#this is the fucking puff pastry all over again

[grey-lark]

I cannot tell you what emotion exactly I am feeling after spending way too long researching when in cabin trunk release pulls became common only to rework the scene so that that factoid isn’t even fucking relevant anymore but it is A Lot.

#for reference i don't mean the 'help i've been kidnapped' one #just like the lever in your car to pop the trunk #couldn't actually in the answer by the way #*find #just found out when electric opens were introduced and guessed #this is the fucking puff pastry all over again #to this day i have no clue when frozen puff pastry became available #did i research it obsessively despite it being a throw away line? #maybe #did I also bring in my sister who is a chef to help? #yep #neither of us could figure it out #apparently big pastry doesn't want you to know

[cerulean-crow]

All I’m sayin is that I should be allowed to bite my bosses if they tell me to do something stupid

#I have been moving popcorn across the store since 8 this morning #all by myself #because our new coach wants it up front and not on top of the freezer doors #and apparently I’m the crazy one for acknowledging that there is no way to move even half the popcorn she wants #so now I just have to consolidate between the aisles cause she REALLY wants them off two aisles #Again- all by myself #And then she wants me over in grocery when I am the only person who takes out the lunch meat #and I can tell you right now I could purge the bins so easily right now #like I get that she’s only been here for a few days and the holidays are busy and we only have so many people #but I’m telling you right now this ain’t it #crow.txt #and my schedule is still fucked up and I don’t think my team lead will be in today #so that’s fun #be nice to retail workers folks #If one more person asks me if we have puff pastry I will phase through the floor

[another-lost-mc]

Feel the Heat (Royals Edition) DIAVOLO & BARBATOS 2k words | NSFW | afab!Reader | Shameless Smut Content warnings: Poly!Reader, demon heats (vaguely mentioned), demon forms mentioned (Diavolo, Barbatos), threesome, oral sex (afab! and m! receiving), cockwarming, rough sex, voyeurism. A/N: Read the other Feel the Heat fics: The Demon Brothers | Newspaper Club Edition.

When Diavolo and Barbatos go into their heats - synced together almost perfectly - they invite you to the Demon Lord’s Castle for a tea party. No matter how many times you insist that isn’t necessary, they insist that it is. It’s charming that they try to maintain a semblance of decorum, even though you can see their heat symptoms slowly overwhelm them.

Diavolo visibly sweats through his RAD uniform, and his eyes are black pools of desire that stare at you hungrily across the small table on his private balcony. He has difficulty speaking and he’s breathing heavily. Eventually he stops trying to form words at all and replies only with sharp nods of his head or low grunts.

Barbatos doesn’t pour him tea, and Diavolo wouldn’t drink it if he did. He’s unspeakably hungry for you, but he reminds himself that he needs to prove he’s not a mindless beast that only wants you for your body. He crosses his legs and grips his chair when the urge to lunge across the table and claim you grows unbearable.

During his heat, Barbatos can't maintain his composure for long and you can tell he's not faring much better than Diavolo is. Like his master, his skin is covered with a thin sheen of sweat. There’s a tremor in his hands when he pours your tea. He murmurs apologies when some spills over the rim of the cup, an unusual occurrence when he’s normally so controlled and meticulous.

On a typical day, he stands by Diavolo’s side, or behind him. During his heat, he hovers behind you instead; you can hear his sharp intake of breath whenever he dares to lean forward and scent you. He is usually more discreet, but today his nose is nearly against your skin; his warm puffs of breath tickle your neck.

You tell yourself you’ll eat something - a small, delicate pastry prepared by Barbatos himself - and then drag them both to bed before they completely lose control of their senses. You don’t want to risk having to fuck them on the balcony (again). There might be enough privacy so you won’t be seen, but there’s nothing to silence their feral noises or your own pleasured cries.

There was one previous visit when the onset of their heats blindsided all of you with its intensity. They took you right there on the balcony instead of the cozy bed inside. Barbatos swiped the table clear of his expensive, beautiful china and ripped down your pants and bent you over. He fisted your hair while he fucked you with fast, punishing thrusts; Diavolo jerked himself off as he watched, muttering filthy praise for you under his breath.

After Barbatos was temporarily satiated, Diavolo pulled you down onto his lap and urged you to ride him too. He laid on the uncomfortable ground himself and shielded your delicate body from the rough stone, the way any proper mate would. After he came, Diavolo held you while Barbatos licked the sloppy mess from between your thighs, then his master carried you inside before the next wave of their heats took hold.

(They were both entirely smug about that little tryst afterwards. The scratches on their backs and knees lingered for days which constantly reminded them of you.)

Your demon hosts are already restless when they wait for you to choose a dessert, so you pick the closest pastry to avoid testing their patience. You bite into the flaky turnover and panic when sweet whipped filling spills across your mouth. Your lips are covered with powdered sugar and cream, and you wonder if Barbatos hoped this would happen all along. There's a quiet rumbling emanating from his chest behind you, and across the table, Diavolo clenches the arm of his chair so tightly that you can hear the wood splinter and crack.

This is ridiculous.

You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand and stand up knowing that they’ll follow. Diavolo slowly rises from his seat across from you, and his body shakes with anticipation and poorly-disguised lust.

Barbatos holds out his gloved hand to you and you place your palm in his. You think he means to lead you inside, but he brings your hand to his mouth and licks away the traces of sticky sweetness left behind. His tongue flicks across your skin far longer than needed - he’s chasing your taste now too.

Two pairs of dark eyes snap to yours when you whimper. You can only withstand so much attention and overwhelming desire from them before you feel yourself unraveling too. Diavolo takes your other hand and drags you off the balcony with Barbatos close behind.

They lead you into the bedroom where they can finally have you all to themselves. Your hands are shaking with anticipation, but thankfully Barbatos helps strip off your clothes so you don't have to fumble with the buttons of your shirt. He’s gentle with you, but he can’t resist the urge to brush his lips against your skin - and nip at the unmarked flesh with his teeth - as his nimble fingers undress you.

Diavolo stands behind you and tilts your chin back so he can kiss you, and he groans at the lingering sweetness he tastes on your lips. His impatient hands explore the bare skin Barbatos reveals to him: your bare shoulders, your breasts, the dips and curves of your belly and hips. 

During most of their previous heats, Barbatos fucked you first. I need to prepare you for the future demon king’s cock, he whispered in your ear when you wondered why he was allowed to stretch you with is fingers - and his cock - while Diavolo watched you both with dark, hungry eyes.

But today, it seems they have something different in mind. “I want to prepare you myself,” Diavolo’s rough voice growls into your ear. He clasps his arms around your body and grinds his cock against your ass. He’s in his demonic form behind you; you can hear the restless stirring of his wings. His horned silhouette on the wall is monstrous, but you know there’s nowhere safer than the greedy embrace of the demon prince that loves you. 

Barbatos is in his demonic form too, but he’s positioned himself flat on the bed and only the topmost buttons of his shirt are undone. He palms the staining bulge in his pants. He meets your half-lidded gaze with his own and licks his lips expectantly.

Diavolo rests his hands on the small of your back and nudges you towards the bed. You kneel on the edge of the mattress, and Barbatos crooks his finger at you. You crawl on your knees and he shivers when you slide your hands up his thighs and spread them apart to give you more space. Diavolo settles on the bed behind you, and he peppers kisses along your back while his hands squeeze at the soft, jiggly skin of your ass. 

Barbatos unzips his pants for you, and he tilts his head back against the pillow when you pull out his cock. He’s been leaking inside his pants and the tip is already wet and glistening with traces of his arousal. You swallow his cock down with one smooth glide of your lips wrapped around him, while Diavolo buries his face between your thighs and licks greedily at your slit. You moan around Barbatos’s cock, and he echoes you with a soft groan of his own.

After a few minutes of clenching the bedsheets while you drag your lips along his shaft, Barbatos snarls and rips off his gloves with his teeth. It surprises you to see him do something so uncouth. You drool pathetically from the corner of your slack-jawed mouth onto his cock, but that seems to rile him up even more. He smooths his bare hands over the sides of your face and he cradles your jaw. He helps guide your movements, up and down, over and over again in a sensual glide of your spit-slicked lips around his cock. He doesn’t push your head down faster or deeper than he knows you like. Your mouth is warm and wet around him, and you flick his cock tip with little kitten licks before you swallow him back down.

Barbatos knows he’s going to come first. His tail’s been thumping restlessly against the mattress, and the forked ends wrap around your wrist in an effort to ground himself. A grunt and a few shallow thrusts of his hips are your only warnings before he pumps his cum into your mouth. It flows hot and sticky across your tongue and down your throat when you swallow.

He needs longer to recuperate than his master does and he’s already softening in your mouth. You hold him like that gently, enjoying the sensation of him, hot and heavy, on your tongue. You squirm when he murmurs that you’re being such a good cockwarmer for him. He lets you enjoy it a little longer and he only pulls away when he becomes too sensitive.

Diavolo growls possessively deep within his chest when the air continues to thicken with his butler’s scent. He’s nearing the edge of his own self-control and needs to fuck you, but he needs you to come for him first. He’s three thick fingers deep inside you, massaging your walls and teasing the spongy spot hidden within. He laps at your slick with his tongue and sucks on your clit. Your body trembles and you undulate your hips to meet the greedy movements of his tongue and fingers. 

When you approach your own release, you’re whimpering and moaning both their names, an endless siren’s song that threatens to overwhelm them both. You rest your head on Barbatos’s belly and close your eyes while the sensations between your legs start to overwhelm you. Barbatos whispers sweet praise as he strokes your neck and shoulders - he tells you how good you are, how beautiful you look, how delicious you smell and taste.

The combination of Barbatos’s honeyed filth pouring from his mouth, and Diavolo’s lips and fingers plundering your body for pleasure, finally drives you over the edge. You try to muffle your cries, but Diavolo slaps your ass; he wants all of your noises for himself, and he’s going to have them. Your head shoots up in surprise, even though his hand startles you more than it hurts you. He’s finally satisfied that he can hear your gorgeous whimpers and moans unobstructed. His fingers are drenched with your slick, and he sucks them into his mouth while he waits for you to catch your breath.

Barbatos helps you maneuver more comfortably onto your side, then he tucks his cock into his pants before he rolls off the bed. His young master is already crawling up the bed to lay beside you, and Barbatos smiles when Diavolo curls his wings and arms around you protectively. This is a rare moment of peace and clarity that the young prince has to spoil you with sweet words and loving affirmations. Soon enough, his heat will rob him of his words, and he’ll become a touch-starved, primitive beast once more. 

Barbatos watches from the shadows when the prince's gentle kisses and touches become rougher and more purposeful. When Diavolo finally mounts you and starts fucking you in earnest, Barbatos sneaks from the room.

He hurries to retrieve some basic necessities that the three of you will need by the end of the night: water, snacks, and some healing and rejuvenation potions for you. You helped him break through the haze of his own heat - temporarily, at least - and it’s enough for him to be quick and efficient gathering supplies from the castle kitchen. He has to be quiet when he returns, although he doubts either of you will notice. As he approaches Diavolo's room, he can hear the muffled bang of the headboard hitting the wall punctuated by his young master’s grunts and your breathy moans. 

When Barbatos slips back inside the bedroom, the cloyingly thick scent of your sweat and cum starts to cloud his mind and his heat starts to build again. He grows hard in his pants when your cries to be filled and bred become more desperate. Barbatos watches his young master fuck you senseless, and he licks his lips as he eagerly awaits his turn.

#obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #diavolo smut #barbatos smut #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me barbatos x mc #diavolo x mc #barbatos x mc #obey me diavolo x you #obey me barbatos x you #diavolo x you #barbatos x you #obey me smut #omswd smut #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #obey me poly mc #x reader #afab!reader

[seattlesellie]

⋆˙ ♡ b l u e b e r r y p i e ♡⋆˙

pairing: farm!ellie williams x fem!reader

an: drabble based on a small request but i cannot find it ᥫ᭡

warnings: smut (mdni), daddy kink, housewife kink, slight spit play, dom!ellie, sub!reader

ellie's breath hung in the frigid air, visible puffs of white against the backdrop of the forest. the thick layer of snow muffled her steps as she treaded cautiously, her boots sinking with each weighty stride. she gripped her bow tightly, fingers calloused, the biting wind whipped through the trees. she scanned the landscape with piercing eyes, hoping to spot even the faintest trace of movement. but the forest, remained still, its inhabitants hidden away. ellie's grip tightened on the bow, her resolve strengthening amidst the disappointment. she wouldn't return empty-handed; she wouldn't let her promise slip away like the snowflakes that melted against her heated skin.

the sound of her boots stomping against the floor enter the house before she does. you hear her steps, as she paces on the entryway— right on the porch. she takes a deep breath, opens the door and it creaks. it fucking sucked out there, it was bone chilling cold, she couldn’t find a deer to kill, not even a goddamn rabbit, and it dawns upon her. you had told her you’d wanted a feast, it was nearing on christmas time, and she failed, again. dough filled pastries and pasta is all you two were going to eat for the next two weeks, until the snow starts clearing up and the animal’s crawl out of their sheds.

she doesn’t need to huff, or to even mutter a word, for you to know the state that she’s in. all it takes is that deep sigh, as soon as the door bangs and shuts close behind her. she doesn’t greet you with her usual “look what i got, babe” wiggling her eyebrows— because she knows how much you dislike seeing her hold those animals whilst they’re hanging dead from her hand, their fur disheveled and spotted with blood. all she does is throw the keys on the table, and takes her mud filled boots off of her feet, placing them right besides the door. she crosses her arms over her chest, and watches you intently.

warm, vegetable soup is boiling inside the pot, and besides it, lay two warm bowls of white rice. it’s below forty degrees outside, and yet— your body is impeccably adorned with a milky white, frilly apron. two tiny cream-colored bows are nestled on the sides, right where your waist meets the string. her lips almost curl up to a smile, because no matter how cold it is outside, no matter how glossy her eyes get from the wind, nose red from the snow laying atop it, your home will always be warm— you, will always be warm, and truthfully? that’s all she truly cares about. you grant the soup one last swirl, before turning the flame down, and you give ellie a moment to herself too, before you turn around and greet her. you know she doesn’t like it when you see her upset. a moment passes, and then two, and there’s that deep sigh.

“hey” she murmurs, and her voice is a tad harsh, it has a raspiness to it from the weather outside. you do not respond, nor do you turn around. you signal her to come closer with your hand, and again— there’s that thing her lips do, when they curl up to a smile that she’s trying to hide. she’s not supposed to be smiling, she came home empty handed, but damn you, always making her body form those involuntary reactions. she paces towards you slowly, small steps as her socks meet the wooden floor, and again— it creaks, this place is so damn old.

you take a wooden spoon, give the soup another swirl, and this time, you scoop it out with some warm, liquid deliciousness for her to savor. you can’t help but smile, when she stands besides you with her hand on the countertop and her legs crossed together. “have a taste” you grin, and your voice is warm and saccharine and it makes her forget— that she came back home empty handed. she shuts her eyes for a moment, before blowing on the spoon. you swallow a giggle, as her red-from-the-cold lips form a small puckering movement, and she responds with a huff and a small giggle herself. she can’t help it, and a drop of the soup leaks out of the spoon from the air her nose blows.

she takes it in her mouth, and hums when it hits her tastebuds. “taste’s amazing”; and you know it does, but still, your cheeks heat up at the compliment. “thank you” you reply, and it’s small but it’s sweet. she wants to tell you that you’re fucking adorable, standing here in your apron and cooking her food, but she feels quite shitty, so she doesn’t. “and… made some rice too” you note, gesturing with a finger, poking at one of the bowls. she smiles softly, but its not a real one. she blinks, and breathes deeply. “i’m not really hungry”. ellie looks down, and tugs at the bottom of your dainty apron. you stand there for a while, and it’s a moment of understanding. she stares at the floor, and the corner of her mouth twitches. it’s gnawing at her, and you know it. she feels guilt ridden, and you know that as well. you don’t begin the conversation yourself, tiptoeing around it as if it doesn’t exist. “ellie…” you sigh, breathy— and she immediately turns her face around to the opposite direction. you’re presented with her left, freckles splattered cheek. you caress it with the pad of your thumb, slowly, delicately, her skin still cold, and she winces. her eyebrows furrow, and a small line forms between them. she grabs your hand, places her calloused one on top of it, and peels it off her face. she doesn’t get abrasive, she’s gentle, but she needs it off. she feels too culpable, to deserve your touch. “i feel fucking useless” she puffs, and she doesn’t look you in the eyes when she says it. her eyes are closed, her bottom lip between her teeth. you bring your hand over again, to brush a short hair strand away from her face, and it’s still wet from the rain, or from the snow— you wouldn’t know, it’s coal black outside, it’s only the wind that sneaks itself inside from the tiny hole on the window’s glass, that turns the weather in. you can't help but smile, a soft chuckle escaping from your lips. useless, would be the last thing you could describe ellie as.

“i’m sorry… ellie, you’re being ridiculous”, and this time, she doesn’t push you away, she lets your hand play with the loose strand of hair, twirling it around your finger. she sighs, and lifts her chin up. it quivers slightly, and she rolls her eyes. you notice a certain twinkling glisten in her them, and god— she’s trying to halt the tear threatening to stream down her cheek, and flow like a bantam river. it doesn’t leak out, just finds home on her waterline. before she replies, she shakes her head. “i’m not being ridiculous, you… you fucking do everything for me— you cook for me, and you fucking clean, and…” she stops, and finally, she looks at you. “and i know your fucking back hurts, because you hang the fucking laundry— every day“ she’s rambling, and you’re watching with a soft expression, tilting your head. “every day, you do all of these fucking things, and i’m supposed to provide for you” she points at your chest, and the tear on her waterline finally gives in and takes a drive— lands directly on her top lip.

you’re speechless, doe eyed. you know she’s wrong, but you let her finish. “you… were…” with your finger on her lip, you wipe the tear away. she sighs deeply, and takes your hand in her’s, intertwining her fingers with yours. “you were supposed to bake that… shepherds pie, for christmas. and you were so fucking excited about it, you told dina, and fucking maria and tommy and now—“ she stops, and looks down on the wooden floor. its killing her. “because of me, you can’t” you open your mouth, attempting to sneak a word in, to protest, but she doesn’t let you. she’s stubborn. “because i’m fucking useless” and it stings, but it also… tugs, at your heartstrings, in the warmest, possible way. a tear threatens to erupt from your form as well. throat feeling clogged, you want to coo at her, explain, again— how ridiculous she’s being. how much you love how she cares, this… this is better than a shepherd’s pie, her love is better than everything you’ve ever tasted, you don’t need anything, anything other than her. instead of telling her that, instead of bursting into tears in a declaration of love, you mutter something else. you know that she knows how much you love her— now, you need to be practical, find a solution to the problem she had created.

“blueberry pie”

her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“blueberry pie?”

you bob your head up and down twice before continuing, and now— it’s getting harder to hide your smile.

“i’ll bake a blueberry pie.” your voice is even sweeter than you had intended for it to come out, dulcet, dripping with honey… and blueberry jam.

she scoffs and adverts her look to the side, before placing her forehead on yours.

“but you were so fucking… excited, about having maria taste your shepherds pie…”

you cut her off, again, and nudge her shoulder. “are you saying… my blueberry pie isn’t as good?”

she rolls her eyes, playfully, you know that’s not what she meant. “everything you cook is fucking delicious…” she takes a deep breath, and the soft smile plastered on her face washes off. she’s grounded with reality, again. “but… i just… feel fucking powerless, like i can’t do shit for you” it’s foolish, really— she had just fixed the doorknob in the upstairs bathroom, built a goddamn patio, all by herself, and… powerless? you about pout, taken back from what she had said.

“powerless?… oh, ellie…”

she sniffles, and she wants to reply, determined to explain, she is powerless, this is all her fault, no fucking shepherds pie, she practically feels like the grinch who stole christmas, but you won’t let her succumb to her own wrath. you plant a kiss, a small, delicate one, right on her cheek. your bottom lip strokes her skin before you pull away, only to form a nest on her the crook of her neck. when you breathe her in, she smells of mud, of leaves, leathery and smokey. you take her in, brush the tip of your nose on her pulse, and you can feel, and almost see— the fine hairs standing up. she shudders, and places a tremor held hand on the small of your back. with one palm on her left shoulder, and the other on her right one, you pull her in. her mouth airs a small noise, almost a whimper but barely a sigh— a mixture of both. it escapes from her throat, and she brushes her thumb on you waist, up and down.

“you are everything…” now, you whisper in her ear, and she shudders. “but powerless” you breathe in, and kiss that one sweet spot behind her ear, you know it’s her favorite. a low grunt escapes her lips, and she squeezes your waist. as you trail soft, gentle as butterflies kisses on the side of her neck, she closes her eyes, and lets you soak her in. your soft chest is pressed against her’s, and she feels that “powerless” feeling depart from her body, like a violent swarm fleeing her chest. “do you know… how much power, you have over me?” your voice is ever so soft, and ever so… submissive. oh, she thinks she knows, but she's not sure.

her hand, maneuvers itself from the small of your back to lay just above your ass, her palm just resting there, caressing the fabric of the soft skirt you donned. with her chin resting on your shoulder, you continue your submission. “do you?” you mewl, and you want her to say yes, to accept it, but she doesn’t. “no” she replies, and truthfully, she only yearns to hear you say it. you plant another kiss on her neck, but this time, it’s an open mouthed one, with your tongue poking out, the soft muscle licking her flesh, making ellie let loose of a long, suppressed groan, to bite her lip as her eyes roll back.

