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#and trench coat for when it’s raining
seravph · 2 years
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moving from sunny Southern California to Long Island n I’m looking at coats i have 2 learn so much about warm weather clothing . Any1 have any tips
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fyorina · 27 days
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ᡣ𐭩 ROMAN HOLIDAY
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FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: you come across a suspicious figure laying unconscious on the beach near your apartment. concerned, and thinking that they might be dying, you bring them back to your apartment. a mistake, of course... or was it? {wordcount: 8k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys i am so nervous & excited, here is part 1!! i hope u guys enjoy this half as much as i loved writing this! reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!
SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B (coming april 5th!)
The last thing you expected while taking a late night break from studying was to find a man washed up on the shore of the bay. It’s been an awful day, you aren’t even sure why you decided to go for a walk in this weather but you were just so desperate to get out of your apartment that you didn’t heed the warnings sent to your phone about the severe storms. You blink a few times as you catch sight of the man, wondering if the hours spent confined to your room finally did you in, but no—through the torrential rain and the wicked winds of the storm, a figure is lying limp on the ground.
With only a moment’s hesitation, you rush forward, grimacing at the feeling of sand getting in your sneakers as you make your way across the beach to where the man is unconscious. You drop to your knees next to him, eyes wide and fumbling for your phone—a futile endeavor considering the rain just makes your phone slippery and the touchscreen useless.
Sighing, you shove your phone back into your pocket and instead focus on the man before you. He’s young, you realize, probably around the same age as you with dark wet curls and fair skin, wearing a tan trench coat. You reach out to press two fingers against the pulse point on his neck, letting out a sharp breath of relief when you feel it thudding steadily, even if his skin is alarmingly cold. You shake his shoulders, trying to get him to wake up, but he’s completely unresponsive.
Sitting back on your heels, you press your lips together as you stare down at the man, trying to figure out what exactly you should do about him. You can’t leave him—the storm is only going to get worse over the night. The weather channel said that Yokohama is facing the outskirts of one of the strongest typhoons to hit Japan in years, and it’s expected to go right over the city tonight. If you leave him, he could die, and you have enough on your shoulders with school, the last thing you need is some random man’s death hanging over you too. 
Resigned, you shift to a crouching position. You grimace as you look over him, trying to figure out if you’re even capable of carrying him—he’s tall, yes, but he looks thin enough. Not for the first time, you curse your workload for preventing you from going to the gym. Rubbing the back of your neck, you let out a deep breath as you grab the man under his arms, grunting as you do your best to shift him onto your back. 
You stumble forward a bit once you have him mostly settled on your back, but he’s much taller than you and it’s awkward trying to position him in the best way for you to be able to walk, especially with the pouring rain and the wind pushing you back. 
“Why are you so gangly?” you hiss to yourself, hopping up to try to push him up more because his legs keep knocking into yours, nearly making you trip. You swear it has to be on purpose because what are the chances that every time his legs swing, his foot nearly catches on your ankle.
With much effort, you make your way back up the shore to the road you had come from—luckily, you haven’t gotten far from your apartment complex, but it’s much more difficult walking with a grown ass man on your back through a storm than it is on your own. 
Spitting out occasional curses of irritation and purposefully jostling the unsuspecting man on your back around a bit too roughly, you finally make it back to your apartment complex, but evidently, your commotion has risen above the sound of the torrential rain and thunder because one of your neighbors is cautiously opening their door. You let a sheepish smile slip onto your face when your eyes fall upon Tamura Hotaru, who looks a little alarmed but not entirely surprised when she realizes it’s you causing the disturbance, accustomed enough with your presence in the complex to know that if something loud is going down, you’re likely at the center of it.
“Ah.” Your voice is nearly a wheeze as you speak, exhausted from carrying a grown man up the steps to the second level of apartments. “Sorry, Hotaru-san.”
“Are you… okay?” Hotaru asks hesitantly, stepping out of the apartment and outside onto the walkway in her slippers, the building luckily shielding the two—three—of you from the rain. 
“I’m fine,” you say, as if there isn’t a whole person draped over your back. “Can you open my door? My keys are in my pocket.”
A bit concerned, Hotaru nods and steps forward, awkwardly reaching into your pocket to take out your keychain, glancing again at the man on your back, uneasy. “Do you know this man?” 
“No,” you say immediately. “I found him unconscious down by the shore. Didn’t want to leave him there. Do you know him?” 
Hotaru shakes her head, making her way over to your apartment door and unlocking it for you. “Are you sure you should be letting a man you don’t know into your apartment?” Hotaru asks quietly. “He could be dangerous, you-”
You turn your head to the side a bit to look at the man, only to scowl as you get a faceful of wet dark hair. Turning your attention back to Hotaru, you say, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Hotaru does not look convinced, but she nods. “If you need anything, Hideyoshi and I will be home waiting out the storm. Yell if you need us.”
“Thanks, Hotaru-san.” You grin at the older woman, who only nods and steps back into her apartment, but not before casting you one last concerned look.
Without sparing another second, you push into your room, desperate to free yourself of the man’s additional weight because you can feel your entire body burning already and you do not want to be sore tomorrow. Unceremoniously, you drop the man down onto your couch and move to shut the door, but before you reach it, you glance back at where you had dropped him. 
Brown eyes stare back at you. 
You don’t move for a second, in shock, and immediately his eyes shut, as if he’s pretending to be unconscious still.
“I saw that,” you accuse, pointing a finger at him. You don’t get a response, a part of you wonders if you had really gone off the deep-end and you just imagined it, but you’re certain… “I saw that! Stop pretending to be asleep! I’ll hit you!” 
“Okay, okay,” the man complains, rubbing his head as he sits up and looks at you. “What is it with you women and violence? You’d get along well with Yosano-sensei.”
Your mind somehow feels blank and overwhelmed at the same time; you aren't sure if you’re embarrassed, angry, or just plain stunned. Maybe all three. Probably all three. The dark-haired man looks entirely unbothered as he peers around your apartment curiously, as if you hadn’t just lugged him all the way from the beach to your apartment during a typhoon, thinking he was unconscious or dying when he was just…
“You-” you finally splutter, both face and eyes aflame, “you were awake? How long were you awake?” 
The brunette only grins, looking mighty pleased with himself. “I mean, it was pretty hard to stay asleep when you were jostling me around like a sack of flour trying to get me on your back.”
Your jaw drops. “You knew I was struggling and you just let me continue? Why did you make me carry you if you were awake?” 
You have half a mind to throw a paperweight at him, fingers curling tightly around the turtle-shaped object on the desk next to you; as if he can sense your thoughts, he grabs one of your pillows and tucks it in front of him, getting ready to shield himself from the imminent threat. Or maybe he just knows he’s about to say something that’s going to set you off, because the corner of his lips twitch as he says:
“Why would I deny myself the opportunity of being carried around by such a lovely lady?” he asks, brown eyes so wide and innocent that it would have had you flustered if you weren’t already so angry. 
He was right to grab the pillow, because as soon as the words leave his lips, you’re launching the paperweight at him. He lets out a yelp, raising the pillow to block the attack and catching the heavy glass object before it can hit the ground and shatter, placing it on your coffee table.
“I thought you were dying-”
He sighs, longingly, “I wish.”
Your face twists into an expression that’s an odd mixture of concern and rage because what does that mean? Shaking your head, you turn to shut the door to your apartment, just a bit harder than necessary. A puddle has formed right at the inside of your door, the angle of the rain shifting just enough to make it into your apartment. Somehow, this day keeps getting worse and against all odds, you’re regretting taking a break from studying.
When you look back at him, you scowl when you see him inching toward the papers you have laid out on your coffee table—papers that you have very meticulously set up so you can rifle through them easily when you start outlining for your exam. 
“Touch my papers and lose your hand,” you warn, and immediately, he pushes out his bottom lip, casting you an expression that might have been cute if you weren’t so aggrieved. “Take off your coat.”
His eyes light up. “You’re trying to get me out of my clothes so quickly,” he coos, “we’ve only just met, but I’d be happy to oblige.”
You glower at him. “You’re going to get sick. I have no interest in seeing your lanky, bony body.” 
He pouts even harder at that, but at the very least he does as you say, stripping his soaked trench coat off and looking around the room as he tries to figure out where to put it. Rolling your eyes, you hold your hand out and he passes it to you. You’re tempted to toss it right out the door, but refrain, instead opening a nearby closet and hanging it on the top of the door, frown deepening when water begins to puddle on the ground beneath it.
Shrugging off your own raincoat and stuffing it away, you turn your attention back toward the man in your apartment. You think you should be more alarmed—that maybe Hotaru was right to be concerned—but he looks more like a wet dog than danger from the way he’s standing in your apartment with his hair matted to his face and his clothes clinging to his body, trying to get another peek at the papers on your coffee table. 
Cute, but a little pathetic. 
He sneezes.
A lot pathetic. 
“What’s your name, anyway?” you ask, leaning down to pick up what you assume is his wallet—it must have fallen out of his pocket when you were lugging him through the door. 
“Do you bring many men back to your apartment without learning their names first? Scandalous,” he immediately asks, eyes turned up as he shoots you a charming smile. Charming is generous, given that his nose is twitching as another sneeze suddenly comes on. “Dazai Osamu.”
You give him an absent-minded hum as you peeked inside his wallet only to find that the only thing he carried in it was his ID… not even a single dollar, or spare change, or a credit card. You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed. That’s a bit… sad. You have more money than that and you aren’t even working a job anymore. 
Shaking your head, you tossed the wallet at him, but evidently, he catches the expression on your face as you look inside it and he raises his own eyebrows, pointedly looking at your small apartment, as if daring you to say something about his lack of money.
“I’m a grad student,” you immediately defend. “You try going to grad school while working a job, I already barely sleep. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m a detective,” Dazai immediately says.
You scoff. “Must be a bad one, considering how empty your wallet is.”
“Ouch,” Dazai gasps, dramatically. “I’ll have you know I’m a very good one.”
“I’m sure.”
“I am.”
You don’t respond as you make your way into the only other room of your apartment—your bedroom. Distantly, you notice that Dazai is following behind you aimlessly. You kneel down to get into the bottom drawer of your dresser, pulling out a towel and a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. 
“Aren’t you going to ask my name?” you ask dryly. “Or maybe say thank you? And perhaps apologize?” 
“I already know your name,” Dazai immediately says. Your eyes narrow. He smiles, pointing to his temple. “Detective, remember?” 
Unconvinced, you say, “It was on the papers you were looking at.”
Dazai pouts. Again. But then he smiles in a way that makes you suspicious. “Look at those deduction skills, you should join me at the office. We don’t have nearly enough beautiful women there.”
You barely refrain from rolling your eyes, glancing at him again. He’s shivering—not much, only just enough for it to be noticeable—and his lips are a bit paler than you think should be normal. You shove the towel and change of clothes into his chest, he stumbles back half a step and looks down, surprised. 
“Take a hot shower, then you can leave. I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer,” you say. “You’re already testing the limits of my hospitality.”
“Oh? Are you going to join me?” 
The look you shoot him is nothing short of withering. You have not rescued a vulnerable, dying man. You have ‘rescued’ a menace. 
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“Cute duck towels,” is the first thing you hear after forty-five minutes of peace and quiet. “Really, rated five stars. They made the whole experience come together.”
You pride yourself on your newfound self control, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek and grip tightening on the papers in your hand as you ignore the dark-haired fiend that you had made the mistake of helping. Dazai, evidently, pays no mind to the fact that you are desperately trying to keep a hold of that thin string of restraint, plopping down on the couch right next to you.
“You can leave now, you ran my water bill up enough with that shower,” you say dryly, but even as the words leave your lips, there’s a crack of thunder so loud that it nearly shakes the whole apartment building. Your gaze tears from your papers over to the window, just as lightning strikes the center of the parking lot, your eyes widen just a bit, and you glance over at Dazai just as he looks at you.
Neither of you speak for a moment. 
“You survived long enough out there on your own,” you finally mutter, but resign yourself to focusing back on your notes. You aren’t cruel enough to cast someone out into such a dangerous storm, even someone as irritating and presumptuous as this Dazai is. “What were you even doing out there anyway?”
“I was trying to commit suicide. It failed, obviously. The storm currents knocked me out of the barrel, I think. I suppose it was for the best, it was getting pretty dizzy in there,” Dazai says so casually that you aren’t sure you heard him correctly.
“I’m sorry?” you ask, lips parted in shock, voice tinged with disbelief because how else are you supposed to respond to something like that?
“Hm?” 
“… are you okay?”
“Yes?” Dazai asks, shooting you a strange look as if you are the one that’s odd when he just off-handedly said he was trying to commit suicide. You stare at him for a moment, but decide to retain at least a semblance of your sanity and drop the subject instead of pushing. 
“Whatever. Don’t bother me, I have to study,” you say, trying to figure out where you had just left off. 
As soon as you find the bullet point, Dazai is talking again—your eye twitches, you’re pretty sure that was intentional. 
“Aren’t you nervous inviting a random man into your apartment?” Dazai echoes what Hotaru had asked you before. Exasperated, you look over at him, he’s leaning his arm against the back of the couch, turned toward you, resting his cheek on his bicep as he watches you curiously. “I could be a criminal.”
“You just said you were a detective,” you say dryly.
“I could’ve been lying,” Dazai counters. “Or I could, you know, be doing crime on the side.”
Pointedly, your gaze trails over him, taking in the way your sweatpants are riding up his calves and your shirt hangs off his shoulders, the bandages wrapped around his arms, ankles and neck. You let out a noise that’s caught between a laugh and a scoff, then look away. 
“What does that mean?” Dazai gasps dramatically. “That was so rude.”
You don’t deign him with an answer, picking up your pen to circle off where you left off so you can go right back to it once he’s tired of irritating you. You squint a bit and then cut your gaze back toward Dazai, realizing that the bandages are dry which could only mean…
“Did you raid my first aid kit?” you demand, turning to face him—you’d almost forgotten about the thing, you haven’t had to use it in… a long time. 
His eyes widen a bit. “Aha, about that-”
“Do you know how expensive those are? That was a nice one too!” 
Getting increasingly more frustrated, and feeling a headache coming, you lean over and lay your face in your hands, rubbing your skin harshly before rising to your feet. You grab a few stacks of your notes and make your way over to your desk, sitting down at the chair, away from the man whose existence just continues to drive you up the wall. 
But Dazai Osamu is relentless. 
As soon as you sit down at your desk, he��s following like a lost duckling, getting up and walking over to you. You look at him from the corner of your eye, exhaling deeply.
“Can you sit down?” you ask through grit teeth. 
Dazai acquiesces, but instead of sitting back down on the couch, he makes his new seat your desk, right next to where you’re sitting. You let your eyes slide shut, counting to ten as a means to calm yourself down. 
Your efforts are wasted, feeling Dazai’s lithe fingers wrap around one of your hands, lifting it into his lap. You don’t move physically, but your gaze snaps to the side, watching him carefully as he traces each of your fingers with the tip of one of his. 
“Your hands are so pretty, bella,” Dazai sighs, a smile on his lips that edges on flirtatious as he looks down at your hand. “Since you denied me the sweet relief of death earlier, perhaps-”
“No,” you say, taking back your hand, instantly deciding that you aren’t going to like whatever he’s about to say, so you don’t even want to hear it. 
Dazai pushes his bottom lip out again, you can feel his knee brushing your arm from how close he’s sitting next to you. “But-”
“No. Are you always this forward with women you’ve just met? Have some shame.” Your voice is sharp, and does not at all reflect how you’re starting to get flustered because of his proximity. 
This time, there’s no edge about the flirtatious smile that’s on his lips—his eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, voice just a bit lower. “Only with the beautiful ones that go out of their way to help me.”
“An action I’m thoroughly regretting, I promise you,” you tell him tightly, no longer able to deny that he’s making you feel frazzled. You stand back up and grab your papers so quickly that you know you had messed up the careful order you had them in before. “There are blankets in the closet next to the television. Goodnight.”
You make your way across the room, strides long and purposeful, closing your bedroom door and locking it before he can follow or say another word.
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You wake up much later in the night. Squinting at your clock, you scowl when you see that it only reads half-to-four. You consider just going back to sleep, but then your stomach starts rumbling and you know it’s a lost cause—you’re never able to sleep on an empty stomach. Rubbing your eyes and sitting up, you yawn before throwing the covers off of you and getting out of bed.
You don’t bother turning on the lights, you don't feel like blinding yourself, and you also don't want to actually fully wake yourself up otherwise you’ll never get back to sleep. You’ll just lumber over to the kitchen, grab a cookie or whatever else you have lying around, and then pass back out.
In your disoriented state, you completely forget about your guest until you step into the dark room and see a figure sitting at your window seat, faintly illuminated by the full moon outside, expression vacant and unsettling as he stares into the night—his eyes are exceedingly still and exceedingly black, like voids that consume everything around him. You hesitate, lips parting to say something when he doesn’t even register your arrival, but you frown when you realize that he hasn’t even pulled out a blanket or pillows for the night.
Has he just been sitting there all night? It’s been hours since you went to your room. 
“You shouldn’t sit that close to the window during a storm, the glass could shatter because of the window or lightning,” you say, and to Dazai’s credit, he doesn’t look at all startled by the sound of your voice. You wonder if he’d registered you there but just didn’t acknowledge it.
He lets out a longing sigh, the same one he let out earlier when you mentioned that you thought he was dying, and as he parts his lips to speak, you hold up your hand in a stop motion and say: “Don’t.”
Dazai casts you a forlorn look, but you can’t help but notice that it’s only half-hearted; he’s far more mellow than he was earlier. That empty look in his too black eyes is still there, and now that it’s settled on you, you feel a bit more unnerved—it’s a type of gaze that nothing can escape.
“You didn’t try to sleep at all?” you ask absently, making your way over to the kitchen.
Dazai lets out a noise, you aren’t sure if it’s in agreement or just acknowledging your words. “I don’t sleep well,” he says after a moment, voice a bit rough. You glance at him again, catching the brief, twisted expression on his face as he looks down at his hands. It’s like he’s a totally different person than he was just a few hours earlier. You frown a bit, cursing your bleeding heart because it tugs for the man when you catch that look on his face, as if he hadn’t been a complete menace to you not long ago. 
“Fair enough,” you say, opening the cabinet to see what you had. Your eyes light up when you catch sight of a mix in the far back, an idea setting in your head. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” 
Hot chocolate makes everything feel better. 
Dazai doesn’t respond right away, and you turn to look at him, questioningly, only to find he hasn’t budged from where he’s sitting on the window seat, brows furrowed a bit, dark eyes glancing at you with an expression just as questioning as your own. 
“... Have you ever had hot chocolate before?” 
Dazai doesn’t respond again, you take that as an answer in itself and repeat, far more appalled this time, “You’ve never had hot chocolate before?” 
You give Dazai a serious look. 
“Dazai Osamu, I am about to change the trajectory of your life,” you promise, making your way over to the counter, ruffling through the cabinets to get all of the ingredients you need for the fancy hot chocolate that your friend from university taught you how to make. Distantly, you note that Dazai has finally come away from the window, that odd, lost look in his eyes mostly gone as he approaches you curiously. “Some people prefer the traditional milk chocolate mix but I think white chocolate mix tastes better with oreos. Plus, this was how I was taught to make it and I’m not the best at making things so if I go off the recipe, I’ll probably ruin it.”
It’s a bit nerve wracking trying to make it with him hovering over you watching so intently, you can feel his gaze on you from where he’s leaning against the counter but you don’t dare turn to look at him. As you reach for the mint vodka, you ask, “Do you drink?”  
“Yeah,” he says, and you immediately set it out next to the rest of the ingredients, fumbling for a pot before pouring two cups of milk and the white chocolate mix into it. You turn on the stove, waiting for the milk to heat up. 
Hopping up to sit on the counter, feet dangling in the air, you look at Dazai again. It’s hard to see his expression from this angle considering the darkness and the way the moonlight is casting shadows over his face, but you think he looks a little better.
