now it makes sense. 

“h-how did you do that? how did you get into my dreams?” the rubble beneath your feet disappeared with every step. 

his head shakes and the landscape rumbles, a clattering of stones fall to the ground, jolting your body backwards. 

“you let me in,” he rumbles, stepping closer, “you’re the reason any of this is happening.. it’s time for you to pay.” 

his spindly fingers reach out, forcing you further and further back until your foot catches against  a stone, sending you flying backwards into a sudden abyss. 

you awaken with a harsh gasp, eyes opening to find eddie towering above, his brows threaded together in fear as the others screech around you. 

“she’s awake! are you okay?” eddie rushes, holding your face between his palms, “oh my god,” as white as a sheet, shock rippling through his body. 

you nod, blinking in the sudden bright light, exhausted from doing nothing at all. nothing felt real except eddie’s fingers brushing over your worn skin. 

too tired for tears, too afraid to speak. your eyes shut on their own, trying to ground yourself back in this reality. 

you relax into his hold, your breathing falling into line with his as their voices turn into humming background noise, focusing on the path of eddie’s fingertips instead. 

-

eddie hadn’t dared to leave your side, following you around like a lost puppy, watchful eyes widening every time you moved or breathed too loud. 

it would’ve felt suffocating if you weren’t scared to death. instead, it was a welcome comfort. a sense of familiarity in the most awful time. 

you felt immense guilt, knowing that the end of the world had to happen for you to speak to him again. the man you’d gotten married to a thousand times in your head, the man you’d had a plethora of baby names with. it was all so insane. 

dustin hadn’t exactly instilled much confidence in you. with news of fred benson and patrick mckinney’s deaths, he had figured out the pattern of attack. 

they’d all died the same way, eyes burst and their limbs snapped one by one. 

eddie had recalled how chrissy went into a similar trance, her eyes glossed over, completely unresponsive. though the moment he’d said it, his heart sank, realising that chrissy wasn’t the only one he’d witnessed like that. 

logically, that meant that you were next. 

dustin had uncovered what was essentially a countdown to your death. nobody wanted to say it, or even acknowledge it, but you weren’t stupid. 

that meant that whatever plan he had, he had to perfect tonight, ready to attack tomorrow. 

before it’s too late. 

he’d said the quiet part out loud. a shared grimace encompassing the room, pitiful glances in your direction. 

despite the fact that your demise was quickly approaching, you had felt a strange sense of peace. perhaps actually knowing your fate was better than not knowing. 

there would be an end to all of this. 

-

steve had offered his house for you all, his parents away on some trip for the next week meaning eddie could hide out in peace. a much better arrangement than the wheeler’s house again, ted had started to despise the groups of teenagers in his basement. 

sleeping bags and blankets strewn across his gigantic living room, sleeping bodies filling every spare inch of carpet. none of you wanted to be apart for more than five minutes. sleeping on top one another was the ultimate comfort. 

eddie had volunteered for first watch, keeping his eye steady on you from the corner of the room. 

it’s a little difficult to fall asleep knowing that he was watching you like a hawk, surveying every tiny change and movement. 

dustin was supposed to take over at some point in the early hours, but judging by the sounds of his rumbling snore, that wouldn’t be happening. 

you sit up, shuffling over to eddie’s perch, avoiding your sleeping friends on the ground. 

his eyes dart to the floor, as if he hadn’t been staring intensely at you for the last hour.

“d’you have a cigarette?” you whisper, knocking your knee into his. 

he nods, raising his brow, “you don’t smoke?” baffled by your question. 

you shrug, smiling into the darkness, “how would you know?” hoping it didn’t come across as snappy as it seemed. 

he doesn’t reply, just shuffles around in his pocket, producing the scuffed up box with his lighter. 

you nod towards the door, getting up from the floor with a small groan. limbs still aching and weary from your run in with death earlier. 

he follows behind, glancing at the room of sleeping teens before slipping out onto the porch with you. 

steve’s house was secluded, the massive back yard and the trees that surrounded it made sure that no one would find him here. 

you perch on one of the lounge chairs, gesturing for eddie to join you, watching the steam from the pool dissipate into the chilly march night air. despite being in the same tiny town, his house was worlds apart from the trailer park you two grew up on. 

he places a cigarette in your palm before sliding one between his own lips, passing you the lighter first. 

it’s a silent exchange, unsure if you could talk about anything without crying, though it’s meaningful. eddie had been selfish plenty of times during your relationship but at his core, he’d put you before himself each and every time. 

you light the cigarette, gazing off into the distance. hoping to god that he wouldn’t bring what had happened earlier up. 

“when’d you start smoking?” he asks, keeping a respectable distance between you though he wishes that wasn’t something he had to worry about. 

“when i found out that i was dying tomorrow,” exhaling slow, trying not to let your voice wobble. 

he sighs, “you’re not gonna die,” with less conviction than you’d have liked, “you can’t die,” shaking his head at such a ridiculous thought, “you won’t.. you won’t,” mostly for his own sake. 

your eyes squeeze shut, heart aching, squeezing your chest tight. last week you’d been terrified about your literature final and now none of it even mattered. 

“what if i do?” you ask earnestly, finally meeting his eyes, “everyone else has? we don’t know if dustin’s right.. if we can beat him,” shrugging helplessly. 

chrissy had died, patrick had died, fred had died. that meant you were next. 

his jaw clenches, wishing you’d stop, “you’re not,” throwing his cigarette butt to the side, “i won’t let you, okay?” 

you nod, albeit not believing a word he said. it was difficult to be so optimistic when the only evidence you had, said otherwise. 

“this vecna..” eddie begins again, “he doesn’t know what’s about to hit him,” sounding slightly more confident than before, “we’re gonna kill him and you’re.. you’re gonna live and graduate and do all that great shit you still have to do.” 

you don’t mistake the pain in his voice, the knowing that he should be there for all of that and that it had been his own fault for now being a footnote in the story of your life. 

“i really do miss you,” you clarify, “i’m not sure how much of our conversation earlier was a vision or not..” 

eddie chuckles, breath shaky and unstable, “no.. you said that before, you know- before you got possessed,” bumping his shoulder into yours, thankfully injecting his fucked up humour into the otherwise dark conversation. 

“was it scary?” 

he scoffs, almost offended that you’d even ask, “i shit my pants,” smiling with the side of his mouth, not fully committed, “reminded me of that stupid movie you made me watch.” 

he had never liked horror movies, this tough guy exterior that exclusively listened to metal was all a guise. he’d watched the film through his fingers, clinging onto your arm. 

“you were very brave though,” letting your cigarette fall to the floor, sure to be lectured by steve in the morning. 

he shies away, looking down for a brief second, “i’m not gonna let what happened to chrissy happen to you too..” meeting your gaze once more, “i promise.” 

“i don’t think you can promise that,” sharing a meaningful glance. 

“i can and i will.”

you nod hesitantly. his words, as much as you’d like to believe them, meant nothing when the supernatural was at play. 

his eyes flicker down to your lips, just like they used to so many months ago. but you don’t pull back, only leaning in further. 

if you lived past tomorrow, you’d no doubt regret this but as that wasn’t looking at all likely, what was a kiss between traumatised exes? 

eddie makes the first real move, his palm coming to cradle your cheek. you hope to god this isn’t another vision, that he won’t be cruelly torn away from you this time. 

“is this real?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, sighing as you do. 

“this is real,” he assures, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “d’you want to stop?” 

“no,” closing the already dwindling space between you, placing your hand on his in such earnest intimacy, a sensation you’d missed so deeply for an entire year. 

your lips touch, your eyes falling shut as his breaths start to steady, humming into your mouth in satisfaction. 

it didn’t feel so bad now, nothing could be so utterly terrifying while you’re touching him like this. 

eddie breaks away first, only a few inches of distance, just to gaze into your starry eyes, “i never thought i’d be able to do that again,” with utmost sincerity. 

“you weren’t supposed to,” shaking your head. if things had gone according to your plan, you’d have never seen him again. 

but it doesn’t work that way. 

fate had other plans for you. 

his lips twitch into a small smile, thumb drawing over your tired cheeks, “can i do it again?” 

“please.” 

connecting your lips once more, the cold tip of his nose bumping softly against yours. it was impossible not to notice how well you fit together, moving in synchronicity and with such tenderly care. 

inside, dustin wakes up in a cold sweat. looking over at the empty spot on the floor where you should be, but now we’re not. 

“shitshitshit,” he panics, whispering loudly to himself as he crashes around the house, stepping over the sleeping bodies. 

dustin’s panicked face shoots up from the window, gawping at the barely visible sight, straining to make out what the fuck he was even seeing. 

it only dawns on him when your lips leave eddie’s, foreheads resting together that it would be in his best interest to not interject and end up with his ass beat. 

you come back in some twenty minutes later, after a plethora of shared kisses and soothing words. deciding to settle in the same empty spot on the floor, his hand only comfortable enough to grace your waist, under the blanket. 

now wasn’t the time for questions or prying eyes judging your decision. you weren’t even too sure yourself. 

it’s the only time you’ve felt comfortable enough to sleep tonight, watching his chest rise and fall, knowing that he was here, alive and that for right now, you were too. 

-

the carnage pulls you from your sleep, people yelling over pancakes and glass clattering as max’s shrill voice scolds lucas for being too loud. 

you look around at the mess of blankets and empty sleeping bags, the door to the living room was closed though it made no difference. 

you’d have preferred to stay in the empty room, unwilling to address the situation with eddie last night but your stomach rumbles, pulling you out of the room and into the bright, bustling hallway. 

robin swings out of the kitchen at the sound of your presence. she’d clearly tried to help with the breakfast efforts, though unsuccessfully, emerging with flour down her shirt, jeans and somehow in her hair. she smiles gently at your weary eyes, “we didn’t wanna wake you.. you were knocked out.”

“thanks rob,” even though their incessant arguing and yelling did eventually rouse you from your sleep. 

in the kitchen, dustin sits with his feet swinging off the tall stool, a too-wide, toothy grin growing on his face the second he spots you, “well good morning! how’d you sleep?” a sarcastic little quip that you know holds something deeper. 

“great thanks, you?” narrowing your eyes as you fill a mug with coffee. 

he waits for steve to exit the room, turning back to you with the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable, “yeah, really good,” he twists his body to peer out of the door, ensuring no one could hear, “so you and eddie huh?” 

“me and eddie what?” refusing to entertain his cryptic questions. 

“i saw you two last night, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” wiggling his stupid brows as he shovels yet another pancake into his uncontrollable, jabbering mouth. 

“and i saw you wet the bed last year, do you want to go there?” flinging his taunting right back at him. 

dustin’s mouth falls open, “you can be a real bitch, you know that?” taking his heaped plate back into the living room. 

steve strolls back in, staring down dustin’s scowl before his eyes trail to you, “what’s wrong with him?” 

you smile, tight-lipped and fully loaded as you pour a cup of coffee, “oh nothing,” looking over the food with slight disgust. the hunger hadn’t really hit you yet, too occupied with trying not to die to care about pancakes. 

eddie interrupts your noisy brain, cackling as he comes into the kitchen, “maybe you should stop being such a smart-ass then,” immediately quietening down when he spots you. 

you don’t speak, instead communicating with a shared look before you focus on the cup of coffee in your hand. 

steve looks slowly between the two of you, “you good?” 

“yeah.”

“yup.” 

you both simultaneously reply, refusing to acknowledge the tension in the empty kitchen. 

“o-kay,” steve whistles, deciding that sitting with dustin and his terrible attitude would be far better than whatever this was. 

it’s not supposed to be awkward. 

it was just a kiss. or multiple. 

a few kisses between exes during the end of the world. that’s all. 

“d’you sleep okay?” he dares to ask, feeling comfortable enough to make eye contact now that steve had left. 

“yeah.. thank you, for looking after me,” smiling gently at the bleary eyed boy. 

“i told you i would,” he reaffirms, “you’re not doing this on your own.” 

“i know,” you nod, swallowing the growing lump, “but i’m scared eds.. i don’t want you to die because of me.” 

eddie tuts, rounding the counter to place his hand on your arm, “that’s not-,”

dustin hollers, falling through the kitchen door, giving away the groups prying position, “ow shithead!” shoving lucas backwards as they materialise one by one. 

dustin, lucas, max, erica. 

in that order.

“are you fucking serious?” you screech, throwing your arms into the air. 

this was low even for dustin. 

“sorry! sorry! go back to confessing your love or whatever the hell was happening!” scurrying off to finish his pancakes and no doubt inform robin and steve what they’d witnessed. 

“i can’t believe him,” you frown, turning to eddie who’s stifling his laugh. “it’s not funny,” but your lips twitch anyway. 

“it’s kinda funny,” his hand still lingering on your arm, his smile reaching his eyes, “you don’t care if they know.. do you?” 

you shrug, perhaps you did care a little bit. you were the one who’d broken up with him, deserted him for college. maybe you didn’t deserve a second chance. 

“it’s okay..” he nods, as understanding as always, “this is weird, i get it," as understanding as he was, he wasn't able to conceal the dejected puppy gleam in his eye.

"it's not that," pathetically reaching for his hand, "i'm just.. i'm supposed to die today, i don't want to.. lead you on, or get your hopes up or whatever," putting your finger up to stop eddie from interrupting, "i don't need you to tell me that i'm not. just let me spiral about this," smiling as you speak, truly a means to soothe yourself, not just eddie.

"o..okay," his whole speech shut down, leaving him with nothing. his eyes flit over to the mountains of food steve had whipped up, "you should eat.. you've got a busy day of not dying to get through," smirking right through your snide glare.

-

something feels off, a nervous twisting in your stomach that makes you want to call the entire thing off. 

you could go down there and fight this with them. screw whatever prophetic visions you’d had. 

eddie hadn’t even wanted to go, desperate to stay in the attic with you, watching over in fear of losing you again. 

“what if.. what if something happens and they don’t know how to fix it? they’re kids.” he’d pleaded, sat on the porch outside of the large house in your final moments of peace. 

“dustin can’t do this on his own,” you cooed, only slightly wishing that he could execute this plan on his own. “you have to go. i’ll be okay..okay?” not entirely certain about the truthfulness of your words. 

he takes a sharp intake of breath, fingers forming a weak fist, “you better be,” the moon reflecting off of his caramel iris’, capturing the entire universe in two tiny orbs, “i don’t want to lose you again.” 

your head dips, quickly losing the ability to look him in the eye, overwhelmed with guilt and the reminder that you had been the one to end things. 

“it’s okay,” grabbing your hand to place on his bouncing knee, “i’m not.. mad about it, or upset and you shouldn’t be either,” squeezing your fingers in a bid to draw your eyes back to him. 

“i don’t-,” huffing a frustrated sigh, unable to form a coherent thought when the impending battle loomed over your heads. “everything is so fucked and i don’t know if we’re gonna make it this time.” 

eddie’s fingers lace between yours, holding your hand tighter, “we’re gonna be fine.. okay? everyone is gonna be fine,” inching closer in the thick of the night, “i’m gonna be right back here, as soon as that bastard is dead.. i promise.” 

this time, you punctuate his sentence for him, springing forward to latch your lips to his, using your free hand to cradle his stubbly cheek. 

you long to kiss him forever, never escaping this embrace, knowing that there’s a chance it won’t happen again. his lips soft, desperate to stay attached to you, too. 

“oh! shit! uhm-,” robin stutters, clattering out of the door. 

you break apart, containing the low groan of disappointment, “sorry rob.. ‘s everything okay?” eddie’s as bashful as ever, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet, even in the darkness. 

“yeah! uh.. nancy told me to tell you that we’ve gotta go now or it’ll be too late,” swinging from the door as she speaks. 

he glances at you again, longing for just one more minute of this peace. one more second of your touch. 

but it doesn’t come. 

they leave in a hurry, cycling maniacally away to the trailer park, leaving you, lucas, max and erica to conduct the rest of the plan. only fragments of hope left as you watch them disappear over the hill, praying for someone, anyone to just keep him safe.

-

everything is eerily calm, far too silent for the situation at hand. 

you sit cross-legged in the attic, looking between lucas and max who had taken it upon themselves to converse through a notepad. 

they reminded you of you and eddie once upon a time, giggling teenagers trying to navigate love together. 

it’s sweet, full of the same adolescent innocence you were desperately trying to regain. 

eventually they break apart, lucas traipsing over the creaky floorboards to check on you, equally confused by the serenity. 

he turns to walk away, almost frozen as his brows furrow and his pupils dilate, “you killed them.” 

your mouth falls open, immediately hushing him so as to not screw up nancy and dustin’s carefully thought out plan. 

“you killed them all,” he parrots, a sinister air surrounding him. “eddie trusted you and you killed him.. you’re a murderer,” the venom flying off of his tongue, severing your heart in two. 

the plan had worked. you were back in wherever it was you were taken before, confirmed by the sudden darkness, the wallpaper splintering and putrid stench that had filled your nose. 

lucas isn’t lucas at all. 

a mimic to the higher power cursing your town, only a small part of his master plan to destroy hawkins. 

your surroundings melt away, lucas nor max no longer appearing before you. instead, you’re faced with a flash of red, and a maniacal cackle. 

henry, as you’d since learnt he was called, begins his tirade, just as you’d planned. 

“why didn’t you stop them?” he booms, appearing in the corner, “you let them go after everything i showed you.”

he didn’t scare you, not anymore. when the time was right, lucas would slide max’s walkman over your ears and pull you right out of this hellscape. 

“they’re going to kill you,” standing stoic, resistant under his thumb. “you can’t hurt anybody else.. not anymore,” gritting your teeth, such determination to have him hear you. 

his burnt frame disappears right before your eyes, a loud, blaring laugh appears from behind. 

once again turning to darkness, only this time it’s accompanied by a chorus of screeching. feral creatures and familiar voices circle around your head. 

his torment is ruthless, voices, namely eddie’s rattle around your brain, wailing and screaming, loud enough to make your ears ring and your head ache. 

your eyes open to your trailer, watching yourself argue and cry at eddie. 

the day you broke up. 

“you’re just gonna leave me?” he despairs, just as feeble as the first time he’d said it. 

“i can’t stay here eddie! you don’t get it! i nearly died.. i can’t do that again,” and yet, here you are. 

a shrill, shrieking sound fills the room before the scene crumbles before your eyes leaving you to the decaying scene you bore witness to before. remnants of the creel house float through the scarlet sky, threatening to crash into each other. 

“maybe i can’t hurt you, but you can hurt yourself,” vecna’s voice squawks, flashing forward to a scene you’ve never seen before. 

eddie, with his back against a door, you can only assume he’s trying to keep something out. a grotesque mix of blood, sweat and tears seep down his cheeks, the door beginning to thump from the pressure of whatever was on the other side. 

“this all could’ve been so easy,” rapidly wiping the imagine from your view, only to appear mere inches away, decrepit hand rising above your face. “don’t you wish you had just listened? don’t you wish that you had just come with me?” now mocking with his tone, condescending even though he’d gotten you exactly where you’d wanted. 

“no.. no no no,” arms suddenly restricted by a slimy tendril, forcing your face to meet his, “you’re not real.. you’re not-“ a sudden, awful constriction wraps around your lungs, squeezing the air from your body. 

“i’m not.. real?” he mocks, the corners of his mouth creep upwards, “i didn’t want this to happen this way but you’ve left me no choice.” 

you gasp loudly for breath, struggling within his grasp for a means out of it. where was lucas? or max? what happened to the plan? 

over the last few days, you’d become quite comfortable with the idea of dying. it became fact, an inevitable consequence of getting yourself tangled up in this entire thing. 

but now, as it looms over your head, you want out. 

you want to be with eddie. you want a dozen kids and a quaint house on the corner of maple. maybe a dog or a cat that he’d picked up on the side of the road. slow dancing in the kitchen after a day of warm sun. 

you want to live. 

his fist closes, leaving your lips blue and begging for oxygen. “this is what had to happen.. your time-“ his rambling cut off by a ground shattering boom, the tendril dropping your body at once. 

he stumbles backwards, grabbing onto his chest. your vision too blurry to coherently make out what was happening, a mixture of colours that swirls away quickly. 

your aching bones thump to the floor, gasping for air as the familiarity of the creel’s attic fills your peripheral. 

max and lucas swarm your body, muttering over one another, their small hands shaking in fear as your head is placed on max’s lap. 

“what the fuck? what the fuck do we do? lucas!” she hollers at lucas, as if either of them had any idea. 

they shouldn’t have to be concerned with any of this, nor tasked with the pressure of keeping you alive. your breathing steadies though your chest still heaves, leaving the comfort of her hold to scan the room. making sure that this was real, that you were home. 

four pairs of feet appear before you and not one of them the dusty pair of reebok’s you were waiting to see. 

collapsing once again, in a crumpled heap on the dusty floorboards, your voice cracks, broken as you speak. still reeling from the onslaught of abuse you’d endured. 

“where’s eddie?” 

[sc0tters]

Little Flame | Quinn Hughes

summary: when the flames came to visit it brought back old memories, including why you hated quinn.

pairing: quinn hughes x andrei kuzmenko’s fuck buddy

trope: division rivals

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem receiving), degradation, slight choking, slight spit play? swearing.

word count: 6.51k

authors note: this was a long one so strap in! it’s hot and about time for us to all get our inner sluts out and we have @sweetestdesire to thank for helping get this one started! Kinda tried something different so let’s see if that paid off!

Quinn always seemed to dislike you.

From the moment you met him you were both constantly against each other. It all started during your time at UMich, you were both in the same class and from the moment you met you weren’t meant to get on.

Constantly arguing as you were forced into the same friend group, due to your position as the student physio on the hockey team. The two of you were at odds “you got a problem?” You scoffed furrowing your eyebrows as you felt him staring at you.

It was any standard Friday night with a party at one of the frats “just wondering where on the invite came the costume theme?” He joked gripping at the neck of his beer bottle.

You were in a sequin crop top with a denim skirt and cowgirl boots “you jealous I’m getting the only attention between the two of us?” You scoffed as he was in a basic tee and shorts.

The comment made him let out a dry laugh “I think you’re the only one who isn’t giving me attention.” It was no secret just how much most girls liked him, and that the only attention he got from you were threats of ramming your foot up his ass.

There was a gleam in his eyes “but here you still are stood in front of me so.” He trailed off letting a smirk form on his lips.

Your hands formed fists by your sides “in your dreams Hughes.” You grumbled ignoring how your cheeks went red when you pushed past him to leave “you wouldn’t as argumentative in those!” Quinn grunted watching you walk back to your friends.

The way your hands moved around made it clear that you were visibly angry “hey he’s probably leaving at the end of the season anyways.” One of your friends sighed as she placed a comforting hand in your shoulder wanting to comfort you.

That all took place over five years ago and you hadn’t seen Quinn since. Sure you heard all about his achievements and accomplishments as he made captain of the Canucks. But you were able to avoid him whenever it was possible that your paths would cross.

Working for the Flames left only a handful of occasions where you could have seen him and each time you managed to be the secondary physio leaving you inside the locker rooms “please do it for me?” Andrei whined as he pulled you into his lap after he heard that you tried getting secondary for the Canuck game again.

You pushed your lips into a fine line as placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself “I can make it worth your while.” He trailed off as he ran his fingers up your torso under your shirt “shouldn’t you always be doing that.” You teased holding back a smile as you grazed your lips over his pulling away from him the moment he leaned in for more like you were taunting him.

Andrei let his eyes sharpen into yours “you know I always play better when you are around the night before.” It was a new known thing between the two of you that since you started sleeping together the night before a game, Andrei started playing much better.

His efforts made you laugh “want to show you my old city.” He explained kissing your neck as he smiled looking up at you. You had been assigned as his tour guide when he was traded from the Canucks. It seemed like you both hit it off as the tour ended up in the back of his car and before you knew it, you were in his bed a lot.

It was sweet being with him but your favourite part was that you constantly had someone to fulfil your sexual needs. All it took was one message to Andrei and he was on his way to your place. There were never any labels on the relationship and that was what made it so easy.

Andrei kept his promise as he showed you parts of Vancouver that you never had the chance to see prior to the trip as you guys had a free afternoon. You had to admit that the trip was kind of fun. It was enjoyable being with him as he showed you the city he loved “and your good day isn’t over yet.” He teased you as he wrapped his hands around your shoulders.

It made a laugh leave your lips “careful on setting my expectations too high now.” You fiddled with his hat as you each had lousy disguises.

Before he had the chance to respond, something else caught his eyes “Quinn?” A gasp left Andrei’s lips as he stopped walking seeing someone in front of you two.

You froze fearing that it was the Quinn “hey Kuzy!” It was. Your body tensed as you physically cringed feeling Andrei leave your side to embrace his old teammates.

Quinn smirked as he saw your awkward effort to hide yourself. He knew it was you from the UMich cap you wore and how you hadn’t changed your hair since you saw him “Y/n?” He furrowed his eyebrows turning his attention to you.

Andrei was left confused “you never told me you knew him.” He pointed out as his eyes followed Quinn’s “not everyone from college needs to be spoken about.” You pointed out causing the American to place his hand on his chest.

The captain was quick to act offended “did our time on the team mean nothing to you for two years?” He did little to hide his smirk as your cheeks turned red “well then why don’t you join us for lunch?” Andrei looked to his watch to see that it was getting to time for lunch.

In that moment you swore you wanted to kill both boys “give you two time to catch up too.” He added as he remained oblivious to the death stare that you sent Quinn, wishing that daggers hit the boy.

Lunch felt painful as you were reminded of all of the reasons why you disliked Quinn so much “I need to go to the bathroom.” Andrei announced and you were close to following him as you didn’t want to be left alone with the Hughes boy.

You grew tired after biting your tongue so hard that it drew blood “I’ll be back soon.” The Russian laughed as he furrowed his eyebrows, he squeezed your shoulder before he left.

Quinn let his eyes watch his old teammates until he was out of his view “so how long have you two been sleeping together?” Quinn interlaced his fingers as he watched you sip at your drink.

A cough left your lips “that’s none of your business!” You gasped acting the same way your mom would if she had to hear about your sex life “c’mon he can’t be that disappointing that you now aren’t willing to share.” It reminded you of the time that he walked in a girls night that involved his girlfriend.

You girls had been talking about your worst experiences with guys and of course you had the worst luck as Quinn got to walk in and hear the entire story about the football players that couldn’t even get you to reach your high. The boy constantly reminded you of it up until he left.

It made you scoff “not surprising to see that not all of us grew up after college.” You snapped squeezing your straw between your fingers “thought someone would have fucked you into being not this uptight but here we are.” He matched your tone as he mirrored your glare.

As you saw Andrei come back into your sights all you could do was deliver a quick kick to Quinn’s shin “ahh!” He winced reached down to massage his leg as he sent you a glare “you two good?” Poor Andrei still remained oblivious to what had gone on.

For the first time that day you didn’t need to force a smile onto your lips as you nodded “so great.” You let your foot run up Quinn leg as a reminder of what you could do the other “perfect.” Quinn gritted the words out still making sure to glare at you along the way.

Hours had passed as the night air was cold over Vancouver when you stared out of your hotel window struggling to avoid the image of Quinn. It brought up all of those memories of the arguments you two had and how he knew exactly how to get under your skin in ways that made you squirm. It clogged your mind to the point where you told Andrei that you were sick.

The white lie came from the fact that you couldn’t let yourself drop to your knees for a guy when someone else was on your mind.

You were confused as you heard the sound of music echo in your ears “hi pretty girl.” His words were soft in your ears “hi-Quinn?” You pulled your attention to him as your eyes went wide.

He cupped your cheeks as he dropped his head to kiss your lips “fucking hell.” He mumbled running his fingers down your body as you were in your lacy slip that you had slept in.

His hands pushed you back onto your bed “just want to make you feel good.” The hockey player explained as he helped you spread your legs “mhm Quinn.” You moaned feeling him kiss at your thighs.

Like a cold shower in the winter, your alarm practically hit you as your torso shot out of bed. You ripped the sheets off of you as your eyes went wide “fuck!” You groaned realizing that you had just had a dream about Quinn “Y/n are you okay?” Andrei’s voice came from your door as he knocked.

You were quick to panic as you hit snooze on your alarm and ran to the door “hey.” You made the effort to hide yourself behind your door “just thought I would let you know that you’re gonna be late for breakfast.” Andrei explained as he held out a togo cup of coffee.

The gesture made you smile “thanks Drei.” You tipped the coffee as a thank you “I should get dressed then.” It quickly became apparent that you needed to get a move on after sleeping through your alarm.

He watched you shut your door before he had the chance to utter another word “someone is acting weird.” Andrei mumbled to himself as he walked back to the team.

It seemed like al of your attention was crowded by the Hughes boy as you even struggled to do your job. Constantly avoiding parts of the Rogers Arena that you were concerned about seeing him in. But that only got you so far as the time came for you to finally sit by the bench.

Quinn’s eyes were already on you as you sat down “hi.” He mouthed with a smirk as he watched you freeze. Elias watched his line of sight following it you. The Swede laughed as he knocked Quinn off of his feet leaving the blonde to send you a wink.

The game had been chaotic but the Canucks barely edged the Flames, with the captain scoring the OT winning goal. Fans cheered as the stadium roared leaving the Fames players heartbroken. You sent Andrei a frown as he walked over to you post game.

You were stood in the locker area “I am sorry.” You apologized as he hugged you letting his head fall onto your shoulder “I didn’t think it would hurt so much to lose to them.” He felt stupid letting the confession leave his lips.

But even still you wanted to comfort him “you played really well though.” You confessed pressing a kiss to his temple as your fingers ran through his hair. A cough came from behind you both causing you to drop his arms.

Quinn stood there as he scratched the back of his neck “I wanted to say bye before you left.” He explained locking his eyes with yours “I am gonna leave you two to it.” Andrei nodded leaving you alone with Quinn once more.

The boy towered over you as he watched you cringe stood there in silence “you are looking really good.” He confessed with a soft smile “what is it that you are playing at?” You snapped as you clenched your fists.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched your little outburst “Jesus I was just trying to be nice!” He groaned pulling you into a corner hall as he didn’t want everyone to have to hear it go down.

Your hands tugged at your hair as you were visibly agitated feeling like if you were a cartoon you’d have smoke oozing from your ears “why?” You scoffed as you pushed your lips into a fine line “you’ve been nothing but insufferable the entire time I knew you.’ Your finger pushed into his chest as you cocked your head.

Those words made him roll his eyes “you know, Kuzy is gonna wake up one day and see that you’re just as much of a pain in my ass, as you are everyone else’s.” The dig was sharp as venom rolled off of his tongue “fuck you Hughes.” You spat as you pushed past him leaving the boy alone to process what had happened.

You were still somehow so angry as you got back to the hotel. Silently fearing that there was no real cure to help you calm down “he’s such a fucking ass.” You grumbled as you shook your head, even as your feet brought you to Andrei’s door.

Before you knew what you were doing you knocked at dark wood “hey?” Andrei smiled answering the door in nothing more than his grey sweatpants “I need to ask you for a favour.” You began causing him to nod as he motioned to you to come in.

Your palms were sweaty as you looked for apartment 227. The crumpled napkin was in your hands with his address scribbled out on it after Andrei thought you were in a rush. You might as well have been on your seventh cup of coffee as nerves ran through your body.

Practically bouncing off of the walls as you found his door. You stopped to take a breath as you brought your hand up to knock at the door.

But instead you were beat to it as the door whipped open leaving you faced with his bare chest “Jesus what is it with you men and opening your doors shirtless?” You groaned as you sent him a loom of disgust “I’m sorry?” Quinn didn’t know what else to say as he grabbed his hoodie from the rack next to his door.

You shook your head seeing him stare you down as he pulled the hood off of his head “now can tell me why you are at my door?” The hockey player trailed off reminding you why you were there “you are such an asshole!” You scoffed pushing into the apartment.

It was an open planned space that screamed decorated by a man in his twenties “I think you’ve told me that more than once before.” Quinn pointed out as he crossed his arms letting the door shut behind him.

His comment only irritated you more “you just make me so angry.” You squeezed your hands together trying to remain calm “but somehow I can’t get you out of my mind.” You rambled on only stopping when he laughed.

Your head snapped to stare him down “never would have thought you would have a crush on me.” Quinn smirked as he ran his fingers through his hair as you scoffed “always knew you had a soft spot f’me.” The boy walked over to you.

He watched your face scrunch in disgust “i knew that this was a mistake.” You sighed going to leave him alone for the second time that night.

But Quinn had other ideas as he wrapped his hand around your wrist just as you walked past him “god you are insufferable.” Quinn rolled his eyes pulling you closer to him. He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he cupped your cheek.

His lips were rough against yours making you take a second before you responded. Bringing your hands to his waist “fuck.” He muttered acknowledging the taste of your cherry lipgloss as it made him go lightheaded.

If someone didn’t know any better they would say that you two had done this before as your hands moved in unison like clockwork “jump.” Quinn didn’t want to let your lips leave his for long as you listened feeling his hands cup your ass.

Helping you lift your legs up as you interlocked your ankles behind him wrapping your hands around his neck before you let your teeth sink down at his lower lip. It made him hiss out in that fine line between pain and pleasure.

You didn’t know when you two started walking but before you knew it you in a room as you heard the door creak shortly before your back hit a mattress. Quinn looked at the sight of you lying there in all of your flames gear. He took the moment to take you in before he smiled settling himself on the edge of his bed in his knees “I think it is sweet you went through all of this trouble to get my attention.” He mumbled pissing you off once more as you went to chew him out but instead he placed his finger on your lips.

Your eyes pushed into a glare “I can still leave y’know?” You knew you weren’t in any positions to be making demands but somehow that didn’t stop you from mouthing off.

A dry laugh fell from his lips “then what was the whole point of coming all this way?” He clicked his tongue practically hanging the bait in front of you “because I think you came so that someone could properly fuck you.” The boy added making you gulp.

The new found silence showed him that he was on the right track as you nodded “now you do not know how excited I am to get you out of this.” He mum urged the words to himself with some level of distaste as he locked eyes with the Flames emblem that was printed onto your leggings.

As his fingers hooked into the waistband of them he couldn’t help but plot all of the possible ways he could burn them “then hurry up.” You whined taking him by surprise as you reminded him that you wanted this just as much as he truly did “since you asked so nicely.” Quinn teased helping you kick your shoes off before he pulled your leggings off as well.

The sight of your lacey white panties was going to be imprinted in his mind forever “fucking hell Rocky.” He gave you the nickname in your freshman year after you punched him.

It was something he fully knew he deserved at the time which is why he was able to find the humor in your ability to give him a black eye “you been thinking about me a lot or something?” The comment originally came off as a tease but as he watched the colour drain from your face he realised that he was actually right.

This time a laugh in actual amusement left his lips “so what am I doing during this?” Quinn enquired as he let his hands massage soft circles into the inner parts of your thighs “you were.” You trailed off struggling to find the words to tell him.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth trying to stop himself from smiling “c’mon pretty girl I know you can get your words out f’me.” The boy began wanting to hurry you along as he felt his cock throb in his pants “if I’m gonna be left in the fucking quiet I will leave you here.” Quinn warned letting his hands softly hit your thigh.

Your eyes went wide considering that his threat was serious “I don’t know because it was a dream that I fucking woke up from!” You yelled watching him freeze causing embarrassment to run through your veins.

Your back lifted from his mattress as you went to apologise “look Quinn maybe-” you weren’t given the chance to say much more as his lips caught yours again.