“i think you do know…” and you truly can’t find the words, not when you’re that close, not when you breathe in her scent— not when her hand is on top of your ass, kneading the flesh now, just above the skirt. you whisper, a soft, breathy string of “you know… ellie” and when she takes the soft globe between her fingers, and squeezes, you finally breathe it out, oh god—

“daddy”

the low, throaty groan escapes almost automatically, a knee-jerk reaction, she feels the obscene nickname send a lighting strike between her legs, in her heart, in her brain— this is exactly what she needed to hear. your daddy, the only fucking one who can make you go like this, go this dumb and this needy and this eager to please. a harsh, ringing slap on your ass, still covered by the soft material, follows that very same groan. her other hand moves lower to knead it between her fingers again, clawing at the flesh, marking it as her’s. you mewl it again, “daddy”, and its breathless now, unable to stop, longer and needier— and the ring of the word “fuck”, that she mutters as a response, is bordering on primal.

“yeah?” she voices, raspy and deep, and you know you have clouded her mind now. powerless… who? you hum, when she grabs your tit between her hand, tugs at it and squeezes, twitches the nipple right over your bra, she knows exactly where it is, and exactly how hard to pinch it for her to hear her favorite sound in the whole entire world, that high pitched moan of her name. “let me show you, y—eah?” you stutter, and although it is not even a question, it sounds like you’re begging. “say it again” ellie orders, and although it is phrased as an order, it sounds like she’s begging. “daddy…” you whisper in her ear, kissing and licking her lobe, making her whimper a long, breathy sound of your name.

it is again, primal— how quickly and fervently she peels off the straps of your top, letting the skirt cascade off of your body— and when it comes to the frilly, little apron; “keep it on”, only taking the top part of it off, so your tits can spill out, on full display for ellie. before she takes the soft, silky smooth mounds between her lips— she spits, letting the string of her own saliva stream on the flesh, before it reaches your nipples, teasing her and flowing oh so slowly, before making the tender, now-hard buds glisten with slick. with her forehead on yours, her gaze is fixated upon them. you can feel her heartbeat, growing faster and faster. “fucking christ” she huffs, before smearing her spit on your nipples with the pad of her thumb. you wince and squeal when she flicks them left and right. “so sensitive, s’fucking cute” she coos, before latching her needy mouth onto them, sucking them in, leaving dark, purple marks the harder she sucks. she takes the nipple between her teeth, bites— here’s that fucking squeal of yours again, so she moans, never neglecting the other tit, her fingers toying with the nipple, moving it in small circles so you fucking cunt can feel it. with a loud “ahh” sound, she takes the sensitive bud out of her mouth.

when she looks at you, staring into your eyes, with a look that’s so impatient, and hungry, with a look that says “you’re fucking mine”, and "i fucking own you", you bite your lip so hard it almost draws blood. doe eyed, she takes your chin between her index and her pointer. she doesn’t need to mutter a word, before you’re down on your knees, hitting the floor with a thud. that’s ought to leave a mark. nevertheless, she’d love it, all of it. when she towers over you, with that dark gaze and those burning green eyes, it’s hard not to feel small, and powerless. except, you have all the power in the world. letting her have this, have you, that’s more powerful than it all.

she pats the top of your head, rubs it, and waits for your next move. you place your head on her thigh, and caress it, letting the harsh material of her jeans burn through your cheek. “there she is…” she coos, teasingly so, and places her thumb on your lower lip. she grazes it from side to side, toying with the plush, damp flesh.

“suck”

oh, you do. you suck it so hard you’re almost biting it, your cheeks hollowing, keeping your eyes on her while the obscene noises of her thumb inside of your mouth fill the room, wet and nasty and loud. she stares down, nodding to you, her nods saying “that’s my good girl” but her mouth shut and formed in a tight line, groaning as if you’re sucking on her goddamn cock, making that tickling pain right between her legs, covered by too many layers of fabric, grow more and more distracting. you can feel it too— that sensation, deep in your core. its hard, it's almost impossible, not to begin humping the floor. her pupils grow even larger in size when you start moaning around her thumb, worshipping it, worshipping her. she watches you, her mouth agape, chasing your eyes, and when you close them ever so slightly, she takes a sharp breath. "look at you..." she coos, and you know she means look at how pathetic you are, look at the drool running down your chin, making a mess, all for her. she gives a hum of satisfaction, and takes her thumb out of your mouth.

when you look at her again, you're transfixed, mind foggy with your eyes lazily half shut. she nods her head up and down, because she knows what you yearn to do next. you don't have to say a word, before she yanks the belt off of her pants, in one swift motion, and then— undoes the button, and the zipper as well. ellie throws the belt on the floor, violently so, and it makes your whole body jump with a squeal.

"awh... did i scare you?" she coos, and caresses her hand slowly, from the top of your forehead, running it all along the pillowy skin of your cheeks, to the bottom of your chin. with her index and her pointer, she grabs your chin, and lower's your head over so your eyes fixate on her jean-covered cunt. poor you, you wait for her to take them off. except, she doesn't. with her hand on the back of your head, she pushes you forward, making the tip of your nose graze her heat, and you swear to god himself— you can smell her already, you know that she's soaking, getting off on you sucking her thumb like that, getting off on your absolute submission to her. she has to restrain herself from using you fully, from bumping your head forward and forcing you to get her to cum through her pants, she knows she can— but instead, when she looks right into your eyes, those poor, glassy eyes, she gets down on her knees to face you. her expression softens, and she rubs her thumb on your cheek. you almost purr, tilting your head so you fit perfectly in it.

"you're so good to me..." she whispers, and chuckles softly when she sees the curl of your lip. "so good..." she repeats, and you hum, accepting her praise. she plants a soft, loving kiss on your forehead. "pretty little housewife... always takin' care of me, huh?" you nod, accepting again, although now, it feels as if she's purely speaking to herself. "always" you whisper back, nodding your head softly. "you wanna make me feel good?... hm?" she murmurs, trailing small circles on your cheek, moving her finger downwards lightly, so that it grazes over your sensitive nipple, and again— she toys with the bud, awestruck at how sensitive you get, chuckling when the sweet little squeal escapes your lips again.

"yes..." you reply softly, and it's breathy, the eagerness oh so apparent in your voice.

"f'course you do..."

she gets up from her knees, bit by bit, and leans her back on the fridge. you look up at her, and place your thumbs inside of her jeans. she nod's softly, signaling you that it's time now. take them off.

when you do, you whine.

her grey boxers, perfectly tight on her thighs, have a delicious, wet patch right where the fabric meets her hole. "mhh'ellie..." you whine, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, inhaling deeply. "you're so wet..." you murmur against her skin, taking in what you did. you're copying her, imitating, she knows that. "all for me...?" you whisper, and then she tsk's. "dont play with me" she breathlessly huffs— but why? it's so much fun, after all.

"are you shy, daddy?" you question, and she feels her cheeks burning a crimson red. "shut up" she murmurs, and it's a half chuckle— half threat.

"you're so cute" you tease, a soft, adorable smile when you speak. "hey... hey—" she takes hold of your chin again.

"quit being a fucking brat, ju— oh... my.... god" in the midst of her sentence, your tongue met her clothed clit. eagerly, you teased it up and down with the tip of your pink muscle, and you felt ellie shaking.

her whole body tenses, as soon as you begin flickering it, taking her button between your teeth, not once daring to break your eye contact. your eyes scream submission, but your movements— scream mine. you flatten your tongue against her slit and her knees almost give in. with a fist on your scalp, her body— involuntarily, slips down slightly off of the fridge, her ass meets the metal with a thud, she's almost squatting.

her mind is clouded with chants of "fucking needed this"

you kiss it, nice and wet. "you like it, daddy?" bold, full on cocky and bratty is what you are. you know you made her desperate so you have the power to dare— and tease her on and on. she doesn't reply, a choked out whine coming from her throat. she mumbles incoherently, something that sounds like "you wait for your fucking turn and then you'll see" before she pulls down her boxers, grabs you by the back of your neck and pushes you in.

"fuuuuu" she chokes out, barely able to continue her words, when your lips wrap around her swollen clit, messily sucking it in. "just like... fuck— just like that..." now, she's purely controlling your motions, grinding on you. you flatten out your tongue with a whimper and incoherently breathe out; "da— ddy". with your voice choked up, mouth swollen and used, she looks down at you, her eyes threatening to close, and yet, she smiles. darkly so, and teasingly. "such a—" she grunts, a "psh" noise escaping her lips, "good— fucking girl..."

you can't help but let your hand wander down your skirt, squeezing and pinching and caressing your thighs like she'd do, teasing yourself all over your panties, rubbing your leaking hole as she fucks herself on top of you. when she notices your little hand circling your clit, she wants to coo, wants to warn you— but she doesn't. she chuckles, "can't fucking help... fuck—" you barely let her finish her sentence again, before you take her clit between your teeth and gnaw at it gently. "s'fucking much— can't even fucking help yourself— can you?" every word that leaves her mouth feels as if it's being held hostage, trying to escape, sounding muffled and choked up.

of course you need to cum when your mouth is on her cunt, of course you need to cum when she's using you like this, it's so obvious, it's so... you, she attempts to be feigned by it, but instead, she laughs. "go on... make yourself cum— g-go on" she stutters, and when she does, you suck harder on the bud than you've ever sucked in your life, with a sweet, high pitched moan. you almost have to physically push your fingers out of your cunt, whining as soon as the feeling of being empty washes over you, and then— you push them deep inside ellie’s tight, warm hole.

she barely has time to response, jolting at the intrusion, muttering a string of curse words under her breath, pulling her head back. "dirty— fuckin'..."

your juices mix with her's, and the sounds that your mouth leaves are obscene, wet and sticky, moaning like you've never tasted anything better in your life— which you probably hadn't. "you gonna cum, daddy?" you probe, breathlessly so, and it's humorous, that brave attitude that washes over you when she's a mess splattered against the fridge, bucking her hips and— cumming. all over your mouth.

you lick it up, suck all of the juices in, from her tight hole and then all over her slit, swallowing every last bit.

before you manage to get up, she lifts you up.

you both stand there for a while, forehead to forehead, not talking, barely breathing on each other.

you blink twice, and then once more.

"powerless?" you quip, silently.

she's breathless, and before she replies, she attacks your neck with sweet, soft kisses.

"you fucking.... you fucking—", she picks you up and you squeal. she pushes you against the counter and she... giggles?

"how did i fucking..." she pecks your lips, and pecks it again, and again, and again— you can't stop laughing, she's tickling you all over and the tears start forming in the corners of your eyes.

"how did get so fucking lucky?" she pecks again, on your cheek now. "huh?" she repeats, and fuck— that smile.

"how did i get so fucking... lucky"

how did she, truly?

"go upstairs and grab it" she orders, but waits for your response. "what?" you speak, in between sweet as honey giggles.

"up... stairs"

"what's upstairs?"

she tilts her head, and smirks.

"what's upst—... oh"

oh.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #wlw smut #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic

[ashwhowrites]

Lacy

Ummm this will hurt. Mentions of cheating, we've got smut, and we've got heartache. The first release of the GUTS project I'm working on. I hope you like it and enjoy it!

Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of Hell? Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies Did I ever tell you that I'm not doin' well?

Y/N never experienced a teenage heartbreak, and she wasn't doing well. She and Eddie had been together for almost two years, but it wasn't as full of love as she wished. He used to be in love with her. He used to drive her everywhere just to spend time together. He used to bring her favorite snacks to hellfire, he used to kiss her, and he used to make love to her. When they had sex, it wasn't the same anymore. He used to be warm, and soft, and soak every part of her within his body. Now she can't help but notice he refused to look into her eyes as he sucked on her neck and thrust inside of her. Because if he looked at her, Chrissy would disappear.

"Pretty skin," Eddie whispered as he pecked her body. Y/N knew he was thinking of the white porcelain skin of Chrissy's body. He probably thought about Chrissy's bright eyes.

Eddie finished and rolled over. Not even seconds later he began to snore. Y/N tried to hold in her tears as she slipped out of bed to clean herself up. Something he used to never go to bed without doing. As she left their bedroom, she felt a knife in her back when she saw the framed photo of her and Chrissy.

Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time Watching, hidden in plain sight Ooh, I try, I try, I try But it takes over my life, I see you everywhere The sweetest torture one could bear

Y/N tried her best to get Chrissy and Eddie out of her mind, but she couldn't. It almost hurt her more that they were so terrible at hiding it.

Y/N walked through the giant college party Chrissy threw. Eddie was already lost in the crowd and she knew if she found Chrissy, she would find him. She was proven right as she watched Eddie talking into Chrissy's ear, she laughed and smacked his arm. Their bodies leaned into each other.