“My friend taught me to make this when I was stressing over my first year finals,” you say, glancing down at the pot. You can feel Dazai’s eyes laying heavily on you, and you feel a bit embarrassed sitting in your sleep shorts and top, but you push away the embarrassment to continue talking. “I’ve been obsessed with it since. You must tell me what you think.”
“Ah, bella, I’m bound to enjoy anything you make me.” His playful tone has returned but there’s a dull edge to it compared to the energy from before. 
“We’ll see,” you say, the spark of confidence you had earlier dwindles as you pour a generous shot into each of the mugs, turning off the stove and using a rag to grab the pot and pour the white chocolate milk into each of the mugs. 
You look around, trying to figure out where you had put the crushed oreos only to scowl when you remember the last time you had made the hot chocolates was when your classmate had come over to go over notes with you. He had put away all of the ingredients and… you squint, realizing that he had placed your little ziploc bag on the top shelf. Pursing your lips, you consider whether or not you should just hop on the counter but you aren’t even given the chance.
Your eyes widen a bit when you feel Dazai’s chest brush up against your shoulders as he reaches up over you to grab the ziploc bag you’re looking at. He drops it down on the counter in front of you but instead of immediately backing away, he lingers for a moment and you look over your shoulder up at him. His dark eyes are lidded and intrigued as he watches you; your breath catches, lips parting to say something but no words leave them. 
“Here you go.” The ghost of a smile inches onto his lips.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally steps back, the warmth against your upper back and shoulders disappearing instantly. Your face burns, you promptly turn back to finishing the two drinks. Stirring the alcohol into the drink, you reach into your fridge to grab the marshmallow cream, spooning an ample amount onto the top of each drink and decorating it with the crushed oreos. 
Once you’re satisfied with how pretty it looks, you take a step back to admire your handiwork, wishing that you hadn’t left your phone in your room so you can snap a picture and send it to your friends. 
Picking up both of the mugs, you glance once at Dazai, who’s waiting expectantly, a gleam in his eyes that’s faintly excited. 
You don’t hand him his cup. In fact, when he reaches for it, you move out of the way and ignore his offended expression, shuffling carefully over to the couch and putting it down on the coffee table before darting to the closet that stores your blankets, tugging two out and dragging them over to the couch. You toss one to the opposite side of the loveseat as you make yourself comfortable cross-legged on your side, wrapping yourself in the blanket and reaching for your hot chocolate. 
Pointedly, you look at Dazai and then to the mug of hot chocolate, and then to the seat next to you. 
He makes his way over to you, taking a seat on the far edge of the loveseat, a far cry from how he had sidled up as close as possible to you in the same seat before. You think he looks a lot smaller than he did before, sitting cross-legged in front of you with your shirt hanging off the shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate with copious amounts of marshmallow cream in between his hands. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his skin looks a little paler than it did earlier—you figure that despite your efforts, he’d still fallen ill because of how long he spent out there before you showed up.
“Go on,” you say, refusing to take a sip until you gauge his reaction to it. You feel uncharacteristically nervous—maybe you shouldn’t have talked it up so much. 
Pointedly, Dazai Osamu meets your eyes as he dips his head down to take a sip of the drink—unable to lift it without risking the marshmallow cream and hot milk spilling over the sides. You watch raptly as he takes the first sip. At first, there’s no reaction and you have the distinct urge to wallow in disappointment, but then he blinks in surprise, taking a much larger gulp of the drink. 
Your eyes light up, pleased. “You like it,” you say, taking a sip of your own drink, extraordinarily proud of the tasteful balance, considering you were half asleep while making them. 
Dazai winks. “I told you that I’d enjoy anything you made me,” he says smoothly, looking more at ease now than he did before, but it’s hard to take him seriously when there’s a white foamy mustache coating his upper lip. You press your lips together, biting back a giggle, and Dazai’s eyes narrow. “Are you… laughing at me?”
You snort, the serious expression on his face only making the situation more comical. 
“You got a little something…” You trail off, pointing to your upper lip. 
Dazai doesn’t look at all embarrassed, instead he tilts his head to the side, that flirty smile dancing on his lips again. “Clean it for me, bella?” 
You let out a noise that’s half a scoff and half a laugh. “You wish.”
“I do,” he sighs breathlessly, eyelashes fluttering as he looks at you. “What if I say please? Then, will you grant me the honor of kissing those exquisite lips?”
“How about you tell me about some of your detective cases?” you ask instead, leaning your head against the back of the loveseat as you watch him curiously. You have no intention of kissing him but you’re curious to know if he’s telling the truth about his occupation. “Then maybe I’ll think about it.”
“Ah, I see! You want me to herald you with stories of my heroics—that’s a great idea, you’ll never be able to resist me after you’ve heard all of my valiant deeds!” Dazai exclaims, leaning in a bit. “Allow me to tell you all about my most recent feat—the rescue of a poor, starving orphan and subduing the vicious white tiger that was terrorizing the city.”
You stare at him from over your mug. A vicious white tiger terrorizing the city? Is he making this up or are you really that absorbed in your study world that you hadn’t even known about it?
“What?” you ask, voice dry and laced with disbelief. You were expecting a murder case or missing persons case, not some fantastical do-gooder story. 
At least it will lull you to sleep.
“It’s the truth! The agency handles all types of dangerous cases—I’m sure you’ve heard of us, the Armed Detective Agency.” Dazai sounds pleased as he speaks. You have heard of them, they’re that agency of ability-users that focus on violent crimes, but you can’t help the doubt that creeps through you as you eye him suspiciously because is he really an ability-user? Catching your expression, he complains, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true!” 
“What’s your ability then?” you ask curiously, you can feel drowsiness starting to hit again as you watch Dazai, waiting for a response. “Show me.”
Dazai laughs, although the sound seems a bit nervous. “Well, you see, bella, my ability is being able to cancel other people’s abilities. So…”
You roll your eyes, smiling lightly as you take another sip of your drink. “How convenient,” you murmur.
Dazai withers. “It’s the truth,” he laments, “I would never lie to such a beautiful and kind and lovely and-”
“Aren’t you going to tell me about how you rescued a poor, starving orphan and subdued the vicious white tiger that was terrorizing the city?” you interrupt him, and Dazai’s eyes light up again.
“Of course,” he agrees. “Now, imagine my surprise when I found a young boy on the banks of Tsurumi River while I was out taking a stroll one evening. He was so pitiful and hopeless that it just tugged at my heartstrings, so naturally, I offered to take him out to eat and let him order as much as he wanted…”
Your eyes droop as you listen to Dazai Osamu regale you with his grand account of heroism—the rescue of Nakajima Atsushi, bringing him into the detective agency, and his fight against the ferocious tiger. You watch vaguely as he tosses his hands about exuberantly as he speaks, eyes bright, a far cry from the empty expression that had been on his face when you had entered the room… or, maybe it isn’t a far cry, because even as he speaks you catch something indecipherable thinly veiled behind his dark eyes. 
Although, you might’ve been imagining it in your drowsy state.
Distantly, as your eyes slide shut, the warmth of the hot chocolate spreading through your body and Dazai’s voice lulling you back to sleep, you notice the man reach forward and take the mug from your hands, placing it down on the coffee table so it doesn't spill. Sleepily, you part your lips to thank him, but it only falls off into a yawn as you finally drift back to sleep.
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Bemused, Dazai Osamu watches you sleep. He had been certain that you weren’t what you seemed, that you were planning something nefarious—it’s the only explanation as to why you would go out of your way to help him the way that you did. There are people out there actively hunting Atsushi, the bounty on his head is heavy and there’s already been attempts by the Port Mafia and other smaller organizations to capture and cash in on the bounty. He figured that you’re one of them, going after him to try to get information on Atsushi. Dazai had been doing his best to figure out who exactly had set the bounty but he had resigned to accepting that the only way he’d get the answers he needed was through the Port Mafia itself. 
Then you showed up, and he thought maybe an opportunity was presenting itself because it was a bit suspicious that you found him in the middle of the night during a typhoon and brought him back to your apartment without any semblance of fear or hesitation. As soon as he had realized what was going on, he had decided to stick it out to see what happened. 
At first, he thought maybe he was being carted off to one of the enemy organizations—and if it was the Port Mafia, it was all the better as it just made his plan easier because at least they would be through the trouble of bringing him to them. But then you brought him to some run down apartment complex and he thought that maybe you were a rogue bounty hunter, which was a little more irritating because he doubted anything informative would come from it. Those types only got the information for the bounty and fulfilled the contract, they never had any additional, useful information about their employers or reasoning. 
But there’s just… nothing suspicious about you. 
He thought maybe he’d find something in those papers that you tried to keep him away from but they were just… notes about literature and politics. Then, he thought that maybe it was encrypted but no matter how he looked at it, it was just notes. He frowns as he cards through the papers again, careful to not disturb the particular order that you had left them in so that you don’t realize he had gone through them. 
There has to be something he’s missing—he places the papers back on your desk and looks around. He doesn’t believe that you’re just some random civilian who brought him back to help. No one is that kind. Especially not to him. Not without some kind of ulterior motive. His eyes draw across the room, catching the chipped paint of the walls, the windbreaker strewn haphazardly across one of the kitchen chairs, the stack of textbooks on the counter, and the picture hung up on the wall of a much younger you and an unfamiliar boy. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that sets his alarms off.
He paces across the small room before he sets his eyes on the door that leads to your bedroom, wondering if his questions would be answered in there. Glancing once back at you to make sure you’re still deep in sleep, he pushes open the door to enter and slips into the room. 
He doesn’t know what he expects, but he’s met with disappointment when he steps into your room and realizes, again, that there’s nothing that stands out to him as strange. Some clothes are strewn across the floor near your dresser, as if you’d tossed them about in a panic to find a certain outfit, a suit jacket hanging on your closet door, a half-empty bottle of water on the ground near your bed. Everything is… frustratingly ordinary, and only leads him to the conclusion that you are just some random civilian. 
But then why would you go out of your way to help him?
The question rings through Dazai’s head over and over again. It’s not often he finds himself stumped by people—humans are predictable, their desires and motives are easily foreseeable, but no matter how much he prods and tries to fluster you into slipping up to reveal something that could give him an answer, you stay resolute. You’re either the most formidable actor that Dazai has ever met or you’re just… nobody, and you really had just gone out of your way to help him for no reason other than just having a good heart.
For some reason, the thought of that makes him infinitely uncomfortable. 
He sighs as he makes his way out of your room, shutting the door behind him quietly. He would have to up his game tomorrow, one last shot to figure out whether or not you’re what you make yourself out to be. 
Dazai’s gaze drifts down to where you’re cramped on the couch, neck hunched over in a position that has to be uncomfortable, a frown pushing at your lips even in your sleep. Could it really just be that you were a civilian? That you’d seen someone hurt and went out of your way to help? He just can’t be convinced of it, no one in this city went out their way to help without having an ulterior motive, but there’s no evidence of any and his gut is telling him…
Dazai lets out a puff of air, moving forward to try to gently shift you into a lying position, draping the blanket over you and watching as your face smoothes out as soon as you are in a more comfortable position. He grabs the hot chocolate you had made for him, not as warm anymore but still tasty, and he sits back down on the window seat that he’d been sitting on before you had woken up. 
Dazai rests his head against the cool glass, eyes sliding shut as his mind races, knowing damn well that sleep would evade him for yet another night. 
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“Woah, woah, yeah!” You rub your eyes as you wake up to the sound of someone singing under their breath. “You can’t do a double suicide alone~” 
You crack one eye open in confusion as the lyrics register through your head, peering over to where it was coming from. Dazai Osamu is sitting back at your window seat, nodding along to whatever imaginary tune is playing in his head as he sings along. The storm has passed quickly, evidently, but it isn’t necessarily nice outside—the wind has calmed and the sun is peeking through the clouds, but the rain is still coming down. He looks pretty with the sunbeams cast across his face, eyes closed and a smile teasing at his lips as he bobs his head along, dark curls flopping in his face. You’ll never admit it, but you admire him for a brief second because he is very attractive when he isn't running his mouth at you. 
You yawn as you sit up, realizing that he must have shifted you into a lying position during the night and fixed the blanket to cover you. Amused, you can’t help but notice that not only is his drink finished, but yours is too. You feel a bit proud, internally preening like a peacock.
“Morning,” you say, voice rough with sleep as you stretch—your back hurts, but you’re grateful that your friends insisted you spend the extra money on a nicer couch because otherwise you would be in agony. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Hm?” Dazai turns his head to the side, looking over at you. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
His voice is light and playful, the shadows of vacancy that had haunted his face during the night long gone as he turns his attention to you. You narrow your eyes at him a bit before standing up to make your way over to the kitchen to grab yourself a protein bar. You kneel down to fumble through the lower cabinets, securing two of them before standing back up straight. You toss one over to Dazai before focusing on unwrapping yours, distantly noticing him eye it, intrigued. 
“What time is it?” you ask curiously, taking a bite of the protein bar, squinting because through the clouds, the sun looks like it’s fairly high in the sky but it’s impossible to tell with the mostly dark skies. 
“Near noon,” he replies, and you nearly choke over the bite you just took and make your way back over to the couch hastily because you have a video meeting in less than an hour. “Oh, someone’s in a rush.”
“I have a meeting,” you say, fumbling for your phone and finding out that yes, it is 11:49  and your meeting starts at 12:30. You have to shower, and get set up, and make sure your wifi is up and working because if it isn’t you have to get somewhere where it is because you can’t afford to miss the meeting. “So, it’s time for you to go.”
“It’s still raining though,” he complains, shooting an affronted look toward the window. “You’re going to make me walk all the way to the Agency in the rain?”
“Yes,” you say, frazzled as you made your way into the laundry room, pulling open the dryer door to grab Dazai’s clothes and jacket. “The weather has cleared enough. You’ll survive.”
Turning to leave, you bump right into Dazai, who had followed you right into the laundry room and you hadn’t even noticed in your panic. You shove his clothes into his chest and then usher him back out of the small room and into the main room of your apartment, ignoring his protests. 
You aren’t even sure if you have your slides ready for your presentation, you realize, severely distraught. You had asked your two group mates to handle the last few slides because you had done all the rest of the work but you don’t trust them further than you could throw them. You hate group projects, you thought you’d be free of them in graduate school but the world is simply unkind.
“Now, now, now, wait up for a second,” Dazai says loudly as the two of you reach your front door. He digs his heels into the ground and holds up his hand in a ‘stop’ motion. You barely acknowledge him as you unlock your door, opening it wide. “We made a deal last night, didn’t we?” 
“Did we?” you ask amused, raising your eyebrows as you turn to look at him. He’s standing a bit closer than you expected, gaze heavy but his smile is light. Long fingers reach out to tug at a strand of your hair. Dazai leans in close, nose touching yours.
“A taste of your lovely, cruel lips in exchange for the stories of my heroic deeds?” he prods, giving you a close-eyed smile.
You’re proud of your self-control, able to maintain the amused expression even with his proximity. “I believe I said I’d think about it,” you correct.
“And?” Dazai presses, leaning against the frame of the front door as he awaits your answer.
You lean in just a tad closer, lips nearly brushing his. His eyes flutter shut as he waits for the kiss but instead of pressing your lips to his, you say: “They simply were not impressive enough.”
His hand flies to his chest as if he’d physically been wounded, head tilted back in mock agony as he falls back against the doorframe. “How could such beautiful lips speak such cutthroat words?”
“Out,” you say, pushing him out of the frame and onto the walkway, into the rain. 
He looks unperturbed, leaning back in with imploring eyes as he says:
“Ah, bella, but won’t you indulge me with just-”
You slam the door in his face, turning to lean against it. You pray that your face didn’t betray how flustered you actually feel, hand covering your mouth and eyes sliding shut as you try to recollect yourself
Trouble, you decide, as you listen to him bemoan your ‘sweet cruelty’ and swear that he would get the chance to woo you again. That’s what he is. He’s trouble. And you have a feeling that this won’t be the last time you encounter him. 
You aren’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing. 
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clockwayswrites · 2 months
Text
Danny/Constantine, blue, petrichor
@void-of-unparalled-chaos
WC: 537
It was a fucking cliché, that’s what it was: a dark and stormy night. No moon in the sky, lightning jumping between heavy set clouds, and the steady beat of rain.
Constantine shrugged deeper into his trench coat.
At least the rain was helping settled the dust from the building coming down.
He cupped his hand around his cigarette, desperately trying to light it despite the damp conditions. He’d need a smoke to get through this conversation.
Those things are going to kill you, the voice echoed through him. It wasn’t a mental voice spoken into his head, no, this was a voice that was all around Constantine. It vibrated through his very bones like he was inside it.
The voice laughed. Against his own determination to be in a bad mood, Constantine felt something inside of him unwind at the sound.
Inside of my voice, the being pondered, obviously having latched onto that thought. Maybe. If you take me to dinner I’ll let you properly be inside me tonight. And Mi Casita doesn’t count. I want somewhere I can actually sit down.
“Luv, you haven’t even got legs at the moment,” Constantine pointed out and gave up lighting his cigarette. He wouldn’t get it to light if the other didn’t want him to.
You know I can. You like my legs very, very much when I have them.
Well, they weren’t wrong there.
John stubbornly ignored that and gestured with his woefully unlit cig. “Done for the night then? Not any more ruin and destruction you need to rain down across the city?”
Rain drops caught in a light that didn’t exist, flashing like stars for a moment. Oh, you’re miffed at me.
“Miffed? Miffed? I’m fucking pissed, mate!” John said. He ignored the feeling of air pressing around him like a caress. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking into this lot?!”
The rain drops scattered in light again but this time the ‘stars’ stayed. Colors started to catch in the water like a fain rainbow or aurora. It was beautiful, but they they always were.
“Now they’re a fart in the wind and I’ve not a bloody chance of figuring out what they wanted!”
You. The force of the word had John shivering. The world wrapped tighter around him. The colors started to condense. They wanted you and they cannot have you. You are mine, John Constantine, Hellblazer, Laughing Magician. You belong to me.
John swallowed. “Possessive much?”
There was that laughter again. The echoes of the sound stopped existing absolutely everywhere and instead came mostly from the person-shaped mass of colors that was forming in front of John. You like it.
John harrumphed.
“You do,” the voice came from a mouth now, one John could barely see inside of the form of color and light and stars. They leaned in and pressed that newly existing mouth to John’s.
He closed his eyes.
The light still bled through his lids like a supernova.
“You knew what you were getting into with me.”
John sighed and opened his eyes to glare at partner. “Danny, mate, I assure you that no one ever knows what they’re getting into with you.”
Danny just laughed, the git.
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stariikis · 2 months
Text
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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩
synopsis ; going off my older fic engraving on my wrist , jungwon is late for a 'date', but you don't suspect the underlying reason behind his tardiness.
pairing ; idol!jungwon x trainee!reader genre ; fluff, situationship, getting together, oneshot wc ; 834
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You’re not very sure why Jungwon would ask you out to a nearby café just to be thirty minutes late and leave you waiting. But you trust the process. 
Is it too late to cancel the ‘date’, and go back to the company? You’re growing incredibly sick of the countless camera flashes directed your way. Of teenage girls, fluorescent bangle bracelets adorning their wrists and idol photocards clasped to their school-bags, coming up and asking for your signature. Is Jungwon late or is he not coming? 
Your frantic messages go unread even when you check your phone for the millionth time. It’s not very ideal in the situation, but your mind starts to go into a frenzy. What if something happened to Jungwon? What if it’s my fault, what if I did something wrong? But I can’t have, can I, if I’m just sitting here waiting for a date? 
A date. You almost laugh out loud. What are you even thinking? He still hasn’t asked you out and here you are, foolishly believing it’s a date. 
Date, date, date… it’s all Jungwon’s fans can think about. Because of their influence, it’s all you can think about too. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty when the thought of Jungwon taking you out crosses your mind, though. It’s like you’re desperate, or something. The beginning of a scowl prods at your lips – at fourteen, you vowed never to be the desperate one, after comforting your best friend through a difficult break-up. 
