#before you try to poke holes in this a) let me have fun and b)

[theeminentlyimpractical]

My favorite plot-hole-that-isn’t of GO2 is that if a single angel or demon had thought to check Twitter or Reddit they would have found Gabriel immediately. At no point does Aziraphale miracle away the dozens of cell phone pics being taken of the buck naked erstwhile archangel at his doorstep.

#it’s only not a plot hole because they really are that stupid about human shit #if only they hadn’t killed the Eric that knew about selfies #before you try to poke holes in this a) let me have fun and b) #the hiding miracle doesn’t seem to apply to footage from the past since Saraqael and Muriel can watch the trial footage no problem #but idk if that’s because it’s in heaven #good omens

[f10werfae]

Bunny, all warm n’ fuzzy

pairing: Chris Evans x GF!Short!Reader

summary: chris evans x short! reader +breeding + daddy kink+ overstimulation/smut where they are having sex but are trying new positions because some can get uncomfortable due to how short the reader is compared to Chris (2 Requests by Anon)

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Come on honey, cuddle up into daddy, keep ya all nice n' warm” Chris whispered kissing the shell of Y/n’s ear, feeling her grind her ass further into his hardened cock as he spooned her. One of his arms wrapped around his woman’s waist while the other held tightly onto one of her breasts, softly kneading it.

“feel all warm and fuzzy” Y/n whimpered, her head going all foggy at the feeling of her boss’ hands venturing underneath her sopping wet underwear, his thick fingers softly caressing her sensitive folds. Who knew that taking a new job as a secretary, would lead to a newfound romance.

“Yeah? maybe I can make you feel even better baby, Daddy found some new ways to play with ya” Chris whispered pulling off her flimsy excuse of underwear. The first time they had some fun loving, let’s just say it was a bit difficult with the size difference. So Chris took it upon himself to do some digging, he was determined to fuck her little pussy, and he was going to do it good.

“Really? b-but last time-“ Y/n said, feeling so helpless as Chris manhandled her into one hell of a compromising position. Settling himself against the headboard, Chris set down Y/n onto his lap facing him, her legs instantly caging in around him to keep him close.

“Is this comfy enough for ya bunny? you wanna try and fit all of daddy’s cock?” Chris said muffled, his tongue busy licking strips up her neck and into her mouth.

“Mhm, wan’ it all, I can take it” Y/n moaned sliding her wet pussy up and down his length, her swollen pussy lips giving his cock a sweet suffocating hug. Chris couldn’t help but growl at the sight of his sweet girl just playing herself dumb on his cock, pulling down the front of her tank top just enough to let her perky tits pop out.

Lifting her up easily, Y/n’s newly painted nails guided her boyfriend’s cock into her throbbing sex, both of them hissing at the amazing sensation.

“O-oh wow, feel so full daddy” Y/n moaned out, her legs interlocking behind his back, her hands clutching onto the curls adorning his tattooed chest; his eyes never leaving her face once. She is just too beautiful and pure.

“You fit me like a fuckin’ glove baby, jus’ made for each other” Chris watched as Y/n bounced herself up and down his cock, her mouth agape, drool coming out of her mouth at the amount of ecstasy. Filthily Chris leant up and licked up her drool covered chin, his tongue meeting hers in a hot wet kiss, with him swallowing her moans, and her his.

“I-i’m gonna cum Chrissy, I feel it right here”

Y/n shouted grabbing Chris' larger hand and placing it right above her pussy where his cock was repeatedly poking through her soft kissable skin, he was just too big. “You feel me up there? you’re just too little for me Y/n, how are you going to carry our babies?”

At the thought of Chris filling her up her fertile womb, Y/n couldn’t control it and felt herself squirt all over Chris’ cock and stomach; her body writhing before collapsing onto his chest. Her nipples sensitive and hard against his rough chest hair, his hands going up to tangle in her hair to pull her in for another kiss, his lips biting onto her bottom one.

“Did the thought of me gettin' you pregnant make you cum honey?” Chris chuckled gently grabbing her and putting her onto all fours, another new position they were about to try for the first time.

“Yes daddy, fill my hole with your cum, feel you so deep inside me baby” Y/n muffled into the pillow beneath her head, one of Chris' hands massaging her ass cheeks, running his thumb around her tight puckered ass hole; something he was going to get up to someday.

“I can’t wait to watch your belly grow, i’m going to pump you full until it’s running out of you baby; i’m gonna keep my cum inside of you to make sure it fuckin sticks. Your tits are going to be so beautiful filled with milk, gah i’m just in love with you bunny, maybe gonna keep you pregnant for your wedding dress yeah?”

Chris continued on his mission of taunting and praising his woman, her yelps filling the room with every thrust, her shouts of ‘yes’ to every single one of Chris’ dirty words. Spitting onto his hand, he leant forward and found himself rubbing harsh shapes on her jutted out clit, her voice breaking as the pain felt so good. The overstimulation was hitting her hard, this was the best she’d ever felt.

“Fuck yes Chris baby, give me a baby honey, show everyone around us how full I am of you. Hell maybe you can even show me off to that dick Dylan at the office” Y/n laughed crazily remember the poor excuse of a man who had stalked her around work, which lead to her falling safe into Chris' arms. Weird right?

“Ohoho honey you are so dirty, my fucking woman” Chris growled feeling his cock start to twitch at the feeling of her tight walls surrounding him, Y/n had already came like a broken fountain all over him once again. Their bed now soaked with her juices as he continued to toy with her clit, chasing his own orgasm like a wild animal.

Y/n turned her head to the side to smirk at the man, his lip held beneath his teeth as she blew him a kiss, soon enough emptying his heavy balls into her waiting cunt. It better fucking stick.

“Bunny you okay?” Chris asked softer, wincing as he slowly pulled his limp dick out, her hips wiggling at the loss of touch. Pouting she pushed him onto his back to straddle his hips, slowly pushing him back in her within seconds,

“Makin’ sure it sticks, daddy” She giggled lazily, bending down to peck his lips slowly, moving to his neck and jaw. Nuzzling her head into his neck, with her heartbeat over his, Chris whispered a quick ‘ I love you baby’ Kissing the side of her head with his hands rubbing on her back affectionately, feeling Y/n relax under his touch.

———

Taglist (Form is up there^^): @pandaxnienke @patzammit @seren-a-ity @thereisa8ella @mdpplgtz03 @chrisevansangel @evanstanwhore @cevansgurl @marvelgurl @jackslover12 @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @mrspeacem1nusone @uwiuwi @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @tojisbabymomma @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @sairsei @tinyelfperson @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @fdl305 @mysticfalls01 @taramaria @mirikusashes @xoxokiaraaxoxo @caps-shield1918 @stormcloudss @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @meetmeatyourworst @mansaaay @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @aerangi @roofwitty779 @alina02 @bookfrog242 @alexxavicry @bluebellsn @feltonswifesworld87 @ravenhood2792 @lastwandastan @angelmather1

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #chris evans smut

[flavorita]

okay hear me out but like imagine they're shopping @ vs (or any lingerie store) with u? for xiao, scara, itto, dain and whoever else u want!!

Low-key got intimidated by how many people you asked for, but imma try anyways 🤪

Sort of a crack-fic because tbh I've never been to a lingerie store and haven't played Genshin in like a year 🏃‍♀️

TW: Suggestive, Fem reader

Lingerie Store Shopping Trip with Xiao, Scaramouche, Itto, and Dainsleif (Seperate)

♡Xiao

Have fun dragging Xiao out of whatever dark corner he's in to go shopping

Even when you do go shopping, he hides in his hoodie the entire time at the mall while looking very annoyed and bored

He doesn't even like regular shopping, lingerie shopping is def not happening 😩

But right when he had spaced out from the hours of shopping, you took the opportunity and dragged the poor guy into a lingerie shop 💀

When Xiao finally realizes he hasn't been dragged into any normal clothing store and instead just entered a lingerie store, bright red

He is immediately flustered and just holes up in his hoodie even more

"Hey Xiao, do you think this color would look good on me?"

"Wh-what, what are you asking me for? You're the one who's going to be wearing it?"

He ends up pulling the cords of his sweater to tighten his hood even more

You end up getting slightly worried about Xiao strangling himself because you could only see the tip of nose through his tightened hood

"But Xiao~, I really need your help. After all, even if I'm the one wearing it, you're going to be the one taking them off~"

Xiao.exe has stopped working

You decide to poke Xiao's arm and he loses his balance and almost falls over

You grab his arm and manage to help him stand straight enough

Deciding that was enough teasing your poor, sweet boyfriend for today, you two walk home together with Xiao not saying a single word

However, as you both near the end of your walk home:

"Hey Y/N... I think the green one you were holding would have looked good on you..."

"REALLY?!"

Xiao starts pulling his hood closer around his face again.

"Hmmmm, well we wouldn't really know unless I tried it on. Say Xiao, we'd have to go bac-"

"Never."

♡Scaramouche

Mean, rude, an absolute sadist of a perv, why would you even bring him to a lingerie shop with you

He probably demanded to go with you when he saw you leaving the house

"Ugh Y/N, you didn't say we were going shopping."

"But you said-"

"Whatever, we're already here so we might as well"

With a dramatic flourish of his hand, you're forced to follow behind him as he browses through any and every store that interests him

He ends up stopping at a lingerie store and glances behind him to see if you're keeping up

"Y/N, babydoll or chemise?"

"What 😃"

All you get in response is one of his signature villanistic smirks and a tight grip on your wrist as he drags you into the lingerie store

Scaramouche starts grabbing lingerie after lingerie, each one getting more smaller and revealing than the next

Before you know it, he's shoved you into a dressing room with a pile of lingerie and demanding you to try them on and model each and every one for him

"B-but, Scara-"

"Spit it out, Y/N."

"This lingerie-"

"Yes?"

"It has a hole..."

"I think you mean it's crotchless. Now hurry up and show me."

"No, Scara, it has like-"

"Did I not just say show me, Y/N?"

Yeah... he's not letting you leave until he's fully embarassed you

At least, he's paying for everything 🤷‍♀️

♡Itto

"Oh cool, Y/N you're going out? Can I come too? 😄"

Poor guy just wanted to spend time with his S/O and ended up in a lingerie store

"Pssssss, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, am I allowed in a place like this?" You look up to see Itto bent down so he can whisper his burning question in your ear while side-eyeing all the bras and panties as if they may jump out at him.

"Yes Itto, it's fine."

"Are you sure cuz I don't see any guys right now?"

"Itto, don't worry. If people," you giggle at the thought, "if people ask why you're here. Tell them that you came here to help me."

"Okay, I'm here to help you find and carry your things, gotchu."

With that Itto straightens up and walks proudly knowing that he, the coolest and strongest oni to ever live, is here to help his S/O with buying and carrying her things. How sweet and manly of him.

Actually tries to help and gives his honest opinions

Asks you what size your titties are and gets a few weird stares from everyone else within earshot

Overall, very chill during the picking process

However, the trying and modeling it for him part...

"Y-yessss Y/N, you look really g-good."

"Itto... how would you know with your hands on your face like that?"

"W-whatchu m-mean, mmmy hands aren't on my fffface."

😮‍💨

You end up buying the lingerie you two had selected together anyways and you tease Itto the whole way home

"Awwww, my big, strong oni is still such a shy, sweet guy, hmmm?"

Itto rubs the back of his head bashfully.

"Just don't tell the gang about this."

♡Dainsleif

Gives off kuudere vibes

You can ask for him to come with you and he agrees like 100% of the time without even knowing the location

Gets slightly embarassed when he sees it's a lingerie store you want to go to, but brushes it off because lingerie = clothes

"Dain, what do you think about this one?" You dangle a red, open cup bustier in front of him.

"This is a bra?"

"Well, sort of?"

"What purpose is a bra without cups to support your breasts? Will it not be uncomfortable? What if your nipples chafe against the rough cloth of your shirt? Won't that hurt?"

Dainsleif bombards you with question upon question with every lingerie he sees, while ignoring the appeal of their sexiness and only pondering upon their purpose which is sex appeal 😭 and comfortability.

"Y/N, what is-"

"Dain."

"Yes, my dear."

"Can we go home 🥲"

"But you haven't bought a single item, my beloved."

"It's okay, next time Dain 🥲"

There is no next time 💀

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x you #itto x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #dainsleif x y/n #dainsleif x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #itto x you #itto x y/n #itto x fem!reader #scaramouche x female reader #xiao x female reader #genshin impact fic #flavorita

[softiem]

you used to paint his skies (pt. 2)

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto is still swearing up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~4.3k

content warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, MSBY!Bokuto, mildly suggestive scene at the end (no nsfw), our baby Bokuto kind of loses it at the end, don’t let the fluffy interludes deceive you again

notes: I’M SO SORRY FOR LITERALLY BEING DEAD FOR 6 MONTHS,,, Here’s the second part to “you used to paint his skies” :D (I think this is better than part one — at least I hope so). Some people asked to be tagged for this second part, so those will be below. Thank you for reading, darlings ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ <333

part one.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Baby?”

Faint sniffles came from Bokuto, whose head was currently nestled on your lap, the two of you strewn across the sofa. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, as if he were afraid that holding you any looser would cause you to disappear from his arms. His voice was quiet, meek — nothing like the loud, boisterous ball of energy you’d grown to adore, to cherish.

To fall in love with.

Now, here the both of you were, a pile of cracked and fragmented pieces of the love you once shared, desperately grasping at whatever you could salvage from the mess.

You hummed a response.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bokuto turned his head, his eyes staring up at you — wide, teary, and filled with a broken sense of hope.

In an attempt to avoid breaking down a third time, you cleared your throat. You still couldn’t look down at him, into his eyes that seemed to praise your very existence, even after the pain you caused.

“Please.” His voice cracked.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Kou-Bokuto.”

He bit his lip roughly, enough to bite into the skin and draw a slight trace of blood. Choking on a weak sob, he nestled his head into your stomach once more. He couldn’t stop you from calling him that name anymore; he’d lost that privilege.

What could he have been asking for? For you to simply just call him your Koutarou again? For you not to leave him and stay in his arms? For you to kiss him and wipe those tears running from his pretty eyes as you tell him you’ll love him forever, no matter what?

Quite honestly, Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking of you; he didn’t know what he wanted from you.

The only thing running through his mind was the fact that he’d just ruined the best thing to ever happen to him.

You.

You, the love of his life. He knew you like the back of his hand.

He knew how, despite your small tendency to be romantically constipated, you tried your best to love him — even to the point of using stupidly cheesy pet names for each other.

– – – – –

“Please, baby!” Bokuto had your hands tightly grasped in his. “I swear, if you do this for me, I won’t ever ask you for anything else for the rest of my life — okay, that’s a lie because I really want ice cream after this, but you know what I mean!”

“Kou.” You drew in a breath. “I’m saying yes to the ice cream later, but those are the cheesiest pet names I have ever heard of.”

You saw the way Bokuto visibly deflated as he heard your soft rejection of his idea.

For the rest of the night (after stopping by the store and getting yourselves two tubs of ice cream, of course), the two of you sat cuddled up on the sofa half-paying attention to whatever B-list movie was recommended to you. Occasionally, you would hear Bokuto let out a deep sigh, most likely to try and guilt trip you into doing what he asked of you earlier.

Turning your head to face him, you grinned at the little pout on his lips as his eyes bore holes into the TV screen.

“Hey, Kou.”

Nothing. His attention stayed glued to the TV. The only sign that showed he’d heard you was the deepening of his pout.

“Koutaro, pretty boy. I’m talking to you,” you giggled.

Still nothing. You racked your brain for all of the possible ways this could end — every one of them resulted in the same thing.

Sighing, you brought up a finger to poke at his cheek. “Hey, dovey.”

If Bokuto were a dog, his ears would have stood straight up and his tail would have started wagging as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Say that again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and sparkling and the corner of his lips twitching, just barely restraining a smile.

When you didn’t reply, his fingers prodded at your side — a promise to tickle you if you didn’t humour him right now.

“Say it again! Who am I?”

“You’re my dovey.”

“And who are you?”

You struggled to fight the urge to curl up into yourself as you answered him, “I’m your lovey.”

“And what are we together?” Bokuto brought his face closer to yours, his eyes going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

“We’re lovey dovey.” You completed it with a pair of awkward jazz hands.

With that, Bokuto’s face split into a blinding smile as his laughter rang through the living room. He brought you tight into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes! I knew you could do it, lovey!” Your cheeks grew warm as you were subjected to his rain of kisses on your face. 

Pulling him in for one last kiss to your lips, you whispered, “I love you so much, Kou.”

– – – – –

He knew how he was always the first thing on your mind; you’d put him as your first priority without fail, no matter how busy you were, even when he hadn’t put you as his.

– – – – –

Bokuto stared up at the crisp, white ceiling — hospitals were never a fun place to be in. He was broken from his thoughts when the door to his room burst open, revealing you in your ever-ethereal work clothes rushing toward him.

“Babe! Are you alright?” Stopping at the side of his bed, you brought his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

Bokuto let out a light laugh as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yeah, it’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing to worry about, honey.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? Your coach said that you’d have to be out for two weeks!”

“That’s not too much! It’s not like I’ll be missing the whole season, angel.”

“But, Kou, you also have to–”

Bokuto stopped your worried rambling as he pulled you down, giving you a soft kiss on your lips and cheeks. He gave you a smile.

“Stop worrying, baby! Everything will be fine because I have the cutest, smartest, and kindest nurse to help me recover, right?”

“And who’s that?” You sent him a teasing look as your hands shuffled through your pockets looking for your phone.

“You, silly!” He paused before staring up at you in concern. “You are going to take care of me, right, baby?”

“I don’t know about that, Kou. Work has been hectic lately.” You pulled out your phone.

“But I’m injured! And I’m your boyfriend too! You can’t just leave your injured boyfriend alone to fend for himself! Baby!” Walking away from his bed, you exited the hospital room, tapping away on your phone.

A few minutes passed before you returned, seeing Bokuto sulking in the hospital bed, a familiar pout on his lips.

Your eyes softened as you gave him a smile. “Guess who just got two weeks off?”

– – – – –

The foundation of your relationship was built upon the fact that the two of you knew each other like no other; you loved each other like no other.

So how had everything culminated into such a mess?

“Bokuto.” You felt the way his body stiffened as you called his name.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “honey?”

“Do you remember what I told you a couple years ago? About what I thought of love?”

Feeling a prickling sensation in his nose, Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out a few tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

His voice came out hoarse and weak as he whispered, “I could never forget.”

– – – – –

The sky was enveloped in a cloak of darkness, but not even the onslaught of exhaustion could prevent the two of you from leaning back on the picnic blanket to stare up at the shimmering stars.

“Baby?” Bokuto turned his head to where you lay beside him. You hummed in response, half of your attention taken by the stars.

“What do you think about love?”

You raised an eyebrow, rolling onto your side to fully look at your boyfriend.

The moonlight casted harsh shadows on his face, but the way he looked at you — eyes sparkling with curiosity and the corners of his lips curled into a light smile — softened the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“Where did that question come from?” You raised a hand to lightly trace over the curves and slopes of his face; your thumb caressed his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Answer my question first, and then I’ll tell you.” His eyes turned into little crescent moons as he smiled at you. “Deal?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Hm, three kisses please,” you said, wiggling three of your fingers.

Bokuto laughed, indulging you with a kiss to both of your cheeks and a final kiss to your lips.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled. “You asked me what I think about love?”

He nodded.

“Well,” you sighed, turning back to face the midnight sky above you, “I think that love is like the sky — the sun, to be specific. It’s always changing, and everything is so unpredictable about it. There’s so much potential for destruction in what the sky holds. But, there’s always one constant. Do you know what it is, Kou?” You looked at him.

“What is it, angel?” His golden eyes glimmered, as if they were holding stars themselves.

Adjusting your position on the picnic blanket (you curled closer into Bokuto, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders), you continued, “It’s the sun. No matter how much it rains or snows or whatever weather catastrophe is happening, the sun is always going to be there. Sure, you can have multiple suns like those Star Wars planets, but…” you trailed off, looking into his eyes. “... I think I’m happy with my one sunshine.”

Bokuto, ever the romantic, pulled you into a nearly-bone-crushing hug as he laughed into your shoulder. After peppering kisses to your neck and jaw, he pulled away to look at you. He sported the brightest smile, but something sparkled behind those eyes of his.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re getting cheesier than me.”

You groaned, leaning away from him, “Shut up, Kou!”

He giggled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Now let’s get home before these mosquitoes eat us alive, honey.”

“And then you’ll tell me where you got that question from?”

“Of course, honey! I never break a deal!”

– – – – –

How could he forget what you said? Every word you’ve ever spoken to him, he’s grasped onto like a lifeline, as if they would be your last. He was so close to bursting — so close to pulling himself off of your lap, looking into your pretty eyes, grasping your shoulders, and yelling at you, screaming at you, asking why you would think he could ever forget anything about you. How dare you think he could ever forget anything about you?

But he couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore.

He didn’t realise that you’d gone silent — his world had gone silent — until your sniffles broke his reverie. His arms tightened around your waist as his head nuzzled into your stomach once again; it was a broken act of comfort.

“Honey,” the edges of his voice cracked as he called out for you. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t… don’t stay quiet.”

Being met with another bout of silence was almost excruciating. Bokuto was struggling to keep himself together, to keep his head above the water before he drowned in his thoughts of losing you.

He launched himself up from your lap, grabbing your face with shaky hands. He had tears running down his face once again. His face was blotchy, and his hair was a mess. He was a mess.

“Please, lovey,” he whispered. If you stayed silent just one minute longer, he’d collapse. He was sure of it. Fighting the urge to just sit himself in your lap, pull you tight against him, and beg you not to leave, Bokuto settled with caressing the skin under your shirt.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I forgot to tell you one thing that night.” You moved your hand from where it was resting in his hair back to your side; he tensed at the loss of your touch.

He swallowed, his anxiety began to pile up once again. “What’d you forget, baby?”

“Even though the sun” — your voice cracked — “is a constant, sometimes it can be too much. Burn too bright and dry up everything underneath the sky. Sometimes...” you paused to take a deep breath, trying to swallow back the lump that was growing in your throat. “Sometimes the sun can do even worse harm than anything the sky could do.”

Bokuto could feel the gradual increase of his heartbeat. He shook his head, his fingers involuntarily digging into your skin. No, no, you didn’t mean that. You couldn’t mean that. If you did he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” you murmured, “I can’t stay here any longer.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent. His arms were shaking as he pulled you even closer into him. He was whispering something to himself.

“Bokuto, I’m being serious.” You tried to keep your voice stable but failed miserably — it all came out shaky, your tone uneven. “Let me go.”

His whispers grew louder until you could finally understand what he was saying.

“No, no. This isn’t real. I love you. I love you. No, don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I love you.”

You called his name. Once, twice, thrice. As you called for him, his whispers grew to full-blown cries.

“Bokuto!”

“I’M SORRY DON’T LEAVE ME!”

But the only thing your eyes chose to focus on was the trail of red and purple leading down his neck.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes, a feeling that had grown familiar to you in the past few hours.

Bokuto caught the wandering of your eyes down his neck, a faraway mist muddled the irises he loved gazing into; he realised what you were staring at, forcing down a choked sob. He clenched his jaw, violently cursing himself for making you feel like you weren’t enough, like you weren’t the one keeping him standing straight.

Like you weren’t his sun, moon, stars, and whatever else you filled the fucking sky with.

He gently moved your head, trying to get you to look back into his eyes and away from the bruised mistake that marred his skin. His thoughts only filled with one thing — “Come back to me, baby.”

Waves of relief crashed against him once you met his eyes.

“Baby– Angel– I’m so– I don’t– Please–” Bokuto struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Not when you stared at him with an iciness that pierced his heart every time he looked back into your eyes, hoping to find even the smallest trace of love left for him.

He let out a rough sigh, frustrated with his inability to speak through the racing of his heart. His hands, still cupping your face, lightly squeezed your cheeks to ground himself. He looked back to you, his eyes swimming with even more tears, trying to send a message to you that he couldn’t put into words.

You looked away from him, focusing on the ticking clock on the wall as you gnawed your lip. A question had been running through your mind ever since he cracked into your resolve to leave and pulled you to the sofa, laying his head in your lap.

Your eyes turned back to him.

“Can you tell me something, Bokuto?”

“Yes, yes, baby, of course. I’ll do anything you want.” He eagerly nodded, a small spark of hope sparkled within him.

“Why’d you lie?”

He felt as though you just dumped him into one of Atsumu’s god-awful ice baths.

“What’re you saying, angel?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Earlier,” you croaked. “I asked you earlier how long you’ve been” — you couldn’t say that word; it’d hurt too much — “messing around.”

A glint of recognition passed his eyes.

Continuing, you forced your voice out, even though it grew weaker the more you tried to hide your pain, “You said that it was just this once. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it?”

Fuck. Bokuto took his hands away from your face, opting to grasp one of your hands in his. He gave your knuckles a kiss before looking back at you, his eyes teeming with unadulterated guilt and desperation.

“I-I knew them before this ever happened. We met at one of the team parties, but you weren’t there because you were at work.” He saw a glimpse of darkness shadow over your face, and his heartbeat picked up again (not that it ever really settled). “But we never did anything! Not until last night, at least.” His voice grew quiet at the end.

“And never once did it occur to you to tell them that you were taken?”

Bokuto’s lips started trembling — no doubt he’d begin crying again. He looked down, trying to avoid your glare, but his grip on your hand never loosened.

