#but honestly... i am the worst person for hair... really am

[mrsevans90]

Double Life

Summary: Charlotte has gone on a few dates with a journalist named Clark Kent and she really feels like she’s falling for him. She has noticed some odd behavior from him every once in a while, but the worst part is not knowing if he’s truly interested in her. Why won’t he make a move? Is he just taking things extremely slow? Are her feelings for him unrequited? She finds the answers to all of her questions in the most embarrassing way imaginable. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Clark Kent/Superman x Female Reader Charlotte

Brief mention of Bruce Wayne x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,060 

Warnings: SMUT; masturbation, voyeur, oral (f), oral (m), squirting, cum swallowing, fingering, P in V intercourse, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), dirty talk, rough sex, language.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d

A/N: This story came to me in a dream and I woke up and immediately typed the idea in my notes section of my phone. This is my very FIRST attempt at writing anything on Tumblr so all I ask is please be kind and if you love it then please comment and REPOST! Thank you for reading! 

*CHARLOTTE POV*

I woke up early Saturday morning. It seems impossible to sleep in now that I’ve become so used to being at the office by 8 am every morning. I feel a bit jittery after my date last night and am thankful for the wine that I consumed being the only reason I even was able to fall asleep. I lay in bed as my thoughts run wild. I know I should be getting out of bed and going for a run in an attempt to get rid of this pent-up energy, but glancing towards my bedroom window shows a dreary overcast day with a potential for rain. I toss and turn trying to find a comfortable position while my brain races thinking of last night. A handsome and often quiet man named Clark Kent had taken me on our fifth date. He was absolutely gorgeous, well dressed with his hair combed back, strong jaw with dimpled chin and black framed glasses. His incredible physique and handsome features are only partially what attracts me to him. His generous and mild-mannered personality and intelligence were a huge turn on. The attraction I feel for Clark is more than I ever remember feeling for a man before. My dating life since getting cheated on by my long-term high school boyfriend has been very short lived which I was fine with until now. I feel like I’ve continually held men at arm’s length, settling for a few one-night stands but nothing more in an attempt to spare my heart from more heartache. I realized after our third date that I wanted more with Clark and that he was worth the risk but I honestly am not sure how he feels about me. Yes, he’s continued to ask me on dates; taking me to dinner several times and even to a movie, yet he hasn’t made any more advances other than holding my hand and a cordial peck on the cheek. He walks me to my door after each date and ends our evening with a hug, kiss on the cheek and a goodnight. After our fourth date, I asked him if he’d like to come inside, however, he politely declined. I’m going out of my mind trying to figure out if he’s even interested but I haven’t built up the courage to ask him yet. I doubt I would even get the chance after I essentially stuck my foot in my mouth on the walk home from dinner with him last night. 

*Flashback to last night*

We walked past a storefront near my apartment that was advertising superman shirts for children and I commented how cute they were. I had noticed over the past month, that Clark was very quiet anytime I mentioned the famous Superman around him. Why couldn’t I just take the hint that he was uncomfortable?

“You know, you look an awful lot like Superman. I bet if you dressed as him for your work Halloween party, people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in you both!” I said with a smile that quickly went away when I noticed him flinch.

Unfortunately, I didn’t stop my nervous rambling there. In my attempt to lighten the mood, I said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that you actually are Superman! Ha ha! Do you have a secret identity you’re keeping from me, Clark?” I said with a wink. 

When I looked at Clark he seemed withdrawn and somewhat nervous. 

“No, no. I’m certainly not that interesting.” Clark quickly responded while looking at his feet as we walked into my apartment building.

“I’ve enjoyed tonight but I have to get going. I have, um… I have an early start in the morning attempting to interview people in Gotham City about the latest crime statistics.” Clark told me before I could even invite him inside. He seemed fidgety and awkward as he kept glancing anywhere but at my eyes.

“On a Saturday?” I ask and he quickly nodded while avoiding eye contact with me.

“Good journalism never takes a day off.” He said with an embarrassed smile. 

“I could possibly help. I have Bruce Wayne’s contact information if you’d like it. I’m sure he could be an interesting person to interview for your article.”

“You do? Why? I mean, how do you know him?” He responded with an arched eyebrow as he finally made eye contact with me for the first time in the past few minutes.

“Well, almost two months ago I met him at a charity gala for the Children’s hospital. He came over and spoke to me for a bit before he asked me on a date. It was the day after you asked me if I would go to dinner with you so I politely turned him down. He gave me his business card in case I changed my mind.” I responded quickly. Why does this feel so awkward? I didn’t do anything wrong but I still feel like he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure it’s on my desk in the apartment, if you’d like to come inside?” I ask as a last stitch effort to see if I had completely ruined this date.

“No, no that’s not necessary…Thank you, I appreciate the offer though. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Clark asked with his typical kiss on the cheek. 

“Oh…okay. Goodnight Clark.”

“Goodnight Charlotte.” He responded before turning and beelining for the exit. 

“Way to go, Char. Could you be any more of a dumbass?” I quietly said to myself as I closed my apartment door and went to get ready for bed.

*Present Day*

As I continue to lay in bed I begin thinking about Clark and think about how large and strong his hand was as he cradled my small one in his while we walked to the restaurant. The veins in his muscular arms, and his strong, sharp jaw. My arousal begins to dampen my panties which I quickly remove and lay back in only my white tank top. Guess this will be the only sexual relief I will be getting for a long time. I thought to myself as I reach for the vibrator in my nightstand and begin pleasuring myself. After only a few minutes, I have kicked off my covers as my body begins to glisten with perspiration, and begin pleading for my orgasm to arrive. My eyes clamped shut, I imagine Clark’s large, strong chest against my own, his arms on either side of my head as he pumps what I can only imagine is a perfect and large cock into my warmth. I imagine his beautiful blue eyes staring into my own as he presses kisses to my body and sucks on my neck.

“Clark! Please, please, please, Clark! Ugh! I need you!” I say verbally as I continue to spur myself on in this filthy fantasy. 

CLARK POV:

Across town I am scrambling some eggs on the stove as I think about last night. Had Charlotte actually figured out my secret? Something the rest of the world seemed oblivious too? Or was she just joking and truly unaware? I had to deny it even though she was absolutely correct. I cringed as I began thinking about Bruce hitting on her. It’s not shocking since she’s possibly the most naturally stunning, intelligent, and interesting woman I have ever met. I believe I made it clear with him on the phone after I came home last night to stay away from my girl. I know she’s not technically mine, or a possession to own, but I have more claim to her heart than Bruce and I won’t allow him to interfere. Before I even realize it, I have squeezed a hand shaped imprint around the flimsy handle of the pan I was using.

“Damnit!” I mutter to myself.