Sneaking a glance down at his initials on your wrist, you start to contemplate getting up and going for dance practice with your trainee friends instead. Oh, the scolding you’ll give Jungwon when he finally answers your texts… he’s going to wish he never even said hello to you, that first day when you showed up to the company, freshly fifteen. What kind of stupid reason for being tardy will he give this time, you wonder? 
Just as you’ve given up on waiting for him and started to get ready to leave, thunder rumbles loudly outside. Whipping your head around to check the only window in the quaint café, your heart sinks. Raindrops strike the clouded glass, each one a representation of the shards of panic stabbing you. 
How are you going to leave now? You’re never going to listen to the morning radio’s weather forecasts anymore. Next time, you’ll be guaranteed to bring a damn umbrella around. This day isn’t going very well for you, is it? 
While you’re sulking, slumped over your table-for-two hopelessly, you don’t notice Jungwon bursting through the door and coming up to you. He is completely drenched from head to toe, brown cotton trench coat not doing much to block out the rain. A small puddle of wetness forms on your shirt as he taps your shoulder. 
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly when you turn your head in confusion. “The line at the bakery was super long.” 
You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he hands you a huge plastic bag with assorted breads. A couple beads of rain drip down the sides. 
“I’m really craving bread,” you whine, flopping down onto the wooden ground during one of your breaks. Jungwon pulls the beanie off his head and sits down beside you with a tiny grunt. 
“Bread? That’s a really weird craving,” he teases you, craning his neck to seek agreement from Sunoo and Riki, who’ve joined you that day for dance practice. They simultaneously glare daggers at Jungwon as if saying they don’t want to get involved, and so Jungwon turns his attention back to you. “What kind of bread, though?” 
Is what he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t just taunted you for wanting to eat it. 
“The one with strawberry paste inside. I haven’t tried it myself, but I heard it’s super go-” 
“IT REALLY IS SUPER GOOD!” Sunoo slides over and interrupts, truly the foodie of his group. “You should try the blueberry paste one too! And the new one where they put raspberry bits into the dough…” 
You snap out of the memory and unwrap the plastic bag, checking what’s inside. Sunoo’s list of recommendations are all inside, and some extras that Jungwon knows are your favourites. It’s so out of the blue and sweet of him that it makes you laugh. 
“This is why you’re late, isn’t it?” You mutter, feigning annoyance. 
He looks down at his shoes, looking ashamed. “Maybe. Sorry if they’re soggy. I didn’t have an umbrella because I believed the stupid weather forecast this morning.” And he looks utterly dejected about it.
How cute. 
“It’s okay,” you pull him into a gentle hug, patting his back soothingly. “It’s the thought that counts.” 
Take that, delusionalists in the crowd here. Jungwon is mine! 
“But…” Jungwon moves his head closer to your ear, and you get the eerie feeling something is coming. You’re proved correct as he hesitates, then whispers lowly, “but now how am I going to properly ask you out?” 
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thanks for reading! if there are any other tropes or members you want me to write about you can send in an ask or comment here~ i'm very bored so i'll write pretty much anything sfw
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moongreenlight · 5 months
Text
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who despite his better judgement lets Soap talk him into picking up a girl for the night.
Mdni. Nsfw below cut.
Apparently Soap knows a guy who knows a guy in the area they’re deployed. They’d been staying at some shithole inn in France for weeks. Driving into the city to stake out some mark day in and day out. Tedious, mind-numbing work. Sitting at cafes and on patios at pubs people watching. Looking for anyone that may or may not match the vague description that had been provided by some mole on the other side.
Simon could sit still and shut up. Johnny was a separate issue. He could dial in for a few hours at a time, but then he’d start to slip. Bored and antsy, he’d try and strike up conversation. Inevitably returning to what must have been his favorite topic, or the one thing plaguing his mind the most. He’s horny. Fucking hell, is he horny.
Bitching and whining about not being able to get any play here because he doesn’t speak a lick of French and even when he tries it comes out so muddied that nobody takes him seriously. And that the inn they’re set up at is years away from town. Paints him out to be a serial killer.
Simon would grind his teeth and endure yet another one-sided talk about how bored Johnny had been getting of his hand. Even the left one wasn’t doing the trick anymore. He’d resorted to calling in some favors he was apparently owed to get the help of some girls in his evenings off.
“Jesus. Lookit the legs on her.”
Johnny had almost fallen out of his chair swiveling his entire body to watch some girl in a short skirt and a long trench coat stride past their spot outside of a cafe.
“Mhm.”
Simon was in a better spot to watch her pass. Eyeing her frame from over the rim of his steaming mug of tea. Fucking dreadful day. Drizzling rain. Bordering on sleet because of how miserable the weather was. Cloudy with a breeze that felt bitterly cold even through his coat. Shit tea, too. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander.
Not like they’d made any progress. Not like they could make any progress being staked out on a side street with no traffic whatsoever. The girl had been the only person other than their server that they’d seen come by in the last half hour. And sure, she had good legs. Better than their server’s at least. Some cranky older woman who’d ignored his attempts to order in French and looked mugged off that she had to deal with them at all, especially sat outside in this weather.
“Hell’s bells. Almost forgot you had a brain in there somewhere.”
Johnny, of course, couldn’t resist making a dig.
“Don’t get carried away.”
Simon grunted.
“Naw. C’mon, L.T. You like girls? They’ve got girls.”
Should have predicted that he was going to run wild with this.
“M’warnin’ you.”
“Loads of girls. Fuckin’ customizable. Send you a preference sheet and everything. Real professional operation.”
Johnny snickered into his paper coffee cup. Given to him along with a nasty look when he’d fidgeted with the ceramic mug he’d first had a bit too much and sent it smashing into the pavement.
Simon wasn’t one to be jerked around cock-first like Johnny, but Jesus. He was wearing thin. Maybe the isolation was getting to him. Maybe a seed had been planted somewhere deep in his mind from Johnny’s moaning. Not to mention, it was impossible to get it up watching French cable porn on a twin bed. He was backed-up and pissed off with the work. And with no end in sight, it could push a man to do strange things.
He shifted his hips forward in his seat, taking a long drink of his tea as he scanned the empty street for the umteenth time.
“Haven’t used up all your favors?”
You would have thought he’d just backhanded Johnny the way his eyes bugged out of his head.
“Gie’s a break.”
“Jus’ a question.”
Simon shrugged, sighing like he was already regretting asking. He was.
“Don’t work me up over nothin’, L.T.”
Johnny grinned, waggling his brows and leaning his forearms onto the table. Now completely distracted from the task at hand.
“Johnny.”
“Sure I could work somethin’ out. Only ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous. Ken yer a’right owing me a favor?”
Simon snorted.
“Sure I can manage.”
Johnny’s eyes were glinting something awful. More lively than he’d been in days. Practically laying over the table and kicking his feet. Thrilled to finally have the means to something Simon wanted.
“We’ll see about that’.”
Conversation moved on. Dragged back to the mission with instruction to change location. They spent a full ten hours out in the rain and the cold and the grey for absolutely no payout. Again. Still at square goddamn one. It was arguably worse than combat. Least on a real mission he’d get some release.
Johnny had stepped away in the early evening to make a call. Just before they were tapped out by Price and Gaz. Likely cashing in his favors owed, because he came back with a smug smile and two pints. Saying something about how Simon needed to quit taking himself so seriously. All work and no play or some stupid shit to that tune. Made a comment in passing on their drive back to the inn about how he should get his quarters decent by nine.
Honestly, Simon wasn’t expecting much. It was a bit of a ridiculous concept to him to begin with. He’d regretted saying anything straight after the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to entertain some two-bit whore, even if she just served to curb his boredom. He never sought out things like this. Never felt the need. He wasn’t like Johnny or Gaz where he had to sneak off during missions for a wank or a quick fuck when time allowed. Not like Price where he’d seek a willing nurse or secretary to grope or bend over his desk on a day off. Sure, he’d take the opportunity if it arose, but he was always more focused on the job while he was at work rather than chasing his next high.
And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken anyone home. Fucked into his hand as much was necessary to keep everything operational. Knew when it was time when he started lashing out on a hairpin trigger. Got lazy on missions. Lost one too many sparring matches during training because he couldn’t focus.
So when nine came and went, he just found himself agitated that he’d requested the woman at the front desk change the sheets on his bed again so late. Ducking out to the balcony for a cigarette when she came in and slipping her a few euros on her way out despite the way her lip curled distastefully. Fucking frogs.
He was sat on the armchair in the corner of his room. Halfway paying attention to whatever channel was on the TV across from him and nursing a tumbler of shit whiskey he’d picked up from the shops their first night in. Swapped his mission clothes for a black tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Tugging his balaclava over his face out of pure habit. Strictly instructed not to wear it out for the sake of keeping a low profile. Though he wasn’t sure how much good that did. He stood out from the crowd with his scars and crooked nose and tattoos without the covering. Whatever. Wardrobe wasn’t his job for a reason he supposed.
The sharp knock on his door grated heavily on his last nerve. Eliciting a low growl, but no movement to answer. It was half ten at this point. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just another group of teenagers lost on their way to a friend’s room.
Another knock, and this time it didn’t stop. A muffled giggle through the door.
“Jesus Christ.”
He grumbled, shoving up and striding over to the door. Jerking the door open and using his hulking frame to cover the small opening he allowed.
Johnny’s fist nearly collided with Simon’s jaw. Distracted by the two girls stood behind him in the hall, giggling at him and batting their lashes. He was grinning like a goddamned devil. Chest puffed-out, shoulders rolled back. Entirely too comfortable.
Simon cocked a brow, giving the group a scornful once-over.
“Aye, L.T.! I come bearing gifts.”
Simon’s brow shot up further, eyes flicking from his friend to each of the girls behind him. Johnny immediately caught on to his confusion and barked a laugh, slinging his arm around the shoulder of the girl on the left. She sunk comfortably into position, leaning into him and giggling like it had been rehearsed.
She was pretty. Both of the girls were. The one tucked under Johnny’s arm had long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bright green eyes. Great smile. Perfectly groomed. Both of them covered conservatively by long coats to protect from the rain that had gradually started to come down harder and colder through the day. Hard to tell they were hooking by looking at them.
They seemed more familiar with Johnny than what Simon could assume was normal. It made his stomach turn if he thought too much into it, so he didn’t. Instead he side stepped, allowing the second girl barely enough room to slip through the door, and jerked his head for her to move.
“S’pose I know better than to expect a thank you.”
Johnny grinned, entirely unbothered by Simon’s glare that was boring through his skull. Arm already wandering down the auburn haired girl’s back at an alarming speed.
“Not as dim as you look, Sargent.”
Simon sighed, snapping the door shut.
“You’re late.”
He said flatly before he’d even finished locking the door. Turning to face the girl who’d already made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Leaned back on her hands, flashing him a dazzling smile.
“Throwing off your schedule, am I?”
You said, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. This made Simon recoil slightly. He’d been expecting some trashy, mildly-disgusting woman to come stumbling through the door when Johnny had mentioned he was cashing in favors. Not you. Not by a long shot. You looked, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Expensive. Perfectly styled, glossy hair. A tasteful amount of makeup. Not so much that it marred your features, but enough to make you nearly unapproachably attractive. And relatively covered-up. Expensive looking fur-trimmed coat falling just above your ankle.
Noticeable lack of a French accent. And you weren’t cowering in his presence, which suggested that you’d dealt with worse than him. A thought that sent something strange down his spine. Jealousy maybe? Anger? Sympathy? He wasn’t in the mood to dig further into that.
He crossed the room, lowering himself back into the armchair he’d been stationed in before his night was interrupted.
“You’re an hour and a half late.”
His tone was clipped. His eyes cold and hard. Fixed directly on you in an almost invasive kind of eye-contact. He jerked up his balaclava to his nose to take a deep drink from his glass. Studying you from over the rim. Killing the contents and setting it back on the side table with a soft thud.
You pursed your lips for a fraction of a second, standing from the corner of the bed and pacing across the small room to stand in front of him. Threatening to encroach on his personal space. Smiling tightly in a way that seemed to come with a practiced nonchalance. That same feeling settled in the center of his stomach.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I got caught up.”
Your soft, sweet tone did nothing to tame his irritation.
“They couldn’t even send a professional?”
He shot back tersely, folding his arms over his chest. You cocked your head slightly to the side. A fraction of genuine humor peeking through your smile.
“Plenty professional.”
You shrugged, letting the comment roll off of you. Water off a duck’s back. It irritated Simon to no end and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Trying to settle his mind by watching the way your perfectly manicured fingers began to work on slowly undoing the buttons of your coat with careful attention.
He snorted, tugging his balaclava back down over his jaw.
“That your thing, then?”
You gestured to his face covering. Shrugging off your coat to reveal a fucking scrap of a dress. Much more in-line with what he’d imagined a hooker to wear. A tiny, black, strapless thing that hugged your curves like it had been sewn directly onto you. Black lace garter pulled high on your thigh. Knee-height black boots that must have made you four inches taller than you were.
He cocked a brow, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair.
“Somethin’ like that.”
You cracked a true smile at that. Folding your coat neatly in your arms before setting it on the beat-up dresser to his right. Returning attentively to your spot in front of him.
He stiffened. Already perfect posture becoming rigid to the point of snapping. Keeping his hands firmly planted on either arm of the chair. Narrowing his eyes as he looked over your face in much closer detail.
“It’s late.”
Was all he managed. Voice rough as ever.
“And?”
You tilted your head like a confused dog.
“And you were an hour and a half late. It’s late.”
He shot back dryly. Nails digging into the chair.
“Let me make it up to you.“
You sank to your knees just between his legs surprisingly gracefully given how tight your dress was. Falling delicately onto the disgusting carpet. Faded and torn and fraying. Scratching at your bare knees. Didn’t even pull a face. Conditioned to understand that this was normal. Trained to grin and bear it. Another stone added to the weight anchoring him to his seat.
It was horribly cliche. Such a painfully tacky line, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; so he shifted his hips forward and allowed your slender fingers to dance up his thighs and dip under the waistband of his sweatpants. Aided you in tugging them down to his ankles. Grit his teeth together when you began palming him through his underwear. Trying not to catch your eyes that were fixed up on him. Trying to push the nagging voice in the back of his mind away. Reminding him of just how dirty this was. Made him feel fucking pathetic. Calling in the aid of a hooker like he couldn’t bed a girl himself.
And the worst part. The part that brought up the most self-loathing; was how fucking fast the blood was racing to his cock under your touch. How much he truly enjoyed seeing you knelt down and blinking up at him with a look that could have been confused for adoration. Maybe you were a professional.
He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when you finally sprung his aching cock free from his boxers. Forcing his head back to avoid your gaze. Pressing it hard against the wall to the point of giving himself a headache. Scarring the soft wood of the chair’s arms with his nails when you licked a hot stripe from his base to the tip.
All of his guilt and knotted up emotions seemed to dissolve themselves at least partially when you wrapped your lips around him. He’d almost forgotten just how warm a mouth was. Infinitely better than his hand. Jesus, was it.
He kept his hands to himself. Not needing to guide you like he had so many others. Tried to let himself relax under the feeling of your hand gripping his base and your mouth working his tip. And he nearly did get swept away when you removed your hand and tried to force his stiff cock to the back of your throat. Allowing you to work at choking and gagging around him for longer than was probably polite. But again, he just found himself irritated. Edging himself out of pure goddamn accident because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself from his mind.
He couldn’t understand why you were such a sticking point to him. He’d had one night stands before. Hell, that’s all he’d had. Never cared much about the quality or condition or history of the girls he slept with. Maybe he had a savior complex he was too stubborn to admit to. Maybe his mind had been so warped and addled over the years that he formed some kind of baseless connection with you for God knew what reason. He just couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.
He would have liked to. Would have liked to screw his eyes shut and focus on how good you felt wrapped around him. Mouth hot and wet. Wanted to focus on the ecstasy of your throat struggling to fit him. Listen to your soft, choked whines. Let himself pretend you were no different to the others he’d bedded before, but it was fruitless. He made a low sound, a growl that lodged itself somewhere in his chest, before taking your jaw in his hand and pulling you off of him. Cock still throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.
“You need to go.”
He made the mistake of glancing down. Saw the way your perfect makeup had begun smearing around your eyes and down your cheeks just barely. Big eyes rimmed with tears. Nose running, chin and lips glistening. Slick from your own spit. It nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew inevitably he was prolonging his own torture.
“What?”
Your voice was hoarse because of how much strain your throat had been under. Softer than it had been. Less confident. You looked almost hurt. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and sniffing softly. Jaw held fixed in his hand.
“You need to go.”
He repeated, firmer this time. Sucking his teeth. Trying to ignore the way your gentle panting cooled the shining trails of spit running down his shaft and sent a chill up his spine.
Your face twisted in confusion, mouth falling open. Leaning back on your haunches to look him over like he’d suddenly grown another head.
“Is it not good?”
He groaned softly, finally letting go of your head. Not realizing just how much effort it had taken for him to pull you off until he saw the small red marks decorating the delicate skin of your jaw.
“S’fine.”
“Fine?”
You looked properly offended. A little confused. Like this had never happened before- and it probably hadn’t. Of course he’d be the one to stain your perfect record. Of course he’d be the one to warp your pretty face like that. Drove him up the fucking wall.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now he was backed-up, pissed off, and you wouldn’t leave as easily as he would’ve liked. If he was lucky, he’d still have half a hard-on by the time he got you out the door. Maybe coax out a less than satisfying orgasm that would at least put him to sleep.
“Gave myself lockjaw for fine?”
You spoke again, those same nimble fingers now gently massaging the hinge of your jaw. He tried to avoid looking at the way your dress bunched around your hips and revealed your panties. Black lace that matched the garter on your thigh.
“It’s late.”
He huffed a sigh. Leaning down to fumble in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Needing anything else to focus on. It brought him nearly nose to nose with you. Not realizing until he flicked his eyes up. And you didn’t recoil. Sat there half glaring at him, the tip of your nose almost brushing his through the balaclava. You were pretty even this close. Probably more so.
“You’ve said.”
You shot back cooly, brows knit together.
“Have I?”
He pulled back up, hooking his mask up over his nose once more and sticking the cigarette between his teeth.
“Few times.”
You looked wholly unamused. He flicked his lighter open. Lighting the tip and taking a deep drag.
“Meant it a few times.”
He shrugged, speaking through his exhale. Turning his chin up and away from you so the curling smoke didn’t wash over you.
You snorted, pushing up to your feet, putting your hands on your hips and giving him a once-over.
“You’re seriously asking me to leave?”
His teeth sunk into the butt of the cigarette just a fraction too hard. He felt the crunch of the filter bending under the force.
“S’not you, it’s me.”
He offered. A wisp of a dry smile tugging momentarily at the corner of his lips. This earned another smile from you. He caught it even through the way you chewed the inside of your cheek.
“You married?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. He almost choked on the cloud of smoke he’d been drawing in.
“No.”
His voice was harsh. Like a string pulled taught to the point of snapping.
“So what is it? You don’t like me?”
You shifted your weight a bit, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were uncomfortable. You still held yourself confidently. Shoulders rolled back, posture straight but not stiff.
“Bloody hell.”
He groaned, rubbing his brow.
“Is that it, then?”
You prodded further.
“No.”
You seemed thoroughly dissatisfied with his answers. But he didn’t know what else he could say. You seemed fine. Pretty girl. Got him closer to an orgasm than he’d come in weeks. He just couldn’t get over the fact that you were hired out to do this. Made him feel too dirty. That and he’d already looked too far into the situation. You seemed like you’d been doing this longer than anyone should have to. Strangely enough he felt some obligation to protect you. Wanted to pull you away from whatever situation that had pushed you to this.
“So what’s the hang up?”
You huffed a sigh.
“Don’t usually do this.”
He grunted out, resigning to the fact that he’d have to drink himself to sleep at this point. Leaning down to jerk his sweatpants back up his legs.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
You snarked back. He snorted a humorless chuckle from around the cigarette.
“Nothin’ against you.”
“Yeah, alright.”