“Please, baby. I’m so sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up in the worst way possible. But I promise you, I never did anything with them before. We just talked at that one party. I promise you that. I promise, honey.”

The look in your eyes became even colder, even more distant; something akin to hatred was present as well. No, this couldn’t be happening. His worst nightmare was coming true. You’d finally learned the truth and were going to leave him. You might have called him your sunshine that one night two years ago, but, to him, you were his oxygen — without you, he was truly nothing. Just a corpse of a man, not worth wasting a breath on.

He was losing you. Again.

“I’m leaving, Bokuto.” You roughly pulled your hand from his grasp, ignoring his cries for you to please stop, to listen for just a minute longer. “Don’t you dare try to look for me.”

Bokuto whimpered, following you to where you were trying to pick up your bags in your haste of anger. Once again, he tugged at the straps, trying to steal them away from you, but his arms grew weak at the scowl pointed his way.

His breath quickened, and his heart raced. He was panicking, grasping at straws to have to rethink your choice and stay with him so he could apologise for the rest of both of your lives. He’d spend the remainder of eternity begging for your forgiveness if only you’d just stay with him.

But he couldn’t say a word. Not with his blinded panic, and definitely not with the terrible, agonising look you were giving him as you stared back at him.

Was this how you felt when he’d walked out on you last night? Hopeless. Defenseless. As if you weren’t even worth a grain of sand underneath the other’s shoe.

“Lovey, I’m sorry!” Bokuto cried out one more time, hoping that he’d reach out to whatever small piece of love you still held for him. “I said I’m sorry! Please just forgive me, don’t leave me. Please! I’m begging you! Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it a million times over. Just, please,” he quieted to a whisper, just barely reaching your ears, “stay with me, and we can get through this together.”

His face crumpled as he heard your responding scoff.

“There’s no more ‘together’ for us, Bokuto.”

Your words stung — well, they stung as much as a gunshot or a knife to the heart would sting. He pressed on, desperate to get you to hear him out.

“I’m your sunshine, right? Your dovey. Your babe. Your pretty boy. Your Koutarou. Right?” He gripped onto the hem of his shirt, balling his hands into fists. “No matter what you call me, I’m yours. And I always will be. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop looking for you. You know why?”

You stayed silent.

“Because I am just as much your sun as you are mine.”

His words echoed in your mind — that twisted, gnawing feeling came back in your gut. You knew that if you stayed for one more minute, it’d be over for you, and you’d go running back into his arms that always held you so tightly. Into his arms that smelt like home. Into his arms that made you feel like you were on top of the world as long as he was by your side. Into his arms that held onto another once the two of you reached a rough patch.

You made your decision.

“Koutarou…” His head snapped up to look at you, his eyes wide and glittering with a false sense of hope. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.”

There was another feeling growing within Bokuto. It was ugly, festering in the deepest parts of his mind — coming from a place that refused to acknowledge his faults. This feeling, it blamed

you. Why would you hurt him like this? How could you hurt him like this? You said he was your sunshine, your dovey, your Koutarou! How cruel could you be to lead him on, calling him ‘Koutarou’ again? You said you loved him!

“Don’t leave me!” He raised his voice. This feeling was taking over him, and it was angry. “If you leave, I’ll-I’ll…” His voice trailed off as he tried to regain control of himself.

Your brows furrowed. He still had the energy to yell, huh?

“You’ll what?” You took a step toward him. He looked away from you, trying to avoid your burning gaze. “Tell me, Koutarou. What will you do if I leave?”

He shook his head; you knew what that meant — “I won’t say it.”

“You’ll go back to them, won’t you?” you scoffed. “Have fun, Koutarou.”

Adjusting the straps of your bags, you gave him one last glare before moving toward the door once more.

That feeling came back in Bokuto’s mind, and it was stronger than ever. Pounding against the walls he built up, it roared, telling him to make you regret hurting him, make you think twice about leaving him. Bokuto was panicking, his will to beg you to stay was growing weaker as the feeling inside him became increasingly angry at you for causing him so much pain.

He knew he’d regret the next words he’d say to you, but that realisation came a second too late.

“I’ll never forgive you!”

You froze. Turning back around to face him, your eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you leave me, I’ll never forgive you!”

His eyes were burning into you, a raging fire behind them.

“You’ll never forgive me?” you spat.

As quickly as the fire grew, it was extinguished as Bokuto’s expression morphed into one of shock.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean it! I promi–”

Dropping your bags by the door, you strided toward his figure. Pushing him against the wall, you pulled him in by the collar, melding his lips with yours.

The kiss was rough, angry, desperate — an amalgamation of everything you’ve felt in the past few hours going back and forth with Bokuto.

You pushed yourself into the space between his legs as he finally recovered from his shock and tried to match your tempo, his hands pulling you close into his body. Your teeth clashed together, and you had half the mind to bite his tongue in your mouth, but you held back.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you pulled his head back, ignoring his small, pained whine. The offensive mess of red and purple blotches still covered the expanse of his neck. A scowl grew on your face.

Bokuto yelped as he felt your lips latch onto his neck, sucking your own bruises over the ones already existing from his escapade. You were rough, unrelenting in your nearly-primal way of claiming him.

Trying to ignore your satisfaction from hearing his whimpers of your name, you pulled away, looking at your series of marks covering the ones from his other lover. The two of you were left panting — him trying to meet your eyes and you trying to avoid looking at him at all costs.

Leaning into his ear, you placed a gentle bite on his lobe. He tensed ever-so-slightly.

“You’ll never forgive me if I leave?” you hummed.

His hands that were under your shirt, roaming across your back, froze.

“B-Baby, wait, I didn’t–” He tried to plead with you until your next words completely shattered what was left of his broken, battered heart.

“I think I can live with that.”

You quickly backed away from him, evading his attempts to grab at your waist to stop you from leaving, and picked up your bags by the door. Looking back at him one last time, you nearly broke your facade.

After all he’s done, you still loved your Koutarou — no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise — and seeing him on his knees, sobbing, begging you not to leave for the umpteenth time, your will was wearing thin.

“Goodbye, Koutarou.”

The slam of the front door echoed across the remnants of his shattered heart and all he had the strength to do was cry. Pulling at the strands of his hair, he sobbed, begging into the air, weeping with no one to listen to him.

Without you, his world had no sky; everything was bathed in the shadow of your absence.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

tags: @katelyns-stuff @random-fandom-girl-24

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #gn!reader

[wandaromanova]

Fun Guns

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, mention of sex, mentions of needles, blood

A/N: hello! i’m obviously not in the medical field, so everything described, i got from google haha. hope y’all enjoy! happy reading <3

anon requested: nat got shot in the arm during the mission so doc!r (her gf and has a strict and serious personality) has do the operation but the thing is nat keeps flirting and flexing her muscles even she's bleeding

Summary: Y/N helps her girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, with an injury.

Word Count: 1.1K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

You looked up from the paper in your hand at the sound of commotion.

You got up from your stool and made your way over to the door. However, before you could make it there, it swung open and your girlfriend, Natasha, walked in with Steve and Tony trailing behind her.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the redhead clutching her left arm, blood pouring from beneath it.

“Hi, baby. I got shot in the arm and I need you to patch me up.” Natasha spoke so casually that you didn’t even register what she said at first. When you did, you stared at her like she had grown two heads.

You gave Steve a look and he nodded, grabbing Natasha’s other arm and walking her over to the medical table. You went over to a counter and placed on some gloves.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha was laid out on the table and you nodded to the two men in the room.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I can handle it from here. Did you guys need any help too?” Tony and Steve shook their heads.

“No, nothing some Tylenol can’t help.” Steve joked and you let out a small chuckle at that.

You watched as the two Avengers exited the room, leaving you alone with your girlfriend.

“I need to take your shirt off.” Natasha raised her eyebrows suggestively at you. You rolled your eyes at her and carefully helped her out of the material.

“I mean I don’t think having sex while I’m bleeding is a good idea, but I’m not against it.”

You softly grasped her arm and examined the injury, ignoring her flirting. The bullet wasn’t deep and there was no exit wound.

All you had to do was take the bullet out and close up the hole in her arm. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious.

You turned around and walked over to some shelves and drawers, retrieving the proper tools you’d need to extract the bullet and stitch up her arm.

You dragged your stool beside the bed and Natasha sent you a flirtatious smile.

“Doc, I think I’m hurt somewhere else, too.” Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it onto her abdomen, flexing her muscles.

You sent her a serious look and tore your hand out of her grip. You couldn’t believe she was flirting with you while she was literally bleeding.

“This is serious, Natasha. You’re lucky the bullet is in your arm and not somewhere fatal.”

You scolded your girlfriend, taking a needle and inserting it into her skin. It was an anesthetic that would numb the area, so Natasha wouldn’t feel a thing.

She was going to need it if you were going to shove some tweezers into her arm then stitch her skin back together.

“I’m fine, honey. You know I’ll always make it back to my favorite milf.”

You rolled your eyes at the title. Yeah, you had a five-year-old daughter. You were slightly older than Natasha.

She was 37 and you were 41. It was only a four-year gap, but Natasha never failed to tease you for the age difference.

You quickly went to work after a few minutes, just to be sure that the lidocaine had run its course.

You feared that the bullet would be hard to find, but luckily, it wasn’t. You had found it fairly easily and took it out, placing it onto a bedpan beside you.

Natasha was completely unfazed by the entire thing. This wasn’t her first time getting a bullet extracted. She was just completely entranced by you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She was basically gawking at you as you worked.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha admired the way your eyebrows would scrunch up in concentration, your tongue poking through your teeth as you tried to keep your hand steady.

Also, she absolutely loved how good you were at what you did. You were the best doctor in New York, which is why you were hired to work for the Avengers.

They definitely needed the best they could get considering the massive battles they always find themselves in.

Natasha had pursued you for quite a while, but you never exactly gave in. You were a professional and you knew that having a romantic relationship with a patient wasn’t right.

But she was Natasha fucking Romanoff; no one could resist her. So, eventually, after months of the redhead’s persistency, you had agreed to a date with the redhead and the rest was history.

“You almost done, doc?” Natasha asked as you placed the last few stitches into her arm. You snipped off the excess suture.

“I just finished. You know the drill, don’t move your arm around too much. You need to come back in a week or so to get them removed.”

You gave Natasha instructions as you cleaned up after yourself. However, the redhead extended her arm slowly, grabbing your wrist in her hand.

“Thank you, milfy.” You let out a small laugh at her words and Natasha smiled at the sound.

“You’re welcome, foxy.” You uttered the nickname that Natasha absolutely hated.

One day in the earlier stages of your relationship, you had referred to Natasha as a fox, her red hair reminding you of the animal.

The Russian absolutely hated it and practically fought you every time you’d call her by that name.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You’re suddenly not my favorite milf anymore.” Natasha mumbled, letting go of your wrist, allowing you to throw away the remaining trash.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh yeah? And who is your favorite milf now?” You teasingly asked, going to sit by her side once more.

“Wanda.” You let out a full-hearted laugh at her response. You shook your head frantically.

“Well, I don’t blame you. She’s my favorite milf too.” Natasha sent you a glare. You sharply raised your eyebrow at her.

“Don’t give me that look! You mentioned Wanda first!” Natasha pouted and you leaned forward, giving her a quick peck.

When you moved back, a wide smile was now spread across the assassin’s face.

“Seriously though, you need to be more careful. I know you have me to help you out, but that doesn’t mean you need to get hurt all the time.”

You frowned and Natasha stared into your eyes softly, her green irises shining with love.

“I promise I’ll be more careful, but you gotta admit that it’s fun being able to see these guns. Come on, admit it, it’s fun.”

Natasha flexed her good arm, showing off her toned muscles. She also clenched her stomach, accentuating her abs.

You let out a dramatic sigh, placing your hand on top of her stomach.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s fun to see those guns.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“See! I knew it. I knew you liked them.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

[tomorrowxforever]

Dom! Beomgyu NSFW A-Z

Fem!Reader

Contains: Not exactly smut but very VERY suggestive, fluff?

Warning(s): Mentions of pushing boundaries, Kinks mentioned: Somnophilia, Impact play, Hair pulling, Degradation, Public Sex, Brat taming

Note: Uh… it’s been a bit..

-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

At first, he wasn’t the best. At all. His ideas of aftercare was, get you a glass of water, wipe you down with some baby wipes, and make sure you weren’t in any pain. You gonna have to teach him that that just won’t cut it. And after a bit of teaching, he’s actually really good at aftercare. He’ll run you a bath, get you snacks and water. You won’t have to lift a finger for the next hour or two.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

My mans takes a lot of pride in his hair so imma say that that’s his favorite part of himself. He especially loves when you pet it and pull on it while he’s eating you out🥴

I think his favorite part of you are your hands. I’m not quite sure why I think this, but I just get the vibes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Okso-

He likes to talk a big game, talk about how he’s gonna fuck you full of his cum and fill all your holes and what not. But in reality, just the idea of going bareback makes him nervous.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He wants to fuck you while the rest of the boys watch🤭

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

I think you were probably his first. BUT he used to watch a lot of porn before you got together so he knows what to do and what he likes in theory. In practice it’s a whole different story tho.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Anything. Like Fr. My guy isn’t picky. As long as his dick is going into you he’s more than happy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

You kiddin me? This is Choi Beomgyu we’re talking about. Mans can’t be serious for shit!

Well, maybe that’s not 100% accurate. He’s serious if y’all’s making love. But if your just fucking to fuck? Yeah he’s a HUGE tease.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

I think after y’all start having sex regularly he’d want to keep him self neat and groomed but not bald. Strong believer that hair is natural and doesn’t matter.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

In the moment he’s so soft with you. It’s almost like he’s another person.

No more teasing or poking fun, he’s holding you as close as he can and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Your chests are pressed together, breath mingling. You can smell his body wash and see every mark on his face.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Haha yes.

He beats his lil Gyu frequently.

It’s not that he can’t seek you out whenever he’s horny, he just doesn’t wanna wait for you to get to him.

I’d say he ‘helps himself out’ at least 3-5 times a week.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

He’s literally down for anything.

He’ll try anything at least once, and if your into it he is most likely also into it.

Mainly:

Somnophilia

- Something about waking you up by eating you out, or you waking him up with a blowy, mmmmm

Impact play

- Beomgyu WILL slap you in the face. He will. And spank you😌

Hair pulling

- Duh

Degradation

Public Sex

- Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter when. If Beomgyu wants to fuck, he wants to fuck NOW.

Brat Taming

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

See previous statement

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Much like the other boys, he’s horny af 24/7

You could glance at him for a millisecond and he’s like LETS GOOOOOOO

But he is especially turned on by you being a brat.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Anything involving any bodily fluid other than spit and cum.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Gyu L O V E S eating you out. Loves it. If he were to die, being suffocated between your thighs, he’d die a happy man.

BUT he loves you sucking him if just a lil bit mores. Every time you wrap your hot mouth around his throbbing cock, he just melts into a puddle of ooey gooey Gyu.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Depends on his mood. But you best believe either are gonna be torture.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He’s 100% down.

Look man, Gyu isn’t picky. As long as he’s getting his dick wet he’s happy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

He’s big on experimentation.

Y’all try something new at least once a month.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Yes

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Um… Have you been paying attention?

Gyu is an ass and a huge tease. If it makes you cry and squirm and then cum, he’ll do it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Haha

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Beomgyu couldn’t be quiet if he tried. He’s talking the whole time. And when he’s not talking he’s letting out the prettiest whines and moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He is big on degradation, but one time he took it too far and actually hurt your feelings. He felt so bad that he refused to even touch you for a whole week and a half.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Ok so, he isn’t the biggest in the group. But he definitely isn’t the smallest. Probably like second biggest. Just not v girthy, but girthy enough that you feel the stretch

5 1/2 - 6 inches

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Anytime. Anywhere.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

After he’s done taking care of you, it’s 50/50. Either he gets a random burst of energy and wants to like, clean the entire house. Or he’s out

#txt #txt x reader #txt headcanons #txt reactions #tomorrow x together #txt smut #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #beomgyu smut #Choi Beomgyu smut

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

Summary: Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B has other plans for them.

Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.

Word Count: 24k

A/N: Here we goooo! To celebrate the trailer dropping today, here’s part two to Devils Roll The Dice. If you haven’t read the first part, I suggest you read it and come back so this makes sense. This one has all the drama and spice, so buckle up! Thank you for the love and support on the first part. Let me know if you enjoyed this and have fun, cause I had a blast writing it.

Hurricane Agatha.

It was the first thing she heard about as soon as she woke up yesterday to the sound of her phone blaring with an obnoxious tone that reminds her of waking up too early in the morning for work or school.

Her sleepy eyes couldn't make out who was calling, so she pressed the button to answer and lifted the phone to hear her mom's voice squawking through the speaker at her about the hurricane projected to hit the island in the middle of the night tonight.

The problem is, her parents are out of town this week, leaving her all alone to prep the house and endure the storm alone. And for someone who flinches whenever she thinks she hears the sound of thunder in the sky, that is the worst it can get.

It's a fear her friends are conscious of. One time when they were out on the HMS Pogue, a quick summer storm started to drift overhead and it took all of her self control to not fall into a blind panic when thunder began to rumble above. John B was already steering them back in the direction of the Chateau but she knew it would do nothing to calm her nerves until she was back inside of the house.

The anxiety was starting to become too overwhelming when JJ sat down beside her and threw his arm over her shoulder. It was their first month of knowing one another, so the casual friendly gesture made her jump at first and turn her head to look at him, but he acted like everything was normal.

The next person to notice was John B. With JJ currently out of commission, the only person she thought to call to help her prep the house for the incoming storm was him. Since they never got hurricanes up where she used to live her whole life, she needed someone who's been through a couple to help her while her parents weren't home.

That's how she ended up here. Sweating bullets in the front yard of her house as she unloads the contents of the van with John B was not how she envisioned her Saturday night to go, but she's glad she has someone who's willing to help.

In the past five months of being with the Pogues, she's learned that it's lovely to have friends. She never used to have any before she moved, so in situations like this or when she got so drunk at the party, she never would've had anyone to be there for her. It's quiet moments of kindness and companionship like this that make her realize how much better life has been on the other side of uprooting everything to move here—self-inflicted boy drama and all.

The sandbag on her shoulder sends a growing ache through her back muscles with every step she takes to follow him up the length of unpaved dirt path up to her front door. As usual, he makes it look way easier than it is, and it almost makes her want to laugh at how different they are.

Most of her new friends are effortless, naturally picking up anything they decide to try at while she is inept by comparison. It's part of what attracted her to JJ in the first place. He may have his insecurities the same way every other individual does, but in her eyes, he has nothing to be insecure of. Even when he wipes out on a wave and appears out of the water with sand clumped in his salt-kissed strands of blonde hair, he manages to make it look cool.

"What are you smiling about?"

John B's laughter makes her look up from where she concentrated on the dirt path to see him looking back at her. He stands at the entrance to her house with the rest of the sandbags they carried up placed meticulously in front of the door to prevent water from entering the house. They did the same thing with the back door an hour ago.

Is she smiling? She hadn't even realized her expression changed from one of exhaustion and fear at the dark clouds closing in above to a grin, so her face instantly drops in guilt. After running out on JJ for the second time two days ago to go to work, any mention of him from their friends has left her drowning in shame.

She can't recall the bulk of her memories from the night of the Fourth of July party, but she fills in the gaps between those flashes of memory with what their friends told her about it.

Thanks to her overindulgence, there are holes poked in the fabric of her memory.

It jumps from her last fully sober moment of seeing JJ across the room with the kook girl to dancing clumsily with Kie to the floral scent of her makeup wipes that she can't attach a specific visual image to.

Then, she can remember waking up with a start in the middle of the night to throw up in a pot beside the bed while he held back her hair. Before John B explained it, she was quite confused after waking up about how she somehow got from being jealous over JJ flirting with another girl to waking up in the same bed as him.

She grunts as she plops the last sandbag down into place and decides to take a seat on the steps leading up to the door.

"It wasn't anything special," Y/N says and watches him come down to sit next to her, "I was just thinking about taking something so I can pass out and avoid having a panic attack over this stupid storm."

Unlike JJ, she isn't that skilled of a liar. It's obvious to anyone who knows her well when she does it based on the way her eye contact begins to drift away and her voice raises in pitch when she speaks. She's too honest with her friends to handle keeping secrets from them, which is why it's been so difficult for her with everything that has happened recently. Not only does she lie to the Pogues, she also avoids them by association in the process of trying to avoid JJ.

Regardless of how obvious her bluffing is, John B doesn't call her out on it. Instead, he focuses on a different part of what she said.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay alone? I know your parents are out of town till next week..." he trails off into concerned silence.

The tip of her sneaker hangs off of the edge of the bottom step and absentmindedly digs a line into the dirt as she takes in his question.

Being alone when she's prone to panicking is a recipe for disaster. Anxiety and loneliness have a relationship similar to that of a weapon and ammunition. It takes very little for her to fall down the rabbit hole of obsessive thinking and break down into a hyperventilating, fearful mess, especially when no one else is there to tug her out of those dark thoughts.

Most of the time, the people who help her with that are her parents. If they're home during one of these episodes, she'll come stumbling downstairs to them from her room for help, and they'll do everything they can to bring her down from hysterics. Her friends, on the other hand, have yet to witness her have one of those moments.

"Having people with me helps, you know? But it is what it is, I'll just try to cope the best I can and hope for the best."

He nods, and though he's a portrait of understanding, she wonders if he finds it as juvenile and stupid as she does.

Logically, she knows that this anxiety is something many people experience. She understands that it's something that is mostly out of her control but can't help but tear herself apart over it.

She thinks to herself, What kind of weirdo can't sit inside during a thunderstorm or hurricane without losing their shit? Why am I not the one in control of my own mind when this happens?

Do her friends think similar things? Do they think it's as pathetic as she does, or is she just paranoid that they pick her flaws apart as much as she does? And, of course, she wonders what JJ would think if he saw her panic like that. He may have seen her start to become anxious on the HMS Pogue, but he hasn't seen her panic panic before, not in the way that her parents have, and she wonders if he'd think less of her for it.

Right when she's about to change the topic and steer him away from a chance to think of how ridiculous she's being about the approaching hurricane, he says something that makes her look back over at him.

"Then come spend the night at the Chateau. I can distract you. We can play board games and shit."

"Really?" she asks.

The idea of anyone wanting to waste an entire night playing board games and possibly signing themselves up for having to talk her down from a panic attack makes her heart melt.

"Yeah, why not? You need a friend tonight. You know any of us would do anything for you. You're like my little sister, dude, we'd all probably hack off a limb if we thought it'd help you. Especially JJ."

John B's last second name-drop is designed specifically for where he wants this conversation to go. Underneath the need to get his friends back to normal, he does feel a little guilty for having to do this. She thinks he's only offering to let her stay with him to help her—and he is, even if there weren't a rift between her and JJ, he'd still offer—but he has a different reason.

"Right," she says softly. "Speaking of which...is he gonna be there tonight?"

With how often he escapes his house to spend a night or two in temporary safety at the Chateau, it's not an unfounded assumption. He and John B spend more time together than any of them because of this, and when she goes over to hang out, she knows that he and JJ often come as a package deal.

He tries to play it cool and not give up anything that could make her suspicious of him, looking off at the van parked in the driveway as he takes a second to collect his thoughts. It's never easy for him to deceive people he cares about, even if it's for their own good. It wasn't easy when he invited JJ to spend the night a few hours ago with the knowledge that he'd soon invite Y/N too either, but he managed.

As always, Pope is the brains behind this operation. He was the one to suggest inviting them both over to wait out Agatha together when the three of them put their heads together to come up with a solution to their oblivious friends' drama. After JJ stormed out of the house the morning after the party, they knew they had to do something about it. This was what it came to.

"Nah. I offered but he said he's staying at home until this whole thing blows over."

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

She knows JJ well enough to know that he would literally rather eat glass than be trapped in a confined space with his dad for an entire day. Perhaps it's only because it's what she wants to believe. She wants to believe that she won't have to see him again tonight after everything that happened. How can she handle having to tell him why got so drunk that night and made an ass of herself? She can't bear to tell him all of that unnecessary drama started because she was jealous.

What right does she have to feel that way? He isn't hers. They aren't together, and she thinks it's quite obvious that he doesn't want a relationship out of whatever it is they have together. It was one night. She has no right to be mad at him for flirting with other girls because of it.

"Then I'll definitely be taking you up on that offer. Thank you," she says.

The old wooden stairs make a squealing sound when she stands to make her way inside to gather her things for the night, but the feeling of a warm hand gripping her forearm stops her mid-step. Her eyes follow down the length of her arm back to where he sits, glancing at her with this knowing look in his eyes that makes her want to turn and hide.

"When are you gonna talk things out with him, Y/N?" he asks. "He misses you."

Since the party, no one has had the courage to burst her bubble of pretending not to care until now, but now that someone has, all of her bottled up emotions stir inside of her at a simple concept she hadn't considered yet.

JJ misses her.

For the first time since they began this stupid game of cat and mouse, she is confronted with how desperately she misses him back. So consumed with the task of concealing everything that happened and trying to avoid him, she hadn't acknowledged that all she ever really wants is to be with him lately.

She misses his jokes and the way he looks at her when she giggles at them. She misses his smile when they play fight on the HMS Pogue. She even misses when he dangles her over the edge of the boat as a means to end the wrestling match, making her squirm in his strong hold as he threatens to toss her overboard.