Sucking the air from your lips as he let his hand claw at the fabric of your polo keeping you close to him “that’s fucking hot that you been dreaming about me.” He couldn’t hide how this made his ego float “what did you want me to do?” He asked licking his lips as he let his hand drop to your panties.

His fingers grazed over your clothed clit “fuck Quinn.” You let out a grunt as your thighs squirmed “say the words and I’ll do it.” He nodded not ready to take no as an answer.

You swallowed hard at the sensations “use your tongue.” You confessed making him smirk “lay back down then.” His voice was soft as you listened lying flat on your back.

Quinn hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties pulling them down the length of your legs “fuck you’re soaked.” He mewled at the sight of your glistening cunt “please.” You cried out finally making the boy nod as he gave you what you wanted.

His lips pecked at the insides of your thighs making sure that he divided his attention between both parts equally “you smell so sweet.” The boy confessed letting his face settle millimetres from your core.

He saw how your eyes studied his, watching him place a kiss on her clit “so responsive too.” A smirk formed on his lips when latched his lips around the sensitive bud.

You pushed your chest into the air as your back arched “fucking hell.” You whined bringing your hand to his hair as you tugged at his brown locks.

It acted like encouragement for him as he wrapped his arms around your thighs keeping you close to him as you tried to grind your cunt against his face. Quinn dropped his tongue to your core letting his tongue lay flat as he thrusted it into you.

The feeling made you squirm as you clenched around him when his nose grazed your clit “god you’re good at this.” You moaned lifting your legs to rest your heels on his shoulder blades “who would have thought all I would need to do was fuck you to get you to behave.” Quinn was amused as his words sent shivers through your body.

If you weren’t in this sensual state, you would have snapped at him “don’t stop.” You begged feeling his tongue lap at you like a starved man. He watched your free hand run up your shirt letting your bra go free.

He grinded his hips against the duvet beneath him swearing that he was going to ruin his sheets before he even got a chance to fuck you “Quinn.” Your voice sounded like honey as your face scrunched up in pleasure “you wanna cum pretty girl?” His question made you whimper as his thumb grazed over your clit in these tight circular motions.

The room grew hot as your lips remained screwed shut “need you to tell me-” the Hughes boy couldn’t get his threat out before you cut him off “please let me cum all over your tongue.” You begged making him nod as he let his mouth replace his fingers where it only then took him a few minor thrusts of his tongue to have you chanting his name out in pleasure.

Your legs shook as you struggled to keep them open trying not to crush the captains head as he continued to lap at your release sending you into a state of mind fog. Your body began to tense again and that was when you found the strength to pull Quinn off of you “you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned kissing you again as if he hadn’t seen his lover in years.

The taste of your release was salty on his tongue and it made you moan as it mixed with your spit “off.” He mumbled tugging at your shirt.

You pulled away as you shook your head “‘s not fair you’re still fully clothed.” You complained making him smirk “if you wanted to see me again all you had to do was ask.” Within seconds his hoodie was off and was added to the pile of clothing that by the foot of his bed.

See his bare chest again filled you with this soft sense of confidence. So as you took a deep breath watching him begin to undo his pants you finally pulled your polo off of your body, leaving you in nothing but your white bra “if I knew you had a body like this under your clothes I would have been nicer.” Quinn let the words slip from his lips.

It made you scoff as you sent him a glare “doesn’t mean you would have been able to fuck me.” You snapped trying your best to let your eyes not drop to the bulge in his boxers.

A laugh roared from his lips “there’s the brat I knew you still had in ya.” It took him little strength to pull you to your feet “so now I’m gonna fuck you like a slut.” His hand pinched at your jaw making you whimper in response.

His eyes scanned yours to see if you were scared but instead all he saw was lust “but that’s probably what you wanted.” Quinn chirped making you softly nod “well sluts get fucked against the wall.” He motioned to where his wall mirror was making you unclip your bra before you walked to it.

You watched in the reflection how he stared back at you taking in the sight of how your naked body looked, from your perky breasts to your lower lip that you chewed at in anticipation. Quinn was calculated as he kicked his boxers off “condom?” He asked as he was prepared to grab one from his drawer.

Your head shook “on the pill.” You explained making him wonder just how many times that you let Andrei fuck you raw.

But for how the captain let his thoughts fall to the back of his mind when he saw you spread your legs “look at you so desperate for a good fuck.” Quinn smirked as he taunted you “even after you already came.” His words barely reached a whisper.

His hand gripped at his aching cock as he slotted between your legs. Dragging the head of his cock over your slit as he began to tease your cunt. His precum spread over your clit bringing a moan from your lips as your hands lay flat against the wall.

The boy watched you in awe “such a good girl getting ready f’me.” He cooed brushing your hair to the side “fuck your cunt is heaven.” Quinn let out a grunt as he thrusted his cock into your core as his hips lay flat against yours.

His lips nipped at your neck as he settled into his position “please move.” You begged clenching around his cock “and you’re gonna leave a mark!” You complained making him glare at you.

He scoffed bringing his hand to slap at your ass “you think I fucking give a shit?” Quinn laughed as his hips snapped into yours as he began to fuck you at a pace that was painful “answer me you slut!” He spat making you wince.

Your head dropped as your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock “n-no.” You shook your head feeling tears form in your eyes “then I’m gonna use you how I want okay.” His words weren’t even in the form of a question as he let his hands punch at your hips.

The sound of skin slapping against each other was ringing in your ears “sorry.” Your words were soft as he nipped at your skin “wanna say that a little louder f’me?” Quinn teased seeing your legs begin to shake.

He made sure to keep you upright before you fell “if you aren’t gonna be a brat then I need you to answer me.” His hand gripped at your hair tugging your head upright “I’m sorry!” You moaned feeling your head rest against his shoulder.

It made him smirk as felt you clench around his cock “f’what?” He asked bringing his hand over to your clit letting his fingers rub at your sensitive nub “for being a brat.” You sputtered out the words making him internally cheer for you finally listening to him.

He watched your eyes flutter “just a brat?” He taunted making you squirm “and a slut f’you.” You added letting the tears stream down your face as you felt yourself growing closer to your orgasm.

Quinn let his chin rest on your shoulder “be a good girl for me and watch my dick fuck your pussy.” You nodded at his order watching how your cunt swallowed his cock with each thrust before he would pull away letting the cream of your first orgasm look like a ring around his cock “I’m gonna-” your eyes began to roll back into your sockets.

It made him nod as your cunt clenched around him “think you need to beg for this one.” His voice was soft in your ear as he sucked at your lobe.

The feeling of his cock inside of you as it throbbed made you desperate “wanna make a mess on your cock so bad!” You begged trying to use your hands to keep you up “go make a mess pretty girl.” With that your head rested on his shoulder as your cunt clamped around his cock.

Chants of his name spewed from your lips helping to push him over the edge “milk my cock doll.” Quinn cooed softly shuddering at how your cunt sucked him dry “there we go.” His voice was soft as he let his limp cock slide out of you “holy fuck.” You gasped turning around to kiss him “you’re so gorgeous.” Quinn mumbled as he let his thumbs graze over your nipples.

The room was hot as his hands were all over you like he was scared he’d lose you if he let you go. You pushed him back to the bed letting him sit on the mattress “is my little slut still not satisfied?” Quinn smirked running his hand over your stomach “still not full of my cum?” He added making you whimper as you went to cover your face.

He stopped you as he clicked his tongue “all you gotta do is ask me nicely.” The captain brought his hands to your cheeks pulling your face up to stare at his “make me cum again Quinny?” You begged as he pecked at your lips.

It was softer as he spun you two around laying you down on the bed “I get to see you this time doll.” His words were innocent as he pumped his cock a few times to get you hard all over again “you’re such a pretty girl.” His body hovered over yours as his chain rested on your chin.

This time it was easier for him to thrust into her as their releases acted like the perfect lube for you both “still just as perfect.” He laughed feeling your legs wrap around him “you are such a gorgeous girl.” Quinn mumbled as he kissed you.

The two of you practically moulded into each other “mhm Quinn.” You moaned feeling his pelvis against your clit “like the sound of my name on your tongue.” The Hughes boy smiled as your hands went to claw at his back.

He couldn’t help but notice the little Daisy necklace you had resting on your collarbone and it made him wonder just how many times must Kuzy have seen it before when you were under him “did he fuck you like this?” Quinn let the question come out with little thought before his eyes went wide.

Your silence made him scoff “so he fucks you better than me?” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head “just when I thought you were done being a brat.” Quinn spat as he picked up his pace again.

Cries echoed from your lips “you fuck me better!” You announced making him smirk “couldn’t hear ya princess.” He did it to tease you expecting some kind of push back from you.

But instead you just glared “could get off alone.” You grumbled making him stop his cock was half way inside of you as he stared down at you “you really think you could made yourself feel better than I do?” Quinn let his hand wrap around your throat.

You brought your hand up to wrap around his as you softly nodded “so you aren’t a cumslut feeling me in here.” His free hand pressed against your stomach as he could feel his cock hit your g-spot with each thrust “s-so full.” You whimpered feeling your breasts bounce with each creek of his bed.

The boy let his mouth drop to your breasts “fuck Quinn!” You kicked your legs as you felt your head go light with the new amount of pleasure you felt.

It had you whimpering as he divided his attention as well as he thought he could with his fingers rolling the nipple into a peak “not such a mouthy girl anymore now are ya?” His words were barely audible as he didn’t lift his lips from your nipple.

You cried as you shook your head “please let me cum.” You pleaded feeling your eyes begin to flutter “open your mouth f’me.” He pulled his attention away from your nipples as he looked at you.

Your mouth was centimetres away from his as you followed his instructions letting your tongue roll out of your mouth “now keep it like this until I cum okay?” He asked letting his saliva push out of his mouth in this line of spit only breaking once it landed on your tongue.

He watched your lips shut as smirked “you’re such a pretty fucking girl.” Quinn confessed letting your one leg go over his shoulder so that he could fuck you an entirely different angle “you keep clenching like that and I’m gonna cum.” He warned making you nod.

His fingers around your throat made you drive your hips towards his “I’m gonna cum.” You announced kissing his lips as your legs shook from his sides “let the floor know how good I make you feel.” He placed a closed mouth kiss to your lips as you finally watched your face scrunch up.

Your mouth fell open “don’t stop fucking me Quinn!” You begged feeling your body writhe against him. He watched pleasure wash over you as you came.

Quinn was close to you as he fucked you through your orgasm “there we go.” He gritted out coating your cunt for the second time of the night with his release “holy fuck.” The boy looked down to see that your release had soaked his bed.

You looked down to see what he was talking about “I’m so fucking sorry.” You went to apologise but he shook his head “that’s was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He confessed with a smile.

He watched your redden cheeks calm down “did you know you could do that?” The boy asked as you sat up to look at him “n-no.” You shook your head pushing your hair out of your face.

Quinn watched you stare down at where your mess was “hey.” He frowned hooking his fingers under your jaw “why don’t we get you into the bath?” Quinn’s offer was innocent and even as you knew you needed to go back to the hotel, you couldn’t say no.

And that’s how you landed up with your hair in a bun sat in his bath. Ellen had left bath salts and bubbles under his sink and that’s how you landed up smelling like roses “you okay?” Quinn asked watching you stare at him.

You smiled as you held your hand over the bubbles “come in here.” You mumbled motioning to him to join.

He got off of the edge of the tub going to sit across from you “want you here.” You explained pointing behind you “can’t say no when you look at me like that.” Quinn sighed as he motioned to you to shift over.

The water sloshed around your body as you leaned forward “you feeling better?” He cocked his head as he wrapped his hands around your waist.

His lips kissed at your shoulder feeling the softness of your skin against his lips “so much better.” You nodded laying your head on his shoulder “wait Quinny.” You spoke up as you looked up at him.

You were quick to decide that it was easier to turn around to look at him “I don’t think you’re a total pain in the ass.” You confessed making him smile “I don’t think you are one either.” This was the first time you two had a normal conversation where you guys were making actual grounds worth of progress.

Quinn didn’t want to ruin the moment but he dropped his head to kiss your lips. You straddled him in response as you melted into the kiss. Your hips grinded against his making his cock grow hard all over again “you happy to see me or?” You teased smiling as your forehead rested against his.

The boy shook his head “I’m sorry, we don’t have to.” He watched as your hand dropped below the water “I want to.” You confessed with a smile.

Your hand gripped at his cock pumping it a few times “you like that don’t ya?” You teased letting your grin remain evident “you fucking tease me and I’ll make sure you never squirt again.” Quinn warned showing you that he was being serious.

A giggle left your lips as you sunk down on his cock “never the fun one are ya?” You settled into a slow rhythm letting your hips brush against his “you and I know that I am plenty fun.” Quinn rolled eyes as he used his energy to pick you up and push you to the other side of the bath letting water slosh around you both.

So maybe things were always going to be a competitions between you two. But one thing that you both knew for sure was that nights in Vancouver or Calgary weren’t going to be spent in hotel rooms. They would be spent in each others arms desperate to not let this dream end.

[svearehnn]

black violets and baby's breath | modern!azriel x bridesmaid!reader

summary: feyre and rhys are finally getting married! the tension between you and azriel is palpable.

a/n: part two will be coming soon! once i get my essay done lmao. i hope you enjoy! (i didn’t edit this apologies)

Cobalt blue hugged your form in a silky sheen, falling just above your white ankle heels. You let out a shuttering breath as you smoothed the fabric down, fiddling with the sparkling jewelry that adorned your ears, wrists, and neck. 

You were nervous. Feyre was getting married, your best friend. It was so thrilling to be apart of her wedding party, but you couldn’t help the racing of your heart at the thought of being escorted down the aisle by none other than Azriel, your long term crush and childhood friend. You eyed yourself in the mirror. It was obvious that you looked stunning–cobalt was your color, and a polished look seemed to compliment your angelic fae-like features.

However, you couldn’t find it within yourself to step out of the room. You chuckled sardonically to yourself, fluffing your hair, reapplying your lip gloss, doing anything to delay your inevitable exit. You weren’t even the bride, yet it felt as though you had pre-wedding jitters.

A knock sounded on the door, and you closed your eyes. One deep breath in, out through your mouth, and you opened the oak door. Mor stood on the other side, her brown eyes dazzling.

“You ready?” She squealed, excitement palpable in her buzzing form. You nodded hesitantly and took her hand. She squeezed it, a comforting gesture that helped soothe your rampant nerves.

“It’ll be okay. Az is going to think you’re beautiful. I mean, he always does, but goddamn do you look like a goddess right now.” That forced a giggle from your throat, prompting a smile to form on Mor’s striking features.

“There’s that gorgeous smile! Now come on.” Your blonde friend dragged you down the stairs, causing you to stumble in your heels. Once you got to the wooden staircase, you descended hand in hand. Nerves encased your soul, bees buzzing and stinging in your stomach. 

Yet, once you rounded the curve of the stairs and your eyes locked on Azriel’s hazel ones, all the nerves seemed to fade away. His eyes widened, brows raising, lips turning upward in an imperceptible smile that only you could catch. You bowed your head, cheeks aflame as you continued your decline. 

Mor had disappeared, arms wrapped around Emerie, leaving you alone with the railing gripped between bone white fingertips. Azriel outstretched his hand and you took it gingerly, letting him guide you down the last few steps and onto the natural wooden floors of Feyre and Rhys’ River House.

The two of you stood like that for a moment, no words exchanged, just drinking each other in. Azriel wore a black tux, a cobalt tie adorning his neck, accentuating the tattoos that peeked through the black collar of his shirt. His ears held their signature silver hoops and secondary studs, his fingers adorned with bands of silver and stone. He had slicked back his dark hair and it looked nice, yet all you wanted to do was muss it up to its usual messy demeanor.

Azriel spoke first, licking his lips and smacking them before he spoke. “You look…wow. Just phenomenal, Little Star.” He hummed, appreciation coating his tone. He raised your hand, twirling you around in a slow circle, eyeing the slit that went up to your hip and the low V that showed off your collarbones. The blush that filled your features warmed your skin to a feverish glow from his compliments.

“You look wonderful yourself, Azriel.” You murmured, looking him up and down slowly, drinking in every aspect, every detail of the godly male in front of you. He smirked, biceps flexing ever so slightly beneath the fabric of his tux. He held out the crook of his arm as the music began to filter in through the hallway, signaling the start of the ceremony.

“Are you ready, my beautiful bridesmaid?” You accepted his arm gratefully, unusually quiet within this newfound adoration that he was throwing at you.

“Lead the way, my handsome groomsman.” You replied, swallowing thickly. His arm was rock hard beneath your touch, an obvious indication of his and Cassian’s daily gym ventures.

The two of you walked arm in arm to the french doors that lead to the backyard wedding that Feyre and the rest of the wedding party had set up beautifully.

Cassian and Nesta led the line, the oldest Archeron dressed in a stunning dark red dress that matched Cassian’s tie. Then came Elain and Lucian in sparkling gold akin to the setting sun. Mor and Emerie followed, adorned in midnight purple. Behind them trailed Amren and Varian in their signature North Sea blue.

At the strike of the piano, Azriel gave you a small smile and stepped forward, leading you through the glass doors. The sun was blinding, but even through your squinted eyes you could see the flower arch at the alter filled with calla lilies and black violets, baby’s breath dotted in between. You and Azriel floated on a walkway of white peony petals, eyes hardly leaving each other’s, unable to stop drinking each other in.

It was as if a tension had electrified the air between the two of you the second he had set his sights on you when you meandered down the staircase. Your heart was a doldrum in your chest, begging to break through your ribs, taut and strained. As if Azriel could sense your trepidation, he squeezed your arm in a comforting touch.

He leaned down, breath against your ear, the smell of cedar encompassing your senses. “Breathe, Little Star.” You did as told, lungs expanding, nerves unfolding into the atmosphere and disappearing on the wind. Azriel’s thumb traced patterns into the skin of your forearm, soothing you further.

Your eyes left his, landing on Rhys at the altar. His eyes were alight, a slight smirk on his lips. He glanced between you and Azriel with a raised brow. A blush rose on your cheeks. His smirk widened, shoulders peacocking as though he knew he was right. Which, he usually was, you thought. You wouldn’t dwell on it–at least, not now. It was Feyre’s day, not yours.

The song came to an end as you and Azriel reached the dais, parting to reach your respected positions with you on the left and him on the right. As you turned, he grabbed your hand, extending your arm and bringing it up to press a kiss to the soft skin. Without another word he turned, leaving you stunned. Mor had to pull you to her side, her excitement palpable.

“Oh my gods!” She exclaimed, but you hardly heard her as the music started back up and the doors opened. Feyre stepped out, her black dress sparkling in the sun. Sheer fabric covered her arms and her her chest, flowing down into an intrinsic pattern of swirls similar to that of hers and Rhys’ tattoos. It was skin tight down to her knees, the skirt billowing out below, covering her black heels. She looked exquisite. It was impossible for you to take your eyes off of her, and if you were able to look around, you would notice that it was the same for everyone else.

When she reached the altar, Rhys took her hands, helping her up the marble steps with tears lining his waterline. They lined yours, as well.

Gwyn stood behind the couple, hands clasped in front of her, a smile etched onto her face. Words flowed out of her lips, Feyre and Rhys repeating every syllable as salty water flowed freely down their cheeks until the final I do.

Rhys dipped his wife in a passionate kiss, oblivious to the ovation happening around them from their closest friends. When they rose, Feyre raised her bouquet in the air, pride hanging heavy around her, a glow emanating from her skin.

Everyone rose in unison as if in prayer.

“To the new Mrs. and Mr. Carynthian!” Mor called out next to you, her voice carrying through the garden. Voices echoed after her, singing reverants to the newlyweds. As she walked back down the aisle, hand in hand with Rhys, bouquet in hand, everyone cheered as they passed. They congregated behind them, tears flowing, applause echoing through the space as if it were an ancient cathedral. 

Feyre stopped before she entered the house. She turned towards everyone, a grin plastered on her lips, a wink highlighting her stormy eyes. She threw her bouquet high up in the air. Hands reached up toward the Mother, itching to be the one to catch the bundle of violets. 

They fell gingerly into your waiting palms as if there was some kind of divine interference. You blinked slowly, locking eyes with Feyre. They sparked with mischief before her and Rhys disappeared behind the French doors. 

Your heart pulled taut again as you fiddled with the black petals, their touch akin to a feather within your fingertips. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the shadow towering over you until a hand landed on your chin, tilting your head so your eyes met Azriel’s. 

“How was that for a ceremony?” He asked, breathless, eyes wide, pupils dilated. You swallowed, chest fluttering.

“It was beautiful.” Your voice came out within less than a whisper. He smiled, one only reserved for you, as he tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. His hand stayed there for a moment before pulling back, as if he were debating about running his fingers along the length of your cheek.

“You caught the bouquet, too.” You glanced down at the flowers in question, their fragrant smell filtering through your lungs every time you inhaled. 

“I did. I don’t know why the universe gave it to me though, I’m not even close to getting married.” The words fell out of your mouth haphazardly before you could stop them. Azriel chuckled, hands shoved into his pockets, tensing within the linen slacks.

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” Heat rose from your neck to your cheeks. You hadn’t, honestly. The only person you could dream of marrying was him, yet you knew that was far fetched. Even with the energy buzzing around the two of you, the idea would fade within a week. It was just the presence of a wedding, you thought. Nothing would change. Azriel’s hazel eyes were intense, gazing directly into your soul for what seemed like eternity until Mor bumped your arm.

“Come on! We have to get ready for the reception.” You smiled at him as Mor dragged you away by the arm, your eyes never leaving his even as you disappeared behind the same doors that Feyre did. As you and your blonde friend climbed the same steps you had descended only an hour ago, the thought of marrying Azriel swirled through your mind like a tornado, wreaking havoc on any other thought that was there. Maybe it was possible. Maybe Azriel was interested in you. Only time would tell, and maybe, at the reception, the tension between the two of you would lift and reveal the secrets that were hidden beneath hardened hearts.

tags: @kayjaywrites

[nilsavatar]

DAY 31 - A/B/O

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, ANGST, SMUT in the end, love bites, rubbing, sexual tension, olfactophilia (they both turn on by smelling arousal/pheromones), P in V, manhandling, oral (f receiving), face fucking, fingering, praising, cursing, pet name (ma’uniltı`ranyu - my dreamwalker), rough, knotting, dirty talk, overstimulation, edging, strangers to lovers, first time (first heat, loss of avatar body virginity), begging, difference in power (alpha-omega dynamics), soft-dom Neteyam (mention of marking, possessive behavior but he’s kind and caring), Jamie Flatters cameo. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Living in the body of an avatar is not as simple as one might think.

Little note: OMG! You have no idea how happy I am to have finally finished this fic. It has been on hiatus for so many months that I thought I would never publish it. The more time passed, the more the pressure to write something worth the long wait increased. I rewrote it so many times, but it never seemed good enough, and the editing was exhausting. I hope with all my heart not to disappoint your expectations. Please be forgiving: this is my first Omegaverse. Thank you🥰

If you would like to be tagged in future fics, please write it in the comments. I will be happy to add you all💕

Word Count: 7,6k

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Aubree’s knowledge as a xenobiologist fell short in front of the challenges of living as a dreamwalker among the Na’vi.

The presence of a secondary sex was fascinating, fictional in the eyes of a human being, accustomed to a binary system. But on Pandora, things were way different. The natives displayed their primary sex (male or female) from birth, and their roles in the clan were influenced by signs that emerged during puberty. Alphas, predominantly men, possessed a massive physiognomy. Tall, muscular, strong-willed, controlled in character, yet predisposed to irascibility. Betas were the largest group, with an equal proportion of females and males, and the most human-like. Omegas, mostly women, were known for their petite and delicate build, along with a calming demeanor.

When she arrived on Pandora, she had no particular expectations of what her avatar’s designation would be. Still, no one would ever have considered a potential alpha looking at her features. Aubree was a spitfire who was unlikely to be pushed around and knew her stuff in professional terms. Someone who won’t let you get away with nothing. However, her dainty physique and conflict-avoiding tendency were clear indications she would be an omega (or beta at best). The moment she connected with the hybrid, clarity rained down on her like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Her own body erupted in a chorus of sensations, each one clamoring for attention. It was as if every nerve ending had awoken from a deep sleep, demanding to be felt. The omega within seemed to mold itself to her presence, wrapping around her with the natural warmth of a long-lost sibling's affection. Its voice, like a lullaby, soothed tenderly in her ears, caressed her senses, evoking a bittersweet nostalgia. It had waited for her for a lifetime, patiently biding, though she felt as if it had always been there; their destinies entwined for eternity. The connection felt familiar as if it had always been an integral part of her existence, hidden deep within her soul, longing to be seen. A joyous reunion with her inner essence, theirs, rather than a discovery of something new about herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the blinding white light of the hospital room assaulted her vision, her first instinct was to cry. Overwhelmed by the pent-up emotions that had been building within her.

Yet another factor played a role — a negative note. The recognition wasn’t exclusive to her; everyone around her, from the very moment she had awoken as an avatar, had sensed, smelled what she was. And this made it obvious why omegas often experienced such a designation as a condemnation.

Alphas’ attentions may be... excessive.

From a human perspective, Na’vi were naturally intrusive. The concept of personal space between the two species was totally at odds; they were prone to be close, to touch each other, to smell each other. A fundamental part of their socialization techniques. Aubree could have learned to tolerate it as a cultural trait if her alpha-designated colleagues didn’t engage in the same behaviors. They couldn’t help themselves.

“It’s the pheromones,” said matter-of-fact Max, not having any other scientific explanation. Studies on the subject were stalled. Without a vomeronasal organ connected to the brain, or terrestrial examples to refer to, they couldn’t describe the phenomenon. The only thing palpable to both of them, equally inexplicable, was that her wake was inviting. Alphas were almost reduced to a primal state around her. “You should talk to the Tsahìk about this,” Aubree mentally berated herself for not thinking of it sooner. Who better than the Tsahìk, the spiritual leader of the clan and the highest authority among healers, to provide her with the answers she sought? And maybe even help in dealing with the symptoms.

*

The healers’ tent wasn’t large. Quite the opposite, it was indeed small. The room appeared even tinier with the disorganized heap of things stacked on top of each other in a jumbled mess, creating the feeling it could burst at any time. An imminent threat to be fair. However, under scrutiny, one could discern an order in the distribution of the items. To her right, tools of various types and sizes covered the entire wall. To the left, on shelves arranged by color, were terracotta jars filled with powders and ointments. Some were large, others tiny; some had regular shapes, others were bizarre, tongued, or angular. Engraved on the bottom of each were symbols. An early form of writing, considering the People were still oral.

A little further down, the counter ran around the entire interior of the room to the nearest post of mattresses where sicks could rest. Behind the cupboard was the massiest shelf of all. Ampoules, mirrors, rolls of cloth, baskets of bandages, needles, and flowers stuffed somehow. That place was a unique contradiction, ranging from manic order to disturbing chaos. Despite the dimness and the oppressive atmosphere, the tent also emitted a serene, welcoming feeling, akin to the mystical aura of a shaman’s lair.

But one not was out of place. Post-its here and there written in… English? What were post-its doing in the Tsahìk tent? They were so out of context.

“I see the human touch doesn’t go unnoticed.” Aubree gasped, more at the dull sound of something heavy being moved across the counter than the surprise itself. A woman emerged from the myriad of baskets scattered across the floor, placed one on the wooden shelf, and emptied its contents. Her hair, just above her chin, was straight but messy. The tswin, displayed in front of her chest, obscured the huge needle that hung from her slender neck. At every movement, the beads of the intricate shawl that covered her shoulders and breasts jingled, as lively as a child’s laughter. A streaked cerulean complexion set off lemon-yellow irises fixed upon her like those of a cat.

How old was she? Her face appeared youthful, almost adolescent, yet her eyes betrayed wisdom and worldliness far beyond her years.

“You must be Aubree. I was waiting for you to show up.” It seemed as if the healer’s pupils flickered at the sound of her name. The avatar stepped forward. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Kiri te Suli Kireysi’ite, Tsahìk of the Omatikaya.” Acting on impulse, she extended her hand, but when the young woman didn’t shake it, she hastily corrected the gesture into the typical bow of greeting and reverence. She looked amused.

“No need for formality here. We are the same age and are both researchers. We have more in common than you might think.” A smirk curved her plump lips as she put her fists on her sides. “To what do I owe the glee of your visit? I suppose you need to ask me something.” Her sudden remark made her jolt. The Na’vi woman stopped arranging the shelves and turned to look at her with anticipation. “Well?” “I wouldn’t know where to even start. It’s something I don’t fully understand,” she confessed. “Is it related to your dreamwalker body?” She nodded. “But humans cannot help you.” It wasn’t a question, but the scientist nodded anyway. Kiri drew a smile and disappeared behind a curtain that separated the room from the next one — a laboratory. After several minutes, she reappeared with a small box full of tea filters. “Have one in the morning and another in the evening. It’s a suppressant; it will quell your pheromones.”

Aubree blushed furiously. How…?

“I might be just a beta, but your wake is so strong that it knocked me out for a sec. I dare not imagine the effect you have on alphas.” “Not pleasant.” “Much too pleasant, you mean,” she chuckled. “Be careful not to abuse the drug. You wouldn’t want to find out about the side effects. And remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during estrus.”

Estrus.

The idea hadn’t crossed her mind at all when she accepted her Ph.D. and joined the AVTR Program. She was so thrilled to pursue her dream she would have accepted any job proposal. And who was she to deny she had always felt a fascination about natives? Na’vi estrus cycle was highly articulated and varied by secondary sex designation. Beta females, like humans, had a menstrual cycle and were potentially always fertile, exhibiting no visual, behavioral, or olfactory signals announcing impending ovulation.

Quite a different story for omegas and alphas.

The former went into heat three times a year, about four months between cycles, and could last up to seven agonizing days in the absence of a partner to care for them. This was their peak fertility period. The latter rutted once a year, and the length of the inter-anestrus was unpredictable. In mated pairs wasn’t uncommon for one’s heat to trigger the other’s.

“What should I do when it happens?” “Well, the most natural advice would be to spend it with a playmate, preferably an alpha, as theirs are the only pheromones that have a calming effect on omegas. There is no risk of conception for those who are not mated, so as long as your kuru’s are not entwined, let go.” “Mm, alternatives?” “Lock yourself in a shelter until it ends, away from everyone. But that is the least desirable option. It’s terribly painful to face heat alone.” “I could stay disconnected as long as my avatar is in this state.” “Risking dying of dehydration and starvation in the meantime? Or worse, that some alpha will have fun at your expense?” Kiri hastened to say, noticing the scientist’s horrified expression. “Yes, it has happened, and I assure you that the physical memory of the trauma remains, even if consciousness was not present.” “But I’ll still have to log out myself. My human body needs care, too.” “All the more reason you should find someone to look after you, and quickly. Your first heat is approaching.”

As if that were a small thing.

“My intuition tells me you’ll be fine. Now go. And drink your infusion.” She was about to leave the tent when one last question left Aubree’s lips: “How will I know I’m in heat?” “Oh, trust me, you’ll know.”

She was so absorbed in Kiri’s words that she didn’t even notice the hungry glances she was catalyzing. Especially that of a distinguished man wearing a feathered cloak. The young Olo’eyktan followed her figure as she made her way back to the human outpost until she was swallowed up by the thick undergrowth.

“She doesn’t have a mate if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice to his left exclaimed. As he turned, he came face to face with the Tsahìk, whose penetrating stare revealed a cunning expression that hinted at a deeper understanding. “I don’t see why this indiscretion of yours should interest me.” “Mm, I don’t know. Seems like she caught your interest.” “Hard to ignore with the trail she carries.” A corner of Kiri’s mouth twitched: Neteyam had just been trapped in the net. “She’s not the first omega with such a scent passing under your nose, but you’ve barely noticed the others.” The young man’s back straightened. “What's your point?” “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

Neteyam’s gaze was again lost in scanning the spot where the avatar had vanished, lost in a thousand thoughts. Unaware of the bright, wide smile that now graced his sister’s beautiful face. The satisfied smirk of one who sees three moves ahead.

*

Upon entering the research division’s canteen, some may have felt as if they stepped into Goldilocks’ fairy tale. Everything in there was big, big or small, small, except for the stove and tables, which were set at an intermediate height so that both avatars and pilots could use them.

Aubree stared at the teapot brewing the concoction Kiri had given her; her nose stung by the pungent yet fresh smell of nettle wafting from the spout. Carefully, she poured the liquid into a cup without straining — Ingest the leaves — and drank it. Immediately, her throat burned and a tremendous itch seemed to want to tear it open.

Shit, even worse than anticipated.

She took a seat on the plush sofa, its velvety fabric enveloping her frame. As she pressed play on the remote, the screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow on the dimply lit room. Her eyes followed the vivid images of a movie for distraction, but her mind was eaten up by the searing prickle that intensified with each passing moment. The discomfort became all-consuming, shielding her from the outside world, as if the itchy sensations had woven a barrier around her, isolating the woman in her own thoughts. She was oblivious to her colleague’s presence until he sank into the cushions beside her. His arm hung weakly on the backrest, almost brushing against her shoulder. But it was his sudden loud snort that jolted her back to reality. Aubree jumped as she turned to her right and found Jamie. His left knee wedged into his opposite ankle, his foot dangling in her direction. His head rested an inch from the wall, eyes half-closed in a drowsy state.

“You look tired.”

The guy let out a low, rumbling laugh in his typical mumble before replying that he felt like a bulldozer had run over him. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, evident in the strain it put on his distinct British accent. She surreptitiously watched him, taking in the details of his avatar that closely resembled the human it was created from. His gaze remained the same, although his blue irises had now turned a striking shade of yellow. His lips and teeth mirrored the original, except for the canines. When he smiled full-mouthed, two dimples appeared on his cheeks, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, as if they were smiling, too. His slightly protruding incisors gave his face a boyish charm, contrasting with his strong, masculine features. He radiated a sense of gentleness.

That last remark had the same effect as lightning illuminating the night. They were conversing freely, as they would have if they were humans.

An alpha and an omega.

Aubree had gotten into the habit of avoiding alphas as much as possible when she was in this body; head down, shy look, walk fast. Never within nose reach. But Jamie did not lose his cool in her presence. He didn’t sniff the air greedily. His gaze didn’t become insistent as it passed over her face. He didn’t moisten his lips endlessly or clench his jaw and fists as if to keep himself from jumping on her. Nor did hold his breath and make excuses, running for his life as he was wont to do.

The suppressor was working!

The success of the next days was enough for the unknown estrus to recede into the background, in the darkest and most hidden place in her head. Who could blame her? Her life was finally back to normal. After all, her avatar's first heat couldn't have been so terrible, could it? Just stick to this simple recipe and everything will be fine, repeated as a mantra.

Remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during the heat.

Time passed, and days turned into weeks. The taste of the medicine became more tolerable as her throat grew accustomed to its piquant flavor. Even if it wasn’t, the end justified the means. Aubree took the doses with obsessive precision, but after a few months, she noticed the effects wearing off, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it began.  The first warning came in the form of mild dizziness when she logged in, accompanied by a lingering feeling of fever. Then, her appetite waned, alternating with sudden bouts of hunger. Finally, twinges settled in her iliac fossae. She chalked it as harmless PMS, nothing she hadn’t already experienced. Most importantly, not a cause for alarm regarding her host’s performance or health; the hybrid was fully functional.