You shook your head, a small smile curving your mouth. A mix of confusion and amusement. Like you couldn’t believe that this was really happening.
“I’m not in the business of I.O.U’s.”
You said, looking over your shoulder while you walked over to grab your coat from the dresser.
“S’at so?”
He ashed his cigarette into his empty glass. Trying not to snort when you flashed him a sour look.
“You’re sure? I’m supposed to be here all night.”
You were already fastening the buttons on your coat. Glancing past him to the window on the back wall of the small room. The curtains were drawn, but through the backlight of the street lamps outside you could see rain streaking the glass.
“Mhm”
He hummed his answer. Silently grateful that you were finally moving toward leaving. Least he’d be able to get a few hours of shut eye before having to go back out tomorrow. Hopefully sleep off the guilt and the slightly sick feeling that’d settled itself over him.
You left a few minutes later. After making absolutely certain he was sure. Then it was ‘cheers’ and he was dead bolting the door. He got a fresh glass and downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Not enough to even get him tipsy, but enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep for the few hours he allowed himself.
He should have been expecting that Johnny would give him a fucking earful in the days following. You must’ve said something to the auburn haired girl and it got around. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him shit like he was getting paid to do it. Couldn’t believe that he’d pass up an opportunity like that.
They got shipped back to base about a week later. Simon was thankful for the short break. Slowly working on forgetting the entire mission. The whole ordeal with you. Focused his efforts on training and filling out the endless towers of paperwork that’d gathered on the edge of his desk in his absence.
And then it was months later. And he’d made good progress on forgetting France. Mission was a bust. Wasted time and money and effort for no payout. Turns out their mark had been in Germany the entire time. Tipped off that they were on the lookout for him. Johnny slowly stopped his teasing. Only occasionally bringing it up when Simon dismissed the efforts of an overly eager private. Things went back to normal.
After getting intel on a new assignment, Price had urged the boys to get together at some pub by base for drinks on him. Chat about next steps and do some more of the team bonding he was so keen on. Simon grudgingly obliged. The bar was full of people seeing as it was a Friday, so he was content people-watching and grunting a few words when prompted. Decent way to kill a few hours.
He’d excused himself to go outside for a smoke, pushing through the crowd until he finally reached the side alley next to the pub. Taking a few long moments to work his way through a cigarette and let his head stop pounding from the noise of the inside. He wasn’t focused on anything in particular, at least not until he heard some shouting on the street.
He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing off the brick he’d been leaned against and sidling out to see what was going on. Not usually interested in the commotion, but moving out of some deep-rooted obligation to supervise a situation.
He saw a car with dark tinted windows rolling slowly down the road. The driver leaning half-out his window and shouting something over to a girl who was walking by herself down the sidewalk. Her back was to Simon, but he could tell by how stiff she was that this wasn’t a friendly exchange.
He groaned under his breath, taking a moment to debate on if he should get involved before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. Starting down the street toward the girl.
It didn’t take him long to close the distance between them. The girl was walking slowly, he could see the way her head was on a swivel, searching for an escape. The driver of the car was shouting something crass at her and she was making a point of not engaging.
“Alright?”
He called out through the dim street, rolling his shoulders back and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Puffing out his chest slightly in case his sheer size alone wasn’t enough to impress.
The driver faltered slightly, the girl did not stop to look back.
“Yeah, mate. Cheers.”
The man called back, trying to sound casual. Simon grunted and nodded, staying as friendly as he could. Moving a little closer to the curb to shield the girl from view. Thankfully, this was all the interaction the driver seemed to need to get the hint. Pulling off without much more prompting.
The girl’s posture immediately relaxed. Shoulders dropped, slowing her gait to a stop.
“Thanks. I owe you-“
Her voice cut off like someone had pressed mute when she turned to face Simon. He was stunned. Fucking shocked to see your face. This had to be some cruel trick played on him by the universe.
You looked great. Better than you had in France- if that was even possible. Even with the way your face paled, he could tell. Your eyes were brighter. Shining at him like headlights. He would have been able to convince himself he was hallucinating if you hadn’t had that same look of recognition painted over your face.
“Thought you weren’t in the business of I.O.U’s.”
He broke the silence after a few long moments. Both of you stood rooted to the pavement mere yards apart. Your breathless laugh broke the tension like a stone dropped in the middle of a stilled lake.
“I wasn’t.”
He nodded sharply.
“And now?”
You smiled. Brighter than you had before.
“I could be persuaded.”
He scoffed.
“S’at so?”
798 notes · View notes
s-4pphics · 8 months
Text
let the rain sing. 4 (a.a)
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wc;cw: 7k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap(oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi<3, slight angst yall know the deal, brief mentions of familial death, cigarettes, nasty sloppy sex MDNI, dubcon(they sipped a little), couch action :p, eating out no taco bell(pussy and ass), tribbing, meantop!abby, strength kink, lots of dirty talk, breeding kink😳😳, mult. orgasms, BREEDING STRAP(idk how they work im sowwie if it’s not accurate :/), slight d!p, body fluids(spit, fake and real cum LOL), UNPREPPED ANAL PLS DONT DO THIS, dumbification, degradation kink, pain kink it’s me duh, hair pulling, slapping, slight mirror sex??
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The holiday season passed, and you were standing on Abby’s porch with your tail between your legs and exhaustion weighing you down. 
You’ve never been… nervous to see Abby. Whenever you arrived at her home, you were eager and desperate to be in her presence so she could take care of you, but now you were nauseas at the thought of using her that way. And it was all your fault. 
You haven’t spoken to her since the Christmas party. You didn’t know what to say. How do you approach somebody that you think hates you after an encounter like that? She went from rightfully kicking you out of her home to rubbing your pussy through your pants without care. In front of your entire family despite your mutual rules, and you didn’t even care enough to stop her. It almost felt like you switched places for the night: she was impulsive and irresponsible, and you allowed her to be, just like how she used to when she handled your demanding attitude. You wished she touched you more before she respectfully departed your parents’ home. 
You wanted to speak with Abby properly. You never thought you would be willing to sacrifice your kryptonite once you found it, but she didn’t deserve to be dragged along and solve your problems anymore. Your heart still hurts at the thought of making her cry and leaving her to it. You’re such an idiot. 
You called her before you showed up, but she didn’t answer. You don’t blame her for being distant, but she deserves an in-person explanation as to why you should never see her again. You’re a trainwreck and you need to deal with that alone, no matter how exhausting the journey would be. 
The sun was setting when you finally exited your car knocked on her door, looking down at your scuffed boots that dug into the melting ice on her porch. You wanted to check to see if her key was still in the same spot under her rug, but you refrained. Your heart filled when you noticed her unique little Christmas decorations still dangling from her door and windows. She loved her flowers, for sure.
When the door yanked open, your heart dropped, and your stomach did somersaults. 
Abby was dolled up in a red dress under a black trench coat with matching red nails and shoes, sparkling jewelry, and her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail that cascaded down the back of her neck. She looked fucking gorgeous, and your throat went dry. She leaned against the frame as she eyed you, shock evident on her face. 
Don’t fold, don’t fold, don’t fold!
You watched her surprise swiftly shift into confusion and… aggravation? Your heart sunk further into the floor, but you held her gaze. 
“What’re you doing here?” 
Her voice made your heart squeeze painfully; You missed it terribly, regardless of how stiff she sounded. 
You took a shuddering breath, “… Hi, Abby.” 
She ignored your greeting, “What are you doing here?” She sounded like she was in a rush, and you wanted to cry. 
You swallowed harshly, “I-I know you’re probably busy, but I’m— “
“Look, I can’t deal with this right now. I have somewhere to be,” she quietly huffed with agitation like someone would hear, adjusting the shining watch on her wrist to check the time. You could feel her pulling away. 
It felt like every cell in your body was dying, your brain fighting on its last legs to conjure up a reply to get her to stay and speak with you. You would’ve dropped down to your knees if it wasn’t freezing. Is this how she felt whenever you would shut her down to fuck? Nausea came in waves. 
“I don’t,” you weren’t shaking from the cold. “I don’t wanna do anything. I just wanna… apologize.” 
She rolled her eyes at you, “Keep it. Are you done? I gotta leave soon.”
You were motionless, your hands squeezed into fists in your coat pockets as tears jerked in your eyes and lips quivered. Don’t fucking cry!
Your brain didn’t fight hard enough because she shook her head when you didn’t comment, reaching for the door to slam it in your face. It forced you into action, shoving your arm between the open space to stop the wood from shutting completely. You couldn’t control the panic you felt at the thought of her hating you. You don’t remember the last time you cried like this. 
“A-Abby, please, I’m so sorry, I can’t,” your heaving picked up as you sobbed to her. “I can’t stop thinking a—bout you and I feel awful and I know you hate me, and you s-should but’m so sorr—y. Please, I can’t— “
Abby seemed unsure through your watery gaze, the tensity in her face dropping slowly as she gauged you. You felt her wrap a light hand around your bicep as you broke down, ushering you inside with soft shushes. 
You listened and followed her guide to the couch, taking a seat as you cried out your apologies to her. Your wails overpowered the volume of her coos; She was too fucking nice. 
She stood over your sitting form, her soft, rose-scented hands holding your chin as she massaged the back of your pounding head. “Shhh, stop crying, stop.”
Your eyes met hers, and your heart burned, “M’sorry— “
She sighed, “We’re gonna… we’re gonna talk, okay?” 
You nodded, sniffing harshly. You didn’t deserve her hospitality, and you felt guilty accepting her courtesy. Had you really been so heartless to such a gentle soul?
She hummed, “Want some water?” 
You didn’t answer. 
She took your silence as approval and made her way to the kitchen. 
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You calmed down. Slightly. Abby was able to remove your coat and boots without fuss; You were too busy blowing your nose with the soft tissues she handed to you. 
Abby sat next to you on the couch, earrings, coat, and heels removed and slung on the floor near the coffee table. She allowed you to take some sips of your water before she spoke, voice as soft as ever. 
“Okay to talk?” 
You nodded, setting your glass down on the decorative table and using your sleeves to wipe your still wet face. 
You took a deep breath. A few deep breaths, and she let you. 
But when you finally opened your mouth to speak, her phone rang. 
Both your eyes darted towards the coffee table; a contact named DON’T ANSWER read across the screen. Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes gliding between her and her device. You’ve never seen Abby have a negative reaction towards anyone except you; Who did she not want to answer? 
She sighed heavily, reaching towards her phone to mute the ringing. A few moments of silence passed, and the call ended, but the caller popped up again. 
She tsked, reaching for her device with agitation. She answered it, annoyance evident in her tone. 
“I'm not coming. Stop calling me.” 
Your ears perked with intrigue. Was she meant to meet with someone tonight? She sounded so upset. 
Some distant ramblings came through her earpiece before she shot back at the person she was speaking to, “I don’t care. It’s not up to you!” 
The person got louder with her, the voice masculine. You saw Abby roll her eyes as she listened to the shouts. Why was she getting screamed at?
She spat nastily at the man before hanging up. “Fuck you. Don’t call me anymore tonight.”
She turned her phone off and tossed it onto the longue chair near the TV before turning back to you, the flame in her eyes slowly extinguishing. 
“Sorry,” she breathed awkwardly, massaging her temples. 
You shook your head, “Don’t apologize, I’m in your home. You can do what you want.” 
She hummed at you, her expression suddenly distant. She wasn’t looking at you, but at the hand that rested on your knee. Why was that making your body hot?
“I really came at a bad time, huh?” You huffed.
“Mhm,” she answered before backtracking. “I hate talking to him.” 
You spoke before you could think, “Who was it?”
“My ex.”
Your heart frosted over. 
“H-Husband?”
She nodded slowly, like it brought her shame to admit. You don’t know why that made your stomach churn with something red. Something fiery that you never felt. How long were they still in contact? You knew they weren’t on good terms due to Abby’s past dismissal of your questions about their past, but now you were really confused about where they stood. 
“D’you still talk to him?” 
“You interrogating me?” You stiffened at her tone, darkly sarcastic. Fuck, stop fucking up! 
You shook your head incessantly, “Not at all! Just… yeah, I don’t know why I asked that.” 
“What an honest lawyer,” you saw her lips curl upward into a smirk, and you exhaled a sheepish laugh, your hands squeezing into fists on your lap. She’s fucking gorgeous. 
“Not a lawyer yet.” 
She bit playfully, “Gonna be soon.” 
You made a noise in agreement before silence passed between you.
Abby’s voice made you look up. “We don’t see each other often, my ex and I. Not anymore at least.”
“… Oh. What were you guys going to do tonight?”
Abby shrugged, “Get drunk. Fuck probably.” 
You probably looked calm on the outside, but you felt every organ in your body burn like fire at her admission. You were stiff, your nails digging into your palms as grounding. Why are you getting so fucking pissed over them communicating? The fuck?
You couldn’t help yourself, “How come?” 
“It’s winter. We’re lonely and miss our daughter.” 
You felt like you were dunked into a bottomless tub of ice water. Your brain went into overdrive and your throat closed like you were going to cry again. 
She shook her head like nothing mattered, “Not the best coping mechanism, but.” 
“A-Abby— “
She cut you off, tone hushed, “We shouldn’t meet anymore, but he just… gets it. Gets me and what I’m still going through. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get rid of him no matter how much I hate his guts.” 
You sat there and listened. This is the most personal conversation you’ve had with Abby since the first time you met. You finally met her eyes, waves of emotion flowing through them like ocean waves; You were here, and you wanted to listen to her. I’m sorry for shutting you down in the past. Please talk to me. 
You placed an encouraging hand on her bare shoulder, and she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed. She was so tired; You recognized exhausted stiffness from anywhere. 
“He’s the only… person I have, honestly. It’s really weird,” she huffed a laugh, rubbing her nose. “We had her alone, we raised her alone, I buried her without him, and now we just… drag each other along in our grief. She died such a long time ago and we’ve made no progress, but I can’t… I can’t leave him.” 
You could hear the pain in her voice as she spoke, and it tore you to pieces. You can’t imagine what the two of them went through after such a grave loss; You knew it was your parents’ biggest fear. You had no idea how to talk her through this wave she was experiencing, but both your hands flew down to grab hers in her lap. You rubbed and squeezed them tight, hoping she would accept your presence again. You have me! I’m here, too. I'm sorry I wasn't before, but I am now. 
She looked down at your locked fingers, shocked at the gesture. She released a shuddered breath and squeezed back, grabbing your hand like you would slip away. 
She continued, her eyes glossy, “We always meet up around this time of year. For anything. For sex, to cry together. We could spend hours yelling and screaming at each other and then walk out of each other’s lives like nothing happened, just to do it all over again. I’m so… fucking tired.”
You shook your head in understanding. She needed comfort, some solace, a distraction just as much as you did, even if it’s only for a second. You wish you knew a better way to appease her emotional needs, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what to say, so you did what you should’ve done a long time ago. 
She confided in you, and you listened to all of it. 
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Abby pulled out an expensive bottle of wine some time ago. You couldn’t stop smiling. 
Abby’s laugh was music to your ears, “I can’t believe I fucking did that!”
You shook your head as you beamed at her, “You don’t know how shook I was! I thought I was hallucinating! I don’t know what my cousin put in that fucking blunt, but I was on my ass the rest of the night.” 
You and Abby were facing each other, knees touching on the couch, in hysterics about the… events at the Christmas party. She tossed her expensive watch somewhere earlier, her posture content as she leaned back against the arm of her couch. You thought your first conversation after your argument would be much more unnerving, but you were both at ease and light. And a little tipsy. 
You weren’t sure how long you’d been at her house, but you didn’t want to leave. You’re so glad you came to see her. 
Her hands flew to cover her face, her face burning red, “I’m sorry. Aghh, I fuckin’ cringe. Jesus.”
You shrugged, “Great memories.” 
She hummed in agreement, her head tilting as her eyes wandered all over your face. Your face warmed, “You look pretty with your hair up.” 
She raised a brow at you, “Oh?”
“Um… yes,” you replied sheepishly. 
“I think that’s the first compliment you’ve given me,” she joked, but that made your heart hurt. 
“You’re really pretty, Abby,” you replied instantly, tone quiet as your heartbeat picked up. Her expression softened when she called out your name. 
You shook your head, eyes dropping to your hands in your lap, “I'm really sorry for yelling at you.” 
Her hand came up to lift your chin, “Hey. I’m not upset anymore. We’re gonna be fine, okay?” 
You nodded, eyes flickering between her mouth and eyes. She whispered your name again, thumb caressing your face. 
“Yes?” 
She whispered, inching forward slightly, “… How much trouble would I get in for kissing you right now?” 
Your tummy instantly swirled, and you grinned, “I dunno. A pretty good amount, I think.” 
She moved closer, tongue rolling over her lips as she eyed your mouth. 
Your breath shuddered, hand coming up to grab her wrist. You whispered as your face burned, “Kiss me?”
She snorted. Her nose brushed against yours, a smirk plastered on her face as she sniffed, “Yeah?”
Your core squeezed in approval. Abby released the hold she had on your face, strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You followed, straddling her lap, arms looping around her neck. You could see the skirt of her dress riding up from beneath you when she stretched her legs out. She smelled like roses and Barolo. 
“Hi,” she whispered with a grin. 
You smiled back at her, “Hi.”
Her lips brushed against yours, “Kiss me.” 
You cheesed, mischievously pecking her cheek, and she stared at you blankly. You giggled and pinched her squishy cheeks. 
“Kiss me for real,” she scolded lightly. 
You snorted, poking the space where her dimples are, “Mmm, nah. changed my mind, actually.” 
“Oh yeah? Don’t wanna kiss me?” Her voice lowered. 
Goosebumps rose on your skin, but you shook your head at her anyway. Your defenses weakened when her grip tightened on your hips and head dropped, planting soft kisses down the expanse of your neck. You could feel her nails tickling the sensitive skin on your back as she softly caressed you. Your eyes went glossy. 
She mumbled against your neck, “Missed you.”
Your heart fluttered. You breathed, “Really?” 
“Mhm, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Doesn’t matter how much you get on my fucking nerves,” her hands slowly crawled up your waist. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
How does she speak her mind so easily?! “Miss—missed you too.”
“Missed me touching you like this?” 
You nodded quickly, and her tongue swiped up the side of your neck. You breathed heavily in her ear, eager to touch her. You pulled back so you could see her face, friskiness dissipating when you connected your lips. She purred in your mouth, lips molding against yours as you grinded on top of her, her red lipstick transferring onto your mouth. 
You grabbed her soft cheeks in your hands, gasping when her hands slid down to grab your ass through your jeans. Her tongue licked into your mouth, and your toes curled in your socks. You missed kissing her so badly. 
She was kissing you stupid, tugging the hair at the back of your head as she sucked your bottom lip. You shakily brought your hands up to her ponytail to undo the elastic, and her locks fell down her back like liquid. Your arms wrapped around her neck to kiss her deeper, pulling tightly at her soft strands. 
She moaned into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, “Need some head?”
You nails dug into her shoulders, “Y-You don’t have t— “
She rolled her eyes, “It’s not for you, it’s for me. I was just tryna be polite.” 
Well.
“But I wan—“ 
Her hand came up to grab your chin. Fuck, you love when she does that. “Don’t care what you want actually. Lay down.”
You scurried off her like she was on fire, lying flat on the couch and ripping your sweater over your head, tossing it into the pile on the floor. Abby stood as you unbuttoned her jeans. You secretly watched as she unzipped her dress and allowed it to fall down her body. She was completely bare underneath. Your eyes followed the thin trail of hair that led down to her wet cunt, and it made you hot… in more ways than one; She was on a mission tonight, for sure. 
You shoved your jealousy down; She didn’t owe you anything, especially loyalty. You stared down at your busy hands.
You kicked your jeans off, a sock clumsily catching in your pant leg before they hit the floor. You were not prepared for spontaneous sex at all; One lonesome weed sock, panties with chocolate bars on them, and a gray lounge bra. 