But what she misses most of all is how he never lets her fall in. It's something about the way he looks at her as he pulls her back onboard, how time itself seems to stop in the moment between when he's still holding her and when she feels her feet touch the deck again.

Then, they'll suddenly want nothing to do with each other for the next half hour.

JJ will make himself busy forgetting the way her hands felt holding onto his shoulders for dear life, burning the memory of her palm prints into his skin for the next few hours. And she'll try her hardest to forget that charming smile and the feeling of his arms around her. But it won't work, not really, and when they're both laying down to sleep at night, they'll have one thing keeping them awake.

She takes a second to internalize what he said and avoid exposing the effect it has on her to hear it before asking, "Did he tell you that?"

The sky overhead grows darker and darker by the second, but she has yet to notice it due to the topic of their conversation. With JJ involved, her attention shrinks to a tunnel leading only to him. There's no room for anything else but the audacious idea planted in the back of her mind that he might miss her as much as she misses him.

"No, he didn't," John B admits, and right when she's about to say more in response, he cuts her off, "but hear me out. I've known him since we were kids, so I can tell when things aren't right with him, and ever since your relationship with him got complicated, I picked up on some weird vibes."

Y/N doesn't give anything away with how she reacts. He can't tell if she's about to bolt like JJ did or stay to talk and open up to him. All she does is cross her arms over her chest and lean back against the railing.

"Weird in what way?"

"Weird in a way that makes me think you two have to talk it out before you ruin your friendship. I've never seen him act this way over a girl."

That doesn't surprise her. He has a reputation for chasing after any girl available to him, something the Pogues have gently teased him about, and it factors into why she doesn't want to have this dreaded conversation with him. She doesn't want to sit there and listen to him tell her that she was just another one of those girls to him.

Going for broke and being honest about what he thinks of their situation is a better strategy for trying to get her to talk to JJ than the other way around. John B can look back on what happened the morning after the party and see where they went wrong in their approach of trying to get him to talk, but she's less unpredictable and turbulent than he is. The fact that she's hearing him out is enough proof of their differences.

She sighs.

"I know we need to talk sooner or later, but it's hard, you know? I'm so embarrassed of how everything went down at the party, even though I was too fucked up to remember most of it, and I just—" There's a brief second that lapses between when she stops and when she starts again where he can almost see her working through it in her head. "I don't wanna get hurt."

John B's face falls at the mention of the party and her feelings surrounding it.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed of. You drank too much but who cares? The only person who should be embarrassed about that night is the guy that tried to take advantage of you."

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

She can remember what led up to it and the moment she saw JJ pull him away from her, but she can't remember anything about the interaction itself. It wasn't as if he did anything to her—not yet—but the thought of it alone makes her skin crawl because she's seen that before. She's been the JJ in that situation, pulling a wasted Touron away from someone who thought nobody would be looking out for other people at the party, and she knows how quickly those situations can escalate past "harmless" flirting.

The sound of JJ shouting at Tyler echoes in her mind as she reaches for any remaining memories left from the party. He said it right after he punched him, when he was starting to rush forward to follow him onto the ground and pin him there.

"If I see you near my girl again, you're fucking dead! You got that?"

She doesn't remember realizing that he called her that at the moment. She was confused and upset and all she wanted to do was stop him from getting himself in trouble, so she pulled him away from hitting Tyler again without realizing what he said. And even now, she tries to avoid acknowledging it. She reasons with herself, telling herself that he was pissed off and didn't mean it, because if he did, why hasn't he told her how he feels yet?

Y/N looks up and sees how dark the converging clouds have gotten in the time since they began working on prepping the house for the hurricane, so her next words are shakier than usual.

"I guess you're right." She pushes off of her spot against the railing. "But can we not talk about JJ tonight? I kind of wanna hang out and forget about the rest of the stuff I've got going on right now."

This makes him feel a pang of guilt inside of him for the ulterior motive he's kept hidden from her for the duration of the conversation, but he knows it's for the best. Even if her and JJ's inevitable conversation goes in the wrong direction and they don't end up mending fences, it's better that they let it out sooner than later. If they wait any longer, it'll make it worse, and he knows that they're stubborn enough to keep this childish game going for another week or so.

So, he keeps her in the dark for now and offers a kind, "Sure, that's cool with me," despite knowing how messy the night will soon become.

A smile pokes at the edges of her mouth, making the sides of her eyes crinkle, and she extends a hand to help him up from where he sits.

"Now," she says as they make their way inside the house for her to pack a bag, "are you ready to get absolutely crushed in Monopoly?"

It started to rain before they left her house, and by the time they pull into the driveway of the Chateau, it's pouring down on them with violent winds whipping droplets at their faces hard enough to hurt.

The rapid pace of her pulse beats with such an intensity, she can feel it in her head. They shouldn't have taken so much time at her place before heading over here. While she was packing, they talked and dilly-dallied the whole time, and now they pay the price for it.

If she knew that it would start this soon into the night, she probably would've hurried things along sooner, but it's too late. She's already starting to feel that tightness in her chest and each breath of air feels less satisfying with every inhale. It's not so bad that she loses complete control of herself, but it's getting there, and she can't express how badly she doesn't want to lose her shit in front of John B.

The passenger side door is slammed shut by the force of the wind behind her, the noise becoming swallowed up in the rest of the budding storm, and she stifles a sound of surprise that escapes her in reaction to it. They're lucky they made it here in the first place. Any later in the night and they probably would've had to take refuge at her place until it blew over.

She decides to focus on how the edges of her white sneakers are swallowed up by the muddy earth on her way through the front yard to distract herself. It stains them a deep brown color and simultaneously washes them clean from the rain coming down from above, which she'd probably be annoyed about if she weren't such a nervous wreck. But, because she's too busy keeping her backpack raised over her head to shield herself from the rain on her way up to the front door, it's not high up on her list of priorities.

Since both the screen door and the door behind it are unlocked, she doesn't hesitate to come bursting into the house as she usually does.

Y/N lets out a deep breath, feeling that telltale tension in her chest and shoulders, and laughs at the sight of John B running in as she kicks off her shoes. His t-shirt is speckled with rainwater, and his hair is saturated enough with it to stick to the sides of his face after he crosses the threshold into the Chateau.

The sound of her laughter makes JJ's heart stop from where he stands in the kitchen.

"There was an umbrella right on the dashboard, why didn't you take—"

Her heart might as well have stopped just as abruptly as the sentence she was in the middle of saying when she turned and saw him standing there.

Maybe they're both a tad too dramatic, but it takes a full few seconds for them to stop staring at each other in surprise. He looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide with surprise like he was caught doing something he shouldn't even though all he was doing was grabbing a beer from the fridge.

It's been two days since they last saw each other. For him, the last glimpse he got of her was when he peeked through the blinds to see her pedaling away on her bike to go to work, but hers was somewhat different.

The last time she saw him, he was asleep. Their legs were tangled together underneath the sheets and his face was smushed against her chest, allowing her to feel the soft puffs of his exhales on her skin every few seconds. It's a wonder that she managed to slip away unnoticed once she remembered she had work that morning. He was holding her closely, so closely that she found it hard to discern where she ended and he began in the dazed, hungover headspace she woke up in.

It's when the conversation she had with John B on the front steps of her house comes back to the forefront of her mind that she puts together what's happening right now. Now that they're here, it's far too late to leave. With how aggressively the wind and rain batter the area surrounding the house, it's obvious that they're not going anywhere.

It seems to click with them at the same time, because JJ turns to look at him only a half second after she does.

Y/N says, completely serious, "If you did what I think you did, I'm gonna kill you."

Before either of them can think of doing anything, John B shoots out from the doorway and runs past her in the direction of the hallway where his bedroom is.

"Gotta catch me first!"

They both chase him, JJ hopping over the back of the couch to run after him, but they end up coming to a screeching halt at the shut door right when they hear the lock turn and click.

Neither of them knows what they were planning to do when they caught him, cause it isn't like they'd hurt him, but they bang on the door nonetheless. The sound is drowned out by the sound of the wind and rain pounding the outside walls of the house, picking up speed, and for a second she wants to kick the door open.

She shouts, "John B! Open this door!"

The last thing she wanted tonight was to be trapped in a house with the one person she didn't want to see. Doesn't John B realize how embarrassing it is for her to be around him when she knows that he's gonna reject her? He may have said something about JJ never acting so weird over a girl before, but he's wrong. There's no way JJ actually wants her...right?

"I can't hear you, this storm's kinda loud!" he yells back at them through the locked door. "Maybe try again later!"

Neither of them wants to acknowledge the other. In fact, they don't even want to look at each other right now, so all they can do to stop themselves from acknowledging the elephant in the room is continue trying to get answers out of John B. What does he think that locking them together in the Chateau for the night will accomplish other than make them ignore their own drama and team up to plot their revenge on him?

Though he's significantly less angry than she is, JJ pulls the doorknob enough to make the door whine on its hinges and pleads with their friend, "This isn't funny, John B. Open the door."

"Not until you guys stop being immature and talk to each other."

She furrows her brows at him even though he can't see her, saying, "It's none of your business. You can't just trap us here cause you think you know what's best for us."

The sound of thunder rumbling above the house makes her flinch, hand shooting out to latch onto JJ's arm on an instinct she couldn't consciously resist. Feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm and the fingers clutched around his wrist sends shocks of familiar electricity up her body. Touching him always makes her feel hyperaware of herself, leaving her to wonder if he can sense her pulse picking up or notice how her breathing pattern turns uneven.

With that being said, it's safe to say that the night they spent together took that sensation of electricity and hyperawareness to a height it hadn't reached before.

That time, it wasn't a brush of their hands or an arm over her shoulder, it was the epitome of physical closeness. She couldn't handle it. He was so sickeningly sweet with her, yet, at the same time, he knew all of the right times to be commanding and in control too. There were awkward moments at first, sure, but once they became comfortable with each other, it was game over.

And whenever they've touched since, she hasn't been able to get those memories off of her mind. It's less prevalent now, since she's only holding onto him out of fear, but it's still there underneath it all—the unfiltered desperation of the lust in his eyes, the low noises that escaped his parted lips, and the strong pair of hands that pinned her hips down on the mattress to give him the leverage to really give it to her at the intensity she begged for.

It's pathetically easy for her to be sucked right back into the vortex of emotions, memories, and fears that haunt her whenever they touch, but he brings her back out of it just as easily when he speaks.

"You okay?"

John B was as good as forgotten by him as soon as he felt her jolt next to him and grab onto his wrist like she was hanging from a ravine and he was the only thing preventing her from falling. It makes him feel like a fool, but even when they're ignoring each other, the urge to comfort and protect her from anything that displeases her never disappears. He'd literally fistfight Zeus if it meant there'd be less thunder to scare her.

If he weren't hiding behind a locked door to avoid their wrath, JB would probably be calling him a simp right about now.

The concern on his face is so pure and unaffected by any of the chaos that surrounds them, both physical and emotional, that it makes her stomach turn with a sick feeling. God, he really does care about her. Why does that scare her? Why doesn't she want to believe that he cares? Why is she so set on believing that he wanted nothing more than a quick fuck from her?

Her eyes turn down to see their connected hands, realizing all in one moment what she did and pulling her hand away as if she were burned.

"I—Yeah," she stops, looking up at him, then back to the closed bedroom door, "I'm fine. You know how it is, it's just the storm."

They're both left with no choice but to face the music after days of avoidance that had no good reason behind it other than the respective doubts and fears they have. Yet even now that they're standing here, unsure of what comes next, they're hesitant to say or do anything that might disrupt the illusion they've created in the week and a half since they first ruined their friendship for good.

It feels as though the tension that has been boiling between them is coming close to turning explosive and all it will take is one tremor of their self-control for it to spill over.

Every feeling they have feels so contradictory. They want to but they also don't. They almost do it, then hesitate and decide to ignore each other for days. At the party, this tug of war game was at its peak for JJ when she was telling him about her jealousy and cuddling up to him, but he couldn't do it then, not when she was drunk. And by the time he had a whole night to think it over and see her biking away, he didn't want to risk it.

She looks away from him, hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" may ring true for once, and says to John B through the door, "Whatever, have fun. I won't hold JJ back when you finally come out of there though."

He won't actually do anything to him, maybe just a non-serious fight that'll end with her walking in on them rolling around on the floor trying to wrestle each other, but she likes to fuck with him anyway. For the dick move he just pulled, she thinks he can withstand a little teasing.

Without anything else to say, Y/N turns and walks off to make herself useful elsewhere—anything to distract from the buzzing, anxious energy that surrounds her from both the hurricane and being forced to confront JJ. She tries to play it cool though she is anything but at the moment, allowing herself to grimace once her back is turned to the blonde boy still standing against the wall in the hallway.

Maybe if she keeps pushing this false sense of normalcy, it'll work. It worked when they both started pretending things never happened between them initially after they had sex, so who's to say it can't work now?

All they have to do is get through the next 12-24 hours without talking and all will be well. Right?

They tried.

They truly tried to get through the night without inciting chaos within the Chateau, but, for these two idiots, not inciting chaos is a task easier said than done. Not only was John B much more stubborn with staying in his room than either of them bargained for, he didn't even attempt to speak to them for the first five hours and they were left with nothing to do but find new ways to avoid talking to each other.

It was simple in the beginning.

She went off on her own and sat with her headphones in to drown out the sounds of the storm.

With her eyes fluttered shut to block out anything but the sound of The Cure blasting into her ears, there was no reason for her to have to worry about anything once her nerves began to settle. Since the songs drowned out any sound and all she could see was darkness behind her closed eyelids, she was able to drift away with the distraction of the music.

The thing is, after a while, she started to see pieces of him in every song she skipped to. She made it a full minute into Just Like Heaven before a supercut of her most treasured memories of him began appearing in her head. Fade Into You? Skipped as soon as the first dreamy lyric flooded in through the tangled cords of the headphones. Cloud 9? Forty seconds in. By the time Dirty Little Secret came on, she decided that her playlist was mocking her.

The headphones were out of her ears, hastily wrapped up, and stowed away in the small pocket of her overnight bag before the chorus of the song could hit. Thankfully for her, JJ wasn't looking when she ripped the headphones out and put them away in a huff, so by the time he turned to see her again, she was laying down on the couch to "nap"—meaning she laid awake for another hour and cursed John B for making her endure this.

While she was daydreaming of a John B voodoo doll, JJ was worried about her.

Yes, the topic of their relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever-the-fuck-it-is was bombarding him against his will every five seconds, but not without him coming back to his concern for her. A small sound of thunder on an otherwise perfect day was enough to make her zone out and start getting antsy that day on the boat, so he didn't want to know how bad it could get during a time like this.

He tried to play it cool, and, in all honesty, his remaining scraps of sanity lasted a lot longer than hers. Four and a half hours passed, then, as the storm began to do its worst on their town, the power flickered out and left them in complete darkness. At that point, John B was passed out in his bedroom, so he didn't care nor notice when they had to find a few candles and stumble through the dark.

Somewhere along the way, having to search through the dark house for candles to light and place around the living room led them here...he isn't quite sure how.

JJ can hardly open his eyes enough to see through the rain that pounds against him the second he runs after her through the back door. The wind is so aggressive and unrelenting, it almost sends him stumbling a few steps when he follows her blurry figure a few paces behind where she tries to flee the house in a panic.

"Get back inside!" he shouts as he picks up his speed to catch up, "Y/N!"

The part of him that isn't focused on the pure physicality of trying to see and move through the stormy weather is utterly overwhelmed with fear. Not for himself but for her. She's deathly afraid of mild storms, let alone hurricanes, and yet she ran through the back door when he tried comforting her through an anxiety attack. One would think that she wouldn't want to go directly into the thing she fears the most, but what sent her running for the hills wasn't the panic itself, it was him.

It's hard for her to think rationally in this state, but all she knows is that he was there, he was saying all the right things and holding her, and she couldn't do it. The fear began to blend to one centered around both him and the storm. The hours of useless distractions and ruminating in her thoughts built up to this point of contention, then it snapped.

Between the thunder, his voice, and the voice in the back of her head that was urging her to confess her feelings and do as John B advised them to, it became too much. Maybe it was the most idiotic split-second decision she made without any regard for logic or reason or her safety, but she bailed. For the third time, she couldn't handle the pressure and ran from him.

The only difference is that he couldn't let her leave this time.

He gasps for air against the streams of water flowing down his face, soaking his hair and making it hang in his eyes to obstruct his view more than the weather already has. It happened so fast, neither of them are wearing shoes. His feet sink into the muddy yard with every stride he takes in his frantic pursuit of her and it frustrates him no end because of how it slows him down.

There's endless dangerous possibilities with her being out here. She could be knocked over into the marsh by the wind, or stuck and hurt by a piece of debris—merely thinking about it makes him call out her name louder in the hopes that it'll wake her from her panicked trance.

After trudging through the mud all the way to the edge of the yard, he finally manages to get to her.

"What are you doing?" JJ shouts, turning her around and grabbing onto both of her arms as if one gust of wind would sweep her away if he didn't, "You're gonna get hurt!"

Stumbling backwards in the direction of the screened-in porch that surrounds the back door, he uses their difference in strength to tug her away in the direction she came out in. The rain makes it difficult to keep a firm grasp on her, and she almost slips away a couple of times when the wind picks up enough to make him too unsteady to hold on.

His arms slip around her waist for a better grasp on her the closer they come to reaching the house. The last thing he wants is to almost get her back inside and lose her at the last second. She isn't thinking rationally right now with the panic she feels taking full control of her responses. He knows firsthand how it feels to be thrown headfirst into a panic attack, he's been in her shoes before and knows better than anyone the lengths your irrational mind will go to if it means survival. And for whatever reason, her response is flight, not fight.

The door to the screen porch takes all of his effort to open against the power of the wind blowing it back against the house.

He grits his teeth as he forces it open, one arm secured around her midsection, and helps her in before he slips inside too. The second he lets go of the door, it's sent slamming back into place and rattling in the frame behind them, but he doesn't spend anymore time on it other than the few seconds it takes to lock it. As soon as it clicks with him that they're safe—most importantly, that she's safe—he whips around to face her with a cold rage flowing through his veins.

"What the fuck?"

She stands in front of him with water pouring off of her in rapid drops onto the rug, and there are no thoughts in her head outside of the ones telling her to leave. Her tears blend in with the droplets of rain so seamlessly that he wouldn't know she's crying if not for the sound of it.

In between her rapid breaths and sobs, she yells back at him, "I was scared, okay?"

"Why'd you run out into the storm if you—"

"I wasn't afraid of the storm, I was afraid of you!"

The silence that follows is louder than anything they've experienced. Nothing can rival it, not the thunder, the rain, or anything can drown it out while he stares at her in shock. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted as he reaches for something, anything, he can say in response to that, but there's nothing. For once, he is absolutely speechless.

Things got awkward between them in the initial aftermath of last week, but not like this. There was never an instance where he felt like there was nothing left for him to say to her to fill the uncomfortable silence that always brought forth memories of them together until now. Until she said the last thing he wanted or expected to hear.

His anger subsides as he picks over what he did in his head for anything that could've made her feel unsafe.

Before it evolved into him chasing after her through the hurricane, he noticed how terrible it had gotten for her when he lit the first candle. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chest began to rise and fall faster with each second that passed. He could see it on her face that things were getting worse, but, now that he thinks of it, it got worse once he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.

It felt like a dream sequence in his head, so hazy and faraway now that it's over, and he was so stunned by what she was doing, he didn't run after her until a few seconds later. There was a delay in which he stood there in surprise and tried to process what the hell just happened to no avail. Though it wasn't very long, he remembers it feeling like eternity tucked into the cramped space of four seconds.

JJ's voice is softer than she's ever heard it, asking into the void of the near-darkness that encloses them, "What'd I do?" And it breaks her heart in half to hear him sound so concerned, so terrified of the idea that he did something to hurt her when all he did was try to help. "I never meant to scare you, I swear. I know how bad it can get sometimes, and I know we haven't been talking but I'd never try to hurt you if that's what you thought..."

His thoughts run rampant with the possibilities of what she was thinking at the time, and he realizes that he can't stand the idea of her thinking anything badly of him. He never cares about what people think, but, fuck, he loathes the idea of her having any ill feelings toward him.

Y/N immediately starts shaking her head, her face scrunching with the emotion and incessant tears.

"I know you'd never hurt me. I was scared because..." she stops herself mid sentence, catching it right when she was about to admit the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't.

But the need to say it doesn't go away this time. Usually, once she catches herself she comes to her senses and realizes how foolish it would've been to confess, but this time is different. This time, the urge to speak her mind and tell him everything sticks around. The words left unsaid creep up her throat, thrashing and begging to let out after months of being pushed aside.

The look in her eyes is strangely reminiscent of the way she looked at him the night they hooked up, almost yearning in its nature, and he couldn't be more confused. She's scared of him, but she's looking at him like she did when she was two seconds away from jumping his bones. And if he didn't do anything wrong, why was she afraid enough to face her worst fear in order to avoid him?

"Because what?" he asks.

That frustration from when they first stepped into the porch hasn't vanished, it only took a backseat once she said she was afraid of him, not the storm, and he can feel it stirring up again. He's tired of not having answers. He's tired of mixed signals and loneliness and unrequited love. Most of all, he's tired of her running away all the time. At this point, he questions whether or not it's worth it to expose his feelings to her and suffer the consequences.

John B was right. This isn't healthy for them, nor is it healthy for them to put their friends through this along with them, and it might be better to not be friends than to stay this way forever. At least that way they wouldn't be wishing for answers that would never come for the rest of their time together.

She decides at this moment that this has to be said before it gets worse, before she runs away again like a scared, immature child and ruins everything.

"Because," she has to shout over the lightning that cracks down on the earth down the street, something she would be trembling in fear over if she weren't so focused on him, "I've been in love with you for a couple months and it scares me more than anything, even this stupid fucking storm! And I've tried so hard to ignore it because I know you don't feel the same way, but you touched me and I just"—a soft cry escapes her—"I couldn't do it anymore."

There it is.

After months of ruminating over it and hiding everything, he knows, and her immediate feeling after she says it isn't what she thought it would be. She expected trepidation and regret, but what she finds on the other side isn't either of those, it's relief. Her dad often tells her when she's nervous about something that the anticipation is worse than the thing itself, and that has never been as true her as it is now.

However, some of the nerves return with the time that passes after she spoke in complete silence. Much like the delayed reaction he had to her running out of the house, it isn't as long as it feels to her. It's a short span of time that it takes for her words to process with him, but it feels like an eternity that he stands there with his head facing the floor in quiet contemplation.

Her heart sinks.

This means he doesn't feel the same way, doesn't it? If he were the one telling her he loved her, she likely would've leaped into his arms and said it back, but he stays where he is.

Then, after what feels like forever, she thinks she sees him start to smile and feels like she's losing her mind. It's quite dark out here, so there's only a limited amount of light to allow her to see his features, but there's no doubting it when a flash of lightning floods the porch with a split-second of harsh light.

Oh God, why is he smiling? What does it mean?

Much to her frustration, the first thing he says after her confession isn't much help in making her understand his feelings either.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Why? The voice in the back of her mind asks incredulously. Is he seriously asking why? He ignored me too. He didn't want to talk about it either, so what else was I supposed to do?

Maybe she was undeniably worse when it came to the avoidance and lack of communication, but he could've reached out to her too. They both could've. Instead, they spent day after day waiting for the other to make the move and pushed the tension further and further until it finally broke. Now she's waiting for him to hurry up and reject her so she can move on with her life.

She shivers from the wind blowing at her wet skin through the screens separating them from the outside world, crossing her arms over her body to hug herself. His eyes follow her movements down to the breaths that are slowly evening out without her realizing it. It turns out that confessing your love for the guy you've been crushing on since the day you met him is a hell of a distraction.

"I thought you wouldn't wanna hear me being all emotional and shit over a one time thing. You've literally never had an actual relationship before. And that's fine," she rambles, "I'll be okay eventually, but that's not who you are and there isn't a problem with that. I just caught feelings when I shouldn't have."

In her defense, she isn't making baseless assumptions about him, he hasn't had a relationship before. His love life hasn't ever really revolved around love itself, it was mostly comprised of random chicks he'd meet at parties or at the beach during the summertime when tourists come to visit the island. Out of all of them, he's the last one the Pogues would expect to fall in love with someone and commit to a relationship, but then...

He looks over at her with a swell of emotion within him that he's never felt before. It wasn't like he hadn't known before now. He did. He even said it out loud to himself that morning after the party, but this is when it feels the most real. Now that she's said it to him, he doesn't feel so stupid for toying with the four letter word in the back of his mind for the entirety of the past week.

In all honesty, he was the last person he would've expected to fall in love with someone this quickly too. He thought he knew himself better than this. He thought he could keep himself hidden away and not let anyone close enough to see him—the real him, faults and feelings and vulnerability included—but she proved him wrong. In walked Y/N with her pretty smile, teeny bikini bottoms, and oddly strong opinions on Ratatouille, and he stood no chance.

This sudden crescendo of emotion only continues to grow when he watches her shiver, soaked to the skin, across from him and decides that he never wants to deny himself of her again. Those feelings of inadequacy that forced him to question his relationship with her may not have gone away, not by a long shot, but they can't stop him anymore. Nothing can.

Like a light flickering to life in this swirling, stormy darkness, she hears JJ's voice asking her, "What if it is who I am?"