When they returned home, Eddie was back to his silent self. He kicked off his shoes and headed up into bed.

~~~

Y/N hummed a song as she sorted through the dirty laundry. She emptied Eddie's pants pockets because she had learned he doesn't check. She felt a crumbled piece of paper and pulled it out. She unfolded it and felt that knife in her back again.

"Meet me tonight at the hideout at 8

-xx Chris"

Y/N slipped the paper back in the pants and threw it in the wash. She coughed away her tears as she heard Eddie's feet pounding down the hall.

"Babe?"

"Laundry room," she answered.

"Going to the hideout, don't wait up." He said, he leaned in and placed a kiss on her lips.

She eyed his attractive outfit. The rings on his hands and the smell of the cologne she bought for an anniversary. He was wearing it for Chrissy, and that stung.

"What are you staring at?" Eddie chuckled, which seemed to snap Y/N out of her mind. Y/N looked at the clock on the wall, he had thirty minutes to get to the hideout. Chrissy always wins, but maybe she can win this one time.

"Fuck me, right here and right now," Y/N said, with no emotion in her voice. Eddie was caught off guard. He went to protest or ask her a question but his mouth went dry as she stripped down.

She smiled when he yanked off his shirt and threw it on the floor. His hands on her skin as he shoved his tongue in her mouth. She felt her brain shut off, and for once felt free.

She moaned as he fucked her against the wall. Their sweaty bodies against each other's as she sucked on his neck. She left marks up and down both sides. Relieved he didn't push her away, but melted into her and whimpered.

Her hands were in his hair as she looked at his face. He made the mistake of looking up, now his eyes glued to hers. She could see his eyes changing, a flash of guilt then back to lust. He kept his eyes on hers as he leaned in and kissed her lips. It was a kiss she hadn't felt in months. It was slow and passionate. She could feel the love pouring out of his mouth into hers. The same way he used to kiss her before Chrissy.

She whined into his mouth as she came all over him, gasping as he watched her fall apart. The way he fucked into her softly, the way he smiled and kissed her all over her face. She shifted so he'd drop her legs, she found her feet and kneeled down. She wrapped her warm mouth around his cock. He moaned and held her hair, he helped her move up and down on him. His eyes were still glued to hers. He emptied down her throat, and she looked at the clock.

~

Eddie walked into the hideout with a sick feeling in his stomach. He usually felt excited to see Chriss but he wished he stayed home. He was in love with two women and didn't know what in the hell to do.

"Hey handsome, you are late." Chrissy smiled as she slid next to him in a booth.

"Sorry, was doing something." He shrugged, he kept thinking of Y/N. At this very moment, he didn't understand why he left. His cock was still sensitive from her and he craved more of her.

"Like having sex?" Chrissy scoffed, her pissed-off glare made Eddie roll his eyes.

"No, I wasn't having sex," he lied as he glared back at her.

"This says otherwise," Chrissy said as she flicked the marks on Eddie's neck.

"I thought you were going to break up with her."

"Chrissy I already told you that I don't know how." Eddie sighed, he was tired of having this conversation over and over.

"Tell her you don't love her anymore!" Chrissy screeched.

"I do love her."

Smart, sexy Lacy, I'm losin' it lately I feel your compliments like bullets on skin

"That dress is gorgeous on you!" Chrissy complimented. As a best friend, she truly meant it, as the competition she was jealous of how perfect Y/N looked.

"Thank you," Y/N said, a short response as she walked to find Eddie.

Chrissy glared as Y/N and Eddie spent the night dancing together. She hated the love shared between them and felt her heart tug every time they kissed.

She wished Eddie didn't love Y/N, or at least didn't love her more. She wished it was easy for Eddie to leave her behind.

"You are breathtaking tonight," Eddie said as he twirled her. She smiled but it felt like a blow to her chest. If she was so breathtaking, why did he breathe for another girl?

Ooh, I care, I care, I care Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots You got the one thing that I want

It was Eddie's birthday and Y/N threw him a surprise party at their house. Eddie was delighted to be with all his friends. Y/N invited Chrissy because she didn't want them to be suspicious of what she knew.

Chrissy growled as she watched Y/N feed Eddie his birthday cake as she sat on his lap. It's been a week since she spoke to Eddie at the hideout. That was also the last time she saw him. He ghosted her out of nowhere. It was like he forgot all about her.

Y/N scanned the party and her eyes landed on Chrissy's glare. Y/N felt her stomach turn in knots. It made her sick that Chrissy had the nerve to be jealous when Eddie was hers in the first place. Y/N sent a smile and turned back to Eddie. Chrissy had the nerve to be upset like she hadn't already stolen Eddie away.

"You bake the best cakes, my dear," Eddie said as he pressed a frosting-coated kiss against Y/N's lips. She giggled and kissed back. Humming at the delicious taste.

Y/N had the one thing Chrissy wanted, Eddie's attention.

Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

And the worst part of it all, Y/N understood why he fell in love with Chrissy. She always saw Chrissy as an angel and beautiful in every sense of the word.

She hated even after it all, she truly believed Chrissy was better. She couldn't stop Eddie from seeing what she saw all along.

The most perfect woman in the world.

Y/N hated herself for accepting it so easily. She hated that she felt like she couldn't blame Eddie for what he has done.

Because Y/N would have done it all too.

tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites #ashwhowrites original idea #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #GUTS project

[mountainsandmayhem]

Wings. Fire. Magic. Part Four

18+, Minors Do Not Interact

DragonTrainer!Joel x Female!Reader

Summary: Joel has to follow through on his deal with The King, the two of you share tender moments, and maybe you don't want to go home after all. Dragon divider by @saradika-graphics CW: 18+, p in v sex (wrap it up folks), mean Joel but also tender Joel. Praise (duh, it's Joel), dirty talk, female and male orgasms WC: 6K

Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three

Fuck. I’m dead. So very dead.

The terrifying milky coloured dragon is going to incinerate you.  You can see building in his throat as he roars at you. The last one was so loud that you clamped your hands over your ears and started to back away. Your family flashes before your eyes. Your mom is about to celebrate her one thousandth name day, she’d ask for those little mushroom and cheese pastry puffs she loves so much, your dad would make some joke about her being older than him, even though just a fortnight later he’d be celebrating his same name day. 

“Eaaasssyyy,” you say shakily to the dragon, your hands are trembling as you move them from your ears, holding them up to try to calm him. 

Suddenly you’re being pushed to the side, hitting the ground hard, rolling over yourself a few times. The wind is knocked out of you and you roll onto your back to try to get oxygen, gasping against the invisible hands restricting your lungs. You can see Joel standing in front of the dragon in just his tight black boxers. The sunrise casts flecks of gold around his tight and tanned skin, more tattoos swirl around his back, as well as 3 thick scars from his left shoulder to the middle of his back. They’re not new, but still raised and pinkish in colour. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he says loudly, holding his arms up, palms facing out to the dragon. “Uvri, easy boy.” 

The dragon pauses, sniffing slightly at Joel before lowering himself and folding his wings back into his body. 

“There you go.” he praises the dragon, still with a tinge of fear on the edge of his voice, “That’s it. Easy.” 

The dragon touches his nose to one of Joel’s palms and then peaks behind him at you. “She is our friend. It’s ok.”  

You slowly stand up and Uvri side eyes you. “Sorry,” you say to both Joel and the dragon. 

Uvri turns back to the eggs, his large scaled body nestling around them. He lets out a content hum and shuts his eyes. Joel grabs your shoulders, eyes raking over you with concern. “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine, Joel.” You look away from him, your cheeks heat at how you touched yourself to thoughts of him last night while you were tucked into the soft sheets of your bed. And now he’s here in just his boxers holding your face and looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world. 

His hands cup your face gently with his large palms, “Sweetheart, not all dragons are Rem. She doesn’t know she’s a dragon if I’m being honest. You have to be careful out here.” 

“Ok. I’m sorry.” His eyes trail down each of your arms, hands not moving from your cheeks and even though you’re completely clothed, it all feels a little too intimate. When he doesn’t see any injuries he seems to start breathing again, his muscular chest expanding as air fills his lungs.  

“We need to talk about The King, I have to go back before those eggs hatch.” His hands slide to your shoulders as he continues, “I need you to trust me, and after we see The King I will take you to see your family. We’ll make sure they’re taken care of.” 

Your eyes fall to Joel’s strong bare chest, landing on the small hand tattoo over his heart. His hands fall from your shoulders and he smiles awkwardly at you. He’s suddenly aware that he’s practically naked. The animals of the forest around you start to wave up. Birds chirping, chipmunks chattering, the air seems to come alive. The morning sun is finally high enough to peek through the trees and warm your face. 

“You should probably get dressed before we talk,” you laugh. You and Joel walk side by side back towards the log cabin and you fight the urge to ask about the small hand tattoo over his heart. “How many dragons do you have?” 

“Umm,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, bicep flexing, “I have five. They live around the woods here.” 

“And they just stay?” you ask. Considering you were stealing an egg you know very little, almost nothing actually, about dragons. 

“Dragons are loyal. They might leave for food, but they come back each night.” 

Joel opens the back door and you head into the kitchen, propping yourself up on one of the stools. The log cabin is somehow more gorgeous in the morning sunlight. Joel’s half naked body putters around the kitchen, he pops open an airtight canister and the smell of coffee beans fills the room. When he turns back to you, you avert your eyes, looking down at the granite island. 

“Is being in your underwear an important part of this plan? Or?” You feel your cheeks heating. 

“Shit, sorry. My adrenaline is up here,” he raises an arm above his head and you glance over to see all the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he reaches. “Just, stay there. Please.” 

Joel disappears down the hallway and you finally understand what humans mean when they say ‘hate to see you go but love to watch you leave’, the tight boxers hug the strong globes of his ass, the soft fabric straining against his muscular thighs. But what really draws your eye are the two dimples in his lower back, just above the waist band. Your mouth waters at the sight of him.

When he returns the coffee is brewed and, since you already scared Joel half to death, you listen and stay on your stool. He pours you a cup of coffee and slides it across the counter to you, along with cream and sugar for you to add. You give him a tight lipped smile. 

“Rem and Uvri have five eggs that are going to hatch soon.” He says as he stirs a little bit of cream in his coffee, “I am going to leave tomorrow to take three of those eggs.” 

“Is Remmer going to be ok?” You can’t imagine she’ll be happy to have three of her babies taken from her, she’s so sweet and gentle. “You can’t give away your dragons.” 

“No, she’s probably going to be very upset with me,” he places his coffee down and opens the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon. “But remember how I told you dragons are extremely loyal?” 

“Yes,” you’re starting to feel that guilt again, being taken care of while your family is struggling and probably worried sick about you. 

“You stole that egg, but once it hatched, the dragon would find its way back here.” you hear the tick-tick-whoosh of the stove before he grabs two pans and puts them over the flame. “They’ll always find their way back to their family.”

“Ok,” you say curiously. “So, what about me?” 

“You’re staying here.” he says firmly, his back to you as he puts the bacon in the pan, the sound and smell of the fat sizzling causes your stomach to growl. 

“No, Joel,” you argue, “ You have to make The King think you hate me more than he does” 

He turns to face you, crossing his arms across his chest. “No.” 

“Joel, you have to.” You practically beg him, he turns around and cracks eggs in the second pan, avoiding your eyes as best he can. He already knows he has to take you, but he is a stubborn man, and if you start begging or look at him with those big sad eyes he’ll break. “If he knew that I slept in a big plush comfy bed or soaked in a bubble bath. I’m supposed to be your slave.” 

Joel shakes his head. “I’m taking him the eggs. You’re staying here. I’m not bringing you back there. I cannot bring you back there.” 

You wrap your hands around your coffee cup and bring it to your lips. He cannot bring you back there. You already know that there’s no arguing with him, even when he knows you’re right. Actually, especially when he knows you’re right. He’ll come around, he just needs to do it on his own time.  

After breakfast Joel tells you he’s going into the village to get you clothes and boots, and after a stern warning to stay out of the woods, he hops on his horse and off he goes. You spend the afternoon close to the house, wandering outside but staying clear of the woods. Around one side of the house is a large garden, vegetables sprout up every which direction and nothing is labeled. On the other side of the house, just below your bedroom window, is a flagstone patio with a large fire pit, wooden chairs and a bench. Everything outside of the house looks like it belongs there, like the earth put it there itself. You sit on the bench and start making a small fire. You catch Rem watching you from the tree line. You smile at her, but she stays near a peculiar tree; stark, white bark and a large canopy of deep purple leaves. It’s the only leafy tree in the area, the whole property is surrounded by large conifers, how that tree even exists is beyond you. 

Once the fire has started, you head into the house to get a bowl to start picking ripe vegetables. The sun is starting to set and you may as well make yourself useful and make dinner. After picking carrots, beets, potatoes, green beans and a handful of fresh herbs, you skip back into the house. You spotted chicken in the fridge this morning, so you take it out and rub it with oil, sprinkling the fresh herbs on top. Next, you chop all the vegetables up. Unlike Joel, who can just reach up and grab the cast iron pans hanging above the island, you have to climb up and stand on the counter to grab them. You take everything outside and start cooking. 

Dinner is almost ready when Joel's deep voice floats across the back yard, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You smile sheepishly at him over your shoulder.  

“Something smells amazing.” The fire pops and crackles, birds chirping in the woods calling to each other.  

You turn back to the fire, stirring the veggies. “I figured I could make myself useful”

“Thank you. You don’t need to do that.” 

You pat the bench beside you and Joel comes to sit beside you, knees grazing one another. You both look at the purple tree in front of you. 

“Can I -“ you start. Joel saying, “how’s your -“ at the same time. 

You both laugh quietly and you say, “you go first.” 

“How’s your back?” he asks, you glance over at him and he’s looking at you with that same big eyed concern he had this morning when you stumbled into Uvri.

“I think better.” you roll your shoulders backwards slowly, testing the muscles and checking for pain. Joel notices the slight wince in your face, “I have more movement in my arms but it still feels like I got trampled.” 

“I put some muscle relaxing oil in your room with your new clothes.” He says it so casually and your heart flutters as you thank him. Someone doing something for you is still so foreign. Are you that deprived of the goodness of humanity that you let one little act turn you all gooey? 

Joel’s knee nudges yours, bringing you back to reality. “What were you going to say?” 

“I was going to ask about that tree,” your eyes peel away from Joel’s.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, hand coming up subconsciously to his heart. The sadness practically etched across his face. 

“The tattoo?” You ask. 

“It’s - umm - that’s where my daughter is.” He says, avoiding looking at you and the tree, instead he grabs the metal poker and starts to stir the fiery orange coals. You don’t press him, somehow you know that he’ll talk when he’s ready. “So I think you’re right. You have to come with me.” 

You nod, you were right not to push. Joel does everything methodically, he doesn’t jump in. You clear the fear out of your throat, fear that feels like shards of glass and say, “Make him think you hate me.” 

“Problem is,” he stands, sliding on a large mitt and grabbing one of the cast iron pans off the fire grill, “I don’t hate you. Not in the slightest.” 

Dinner was silent between the two of you and you went to your bedroom early, exhausted from the last few days but full of nervous anticipation for what was to come. You drift off easily, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. A distant roar causes you to stir, rolling over and pulling the blankets up around your neck. You hear yelling in the distance and it slowly brings you to be fully conscious. Now awake you can hear it more clearly - it’s Joel. He’s yelling. You shoot out of your bed and creep into the hallway, his door is closed, “No, leave her.” 

You knock gently, his bed creaking under him as he tosses around his sheets. You open the door a crack, peeking in. His eyes are clamped shut, a pained look on his face. His curls are sweaty and slick to his forehead. He’s twitching and mumbling. 

“Joel,” you whisper, walking over to him slowly. He thrashes again, violently this time. “Joel,” you repeat, a little louder as your hand reaches out to him. As soon as your palm touches his shoulder he grabs your wrist, jerking you violently and flipping you onto the bed below him. You’re trapped under his large, muscular and naked form. His eyes are glazed over, rage and anger contorting his features. 

“Joel!” You practically yell it this time and when he blinks you slowly start to come into focus. He shakes his head, blinking quickly as his breathing starts to calm.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost leaping off of you, covering himself with his hands before finding some underwear.

“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, walking over to him. “Are you ok?”

“Did I hurt you?” He’s back, that soft and caring man that you’re starting to fall for. The moonlight paints the room in a light glow.

“No, I’m fine,” you reach out to touch him and he steps away, “Joel, are you ok?”

Joel wanders back to his bed and starts to straighten out the sheets, “I’m fine.”

“Ok,” you say, uncertainty waving through the word, “I’ll just…” you start to leave as he crawls back into his soft sheets.

He calls your name, when you look back at him he’s on his side, back towards you. “Ya?” you whisper.

His voice is sad and cracks a little as he asks, “Please stay.”

You smile to yourself and pad over to him, gently crawling in behind him. You’re not sure what comes over you or makes you feel so bold, but you press the front of your body to his warm back, one arm bending under your pillow, the other draping across his waist, your face nuzzled between his strong shoulder muscles. He’s tense for a second before he relaxes into you. Neither of you speak, and when his breathing gets relaxed and heavy, you place a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade and fall asleep. 

It feels like minutes later when Remmer’s cries have you rushing from Joel’s empty bed to look at the large window. You see him heading towards the house with a small wooden chest, Uvri follows along behind him, saddle and reins already affixed to his large and intimidating body. 

You go to your own room and slide on your new leathers and boots and head out to the kitchen to meet Joel. He has a ratty looking cloth dress in one hand, chains and a small collar in the other. You both stare at each other. You don’t need words. You knew exactly what being his slave would mean and what playing that part would look like. You’ve seen plenty of Fae in this uniform, following along behind whatever creature owned them. Joel looks at you with a tender sadness, swallowing hard while you nod at him and head out the back door. Rem lands beside Uvri and nuzzles against you, crying out again. 

“It’s ok, Rem.” You say quietly, running your hand down her neck, her scales are warm and smooth, you didn’t realize how soothing petting a dragon could be. 

Joel helps you up in Uvri and with a click of his tongue the dragon shoots up into the sky and dread fills your body. 

The flight is most quiet. You occasionally point to places that you’ve been to, Joel points to an orange and red canopy of trees and tells you his brother lives there. You need the distraction, and assume he does too, so you ask questions about his brother. You learn his name is Tommy and he’s younger than Joel. He’s married and they have a baby on the way. He also trains dragons, just like their father did before them. Finally you see the mountains come into view and you know that you’re close to The King. 

Joel lands Uvri in a clearing near the castle. Your insides clench as Joel slumps against your back. His forehead rests softly on the back of your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh before wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You both sit like that for a minute, your hearts pounding in sync with one another’s. “Make this quick for me, Joel.” 

He releases you and you follow him, climbing off Uvri. You reach into one of the bags strapped to his saddle and pull out the tattered dress.

“I’m sorry about this.” Joel says softly. 

“I know,” you say sadly as you walk behind Uvri to change. 

You slip out of the new leathers, even though you’re gutted over not having your wings, getting dressed has been easier. You stare down at the thin bra and panties, squeezing your eyes shut before sliding them off. The scratchy fabric of the plain dress is uncomfortable against your skin. You stuff your clothes in a bag and walk back around to Joel. 

He looks at you with big sad eyes, recalling what you said last night while you ate dinner, “The King needs to think that you hate me more than he does. You have to hate me to keep me safe.” 

His eyes lower down your body, stopping where the hem of the dress ends at your knees, then his head turns to look at his right hand. Your eyes follow, a thick rusted chain connected to a metal collar grips in his fingers. He walks to you slowly and you lock eyes. He stops just a hair away and you force a hard swallow before taking in a shaky breath, gathering your hair in your hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, placing the cold, heavy collar around your throat. The hinges creak menacingly before the loud click of the lock reverberates down your whole body. The weight of it rests on your collarbone and it feels like it’s pressing you down into the earth. Even though this was your idea and you have no reason not to trust Joel, you feel absolutely humiliated. Uvri stares ahead at the castle and you find yourself longing for Remmer. 

“Why can’t we take her?” You asked Joel last night. 

“She needs to be the one to imprint on the babies if I can’t. She fully trusts me, so the babies will too.” 

Within seconds of remounting him, Uvri lands on top of that same tower and your body starts trembling, teeth chattering in your skull. Joel helps you down and then pulls you into his arms. You sink into his body, letting his warmth and comfort wash over you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m going to make this as fast as possible. Just look at the floor the whole time. Don’t look up. I got you.” 

You clear the glass from your throat, “Don’t let go of my chain.” 

He hands you the case that contains the three dragon eggs before looping the chain around his hand a few times. You follow down the stairs and hallway, and before the guards open the doors to the main hall you take a shaky breath and look down at the case. 

Don’t look up.

“Joel!” The King exclaims as you enter. “You brought your little slave, I see!” 

“Probably should have let you kill her,” he says darkly as he pulls you along the long corridor. “Ungrateful little thing. Couldn’t trust her to stay alone.” 

Don’t look up.

When you reach the foot of the stairs, a guard grabs the box from your hands roughly. Joel bows, and when you stay standing he gives the chain a hard yank towards the ground. Your knees crash down on the cobblestone floor. In a cruel mocking tone Joel says, “bow to your merciful king. You should be dead.” 

You let out a small cry of pain and The King laughs cruelly, “look at my trophy, fairy.” 

Don’t look up. 

When your eyes stay fixed on the floor he shuffles in his throne and chuffs like a petulant child before yelling, “I’m talking to you!” 

Joel tugs on your chain again and you look up at The King through your lashes. Above him, your wings are hanging from the wall, suspended in a swirling, thin black mist. 

“When your master brings me the other eggs, I might let you have these back.  But I’ve grown quite accustomed to them. They look better here than they did on your useless back.” The King is smiling like he’s at an amusement park, clearly getting nothing but pleasure out of the torture you’re being put through. 

Joel crouches beside you, grabbing a handful of your hair and forcefully pulls. You let out a yelp as he brings your face within inches of his. His face is harsh, eyebrows knitted together and jaw clenched. “Thank your King, little whore.” He spits and yanks your head towards The King. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, voice trembling with fear. Joel shoves your head down, you lose your balance and your palms collide with the floor before he pulls you back to a kneeling position by the chain. 

Your heart feels like it’s in your stomach. Your beautiful iridescent wings hung up in such a cruel and harsh place. Tears start burning in the back of your eyes, everything about this feels wrong. Joel has slipped into this role too easily. Maybe he’s using you to get to the rest of the remaining Fae. 