Wait a minute. Premenstrual syndrome?

As she walked down the hallway leading to the medical area, her mind wandered back to her last period. Her forefinger swiftly navigated the tablet, selecting the calendar app she used to track her menstrual cycle. She was still a long way from the start of the next one, a full two weeks, right in the middle of her fertility window. Maybe I’m ovulating. The symptoms she had been going through lately aligned with that assumption. Breast sensitivity, a slight increase in discharge, heightened lubrication, and libido.

This would have been enough to reassure her, if not for the steady, soft beeping coming from the hospital room, serving as a haunting reminder. Her stare roamed beyond the glass, taking in the circle of Link Units surrounding a pair of desks in the center, a total of eight. It settled on the last station on the far left. Number 3. Her lucky number. Well, not so lucky, given how things were going. The monitor next to it showed the status of the machine, the vitals of the subject inside, the neural activity of the two interconnected brains. The real-time image of the pilot's unconscious face.

Aubree’s face.

And so she realized the symptoms were none other than the avatar's. Ovulation, PMS, cravings were all alarm bells that the heat was near. But who gave her the coup de grâce was Jamie himself.

The guy was running towards her, calling out and weaving, eager for something he was about to share if he didn’t put the brakes on his run. With his palm up to cover his mouth and nose, he said, “Woah Bree... You stink.” His pupils showed a hint of dilation. “It’s time, isn’t it? The suppressant isn’t working anymore.” “Guess so.” “Um, I don’t wanna freak you out or anything, but...” He scratched nervously at the back of his head, no longer holding her gaze. “... if you ever need help dealing with… that. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I’d prefer a friend taking care of me over some random dude. So...” “Thanks, Jamie, for the offer. I know it’s from a genuine interest, and that you’re not trying to take advantage of the situation. I appreciate it, but maybe the Tsahìk can help me out while I’m in the shelter.” “It could last for days.” “I still haven’t come to terms that intercourses are the only way. She's possibly making it sound worse than it actually is.” “Possibly not. Thinking you’ll be locked up somewhere suffering...” "I'll log out for the night," Aubree giggled. “Besides, it would be kinda weird, don’t you think? We work together.” Now he couldn’t help but laugh. “I do science. Stuff like that won't faze me. You better hurry, based on the scent you're giving off, you could be in heat any minute. If you change your mind...” With a last playful wink, Jamie left.

Free to return to her concerns, Aubree’s smile turned into a taut line. She had to find Kiri. Quickly.

*

As she battled the relentless fever, the seemingly endless and overwhelming path to Hometree stretched out before her. Every step was a struggle, her trembling hands clutching onto the rough tree trunks for support. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her, her eyes squinting against the blinding rays of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. The intense heat made her perspire profusely, the dampness seeping through her clothes, clinging to her body like a second skin. She wished she could strip off her garments; the discomfort unbearable. The thought of dying of shame seemed trivial compared to the fire that consumed her from within, leaving her skin burning and blistering. 

Sounds of prolemuris filled the air, their calls echoing through the dense canopy. The heavy, rich, damp bouquet of lush vegetation mingled with the freshness of rain and whiffs of her scent, alerting a hunter nearby to her presence. His senses heightened. With narrowed eyes, he tasted the air, as if savoring a fine wine. The particles rose into his nostrils, painting a vivid image of Aubree in his mind. Her sweet face, adorned with sparkling eyes, and sinuous curves stood out against the dry features of the People. 

As he continued to track her trail, his pupils dilated, his senses enticed by the lingering aroma. Every step he took, he could feel the dampness of the forest floor beneath his feet, the rough texture of the leaves brushing against his fingertips. The air was alive with anticipation, as if holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. But as quickly as the scent had captivated him, the hunter’s instincts kicked in. He realized that if he could smell her, others could too. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the rainforest. With a determined resolve, he pressed on, his senses alert, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

He left his prey to almost run the distance that separated him from the woman. His omega. The moments it took him to reach her seemed like hours when they were a handful of minutes at most. He found her at the foot of a plant, curled up in a ball, her cheeks stained with tears as she whispered incomprehensible words under her breath. The man staggered, his senses assaulted by the unmistakable pungent smell of her heat stench. A wake so overpowering that left him breathless and struck, unlike anything he had ever smelled before. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched to the breaking point, he bravely advanced towards her, finally falling to his knees. If only he had resisted his natural urges. He could not allow himself to give in. Not him.

With a gentle touch, he cradled her jaw in his palm and soothed her with slow, reassuring strokes along her side, repeating, “It’s alright, it’s alright. You’re safe now. You're not alone; I'm here for you. You’re going to be okay.”  Her cry-streaked face trembled as she whispered, “Please... I can’t take it any longer,” cheeks dampened by an endless stream of tears. “Just take care of it.” He cursed in frustration, powerless that he couldn’t even bring her to his sister. Kiri was assisting a primipara in childbirth. “Please!”  Before taking her in his arms and laying her gently against his chest, the Na’vi sighed, his voice filled with resignation, “Yes, whatever you need.”

Walking backward towards the nearest shelter, he kept his gaze fixed on the path, his piercing eyes fully focused on his surroundings, scanning for any signs of danger. The very direction he had originally come from. Not that anyone could have stood up to him under those circumstances. Regardless of whether he had reached the woman first, no one would have been foolish enough to challenge the clan’s top warrior. 

Groaning, Aubree nuzzled against him, finding solace in the familiar and calming scent that emanated from his skin. Like lowered into a light, peaceful bubble, his soothing alpha pheromones everywhere. An alpha she couldn’t recognize, her vision too blurry, but to whom the omega inside her was singing a serenade. In this foggy confusion, she could only hear the beating of his heart against her ear and the oh-so-big, firm hands holding her up. And though she could not see him, starry eyes appeared in her mind’s eye, looking tenderly at her. 

Her fantasy drifted away, picturing him holding her close, his lips exploring every inch of her body, and their lovemaking leaving her in a state of euphoric surrender. A shiver ran down her spine and made her throbbing quicken at the mere thought of being touched where the tremendous burn concentrated the most. The brush of his lips on her forehead and the tip of her nose made her believe, if only for an instant, that reality had merged with her imagination. His voice lingered in the air, like a gentle gust against her mouth, hinting that they were just moments away from their destination.

Where, she would have inquired, but there wasn’t much room for consistency in her head right now, her perceptions too chaotic to form a coherent question. She would have gone to the ends of the Universe, as long as it meant she could be near him.

Next to her, on her, inside her. Her heart raced with anticipation.

As the hunter laid her down on the mattress and went to fetch water, it was no surprise that her expression crinkled, her eyelids opened slightly, and a low moan eluded her parched lips.

“You need to drink,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern, as he offered out a small bowl. The liquid inside shimmered, reflecting the soft glow of the room. However, she shook her head, causing the contents to spill onto the floor, the sound of the liquid splashing echoing through the silence. A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but it quickly melted away, replaced by a deep-seated worry as he watched her. Her arms opened towards him, inviting him into her embrace. He had never encountered such desperation and helplessness in an omega before. 

Calmly, he laid down beside her, pulling her gently towards him. As he hugged her, she could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. But it wasn’t enough. Aubree craved more, she needed more. And so he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft and tender, like a delicate caress. When she bit into them, the taste exploded on her tongue, a blend of sweet honey and warm sunshine. The flavors danced and mingled, delighting her senses. Closing her eyes, she felt a rush of sparks and stars illuminating her mind. His tongue explored her mouth with a gentle touch, mirroring the soothing sensation of his hands as they massaged her tense shoulders.

She felt perfect, cocooned in the strength of his embrace. The soft glow of candlelight danced across their entwined bodies, casting a warm, intimate atmosphere. The warmth of his arms, his faint scent mingled with her own, enveloped her, creating a sweet, comforting haven from the outside world. Yet, an intoxicating sensation filled the air as she nestled against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. A soothing melody that resonated deep within her. Every touch, every caress, sent waves of bliss coursing through her body. In this moment, she found solace and contentment, knowing that she had found her rightful place - in his loving arms.

She was exactly where she belonged, complete and fulfilled.

When he let go, she was panting, her lungs desperate for oxygen, her heart pounding in her chest. All she could see were his eyes, lost in darkness. Delighting in her exquisite taste, surpassing his wildest dreams, he pressed his lips against her face and kissed her deeply. The overwhelming passion seemed to consume her, suffocating her with its intensity. He gently moved away, giving her a chance to catch her breath, and as he did, he positioned himself on top of her, taking off the thin t-shirt she had on.

As much as he longed to press his skin against the avatar's, the Na’vi couldn’t help but be drawn to her curvaceous physique, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of his own kind. He took his sweet time to admire her; the naked breasts, the rounder hips, he could not resist stroking them with his fingertips. Aubree’s scent brainwashed him, a slave to the instinct to take her where she was, but in the back of his mind, there was still enough clarity to realize that he was truly amazed by the wonder of the woman before him. He liked her. He really liked her. He had liked her from the first moment he had noticed her, her trail so enchanting that it could not be ignored.

Once again, he yearned to taste her, to hold her. He placed his lips upon every reachable inch, leaving his mark with his intoxicating scent. He lavished attention on her face, caressed her eyes, nibbled on her ears, traced her collarbones, and claimed her neck, burying his nose in her skin, his tongue tenderly exploring the hidden depths behind her shoulder. It was a remarkably sensitive spot, causing her to surrender to pleasure, her corneas tilting backward in ecstasy. The surge of pheromones transformed into a primal growl, resonating deep within her core; uncontrollable shivers coursed through her body. He pressed harder against her hips, releasing a second wave that intensified their connection.

Aubree wrapped her limbs around him, squeezing him in a fervent embrace. The sound of their mingling breaths filled the air as their lips met once more, a symphony of desire. Overwhelmed by the sensation of his body against hers, she reveled in the way he effortlessly fit into the curves of her form. Each kiss and caress he bestowed upon her skin brought a cascade of relief that engulfed her senses.

Through the graceful dance of their bodies, she felt the weight of his longing against her. Every movement spoke volumes of his desire to please her, to alleviate her anguish. As his lips explored her skin, a low, guttural moan escaped her throat, resonating with a mixture of gratification and pain. In the air, a spice of raw passion intertwined with a hint of vulnerability. In his touch, she could sense the depth of his caring, his soulful dominance.

She realized how similar they were: two people subjected to their nature.

Equally desperate, her lungs aching, she reached a trembling hand towards his tail, fingers brushing against the coarse texture of the loincloth. The tightly cinched knot resisted her efforts, causing each tug to reverberate with a faint sound of strained fabric. The hunter, his muscles trembling with anticipation, propped himself up slightly, his breaths mingling with hers in the dimly lit room.

Time slowed to a torturous crawl as he painstakingly unraveled the knot, his fingers working with meticulous precision. The sensation of the fiber slipping through his grasp sent shivers down his spine, a mix of alleviation and frustration intertwining in his chest. The weight of the tewng around his ankles became a physical reminder of the barriers they both longed to shed. Almost on the verge of tears, he yearned for liberation from this confining cloth, craving the proximity and warmth they shared. With a swift motion, he freed himself from the bindings, the garment rustling quietly as it fell to the ground. In an instant, he pulled her back into his embrace, his arms blanketing her with a renewed fervor.

As their bodies tangled, a rush of emotions flooded their senses — the scent of their shared desire hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of sweat. The touch of their skin, now unencumbered, ignited a fire that burned with an intensity they could no longer deny.

The scientist loved every moment; his piercing, smoldering gaze fixated on her, lolling in every tender touch, every flattering word, but she reached her limit, and he could sense it. Suddenly, the biting cold dusk shrouded her exposed form. Her garments were violently ripped away, leaving her vulnerable. The icy sensation lasted only a fraction of a second, though, for that was all the time it took for the stranger to plunge into her doused core. His intricate braids tickled against the satin-like skin of her inner thigh. The balmy breeze of his breath danced upon her as she rolled up her sticky legs around his head. “No need for that,” she giggled, her voice trembling. The sharp edges of his canines teased her, causing a playful tingle to spread across her lips. His smile showing both desire and mischief.

With exasperating slowness, he inhaled in a long sniff, his expounded pupils pulsating as they reopened. He dove in to guzzle the juicy nectar at its source, emitting a hoarse moan with the initial sip. She gasped, feeling the vibration against her quivering lips, as a blissful wave rippled through her soul, intensifying her arousal. Gripping her silky hair, he nestled his face, exploring every crevice, nuzzling her thoroughly. His insatiable tongue and eager lips caressed the velvety walls of her intimate entrance, skillfully teasing the supple skin and delicate clitoris. His left hand, loving and firm, cupped her slender ankle, his touch sending shivers up her bone. Slowly, he trailed his hand up her smooth thigh, his fingertips tracing every contour, igniting a fiery anticipation within her. With a whispered whoop, he sank his index into her swollen, drenched core, the wetness coating his digit. There was no resistance, only an overwhelming urge for more. In sync with her ragged sighs, he added a second finger. The sound of their combined panting saturated the air as her grip tightened around his relentless, plunging fingers.

At this point, Aubree was trembling with need as every fiber within her begged to be fucked. The alpha’s dominant pheromones beguiled her, while his languid, deliberate movements captivated her gaze. His hungry eyes, dark and all-consuming held her spellbound by the way he devoured her. The crushed combination of his present and skill left her subdued, infatuated even. As her back arched in pleasure, a primordial scream tore through her open windpipe. Excitement was so intense, a fiery mixture of ecstasy and release so gratifying and flawless,  that her omega felt a devastating love than just heat. In that instant, he hit her G-spot with caustic precision one final time, causing her to pour forth in a torrential climax. A violent, passionate eruption met by the man’s eager mouth, which drank her essence like a thirsty beast.

However, something unexpected happened as the orgasm subsided. Aubree burst into tears.

Copious tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks; wet, hot streaks that burned almost as scorching as the new, unbearable fire festering in her belly. Sobs rang through the shelter as he called her back, holding her tightly in his protective embrace, now curled against his chest seeking consolation. “Shushu... ‘Upe kemwiä? (What is it?).” He murmured, his lips resting on her temples as he futilely wiped away her tear-strained cheekbones. “It doesn’t go away, it doesn’t go away.” She cried, her nails scratching his chest, desperately trying to hold on to something. Her nose rubbed against his rib cage, then his jaw to impregnate him with her perfume, his heart pounding wildly.

In a frenzy of kisses and bites and touches, he let her vent, his digits grazing along her spine, confused by the speed with which the urge had reassembled in her. The Na’vi was confused by the speed with which the itch had reassembled within her. Normally it would take a few hours after such a powerful first orgasm. Time to rest, eat, drink. Aubree badly needed hydration to combat the incessant fever that plagued her and the fluids she was losing.

“Take a moment to rest. You need to drink.” “Screw the water, I want you,” she confessed, her misty eyes fixated on him. They shimmered with unstoppable tears and thirst. Her face flushed with a violent purple. It was the most powerful heat the man had ever witnessed, and he wondered what had triggered it. That it was her first heat? Had the suppressors made her high? It was because of him? The alpha in him reprimanded him with the natural mildness of primal appetites. Just take her, she’s pleading for it. But he shook his head. It wasn’t him. He was better than that. He had been raised to care for others, not to use them. Alphas protect, that was what gave them purpose; he would do anything to protect his mate, even from herself.

Even though she wasn’t technically his mate.

Despite not being bonded in the traditional sense, their connection was undeniable. Aubree, unbeknownst to her, held a special place in his heart from the very moment they met. It was clear from the start that this outcome was unavoidable. Calling upon anything that could keep him sane, he held some sort of energy drink under her nose. “Näk (drink).” The omega sounded at this command. It was as if by speaking in his native language, he was able to assert himself a thousand times more forcefully, even if she didn't get his words. The omega knew for both of them. “Can you do this for me? Drink this and I'll give you everything you want.” She had never heard anything more beautiful. She swelled the entire contents in one gulp, her head dizzy from the sudden amount of sugar. She fell back between the pillows with a quickening pulse, even if he was stroking her hair comfortably. The fall brought a fresh whiff of her needy wake, filling the entire hut as well as his nostrils. Instinctively, the hunter took a deep breath. A breath, that stopped halfway as his brain registered the source of the trail between the woman’s legs. A shimmering fountain that caused him to let out a guttural roar of defeat. He was so weak to her.

As he settled between her groin, the tip of his erection brushed against the warrior’s waistband, still clinging to his torso. The only garment Aubree had allowed him to keep.  The sight of him, breathtakingly elegant and athletic, thanks to Eywa’s mercy, overshadowed the idea of how many other omegas had the privilege of having him inside them before her. But now he was all hers. That thought alone ignited a fresh wave of excitement to blossom. He pressed his full weight onto her, and she wasted no time running her hands over his taut, strong, muscular back. Every contour, every sinew, was exquisitely formed and enticing under her touch. The closeness they shared, their bodies pressed against each other, sent a thrill through her. He smelled so damn good, hard and bothered for her. The way he responded to her advances only heightened her desire, flaring up a foreign heat in her veins, surpassing even her own natural instincts.

His shaft, long and thick, glided inside her, stealing her a gasp as he filled her in one fluid motion. Pleasure trembled through her, evident in her labored breathing and tightened walls. The barriers of her depths easily acclimated to his divine cock, satisfying even her smallest wishes. It was almost embarrassing to realize how every aspect of him was designed to please her — the texture of his body, the touch of his skin, the taste of his lips, the sound of his voice, his tantalizing scent.

She couldn’t help it and was somehow ashamed of her weakness. Her intimacy clenched at some point, in response to the blows he gave her, the few but deep sounds he made. So securely he gasped at the faint pain before rushing to her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Demanding, needy. He bit and pulled at her lip, pushing his tongue to lick the arch of hers, to suck her teeth, making her vibrate around him.  Had she mentioned that his lips were amazing? Yes, she had, but who cared? She would have repeated over and over again how unworldly they melded with hers in such a sublime way that they would have stunned her if she weren’t for the crazy pheromones already. Aubree didn’t even know who this man was. Her senses tangled, preventing her from recognizing his face or voice, despite a nagging suspicion of familiarity. Her mind sporadically focused before touch or smell overpowered it. Now taste. His lips felt like fresh fruit, sweet and full-bodied. She would have spent hours luxuriating in them, but the impression she was about to burst grew and grew, driving and unbearable.

She moaned uncontrollably as the Na’vi drew back his hips until only the tip rested against her core to thrust again before effortlessly thrusting again. Each new point of contact stung inside her. The avatar felt an insatiable desire to take all of him, to never let go. Her heart filled with euphoria — little bites, caresses, kisses ran through her body, which now smelled like his. She tugged at his hair as he made his way back to her mouth, her wet thighs encircling his waist, her heels nestled in the dimples of Venus. Clinging to him as if the contact of his epidermis, his chest, his arms weren’t enough. She craved more. Their hearts pounded in unison, like furious galloping horses, their passion untamed. “Tsahey, sı`ltsan’efu (oh hell, feels good),” he grunted, his timbre low and gravelly. Kind of a dirty move whispering praise in Na’vi into her ear. His words danced to the tips of her toes from the dull joy it gave her to feel appreciated, as the sound of their frames colliding echoed in the hut, a symphony of lust and devotion. Her cries grew shrill, a melodic chorus that fueled his every thrust. He was so hot, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, as he moved faster, the friction intensified, sending sparks shooting through all of her body. Aubree clasped her legs around his waist, hankering for everything he offered. His grip on her shoulders steadied, his fingers digging into her skin. The force of his thrusts increased, each one hitting her with a mix of pleasure and pain. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

The man rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingled; his lukewarm exhales covering her face and his ears full with her gasps. The smell of their passion hung heavy in the small space, a heady mixture of steam and need. He watched her in both ecstasy and disbelief. The sight of such intensity in his gaze overpowered her, but she clung to it, relishing every moment when his dick struck a sensitive bundle of nerves.

As she felt his knot dwell, alpha pheromones crept into her subconscious, drowning her omega in the musky aroma of dominance and submission, an exhilarating fog that pushed her further into surrender. The place seemed to darken as her soul naturally responded to him; her pulse hastening with trepidation. Each frantic gasps for oxygen a struggle against the sweeping emotions. She had no choice but to capitulate, to cry out for him. It felt as if her very DNA had been written to covet him, to lock him inside, but the native held her back, prolonging the exquisite torture.

“That’s not a good idea. It’s your first time.”

A new growl escaped her windpipe, vibrating hungry rage. A rumble that allowed no response, a warning that made him bend his ears back and sink to the point of no return. His stare fixed on her with a longing that knew no bounds. Now only orgasm could free him from her clutches. His expression seemed pained, a flicker of hesitation, but it lasted only a second before the most animalistic and savage sounds she had ever heard rose from the back of his throat. The researcher bit his neck to stifle a moan louder than the others, desperate to repress the burden that threatened to consume him. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop for concern of hurting her. He gasped, his grip on her hips toughening as he plunged more fervently, the rhythmic slapping of their bodies reverberating through the room.

“Don’t ever come out. Stay in forever,” she stammered in confused, fading whimpers. His reaction was harsh, his hips digging with such force that the knot scraped hard against her walls, inducing her to writhe in ecstasy. “Nga tsun ke pawm fula tsonta oe… Nga zir fìtxan tsìltsan (You can’t just ask me that… You feel so amazing).” His voice strained with lust. In response, the woman gyrated her hips even deeper against him, moaning with abandon until he filled her completely. His burning seed spread inside her, as he released a final wave of pheromones that triggered an orgasm so powerful it knocked her unconscious — her frame succumbing to the overwhelming fulfillment that exhausted her. “Are you okay?” He kissed her temple, but she could barely nod, still breathless. “Good.”

Amid that swirling sea of dizzying, carnal lechery, the Na’vi caught a whiff of her enticing trail, drawing him in like a magnetic force. He twisted her neck gently, planting kisses and licks behind her ear, where it released all sorts of fragrances that blended with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Aubree shivered, her skin tingling as he grazed his teeth over her sensitive flesh. The aroma of her essence intensified here, so potent it could dance on his tongue, so tantalizing to explore further.

As he indulged in a small taste, her partner’s presence surged within her; his dick twitched, and automatically her inner walls throb around him. Just as her apprehension grew, fearing his bite, his lips found her ear where he murmured: “Don’t be afraid. I won’t mark you until you ask me to.”

Suddenly, a clarity washed over her, as if the dense intoxication of hormones had dissolved, leaving her lucid in its wake. The researcher pushed her lover away, panic coursing. Her narrowed eyes hinted at a revelation, now that she could finally name the alpha who had guided her in her very first heat, still mating with her with a satisfied and dangerous grin.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy. Aubree fought not to close them, but with each blink it became harder and harder to keep them open. She felt his fingertips brush the hair from her face, then caress one cheek as he lowered himself to place a light kiss on her forehead.“Hahaw, ma’uniltı`ranyu. Nga kin ne tsurokx. Tätxaw ngeyä tawtutetokx. Oe veaywng nga kay sìn. (Sleep, my dreamwalker. You need to rest. Return to your human body. I’ll take care of you from now on).”

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

@neteyamssyulang @layla2-49

[donelywell]

October 5 2023

I changed things up because it's got Frontiers Final Horizons Spoilers. I know the updates been out for like 2 months now but I'm being really cautious.

Super Sonic was really fun to play in the base game, having the auto combo thing on and just seeing so much bombastic energy and over the top moves being thrown at giant titans was so much fun.

I did however, not read the instructions where they tell you to hold the parry, I thought it was a perfect timing thing like a normal parry. So fighting Giganto and Wyvern for the first time was a nightmare for me until I actually read the instructions. =v='

For the design, I didn't change much, Super Sonic is really cool. I basically just changed the green parts of his shoes to red to reflect his new eye color.

Super Sonic² was so cool! The casual backhand slap, the sass, the move where he basically does the idw move, the finger point when he gets back in the game!

The only issue I had is that I didn't understand at all how to fight the final boss. I didn't 100% complete the map so I didn't get the hints. (I am still stuck on the stupid ball hoop map puzzle thing, I swear there is no way to do it) So unfortunately, I had to look up a guide. That kinda dampened the experience, but there was no way I was fighting Supreme over again, getting to the same glitch because I killed him too fast, and then fail the final boss fight again because I didn't know I was supposed to press r2.

I made his quills seem like they are turning into flames at the tips, I made his torso kinda have a sun symbol on it, I made his secondary fur white and his base fur/ quills bright yellow to kinda give it more sun imagery. His arm patterns are a little more detailed, his gloves have kinda formed into the body, making the cuffs look like they're on fire too. His socks turned into bandages and blue rings floating on him with the soles of his shoes kinda smoking on the back. It was a lot of fun interpreting this design differently, giving it a more ancient vibe with a modern twist. The original design is still really cool too!

Cyber Super Sonic... one of the coolest forms in my opinion and yet we see him for less than a minute in only a cutscene. I'm not complaining, the cutscene was so cool! Me and my sibling were star struck when we saw it!

I love the Fleetway elements! The sharp teeth, the crazy eyes, the chaotic behavior that almost made it seem like if Cyber Super Sonic wasn't being literally shot out to his enemy, he'd not be able to tell between friend or foe! God, it was so cool!! Even if it was just limited to a cutscene where you can barely see the entire design in a single image!

I did actually have a static version of this image too, but I'm not including it because it gave me eye strain, and I don't want to hurt you.

For the form I actually decreased the amount of polygons on Sonic. If you look, he's more angular & simplistic and his legs and arms are rectangles! I thought it'd help give him more of a Cyber Computer vibe. I used the blue static and made it kinda an accent color so you can see where things are. I don't really know why, but I also made some parts of him detached? The inside parts have the white spirals that Cyber Super Sonic's eyes were.

The update was a lot of fun to play when it came out, even if it was EXTREMELY challenging for a casual player like myself. Almost made me quit a few times and a couple guides were begrudgingly looked up. Playing as Tails and Amy were definitely the highlights of the update for me though. I hope it was as much fun for you as it was for me. :)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Black Metal and Bourbon (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, smut, NSFW, sex & intimacy, praise kink, brief thoughts of exhibitionism, p-in-v, fingering, hand job, some sub/dom dynamics, sub!Simon for a bit, soft!Simon, property damage, bike crashes (wear helmets everyone), violence, past toxic relationship, sabotage, attempted murder, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your fingers tighten around Simon’s waist, the helmet you’d been given pressed into his shoulder as the both of you slice through wind—an engine roaring below you from the Honda Rebel 500. The fit was a tight one, Simon not having a proper second seat beside the passenger kit he’d been quick to install not a few hours before when you’d hesitantly asked for a ride into a neighboring town. Your body was directly above the back tire, and Simon had been firm in his words when he’d been adjusting the back suspension in the bustling shop.

“You’re not lettin’ go until we get there, copy? I feel your grip loosen, I’m pulling over.”

You had begrudgingly agreed, needing the high-quality art supplies a twenty-minute drive away. The stores here didn’t have what you needed, and, not owning a car as this town was entirely walkable if need be, this was your only option. 

Once you’d gotten on that bike though, Simon hadn’t needed to reiterate himself about holding on—you did that all on your own. Yet, that wasn’t to say you weren’t enjoying this.

Lips peeled back into a smile, your eyes stare out across the unfolding hills and mountains in the distance; fields of verdant grasses and trees. The vibrations of the Rebel left your head jittering, but this view was the clearest you’d ever seen. 

Chuckling, the driver under your rib-cranking hold blinked at the nearly missed sound, only able to tell from the movement of your chest at his spine. Simon’s sunglasses glinted over the thin sliver of flesh that would otherwise be the only piece of his face visible, and his fingers twitched as he stared ahead at the open road. The man had given you his leather jacket, taking a spare of black coloring like an all-dark cat, his boots and pants matching the theme that carries over. 

You shout above the whipping of the airways. 

“This is amazing!” Simon puffs a laugh at that, though his heart patters ever faster like a dog at the turn of a key. He doesn’t answer, even if his lips itch into a smirk to tell you he’s appreciating the spinal re-adjustment you’re giving him. 

Your laugh echoes out through the scenery, and your heart has never been more full. 

It had been a decent amount of time since Simon and the others had come into town—three weeks since you’d been hired on your off days to go and paint the mechanic’s shop. A base coat had already been applied, then the secondary and the final with the help of a very animated Soap saying that no one could get to the tops of the walls better. Gaz had seen him hit himself with the soggy paint roller not five minutes later after trying to flip it, and that had been the end of the interference on your work.

All that was left was to start the mural.

There hadn’t been a peep from Graham or his goons—they’d even left you alone on your walks back home. As much as you wanted to be elated about it, there was a brief stint of paranoia in the days that had followed the party. Graham Whitaker was a coward, but he didn’t…let things go. 

But holding onto Simon Riley as he pulled into the nearby town made that sharpness at the back of your mind flee in an instant. The mountains and fields dissipate to tiny houses and long stretches of connected businesses—sun-washed bricks surround you as Simon shifts the tires to dodge potholes. 

His head moves slightly to the side, and you hear the call through your borrowed helmet. 

“Where am I headed?”

“East side!” You rest the bottom of the helmet on his shoulder, seeing a sliver of his October browns through his sunglasses as he rips his eyes back to the road. “Look for the rose bushes!” 

“Makin’ me go deaf,” Simon mutters to himself, but he does as you instruct. Parking in the street outside of the art shop, he moves out the kickstand with one foot—the other resting on the ground so you don’t tip. He gives you a look over his shoulder to get off first as the engine cuts and the jungle of keys comes to silence inside of his pocket.

Giggling, you let go of his hard waist and step out to the concrete of the sidewalk, turning around and fixing the strap of your carry bag with a hidden grin. 

“I think I just found a new form of transportation.”

“Then you can forget about it,” Simon smirks, taking off his sunglasses and sticking them to the neck of his compression shirt. “Helmet, Sunshine.” He reminds, looking around for a moment. 

You slap your hands to the side of the item around your head as you continue to giggle like a child, elated and feeling the throws of wanderlust—you’d never felt so alive than when watching the world pass by at your sides. How quickly you can form a routine of boring days, one after the other. You felt…light again. 

A finger grabs at the visor, flicking it up as your crinkled eyes come into view for the gruff man and his raised brow. 

“You drunk?” Simon stares, tilting his head as he looms closer, studying you up and down. 

“No, Brown-Eyes,” you roll your eyes teasingly, waving his hand away as you unclip and pop the helmet off before it’s leveled back to him. He takes it and holds it loosely in one grip, blinking at you slowly. “I’m excited. Can I not be excited, then, huh? Not happy seeing me enjoy your company?” 

“Let's get this over with, yeah?” Simon shakes his head but his amusement is heard, slipping past as you eagerly follow after, expression airy. 

You hum, leaning into him and smirking. 

“C’mon Simon, you’re completely taken with me—I can see it.” There was no question that the two of you had become close. There was rarely a night when he didn’t come to visit you at the bar; had even taken up walking you back home too, though there was little need to. Simon had said it was because he had nothing else to do, but you doubted it. Since the shop had opened, there had been no shortage of work.

The man grunts as he opens the door for you with a shoulder, sending you a blank eye. “Taken aback.”

“Fucking jerk,” you grin at him as you slip inside, face loose with banter. Simon chuckles lowly and follows, standing behind you as his boots clop to polished tile floors. 

This place was exactly how you remembered it—holding an old feel with the beams in the ceiling and the raw brick walls. There are tables with paints and brushes, all neat and orderly with unique looks and designs to them, even the wall has shelves of old wood holding hidden nicknacks and unique wonders. 

Simon gazes around with a glint of interest in his eye, understanding now that the painting was better off in your hands. He has to wonder how you managed to find a place like this. 

“Over here,” you say. Walking to the very back, your hands are already reaching for the quality brushes you’d need for the mural. Simon’s hands slip into his pockets, stance casual in a way he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago. 

It was no secret that Simon trusted very few people. It wasn’t just because of his past military experience, it was his life in general—each turn led to something that could go wrong like a gun in the hands of a criminal. But you had been nearly sly in the way you’d grown on him. 

The quick-witted comments, the way you spoke and carried yourself; your light and unapologetic attitude. He was ashamed to admit how many times he’d stared at the bar from his shop’s garage—under the body of some car with grease up to his elbows, legs dangling as his back was on top of the creeper. Brown eyes that can pinpoint your form before his mind blanks and sweat pools at his collarbone. 

It was something that Simon was afraid to name.

“Bloody expensive,” the man mutters in the present, fingers pushing at the price tag of some paints nearby. “You sure you need this shit?” 

“It’s not shit, Riley,” you scoff, grabbing two large brushes and three smaller ones from wall buckets, pointing one at him. “But I have to agree on the expensive part. You should see how much I would spend when I was really into art. You’d puke your blackened guts up.”

Simon hums, giving you his attention as you peer at a table of rich paints in smaller cans a few feet away.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks, the soft tinkling of piano music coming from somewhere in the back. 

You pause, your back turned to him as you look at the label of a small aluminum container of enamel paint for vehicle detailing. Licking your lips, you clear your throat and ease out a nonchalant, “Graham,” and end the conversation there with less blood spilled. 

Your Ex had almost sucked all of the individuality from you—you’d barely made it out as you are. 

Simon’s eyes darken, clenching his jaw after a moment as looks away. It's only when you put back down the enamel paint can that he speaks again. 

“He wasn’t worth your time,” he eases out, giving firm advice like orders. As if he wants you to believe what he’s saying to the fullest degree. “You know that?”

You snort, turning back around. “Yeah, I know it. Why do you think I threw the guy out? He ran through women like a damn kid with a stack of new playing cards.” 

Simon blinks from over his mask as you walk to the counter, putting down your brushes and adding in a few containers of nice pigment. As your fingers ding the bell up front, your free hand digs for your wallet. 

Before you can pull out the wads of cash that you’d need to pay, smelling of booze and all, a credit card hits the table. You stare at it in silence for a moment. 

“Simon?”

“You’re putting it on my wall,” he rolls his shoulders to dispel tension from the previous conversion as the employee comes out from the back. “M’not going to make you pay for the tools to get the job done. Not a fuckin’ heartless bastard.” 

“Heartless? No,” you tease, though your face burns and crashes with a fiery inferno of adoration. Inside of you, your stomach flips and your throat tightens. Oh, it was coming on bad, wasn't it? “A bastard…?”

“Shut it,” Simon glares from the corner of his eye as you raise your hands innocently. 

“Alright, alright. A very handsome and generous bastard, better?” You hear a hum, a huff of breath. 

“Getting there.” 

The ride back was much the same, but it still filled you with awe. Your hands were looser now, even with the added weight from your filled bag, but that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of Simon’s presence. Once more your helmeted head was set at his shoulder blade, resting as your lungs pulled in fresh air even if it was a bit heated from the barrier. Simon had pushed the thing back onto your head the minute your leg was about to straddle the bike, firmly grabbing your chin and tilting your face forward as he shoved it on.

“Safety first, Sweetheart.” You had sworn you nearly went weak-kneed at that. 

But the sturdy presence before you made a very comfortable headrest even if the longer ride was beginning to make your legs ache and give you a migraine from the noise. 

Your hand was flat to the man’s covered flesh, the oversized jacket around your frame, and in that moment you discovered that you were almost entirely submerged in Simon Riley until it became impossible to remember who you’d been before him. You were drowned in his scent—his presence an ever-present weight of purpose and prospect. 