You awkwardly scratched your ear and waited for Abby to move, but she didn’t. You looked up at her and noticed her just… staring at your torso. Her expression was unreadable as she took your body in, but you were about to die from her searing ogle. Your face was torched, even more so when she brought a gentle hand up, hooked her middle and index finger into the band of your bra. 
Her eyes bore into yours, silently asking for permission, and you nodded. She bit her lip, slowly raising the elastic band up your chest until your breasts dropped out. She played with the two of them, dark red nails digging into the soft skin, pinching at your nipples. You couldn’t stop squirming, watching her hand move on your body. You lifted your bra over your head and laid the bundled fabric over the back of the couch. 
“Turn over, baby. Wanna see something,” she barely whispered, patting your thigh encouragingly. 
You listened, flipping onto your hands and knees as she climbed on the couch behind you. You sighed happily when she massaged your ass in both hands, rubbing and pulling at your covered cheeks. You peered over your shoulder to watch her pull your sticky panties to the side. She was eyeing your pussy like she wanted to swallow you whole before her eyes flickered an inch up. She was staring at… 
Oh. Oh. 
You jokingly snarked at her, “Find whatchu lookin’ for?” 
Her eyes pierced through yours before she slapped the fuck out of your ass. Your body jerked forward at the force, eyes squeezing shut and groaning at the seering sting. Your head dropped on the arm of the couch.
She sneered at you, “I still feel some typa way. Be nice.” 
You gasped out, “M’so— “
“You’re sorry,” She squealed out mockingly. “I know. Be still.” 
She yanked your panties down your thighs, “Put your head down.” 
You dropped your head onto your crossed arms in front of you. Her hand rubbed down your spine to deepen your arch, pulling your hips farther up. 
“Hold it open for me, baby.” 
You whimpered and reached down between your legs, spreading the drippy folds of your cunt to expose your clit. You heard her curse behind you before you felt slow massages on your clit. They were so delicate, almost ticklish, and it made you shiver. 
Your walls squeezed down and you heard her moan behind you. She rubbed a bit faster, the soft, squishy noises from your cunt filling the room. You tried to push back on her fingers, but she harshly dug her nails into your hip to hold you still, pulling her fingers away from you. 
“Abby, please— “
She ignored you, prying your lips apart with her thumbs. Her breath hit your cunt as she slurred, “You trust me?” 
You nodded incessantly, “Yeah, baby, trust you, fuck, I trust you— “
Her lips sucked around your clit, and you bucked back on her face with force. She wasted no time, shoving two of her fingers inside you and curling them. She poked and prodded at your walls as she flicked your throbbing bud and holy fuck, you missed her so fucking bad—
You couldn’t help the noises that left your mouth when she hit your spot dead on, your walls milking her fingers with eagerness. You cried out her name as your orgasm pulled from deep within your gut, your fingers curling into fists into her couch cushions. The sounds your cunt made were becoming louder as your moans crescendo, your hips moving on their own accord to get her deeper inside you. 
Her tongue slowed on your clit, slowly licking up towards your entrance and… passed your entrance. She moved up, up, and her wet muscle swiped over your ass—
A sharp gasp shot through you, your head whipping around to face her. On any other occasion, she would’ve halted everything and checked in on you, but her fingers didn’t stop. Her thrusts were harsh and unrelenting, her eyes cutting through you, “Fuckin’ trust me, right?”
You sobbed when she slapped your still burning cheek, nodding your consent with tears streaming down your face. She didn’t hesitate to lick over your hole, her tongue sliding back and forth over the puckered entrance. 
“Abby, fuckfuckfuck, oh fuck— “
She hummed against your hole and your head dropped on the cushions completely, using your bent elbows as leverage to fuck back onto her face. 
She mumbled nastily against you, “Just needa be slutted out, baby? Yeah?” 
You could only whine and sob in reply before the strong squeezes of your orgasm built and built. You were right fucking there you just needed her to—
Her tongue shoved inside you, and your body seized and tensed under the pressure of your orgasm. It wracked through your body in waves as you wailed into the pillows beneath you, both sets of walls contracting through your pleasure. Your cunt milked her fingers with urgency, your juices dripping out of your entrance and down Abby’s wrist. She tongued you through the aftershocks. 
She slowly brought you back down as your pulses slowed, planting a kiss on the back of your thigh before pulling out. Exhaustion took over your body as she helped you get onto your back, your head propped up on the pillows behind you. You kicked your dangling panties off and allowed her to lift your leg over her shoulder. She climbed on top of you, straddling your resting thigh. You looked up at her and… the large vein in her biceps made you shiver. 
“A-Abby?” 
She grabbed your tit, “Hm.”
You whimpered, “Are you a gym rat?”
She snorted, a grin spreading across her pretty face as she massaged the soft skin. “Errr… yes? When I wanna be. Why do you ask?”
Throw me across the room! You eyed her bulging vein, “Nothin’.” 
She smirked down at you, “Mhm.” 
… Did she just flex her bicep what the fuck—
You didn’t even have a chance to think before her pussy rubbed up against yours, and nearly cried when you saw your sopping cunts connect, sighs of satisfaction leaving your mouths when your clits bumped up against each other, bonded by strings of slick. You grabbed her thigh for support, digging your nails into her soft skin as her grinds increased in pace. 
Your throbbing bud jerked with each pass of her hips. You did everything in your power to keep your eyes open so you could watch her: her head was tossed back with her lip between her teeth, her defined stomach tensing and she fucked you. She looked so desperate to cum, to feel so good that she forgets everything. She kept taking and taking like you never allowed her to, and you never wanted it to end. 
“Your pussy feels s’good, shit,” she grinded down on you harder as she gazed at the ceiling. “Gonna make me cum— “
“Cum on me, Abby? Please cum on my pussy?” You whimpered up at her as your eyes grew heavy, and she slumped over the pillows, strong arms holding her up as she used you to fuck herself. She was getting louder, and you were squeezing as your second orgasm approached. Her pussy was hitting you right where you needed, right on your clit and you were about to—
You saw a screen flash out the corner of your eye as your device blared, and the drop of your heart matched the tight grip of your pussy. 
Abby was close, and your dad was calling.
Abby was too deep in her pleasure to notice as she begged you to cum with her, grabbing at your tits and yanking your nipples. Your pleasure kept rising and your phone wouldn’t stop fucking ringing—
“Fuck, baby, oh god, m’cumming!—“
Abby’s scream sent you off, your eyes rolling back, and your core squeezing with all you had to give. She was fucking you so hard through your euphoria, crying your name as you did the same. She was hitting your clit so good, you couldn’t breathe. 
Your ears were ringing so loud that you couldn’t hear the second call coming in, and you didn’t care. Your hips bucked as much as they could to meet hers, helping her ride out her intense orgasm. The harder you pushed up, the more you could feel her pussy pulsating. It sent another wave of pleasure through you. 
The feeling eventually subsided, the contractions in your cunt easing into light jerks. Abby caught her breath before moving off and plopping on top of you as she breathed heavily in your ear. You brought a hand up to rub her scalp, twirling her hair around your index finger as her scent infiltrated your senses. Your phone was finally quiet. 
“Can I fuck your ass?” 
Her heavy exhale made your spine bend. You could feel her smile against your neck. 
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You were about to pass out, and it wasn’t from your insomnia. 
Abby carried you upstairs to her bed, and eventually got your legs over her shoulders while she lubricated her deep blue strap… with a slit at the incredibly fat tip? She never used this one with you before. It was veiny, curved, and thick; How the hell was that going to fit in your ass!
You knew one of her darkest secrets was cumming inside of somebody, but you didn’t know she meant it. You couldn’t stop thinking about all the times she moaned about cumming inside you. Knocking you up. She was really going to—
“Stop staring at my dick, it’s rude,” she said blankly. 
Your eyes flickered up to meet hers, “Sorry.” 
She snickered, “I’m kidding, relax.” 
How could you relax when she was jerking off in front of you! Her hands are so pretty on her dick, and you could cry right now because of it!
You squealed when she slapped it on your clit, the silicone getting drenched in her flavored lube and your slick. Your pussy squeezed in anticipation; She was about to destroy your cunt and you couldn’t think, holy shit, you missed her so badly—
She breathed eagerly, “You know what to do, baby.” 
You nodded, reaching down to hold your pussy open for her. She lined her tip up at your entrance, “Need this dick?”
“Fuck yes— “
She cooed, “Yeah? Want me?”
You looked up at her, your head bobbing up and down like you were entranced. You wanted her so much. Too much. The look of pride in her eyes was going to stay in your memory forever. 
“Fucking say it,” she spat.
“Want you inside me, baby, please fuck me!”
She popped the tip in, and you moaned as pleasurable pain rushed through you. She took her time easing into you, allowing you to feel every ridge of her dick against your walls. The veins in the silicone were catching on your walls and it made you squeeze down tight. 
She paused and kissed your ankle, “Ease up, baby. C’mon.” 
“Can’help it, fuck, splittin’ me open,” your tongue felt so large in your mouth. 
“Fuck, missed wrecking this pussy,” she moaned out, staring down at the way your walls choked her length. 
She pushed an inch deeper, and you nearly shouted. 
She smirked, “Right there?”
You were drooling onto your chest as you craned up to watch how you connected. She was pressed right up against the spot that made you see stars, and you felt the beginnings of your orgasm stirring in your gut. 
She pushed inside until she was fully submerged in your juices, your slick coating the entire toy when she pulled out, only to fuck back into you again. She stretched you out until you were grabbing at her hip, trying to pull her deeper into you. She wrapped her arms around both of your calves and drilled in your guts, only pulling out a few inches before shoving back in. 
The power of her thrusts was causing the flowery headboard to bang up against the wall, the soggy noises of your cunt and squeals of pleasure filling the room. She was battering your pussy completely, and you couldn’t do anything to stop her. 
“Pussy’s pushing me out,” she garbled with a limp tongue. “Feel good, baby? Can’t take it?” 
You couldn’t find the strength to respond, nails digging into her soft blankets as she transported you to another dimension, sparkles and glitter exploding behind your eyelids as your unannounced orgasm shook your spirit, “Can feel you cummin’, shit.” 
Her voice was muffled from the ringing in your ears. You could barely register her pulling out and grabbing her girth, quickly rubbing her wet tip on your clit to rub you through your orgasm. You felt speckles of droplets land on your ass and the covers beneath you, eyes crossed in your skull and the taste of copper in your mouth from biting your lip too hard. 
She didn’t let you recover before she released your legs, pinning them down to your chest by the back of your knees, nearly folding you in half and shoving back into your wetness with a disgusting noise.
She bounced you on her cock like a weightless ragdoll, your body shifting up her bed with force. She hit so deep whenever she fucked like this. Her tip was nudging your cervix whenever she dug in deep, the pain plunging into you like a knife as tears filled your eyes and pleasure sizzled all the way down to your toes.
“Gonna cum in this fuckin’ pussy, oh my god— “
You couldn’t help the babbles that came from you, drooly yesyesyesyess’ coming from you, “Yeah, baby? Need me to fill your pussy up?”
You nearly passed out at the thought of her stuffing you, your orgasm built until it crashed into you, snatching the wind in your body as you let out a quiet scream. Your lashes were fluttering, and spit was sliding down your cheek, completely dumb under her. 
And then you felt a thin stream of liquid shoot inside your pulsing cunt. You swore you flatlined. 
Your orgasm only intensified at the feeling of her creaming inside you, her gross whispers making the hairs on your arms stand, “Gonna knock this slutty cunt up and send you home filthy. Want you drippin’ with it.” 
You nodded brainlessly; You’d do whatever she wanted as long as she kept fucking and filling you. Another harsh stream exploded inside you, and your juices sprayed on her lap. You went limp under her, letting her move and toss you around how she pleased. You were getting so fucking tired, but you didn’t want her to stop. 
She gave one last deep grind, poking your cervix one last time before pulling out, her gaze dropping to watch her seed spill out of your battered cunt. She pushed your legs down even further, knees nearly hitting your head as she lined her dick up at your ass, “Would marry this pussy, swear to god. It takes dick so good.” 
You only released a choked noise in approval; She could have you however she wanted! 
Her pretty brow arched cockily, “You like that? Like when I make this pussy mine?”
You shook your head so fast. It’s yours, baby! It’s all yours!
She barely pushed forward, her tip nudging your other entrance, making you squeal, “Is this mine too?” 
“Fuck yes, s’yours, baby!”
She popped in, and you sobbed. You need this, you need this, you need her—
Tears ran down to your neck as you cried, her gentle shushes caressing your ear drums like symphonies, “Such a good girl, doing so good for me, just a little more, okay?” 
You couldn’t stop moaning at the foreign sensation, “G-Gimme all of it, oh my fuckin’ god—“
“… You sure?”
She paused, only a couple inches inside as she gauged you. The gentle aura you're so used to finally returned as she massaged your thighs comfortingly, and your heart swelled. 
You spoke in one breath, “Fuck my ass, Abby, please. S’gonna make me cum again— “
“Tell me if I’m— “
“Please, baby, s’gonna hurt s-so good, gimme— “
“Okay, baby shhh, I gotchu,” she hushed you, quickly grabbing the discarded bottle of lube at your side and squeezing a messy quantity over your pulsating entrance. She tossed it somewhere and pushed in deeper, the burn sending hot shockwaves to your brain. How were you about to cum there’s no way you’re going to cum—
“A-Abby, fuck me, fuckme— “
She was whimpering with you, still pressing in, “Don’t wanna hurt you baby, shit— “
“Fuck me harder, m’so close!”
Your eyes squeezed shut when she pushed the last few inches in, sitting deep in your ass, and you came so hard. You could hear her moaning with you as she grinded you out. The cum that sat deep in your cunt was pulsing out of you with each clench, dripping down to your filled ass and coating her. You forced your eyes open so you could watch her, eyes burning with lust and her toned body drenched in sweat. 
She brought a hand down to your pussy and shoved two fingers in, curling and hitting your spot at a vigorous pace. The squelches were so loud over your pleased shouts, and you squirted all over her hand, some droplets splattering on your chest and chin. 
She yanked her fingers out to pat and spank your throbbing clit before pushing your legs back up, pulling out slowly before shoving her entire length back into you. 
Abby has never been this aggressive during sex, but she was slapping you, fucking you deep and hard, spitting on your face from where she towered over you, and you took all of it like she was paying you. Your ass was rippling on her cock, trying to make space for her cock so it could suck her in deeper. You couldn’t stop squirting, both your cum dripping out of both your holes. 
Gonna cum so hard in this ass, oh my fuckin’ god, you feel so good.
It’s mine? Say it’s mine.
Look at that dirty fucking pussy. Nasty cumslut. You love being my fucking worthless whore, don’t you? 
Just needa turn that pretty brain off? Yeah? Need me to take care of you? Fuck you stupid? 
You were thrown into one long, constant orgasm and she talked you through it. You clawed at her ass and sheets and your own tits to keep yourself grounded but it wasn’t working. You were getting her so wet, a large puddle forming underneath you as your body jerked away from her. But she held you down, made you take what she gave, made you see god. You felt so fucking good that it almost pained you. 
You could hear her moans increase in volume, not bothering to pull out as she grinded deep inside you. You knew she was close, riding her harness into completion. You used the only strength you had to turn your head to the side, making eye contact with yourself in her large dresser mirror. You looked fucked up, but you watched yourself cum before staring at Abby’s reflection. 
Her eyes were squeezed shut as she bucked into you quickly, her tits and fat on her ass shaking in the mirror. You could hear her whispering makemecummakemecum over and over again, and you shuddered when another spurt of liquid left you. 
Cum in my ass, cum in me filled your brain like a mantra.
You fought to keep your eyes open, watching the muscles in her body tighten up before she yelled out, screaming how hard she was cumming and how good your ass sucked her cum in. A line of spit left her mouth and landed on your thigh as she shuddered through her pleasure, and you felt her jizz fill your ass, the second load much larger than the first. It felt so fucking good. 
Another orgasm rushed through as you both screamed in pleasure. You tried to meet her grinds, pushing down to get her squirting dick even deeper inside. 
Abby dropped your legs and they instantly wrapped around her waist as she fell forward, resting her full weight on you as she rode out her orgasm. Her moans of your name didn’t stop, and it felt like you both were cumming for hours. She filled and filled you like you were milking her dry, draining her completely and it made you cum again. Your arms wrapped around her neck to pull her close, nails digging into the flexing muscles in her back and leaving red trails.
She screamed out a warning of another orgasm right before her body trembled on top of you. Her dick wasn't bursting in you anymore; Why did that make you sad?
Her grinds eventually slowed into twitches as you both came down. She was planting gentle kisses and sucks on your neck, her hands coming down to rub the soreness from your thighs as you massaged her scalp. 
You made sure to keep your eyes open so you wouldn’t drift off into dreamland. 
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After Abby pulled out and cleaned you up, she rummaged through her underwear drawer and pulled out a Marlboro box and lighter. 
… Why were you horny again? 
Her wet, semi-leaking dick was still strapped around her waist, her now scarred backside facing you as she stuck the orange end between her lips and ignited it. You watched her through the mirror, her body instantly relaxing as she puffed silently. You looked like a cat in heat. 
She looked up and stared back at you in the reflection, taking the smoke between her index and middle finger, exhaling around her words. 
“What’re you looking at?”
You shrugged and smiled like a ditz. She shook her head at you before sticking the butt in her mouth, undoing the adjusts and stepping out of her dick. She picked it up, eyes flickering awkwardly before throwing it in her hamper. You giggled quietly.
She ashed her cig over her small trash can, before looking at you, “Come shower?”
Your heart pounded in your chest like she didn’t just obliterate your pussy and ass. You consented in silence. 
You could hear her laughing as you hobbled to the bathroom, “I coulda carried you, y’know.” 
You flipped her off. 
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After washing, Abby just… held you. 
The water was still beating down on the two of you, her head resting on your shoulder as she rubbed your back. And you did the same. 
You felt so relaxed, and everything was quiet in your head, the lavender scent of her body wash surrounding the two of you. You could’ve fallen asleep right here. 
Her hushed tone surprised you. 
“Are you leaving tonight?” 
Your heart shredded to pieces at her nervous tone. She sighed in relief at your whisper. 
“No, Abby. I’m not.” 
You didn’t know what would happen when you returned home, but for now, you relished in her warm embrace as you nodded off onto her shoulder. 
You didn’t sleep alone. 
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OOHHHHH im ovulating LOL 
anal whores this one’s for y’all😞😞
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prologue. part one. part two. part three. interlude.
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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months
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FLASHER
Pairing: flasher!Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: you take an elevator with a stranger. He surprises you. Then you surprise him.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, non-con due to exhibitionism but reader is into it, flashing, mutual masturbation, sweet Joel, it’s basically a meet cute😅, semi-public (no one sees them), pet names ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, swearing
Word count: 2k
A/n: I blame Pedro’s curls for this! And that coat😵‍💫
MASTERLIST
******
You’re rushing through the streets maneuvering around gray puddles. The rain is so heavy that your umbrella barely helps. You see your building and breathe out with relief. Soon you’ll be in the warmth of your home.
You close the dripping umbrella, unlock the entrance door and get inside from the wet street and into the darkness of the hall. You can’t wait to take your damp clothes off so you run up a short set of stairs and hurry to the elevator. With a bag in one hand and the umbrella in the other you push the button with your elbow and wait shifting on your feet with impatience. You look up at the display over the entrance - …6,5,4,3,2,1.
Finally you hear the cabin stop on the ground floor and the doors slide open. You’re about to get inside when you see him. A man is standing in the corner of the small dimly lit cabin facing you. He’s wearing a beige trench coat and wide dark blue pants. His hands stuffed into the coat pockets. But you notice all of that later. The first thing you see are his eyes, sad and beautiful. Dark and pleading. Then his hair. All curls and softness. Some locks are sticking to his forehead which must be wet because of the rain. You’ve never seen him in your building before, you’re sure of it. You’d remember someone that handsome.
“Hello,” you greet him quietly and wait for him to get out but when he doesn’t move for a few moments you quickly step inside. The elevator doors close behind you, you press the number of your floor and the cabin starts moving up.