As Joel and The King discuss when the next eggs will be ready, you fight to keep your tears in. You focus on breathing, blood surging so loudly through your ears that you can’t make out what they’re saving above you. 

My wings. My wings. My wings. 

Soon, Joel pulls sharply on your chain and barks, “Up.” 

You stand and walk weakly behind him.

My wings. My wings. My wings. 

Joel leads you back up the stairs, never looking back at you to keep up what you hope is a facade. But he was so goddamn convincing in that room that all the tender moments you’ve had are gone. His face was so harsh, so full of hatred. You don’t remember how it feels to be safe around him anymore. He hoists you up onto Uvri. Joel flicks Uvri’s reins with one hand, his free arm wrapping tightly around your middle. As he takes off, your body slumps back against Joel, the emotional exhaustion starting to take over.

My wings. My wings. My wings. 

The dragon flaps his wings fiercely, the wind whipping so hard your eyes start to water, blurring your vision. The air cools the steel around your neck and it nips at your skin. You close your eyes against the cold and all you can see is Joel’s cruel expression, as if it’s been tattooed on your eyelids. 

Within minutes you’re landing in the same field you had just days ago. It took Remmer half a day to fly to the castle from here, and that’s when you realize just how powerful Uvri is. The dragon has barely touched down when Joel is pulling you off the dragon and into his arms. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry.” He whispers into your hair, holding your tense and exhausted body tightly against him. His fingers work quickly to undo the collar. As it falls to the ground, his fingers trace the light bruises already forming at the base of your neck.

Your hands push at his chest and he lets you take a small step back. You stare at the ground and fight against the urge to run. He called you a whore and ungrateful. He made you look at your wings after he told you not to look up. Everything he did in that hall was done with such conviction that you’re tempted to believe it yourself. You could run. You don’t have wings, no one would hunt you now. You could just run, run and hide. 

When you finally manage to look at him, he’s nothing like he was with The King. Dark eyes have turned warm, flecks of brown sugar shine throughout his chocolate brown eyes, tears lining his lash line. His jaw is relaxed, lips parted as he looks at your neck. Without warning he drops to his knees and sits back on his heels. He lets out a hiss when he sees the deep purple bruise already wrapping around your knees. His hands come to rest lightly on the side of your thighs. 

“Please talk to me,” he chokes, one tear rolling down his cheek. 

You swallow down the lump that’s been in your throat since landing on that tower. “My wings,” you whisper sadly. 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” 

You blink a few times at Joel. Each flutter of your lashes morphs your sadness into rage. “Kiss me.”

“What?” His brow furrows slightly, but you don’t miss the uptick of a small smile that appears on his lips at the thought of kissing you.

“I am fucking livid. Kiss me. Kiss me so I know that it’s ok. Kiss me to show me that we will get my wings back and that all of that was just an act back there. Kiss me to distract me from going there and ripping out that vile man's throat.” 

He leans forward, warm velvety lips gently press to your right kneecap, then your left. Joel stands, hands coming to tangle in your hair. “It was all an act, I feel horrible. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you say, hands trailing up the strong muscles of Joel’s back, concealed under his leather coat. “This was my destiny, to destroy The King. With you.” 

The second the words leave your mouth you and Joel come together in a mess of lips and tongue and teeth. It’s frantic and desperate, both of you saying everything you need to say with this kiss. He swallows your moans with his mouth. Gripping your hair tightly with one hand. The other running down your back, lifting you up by the meaty globe of your ass. Your dress hikes up your hips as you lock your legs around his waist, hands gripping his shoulders as he walks you to the edge of the clear blue river. 

You break your kiss to undo his jacket, sliding the leather buckles out of their metal clasps. First the one at his collar bone, then chest and stomach. You press your lips against his again as you slide the zipper down. He’s not wearing a shirt, his strong tanned chest warms your body through your thin dress, your nipples stiffening in anticipation. 

Joel lowers your feet to the smooth, colourful rocks of the shore and breaks apart from you. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you watch him drop his jacket to the ground, your hands working on their own to undo the leather tie of his pants. The outline of his cock pressing through the thick fabric. 

His hands grab your wrists. “I don’t - I don’t have protection.” 

You blink up at him. “Joel, I’m over six hundred years old. I don’t think pregnancy is a worry.” 

You stare at each other for a second, sexual tension morphing as he smiles at you and you start to laugh. His hands come to your neck again, fingering the light bruising before his lips press gently where the collar sat. The hurried rush of his lips and hands is replaced by a slow passion. 

His lips caress your neck and you close your eyes. Head falling to the side to give him more access. Your hands reach for the growing bulge behind his pants. He moans into your neck at your touch, kisses moving up your neck. 

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” The deep baritone of his voice sends a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You’re not wearing anything under this thin dress, you can almost feel how wet you are on your thighs. 

“Need you,” you moan, voice husky with want. 

Joel grips the hem of your dress. “Use your words,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “Need me to what, baby girl.” 

“Make me feel good.” You say. 

He slips your dress up and over your body, leaving you completely bare to him. He steps back, toeing his boots off and working at his fitted leather pants. He slides them down his hips, his cock springs free, slapping against his hard abdomen. You lick your lips at the sight of him naked before you. Tattoos and scars on display for you, tanned skin glowing under the setting sun. 

His hand reaches out for yours, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you into the water. It’s cool on your skin and eases the pain in your knees, which just makes you crave Joel more. When the water is passed his hips he grabs you again, lifting you into his arms, bodies pressed tightly against each other.

“Make you feel good how?” He asks, kissing your neck and collarbone. 

“Please Joel.” you whine.

“Please what, baby girl?” 

You grind your hips into his, you can feel his cock sliding underneath you as your clit brushes against his body and you whine. 

“Need my cock sweet girl?” You moan out again. “Say what you need.” 

“I need…” fuck why is this so hard for you. After years of giving to everyone else and having no one to take care of you it’s nearly impossible to ask for it. 

“Please, darlin’. Say whatever you need and I’ll give it. Fingers. Tongue. Whatever you want.” 

You grind against him again, the water of the lake making everything slippery. “Want you inside me.” 

“Good girl,” his voice is rough with need, “guide it in for us.” 

You reach your hand between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance. You can feel your walls fluttering already, anxiously waiting to be filled. 

“Look at me,” he says. 

You lock eyes and slowly sink down onto him, the head of his thick cock filling you. “Oh god - Joel - fuck.”

“Keep goin’ baby,” his eyes glaze over, “wanna be all the way in.” 

Your eyes stay locked to his, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you slide him the rest of the way inside you. You feel every inch of him stretching and filling you. The cool water of the slow moving river dances along your skin. 

“Fuck you feel so good.” He moans, bringing his lips to yours. Kissing you deeply. 

You grind small, slow circles with your hips into him, at this angle he’s hitting that perfect spongy spot, his abdomen rubbing against your clit. 

“That’s it, baby.” He praises as you cry out in pleasure. The small movements shouldn’t feel this good, but you’re surrounded by him in the water and as the sun fully sets and the moon and stars start to light up the water, he looks so beautiful. The trees are still, the world quiet and it feels like just the two of you exist. “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes, Joel. Mmmm yes.” You can feel your orgasm building, your heart pounds in your chest over the close intimacy. Your body reacts so well to his, your pussy twitching slightly around his cock.

“Relax. Take what you need,” he says, letting you rub against him at your own pace. 

“Oh fuck,” that familiar pressure starts to build again and you grip harder onto Joel. 

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” His hands cup your ass under the water, moving with your slow and steady rhythm. His dark eyes drink you in as you writhe against him. Moonlight reflects off the water, dancing around his body like candlelight. 

“More, please Joel. More.” 

“Ya?” He asks, thrusting up into you when you grind down on him. 

“Oh god. Fuck me. Please.” 

Joel crashes his lips to yours again as he takes over. Lifting you up and then slamming into you with his hips, hands pushing you down onto him. You moan into his mouth, he’s so deep and stretching you almost to the point of pain. 

He repeats this motion a few more times, you call out his name to the forest, completely unashamed of your pleasure echoing back at you. 

“You look so fucking beautiful like this. Look down baby, look how well you’re taking me.” 

You lean back, watching through the clear moonlit water as Joel slides in and out of you and that heat in your lower belly starts to erupt. You cry out, watching as Joel’s thrusts become slower and sloppier. 

“Play with your clit.” he demands through gritted teeth, he’s trying his hardest not to come yet. 

You lean back slightly, sliding your hand between your bodies and rub tight circles on your sensitive nub. 

“Joel!” it comes out as a high pitched squeal, you’re right on the edge, teetering towards all consuming pleasure. 

“I know. I know.” His voice is soothing.

“I’m. Oh fuuuuck. I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me baby. Let me feel it.” Your orgasm washes over you, sparks lighting up your whole body. You curl into Joel, biting his neck gently, muffling the sounds of your screams as your walls clench hard around him. Joel doesn’t stop thrusting up into you, “that’s it. Good job sweetheart.” 

You bring both hands to tangle in Joel’s curls, kissing him as you come down from your high. “Cum for me, Joel,” you say between kisses. 

He smiles at you proudly. You could ask for what you wanted when you two started. “Where do you want it baby?” 

“I wanna watch,” you moan, your pussy becoming overstimulated by his thrusts. 

He lifts you off, you reach for his cock as your feet hit the cool round stones on the bottom of the lake. You watch as you stroke him at the same pace he was fucking you. 

“Show me Joel,” your free hand cups his balls, massaging them gently. They tighten in your hand before his cock twitches and his milky spend rises up in the water around you. 

You look up at his face as he groans your name, his eyes are fixed on you and glazed over with pleasure. This big, strong dragon trainer is like soft clay, coming apart in your hands and you’ve never felt sexier. 

“Fuck,” he says bringing you in for a kiss. 

“Bring me home,” you whisper after breaking the kiss.

“We’ll go to your family first thing.” He says, kissing your nose.

“No, just take me home.” 

Joel smiles warmly. Home. His home, and now your home. 

==================================

Taglist:

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[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 2, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking (both carmy and reader), mention of sexual content, a bit of angst. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: chapter 2 is here! ty for reading and interacting w this story i very much appreciate it <3 this chapter is a bit angsty and a bit fluffy, pls enjoy!

summary: after you and carmy hook up, things change.

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

Carmy isn’t good at hookups. Especially after spectacularly fucking it up with Claire, a girl he knew deep down was probably his soulmate, he was feeling pretty fucking gross about the whole thing. He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve any of it, and pumping his loneliness into his pastry chef probably isn’t a great idea either. It felt so good in the moment, his hands wrapped around her throat and in her hair, pouring it all out into the messy thrusts. He just thought about how he wasn’t good enough for this, and was just a broken, broken person. 

You knew it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, and you’d heard whispers about Claire in the kitchen between Carmen and Ritchie, and obviously there was a history there. You had tried to pry the story out of Sydney, but she was all tight-lipped about the whole thing, not wanting to “gossip” at work. In reality, you knew she knew Claire and had heard more about what had happened on opening night, and probably just didn’t want to repeat the story to anyone. You could respect it, but at the same time, you needed to know how deep this shit went before you started being your boss’s rebound.

The kitchen that afternoon when you come in for your shift is awkward, to say the least. You ignore him, he ignores you, but it’s tense. When he sees you, all he sees is your lips hung open, moans escaping against his skin, his loose gold chain between your teeth as he plunges into you, over and over and over and…

“Behind, Jeff! Fuck, what is up with you today? Your mind is somewhere else,” Tina breaks him out of his daydream, watching as you ice the dessert in front of you, focusing on the even layers of chocolate buttercream. And you’re not laughing, no, because you don’t know if he’s daydreaming about you or still has his mind on Claire, and even though you may have a big ego, it’s not big enough to think he’s distracted by you at work. It was one fuck, one night, one mistake between two coworkers that you’d never speak of again.

“Outside, now, chef,” he’s suddenly at your station, looming over you just as you were getting lost in the frosting. “I’m fucking busy, Carm-“ you started, before his hand came down on the stainless steel beside you, gripping the edge of the counter. “Now, chef. Please.” You place the offset spatula on the clean plate beside your cake, glaring at him as you walked out back. He immediately pulled out a cigarette to put between his lips, letting the chilled air hit the bare skin of his arms. “What the fuck do we do?” he asks, more into the air than directly to you. You tighten your apron around your waist, crossing your arms over your chest. “Probably fuckin’ prep for service and serve rich assholes some marinated radishes. What the fuck else would we be doing?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and it’s sharper than he intends. “No, I mean,-“ “Look, you’re the one who left in the middle of the night, alright? You’re the one who snuck out and went home before I could say anything or we could come up with a game plan. I don’t care that we fucked, we can forget it, I won’t talk about it again. Swear on my fuckin’ life,” you grab the cigarette from between his fingers and put it between your own lips. “But don’t act like I’m crazy, or like it’s my fucking fault, alright?” There’s a beat as you take a puff of his cigarette, smashing it beneath the toe of your shoe into the concrete. “Sorry for leaving,” he says, finally, “Didn’ know what else to do.” You shrugged. “Whatever, Carm, it doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to. I’ll live and let live if you will. Just be fuckin’ cool, don’t tell anyone. I don’t want people to know that I fucked my boss, or whatever.” He smirks, “Heard, chef.” 

And it all seems alright for a bit. The kitchen is back to normal, you’re back on pace, and you and Carmy are fine. 

- 

The weeks pass and the world falls back into its natural orbit. There’s a hookup here and there, a few nights where he comes home with you after service, all under the guise of a drive home. You feel obligated to invite him up for something to eat (because God knows he hasn’t all fucking day), and before you can get in the door he’s already hot on your heels and breathing down the back of your neck. And there you are, breath hitched in your throat, struggling to get the door open, feeling his hand come around your front and slide into the waistband of your jeans.

Sometimes he stays, sometimes he doesn’t. It’s a toss up if you have to be in for service the next morning, and you usually hear him grabbing his coat from where it’s laid on the kitchen table, the jingle of his car keys in the right-hand side pocket being just loud enough to wake you from your deep slumber. Sometimes you’re coherent enough to ask him to stay, but he’s got one foot out the door and he can easily pretend not to hear you. And it’s fine, really.

A Saturday rolls around, the busiest day of the week, and there’s a few mumbles around the kitchen that Carmy’s in a bad mood today, and he’s not to be fucked with.

You were nothing if not nosy, so when Richie and Natalie are having a heated conversation in the dining room before prep starts, you can’t help but insert yourself. “What’s up, guys? Everything chill?” Richie shot you a look, but not before leaning down closer to your ear, sworn to secrecy.“Claire bitched out Carmy on a drunk phone call last night,” He starts, before Natalie can stop him. “No, it wasn’t-“ “Yeah, it was. It was gnarly. She finally actually got mad about opening night and let him fuckin’ have it, good for her,” he laughs, letting his hands plunge into his pockets. “What did she say?” Natalie’s sweet voice was a sharp contrast to Richie’s, low, and soft, when she replied, “He didn’t say much. Just that she called, and he had his stupid sad puppy dog eyes on, so obviously she must’ve said some… stuff.”

Carmy was scrubbing the floors of the kitchen, head down, obviously not taking any notice to the mini staff meeting in the dining room. “Just don’t mention it, ‘kay? I don’t think anyone’s supposed to know. He hasn’t heard from her in weeks and now he’s all fucked up over it, he’ll probably be a real bitch later.” “Heard, chef. Will try not to piss off Princess Carmy.”

The service isn’t so bad. Carmy’s mopey - downturned eyes, less yelling than you’d anticipated. It’s almost scary; seeing him rather calm, a little sad, reduced to a heartbroken boy who just feels fucking bad for himself. You try to stay out of his way, focusing on getting plates of custard and cake out in time, with no mistakes. It’s a lot of ‘yes chef, thank you chef, great chef’. You’d almost actually prefer it like this.

You find him out back having a cigarette right before you’re gonna head out. He hasn’t bothered to put his sweater or coat on, arms bare against the cold night air as he blows the hot smoke into a cloud above him. “Hey,” you start, sitting next to him. It feels a little odd to be close to him - intimate, in a way that you’re not used to. “You seemed off tonight. Is something up?” You put your hand out expectantly for a cigarette, and he obliges, with his lighter to follow. 

“No, chef,” he starts, dusting some salt from the street off his shoe. “Thank you though.” “You know I don’t have to be chef outside of that kitchen,” you bump a shoulder with him. “You’ve called me a lot of other names, God knows.” He stifles a laugh and looks at you again, with a softness in his features you’d never really seen before. “I just had a rough night last night, is all,” he finishes. “Just feels so fucking bad. I feel like I’m so bad at… this.” He gestures to the night sky around him. “I don’t know how to balance anything. I keep… I keep fucking losing people. People I like, people… people I fucking love. And like, what am I supposed to do about that?” You can see his face get hot as he lets the heel of his hand rub his eye. “You let it happen,” you finish, taking a puff of your own cigarette. “You do what you can and you let yourself feel it and you mourn and grieve until you can’t anymore, until it doesn’t feel right to anymore.”

He nods in agreement, letting you both smoke in silence. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asks, and you know what that means. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “Sure, thanks. Go get your stuff, I’ll wait here.” When he’s back, he locks the back door of the restaurant and lets you stand up first, following behind you.

When you make it back to your place, it’s different. He’s comfortable here now, having been in your space enough times to know where he was welcomed. Normally, it goes like, he’s panting down your neck before you can even get in the door, and once he’s put his stuff down, the back of your knees are hitting the mattress, wet sloppy kisses along your collarbones and neck, down over your breasts and down down down…

But he’s not being like that. When he sets his coat down, he finds his way to your couch. You pull a glass out of the cupboard to fill with ice and cold water, handing it to him before doing the same for yourself. “Can we… can we go to bed?” He asks, and it’s softer than usual. “Sure,” you smile, opening the door to your bedroom and watching as he strips bare, before pulling out a pair of grey sweat pants he had stashed in your closet. You’d stayed the night at his one time, so-affectionately wearing them in the morning to make him a cup of morning coffee, and decided just to wear them home. “Keep them,” he had said to you that day, “just in case.”

When he climbs in between your white sheets, he seems to instantly relax. He generally did after work, from what you saw - and even though he often had a hard time letting the day go, it seemed like whenever he was with you, he could let it go a little easier. You grabbed a pair of pyjamas for yourself and slid them on, before cracking the window slightly and letting the cool breeze in. The chain around his neck glistened in the moonlight, as he let his eyes flutter closed, just for a minute. When you let your hand brush over his arm, tracing the faded inky lines of his tattoos, he opened one eye slightly, eliciting a small laugh from the side of his mouth. “Feels nice,” he offered, soft against the sounds of the nighttime. “Would you be offended if we didn’t fuck tonight?” His eyes are still closed, and even though it seems a bit ridiculous to ask, you can tell it was hard for him to get the words out. It didn’t really mean that, it meant, can we just be here, together, and enjoy each other for a night? Do you want me here if not for that? 

“Of course not, Carmen,” you let your head hit the pillow, kissing his shoulder and letting your hand grasp his bicep. “You never call me Carmen,” he comments, voice soft, before he looks over at you. “I kinda like it. Only you, though.” You let the curls of his hair tangle around your fingers as he started to drift off, you following not long after. And it’s actually fine this time.

#carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmy x you #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

[tranquil-ivy]

(If u already mentioned something about this then pls ignore this)

But the dynamic between Leon, his wife, and the kids it’s giving me — his wife’s mom loves him soo much/smothers him and same with the grandkids. While the wife’s dad…whenever they’re alone there’s that tension. That “oh, so you’re the one dating —err my daughter’s husband despite Leon and his wife being married for ever how long 😂 there’s always that dynamic lol.

Imagine they’re visiting the grandparents house. Kids excited. Violet acting like she’s not (she is), Cecilia happy and kicking her feet because she knows granny makes the best cakes/pastries, and Scotty..well whatever babies do. Babble.

While Leon is out here sweating and his wife all happy seeing her parents again.

Timeline establishing moment: they met in late '07- early '08. Got married in late '10 and conceived Violet on their honeymoon (they weren't fucking around with having babies). So if we're going by current times of '24 they've been married 14ish years...

Readers parents I'd imagine we're an old fashioned couple. Her father probably an Ex military general. Like, Leon even in the Army heard stories of this guy but never got to meet him until you brought him home to your folks. Your mother was just a homemaker raising her daughter on the words of Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem. Raising a strong woman with the love/compassion of her mother and the strong will/ambition of her father.

But yes! His wife's mother absolutely ADORES Leon. Every time they visit she immediately starts fussing at him about taking care of himself too along with the family. Probably shoves food on him like a dealer trying to sell drugs. Literally will not stop giving him kisses on his head and calling him "the perfect son she always wanted". Insists on him calling her Mom which he happily obliged. She's so happy you married a good man like Leon and gave her 3 beautiful grandbabies.

Her father... Oh God... The moment Leon hears his father-in-law mutter "Hello Leon." He's immediately like misses puff...

Leon is PETRIFIED of this man. Always calls him Sir. Even when her father calls him Leonard (literally not even his name...) The only bonuses Leon has going for him is working for the government (good pay and job security), can protect his family/army training and giving them grandkids.

But grandpa with their grandbabies... COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MAN. Super gentle and sweet, especially towards his granddaughters. Constantly slips them money. Grandma is doting over Scottie, she loves babies, and taking him off their hands.

Violet is constantly acting like she doesn't want to be there, but the second grandpa shows up it's like she's 5 again she's so excited. Cecilia too, running at top speed to throw herself at him. He slips them both $20, Cecilia excited that she got money runs back to her parents... So grandpa slips Violet another $20 cause he knows she's older. Knows the worth of money and before they leave they always get a fat check for each kids college funds their grandparents opened for them as soon as they found out they existed. (Ofc grandparents spend their retirement on their grandbabies)

Cecilia gets to go home with half a cake from grandma and frozen cookie dough because as good as a baker daddy is grandma's still the best (🙄)

Violet gets her money and a new crochet hat every visit. She has a collection of them that she keeps her pin collection stuck to.

Scott gets toys, a trunk load of toys and clothes that he can grow into. Plus a lot of advice on raising a baby... Like you two hadn't already been raising 2 girls but okay.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Overboard (Another Level Valentine's Blurb)