Blinking over the view and feeling Simon’s pulse under your fingertips, you realize with a start that Graham had never made your stomach fill with butterflies over a simple word; never made you pause or have to re-think your thoughts because you’d entirely lost them when he entered a room. 

With so much going on, and at the same time so little happening…what exactly were you supposed to make of it? There was no question you liked Simon—there was no question he liked you, either. It was obvious by the looks Price would give the two of you when you came by with lunch for them all; free drinks. 

How the both of you would sit and talk, exchanging stories while Simon showed you the adjustments he had made to his bike. The issue was that you and Brown-Eyes were stubborn. Pigheaded.

Emotionally constipated.

Your eyes drag along the view, but they always shift back to the body that’s stuck in your grip; how his heat moved through his clothes, warming your wind-beaten hands. You’re right there at his back, hanging off him and you feel…good.

There just had to be something to make one of you snap.

Entering the garage, Simon once more parks his bike and lets you get off first, and you unclip your helmet and slip the object from your head with a puff of air. 

“Thank you, Simon,” you breathe, watching him stand. “Drinks on me tonight, okay?” 

“No need for that,” his brows pull in, confused. “If I didn’t want to, I would have told you.” 

Your hands pass the helmet, which he takes as your fingers brush one another's lightly. You repress a sharp inhale, scoffing playfully at him as your eyes soften.

“I’m not going to leave without saying thank you and you taking it, Brown-Eyes.” 

“Well, then I just took it, Sunshine.” Simon motions his head outside. “Now get going ‘fore I come to my senses.” 

Laughing, you shrug and take your leave, all of your items safe in your bag for a time when you could use them next. 

“I’m already gone,” you breathe, and a soft brown gaze sticks to your form as you cross the street and slip inside to clock in. 

A truck parked down the street has its window glinting in the sunlight. It seems to agree.

—

Simon tipped back the last of his bourbon and sighed, putting it down on the bar top as you polished glasses. 

“Anything happen today?” He asks you as you put the sparking material to the light, tipping it to try and find smudges before it passes your acute inspection. 

“Nothing interesting,” you respond, humming. “Had to kick a few guys out, but it was nothing big.” 

Simon’s interest makes his eyes shift to you like a wave, head tilting to stare as the warm light cascades over your figure. He waits for you to continue, but when you don’t, he prods with a slightly concerned undertone.

“Why?” Your lips twitch as you turn to look at him, exasperated. 

“Put a cork in it, Big Guy, it was just a few who had too much to drink—I cut them off and sent ‘em home.”

Simon grunts, “That’s a girl.” 

You ignore the way your heart jumps to your throat and the tingling of your arms. “Anything with you?” Your voice is higher than it should be. “Beat off any bartenders from your property?”

“Can only think ‘o one,” he speaks slowly, his voice wafting about as the both of you were the only people here. Your chuckle makes his heart constrict in on itself.

“Oh,” you tease, face pulling in with mock confusion. Your body moves closer as it leans into the wood. Simon’s lips twitch from where they're visible, the fabric of his balaclava pulled over his nose. “Tell me about her.”

“Yeah?” He speaks in a low murmur, eyes half-lidded in that dead-and-buried kind of way—only he could pull that off and still look so handsome. You had said once that he felt like danger, and you suppose that had to be true. Simon Riley was danger, and you had taken those snake fangs and put them directly in between the cross-hairs of your neck and your pulse, waiting, wanting for that fatal strike. 

You had bet that the sting of those fangs might just be the best pain you’d ever felt.

Simon Riley was unabashed freedom.

 “She likes to think that she’s the bloody boss o’ me,” Simon grunts, scars, and tattoos on full display; there’s blackened grease on his fingers, under his nails. You listen with bated breath. “Comes ‘round all the time now, hangs like she’s under a noose. I can’t figure her out. Not for the fuckin’ life of me.”

Simon doesn't know what he’s saying, but he can’t quite help himself when you’re looking at him like that. Your eyes going wider, your usually snappy and quick tongue silent as you take his words in like law. It was addictive to see you gobsmacked—the man has to stop himself from thanking Graham Whitaker for being such a fucking fool even if the thought of ever being near that man again made him want to clench his fists.

“And?” You push, trying to force your mouth into a playful smirk, but anyone can see it for what it is. Your faked emotion falls short, leaving behind only that which Simon can claim to be the sole owner of. 

Astonishment. Admiration down to its base form—a woman gazing at something that should not be, and yet is here among the ashes and ruins of broken earth and open roads. A sliver of sky between the rain clouds.

“And?” Simon mirrors, that numb mock. 

The both of you are closer now, puffs of air hitting the other. Everything in this bar became a backdrop, shifting colors and images like some dream. The dart in the ceiling was nothing to you—the tables that needed to be buffed, the bottles restocked; even the trash that you usually took out at this time was only a shape in the corner of your vision. It all blurred around him, and while you spoke again, Simon understood that he had left the city for something new; something that he could revel in and worship like he had his guns and his duty. 

Your sentence is whispered. 

“Why did you come here?” To this town? There was no answer for that. It was picked at random—even Price knew that. It was nothing special, not even to the bugs. But here…

Simon parts his lips and utters on the lightning of the air particles, all rushing past as if he was still on his motorcycle with you—your hands around his waist and your nails digging into his flesh.

“For a bartender that keeps making my damn head spin.” 

For a long minute, there’s nothing that happens. The AC whirs and the lights outside flicker over the stretch of the empty street. In your chest, your heart hammers with the strength of the Titans. A mechanic, a veteran; a man with broken, October eyes. 

How could he be the one thing you were looking for? 

Your eyes stay locked, those shredded flecks of color holding secrets that you want to know instantly—you want to learn his tattoos and the way he thinks, know Simon's dreams and aspirations. To you, that was better than any physical destination or journey because it was one in and of itself. 

Simon was an enigma. 

“Keep talking,” you mutter, lips so close now that they brush the man’s own. He doesn’t blink as he watches you, his lungs unsteady in his chest as he takes down a deep breath. 

“Why’s that, Sunshine?” His voice is raspy, and his accent makes you shiver. 

Simon’s tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, sneaking back in as your gaze flickers down to watch pupils blown. “Because I like it when you speak to me like that,” you have to admit, a whine trapped in your throat that you won’t let out.

There’s a low chuckle that makes your legs close together, moving like honey through your veins. 

“Can do more than talk.”

This is a game—a test—can either of you go this far? Is it more than lust, is it more than some strange attraction between two people who don’t belong here? A relationship of need rather than want?

You don’t care enough to test it, because if there’s one thing that this town taught you, it's that you don’t need to worry about the future so long as there’s something promising right in front of you. 

And Simon Riley was as promising of a man as you had ever met.

Your lips meet his, and his hand is eager to snap to the back of your skull, pushing you into him as your eyes pull shut and the edge of the counter digs into your guts. Air is exhaled from your nose, mouth heavy, and skin hot as it digs and molds to the rough scrape of Simon’s stubble. His fingers pulse into your scalp, waves of something sawing you open as he stands quickly from his stool and pulls away only to push right back in. 

Your hands move into fists on the counter, stuck in this dance of wet lips and shaky legs. 

Simon groans into your mouth, shifting his head as a purr emanates from his chest and makes you respond with a silent gasp that he takes advantage of. A tongue slips to run over your own as the lights glint outside, pushing itself in before retreating just as swiftly before teeth nip at your swollen bottom lip. Your eyes snap open, locking with deep wells of brown that seem more endless than the depths of space. 

You both breathe heavily, the bar silent to the two souls that seep into one another. Not once do either of you look away from one another. 

The man seems hesitant, and before he speaks, the rasp in his voice is felt as he blinks. 

“These parts in me have been shuttin’ down, Sunshine.” Your brows slightly pinch in for a moment, confused at this turn in tone—cocky had gone to still-stone as if Simon had laid eyes on Medusa herself. 

But you know what he means. You’d seen it in his stature and how he spoke to others; you knew nothing much of his past beyond a handful of stories from his service and none of them had been pretty. And of his childhood, you knew nothing. 

You know it can’t have been good. 

Your head softly tilts, a small, delicate smile forming the words of some long-lost deity.

“I’m sure you have the tools to fix them, Simon.”

He blinks at you, fingers still stuck to your head. “Don’t know if I remember how to use ‘em.” 

Simon’s giving you a way out of this if you want to take it; you know that he thinks you should. 

“...Then you’ll just have to teach me, won’t you?” You whisper, stubborn as always. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets, right?” He hums, eyes the most open and soft you’d ever seen them as he melts—forehead connecting to yours as your smile grows wider, truer. “Then I’ll keep yours closest, Brown-Eyes.” 

You both kiss once more, more delicate as the man takes a deep breath of you. Your smirk pulls along his flesh like a brand as he holds in a quiver. 

“What’s a bartender without a bottle of Bourbon on her shelf?” He growls into you, and not wasting a moment rips his lips from yours and wipes at his face with the back of his arm. 

“Such a mouth,” he mutters, moving as you stand there to push open the half-door to let him get to you. You stand waiting, pulse wild and lips tingling. “Cameras?”

Your head shakes without you knowing it, and a finger is hooked under your chin, maneuvering it as he sees fit. Another grabs onto your hip, kneading it slowly as you melt into him. Your hands grasp into the back of his belt and his eyes spark—hips canting instinctually.

There’s a hard prod at your inner thigh. 

“Only one at the door.” You set your chin to his chest, gazing up. “Back room?”

“Won't have you on the floor,” Simon says bluntly, unphased. Your core pounds, stomach tightens as you have a sudden need to get rid of your pants and touch yourself as dampness pools through your underwear. 

“Such a gentleman,” you’re breathless, voice airy. “Guess I’ll have to be on top.” 

Simon’s breath gets caught as you slip past him, sauntering to the back door and pushing it open as you slip inside. You had already started fumbling with the zipped on your pants as the man pushed on the barrier just before it could close, coming in and letting it slam behind him as the click of a lock could be heard. 

With your shoes off, you can feel Simon’s eyes burning into you as your fingers send the zipper down your navel, the sound of the metal teeth being separated from one another a call to action. When your thumbs hook the top, ready to send the fabric down, you let the man watch before your eyes shift back up to lock together. 

Simon’s gaze was intense—unblinking and unmoving beyond the slam of his heart and the pulse of the erection in his pants, begging to be palmed as you stood only feet away. The man’s hands clenched, knuckles going white. 

While holding eye contact, you let the pants—and your panties—drop to the ground with a whoosh of fabric. Simon tenses, but doesn’t look away.

You smirk, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m surprised.” Your hand captures his waist, one moving to stroke along the prominent v-line that’s hidden by his shirt. Simon’s heavy breath meets your head as his blown pupils make his eyes look black entirely. He’s almost in a trance. “Usually I’d be having to snap my fingers.” 

“Better than that,” he grits out raggedly. You have to agree. 

Your mouth finds his neck as he leans back against the door, letting you do what you wish as his hands settle on your hips once more, rubbing up and down as your own eagerness drips from you. Simon clenches his jaw as you bite down, taking and sucking on the skin as he hisses when you give him hickeys, eyes fluttering. 

“‘Such a mouth’ you said,” you comment, hand falling lower to hear the jingle as you unclip his belt. He stares off as your hand rests and cups him, sharply inhaling when you rub your palm over the large tent. Simon fights the sway of his hips, but the widening of his legs is telling enough, pelvis knocking forward as you groan, a line of slick falling down your thigh. “I’d bet you’d like my mouth, Brown-Eyes, wouldn’t you?” Your joke and your teasing of his dick—your hickeys and your sly eyes—they all at once snap something inside of him. 

You find yourself manhandled with a squeak of shock and a jump in your gut as your legs dangle, moved back, and pressed into the very door where Simon had been moments before. Your feet settle as his figure descends.

“Your mouth, Sunshine?” Brown eyes glint, staring you down from where he taps your legs open to the air, kneeling with an open belt and pre-cum staining his pants. “Want to see what mine can do?”  

There’s no more than a dangerous smirk before his face slots itself into the clutch of your pussy. 

You gasp, hands going down to his covered hair as his nose slides along your clit, making lightning go up your spine as you push down on him, grinding as a long stripe is licked, tongue flattening out at the nerve before a loud groan makes Simon’s mouth vibrate as it attaches itself to you. 

Giving you your own medicine, teeth lightly bite, tongue flicking as your cunt clenches over nothing, fingers grasping guilty as your head knocks back with a loud whine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, toes curling as your hips move back and forth. 

Your body can feel his smirk, your juices leaking out to drip at his chin, falling down his throat as this beast of a man sucks and mewls around your clit like he’s possessed. Hands grasped your thighs, holding them open. Well, one anyway. 

Lost in the movements of his mouth, cursing and gasping as he keeps trying to build you up to the point of rapture with every hard flick and measured nip, there’s no way your dopamine-addled brain can comprehend the fingers at your cunt before they’re already inside and curling outward. 

You moan out his name pleadingly, the pace of your hips instantly increasing as Simon’s chuckle makes your lungs constrict. A separate heart-beat lives in your navel, skin sweaty and slick making its way down his fingers. 

“Being so good,” your voice breaks as Simon’s wide eyes from below meet you as your head lolls forward. He stutters, hearing the wet squelching of your pussy as his movements cease for a moment. You whimper, face pulling in, and he instantaneously gets back to it with increased fervor and ferocity as if he’d never just felt his cock twitch in his pants and his abdomen bunch up.

Your eyes widen, rapturous moans falling from your lips in blown-limpness as his mouth and fingers do sinful things to you.

The sounds coming from below were feral and animalistic at best, sopping wetness and loud groaning—it makes it all so much better. 

“So thorough for me, Simon. Making me feel so good Brown-Eyes,” you babble, tightening your core and palming hands shoving him impossibly farther into you. “Such a fucking perfect mouth—perfect fingers, knew you could make me cum on ‘em, please, Simon, fuck, oh God right there,” you break off of the praise into desperate whines. Your quivering body shakes and ruts faster, Simon’s stubble making it all burn in such a way that leaves you gasping, back begging to arch as everything comes to a tipping point.

Simon can feel it by the way your walls flex and pull in, how their slipperiness gets so loose it’s not even a problem to finger-fuck you even as your cunt bares down like a noose. Your fluids drip past his elbow, falling to his pants as his pelvis involuntarily tries to get friction from his zipper by humping the air in broken intervals. 

He’s breathing heavily, but not as much as you are, broken up by groans, grunts, and his open mouth licking of your engorged clit. He’d never admit to you how much your praise was making him want to bust in his own fucking pants. 

“S-Simon,” you knock your head back into the wall, eyes going glassy as the knot in your navel goes painful, a vile itching so very close as your spine begins to arch for the man’s viewing pleasure. “So close, oh God, so fucking good. Need it, Simon, need it from—”

Your breath hitches, fingers twitching into tight fists of fabric and the hair underneath as your walls clamp down. 

Orgasm ripping through you, your voice lets out broken, airy, moans of Simon’s name like a prayer, hips continuing to spasm and toes curling inwards. Not letting up his assault, the smug man’s tongue and fingers draw the entire experience out until your legs are too weak to hold you, having to be pressed back into the wall by white knuckles and fingers stained with your cum. You hear it drip to the floor and see it when your half-lidded eyes blurrily make out the ragged appearance of an arrogant Simon, clear beads falling off of his chin and his lower face decimated by your pleasures. The bottom of his balaclava is stained—sopping with absorbed juices. 

You both stare—you, lust-blown, and Simon, ready to grasp at himself and stave off the near-painful erection that needs to be taken care of. 

But you’re true to your words.

Not seconds after your release had flooded him, your hands pushed at his chest and shoved him to the floor. Simon grunts but lets your hands quickly fiddle with his zipper and send it down. Not a moment is wasted, and the man’s hands move your hips higher as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough to let his dick spring free and slap his abdomen. 

Your hand curls around it and he groans long, pushing up into your hand as you stroke him quickly and mercilessly with the spread of his weeping tip. Simon’s words come out as a way to steady himself, but the work of your hand is easy to get lost in as his voice is a growl.

“Tase so bloody good, Sunshine, yeah? Be needin’ that every day,” his mouth is taken in a kiss, and you tase yourself on his tongue as he shakes and his fingers flex into your flesh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says as you lick his lips, panting below you as he quickly loses himself. “Not gonna…”

Simon’s orgasm builds incredibly fast—and not once does your hand slow in its course. He blinks in a blind panic, mouth letting off soft sounds of confusion as he looks down to see his red cock and how you play with it like a toy. You chuckle at him as his sounds get louder, legs rising, and the slapping of skin on skin addictive. 

“You are good with your mouth—and your hands. Should have guessed really, you are a mechanic after all. Got yourself all worked up.” Simon's hand comes up to your head pressing your lips back to his as his abdomen tightens and quivers, thighs shaking as his hips try to meet your break-neck pace but just can’t.

What were you doing to him? Why can’t he last longer than a few mere minutes? 

You break off and connect your forehead to his, brown eyes fighting to not go blurry and his mouth open with fast breaths. You push out as you feel his tip twitch and spurt prematurely, “Be a good boy and cum, Simon.”

He groans loudly, eyes fluttering as they try to stay locked to yours before the wet splatter of his rapid ejaculation layers yours as well as his abdomen sticky and soaked. It keeps going, not stopping until Simon’s eyes have come back down from where they had fled to the back of his head and his small grunted whine lets you know you should stop pumping him so violently. 

You release his member and go to rub along his abdomen, massaging the skin and laying kisses on his clothed chest slowly. His hands loosen on your hips, thumb pulling back to carefully run circles into the flesh as you hum in appreciation. 

Simon's quivering slows to a stop.

“You sure you only work a bar, then? Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon hisses, looking down at himself. “Made a fuckin’ mess, yeah?” 

“Only fair,” you mutter, moving up to press your lips together as you both sigh. Simon’s breath hitches as your stomach rubs him. “I like having you under me. It’s nice to see you look confused.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, and a red sheen comes to his flushed face. “Won’t happen again.” 

Your face goes mischievous, head tilting. Simon growls a weak, “Don’t.” You chuckle and hide your face into his neck. 

“Don’t test it?” You ask into his flesh, your body still pulsing and needy at the display you’d managed to pull from the stoic man. Your tongue licks over your placed hickey with a newfound appreciation for the black and blue mark, blowing on it as Simon feels himself harden again. “Or don’t acknowledge that Simon Riley has a praise kink and when a woman tells him what to do he—”

Your spine settles to the floor, hands stuck on either side of your head and digging into the wood. Simon’s eyes glint primarily, and you keen to him as your arms move to wrap around his neck as your cunt tightens.

“Thought you said you didn’t want me on the floor?” He grasps your chin, moving his face to be above yours so he can speak plainly and dead-like. A surge of power takes over his voice, and you yield with a rising of your legs and a shiver as his fluid-slick abdomen slides over top of yours.

“That was before you made me cum in a matter of fuckin’ minutes by just stroking my cock. Now,” he breathes, “now I’m going to fuck you how you deserve.” 

He grasps your legs and pulls them around his waist, locking them as he lines up his half-hard dick and bullies it inside of you, your arching back bends into him, but your shocked moan is cut off as Simon starts to move. The pressure inside of your pussy is tight enough to feel like it could snap—your gummy walls taking the curve of his veins and the grate of his head as the tip curves upward. On girth and size, Simon is the largest you’d ever taken, and your face pulls in with a mix of pain and pleasure before the latter takes over completely. 

“Get me to be your toy, eh, Sunshine?” Simon keeps your chin grasped, not letting you look away as you try to garble words over the heavy slap of wet skin. “Keep me ‘ere so you can play with me like you’ve been doin’ from the start?” 

“So full,” you seem to have lost that edge, staring up into brown eyes as your spine digs into the wood below you, your cunt taking the fast slaps of Simon’s prod as it reaches every part of you that you could ever ask. Every trust makes your legs tighten, clamping down to keep him there and ring pleasure like water. “Such a big cock, Simon.”

He huffs, but his pace increases, panting at you as your lips meet for a sloppy and slobbering kiss of teeth and saliva. Sweat falls from both of you, coating your faces and lower halves with more liquid to make this dance easier—staining already ruined clothes. 

“Splitting you open, am I? So tight,” Simon grumbles, grunting as his elbows shift to stay beside your head. “Gettin’ me off so easily, need ta return the favor for making me feel so good, Sunshine. Bloody perfect cunt, takes my cock like it was made for it. Hear that?” Your skull moves to push into the side of his face as he bites at your neck, ravishing you as the forward and backward motion of his body makes your mouth hold back mewls of raw need. So many sounds—so loud and wet it was lewd, borderline obscene with every pump of the man’s hips that more just spilled out of you, pooling with every back and forth spreading of your hole. 

Simon bites a long whine back and angles himself higher, making you shout and cry as a burst of white light explodes in your eyes.

“Making me want to fill you full of myself. Over and over, make you drip with it—go until you can’t walk. You’d take it too, yeah? You’ve got such a good look on your face, you bloody love it when I stretch you open like this—takin’ my dick so well, Sweetheart.”

You were both animals trying to get fix after fix—drunk off scent and a biological urge. 

At the words, your pussy tightens around him even more, Simon holding back a loud groan and letting your little puffs of air grace his ears along with the ravaging dig of his fucking.

“You like that?” You whine, face burning as a hand descends to play with your clit. You gasp loudly and moan, not hiding the way your hips jump and rut and fight to keep Simon’s cock taking you raw.  

“Simon!” You call loudly. “I like it—fuck I love it, Brown-Eyes. Keep touching me, please, please keep going. Keep talking, love it when you talk like that.”  

“Makin’ fun o’ me,” he scoffs, “but the little temptress has the same bastard kink, eh? It’s alright, then. I’ll just help me get you off—”

The front door of the bar opens from beyond the wall. 

The both of you stop all carnal desires instantly, wide eyes snapping back and locking with each other. A pin could drop, fast breaths and fast hips held back even as you both quiver and your nerves plead to keep going. The need doesn’t last long. Simon's fat hand covers your mouth as your eyes glint with panic before getting right back to it. 

You try to speak, to get the words out that you should go out there, but it’s all cut off by the way he rubs you every right way. Your hand anchors to his back as someone walks around the bar, their voice muffled just like yours is, but this person has no idea you’re getting railed in the back room by the mechanic from across the street. 

Simon’s eyes are dark and urgent, but his hands can't as the slap of skin that’s still incredibly loud, and the wetness that follows all but telling. Your moans and whines are hidden, kept back by a tight palm as he smirks down at you. His hips are bruising yours and you can feel the hard bone of his pelvis as it slots itself fully into yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, accepting the words with hard thrusts that make you whine like a dog, pawing at his gargantuan shoulder blades. “Keep quiet. I’ll make you feel good.” 

Your heart hammers, walls flexing and clamping at the words. Outside the walking continues, searching for you, no doubt. Simon's hips increase, almost cruelly, and your cut-off cries spill from between his fingers. 

The bastard chuckles and watches, letting your hips meet his as your release builds with the added need to finish quickly. 

It was rabid now your back arched, how the person outside mattered so little to you now, in fact, maybe you even wanted them to hear you like this—being fucked so perfectly to the point where you had tears in your eyes and your body was growing numb; mind blanking to only pleasure and the grating press of a foreign entity all the way to where it digs at your cervix and makes you see starts with every addictive thrust.

You can’t hear anything over the previous sounds, that and rough breathing are the only things in this hot room—the air tense and ready; anticipation a drug of the highest order. 

“C’mon,” Simon grunts into your ear, hand flexing as his lungs burn. He wasn’t far away either. “Let me see it—how your face screws up all nice and pretty for me.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you can only stare at the ceiling as the door of the bar slams shut once more, whoever there leaving. Simon releases your mouth and you fall apart with a spine-breaking arch and a high, feral, keen.

Your release is subsequently followed by Simon’s own, his body spasming as he gives three more violent pumps before the warmth of his cum seeps into your womb with a loud groan and a pound of his fist into the floor. He grinds you both through the aftershocks, the sparks of electricity that make both of your hips jerk just a few more times before you fall limp and useless. 

Simon stays inside of you as he shifts to the side, hooking one of your hips over his thigh as you stay face-to-face as your bodies gasp and pant for air. 

When the two of you come back to yourselves, some delirious minutes later, the first thing that you both notice is the tightness of your clothes and skin. Glancing down at the mess you’ve made of yourselves, you both slowly look back into each other's eyes, pausing.

You’re the first one to snort, before you have to hold your loud laughs back behind your hand. 

“Well, I sure do have some more secrets to keep,” you say through your fit, knocking your head to Simon’s chin. The man is smiling, his eyes crinkled and mouth jerking in a series of chuckles.

“Proper few.” The laughter died down to a simmering emotion of amusement. 

You smile at Simon, and he stares back, a hand coming up to touch your cheek delicately before it traces the lines of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?” You ask him, and those browns blink at you in question. “What I said before we decided to fuck. About keeping your secrets.” Simon’s face gets slightly more serious. Your hand cups his cheek, feeling the stubble on your fingertips. 

“Simon,” you say, “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing, okay?” 

He watches you for any glint of hesitation—of a lie. But there is none.

“Why,” Simon asks. Your answer is simple as you smirk, recalling words from a while ago. 

“You’re just going to have to stick around to find out.”

Simon shoves his lips to yours and drags you back on top of him.

—

You both exit the back room two hours later, clothes ruffled and bodies far dirtier than ever. You have a limp in your step, a pulsing ache between your bruised legs, and yet you’d never felt better. 

Simon presses a kiss into your temple. 

“Walking you home,” is what he says, and you sigh through an adoring look. You were tired, incredibly tired, and you hoped that Simon would share your bed tonight so he could hold you like he did back there. 

“Deal,” you wink, and the man huffs a chuckle, back to that same stoic mechanic that you knew. 

It’s only then that you realize that Celina had never shown up for her shift. Pausing behind the counter, you blink and look around, confused as you flatten out your clothes. Simon catches on quickly, brows pulling in with concern. 

“Something wrong?”

“Celina,” you tell him, “she never showed up.”

A beat. 

“...Probably kept away,” Simon tries to lightly say, implication enough to make you scowl. 

“No,” you utter. “She would have tried to break the door down if she actually came in. She never would have walked away.”

The man hums, pulling down his balaclava and looking about. 

“What do you want to do about it?” It wasn’t mocking—he was being honest. Your lips thinned out in thought. 

“Well…I can’t leave the bar unattended, she needs to be here in order for me to go home.” You motion a hand helplessly, shaking your head and walking forward. Through a sigh you grumble, “I guess I have to call her or I’ll—” A shadow darts from across the street and your head snaps to the dark window. 

Words coming to a swift stop, you gaze outside with blank eyes, mouth open in confusion. Simon stands taller, not having seen the strange event but not liking the shock on your face as he pivots to the view to study it. 

Brown darts over the street lamps and the closed body of his shop, along the sliver of the obsidian street and the tops of bushes in the plant boxes. But there was nothing there and Simon glanced back at you from over his shoulder with furrowed brows. 

“Thought I saw someone in a…” you frown, eyes not leaving the window as your heart tightens. “In a mask.” 

“Mh,” Simon watches for a moment before he grunts and tension seeps into his muscles. “Mask?” 

“Like yours,” you say quietly, suddenly very still. “Without the skeleton.” 

Simon moves back slowly, one foot backing up before he’s behind the counter again and shifting nearer to you—your eyes flicker upward but swiftly return to the view. He pulled out his phone from his wrinkled pants, and no sooner had he put it to his ear that you saw the individual again. This time it wasn’t just one shadow, it was three, and there wasn’t just a flash of black mist and then poof gone again—it was worse than some schoolyard prank. 

There was a bat. There was the swing of a strong arm. The glass explodes with a resounding shatter and the shrill yell falls from your mouth not milliseconds later.

Getting tackled down, Simon keeps your head to his chest as he shifts to hit the ground first, body sliding slightly before you’re forced under him and protected by his bulk. Grasping at him, you clench your eyes shut as large projectiles are hurled through the broken window and make contact with the bar shelf right above the two of you. 

But Simon doesn't move for a second. Not as the bottles shatter and drown him in alcohol and colored glass, not as the bricks fall back from gravity and strike his spine with a loud thump. He holds you to him, curled over your body as if in reverent worship, grunting as he takes the beating without thought to anything else but your safety. Loud shouts and laughter echo in from outside, but your wide eyes only stay and focus on Simon, his fingers gripping across your back and creasing your shirt. You flinch as a spec of glass knicks your arm, slicing through it with a sharp drag of an uneven edge. 

Simon growls into your scalp, but as he attempts to squish you farther into him, the barrage, just as it had come, entirely stops. 

Staying there, breathing heavily and your mind panicked, you have no time to think before Simon shoves himself up and snaps his enraged eyes forward. Like a large beast, his hands are in shaking fists, alcohol dripping from his shirt and glass pinging against the wood. You can smell blood. 

“Simon,” you say in concern, moving to stand up quickly as you try to get your breath back.

What the hell had just happened?!

“Stay there!” he barks, eyes tight as they dart back and forth to nothing until they find something. 

No one was there anymore, but in that absence, the true damage was brought to light. You ignore Simon’s words and shift until you can peek over the top of the counter, fingers shaking and mouth dry. The man beside you is stone-still, his darkened eyes lighting like fire and brimstone as the anger can all but be tasted in the air. 

The mechanic’s shop across the street. Seen through the broken remains of the bar as if a tornado had come through on the dusty air. 

It had been ransacked.

—

The illumination of the police lights takes over everything, pushing the dark away as Sheriff Russel tries to get statements from the two of you. But your attention keeps getting brought back to the stiff-standing presence of Simon. 

He hasn’t spoken beyond clipped sentences, even when he’d called Price, Johnny, and Gaz to explain the situation. 

“Can you explain what you saw?” The Sheriff eases, and your attention is drawn back. 

“It wasn’t much,” you stutter, shaken. “Shadows—men wearing masks. One had a bat and hit the window before they started throwing bricks.”

Simon’s eyes shift over the damage, numb gaze finding more broken glass, thrown paint, and dents in the garage door. The front had been trashed with garbage, and the lobby was ruined—it was by some miracle that the bikes had been left alone for whatever strange reason. 

It didn’t make him any less full of wrath. 

Your hands are still shaking, and your arm still leaking small droplets of blood down your flesh. Simon’s injuries were worse; he’d taken the brunt of it, but he didn’t seem to care at all, even as the crimson liquid stains his wet back.

“Simon needs medical attention,” you speak lowly to the Sheriff, head moving forward. “Can we do this later at the station?”  

“I’m fine,” the man in question grunts, voice deep with anger before turning and walking back to the two of you. Not once do his eyes stop searching the area; on high alert even now and not eager to be out in the open. Those old instincts were creeping back over him, and he wanted to get you somewhere safe so he could handle this situation himself.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible and while property was one thing, your comfort was another. 

How dare anyone do something like that to you. 

“You’re bleeding,” you explain, eyes tight. A hand brushes over your arm, taking it up and inspecting the small cut that you wear. 

Feet shift, and through a clenched jaw Simon utters, “So are you.” 

“You know what I mean, Brown-Eyes,” you try to make him listen, but it’s fruitless. 

“Don’t worry about me,” the Sheriff walks to assess the damage, letting the two of you speak in hushed whispers and firm looks. 

“You sound stupid,” you hiss, and Simon’s fingers rub your skin softly, his study of your body taking place in a slow sweep. “Of course I’m going to worry.” 

“Need to stop shaking.” Your face creases at the comment. 

“I’m not shaking.” Simon grabs your hand and puts his fingers through yours, raising it between you so you can look. Your eyes shift down, and your limb can clearly be seen vibrating like an engine in his hold; the fingers unable to close fully. 

Not speaking, Simon cups it with his other hand and presses, grounding you as your lungs take a deep breath before you can clear your throat. 

“I’m fine,” your words barely make it to the air. 

“...Now who’s sounding like me?” The man mutters eyes creased as he stares. “Breathe.” 

You listen, taking another deep breath and staring at Simon’s chest.

“Up ‘ere,” a finger moves out to tap under your jaw, making you tilt your head up to lock with his browns. “There we are, then. Focus. M’right here.” 

“You’re good at this,” you grumble, put off by your own separation from your body. 

Simon tilts his head. “Had to be.” 

You spare a strangled huff at that. 

How quickly things could go wrong—you had thought that tonight would be the best night of your life, but now it was just one single instant that things had made sense, the rest a stain on your memory. 

“You know it was Graham and his friends?” Simon nods, still watching you and making sure you’re calming down properly, waiting for that adrenaline crash. He knows. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Right now?” The man pauses. “Nothing. You’re coming down with me to the Bed and Breakfast. Staying there.” 

So that was how Simon shifted his priorities, walking you down the road as more and more police showed up—there would be more talking in the morning, you had given them everything you’d known so far. It was also how you were mobbed by three more concerned mechanics as you entered their temporary living situation until houses were purchased, blue and brown eyes blinking at the two of you quickly. 

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Gaz had asked, but you were much too tired to speak beyond leaning into Simon’s shoulder and grunting. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny had muttered, only in boxers as he’d shoved out of his room. “Heard the sirens—what’s been happenin’ without me?”

Price had been the one to finally settle everyone and push out a stiff order to leave Simon and you alone for the night. With various glances and tense looks, you were both allowed into your room with little more trouble. 

It was tiny but clean, and Simon had locked the door with a grumble and moved you over to the bed so you could sit, moving off to run a bath. 

You heard the pipes squeak—the whoosh of water as it entered the tub. 

Your mind has still not entirely caught up to itself as Simon leads you forward and begins undressing you; taking off your top and letting you shift out of your own pants. The bathroom tile is cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself when you’re entirely bare as you can’t find the words to speak. That is, before Simon takes his shirt off and you see the damage that’s been done. 

You gasp, hand reaching out but stopping above the cut skin surrounded by a million bruises and large welts. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, delicately touching the skin. None of the slices were deep, but the horror was still there. “Simon…”

Brown eyes soften, and the balaclava is removed as well before a kiss is dug into your forehead. The shade of his hair matched his eyelashes, and now with the full picture, he was as handsome as you imagined him to be, though to all others the scars and the crookedness of his nose might be a shock. You hadn’t expected anything different. 

“Just bruises, Love,” he pets your neck, thumb running over your pulsepoint. 

“You’re all cut up,” your eyes water, but your stubbornness holds them back as you try to take everything in from his willingness to show you his face to the events of tonight. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know that he would do something like this, really, he was always a jerk but he was never…never bold like this.” 

Cupping his cheeks, you kiss his jaw, salty water tracking down your face as you hear Simon take in a breath. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly, curling over you as if another barrage of bricks was imminent. 

But there wasn’t going to be any danger here. Not with three other veterans down the hall.

“He ever…?” You shake your head, shakily uttering a quick response to Simon’s trialed-off question.

“No. No, I’d never stand for that.” The man’s broken body loosens, a long sigh exiting his nose in blatant relief. 

“Good,” is all he says. “Deserve better.”

You sniffle, getting a reign on your emotions. “I’ve got better.” 

During the shared bath, you clean the others’ wounds, your back to the wall as you run water over the stretch of Simon’s shoulders, washing away the blood. Your nails drag over his skin as he shivers, not looking back at you as he reaches behind and takes one of your hands into his. The black stain of his tattoos rubs along your bare arm as fingers intertwine, your limb moved and held to his abdomen as you kiss one of the knobs in his spine softly and hum to him. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin. 