It was said so softly, she nearly lost it beneath the rain and wind. But it was not said with a lack of certainty, which is why she questions if she heard him correctly. He sounded so sure of himself that it feels too good to be true. After his reaction, or lack thereof, to her telling him she loved him, she accepted what was coming and this was not it.

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"You heard me." There's a pause. "Maybe I needed to meet the right girl."

There is no way he's saying what she thinks he's saying because if he is...if he is then that means the tears and frustration have all been for nothing because he loves her back. But if he loves her, then what was with the kook girl? Was it to make her jealous, or is she misinterpreting him right now and he was flirting with that girl because he doesn't have real feelings for her?

"JJ..." she trails off, looking down and thinking to herself how thankful she is that it's too dark for him to fully see how nervous he made her, "don't do that."

Partly, he should feel offended that she'd think he'd toy with her feelings like that, but he isn't. He's too busy wondering what on earth made this poor girl so insecure to think that someone has to be joking to confess their love to her. It makes him wonder if anyone wronged her before she moved here, and he feels that switch of impulsive anger inside of him flip at the thought.

But that anger has nowhere to go, so it shifts into something different—a need to spend every waking moment of the rest of their time together proving to her that she doesn't have to be so afraid. Does it make him a hypocrite? Probably. It wasn't too long ago that he was telling the Pogues how much he didn't deserve to be with her, but he doesn't see himself the same way he sees her. In his head, he has reasons to believe he doesn't deserve her love, but how could she ever think that herself?

He steps closer to her, the movement something so natural and unconscious to him that he doesn't recognize he does it until he hears her breath hitch in the back of her throat. They were already close enough to reach out and touch each other if they wanted to, yet now it's the kind of closeness that wipes the slate of her mind clean with nothing else but the thought of him there to stay.

He starts to say, "I'm not fucking with you, dude, I'm being serious—"

"Then prove it."

Oh.

The sound of his unfinished sentence lingers on the tip of his tongue as he blinks away his surprise at what she said, though it was less of a statement and more of a challenge. What the challenge is, he isn't too sure, but he thinks there could be a couple of meanings there.

The fire in her eyes when she looked up at him is one he recognizes very well, it stars in one too many of his daydreams that center around their secret night together. She rose to the occasion without fail and matched his chaos every time, and that steely-eyed stare is reminiscent of it.

Yet, the sexual undertone isn't the only part of it to be discovered. There's a clear meaning there for him to actually prove it, to put his money where his mouth is, grow a pair, and tell her how he feels with no room for confusion. No more miscommunication, running away, or insecurity getting between them, just a clear cut confession like hers.

His hand runs through his hair to sweep it out of his eyes and keep the wet strands from dripping down his face. It helps him see her a little better too, grounding him to the moment and calming him at the dimmed sight of her expectant, wide eyed gaze.

There were a million versions of this whenever he let himself imagine admitting it. He only let himself picture it on the worst days, days like the one two days ago when he went home to his dad, ending the night by cleaning his own cuts and inspecting his own bruises in his locked bedroom. He did it to distract himself from wanting to storm out of the room and finally kill the son of a bitch after years of suffering in silence.

JJ closed his eyes, shaking with anger, and dreamed of how he'd tell her. There were versions with long speeches that were far too sappy to exist outside of the realm of his imagination. There were versions with him burying the words between friendly jokes to play down the extent of his feelings too, but he thought it worked best in its simplest form.

So he puts it as simply as it gets, lips fighting a soft smile as he crosses the space between them and rushes in to kiss her. It's charged with an accumulation of the pent up love, anger, and sexual desire that has been repressed until now, resulting in something utterly explosive.

He stops for a second to whisper, "I love you too," into her parted lips, and she finally lets herself go at the sound of those words.

Forget that they've only known each other for five months, when you know you know. This is the real deal. This is the kind of feeling that possesses every accessible inch of her heart and she'd never be open enough to admit that to anyone but him at the moment, but neither of them minds that. It's such a new, rapidly developing feeling that they want to protect it and keep it close to them for the time being.

His arms twine around her waist, tugging her the last bit forward and leaving no space between their bodies this time. The sudden movement draws a sharp gasp from the back of her throat and sends her hands out to brace themselves on his shoulders. The sound of the gasp that disappears into their connected mouths only fuels him on more. It makes him more eager with how he touches her with his hands drifting down the plane of her back, one of which playfully slipping beneath the hem of her soaked shirt in a way that makes her smile into the kiss.

He knows exactly what he does to her. He can sense it in the small reactions that would often go overlooked if it were someone less familiar with her.

It's easy to tell by the way she completely surrenders herself to him, letting out these soft little noises she doesn't even realize she's making when he takes control of the interaction and kisses her like he's starved for it. In a way, he is starving for affection and attention from her. He never knew it was something he needed so badly until he got it, and now he never wants to go without having her again.

That's why it doesn't surprise him when she starts getting antsy after a moment or two, especially after keeping away from him for days.

Her hands run down the length of his chest over the soaked t-shirt, taking a quiet victory in how his stomach flinches inward in response to her exploring touch, and she could swear his next exhale trembles as she continues lower. Never once does she break the kiss, which, by the way, has gone past the point of being passionate and straight to downright needy, but her concentration does falter. The perfectly paced rhythm of her mouth moving with his is interrupted when she touches him over the fabric of his shorts.

Those plushy soft lips go on an exploration of their own too. Leaving him with the first opportunity to catch his breath in minutes, she dips her head beneath the sharp edge of jaw in pursuit of the sweet spot she remembers reducing him to a grabby, moaning mess the last time they did this. It doesn't take her long, not if the tightening of his arms around her and the satisfied hum of a moan she feels vibrate beneath her mouth has anything to say for it.

He loses himself in it for a second or two...okay, fine, maybe ten.

The separate sensations combined spark a flame inside of him that burns so hopelessly for whatever she'll give him. His mind sends him images of them together, both real memories from their first time together and imagined fantasies he only let himself visit in his dreams, and he realizes how thinly spread his self control has become lately.

First, it's the thought of her from last week, thoughts of her gasping, writhing, and begging beneath him that makes his cock throb under the teasing contact of her hand through his shorts. But then he's brought elsewhere. Then, though he hasn't thought of it since the day after the party, he thinks of the mix of jealousy and anger he felt when he saw Tyler with her.

He remembers being sane one moment and charging across the room like a madman the next. He remembers how it felt to watch another person's hands slip under her dress, how it felt to see someone else try to kiss her the way he had, and this raw wound of a memory is all it takes to spur him into action.

It happens so quickly, she doesn't even notice what's happening until he has her scooped up in his arms with her legs around his waist. She doesn't even have the chance to voice her surprise or crack a joke at the expense of his neediness before he reconnects their paused kiss with enough force to make her teeth ache in the collision.

JJ's rings are colder than ice, digging into the flesh of her thighs as he holds them with a tight grip and blindly takes the few steps necessary to reach the back entrance of the house. His wet handprint smudges on one of the cracked-open glass doors and sends droplets of water dribbling down the surface. The teardrop of rain zig-zags at the swinging motion of the door on their way in, only changing course again when he nudges it shut behind him a little too loudly.

"Wh"—her question is cut off by him laying her down on the rug-covered floor in between the couch and coffee table—"What if John B wakes up?"

His first thought was to bring her into the spare bedroom, but then he realized that it shares a wall with John B. Then, he considered the pull out couch but realized that would be louder than the room adjacent to their friend's. His only conclusion was this.

It isn't nearly as romantic as either of them would've pictured, but they're not exactly picky either. They're so desperate for it, they'd likely do it on the porch in the middle of a hurricane if there weren't another option. And in their own weird way, they make it romantic.

There's no one else she'd rather risk rug burn for, and that is the peak of romance.

"John B sleeps like a fuckin' rock," JJ says, "and it's own his fault for trapping us here anyway."

He follows her down onto the floor without a second thought, not even looking up to see if they woke their friend with the sound of the door shutting behind them.

Hovered above her, he looks particularly captivating in the flickering candlelight. The fire burning in one of the three-wick candles they scoured the bathroom cabinets for brings out the warm hues in his blonde hair and highlights every edge of the angular face that looks down at her. The porch was far too dark for her to see him in all of his near-perfection, but this is enough for her to notice a multitude of things.

His slicked back, wet hair allows her to see his features better and the way he looks at her...it's enough to make anyone feel red in the face. How hadn't she see it before? She knows it was denial, but, somehow, she used to overlook the small hints along the way like how he looks at her like she's the only thing that makes sense to him. For the first time in a while, she allows herself to embrace the idea of being loved without looking for something to justify her fears surrounding it.

The sound of her voice brings him out of the mesmerized trance he fell under at the sight of her.

"I've missed you," she says softly, "like a lot."

The sweet admission slows him down for a second, making him stop to ignore the distracting desire that she sparked to life a moment ago and take the time to cherish this moment of rare serenity with her.

It's a wonder that she hasn't even acknowledged the storm raging on outside since they've come back in. It's all thanks to him, of course, since she's been too focused on everything happening between them, but it surprises him. It makes a sense of pride flare up in him on her behalf for being capable of forgetting something she fears so much.

But, on the other hand, it reminds him of how distraught she was right before their conversation/argument on the porch shifted from her panic to the topic of their relationship, and he can't help but hesitate a little.

"I missed you too." The hand he isn't using to support himself above her cups her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Are you okay though? You were just crying and I don't wanna make you—"

"Yes."

It was so said so quickly, there was zero hesitation. It's not that it doesn't surprise him that she's as eager as he is after what started to happen out on the porch, but it does make his eyes widen a little. His mouth curls with a slight grin. It's the kind that never fails to make her stomach fluttering and light with butterflies.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay, and I promise I'll let you know if I'm not," Y/N clarifies.

"Okay."

There's a short moment where all they do is look at each other with a complete loss for words to convey what they feel right now. It isn't as awkward as it would've been prior to tonight. Before they confessed their feelings, they wouldn't have been able to look at one another for any longer than a few seconds without needing to walk away to break the tension. Now, things have changed. They don't feel the need to conceal how much they care anymore.

They're still the same bickering duo they've always been with the added fun of being head over heels. She never used to understand how some people could let their feelings for another person drive them crazy, but it's done more than make her crazy this past week. It made her jealous, obsessive, and somehow happy too, and no one has ever made her feel so many varying emotions in her life.

Her fingertips graze the stretch of skin between where his cargo shorts sit on his hips and his shirt rides up the side of his torso, and he swallows thickly at the feeling.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

Her lilting, smooth voice is enough to soothe any nerves he could possibly have. It's as if hearing her ask that paired with the hand teasing the waistband of his shorts pulled him back to the place he'd been before when she was teasing him over his clothes.

He answers honestly, his head going fuzzy with the crushing desire that courses through him, "Not as nervous as I make you," and closes the space between them again.

The cheeky comment doesn't go unnoticed by her, not one bit. It makes her face heat up in embarrassment that is purely instinct after having to hide her feelings from her for so long. Maybe after they've been together for longer, it won't make her blush every time he acknowledges the effect he has on her out loud, but that day isn't today. Today, she goes hot in the face from a sole second of his attention, let alone this.

JJ lets his hand climb up the length of her torso as they kiss as if they have all the time in the world, as if their best friend isn't sleeping less than twenty feet away from them, until it flattens at the base of her neck. It doesn't curl around her neck and squeeze, nor does it do anything but remind her how much she loves the feeling of him touching her, the large palm of his hand simply stays draped over her throat to flaunt his ability to sway her nerves.

She's pretty sure if it were anyone else, it wouldn't work, but he's JJ for fuck's sake, and the quiet display of dominance sends an exhilarating little thrill rumbling through her. It isn't anything over the top or exaggerated like some people would do in an attempt to stake a claim over the person they love, just a simple gesture that they both know the meaning of.

She's his. After five months of friendship, two months of silent pining, and a week of sexually confused hell, she's his, and he'll never let her forget it.

The wind rattles the windows over the couch with its force and she notices that his hips grind into hers at the sudden sound. Even in the midst of such a heated moment, it's downright cute how he still makes an effort to distract her from what she fears. And, boy, does it work.

Their panting breaths in the brief seconds they allow themselves to break away from each other are the only sounds audible in the small living room. The storm drowns it all out for now, including the noises that start to leave them from the steadily building pleasure of their bodies moving together.

She can feel how hard he is through the layers that separate them with every absentminded thrust that brushes the fabric of her panties up against her clit each time. It leaves her breathless and wondering, despite already knowing, what it'll feel like when he finally slips inside of her again.

They both fantasized about it in the time they spent apart. Neither of them would dare deny it, least of all JJ. It actually became frustrating after a while because she started to become the only scenario he could conjure to get himself off when he had a rare moment of privacy. His fantasies, all stemming from the night that was so perfect, he began to question the reality of it, linger in his head.

The best part of his fantasies were the parts of them based in truth, and if he knows anything about her when she's in this state, it's that she's needy. Her tongue swipes along his bottom lip in a silent urging to let her deepen the kiss, and he complies without a second to spare, willing to entertain her every whim so long as she keeps being so good for him.

He revels in her muffled squeak of a moan when he presses down on the sides of her throat at the precise moment his hips grind down to meet hers. She can't keep herself still for any longer than a half-second, always meeting his movements halfway and unknowingly doing another thing that will be the death of him.

She leads his shirt up his body without having to second guess herself, knowing that he's always on the same wavelength as her no matter what. This was how it was the last time too. Anything she did, he was already one step ahead, and tonight isn't much different. By the time her hands ball up the dripping cotton fabric, JJ is lifting the hand off of her neck to reach for the neckline of the shirt and help tug it off.

There's a sense of urgency in everything they do. Charged up with frustration and jealousy that brewed within the days they spent apart, there's nothing to stop them from reducing themselves to a pair of panting, impatient lovers too consumed in each other to care about the outside world.

The sopping wet fabric is thrown beyond her line of sight and lands on the hardwood floor with a 'thwack' that accompanies their cacophony of moans and gasps, and she whimpers at the sight of him. It may have to do with the fact that he's guiding their bodies together at a cadence and pressure perfect enough to make her legs tremble, but seeing him like this does nothing but aid the sensation.

Golden skin glistening under the candlelight, tendrils of half-dry blonde hair falling into his face with the lazy effort of his movements, and a stray raindrop that squeezed from the wet shirt dripping down his chest...she's not gonna make it out of tonight alive, is she? In her memory, she knew he was a sight to see in the midst of a heated moment, but, fuck, memories do not hold up beside the real experience of it.

Y/N is so caught up in his seemingly endless beauty, she doesn't notice him peeling her damp denim shorts off of her hips until they're halfway down her legs, and the only reason she does notice is because he must shift his position to do it. Suddenly, the budding feeling that stirred from their needy antics is plucked away and left to ache for more in the absence of him between her thighs.

Her middle and index fingers hook around the front of his necklace to pull him back down to her, but he doesn't budge at first. He's too busy trying to rid her of her shirt to care.

It was too much of a distraction while they kissed for him to resist slipping it off of her when he got the chance to. Much to his frustration when he first realized they were trapped with each other, she's braless underneath, and it's only worse now that the t-shirt is soaked to her skin and clinging to every delicate curve.

Once the clothing gives way to the canvas of her bare skin, he submits to her urgency and follows her down by the fingers hooked around his necklace without any qualms.

As soon as they resume, it's as if they never stopped to begin with, and they start to realize how seamlessly they fit together as the seconds elapse. Neither of them are actively thinking about it while he dips his hand into the front of her panties, but it is in their subconscious.

It's a revelation of sorts, an ah-ha moment where it hits them both in a sweeping realization that it was obvious from the day they met. They should've known sooner, they should've dropped their pride and admitted it as soon as the first inklings of desire began to pop up, but they didn't. Instead, it washes over them now and they let the current take them away together.

Her mouth falls open against his cheek at the feeling of his fingers swiping through the arousal that pools in her underwear for him, dragging the wetness over his fingertips and spreading it up to brush fleetingly against her clit. It's a split-second of a touch that it makes her hips lift up off the floor on their own accord to seek out more. It makes her dig her nails into the skin stretching over his taut shoulder muscles in a wordless plea for more that he doesn't indulge her in at first.

He makes her earn it from him without having to say a single word. He touches her, but he doesn't touch where she wants or ease his fingers into her to satisfy the need she feels yet. It's a blessing and a curse that he manages to turn her on to such an extent. He does it for her like nothing else can, so much so that she's noticed a distinct difference in how it feels when she's alone versus when they're together. When she's alone, it can tend to feel like active effort, but when she's with him, it's as natural as the urge to breathe.

His smirk is felt against her skin the entire time she begs for it through the revealing actions of her body—her hips jerking up toward him, her chest pressing tightly to his, and the sound of her murmuring, "Please," in a breathy tone that could stop his heart.

"Tell me what you want," JJ says, every word constrained and tight in a way that tells her he's a lot less composed than he lets on, and "accidentally" swipes his thumb over her clit again. "Talk to me, baby."

She almost forgot in their time apart how much of an effect he has on her, but this is the best reminder of that she could possibly imagine. If she could, she would find a way to bottle the feeling he gives her and keep it with her forever so that, no matter what happens between them, she'll never have the misfortune of forgetting him.

What he said simultaneously melts her heart and frustrates her to no end because he knows! He knows damn well what she wants from him and won't give it to her unless she asks for it, and she hates herself for loving it. She hates herself for enjoying the flushed-face embarrassment it brings to her cheeks to be so open with him about what she needs.

She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to focus through the clouded landscape of her head to speak to him. It's hard to concentrate when he's above her like this, touching her, calling her pet names, and looking at her like that.

With his lips worshiping the sensitive skin along her neck, she finds it hard to choke out the words, "I want you," into the humid air that has infiltrated the house.

It's not a lie. Anything regarding her wanting him or any related feeling is no longer something she can hide anymore, but they both know it isn't exactly what he wanted. No matter how it took his breath away to hear her say it, he was seeking something more specific. He was aiming to make her ask, maybe even beg, for it. They're both too impatient to wait and based on how wet his fingertips are from barely dipping into her, he can tell she's as eager as he is.

It's been thirteen days too long since the last time they allowed themselves to meet this way, and neither of them wants to let it happen again.

She was nearly trembling with the urge to go to him whenever they were together in the company of their friends, unable to think about anything except for how badly she wanted him. All the while, he appeared so unbothered, especially on the night of the party when he flirted with someone else, that she didn't even believe he felt the same way back. Thankfully for her, she couldn't have been more wrong.

He clicks his tongue and says, still teasing her with light touches that never linger in one place for too long, "That wasn't very specific."

Part of her should know that he's about to do something based on how he withdraws his head from its cherished place in the crook of her neck, but she's too caught up in the anticipation and seeing his face for the first time in a minute to think about it. How dare he look so good? She could cry in frustration, although she might actually already be tearing up a little with the rush of neediness hitting her in its full force.

Never has she felt so turned on by so little physical contact before. It usually takes longer for her to get to this point, whether it be alone or in the past with previous partners, yet all it took was being kissed, touched, and being given his undivided attention and now...She realizes she's in trouble. He has her in an emotional and sexual chokehold at this point, and she fears that no one can compare.

"I want—" her voice is snuffed out in an instant when he eases two fingers into her, "Oh!"

So that's why he pulled away from her neck to look at her.

It was worth abandoning the mark forming on her neck just to see the expression on her face shift. She gets this cute look when anything overwhelming starts to happen where her brows scrunch a little to create a soft wrinkle between them as her mouth drops open in a moan. And after ten steady minutes of doing nothing but some over the clothes action and painstaking teasing, this is as overwhelming as it gets without it crossing the line to being too much.

It never occurred to her how much larger his fingers are compared to hers until now. This type of pleasure is like an itch only someone else can scratch to her, she feels virtually nothing when she does it to herself, but when he does it, it's like an explosive being set off inside of her. Especially with the thumb that sneaks up to circle her clit without stopping to tease her again, she is putty in his hands at this point.

Every smooth stroke of his fingers into her reaches a spot she can never quite find on her own, and she can feel the cold bite of rings when they're buried into her to the knuckle.

It's a surprise every time, even when she knows to expect it. Like a delightful chill running up through her body and down her spine exactly how it's intended to. It strikes an idea in her head for when he eventually pulls them out of her, conjuring the image of her sucking them clean for him just for the sake of imagining what it'll do to him.

With that idea tucked away in the back of her mind, he's the center of her world right now. All she breathes, thinks, and feels is him. Whether it be the sight of him, or the feelings he's giving her, or even the taste of his kiss that still lingers on her tongue, it connects to one common thread.

"What were you saying?" JJ asks, and she wants to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It's virtually impossible for her to piece together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence detailing every filthy idea she has for him, but she tries. It takes another moment or two of her succumbing to the rapid incline of pleasure that he gives her, watching her in wonder through any greedy buck of her hips or gasping inhale that makes her head loll back onto the floor.

At first, what she wanted to say was that she wanted him to touch her, to do anything more than the fleeting touches he gave before. Now, she wants more than that. Now that she's drawn in closer to the eventual high that's to come, she doesn't want it to happen like this. She wants to feel closer to him than this, wants to feel him throb inside of her and fuck her with all of the urgency and desperation that has accumulated in their time apart.

That's why her hands start to grab at the belt loops of his shorts to tug him closer by them, meeting his gaze through the hazy bliss of his fingers pumping into her. It's not enough.

"Please"—she keeps pulling him closer to her, so close that there's hardly any space left to cross, and he revels in her desperation—"just fuck me already..."

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

Though this was what he wanted, what he coaxed out of her with the teasing and the pretend sense of a nonchalant attitude on his part, it hits him harder than he expected it to to hear her say it. It's not necessarily the act of begging itself either, it's the fact that she's the one doing it. She may have been jealous of the girl at the party, but she had nothing to worry about. Not in the slightest.

Before her, he never thought he'd fall for someone this way. It's not like he had a hatred for love or anything, he understood the appeal, it simply wasn't his thing.

He was perfectly content with his only form of companionship being his friends. Then, she came along and changed it. So to hear her say something like that isn't just breathtaking, it's the kind of thing that makes his heart ache for her. It hits him precisely where she wanted it to, and he has never felt as consumed with love the way he does now.

JJ can do nothing to stop himself from pouncing on her at this point, like some animalistic form of himself has worn down the restraint he used to keep himself at bay.

The loss she feels when his fingers slip away from her is an emptiness she mourns at first before she realizes what's happening. He pulls away slightly to reach down between them for the front of his shorts, and their hands clash as they both frantically try to undo them together. The rings adorning his fingers glisten when they catch the light and remind her of the thought that popped into her head when she first felt their coldness against her skin.

That idea paired with the promise of what they're trying to accomplish in their uncoordinated attempt to get the rest of their clothes off makes her want to press her thighs together. Her hands abandon the task of undoing his shorts for the sake of ridding herself of the last layer that separates her from him.

Her most embarrassing old pair of brightly colored panties, courtesy of past Y/N's questionable decision to trust her mom to buy some on her behalf, are hardly a sight to behold. They're the kind that come in a value pack from Walmart, vibrant blue with the word, "Tuesday," printed on the front of them, and she could hide her face into the rug in shame if she weren't so determined to get them off. Of all the days to wear the day of the week undies her mom accidentally got her, of course she chose today.

By the time she reaches for the waistband, he has pushed his shorts and underwear down his thighs and comes back to her with just as much excitement as he left with, but when he helps her tug her panties down her legs, he laughs. Apparently, he had also been too eager to touch her to notice what was written on them before.

"Cute," he breathes out through a laugh, then adds as the cotton fabric slips over her knees, "Pretty sure it's not Tuesday though."

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

He cuts her off, "Whatever you wanna threaten me with won't work, chances are I'm gonna be into it."

Her eyes are alight with a certain fire he's had yet to fully lure out of her. Even her voice is slightly more airy and seductive as a result of it.

"Promise?"

JJ grins down at her as he finally tosses her panties aside with the rest of their clothes, "Cross my heart, pretty girl."

His hands grip her thighs and tug her down the  rug to him with a quick jolt that snaps them out of the playful nature of their back and forth teasing. No matter how lighthearted of an interruption it was, the mini-conversation might as well have never existed for how easily they fall back into it again.

She watches with her forehead pressed against his as he strokes himself a few times, then drags his tip, messy with precome, through her wet heat. And though she watches it happen, her body still arches into his when he lines up with her and sinks his hips forward.

She anticipated it, but she still gasps and digs her nails into his biceps at the sensation of him pushing into her. Neither of them bothers to worry about the obvious lack of a condom—it was discussed the first time around when he offered and she told him it was okay. He's often the one to silence the alarm on her phone warning her in its title to, "Take your birth control or else, bitch," while she searches her bag for it anyway, so he trusts her.

Both of them prefer it this way enough to risk the  minuscule failure rate of the pill anyway. It's more intimate, closer, and they can both feel the warmth of each other in a way that would've been somewhat muted with an added layer between them. It makes the feeling of him entering her all the more gratifying as she tenses up around him in reaction, drawing a groan from where his parted lips brush against hers.

She lifts her head off of the floor as much as she can to capture his mouth with her own and stifle the sonorous sound despite the storm doing a better job of it.

It seems that every blast of wind and roll of thunder is in their favor tonight, so much so that he isn't even worried about getting walked in on. It's not a thought in his head at this point, the only thought he's capable of having is this. Forgive him for being shortsighted, but he doesn't give a shit if John B notices or hears what's happening when he's buried inside of her so deeply.