I feel like Charlotte is getting impatient with me. It’s obvious that she wants more but how do I handle a relationship with someone I can’t be fully honest with. I want to tell her, I want her to fully know me but I feel like I can’t. I think back to how Lois was used essentially as bait when we were dating. The paranoia and pressure of being Superman’s personal kryptonite and obvious weakness was too much for both of us. Now, she was happily engaged to an engineer in the city. I’m delighted for her, she deserves true happiness yet I wonder if I’ll ever get to experience the same. I couldn’t stop myself from asking Charlotte on a date. The moment I saw her walking into the office next to me, I was lovestruck. Her long blonde hair, tight but professional dress with heels and most importantly crystal blue eyes. She was independent and driven as the head of marketing for her department. Yet, she still had this kindness about her as I watched her enter her building and the front desk guard hug her while thanking her for the toys she had sent home for his young children. She smiled genuinely and made him promise to bring his wife and children for a visit soon. God how I wanted every bit of her. I wanted her body, her mind, her future. The fourth time I saw her, I couldn’t help myself as I made my way towards her and “accidentally” bumped into her. We began a conversation and I was hooked. Before I could even think about the potential consequences, I was asking her to dinner. My cock ached as I thought about her in the shower last night after our date. Hell, I may be an alien but I still have sexual urges. She smelled and looked so beautiful. I could imagine her breasts pressed against my body. I daydreamt about the softness of her lips and the sounds she might make as I slowly took her apart. It has been almost impossible to turn down her invitations to join her in her apartment. I haven’t even allowed myself to kiss her because I’m scared to go any further and get more attached only to have her walk away if she finds out my secret. Was this self-preservation or just stupidity? I’m jolted out of my thoughts as I hear her voice louder than all the others noises going on around me thanks to my super hearing. I listen carefully as I hear her calling my name.

“Clark! Please, please, please, Clark! I need you!” 

I hear her whine and she sounds as if she is out of breath. Without thinking I jump into my Superman suit and bolt out of the window straight into the sky headed towards Charlotte’s apartment. As I get closer, I can hear her whimper along with her accelerated heartrate and I panic thinking she’s in trouble. I reach her unlocked window and slide it open before flying in. Her apartment smells just like her, floral and clean. I focus on her heartbeat and the quiet buzzing sound that I originally thought was coming from the apartment below hers. As soon as I open the door I smell her arousal at the same moment I watch her reach her climax with her eyes clamped shut. 

“Yes, baby!” She cries out. Her legs are parted as she holds a small purple vibrator against her clit and I can see and smell how turned on she is as her pussy glistens with her want. Her breasts are barely contained in a thin white tank top as they heave up and down while she breathes through her orgasm.

Fuck! I’m such a pervert. I need to get out of here before she sees me!

I can’t help but stare at her as she’s laying there twitching from her euphoria. I reach for the door to carefully close it before I realize I wasn’t quick enough.

“Oh my god!” She shouts as she pulls the covers over her body to cover her modesty. Her face blushing profusely as she stares at me.

I back up quickly with my hands in front of me until my back hits her hallway wall. “I’m so sorry. I heard you calling for me and I thought you were in pain. I swear I didn’t mean to walk in on you!” I blurt out quickly not even realizing my own mistake. Charlotte just stares at me with a shocked and bewildered look on her face.

“I’ll go, truly I’m so sorry about this, Ma’am.” I say with my eyes directed at the floor as I pray my rock-hard erection isn’t as obvious as it feels in my form fitting suit. Right as I turn to run back towards the window I hear her again.

“Wait! Please wait!”

Her eyes are wide as she slowly begins to smirk as I turn back around to face her, my eyes still drawn to the floor.

“I didn’t call out for Superman. I called out for Clark.” She says and I glance up at her with wide eyes as saucers as I realize that I had just outed my own secret. My cheeks blush and I can’t put together a single thought to respond to what she just said.

We stare at each other for what feels like minutes even though it’s only just a few seconds.

“I knew I was onto something. You’re always MIA around when Superman is on the news fighting crime, and you stiffen up anytime I mention him. You also had to leave early because of a “family emergency” on our third date but seemed confused later when I asked you if everything with your family was okay. That was the same night that serial killer was brought to the police station by Superman in Gotham. I…I hope you know that I won’t ever tell anyone, Clark. I thought you knew that you could trust me.” She says and I step towards her while remaining a safe distance.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I do trust you but I’ve had to keep this secret my entire life. I was scared at how easily you caught on. I always knew you were intelligent but I was hoping I could still keep you off of the scent of my deception.” 

“It was really just a theory, but obviously this is my confirmation. Since I’m already more than embarrassed after what you just saw, I guess I really have nothing to lose if I just go ahead and ask you.”

“I’m listening.” I say as I hear her heartrate begin to increase steadily.

“Is this why you’ve held back from me? Or are you even interested in dating me? I’m absolutely fine with taking things slow if that’s what you want. I can’t help my old insecurities that make me wonder if you’re even attracted to me and are serious about taking things further with us.” She says with the sweetest innocence and I can’t help but walk towards her and reach out to stroke her cheek. She pulls for me to sit down beside her and I can’t resist.

“I am absolutely interested in dating you, sweetheart. If you only knew how infatuated I am with you, it might frighten you. You are my dream girl, the one I think about each night, and the one person I feel like truly sees to my soul, even when you only knew half of my identity. I see a future for us, Charlotte, which is why I was scared. I was scared that you would run if you found out who I am. I was scared you then might only be interested in me because I’m Superman. Simple Clark just can’t compete with all of the Superman fanfare. What scares me the most is that you could be used as a pawn by dangerous people. I can’t fathom putting you in harm's way. People could come after me and find you to use against me. Being Superman ruined my last and only real relationship so I guess I felt that if I kept ours in limbo, I could still have the time I crave with you while also not losing you. I was afraid to let you in because of my own fears. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard it was to not kiss you during our dates or come into your apartment when you invited me. I’m so sorry if I made you feel anything other than absolutely adored. I’m out of my element and have no idea what I’m doing.” Clark says the last part with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Clark, I understand your fears and your sense of self-preservation. I do it too. I often feel like I’ve built the walls around my heart too high in order to protect myself from heartache but each moment I’ve spent with you seems to lower them. I see a potential future with you too which is terrifying and exhilarating all at once because I don’t want to be heartbroken again. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are worth the risk.  I’m not afraid of you, or being with you. I’m not going anywhere. I want you in any and every form and I won’t run away. You are the only person that has made me feel alive again in years.”

Clark smiles triumphantly before leaning down and kissing Charlotte passionately. After kissing her for several minutes, she slowly pulls back to catch her breath.

“So, you’ve seen mine… When do I get to see yours? Fair is fair.” Charlotte looks up at me sultrily as she runs her hands up and down my arms.

“Are you certain that is what you want?” I smirk as I arch my eyebrow at her.

She nods as she sits up on her knees and drops the blanket that was covering her body only clad in a thin white tank top. 

“Only if you want too.” She seductively bites her lip as she trails her fingers down my torso and gently cups my bulge that is swelling indecently against my tight suit. 

“Holy shit!” She murmurs quietly as she presses against my engorged erection and I can’t help but chuckle.

Before I even think I’m unzipping and tugging my suit off of my body at super speed before leaning over her and ripping her tank top from her torso. She squeals in excitement as I lean over her pressing our hot naked bodies against each other while pulling her into a zealous kiss.  

“You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about having you like this, Lottie. I’ve wanted you to be mine from the moment I saw you.” I say as I touch all over her beautiful body.

“Ditto, which you obviously know since you got a front row seat to my indecent fantasies about you.” She says with a little giggle as I begin kissing down her torso after having already sucked on her pert breasts.

I make my way down her body as I become face to face with her hot, dripping core. I smell the sweet arousal coming from her and when I look up at her for permission she quickly nods as she reaches to caress my cheek. I smirk at her before I begin feasting on her sweet petals and sucking on her clit. 