Simon doesn’t respond, only leaning back into you more. 

—

Two days pass with no sign from Graham or his friends—Celine, either. Everyone in town was on edge, and in that time you’d been put on paid leave from the bar on account of your involvement and the potential involvement of your coworker. So, you spent most of the time at the shop with Simon, as he’d asked you to so he could keep an eye out.  

You had thought that maybe this was a one-time event, and had believed it, as well. Graham had made a point, and being the idiot that he was, he’d pay for it. If he was smart, he’d be out of the country by now—there was no mistaking Simon’s vendetta now. Price had to reel him back in the day after the vandalism. 

You’d woken up to an empty bed, having been fitted into one of Simon’s incredibly large shirts and sweatpants for pajamas, and heard arguing. Feet padding like a cat, you had pressed your ear to the door and listened with held-back breath, as if only a peep would make the heated conversation stop.

“He made her bleed, Price. He put her in danger!” 

“Get your head on, Simon, you aren’t in the service anymore,” Price had hissed, shadows slinking along from under the door. “You can’t do anything about it.”

There had been a low growl, an aggravated breath. 

“I can’t sit ‘ere when he’s waiting like a fucking robber. This is my responsibility— happened on my watch.”

“Since when did that fucking happen, Simon, eh? What’s been going on with you two?”

A pause. “...It’s complicated.”

“Then un-complicate it—you’re thinking like a damn soldier.” 

So here you are, fixing the streaks of miscolored paint that had been spattered over the mechanic’s shop as Simon comes out, wiping his hands with a rag. 

“Good thing I didn’t start on the mural yet,” you comment to him, stepping back and putting your roller down. The rag is offered and you take it with a small smile while you slide it over your fingers. “Else I would have tracked him down myself.”

“Would ‘ave helped.” October eyes flicker along the drying paint—the marks still visible. “M’sorry.”

“If you won’t let me apologize,” you raise a brow in challenge. “I won’t let you either.” 

Simon’s eyes crinkle from behind a new balaclava, missing the skeleton details. “Cheeky.”

“It’s called being truthful, Riley.” You sigh through the tilt of your head. “But the bad news is that I had to use up the paint, and I’m not even halfway done with this. It didn’t help that they used a darker color than what I wanted as the backdrop.” 

“Want to take a drive out, then?” The question is swift and honest as it's aimed at you like a distraction from the anxiety. Simon motions his head to the garage. “Got a bit before I’m needed, m’sure you could use a break, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” you utter, moving to rest a hand on his bicep. He almost purrs at the touch, leaning in. 

“Want to,” Simon grunts slowly. “Bikes are still good. Bastards knew I’d skin them if they touched ‘em.” 

“I’m sure,” you chuckle, teasing him through a smirk. “Big Bad Simon Riley.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes at that, turning back around as you follow after, laughing. 

You both get onto the Rebel, and the brown leather jacket moves your way along with the helmet, slipping it over your head not seconds later as Simon grabs his spare. 

“Are you sure you shouldn't ask for another helmet?” You had brought it up the first time as well—the prospect of a crash. 

“Only a small ride—I’ll go slow, Sunshine.” Knuckles tap the top of the helmet in reassurance. “Matters more that you’re the one wearing it.” 

Your face creases up, but you sigh and nod, wrapping your hands around Simon’s waist and tightly holding on as the engine starts rumbling below you. Moving your feet up to the rests, you scoot closer as the man pushes off the ground, flipping the kickstand back up before he leans forward slightly and lets the bike do the work.

As before, the two of you get out of town and nature opens up—but as soon as you really start to let your worries slide away and focus on Simon’s pulse and the freedom he gives you, there’s a cold wind from the west. Coming up and dragging along with it, a dark rain cloud sits over you both about a seven-minute drive in.

“Should we pull over?!” You shout in question as raindrops begin to patter off your helmet. The bike makes a strange chirping sound, and you blink over Simon’s shoulder until your attention is taken away by his answer. 

“Soon!” You nod, trusting him to know, and ease back. Your fingers trace the small bulge of scars at his waist, shivering. 

One minute later, you’re about to say you can see the town ahead when that chirping starts again. Brows furrowing, you grunt in the back of your throat and yell, “What’s that sound, Simon?”

He glances back briefly, unable to hear you.

“The sound!” Simon’s fingers flicker, head moving down to the bike below him—the hum of the engine was too strong up here, he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. 

“What are you—?!” 

There’s a great shriek of black metal, and the Honda Rebel 500’s front wheel breaks off from the motorcycle fork and the bike flips. 

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[liillyliilly]

mentos and coke-a-cola kuroo tetsurou x reader words; 15706 synopsis: as vice captain of a co-ed intramural team, you found yourself increasingly close to the members of your team. including the witty, loving, captain of yours, kuroo tetsurou.

FROM TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

You think to yourself, how many times did you have to tell Kuroo Tetsurou that you were not in fact his personal gym journal? Sitting at the central table of the university library, you had to quickly set your phone down. Then, you opened your laptop to text him, glad that your laptop blurred photos unless you had clicked on them.

This hadn’t been the first time he’d sent you photos of him. Nor had it been the second. By the eighth time it had become routine, he’d send what he considered the ‘best’ photos from the week to you, and expect detailed analysis and thoughts on the way his joggers hung low on his hips with Calvin Klein underwear showing the brand label boldly.

He always posed without his face showing in the photos. Just glimpses of his chin or cheek in the photos. Even though that had always been your only suggestion for him, just a little more of his face and a little less of the v-shaped muscles near his hips.

Kuroo never understood why the most obvious form of flirting never worked on you. Perhaps it had been because of your systematic desensitization to the possibility that he was trying to overtly make you see him as attractive. Perhaps it was all in his mind. The concept that photos could equate to romance. Or how he began deluding himself into finally overcoming the imposed relationship barriers you had begun building once you joined his recreation team for intramural volleyball at The University of Tokyo.

TO TETSUROU: kuroo put the softcore porn thirst traps away 🤢

FROM TETSUROU: i need your opinion

TO TETSUROU: ??? my opinion? i don’t have an opinion on your abdominal muscles or your back or your arms. I need to STUDY the human ego not your body (my philosophy major homework is kicking my butt right now)

You flit from the message tab on your laptop, opening a pdf copy of your textbook to copy notes from. You just needed to finish two more chapters and then you would drop by Kuroo’s place for dinner. He had invited the whole team, but everyone else said that they couldn’t make it. You had tried to deny his offer, but everyone else in the team said that you should just accept the free food.

The part that you hadn’t known at that time was that there were two group chats related to your volleyball team, Consensual Sets. (The team name had all been Ito’s idea, the setter on your team. Kuroo had strongly suggested Setters of Catan, and you had proposed Block Party. In the end, Ito’s pun won the hearts of the rest of your seven member team.) There was one group chat that had everyone, and another that had everyone but you in the messaging history.

Kuroo had dubbed the secondary chat as his collection of wing-people. But mostly they were unhelpful in actually progressing his romance with you. But this time, the dinner he wanted to have was successfully handled by the other five members. It was simple for the rest of the team to just decline the offer due to fake excuses and then to strongly encourage you to go get food with Kuroo at the end of what had been a long week for you academically.

FROM TETSUROU: you drive me crazy 🤕 (just drop out of philosophy and switch your major, all the cool kids do that my dear confucius)

Kuroo was wiping sweat from his forehead using a towel in his bathroom. Instead of doing cardio at the gym, he had decided to just run back to his apartment on the outskirts of the university. That way he could shower before you’d show up to get food. He still didn’t have an idea about where to take you. There was a fine line between a potential date and forcing you to go to a fancy restaurant against your will. He didn’t want just to go to a drive-through, but then he remembered how much you loved the fries at that one burger shop.

He would always try to make you eat a balanced meal, trying to make your diet secretly better. It was all for your good though, because he was aiming to make you live to be 100 through his secret dietary aids he had been slowly integrating. Hell, you couldn’t even eat pizza without also craving a side salad now because of Kuroo’s insistent nature.

TO TETSUROU: i will forcibly remove my number from your phone pls give me peace of mind and stop acting as a shoulder devil for my future career choices

FROM TETSUROU: you love me really

And you did, you loved him like a best friend. Almost like an overbearing, annoying, childish older brother. But also, as a role model to some degree. If you could call being the captain of your co-ed volleyball recreation league team a role model figure in your life.

It was around thirty minutes later when you finally shoved your laptop into your bag and got onto your electric skateboard to get to Kuroo’s apartment.

Knocking a few times, you had shoved your board under your arm and unclasped your helmet.

He swung the door open with a big smile, “I got Thai. From Suguru’s mom’s restaurant, discounts for friends of that brat.”

You rested your board against the door once you had entered his apartment, removing your helmet and trying to pin down the hairs that had been rustled by your head protection.

You set your helmet down on the coffee table near the entrance, setting your board against the wall unobtrusively, “Suguru’s mom is such a sweetheart, remember when she brought food for our team after our big loss last year?”

Daishou’s mother also bought the team amulets, with Nagas (which you had learned were essentially snakes) surrounding a Buddha for good luck and for protection. Yours hung up in your living room, next to your roommates various other key chains. Before you left the house, you always rubbed the charm. If the luck Daishou’s mom seemed to have was due to the amulet, then there wouldn’t be any harm in trying to get some of it to rub off on you as well.

Kuroo pulls out a chair for you and you sit down proceeding to open some chopsticks. One pair for you, and then you open another for Kuroo, resting the wood utensils onto his plate. He opened the fridge and poured some glasses of water from his Brita.

He smiles to himself when he finally sits down, “We really couldn’t stay sad when we had khao soi and pad kra pao, and that mango sticky rice. I dream about that sticky rice literally every night.”

You agree, accepting the styrofoam box from Kuroo to get some rice and egg onto your dish. Kuroo was busy pouring curry onto his plate.

“It was so sad that we lost last year.” You chew your food, waving your chopsticks around a little in the air, “If only we had gotten more team practice time in, I think we almost could’ve been up to your level Tetsurou.”

Kuroo leans back into his chair, sipping his water, “It would take a lot more than just two practices a week to get everyone on our team last year up to my level. But this year, we might actually have a chance, The Consensual Sets have a lot of connecting people.” He sits forward again, getting some food into his mouth.

“Yeah, I still can’t believe Suguru agreed to join full time instead of just being an alternate! With his regular season on top of our intramural team, he’s gonna be so tired out.” You jab the chopsticks in Kuroo’s direction, emphasizing your point.

“At least he brought us a replacement alternate, Mika is gonna be great to have on the team- even with her lack of skills.”

You roll your eyes, “Mika has skills!”

“Sure.”

The other members of the team had joined Kuroo’s team for a variety of reasons. Ito Yuuta, the setter, joined because he wanted to beat his twin in intramurals this year- and because his friend from high school, Alba, was also on the team. Ito was also the only first year on your team. Alba, a spiker, joined because she needed something outside of her architecture major to keep her extra busy. She was a second year student like you.

Daishou and Mika, who came as a set due to their dating status, joined because Daishou had been convinced by Kuroo to join for fun. You suspected that Kuroo was still carrying some lingering sadness at Kenma not joining the university team, but Kenma was busy with his multi-pursuit endeavors to join a recreation league. Kenma did come to an occasional game to support his best friend though.

Mingzhe, the libero and defensive specialist, was an international student from China. He had joined the team because he was too busy with his Computer Engineering and Science double major to be apart of the regular team. The University had been devastated that Mingzhe denied their offer for him to join. But it only elevated your own team to have such a good player.

The reason you joined? Because you wanted friends. Kuroo had made a poster advertising his desire for people to join a small co-ed volleyball team. You had taken a photo of the poster, went to the open gym time that he had outlined, and the rest became history relatively quickly.

Kuroo hadn’t been captain last year though, it was a collection of older fourth and third years who made the team. All of whom were in the sports marketing major with Kuroo. But they weren’t really playing the game for the love of the sport, but rather for extra credit from their professors. The old team name had simply been ‘Extra Credit for Prof. Singh’s Sports Marketing 5910 Special Study Course’ but it was always shortened to ‘Special Study Kids’ on the excel spreadsheets that listed out opponents and playing time.

Kuroo had shifted the narrative, he wanted this year’s team to be for fun- genuine fun and love for volleyball. And you had found yourself enjoying playing, even though you were sharing a position with Kuroo who scared you with his ability to read the opponents. But Kuroo always told you that without your support blocks, then his own blocks wouldn’t work most of the time. That had been a major ego-boost.

He knew how to do that for a lot of people, you recall. Kuroo could make people feel special, feel seen, without having to do much except for just show off his sincere love for people. A person like him was rare to find even once in life, so you wanted to stick around him for a long time. (Even if Kuroo got onto your nerves, he balanced out his provocations with kindness.)

“Thanks for the food, I can’t believe everyone else said no to free food at your expense.” You pat your stomach, rolling your shoulders a little to get comfortable in the metal chairs Kuroo had.

“It’s no problem. What do you have planned for the rest of this month?”

Pursing your lips, you try to recall your schedule.

“Besides our two-a-weeks, games, and classes, I don’t have much else going on in September.”

“Do you want to come watch a game then?” Kuroo grabs your plate, starting the sink faucet, you grab a towel to dry off the two plates. He tries to bump you away with his hip, but you resist and narrow your eyes. He yields and hands you a cleaned dish to dry.

“Is it the game you were talking about at practice? The reunion game?” You set the ceramic dish onto the shelf, waiting for Kuroo to hand you the other plate to dry.

“Yeah, it’s a bunch of my buddies from high school, we wanted to play a game before some of our pals leave for other countries to play professionally. Remember Bokuto? I mentioned him a few times.”

“The owl furry guy?”

Kuroo chuckles, turning around and leaning against the sink to watch you put the other plate away onto the cupboard shelf. “Yes, the owl guy. And Kenma will be playing, and Akaashi, and Fukunaga, and Kai, and-”

“I think I get it. A Nekoma versus Fukurodani game?” You suggest.

You had met Fukunaga once before, when Kuroo took the team to a comedy show of his the day before a match some time ago. Fukunaga’s set had been so hilarious that you asked Kuroo to personally introduce you to the comedian. Kuroo had been hesitant, for reasons unknown to you, but ultimately gave in to you and introduced the pair of you.

Fukunaga had taken one look at you and immediately pointed out what he liked about you. Which made you laugh, Kuroo hadn’t been entertained by that joke though. His reaction had been furrowed eyebrows, a huff, and defensively folding his arms- you had pointed out how overly dramatic Kuroo could be sometimes. Fukunaga had just smiled and shook his head.

Kuroo clarifies about the game, “More like a Nekoma versus an agglomeration of other high schools. Hinata, this crazy little dude, and my protege Tsukishima will play with Akaashi and Bokuto.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, I’m in.”

He had texted you the details of where to go, when to be there, and what color to wear to show your support for Kuroo’s team. You had been tempted to wear anything but the red and black combo he asked you to wear, but in the end, you wanted to be a good friend and wore what he asked you to wear.

The game was intense, to say the least. A lot more yelling and commands came from Kuroo than you had seen during your own games. It was nearing the end of September, and instead of studying for an exam, you were here in a gym watching a group of cohorts from the Volleyball World of High Schoolers play to their heart’s contentment.

You screamed when Kuroo got a good block, and you remained quiet when the opposing team scored a point. One of the things you noticed was how much higher they had made the net. In the intramural league, the net was at least a few centimeters shorter than the one they were playing with.

The tall blonde made a face at Kuroo through the net, and you almost found yourself laughing at how Kuroo teased him back. A ginger with the jumping power of a kangaroo kept making the most insane plays you had ever seen, keeping you on the edge of your seat for most of the game.

Ultimately, the Nekoma reunion team takes the win. You could see Kenma’s sour expression from where you had been sitting. Kenma immediately went to sit on the bench to play on his nintendo when the rest of his team was clapping each other on the backs.

Kuroo waved you over, face beaming.

When he pulls you in for a hug, you realize your hands get wet, soaked, not even a little damp but instead dripping wet. But he keeps his arms tightly around your waist. It wasn’t one of the usual hugs you exchanged with him, where your arms crossed around his chest and he did the same. In this hug, he had wrapped both arms around your waist, which made you wrap neatly into his chest.

"Your jersey is soaked, did they pour water over you Tetsurou?" You chuckle a little, talking into his body almost.

"Nope. This is all homemade sweat."

You pull away from the hug, wiping your hands on your thighs. Only to realize that your red shirt is soaked through the front as well, an imprint of his body outline on yours. You grimace, knowing that you now smell heavily of a unique perfume you’d dub ‘Kuroo après le match de volley’.

Kuroo shrugs, then wraps his arms around you again, which earns him a groan from you.

"You love me really."

You don’t say anything in response, letting him have his moment.

The post-game dinner was fun, even if you did have to complain to Kuroo about him buying your food for you. He had been too insistent about paying, even secretly paying for you when you went to the restroom.

“You took the train, yeah?” Kuroo asks once you exit the restaurant.

“Yep.”

Nighttime on the bullet train in Tokyo back to the university was always your favorite. Being able to stuff your ears full of music while you watch the passing scenery had such a hold over your emotional well-being. During train rides like that you thought maybe you could study Ralph Waldo Emerson again. But then you push away the thought because you remembered how much of an annoyance you found reading his pieces. You would always prefer Thoreau to Emerson at the end of the day when talking about the Transcendentalist Movement.

Kuroo nods, yelling out, “Kenma, I’m gonna take the train, you’re good to head back to your house! Text you later!” He waves enthusiastically to Kenma, who just throws a thumbs-up in regard to Kuroo’s statement.

The walk is mostly silent, with hands brushing against each other. The train station is vaguely busy. Kuroo had changed into some joggers and a loose t-shirt that had a neckline that was a little too stretched out so you could see his collarbones and the start of his chest. The design of the shirt was a logo for a cologne brand, with cursive writing.

While waiting for the train, you kicked your feet against the pavement a little, listening to Kuroo talk about the game and his favorite moments. His passion for volleyball was clear, but it just wasn’t the only thing Kuroo wanted to do for the rest of his life. His love for teaching other people, and helping others achieve their own passion outweighed his personal feelings. He just had a heart so open and willing to help others, that the blurred lines of what he loved and what others loved had become interwoven.

His belief of lowering the net for others, that helping aspect of his personality shone through with your recreation team. Although it was a casual team, it also meant so much more to everyone because Kuroo’s appreciation and understanding for the volleyball essentials and foundations made everyone want to do better. Made everyone want to play volleyball.

The train roared in, and you lifted your head, going to stand near the yellow painted lines where the door would be near. You turned around, and Kuroo was still standing fairly far away.

“Tetsurou?” You held your hand out for him to take, an effort to urge him to wait nearby with you.

Kuroo freezes. In his mind, his slightly exhausted mind that had lowered inhibitions from physically exerting himself with the game earlier, the two options were to grab your hand or to play around with you. He let his teasing, flirtatious, scheming personality win out over his shyness and earnest kindness.

He bent down, and rested his chin in the palm of your hand, so you had ended up squishing his face slightly. Once you realized that it was his face in your hand, you tried to tug your hand away with a laugh and with your tongue peeking out between your teeth as you bit down on it.

Kuroo didn’t know how to stop when he was ahead. He used his hand to grab a hold of your wrist. Then he gently bit down on the space between your pointer finger and thumb, pressing a kiss to the skin immediately after. And he would’ve continued with the affectionate kisses to your hand, but you swallowed thickly and your fingers began to twitch.

You couldn’t comprehend why you had wanted him to keep going. It was knotting your stomach, and turning the gears in your brain.

He stood up properly, noticing how the train had stopped. He slid a hand into your hand that was still outstretched and stunned from his actions, “The train won’t wait for us, c’mon Confucious.”

That night, you had spent a lot of time looking up onto your ceiling. Tapping your tummy to make little songs as you run through the day you had experienced over and over again.

Your phone dings.

FROM TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

FROM TETSUROU: thanks for coming to the game! hope you had a good time watching. kenma got photos of us celebrating after nekoma grad team won

FROM TETSUROU: im really glad you wore red

Kuroo’s head is resting on his pillow, the light of his phone shining on his face as he lays on his bed in the dark. He can feel his palms sweating, and he keeps shoving his face into the pillow before taking a peek at his phone again. Under the blankets, his feet keep bouncing from the mattress as he fights against what feels like hypertension in his blood. You still hadn’t responded to his messages.

You looked at your phone for a moment, your eyes slightly static and blurry. You read his messages, trying to think of what to say. Your red shirt lays in your dirty clothes basket, and a grin starts to make your face hurt.

FROM TETSUROU: i think i love you

FROM TETSUROU: i love you a lot

FROM TETSUROU: do you think you could love me back?

FROM TETSUROU: UNSENT THREE MESSAGES

You look at the notification that tells you Kuroo unsent texts that you hadn’t got the chance to read. You shrug, responding to the messages you did get a chance to read.

TO TETSUROU: the game was so much fun! wearing red for you was also fun, i felt like a cheerleader lowkey- i mean you should’ve seen some of the looks i got from this grandma who clearly just wanted to watch the game lol after the game tho! she said it was nice to see young people cheering so passionately so i guess her dirty looks were all in my mind

FROM TETSUROU: that’s hilarious- whose granny was it tho 💀

TO TETSUROU: no idea but she really liked you 🫣

FROM TETSUROU: 😐

TO TETSUROU: i’ll see you at practice next saturday! goodnight tetsurou, sleep well

FROM TETSUROU: goodnight ♥️

FROM TETSUROU: UNSENT ONE MESSAGE

FROM TETSUROU: goodnight confucius 🙂

The first Saturday of October was a practice for the members of Consensual Sets. You were busy tossing serves over the net for Mingzhe to receive. Alba was jumping on Ito’s shoulders as she asked him repeatedly to let her tape up his fingers this time. Daishou and Mika were tugging on their knee pads, and when Mika started pouting at the way her nails got tugged by the fabric, Daishou knelt in front of her and pulled the pads up where they belonged with a huge smile as he looked up at her.

Daishou and Mingzhe wanted to do some quick laps outside, but you wanted to warm up by doing some flying dives. While the flying dives did hurt your elbows from impact catching your weight, they made for great practice to get you better prepared for your back row position duties. Alba finally got to tape up Ito’s fingers as he looked terrified at giving her the tape he used.

Mika decided to stretch out, only really getting ready to hit some serves for the rest of the team today. Her role as a support, and as an alternate wasn’t needed for most games, but in case of emergency, at least she had created a weapon for herself with that nasty jump float that makes you chew the inside of your mouth.

Fifteen minutes into the practice, when everyone was done warming up and getting water, you looked around the gym. The only other people here were a group of basketball guys playing a game of pick-up on the other end of the courts away from where you’d set up the net. You were the first one to notice a lack of one particular person.

“Does anyone know where Tetsurou is?” You ask, going over the bench were Mingzhe was meditating.

Ito shrugged, “Maybe he couldn’t make it today?”

Alba rests her chin on Ito’s shoulder, commenting, “Perhaps he’s sick? Our fearless leader lost to the measly germs of society. Damn it, I curse the bloodline of those germs.” She dramatically clenches her first and Ito tries to hide an amused smile on his face.

“I’ll text him, I’m sure he’s just running late.” Daishou says, accepting his phone from Mika.

You, as vice captain of the team, decide the best course of action is to start running some drills. 10 spikes, 10 serves, 10 receives, and then 10 blocks. Each person alternated the roles until everyones did their 10x4 drill.

Even after the drill, Kuroo still hadn’t shown up.

“Suguru, any sign of Tetsurou?” You question, getting some water.

Mingzhe, looking nearly sweatless and unaffected by the drills, is still meditating in the center of the court. Alba tried waving her hand in front of his face. But Mingzhe opened one eye right when she started making a face- which caused her to jump back in alarm. Ito audibly laughed at that exchange while adjusting his taped fingers, away from where Alba could see so that he didn’t hurt her feelings.

“He said he can’t make it, something about a presentation for a class of his, apparently it slipped his mind. But he did send me a list of what we should do today. Let’s go for two miles outside!” Daishou shouted out the instruction to the rest of the team, then patted you on the shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Tetsu would let you know if something happened to him. I think you’d be the first to know if he got hurt or sick or something. Trust him.”

After practice, you make your way to Kuroo’s building, the one where all his classes were held.

You scanned your badge and entered the building, appreciating the cool sports poster that Kuroo’s department had covering the walls. Tall posters of soccer players, basketball players, and even some table tennis players. The coolest one was a blue poster where a soccer player had altered edited eyes to seem like they shined gold, and there was a huge skeleton behind them making the player look imposing and strong. You snuck a photo of the poster, then shoved your phone back into your pocket.

The weight of the spam musubi you got for Kuroo, and the two cold banana drinks made your bag feel heftier than usual. In reality, the actual tangible weight didn’t affect anything. You just felt strange being in a building that wasn’t your own.

And you’d been thinking about Kuroo again. More specifically, the way he’d bitten and then kissed your hand. You felt your throat swallow thickly as your brain flashed images of what it might have been like if he had bitten and kissed elsewhere on your body. Of course, Kuroo had done it as a tease, a little game, you reason.

But why did your heart begin to stutter when you found him sitting in a niche, his hand in his hair as he scrolled through his laptop? He looked exhausted, and slightly upset. He was bouncing his leg, his knee hitting the top of the table occasionally.

You slid into the alcove opposite of Kuroo, pulling out the treats you got for him.

“Tetsurou, take a quick break.” You shoved the musubi and drink in his direction.

Kuroo shut his laptop, then looked from the food to your face then back to the food. He covered his face in his hands as he propped his elbows onto the table. His words were muffled by his hands, “Thank you.”

You reached out and touched his forearm, “It’s no problem, eat up.”

He tried to split the spam musubi but you shook your head, holding your hand up to deny him. He gave a downturned smile as he bit into the sustenance. He let out a hum, “This is really good, this is just what I needed.”

Sipping on the banana drink, you rested your foot overtop of his under the table.

“How did the presentation go?” You purse your lips, trying to give Kuroo your best hopeful look.

Kurooo grimaced a little, “Professor Singh said it needed some more work.”

“What was the grade?” You prepared yourself for the worst. That Kuroo failed and would need to disband the team that you’d grown so attached to. And your next game was in three weeks, at the end of October too.

“Oh he gave me full credit, said it was the best he’s seen this year. But if I want it to be my thesis project for senior year next year, then it would need more tuning. Then he proceeded to give me a list of corrections to make.” He pulled out a sheet of paper that was bulleted, Kuroo gave it to you to read and you started feeling bad for him.

He finished off the musubi, then rubbed his eyes, his reading glasses pushed up onto the top of his head in the process, “This isn’t even half of the things that need to be fixed. Professor Singh said he’d help me though, so it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

“Still, I’m sorry, that’s rough.” You suck in some air through your teeth, and click your tongue just barely, “I’m sorry.”

Kuroo waves his hand to diffuse the air between you two.

He rolls the sleeves of his white button up down, the arms are wrinkled, and he undoes the top button of his shirt, releasing his throat a little so he can relax into his spot. Kuroo sets his head on the table, his hand on the bottled drink you had gotten him, he rocks the bottle around in circles, the liquid sloshing inside.

You bite the inside of your mouth, racking your brain to look for anything that could possibly ease Kuroo’s contemplations.

“Did you still want to try my electric skateboard out?”

Kuroo jolts up, sitting with his back straight.

“Hell yes. Please teach me.” He holds his hands flat together in front of his face in what you recognized as some kind of prayer posturing.

“Okay, my dorm is just a few miles away, let’s head out.” You pull your backpack over your shoulders as Kuroo tucks his laptop into the shoulder bag he has.

For a moment, you fight against the urge to hold your hand out for him to take.

When you do end up holding your hand out, ready to accept his, Kuroo wipes his hand against his thigh discreetly before he rushes to grab a hold of your hand. His hand is bigger than yours, more rough, but it’s warm and comforting with the way that he intertwines your fingers with his. He swings your connected hands back and forth as he starts talking about the upcoming game, and how he’ll go into the gym with Daishou to join in on Daishou’s regular practices with the university volleyball team tomorrow.

Kuroo was not built for your skateboard, but he had fun trying to balance on it as you tried to support him with hands on his waist.

“I’m ticklish there.” He feels his stomach tighten when you squeeze his sides.

“Blah, I’m trying to prevent you from eating dirt. I can’t hold you by the shoulders since you’re too tall standing on the board.” You explain, keeping one foot on the back of the board to keep it from moving too much as Kuroo wiggles around trying to find a balance.

You probably spent two hours trying to get him to actually start the board up and go further than a few strides away from you. But in the end, he could successfully circle around you without your hands supporting him. Alba and Ito came around to the part of the campus you and Kuroo were occupying.

Alba jumped up and down as Ito covered his ears, awaiting Alba’s yells to call for attention. She was tossing up a Mikasa volleyball, and Ito had a Molten under his arm.

“Let’s play two versus two since Kuroo couldn’t be bothered to come to practice today.” Alba lifted a hand up and spiked the ball in your direction, and you received the ball with ease as you dropped your hips and crouched down. Kuroo caught the ball you had dug out, spinning it in on a fingertip before just palming the ball with one hand.

Ito rolled his eyes and rolled his shoulder, “Not today, it’s almost dark out.”

Alba took her ball from Kuroo, trying to balance it on her head.

“What does our gorgeous vice captain have to say then? Let her decide, my absolute queen.” Alba blows a kiss in your direction, which you fake catch with one hand before pressing your palm to your heart and playfully, although also impishly, sighing deeply.

You glance at Kuroo’s expectant eyes, he adjusted his shoulder bag again. He was still in his dressy presentation clothes.

“Maybe next time, it’s been a long day, my legs are jello and my arms are sore.” You complain lightly, “But Alba, maybe Ito wants to play DIG 2000 on the computer with you?”

Ito smiled, DIG 2000 was a simulation game similar to the FIFA 23 sports video game. Alba nodded, bouncing the volleyball on her head a few times before turning to Ito, “Let’s go back to yours then.”

Ito copied Alba, bouncing the volleyball with his foot instead of head, and nodded, “Sounds good.”

The pair walked off, Alba talking excitedly and Ito listening intently.

Kuroo walked to stand close by you, holding your skateboard in his hand.

“If they don’t start dating, I don’t think I’ll ever believe in love.” He jokes.

You raise an eyebrow, “Really? But you love all people, you got that big heart behind all the muscle. I find it hard to believe that you need proof of romantic love to believe in love at all.” You think about Plato’s symposium which defined love as two people becoming one through a connection and Aristotle's emphasis on philia, the platonic love between friends.

Western love philosophy had always been rooted in two main branches of thought, the classical beliefs of the ancients such as Plato and then the French Skepticism that believed love was a guise for sexual fulfillment.

You noted that you’d have to thank your professor for their in depth analysis about the Love Unit your class had covered earlier in the year. Clearly, more than you realized had stuck into your brain.

Kuroo starts walking back to your dorm, you trailing after him.

“I think that love can be found in all things, but I was more so thinking about Alba and Ito you know? Like, if I see two people like them, who are clearly compatible, then it feels wrong when they don’t become more than just friends. When clearly, like, they’d be brilliant together. The way they bounce off each other for example,” Kuroo focuses his eyes straight ahead, knowing that you’re looking at him with those bright and curious eyes he’d fallen for- knowing that he’d be powerless to look away once he locked eyes with you.

Kuroo continues, “I mean, Ito takes such good care of Alba, and she doesn’t even realize that she reciprocates naturally sometimes. Like all the times she asks to tape his fingers before a game or practice, and he reluctantly lets her? Then he proceeds to fix the tape when he knows she isn’t looking. That’s love.” You can hear the sigh he lets out with his concluding statement.

You take your board back from Kuroo, playing with one of the wheels as you bump your hip into his for a moment, then you give your two cents to the discussion.

“But does that mean they need to be romantically involved? If we’re using our friends as examples, then I’d like to point out Daishou and Mika. Or even Mingzhe as an example. When we see Daishou and Mika, it is very blatant that they’re in love. They equally fawn over each other, they kiss, they feel that physical pull. When we look at Ito and Alba, they never cross that physical boundary. I think that love has a physical element to it as well as emotional. I think they might just love each other as best friends.”

Kuroo swallows, puffing out his cheeks for a second. If you believed that love needed a physical element, then why did you initiate touch with him just as frequently as he did with you? He wasn’t so egotistical to believe that you were hiding feelings from him, but it was a unique argument to think about in his head. He feels the heat in his cheeks and his ears, he’d kissed you before. Albeit, on the hand, but it had been a kiss. You’d let him cross a boundary that he wasn’t sure even existed between you two.

If the kiss had been anywhere else, would you have let him press his lips so tenderly and longingly the way he did? Would you have pushed him away? Would you’ve made a disgusted look? Would you reciprocate, kissing him back?

He’d known you for two years now, and he wasn’t sure about anything besides the fact that he wanted you to stick around him for as long as possible. For eternity if possible. For infinity, if it existed. He wanted that physical element though too, to hold and kiss you. To bite your earlobe, to scratch your back, to hold the back of your knee as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh.

He releases a breath, looking at the space between your eyebrows rather than your eyes.

“What about the innocent kind of love? Love shared between kids for example, they don’t necessarily cross that physical boundary you talk about. But you know when two kids love each other. It isn’t just that physical element that adds to the definition of love, it’s simply the feeling shared equally between two people. It isn’t just friendship, but it’s clearly love.”

“I don’t know. That’s a good point though. There’s definitely nuance, and I think I might have philosophized myself into a corner here.” You laugh, smiling at Kuroo.

The layers to this conversation had begun to hurt your head. Philosophy was much easier when it was sitting behind a desk, at your laptop. Philosophy was harder when it seemed like Kuroo was pressing you for answers, for your thoughts rather than a structured argumentative essay with dozens of academic pieces of evidence.

At the end of October was a selection of games to be played all Friday evening. All the intramural recreation teams were at the large gym of the university, and the Consensual Sets put on the team shirts made by Mingzhe. They were a dark grey, with the team name printed on the front, and everyone’s nicknames on the back of the jersey style top.

Kuroo just had Tetsu on the back of his. Mingzhe had put his name in a simple cursive, Alba and Ito swapped names for fun. Daishou had his full first name, and Mika put Mika-Mika as her name. As for you, you put Confucius on the back of your jersey, grateful that Kuroo had given you a nickname that actually suited your personality.

After winning the first two games, you found yourself playing against another team that had been undefeated for the entire intramural season thus far.

It was halfway through the second set, and you were exhausted. But just one more rotation before Kuroo would be back to the front with you and your killer duo block could be utilized for a perfect angle.

When Kuroo would twist his body to the side, and you’d barely skim the ball so that the spiker would be forced to send the ball straight to the libero, Mingzhe. Mingzhe had the freaky ability to reign in the ball and get it to Ito without Ito needing to move too much. Ito would then, of course, set the ball right to Daishou or Alba, depending on who would have a better shot at scoring that moment.

However, in this current rotation, you were on the end of the front row, with Ito in the center of the front. Kuroo was behind you on the back row, Mingzhe on the far back corner. Daishou was on the other side of Ito. Everyone was ready to play. You could hear Alba from the back next to Mingzhe, getting after him for not wiping the sweat off his shoes. Mika was busy refilling bottles, but still ready to swap Alba or Mingzhe if needed.

“Chance ball!” You call out, getting ready to jump up for a block. But at the same moment, Ito shifted his body to try and set the ball that Alba had received. He just happened to get a little too close. So that when he was backing up and jumping to get a touch onto the volleyball, he slammed into you.