His hips are flush with the backs of her thighs in a matter of seconds, and right when he pauses to give her a breather, he feels her shake her head ever so slightly against where their faces are pressed together.

The touch of her hands on his hips is not timid by any means, it's commanding. Her palm prints singe an indelible claim into the surface of his skin as she guides him to start moving without a second spared to dwindle the discomfort of him filling her up. It's less like a pain and more of a pressure blooming from the insistent presence of him, not so overwhelming that it's painful, but it's an effort to breathe evenly and the only thing that'll ease this transitional moment is to continue.

At first, their bodies start to rock together lazily as though on autopilot. They'd hardly be conscious of the fact that they're doing anything if not for the initial sensations of heady ecstasy that flash like the sparks of a lighter in response to their movements. As soon as he felt her hands coax him into action, he sighed happily and surrendered himself to the instinct of wanting to move.

The merging of their bodies is less of the aggressive rutting motions they'll surely succumb to once their current pace is no longer satisfying, but that doesn't make it any less intense. She's partly sure that this is one of the most vulnerable moments either of them has ever had when it comes to sex, and it wouldn't work if it weren't them together. No other person could consume her the way he does, taking up every unoccupied space of her soul until there's nothing left but the silent begging of her heart for him.

Their kiss is messy when it breaks to allow them the chance to suck down a couple breaths of air, saliva shining on his lips in between the seconds it takes them to come crashing back together.

It's loving enough to rot her teeth with its sweetness, a slow but impossibly deep grinding of their hips together that continually presses the tip of him into that sweet spot inside of her, but it takes a turn.

Not only do her hands shift from his hips up to the sides of his waist to get a firmer hold on him, the kiss starts to become vigorous, almost hungry, in search of something more. The dreamlike sequence of the first moment or so they spent slowly fucking under the warm hues of candlelight starts to unravel to reveal the baser instincts that guide them forward.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispers the praise into her mouth.

As soon as the words are said, he can feel the effect it has on her. The hands braced on his waist pull his body closer to her at the same moment that she involuntarily squeezes down around him, making the smooth drag of his cock against the velvet-soft heat of her walls even tighter than he thought possible.

The sudden feeling of it makes his first returning thrust much harder than the last. He jerks forward into her with none of the restraint he's retained for the past few moments, and her reaction is nothing short of perfection, at least from his perspective. He watches her throw her head back in a moan, hips bucking to him in pursuit of more, and feels the tips of her fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into the unmarred skin along his waist.

"JJ!" she gasps in surprise, and if her initial reaction weren't enough to spur him on in a frenzied state of desire, this is.

He almost forgot how intense it had been the first time. Their confessions of love preceding this made them both somewhat softer and sweeter in their approach when they started, but he knows how she likes it.

Nobody would expect it from her. He's another story entirely, especially considering how much John B and Pope know about him, but her? He didn't have any in depth conversations about it with either of them, so none of their friends know how dirty she is.

But when you start to tease it out of her, she's got a side to her that makes his blood run hot. Considering how polite she is, he sure as hell didn't see it coming. For fuck's sake, she's the kind of person who'll apologize to a chair if she bumps into it. With that in mind he never thought she'd be the type to demand such things of him.

Just like that, with one moan of his name, it's like she flipped a switch in him that they forgot was there in the first place. It'll never stop surprising him how little it takes to get him going when he's with her, and he doesn't see that changing no matter how long they spend together in the future. Just a touch from her is all it takes, so it's needless to say that the sound of her calling out his name was more than enough.

Those slow, deep movements he made to sink into her again and again have turned rapid and rough, but still controlled enough to have a semblance of precision to them, hitting in all the right places.

"I bet," JJ speaks lowly, "that you want John B to walk out and see us right now."

She doesn't want to admit how much of an instantaneous effect those words have on her, but the feeling of her clenching around him as she bites back a moan completely betrays her. Partly, she worries that he'll take that the wrong way and think it has something to do with John B when it has nothing to do with him at all, but he doesn't. For the spare second of thought she's allowed to have before her mind goes hazy again, she notes how much more eager he is on the upstroke of the next thrust.

Noticing how right he was in his assumption about her liking the risk of getting caught jumpstarts his heart and makes everything he does rougher. She can sense that he's starting to lose control over himself and is acting on instinct alone.

It makes her much more sensitive to everything he does, and all she can do is cling to him and enjoy it as she takes in everything he says and does. It's hard to pick one thing to focus on between the switch up in pace and what he said.

"You want John B to know you like getting fucked like a slut, don't you?"

She could get off on the sound of his voice alone. Hearing him say stuff like that kills her, it makes the swirling bliss that builds in the pit of her abdomen with every thrust he gives her triple in its extremity.

Her legs are tightly wound around his hips to keep him as near to her as possible, her hands sliding up around his waist to keep a steady grasp on him while he pounds into her. The rug scratches at her back enough to make it sting alongside the immense pleasure building in her, but she doesn't care. When blended with the good sensations, the pain underscores the addictive feeling of him inside of her, fucking her exactly how she asked him too.

Looking up at him when he's like this is simply unreal. There's no other way of describing it in her eyes except for that. He's so stunning, she's inclined to believe that he isn't even real as a means of explaining it. This shouldn't be real. It should be one of her daydreams while she steals covert stares at him as they hang out with the Pogues, but it isn't. She can't wrap her head around it.

Those strands of hair that were damp from the rain are mostly dry as they fall into his eyes with the force of his movements. The sight of him alone, set aside from the rest of it, is enough to make her writhe beneath him and claw at his back in tandem with another thrust that sends her jolting against the rug.

He takes one of his hands up from where they both held her hips for leverage to weave his fingers into the roots of her hair.

He demands between the panting breaths and moans that flood the limited space between them, tugging on her hair, "Answer me."

She instantly blurts out the words, "I want him to see us." The feeling of him tilting her head back by the fistful of hair he has wrapped up in his hand is her persistent reminder to concentrate enough to continue, and she bites down on her lip to contain a moan before speaking again, "I want him to know..."

Her cheeks burn with the mere thought of it, let alone saying it out loud. He's the only person she'd ever let in on this intimate side of her, the side that makes her crazy when she hears him say stuff like this. The reason she feels so comfortable doing this with him is that she knows he understands her. It's as if he can read her mind without even having to try, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

It wouldn't matter if the topic of their exhibitionism were any other Pogue or a stranger, it isn't about who it is, it's about the thrill attached to the concept of almost getting seen during such a heated moment. In all actuality, John B is probably snoring face down into his pillow right now with no care for what's happening out here, but he knows what it does to her when they push the boundaries of decency this way. It's the same rush he gets from stealing random, useless things every so often, it's the thrill of getting away with something.

The hand tangled up in the roots of her hair sneaks down between their colliding bodies to rub her clit, and her mouth drops open to take in a shaky breath.

The sight of her beneath him is undoing in and of itself. Head tilted enough to expose her neck to him, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths, and breasts bouncing gently with the momentum of their actions—seeing her this way makes his thrusts ramp up into more of a frenzied, uncontainable pace rather than one with the same control and cadence as before. But it's mostly the eye contact that kills him. She doesn't dare to shut her eyes the entire time, as if she can sense that he'll tell her to look at him again the second she does.

"You want him to know what?" he asks, and she knows he won't let her get away with not saying it.

She whines, utterly helpless to the climax starting to build inside of her, "Please."

What she's pleading for, she isn't quite sure, but he can tell by how she's acting that she's starting to get closer, and he wants nothing more than to tease her with the impending chance of her orgasm.

"If you wanna come, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Just like that, he withdraws his hand from between them and leaves her desperate, blindly grasping for the peak she was so close to reaching, she could almost feel it already.

With JJ rocking into her at a relaxed, slower rhythm, the pleasure hasn't disappeared completely. It's there, but she can sense the feeling of her orgasm receding as quickly as it had creeped up on her as soon as he slips his hand out from between them.

It's instantly clear to him how desperate she is as all of her previous shyness surrounding having to admit this to him out loud withers away in seconds. She isn't beneath begging again at this point. He could tell her to crawl across the floor to him and she'd happily do it for the chance of touching him. It's pathetic but true. As much as she has him wrapped around her finger, he has done the same to her and she isn't afraid to admit it anymore.

Her hips jerk toward him in search of the familiar frenzy they were in before that sent her to the brink of climax, but he is impressively stubborn. Despite the fact that it physically pains him to dial it back again, he tries to keep the signs of his own frustration at bay. She knew what she had to say to get what she wants, so he'll only cave when she does.

This time around, she doesn't give a fuck about how badly she blushes or the voice in the back of her mind telling her she should keep this side of her to herself. This time, the one thing she needs to do to prompt her to open her mouth and speak the dirty words he asked her less than a moment ago is look at him. One second of staring up at him and here she is, driven mad enough to say or do anything to get him to pick up where they left off.

She says between the soft noises and breaths coming from them both, clinging to him through every slow but deep thrust that sends sparks ricocheting through her body, "I want John B to know I like getting fucked like slut." Her voice is breathless, and he hangs off of each word as she pauses, looking up at him with a challenging attitude swirling in those pretty eyes. "So stop being a tease and fuck me like one."

His jaw clenches at the bratty statement, one he's too far gone to resist at this point, and right when he's about to respond to her, she speaks again.

"Either that," she says, and a deceptively sweet smile crosses her kiss-swollen lips, "or I can go ask him to—"

She doesn't even get the chance to voice the rest of that thought before he's set into motion.

The hands on her hips flip her over with such casual strength, all she can do is yelp in surprise at the sudden movement that blurs the living room in her peripheral version until she lands with her hands and knees pressing into the rug. He was so swift in pulling out of her and tossing her onto her front like she was nothing more than a rag doll, she hardly had the time to take a breath before she ended up here.

There's hardly any time between when he pulled out to flip her over and when he returns to her again, but it feels like an eternity for them. The few second transition might as well be a few years as she feels his hands guiding her body where he wants it, pushing down on her back until it arches just so, and falls down onto her arms. But as soon as she gets situated, she feels a pair of hands yanking her arms away from where they were braced against the floor and put them behind her back.

It's only then, when he has an unflinching grasp on where he keeps her wrists behind her back with one of his hands, that she is met with the relief of him sinking into her again.

Y/N's jaw goes slack, and she cries out into the rug that her cheek is pressed into as he gives her no chance to adjust or catch her breath before resuming the brutal pace they kept a moment ago. Mentioning anyone else but him doing this to her was the quickest way to get him to snap, so it's safe to say that she's getting what she wanted. After all, she did what he asked, it's fair that she gets rewarded for it.

Amidst the sounds of the storm waging war on the landscape outside of the house, the one thing she can hear over the buzzing pleasure that drowns out her senses is the sinful blend of sounds they create together. It's the sound of their bodies merging, his name falling from her lips, and the curses he makes under his breath that never fail to drive her a little wild.

The hand that isn't holding her arms behind her slides down the length of her curved back until it wraps around her throat to pin her down, and her reaction is everything he could ask for. Seeing her rock back against him to meet him halfway makes his grip on her wrists tighten enough to turn his knuckles white.

Her hair is spread in endless directions in a fan around her head, and he can only see one side of her face from where he kneels behind her, but that glimpse is more than enough. Brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth dropped open in a gape as soft 'uh's and 'ah's escape her on the upstroke of each thrust—she's a mess right now. A beautiful, perfect mess.

"Oh God, JJ," she moans between her rapid breaths and the strong hand constricting her neck, "I'm so close. Please, just let me come."

It took virtually nothing for her to be pushed right back to the edge of the peak she was at less than a minute ago. It took a mere half-minute of this and she's once again reduced to incoherent pleas for more and shaking with no control over herself. Her legs tremble with the effort to keep herself up in this position, and she isn't even the one doing most of the work. In all fairness, this change in position has made the intensity triple. It's deeper this way, and with how harshly he slams into her, it's as though she can feel it in the base of her abdomen.

It's the enjoyable type of pain, however, not the bad type. It'll surely end up with her being sore tomorrow, but she can't hide how much she loves the painful pleasure of how rough it's getting. Being denied an orgasm when she was so, so close to it was initially disappointing too, but it was worth it. If the build up to what would've been her climax before was a spark, this is a flourishing fire spreading through her with no chance of smothering the flames.

He lets go of her throat and taps the side of her jaw in a silent request that she picks up immediately, letting her lips fall open to suck his fingers into her mouth without a second of hesitation.

The taste of her arousal on them is faint, but still there, and it occurs to her that she thought about this earlier before things evolved into chaos. Her tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers as he starts to pull them away in what feels like the blink of an eye to her, leaving him to remember what it felt like when her lips were once wrapped around a more sensitive part of him a week and a half ago.

The one other time he let himself remember it was when they were on the boat with the Pogues, yet that wasn't really of his own volition. It was hot out, so Kiara bought ice pops for them and his mind wandered far from where it should've stayed.

Shining with her saliva, his fingers are pulled from her lips with a soft 'pop' in pursuit of that sensitive collection of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She just needs is a little push to go over the edge, and when he slips his hand down her body to rub tight circles onto her clit, she loses whatever remnants of control over herself she had left.

The steady rhythm of her hips moving back against him falters as she is overwhelmed with the separate sensations culminating into one and giving her the push she needs to come. Her entire body tenses up in anticipation, and since she's pinned to the floor with her hands behind her back, she can only lay there and savor the feeling as it hits her.

After what felt like ages of having it build and build within her, then having it taken away to start the process over again, finally being given a release is a relief beyond any she's felt before.

It's so consuming, it takes away her ability to think of anything outside of how it feels to dissolve into the shockwaves of euphoria rushing through her. Every pulsing wave is prolonged by him, not even through the peak of it does he let up on his precise touches and unforgiving thrusts into her that turn a typical orgasm into the most intense thing she's ever felt.

She's melting in his arms through it all, and as if the change in position didn't make it worse, her involuntary spasms leave him hanging on by a thread.

JJ collapses onto her, barely having the chance to keep himself propped up on his arms as he lets go of her wrists and falls forward onto her sweat-slick back.

The heat of his panting exhales raises goosebumps in its wake where his face is buried into the curve of her neck, and he whines at the impossibly tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock through the end of her climax. Those sounds he doesn't realize he's making have her writhing through the aftershocks, answering with a sound of her own that almost makes him come instantly.

For that reason, he makes the decision to pull out and flip her onto her back.

At this point, she's so dazed and fucked out that she doesn't register any of it until she notices the hollow absence of him inside of her, but it doesn't matter when his face appears through the partial darkness above her.

Despite how sensitive she is right now, the sight of him makes her hands reach out blindly to pull him closer again. They're frantic in their need to get back to one another, grasping and clawing until he finds his way back to her in less than a second, hiking her legs up around his waist with a touch that is somehow demanding and tender at the same time.

It's only when he's inside of her again that it occurs to her why he rolled her onto her back again, and it makes her want to kiss him until her lips turn numb. It may be undeniably hotter to pin someone down and fuck them hoarse, but, no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be able to look at her, to see her face, and the thought of that has her biting back a sudden confession of love. She isn't sure why she doesn't say it right away, since it isn't like they haven't already done it, but she keeps it to herself for a second first.

It's different now. It's not less passionate or frenetic. It isn't as if he isn't being as rough with her as he was before, but they can both sense a shift in the energy between them as soon as he reenters her. It's less about the pursuit of pleasure and more about the feelings they've kept hidden away for so long. It's a simultaneous realization that hits them a little late after they initially confessed their feelings for each other: this is reality. It's real, and when she touches him this time, he isn't going to disappear if she opens her eyes.

The realization of what happened tonight had yet to hit them until right this second, but now that it has, they move forward with a sense of sentimentality that remained partly dormant before.

If there's anything JJ dislikes, it's being vulnerable. The idea of letting someone in to see every part of him, including the parts he doesn't want to see of himself, has always terrified him after years of being made to believe he's undeserving, yet he isn't uncomfortable right now. Somehow, he feels safe with her. Sex has never been something so emotional for him until now, until her, and he doesn't want it differently.

Their bodies are drawn in close, her arms thrown around his neck, and he's so close, he can feel the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contract with the inevitable approach of his orgasm. She can sense it too in how he acts.

When he gets close, he becomes clingier and lets his feelings get the better of him. His hands squeeze at her hips, sliding up her sides and back down to hike one of her legs up high around his waist to press deeper into her. He can't bear to allow his touch to stay in one place for too long before exploring another part of her, wanting to memorize the delicate intricacies of her body in its entirety.

It's as if she can read his mind too, cause even when she's sensitive enough to gasp when he pushes her thigh to her chest and throws his remaining energy into fucking her at a satisfying pace, she understands what he needs. She knows to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, to tug on it gently until the light strands are taut from his scalp. She knows to lift her head off of the floor enough to trail tender kisses along his face, his jaw, his neck—anywhere she can access.

"Come for me," she says into a kiss placed on the edge of his cheekbone, reeling in overstimulation as she jolts with his quickening thrusts, "I want to watch you..."

Hearing those words, paired with the kisses and fingers pulling on his hair, does it for him. It doesn't take more for his hips to falter and jerk forward into her a final few times before he comes.

Their foreheads press together as they cling to one another for stability, though it's mostly JJ clinging to her while she watches in adoration, and she has to bite her lip to contain a moan at how it feels. The aftershocks of her orgasm have yet to fade as the feeling of pulsing warmth inside of her makes them stronger, reigniting the fire she felt a moment ago if only for a second.

There's a closeness to this situation that they hadn't felt the last time, and they know it has everything to do with what was said before this happened. The sex itself feels like a dream sequence in her mind now that she's coming down from it with him, moving together slowly and gently beneath the candlelight until they ride out the ends of their highs. It was like they were put under a trance by each other, and now that it's over, the first thoughts that come to mind are of what comes next.

It's not the sole topic on their minds though. They're more focused on catching their breath from where they lay, tangled up together, on the living room floor. As soon as the very last of his orgasm faded from him, he fell onto her without a single ounce of energy left to spare. He's careful not to crush her, but, for the most part, he relaxes on top of her and lets his head rest on her heaving chest.

Strong arms slip down to loop around her waist, and she sure that she couldn't get him to release her if she wanted to, which she doesn't.

But they can't stay like this, not for any longer than a few moments anyway, since they don't know how if John B might wake up and come out of the safety of his bedroom after hours of leaving them to their own devices. JJ was right. He's out cold, but for as much as it turned them on in the heat of the moment, neither of them finds getting caught by him as hot with the clarity of their rational minds coming back to them.

He's the one to break the silence.

"As much as I wanna stay like this, we should probably move in case John B wakes up."

The sound of his voice settles in her with the effects of a sedative. It calms her more than anything else could, especially with the added comfort of him cuddling her so closely. One of her hands strokes through his hair and pushes the damp tendrils of sunshine away from his face as he cranes his neck to look up at her. And, for fuck's sake, what else is she to do except admire him?

His cheeks are dusted pink in a way they often are when he spends too much time outside without one of his hats shielding his face, and she thinks he's never looked better.

Ever since they became friends, she's had this theory about him. In the unrealistic landscape of her overactive imagination, JJ didn't come to this world the way the rest of them did. To her, it seems impossible that someone so good, even in his worst moments, could've come from someone like his dad.

So, in idle moments where she would watch him on a day out with the Pogues or daydream about him, she decided that he's the sun.

She imagines he was created in those breathtaking but brief moments where the sun meets the horizon atop the ocean and washes the sky with a vast array of colors. She likes to think he's the incarnation of it. Golden, warm, and bright for everyone but himself, he keeps the world light for her and their friends without intending to.

Some days are warmer than others too. Some days, the light is dimmed by another bruise beneath his clothes or a bad run-in with some kooks, but today is not like that. This moment is eighty-five and sunny with a balmy breeze. Looking at him right now feels like basking in the sun, and she'd burn here forever if he let her.

Without realizing she zoned out, she jolts when he pinches her arm to rouse her from her ridiculous thoughts. He has this dopey half-smile on his face that nearly draws her back into them again.

"You know what they say," he says, "if you take a picture..."

Her soft laughter invades the room, filling his heart with this light, fluttery feeling that always finds him when she's near. His smile grows as she playfully shoves him and reaches above their heads for her wet shirt to cover up with just in case. Odds are, their friend isn't waking up at the exact moment before they seclude themselves to the spare room and get dressed, but she doesn't wanna take that chance.

"I wasn't staring."

She was totally staring. But who could blame her? When someone looks at a person the way he looks at her, how could they ever stay away?

"Whatever you say."

JJ keeps smiling to himself while he pulls his underwear and shorts up his legs and waits for her to be decent enough to sneak past John B's bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The clothes are soaked through with rainwater, so they feel quite uncomfortable to slip back on, but they merely redress enough to be covered. She stole his shirt to avoid putting her shorts back on, the hem of the grey tee hanging right at the tops of her thighs when she walks. As soon as she slips her panties back on and picks up the rest of their cold, wet clothes, that's the cue he needs to scoop her up and take her away.

Y/N curses under her breath in surprise at feeling her feet being plucked off the ground, but she relaxes again once she's settled in his arms, realizing that it was just him who snuck up behind her and lifted her into his arms.

She doesn't say anything on the way to the bathroom. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and finds herself staring at the mark she left behind on his neck.

It's a deep, purplish red against the backdrop of his tan skin...the Pogues will surely notice the next time they see him. And while it will make her blush, it won't make her scared as it once would've. There may be a lingering sense of doubt and insecurity within her, but she wants this with him. Even if it means being teased by their friends or dealing with the jealousy of watching kook girls and tourons at parties hit on him, she wants this.

By the time the shower is spraying the rainwater from her hair and washing her clean of sweat sticking to her skin, she realizes that he isn't saying anything either, but she doesn't think it's out of any awkwardness or miscommunication. There's truly nothing to say, at least for now.

Though they didn't have the chance to talk in depth about everything yet, neither of them thinks of that right now. All they know is that they're together, whether it be officially or not, and it feels good. For once, something in his life feels right, and he lets himself enjoy it in silence.

The shower is a cramped space when shared between them and the wet clothes they have draped over the back edge of the tub, but they make it work. It's not like they mind anyway.

They bump into one another whenever they do so much as breathe, and the white walls echo the sounds of her giggling when he tries to tickle her. She leans her head back against his chest and lets out a laugh with shampoo dripping down the front of her face, and he'll be damned if he ever heard a sound as intoxicating as that.

It's a little weird. He's never been as soft and loving with a person before, and he has already felt overwhelmed in the lulls of quiet between them when he's given the chance to think about it.

When she washes his hair for him, insisting that she must return the favor after he so kindly washed hers, he was struck with the same mixture of wanting to simultaneously lean into and pull away from her that he felt the night of the party.

The warmth of the water loosens his sore muscles, washing suds of the green apple scented shampoo over his shoulders and down, down, down until it circles the drain beside his feet. All the while, her fingertips are delicately tracing over a healing bruise on his torso. Those pretty lips of hers are painted in a suppressed frown that she can't hide from him.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

His instant reaction is to fake a smile, to brush it off and distract her as he usually does, yet he doesn't. He forces himself to remain neutral and not push her away.

"Happens all the time," he murmurs, shrugging and averting his eyes to reach for the soap off on the ledge.

The hands holding either side of his waist tighten as he tries to turn, pulling him back to her with more strength than he knew to anticipate from her. Their chests gently collide back together beneath the stream of water, and she can feel his breathing catch for a second or so in response.

The fact that their relationship has changed doesn't change how she handles this aspect of his life. Their new confessions don't have an impact on the part of his life he never wants to let anyone see, so she isn't going to force him to talk about it because they're trying out this whole relationship thing now. He has hard boundaries that she knows not to push sometimes. That's the way it is, and it might change as they grow closer but she knows to accept it for the moment.

As soon as he hears what she has to say next, he could crumble in relief at the realization that their new dynamic doesn't change anything.

"I didn't necessarily mean...that...I meant generally, you know? It's just that—" she sighs, "you shrink away a little when I hold you, and I wondered if I was making you uncomfortable."

Before she could finish the sentence, JJ was already thinking of what to say to prove her wrong, because that's not it. That's not what it is, and if she thinks she's done anything wrong, he'll do anything to convince her otherwise because it isn't her. It's him.

It's his dad lingering in the darker trenches of his mind, commanding his fear and attention so that even when he isn't physically present, he's still here. Part of why he denied wanting her was because he knew these types of things would arise in the beginning, that there would be difficult adjustments to make and conversations to be had, and he didn't want her to leave him as soon as she was faced with one of these things.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

The feeing of her chest rising and falling with his begins to steady him after a moment of allowing the initial hesitation to dissolve. His internal reaction to her touch is the mental incarnation of a flinch. It's him waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting her to do something, to hurt him, before his mind catches up with his heart. But once he realizes everything's okay, he loves it.

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I guess when you touch me, I'm expecting something else," he says softly, scared that if he speaks too loudly, everyone in the world will know how weak he feels.

She should've figured, but hearing him say it is different than wondering what the reasoning behind it is. Hearing him admit it after months of strict avoidance on the topic is a sucker punch to the gut.

Both times they had sex, he was too distracted and thoughtless to get caught up in that part of himself, but it's when the bliss of the afterglow disappears that it creeps back in. That's why he could always handle touch when it came in that context. It was his way of obtaining what he wanted without having to face this side of it—a temporary fix to a greater web of issues.