HI. I KNOW I'M SO FUCKING LATE, BUT I FINALLY DID IT. I WROTE THE BLURB THAT I PROMISED MONTHS AGO.

IT'S SO FUCKING FLUFFY, BTW.

Another Level Masterlist | Kiko's Masterlist | AO3 💕

Overboard 2020

Rinko released a heavy sigh at the sight of numerous boxes and bags piled on top of her desk when she opened the door to her office. Not a single inch of the surface was visible beneath the plethora of decorative containers, and she couldn’t help but chuckle when one fell off the side.

Stepping forward, she picked up the fallen bag and opened it to find a box of assorted chocolates.

She couldn’t even say she was surprised, but she’d admit that she found it shocking he’d managed to get it done before she got to work. He must have slipped out in the middle of the night.

A smile formed when she noticed a bag of black sesame cookies, grabbing them to munch on as she assessed the damage done to her office.

Overboard, as always, she mused to herself.

Again, she wasn’t surprised.

Admittedly, she had gone a bit overboard on Valentine’s Day to make up for missing last year. Even though it hadn’t been her fault.

The look on Gojo’s face when he realized she’d been able to convince them to sell her ten dozen caramel miso butter cookies in one order was priceless. She’d made it weeks in advance, and it had been ridiculously expensive for cookies. But his smile had made it all worth it.

They’d barely lasted him a week.

The fact that the man still had a fucking eight-pack and no diabetes was completely unfair.

“Like your gifts, baby?” his voice murmured in her ear, drawing a yelp from her as she jumped.

Gojo’s arm wrapped around her waist, his lips connecting with her temple.

“I love them,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to-”

“When has that ever stopped me?” he scoffed, squeezing her tightly.

She took another bite of her cookie, “Did you blackmail Megumi-”

“He asked if I was doing something and wanted to help,” Gojo cut her off, smirking at her raised eyebrows. She knew Megumi was thoughtful, but he also hated showing any kind of affection. “I know. He only got the cookies, though.”

Scanning the items she could see, she hummed when he squeezed her waist tighter. Yuuta and Yuuji had clearly helped as well, and she spotted a pack of rice balls from Toge.

“Did you do all of this last night?”

He just hummed in acknowledgment, leaning down to press his lips to her neck.

“There’s more.” Holding a box up in front of her face, he chuckled when she caught a whiff of it. “Happy White Day, Rinko-chan.”

Warm matcha and chocolate taiyaki filled her senses as she snatched the box and opened it excitedly. Leaning back into him, Rinko took a large bite of one of the pastries. Still fresh enough she had to puff air around the heat, and she sighed at the taste.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

“Anything for you,” he replied instantly. He nosed her ticklish spot playfully, and she swatted his head when he licked it instead.

“Down, boy,” she scolded lightly.

Glancing down, she met his eyes that gleamed at her over his shades. 

“I know,” he sighed, lifting his head from her shoulder to peck her cheek. “Not at work.” He accepted a bite of her taiyaki, grinning at her as he chewed. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m stealing you away early.”

“I need to-”

He grasped her chin, pressing his lips to hers gently.

“It’s the weekend, baby,” he reminded, nipping her bottom lip. “You shouldn’t even be here today. But I’ll let it slide since shit has been busy lately. Ijichi can handle everything else while you get some rest.”

Leaving no more room for argument, he gave her another quick kiss and swatted her ass playfully as he straightened to his full height.

“Gimme a few hours,” he repeated, pushing his shades up his nose. “Gotta go deal with the old geezer for a bit.”

Smirking, she stood on her toes so she could reach his face, pecking his cheek in return.

“Thank you again for the gifts, darling.”

His sharp exhale was paired with his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Make that a couple hours,” he muttered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

AN: In Japan, on Valentine's Day, the women give men chocolates/gifts, and then the men reciprocate a month later on March 14th, or White Day. The Valentine's tradition began when a company wanted to promote a western tradition for commercial reasons, but due to a mistranslation, it was implied that only men were supposed to receive gifts. Eventually, people decided to have a separate day for women to also receive gifts, which began the tradition of White Day.

Also, he got her sobayaki dan okonomayaki (from her favorite place in Kyoto, which is why he needed a few hours) and they spent the rest of the day watching movies and cuddling until he inevitably got horny

I know this is months late, but hopefully, you guys enjoyed this lil blurb!!

Remember, if you wanna make the caramel miso butter cookies for yourself, you can find my recipe here 💕

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #another level #another level extras #another level blurb #gojo satoru #gojo fanfic #goinko extra #goinko #goinko valentine's day #goinko blurb #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #goinko fluff #gojo and rinko finally getting their happy ending #gojo and rinko #rinko and gojo #rinko and gojo fluff

[sneakyblinders]

@zablife @moral-terpitude here we go. lil blurb bit of carmy berzatto x reader x tommy shelby. @carmens-a-bear is my carmy blog :)

The Bear was busy. The busiest you'd ever seen it, actually. Friday night. Everyone was celebrating something that night, it seemed. Anniversaries, promotions, birthdays, won health battles--anything worthy of celebration was on the books that night, per Richie.

You'd already had to calm Carmy down a few times, his stress bubbling over, hands raking through his hair, veins bulging in his neck as he shouted orders over the roar of the kitchen.

You'd been in your lovely pastry corner with Marcus for the evening, piping vanilla creme into the cream puffs and eclairs, whipping the meringue into submission for a special pie at Carmy's request, when Richie asked for your help with the front of the house. That was the disadvantage of being, in Carmy's words, "so damn good at every-fucking-thing". Getting pulled in every direction when anything was needed. Front of the house swamped? You got pulled to help seat tables, fill in special requests from the folks who had made reservations. Prep falling behind? You'd join the prep line right next to Carmy and prep the mise. Sydney was running behind with getting the meals out the window? You'd slide in and crank out a few plates to get them caught up. Marcus needed help icing a cake? You'd fill a piping bag and get to work. Carmy had issues balancing the books? You'd grab the calculator and tell him to scoot over at the desk. Perks and disadvantages of being the owners wife, ya know?

So when you pulled your apron off, donning the Bear's classic white button down and dress slacks attire, you were ready for the front of the house. You were so invested in what you were doing, in looking over the set reservations, and picking up the phone to call the couple who tried to get squeezed in if there was a cancellation, and Richie had just crossed off a name on the list, when he walked up to the front desk. You had thought something like this only happened once in a lifetime, and it had already happened for you. Where you see them and the world stops spinning on its axis. All the noise around you gets fuzzy and everything except for them blacks out around you. It happened when you first saw Carmy, on that cold New York night at the bodega, two tired, hungry chefs getting a gallon of milk at the end of their shifts. In a moment of boldness, you'd walked over and introduced yourself and gotten his number, and a year later you'd gotten married. So when the world stopped spinning again, and all you could hear was the man directly in front of you, piercing blue eyes staring directly at you, your breath hitched in your chest, heart palpitating as your hands shook. "Reservation for Thomas Shelby," the man said, voice deep and bruising, leaning a forearm on the front desk. You could smell his cologne faintly from the air conditioner wafting it towards you, and your knees buckled. Didn't this sort of thing only happen once? And you'd married the man who it'd happened with... Your head and stomach swirled with mixed emotions as you fumbled through the iPad to find his reservation and table. Thomas Shelby smirked, noticing your visible nerves. "Right this way, Mr. Shelby," you smiled softly, catching yourself batting your eyelashes at him as you turned to walk him to his table. You could feel his eyes on your backside, putting a little extra swish in your hips. "Your table, sir," you said, motioning to the table, setting down a menu in front of him, and two more to the other sides of him. "Would you like a drink while you wait for your other guests?" you offered. "Whiskey. Irish," he said brusquely, taking a seat, sitting his hat in his lap and checking his Rolex for the time. "They should fucking be here," he mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes. "I'll be right back with that," you say, hurrying away to get his whiskey. You quickly brought back his whiskey, to which he responded with a grunt. "Your server will be right with you," you say, smiling softly at him. "I'd rather you serve us," he said, in that harsh tone of his. A tone that left no room for discussion, no room for debate. "Uh-I uh-I'm needed in other areas of the restaurant tonight," you stammered, appalled at his attitude. "The only fuckin' place you're needed tonight is serving this table," he said, taking a swig of his whiskey. "I'll see what I can arrange," you said, heart hammering in your chest, making its way up your throat. Your knees wobbled, head swimming with confusion.

Why were you feeling this again?

#tommy shelby #sneakyblinders #tommy shelby x oc #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x ofc

[vourequat]

SMUT — Cream filled darling.

Cafe Owner!Kento X Pastry Chef!Reader

WARNING: Lovers to strangers to lovers again trope, poor plot before porn because I refuse giving you porn immediately, not proofread, smutty putty, huge food kink, oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, hitting it raw, creampie, disregarding basic hygiene procedure in the kitchen(as a chef in training, ew).

A/N: I have risen from the dead after a whole quarter of suffering with all these school works but anyways I hope I'm not late for the Nanami thirst train.

Being punctual was your middle name, along with you being the pastry chef of Nanamin Café it was basically expected of you to clock in before anyone else did to start early with the pastries to be baked that day.

The ringing of the bell on the main entrance welcomed you as you entered the cafe with confusion etched across your entire face, you always were the one to open the cafe since you were the earliest one to arrive but all of a sudden the cafe was open before you were even there.

You ventured further into the kitchen and saw none other than Nanami Kento, the man who founded and owns this cafe you work for.

"Nanami-sama, you're early!" You greeted as you finally let your guard down after brushing off your previous thought of a possible robbery.

Nanami only smiled, he seemed to have been already prepping some ingredients for the pastries; both the usual and the day to day special menu items. It's not usual that you see your boss but it wasn't to the point that you've never seen him before it was just that... it seemed like he was avoiding you.

Whenever you weren't able to make it to manage the pastry department of Nanamin cafe that's when he comes by but when you were there, he'd avoid that place like the plague. So to test if your theories were true, you called up your co worker Yuuji to tell the big boss if she eventually ends up not being able to come by.

Captain Cream Puff (Y/N): Yuuji, I don't think I can make it today, I feel horrible. But I'll see if I really can.

Coffee maker (Yuuji): Yes ma'am!

Chef Cream Puff (Y/N): And if I really don't come by could you please tell big boss?

Coffee maker: You can count on me, captain!

"Yuuji said you won't be coming today... what's the sudden change?" Kento asked, continuing on whipping some cream.

"I remembered that I'll be responsible for today's special menu" You answered before putting on your designated apron and sanitary gloves.

As he was creating toppings and prepping ingredients, you went on and took the initiative of making the pastries. After sending off a good batch of chocolate chip cookies into the oven you stood tall and faced Nanami.

"I'm not avoiding you" He answered before you could even open your mouth.

"I'm only covering for you whenever you're unable to make it" He continued.

This revelation gave you a sense of lightness as you went on and continued to bake some goodies for today "But I do hate seeing you".

You stopped in your steps.

You were nothing but a good and doting employee to him and his cafe, why does he suddenly hate you out of nowhere. Maybe he had a reason?

"Why do you hate me, Nanami-sama—"

"Stop fucking calling me that... after everything you just forget it just like that?" He snapped.

You'd be a liar if you didn't confess about you and Kento's past with each other but then again, it was the past for a reason. Why bring it all up?

"I just... wasn't ready okay" You answered back.

"How about now? We are adults now after all" He approached you, his daunting height seemingly shadowing over you.

Back in your glory days, you and Kento had some sort of past, a past that included you and him in a romantic relationship cut short because you weren't completely ready with committing and wanting to focus more on your career. Kento was very understanding with your decision but he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't say that letting you go was one of the hardest decisions he's made, he wanted to be with you but he respected your wishes but everyday he hoped for you to come back to him.

Eventually, after graduating in culinary arts after leaving the sorcerer life you decided to work for a newly opened cafe just because you felt like it would be a great start but what you didn't know is that fate had something up its sleeve. When you first saw and found out that Kento owned the cafe you were obviously nervous and awkward the whole time he decided to visit his cafe, you could've taken a hint from the name alone but you thought that maybe it was another Nanami in the family but then again— Kento Nanami was the only one who was called Nanamin.

"Weren't ready..." He echoed.

"Kento... I'm sorry, it was just... I didn't want anyone to look at you differently for dating someone who dropped sorcery—"

"It's always about your wrongs, how about mine?" He cut you off.

Placing his large calloused hands on your shoulders, he leaned in and looked into your eyes.

"I just want you back... if you still love me that is"

"Kento..." You tried to pry yourself away from his grip as you were growing nervous from the close contact, even if you two used to be lovers you were never this close with each other.

"Look at me, please... reject me now so I can move on... So I can... I can no longer stay awake on sleepless nights hoping that you'd come back to me... please" His eyes were pleading for you to say something, to confirm something.

"If I don't want to reject you... what now?"

It took Kento's whole entire soul to not snap at you as you're making it so hard for him, instead of raising his voice against his will from the frustration he crashed his lips onto yours.

That kiss reminded you of your first but the only difference is that it wasn't soft and loving, it was a kiss of passion and anger as his hands unconsciously grabbed at her waist to keep her close. His kiss went from frustration to one of hunger and desperation, it was as if he's been waiting to do this again after all those wasted years.

Pulling away himself, both of you panted from that heated kiss that got both of your breaths away. The way he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours, you half thought he'd kiss you again not even a minute of recovering but then he just rested there, you could feel the way his hot breath made you even warmer than before.

"I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have done that" He breathed out, moving away but then you held him by his tie and kept him close.

"Please... I missed you"

From another kiss ended with you seated on the metal table in the kitchens, your clothes being utterly disregarded as Kento loosely took them off leaving you with only your undergarments. His hands brushing over the wasted cream causing your chest that he was fondling becoming covered by the white and creamy substance (it's not cum yet) until blobs of it covered not only your chest but also along your stomach.

"I'm so sorry... I got you all dirty" Kento said remorsefully after seeing how much he's gotten you dirty from the cream that was supposed to go on top the pastries.

"Let me... Clean them up..." With the intention of cleaning he instead made it worse, the guilt eating him up caused him to do the unthinkable but he thought about last minute anyways.

He's read countless books out of boredom, one of them having an intimate scene of both the characters in the kitchen where the character covered the other in cream and licking it all off as a form of stimulation. Keeping the scene in mind, he wanted to try it out with someone one day and now this was the time to try it.

Slowly moving his tongue out of his mouth, he licked off the cream that messed up your beautiful chest, stimulating your nipples in the long run making you let out a gasp as his wet muscle helped the air to get you to feel the coldness of the room where it houses only the two of you.

Something inside him just snapped.

Licking all of that cream off of your body in a slow and teasing manner until he got sick and tired of the remaining fabrics as he took them off with haste before going back and putting more cream on you to have more areas to lick, it was if he was going rabid from this only, as if you were some cake he'd love to eat.

"K-Kento, the kitchen will be a mess..." You breathed out, even in the heat of the moment you still thought of how looked down upon it was to do things other than cooking in a sanitized and professional area in the kitchen.

Kento thought about it as well but he wasn't the type to cut something like this short, it was just a hygiene control and this was a person who managed to turn his world upside down just for merely existing.

"Fuck it" He whispered.

His hands on your thighs, he lifted you up to sit more properly into the metal counter, knocking off some bowls in the making.

Finally unbuckling his belt he pulled out his aching cock, before he could even put it in you though you both heard the bell from the entrance of the cafe ring indicating that another staff has now arrived.

"Hide in the storage room" he whispered, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead before fixing himself up before the kitchen.

Running to the storage room with your clothes, you decided to just put it all on again, disregarding the cream that ruined your clothes. A few minutes in changing, your heart jumped when the storage room door opened but you calmed down when you saw that it was Kento.

"Yeah... says they were sick, don't worry though I'm covering for the pastry section today!" He spoke to the said staff.

From the voice alone you immediately knew that it was Gojo, one of the cheekiest staffs of the cafe and if he ever caught on to what you and the big boss himself were doing you'll never hear the end of it.

You snapped out of your thoughts when the storage room grew dim again, the door closed and Nanami was now right in front of you.

"We almost got caught" he stressed out, scared of what will happen to him especially that he was the boss if his employees found out that he was fucking someone in a professional establishment, fucking someone who was none other than the head pastry chef.

"What are you doing...?" He questioned as he saw you kneel down to the level of his crotch.

"You're so hard... poor you" You looked up at him with shiny eyes as your fingers played with his belt "May I? Pretty please, Kento...?" you begged.

Once Kento nodded, you began unbelting him and freeing his angry cock from its confinements. It was big and scary, you didn't think that the quiet kid from your class and the loving and sweet innocent man you once loved had been hiding such a beast under all that fabric.

"Be fast" His heart was pounding, both from the excitement of feeling your mouth on his cock and nervousness from getting caught.

You licked the underside of his base, making sure to trace every single prominent vein before licking the slit of his tip making him let out a groan as he placed his hand over his mouth. Devouring his dick in your mouth you began bobbing your head up and down while your hand jerked off the parts you couldn't take, you didn't focus on his cock alone though. Leaving his cock with a pop, your mouth now sucking on his heavy balls.

Your actions broke the stoic and calm man, if he wasn't trying to silence himself he would be a moaning mess but in the fear of getting caught he kept quiet— you didn't like it.

"Use me" This remark caught Kento off guard.

"N-Now...?"

Then they heard a knock on the door, it was Gojo.

"Big boss, I'm gonna run some errands. I haven't opened yet since it's not time yet, be right back!"

That made Kento's heart drop, you were definitely going to use this to your advantage.

You were forced up the metal door of the storage room as he pounded into you from behind, your soft gasps and his silent groans filling the room along with the sounds of skin colliding with each other "Let's do this fast... he'll... he'll be back" He panted out as he leaned as his hand snaked on one of your legs before pulling it up to make his cock sink deeper into you.

"K-Kento... fuck..." You tried holding onto the metal door but it was no use with how sweaty you've grown from the hot and steamy love you two were making with the threat of getting caught any second now.

He fucked his cock into you harder, his heavy balls slapping onto your ass while his other hand now found its way on your throat giving you a new sensation of being choked while your hole was choking on his thick girth.

"Fuck... fuck fuck fuck... darling... you're so fucking good" he cried as his hip started to stutter. You were ruining this man.

A few more thrusts, Kento stopped a bit "I'm gonna cum..." He warned.

"Cum inside me..." You said confidently.

"W-What...?"

"Breed me, Kento... fill me up" You were a cheeky little bastard. He knew already of your teasing and cheeky nature but he didn't know that the sassy and pretty little thing that he thought was so innocent ever since they first met was actually this dirty, he both hated it and loved it.

The thought of breeding you, claiming you.

It was just the last straw for him.

Fucking into you even harder and faster, it took no less than a minute before you both came at the same time. Your hole becoming filled to the brim by his thick creamy cum, it felt so good inside and you didn't want it to end.

As you were about to same something cheeky, Gojo's voice could be heard outside again.

"Big boss... I'm back!"

Kento cursed under his breath, helping you dress up before himself.

"I'll direct him somewhere else... use the back door and use my car, you know my place." He commanded, handing over his car keys.

He then left the storage room, you could hear Kento asking Gojo to do something outside of the kitchen. It was a few minutes later when there was three knocks on the metal door that hinted that you were allowed to go out, rushing out of the storage room you bid Kento goodbye before heading out by the backdoor.

You entered his car and started the engine, without thinking or looking back you went on and drove to his place. Too scared that someone might catch you.

Kento back in the cafe was directing the growing staff that entered that day around, Gojo and Yuuji then pulled him aside to talk about the stock that month when Yuuji brought something up.

"Why did I see captain cream puff leave just an hour ago... I thought she couldn't make it?" The poor boy asked.

"O-Oh, that? I just... asked her an errand is all" Kento lied.

Gojo was standing there with a cheeky smirk on his lips, he didn't know why but he hoped that Gojo wasn't piecing two and two together at that very moment.

"But why was she using your tie as a hair knot?" Yuuji asked again.

Before Kento could muster up another lie, Gojo then intervined by ruffling the younger's hair.

"You asked too many questions, go back to work!" The two then focused on serving the incoming customers, giving Kento some time to calm himself down as he was overthinking things.

Then, his phone vibrated. It was from you.

Y/N: Feels so lonely here... why don't you come and fill this cream puff up?

Y/N sent one image.

That one single image of you in his couch, all naked with his tie still keeping your hair up made him heat up. Shaking off all of those nasty thoughts he decided to go back to work, it was busy day anyways but he made sure that once he came home that day you'd still be willing to spread your legs for him.

After all, you were his sweet cream filled darling.

#nanami kento #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #jjk fanfic #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut

[thatsgay-writes]

Hey! So I had an idea and I was wondering if you would consider writing it. It's a Beatrice X Reader.

It's just after the final battle of season 1. Mary and Reader being the badasses they are fought together. Mary died. Reader didn't. It's around 6 months after( I don't really know the timeline) , anyway Adriel and his supports took Reader and basically toured her for info and anything they could use against the 'Warrior Nun' and being the person Reader never said anything, no matter how bad it got they kept their mouth shut. Eventually Adriel left, he knew R wouldn't speak but he found joy in keeping his supporters there (basement) where she was held so that they could continue hurting her. It's a day or two after Adriel left and word got out they something was important there but Ava , Beatrice , Camilla and whoever you want there didn't know what. When they get there they don't find anything and they are about to leave when they hear punches and shouts from a group of people. They go to the basement and they see 3 or 4 men kicking punching and slicing with a knife (if you want) against someone they can't really see because it's too dark (Reader could be strapped to a chair or hung from their wrists from the ceiling). A few seconds later, all of the men r down. They get closer Camilla turns in the lights and they see Reader. Shock. Gasps. (you know absolute shockkkk) they thought R died with Mary. Moving Reader to the amazing van they have. Reader is unconscious at this point. They tend to her wounds like loads of wounds- stab wounds-slice wounds-bruises and scars. R wakes up and has a heartfelt reunion and you can decide how that plays out. If this is uncomfortable for you, you don't have too right it, just an idea I had because I love myself an angst,love ending story!! :)