Hitting the ground with a thud, you felt the air get knocked out of you. And once you could feel the force your back had slammed into the gym floor, the combination of painful sensations was just too much and you choked out a sound of anguish. Tears were streaming down the side of your face as you were gasping for air, but ultimately just choking on your empty lungs.

“Idiot!” Kuroo shoved Ito, knocking Ito into the net. Ito held his hands up defensively, but understood the reaction Kuroo had had. The referee called an emergency time out, and called over the nurse. Kuroo had picked you up, making you sit up. His hand was rubbing your back, telling you what to do.

Ito tried to go over to you as well, but Alba had grabbed the back of his shirt and gave a look to Ito by directing his eyes to where Kuroo was holding you. She mouthed something that you couldn’t distinguish. But then again, you couldn’t distinguish much due to the panic state you found in perpetual motion within your cells.

“Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.” Kuroo’s jaw was clenched, and his other hand was on your thigh. You kept trying to inhale through your mouth though, your body nervously reacting to the lack of oxygen. “Listen to me, c’mon, please, just relax okay. You’re safe, I got you. Just relax.”

The nurse arrived with a first aid kit, but once she saw how Kuroo was following standard protocol for an injury like this, she left the kit for Kuroo to use. He said a quick thanks, and the nurse went to go check on some other college student who had blood dripping from his mouth. The bloody kid was holding up a tooth and his teammates were clapping him on the back.

Kuroo tilted his head up and called out to where Mika was filling up bottles near the back of the gym, “Mika, can I get a water bottle over here?”

Daishou ran over to Mika, picking one up and running back over to Kuroo and you. He handed the bottle to you and crouched down on the other side of you.

You had taken a sip of the water, and your breathing was normal again, and the only concern was the pain in your mid to low back.

“You took quite a fall there, Confucius.” Kuroo brought his hand up from your back to caress your head, soothing you.

Daishou chuckled, sitting down, and stretching his legs out. But he scrambled to get back up when Mika asked for his help carrying all the other water bottles over to the Consensual Sets break bench.

Ito was busy sulking over on the bench, getting chewed out by Alba and Mingzhe for not listening to your call of ‘chance ball’. In that scenario, Ito was supposed to wait until after the rally went back over to the other team instead of trying to catch the ball to set it.

Ito was just awaiting when the true test of his spirit would be put through the wringer. That of course would be the eventual moment when he was on the receiving end of Kuroo’s fury.

Everyone on the team knew, if you were at the center of an issue, Kuroo would ultimately be there resolving it. Usually you never get too injured, it was just supposed to be a casual intramural team, but the seven members of Consensual Sets had grown into a tightly knit friend group who really wanted to chase down the championship at The University of Tokyo.

That did put some more strain on the level of ability everyone had, and the intensity of which Ito had been aiming to score just another point. But it also reminded everyone, you getting hurt, that this was a casual team. There was nothing to be gained except for a fun time and some good stories to tell.

Kuroo was glad that you hadn’t landed too badly, he’d be much more angry at Ito if you would’ve landed on your head or your bad knee that hadn’t healed up all the way from the sprain you got a few weeks ago. Now, Kuroo tried to focus on keeping his heart rate down so you wouldn’t be able to hear it pounding in his chest.

Completely aware of his own protectiveness for you, Kuroo had been the first one to react to the collision between you and Ito. He’d always been the first one to make sure you were okay. And he wanted to keep it that way.

You decide that you want to get back into the game, leveraging your hand against Kuroo’s shoulder, “We still have to finish the set, we’re ahead by three. Just five more points and we win.” You tried to stand up, only to get dizzy and stumble back. Kuroo caught you again, bringing you back to the ground to sit in between his legs so he could hug you from behind.

“Yeah, no. We’re gonna have to cancel this match for a different day.” He rubs his thumb over your elbow, trying to ease the bruise that was forming there.

You spin your head around to face Kuroo. He can feel the way his Adam’s apple bobs at your face being so close to his.

“Yeah, no, trade Mika in for me. Let’s finish the game.” You pouted a little, and Kuroo could only roll his eyes in response. He never could say no to you indefinitely. He did make you finish the water bottle before he would let the game resume with Mika’s substitution in your place.

And the game does get finished, a sequential five points with Kuroo getting a block kill for the winning point. He had made you sit on the bench, wrapped in his blue Nike windbreaker.

Everyone, except for Daishou and Mika who rode to the gym on her motorcycle, piled into Kuroo’s Toyota Sienna minivan. You sat in the passenger’s seat, as usual, and Ito was relegated to the very back of the car with Alba sprawled out trying to take a nap. Mingzhe enjoys the silence of the middle row all to himself, adjusting the temperature to be freezing. You rest your head on the window, looking outside at the busy streets.

“Who’s getting dropped off first?” Kuroo hands you the collection of semi-final medals, an award for making it to the top four teams. The finals would be in three weeks, and you fully intended to take the championship trophy home.

“I live the furthest away, so you can work your way towards your apartment if you drop me off first.” You say, putting the medals into your duffel bag. You’d pass them out at team practice in a few days.

Alba sits up, and Ito’s relieved to have her legs off of his thighs.

“I have to work early, like super early tomorrow morning. Drop me off first please.” Alba announces, poking her head next to Mingzhe’s seat so that she can have Kuroo hear her better.

You groan, “Alba you live the furthest from me, Tetsurou would have to go back and forth to drop me off second.”

Ito raises his hand, inserting himself into the discussion, “Yeah, but I live closer to Alba, and so does Mingzhe. Kuroo can just go to the East Campus first, and then drop you off last.”

Kuroo grins, “Sounds like we have a winning plan. Alba, Ito, Mingzhe, and then you, Confucius.”

The engine starts, and Kuroo double checks the GPS before merging onto the main street highway.

“I still think it’s illogical to go past your house to drop everyone off, then go past your house again to drop me off.”

“Just stay the night at mine then?” Kuroo says, keeping his eyes on the road fully, not even considering glancing in your direction for worry of getting seen right through by your perceptive instincts.

Alba bites down on her lips, squeezing Ito’s arm in anticipation for what will unfold. Ito tries to push her off, but she just holds on tighter.

Mingzhe is too busy swiping through his Tinder to pay attention, but he’s passively listening in on what you could possibly say in response. Mingzhe needed to find a date for the Chinese cultural exchange event the school would be having, and you had to hear about how all his potential dates were just not up to his par. The exchange event would be a few days before the Intramural Finals.

You think for a moment, it would save Kuroo a fifteen minute drive in the bad traffic. And anything to avoid the traffic of an evening rush would be best, especially since Kuroo was bad at estimating when he’d need to buy gas again. If you stayed at his place, then you would have a ride to your early morning Saturday class without having to ride the bus onto campus. In addition, you’d get free breakfast since you knew Kuroo liked to make big meals in the morning.

“I’ll get a ride into school yeah?”

“Yeah. I have a class at the same time you do tomorrow.” He lied. His earliest class would be two hours after your class.

“Then I guess so. You got an extra toothbrush?”

“Dozens.”

Kuroo’s apartment smelt like him. But in an unfiltered, undiluted way. You inspected some photos that he had around, but you were more interested in the calendar he had posted on his fridge.

He had everyone’s birthdays written down on a notes section of the entire year overview calendar. Your birthday was circled multiple times, and the entire week before and during your birthday had been highlighted bright yellow. He had already started brainstorming ideas about what to get you, and had a few sticky notes on the fridge listing things.

You noted some books you had mentioned, a website address of what you identified as a custom volleyball brand with a drawing of a volleyball Kuroo had done, a bunch of question marks around his note of matching hoodies, and then a heart around the words ‘ring’ and ‘house key’.

Kuroo saw the way you honed into his fridge and tried to pull you away, “You’re spoiling your surprises.”

You folded your arms, “I don’t like surprises.”

“Fine then, you’re spoiling my surprises. I get you things, and my reward for doing so is seeing your reactions.”

You waved a hand, dismissing him. He had told you that the toothbrushes were under his sink.

While you were in the bathroom, brushing teeth and then taking a shower, Kuroo quickly cleaned areas of his apartment that you might meander into. Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness, he tried to remember how to set up his pullout couch.

Changing into your backup sweatpants and the loaned Nike sweatshirt had given you in tandem with his windbreaker, you hugged yourself to embrace the soft fleece that was coating your skin.

Once you saw the pullout couch, with a pile of folded blankets on top of a grey pillow, you started to make the bed. Unfurling the blankets and slightly fluffing the pillow. Before crawling under the blankets, you decided to scroll on your phone for a minute, setting alarms for the morning and responding to some texts from your friends and teammates about today.

“What are you doing?” Kuroo had changed into shorts and an oversized shirt that he tucked slightly into the waistband of his shorts.

“Texting?” You answer.

“No, what are you doing sitting on the couch?” Kuroo was holding a pillow from his bedroom, the one he used to press against the side of his head. (Also the one that had caused his incessant case of bedhead spiky hair.)

You uncross your legs, dangling them over the edge of the couch, “I’m sleeping on the pullout couch?”

Kuroo tosses his pillow onto the couch, crawling under the blankets you had set up. When he pulled the blankets over his shoulder, you were tugged back a little. In response, you just stood up and went around to kneel in front of Kuroo, attempting to make eye contact.

“Where do I sleep?”

He reaches his arm out and pats the space next to him.

“No.”

He sighs, rolling onto his back as he brings his hands behind his head. The obvious flex he does in his biceps from the way his shirt sleeve rolls down does not go unnoticed by you.

“Then I guess you’re sleeping in my bed then, first door on the right. Goodnight.” He immediately covered his head with his two pillows.

You tried to pull one of them away from Kuroo, but his grip was stronger than your slight strain to jerk the pillow out of his grasp.

“You win this time. But next time, I will take my rightful spot on the pullout couch.”

Kuroo mimics you, imitating a high tone, his voice is muffled by his pillow barriers around his face. You stick your tongue out at him even though he can’t see it.

At least his bed was comfortable, and cold. Cotton sheets that definitely had to be a higher thread count than your own, and he left you with only one pillow. He had a few plushies from all the times the pair of you went to a big box store to buy groceries, and instead of buying bananas or a fresh watermelon, he’d spend his money on collecting an array of large stuffed animals.

You had asked him once about why he bought them. He just said because they were cool to have around his place. In reality though, you had gone through his phone once, when he was going through yours for fun trying to find dirt or juicy gossip, and you found out the truth about his assortment of plushies. You went to his notes app and only found a list of things he wanted to buy for his future kids, and a list of maybe fifteen stuffed animals was at the top. He’d already crossed off around ten of them, so he needed only five more to complete the collection he wanted to curate.

It was a cute sentiment that he had, thinking about his future children so soon. Which is why for his upcoming birthday, in a few weeks, the same day as the final for the intramural championship, you had three stuffed animals in a bag in your closet to give to him to celebrate the eventual win.

Kuroo looked through his phone, spending some time watching volleyball videos before going to sleep. He was also biding his time, wanting to check in on you before he fully went to sleep. He just wanted to make sure you were sleeping well before he let himself sleep. His phone beeped, once and then twice.

FROM SUGURU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

FROM SUGURU: got some good photos of you and our dear vice captain, say thanks to me, mika 💖, and mingzhe for actually CAPTURING the way you are so sickly deadly embarrassingly openly precisely adoringly obsessively entirely fervently passionately feverishly restlessly frantically FREAKING HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE with her

TO SUGURU: 🖕

TO SUGURU: she looks good in the photos

FROM SUGURU: i feel ill thinking about what your plan with these photos is now 😟

TO SUGURU: exposing your rough drafts for proposing to mika in the gc RIGHT NOW

FROM SUGURU: I’LL MIC DROP THE DRUNK VIDEO OF U WHINING ABOUT NEEDING OUR VICE CAPTAIN TO KISS U AND HOLD YOU- I’LL DO IT DON’T TEST ME MF

TO SUGURU: hand hovering over the collection of mika stalker photos you have that you’ve sent to me

FROM SUGURU: literally this close to posting on my instagram the HUNDREDS of text messages you’ve sent me about her, including the ones from the day Consensual Sets spent at the beach, AND the ones from the week after she broke up with her loser ex, AND the ones from that time you almost kissed her, and then the other time you also almost kissed her like the love sick loser you are

TO SUGURU: i’ll kill you.

FROM SUGURU: i’d kill you first + here’s more photos mika my darling angel, wants me to send to you that i took on my phone. you better be grateful to me for forever you ass. I’m single handedly providing all the pictures for a wedding video slideshow.

FROM SUGURU: ATTACHED: 5 IMAGES

FROM SUGURU: date her asap. mika wants double dates and i’m tired of asking mingzhe to find strangers online to satiate mika’s yearning for the double date extravaganzas she wants. Ok goodnight pookie bear tetsu i hate your guts 🔪🫰🤬💯

Kuroo lets his falling phone hit him in the face as he huffs. He didn’t sleep well that night. The same iteration of her getting slammed into and crashing onto the ground keeps replaying over and over again. Kuroo wakes up in a cold sweat two different times that night.

“Thanks for the ride onto campus,” You click your seatbelt into your seat, as Kuroo taps the steering wheel a few times.

“No problem, I have class too, remember.”

“Ahh, yes, you and your fancy finance and sports marketing double major.” You giggle, holding up your pointer finger into the air in an ‘actually…’ pose that you know Kuroo hated.

He puts his hand behind your seat, hand coming near the back of your head behind the head of the chair, to reverse out of the parking lot.

“Don’t forget my minor in chemistry.”

“So weird. You’re going into sports promotion and business, but you have a science minor?” You shake your head in disbelief.

It never shocked you at just how smart Kuroo could be sometimes. When he did or said things that made you wonder if you were actually learning anything at university. Or when he could treat you to an entertaining story about his lab classes, those were the memories you’d take with you into the future. Stories Kuroo shared about his college experience, which often contrasted with your own experiences.

All through the differences though, the pair of you had become so close.

The way your friendship had increasingly deepened, and at such an unprecedented rate for you, had you feeling like he’d been doing much more for you as of late. You hoped you hadn’t been imposing on him since you stayed over at his apartment. Even though he had been the one to suggest it, you felt guilty at accepting the offer. You felt guilt that you’d been possibly taking advantage of him.

He’d been the most caring, and considerate friend you’d ever had. The closeness of you two began to feel like each time he did something, you’d need to supplement it with your own acts of kindness. Drowning in friendship wasn’t an expected result of joining a intramural volleyball team.

Kuroo shrugs a little, speeding up a little more, “I think it makes me stand out. Plus, who doesn’t love chemistry? It’s just like math with better concepts.”

You play with the hoodie strings of a borrowed top from Kuroo.

He notices your silence, but doesn’t comment on it, just continuing the drive to your building. He let you out near the entrance. The tall Humanities building had walls made of glass windows, letting people look in on lectures and socratic seminars. The concrete details blended with the fragile glass details in a dichotomous way that just worked so well.

When you shut the door to the car, Kuroo rolls down the window, calling out to you before you enter the building. Your roommate stood on the steps, holding your backpack that you’d asked her to bring. She lazily scrolled through her phone, waiting for you to talk to her and then you could go to class with her. She’d never been much of a morning person.

You turn around and rest your arms in the empty space left by the window being rolled down. Tilting your head, you waited for Kuroo to say what he wanted to say.

“You know you’re mentos right?”

The confusion is blatant on your face. You clarify, “I’m mentos? I thought I was me?”

Kuroo smirks, “You’re mentos and I’m coke-a-cola.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your roommate called out to you, letting you know that class would start soon and she wanted to get a good spot in the lecture hall. You waved to her, signaling you’d only be a few more seconds.

“You’re my chemical reaction.”

You laugh, “You make no sense sometimes I swear, but okay. I’ll be mentos and you can be coke-a-cola.”

Kuroo watched as you bounded up to your friend, sliding your backpack on. Your roommate asked about the top you were wearing by tugging on the waistband of the deep red hoodie. Kuroo knows he’s being talked about, because you jut a thumb in his direction and your roommate turns around to look at his car and she nods with understanding.

Kuroo doesn’t see your roommate wiggle her eyebrows, or how she makes a kissing face at you teasingly. He’s too busy driving to the library to find a spot to nap while he waits two hours for his own class to start.

The final two games would be critical. On November 17th, that Saturday, the gym for intramural volleyball would declare the winner. Out of 32 teams, and after five months of training, games, and unique coaching opportunities, there could only be one winner. Consensual Sets would go against EZ Pass, and Ice Ice Blockers would oppose Monster Spikes. You had found it funny how the final four all had different volleyball skills as their team name, setting, spiking, passing, and blocking.

But before the Intramural Finals, Mingzhe still needed to attend the Chinese cultural exchange event on Wednesday.

On that Monday, Mingzhe was complaining to you during team practice.

“Listen, I still haven’t found someone to be my plus one.” Mingzhe paced a little in front of you, as you wiped off a volleyball. You wanted the ball to be cleaned properly before the team would start playing with it.

“Just ask Daishou or Ito, it’s your pick. Either way, you’d have a great time.” You pull out your elbow grease to get a particularly nasty scuff out of the ball.

“It needs to be a woman. It’s a date type of event.” Mingzhe suddenly turned on his heel, facing you straight on. You brought your head to the side, eyeing Mingzhe’s rapid shift in mood. “You. You should be my plus one.”

You gape, loosening your hold on the ball that Mingzhe just ends up taking from you.

“It’s perfect! You’re interesting, we have a good friendship, fake dating for this event would be easy-peasy.” Mingzhe smiles, looking entirely too self-satisfied.

“Fake-dating?” Sourly, you try to take the ball away from Mingzhe, who just brings it closer to his chest.

Kuroo comes around to the pair of you, putting a hand on Mingzhe’s shoulder. “What’s happening? We need this ball to do the drills, it should be good by now yeah?”

Mingzhe hands the ball to Kuroo, “I was just finalizing plans for our date on Wednesday.”

Kuroo almost drops the volleyball that was placed into his hands. But he grasps onto it, trying to appear composed and chill. You tug on your knee pads, making sure they’re secure. In doing so, your shorts ride up a little and more of your thigh is exposed. Kuroo again almost drops the ball at how quickly his eyes flit to the exhibited skin of your legs.

“Date?” Kuroo wonders if the word sounds as dumb as he felt saying it.

You raised your shoulders, “Yeah.”

Mingzhe claps his hands, “Our fourth date, remember?”

Mingzhe was already trying to get into the acting persona of a fake relationship and you were not amused, shoving his shoulder roughly as you walked over to Alba. Kuroo had interpreted the shove as playful, as romantic, as being adjacent to love.

Kuroo looked between Mingzhe and you. Then he looked at Daishou desperately asking for help with his glance but Daishou was too busy helping Mika with her knee pads again. Kuroo then went back to looking at the space you had occupied.

His heart lurched, and just like a bad sickness, he couldn’t help but continue his downward spiral.

“When did you guys start dating?” He folds his arms in front of him, shuffling his feet a little.

“A few weeks ago. Just trying it out, you know.” Mingzhe said, “She’ll be going with me to the exchange event, it’ll be fun to see her dress up formally for once.”

Mingzhe, unaware of Kuroo’s radiating tension, goes over to where Ito had called him.

Kuroo, dumbstruck and frustrated, called out a change of plans, “We’re doing a three versus three.”

You stood on the other side of the net, blocking spikes from Daishou. Each time Kuroo served, he went straight for Mingzhe’s throat- putting more force than he typically did. Alba was drenched in sweat by the end of the single match. Ito had his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are we done yet Tetsu?” Ito asked, and Alba made her way under the net, patting Ito on the back.

Mingzhe had fallen to the ground and was laying on his back, sweat dripping from his black hair to the gym floor. You had half a mind to join Mingzhe. But Kuroo still looked fired up.

“Yes, we’re done for today, Ito. Good practice everyone!” You called out, and Mika gladly started packing up the shared bag she had with Daishou. Kuroo looked at you with pursed lips.

Kuroo and you stayed behind to take down the volleyball net, and as he began folding the white ropes, you began to speak, “Our three versus three is supposed to have more balance than that. You weighed the sides wrong. Alba never has to spike that much, she needed to practice her receives today. You just kept serving straight to Mingzhe, not to mention you had Suguru aim solely for Mingzhe too. He’s going to be exhausted tonight.”

“Worried about your boyfriend? He’s supposed to be essentially a professional anyway. Mingzhe is fine.” Kuroo kept folding the net, however, you could see his knuckles were white and each time he folded the stringy-material he left a mark on his hand from the unneeded strain he was putting

“Mingzhe is a friend. We aren’t dating, Testsurou.” You take down the side rods, detaching the sections so you could carry them easier.

“Oh really? Four dates in a row sounds pretty serious.” He gnaws at the words he sends your way. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you two were going to start acting like Suguru and Mika soon.”

You put the rods away, not saying anything to Kuroo’s comment.

He pushes further, “How long have you liked him?”

“It isn’t like that.” You face Kuroo, hands on your hips, “Mingzhe was joking about it being our fourth date. Calm down. I don’t know why you’re so pressed over this.” You say.

“You two don’t go well together.” Kuroo claims, “He’s not right for you. He’s going back home at the end of the year anyway.”

You take the folded net from Kuroo, but he tugs it away from you, pulling you closer to him.

You’re both gripping the net, standing barely a foot apart. Kuroo is looking at you, a twitch in the vein of his neck tells you he’s upset without him having to say anything.

“It’s not even a date, Tetsurou. I’m his plus one. He just needed a girl to go with him.” You explain, trying to get the net away from Kuroo, but his hold is stronger than yours.

“It isn’t a date?”

“Not in my book. It’s not a romantic date. We’re going as friends. Why, just why does it matter so much to you?”

He lets go of the net, and grabs a hold of your arms instead. He opens his mouth a few times, only to close his mouth soon after. Fully taking the net away from you, Kuroo puts it into the storage room.

You sigh with exasperation, going to grab your skateboard.

“Let me drive you, it’s dark out.” Kuroo swings his keys on his pointer finger.

You turn around, tilting your head down slightly to glare at him, “Are you going to throw another fit?”

“Geez, someone’s mad.”

Your jaw drops, then you shake your head with a snicker dying out on your lips.

“You can be so hot and cold sometimes Tetsurou. Did you know that?”

Kuroo holds the gym door open for you to exit. He locks it up once he steps out as well.

“That’s why I’m the coke-a-cola, and you’re the mentos.”

“I really need you to explain your analogy to me.”

The Chinese Cultural Exchange Event at the ballroom of The University of Tokyo really was a stunning celebration. Lanterns were hanging from the second floor open balconies, and the marble pillars were covered in a mixture of bamboo and woven leaves to showcase the Horticulture Department’s skills of arranging foliage. There were tables filled with classic Chinese dishes, along with unique Chinese-Japanese dishes from the diaspora history of China to Japan.

You were surprised to see just how many exchange students the university had from China, it seemed like there had to have been at least a hundred or more Chinese exchange students, including Mingzhe.

Mingzhe has asked that you wear red and black to match with him. You thought it was funny that so many men in your life asked you to wear the red/black combination so frequently. Your dress was formal of course, but you had opted for a loose silky maroon dress that had black lace detailing.

The long sleeves of the dress were a sheer black, so that air could filter to your arms as well. Even though you never opted for a sweetheart neckline most of the time, the lady at the store had said you’d look great with this specific dress. So you had bought it and called it a day.

Mingzhe, as you were coming to realize, must have been rich because there was no way his tailored suit would’ve cost any less than one million yen. Mingzhe clearly had only worn red leather shoes to match slightly with you, because otherwise he was in an all black outfit.

You put on a forceful smile as Mingzhe puts his hand on the small of your back and introduces you in Mandarin to one of his friends. Once the conversation died down, you leaned over to Mingzhe with gritted teeth, “I’m actually going to murder you. You didn’t tell me that the Chinese exchange student association at our school was filled with rich kids.”

An older lady, presumably an exchange coordinator, stops to compliment your dress, in Mandarin. You fumble over the words of thanks that Mingzhe had taught you a few minutes ago. When Mingzhe laughs into his cup of water, you elbow him in the side discreetly.

“Just what are you telling people about me?” You demand. Mingzhe hands you a glass of water from the plate a dressed up server was walking around with.

“Girlfriend, three months.”

Your eyes widen, and Mingzhe chuckles.

“Close friend who I play volleyball with, who graciously accepted my invitation to join me tonight.”

Moving your head up and down appreciatively, you sip on your water, “That’s more like it.”

Scanning around, you tried to see if you knew anyone. Which was a long shot, but-

“Kenma? Is that you?”

The dip dyed blonde makes eye contact with you and raises a hand. Kenma makes his way over to you, eyeing the way Mingzhe had his arm around your waist with suspicion.

“It’s nice to see a familiar face.” Kenma comments, shaking hands with you and Mingzhe.

“What are you doing here?”

Kenma smiles, pointing to an enamel pin on his suit jacket, “Got a sponsorship from a Chinese company. Said Chinese company has a college aged daughter, and thus, here I am as a plus one as a favor to my sponsor.”

You nod, trying to make an estimation for just how much net worth Kenma had. Mingzhe started talking to Kenma about what games he’d seen Kenma play, because apparently Kenma’s streams were popular on a Chinese video server called billibilli. You were glad that your parents limited your screen time as a child, otherwise you’d be just as chaotically involved in the conversation Kenma and Mingzhe were having about a new game that was releasing soon.

The rest of the night was spent listening to more of Mingzhe’s Mandarin speaking skills, as you swished around in your dress waiting for the time to go.

Mingzhe threw back a shot, well, a quick drink from a flask that a student had snuck in, “Let’s dance!”

You tried to pull back, but Mingzhe grabbed you by the hands and pulled you into his chest. A smile that you’d never seen on his face appeared, and instead of harmonious traditional Chinese pop music, someone hijacked the music- rap music you were sure was not school approved started blasting.

The administration looked furious, but Mingzhe just kept giving you that face splitting smile. He mouthed his words again, and the only response you could give was moving his hands from your back to your waist.

The club style dancing eventually devolved into a mosh pit that was quickly disassembled by the administration due to the cutting of music. The students groaned, but the administration said that the event was over and that everyone needed to get back to their housing.

Mingzhe dropped you off at your dorm, running a hand through his sweaty black hair.

“Had fun?” He asked.

“Yes. It was very fun.”

Instead of just waving, Mingzhe opened his arms up, and you gave into the offering of a hug.

His hugs were different from Kuroo’s hugs. For one, Mingzhe was shorter than Kuroo, so you could feel more of his face than just solely his chest or neck. For another, Mingzhe didn’t smell like Kuroo. Mingzhe was mintier, like spearmint and peppermint- it burned your nose a tinge. Mingzhe was also lankier, arms not quite packing as much heft to them like Kuroo’s did.

“Don’t look now, but I think someone is spying on us.” He whispered into your ear, and you grabbed onto his shoulders tighter. The bounce of his body as he laughed shook you, and you slapped his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t trust me when I say things like that.”

“If people knew even a fraction of what I know about you, you’d be immediately canceled.”

“Good thing no one knows me like you.” Mingzhe swiped at your cheek with two knuckles, a gentle caress. “You know I have feelings for you right?”

You nod affirmatively.

“But I’m also guessing, and tell me if I’m wrong, but there’s a different black haired boy on our volleyball team that holds the key to your heart?” Mingzhe murmured. You could practically hear the deep ache in his soul.

You nod again.

“Well, I can’t win them all. Here’s to being good friends.” Mingzhe grabbed your hand and shook it a few times, “When we win on Saturday, make sure to at least give me a little peck on the cheek.” He brazenly states.

“No promises.”

Mingzhe throws his head back, dimples coming out to show off.

“Thanks for a great night Mingzhe, I’ll see you on Saturday.” You pat him on the cheek, separating the pair of you. Your heels were killing you, and all you really wanted to wear was the fleece hoodie Kuroo gave you that you hadn’t returned for weeks now.

He salutes, walking backwards for a moment. Then he calls out with mirth laced into his words, “I always get cock blocked by the middle blockers I swear to the gods.”

And you thought, Mingzhe was absolutely correct.

TO TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO TETSUROU: she seemed to have fun tonight at the little event thing

Kenma had paused his late night stream, sending photos of you and Mingzhe dancing- leaving absolutely no space for Kuroo’s mental sanity. Kenma knew that sending the photos could possibly instigate something that he didn’t want unfolding.

FROM TETSUROU: i don’t care.

TO TETSUROU: hmm yeah sure

FROM TETSUROU: i dont care- i just want her to be happy, genuinely happy. like so happy she literally feels sore in the mouth from smiling so much

TO TETSUROU: there it is

TO TETSUROU: look, here’s the situation. she isn’t into mr. libero chinese model guy- she likes you.

FROM TETSUROU: i wish

Kenma felt his eye twitch at Kuroo’s message. How long did Kuroo have to keep the back and forth before Kenma just wrote out a confession for his friend and mailed it to you?

TO TETSUROU: she likes you. the only logical conclusion is that you both are giant pussies who are so afraid to break the friendship between yall that you’ll end up missing each other in the process. like those stupid freaking robots on mars, the ones that battery died before they could share data.

TO TETSUROU: regardless, she’s hot, you’re hot, get together and have a bunch of weirdo genius kids or whatever it is you want the point is that you need to say something before its too late

TO TETSUROU: stop ignoring my messages.

TO TETSUROU: tell her on saturday. after you win the finals and get those gaudy trophies- just like pull a tetsurou move and pull her into you and kiss her so good she forgets her name.

FROM TETSUROU: i always knew you were a freak on the down low

TO TETSUROU: i always knew you were a freak out in the open but a sweetheart teddy bear on the down low. we could go for hours, but the main thing here is: tell her, kiss her, live happily ever after

FROM TETSUROU: i feel sick

TO TETSUROU: you care too much. and you know what? SHE LOVES THAT ABOUT YOU- im tired of telling u what to do. Tell her, dont tell her, grow old without ever experiencing the touch of your woman, do what you want. but honestly, if i have to witness one more longing gaze ill vomit so for my sake, your best friend, tell her and be happy.

Kuroo powered off his phone.

Then he immediately turned it back on to look at the photos Kenma had sent him. He kicked off his blankets with his stewing offended reaction to the photos. Plugging his phone in, Kuroo got a glass of water from his kitchen.

The moon wasn’t out, or at least it wasn’t visible. Storm clouds thundered, lighting struck the ground in bolts of blue and grey. At least the weather understood him. He could always trust the universe to send him a message with what the weather was. Sunny days would be happy, rainy days would be brilliant, and stormy nights would reflect the inner turmoil of his spirit.

He scratched an itch right above his knee, leaving white marks from how his nails drug against his skin. The clock told him that it was Thursday at two in the morning. He counted on his fingers. The end of the finals game would be around eight in the evening on Saturday.

He had sixty-six hours to decide if he would give his heart away. Sixty-six hours to conjure up a magic spell to make him anyone besides himself as he uttered the words, “I love you.”

Sixty-four hours goes by much quicker than Kuroo would expect.

“Okay, listen up everyone.” Consensual Sets was huddled up, you were giving your final speech of this year. Your team had won against EZ Pass, and now the final match would be against Monster Spikes.

You were aware of how tired everyone was. In the third set against EZ Pass, Alba twisted her ankle, leaving the team to substitute her out for Mika. Resulting in an extremely close third set, but in the end, you were able to do a block kill and Daishou was able to get a good spike in to secure the win in Consensual Sets favor.

Alba sat on the bench, with a bag of ice on her ankle. Although she’d never say it, she was angry. Her face was entirely blank, devoid of any emotion. No comments or out of the blue thoughts rambled out of her- and you knew that Alba was fermenting in her own self pity.

Ito was sitting next to Alba, as the rest of the team stood around with arms around shoulders. You could feel the sweat from everyone’s bodies in the team circle.

“Monster Spikes as a whole lacks the ability to connect. Their passes are sloppy compared to ours. Ito, your setting skills outweigh that other setter. Kuroo, your blocks are always on point. Alba, Daishou, Mika, you're some of the best spikers I’ve seen. Not to mention Mingzhe being our solid foundation as libero, nothing gets past you.” Your speech wasn’t organized, it wasn’t even meant to be motivational.

But you continued, “These past six months, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. So many team practices, so many late night drives, so many junk food purchases.” You look down to the gym floor, “I was so worried when I started college that I wouldn’t find my people. But look at me now, I have the best friends in the world and we’re playing in a championship. We don’t need to be a school sponsored team, just being on a intramural team is enough to make me glad.”

You don't see the way that Alba wipes at her eyes. You miss the way that Mingzhe and Ito share a big smile at each other. Mika rubs your back, urging you to continue. Daishou and Kuroo kick each other in the shins, an amicable gesture between rivals turned competitive friends.

“So, you know what, let’s go out and win this. Connect every receive, every toss, every spike. We are the blood that flows through, let’s make it easy for each other to show off our skills.” You stick your hand into the center of the team. Everyone stacks their hand on top of yours.

Kuroo had told you that you should be the one to give the final speech, you should be the one to speak before the final game with this team. His selfish desire to hear you tie up the loose ends of a season of volleyball, knowing how he’d fumble the speech due to his inability to accept that this team would never be the same after their last game.

But also, Kuroo knew that just hearing you talk would soothe his nerves before this game. Hearing you express your thoughts and emotions about your team, the team he shared with you, would do wonders for his confidence in the game.

After listening to so many of Kuroo’s pre-game speeches, you had an idea of what would be good to say. In the end though, this speech was uniquely yours. A testament to the power of connection.

Kuroo locks eyes with you. You nudge your head in the direction of everyone’s hands, he shakes his head, mouthing that this call was all yours. You mouth a thank-you to Kuroo.

Looking around at your friends, you give the last cheer of the year, “3, 2, 1, let’s play!”

Kuroo wins the coin toss, and Mika serves first.

She starts with a jump float that undeniably starts the team off on the best footing possible. A service ace right off the bat, and Daishou can’t help but pump his fists and give a yell of excitement. He loved to see his fiancé play a game that had become the center of his universe, more accurately though the center of Daishou’s universe was a mixture of volleyball and Mika.

The game picks up with an indomitable force, the speed and increasing frequency of you having to jump up to block or to give a feint hit is more than you’re used to. Kuroo’s breathing is heavier, and between points scored, he keeps his shoulders low. Ito keeps shaking out his hands, then rolling his dominant shoulder. The only one who still looks moderately normal is Mingzhe, who’s sporting a dimple on only one side of his face.

After set one, Consensual Sets is ahead 1-0.

Four more to go.

1-1.

2-1.

2-2.

Alba is sitting on the edge of the bench, eyebrows furrowed, her hands grip the plastic seat. Each time Daishou spikes, Alba purses her lips.

During a time out, you sit next to Alba.

“Thank you.” It’s a quiet moment shared between you and Alba, everyone else getting some water for a moment. You express your gratitude plainly, because that’s all that's needed to get the sentiment across. You appreciated her, and she knew it too.

Alba’s bottom lip quivers, “I just wanted to play one more game with everyone. With Mingzhe behind me, with Ito sending me those smooth tosses, with you and Kuroo as my wall of defense. With Daishou shouting at me telling me to fix my form. With Mika telling me to ignore Daishou. One more game with everyone.”

You pat her knee.

“Alba, we couldn’t have gotten here without you.” Smiling, you hold her hand, “Remember, this is all for fun. And as long as you’re having fun- then we’re winning. You’re on the court just as much as I’m on the court, even if it might not seem like it.”