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx s2 #obx #fanfiction

[mypoisonedvine]

can you please write some daddy! stucky x little! reader with some cockwarming and spanking and just being a cum slut for daddy’s special milk

okay so I took this amazing suggestion and REALLY ran with it... this is so nasty im putting the whole thing under a cut wowww... very nsfw, very heavy ddlg, very aggressive punishments with mean!daddy stucky, lots of cnc and pain kink and degradation plus dp and painal... it's wild

"dada pwease... I'll be good, I pwomise..."

bucky sighed, crossing his arms in disappointnent as he looked down at you. "you had your chance to be good, pumpkin, but you were naughty instead. now papa and I have to teach you a lesson."

you turned to your papa, steve, and your heart broke to see him looking at you with stoic sternness, his hands resting on his hips judgmentally. "pweeease papa, don't spank me... s'gonna hurt..."

"sorry baby but you more than earned it," steve sighed as he took a seat on one of the dining chairs nearby. "your dada's gonna help you take off your pull-up, and then you need to come over here and bend over my knee before I add five more spanks onto your punishment."

"yes, papa..." you mumbled as you felt bucky's hands relieve you of your diaper before you stepped out of it and crossed the room to where steve waited patiently, patting his knee for you to lay on. you squirmed a little in anticipation of the punishment but overall managed to avoid more of his anger.

"I'm gonna give you fifteen, and if you lose count we have to start over."

"but papa I can't count that high!"

"yes you can, stop acting stupid and count them for me, loud so we can both hear you."

loud wasn't a problem at all. he hit you hard enough that just the first one made tears sting your eyes instantly. "o-one!"

you looked up at bucky as you kept counting, little whines and whimpers turning quickly into real cries, each slap making you choke and sob louder. you were hoping he would take pity on you, but instead you saw his cock getting hard inside his jeans.

"I think you need a paci to keep you quiet," bucky decided after you could barely managed to say 'nine' due to the force of your crying. but he didn't go get your favorite pink glittery one, no, he was reaching for his belt to get his cock out and rub it on your lips. "go ahead and suck on it, pumpkin," he encouraged gruffly as he shoved it into your mouth, and you forced yourself to hold back the tears so you could focus on sucking him properly. suckling at his leaking head did help with the crying, to be honest, but it did little for the pain itself.

"looks like dada's trying to make you lose count..." your papa taunted. thankfully they were merciful enough to give you breaks from choking on dada bucky's cock so you could count for papa steve, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you reached fifteen and bucky knelt down to wipe your tears away.

"good job pumpkin, you took it well," bucky soothed you, stroking your hair gently as you let out weak little sobs. "you're almost done."

"a-almost?"

"you need a bigger punishment than just spanks, babydoll. you need to learn about patience."

and that you did: specifically, you learned that patience is awful.

"p-please let me move dada!" you begged, squirming on his lap as best you could while he held you down, his cock buried in you but not giving enough friction to provide any pleasure.

"I told you pumpkin, you can't move til I say so."

he held you still for what felt like forever, while papa kissed your neck and played with your tits and your button, whispering about how you were a good girl but you needed to l learn your lesson. you were right on the edge but you couldn't get there without your dada's cock moving in you.

"go ahead and move, pumpkin."

"thank you dada, thank you soooo much," you sobbed with relief, sighing and moaning when you got a chance to lift yourself on top of him. you didn't get much of a chance to do it yourself though, he was already lifting you effortlessly and moving you up and down himself, before quickly moving you to your hands and knees so he could fuck you more aggressively.

you looked up at your papa as you came, tears welling in your eyes from the intensity of the pleasure bucky was giving you.

"papa... I'm hungry..." you whimpered.

but this wasn't the way you said it when you wanted a snack. this was something else, and you knew he knew it. he grinned as he looked down at you. "what are you hungry for, babydoll?"

"wan' daddy's special milk..."

"yeah, I bet you do... if you do a good job and make papa feel good, you'll get lots of milk... is that what you want, sweetheart?"

you nodded and licked your lips, already salivating at the thought. you loved your daddies' milk so much, you craved it almost all the time. the only thing better than tasting and swallowing it was having it put as deep inside you as they could reach, and plugged up so it stayed. thankfully, with two daddies to take care of you, you never had to choose.

steve stuffed your mouth with his cock, holding you by your neck and fucking your throat.

being used at both ends made you feel incredible, you loved being your daddies' special little girl and making them feel good. you moaned happily when papa came all over your tongue, groaning and praising you as you swallowed every drop and sucked diligently to make sure you got all you could.

when he pulled out and you thanked him like always, you addressed bucky immediately. "please come in me dada, wan it in me..."

"yeah? are you daddy's little cumslut?"

"yes!! love it so so much, dada, please put it so deep in me..."

"I'm gonna fuck you really really hard, okay? but only because you asked me to come. no crying if it hurts."

"okie dada..."

you didn't cry, but you nearly screamed when he began to pound into you senselessly, slamming into your cervix with each thrust.

"it's too deep isn't it?"

you nodded, making him laugh. "oh baby, is dada ruining your tiny little pussy?"

you nodded again, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out.

bucky growled as he came, pumping into your abused hole and painting it with his release. you winced when he pulled out, feeling his come mix with yours as it leaked down your thighs

"poor thing, are you sore and achy?" steve cooed, grinning when you nodded. "it's not time for a break yet, I wanna get inside you too, baby."

"can't, papa, too tired."

"that's okay, then we'll just play a game instead. do you remember how to play horsey?"

"I like horsey!"

"good! you get to ride papa like a horsey, isn't that fun?"

well, it wasn't as fun as it sounded, because when you straddled steve on the bed and sink down on his cock, soreness burned between your legs. "hurts, papa... too big..."

"yeah, I know it hurts, but papa wants to play horsey so you need to be a big girl okay?"

you started to pout and cry a little as he pushed all the way into you, shifting to try to relieve your discomfort but only making it worse.

"now just rock back and forth, sweetheart... did you forget how to play like a dumb little baby?"

"n-no..."

just as you were trying to adjust to moving on top of steve, bucky's finger poked at your other hole, a stinging pain shooting up your back when he pushed it in.

"ow, dada!"

"why are you whining, pumpkin?"

"you hurted me!"

"sorry baby, but this is gonna hurt a lot less later if you let me hurt you a little now..."

you tried to be good and take his fingers, but every time it went from hurting to almost feeling good, he would put in more. finally he took them all out and you hoped he was done, but then you felt him pushing his cock against your hole.

"won't fit..." you sighed.

"'m gonna make it fit pumpkin, now hold still..."

you shivered and hissed and scrunched up your face as he pushed into you, trying to squirm away but failing. "dadaaaaa!" you sobbed loudly. "hurts, dada, please stop!!"

"it's supposed to hurt, princess, that's how you know it's working. it means this big cock is stretching out this itty bitty hole for dada. you do know all your holes belong to dada, right?"

"b-but I don't like it..."

"I don't care if you like it. let me use your dirty fucking hole and shut your mouth, you hear me?"

you bit on your lip and nodded weakly, your chest burning with shame from the cruel way bucky was treating you (even though it made your insides tingle with arousal as well).

steve took pity on you though, leaning up to wipe one tear with his thumb before kissing away the other. "is it too much to have both your daddies' cocks in you at once?"

you nodded again, sniffling quietly.

"but you like it anyways, don't you? you like being an obedient cocksleeve for us?"

"yes, papa..."

"and I know you love being full of our special milk... you can get more if you just ask nicely."

"please papa, please dada, wan more of your milk in me..."

"I bet you wanna have your own cummies, isn't that right babydoll?"

you nodded and gasped when steve played with your swollen button again, and you felt your insides tighten around both of them. you couldn't believe you might actually be able to come in spite (or because?) of all this pain.

"dirty little slut. look at you riding two cocks like the filthy whore you are. like the needy little cumdumpster we turned you into. remember when you were all innocent and stupid, baby? when you didn't even know if we would fit? now you're begging for more, drooling and moaning and coming all over your daddies' cocks... taking me up your ass and fucking loving it... desperate bitch."

"bucky," you gasped quietly, taken aback by his words.

"too much?" he whispered back right against your ear.

"no... just right. keep going," you encouraged.

"god, if only you could see how wide your little holes are being stretched right now," he continued, his voice lower than before. "if only you could see us tearing up your princess parts."

"close, dada... gonna have my cummies..."

"go ahead and come, baby, show us how tight you can get, go on, clench real hard for us."

"fuck just like that, gonna fill you up baby"

"you'll be full for days just from this, so full of our milk you won't even be able to think."

when you came you went limp, melting into their arms and losing your ability to do much of anything including say more than a few words at a time. you were totally cockdrunk and exhausted and braindead. bucky said sometimes that you didn't need a brain anyways...

they kept using your exhausted and overstimulated body until they were done with you, putting their come deep in you and finally plugging you up this time (in both holes, of course-- even your mouth too if you count the paci they gave you to nurse while you drifted to sleep on your papa's chest)

"such a good little baby, such a sweet girl for us..."

"get some rest pumpkin, we're so very proud of you"

"you're papa's favorite girl, okay? dada's little angel."

#daddy!stucky x reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader

[k-dokja]

nap

summary: girl help my work load is killing me

Samuel had seen you during the after-hours six days in a row. By nightfall, this would've made it a week since you holed up inside your office and the bags under your eyes had earned permanent citizenship.

He knew the workload for the both of you had increased since Samuel absorbed the third affiliate. One wouldn't be shocked to see the life drained from you while you were managing the merge, but it was concerning all the same.

The ethic you possessed was admirable, if not worrying.

By the time he saw you collapsed in a heap of pillow and blanket on your office's couch, Samuel had accepted it was a predictable outcome. You were running yourself dry.

“...Are you okay?” The question came through a white smoke of steam coming from his freshly brewed cup of coffee.

It was his third one that night, seven nights in a row. That layered on top of the smokes he inhaled at least thrice a day to chase away his stress. A doctor would've thought he was digging his own early grave. Maybe he was.

Either way, it was how he coped with life. You, on another hand, was content with your obnoxious amount of bedding. Maybe you'd live longer than him.

“Yup,” you poked your head up from behind a blanket, your hair a mess from getting mushed by your pillow.

That short glimpse of your features had him reasserted the situation. Your eyes were dry and your complexion had not faced the sun for some time. He'd have blamed it on your hermit behaviour had he not seen you holing up here for the past few days. For as much cheer as you mustered in your answer, he could see you were dipping one toe into the grave.

Samuel couldn't have that, he was growing fond of you. Only a little.

“You look overwhelmed,” Samuel took a tentative sip of his coffee, still hot, “want to get a change of scenery?”

“God no,” you plopped back down, groans spilling out from your mouth, “if I stayed away from the office now, my stress will spike up again.”

Samuel blew out a breath, the coolness fanned his coffee, “I told you to not sleep at work, now you're delirious.”

“You sleep at work,” you whined as you buried yourself further into your bedding, “pot stop calling kettle black.”

It was more of a demand than a request. He couldn't help but poke fun at you when you had the audacity to demand something from him. “We use electronic kettle and oven, they are black because they were black upon purchase.”

“Stop trying to mess with the meaning of the saying,” you raised one singular finger, annoyed at his chiding, “if you don't have anything better to do then go bother someone else, I need to take a nap.”

Clearly. He couldn't have guessed there was any other use for the nest you made for yourself. There was the idea of a pillow fort, but you were severely lacking in terms of material.

“Is that how you destress?” He glanced at the piles of papers arranged neatly on your desk, a complete contrast to the mess you've thrown yourself into.

It was... interesting imagery, but he wasn't there to analyse you. Not entirely. Maybe he cared about you felt. A little.

From the rustle of your blanket, you probably shrugged. “Yes? It's not that effective seeing how I get even more stressed in my sleep but whatever, I need the rest.”

Satisfied with the answer, Samuel nodded and sipped his coffee again, only a little cooler than before, “Then rest, I'll deal with your paperwork for you,” he glanced at his mug, “until I finished this.”

You emerged from your little sanctuary again, eyes round when they set upon him. “...Does the tyrant king actually have a heart? Is this reality? Wait, let me note this momentous day down and—”

Samuel suppressed his grin with a scowl, “Go to sleep before I changed my mind,” his warning was clear and concise, you dropped like leaves.

“Yessir!”

As you settled back down, he strode into your office and claimed his place at the desk. Catching up on the progress you were making was the small task, continuing it was the big one. Still, he immersed himself easily, the process went on without a hitch.

Between the occasional quiet typing of the keyboard and the shuffles of the paper, soon, silence set into the office. Samuel found himself reaching for his coffee again, but he was not eager to consume it.

To his surprise, you were awake then, even if your words slurred from sleepiness.

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Samuel,” he corrected you out of habit, even if it’d do little in this sleepy state of your mind.

As expected, you ignored him. “Thanks for this.”

He thought to protest and fixed whatever idea you had of him in your mind, but thought better of it. “Hm, I'm not doing this without a cost," he settled his mug down, gentle as he could be, “you better return to work well-rested.”

“Yes—” you were cut off by a yawn “—sir.”

“Mhm.”

The quiet returned afterwards, aided by additional soft snores.

#fics #samuel seo #samuel seo x reader #lookism #lookism x reader

[votederpycausemufins]

All my knowledge is of hermitcraft and the stuff people have written for the Hermit!Tommy Au but I kept having this idea and needed to write it. I also think i got a bit out of character halfway through because it was supposed to be short, but i vibed with it too much so now it’s long and maybe not 100% accurate but it’s still angst followed by fluff.

also @petrichormeraki wanted me to tag them when i posted this.

Tommy had been with the Hermits for a while now. He hadn’t really kept track of when he first arrived, but it had at least been a few months. Otherwise, time was a mess. The Hermits has all but legally adopted him and all the joy that came from them caring for him made time seem to fly by.

Doc was fun to be around because while Tommy was perfectly fine never going back to the SMP, the way the man acted gave Tommy a small bit of familiarity in a good way to his past life.

He likes hanging out with False, mainly for sparring. Never anything deadly, but even if there wasn’t a need for Tommy to constantly look over his shoulder, it was good to keep from getting too rusty.

He doesn’t really hang out with Zedaph as much as Zedaph hangs out with him. Normally the Hermit would come out of the blue with something new for Tommy to try. Flicking levers over and over for something that would normally be as simple as using a furnace just became fun for Tommy, especially if he had energy pent up.

Xisuma is someone Tommy doesn’t run into much, but the fact that he doesn’t is something Tommy finds comfort in. Even as the server admin, the man is very down to Earth. Nothing like Dream ever was.

And then there’s Grian. Tommy got along with all the Hermits fine and of course there were some he preferred over others, but Grian took the cake for him. When he first showed up, Grian was the one to give him a place to stay at his old hobbit hole. Professor Beaks had been left there and still used to the SMP and scared for his life, Tommy hid the pet bird as leverage for his own safety. When Grian found out, he mostly shrugged it off, but the tens of chickens in the hobbit hole the next day was proof of retaliation.

Tommy didn’t understand the underwhelming response at first, but responded in kind, using the eggs from the chickens Grian had left to egg the Hermit’s base. When the builder nearly broke the door to the hobbit hole, Tommy grabbed his axe, ready to fight for his life, but was taken aback by the cheerful look on Grian’s face.

After that, Grian had practically taken Tommy under his wing. He showed Tommy how to build more effectively with cobble, eventually managing to get the teen to have some variety. Grian also brought Tommy along on his various chaotic endeavors, leaving behind chickens, mycelium, and possibly some missing doors.

The two chaotic red wearing Brits got along so well that they sometimes spent entire weeks together. Because of that, Tommy was all too aware that the Hermits participated in MCC as well.

It made sense. A few of the Hermits vaguely recognised him when he showed up in Hermitcraft and a few of them looked familiar to Tommy. That had made him feel a little safer since now these people weren’t complete strangers, but it did complicate things. Every so often, the portal to MCC would open and the Hermits participating would go through. The closest Tommy would get to the portal was just before the Hermits left, occasionally giving a ‘Good luck Grine!’ or something similar to Grian as he went through. But after that Tommy stayed as far away as he could manage.

The portal there led to MCC. And from there, there was a portal that led to the SMP. If Tommy could get to Hermitcraft, others could too. And that idea was terrifying, no matter who it was. Dream was a worst case scenario, but even if it was Tubbo. Tubbo had exiled him, and even if they were still on good terms after that, Tommy could have visited at some other MCC, but he didn’t, and that idea likely wouldn’t go over well, especially since otherwise, people probably thought he was dead and Tommy didn’t care to correct them.

But compared to all those other times, today was very different. Today Tommy wasn’t at the sidelines to help send off the other Hermits, he was one of the ones being sent off. They had taken every precaution. Mumbo had rebuilt his Spookification chamber for Tommy with some alterations, specifically removing the firework method of alteration. The teen was also dressed for being on a team with Grian as the Cyan Creepers, so his familiar red and white shirt was missing. But under Tommy’s costume, he still kept the chain necklace holding his compass. He refused to part with it, though made sure he would be hard to access to keep from glancing, knowing at the championships, it wouldn’t be spinning wildly anymore.

With a comforting pat on the back from Grian, he and the other Hermits walked through the portal. The crowd of people that were on the side almost immediately overwhelmed Tommy, making him think that it was a bad idea all over again, but the sight of the two other team members for the Cyan Creepers reassured them, especially as they lined up for the cameras for some fun and silly times. Then once the games began, he was too focused on winning to think of much else.

Before long, the championships were over. They had come in fifth, which was a bit disappointing at first, but on the other hand, it was still pretty good and kept the spotlight off of him. When dodgebolt began, Tommy stood next to Grian, but with a crowd of people, a good game, and no perfect place to sit, the both of them wandered for a better vantage point.

At one point, Tommy managed to push his way right up to the edge of the viewing ledge. It was the perfect place for a while until the action moved, causing everyone to decide it was the perfect place. Enough people moved nearby that Tommy was worried about falling into the pit below, and he almost did before someone pulled him back.

Tommy was ready to thank whichever Hermit or even other player helped him but the words died in his throat when he faced the person who grabbed him. He knew that mask and neon green color. And there was no reason for him to help Tommy unless-

“I finally found you!” Dream spoke. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but not too much to draw the attention of others. Tommy froze as he definitely heard the words. But there was no way for Dream to know, he didn’t look at all like normal.

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy tried not to stutter, hoping just the situation of being grabbed would excuse it. “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for. I’m new here. Unless you’re greeting me for being new.” It was something he prepared before in his mind after Grian brought up the possibility, but it felt sloppy putting it to use.

“Oh don’t lie Tommy. I know it’s you. I guess you got lost, but it’s okay, you can come back now. I got rid of the exile for you. Aren’t you glad?”

Tommy was glad for the mask that covered Dream’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dream’s actual expression. “How did you-” He started to speak, but Dream cut him off, poking Tommy’s chest, right where the compass was.

“Weren’t you paying attention to the teams? Tubbo got put with me. And between games he just happened to glance at his own compass. And wouldn’t you know it, it led me right here.” Dream held up the compass that belonged to Tubbo. It looked damaged, and it was recent. Tubbo likely didn’t want to give the tyrant admin the compass, but lost it to Dream anyway.

“Give that back to Tubbo!” Tommy shouted at Dream, trying to snatch it from him.

“Feisty now, aren’t you? We can take care of that when you come back. I’ll also give it back to him if you come with me.”

Tommy froze. There was no way he was going back, but what could he do? Everyone was focused on dodgebolt, and he didn’t want his appearance to have caused more trouble for Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at the crowd one last time before reluctantly nodding. Dream grabbed his hand in a painful clench and dragged him out of the crowd towards the SMP’s portal to leave. However, just before reaching it, Dream stopped. Tommy, who had been looking back at the crowd, hoping someone would see what was going on, turned towards the portal to see Grian standing in front of it.

“Heya, where do you think you’re going. MCC isn’t over yet. Dodgebolt it still going on.”

Tommy expected Dream to just push past Grian or even give some sort of retort, but the actual reply was shocking. “Uh, n-no, just… have to head back early. Th-the game delays made things run over. A-and we’ve got to get b-back for… something else. Don’t w-want to be late for that.”

Dream’s words made Tommy so shocked he forgot to breathe. Dream was scared, no he was terrified. And he was terrified… of Grian. Tommy looked back at the Hermit who stood unflinching in front of them.

“Really? I could have sworn that you were here when I arrived, and that kid wasn’t. And he definitely came from a different portal. I know since I was keeping my eye out for my teammates. So why’s he going with you?”

“I uh…” Dream struggled, struggled, to give an answer, letting Grian continue. “That’s what I thought. C’mon kid, let’s go back to the crowd. You can stay with me until it’s over then I’ll help you find your portal back.”

And Grian took Tommy away without any retaliation from Dream. Tommy was left in awe. Grian wasn’t even an admin in Hermitcraft but Dream was terrified of him. It was amazing! But at the same time, it made Tommy spiral a bit.

When everyone returned, Grian had made sure Dream left before the Hermits and Tommy did so Dream couldn’t watch Tommy leave. Tommy stuck to False’s side as they walked through the portal, Grian being the last to come through as he continued to act as a guard. When he tried to comfort Tommy after his run-in with Dream, he understood when the teen responded he just wanted to go home. The championships were exhausting enough without a scare like that.

The next day, Tommy hung out with False. And then Zedaph, and then Doc. Grian noticed immediately, but didn’t pay much mind to it. He noticed since Tommy had spent a full week only hanging out with him, so the sudden absence of the boy was noticeable, but it made sense that he would want to hang out with the others.

After that, Grian didn’t pay too much attention to the lack of Tommy until he ran into him while stocking the barge. Tommy had been buying something at the store when Grian flew in. He nearly dropped his diamonds in trying to leave in such a hurry that it finally concerned Grian. The builder started visiting other Hermits Tommy tended to visit and ask about him. No one really noticed much other than Tommy dodging any questions about him possibly going to hang out with Grian.

Grian decided to leave it alone, and he was definitely going to, but after another run in with Tommy, he threw that decision out the window. Grian normally wouldn’t have done this, but after trying multiple times to just talk to Tommy and being unsuccessful, the builder had to essentially corner the teen.

Immediately, Grian regretted it. Tommy was trembling, obviously scared, holding a sword in his hand. He carefully tried to point out that Tommy didn’t need to have his sword out, but instead of just putting it away, Tommy just threw it on the ground, also throwing down his other gear. Grian had heard of Tommy doing this before with the other Hermits, so he immediately recognised what was going on and dived to grab the gear. It scared Tommy more, but Grian wanted to make sure nothing ended up destroyed.

“Tommy, calm down, I just want to talk. Did I do something wrong? I mean, obviously I must have, you look scared out of your mind every time I’m around you. But I can’t think or anything I did and I don’t want this to keep happening. So can I know what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a while. He just looked defeated and terrified. Grian called in some of the other Hermits to come help Tommy calm down, though at first it didn’t help. But over time, Tommy finally did stop looking so terrified and they moved to somewhere he would feel less cornered. It took more coaxing after that, but finally, Tommy explained himself.

“He’s scared of you. Dream is… actually scared of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed him once or twice. Plus my full name is Lord Grian Dreamslayer, so it’s kind of in the name.” The builder tried to say it as a joke, but it didn’t seem to lighten the mood.”

“He’s the admin and he’s scared of you. And you… I’ve been hanging out with you.”

Grian nodded. “Well yeah, we do fit together well. ...Did he say something at MCC to make you think I didn’t like you?”

Tommy shook his head. “N-No. You’re right, you’re fun to be around. But dream likes… liked messing with me. And tried to train me. And I hang out with you more than I had with him, and I’m more like you. I-If you’re somehow more powerful than him-!” The rest of the words stopped in Tommy’s throat, choking him up. Stress was nearby and gave Tommy a careful hug for comfort, which helped him a little.

Grian waited a little bit for the tension to calm slightly before he spoke. “I don’t know exactly what Dream has done to you. You’ve told us a lot, but you obviously haven’t told us everything, and telling us isn’t the same as experiencing it. But let me tell you that I’m not going to do what he’s done to you. I remember how you were the first day we found you. And I see how you are now- well, how you were a few weeks ago- and I’m happy. Happy because you’ve been happy. You’ve been safe and cared for here and it shows. I don’t want to force you to be anything, I want you to be you. Sure, I’m powerful enough to kill Dream, but I’m not going to use that power on you. I’m only going to use it around you if it’s to keep him away from you.

“And! And! It’s just because of how your server is. Here we can go to the end. We don’t have a set amount of lives. We build massive structures and sell totems for a single diamond each. We fight Withers for fun and make farms with them. We farm just about anything you can think of. And Tommy.” Grian paused, making sure Tommy was paying attention. “You may be from somewhere far off that none of us old Hermits have seen, but now you’re here. And new home or not, that makes you a Hermit too. Sure you can be like me. Or you can be like False or Doc or Scar or Mumbo. But so far, you’ve been pretty you. And that you is a Hermit.”

Tommy took a few moments to process it, but the message seemed to get through to him. With that, Grian stood up with a smile. “Now I get that you probably don’t want to hang around me much right now. It makes sense. Maybe hang out with some other Hermits and learn some new stuff to get your mind off of things. Plus, I also did some talking around looking for you, and got you this.”

Tommy’s eyes practically sparkled as Grian placed down some music discs. He greedily grabbed the treasures and stuffed them in his inventory, looking up just to see Grian flying off. Taking on Grian’s idea, Tommy decided to go with Cleo and try to wrap his head around those armor stands again. While he wasn’t a pro, he did manage to make one scene of the hermits all holding weapons and surrounding an armor stand in lime leather armor. Grian was right. He was a Hermit. And he wasn’t going back. At least, not permanently, he thought, clutching his compass. Maybe, there would even be another Hermit like him.