“Oh my god, Clark!” She almost yells while her hands tug against my hair as she begins gyrating her hips to increase the pleasure she is receiving from my mouth. I continue for a few minutes as I feel her begin to stiffen from her orgasm. I continue to lick her gently through her orgasm but decide that I’m not finished with her yet. I want to give her an orgasm so earth shattering that she squirts her arousal all over my face. She shouts as I shove my finger into her opening, quickly followed by a second one. I curl my fingers and search for her g-spot. 

I know quickly that I’ve found it when her back arches off of the bed and she yells, “Fuck! Clark! Right there!” 

I begin shoving my fingers against the soft spongey spot while my tongue continues to flick over her clit. 

“I think I’m gonna… oh shit Clark! This feels different! Oh my god!” She squeals as her body arches off of the bed and she begins to squirt. The sounds of her squelching and dripping are lewd as I continue to work her through it. Her body almost convulses around my assault and I preen at her filthy moans. I am doing everything to keep from blowing my load on her bed. I watch as Charlotte’s whole body quickly becomes jelly-like as her muscles relax and I lightly kiss her thighs. 

“That was beautiful, baby.” I say as I press small kisses on her hips and abdomen.

“Did I? Oh my god, Clark. Did I just squirt?” She asks as her cheeks are beet red.

“You sure did baby. Soaked my face and almost made me blow my load. Did it feel good?”

“Yes, but I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sor...” She began to say before I quickly cut her off with a kiss. 

“Don’t you ever apologize for that sweetheart. That was a pure masterpiece and I hope I’ll get you to do it again at some point. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on.” I admit before kissing her again.

“Now it’s your turn.” She smiles as she attempts to push me to the bed. It’s like a kitten trying to push a lion over which makes me grin before I quickly concede and lay on my back. 

“Babygirl, you don’t have too. I’m just happy to give you pleasure.” I tell her.

“Oh no, Mr. Kent. I’m not missing an opportunity to taste you.” Charlotte says as she begins moving down my body. I can barely lay still once she reaches my manhood and I feel her warm breath where I need her most. I groan as I take in the sight of her tiny hand wrapping around my girth as she begins to kitten lick along my length. I groan as she looks at me doe eyed before she takes me in her mouth. She has the mouth of a goddess and I’m already close before she even adds her tiny hand to pump what wouldn’t fit. I reach down and grab her long beautiful hair into a makeshift ponytail so I can watch her. I feel her tiny hand begin pulsing around my balls and groan loudly. I can’t help myself as I watch her steady herself before taking my entire length to her throat. She gags as her nose reaches my skin and she slightly pulls off before doing it again. Saliva is dripping from her chin as she continues working my cock.

“Babygirl, I’m gonna cum. You need to...fuck… stop if you don’t want it in your mouth.” 

She moans around my length as she doubles her effort and the vibrations feel heavenly. That’s all it took for me to reach my high and explode down her throat.

My body shivers in aftershocks due to the oversensitivity as Y/N continues to suck around the head of my cock and massage my balls. I look down and see that she’s swallowed everything and is smiling brightly at me. I reach down and pull her up my body as I immediately begin kissing her breathless. 

“Darling, that was incredible. Thank you.” I smile at her before I kiss down her neck. 

*CHARLOTTE POV*

My mind is empty of every thought due to the alarm bells and “OMG THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING” screaming repeatedly in my head. I’m trying my best to play it off, but my fantasy is coming true and it’s even better than I ever could have imagined. Clark is not only the best kisser I’ve ever experienced, but he has the body of a Greek God. Well, in this case, he has a body of a superhero. I’ve been doing my best not to sound needy but heavens, I need him inside of me.

“Clark” I say as he continues to press gentle kisses behind my ear and the column of my neck.

“Yes angel?” 

“Please tell me I don’t have to wait long for you to be inside of me. I need you.”

He smirks above me as I feel his rigid cock against my abdomen. It didn’t go soft after his orgasm. “You want me right now?” I nod enthusiastically. 

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart. Take what you want.” Clark says huskily in my ear. For a man who seemed so reserved and shy, he has all of the confidence in the world when it comes to the bedroom. As he should!

I smile wildly as his chest vibrates against my own with a low growl as I reach his hard length and pump him a few times against my slick before pressing him to my entrance.

“Oh my god!”

“Shit!” 

We both speak simultaneously as he seats himself fully inside of me. It feels like he is reaching my lungs as he gives me a moment to adjust around his ginormous cock.

“God, Clark! You’re huge!” 

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” Clark frets even though he hasn’t moved inside of me.

“Fuck no!” I respond almost breathlessly as I wrap my hands around his biceps tightly. 

“I’ve just never been with someone as big as you. I’m okay. You can move now.”

Clark carefully pulls almost completely out of me before gently sliding all the way back in. 

“Baby girl, you are so tight and warm. You feel incredible.” He says as he starts building up a gentle rhythm. 

“You won’t break me, baby. You can go harder.” 

“I could if I’m not careful, Sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I will tell you if it starts to hurt, I swear. Relax, baby.” I say before kissing him enthusiastically. He reaches and cups my tits in his hands, massaging them gently.

Clark watches me carefully before taking a breath and slamming into me roughly. His pubic bone slamming into my clit making me shriek with the sensation.

“How’s that for harder?” He whispers.

“Oh, fuck yes, baby! Just like that! You feel so good inside of me.” I whine as my hands scratch down his back without even making a mark on his strong impenetrable skin.

“That’s right, sweet girl. I can tell you’re close. Come all over my cock. Squeeze me.” He says as my body begins milking him. 

“CLARK!” I shout.

“Call me Kal, baby. When I’m balls deep inside this sweet pussy, I want you to call me Kal.” He says with the most shit eating grin while never slowing his pace.

“Oh my god, Kal!” I moan just before my eyes roll back and I instantly come all over him.

“Fuck yes, this is the tightest little pussy in the world. So beautiful and wet and snug around me.” He grunts as he continues to slam into me. Before I realize it, he’s sitting me up in his lap so that our chests are against each other and my legs are wrapped around his waist. Clark grabs the back of my neck to press himself even closer to me as I brace my hands on his shoulders. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly become more beautiful….” Clark whispers into my ear as he grabs my ass to help me move on top of him.

“Watching your gorgeous body tremble in ecstasy is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, Angel.”

Clark plants his feet against the floor and begins wildly thrusting as I rotate my hips in his lap. His hands are most likely leaving bruises on my hips but I don’t even care.

“I want you to come inside of me, baby. I need to feel you fill me up. I’m on the pill. Please?” I speak against his ear between his heavy thrusts into me and clench down on him at his responding moan. What has gotten into me? I’ve never let a man come inside of me. This isn’t just any man though, and I am absolutely feral for him.

“Only if you come with me.” He grunts.

“I can’t… it’s too much.” I tell him as my body shakes against him.

“Yes, you can, baby.” He reaches between us and presses his thumb on my clit. I cry out from overstimulation but realize I’m almost there.

“Kal, right there! I’m so close!”

“Come baby. Soak me.” He says as he continues to pleasure me and a moment later I have the most blinding orgasm of my life. I swear that I feel like I am floating as I hear Clark grunt and release a deep baritone moan as his warm come coats my inner walls. My body is shaking with tingles to all of my extremities as I am encased in pure bliss. When I finally somewhat come to, I realize I wasn’t just floating from my orgasm, Clark and I were actually floating above my bed. Clark’s head is resting on the junction of my neck and shoulder when I quickly press closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling.