Not ProofRead, Off The Dome

Days bled into weeks, blurred into months as you hung from the ceiling. It was routine by now, wake up, get hung by the ceiling from your wrist, get tortured for information, get unhooked, and then repeat it all the next day. Sometime you wish you had taken Mary's place or been by her side as you bled out together instead of being forced to watch as the life drained from her eyes. The first days of your torture hadn't been that bad by standards. You were hit a few times, pushed around but nothing seriously damaging. Until the big bad, Adriel, paid a visit to get information out of you. Knives, tasers, even a few well placed gun shots were used almost everyday. Your hands were numb and blue by the time you were taken down from the ceiling and you were healed as much as possible each night. It was always the same set of questions, "Where is the Warrior Nun hiding? What is her weakness? How long will it take for her to come for you?"

You never answered any of the questions, you barely spoke and if you did it would be something along the lines of a fuck you or just straight up calling Adriel a bitch. In your head though, you were begging for either freedom in the form of escape or death. You had lost hope that your friends would come for you or that they even knew you were alive. Even after a while the thought of Beatrice coming to rescue you dwindled away. You hadn't seen Adriel in a few days, so you figured he left, but the beatings and torture stayed almost consistent. Clearly, Adriel had left specific instructions on how to handle you this time rather than just leaving it up to the Firstborn Children.

---

Beatrice sat in the back of the slightly sexual puff pastry truck as Yasmine drove them all to a secret building they had uncovered by getting information from a member of the Firstborn Children. She stared at a small photograph of the two of you from your first anniversary, almost five years ago. Beatrice wishes that she could go back in time and relive those years all over again. She'd make sure to hold onto you tighter, spend all her time with you, maybe she'd even ask you to marry her, just to spend a few years in complete bliss. But now you were gone and Beatrice felt cold and alone. She wasn't alone in a literal sense, Ava sitting next to her, Camila across, and Mother Superion and Yasmin in the passenger and driver seat but in her heart. She always felt this constant coldness that couldn't be taken away with a cozy blanket or hot chocolate, the only time it ever felt warm was when she was asleep and dreaming of you or reliving memories. Only to wake up the next day, cold. Beatrice had always been the one to think through things and go into fights logically but if this building was as important to Adriel as the Firstborn Children said, she wanted to to tear it apart and burn it to the ground.

---

Beatrice was pissed, this whole excursion had felt like a waste of time. Not only was the building huge, it looked and felt abandoned. There were no secrets in this building, the Firstborn Children must've just used this as a distraction. Camila could feel the frustration rolling off of Beatrice and she felt terrible for the older girl. It was clear how much everything had taken a toll on her. It was clear from the beginning that Beatrice, Mary, Shannon, Lilith and you had been the unofficial Warrior Nun dream team. But now you, Shannon, and Mary were dead and Lilith had disappeared. Beatrice was the last one standing and even Camila could see she barely was.

They were about to give up their search of the building when Camila hears a faint noise coming from down the hall. She peeks her head out of the room they all stood in and she could see a faint, barely there, glow of light. "Guys!" She whispered to her fellow nuns and gestured towards the door and the light. All of her friends tensed and instantly got into a formation as they made their way down the hall. Coming up to the door it was slightly left open, allowing Beatrice to see into the room. "They're torturing someone, this must be why this building is so important... I see nine people in total. Ready?" Beatrice asks, not really waiting for an answer as she kicks down the door and enters the room, cutting out the lights so the men were more confuse and unable to see.

---

"I think that's all of them." Ava says as she catches her breath. All the men they fought were uncharacteristically big and bulky, which Beatrice had failed to mention. "All right, let's see who all this fuss is about." Ava says as she moves in front of your body, Beatrice and Camila were standing by the door keeping look out. "Beatrice hit the lights please... Thank-" As soon as Beatrice flips the switch, Ava's heart stops. There you were. Head hung, hands slightly blue, blood dripping from one of your many injuries onto the floor but alive. "Camila help me quick!" Ava yells as she grabs a chair in the corner of the room so she can get you untied from the rope. "What? Who is-" Camila lets out an audible gasp as you come into view. She helps Ava untangle you and lower you to the floor. "Beatrice cover our front and Yasmin help us get them out of here!" Ava commands, she couldn't let Beatrice see you till they were out of the building. She knew Beatrice would freeze and that's not something they could afford right now.

---

"Are they okay?" Beatrice asks now that they are comfortable back in the truck and on the road. Ava and Camila share a look, how do they explain who they found. Yasmin just looks a little confused at the two's silence. Ava nods her head towards Camila who returns the nod in understand. She gets up and walks to the front of the truck. "Beatrice, I need you to look at me." Beatrice turns towards Camila with a confused look, why was she being so serious? "You have the most knowledge on medicine, which is why I am begging you to not let feelings get in the way for right now. Once we get to out hideout you can feel whatever you need to feel but I am begging you right now to let logic and reason take over." Beatrice stands, well as much as she could in the truck as she swaps places with Camila, scared to know why she said that. But the second she see your face, it takes everything in her to not fall to her knees and cry and beg for you to wake up. Her mouth feels dry as she swallows and pushes everything to the back of her mind, this was you. She thought you were dead but now you're not and she wasn't going to let you bleed out and be taken from her again.

---

You feel warm as you wake up, which was concerning. You could feel the blanket laid across you and the soft bed and pillow under you as you opened your eyes. Sun was streaming through a window and into the room and you were sure you were dead. You finally gain the strength to sit up and you can feel all the aches and pains and the tightly wrapped bandages that cover your body. Ok, maybe you weren't dead but you were highly confused. You shakily get out of bed and look at the clothes that were put on you. Normal things, pants, a shirt, socks, nothing crazy but what did get you to freeze was the scent coming off the clothes. You hold the hem of the shirt up to your face and you can feel your eyes watering, it smells like Beatrice, it smells like home. With a newfound vigor, you walk as fast as you can from the room, ignoring the way you have to favor your right leg. You could here conversations and laughs the farther into the house you get and the more excited you feel.

Could this be a new way of torture created by Adriel so that your dreams were no longer safe? Yes. Did you care in that moment? No. You reach a large set of double doors, the only thing left blocking you from, who you hope is real, Beatrice. You take a deep breath as you attempt to fix your shirt and hair, like Beatrice hasn't seen you at your worst and open the door. The silence to your arrival was daunting, luckily almost everyone looked familiar and grew smiles on their faces at the sight of you. But the person you were mainly concerned for looked like she could cry, "Bea." You let out breathlessly as you feel all the hope you had lost return to you instantaneously. You take one step into the room before Bea is closing the distance and pulling you into her arms, mindful of your injuries. "Is this real? Please tell me this is real." You say to her over and over again as you cry into her shoulder. She pulls back from the hug to take you face into her hands. "This is real, I promise. And I am never letting you out of my sight again." You can see the way Beatrice's eyes look at you like your the most important thing in the world and you know that your not dreaming and you know she will stick to that vow. "Good." Is all you can say as you lean forwards for a kiss and thank any and every high-power that there is that you were back in Beatrice's arms.

#x reader #warrior nun #warrior nun x reader #beatrice x reader #sister beatrice x reader #sister beatrice

[mmkin]

The Siren's Shark ch 2

For people enjoying the story, i have the next chapter up sooner than I expected, which I am sure makes us all happy, haha.

Link to AO3 here, chapter also included under the cut.

Content Warning - yes, things absolutely get spicy, so adults only!

II

o0o0o0o

“She’s my siren,” Arlong hissed as Hatchan stepped between his captain and his friend.

“Are you sure?” his longtime friend asked with puzzlement.

Arlong looked past Hatchan's shoulder, where the woman was staring back at him. He wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder, bring her back to his bed, and claim her as his.

What the hell. It couldn’t be, could it? She might have helped his crew, but she was human. He shouldn’t be attracted to a human, especially to this degree.

“I don’t know what the fuck else it could be,” the sharkman said with a low snarl. Hatchan gave out a surprised ‘nyu’.

“Then perhaps in that case it’s best to not scare her off?” the octopus man whispered. “Take a bit of time and…”

Yes. If she was out of sight, he could collect his wits about him. It would do him no good to lose his mind. “You are correct, Hachi,” he said begrudgingly, grateful for the octopus man’s intervention. “We’ll have a nice dinner tonight, now that you got all these provisions. Pick a few helpers, we haven’t had a feast in a while. We can celebrate the health of our crew.”

Hatchan grinned and nodded before he turned to Yolande, relaying the offer. Arlong watched her, gauging her reaction. She stared at him, and he could not help but puff his chest a bit as she accepted the invitation. She retreated down the pier, but she looked over her shoulder a couple of times, and Arlong found himself wanting to drag her back.

o0o0o0o

Arlong, Arlong, Arlong. Curious name, but it wasn't familiar to her. Yolande walked home in what felt like a haze, her brain foggy as she tried to divert it from Arlong. She could almost feel the power rippling from his form and wondered what it would feel like to have that pressed against her.

Her detractors liked to say she was not a pious widow and well… damnit, she had needs. It’d been a while, but even that didn’t explain the heat between her and Arlong. She remembered how her name had rumbled out of his mouth, and the way his grin was filled with hunger.

By the time she got home, she was feeling somewhat more clear-headed. What was she to do if she got the same reaction tonight after seeing him again? Damn. She needed to distract herself. And she knew just how to do that.

The smell of warm pastries filled the small kitchen as they sat to cool, and Lena greeted her as she walked through the door with her baby strapped to her back. Yolande smiled and turned toward her stepdaughter, having already set aside a batch for her to enjoy. The pastries were filled with various fruit preserves, and she was certain the fishmen would like them. It’d be a nice treat to send them off with, and cooking and baking had always been a welcome distraction when something was weighing heavily upon her mind.

The woven basket was slung across her back, filled with pastries carefully layered between paper. Hachi was there at the bottom of the gangplank to greet her, but she was already aware of Arlong’s presence, barely affording the octopus man a glance before she looked up at the ship. Illuminated with several lamps and the light of the late afternoon sun, she recognized Arlong’s silhouetted form. A thrill passed through her.

"And what are those?" Hachi asked. She almost didn't hear him and forced her attention to the octopus man.

“I did some baking this afternoon and thought that if you were going to feed me dinner, perhaps I’d bring dessert?” she offered. “Or was that presumptuous of me?”

"No, no! They smell fantastic and I can't wait to try one! Hey, guys! She brought pastries! Freshly baked!" This was met with a cheer from several fishmen. Hachi laughed and led her up the ramp, helping her to ease the basket off her back and carrying it into the mess hall, where an assortment of food sat out in the relative warmth of the space.

“Oh, that’s good!” Hachi exclaimed as he popped one of the flaky confections in his mouth. Shioyaki reached for one and nodded in approval as he bit into it. “We appreciate the medical treatment you gave our fellows. We didn’t expect a treat, too,” the salmon fishman said with a small laugh. Many fishmen still kept their distance from her, but there were a few to keep her company as she sampled Hachi’s cooking, complimenting him.

She'd dressed warmly and professionally, clad in light boots with jeans and a jacket. But even out in the cold, she felt the heat of Arlong's presence. He watched her as she moved around, talking with Hachi or Kaneshiro, enjoying some more of the octopus man's cooking, and smiling in relief as she saw Chew. The big-lipped fishman blinked in surprise as he saw her, and she waved at him. "It's good to see you out of bed. I'm glad I could help you."

He lifted his hand in a tentative wave, seeming to be mildly confused before comprehension dawned upon him, and he looked down almost shyly. Hatchan talked with her a bit more as they stood outside, enjoying some drinks while staring at the colors of the afternoon sky while some other fishmen played a game on the deck. Spirits seemed to be pretty good, and she was sincerely happy about that.

No one was perfect, and there were many gods in the world, but the one thing she believed in – or at least hoped was real – was karma. People made mistakes, but she tried her best to learn from them and when she had the chance, she did good for other people. Sometimes that good karma found its way back to her. Even if it didn't, it was still nice to do good because as she knew from painful experience, the world was a pretty shitty place already.

“What was that limerick you told Hachi earlier?” one of the other fishmen asked.

Yolande grinned at that.

“There was once a lady who begat

Three brats named Nat, Pat, and Tat

Plenty of fun to be had in the breeding

But there was hell in the feeding

When there was no tit for Tat.”

Several fishmen shared a good guffaw at that and Hachi slapped his knee.

“It’s just as funny hearing it again! Do you have more?” the octopus man asked.

“A young psychic midget named Marge

Went to jail on a serious charge.

But despite lock and key

The lady broke free

And the News said Small Medium at Large.”

After that, she provided a couple of jokes and it turned out Shioyaki had a few zingers of his own, and then Ishidai stepped in with a rauunchy joke. This was much livelier than any social gathering she’d ever been to in town.

“It’s been a while since I laughed this hard,” Hatchan said, wheezing as he wiped his face.

“Me too, my stomach hurts from laughing,” Yolande chuckled as she leaned against the railing, sipping her drink. She giggled sharply and took several breaths before she scanned the deck, seeing Arlong on the other side, looking at her, his collar pulled up against the cold breeze.

The captain mostly kept his distance, but it seemed like no matter where she went, she was kept firmly in his sights. Part of her wanted to approach him, but the maelstrom of sensations and feelings she felt seemed to intensify every time that passed her mind. She might have thought she was drugged, but there certainly were no drugs involved earlier when she met Arlong for the first time, or before she ate any of Hatchan’s cooking.

“Hachi… is there something going on with your captain?” she asked delicately as she sipped from the bottle of sake she’d been offered.

"What do you mean?" he asked. She was certain he knew what was going on but was afraid to approach the subject. She tilted her head as she looked at him, and he stared back at her, his lips set in a perfect O before he gulped down his drink.

"I- "How did she explain this when she'd never experienced this around anyone else before in her life? Was this some fishman thing? "I don't-" She sighed in frustration, feeling the heat rise in her neck. For a moment she wondered if she'd caught something from Chew or one of the others and was now experiencing the onset of symptoms? There had been a certain fog nagging at her subconscious since her earlier encounter with Arlong. But she'd been able to distract herself and focus on other things. Now it was coming back in full force.

Or full heat seemed to be the more accurate description of it. Her mind flitted to the possibility of a hot flash, but instinct told her otherwise.

“Yolande.” Arlong’s voice came from behind her, and she gasped quietly before turning around to see him. Less than half a meter sat between them, and she looked up at him, the planes of his face illuminated by the low-hanging sun and giving his cool skin a warm tint.

It felt like the heat was pulling her forward. She stared up into these gorgeous blue eyes. The heat became electric, and she heard a low rumble come from somewhere. It took her a couple of moments to realize that it was coming from deep within Arlong’s throat.

The instinctual part of her brain told her that this was not a sound of threat or aggression, but it was still startling to hear. As she heard it, it tickled that part of her brain even as she took a step back, seeing Hatchan and several other fishmen stare at them with curiosity, confusion, and anticipation. What was going on here? What exactly had she stepped into? The rational and wary part of her mind told her that she was a lone woman on a ship full of lonely men and that she had made a gross miscalculation in coming here.

Would she be able to fight past a sharkman that was a couple of heads taller than her – and from the looks of his muscle mass, he weighed at least twice what she did? She looked back up at Arlong, and he let out a grin that was full of hunger. He intended to devour her, and another growl burst from his throat.

Her growl was softer and more high-pitched, but it purred out of her throat. She wasn’t sure exactly what the fuck she was doing, but he was growling at her, so she did it right back to him, because who the hell did he think he was?

Her ruminations were interrupted as he scooped her up in one arm, and a surprised gasp broke from her throat as she found herself pressed between his chest and forearm. She should have fought, but she felt almost paralyzed as she registered the solidness of his form and the bulge of his bicep. She reached to hook one hand around his shoulder for balance, and she noticed that no one made a move to stop the captain, not even Hatchan, as he entered his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

Her heat-addled brain understood what was going to happen next, and she wanted it. She barely registered the surroundings of the room as she was dumped onto the messy bed. “Arlong!” she growled as she righted herself, sitting with her legs dangling over the side of the bed.

"My siren." His eyes glinted fiercely as he looked down at her, leaning in and grabbing her chin. She'd heard of the mythical creatures before, mermaids or sea nymphs who lured sailors and fishermen to their beds, or their deaths. Depending on the version, often both, much like a black widow. But it was so pleasing when he said it.

"Mmm. Yes. Your siren," she purred agreeably.

o0o0o0o

He chuckled softly as he looked down at her, feeling the warmth of her skin under his hand. How readily she agreed to his proclamation. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was no mistaking the desire in her eyes – or the heat that he smelled.

-Claim-

Oh, fuck yes. It’d what he was wanting to do since he first saw her. He’d been barely able to control himself all afternoon, watching her enjoy some of Hatchan’s cooking, sharing randy jokes with Shioyaki and a handful of other fishmen, laughing and chatting as if she were one of them. She would look at him, and he would curse the fact that he had fallen so hard for a human. A fucking human. A human he wanted to fuck. Fuck it.

“Arlong…” he heard her name, and mercifully, his mind was refocused on much more pressing matters. Her scent called to him, a mix of baking, deodorant, and warm feminine musk. The first two were mildly pleasant, but the scent of her sex demanded his attention.

He’d heard of women going in heat, and he’d had lovers in the past, but now he understood just what it was. As well as what it meant to go into rut, because although he’d been watching – and desiring – her since she came onto the ship, her growl unlocked something in him that he hadn’t imagined a man might be capable of.

This put the word ‘horny’ to shame. He was so lost in her gaze that he barely registered her tugging her boots, and he grinned in delight before he grabbed hold of her pants, barely giving her time to undo her belt before he tugged it down her legs, revealing a pair of long, well-muscled legs. Almost as soon as the denim broke contact with her legs, she was on him, furiously tugging at his pants. He gave her an approving growl, hastily tugging his feet out of his boots and hearing a soft, surprised exclamation as his lower half was bared before her, his passion at full mast.

“How…” she breathed as she stared at him. “Is that from a Devil Fruit?”

He gave out a short laugh at that. "No, my siren. It's all mine… and all for you." Two cocks rose from his groin, starting the same shade as the rest of him before taking on a fierce purple-red hue up the shafts to the tapering tips. She stared for another moment before looking up into his eyes.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

He’d been called plenty of things in his life. Ugly. Monster. Freak. And here this woman was, telling him she thought he was beautiful.

“My siren. How sweetly you sing for me,” he growled with pride and satisfaction. Outside, the waves lapped against the hull, but all Arlong was aware of was himself and his siren, and the heat between them that demanded satisfaction. He pushed her back onto the bed, tugging – nearly ripping – off her panties and spreading her knees open, noticing the slickness that glistened along her inner lips.

“Please…” she said with a shuddering sigh that sent a fresh ache surging through Arlong. He slid his hand along her thigh. Fuck, she was so warm. She lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing the expanse of her hips and lower belly. His hand slid further, finding her clit with his thumb before sliding a finger and then another inside of her. She was so fucking tight and hot. He would lose his mind if he stuck his cocks in there. A sharp keen warbled from her throat as she pushed her pelvis against his hand, the webbing between his fingers stretching against her. If it was possible, she became even hotter, writhing around on the blanket as he fingerfucked her.

"So eager for me, are you?" he growled and received a response by way of her clenching around him, her inner walls shuddering against him.

“Yes, Arlong…” she growled as she lifted her hips, wiggling wildly as he thrust his fingers into her a few more times before sliding them out. Her flavor was more intoxicating than he’d expected, and he licked his fingers clean in several swipes.

“Your cunt is so sweet. You can be sure I will be making good use of it.”

“Oh gods,” Yolande replied with a snarl. “Please do!”

"Does my siren want to be fucked by the mighty Arlong the Saw?" he demanded. She nodded, and he plunged into her with one cock, the other one sliding against her stomach. He did not resist when she tugged the collar of his shirt but kept his head high enough to keep her out of the reach of his nose

“Fuck. So fucking hot and tight. Your cunt is mine. My siren. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk,” he growled. This only seemed to excite her further, because she wiggled against him fiercely, pressing her stomach to his other cock to ensure that it received stimulation as well, and a pleased growl rumbled from his throat as he felt how she welcomed both of his cocks. The rhythm could only increase in crescendo, along with the noises they made. When he came within her, he pulled out, thrusting his second cock into her, while his first cock slid wetly between the cheeks of her ass.

The first cock was already hardening before he had his second orgasm, but his rut still burned in his loins as he looked down at her, growling as he entered her for the third time. “Fuck. Who would have thought it would be you, of all people?” he growled softly, more to himself before he increased the pace, pounding into her with a ferocity he couldn’t recall having ever had for any other lover.

o0o0o0o

It was surreal, feeling one cock inside of her as another slid along the outside of her body against her stomach or ass. She only had a couple of moments to register curiosity at his statement before he let out a growl, cumming inside of her again. Her hands slid along his thick neck and broad shoulders, thrilling at the feel of his flexing biceps as he drilled into her.

Her heat was still strong, but some of the fog seemed to have abated, leaving her a bit more clear-headed as his swaying slowed. She tugged at his collar again, bringing his head lower as he tilted it to the side, and she ran her fingers along the sides of his face as she caught her breath, inhaling his scent. Saltwater, sweat, the scent of sex mixed with his musk on him and around him, a bit of rum on his breath.

“Arlong…” she breathed as her lips trailed along his jaw. He pulled away, and she bit back a needy whine, already aching as he climbed off the bed. He opened a chest and came back with a bottle and a couple of tumblers. Top-shelf rum. She sipped and felt the soothing burn as it made its way down her throat after she pulled herself to a sitting position.

What was going to happen next? That was the best sex she’d ever had with anyone. It was mind-blowing – the first time she thought that that was an accurate description of something. She might have dismissed it as some sort of intense dream if not for the heat in her core and between her legs. What was she supposed to do once the captain and his crew left this island?

She looked up at him, and his eyes glinted with a lust that she welcomed. She smiled at him and set the glass aside, lifting a knee and wiggling at him.