#hermit!tommy au #hermitcraft #hermitblr #dreamsmp #tommyinnit #grian #mcc #docm77 #falsesymmetry #zedaph #xisuma #dreamwastaken #stressmonster101 #angst and fluff #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic

[foxxgirlvibes]

He gets jealous of your friend

Characters: atsumu, sakusa, kuroo, tendou

Summary: your boyfriend feels a bit left out whenever your best friend comes into the picture

』 ATSUMU

Probably the most obvious about his jealousy

Feels like every time your bestie shows up he’s second place :(

Doesn’t even try to hide it he complains to your face

Your friend definitely amps up the affection to annoy him

Atsumu huffed loudly as your best friend arrived at the park. He turned his back to them ready to flop into your lap when suddenly you were standing and running away from the picnic blanket.

“Y/N!!!!”

“B/F/N!!!!” You fell into a fit of giggles as the two of you collided in a hug. Leading them to the blanket, you sat between them and your boyfriend.

“Why dontcha hug me like that doll?” Atsumu whined as he pulled you closer to him while glaring at your friend.

You turned to him, eyebrow raised, “we live together tsumu, I hug you all the time.” You offered him a bite of the cookie in your hand, “and you could hug me like that, yet you don’t.” He accepted your cookie, pout still etched on his face.

While you were distracted by your phone, b/f/n sent atsumu a smug smile and picked up a strawberry. They poked you on the thigh, “hey, y/n,” you looked up at them curiously, “the strawberries are so sweet, open your mouth and I’ll feed you this one.” Smiling you leaned over and let them feed you the strawberry.

Atsumu was glaring holes into their head, “jeez b/f/n, don’t ya got yer own s/o to feed huh?”

You and your best friend let out a laugh at his blatant jealousy. “See y/n, I told you he was jealous of me, you owe me $20” Rolling your eyes you took out your wallet, slapping the money in their hands.

Turning to your gawking boyfriend, you sighed, “couldn’t you at least be subtle about it.” He sputtered out nonsense, face turning red, you waved him off. “And you,” you glared at you friend who was still laughing, “feeding me is basically cheating, we both know that was gonna set him off”

Your boyfriend draped his chin on your shoulder, “doll yer not playin fair” he whined. “Why would ya play wit my emotions like that”

Running your hand over his cheek you placed a kiss on the top of his head, “it’s funny to watch because you know b/f/n and I are only friends.” You tilt his chin up to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “you’re the one I’m dating dummy, I love you”

The grin that you love so much returned to his face as he kissed you again, “I love ya too, even though yer mean.” You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead, your best friend made gagging noises from their side of the blanket.

』 Sakusa

The hardest to tell he’s jealous

Doesn’t want you to know, he thinks it’s embarrassing

Gets upset when you ignore him for your bff

Literally will deny it to the day he dies

You had been texting your best friend for the past hour and a half. There was drama going on in your friend group and the two of you were going from the group chat to sharing your opinions with each other. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, but unlike most Friday nights, your boyfriend was home.

Sakusa was sitting on the bed next to you, he had been silent ever since you started tapping constantly at your phone. MSBY practice had been cancelled and he had been looking forward to spending the day with you. Which he technically was, but not in the way he wanted.

His eyes left the show he had put on as you let out a gasp and the tapping increased in speed. He wanted to lay on your lap and have you run your hand through his curls, but he couldn’t be certain you would stop texting to indulge him. He let out a soft sigh, “are you and b/f/n still going?” You nodded without looking up at him. His lips moved into a slight pout as he turned back to the tv, “oh.”

He startled as you let out a sudden string of giggles. Tilting your head up at him in what felt like the first time you showed him your screen, “look what b/f/n just said, they’re so funny I love them.”

He starred blankly at your screen, “yeah, they’re hilarious.” Lips pursed he pointedly looked away from you, to the tv. Sakusa was incredibly annoyed that you had ignored him for so long only to speak to him when complimenting your best friend.

You texted your friend you were gonna dip for a bit. Turn your phone off you looked at the grumpy man next to you. “Omi what’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

“Me and my boxers are just fine y/n.”

“Omg omi, your pants are on fire!!” You snickered as he gave you a deadpan state.

He rolled his eyes at you and crossed his arms, “there’s nothing wrong, go back to your texting.”

That’s when it clicked for you, he was jealous of the attention you were giving to your friend. Cooing lightly, you reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. “I’m sorry for ignoring you baby, there’s no need to be jealous.”

He huffed and pulled your hand towards his hair, snuggling into you as you began playing with it, “‘m not jealous, that’s a stupid suggestion.”

You smiled down at your boyfriend knowing that you were absolutely right.

』 Kuroo

Another obvious one, but not as whiney as Atsumu

Tries to impress you to get your attention

Will embarrass you with his attempts to prove he’s better

Your friend doesn’t know if they should be amused or embarrassed

You and Kuroo had been invited out to watch your best friend play a gig at your local bar. They’re band had landed they’re first performance and you had been excited to support them.

Running up to the stage, you waved eagerly at you friend. They smiled and and reached a hand down to pull you up on the stage. You gave a friendly greeting to the other band mates before giving your friend a bear hug.

“B/f/n I’m so happy for you!!! This is sooo cool.” At this point you were gushing and singing their praises. Your friend matched your enthusiasm walking you around the stage and explaining the set up.

Your boyfriend huffed from the bottom of the stage as you and your friend walked back over. He reached for your hand to help you off and pull you back towards him. “Congrats on the gig b/f/n, can I have my s/o back now?”

Rolling their eyes they turned to you, “hey, cheer extra loud when we play your song.” They smiled as you nodded eagerly. “There now you can take your precious s/o,” b/f/n gave Kuroo a smug smile before heading back to their band mates.

“You know if you wanted a song I can serenade you at karaoke when their set is over.”

Eyes widening you ignored his suggestion before pulling Kuroo over to the table that had been reserved for you. Sure you loved him, but he couldn’t sing for shit.

The performance was going great, then the music changed and you squealed recognizing it as your favourite. Kuroo glanced over at you as you grinned and waved up at b/f/n. What was so great about them? So what they were in a band, you played this song enough he knew all the words. If you wanted it sung to you he could do it.

And do it he did.

You looked up at your boyfriend as he stood from his seat, “babe what are you doing?” The only response he gave you was a lazy smile before he started belting out the lyrics to your favourite song, terribly off pitch and loudly.

B/f/n stifled a laugh at the scene as you glared daggers at them and your boyfriend. Kuroo kept singing his heart out as you face planted into the table, praying the lights were dim enough that no one would be able to see you. After what felt like an eternity the song finished and Kuroo sat back down next to you.

“See, wasn’t that better than whatever b/f/n had going on up there. I’ll sing for you whenever you want baby.” He slung his arm over you shoulder looking very pleased with himself.

You peaked out at him from your arms, “Who lied to you and told you that you were the next Micheal Jackson?” He whined in protest as you continued, “Out of all the ways to process your jealousy you do this.” Waving a quick goodbye to your friend, you dragged Kuroo out of the bar and headed home.

』 Tendou

Not vocal about it but you can see it in his body language

Would hate for you to think that he wants to control who you hang out with

Once you realize he’ll reluctantly admit to it but feels bad

Just needs some reassurance

Tendou sighed as he watched your story again. It was of you and your best friend at the club for their birthday, an outing which you had excitedly rambled to him about for the past few days. He knows that he shouldn’t be bothered, the two of you have been friends for longer than he’s known you. But that doesn’t help the pit in his stomach seeing you dancing on them.

The sinking feeling hasn’t left him since your best friend had arrived at the door and whisked you away with little more than a quick acknowledgment. The both of you in coordinating outfits, telling him not to wait up.

You love him, he knows that, yet his heart squeezes terribly at every new addition to your story. He shook the thought from his mind and turned his phone off, dropping his head into his hands. He was being ridiculous, if you wanted to date your best friend you wouldn’t have moved in with him.

As he wallowed in self doubt, he missed the sound of the door opening as you slipped into your apartment quietly, to ensure you wouldn’t wake him if he was asleep. You were shocked to see your boyfriend on the couch gripping his hair. “‘Tori?” you approach him carefully, “what happened sweetheart?”

He tensed suddenly before looking up at you with a shaky smile, “hi love, how was the club?” He reached out and grabbed your hands.

You fixed him with a stern look, “satori, you can’t lie to me.” Hands still intertwined, you reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. He was silent for a moment before speaking softly, “it’s stupid,” you shook your head and smiled up at him, giving him the confidence to continue, “I dunno... I just- felt kinda upset seeing you have so much fun with b/f/n. You guys are just friends and you love me, I know that, but you always just look so happy with them and I don’t know if I make you feel like that.”

You looked at him for a minute before peppering kisses on his face, “I love you both but I would rather eat dirt than date that idiot, we’re so close they’re like a sibling to me.” He gave you a watery smile as you continued, “and you can ask b/f/n yourself if you don’t believe me, but you make me so happy. You’re literally my favourite person ever.”

He tackled you onto the couch with a hug, “you’re my favourite person ever too y/n!!”

You laughed, running your hands through his hair, “you wanna cuddle and watch a movie?” He nodded enthusiastically as you handed him the remote, placing a kiss on his hair.

This is my first preference so hoping it’s okay. As someone who had an ex be jealous of my best friend I thought this would be fun to write.

Have a wonderful day!!!

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu #sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsurou #tendou #tendou x y/n #tendou x reader #tendou satori #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu writing

[citowon]

spring troupe and gender neutral s/o watch horror movies

about time i finally write for this blog... i was hit with the image of masumi watching a horror movie with his s/o, thought how lovely it would be if there was content of that, then realized i have that power now

word count: 1,935

tags: established relationship, non-detailed mentions of horror themes (gore, monsters, etc)

sakuya sakuma

🌸 when the topic of a horror movie date first comes up, he’s a bit scared. he’s only seen a couple, one of which was for mankai play research.

🌸 when it’s actually showing, though, he’s pretty calm! the anticipation was the worst part, and he somehow doesn’t get scared even during the most terrifying movie of the year. he’s great at reminding himself it’s just fictional in the end

🌸 vampires? not scary. aliens? he thinks they’re cute! gore? well, yeah, it’s unnerving at first but it’s all fake, and once he reminds himself of that he’s fine

🌸 he gets scared at the littlest things though. there might be a continuity error where a knife is in its holder on the counter in one shot and then removed the next, and no one in the movie acknowledges it nor is it supposed to mean anything but he can and will psych himself out thinking about just what moved it

🌸 king of predicting plot twists! he might be very good at spotting continuity errors, but he’s even better at picking out little bits of foreshadowing and putting together the mystery

🌸 gets spooked the most by jumpscares. every time he squeaks a bit (on really bad ones he might scream) and every time he always does the same embarrassed sigh afterwards and goes to squeeze your hand to calm himself

🌸 psychological horror is definitely the best pick for sakuya. he thinks a lot about what’ll happen next in the movie and loves to discuss about movies with you regardless of the genre, so with thought-provoking psychological films it fits him like a glove

🌸 and hey, if things ever get too intense he loves b-list horror movies! he thinks the bad acting is endearing and always finds something to compliment even with the trashiest, corniest flick

🌸 if you ever get uncomfortable, he might commentate in the movie and try to poke fun at it- i mean, the killer clown is kind of funny! look how bright and colorful it is compared to the rest of the set! he keeps his voice light and sunny so you have something comforting to concentrate on

masumi usui

🎧 he loves the idea of horror night. cuddling with you, holding you protectively as the suspense rises, stealing kisses to distract you from the monster and erase your fear...

🎧 he’s only seen a few horror movies in his life, less than the fingers he has on one hand, but whatever. it’s a movie. it’s not real. if he got too immersed he could just tell himself it’s fake and be done with it.

🎧 spoiler alert: he didn’t.

🎧 masumi did not, and i repeat, did NOT expect to get so invested??? even if you’re scared, he’s definitely the most terrified

🎧 that’s not to say he’ll show it. he’s doing everything to keep a neutral face, and you’ll probably assume he’s holding to you tighter during the scary parts like he’s protecting you.

🎧 (it’s actually because you’re the one [1] thing grounding him. you’re protecting him, not the other way around! in hindsight, he likes being cared for even when he thought he’d be the one spoiling you, not the other way around. he just wishes it didn’t have to be during such a scary movie, that’s all)

🎧 will take his fear to the grave... unless you ask him directly about it. please hold him and tell him the monsters aren’t real, even though he’s a heavy sleeper he will stay up until 3 am, his mind reminding him how creepy the movie was every time he’s about to drift off

🎧 so does not fuck with ghosts, if he didn’t believe in them before he certainly does now. the poor guy looks up how to ward away spirits and ends up carrying around a salt packet on him for the next two weeks

tsuzuru minagi

📖 tsuzuru’s not exactly a horror fan. he claims it’s brainless and pointless

📖 (admittedly he’s a little scared of them, but he still thinks they’re dependent on shock alone, and have zero rewatch value since the writing is more focused on in-the-moment spooks than actual plot.)

📖 he’ll roll his eyes and tease you a little but eventually he’ll go along with watching a horror movie

📖 to psych himself out of his fear tsuzuru decides to watch them critically and note what plot points to do (or more likely not to do) for future plays

📖 this works out for the beginning but by the middle of the movie he’s enraptured. he can’t tell if it’s actually good or if it’s a car wreck he can’t help but watch

📖 does the corny move where he yawns and wraps an arm around you, and you’d almost buy it from his earlier cynicism but then the killer shows their face and he tenses up like hell and you just know

📖 gets embarrassed every time he’s scared- he even turns pink, and gets even redder if you try to hold his hand or cuddle him closer (even though there’s nothing he’d want more after something that creepy)

📖 by the end he’s got a few new ideas that might go to autumn or winter troupe’s latest plays, and admits okay, fine, maybe horror isn’t so pointless after all

itaru chigasaki

🎮 screw movies, you’re playing horror games instead!

🎮 most of itaru’s horror games are single-player, so one of you takes the controller while the other sits next to the player, but itaru’ll drape his arms around you from behind in a back hug the entire time you play

🎮 he doesn’t really shut up. the entire time, he’s either cracking a joke or trying to freak you out more, if only so he doesn’t get in his head and overthink the creepy atmosphere

🎮 asshole only quiets down when the game gets tense, and then suddenly puts his hands around your shoulders or neck to scare you. regardless if you fall for it or not, he always laughs at himself and just-so-happens to break the tension as a scary cutscene plays

🎮 still commentates when he’s the player, but gasps or jumps even at small atmospheric scares

🎮 itaru definitely overthinks the game. he gets super cautious over tiny details and makes the missions way harder than they should be since he keeps overestimating the enemy line of sight and how noisy the avatar is

🎮 if you happen to be playing a co-op horror it’s a constant “no u” battle over who should do the scariest tasks

🎮 “reader, we need to cleanse the room next. you should do it” “no, you should do it. you have the quartz item remember” “i can give it to you since you have the ghost ward” “the ghost ward doesn’t apply to this quest, besides, you’re better at this ghost attack quick time event than me” “no it does, and you’re more optimized” “i can just give the items to you-“ “no you should do it” “no you” “no you” “no you” “no y-”

🎮 you both lose

citron

🍋 citron loves horror movies! he thinks they’re... comforting?

🍋 turns out he’s only seen movies about cursed dolls and b-horror, which explains a lot- he loves dolls too much to be scared by them and he thinks b-list horror is hilarious- but he’ll still proudly proclaim he’s unflappable and swear to protect you from the bad guys

🍋 when you’re actually watching the movie you can’t tell if he’s faking his reactions or not. he’s very noisy

🍋 he gets scared enough during the gruesome and horrific scenes to hold you close and tight like a teddy bear, and during the worst of it he might muffle a scream by diving into the crook of your neck, obscuring his vision until the scene changes

🍋 and yet, he laughs at the next scene’s unrealism, and manages to poke enough fun at the movie that you giggle and his terror disappears, he loves your laugh way more than he can be afraid of monsters

🍋 can’t do gore for the life of him, but when it comes to the actual plot, he’s rather critical of characters acting dumb. he catches on to nonsensical writing quick, but usually asks you to clarify the plot holes before realizing that he found a loophole in the writing

🍋 whenever you’re scared and not even his goofy reactions and commentary can help, he plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, strokes your hair, and holds you close to his chest until the fear goes away. he’s surprisingly good at protecting you from the movie

🍋 after the movie he’ll say his country has a similar legend to the movie monsters, but he claims the legends are true in zafra, and zafrans have a very specific tradition to prevent the monsters from attacking them

🍋 the movie also gave citron the idea of creepily standing behind you silently until you turn around and get startled, or occasionally chanting in a strange, cultish language and pretending he didn’t say a thing, or making a doll with the same markings as the clown puppet from the movie...

🍋 citron continues to be even scarier than the actual horror movie, but can’t wait until the next horror night! maybe watching it was a bad idea after all...

chikage utsuki

🌙 chikage just doesn’t get the appeal of horror. it’s just a fake movie, why do people get so creeped out by terrible sfx and unrealistic monsters?

🌙 he’s seen scarier things than any werewolf pack, zombie outbreak, or witch coven can throw at him. if you insist on watching a scary movie, fine, he’ll be happy to let you sit on his lap, just don’t expect to creep him out as well, or else you’ll be sorely disappointed.

🌙 he analyzes the movie more than he watches it, but doesn’t speak up even though the fight scenes look pitiful. if this were real life, he’d sweep the whole brood of shambling monstrosities in record time and be back home in time for izumi’s curry

🌙 chikage runs his hands under your shirt whenever the monster’s on screen to scare you. it’s actually really creepy- his fingers are light and quick and always makes you flinch, even if you know it’s just your boyfriend

🌙 he’ll listen to your thoughts about the movie, but doesn’t have strong opinions himself. he thinks the scares are mediocre at best, even without considering his background, but won’t mention how unrealistic it was unless you mention it first.

🌙 psychological horror, however, is a whole different story

🌙 maybe chikage can’t get scared by generic spirit halloween monsters but once you introduce thought-provoking plot, questions and dilemmas, now he’s hooked

🌙 he really likes wondering if the protagonist is actually the good guy and making theories about the origins of the monsters and why they’re so destructive, even if he forgets about them once the movie’s over.

🌙 love love looooves the “the monsters were harmless creatures before humans dished out the first blow” trope. he knows how common it is, but there’s a lot of ways to go about it, especially on a subtextual level, and he just can’t get enough

🌙 the deeper the plot is, expect a longer conversation about the ins and outs of it. they get surprisingly thoughtful and introspective, even if chikage throws in a few bullshit stories related to the movie just to watch you squirm

#a3! headcanons #a3 game #a3 x reader #harugumi #spring troupe #sakuya sakuma #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #itaru chigasaki #citron a3 #chikage utsuki #masumi usui x reader #sakuya sakuma x reader #tsuzuru minagi x reader #itaru chigasaki x reader #citron a3 x reader #chikage utsuki x reader #a3! imagines #my writing #my content

[squiddybeifong]

Can I ask for the batsiblings reaction to Damian pacing so much he wore a hole in the floor? Doesn't have to be a fics, maybe headcanons?

Sorry for the rather long wait. Kinda wanted to make this a fic

Here's the floor pacing fic

On Ao3 here

--

Alfred hadn’t outwardly reacted to Damian’s obvious lie as to why he had paced the floorboards uneven, but the butler absolutely took action for amending the tripping hazard in the boy’s room. With the floor repairman on the line and a measuring tape in hand nothing was amiss, of course.

Dick had already kept him up-to-date with the gossip about the two Titan birds, so Alfred hadn’t been surprised whatsoever. His position in the family meant that he’d watched the awkward budding romances of most everyone who’d called the Manor home. Damian being frustrated at his feelings for a teammate was nothing compared to a (very grown) Bruce being moody after Selina rebuffed his kiss while ‘on the clock’ or Dick’s increasingly creative attempts at sneaking around with Kori before the ‘no dating metahumans or aliens’ rule had been lifted. Honestly, watching the pun-laden flirting that Steph ladled out to both Tim and Cass on a near daily basis was more awkward than his youngest ward taking his repressed emotions out on the floors.

Unfortunately for Damian, the butler arranged for the floor repairman to show up during the day. Most notably, the repairman arrived at exactly the specified 1:35 p.m., not wanting to be late when called upon to fix anything belonging to Bruce Wayne.

Why Robin had believed that (like everyone else in Gotham) this worker would be fashionably late, he didn’t know. What Damian did know was that he hadn’t heard Grayson open the door. Nor had he heard his brother head up with Alfred and the repairman into his room. And he especially didn’t hear as Alfred slyly mentioned that he believed Dick’s gossip was coming to a head, if the worn path in the floor meant anything.

No, Damian heard none of it. Not when he was busy brushing BatCow and making sure that every square inch of the barn was properly ventilated so she couldn’t possibly overheat in the approaching summer weather. So when the youngest Bat stalked into the Manor, he’d been all but ambushed.

It didn’t take a detective to realize why he’d been pacing so much. Even without Alfred’s confirmation, it was unlike Damian to avoid going back to the Titans early if he could help it. Batman hadn’t looked up when Robin had elected to stay another week when they were in the BatCave, but his siblings sure had. And while Bruce didn’t outwardly ponder about how intense things had to be for Damian to go out of his way to avoid a certain someone, this new information had Dick positively enchanted at the prospect of his baby brother being in love.

“I’m not in love with Raven,” Damian hissed out.

Jason snickered as he reclined in his seat, his face full of mirth at the flustered crack in Damian’s voice. Cass was sitting upside down with her legs resting on the couch’s back, her smile wide as she took in her youngest brother’s irritated, embarrassed body language (nevermind the barest hint of an actual blush on his face when vehemently denying any feelings he had towards his fellow Titan).

Babs’ smile was wide and cheerful as she pointed out, “Who said anything about Raven?” Duke perked up from his spot next to Cass, immediately adding on, “Yeah, Dami. We thought you were just falling for her?”

Steph snorted, “Falling over those footprints in the floor, more like it.”

Tim laughed behind his gulp of his coffee, sleepily (and loudly) drawling out to the blonde, “A Robin and his Raven. Guess you can say they’re a real pair of lovebirds, huh?”

Damian glared at them all, fighting the urge to pinch between his eyes. Why were all the Bats at the Manor? Shouldn’t they be on patrol instead of bothering him?

Jason clicked his tongue and rested his arms on the table. He met Dick’s gaze, saw the way his older brother’s eyes brightened up with mischief and scratched at the streak of white in his hair. Deciding that messing with Damian was by far the most fun he’d have in the Manor that morning, Jason asked, “So, Lil’ D… What’re you gonna get your girlfriend? Can’t come back empty handed.”

“She’s not my--”

Babs interrupted him, nudging Tim with her elbow, “Do not tell me he wasn’t planning on getting her anything.”

Steph lazily rested on the chair’s edge. The blonde leaned over to rest against Jason’s shoulder, her fist pressed to her face. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t likely she’d be much use for knowing how Raven would want to be wooed. She had heard of her but she had yet to actually meet Damian’s mystery crush, after all. She let out a hum, “What does Raven like? It’s gotta be something personal!”

Damian clicked his tongue as his siblings were suddenly oh so chatty at Spoiler’s suggestion, their unwanted ideas filling the room.

“What if he paints her something?”

“Doesn’t she like old books? Maybe one of those first editions that Alfred was thinking about donating last year?”

“Wait a sec-- Dick, isn’t she goth? B did get that set of obsidian jewelry at the last gala.”

“Hell, if we’re going that route I’m sure Selina has some nice rings somewhere--”

“Maybe something that isn’t stolen, Tim.”

“Just be honest with her.”

The room went quiet at Cass’ simple instruction. Still in her Orphan suit from her early morning patrols and reclining in her inverted spot on the couch, the brunette somehow kept a serious face as she stared at Damian upside down.

Seeing that no one was going to add-on to her suggestion, Cass blew some of her bangs out of her face and shrugged, “You like her for a reason.”

Brown eyes slyly glanced around the room, gratefully falling on Babs as she piped up, “Cass is right. I really don’t think Damian of all people would fall for someone who’s all about dating mind-games.”

Ignoring Damian’s exasperated lie of “I haven’t fallen for her!” in the background, Steph slumped down on the couch next to Duke. Her face was contemplative, “Then maybe we should invite her here?”

Dick let out an excited laugh the same time Tim clapped his hands and grinned at their resident computer whiz, “Babs could absolutely get her up to speed on patrolling Gotham for a bit, right?”

The redhead looked excited at the idea. Pushing her glasses further up her nose before they fell, Babs teasingly asked, “What is it about Gotham and bird-based superheroes?”

Duke shrugged, a hand cradling his chin in thought. “Not sure, but Dami obviously won’t confess if we’re not around to kick him into doing it.”

Jason clicked his tongue at the possibility of the youngest Bat listening to them and raised a brow Dick’s way, “Any chance at all that she’ll make the first move?”

Irritated at the topic, Damian turned on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. Ignoring the chorus of “C’mon, Dami” behind him (and planning on fighting Todd later for the childish boos that the antihero was aiming at his back), Robin set about grabbing some snacks for his pets when he heard two sets of footsteps approach.

He bit back a groan as Dick practically skipped into the room, Cass on his heels. “What now?”