Clark chuckles as he gently sets us down on the bed. “I guess you would’ve found out my secret eventually. I just came so hard that I literally levitated.” 

I giggle and press my lips to his. “I didn’t freak you out, did I?”

“Not at all. I think it’s really cool that you are Superman, Kal;” I say as I stroke a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. “but the man that I have been falling in love with is Clark. He is all I need. The rest is just a bonus. If you’ll have me of course.”

Clark rests his forehead against my own as he gives me the most panty dropping smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me, sweetheart. Will you be my girl?”

“I would love nothing more.” I respond with a sweet kiss. The rest of the weekend is spent wrapped in each other.

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill characters #clark kent #superman x reader #clark kent x y/n #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀わかさ // BABY SITTER'S CLUB ⠀ ༝ ༝ wakasa imaushi [ft. cousin!sano's/black dragons] ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.2k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ some drinking ! ⠀ — shinichiro asks if you can babysit your younger cousin's for the night, and you get to have a late night convo with his pretty friend after.

you think you might’ve been doomed from the start. 

shinichiro didn’t specify what you’d need to babysit your younger cousins for, just that he was desperate because his grandpa was out of town and none of his friends could be trusted to actually watch them. you could almost hear him falling to his knees to beg over the phone. 

you like to think you’re a nice person. generous and caring, and you haven’t seen mikey or emma in a while anyways, so there was no real harm in saying yes. taking every penny from his wallet was a plus, too.

you get to their house right when he tells you, almost tackled by emma who is saying something about having a sleepover in the living room with a pillowfort in the mix the second you’ve finished slipping off your shoes, and you catch a glance of mikey pouting to his older brother while emma drags you further into the house. 

“(y/n)’s gonna take good care of you guys, don’t sweat it.” shinichiro pats mikey’s head with a hum, then turns to you, “left some money on the counter for pizza or something if you want, but there’s food in the fridge too if you wanna cook. ‘m gonna be in my room for a bit before i have to leave, but i’ll prob’ly be home way after you guys are asleep.” 

you offer a nod, setting your overnight bag in a corner of the living room, “s’okay, i’ll probably need a ride home tomorrow though, if that’s alright.” 

“not a problem - thanks for coming, i really appreciate it-” 

he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open, a man with a long scar going over one of his eyes coming in like he owns the place, with two kids running past his legs to greet your younger cousins. he drops their bags by yours, stretching and popping his back as if carrying them was the worst thing in the world before his eyes find your own wide ones, unlit cigarette between his teeth while he takes you in. 

“you’re the babysitter, right? sanzu, senju, come introduce yourselves. ‘m takeomi.” he offers his hand, and he must be confused by your bewildered stare, because he takes his hand back and looks to your older cousin, “they okay shin?” 

you whirl around to glare at him, completely appalled by his apologetic stare. “surprise?” 

“you did not tell me i’d be watching four kids!” 

shinichiro is quick for damage control, gesturing towards takeomi, “he’s gonna pay what i am, promise!” 

takeomi looks surprised at this news, opening his mouth to argue, but deciding against it from the look shinichiro gives. he fishes out his wallet, counting out some money and offering it to you. you eye it, then him, then shinichiro. your cousin clears his throat, jutting his thumbs upwards as a sign for more. takeomi sputters, pulling out all the cash he has and placing it in your open hand. 

“i am not a daycare.” your eyes narrow between them, pointed look enough to have shinichiro humming nervously. you shove the cash in your wallet, finally acknowledging the two new additions to your entourage. 

“i’m senju! this is my brother sanzu.” the girl says, hands on her brother's shoulders as she pushes him forward.

“i’m (y/n).” you smile, and sanzu looks away from you before escaping his sister’s hold and scurrying back to mikey. 

shinichiro and takeomi whisper between themselves while you and emma start gathering blankets from around the house, before shinichiro calls out, “okay, we’ll be out here for a bit! you’ll probably hear us leaving soon!”

“see ya.” you call back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you help senju put blankets on to chairs and set pillows over them to keep them in place. the door shuts, and you’re left alone with no one over the age of 10. 

⠀  ⠀  ༝⠀  ⠀  ༝

shinichiro honestly expected you to come barrelling into his room far sooner than you did. 

takeomi sat to his right on the couch, benkei to his left, and wakasa sat on the table in front of them. your soft knock was barely audible, but it made shinichiro pause in his talk about black dragon, turning to face it when you open it slowly and peek into the room. 

“what’s up?” he asks, standing when you make your way further in. 

“i just wanted to make sure sanzu and senju weren’t allergic to anything.” you look past him, to takeomi, who takes a long drag of his cigarette before shaking his head. 

“not that i know of.” 

“emma and mikey?” you’re looking at him now, head tilted slightly. 

“nothin’.” he confirms, “you gonna make somethin’?” 

“mhm.” you scan the room, eyes glossing over each of his friends, before they settle on one person for a second, then you’re turning on your heel to go back to the kids, “i’ll put some leftovers in the fridge if you want.” 

he snickers, despite having no idea what could’ve had you leaving so quickly, “sounds good, thank you!” 

the click of the door fills the air as you leave, and silence washes over the group before wakasa sighs. 

“okay, i’ll bite. who was that.” 

shinichiro turns slowly, acknowledging his friend for a second, and takeomi answers before he has a chance to open his mouth, “(y/n). babysitter of the night and thief of all the cash in my wallet.” 

“they stole from you?” benkei laughs, the idea almost comedic. 

“not directly,” takeomi’s eyes narrow to shinichiro, “but they are definitely making a pretty penny tonight.” 

“and dealing with your monsters of siblings,” wakasa sighs out a puff of smoke, “it’s easy money well-earned.” 

“think i could pay enough for ‘em to babysit me-”

takeomi gets hit in the back of the head by a shoe, jolting forward while shinichiro gathers the matching pair to slide onto his foot. “that’s enough of that, you guys ready to go or you wanna fantasize ‘bout my cousin all night?” 

“cousin?” takeomi scoffs, throwing the shoe back to him. he slides it on then goes for his bike keys, “thought the attractive gene skipped over your generation.” 

“more like skipped over you. we leavin’ or what?” 

⠀  ⠀  ༝⠀  ⠀  ༝

you heard their bikes take off about two hours ago, finished feeding the kids right after that, and got everyone changed into their pjs in record time. babysitters around the world wish they had your skillset. it takes a bit to get them to quiet down into the fort you’ve created, but with the promise of tv and a snack before bed, they’re hooked. 

it’s a surprise when the guys stumble in through the front door with the smell of alcohol following them, benkei supporting most of shinichiro’s weight with a nasty bruise on his cheek. wakasa follows behind the two of them, remnants of a bloody nose still flaked lightly under his nostril, and . . . you look between the three, making sure your headcount is accurate. 

“aren’t you guys missing one?” 

the men look between each other, then out the door as if he was waiting outside, then back to each other. 

“oh.” 

“oh?” you parrot, “the hell happened to you guys?” 

“oniichan’s face is messed up.” one by one, the kids pop out from the blankets to see their siblings and friends alike. emma pouts, tugging on your arm, “he promised no more fighting (y/n), can you believe it.” 

mikey almost laughs at his brother, “like he ever could, you know how he likes to pick fights.” 

“where’s ‘omi?” senju rubs her eyes as a yawn slips past her lips, and sanzu nudges her shoulder. 