-Yours-

“So, my siren calls to me, hm?” he asked. She nodded eagerly, and for a moment there was a certain softness in his expression, an appreciation for her warmth toward him. He reached to touch her face. “You welcomed Hachi when he came to this island. From what I hear and have seen, you have shown nothing but kindness and respect to my men, hmm?” he asked musingly as his fingers slid along her jaw and chin. She shivered pleasurably at the touch.

“I judge others by their actions, not their race,” she replied with a small chuckle.

“And I suppose you have no complaints of my treatment of you,” he asked dryly. She raised an eyebrow and wiggled at him again.

“If my siren is hungry, I can only feed her.” His hand trailed down the side of her face before pausing at the collar of her long-sleeved plaid shirt.

“I believe we can dispense with the rest of your clothing, hmm?” he asked. Instinctively, she scooted back, starting to shake her head.

“I’ve seen what’s down there. Now I want to see the rest of you.”

“I don’t- I have scars,” she whispered.

“I want to see all of you,” he growled, his grip tightening around the collar as if he might rip it off. “You are my siren.”

There was a tank top under her shirt, but the scope of her scar was visible by the way it extended along her left shoulder and almost halfway down to her elbow. And below the thin garment was what Arlong had caught a brief glimpse of before, the same scar sliding down her right hip and a few inches past her ass.

However, it wasn’t the scar that held his attention. Three red lines sat at either side of her neck, undeniable evidence of a heritage that was other than human.

“…Gills?” he asked with an inquisitive growl before an unmistakable gleam of delight came to his eyes and his lips twisted up into a fanged grin. “Fucking hell, my siren has gills!” His hands grabbed at her hungrily, and she let him divest her of her last piece of clothing, stunned but grateful that he didn’t appear repulsed by what made other men wince or recoil when they saw it. Despite having been fucked by him a handful of times, she still felt self-conscious as Arlong ran his fingers along her shoulders and neck.

o0o0o0o

He could feel her tremble as he examined her. The scar looked like a long burn, but he was far more interested in the gills that had remained firmly hidden under her clothing – and hidden by her silence.

Tossing his shirt to the floor, he slid onto the bed, leaning over her as he wrapped an arm around her, his breath hot on her neck.

“Yolande,” he hissed, and he heard her gasp when he placed a couple of nips along her neck. He was tempted to do more – and would – but right now, he sensed that she was feeling quite -vulnerable. Shy. Yet hopeful-

… Where did that come from?

He placed kisses along the bites, hearing her give a quiet sigh of satisfaction as she wrapped an arm around his neck. Her other hand traveled between their bodies, finding his passion already renewed and ready.

“My siren. My mate,” he growled softly. She whimpered and nodded shakily as she wrapped her fingers around the first member she found. “You belong to me. You are the siren of the mighty Arlong the Saw.” His voice was almost hypnotic as he stroked her hair and back.

"Arlong the Saw." There was no recognition in her voice of that name. No fear, or terror, or disgust. Just desire for him.

He couldn’t remember a time he’d orgasmed so many times in a session, but the results spoke for themselves as he looked down at her, a well-fucked mess in the tangle of blankets, her eyes half-lidded and glazed over with exhaustion and satiety. That glimmer of the vulnerability and he’d sensed earlier was gone. Had he merely imagined that? He pushed these thoughts aside as he stared down at her.

Human boys – and men – fantasized about having their princess. Their stories were full of lads going on journeys and becoming heroes and gaining the hands of beautiful princesses or queens in marriage, or even taking a fairy or goddess as a wife. For a fishman, it was a siren. Like a beautiful and sweet ethereal maiden, such creatures were rare. The humans had their version of the siren story, about mermaids luring in sailors. Such trite garbage, humans twisting around something precious to fishmen.

A siren was meant to be a fishman's greatest treasure. It was said that a siren could bring out the best in her mate, giving him strength not only in bed but out of it. Fishman lore had a few tales of such mythical creatures, lovers and advisers, protected and guarded by their fishmen.

He had never had the expectation of finding one. It was the stuff of myth, and prideful and arrogant as he might be, he was not so pompous as to think that fate would hand him a siren, not when he wasn't even sure such a thing existed. Yet, here he was. He might have dismissed the afternoon with her as a way to release his pent-up lust, a desperate biological need to release his long-repressed load in the nearest willing partner. But the way she responded to him left him no doubt that she felt the connection, as well.

But of course, Fate was a capricious bitch. His Siren was half-human. He stared at the form sprawled out on his sheets. The only sure giveaway was her gills. Her skin was a few shades off – not quite pale, but cooler than most human skin colors, yet not so out of the norm as to draw more than a passing glance. Some might write it off as her being ill. Freckles dappled her shoulders and upper arms along with the intact skin on her back. Her thick, dark wavy hair was free of its ponytail, framing her face in a rumpled mess.

Fuck. The last year had been a long, bitter lesson. Hadn't he been through enough? He looked down at her and felt the warmth rise in his belly as he thought of the passion they'd just shared. The way she screamed out for more, or said his name in varying tones – a heated whisper, a fierce moan, an impassioned shriek – or the way she clung to him, opening up to him every time he wanted to penetrate her.

Well. Sirens were rare enough, and there was no denying the pleasure to be derived from this one. He started getting dressed, further sliding out of the haze of rut that had sparked when they were growling at one another outside. She could rest, and he would figure out what to do with this change in circumstances.

He had a mate, a siren now. Many fishmen wished for one. Arlong had never expected one, and Yolande had practically fallen into her lap. He laughed quietly to himself as he closed the door behind him and made his way out onto the deck, well aware of the curious glances several of his men directed at him. They had heard her screams and his growls and undoubtedly had questions burning at the tips of their tongues.

“Shahahahahaha!” he let out a triumphant bellow. That was ample commentary on the matter.

#arlong #arlong the saw #the siren's shark #siren's shark #fanfiction #one piece #strawberrycatbeans #arlong pirates

[sleekervae]

Yoü & I [1.8]

Masterlist

A/N: woohoo! Two chapters in one day! 🤙

Warnings: mentions of drug use

The food was beyond delicious. Maria and her cousin, Andrea, had spent the day cooking up all these little finger foods for the guests to snack on. They were the cutest things the girls had ever laid eyes on and Maria was pretty proud of herself. 

Charlotte had a little paper plate in her lap with three little sandwiches of smoked salmon and cream cheese and sausage pastry puffs. She was listening to another guests recent travels through South Africa, not paying attention when Luke would reach over now and again and try to steal some food off of her, just to annoy her. Grabbing a sausage puff with a toothpick, waiting for Charlotte to glare at him and grinning like a little shit as he quickly shoved the piece into his mouth. Charlotte glared at him every time.

"Piss off, dude!" she laughed, much to everyone's amusement, "Go get your own!"

"But Michael took the last sausage puff!" he whined, goading her with puppy-dog eyes. 

"Well, that's not my fucking problem," she pouted back, "Eat the salmon ones,"

"Ew, no," he shook his head.

"What if I put vegemite on it for you?" 

"... We can discuss it," 

Soon after the party quieted down long enough so they could all sing Happy Birthday to Maria. Afterwards, they cut into the cake and dipped into the freshly-heated bougatsa. Luke and Calum were immediately transported to heaven at the first bite. 

"Holy fuck, I missed this stuff," Calum said, powdered sugar staining his lips. 

"It's fucking good, yeah?" Luke hummed.

"This ain't nothing," Chloe told them, "When Charlotte's grandma used to make it fresh -- I swear, that shit was better than sex," 

"Do you know how to make this, Charlotte?" another guest asked. The mousy brunette shrugged shyly.

"I've attempted it once or twice, but I always fuck it up," she replied. 

"We got to get your mom to show us how to make this," Kimberly nodded.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, "My mom? Teach us how to bake?"

Kimberly shook her head, "I didn't believe me, either," 

"Hey, we're not complaining over here," Luke piped in, grinning at Charlotte. Some cake icing dotted the corner of her lip, "Hold still, babe,"

He brushed his thumb at the corner of her lip and wiped off the icing. Charlotte hoped he didn't hear the thunk of the lump she'd swallowed the moment he touched her.

The others ate their dessert and consumed an assortment of drinks. Ashton and Michael got into a thumb wrestle over who would get the last bougatsa; Kimberly claimed victory while they were distracted. 

"Ya thumb wrestle like children? Ya lose regardless!" she told the sulking boys. 

Maria excused herself from her friends for a bathroom break. Ducking out from the party she trotted down the hall and turned into the bathroom doorway. However, she stopped dead in her tracks. Melody was rooting around in her bathroom drawers, seemingly looking for something. 

Maria thought she must've been hammered and she was seeing things, but Melody was none the wiser. She kept rummaging around through her toiletry drawer, what the actual fuck?

The older latina crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, "What're you doing?" she asked.

Melody's head shot up faster than a crack of lightning, her face paling when she'd been caught, "Hm?" was her only response.

"... What are you doing?" Maria asked again, her patience already on a thin line with this girl.

Melody slowly closed the drawer, "I was just looking for some aspirin. I got a bit of a headache," she said, trying to play it off cooly. Maria was unsure as to whether or not she was telling the truth. If she wanted aspirin, she could've just asked. 

"One drawer over with the first aid kit," she instructed slowly. Melody opened the next drawer and gasped in triumph when her eyes landed on the little red bottle.

"Oh, here it is!" she grinned at Maria, "Thanks," 

"Sure," Maria nodded, "... Just ask me next time instead of going through my shit," 

Melody shrugged, "Well, you were having too good a time it was kinda' hard getting your attention. Figured you'd keep it in the bathroom anyway; but you're right. Total invasion of privacy. I'm sorry," 

"It's fine," Maria lied, "Come on. I'll get you some water," 

She had Melody slink out first and she watched the young influencer disperse into the crowd. Maria took one last glance at her bathroom, an eerie chill crawling up her spine. Something wasn't right, here. She shut the door behind her and made good to lock it this time. 

♛♛♛

The next afternoon, the girls were sat in the airport's lounge as they awaited their flight's departure. They were all giddy -- albeit a bit hungover -- for this next leg of the tour. That is, they were... until Maria told them about last night's run-in with Melody.

"What the fuck is she doing going through your bathroom drawers?" Kimberly scowled. 

"That's just downright fucking creepy, even for Melody," Charlotte said. 

"Yeah. What -- she wanna' know what scent of Vagisil you use or something?" Chloe remarked, earning some seedy stares from strangers sharing the space. 

Kimberly grimaced, "Lower your voice, for God sakes. Everybody's a prude these days," 

Maria slumped down in the arm chair she was sat in, "Girl looked me dead in the eye and told me she needed some aspirin. Bitch, if you need aspirin, you come and ask the host who's bathroom the aspirin is in. You don't just invite yourself to look through the drawers; that's like inviting a total stranger to go through my underwear drawer!" 

"I had a date try that with me once," Kimberly said suddenly. 

Chloe's eyebrows furrowed, "... And did he violate your underwear drawer?"

"No, but I violated his eyeballs with my hairspray," Kimberly said.

Charlotte cringed, "Get your ass off Bumble," 

"That's really creepy though, Maria," Chloe continued. 

"You wanna' know something creepier?" Maria said, "I don't think she was after the aspirin," 

"Why? What do you think she wanted?" Charlotte asked. 

Maria shrugged, "Something she clearly couldn't ask me for, probably for fear of judgement," 

"Like what?" Kimberly asked. 

"Name it. I got cough syrup in there, bath salts, a couple different painkillers. And if that wouldn't do the trick, she'd probably raid my spice rack for the nutmeg," Maria said.

"Nutmeg? What're you talking about?" Kimberly asked again. 

Charlotte shook her head with discontent, "She thinks Melody was looking for drugs," she kept her voice low so other passengers wouldn't hear them. 

Chloe's eyes went wide, "Drugs? What kind of drugs would we have? We smoke weed, drink illegally, and the main food group in our diet is McDonald's,"

"Announce it to the world, why don't you," Charlotte grimaced, "Not like we're famous or anything,"

"Sorta famous," Chloe pointed out, "We on a B level," 

Kimberly was in dismay, "Wait, hold up -- you can get high off nutmeg?" she asked in disbelief.

"Apparently, too much of the stuff is like an amphetamine overdose," Maria replied.

"So... say if one were to eat a whole pumpkin pie..." 

"You eat a whole ass pumpkin pie, you'll def get sick, just not from the nutmeg," Charlotte said.

"Why would you wanna' eat a whole pie, anyways?" Maria asked. 

Kimberly shrugged sheepishly, "Sometimes, post-breakup ice cream just isn't good enough," 

"Yeah, we can't all have a big Australian pretty boy coming over to wipe our tears away like you, babydoll," Maria said to Charlotte. Charlotte stuck her tongue out.

"Jealousy is unbecoming, Maria," 

A look of horror suddenly overcame Chloe's face, the mention of Luke triggering a harrowing thought, "What are the odds do you think Melody does use something? 'Cause if she's using, there's a good to fair chance she'd get Luke involved. And I don't know how I feel about that,"

"Luke Hemmings and drugs?" Kimberly scoffed, "That's like giving double espresso to a puppy,"

Charlotte shook her head confidently, "Luke doesn't use drugs. I mean -- I would know," she said, trying sound certain, "You guys said it yourself, we're practically together all the time. The guys too -- if he was on something but... he's -- he's just -- he's not!"

"No one's saying he is," Maria placed a hand on her knee to calm her down, "Okay? We're not saying he's on anything. We're not even certain Mel is on anything,"

"Yeah," Chloe nodded to Charlotte, "Maybe she's just a creep who likes to go through other people's privacy? Maria caught her doing it last night," 

"And you're right, Lottie," Kimberly added, "We've all known Luke for years. If he was on something -- I mean, I'm pretty sure we'd pick it off," 

Maria brought her hand to her forehead, "I don't even wanna' imagine what Ashton would do if he caught Luke snorting shit,"

"Forget Ashton. What about Liz?" Kimberly said, "Finding out her baby is a junkie? She'd kill Mel first, and then Luke,"

"Why kill Melody first?" Chloe asked.  

"You think Luke would get into that shit on his own? Yeah, right. Momma Hemmings' coming at that bitch with a fucking two-by-four and knock those duck lips off her face," the bassist scoffed.

Charlotte then interjected, "Could we talk about something else, please?" she asked, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. The girls couldn't blame her, how terrifying would it be to find out one of your closest friends, someone you practically share every aspect of your life with, abuses pills? 

"Sure," Maria nodded, just as eager to steer off topic. Besides, Luke didn't fit the mold anyway. He'd smoke weed, sure, but they all did, "What're we gonna' do first when we get to England?"

"Sleep off this hangover for one," Chloe replied. 

The conversation changed and soon enough, the girls were being called to board their plane. And yet, for the majority of the flight Charlotte had a sinking feeling in her gut. Even when Luke and Calum popped by her seat for a chat, she couldn't help but look at the 6'2 blonde a little differently. Her mind was wandering, looking for anything that indicated to her that Luke's behaviour was off. But he was normal, as normal and goofy as the day they'd met. 

You're being ridiculous, she thought to herself, he's not on anything. He never would... right?

♛♛♛

The moment they stepped off the plane, Charlotte took her phone off airplane mode and regretted it immediately when she saw she had a few missed calls from her mom. Eight, to be precise, and a flurry of text messages.

"For fuck sakes..." she fell into step with Maria as they made their way to exit Heathrow, "Look at this,"

The bleary-eyed latina took a glance at the phone screen and shook her head. Penelope was at it again with her overbearing and over-worrying.

"Jesus, eight calls? Seriously?" she asked.

"One for nearly every hour of the flight. And like, twelve messages," Charlotte replied, she scrolled through the messages, "Your brother is still seeing that whore. I know he's lying to me. What did you say to him before you left? Why aren't you answering my calls?"

"Didn't you tell her you were travelling today?" she asked.

"Oh, of course," she nodded back, "When she gets hysterical though, all rational thought flies out the window," she started to dial her mom's number. 

Maria's eyebrows furrowed, "It's 11pm over there right now, isn't it?"

"Well clearly, it's an emergency. So I think she'd appreciate the call back, regardless" Charlotte smirked, knowing fully well her mother was already fast asleep. 

Maria shook his head, "You're bad, Char," 

"I know," she put the phone to her ear, "But I look damn good while doing it," 

A few feet behind the girls, Luke fell into step with Ashton. Charlotte wasn't the only one to note Bryana's lack of presence at the party, and Melody's words echoed in his head on repeat. Ashton didn't often let it show when he was down, he was supposed to be the happy-go-lucky git of the group. Always laughing and joking around, so it was rare when Luke would truly see Ashton upset.

"Hey," 

"Hey," Ashton yawned into his fist.

Luke licked his lips nervously, "Listen, I don't want to get into anything but... are you and Bri okay?" he asked. 

The curly-haired drummer seemed to go a shade paler at the mention, but his face gave nothing away, "Whatcha' mean?"

The blonde shrugged sheepishly, "I mean -- she wasn't at Maria's party last night --"

"I told you: she had a thing," Ashton replied, staring at the younger lad quizzically. 

"What kind of a thing?" Luke asked. Ashton neglected to respond, instead focusing on pushing through the crowds of travelers, "I'm not trying to pry or anything, mate. I just -- if something's going on, we're here for you. All of us," he nodded in the direction of the girls.

Ashton feigned a smile, "I know. And I'm good, we're all good. I promise ya,"

If there was one thing Luke would change about Ashton, he'd get him to be a little more truthful with his emotions. For as long as he could remember, Ashton would bottle up his feelings on the inside and slap a smile on his face, and on more than one occasion he'd crash and burn at the end of misery lane. 

"Alright," 

An hour and some later the bands arrived at their hotel. Charlotte had called her mom, hearing the same grating annoyance in Penelope's voice as she bitched about how it was the middle of the night, but afterwards proceeded to complain to her daughter about how sure she was Troy was keeping things from her. Charlotte did what any burnt out daughter would do with their paranoid, overbearing mother: tune her out and simply agree with everything she was saying so she'd settle down. 

"That's the problem with your generation; you all romanticize drugs and unwrapped sex until you end up pregnant and have to live with your overworked parents for the rest of your lives -- rent free!"

"I know mom, I know," Charlotte sighed, slumped over the couch of her hotel room. 

Across from her sat Chloe on the bed, sprawled out and trying to doze off. But Penelope was so loud she could hear her from the speaker. She kept her eyes trained on the singer, and when Charlotte caught her gaze she made a gun sign with her hand and motioned to blow her brains out. Chloe simpered. 

"Are you even listening to me?" Penelope snapped. 

Charlotte rolled her eyes, "Yeah mom, I've been listening for --" she glanced at the bedside clock, "Forty-eight minutes exactly," 

Penelope huffed, "Alright, alright. I know when you're sick of me, sweetheart. Just try not to cry too much when I finally kick the bucket," and here came the guilt. 

"Mom, I'm not sick of you," Charlotte reasoned, "But I just got off a nine-hour flight and I'm exhausted," 

"So, why did you call me?" Penelope asked.

"Because I feared you'd harass the phone company again if I didn't," she replied, "Now, just calm down. Troy's an adult and he can do what he wants," 

"But what if he gets her pregnant or she gets him into LSD? I don't want no helter skelter hipsters coming around my house and blowing their sage around!" Chloe heard that and nearly busted out laughing.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, bleary and fatigued, "Mom, he's not going to get anybody pregnant. I mean -- look at him. The kid's swimmers probably can't even make it past the cervix," Chloe grimaced. 

"Charlotte, don't be so crass," Penelope chided.

"Well, stop being so paranoid! And lay off the kid! You can't be helicoptering over his shoulder all the damn time," Charlotte replied. 

"It's not paranoia, but a mother knows when a girl isn't right for her son!" she replied, "If you ask me, the Martinellis should've sent that girl to reform school long ago," 

"I know, mom," Charlotte huffed, "Look, I got to go but just take it easy for God sakes. Give Troy a little room to breathe," 

"He's not like you, Charlotte," Penelope stated, "I never have to worry about you, you're independant. It's your brother the world is going to eat alive. Goodnight, Charlotte," and with that, the older woman hung up. Charlotte wanted nothing more than to toss her phone out the window. 

Chloe grinned at her friend, "... So, how's Penelope?" she asked. 

Charlotte glared back at her, "Why is talking to my mother for forty minutes more exhausting than a transatlantic flight?"

"Because she's crazy," Chloe stated simply, "No offense -- but I mean, helter skelter hippies? What does she think this is? The Manson Murders?" 

"I don't even know anymore," Charlotte peeled herself off the couch and went to collapse on the twin bed, "The woman is like a damn gas leak. I don't see her or hear her for a multitude of time, but she's slowly trying to kill me,"

"Maybe you ought to get her Xanax for Christmas," Chloe smirked. 

Charlotte crawled under the blankets, fully prepared for a twelve-hour nap, "Xanax wouldn't be strong enough. I need some elephant tranquilizers," 

"Isn't that shit toxic for humans?" 

"I don't know. But we'll find out," 

Chloe huffed and grabbed the chord to draw the curtains closed, crawling back into her own bed for a nap, "Get some rest Charlie, you'll feel better," 

"Mmhm," Charlotte already had her eyes closed and was willing herself to sink into some sleep. However, her phone buzzed with another text and she swore she was going to hit the ceiling. 

"Oh my God! This woman!" she grabbed the phone to turn it off, but her blood ran cold when she saw it wasn't her mom who had sent her a text.

"Hewy Char"

"II miss yo,"

"I'm sdtill down if yaou arey?

"Jus forq a night?"

"It's Ben, by the wak," 

Clearly he was drunk, so it gave Charlotte no satisfaction that he was only texting her because he was inebriated. She could've sworn she blocked his number, anyways. But how disrespectful could a person be? Not only to their ex, but to themselves as well?

"What is it?" Chloe asked, noting Charlotte's despondent silence, "Is it your mom?"

Charlotte felt a cold shiver ripple down her spine. Apart from anger, the only thing that pumped through her blood was fear. The thought of him coming anywhere near her again nearly had her on the brink of tears. Years of forgotten manipulation and abuse came flooding back in the blink of an eye and Charlotte felt she was back in her apartment, cold, alone and shattered. 

So she immediately blocked his number and deleted the texts.

"No, it's just data warnings," Charlotte replied, swallowing the dense lump in her throat, "Nothing important,"

#luke hemmings #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings x reader #luke 5sos #calum hood #ashton irwin #michael clifford #calum 5sos #ashton 5sos #michael 5sos #Charlotte Antonakis #original story #original female character #band blog #band imagine blog #band imagines #boy bands #girl bands

[madmarchhare]

From @irumaismybaby, thanks for tagging, though coming up with things was hard.

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, 10 Tags

1- Iruma Suzuki- Welcome to Demon school Iruma-Kun

I saw the anime first before reading the manga, I was unsure before I saw the first episode when it came out, but Irumas personality and reactions (Along with him being a massive fucking cinnamon roll) won me over and now M!IK is one of my favourite series ever.

2-Tanya degurechaff- The Saga of Tanya the Evil

I can't remember where I first saw The Saga of Tanya the evil, but I am a history nerd and a gun nut, especially for WW1, WW2 so it was right up my alley. I love her natural coldness and calculability, juxtaposed to her appearance, and she partially inspired the MC/main narrator for my novel.

3-Mikaela Hyauka- Seraph of the End

I love his role in the story, and Seraph of the End was one of first the Animes I watched and pretty much the first manga I read. I like his hair cut and that also inspired the appearance of the MC mentioned above.

4- Mash Burnedead-Mashle

I like listless characters that end up OP. Also the art of Mashile is as marvelous as it's humour. I found the story really engaging, and it was the first manga that was released new that I was able to buy the volumes for myself so it is special to me. Also I like cream puffs. Pastries are nice, cinnamon buns and homer Simpson doughnuts especially.

5-Wangnan Ja- Tower of God

I saw the anime adaptation of Tower of God first, then decided to get a webtoons account to read it, as I heard some big bits were left out. I loved the story and binged it during my A-level exams month and the ones running up to it. I absolutely loved Wangnan's introduction and loved how he played off Bam and Khun. I really hope he comes back into the story again because I love his depressed ass.