Nightwing let out a laugh at his brother’s sneer, “You do know that we’re only trying to help, right?” He took a few pears from the fridge and handed them to Damian, knowing that they were BatCow’s favorite. Hearing as Cass opened the cabinet doors to find where the rawhide bones and cat treats were stored, Dick pressed on, “I know she already knows me but it might be easier introducing everyone as a segue into talking to her about other things…”

Cass let out a quiet snort at his suggestion. She shook her head and offered a better idea, “Alfred first.”

Dick tilted his head, nodding in agreement a moment later. He ignored the violent way Damian was cutting up the pears and said, “That’ll probably be for the best. Living with the Titans is one thing; we gotta ease her into our particular brand of madness.”

Tossing aside the stems and peeled off stickers, Damian sulked, “None of this is necessary.”

Cass hid her smile with her hand. Dick hummed out, “You don’t want your girlfriend to meet your family?”

“She won’t be my--” Damian couldn’t say the potential title just yet. He clicked his tongue, “Just because you all think I have feelings for her doesn’t mean she’ll reciprocate.”

The older two visibly paused at his words.

Her head tilting in concern, brown eyes studied Robin for a moment. Damian glared at Cass but she ignored him. Dick leaned against the wall, the worried furrow in his brow betraying his nonchalant stance. He spoke out the obvious, “Do you really think she’s not interested?”

“She thinks I’ve been avoiding her--”

Cass shrugged, “You have.”

Damian continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “--so I doubt any feelings she may have towards me are positive right now.”

Dick let out a hum, “You didn’t answer the question.”

Ophan’s suit somehow didn’t shine in the kitchen’s fluorescent light as she crossed her arms, “Yes or no?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as he thought over all the moments he and Raven had shared, the comfortable quiet pauses between crimefighting, training, and avoiding their teammates’ noise. She never seemed to dislike his company, but she was stoic enough that he could never tell if her heart leaped into her throat whenever she noticed that they were alone.

He suppressed a jump as Cass entered his personal space.

Olive eyes were reluctant as she poked his cheek. “You’re not stupid,” She figured it was progress when he didn’t try to swat her hand away, but she couldn’t keep the beam off her face at the boy’s blush. A hint of smugness crept into her voice, “So she is?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked to the Manor’s main entrance, knowing that in half a week’s time the entire structure would be full of lights, flowers and who knew what else B’s planners would bring. A spring gala with flowers and enough hidden corners for a pair to get lost in the crowd.

In other terms: the perfect setting for a first date.

She met Dick’s gaze and grinned at the knowing look on his face. His hair nearly fell out of its bun as he let out a whoop, wrapping an arm around Damian. Thoughts of finding Raven a gala-ready dress (and maybe a matching suit) in mind, Dick couldn’t keep the excitement out of his movements.

Ignoring the aggravated yet cautiously hopeful way Damian shrugged off his brother’s arm, Cass clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Only one way to find out.”

#damirae #damian wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #my writing #asked and answered #mistkissedmoon #g o d it's been a While hasn't it? but I really hope u like it!!! #but yeah. batfam is gonna batfam if dami's got a crush. a whole lotta teasing at his expense *but* they are gonna try to help #but its bc they loooooooooooove him. he's the baby bat ofc they gotta get cheesy with it #I was thinking of headcanons but this gives me an excuse to write a first date/gala shenanigans so #I figured why not? I've been slacking in producing ridiculous damirae fluff

[aalissy]

Commissions

Day 8 is doneee!! Woot woot!! And it’s another mini reveal! I hope you guys like it! I had fun writing it. Lemme know what you think <3

AO3

“Marinette, can I ask you something really quickly?” Adrien tugged on her sleeve, stopping her before she could head outside their school.

Blinking in surprise, her brow furrowed as he looked at her almost desperately. Her eyes darted down to where he was still holding onto her sleeve before she tore her gaze back up to his eyes. Giving him a small smile, Marinette spoke, “O-of course, is something wrong?”

Adrien finally let go of her sleeve, glancing away as he rubbed at the back of his neck. After a short pause, he asked, “You do commissions, right?”

“Well, yes, b-”

Before she could clarify any further, Adrien looked at her with relief, “That’s great! I accidentally tore one of the sleeves on my suit jacket and I really need it by tomorrow! Is there a way you can do that? I can pay extra.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. That’s right! It was the Agreste Annual Ball tomorrow night. No wonder he looked so desperate. Grinning mischievously causing her blue eyes to twinkle slightly as she tapped her chin, “Hmm, I don’t know... that’s pretty soon.”

“Please, I’ll do anything, Marinette,” he begged, "My father will kill me if my outfit is ruined.”

Thoughts of asking him if he’d consider a kiss a fair exchange filled her head before she quickly shoved them down. No. She was supposed to be over him! Just because he said he’d do anything didn’t mean he actually meant it! She had finally managed to talk to him normally and she wasn’t going to mess that up!

Giggling softly, she shook her head, “It’s alright, Adrien, of course I’ll help you! I was only teasing. It'd probably be best if you come over now, though. Are you available?”

“Yes! You’re the best, Marinette!” Adrien practically shouted as he threw his arms around her.

Feeling the beginnings of a pink flush tint her cheeks, Marinette patted him on the shoulder carefully. I thought you were supposed to be over him, a corner of her mind taunted her smugly. Shut up, she scolded it back, letting herself sink into Adrien’s embrace for a few more seconds.

When they both pulled back, Adrien gestured at his limo with a small grin, “Need a lift?”

She blinked at him in confusion before tilting her head, “Don’t you have to go home to get the suit jacket first?”

“Actually...,” Adrien started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I brought it with me. It’s in my backpack.”

Marinette frowned deeply. Pursing her lips, she tsked at him, “Is it crumpled up into a ball in there? Adrien, you shouldn’t be treating good fabric like that. Besides, it could rip even further.”

He simply answered with a sheepish grin before opening the limo door for her. Sighing, she quickly slid into her seat. Turning around to face him when he sat besides her, Marinette immediately held out her hand, “Can I see the jacket?”

Adrien nodded quickly before digging through his backpack. She winced when she saw him root past a few notebooks and pencil cases to find the suit jacket at the very bottom. Marinette breathed out a slow, painful breath when she saw the state the jacket was in. Taking it from his hands carefully, she held it in her own hands gingerly.

There was a tear almost clean through the entire sleeve. Looking over at him with a quiet, amused laugh, she asked, “How did you do this? I was expecting a small cut, not a giant hole.”

“Uh, there was an akuma attack...” Adrien’s eyes darted around nervously.

Giggling at his reaction, Marinette teased, “Was he in your suit or did he just decide to cut off one portion of it?”

Adrien shrugged embarrassedly, opening his mouth to speak when the limo came to a stop. Giving her one last bashful grin, he stepped outside quickly. With a quiet chuckle, Marinette followed after him.

Together, she and Adrien both stopped to say hello to her parents before they went up to her room. With a quiet hum, Marinette spun into her desk chair and pulled out her sewing supplies. For a long while, the room was quiet. Marinette’s tongue poked out in concentration as Adrien leaned his head over to watch her work.

At first, having him watch over her was absolutely nerve-wracking. Though Marinette had sworn she had gotten over him, it was still Adrien! Every so often, his breath would brush against her cheek and she would be reminded that he was standing right next to her.

After a few, deep, calming breaths, and a couple of pricks with her sewing needle, however, Marinette turned her focus entirely on the suit jacket in front of her. Eventually, Adrien’s presence faded away into the background and became comfortable and familiar. It was much like having Chat Noir over, listening to him ooh and ahh over her latest design. With a small giggle, she remembered listening to him rant about the previous akuma while she worked on her designs.

After that, she quickly finished up the tear in Adrien’s suit jacket. Holding it up proudly, she beamed at it, “There we go! All finished, kitty. How does it look.”

Her eyes widened at what she just said. Immediately recognizing her mistake, Marinette winced. Please tell me you didn’t notice that I called you kitty, she cringed internally and shut her eyes tightly closed.

“It looks purrfect, purrincess!” Adrien purred and her eyes immediately flipped back open. She whirled around and noticed that his own eyes were wide with shock. Her mouth immediately fell open and she wheezed uncertainly, wondering if she had just dreamed this whole encounter.

T-there's no way, right, Marinette thought to herself, A-Adrien can’t be...

Stuttering slightly, she handed him the suit jacket with dark red cheeks, “H-here you go, A-Adrien.”

“Right, yes. Uh, thank you, Marinette. You just saved my life!” he immediately took it from her. He gave her a shaky, uncertain smile before asking, “S-so, how much do I owe you?”

Well, she could either go out on a limb and risk her secret identity entirely... or she could pretend that nothing happened. Taking a deep breath to fill herself with courage, Marinette spoke rather quietly, “I think you’ve paid me back plenty, kitty.”

Adrien paled and her suspicions were confirmed. It felt like she just got punched in the stomach. Adrien really was Chat Noir. This entire time they had been circling around each other. A small smile twitched at her lips as he began to stutter out excuses, “Listen, i-it’s not what you think, Marinette.”

Pushing up from her seat, she gave him a trademark Ladybug smirk. She pushed his nose back playfully as she grinned, “I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what I think, mon Chaton.”

Immediately his mouth fell open before he grabbed her wrist with his hand gently, “M-m’lady?”

“Hello, my kitty,” Marinette giggled and gave him a shy wave.

“I can’t believe I’ve actually found you!” Adrien gasped before wrapping her up in a giant hug, “I always suspected it would be you, too but after Multimouse I thought I was crazy!”

Pulling back slightly to give him a sheepish grin, Marinette murmured, “Sorry, I was trying to keep you from figuring out my identity.”

“Well, it definitely worked. I was very disappointed to learn my sweet, cute, adorable classmate wasn’t the girl of my dreams,” Adrien grinned down at her softly.

She squeaked loudly, feeling herself blush as her entire face turned red. Shifting in his arms even more, she looked him directly in the eye, “G-girl of your dreams, huh?”

Now it was Adrien’s turn to flush deeply, his eyes darting away to mutter an apology, “Sorry... I shouldn’t have said that.”

Adrien took a step back and she felt her body shiver slightly as he let go of her. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, Marinette rushed out, “The boy was you!”

“W-what?” He looked back at her again, but this time his eyes were filled with confusion.

“T-the boy,” she gulped, “The boy I turned Chat Noir down for... i-it was you.”

“Me?!” Adrien’s mouth gaped open, “Are you serious?!”

Marinette giggled nervously, tapping her fingers together, “K-kinda... I’ve actually been in love with you since you gave me your umbrella.”

Instead of a response back, Marinette was immediately wrapped back up in his arms as he spun her around. She squeaked faintly before he pressed his lips against hers. She melted into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. Adrien’s head tilted to deepen their kiss and she ran her fingers through his hair.

Eventually, they pulled back to suck in deep, lungfuls of air, grinning at each other. Adrien lightly placed his forehead against hers, cupping her cheeks, “Does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend, now?”

“Only if you can be my boyfriend,” Marinette beamed back at him.

Adrien threw his head back to laugh deeply before he pulled her back in for another deep kiss.

#adrinetteapril2021 #adrienetteapril2021 #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fic #fanfic #adrinette #adrienette #identity reveal #ml #mlb

[calltomuster]

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! PROMPTS!! I just finished "the only thing that's real" and it is SO LOVELY and saaaaaaaaad and heartbreaking and perfect and nuanced and just everything I love in your fic. Also, I love this prompt list, and live for Obi-Whump. Can I request Obi-Wan with caretaker Anakin for "I know it hurts. I'm sorry"? YOU'RE THE BEST! <3

Ahhh you're always too kind to me, @tessiete! Thank you so much for those lovely words!! 🥺

Yes, of course you can request that! Thanks for the prompt!!

From these caretaker dialogue prompts: 15. "I know it hurts, I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan held out for a few minutes of Anakin picking shrapnel out of his shoulder before he let out a cry. It was frankly longer than Anakin probably would have lasted, so he was impressed. But while it was never fun to see Obi-Wan in pain, he really needed to keep going, so he just winced in sympathy and continued.

"I know it hurts, I'm sorry," Anakin murmured, withdrawing a particularly nasty spiral of metal.

"It's f-fine," Obi-Wan said through gritted teeth. "Just make sure you g-get it all out."

Anakin and Obi-Wan had been ambushed by local insurgents on some planet Anakin couldn't even remember the name of anymore where slugthrowers were the weapons of choice instead of blasters. Ironically, this technical ineptitude made them much more formidable against Jedi, whose lightsabers were perfectly equipped for handling blaster bolts but when confronted with slugthrowers, well...

They'd shot at Obi-Wan, a deluge of slugs that had turned into explosive shrapnel on the blade of his lightsaber, and his shoulder became embedded with tiny pieces of metal. Anakin had managed to get him to safety, but now they were holed up in an abandoned building in the middle of enemy territory trying to dig things out of Obi-Wan's shoulder using nothing but the Force and some tweezers Anakin had miraculously found. He'd boiled water in an attempt to sterilize them, but he was sure Vokara Che was grinding her teeth at just the thought of what he was doing. But Obi-Wan said that he could feel pieces getting close to his heart and lungs, so expediency trumped cleanliness. Anakin made the executive decision to just dig in -- literally. Look, he never said he was a medic or healer, okay?

"Ahh!" Obi-Wan cried as a piece caught on the edge of his skin as Anakin was pulling it out.

"Shit, shit, sorry!" Anakin grimaced, gingerly removing it.

Obi-Wan tried to get his breathing under control, chest heaving. A stray tear leaked out of the corner of his eye.

"Shit," Anakin said again. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Obi-Wan replied shakily. He began breathing through his nose, trying to slow it down enough so that his chest would stop moving. Anakin couldn't poke around until he was still.

"Do you need to take a break?"

"No," Obi-Wan said immediately. "We have to do this sooner rather than later. This isn't exactly --" He breathed in again then continued. "A great place to stop."

Right. In the distance, they could still hear the insurgents' camp.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the ground. His right hand clutched the nearest object -- a support pole attached to the floor and ceiling. "Alright. I'm ready again."

Anakin nodded, though Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to see it. "Okay. I'm going in."

He reached out with the Force to try and identify what pieces were remaining and then got to work. It wasn't easy. Some pieces were just millimeters wide, and others had dug into the flesh in barbed ways that made them extremely painful to remove. But Obi-Wan was a trooper, so Anakin couldn't exactly complain.

A quick glance at the pole Obi-Wan was grabbing revealed that his knuckles were bone white.

"You good?" Anakin asked after he removed a particularly gnarly bit.

"Never b-been better," Obi-Wan replied. If his voice was a little threadier than normal, Anakin would never tell. He went on.

Finally, they got to the last few pieces, which promised to be bad. Anakin had left them for the end for no particular reason other than that he really didn't want to have to deal with them. Unfortunately, he was the only one who could.

"Just a few left," he told Obi-Wan.

"Good," Obi-Wan got out through pursed lips.

He could do this. He could do this. He could--

"Mmn!" Obi-Wan's back arched.

"Got it!" Anakin announced, dropping the bit of metal from between the tweezers onto the ground. "Two more."

He dove back in. This one was particularly bad. Anakin had to stick the tweezers farther down than he'd ever had to before. But Obi-Wan didn't make a sound, and Anakin only realized once he'd removed that piece of shrapnel that it was because he'd been holding his breath the entire time. But they made it though, and now there was only one bit remaining.

Obi-Wan reached up to his face to wipe sweat away and ended up leaving his arm draped over his face.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Hmm?" Obi-Wan grumbled.

"You good?"

"Yes, I'm having a blast here."

Anakin winced. "Sorry. Almost over, just one more."

But Anakin could tell right away that this one was elusive. He wouldn't be able to reach it with the tweezers; he'd have to use the Force. He gnawed on his lower lip, thinking. He had a lot of raw power in the Force, more than any other Jedi, but for all the training Obi-Wan had tried to force into his brain, he'd never had much control, nothing like what would be required for moving a tiny piece of metal out of Obi-Wan's body.

Obi-Wan shifted his arm slightly and opened one eye to peer at him. "Is everything alright?"

"No," Anakin admitted. "I don't think I can get this one myself. It's just too small and too far down for me to use the Force or the tweezers."

"Then I'll do it," Obi-Wan said, looking at the ceiling.

"What?" Anakin squawked. "That's ridiculous!"

"It's our only option," Obi-Wan replied. "We can't leave it in there and we can't stay much longer."

Kriff it, he was right. "Okay," he acquiesced, sitting back.

"Wait, Anakin, can I...?" Obi-Wan asked, reaching out his hand. Anakin took it immediately, and Obi-Wan gripped it tight. "Alright."

He closed his eyes. Anakin could sense him concentrating in the Force through the spikes of pain that came as he carefully maneuvered the piece through his body. His eyebrows furrowed together and more tears slid through the creases near his eyes. Anakin's hand felt like the bones were being crushed together, but he didn't breathe a word.

Finally, the piece floated out, and both Obi-Wan and Anakin relaxed.

"Great job, Master," Anakin praised, relieved and exalted.

Obi-Wan breathed out shakily, but he too felt much more at ease. "There. Now that that business is over with, we can get out of here."

"We can wait a minute or two," Anakin said. "You take a breather and then we'll leave."

Obi-Wan eyed him but was too tired to argue. He was about to lie his head back down on the floor when Anakin scooted closer and stuck out his leg to act as a pillow.

"Thank you, Padawan," Obi-Wan murmured, eyes already closed. Anakin hummed. Just a few months ago, he might have immediately retorted back that he wasn't Obi-Wan's Padawan. But right now, he was just happy his Master was alright.

Thanks for reading! Requests will be open for a few more hours! Feel free to use a prompt from the list linked above (except numbers 3, 4, 5, 15, 16, 17, or 20, which have already been requested/filled). Or send in something of your own! Requests are currently closed!

#hey this one was over 1k words! #might put it on ao3 then #thanks so much for this prompt! #I had a lot of fun #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #star wars #sw fanfic #my writing #prompt fills

[dweetwise]

Dummy but make it thicc

[i have no idea what you're on about anon so my brain took an idea an ran with it. here’s a ridiculous dummy thicc reader sequel no one asked for]

warning for non-consensual ass slaps i guess?

Pyramid Head X dummy thicc f!reader (crack)

After the clapping incident with the Doctor, you felt ready to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. Nea kept snickering for days and Ace, the bastard, went on to tell the entire survivor camp about your unfortunate assventure at Léry’s. At least Jane shared your mortification and stayed by your side in solidarity while the others joked about you and the Doc.

When a harrowed Laurie returned from a trial with a new survivor in tow and announced the arrival of a new and terrifying killer, you were elated to have the attention shift from you.

It was only a matter of time before you woke up in a trial in the unfamiliar map of a crude replica of a school. You’re alone but eventually find a generator in one of the classrooms, crouching to repair it while listening to the ominous screeching of metal on concrete coming from somewhere within the building.

When you hear a heartbeat, you sneak away to a hole in the wall in a corner that you spotted earlier, ready for a quick escape. It’s impossible to tell if the killer is coming for you or chasing someone on the floor below you.

While sneaking over, you trip over something and pain flares up your leg--razor wire? What the fuck? You try to get loose, the wire digging into your ankles. Fuck. You need to get somewhere safe to pry off the sharp item. You glance at the vault leading to another room.

You carefully begin to squeeze through the opening in the wall, minding your injured legs. Shit, it’s a tight fit! You use your arms for leverage and manage to fit your ample bosom through the opening, but your hips are just way too thicc! You kick your legs for momentum, but the damn wire gets them tangled up together! You try to back out through the hole, but now your boobs are stuck. You sit there for a second, uselessly hanging from the vault with your thicc ass sticking out one one side of the wall and your generous breasts from the other. You scream out in frustration; why does this keep happening!?

“H-hello, y/n? Are you ok?” Dwight calls out from the hallway, peering into the room where your front half is currently situated. “Does it look like I’m ok?? I’m stuck, help me out!! And don’t you dare bring up the hospital--” you warn. “I wouldn’t! J-just tell me what to do!” Dwight assures, blushing from second hand embarrassment, no doubt. “...Go into the next room and push my ass.” “W-what!?” Dwight exclaims, beet red and looking scandalized. “I’m not getting back the way I came! So help me through!” “I couldn’t--” “Shut the fuck up and do it!”

Dwight disappears from the doorway and you hear him pitter patter to the other room. You hang your head in embarrassment and try to tell yourself that Dwight finding you is probably the best possible scenario. The boy is painfully shy and surely wouldn’t even dream of letting the others know about any of this--

“I’m gonna get one of the girls!” you hear Dwight’s muffled squeak through the wall before he sprints off in search of the others. “DWIGHT YOU COWARD! GET BACK IN HERE AND TOUCH MY ASS!!” you yell in frustration, uselessly pounding on the wall with your fists.

Before you can make too much of a scene, you hear the heartbeat approach again and ease up on your tantrum. You hear heavy footsteps in the room you were just in (and where half of you technically still is) and hold your breath while the heartbeat keeps getting louder, praying to whatever deity that the killer doesn’t find you in this embarrassing position.

There’s the familiar sound of a generator being kicked, and then the heartbeat vanishes. You let out a sigh of relief; seems the killer didn’t want to waste time looking around in the room--

You let out a startled yelp when you feel something smacking playfully against your behind. Trying to twist around to glare at the perpetrator, you remember the wall is blocking your view. Who the fuck would--

A dark, echoing chuckle through the wall interrupts your thoughts, followed by the heartbeat blaring in your ears. You feel cold sweat start trickling down the back of your neck; the killer had found you! But instead of slashing you with his weapon, he had... spanked you?? What was he playing at? Your feel another swat against your buttocks.

“Hey! Stop it, you creep!” you yell out, trying to kick the killer with your legs but end up just floundering like a fish on dry land, the killer chuckling in amusement at your antics. Suddenly a metallic ‘clank’ through the wall can be heard, followed by the killer letting out a surprised grunt.

“Back the FUCK off, you bastard!!” you hear Yui’s voice, sounding absolutely pissed and ready to throw fists on your behalf. “Yeah! G-get away from her, or else!” Dwight’s voice follows, clearly trying to be brave for you. “You heard him, assface!” Yui keeps taunting the killer while Kate sneaks into the room you’re in. “Are you okay y/n? What happened?” Kate whispers, barely concealed panic on her features. “I got stuck and the killer found me and is slapping my ass,” you mutter in defeat, more embarrassed than anything, just done with the whole situation. You idly listen in as Yui has proceeded to yell Japanese profanities at the killer, who is clearly trying to communicate something by interrupting her with the occasional grunt and groan. “Aww geez, I’m so sorry,” Kate offers, cringing in sympathy. “We’ll get ya out of this hun, just hang in there,” she encourages, kneeling down beside you to offer companionship. “Not like I have a choice,” you say, rolling your eyes.

The argument of the other side of the wall abruptly stops, and soon Yui’s head pokes in from the doorway.

“The killer’s gonna help us get you unstuck!” Yui announces. “How the fuck did you even--” you try to ask, wondering how she could have possibly arrived to the conclusion from the unintelligible shouting match. “We’re gonna push from this side, Kate you pull, ok? On three!” Yui interrupts and bolts back to the other room. 

You feel someone start untangling the barbed wire from your feet, but before you can even stretch your legs as the wire comes loose, the trio apparently gets into position to start pushing you. You feel cool metal against the entirety of your buttocks, flinching from the sensation but steeling yourself as Kate grabs your arms.

“One... two... THREE!” Yui shouts.

On the cue, Pyramid Head shoves against your ass with the flat side of his helmet, while Yui and Dwight push the bottom of the helmet from either sides, and Kate pulls on your arms, feet flat on the wall for better leverage.

“Woah!” you yelp as your ass finally slips through the wall and you land on Kate, sprawling out inelegantly on top of the blonde. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Yui cheers through the hole, no longer muffled. She gives Pyramid Head’s helmet an encouraging smack. “Thanks for the help! And, uh, sorry for throwing the flashlight at you earlier.”

Dwight rushes into the room to help you up on your feet, with Yui and the killer following shortly after.

“Soo...” Kate drawls, dusting off her tank top. “Ya gonna kill us, or...?” she glances at the killer, who shakes his head and motions for you to follow him. “I think he wants to farm,” Yui, apparently now fluent in monster lingo, explains. “Works for me,” you say, relieved to have the whole thing over and done with. The three of you start to follow the killer through the school, practically getting a guided tour of the unfamiliar building.

Later, when Dwight is opening the exit gate and Yui and Kate are arguing over a purple med-kit, you sneak up to the unsuspecting killer, giving his ass a hard SMACK. The killer flinches in surprise while you blush in embarrassment, not expecting the flesh to be so... firm. You stare at the generous, round globes and barely resist the urge to grope.

“Uh... That’s for earlier!!” you say when the killer turns around to face you, puffing yourself up in challenge and trying to hide your blush. The killer snorts, crossing his arms and tilting his head in a silent challenge.

“B-besides--you got two slaps on me! If anything you owe me one!” you ramble on, embarrassment setting in at the words flowing out of your mouth. The killer gives a hearty chuckle, before--you can barely believe it--turning around to indulge you.

“What the fuck,” you hear Yui mutter.

The killer proceeds to further surprise you, bending to grab the hem of his apron, before starting to pull it up to reveal his--

“OKAYWE’RELEAVINGBYE!!” Dwight squeaks out in mortification, bolting out through the now open exit with a giggling Kate and stunned Yui in tow, leaving you alone with an eyeful of bare killer ass.

[i had way too much fun writing this. inspired by that one dbd screenshot of ph’s ass]

#pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #dbd crack #yui kimura #dbd fanfic #request #dweetwrites