She wipes her face with the back of her hand, “You suck- making me cry like this. I'm such a baby, screw you.”

Ito laughs once he hears Alba’s comment, full body laughing. It's a new sound for everyone on the team, to hear the joyous childlike giggles erupting from the most stone-faced member of Consensual Sets. Following suit, everyone else joins in, laughing. Mingzhe even snorts.

The opposing team raises their eyebrows at you all, but in the end, it's just a game of volleyball. It's a game being played by a group of friends who like spending time together. You weren’t sure that friends was the right defining terminology anymore. There had to be a word for what everyone shared, because it was deeper, more meaningful, richer than just being ‘friends’.

Kuroo watches as Alba punches you in the arm, and the grin you give in response stuns him. You stand up from the bench to escape Alba’s gentle wrath. You bump into Kuroo, turning around and giving him that smile that made him feel like himself.

He just can’t help the way he grabs your face and slots his lips to yours.

To his surprise, you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him in closer. He rubs his thumbs on your cheekbones, letting his cold nose bump into yours. You tilt your head so you can breathe through your nose a little better. He moves from your lips to the side of your mouth, rapidly placing gentle pecks there before doing the same all over your face.

Wrinkling your nose, you make a noise of complaint at being gross and sweaty.

When you pull away, Kuroo’s face follows yours, trailing closely. He reminds you of a cat trying to nudge their way under your hand. He connects to your lips again, humming against the plush of your skin. Thinking back to his failed confession at the train station, he nips at your lips before kissing them lightly. It’s hard to kiss when he’s smiling this much.

“As much as I love a free show, we have a game to win.” Mingzhe tugs on the back collar of Kuroo’s shirt, ripping him from you. Kuroo wriggles out of Mingzhe’s hold, trying to attach himself to you again, but gets shaken out of his one track mind, his desire to just keep kissing you, when the referee blows his whistle.

Serve. Receive. Set. Spike. Block.

Block. Receive. Set. Spike.

Receive. Set. Spike.

Block. Spike.

Spike.

3-2.

“LET’S GO!” Ito screams, whipping his head around to look at Alba. She waves a little from her spot on the bench. Ito thinks to himself, if Kuroo can confess, then surely he can too.

Although, Ito’s kiss is much less tame than Kuroo’s. Ito’s kneeling on the bench, arms wrapped around Alba’s torso as she’s practically hanging off of the bench, only supported by Ito’s hold.

Mingzhe throws his hands up in the air when Daishou and Mika kiss as well.

“Can nobody just appreciate the win? What's with all the kissing?” Mingzhe speaks into a void, rubbing his forehead with exasperation.

“This is appreciating the win.” Kuroo wraps an arm around your waist, pinching your side. The pinch makes your body move closer into him.

“Oh yeah, suddenly everyone on our team is in love and I’m here, just the best libero in a loveless existence. At least I’ll always have volleyball.” Mingzhe jokingly states, hugging the volleyball to his chest.

Alba holds up a marker, “I can draw a kissable face on the ball if you want Mingzhe?”

Ito laughs loudly again, resting his chin on Alba’s shoulder.

Mika, in her wisdom, tells everyone to line up for a group photo before awards are handed out.

Three sequential clicks of Mika’s phone, and one of your opponents double checked that all the shots they took were good. Handing the phone off, the tall girl who had kindly taken the photos of your team shook your hand.

“You’re one of the best blockers I’ve seen on an intramural team, how’d you get so good?” She asked.

You shrugged, but Kuroo spoke up, “I taught her everything that she knows. But also, my girlfriend is a quick learner too, an easy study if you will.”

The girl nods, bowing curtly before going over to her own team.

You grab the front of Kuroo’s shirt, pulling his face down to yours.

“My boyfriend really is a handful. What should I do about that?”

Kuroo smirks, grabbing a hold of the front of your shirt as well.

“Definitely kiss him. That’s the best solution.” He nods his head.

“One question first,” You comment, smoothing out his shirt where you had twisted the fabric, “Explain the mentos and coke thing.”

Kuroo slips a hand under your shirt, resting on your bare hip, “You put mentos in a bottle of coke then, bam. Explosion. One of the coolest chemical reactions I know of.”

“Wanna try that out?”

“Yes, please.”

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: my epic teammates, my best friends, my family.

FROM SUGURU: i’m going to be sick why are you so sentimental

FROM ITO: alba and i are on our way don't start without us!

FROM MINGZHE: ur lucky i got a flight in time for this

FROM ALBA: i bought you a photobook for all our pictures! and i got tetsu some mentos like he asked

FROM MIKA: sugu and i will be there soon, needed to get gas for my bike

FROM SUGURU: what's the point of having an engagement party if we can't even play volleyball

FROM TETSUROU: suguru i’ll make you chopped liver. i don't know who told you we wouldn't have a volleyball at the party ??

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: make sure to add songs to my playlist for tonight! thanks for getting mentos alba! Make sure to sign your names into the guestbook when you get here

FROM TETSUROU: me too?

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: tetsurou what am i going to do with you for the rest of our lives 🥲

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: consensual sets reunion + their engaged captain and vice captain (look at how cute my ring is 😭 thank you tetsurou 💖) (also peep the coke and mentos explosion behind us in that last photo!!!!!!)

FROM TETSUROU: wedding in 5 months be back soon everyone! it was nice seeing everyone again. love you all ! 🙏🏐💍

[jeankluv]

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

🪷 Gojo Satoru

Short txt

Gojo your new hope

Ice skater reader & hockey player Gojo

Dad Gojo

Sugar baby Gojo

Reincarnation

One Shots

Happy Birthday my love

Dancing in the moon [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ You were the crown princess of the kingdom and he was your knight. What would you do with those feelings you both had.❞

tags: angst, royalty, fluff, +18, smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f), no use of y/n, character death no happy ending

Let me be the strong one

The prophecy

╰┈➤ ❝ Gojo Satoru knew he was the strongest, he perfectly knew. But that didn’t mean he didn’t cry and that night while everyone still preparing to fight Sukuna, he cried. He cried because he felt completely alone and only seen as a weapon. ❞

tags: angst, canon universe, manga spoilers, Gojo centric, lyrics, fluff, mutual feeling, no use of y/n, Gojo thinks reader hates him, open up for a second part.

Sweet boy [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ You refused to spend your 33rd birthday alone after having been divorced for 4 months and who would have told you that going to a bar to spend your 33rd birthday would make you meet an attractive 25-year-old young man? ❞

tags: p in the v, older woman x younger man, sub Gojo, sugar baby Gojo, sugar mommy reader, smut, oral sex (f), ridding, age difference

You are my dad - Gojo & Megumi

╰┈➤ ❝ Megumi finally finds the courage to tell Gojo how he views him❞

tags: canon fix it, spoilers chapter 268, Megumi centric & pov, dadjo, Gojo and Megumi father-son dynamic, angst a bit, happy ending, everyone lives

loml

╰┈➤ ❝ You read the last letter Satoru left behind, where he expressed all his love and the wishes he had.❞

tags: heavy angst, character death, manga spoilers, canon universe, no happy ending

Series

Birdie

╰┈➤ ❝ While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you. ❞

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

status: on going

But daddy I love him [nsfw] (mini serie)

╰┈➤ ❝ If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair. ❞

tags: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n.

status: completed

🐉 Geto Suguru

One shots

I love you, it’s ruining my life

╰┈➤ ❝ You stood besides Geto for over a decade but despite loving him so much, it was ruining your life. ❞

Series

The forgotten boy

╰┈➤ ❝ He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from that moment on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Geto Suguru lived for 1,000 years, being forgotten by everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”❞

tags: angst, fluff, fantasy au, different lifetimes, dual pov, use of y/n, fem!character, modern settings but also past settings, eventual smut, destiny, characters death (in the flashbacks), blood [more tags in the future]

🎀 Iori Utahime

One shots

I told you so [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ You and Utahime had a fleeting love affair when you were young, but tired of Utahime not being brave enough to admit your love or show it in public, you decided to leave. 10 years later you meet again and seeing her again only confirms that you are still in love with her. ❞

tags: +18, angst, explicit smut content, oral sex, scissoring, mentions of gojohime(?), mentions of arranged marriages, mentions of satosugu, happy ending, no use of y/n, all characters are in their late 20s early 30s

A fairy song [nsfw]

╰┈➤ ❝ On one of your hunting days, a melodious voice guides you through the forest until you come across the beautiful presence of a fairy with big hazel eyes and black hair. ❞

tags: +18, angst, injuries, Utahime is a fairy, reader is a human, scars, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut, oral sex (f), cuddles, nipple play

🐯🐶Itafushi

When the cherry blossoms bloom

╰┈➤ ❝ Tsumiki once told Megumi that if he was able to catch a cherry blossom petal he could make a wish and it would come true.

“Please wake up Itadori…” He said against his closed fist. “Come back to me…” ❞

tags: Megumi centric fic, fluff Itafushi, post canon, canon fix, manga spoilers, Gojo-Megumi father son duo, everyone lives (except tsumiki I’m so sorry princess), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, two teens starting to fall in love with each other

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils

Summary: Your brother is a powerful man and so is Aemond Targaryen. You’re caught as a pawn between the two men. You have to chose between two evils and unfortunately for you, you chose wrong.

Rating: Explicit, Minors Do NOT Read, 18+

Word Count: 4.3k

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Choking, Rough Sex, smut (p in v, fingering, oral sex (f receiving) jealousy , possessiveness, incest-y vibes from brother, unwanted creampie, breeding kink, coercion, mentions of birth control/emergency contraception not being allowed/available to reader, Aemond wants reader pregnant, men being dicks, degration, praise, Capitalism and the Elite, swearing

A/N: This is a spite fic dedicated my first hate comment. I hope you wait even longer now. 💋

Not yet proofread.

Your brother was a powerful man. One of the most powerful in Westeros. Many say he didn’t deserve his position, both of you coming from near nothing, but your brother was born with a gift your parents would often say was a “creative and hungry mind.” He was 10 years old when he started a small lawn care business in the Riverlands that grew to a full-fledged company at 14 he (and your parents due to his age) ran. At 16, he sold that company, got an internship at River’s Corp. When he freshly graduated University in Oldtown as the top of his class, giving a speech that would be remembered as one of the best speeches Oldtown Univeristy had ever the opportunity of hearing, he asked if you would like to move to Dorne with him, get out of the Riverlands and have an opportunity at Sunspear University. Seeing the chance at freedom and knowing your brother would most likely be paying for your schooling (since he had just been offered a high ranking position at Sunspear Industries) you took his offer and moved in with him a week after you graduated high school in the Riverlands.

That was three years ago. Your brother is now CFO of Rhoynar Industries and you’re in your third year of University at Sunspear studying Political Science. When you first moved in with your brother, the first two months were happy and spent everyday in your high-rise apartment’s swimming pool. But your brother had changed, or maybe, he was finally able to let his true self free during his college days as many young adults often do and his personality shift just took you longer to notice. His controlling behavior started innocent, nagging at your to keep the house tidy, then turning into commenting on what you wore out, turning into full blown comments about your appearance, weight, hair color. He made you dye your hair color black, to match his own natural color. Long gone were your auburn waves but you didn’t notice it then, well you did, but you weren’t as disturbed by it. Telling yourself he wanted you to look the part of perfect sister.

But then, halfway through your first semester, he told you that your Early Education major wasn’t good enough for him. He demanded you change it and when you tried to argue, he simply took your laptop, reminding that he bought it, and emailed your academic advisor that you’d like to change your major and wanted to meet with them first thing tomorrow morning.

That should’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back, you should’ve left that night. Packed your things and went back home to the Riverlands; be with your parents.

I’m every aspect of your life, you always fell short of the greatness of your brother: courage was not exempt.

That next morning, you went with puffy eyes to your advisor’s office and changed your major, dropping out of your current courses and signing up for secondary 8-week courses for your new major that would, in your brother’s words “thankfully start next week.”

You could easily summarize your life in Dorne these past few years: the Seven Hells.

All of this leads you to this moment. Your brother and you were invited to King’s Landing by the head of Targ Corp for an annual celebration they held for their most loyal alliance corporations. It was easy, your brother and his team of associate executives played a simple game: play nice with each other and keep everyone else from rising above. Being around these people made you want to vomit. These posh-assholes were some of the most dangerous and hateful people you’d ever laid eyes on, all wrapped in clothing that were one of their low-level employee’s entirely yearly salary. You didn’t want to be here, not a single bit, but your brother held the carrot stick of Univeristy tuition and free-housing over your head so you played along like the good sister you were expected to be.

You had just gotten out of the shower when you brother came barging into your hotel room without knocking, holding a garment bag.

“Hey!” You shouted, covering your naked self with a towel, “Can you knock next time?” You briefly wondered how he had gotten in, you made sure you locked it twice, then you saw the keycard he had kept for your room sliding back into his pant pocket.

“Wear this tonight,” he disregarded your fluster and laid the garment bag down on the bed you were sitting on.

Your brows furrowed, looking at your own brother with trepidation. He knew you had brought one of the black dresses you had picked out a month ago and he had agreed to it then. Why had he changed his mind so suddenly?

You slowly opened the bag to reveal a dark green, dress that showed off entirely too much skin than you were comfortable with around these vampires.

You began to shake your head, “No, I don’t want to wear this one. It’s cold out and I want to wear the black, long sleeve one I-“

You were cut off with a harsh hand grabbing your jaw.

“Wear it or we’ll see how long you can pay for that expensive schooling on your own.” He spat into your face harshly.

Once he let go, you brought your hand up to rub at your jaw where there might be bruises now. Your skin was sore and your bone ached. “You know what, maybe I don’t want to even get this degree. Maybe I’ll move back in with mom and dad and just fucking live my own life again.”

As you sat on the bed angrily with tears of resentment brimming your eyes, you could feel your brother’s stare on you, boring holes into everything he deemed imperfect about you.

“Do this for me,” his voice was softer, “And I’ll give you anything you want.”

You finally looked up to him, disbelief in your eyes.

He kneeled to reach your eye level, you wrapped the towel around you tighter, “There is a man here I need you to impress. Do this for me and I’ll give you anything you want. I mean it.” His hand came up to brush your nude knee, you moved away instinctively.

You swallowed your unease. “What’s his name?” Your voice was so small.

He smiled at your acceptance, if you willing to work with him on something, if you giving in. “Aemond Targaryen,” he stood, returning to his business-like self. “He’s the son of the CEO, Visery’s. Aemond is a year older than me and he’s in politics. We-“ he paused, smiling at a memory, “We met in University…..He never really liked me.” He looked to you, “He’s the last legislator we need on our side for this deal that Roynar Industries and Targ Corp. are working up.”

“He’s against Targ. Corp?” You sounded flabbergasted, wondering why a Targaryen, the most infamously loyal family in the country, is an against his family’s own interests.

Your brother nodded and laughed, “Yeah, he fucking hates his dad.” He chuckled to himself some more before, “I just need you to win him to my side.”

You heard the implication and you skin began to crawl, stomach turning, “You seriously want me to fuck him?”

Your brother shook his head and chuckled as if you were crazy, “Just win him to our side.” He walked up to you again, towering over you as you sat, uneasily at the edge of the bed. He raised a hand and tapped the side of your head three times, “Use that political science knowledge I paid for.”

And then he left, making you feel like a tool.

You dressed yourself in the green gown, put on simple yet elegant makeup, and wore your dyed black hair up with a silver sun pin that your brother had picked out in his words, “to honor Roynar Industries.” You only felt branded.

Making your way down into the large event room of the hotel in which Targ Corp had set up for the celebration, you were handed a glass of something in a flute glass. The waiter had told you, in truth, but you were too nervous and occupied with looking elegant that you hadn’t really heard.

You spotted your brother across the event space standing with someone Martel from Roynar Industries that has offered for you to go ride on his yacht with him at least three times. Then you could see he was with some silver haired man, probably from Targ Corp. The Targaryens were known for their loyalty, ruthlessness and silver hair. Targ Corp. was the most powerful company in Westeros, they had their hand in everything and could turn anyone’s head the way they wanted. Coming it second was Roynar Industries and the old saying, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” was prevalent in the relationship with the two corporations. They worked together in most large projects in Westeros and you knew the each of them was waiting for the other to fall.

You walked the perimeter of the event, scanning the crowd for someone you knew or the person you were after. Although, you had heard Aemond Targaryen’s name before you had no idea what he looked like. You used your context clues though and assumed he had silver hair, he was probably tall and lean like all Targaryen men are and most likely flirtatious.

“Great,” you breathe, remembering a girl from Sunspear a few years ago that recalled a horrible relationship with an older man by the name of “Aegon Targaryen.” One in which he not only expected sex from her, he cheated when she refused. You briefly wondered how Aemond was related to this Aegon.

“Are you looking for me?” A deep, soft voice sounded beside your ear. You stopped dead in you tracks and turned like a scared bunny to the stranger.

The stranger. The silver haired stranger who checked nearly all your boxes for the stranger you were searching for. Had he been right?

You gathered your composure quickly, “And you are?”

“I’m assuming the man you’re looking for if you’re his sister,” he pointed behind you to your brother who was not chatting up a dark haired lady and a curly haired man with a cane.

You gave a quick, nervous laugh and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, Aemond. I’m Y/N.”

Aemond looked down at your outstretched hand between the two of you, his his eye flicked up to you. You realized then, only one moved, however, the other, the one that intercepts his scar, is quite realistic. He ran his fingers slowly across your palm before grasping it gently but not shaking. The act was sensual and strange, you tried to pull away but he quickly snaked his hand up your arm and wrapped his large hand around your bicep, pulling you closer to him. He leaned in, “Aren’t you tired of being a pawn for your brother?”

You pulled back to look at him square in the face, at his perfect, angular face that was so sharp. “What the fuck do you mean?” You whispered, wondering what all he knew and how.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He whispered into your ear. If you had not been in the edge of the event, you two would be quite a spectacle to behold but someone, this man, this stranger, had planned this. He had to. You were both in the shadows, the outskirts, not to be seen unless looked for and Gods, you hoped someone would look for you. He made you uneasy, uncomfortable, and warm in places you shouldn’t be given the circumstance of your situation. He looked down to your cleavage, “Tell me, did he pick out this dress? This color?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out how Aemond knew this. “Wha-“

“Did he tell you that him and his colleagues have a bet if we’ll fuck tonight or not?”

You looked back to your brother who was laughing with some of his associates from Roynar Industries. “How do you-“

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, I’m two steps ahead of him and always have been. He has such a problem being number two doesn’t he?” His voice was thick with hatred and his grip on your arm was bruising.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You just about screamed, pushing from Aemond. He let go and took a step back, look at you up and down. He resembled a wild predator, maybe that’s what he was. You smoothed your dress, “Fuck you, you stupid bitch,” you spat angrily, adjusting a strap of your dress. “I was just told to be friendly with you. I’m not a sex worker you ass! I wouldn’t fuck you in a million years.” You downed the alcoholic liquid in the glass before setting it on the ground at your feet. Aemond only watched you with a newfound amusement. It made you angrier. “I’m only helping my brother out until I graduate then it’s fuck this place, fuck Westeros and most of all….” You looked him up and down, finally realizing that he was goddamn handsome, dangerously so, if his personality wasn’t so off-putting, “fuck you.”

You stormed away before he could say anything back. You didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted to return to your room and cry into your pillow until you fell asleep. You were angry and hurt. How could your brother set you up like this? How could a complete stranger be so fucking brash and horrible? How could you be so stupid to believe your brother’s hunger for power would never come to this? Setting you up for his own benefit?

You’re certain your brother saw you in your way out of the venue, he always has tabs on you, but you knew he wouldn’t rush to your aid or to scrutinize you in front of people he wanted to look good for.

You slam your hotel room door and sink against it, hands over your face, crying on the floor. You sit like that for some time before a knock vibrates against your back and rings in your ears.

“Go away,” you try to say through sobs.

The knock comes again.

“I said go away!” Your shout this time is uncomely for a young woman you could hear your brother say in your head but you don’t care.

“It’s Aemond,” come the voice from the other side of the door.

The raises a fire in your heart as you angrily fling the door open to see the posh, pissy man from before. Mascara is running down your cheeks and your hair is falling out of its updo but you don’t care. “Go away,” you remind him dangerously, beginning to slam the door he puts his foot in the way and hand stopping you from breaking his foot ever so casually.

He pushes the door open with ease and steps into the room, making you step back and further. “We both have a problem and I’m here to propose a deal.”

Your brow quirks and your arms cross, “A deal?”

“A deal,” he echos. “I propose that you and I team up, I’ll offer you whatever he did, you offer me information to take your brother down and out.” He takes another step toward you and you take a step back in response, feeling the back of your legs hit the bedside.

“Why would I agree to that? I’m already getting my college paid for and a place to stay during. Why would I agree to everything I have in turn for you to ruin my brother? He’s horrible but I still love him.” You shook your head, “He’s done a lot for me-“

“I can offer more.” He moved in closer, making you lean uncomfortably against the bed.

“I don’t know you-“

“I will offer you more. You can get to know me, we can form a partnership. A friendship you could call it.” His voice was suggestive.

“Your offer of more is a friendship? I don’t need-“

“I can fuck you, can he?”

His words slapped you across the face. “What?” You mumbled like a dumb baby, confused and shocked. Maybe a little turned on.

Aemond brought his hands up your side and pushed you down to sit on the bed, he kneeled down and kissed the inside of your knee. Everything felt so wrong but he looked so goddamn handsome, you wanted it even if you said you wouldn’t fuck him.

“They have a bet, they want us to fuck.” He explained, “Let’s do it, prove we are into each other. You feed me information on him and the legalities of Roynar Industries.” He kissed your other thigh, you leaned back slightly involuntarily, it had been so long since a man had touched you, your brother wouldn’t allow you to date. “And I’ll slowly give you an out.”

Your breath hitched as his long, slender hand reached under your silky dress and trailed its way toward your core. “Slowly?” You questioned him breathlessly as his his thumb found your clothed clit on contact and began working against it. You could feel wetness pooling as he worked you open and your thighs began to move accommodate him as he moved closer and his other hand slid the dress higher and higher.

“Yeah sweetling, it’ll start with dates, then you staying at my flat in King’s Landing, then moving in.” Your dress was high enough to show off the lacy, black panties you wore and Aemond groaned, making you clench and buck your hips up to meet his ministrations.

“Sounds-sound like,” you were breathless and drunk on the attention he was giving you, “you want more than a fucking spy.” You fully laid back and lifted your hips so Aemond could pull your panties down your legs and off.

He ran a dexterous finger though your folds and watched it disappear into you with ease as you moaned. “Yeah maybe,” his voice was husky, “maybe I like putting your brother in his place. Second to Aemond fucking Targaryen. Always has been, always will be.”

He added a second finger, moving dangerously against your g-spot and the coil in your lower abdomen began to tighten. You lifted your back off the bed in a silent scream as he added a third finger and his mouth sucking at your clit. The intense and sudden pleasure gave way to a sharp, nearly painful orgasm and Aemond fucked you right through it.

When the wave of pressure came down, Aemond lapped at the wetness he expelled from you on your cunt and on his own fingers, moaning at the taste.

You laid on your back, trying to regain your senses and trying to remind yourself you were fucking a complete stranger, you should stop here before it was too late but you snapped out of your senses as he rose, half nude already and unzipping his black dress pants, pulling them and his underwear off in one swipe to reveal the longest, thickest cock you’d ever seen. The idea of taking such a thing inside you made you nearly swell with pride and excitement at the opportunity.

Aemond saw the look on your face and gave his hard cock a quick stroke. “Are you on birth control?”

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t let me, said the side effects are too dang-“

“Well I don’t have a condom,” he said, climbing atop you and pushing you up the bed, not giving you a choice, another reason to get the fuck out now. “I’m clean,” he offered before biting your collarbone then kissing the bite mark.

“I’m-I’m clean.” The voices in your head telling you to get out now.

He moved to the other side of your head and kissed your neck sensually, “You want me to fuck you raw?” Practically growling into your artery as he thrust the tip of his hard cock to your clit, making it harder and harder to say no.

“Uh, just, uh, pull out?” You squeaked as he did it again. You just wanted the fucking thing in you already, stretching you out in the way you wanted.

You felt his smile against your skin, “sure thing sweetling,” it sounded unconvincing.

You felt the tip breach you slowly then push forward even slower. Aemond raised to watch himself split you apart, groaning as you pussy sucked him in with a need unknown to you.

When he finally bottomed out, jutting painfully against your cervix he gave you a sound to adjust and gods, was he fucking endowed. You felt his cock throbbing with need and you wanted to please him, to let him know you were worthy so you bucked you hips against his and let out a moan at how fucking full you felt.

He only chuckled darkly and began his rough assault on your cunt. Pounding without warning or abandon into your heat, pushing your thighs to your chest and bending you in half, positioning you in a way that had him hitting your spot over and over until were moaning his name and your pussy began to flutter.

“Slow-slow down,” you pleaded, it felt like too much.

“Oh, poor little sister can’t fucking take it?” He once slammed extra hard after his demeaning question, it made you shriek. “Poor baby,” he wiped a tear forming in your eye with a sarcastic worry. “She played with the big dogs and didn’t know what she’s in for-“ he grunted, “you should be lucky I’m not fucking you in the ass.”

He pulled your dress down, ripping the shoulder straps to reveal you tits. Smiling like a wild man, he grasped them both harshly before sticking his tongue out and licking each nipple back and forth, making you squirm and tighten around him. “Fuck,” he groaned.

Then, as if a lightbulb went off, he pulled out and flipped you over, pulling you to your knees and ripping your dress and destroyed bra from your body. He entered you harshly again and pulled your back to his chest. His mouth on your ear, nibbling then biting, “I need to make you mine. Announce your brother who you belong to- who owns you now.”

His hand traveled down your belly to the bulge of his cock outlined in your lower stomach. “Do you feel me? Do you feel me up there? Feel me practically in your womb?”

You could, it was painful the way he bullied your cervix but the way he pleasured your sweet spot made you clench and fight off an orgasm that waited to burst.

He laughed into your ear, “Fuck, cum on this cock, I know you need to. Come on me and I’ll give you what you need.”

What the fuck did he mean what you need?

But that didn’t matter, he brought his hand to play with your clot as his pounding continued and you couldn’t fight off the orgasm anymore. Your body tightened and the coil snapped, pulsing around his cock, milking it, you screamed his named and he pinched your nipples as you came on his cock.

I’m your haze, he slowly let you fall to to bed as your ass remained up, his hands firmly handing you in place. “Such a good girl. A better girl than I’d thought you’d be. Oh, a perfect girl for me.” His pounding was relentless as he chase his own high.

You barely registered him saying, “Oh gods, we’ll be perfect together,” before you felt him still behind you, then the pulsing of his cock as warmth flooded you. He let out a groan, a triumphant groan, as he came inside you.

A shaking sob left you as you realized you’d been tricked, betrayed again, used again.

He stayed inside you for some time before pulling his softened cock out and putting on his clothes. You collapsed onto the bed, feeling the evidence of his orgasm slowly slide from your body. You grabbing the pillow ahead of you and hid your face in it. That was, until you felt his hand caress your nude back and the bed shift with the weight of him sitting beside you.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. Don’t cry. I need to know you’re gonna remember our agreement.”

You furrowed your brows, “Fuck you, there is no agreement anymore. You lied to me.”

Aemond chuckled and pushed a strand of hair from your face, “Think of it as the lesser of two evils. Marry me and have everything you’d ever wanted or keep being a pawn for your brother.”

“You’re nuts if you think I’d marry you after a single fuck.”

He looked back down to your thighs, where his seed slowly seeped out, then back to you with a smug grin. “I think your brother would kill you if it was all over the press that you suddenly fell pregnant and unwed. We all know he’s a religious freak now.”

You furrowed your brows, “I’m buying emergency contraceptive as soon as you leave this room.”

He chuckled, “I’m not leaving then.”

“Who said I’ll get pregnant anyway?” You were angry, so angry you couldn’t make sense of his hand sneaking up your neck, holding it tightly.

“My father owns the press. If they say you are, then you are. Imagine what your mother would think, your father? Oh, your reputation would be ruined and your brother would be embarrassed of you.” He grit through his teeth, “And I’ll have people watch you, I already do. They give me updates, they follow you, they’ll know, I’ll know if you are. And then,” he let go of your neck, “You won’t have a choice. I won’t give you one.”

“You’re a fucking psycho.”

He chuckled, running his fingers along your arm, “I’m the easy choice. I’ll give you everything, just give me yourself.”

[kalpeavaris]

Some Murder Deer headcanons

oh nooo please don't get dragged into the deer AU haha... unless...

here's some headcanons & ideas I got while drawing these funky lil' cervidae! enjoy... I guess?!

The Deers in general

They're considered "fawns" until the age of 18 years, then they're "bucks" or "does". A gender neutral term does exist in their species - it's simply "cervi".

Their antlers break in (regardless of biological sex) between 15 and 17 years of age.

Antler size can be inherited, but they're mostly fairly small.

Fawns keep their fawn spots as late as 25 years of age. The longer they persist, the smaller the fawns usually are in "final" height. Uzi's e.g stayed until she was 25 and she's fairly small for her species.

Copper-9 & the Absolute Solver

The entire story sets place on an earth-like exoplanet that - similar to alot of xenofiction (e.g Guardians of Ga'hoole) - has one main race populating the planet (in this case, species of the cervidae family)

The Absolute Solver is an Eldritch Organism that is fascinated by the different kinds of mammals and species on exoplanets, slowly incooperating itself into different planets, imitating their populating species and slowly rotting the planet from the core until it is no more.

On Copper-9 it finds the many cervidae looking creatures, taking on the shape of a musk deer like entity (no antlers, sharp canines, for some reasons wants to devour flesh) - seeing how alot of the main individuals have antlers it develops a secondary obsession with antlers.

The AS incooperates the body of a deceased deer, Cyn, which it found rotting away in a forest. After taking the corpse and making it it's host body it found a small 'family' (herd) of deer which included Tessa, a young doe aged 20 that isn't opposed to welcome new indiviuals into the herd. Her parents however, the leading pair of the herd, do not agree and cast "Cyn"/AS aside.

Intruiged by Tessa's welcoming presence despite the herd's cold aura the AS slowly managed to gain her trust by meeting, playing the role of a young doe lost alone in this world ("Cyn") - and Tessa takes the bait easily.

Long yap session short story, the AS kills Tessa, eats her remains and removes her antlers to fuse them to itself, as well as parts of her fur to appear more like her, hoping it could "become" her in a twisted sense of identity seeking.

The Solvers emblem appears on the "users" forehead and they can use it to regenerate and telepathically carry things around with them. An infected user needs blood to sustain themselves as they'll throw up anything that isn't blood or flesh (for example, the deer on Copper-9 eat a plant based diet).

Solver Users/hosts also grow elongated canines and sharp teeth similar to "Cyn"/AS and it's musk deer body.

The Disassembly Squads

The AS creates the Disassembly "Drones" like it did in the OG story, shaping them after deer. Similar to the OG DDs their true eyes sit on their antlers while the ones in their faces are just to blend in (well... as much as they blend in looking like they do LOL).

The DDs are created from slaughtered members of Tessa's former herd, including N(ari), V(erika) and J(ane).

The DDs also have long canines and eat flesh. They're larger than normal deer and while not capable of flight (lack of wings) they're extremely agile and fast, able to quickly outmaneuver their prey.

N, V and J have fragmented memories of their former lives before being killed and rebuilt which do haunt them. J and V suffer the most from this, N is spared for the most part.

J was Tessa's best friend and almost-partner back before they were all slaughtered, and she still remembers this. "Cyn"/AS promises J to bring back Tessa if she does what it commands of her - trusting it to keep it's word. It doesn't. Doomed Yuri.

J is killed off fairly early by Khan when he chases them out of the forest as he manages to pierce her heart with his antlers, which does kill the DDs - usually alot of deer's antlers are too short, but Khan's cool, so he has very big ones. B)

Uzi & her family

They're now called "Doemans" (yes, you may slap me) - and live in a fairly protected herd away from most dangers in a hidden forest.

Nori was killed by N but returned as ghostly entity. She lost her eye in a battle with "Cyn" but was able to escape before being destroyed - she now serves as some sort of guardian for the Cathedral the humans once inhabited, wearing a cross she found as roseary around her neck; knowing it holds the key to kill the AS.

Khan raised Uzi alone and is the main leader of the herd, thus he's a BADASS in this AU. He won't hesitate to fight N when he tried to kill off Uzi, even being able to chase him off.

Uzi is a late bloomer in regards to her antlers - most fawns get them between the age of 15-17 years, Uzi still hasn't gotten her's at the age of 19 and feels extremely sensitive about this topic. Do not mention it unless you want her to cry internally. She gets mocked over this by some of the fawns in her age range. :'))

Khan doesn't allow Uzi to go outside of the forest's borders until her antlers grow in. She hates this - and sneaks out (only to meet N, V and J - whoops!)

Due to her missing antlers N doesn't really recognize her as prey, so he is friendly until V and J are like "dude that's still a deer?? fucking idiot??" and he's like "but she's so nice to me :'(("

That's when you run, Uzi. And have your dad fight N. And win. Because in this AU he doesn't suck!! >:(

Uzi gets the Solver from her mother like in the OG, where Nori is infected by "Cyn" during their fight. It activates during N's attack on her.

Other people

Doll also has her Solver in this AU! She and her family originate from a different part of Copper-9 and lived with different herds which is why their language differs from those in Khan's herd. They mainly got along by communicating through body language :D

Yeva & Nikolai, her parents, where killed by V when they attempted to leave the forest for food. Doll escaped because V didn't spot the fawn hiding in the tall grass - and this activated Doll's Solver. Ever since she's wandering about alone, trying to find a cure for herself. She also loses her eye in another quarrel later on.

Doll's fate is similar to the OG show with "Cyn" eating her corpse after killing her in a vunerable position.

Lizzy & Thad are also around and they're siblings! They're the first fawns in the herd to tag along with Khan to help and find Uzi. Lizzy is still the chattermouth she is in the show and Thad likes to be active. It's the deer ADHD. Their father is the teacher (who isn't a teacher to be exact in this AU... but something similar B))

[admirxation]

Broken Locks | Part 2

𓆩♡𓆪┆ Other parts: part one | part three | part four | part five

𓆩♡𓆪┆ pairing: las plagas! yandere! re4! leon s. kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

𓆩♡𓆪┆summary: Leon finally gets the reader where he wants her, but he needs her to fall in love and be dependent on him; after fulfilling his fantasies with her, he decides to make her nothing without him.

𓆩♡𓆪┆word count: 2.2k

𓆩♡𓆪┆disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! i do not condone everything i write, my writing doesn’t reflect all my morals. if any of the following warnings trigger or make you feel uncomfortable, scroll away; you are in charge of what content you’re consuming. this is 18+ only, minors are strongly advised not to interact.

𓆩♡𓆪┆warnings: nsfw 18+, mdni. female anatomy and she/her pronouns used for reader. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Noncon, somnophilia, kidnapping, losing virginity (f receiving), p in v, degrading (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, forced pregnancy, tying up, injury (f receiving), and knife play.