“maybe he got arrested.” 

she stiffens at the thought, suddenly very awake and pulling on your other arm, “he isn’t really is he? he’s just sayin’ that?” 

your eyes narrow at the three men for riling up the kids right when you were getting them ready to sleep. 

“out.” you point towards the garage door, gently pulling your arms from emma and senju and shoving wakasa by the shoulders when no one moves. 

“what’d i do?” he whines out, eyes not leaving you as you grab benkei by the wrist and drag him in the same direction. 

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles, being pulled along by his friend. 

you open the door for them and push them one by one into shinichiro’s room, ignoring the complaints from each of them while benkei gives an apologetic smile. he closes the door for you, and you’re left consoling senju while trying to get everyone back into the fort as if it will help get them to sleep faster. 

and it almost works, shrek playing on the tv with sanzu’s head resting on your shoulder. 

the door swings open, and each of you startle at the sudden sound, takeomi’s voice loud while he complains about being left by his dearest friends. you climb out of the fort to glare at him, and senju lets out a small omi! before you’re grabbing him by the ear and dragging him to the garage door. you push it open and all but shove him into the room, completely ignoring the whines he gives about his poor tortured ear. 

“stay.” you threaten, glaring at each of them like they’re dogs who just won’t listen, and not one of them can find it in themselves to argue from the way you’re looking at them. 

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles again, once the door is shut and his safety is secured as you retreat. 

an hour passes and takeomi sips idly on a lukewarm beer shinichiro keeps in his room, pout still very evident, while wakasa lights a cigarette. benkei breaks any leftover silence with a grumbling stomach.

“‘m kinda hungry. we never stopped at the store like we said we would.” he scratches his cheek, looking to his friends in hopes of a solution. 

“(y/n) did say they made somethin’ for dinner, didn’t they?” takeomi sits up slightly from his slouched position, thinking dreamily about what you could’ve made. 

“you wanna risk goin’ into the house?” wakasa takes a drag from his cigarette. 

“it’s my house.” shinichiro stands, repeating that phrase for the third time in one hour. it’s almost like he’s trying to convince himself it’s okay. 

it’s decided then shinichiro would go in, grab something quick, and be back in his room before you notice he’s even there. hoping time would be on his side, since it is very late, maybe you’ll be sound asleep and he won’t really need to be as sneaky as he’s planning. the plan falls apart very quickly at the seams, realizing the door that connects his room inside the house is locked from the otherside. he silently curses you, trying to turn the lock one more time in case his first attempt just wasn’t right, then sighs. 

“gotta go through the front door.” 

his friends watch with amused grins, wondering if maybe you’ve completely cut all contact with them until the morning, as shinichiro goes out the side door that leads to the front porch. he thanks whatever god is out there that the door is unlocked, opening so, so slowly to ensure it doesn’t make a creak, and slides into the room as quietly as possible. 

quiet, until he knocks into the umbrella holder right beside the door. it falls with a clatter, and he can see you sit up slightly from your spot on the couch, hissing out a ‘shh’ while sanzu in your lap makes a noise of complaint in his sleep. he places it back as it was with a wince. 

“the hell are you doin’?” you whisper scream, barely able to turn your body in fear of waking up the boy you’ve had to constantly pat to keep asleep. 

“we just-” 

“no. no ‘we’. if you wake up these kids, i swear-”

“okay! okay, okay, okay, you win.” he grumbles something under his breath that has your eyes narrowing at him in the dark, and he inhales sharply before going back to his friends. 

attempt one : failed. 

shinichiro arrives back to the gang empty handed and dejected at losing so easily. 

and his friends have the audacity to laugh at him. 

“an umbrella holder? shouldn’t you know that house like the back of your hand?” wakasa almost snorts, holding his stomach at the fact that something so small did him in. 

“i do!” he assures, “one of the kids must’ve moved it closer to the door or something.” he explains in vain, “and i don’t see any of you guys stepping up to try.” 

takeomi claps a hand on benkei’s shoulder, shaking him slightly after, “benkei’s my vote, he’s the one that brought up food in the first place.” 

“i didn’t know we’d have to become ninjas to eat.” he argues, “besides, i’m the biggest here, what makes you think i’ll do any better?” 

he makes a good case, but the idea of you whisper-yelling at someone twice your size almost makes shinichiro laugh. “i agree with takeomi, i think you should try.” 

“i can’t believe you guys are plotting against me.” he looks to wakasa, who just shrugs and offers no help. so, with a sigh, he stands, taking the beer takeomi had been nursing, and chugs what’s left while ignoring the complaints that follow. 

he goes out the same way shinichiro did, opens the door as quietly as he can, and . . . bumps into the same. fucking. umbrella holder. with the warning in mind. you whip around to glare, curses on your tongue as you take in benkei, who looks so sorry, it has the words dying on your lips. the two of you stare at each other for all of five seconds, before he’s wordlessly picking the holder back up, placing it where it was, and closing the door behind him. 

attempt two : failed.

benkei returns to the group just as empty handed as his captain, just as dejected. 

“couldn’t even get through the door.” he sighs, waving off the laughter that follows. 

“they say anything to you?” wakasa snickers, offering benkei another beer. he takes it gratefully, chugging it easily and shaking his head. 

“i kicked the umbrella holder,” louder laughter surrounds him, “didn’t even say anything. we just stared at each other and i left.” 

“we’re never gonna eat at this rate.” shinichiro groans, “why is this so hard?”

“they aren’t even that scary,” takeomi hums, ear incident long forgotten, while putting out the remainder of his cigarette before standing, “i’ll show you guys how it’s done.” 

takeomi is so self-assured, so confident that it doesn’t matter if he fucks up. he’s a smooth-talker, through and through. surely, if you get upset, he can just talk it out. that’s what these idiots don’t understand. 

with that in mind, he takes the same route as the others. he decides, maybe their flaw is in opening the door so slowly. that must be why they keep kicking the umbrella holder. they let it sneak up on them, too worried about the wrong thing to even notice it. he pushes the door open with no regard to how loud he is, taking a step past the frame and cursing when he kicks the one thing he was meant to avoid. 

it clatters across the floor, and he hears a groan from sanzu, both from the sound and from you shifting to face him. 

“d-didn’t mean to-” he stutters out, and your glare hardens when he makes no attempt to keep his voice down. 

“so help me god, if you do not go back to the garage right now you are going to wish you never met me.” 

he audibly gulps, bowing his head while apologies fall off his lips. you throw a pillow in his direction, and he takes that as a sign to bounce, not bothering to pick up the umbrella holder like the past two attemptees. 

attempt three : failed.

takeomi comes back, head still high with nothing in his hands, and the laughter that erupts is infectious. 

“they threatened me! me!!” he explains desperately, “and it worked!” 

shinichiro really thinks they should’ve just gone to a twenty-four hour store at this point, but each attempt seems to be funnier than the last. he turns to wakasa, who sips on a beer from the couch. he catches his eye, and shakes his head. 

“nuh uh, no way am i going in there after all of that.” 

“you’re the only one that hasn’t!” shinichiro argues, “and technically, you’re the one least likely to get caught! being the smallest and all . . . “ his voice trails off, and the comment has wakasa’s eyes narrowing to slits. 

“i’m not even that hungry, it’s you guys who are so desperate.” 