The stranger is looking at you with his kicked puppy eyes and you give him a warm smile. He smiles back shyly and slowly opens his coat. You see a white shirt underneath, which looks too big on him. Your gaze slides down his body and you see his cock. The band of his pants is tucked under his balls and his whole dick is out. Your jaw drops and you blink quickly staring at his member. His cock twitches and it looks like the fat tip nods at you. It’s semi hard, quite big, and, you have to admit, very pretty.
You raise your eyes to the man’s face as your mouth opens and closes silently. You should be scared, should cry for help, shout at him at least but for some weird reason you don’t. You want to ask what’s wrong. Help him. Touch him.
“Do you need help?” you ask and he shakes his head with an apologetic smile and mumbles, “Just wanna show you my penis.”
Your heart flutters hearing his voice, deep, velvety and warm.
“Ok,” you mutter, not knowing what else to say or do. You’ve always been bad at small talk and especially now you feel lost for words with a cock of a stranger in front of you. The nature of the situation makes it all feel like a dream. But it’s far from a nightmare. You don’t feel scared, you feel…
Aroused? Attracted to this man?
He’s the one who started it so you do what comes to your mind first. Your hand darts to the elevator panel and you push the stop button. The cabin jerks and stops moving and the lighting inside gets even darker.
“Can I touch it?” the question flies out of your mouth unexpectedly and it seems to flabbergast you both. The man’s expression mimics yours just from a short time ago, mouth agape, eyes widened in surprise as they dart between you and the doors.
He mumbles, “‘msorry,” and closes his coat covering his crotch.
“No, no, you can leave it. I’m not scared,” you raise your hands still occupied with the bag and the umbrella.
He furrows his brows.
“Why?” He sounds almost offended.
“Because… ehm,” you try to give him an explanation, but fail. Why are you not scared?
“I don’t know,” you give him an honest answer and add, “are you dangerous?”
He blinks at you a few times. “No,” he replies quietly as his hands fall at his sides. His cock peeks out from behind the coat again and it looks less hard which makes you sad.
“Well.. Can I touch it?” you repeat the question and his brows shoot up.
“Why?”
You shrug your shoulders and a corner of his mouth quirks up before he comments, “You’re weird.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the one who flashed me a minute ago so we’re both kinda out of the ordinary, right?” you quip and your answer seems to amuse him. His gaze trails down your body and then slides up pausing at your lips.
As soon as he says “yes” you place your bag and umbrella on the floor and step up to the man. The beauty of his features takes your breath away when you get closer and you bite your lip lost for a second in his doe-eyes. He opens his coat a little wider and you both look down at his cock. It stands at attention and you shift on your feet as your pussy starts aching with need.
After taking a deep breath you bring your hand to his crotch and take the shaft between your index finger and the thumb. The velvet softness of his skin almost makes you whimper. You check his reaction and see his lips parted and half lidded eyes glued to your hand on his cock.
Wanting more you carefully wrap your palm around it and hold it gently rubbing your thumb along his length.
It’s warm and heavy in your hand.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes out and his moan makes you gush.
“Can I stroke it?” you ask, batting your lashes at him though judging by his blown eyes you can easily predict his answer.
He nods and whispers, “yes.”
Your hand leaves his cock as you bring it to your lips. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit it into your palm. Then you take his hard cock in your hand again and start jerking it.
He’s watching your hand move easily against his length and a drop of precum beads at the red slit. He moans again and leans back against the wall closing his eyes shut,
“Yes, baby…like this.. Fuck…you’re amazing.”
You smile with satisfaction watching his handsome face contort in ecstasy.
Your core tightens just from looking at him, touching him and you press your thighs together searching for a crumb of pressure.
He opens his eyes as if sensing how desperate you’re getting and you hear through heavy breathing,
“May I touch you too?”
A blush peeks from behind his scruffy beard.
You’re blinking at him for some time while your hand is working his cock and then give him a short nod.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he takes your forearms in his hands and pulls you gently to the side, making you exchange places with him. Now your back is pressed to the wall and he’s caging you in with his size. You feel so much smaller against him now but a light pang of fear turns you on even more.
His gaze takes in your body, hunger swimming in his dark eyes. The man brings his hand to your crotch and takes the zipper pull between his thick fingers.
“You sure?”
You’re surprised that he needs so many conformations of your consent as if he didn’t flash you just a few minutes ago. You don’t say anything though, just nod.
He braces one hand on the wall near your head and with the other opens up your jeans. His breath on your cheek makes you shiver. You look up at his lips but stop yourself. Kissing feels too intimate right now. So you swallow your desire and drop your head.
The stranger flattens his hand, palm pressed to your lower stomach, mumbling “gonna put my hand into your panties now, ok?” When you reply with a breathy “yes” he slides his big hand into your soaked underwear and engulfs your whole pussy. You whimper at his touch and buck your hips into his palm. When two of his fingers push in between your folds you moan closing your eyes and barely breathing.
“Oh, baby,” he moans as his index and middle finger nudge at your slicked up entrance. He slides them up bringing the wetness to your hardening clit and starts rubbing it in tight circles. You feel you might melt under his caress and join the rain puddle from your umbrella on the floor.
You lick your palm to coat it in saliva and return it to his cock. You proceed by jerking his length, twisting your hand and sweeping your thumb over his bulbous head. His and your moans fill the small space of the elevator. You’re sure that someone might hear you from the hall but you don’t care.
His fingers find your hole again and he inserts them inside you slowly parting your walls and watching your reaction with blown eyes. He leans down, his forehead rests against yours and your noses brush as you grab the sleeve of his coat.
“It’s so warm and wet, baby…wish I could stick my cock inside you.” His words make you whine louder and you speed up your hand movements as he begins fucking you with his thick fingers. Your pussy aches pleasantly at the stretch. You both find your rhythm and give pleasure to each other with delirious generosity.
You feel a knot tightening in your core as the pads of his fingers massage your sweet spot. You squeeze your eyes shut feeling your climax approach fast. “Gonna come,” you whine and after a few moments you come undone, contracting around his thick fingers. Your legs tremble and you might fall but he wraps his arm around your waist and pins you to the wall not letting you collapse.
When your climax subsides you return your full attention to his cock and move your hand against him vigorously. The head brushes against your lower belly smearing precum over your skin.
With one arm still wrapped around you, he grabs a fist full of your hair with his free hand and gently pulls at it tilting your head back. Your neck is exposed to him and his lips latch onto your delicate skin, kissing, sucking and nipping at it.
He moans against the column of your neck and the next moment you feel warm spurts of cum landing on your belly. You jerk him off through his orgasm milking his cock until the last drop.
You both are panting heavily when his forehead finds yours again and you rest for a few moments, eyes closed trying to catch your breath.
When the aftershocks pass he straightens up and you smile at each other. He tucks his cock back and takes out a handkerchief out of his pocket. He gently cleans his spend off your belly and you watch him marveling at how gentle he is. When he’s done you zip up your pants and fix your clothes. He picks up your things off the floor and hands them to you before pressing the number of your floor again. The cabin starts moving and you look at each other as the pleasure is still coursing through your body.
When the doors slide open his expression changes - his sad eyes return and he’s shifting his jaw.
“Can we meet again?” he asks hurriedly, taking your wrist in his hand. You drop your head and smile shuffling your feet. Then you lock eyes again and you tell him the number of your apartment. His face brightens which warms your heart and ignites your core again. You step out of the elevator and turn back to say “bye”.
“See you, sweetheart,” he says as you give each other one more warm smile before he pushes the ground floor button and the doors close.
*****
Thank you for reading!💕
Comments and reblogs will make me very happy!💖
Tag list: @missannwinchester @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling
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wolfchanslover69 · 3 months
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The fight
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In which y/n has a fight with Chan.
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Pairing: Bang Chan x reader | slight angst with a happy ending
A/N: Hii guys, I hope you enjoy reading this oneshot, I know it's a bit short but I haven't had inspiration for a while. If I made any mistakes do tell me because I won't realise it :D.
Warning: Mentions of the word fuck.
Word count: 1,3k
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Great, it was raining and I didn’t have an umbrella with me. The whole day had been shitty, and this was like a cherry on top of a cake. I usually loved how calming rain was and how it would make me feel like a new person, but not today. Today it felt depressing, heavy, like it was just adding more weight on my shoulders, making me feel suffocated. All the times I had for the past few months been alone, stressed, and tired, came back all together, double the usual.
I stepped out of the office building, starting to walk rather fast to my nearest bus stop while trying not to slip on the wet ground. I hadn’t prepared for rain today and was wearing my everyday work heels and a thin trench coat. The coat got wet fast, and the coldness of the water got into my bones making me freeze. The bus stop wasn’t far away from the building, and as I heard it, I could see my bus driving past my stop. I halted my walking and stood there in the middle of the rain, angrily staring at the stop. Of course, it has to be today that I miss my bus when it’s heavily raining and I have heels in which I cannot walk home. I can already feel the pain starting to form on my feet. Even my toes were starting to feel numb.
I started walking home as there wasn’t anything else to do. I did not want to, and would not call my boyfriend, whom I was ignoring at the moment due to my anger for his behaviour lately. He had been busy doing god knows what for the last two months, and when I asked him about it, I would get an annoyed answer for me to stop questioning and bothering him. 
As I walk, I see cars drive past me; some of them intentionally drive into puddles of water to splash me even more. At some point, I hear a motorcycle nearing me. The sound of the too familiar engine makes me walk faster and ignore the sound.
“What are you doing in the rain?” I hear his voice but don’t want to show him any reaction. I keep walking, ignoring him with an angry frown on my face.
“Hey, baby, can you stop?” I hear him ask with a soft and slightly worried voice. I wanted to yell at him that I, in fact, do not want to stop. I still pretend to not hear him and keep my pace.
“Hey, c’mon y/n! You’ll get sick if you continue like this!” He sounds a bit annoyed this time.
I try to resist myself but give in at the end and stop my walking, turning to face him. He’s driving his motorcycle with his famous black and red leather jacket on. He looked handsome, but I wouldn’t admit it to him now when I’m still pissed off at how he talked to me when I was just trying to figure out if everything was okay. He didn't have his helmet on, so I could see his wet hair sticking to his forehead. I saw how his eyes were filled with worry but how he tried to cover it up with annoyance and anger.
“You haven’t answered me for days,” he matter-of-factly told me, but I knew it already.
“And I wonder why. It didn’t seem important to you for the past few months,” I snapped at him while turning around to keep walking. I huffed in annoyance, trying to get myself to calm down.
“Hey, that’s not fair! You know how my work is, so you can’t blame me for being busy!” He drove a little past me stopping right in front of me. I stared into his eyes while trying to walk past him, but he wouldn’t let me. Chris drove a bit forward, blocking my way completely, and took a hold of my arm.
“Can you fucking stop walking? I’m trying to talk to you,” he angrily told me. 
“Oh yeah, Christopher? But did you stop working when I tried to ask if everything was okay? No, so let the fuck go of me and let me walk.” I tried to shrug my arm away from his grip, but he wouldn’t let me.
“I’m sorry about it, but I can’t fucking help my job,” he angrily told me.
“Well, I don’t actually care if you are fucking sorry or not or if it’s your fucking job.” I knew I didn’t actually mean it, but I was just so frustrated and angry at him that I ended up taking it out on him.
 He still didn’t let go of my arm, and we spent a while breathing heavily and just staring at each other angrily. During this, I noticed that the rain had started pouring harder than before. I was starting to get really cold, and I soon noticed myself shaking from the cold. Chris seemed to notice this too as he let go of my arm and started to take off his leather jacket.
“Put this on, you are shaking from the rain.” He handed me his jacket. He had a tight-fitting, long-sleeved turtleneck underneath his jacket, but I knew it wouldn’t keep him warm.
“No, put it back on, you’ll get cold fast,”I tried to tell him, pushing his hand holding the jacket back towards him.
“No, baby, it’s okay. I know you get cold easier than me and have been in the rain longer than me, so please just take it.” He reasoned with me. 
I ended up giving up and took the jacket, putting it on. It felt weird to have a wet trench coat and, on top of it, a warm leather jacket. I knew by taking the jacket from him, I had silently agreed to go home with him, and maybe it was better like that. Chris offered me a helmet after I had put the jacket on.
“Hey, why don’t you have a helmet on?” I asked him. He averted my eyes, trying to hide away from my question.
“Uhh well, I may or may not have forgotten to put it on as I saw that it was heavily raining and got a feeling you were going to walk home…” I just stared at him in silence as he told me that. I know we just fought about the silliest thing ever, and we both could have acted like adults and talked this out, but the fact that he still was worried for me warmed my heart.
“You should put your spare helmet on then,” I told him with a calm and neutral voice as I didn’t want to fight anymore.
“No, I saved it for you. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he told me while turning his head slightly to the side.
“Well, I don’t want anything to happen to you either, you know,” I wanted him to understand my point and the reason why I had even been ignoring him; maybe this would make him realise it. We both were silent, and I started staring at my hands, which were covered with his jacket’s long sleeves. I didn’t want to talk about these kinds of topics anymore this evening.
“Now get on the bike; let’s get out of here,” he told me after a while, nudging his head to the seat behind him. I hummed as an answer as I threw my leg over the bike to sit behind him. I took a tight hold of him and hugged him from behind, trying to squeeze my gratitude into the hug. I may not say it at the moment as I’m still trying to act mad, but I am thankful for him.
“I love you, you know,” he told me silently.
“I love you too,” I answered him, knowing our fight was partly over.
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A/n: If you want to request something please do! (I don't write smut and do only Chan ff :])
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stnexus · 3 months
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a toast to you…!
jason todd x black!fem!reader
minors dni, mature audience, suggestive content
summary: jason and his protective nature throughout the relationship amplifies even more when you’re drunk. his desire is not important when you’re under the influence.
cw: language, suggestive content, pretty much fluff, established relationship, one singular smack on the butt, drinking + intoxication, drunk reader, speaks of consent
names used(?): pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, pretty thing, beautiful girl
wc. 2.3k+
tag + note: literally rewrote this multiple times because i was struggling with the wording and pacing. then halfway through the third time writing it i was like this would make a great nye fic. so i started the process of writing it for the fourth time, while drunk (lmao). but ultimately started slacking. then i came along @fic-over-cannon ’s piece which pushed me to finishing, we were literally on the same wavelength i swear — despite our differences in time frames lmfao. there may be a follow up so let me know if you would like a part two. i really hope you all enjoy! i wish you all a beautiful new year’s eve + day.
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the cold air of the crisp winter night nipped at your smooth brown skin, snow falling in a cast of white flurry all around you. your eyes felt somewhat heavy as your eyelids drooped — eyelashes fluttering just a bit as you took in the scenery. a pretty toothy grin tugged at your glossed lips. with your head tilted upward, you allowed snowflakes to rain down on you from the night sky. letting them drop down in all their graceful glory and melt into your already-cold skin. the tip of your nose boarding along freezing and your cheeks following suit. though, it did not seem to bother you one bit — your trench coat had long been shrugged off and draped across your arm. something you surely would have been reprimanded for during your childhood.
a giggle full of glee fell from your lips, almost like the joy that followed a child's first sight of snow. it was a melody that jason could never get tired of hearing. he listened intently as he sifted through his keys for the house key. finding beauty in such a place as gotham was your specialty, something that your boyfriend had come to adore you for. you were like a missile, seeking out the light in a dark room. your joy had been buried in studying the little things, then pulling them to the forefront for others to observe. it kept jason balanced and kept him at peace within the realm of gotham.
“now, what could you possibly find funny out here?” jason’s amused question broke the daze you had found yourself in, and he tutted at seeing you bask in the winter air with no coat. although a grin fell onto his face as he observed your happy appearance as he pushed the front door of your home open, the keys in the lock jingling and swaying in the process. a gush of warmth radiated from the gap in the door.
“the snow, jay. it’s beautiful.” you spoke with a slight slur to your words, your intoxication evident on your tongue. the pristine white snowflakes had begun to cling to your blonde-colored fulani braids as you looked at your boyfriend. his eyes took in every movement of your drunken state – vigilant at all times. shaking his head, he pushed the front door open, stomping his black dress shoes against the welcome mat at the front door in order to not track snow into the house.
“so are you, pretty girl. now get inside before you catch a cold to go along with that hangover tomorrow.” jason spoke gently as he grabbed at your forearm, pulling you towards him as he walked you over the threshold of your shared home. “i can tell you definitely enjoyed yourself tonight.”
it was never your plan to drink so much tonight. no, that was not the plan at all when you were told about bruce’s new year’s eve party. this had been your second time attending the event, marking two years since you had begun dating jason. as classical music buzzed around the open floor of wayne manor, you had showed up as quiet as a mouse, shaking the hands of those that spoke to both you and jason. your acrylics played at the emerald-green silk of your maxi dress.
it was not until bruce had spoken to you two that you started to loosen up a bit. taking a drink from his hand as he had welcomed you, then deciding to venture off on your own a bit. jason watched you closely as you admired the manor and spoke with those who approached you. a few times you had been offered more to drink and food as well, and you agreed politely.
jason’s eyes had moved from anyone he had conversed with to you during the party. the bulbs of glowing warm lights highlighting your skin with each movement you made, your dress fell perfectly over you. the cherry on top was that any time you passed by, you left a trail of your signature scent behind; it was like a pathway that he could follow to the end of the earth.
to say he had been stuck on you the whole night was an understatement. he was stuck on you daily — this was something more. he was sure you would drive him mad one day, but he did not think it would come so soon. he shifted on his feet just a bit as he watched the man he had been speaking to bid a farewell, his daze starting to send a wave of desire through him as the night progressed. though he began to push his thoughts down as your pretty eyes began to glaze over due to intoxication — peering at him with a gaze full of adoration.
it was almost twisted, really.
the way he knew you held such love for him. no matter what he had come from, no matter where his faults lied in the past. you had always looked to him like he had hung the moon and the stars — which he would gladly do for you with no questions asked. though, as he heard a small giggle leave your pretty lips, he knew it was time to go. he knew you knew your limits, but he also knew you would crash at some point. then it would be a mess as he tried to get your drowsy self to get ready for bed. 
it had been way past midnight, so guests had begun parting ways. jason watched you closely as you rejected a hand pushing another glass your way. your braids swaying just a bit as you shake your head kindly, the ends of your hair brushing across the cloth of your silk emerald-green dress.
the car ride home was filled with the low sound of the radio. one of jason’s hands splayed over your lap while you fumbled around with his fingers, running your hand over his forearm. his other hand was placed securely on the leather covered steering wheel. he already knew what you were hinting at, but a response of refusal had already begun to brew in his thoughts. it diminished the want that he had felt making its way to the forefront earlier, turning it into absolute nothingness.
your laughter filled the car at random times as you complimented jason a few times throughout the ride. your eyes tracing over his face as he drove, a hand reaching out to brush through his hair at times. the scenery flew by beautifully as you both neared your home. decorations that people had left up after christmas lit up the city.
“but jayyy, the snow.” a whine left your lips in protest as you both took in the warmth of the home. you could hear the locks of the front door slid into place, then felt your trench coat being taken from your hands.
“the snow will be there tomorrow, baby. whining definitely won’t work,” he chuckled as his dress shoes thudded against the hardwood floors as he took them off. watching as you stooped down to take off your heels, stumbling a little as you tried to stand once they had been removed. a gentle yet firm hand was wrapped around your upper arm, catching you swiftly as you were pulled up before hitting the floor. a small yelp of surprise falling from your lips. 
“you’ve gotta be careful, sweetheart.” jason spoke almost sternly with a small frown. pulling you towards him and over his shoulder, he landed a smack on your poked out asscheek. a spill of laughter fell from his lips as he listened to your cheeky protests that followed. he guided you both to the kitchen, sitting you on the marble-topped island in the middle of it.
“we already ate at bruce’s though—” a hiccup cut your words short as you watched your boyfriend drift around the kitchen. reaching into the cabinet to pull out a cup, the glass shining in the light of the kitchen. 
“i’m not getting food; i’m getting you some water. we’ve gotta sober you up.” 