Chapter two: taken

Leon’s smirk as your eyes became heavier would now be imprinted in your psyche, and you would now always remember the way your heart quickened and your mussels weakened as your eyelids became heavier under his grasp. The hard part of Leon’s plan was now over; he had dragged you and a bag of a few things of yours to keep you distracted when you awoke — but he couldn’t help but stare at your face as you slept, lost in a trance of your beauty.

When you laid in the back of a car — your hands and legs tied together — he paused for a moment as he caressed his fingers in your soft hair. The way it laid on your face enticed him, inviting him to touch, creating a trance to enrapture his attention — lost in the fantasies he needed to fulfil when you got to the destination — all the things he was going to do to you and you wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The parasite was making a home inside its new host, protruding his secret desires to the foreground of his doings — his former morality now caged in the depths of his unconscious mind. Fighting with the power of the parasite was futile… so Leon gave in and surrendered himself to it.

The street lights casted a glow around the desolate surroundings of the sleeping city. Leon reached for the car door handle, and with a gentle push, he closed the door. The faint but unmistakable click resonated through the air like a whisper of finality. This seemingly mundane action only signified the turning point, the ephemeral moment was a metallic echo that signified your loss of freedom — a farewell to the untethered liberty you took for granted. As the key turned and the lock secured its hold, the boundaries of possibility only narrowed, and the horizon of your new life with Leon was coming closer.

You were his.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you finally reached the destination, Leon made a halt in his driving, looking over at the house that would now house you both — and the family you would make. His apartment was just a secondary home; he moved there during a mission he was keeping tabs on but when he saw you for the first time, his original home collected dust as he obsessed over you — the parasite forcing him to take action and make the fantasy of a crush become a dark and twisted reality.

He picked you up with no effort — tossing you over his shoulder — not being able to shake off that sinister smirk that appeared when he had finally got what he wanted.

But there was one thing he needed to do.

Make you love him.

Leon knew you found him attractive, no one is that kind to people, maybe the odd person but in reality humans are just selfish beings who do things for a trading exchange. He loved how flustered you were every time you spoke to him, seeing you fix yourself up when he looked through the peephole, your laugh over dinner… His yearning wouldn’t stop until he finally had you. All he had to do now was win your love… He knew it wouldn’t be that hard, just maybe a little pushback. For now, he needed to make sure his prey didn’t disappear.

For the week you were gone, Leon spend every waking moment decorating your new room, he knew your favourite colours and managed to pick up some interior design after he had drilled the peephole while you were working. He placed you on the bed — covered in a warm and plush blanket — reaching to the side as he tied your ankle to the radiator with a shackle.

You were taken now. Trapped and Leon’s possession. No escape.

He, momentarily, hoovered over you, checking if you were still asleep and listening to your shallow breathing. He couldn’t help but inhale your sweet scent. Your scent, oh god your scent, it enticed Leon and invited his deepest and darkest desires to take over your vulnerable body — practically drolling at just the thought of conquering your body, taking rightful ownership of what he had been watching and obsessing over.

Leon remembered watching you, from under the bed, while you showered. He sat there, his cock pressing against the floor as it hardened and his mind screaming at him to just have his way with you, right there and then, but he couldn’t, he needed to keep in his secret place until he could go through with the plan. Oh, how beautiful and sexy you were as you stripped your clothes off, unknowingly exposing yourself to Leon; he watched your body glisten as the water droplets dripped down your elegant skin, you were ethereal in that moment to him — you were the one he wanted, and nothing was going to change his mind about that.

He knew you would be gone for a few more hours, so would it be wrong to fulfil his desires? Yes, but the parasite in Leon made him the immoral and malevolent being he was now becoming.

He owned your body and was now going to corrupt it.

Your scent was the catalyst of the further escalation.

He started to undress you — slowly — exposing your chest at first. He savoured every curve and shadow your body had to offer him, his pupils dilating and his cock twitching in his pants, getting harder the more he felt the friction in his pants. His face slowly inching closer to your erect nipples, steadily rolling his tongue over the bud leaving a few nibbles now and again, his free hand pinching and twisting the other as he got lost in your body. He couldn’t help but grind his hips against your centre, releasing soft groans as he felt you getting wetter through your panties. Every single muscle was relaxed in your current state… Giving easier access for Leon.

His salvia glazed your chest, taking his pants off and releasing a sharp breath as his cock slapped against your inner thigh, his tip pushing into the plush of your thigh, spreading the precum that had dripped down his tip onto your body.

“My beautiful girl,” Leon said under his breath as his fingers curled under the waistband, dragging it down your thighs, exposing your pussy. He smirked when he finally saw your vulnerable and unguarded state — he loved it. He moved his finger along your slit, feeling the slick your body had produced, even in your state your body couldn’t deny him — only solidifying Leon’s belief that you secretly wanted it.

He moved his hips closer, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he rubbed the tip of his throbbing cock along your slit, pulsating as your cunt was getting wetter; your body betrayed you and was inviting Leon’s dominance to take your virginity.

Finally, he pushed his large cock inside your swollen cunt, rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he journeyed into the ecstasy your body was given to him; pushing back and forth made the parasite be at ease momentarily, satisfying its thirst.

Every muscle in Leon’s body felt so tight, feeling like it was going to collapse with the pleasure taking over his being, his hips moving at a rapid pace; the sight of you made him drool, and the way his cock felt like it was made for your pussy was taking over his mentality, only feeding the parasite’s possessiveness.

“My girl,” he cooed, “All mine… Forever mine… Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself at the fact he was the first one to take your virginity, solidifying his possessiveness even further.

Nails dug deeper into your thighs, Leon’s free hand dropping down as it slithered around your neck — Leon’s eyes full of lust as he watched your lifeless state take everything he was giving to you. His eyes continuously rolled to the back of his head as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix, feeling the warmth of your walls surrounding his length, rubbing his finger on your puffy clit as he stared at your wet centre clasping around him.

“Fuck,” Leon orgasmed as his cum ventured into your pussy, pumping his release further into you, smirking to himself as he left you violated.

He then moved closer to you, whispering in your ear: “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” while you stood there oblivious of everything, a moment taken from you and something you weren’t going to get back.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You were finally gaining vision, your peripheral transitioning from a blurry state to clear clarity. You were surrounded by an unknown atmosphere, looking around the place then finally seeing yourself naked and your ankle shackled to the radiator.

The memories started flashing in your psyche.

Your heart quickened, falling to your stomach as your mind became clouded with fear, your eyes darting to every corner as you wrapped the blanket around your naked form, feeling a sharp pain in your lower half — not being able to explain it.

Leon entered the room as he heard the shackle scrap across the floor, looking at you as you tried to cover yourself like he hadn’t had his way with you already.

“Hello darling,” that haunting voice filled every corner of the room, making you sit there without any movement, in too much fear to move a muscle.

You stared at Leon’s face, he was no longer that sweet man that lived next to you, no, this was a different person. The dark veins surrounded his pale skin, his eyes sunken, dull, and clouded with sin.

“Don’t act shy darling,” he leaned against the doorframe, “I’ve already seen you.”

Your eyes widened, your breathing becoming heavy as you finally connected the dots: The pain in your lower half, your naked body, it was all clear now — Leon had taken your virginity from you. Time stood still at that moment, your fight or flight not working as you sat there as still as a statue.

Leon then threw a pair of clothes on the floor: “Go fetch, if you want to cover yourself up,” that smirk was plastered on his face as he knew he had the upper hand, you were his and he had finally got what he had been wanting for such a long time.

You reached for the clothes that were sprawled along the floor, keeping the blanket around you as you crawled along the wooden panels that were leaving marks on your knees. You started to dress, feeling uncomfortable as Leon watched and waited for the blanket to slip away from your chest, exposing yourself once again.

“Why… Why are you doing this?” you managed to ask, your head hung low in fear, feeling Leon’s dull blue eyes pierce through you.

“My only motive is wanting you,” he moved closer to you, your face meeting his lap as he placed his fingers on your chin and moved your eyesight into his, “I know you secretly love it, your little obsession with me was obvious, and now your dreams are coming true.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Are you back talking me, darling?”

“Let me go, I don’t want this Leon, this isn’t you!”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Leon grabbed your neck, causing your to choke at the strength he put in as his fingers on the side of your neck were tightly pressed; Leon pushed your head to the ground, the back of the head hitting the wooden planks, your vision blurring and becoming dizzy as Leon forced his strength onto you.

“That’s right bitch… Now stay in your place,” he pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket, pressing the tip of it on your jawline and giving it a small but painful cut that made you wince in pain, “Or else I’ll make you stay in your place.” Pure venom was on his words.

You stopped fighting, tears rolling down your cheeks but preoccupied with the pain your head and jaw were now undergoing.

He finally let go, your breaths becoming urgent and desperation evident as your chest moved up and down rapidly; you stared at the blank ceiling, seeing the swirls of particles from your vision becoming distorted.

“When you stop being an ungrateful bitch… We will talk, for now… Suffer.”

He slammed the door, hearing the lock on the door as you stayed there in a lifeless state, now being able to cry and ask why the universe put you in this situation — you were lost and begged any higher being to take pity and give you mercy.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jill was anxiously pacing her floors, waiting for you to call; it had been hours from when she had last spoken to you, but she didn’t want to admit to herself that it actually happened.

“No, it couldn’t have happened, no,” she kept saying to herself as she continuously grabbed fistfuls of her hair in her palms, not knowing what to do with the stress that was now taking over her mentality, she didn’t think this was going to happen.

She had no choice but to open her phone, and call Chris.

He answered instantly, only allowing a few rings to pass, urgency was within him after he had been told about Leon; the force had been under the suspicion he was infected, putting Jill and Chris on the job to keep an eye for any strange behaviour.

“Chris,” Jill tried to get the words out, not wanting to admit that the worse was now going to happen, “He’s taken her…”

©︎ admirxation. please do not copy or steal my works.

my links: masterlist | ao3 profile | kofi

a/n: Hey! hope everyone is doing well. please like and reblog if you liked this, it rlly helps and i appreciate every single interaction. just wanted to note that if anyone wants to be tagged please comment specifically if you wanna be tagged on any part of this work (or u can message me), since i’m no longer doing separate tag posts. hope you have a lovely day/evening <3

[dailycass-cain]

2023 was another big stepping stone with Cass. The character was featured in A LOT of stuff this year amongst a few negative antics.

But unlike prior years the good really outweighed the bad. BY A LOT.

So let's take a look back one final time #CAINAISSANCE2023...

The year started STRONG with the release of Batgirls #14 aka the BEST solo story that involved the character this year.

I've gone in LENGTH on how AMAZING this tale was. If you haven't read it DO SO. You don't need any context but to just take in the masterpiece given.

Writers Becky Cloonan and Michael Conrad gave artist Jonathan Case just this canvas of an issue to tell AN EPIC mostly silent issue.

If there's a tale Batgirls will be remembered for it'll BE THIS ISSUE.

I've lost count to just taking in the gorgeous art Case delivers here and just letting the actions and emotions tell the tale.

The only regret is well no full payoff to what is fully learned within this issue.

It just hits EVERY mark and is something any Cass fan CRAVED, but never got in Batgirl Vol. 1. Batgirls #14 was a worthy issue that should be talked about amongst fans of Cass for quite some time.

February gave us Cass's grand entrance to Ram V's Detective Comics run (#1069) and what an entrance it was! Literally, I can't let it go of how AMAZING it was.

And the run itself? It just keeps delivering as THE Batman book out currently.

It's a slow burn and when the run lays the payoffs IT HITS THOSE PAYOFFS. The series just ended an exceptional bi-weekly event that featured Cass and well, I'm extremely curious where this run goes with the character.

If anything, I just want MOAR from Ram V or a smaller secondary story involving Cass. But given the various characters he's been rotating and given next year is 2024 (more on that later) I'm keeping my fingers crossed for ALL OF THIS.

This run does work in trade but I digress you'd be missing the GORGEOUS covers this series has been shelling out. If anything BUY the single issues and read the run this way until you get to the present.

Or reread them like I've been doing. 😋

The early half of 2023 marked Cass's surprise return to an actual role in mega crossovers. She took part in the final issue of Batman vs. Robin being one of the random factors to stall the possessed Batman until ALL of DC's magical users came to cast it out of him.

The weakest of the crossovers the character was involved in I have to say was Gotham War. It was a nothing burger that made me swear off the Chip Zdarsky run of Batman completely.

Honestly, I feel more rewarded reading Tec more. Unless Chip pulls off a miracle turnaround in 2024.

But I digress Zdarsky was only half of the problems with the other being Tini Howard and yeah, if you were a Bat Family member who wasn't Jason Todd (how did that mini turn out to be more entertaining then the ENTIRE event?!)?

This story SUUUUUUUUCKED. Quite possibly the worst Batman event story since War Games/Crimes for me.

Sadly, the most disappointing stories I'd have to say are on equal ground in Beast World and Knight Terrors. As there was interesting concepts with Cass involving them, and both stories just go NOWHERE.

I feel more so robbed with Knight Terrors as the design for Cass within it went hard. It's just that you give us THIS design and tease us with this little nugget and give us NOTHING?

COME ON!

Beast World was a whole nothing burger as well, save the pretty art and a full confirmation that Cass's old NML is now canonically her defacto one again.

Even if we had it mentioned earlier last year and again in the best crossover event involving Cass...

WHICH WAS IN LAZARUS PLANET: DARK FATE #1. It gave us Alyssa Wong returning for a THIRD time to write Cass and they were joined by Haining on art which introduced us to the world of Xanthe.

That in itself led to a spinoff mini-series that had Cass in it with SPIRIT WORLD. It did more with the new character Xanthe and laid out their origins and powerset nicely while also laying some seeds for MAYBE future Cass stories.

Again, I feel like a repeating record on how GOOD this series was. Like, I can't wait for the trade next year to take it all in again. But besides the creative team delivering it gave us Dustin Nguyen AND Marcio Takara drawing Cass again OFFICIALLY AS BATGIRL!!

Even when this series ended, I STILL WANT MOAR!! Like what memories did Cass lose? What the heck happened with Spirit World twisting her memories of Batgirl Vol. 1 #72?! How will Xanthe be with the Jade Court?

SO MANY QUESTIONS!!

Something else that left me with MANY questions was DCeased universe as even though the story ended back in April.

I still crave more starring Cass, because let's face it STEPH/TALIA DESERVE CLOSURE!! Cass could be the gateway to that.

Doing so would tie up the final loose ends as well. Let's see how Rose is raising her kid with Jason. Silent Olsen. Harley/Ivy. Ollie/Dinah. Jim Gordon.

But I digress. It gives us more Cazzam. We need more Cazzam.

But an alternate universe Cass just didn't pop up there we had a Cass show up in various other comics. Knights of Steel which also had me hankering for MOAR and Harley Quinn & the Legion of Bats.

I know some didn't like it, but me? I think it was LEAPS and BOUNDS better than what we got in the actual season of HQ.

Let us never talk about that season again…

Now something we SHOULD talk about more is the first actual appearance of Cass in a DC ANIMATED MOVIE!! Yes, Kai Li Cain from Batman: The Doom that Came to Gotham.

I was blown away at the extended role they gave the character in the film (to the, "Oh right Tim is here and alive." role in the books).

Kai Li voiced perfectly by Tati Gabrielle gave a balance of innocence and reason with the batshit craziness this film throws at us.

Like, I really REALLY want a sequel. Just to see what she'd do now given full access to Bruce's fortune? Will she follow his path? I mean yeah we want steampunk Bat!

Speaking of which artists we need designs for this stat still!

It just adds that anchor where you want to see more of this universe and the characters that inhabit it. I mean that's the sign of a REALLY good Elseworlds. Where you want more and sometimes you get just that.

But with all this good came the sad, and that was the canceling of Batgirls. I know many were against the series (especially after #7-8), but the series found its footing with #9 and ran into something I hope more positively can be talked about it.

It's true failing wasn't the creators behind the series, more just elements outside that just slotted it's end (Batgirl movie getting canned making #7-8 more wasteful), Evil Oracle #4 aka the pitch, and just being something it couldn't be).

I'm grateful for each and every creator who worked on this book because it was a GIFT that I'll always be appreciative of.

I'll say it again, THANK YOU TO ALL! 🙏

And its spirit lived on in the Nightwing back up a few months ago. It was something that was TRULY needed after the garbage fire that was Gotham War. It gave us this Cass/Dick sibling stuff and GIVE ME MOAR!!!

Unlike the past where we'd be done, DC brought us back up giving us the current BIRDS OF PREY ongoing which has Cass in it.

Really the series is a revelation of giving us things I always wanted that I'd never thought we get. Cass with Dinah? CHECK.

Cass meeting Big Barda and the two having a bond? HELLS YEAH CHECK! Anytime that bond grows I squee even more.

Just give writer Kelly Thompson ALL the time and ideas she has to churn this out to the proper conclusion she has envisioned. Just give me fifty-plus issues of her, Leonardo Romero, and Jordie Bellaire.

Finally of course there was Batman: Wayne Family Adventures which gave us THREE banger Cass stories. One where she and Steph are a MENANCE (as they should), Cass scaring the crapbaskets out of EVERYONE and of course...

Season 2 gave us A LOT of things I wanted in general (her interacting with Damian) and just showing the world why I really really love this character. Why I talk about her daily.

Really as 2023 closes and 2024 is about to begin... Well, it's the character's TWENTIETH-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY. 25 years of kicking ass and ripping our hearts out.

It's been a journey for sure.

really REALLY hope DC honors this anniversary and continues to mend the bridges burned all those years ago.

Give us that Omnibus. Give us a mini or SOMETHING to celebrate this character. If not, I'll take whatever Ram V and Thompson give us.

#CAINAISSANCE2023 may be over, but #CAINAISSANCE2024 will be the most important year yet.

25 YEARS OF CASS!! LET THE CELEBRATION BEGIN ON JANUARY 1st!

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 31: A/B/O with Cooper Howard/The Ghoul

Pairing: Alpha!Cooper Howard/The Ghoul X Omega!Fem!Reader Word Count: 4119 Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics (and everything that entails), P in V, Mean!Cooper to Soft!Cooper, Mention of Cannon typical violence, Fingering (F receiving), Doggy style, Pet names.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Traveling with Cooper isn’t what one would call easy or simple.

The man has a metric shit-ton of enemies, half of which have very valid reasons to hate him.

In the roughly five months you two have traveled together, a partnership born of convenience and a little bit of necessity, though he’d never admit to needing you, you have been shot at, and actually shot once, stabbed, blown up, and irradiated once when he forgot that walking through a radstorm wasn’t something humans can safely do.

Yet somehow you find yourself not hating him, especially when he actually seems to feel bad for all those instances, only half of which were actually his fault.

At first, he just offered lame apologies, but after the first month he started taking it upon himself to patch you up, his strong scent filling your nose and making your skin prickle.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to him, and not just for all the ‘nature’ reasons. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, and when he wasn’t being an asshole, he wasn’t so bad, funny even.

Oh yea, that’s the other part.

He’s an Alpha.

And you an Omega.

Not that he knows that bit about you, which is by design as you take great strides to keep your secondary gender hidden, not just from him but from everyone.

Being an Omega in a semi-safe town is dangerous enough, but being an Omega that travels a lot is practically a death sentence.

You suppose that’s why your family of Alpha’s and Beta’s kicked you out when you presented as a teen. It’s a miracle that nothing has happened since then.

Cooper however is under the impression that you’re just a jumpy Beta.

Every time you two get to a town, you split off to go on the hunt for suppressants. Post-war ones work best, but pre-war ones were just as good in a pinch.

This was one such day.

You had run out a week ago, and seeing as you’ve been on them pretty much 24/7 for your entire adult life it means you can already feel the heat of impending doom on the back of your neck.

Cooper walked ahead of you a couple paces, not for any reason other than him being taller and not caring if you fall behind, you’ll catch up eventually.

The rickety metal gates of the town, “Saintstown” the sign on top of it reads, open as you approach and Cooper doesn’t hesitate to walk in, the guards eyeing the pair of you warily.

Once inside the Ghoul turned and threw a small pouch at you. “Get us more food while you go chem hunting or whatever it is you do…” He grumbled, not looking at you, but rather as his gloved hand as he adjusted the material lazily.

After the first two times he watched you get fidgety before getting to a town to disappear and come back cool as a radcumber, he started to assume you were just a functional junkie, which wasn’t necessarily wrong.

He wasn’t one to judge, he was worse than you could ever be.

The man was a walking pharmacy with all the shit in his system on the average day.

“Uh, right.” You managed as you nearly fumbled the pouch, the rattle of caps inside. “Any preferences?”

He lifted the space where a brow would be if he had them as if to say, “What do you think?”

Right, he doesn’t give a shit. Ass-jerky, case and point.

Nodding, you turned and walked away in search of the market, thankfully there were signs posted pretty much everywhere.

Finding the local doctor wasn’t hard, he had a small booth and a locked chest with a big red cross painted on it.

“I need meds.” You said as you approached.

“Gonna have to be a lot more specific, girly.” He answered as he used a filthy rag to clean a scalpel.

Leaning in you lowered your voice. “I need suppressants. As many as you can spare.”

His eyes finally flicked over to you, looking you up and down carefully. He was older, probably in his 50s, and seemed the caring type if a bit bored. “When was the last time you rode out a heat?” He asked as he stood and came closer so you wouldn’t have to strain to hear each other.

You gnawed at your lip and looked away like a child that knows she’s about to be scolded. “A few years.” You answered and he sighed.

“You need to take a break; these things are going to hurt you.” He warned but turned to the chest anyway.

��I know. But it’s not really an option right now.” Your answer was frustrated but more at the situation rather than his warning. You were well aware of the dangers.

The lid of the chem chest creaked as it opened and he reached in, moving a couple things around before pulling out a small stack of metal tins and coming back to you.

“How long will you be in town?” He asked, looking at you over his cracked glasses.

You sighed. “I think you can understand why I’m not about to answer that question.” You said with a lifted brow.

He nodded and held out the stack of tins. “Twenty caps per tin, 50 pills per tin.”

Your heart dropped. That would set you up for months, but you only had enough caps for one tin. The temptation to use the caps Cooper gave you was strong, but that was a bad idea.

That money was for food, and he would be able to tell if there were too few caps for too little food.

“I can only afford one.” You said as you pulled your own cap bag out.

The doctor nodded and set the extras aside as he waited for you to count out his pay.

The trade off was made and you shoved the tin into your duster pocket until you could pack it safely into your backpack.

“If you come across more caps, these’ll still be here.” He said with a sympathetic look before turning away to return the meds to the chest.

“Thanks.” You said before going on your way.

Getting the food was easy, there were several vendors with preserved food and packaged goods for sale, and with some scrap left from your travels you were able to barter for a good deal on the provisions.

Finding Cooper again wasn’t hard, he stood out.

A tall, imposing, mean looking Ghoul is a bit hard to miss in a town of humans that skittered around like they expected him to lash out at any moment.

They weren’t wrong but still.

He was lounging at a table outside what looked like the local eatery, a beer in one hand and his hat hung in front of his eyes.

As you approached you were nearly knocked on your ass by a kid running into you.

Shoving the kid back from you carefully, so as not to knock him down, you looked down at his filthy face. “Watch it, kid.” You warned sternly, he should be happy it was you and not Cooper he ran into.

“Sorry!” Then he was gone.

“Get what we came for?” Cooper asked as he appeared in front of you.

“Yeah. Hope you like Pork and Beans. It was the cheapest thing I could find.” You answered as you tossed him the cap pouch.

He caught it without looking, cocky bastard, and nodded. “Good. Let’s get outta here.” Then he was turning back to the gates and making long strides, not bothering to make sure you were following.

“‘Let’s stay the night, kid’” You muttered, mimicking his voice. “‘Nah, Coop, let’s get back on the road. We got shit to do.’” You said in your own voice. “‘If you’re sure’. ‘I’m sure.’”

“You gonna keep talking to yourself like a batshit or are you comin?” He called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah…” You grumbled as you sped up your gait.

He walked until long after dark, and the town was far behind you, barely a speck on the horizon behind you.

When you finally stopped for the night, you felt feverish and clammy, assumably from all the time spent in the blistering wasteland sun.

The old Red Rocket station he chose for the night was thankfully mostly intact, even had glass still in the windowsills, so barricading the doors was an easy enough task that took barely twenty minutes, and by the time you were done, Cooper had a fire made to stave off the chill of the night.

Exhaustion hit you hard as soon as you settled across the fire from him, and sleep wasn’t going to be fought this time, so you laid down against your pack and let yourself fall asleep, knowing Cooper would be taking first watch either way.

He never lets you take first watch.

Who knows how many hours later, you woke to the feeling of your skin burning and for a moment you feared you’d rolled into the fire, till you felt that telltale twisting in your belly.

Fuck.

With sweating hands, you reached into your duster to the pocket you had tucked it into and found said pocket completely empty.

Flicking your duster open you looked down into it with wide eyes, breaths picking up as you confirmed that it was indeed empty, but before you started to really panic you reached into the opposite pocket and only found your cap bag and a few loose bullets.

Had you already put it in your pack and forgotten?

Reaching for your pack you started digging, trying not to look too freaked out, knowing Cooper would still be awake sitting across from you, but that went out the window as you found only your normal supplies in the bag.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” You whimpered, heat rising on your neck, sweat beading on your forehead.

“Lose your new stash?” Coopers voice was like a rock through glass, sounding teasing and maybe a little smug.

“Shut up.” You snapped as you looked around at the ground where you’d been laying, maybe you dropped it while you slept.

He hummed at your response. “Desperation ain’t a good look on you, Sweetheart.” He said, tilting his head as he watched you search.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care about looking good for you.” You snapped, too busy freaking out.

When could you have lost it?

Then it hit you. The kid.

“That little shit!” You hissed, kicking your backpack in anger.

Even if you could convince him to go back to the town, you didn’t have enough caps for more, and even the doctor wasn’t going to be nice enough to give you a discount.

And you were pretty sure you didn’t have that kind of time anyway, not with the way you felt like you were on fire.

Cooper sighed in annoyance. “Christ, if I’d known this was what you were like without your fix, I never woulda let you come with me.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, that’s not the only reason.” You said without thinking, but your words snapped you into a different panic as soon as you heard them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, sitting up from his previously lounged position.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, looking away from him, trying to act like you were still looking for your lost property.

Behind you, you heard him get up. “What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was slowly getting closer, a step with each word, and you felt your hair stand on end, both because his scent was so strong in your nose right now, and because his voice was like smooth pebbles in your ears.

Danger, but every part of you was drawn to it.

Your breaths were fast as you turned to look at him. He was only a couple of inches away from you.

And judging by the look on his face, he didn’t need you to answer anymore.

He could smell you now.

“You tellin me you’re a fucking Omega?” He growled and you whimpered.

You’re not sure if it was in fear or arousal.

Words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him.

And before you could force them from your lips, he had you by the throat and pressed against the wall.

“Were you ever going to say anything about it? Or were you planning on just going into fucking heat during a firefight?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Your brain felt like it was burning, and all you could think about was how his hand felt on your neck, and how he smelled, and how close he was to you.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes and falling when his grip tightened, and your eyes squeezed shut. “I had it under control…”

His lips twitched down as he watched you cower before him, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Yeah, till you went and got robbed.” He hissed.

He looked like he was trying not to breathe too much.

“You’re going into fucking heat right now, aren’t you?” He asked, sounding like he couldn’t decide if he was concerned or mad about it, which was a strange thing to hear in his voice.

You nodded as best you could with his hold on your neck.

At that he let go like you’d burned him, and he let out another growl, this one much deeper in his chest, as he started to pace. “Fuck!” Then he was facing you again. “How long has it been?”

“Years…” You answered, still leaning against the wall, feeling flushed and weak already. Your heats have never started this strong before.

That seemed to piss him off even more, but now the reason was much clearer, he was worried. “Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

“It wasn’t safe.” You reasoned, but it was as weak as your legs felt.

“Neither is not having a heat in years.” He started pacing again, muttering to himself. “Can’t cross the wastes like this…No one for miles…Shit…”

He didn’t need to say it, you both already knew.

He was going to have to help you through it if you wanted to guarantee survival.

And he didn’t look like he was against it so much as hating the circumstances, which was more than a little jarring.

“Coop…” You started but he held up a finger.

“Have you ever had help through a heat before?” He sounded gentler now, still stern but much calmer.

Shaking your head couldn’t look at him. “No.”

“You ever been with an Alpha at all?”

“Once, but he wouldn’t knot me. Some Brotherhood guy I encountered.”

At your words he nodded.

The look on his face spoke volumes. He was mentally preparing to help you, and it made you feel horrifically guilty.

“You don’t have to.” You said quietly. “I can lock myself in the office and stay there till it’s over. You can stay out here or leave. But you don’t have to help me.” You said and he looked at you like he was offended.

“I’m not going to let you suffer alone, and not when it could kill you.” He stalked closer to you as he spoke.

He looked like a completely different man, and you wondered if you were seeing whoever he’d been before he was a Ghoul peeking through.

“Now.” He started. “Sit your ass down and drink some water. You’re going to need it.”

That was the last thing he said before going back over to sit where he’d been before.

Doing the same, you took up your canteen and took a couple long swigs from it, feeling fatigue edging back in.

“I’m gonna try to sleep more.” You said as you laid back down, getting only a hum of acknowledgement in return.

Sleep found you fast, but it was shallow, and your body still felt far too hot.

At one point you woke up to the feeling of being moved and found Cooper taking your duster off.

Managing a grumble of annoyance at being woken he chuckled. “Down girl, just making sure you don’t get heat stroke.” Then you were back out again.

When you woke again for good it felt like you were laying in a pot of boiling water, sweat soaked your clothes, which were heavy and itched at your tingling skin, your eyes were fuzzy and watery, and you could feel a distinct slickness between your legs.

“Cooper?” You rasped, partially fearing he’d changed his mind and abandoned you.

“Right here, Darlin…” He said then you felt the rim of your canteen at your lips. “Nice and slow now.”

The water felt like ice with how hot your mouth and lips were, but it was so nice. “Hurts…” You managed as you tried to tug at your shirt, then your pants, feet kicking at your boots feebly.

“I know, let me.” He said, then his hands were on you, his actual hands, not his gloves.

They felt cool against your skin as he pulled your boots from your feet, then your pants, and finally he helped you sit up and tugged your shirt over your head, leaving you only in your soaked underwear and equally drenched bra, which he helped you out of too when you tried to tug the straps down your arms without success.

“Fuck…Wouldja look at that…” He said as he looked at you, eyes scanning over your body like you were a feast waiting just for him.

You were sure you looked like a mess, and with him so close your glossy eyes could make him out in the haze.

His pupils almost consumed his eyes, his breathing was fast, and his chest was expanding so much with each breath that it made his shirt go a little taut, the sight had you pressing your thighs together, though with all the slick that had gathered there was little friction to be found.

His eyes tracked the movement, and it was like a switch being flipped, his own shirt was pulled free from his pants, which were quickly undone but neither were removed, with made you whine but he shushed you. “You don’t wanna see what’s under all this, Sweetheart…” He whispered before leaning in.

You thought he would go in for a kiss, but instead they met your neck, trailing along your jaw with shocking tenderness, little kisses and nips and licks that made you shiver.

Your hands gripped his shirt collar, pulling him closer, forcing him to reposition between your thighs, allowing you to grind up against him.

“Coop…” You whined as you trailed one hand down his chest till you reached his opened pants, then past the hem till you found what you were looking for.

He was hard, which wasn’t shocking, but his responding shiver sent a bolt through you.

Suddenly you felt stone cold sober. You were about to fuck Cooper.

The man who was to blame for a lot of the misfortune you’d experienced over the last five months.

But he was also the source of a not insignificant amount of fortune.

As quickly as your mind cleared it fogged back over, and you were right back to tugging him closer, now with your legs wrapped over his hips.

Your hand, still wrapped around his thick cock, moved up and down, gathering the pre-cum that was collecting at the tip to spread it down the length.

He let out a quiet groan as you worked him, dipping down to his base to give the raised space where his knot would form a light massage.

At that his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled your hand away. “You do that, and this’ll be over before I can be any use.” He chided lightly, smirking down at you.

You let out a needy sound and he sat up, moving to flip you but earning an annoyed sound instead as you tried to resist, some primal part of your brain wanting to see him. “This’ll be easier if I’m behind you, Darlin.” He said, using your weakened state and superior strength to carefully turn you over.

In the clear part of your brain, you knew he was right, but the whinny Omega part of your brain you wanted desperately to see his face, to kiss him.

Okay, maybe that last bit was a shared desire, but that was beside the point.

Behind you, Cooper moved around for a moment before you felt him help you sit up a little, slipping your wadded up duster under your head. Your arms wrapped around it immediately like a pillow and you settled on it.

Then cool hands were pulling your panties down your legs, the slick on your thighs had stated to cool uncomfortably and you whined at the sensation, but that whine morphed into a moan as two thick fingers pressed into your cunt.

The ache abated instantly, and your body pressed back into the touch without your input, practically riding his fingers as he curled them, hitting that sweet spot that had your already spinning head turning into a cyclone.

The orgasm snuck up on you entirely.

Your whole body went taut for a moment before descending into shakes as you cried and moaned, it was so good but nowhere near enough.

“Cooper…” You drew out his name, both praise and plead.

Then his chest was pressed to your back, his shirt felt scratchy, and you tried to pull away from the sensation, but then it was gone.

No, not gone, fully unbuttoned so it wasn’t in the way. “I’m right here...” He whispered into your flushed ear, once more sounding like smooth pebbles but now lacking the anger from before.

The head of his cock prodded where you wanted him most, and he didn’t make you wait as he pressed into you, filling you to the brim in one slow thrust.

The base where his knot sat half inflated pressed against your pussy, but he stopped there, letting you get used to the feeling of being so full.

There was an ache of a different kind now, the kind that teetered on the bleeding edge of pleasure, and you tried to press back into it, but his rough hand on your hip kept you still.

“Stay still, let me do all the work.” He ordered before he pulled back only to push back in hard and fast.

The moan it punched out of you was absolutely filthy, and it served to urge him on.

Setting a punishing rhythm, Cooper made no effort to hide that this felt as wonderful for him as it did for you, his voice was rough and raspy as he groaned and growled, his lips pressing to your bare shoulders.

For a moment you wondered if he’d sink his teeth in and claim you, but he never did, instead he pressed his teeth to the spot to make the Omega part of your brain keen.

Each thrust was like a spark to gasolene, igniting every part of your body, and unlike before you could feel the orgasm swelling in your belly.

You tried to vocalize it, warn him it was coming, but with the way his speed increased it seemed he was well aware and didn’t need to be told, especially when it seemed he was right there with you.

In a swift moment he pressed all the way in, causing his knot to press past the barrier of your pussy and lock him to you as you both came screaming.

His name was an incoherent babble as it fell from your lips.

Your name was a low groan as it fell from his.

Heat filled your belly in spurts and your body felt like it finally got exactly what it needed to calm down, the overwhelming fever ebbing and the shaking of your limbs easing.

As you both panted, Cooper shifted you both onto your sides, careful not to tug at the place where you were bound as he went.

Your bundled duster became a shared pillow.

Words didn’t feel needed right then. Even though he hadn’t claimed you, something felt like things were more permanent between you now, like you didn’t need to worry about waking up to him having absconded in the night.

Sleep once more edged at your brain but you tried to resist it, still basking in the afterglow, but when a yawn escaped, he wrapped his arm around you. “Get some sleep, Darlin…”

So, you did.