“it’s only fair you try, too.” benkei grumbles, still not over the look you gave him when he first walked in. 

four of the toughest delinquents in tokyo, arguing about fairness. out of fear for their leader's younger cousin, no less. it’s laughable. wakasa grumbles profanities under his breath, almost certain this will end with you leaving shinichiro’s house with an attempted murder charge. 

“fine, but if i come outta there alive, you guys owe me.” 

“not if you come back empty handed.” takeomi opens another beer, plopping his ass back down on the couch, “careful, they have sanzu in their lap. that kid’ll be the reason they snap.”

wakasa takes the warning with a grain of salt, sure that the four of them bothering you is the real reason for your aggravation. with a sigh, he’s left walking to the front door and opening it quietly. you’re already glaring holes where he stands and he hasn’t even had a chance to do anything wrong. 

“what could you guys possibly want so badly?” you ask through clenched teeth, and wakasa’s hands come up defensively, closing the door behind him and very aware of the umbrella holder takeomi left in the middle of the floor. 

“we’re just hungry.” he assures, stepping past the couch towards the kitchen, “be in and out before you can notice.” 

he stumbles slightly in his drunken state, and it has you heaving a sigh and slowly peeling yourself from under sanzu. you carefully place a blanket over him, and follow wakasa to the kitchen, finger pressed to your lips to make sure he knows to keep quiet. 

wakasa is already shuffling through the fridge, hoping to find something quick and easy so he isn’t in your hair for any longer than he needs to be, but you’re pulling him back gently by his upper arm and grabbing something in a tupperware container. 

“i made rice with some vegetables and beef i found in the freezer,” you say softly, and wakasa wonders for a second if you’re always soft spoken or if it’s because you’re trying your best to be quiet. 

you pop the lid off and move to reheat what you made, leaning against the counter as the microwave counts down. 

“what’d you guys do for you to earn that?” you nod towards him, and despite not directly saying what, wakasa knows you’re talking about his previously bloodied nose. 

absentmindedly, he taps at his nostril, honestly having forgotten to even clean what blood was there. “fight.” he says dumbly, and the simplicity of it has you giggling. he thinks he really likes that sound. 

he watches intently when you grab a paper towel, dampening it with the sink water, then so very gently cup his cheek to tap at the blood to clean it. if he had any shame, he knows his face would be flushed right now. instead, he grins, eyes half-lidded while he absorbs your focused expression. 

“you’re awfully sweet on me, huh?” the comment has your own cheeks dusting pink, but your reply comes by you squeezing his cheek tighter. 

“quit movin’, makin’ this harder than it needs to be.” 

by the time you’re finished, the microwave is seconds away from going off, and you drop both the paper towel and his face in favor of making sure the timer doesn’t have a chance to sound, stopping it right at :01. wakasa finds himself missing your touch, but the thought is lost when the smell of food hits. maybe he was hungrier than he thought. 

he grabs a plate for himself, piling a portion onto it and groaning when it hits his tongue. 

“you made this?” he finds himself asking, despite you literally explaining the fact that you did not even five minutes ago. you hum out a reply, already in the process of getting other plates and utensils for his friends. 

“‘s very good.” he grins when he’s finished, “thanks for takin’ care of me.” he eyes you lazily, grin growing bigger when he sees that the pink dusting your cheeks spreads. 

“don’t mention it,” you mumble, pushing the plates and now warm food to him, “should probably take these to them before they starve.” 

“let ‘em.” he says with such confidence, it has a giggle passing your lips. he wants to hear that more. he pulls himself onto the counter with such ease, it makes you wonder how drunk he really is. 

“so who’d you guys fight?” you lean against the counter beside him, tapping at his knee as if his undivided attention wasn’t already fully on you. 

“some idiots,” he waves dismissively, “heard from people at the bar we're inna gang and started shit talking shinichiro.” 

you grin, “he take the first swing?” 

he mirrors your smile, and fuck does he look pretty when he does, “damn right. got socked right after,” he taps his cheek, “everyone was fightin’ after that. benkei had to drag us out ‘fore the cops came.” 

“who hit you?” you muse, head tilting slightly. 

“some random that followed us outta the bar.” his grin only widens at the memory, “shoulda seen the other guy.” 

“i can only imagine.” you push yourself from the counter when a head of pink hair peeks around the corner, eyes widening slightly when they meet yours before he scurries back to the living room.

wakasa’s eyes follow your movements when you leave him alone in the kitchen, in favor of going back to sanzu who can’t seem to stay asleep without your comforting touch. in his inebriated state, he finds himself following behind you. in the time it took him to make that decision, you’ve already gotten comfortable on the couch with sanzu’s head in your lap. you rub his back idly, and he catches the faintest whisper of you asking if he had another bad dream, sees the way sanzu’s head barely moves with a nod. 

it’s really domestic, seeing how well you’re taking care of a kid you didn’t even know about hours before, and wakasa finds himself almost jealous of the 9 year old. what a cockblock, coming in when he was reeling you into the conversation. 

instead of voicing these concerns, he finds himself clambering on the other end of the couch, feet tucked neatly under him and looking at you. 

“hi,” you whisper with a small laugh, “don’t you have a delivery to make?” 

he waves off the suggestion with a hum, “they shoulda came on their own - kept tellin’ horror stories ‘bout you being mean, but i think they’re just scaredy cats.”

“that so?” you muse, and sanzu shifts closer to you when wakasa leans over him to get a better look at your smile. 

“mhm,” half-lidded eyes scan over you, and he can honestly forget about the boy between the two of you easily with the way you’re looking back at him, “think maybe they can’t handle you like i can.” 

you offer another giggle, putting a finger against his forehead when he invades too much of sanzu’s space, “i think you should tell me this sober.” 

“i’d tell you it everyday if i could.” he whispers so seriously, it has your face flushing. 

“try again tomorrow.” you tap his forehead twice for emphasis, then pass a blanket his way since it’s very apparent he won’t be going back to his friends. 

his friends, who are mourning the loss of him the longer he takes to come back. 

shinichiro, after his dear friend wakasa hadn’t shown up in the five minutes they’d timed him for, delved into horror stories from when you were younger. how you’d been suspended from school due to your temper, picking more fights than him when someone said the wrong thing. how he’d spend some weekend nights helping you tend to bruised knuckles after you’d defended him. 

and it ends with each man giving a soft prayer for their friend, who, after an hour, still hadn’t come back yet. 

unbeknownst to them, wakasa had fallen asleep listening to you tell stories about your cousin. how you’d protected him in grade school because kids were assholes, but you were a bigger asshole who didn’t take that shit. and on the couch, the three of you fell asleep peacefully, while the men in garage hoped you gave wakasa a quick and painless death.

#salmon rowe #wakasa imaushi x reader #imaushi wakasa x reader #imaushi x reader #wakasa x reader #wakasa imaushi #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 9

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: anyone else excited for me to actually update?? This part’s a bit short, sorry! Gotta set some things up tbh. I’m so so so excited for part 10. Cassian has big annoying little brother energy in this. Honestly Az does not make an in person appearance in this part, but just you wait 😉

(Masterlist)

The warm water of the shower felt incredible, your mind unwinding as the water falls down your body. Thoughts of last night swirl through your mind, remembering how Azriel’s skin felt on yours.

You start going over the previous night again, from the way his eyes wandered over your body to the grip he had on you on the way home.

You were fucked.

You were pouring shampoo into your hand, trying to decide the odds that this was all a joke to Azriel, when the door to your bedroom opened.