“iamsober.” your words slurred together as your feeble attempt to feign a sober response fell flat on its face. a knowing laugh falling from your lips as your boyfriend’s eyebrow lifted in an amused manner as he filled the cup by using the water dispenser on the front of the fridge. 
“nice try,” jason stated as he neared you once more, hand jutting out to give you the cup. “we’re not going anywhere until you finish.”
“what if i said no?” you bit back jokingly, though the rim on the cup fell to your lips as you began to drink.
“well, we’d be here all night. i’d annoy you until you finished it.” he stated with a matter-of-fact tone. 
“i don’t know if you can annoy me, jason. that might be impossible.” a bashful smile covered your face as you downed the last bit of water in the glass. taking the cup from you and sitting it down, jason found himself standing in between your legs, his hands falling down to rub at your covered thighs.
“yeah?” he spoke slowly as he closed in on you, his face mere inches away from your own. the alcohol that lingered on your breath was still clear to him, and even more so as his lips met your own. your tongue swiped over his lip as if you were asking for permission to deepen the kiss. your hands reached up to play at the hairs close to the nape of his neck. subtle moans fell from your lips and were swallowed by jason, his black slacks beginning to tighten slightly in a certain area at your sounds.
“jason, i want you.” you declared as he had begun to pull away, rejection already seeping out through his demeanor. upon hearing your words, jason took into account once more the alcohol on your breath and the way your eyes held on to a dazed look. as if you were floating. your words were coherent at times but still veered off into a cluster of sounds at other times.
his protective ways are prominent in his actions. knowing you had not agreed to him touching you in your drunken state prior to your outing. your drunken words were of no significance to him.
“you’re drunk. not tonight, pretty thing.” he spoke sternly, planting a gentle peck on your lips as he picked you up once more. carrying you to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. his slacks were still tight in one area as he grabbed at washcloths. making sure to help you secure a black bonnet over your braids. he worked to ignore the cute little pout that sat on your drunken lips as he moved to turn on the shower.
standing in front of you, he dropped the straps on the dress from your arms and pulled it past your waist, watching as it fell in a pile at your feet. reaching for the band of your black lacy panties to pull them down.
“not we gettin’ frisky,” you giggled drunkenly once again. 
“we’re definitely not getting frisky,” jason almost choked in response, grabbing at your waist as you used him for leverage to kick the panties off. helping to remove your jewelry, he ushered you into the shower. “get your drunk ass in the shower, pretty girl.”
looking over himself in the almost foggy bathroom mirror, jason unbuttoned the first three buttons of his black-button up. with a bit of tiredness he let out a sigh as he got undressed, ignoring his dilemma in the process. hoping that it would ease its way down so he wouldn’t have to spend time handling it himself.
the warm white comforter splayed over the bed was like a personal safe haven. you had been covered in moisturizer and other essentials by jason. his hands moving quickly to help you get dressed, tightening around you whenever he felt you were about to lose your footing. your pajamas for the night, consisting of one of his shirts and a pair of underwear. the warmth swarming the house left no fear of you getting sick while covered in your usual nighttime attire.
only a pair of dark red pajama pants hung loosely from jason’s hips as he pulled the drawstrings together to tighten the waistband. the bedside lamp and moonlight that streamed through the window were your only sources of light.
“jason…” you hummed briefly as your eyes locked on to him from your position under the comforter. placed on your side of the bed, his side empty right in front of you.
“mhm,” he hummed while briefly letting his gaze fall on you, then back to the jewelry box that he was putting your belongings into. 
“you’re so handsome,” you drowsily confessed once again, your head placed on the pillow below you, eyes following his every move. watching as a lazy smirk graced his lips — a hand coming up to run through his dual-colored hair. his feet carrying him to his side of the bed. 
getting under the covers beside you, jason pulled you close by your waist. setting a kiss on your lips, he let out a hum when you began to kiss back.
“you are absolutely beautiful.” jason complimented quietly. “my beautiful girl.”
“happy new year,” your words fluttered into a muttered mess as you tried to fight your sleep. eyes becoming heavy with sleep as you move your head from the pillow to jason’s bare chest. a subtle laugh left his mouth as he watched your movements and the way you tried to reject the need for sleep as you groaned a bit in frustration. gliding his hand over your side, he tried to coax you into sleeping.
“happy new year to you too,baby.”
it was moments like these that jason found most intimate. the moments where you both stepped into the unknown, like the new year that awaited you. the moments that he got to hold on to you, while you held on to him. as his hand traced over your body and began to soothe you, he listened to how light snores filled the room. reaching with his free hand to turn out the lamp on the nightstand with very little effort.
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back2bluesidex · 8 months
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Rainy Days - KTH
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Pairing: Ex-Taehyung X Fem!reader
Summary: All Taehyung could remember is you, on a rainy day like this.
Wordcount: 872
Theme: Exes au, Angst, a follow-up drabble for Baggage.
Warnings: mentions of infidelity, Tae suffers from guilt, he writes a reply to reader's letter. SFW.
Minors and Karens are not allowed in this blog.
A/N: This idea has been sitting on my head ever since I heard the song. So, it's here as a follow-up drabble for Baggage. and I am really sorry for this poor quality banner.
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Taehyung’s phone goes off with a few rapid notifications again. 
He pauses his task of shoving a spoonful of that honey flavored cereal that you love so much and hurriedly clutches his phone. 
Again, it’s not what he expected. Again, it’s not you. 
Placing his phone upside down, he goes back to what he is doing. 
As he munches on the cereal, which he finds delicious now, he recalls how he lashed out on you once for buying this same thing over and over again. 
“Why do I have to eat what you prefer? Can’t you buy something else for me? Don’t you know I can’t bear the same shit for a long time.” Taehyung semi-screams. 
“I called you for like four times in a row while I was grocery shopping. But you, being you, never answered once. So I chose this, since you initially liked this cereal.” You reply calmly, “and I know you can’t bear the same shit for a long time, like me.”  You whispered, but he heard it loud and clear.
Taehyung doesn’t reply anything. He obviously ignored your calls intentionally and you seem to know it. 
He sighs at the memory. 
How stupid he had been back then. How cruel he must have been to let you down so easily, to let you go as if that’s no big deal. How delusional he must have been to seek warmth in unfamiliar embraces when you were there to give your everything to him. 
Now that he reflects on his wrong doings, he realizes what he has lost. He lost a part of himself, the part that was genuinely happy. 
A lone tear escapes his eye and rolls down his cheek, he sniffles. Looking up at the glass window he finds the sky crying along with him. 
Whenever it rains, he only thinks of you. He thinks of that rainy day and your first date. You two shared an umbrella since two broke college students couldn’t afford more than one 7/11 umbrella. Both of you got soaked and your pretty white trench coat got a big ugly yellow patch. You mentioned it in your letter. That letter, damn. 
Taehyung clutches his phone again, he dials your number and watches as it goes into voicemail. Nothing new. The same thing has been happening ever since he started calling you, ever since your letter arrived. 
He opens the messaging app and types and deletes, types and deletes. He thinks about what to say, how to explain he has been so lost without you, how to apologize for being so cruel. He finds no words, no justification, no expression. Nothing. 
Then finally he decides upon something… 
Running back to his office, he grabs his notepad and a pen. He sits down by the window, in his notoriously butt-shaped chair and starts writing. 
Dear Y/N, Lately I have been thinking about you. Well, to be honest, I have been thinking about you ever since your letter arrived. I won’t say your letter woke me up and made me realize how wrong I was. Because deep down I always knew I was wrong, I was cruel but was too adamant and egoistic to come clean.  But, your letter, your words have definitely punched me hard on my gut, knocked every little bit of air I have been breathing. And I have been breathless ever since. I will not apologize over this letter. If I ever see you again, I will make sure to let you know the amount of guilt and regret that has been burdening me, through my actions. I will. I promise.  I have been calling you a lot lately, even when I don’t know what I should say. It’s good that you don't pick it up. I don’t know if you will be reading my texts or not, so I decided against it too.  Rather I decided to write this letter, so that I can at least be sure about this piece of paper reaching your address. If you still live there you will get it right away and if you don’t, you will be coming to pick up your mail and find it. You will at least see me replying to you even if you choose not to read it. I will be satisfied with that much.  Or will I?  I don’t know, really.  Because what I really want is to go back to the time I shared with you. Time with you was so amazing and I was genuinely at my happiest. That part of me hasn't changed, it’s still the same. I know it’s too late but somehow.. Can we go back to that moment again? I know, I have no right to say this, but let me make up for all the time we lost. We can start again, I will open all the doors I had closed. I promise I will treat you right this time.  I am a mess here. I can feel your touch. I remember your kiss and those hurtful words. And I miss you. I miss you like crazy, Y/N.  I want to go back to you, right into your arms, on rainy days like this.  Always yours, Taehyung.
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Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel
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tozettastone · 20 days
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@waffliesinyoface okay, let's go! (I agree on Itachi's sweet tooth honestly.)
Itachi — He likes sweet food. He'll order something you didn't even know was real, like a lavender latte, or a smoked salted vanilla frappe. "Does your drink even have coffee in it?" you may ask, dubiously eyeing what appears to be cup of lightly flavoured simple syrup piled high with freshly whipped cream. Yes, yes it does. Itachi is the tiredest person on this team, and that's including the guy who is just 6 dead bodies in a trench coat. Do not order him decaf.
Kisame — He's pretty easygoing. He'll take whatever, and then while the barista is making it he'll tell them that sharks can have milk because some of them don't have umbilical cords. He consumed the milk shed from his mother's uterus lining, like a great white, after eating his siblings. How fun. Sir, here's your coffee.
Kakuzu — Kakuzu is a pile of stolen hearts and tentacles condensed into roughly human shape. He can't taste the coffee, but his hearts respond to the caffeine. He will have whatever option comes with unlimited refills.
Hidan — Orders something new every time and hates it every time. He doesn't like bitter flavours. He has not yet made the connection between "coffee" and "bitter notes" in the formal way that would permit him to stop trying it. He complains about the taste every time. Bonus: caffeine only affects him for about 2.5 minutes.
Konan — Konan never had coffee growing up (she didn't have a lot of things growing up!) so now it's kind of a novelty. She's mostly a tea drinker but when she has coffee she takes whatever variation of 1 part coffee and 2 parts milk is easiest. She's not a connoisseur of latte foam vs cappuccino froth, etc., etc. She likes to watch the rain fall, dry and cosy in her oversized coat, while her coffee steams gently into the humid air over the village.
Pein — Nagato doesn't like to put extra fluids into his bodies because they're dead and if you alter the water content on the inside it can be very hard to maintain them in the state of preservation he prefers. He watches Konan drink, though.
Sasori — Sasori is an arty bitch, but not a "with lavender smoked honey," kind of wanky art bitch. He's a traditionalist. Espresso. With sparkling water. The tinier the demitasse, the better.
Deidara — Deidara wants a fancy sweet little treat but he's still young enough to get mad that he doesn't drink serious grown up drinks. He'll order something black and bitter and then sulk about it. What he really wants is exactly the kind of fancy and ridiculous coffee drink Itachi orders, but he's already set himself against this and mocked Itachi about it. Watch him toss back his coffee and slam the empty cup onto the table like he's doing shots of bad tequila.
Zetsu — A cafe macchiato. This is a trap because a "spotted," coffee is either all milk spotted with a bit of coffee (which is what the writer understands to be common in America) or all coffee spotted with a dab of milk (common in other parts of the world). Either way, when you serve it to him, the order will be wrong according to at least one side of his body. ;—;
Tobi — Drinks his coffee mixed 1:1 with sweetened condensed milk. Is the sweet tooth genetic?
(Honorary) Orochimaru — Orochimaru is also a pretentious arty bitch, but in his case, his order isn't intended to communicate artsy-ness about himself to the outside observer. It's instead carefully calculated to communicate that he's a snob and to stress out the barista tasked with making it for him. He wants your single origin in a double ristretto with a 3/4 cup of silky milk. If you make a latte and just don't fill it up all the way, he will know. No, really. He'll know.
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nvoirs · 1 year
Text
Letting of steam
Disclaimers: Sub Leon, Dom reader, cussing, handjob, male receiving. This is Dead by daylight Leon!
Pairing: Leon + Female reader.
Summary: Leon and you get sent to yet another trial, whilst trying to relieve him of stress so you just go with the flow.
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He looked so restless right now. Leon had been sent to so many trials today it was taking a toll on him. It physically hurt your heart seeing him so stressed, but of course him being himself tried to mask it behind a bright smile.
He did not deserve this, he did not deserve to be continuously killed over and over for some sick supernatural entity's pleasure. Just a little while before he was fighting massive tyrants that wore trench coats and fedora hats.
"Leon take it easy, ok?" crouching beside him taking his calloused hands in your own squeezing them comfortingly. He returned the gesture looking at you, "I'm fine I promise, just a little tired that's all."
Having only dated Leon since you came to this weird world, could you even call it that? whatever this place was, you always dreamed about how it would be if you guys could truly be free.
You both escaped Mr X by the skin of your teeth as the entity decided to take the two of you along with Claire Redfield. A smart, intellectual college student who along with you and Leon were trying to survive the horrors of Raccoon City.
"Hey I have a way that'll help you let of some steam." Grabbing his hand, pulling him up and along with you leading him to the small shack like hut you and him stayed at when you weren't at the campfire with the other survivors.
Pushing him down in the mattress, you crawled atop of him. You kissed him lovingly, as he sighed into the kiss cupping your face. Hair tickling his face, your little moans sending electric shocks straight to his dick.
He tried to push you down, so he could see you from above him. "No baby, this is about you not me." you pushed him back gently. But as you began to unbutton his tactical pants, mouth watering for his heavy dick to be in your mouth right now, the colours around you began to fade.
"Fuck! seriously right now?" You yelled at the entity, for stopping your sexy time with your boyfriend. Before you could protest more you found yourself in the waiting room in RPD. Really? the entity definitely sent you here on purpose, It's like it wanted you to relive the horror of those rotten looking corpses trying to eat you except there was no zombies but a crazed killer every trial who wanted to place you on a rusty meat hook. Oh gosh Leon. He was probably still hard as fuck for starters, knowing the shitty entity couldn't control his sex drive.
Entering the corridor of the East wing, you made your way to the rooftop. It was still raining here, like it was on the night you met Leon. The entity really liked these special effects you could say. Stepping past the remnants of the helicopter explosion, you made your way down through into the main hall. Glancing at the maiden statue square in the middle, before making your way into the west office.
There he was Leon had just finished the 2nd generator, he was palming himself through his pants. Relief sunk into you making your way towards his standing figure.
"Hey handsome, let me help you with that." Whispering in his ear, your hot breath fanning against him making blood rush towards his cock.
Startled at your sudden prescence, Leon allowed you to push him to the ground back against the wall.
"But baby we gotta help our t-"
Hushing him one finger placed onto his rosy lips, "Claire will handle it c'mon."
You thought about it quickly, Cheryl could definitely finish the remainder of generators by herself. Claire was more than capable of distracting the killer for another 5 or 10 minutes. That left you to relieve your baby's stress, you knew his cock ached for you.
Pulling his suffocating briefs down his calves, letting them pool at his ankles along with his tactical pants. He was so pretty. Nice and girthy, his pink tip twitching with beads of precum rolling down. Spitting into the well of your hand for some sort of lubrication, you wrapped a small hand around him.
This caused him to let out a deep groan, making you giggle.
"Gosh Leon, I haven't even started yet and you're already moaning for me?"
Rubbing his slit faster made him buck his hips up higher into your hand trying to gain some sort of the slightest friction.
"Shit.. stop teasin me baby." Sweat was beginning to form on his brow, his bangs sticking to his forehead and temple. You felt at peace like this, these intimate moments with Leon proved you weren't alone in this.
His whines became almost pornographic, stuffing his shirt between his teeth he grabbed your arm tightly.
"Where are your manners mister?" sighing you put your head into the junction of his left shoulder. He was so warm, his sweet, muffled sounds made it better.
Drool was beginning to dribble down his chin, as he looked at you with those mesmerising, cerulean coloured eyes of his.
"Please let me cum.. please promise I'll be good." His thrusts died down, waiting for your answer.
"Please what?"
"Please Ma'am, wanna ah cum."
With glee you sped up, "That's right baby I'm right here."
His breathing got heavier, gosh he was so sensitive it made you feel pride knowing you were the one getting him so worked up like this. Nipping and kissing at his supple, pale neck the salty tang left on your tongue as you left your little love bites peppered all over his skin possessively. Wanting to make sure all those other survivors knew that he was yours, only yours and you were his.
When he came his load was huge, you knew Leon cummed a lot which increased his attractiveness even more but even you were taken aback. He must have not touched himself in a while, glad you could help.
"Holy shit Leon." It just kept coming, you'd milked him dry at this point. All over his thighs and your fingers, you brought a hand to your lips. You tasted him of your fingers, moaning erotically at the taste.
"Christ, your so good with your hands baby." Pushing his sandy strands of hair back, giving you a perfect view of his fucked out face.
"Wanted to make you feel good sweetheart, now let's clean you up and go help the others."
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misc-obeyme · 7 months
Note
hello !! may i ask lost with solomon 😔💍
Hi there, anon!
Okay, so it's fluffy Solomon hours on my blog again with this one. Just in case anyone wasn't already aware, I am in love with him. I always write him in the Nightbringer timeline, too. I think it's because there's more opportunity for fluff when MC lives with him lol.
Thanks for the request!
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GN!MC x Solomon with prompt Lost
Warnings: none!
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It was a cold day in the Devildom, the wind thrashing against the windows, the cloudy sky threatening rain. Solomon didn't want to go out in that weather, of course, but he really saw no way around it. He needed some potion ingredients and he really couldn't delay getting them.
Well, if he was going to go out, he had better dress warmly. He made sure to wear his trench coat, long and thick enough to help with the wind, as well as a thick pair of socks. He tucked some gloves in his pocket just in case, though he might not need them. Then he rummaged around the coat closet, looking for his scarf.
Solomon pushed aside various jackets and things, looking for the scarf that normally sat on the high shelf in the closet. It wasn't there. Had he lost it?
Solomon thought about it for a minute and found he couldn't even remember when he last wore it. You had complained about its hideous pattern, so he made sure not to wear it around you too much. But it still had to be in Cocytus Hall somewhere, right?
He sighed and cast a little tracer spell. If the scarf was in the house, he would be able to locate it this way.
The spell manifested for only a brief moment before dying out. It did not lead him anywhere, indicating that his scarf was not actually in the hall anywhere.
Well, he had tried. He wondered briefly if you had tossed it because you thought it was so ugly. The thought made him chuckle. Either that or it was lost for good. It didn't matter too much. He could always buy himself a new one. Perhaps he had better let you pick it out for him, just so he didn't have to worry about accidentally choosing a pattern you didn't like.
Solomon set out into the blustery weather, the wind pushing his silver hair all over the place. He managed to get everything he needed fairly quickly. Checking the time, he realized it was about when you normally started home for Cocytus Hall. He decided to surprise you by waiting for you outside the House of Lamentation.
Solomon watched as you waved goodbye to the demon brothers on your way out the door. You pulled your own jacket closer to yourself in the chill, the wind clearly making it slightly difficult for you to walk.
As you got closer to where he stood, you saw him and smiled. Solomon smiled back, but then he noticed something. A hint of color around your neck… was that…?
"What are you doing out here?" you asked him.
He focused his gaze back on your eyes. "I happened to be out already and I thought I'd stop by to pick you up."
You shivered a little. "You came out in this weather? It's going to rain soon, I think."
Solomon cocked his head, his smile becoming teasing as he looked at you. "Is that why you stole my horrible scarf? I was looking everywhere for it."
Solomon was rewarded by the blush that rushed to your cheeks. Your fingers brushed the fabric of the scarf that was tied around your neck and tucked into your jacket. "I couldn't find mine," you said, frowning.
Solomon chuckled. "And here I thought maybe you finally threw it away when I wasn't looking. How did you describe it again? Ghastly?"