6-Micheal. J. Caboose- Red Vs Blue

From the Red Vs Blue web series, which I started watching almost ages ago, as it came on Netflix, leading me to binge watch it multiple times, almost six or seven times. I love caboose as a character, due to his teamkilling, and general stupidly which hides his massive strength and brilliance with robotics and machinery.

7- Buggy the Clown- One Piece

I started one piece around 2019/20 during the summer and binged as many of the English dubbed episodes there were then read the manga from around chapter 800, where I couldn't wait for more EPs to be made, and then caught up. I love Buggy, purely because of his personality, cunning and tbh his style, he has a great presence and knows how to use showmanship. He may seem underpowered, but his closest opponents are either literal god's, or those approaching it. He is just very fun and I enjoy seeing him.

8- Tintin- Tintin

Tintin was the first graphic novel/ comic I really read that was story based. I loved the characters and places the series showed, and how Tintin managed to get through all of them with his wit, friends in high places, and ASTONISHING luck.

9-Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III- How to Train your dragon (Books)

One of the first books I ever read for myself, well really tied as first with 'A series of Unfortunate Events: The reptile room' was Cressida Cowell's, How to train your dragon, how to speak dragonese, the third book in the series. I went back and read one and two then read every book in the series. It was and remains one of my favourite books, and characters ever.

10- Bill Cipher- Gravity Falls

I like mad characters in fiction, where they just do what they want without too particular a reason. Gravity falls was one of the first shows I got really obsessed with when I was younger. And I got obsessed with Bill, I had him as my screen saver on my phone for ages.

@agarespicero @jemimacatclover @pursonsoisooi @irumeanie @iruma-kun-out-of-context @mairumakun @welcome-iruma-manga @firedragonsposts @welcometomemeschool @shaoron

#mairimashita! iruma kun #ja wangnan #tower of god #welcome to demon school iruma kun #suzuki iruma #bill cipher #michael j caboose #tanya degurechaff #hiccup haddock #tintin #one piece #captain buggy #mash burnedead #owari no seraph #owari no seraph mikaela

[ichigopanhpff]

Someday... Chapter 5: Room of Memories

[Last Chapter] -- [Masterlist]-- [Next Chapter]

Happy belated birthday to Mitsuya!

Sorry for the radio silence! I feel like I've just been posting stories up and gtfo of Tumblr. I recently started a new job and spent this whole time onboarding. This was a job I'd been wanting for a very long time so I'm gonna be working hard at it!

I'll still be posting stories up here, don't you worry. After "Someday..." finishes (which will be next week), I'll figure out the frequency in putting up "Sonata." The first chapter's surprisingly gotten a lot of reads and likes.

🎵BGM: GLAY "Happiness" | Lyric Translations

Warnings: Light alcohol consumption.

She gently set her gear bag on the couch in her office and plopped down beside it with an exhausted, heavy sigh, waving the t-shirt she wore to cool down from being outside. Ever since Mitsuya’s debut, requests for her services have steadily increased. She’d been running on fumes and was a job away from fully burning out. Feeling her eyelids get heavy, she shut them for a brief moment of reprieve and heard her door swing open with the vibration of the glass on steel frame.

“No,” she moaned, not caring who it was who came in. “No more gigs. I’m taking a month off to become a shut-in.”

“I know. You’ve been booked up to your eyeballs,” Ryota’s voice soothed with care and moved her bag to the floor so he could sit next to her. “I brought healing items.”

Lazily opening one eye, she saw a paper delivery box decorated with Beard Papa’s logo sitting on the low table. (Y/N) flashed a tired, grateful smile at her assistant.

“Have I told you you complete me?”

Dragging herself to sit upright with maximum effort, she let out another sigh when her assistant handed her a cream puff. She sunk her teeth into the sweet treat like a kid enjoying it for the first time, getting powdered sugar on the corners of her mouth.

“Oh sweet life giver of joy, carbohydrates and complex sugars,” she mumbled with a full mouth of pastry. “I will never forsake you.”

“How was the last job?” he asked before biting into his puff.

“The usual,” she took another bite of the treat. “The models were super cool and nice, but the clothes weren’t that interesting. They’re just copycats of what Mitsuya did, with a Harajuku-ish flare.”

Ryota let out a wondering hum and let his gaze wander to the magical looking dress hanging at the far end of the room.

“What are you gonna do with it?” he gestured to the garment.

“Return it, I guess?” she shrugged and finished her cream puff. “But after what happened… I dunno anymore.” Wiping her hands and mouth clean of powdered sugar, she reached for her phone to check her schedule for tomorrow. Her breath immediately hitched in her throat as her eyes widened with nervousness.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ryota as he finished his treat.

She slumped back onto the couch with a thud and leaned on her left like some kind of mob boss. She’d been drowning with so much work lately, she didn’t realize those two things were coming up so soon. Slathering her hands on her face, she dragged her fingers down agonizingly slow with a guttural groan and tilted her head up to the ceiling of her office. Rolling her line of sight back down to the dress currently hanging at the far end of the room, she sighed heavily again.

“His birthday’s in two days…”

“Well, then. All the more reason for you to see him,” her assistant pointed out with a small smile and a worried look. “You can’t keep going like this. It’s not good for your mental health.”

Continuing to glare at the hung dress, (Y/N) finally stood from her seat with a slap of her palms on her thighs and made her way over to it; she decided she’s wallowed in her crapulence enough.

“Fuck it,” she muttered and clicked her tongue. Carefully placing it back into the garment bag, she folded it in half and stuffed it back into the box it came in along with the shoes. “Tell anyone looking for me I’ll be out. Call it a mental health day or something.”

“You got it.”

Carrying the black box with both hands, she opened the door to her office with the push of her back; Ryota called for her one last time.

“If you really still love Mitsuya-san, tell him directly,” he advised with kindness. “Don’t hold these unspoken words close to your chest anymore.”

Flashing him a small smile, she made her way out. After a 20 minute taxi ride, (Y/N) arrived at the front entrance of the studio. Taking a breath to steady her heart, she approached the narrow entrance and pressed the button on the intercom for his office while juggling the box with one arm. A loud buzz rung out at the door seconds later, allowing her entry. Looking around for an elevator, she suddenly remembered the building was a walk up.

“Right…”

She huffed and readjusted her hold on the box tightly before ascending five flights of stairs. How the hell did she used to do this so easily?! Heavily stomping the last few steps, she finally arrived at the door to his studio huffing and dripping with sweat. Using her right foot to knock by kicking it, she could hear Mitsuya’s soft footsteps approaching to open the door.

“De… Delivery…” she tiredly gasped out, feeling the lactic acid build in her biceps and quads from fatigue.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with a tone of confusion. After what happened at the party with Draken, he thought he’d never see or hear from her again.

“Can you please take this box?!” she said in one breath as her temper began to flare. “It’s stupidly heavy!”

Exclaiming with surprise, he relieved her of the package and set it to a spare table near the door. She let out a long sigh of relief and stretched out her arms from holding it in the same position for so long, hearing her shoulder joints pop and crack. Mitsuya came back not too long after and got a better look at her wearing a flowy wide neck white t-shirt with loose fitting ripped jeans and sneakers, a big contrast from what she wore during the office meeting.

“D-Do you wanna come in for a bit? It’s pretty hot out.”

He held the door open for her to enter, to which she hesitantly accepted; everything still looked close to the same. The walls were a faded off white, but it gave the workspace character. Busts lined up on one corner in the makeshift changing room with the soft sunlight filtering in from the wide windows, illuminating a nearly finished wedding gown dressed on one of the busts. Rolls of fabrics and other items filled the cubby shelves that lined along the walls; pieces from his debut line hung on hangers on the clothing rack they built together.

A laptop sat at his desk beside various fabric swatches, pencils and scattered sketchbooks; a sewing machine can be found mounted to the far left. Above the couch hung a framed promotional poster of his debut line with a group shot of the models she did. (Y/N) made herself comfortable on the worn out leather couch beside a smaller clothing rack, feeling the cool upholstery on her backside from the air conditioner.

“Here.” She looked up to see the lilac hair streaked man hand her a small plastic bottle of chilled green tea from the mini fridge. Quietly thanking him, she took it and took a big gulp from it after twisting the cap off.

“What’s in the box?” he asked.

“The dress from the other night…” she quietly responded and rolled her lips in. “Figured I should return it.”

“Oh…” he said with a slight tone of disappointment, making her arch up an eyebrow of confusion.

“You said it’s a prototype for your couture line, no?”

“I’m still drafting up concepts for it, but that dress…” His lavender gaze wandered back to her. “It’s one of a kind… made for you.”

She raised her eyebrows and fiddled with the bottle cap with an incredulous look.

“Well, now I feel like an idiot.”

“Sorry ‘bout that…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “But I wasn't completely lying: I was testing out how the fabric would hold up. If I told them the truth, they’d never stop asking me questions.”

“Fair…” she agreed.

“If you don’t mind…” Mitsuya paused for a beat. “Can you put it on for me? I actually wanna make some adjustments.”

“Right now?”

“U-Unless you’re busy today,” he quickly responded, not wanting to be pushy considering what happened the last time they were alone.

“I’m supposed to be, but I made an executive decision to take the rest of the day off.” (Y/N) drew out a long breath. “I’ve been booked with non-stop fashion shoots thanks to you.”

“Business is good, I guess,” he let out an airy chuckle and watched his former lover drag herself off of the couch to grab the dress from the box. Walking to the far end of the studio, she pulled the curtain around for privacy to change. Hearing the shuffling of clothes from the other side, Mitsuya prepared the standing platform in the middle of his workspace and grabbed his tools. Draping the measuring tape around his neck, he refilled the pin cushion on his wrist with extra needles and heard the curtain pull back. His gaze widened with surprise, fully focused and drank in her glamour basking in the golden hour lighting of the sun.

He only managed to cast glances her way the night of the party and all he remembered was the dressed fit close to how he imagined it on her. The fabric color caught the light perfectly and the train he added to the dress ended up being a good choice on his end in order to make it a little flashy and flowy.

Her bare feet quietly pattered across the studio bashfully toward him, gathering the fabric to the sides of her hips so it wouldn’t drag on the floor sans heels. Carefully stepping up on the elevated platform, she let the dress hang loose in one swift motion. All he could do was dumbly stare in awe with his mouth ajar.

“Um, Mitsuya?” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Helllooo?”

He finally blinked a few times and cleared his throat, apologizing for dazing out. The lilac streak haired man ruffled his locks and looked away to gather his emotions.

“You just… You look very beautiful,” he shyly murmured to himself with a small blush and walked behind her to pin parts of loose fitting fabric around her hip area. “Arms up… Hm… got a little leaner here.”

“Been keeping up with the work out,” she beamed with pride.

“I should get back into it,” Mitsuya sighed lethargically, catching a glimpse at his now scrawny biceps with the light showing of stretch marks on his skin where his more defined muscles used to be from his youth. When they were still together, they did workout routines as a way to do more things with each other on their days off so they weren't slothing away into the grind of adulthood.

He continued to analyze the dress in silence, fully concentrating on the areas that need to be taken in. She noticed his physique was a lot thinner since she saw him last; the bones on his wrist and hands were protruding more.

Was he eating properly? Getting enough sleep? She didn’t like seeing this emaciated version of him.

“So…” she awkwardly drew out with her eyes darting around the office interior. “What are you doing for your birthday?”

“Hm?” He looked up with a blank look on his face and blinked a few times before it hit him. “Ah… It’s that time already?”

“You forgot your own birthday?” she asked in disbelief.

“You’ve done that too.”

“But that’s expected…”

He let out a quick snort before looking at his handiwork. “Okay…” he nodded. “I don’t need to take in much so it’ll be done quick.”

“How long did it take you to make this?”

“When did I go by your office to look over the proofs?”

“Like, close to three, four weeks ago?”

“’Bout that much time then.”

“… Weren’t you in the middle of setting up the show?” she asked with furrowed brows in astonishment. “And how do you even have my measurements?”

Mitsuya shot her a knowing look. “I’d like to think I know every part of you. Very well, might I add,” he boasted with a confident and mischievous glint in his light purple eyes.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she immediately snapped it back shut and rolled her lips in with a light dust of pink on her cheeks and huffed a breath through her nose with a small pout. All he could do was smirk and offered his hand for her to grab as she stepped down from the platform. She quietly thanked him before going back to change into her own clothes and reemerged moments later to hand him the dress, making sure none of the holding pins fell out.

“You never answered my question,” she said again with slight hesitation. “About your birthday.”

“How ‘bout dinner?” he suggested.

“Any place you wanna go?”

“Kinda want a home cooked meal. I've been too tired to do it myself lately.”

“Oh… Oh.” (Y/N) looked up at him with widened eyes before darting it back down to a random spot in the room, fidgeting with the tips of her fingers with unease and nibbled on the edge of her bottom lip. “Uh… I-I dunno ‘bout that…”

“We could do it at your place instead if it makes you more comforta—”

“Your place is fine,” she quickly cut in, suddenly regretting her words and mentally screamed at herself. She didn’t have much of a choice since she didn’t want him knowing where she lived. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me,” he said with a small smile gracing his lips.

So much for a last good-bye, she bitterly thought to herself.

Two days later, (Y/N) found herself standing in front of the apartment complex she once shared with Mitsuya with apprehension. The humidity and heat from the day clung onto her clammy skin. To prevent any possible paparazzi following or anyone recognizing her, she hid her face under a baseball cap and donned sunglasses.

Yes, they were former lovers, but they were also pseudo celebrities at the moment.

She had to be careful for both their sakes. Trolls on the internet were no joke and would doxx them the moment any sort of information carelessly slipped out. They were lucky to have friends they could trust to not do any of that stuff. Taking a breath to calm herself, she approached the entrance and pressed the button for his unit; the door let out the familiar beep she remembered.

“It’s just dinner. With your ex. Let’s just cook and go. It’ll be fine.”

Pushing the call button for the elevator, the twin doors slid open with an ear pleasing ding. Reaching the 8th floor, she made the turn to the left toward the apartment. And there she was, standing face to face with the entrance where she once called home.

Did it change much?

As these thoughts ran through her head, her hand unconsciously reached up and rang the doorbell. The clack of the door lock roused her back with a slight jump of her shoulders and she was met face to face with Mitsuya wearing an over sized black t-shirt and knee-length shorts. The two exchanged greetings and he let her in. Letting the cool air greet her at the foyer, she let out a content sigh as he took the bags of grocery from her hands. (Y/N) removed her sunglasses and hat, hanging the cap on the rack and put her shades on top of the hallway shelving unit.

“It’s so freaking hot out,” she groaned and took off her shoes before making her way into the bathroom to wash her hands and face.

“Forecast said it’s only gonna get worse later in the week,” he added and set the bags on the counter.

She huffed a breath of relief and walked into the kitchen. She looked around the apartment with a reminiscent gaze and immediately snapped out of it to unpack the ingredients.

“Luna and Mana said they might stop by later,” Mitsuya let her know. “Is that okay?”

“I should have enough here to make a portion for them.”

“What’s for dinner tonight any way?”

“Cold tanuki udon and croquettes,” she listed and got to washing a cucumber and some other vegetables. “I was gonna make nikujaga, but the meat didn’t look fresh.”

“That’s fine. Do you need any help?”

“Birthday boys only need to eat and drink today,” she spared him a glance. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

“A woman after my heart,” he carelessly let slip and grimaced by squeezing his eyes close and his lips pressed into a thin line at his poor choice of words. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you sayin’ stuff like that to your ex,” she cut in with an icy tone while dicing up the green cylindrical plant on the cutting board.

“I… don’t have a girlfriend,” he divulged, making her look up and stopped cutting for a beat.

“Oh.”

(Y/N) placed the diced cucumber into a bowl and put it into the fridge to chill before tending to the rest of the ingredients.

“What about you? Does your boyfriend know you’re—”

She snorted out loud as her response, followed with a dry laugh while grating the daikon for garnish. After finishing the prep work, she heated up a pan over the stove with water to make soft boiled eggs and took it back out fifteen minutes later. Unwrapping the premade croquette set, she heated up a frying pan to cook the breaded goods through. After another twenty minutes, dinner was served. Mitsuya grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and popped the tabs before walking back to the small dining table.

He looked down at the simple plating of udon with a pair of halved cherry tomatoes, diced cucumber slices, two halves of a soft boiled egg, wakame and agedama with the grated daikon and scallion sitting on top of the chilled udon noodles with hints of broth underneath. (Y/N) then set down the plated croquettes in between the two.

“Everything looks great,” he complimented and handed her a beer.

“Happy birthday.”

They clinked the necks of their bottles together and sipped the fizzy beverage before sitting down to eat. Just as they grabbed their chopsticks, the artificial lights in the entire apartment went out and bathed in what’s left of the sunset outside, making them both look up with surprise.

“A blackout?” she blurted out.

“Think I have a flashlight somewhere.”

Mitsuya got up from his seat and rummaged in one of the lower cabinets in the kitchen. (Y/N) opened up a window and the patio door to let some air into the apartment. Luckily, they were up high enough for the breeze to feel moderately cool, despite the humidity. He emerged a short beat later with some portable lights in hand. Flipping the switch underneath, the item illuminated the growing dark space and placed two of them on the dining table.

“Looks like it’s hit half of the Tokyo metropolitan area,” she scanned her phone for news updates. “No news on when things’ll come back.”

Mitsuya’s phone screen lit up with an incoming call and picked up.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked with concern. “Ah, I see… No, no. It’s fine. Just be safe, okay? Text me when you get back.”

“Was that Luna-chan?”

“Yeah…” he looked at his screen and closed it. “She and Mana are stuck on a train and said they won’t be able to make it over tonight.”

“Are they okay?” she asked with concern.

“She said the train staff at the nearest station are organizing a way to help the passengers get off the safely from the tracks.”

“That’s a relief…”

Noticing how worried (Y/N) was about his sisters, he couldn’t help but feel grateful. She knew how much his siblings mean to him and the fact she reacted like this showed him she still cared.

She really did still love him.

The two sat back down and slowly dug into the food. Mitsuya’s lips graced a small elated smile while he chewed his food, looking fondly at his meal as if tasting for something.

“How is it?” she asked before taking a bite of croquette.

“Your cooking’s as I remember it,” he answered tenderly and licked his lips of any remaining sauce. “It’s warm and delicious.”

“But it’s a cold dish.”

“Still tastes warm to me,” he looked up with a small curve gracing his lips.

A light blush graced her cheeks as she took another bite, wishing for the sun to set faster so the darkness can hide her face. Finishing their meal, they leaned back on their chairs completely content.

“I can’t eat another bite…” Mitsuya huffed out and covered his mouth to hide his burp from the beer. “Thank you, (Y/N). This was a really good birthday dinner.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’re too skinny.” She took a swig of her beer before standing up to collect the dirty dishes. He immediately reached across and grabbed her wrist.

“Let me.”

“Didn’t I say you just need to sit there and look pretty, birthday boy?” she repeated herself. “Plus, you’ve been working your ass off. Take a break.”

“You first.”

“I’m taking all of next month off to relax,” she divulged and proceeded to stack the dishes after he let go of her arm.

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“Even if I can’t, I’m still gonna,” she said. “If anything, time away’s gonna make the demand for me skyrocket. People want things more when they’re rare.”

“What if they fire you?”

“Then I’ll start my own studio,” she briskly replied. “That’s always part of my plan. Networking’s gonna be a pain though…”

While she busied herself with putting the dishes into the sink, Mitsuya watched her back profile like it was back then. He knew he couldn’t beat around the bush any longer and they’ll have to talk once and for all; he just couldn’t get the timing down. While his mind was drowning in his worries, he was suddenly met with a small strawberry shortcake with a lit candle on top right in front of him along with a wrapped item.

“Surely, you didn’t think there was no cake and present,” she said softly with a faint smile on her lips.

He looked up at (Y/N) with a mix of surprise and gratefulness, not knowing how to react. Reaching for the present first, he tore through the paper to reveal a biographical book on Coco Chanel.

“You remembered.”

“She is your muse, after all…” She gestured to the candle. “Make a wish.”

Mitsuya blew it out, watching the stream of smoke swirl up in the dimly lit room. His heart pounded in his chest as he suddenly stood with a clatter and crashed his lips onto hers, his arms finding refuge around her waist. She tried pushing him off, only to feel him pull in further and pushed her onto the nearest wall. He finally released with a gasp of air from his lips, trapping her between his arms.

“I’m not letting you go,” he declared with a hushed voice between pants as his hands found their way up to cup her face. She could feel his hot breath fanning on her lips and skin. “Not again.”

“Mitsu—”

“It’s Takashi,” he corrected with a small, strangled whimper and rested his forehead on top of hers; his hands reached up and cupped the sides of her neck for her to face him. “Call me by my name. Like you used to.” His tone was laced with desperation and need. “Please… Don’t leave me again. I’ve been so empty without you.”

“You left me first,” she quivered out as a tear slipped down her cheek, feeling her resolve slowly crumble. Twist the knife. Push him away. Make it hurt, she thought to herself. “You’re the one who doesn’t love me any—”

“I never stopped loving you! Not for one second,” he cut in with a crack in his voice and roughly caressed her cheeks with his calloused thumb pads, wiping the droplet away. “You warned me about Eri-san and I ignored it! I brushed you aside when I promised I’d protect your happiness," he squeezed out between sniffles through gritted teeth and shaky breaths. "I took you for granted.”

(Y/N) inhaled quickly and shallowly, looking deeply into his lavender orbs, searching for a reason to reject him.

“I saw your exhibition… I wanted to respond to your feelings…” he added.

Her eyes widened and flashed back to his debut show. “The extra pieces…” she whispered out with a shaky voice.

“The ones we made together.”

“You didn’t forget me,” she finally grasped with more fat tears rolled down the curves of her face and hiccuped. Her quivering hands slowly found their way up and touched his face tenderly.

“How could I?!” Streams of tears freely fell down his cheeks as he gritted his teeth. “You’re the love of my life. No one could ever replace you!”

They looked at each other through blurry eyes, tightly embracing one another as their knees collapsed onto the floor, openly sobbing into each other. For the first time in three years, their hearts finally connected. How many times did (Y/N) dream of this moment, only to wake up alone in a cold, foreign room from her travels?

Even though she made such an effort to try moving forward and here she was, back in the arms of the person who caused it.

“Your heart endured so much…” Mitsuya wept and stroked the back of her head. “Because of me, you carried all that weight... All that loneliness.”

He released from his hug and carried her bridal style into the bedroom. Setting her down gently on the plush mattress, her hands drew his face to her and was reminded of the taste of his lips on hers. That enveloping warmth, the quiet and gentle love they had once upon a time.

There was so much they needed to mend and talk about. And now, they had nothing but time in the darkness.

Taglist: @mor-pheus @netzukochannn @moodyhuesworld2 @someone4414

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