You usually leave the door unlocked because Cassian has to reset the router pretty regularly, but you don’t think much of it until he is swinging open the door to your bathroom, letting in a cool breeze. You stick your head out of the curtain, hiding the rest of your body.

“Cassian,” you hiss, “what are you doing?”

“I don’t like eating alone,” he tells you, shrugging as he peels an orange.

“Cassian.”

“What?” He asks, words garbled from speaking through his orange slice.

“I’m in the shower.”

“So?”

You roll your eyes, pulling a hand out to emphasize your point. “I’m naked. In the shower.”

“There’s a curtain for a reason,” his tone sounding bored of this argument.

“You got a text from Az,” he says, annoyed as he looks at your screen that he can’t view the message. You drop your conditioner at his words, the clang of it echoing in the small room as you bend down to pick it back up.

“Just leave it, I’ll check it in a minute.”

"I hope it's a poem about how beautiful you are."

You roll your eyes, despite Cassian not being able to see you.

"I bet it says how annoying you are."

Cassian's gasp fills the room, "I am not annoying."

You poke your head out of shower, "we have weekly meetings to discuss how annoying you are."

In an act of complete maturity, you follow your statement by sticking your tongue out at him. Cassian holds your phone up to your face, letting it unlock the screen for him.

He sticks his tongue back out at you, "Thanks!"

He starts scuttling out of the room, yelling behind him, "if I'm lucky, you've sent Azzy some classy nudes!"

You start sputtering, yanking the shower curtain away, grabbing your towel, and quickly wrapping it around yourself as you follow after Cassian, not even turning the shower off.

"Aww, in this text he called you cute."

"Cassian."

He starts typing a response, his fingers flying over your phone. You hear the woosh of a sent message, and you stare at him, mouth open.

"What did you send him?"

He waggles his eyebrows, then hands you back your phone.

"You'll never know."

You look down at the phone in your hands, and sure enough, Cassian had sent him a text and promptly deleted it. The sick bastard.

"Cassian."

Your roommate simply shrugs at the tenseness of your tone, "I told him how you love him and how you want his precious babies."

You grit your teeth as Cassian makes kissing noises at you, debating the legal and moral ramifications of murdering Cassian when your phone chimes in your hands.

Azriel: thanks, I like your hair too :)

You look up at Cassian, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You told him I liked his hair?"

"Yep," he says, biting into an apple, its crunch aggrevating some deep part of your brain.

“You’re the worst,” you say, opening your door and shutting it quickly behind you.

Later that night, Rhys decides to stop by to see Cassian, wanting to watch a rugby match on Cassian’s tv. Much to Rhys’s horror, Cass does have the larger tv.

Rhys starts to come in through the door to the apartment, but he can’t get the door opened more than a few inches because of a weight blocking him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, head peaking in the six inch crack of the door.

He looks confused, then looks around. “Trying to come in to watch rugby with Cass.”

“No you’re not.”

He tries to push against the door, but you keep it firmly in place. “I’m certainly trying to.”

“You’re not coming in - it’s girl’s night.”

He looks inside, confusion on his face as he huffs, “I see Cassian over there.”

“We voted to let him stay.”

Rhys looks offended. “And why not me?”

You lower your voice, leaning in closer to him, “because Feyre doesn’t invite boys she wants to talk about.”

His smirk grows predatory, as he surveys Feyre, Mor, and Cassian inside the apartment. “And why wasn’t Az invited?”

Your face flushes with heat, “we didn’t think it was his scene.”

Rhys snorts, leaning against the door frame. Knowing Rhys, he’d stay there until he got what he wanted to hear. “Az loves gossip more than anyone. Tell me why he isn’t invited and I’ll leave you be.”

You two glare each other down, a sight which must have looked quite amusing to anyone who didn’t note the seriousness of both of your faces.

You mumble out, “we don’t invite boys we want to talk about.”

He puts a hand around his ear, “I’m so sorry, dear, what was that?”

You grit you teeth, looking upward in hopes a god or a titan or someone would smite Rhysand and his stupid smug grin on the spot.

You let out a long breath, trying to let all the anger out so you can say distinctly, “we do not invite the boys we want to talk about.”

His eyes dance with amusement, his weight dropping from the door almost causing you to fall. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Maybe we’ll have a boys night - talk about you divine feminine creatures.”

He starts strolling back down the hall, “tell Cassian he’s welcome to join us.”

You close the door on him, dead-bolting the door so he can’t come in, turning back to reclaim your spot next to Feyre on one of the couches, Mor and Cassian next to each other on the other one.

“Now, I know we all gathered here to spend time together, but I showed up because I wanted someone to tell me what the hell is going on between you and Azriel.”

Mor stabs her teriyaki chicken with her fork, pointing it at you. You choke, trying not to laugh as the chicken falls off the fork back into the takeout container.

Cassian interrupts, his mouth full of rice as he says, “yeah what’s going on between you two?”

Your cheeks heat, all the attention in the room on you as you say, “nothing’s going on, Mor,” and grab a mouthful of sesame chicken with your chopsticks to prevent them from probing further.

It does not work. Instead, Feyre chimes in, “you guys were awfully close last night at karaoke.”

Mor points at Feyre with her fork, “she sat on his lap to and from Rita’s.”

Feyre gasps, sitting up, “you sat on his lap?” Then she looks at you with a mischievous glint, “could you feel him?”

She waggles her eyebrows as you throw an eggroll at her, earning you a soft hey in response.

“Feyre, watch your language around Cassian’s virginal ears.”

Mor spits out her drink, “there’s nothing virginal about what we do at night.”

She high fives Cassian, who is suspiciously quiet during this whole exchange.

“Hey,” you say to him, getting him to look up from his rice at you, “why’d you say it was good that my date was bad?”

“When’d I say that?” Cassian asks, tucking his phone under his thigh.

You roll your eyes, “literally yesterday when Az and I dropped off lunch for you.”

Mor whistles, “Az took you for a ride.”

Feyre’s eyes light up and you roll your eyes at her sing-song voice, still looking to your roommate. Cassian starts fidgeting, unsure what to do with his hands, “uh nothing he just was- kinda ugly.”

Your brows press down in a hard line, “okay, Cassian, he might not have been your cup of tea but he certainly wasn’t ugly.”

“But he wasn’t pretty like Azriel,” Mor chimes in, a smirk on her lips.

You throw your hands up, “whoa whoa whoa, I invited you guys over for chinese food and silly romcoms, why am I being ambushed about Azriel?”

“Because he likes you,” Feyre says, pouring herself a glass of rosé. You look to Feyre, trying to silently tell her you don’t want to have this conversation here with Cassian, but she keeps her eyes on her lo mein, a noodle slipping from her chopsticks.

“Az sure did enjoy you in the Barbie costume last night, babe.” Mor had an absolutely feral look to her as she starts, “I bet he had a fun night thinking about it with his hand wrapped around his- hey!”

You threw a pillow in her direction, trying desperately to get her to shut up.

“Hey, even Cassian thinks you guys would be cute, and he isn’t the most observant.”

Cassian picks the pillow up, hitting Mor with it again. “Thanks, Mor.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

You turn to Feyre and the two of you make kissing noises at each other, then direct them at Mor and Cassian.

“Hey, we’re mature adults who just fool around. And do you know why we work so well?”

You put your head on your hand, looking up to Mor, “oh wise and beautiful Mor, please tell me why you and my roommate are so good at having sex with each other.”