You folded your arms. "I stand by it. This thing is truly offensive. But it was the only option."
Solomon couldn't resist tugging it out of your jacket, revealing the bright clashing colors of it, a sort of argyle combined with paisley that he had to admit was rather unsightly. He used it to pull you closer to him. "It's all right, MC. You're welcome to use my scarf any time, though I think I'll do a better job of keeping you warm myself."
Solomon laughed gently as the expression on your face revealed just how silly you thought this line was. You laughed, too, and let him pull you into his arms. "You're welcome to try, magic man."
Solomon couldn't keep the grin off his face and both of you laughed into the kiss you shared before starting off toward home.
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the original prompt list
masterlist | Thank you for reading!
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valeskawhore · 1 year
Text
“Y/n Dracula?”
A Wednesday x FEM! Vampire! Reader! Fan fiction!!!
(1/?)
Word(s): 1.4k
Character(s)/parings: Wednesday Addams x FEM! Y/n Dracula!!
WARNING: Hello everyone and welcome, this story will stay to the original plot in the show just with my own reader insert!!! Somethings will be changed so y/n can fit in the story but that’s expect and yes,I will give a heads up before hand every time!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! EVERYONE LIKE THIS IDEA!!!!
THIS IS PART ONE!! AN INTRODUCTION!!
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*~*~*~*~
I never saw my father anymore, not even on my birthday.
I have vague memories of him though from when I was just a young girl, And of course there’s the various family paintings spread throughout the mansion chambers but, his face was always blurred or torn out by his own hand.
Not even any printed pictures, he despised them.
It was like living with a ghost. I always felt his presence but it's like he was invisible to the naked eye. Despite never seeing him or hearing orders directly from his own mouth, I still receive them from our house keepers.
Holidays were useless and such a waste of time. We never celebrated them anyways since it was too much pain to remember.
My mother had died around thanksgiving. Ironic? I know. The one time of year when everyone would celebrate the giving season, but given our history– it was not a time to be happy in our household.
That holiday was a lie anyways– it wouldnt even exist if it wasnt for mass genocide so I wasnt necessarily torn up about not celebrating it anyways.
I don't remember much about her, she was human from what I know and from what others have told me she was a very bright woman. So happy and optimistic, definitely a “glass is half full kind of person”-- Or atleast, that’s what I've been told. —-That’s another story for another time though, no use mourning over someone I barely knew.
Still, sometimes I'd long for normality. But in my case, that was merely a dream. Someone like me couldn't be normal no matter what spell or mortal concoction this pathetic world seemed to brew up. I couldn’t even go outside without my ‘ring of cursed sunlight’ on. If I didn't have that, then it was back to the o’l trench coat and sunglasses.
I am Y/n Dracula, the only living heir of the count himself. And no, I can not see my reflection in the mirror.
*~*~*~*~
I am 16 years old. Quite young for a vampire, I'm aware– but I've still got quite the ways to go. According to my research, a half-blood like myself would last only a few hundred years. I'm not completely immortal like a true count should be.
It’s the highest dishonor in my family and because of it, I was considered a sham.
The one living heir to the Dracula legacy wasn't even a full vampire. I was a regret from the moment I was born in my father’s eyes. I’ve never had any other reason to believe otherwise because it’s not like we had a healthy father-daughter relationship like most, He didn’t even talk to me.
On my sixteenth birthday, I received a letter from a principal in a small little town located near a cemetery surrounded by a body of water. Where the skies were dark and gloomy, rain was common, and happiness died along with its resident’s hopes and dreams…
It was like a dream come true, I know.
But what I wasn't particularly fond of was what the school represented, outcasts.
Nevermore Academy; The school of outcasts and those who were rejected from the normal lifestyle we know today. Where weirdos and stoners, rejects and ‘misunderstood’ ‘troubled’ teens got sent to.
What’s even worse was, APPARENTLY— it was my father’s idea.
What better way to make sure your child knows you’re ashamed of them? What a nice birthday present dad.
I didn’t even have a choice either. My bags were already packed for me, and my transporter, Alec, was patiently waiting at the bottom of the stairs, ready to hand me my coat and ring.
I received many hugs and presents from my housekeepers, the closest thing I had to a family.
With a final wave goodbye, I saw myself out of the mansion. Only looking back for a brief moment to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything but,
something had caught my sharp attention when I finally took a seat in the passenger side of our vehicle.
From a far window above,
The one window in my fathers corridor,
The one window he always kept shut and locked without even the slightest bit of light shining through,
I could have sworn, I saw a pale white stoic face glaring at me through the window before disappearing. Almost as if the count himself wanted to see my dissatisfied face before leaving.
‘What a smug bastard.’ I had thought to myself, adjusting in the seat and pulling my sunglasses over my eyes.
As we rounded the mansion's fountain, making a U-turn to be let out the tall dark gate, Alec said my name.
I turned towards him,
“Young mistress, your father wanted me to hand you this, tis’ your birthday present.” His older face crinkled into an eye closed smile.
He held a black velvet box out to me, wrapped in the darkest of ribbons and bows, with a letter and a black rose tucked between the packaging. I took the box,
Pulling the letter from the packaging and removing the dark crimson wax melted “D” from the opening so I could read the letter,
“T’was your mothers, she wanted you to have it on this day.” the letter had read in big bold fancy writing,
And in the box was a small beautiful mirror crusted with rubies and black gems, rimmed with gold and silver.
“Your mother always had taste.” Alec smiled once more.
The sight of the mansion soon disappeared in my rear view mirror, I sighed.
‘What kind of a ridiculous name is Nevermore anyways?’
*~*~*~*
LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK !! DO YOU THIS SHES GOOD ENOUGH TO CONTINUE THE STORY!???? <333
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Text
Unturned Stones
Dream of the Endless x Reader
Summary: Even in a world where you would not choose me, I would always choose you.
Word Count: 1k+
Warnings: gender neutral!reader, angst, teacher!Hob Gadling, typos, etc.
A/N: i nearly broke my keyboard because i was halfway done then i lost the whole thing so i rewrote it 😀 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9
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The Sun was kind today. She smiled upon this plane with a golden glow. The green blades of grass gazing up to her, dewy with what remained of midnight rain, glimmered because of her light.
The breeze reminded everyone how sweet it was to be alive. The scent of the lawn across the lot, pricked with red and pink and white and purple, swirled kindly into your lungs to reassure of this.
And as he, Lord Morpheus, sauntered across the brown brick hall, the colors of the Waking World appeared as though they went to die in the blackness of his clothes. The matte velvet of his trench coat and the sheen of his leather shoes seemed devoid of all light.
His face, pale and sharp, however, lit up at the sight of the man across him, the whole reason why he was here at this place to begin with.
"Hey, Mr. Hobz," a group of students spoke as they passed the man. Hob greeted each student back by name and then turned back to his approaching friend.
He laughs heartily, hand patting the black fabric on the being's shoulder, "milord.”
"Hob, it is-"
"Gahh," Hob pulls him into a tight hug, arms sealing him tightly against his frame. The man chuckles as he pulls away, "good to see you, Dream."
Normally, Dream would not return a smile of out of respect, and it was true in this moment still. He did not smile back at Hob out of courtesy, he smiled back out of fondness, "likewise, my friend."
Hob could not help himself as they walked off. He threw his arm over Dream's shoulder and babbled on and on and on about his life thus far, pulling his companion close to him as he did.
When they reached the room Hob's next class would be at, the man pulls away and sets his satchel bag down, "you sure you don't want me to call out to you?" He turns to Dream, "let you speak a couple words."
"That won't be necessary, for your words are my words."
Hob snorts as he pulls out a book from his bag, "you mean my words are a dead man's words." He flips through the pages, looking for the excerpt he would be discussing today. He sighs rather wistfully, "ahh, you know, the bugger would have loved DVDs."
"His words are as much mine as they are his," Dream retorts, bringing his hands behind his back.
Hob turns to him but does not respond as a group of students enter the room and greet him loudly. Dream moves with them as they find their seats in the classroom, with desks on ascending stairs.
And when the hour turned two, Hob was ready to start, but there was something incredibly important still missing. He locked eyes with Dream, wordlessly asking if he should begin regardless of the fact, and with one firm nod from his friend, Hob began to speak.
"Moonlight follows the old laws," Hob said. He spoke plainly yet inspired all the attention to be offered to him. He took a few steps across the platform and continues, "as does sunshine, and all the rays that twinkle in the sky."
Dream, who was sat in the middle of the room, felt his insides swirl at the sound of the oration. He had not heard it in such a long time.
"The darkness sings with the light, which is why many winged creatures reply with song the morning. It is their nature to do so, their will, which coincides with the old laws," Hob says, just as the door to the room opens. All fail to notice this, transfixed on the spoken prose, all save one.
Dream watches you as you silently enter. His form reacts involuntarily, jaw clenching, breath shortening, palms dampening. You were here. Finally.
"What simple minds do not understand is that the laws do not limit, they guide."
You survey the room and find one vacant spot in the center, heading instinctively to it. Dream evens his breathing as you approach.
"The laws serve as the foundation for all who would otherwise act with no thoughts behind their eyes."
Hob finally notices you as you tiptoe across into the row. He notices Dream watching you, then finds himself smiling, "And though I know this truth, and though my mother taught me these laws thoroughly-"
You sit down with a huff.
"- against your love, my dreamer, the laws are mere suggestions to an old fool who cannot understand words."
Dream watches as you place your bag on your lap and pull out pen and paper. You flip the pages of your notebook and lift your eyes to your professor.
Your professor gestures to the class, "I have gone against my family. I have gone against Destiny and Death themselves. For what is their claim on you? Why should they touch you when you belong to me? Why should you leave my Dreaming when you've become my greatest dream?"
You write these very words on the blank page. You rewrite 'Dream' over and over until the ink is thick on the word, and Dream beside you nearly combusts at sight of a tiny heart you adorn beside his name.
"Yet, truly, I was a fool in love. My want to keep you close has become precisely why I could not keep you. For the price of forever with me meant tragedy for you. Existence would not let you be, for they believed you were not mine.
"And I watched my tender kisses fall numb on your grazed flesh. My touch no longer comforted your beaten form. My hubris has hurt you more than anything should have. I gazed upon your form and saw reflected the Nightmare that was I."
Dream stiffened when your shoulders brushed together.
"Desire tricked me, Despair whispered in my ear, and my brother, Destruction, spoke words that pierced my thorax. He asked how you could be mine when you were not a dream, you were blood and bones and flesh and sinew and soul." Hob recited. A line formed on his forehead. He had forgotten the words that came next.
The room watched as Hob walked to his desk and picked up his book. He put on his glasses and looked for the next part of the piece.
When it took a bit longer than expected, Dream whispered under his breath, "your body belonged to-"
"Your body belonged to the earth," Hob spoke.
You turned over your shoulder, hearing Dream mutter, "and your soul belonged to the Sunless Lands."
"And your soul belonged to the Sunless lands," Hob continued.
Dream could feel you looking at him. He could feel as you turned back to your professor who then spoke, "you did not belong to me."
Dream closed his eyes and repeated, 'you did not belong to me.'
"So," Hob tips his glasses and reaches his hand out, "I released you from my grasp." His eyes dart from the page to his students, "but I had already broken the laws to bind your spirit with mine."
You rest your head upon your hand, leaning on Dream's side, making a shiver run down his spine.
"As long as I was, so you were. Your breath would echo mine, even if you no longer knew it, even if it became as though that was never true," Hob lowered his book, "you would walk into a room and sit beside me, never knowing once before I kissed your skin and brushed your hair."
Hob saw you brush your hair to the side, whereupon Dream clenched his hand. The man saw how Dream’s stoic expression hardened, so he turned his gaze and sucked in a breath, "you would listen to me drone about my greatest love, never knowing it was the one I spoke to that I was speaking of.
"You would never know that every dance, sculpture, and ode that felt as though they were made for you were made for you, for I commissioned every poet and every painter to immortalize my love…"
"… my love."
Dream and Hob say this at the same time, one more desperate than the other.
Hob continues, "you would never know the songs you sing to someone else were all that remained of us.
"Though you look upon a face that is not mine with seemingly more adoration, I tell myself I am glad, because at least you were smiling. Though you sigh under the caress of another with words I swore only I would hear, I tell myself I am glad, because at least you were cared for.
"And though you hear these words now and think only, 'what tragedy', 'what poor fellow', I tell myself that I am glad, because at least, now you knew, even in a world where you would not choose me, I would always choose you."
Hob waits for a moment.
Dream eyes are fixed on you, but you did not know.
"My darling Delirium comforts me,” Hob mutters, “because she knows what it’s like to do one thing but want the other. I am glad but I am not."
You tilt your head to the side.
"I am not glad but I am."
The room is dead silent.
Hob offers the room a soft smile.
Dream stands and walks off from his seat. Hob watches him for a moment before turning back to the class, clapping his hands together, "alright, who wants to tell me what the excerpt is about?"
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nikathingz · 2 years
Text
Witch's Dreams
Morpheus x Immortal!Witch!Reader
I couldn't wait to make a part 2! i hope you enjoy it! and don't forget to like and follow for more!
Part 1 here
Masterlist
( These people wanted to be tagged : @mona-has-friends @jesllianaquilesrolon @true-queen-of-mischief @deniixlovezelda @aurorarevenclaw1927 @thecrazytealady @22carolina08 )
Word Count: 1585
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You took your peaceful dreams as a sign that Dream wasn’t mad at you for being hired to seal him in a basement for as long as the foundation of the house stood. While out and about doing work, you started to notice a raven just about every time you left your house. Every time you did you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, it's not like you didn’t like ravens, you believed they brought good fortune. Yet, whenever you saw them recently you couldn’t help the way your gut twisted in nervousness when you noticed them perched around your apartment.
It was a few months after your debacle at the Burgess manor when you had sleeping trouble. You had awoken early that morning to start a long busy day of work and were up later than usual. But when you finally did try to enter the land of dreams, you could not.
You’d laid in bed in silence and darkness for about an hour and a half before you got up and decided to make a cup of tea, in hopes it would help you sleep. But even as you sat on your couch sipping at the warm drink, your eyelids did not droop, and your muscles did not tingle. You had felt more awake than ever actually.
After staring at the wall for several long and boring moments you looked out the window where rain had started to patter outside. Your body went ridged as a pair of yellow glowering eyes stared back at you from the fire escape. As you shifted off the couch and toward the window. The cat had stood and started trotting out of view of the window, toward where the fire escape reached your bedroom.
You rushed through your tiny apartment and crossed the threshold of your dark room, to be met with a pair of sparkling eyes in the blackness, except instead of being on the floor, at the head level of a cat. They stood taller than you, not by much, but certainly more than a feline.
Your breath hitched as thunder boomed through the city, your first instinct was to grab something to defend yourself with, but you stood frozen as the eyes approached you. You gawked as he stepped from the shadows into the beam of light coming in from your now cracked open window. It was him, Dream of the Endless.
Excitement and nerves bubbled in your throat, what did he want? Why was he here? Your eyes examined his form, he wore a black T-shirt and jeans, with the same colored pair of boots and had his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of a trench coat, also black. His hair was in the same disarray as when he was trapped, you figured it was the way he liked it.
His face was hard, brows furrowed and lips pursed like he had been sucking on a lemon. Yet a sparkle in his eyes carried curiosity.
“W-what do you want?” your voice was weary as you shrunk into yourself, you watched as his features softened and he gave you a smile of gratitude.
“Fear not mage, I have no resentment toward you” His voice was different than you had expected it to be. The type of voice that would make millions in the audiobook department, one that soothed the knots in your shoulders and made your head fuzzy with fatigue. “How could I?” He stepped closer to you, so close that if he stepped to you again he would be chest to chest with you. He lifted his hand out of his pocket but hesitated and dropped it to his side.
“Then why have you come?” You asked and shifted on the balls of your feet, looking up at him with childish awe. He was breathtaking like this, his glassy skin shone in the filtered moonlight, and you could pick up on every slight micro expression on his face.
The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly as his eyelids fell shut and he dropped gracefully to kneel before you. Morpheus was a prideful being, but being imprisoned for over a century was truly humbling to him, he owed you eternally for what you did for him.
You could have left him there, worse, bound him there for creator knows how long. When he heard Alex’s demands, he damn near expected you too. And yet, you hadn’t hesitated to come to his aid once the house fell asleep, and you hadn’t asked anything in return.
You were truly remarkable, it had taken all of his willpower to not come and see you immediately after he had recovered his tools to properly thank you. Matthew was his next best option, and eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see you in the waking world and pay his respects.
Now standing here before you in your moonlit bedroom, he was like a worshipper to the ancient gods.
Your face flushed as you watched him kneel before you and hang his head like a child caught in the cookie jar. “I- what are you d-doing?” your heart pounded in your ears as the godlike being in your home looked up at you with a face filled with gratitude.
“Thanking the witch who freed me from my prison, as I should have many months ago,” he said regretfully, and you watched as his lips pursed in shame. This caused you to hesitantly grip his shoulders and try and get him to stand with you again, but he stayed firm on the floor.
“No, lord Dream please don’t, you didn’t-” you said as you tugged on his coat, but he placed a chilly hand on his shoulder, over yours, and shook his head slightly.
“Morpheus, my name is Morpheus, I will not have you address me as superior when I owe you an eternities debt” He spoke firmly, but not in a manner to upset you.
“Okay okay! But please Morpheus stand up, you don’t owe me anything really” You said and watched as he looked up at you with novelty, but slowly rose to stand within a mere foot from you.
“You misunderstand mage, I do owe you-” He tried to reason but you didn’t let him, by gripping his sleeve and smiling up at him.
“No Morpheus you don’t, the lovely dreams the past few months have been payment enough, I was simply doing what any right minded person would do. There’s no need for any ‘eternal debt’ or whatever, just knowing you’re okay, and that humanity doesn’t have to suffer anymore sleepy sickness is enough for me” You spoke softly and watched as he gently gripped the wrist that had a hold on his sleeve, turning it over carefully in his calloused hands.
Morpheus examined every inch of your face, he wondered what kind of deal with the fates he made long ago that might have brought you through his path, but he didn’t care.
You infatuated him, you weren’t like humans, you didn’t use your powers as a witch against people, you didn’t exploit your immortality, and you freed an Endless being, simply out of the kindness of your heart.
“Even centuries of sweet dreams could not convey my gratitude to you” His voice was calm and peaceful, pulling a yawn from your throat, which caused Morpheus’s jaw to clench momentarily.
He felt a bit guilty for being the cause of your inability to sleep tonight, he had intended to speak with you much earlier in the evening, but he was caught up watching as you did mundane tasks around your house, and the small projects you’d put off, he just lost track of time.
He cleared his throat and released your hand, trying to compose himself, your eyes closed as you gave him a genuine smile. “As I said, you don’t need to give me anything because I don’t want anything” you tried to assure him, but his face was set in a state of immense concentration.
He tried to think of what Lucienne might advise him to do, he understood that he’s not very good at expressing himself the way he intends to. He simply looked over your face watching the tiredness overtake your features.
“How about this hm? I go to bed, and we can talk more tomorrow yeah?” You said drowsily and swayed in your spot, feeling the sounds of pattering rain and the presence of Morpheus finally lull your exhausted mind towards sleep.
This prompted Morpheus to place his steady hands onto your biceps and gently tug you toward your messy bed. He gently laid your finally tired form into the comforts of your bedding and watched as you snuggled into your plush pillow.
He hovered by your nightstand as you adjusted and got comfortable, before looking up at him and smiling softly “goodnight Morpheus” you mumbled as your eyes fell closed.
A soft smile graced his features as he stared at your stilled form. “Goodnight mage…” he uttered quietly and pulled a soft sheet over you.
“It’s Y/n…” you muttered so quietly that he almost didn’t hear, but his smile widened in acknowledgment. As he let out a breath of a laugh.
“Goodnight then… Y/n” he said and left you to your dreams, assuring that they were especially wonderful as you snoozed away that night, it’s safe to say he was properly infatuated with you.
•••
Part three?
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