Feyre snorts, but Mor responds, “because we talk to each other. We’re adults.”

“It’s different,” you say, going back to your chicken.

“How is it any different?”

“There aren’t any stakes for you two,” you say, and Feyre nods eagerly. “There aren’t any emotions - you two just have sex and you know that’s what you both want.”

Feyre nods enthusiastically, and you narrow your eyes at her, “and why aren’t we grilling you about the other boy? Hmmmm?”

Her cheeks blush, as her mouth opens and closes, trying to form words.

“Because she didn’t spend all of karaoke night whispering to him. Especially not during my performance.” Cassian ends his words with a huff, taking a swig of his beer.

“You mean our performance?” Mor ask, “we made it what it was.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, but lets it go, pulling his phone back out. “I’m going to order more Chinese - anyone want anything?”

Everyone’s responses echo, but you make out both Feyre and Mor asking for more crab rangoons.

Cassian lets out a soft, “it’ll be here in 30 minutes, let’s start this chick flick.”

Mor smacks him on the chest, “Pride and Prejudice is not a chick flick! It is cinema!”

As Mor and Feyre try to convince Cassian that he will love Kiera Knightley, your thoughts linger to the other side of the wall you shared. You wondered what they were up to tonight, what Azriel was doing, if Cassian and Rhys give him a hard time about you.

Of all the thoughts you had of them, the thought hadn’t occurred to you that Cassian would be texting Rhys updates throughout the night.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

[sailoryooons]

Knocked | ksj | (m)

☾ Pairing: Streamer!Seokjin x f. reader

☾ Summary: Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.

☾ Word Count: 10,673

☾ Genre: Roommates to lovers, smut, humor

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Cheesy humor, Jin is an annoying gamer, a lot of game talk, stupid bets, explicit language, references to an ungendered ex partner, a very cheesy plot i like cheese, jin crossing a boundary but he apologizes okay!!! sexually explicit content including oral (m. receiving) vaginal fingering, nipple play, a lot of body fluids like a loooot of spit and drool, protected vaginal sex, fast sex because they’re both overwhelmed and honestly this is vanilla but they are CUTE!!!!

☾ Published: January 19, 2023

☾ A/N: SHE IS HERE AND SHE ISN’T BEAUTIFUL OR EDITED BUT SHE IS FINISHED AND CHEESY AND THIS JIN IS REALLY CUTE OKAY. My inner gamer went fucking nuts in this I am so sorry I really like playing Apex Legends and I got too deep into the game lore so hopefully people can appreciate that. These two were just thirsty for each other and both busted nuts quickly okay it has happened to me jgdhgijhd thats tmi okay HAPPY READING.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Room for Rent Collab

A crash and a yell startle you in the kitchen, the spatula in your hand clattering into the egg pan as Seokjin lets out an unintelligible string of cursing and yelling. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself in patience. It’s not uncommon in your apartment for two to hear him suddenly break out into yelling, and it surely won’t be the last. 

Kim Seokjin isn’t the worst roommate. Not by a longshot, when you consider the horror stories you’ve read in Reddit threads and seen on TikTok. He’s clean, he has an aesthetic eye for decoration, he’s an amazing cook, he pays his portion of bills on time, and he doesn’t steal food. Nor does he hog any of the common spaces in the house.

The negative? Seokjin is constantly gaming, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if he gamed quietly. Namjoon hadn’t warned you that Seokjin was a large-scale streamer before you moved in, focused on first-person shooter content and paid tournaments. 

It had taken about three hours into moving in when he screamed for you to realize that there was no fixing that bit. 

Meal finished and plated, you move to the dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and turning on the TV louder than necessary to tune out Seokjin’s hollering. You’ve come up with plenty of ways to tune him out, and listening to everything else on extreme volume is the easiest. 

Your neighbors must hate you. 

Halfway through your meal and eyes glued to RuPaul’s Drag Race, Seokjin comes trailing out of his room, drawing your attention. It isn’t a hard thing to do. For a grown man who is chronically wired to his PC, he is beautiful. The kind of beauty that is used in dramas and romantic comedies kind of beautiful. 

Dark, soft hair that is usually left shaggy and air-dried from the shower but you know looks dashing styled back for parties, equally dark eyes that shimmer with delight when he tells a horrible joke that he thinks is particularly amusing, full lips that would earn the envy of Aphrodite herself - Seokjin is painfully, artfully perfect. 

Except for the constant gaming. 

“Wow, didn’t offer to make me breakfast?” he asks. It’s more of a jest than anything, popping the fridge open in search of a caffeinated beverage. “How little do I mean to you?” 

“Check the microwave, nerd.” 

He looks surprised, meandering to the appliance in question and opening the door to see a plate of breakfast for dinner inside. “Wow,” he sighs dreamily. “You really are my favorite roommate.”

“I’m your only roommate.”

“Well, you’re better than Namjoon.”

“Mmm. That isn’t a hard feat, I don’t chronically break pieces of furniture.”

Humming his agreement, Seokjin shoves eggs into his mouth, munching happily. “When are you going to finally play some games with me, huh?” 

“Mmmm never.”

“You think I don’t know you have a little setup in there?”

“I like Animal Crossing. You like Apex.”

“Come on, I can teach you Apex.”

It’s a conversation you’ve had a million times. Gaming is the single thing that the two of you have in common. When you first discovered that Seokjin worked in the digital sphere and was a content creator for popular games online, you were a bit worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had been fetishized for so much as liking a game. 

Thankfully, Seokjin was alright. He didn’t make it weird, and after a casual comparison of the things you liked to play, he decided that the interests weren’t common enough to be a huge pain in the ass about it. 

He did really want to play at least once, with you though.

“I know how to play Apex,” you mumble, eyes flickering back to the TV. Your last situationship revolved around playing the stupid first-person shooter together. “I don’t like it.”

As in, you were absolutely never playing that game again after being worn out from it and having it associated with someone who kind of sucked anyway. 

“How can you not like Apex?” Seokjin mutters, more to himself than anything else.

Thankfully he drops the subject, distracted by your show. He shuffles to the couch, where you join him eventually, both of you tucked into the cushions as you watch the show. For the most part, Seokjin is quiet, only peppering you with questions during the commercial breaks. You’re happy to answer. 

It’s comfortable, your little life with him. You’ve almost lived together for a year, and despite the annoying gaming thing and his habitual bad jokes, you like living with Seokjin. You like having him as a friend, even. 

Things are good.

-

Things are not good. You clench your jaw as you re-read the email, feeling the tension creep into your shoulders. You can already feel the headache that has not yet happened but is predestined. 

If people would just read their emails before sending a snarky request with your boss CC’d- 

Mark: Come by my office, please. 

Sighing, you push out from the desk and head toward your boss's office. Your stomach flips uneasily, unsettled as you walked by the windowed offices of the executive staff. It isn’t that you’re afraid of your boss, but you certainly have been having a bad enough day without having to explain that if Alicia in accounting had just read your email she wouldn’t be confused.

At the appointed office, you tap lightly on the door frame. “Hi, still a good time?”

It’s obviously a good time, but for some reason, you feel the need to break the tension by clarifying. Your boss is a wide-set man who ushers you in with a wave. “Catch the door for me, please.”

The door shuts with a click and it feels like impending doom. 

Sitting quickly in a chair, you wait with a racing heartbeat as Mark finishes writing an email. The silence is awkward so you distract yourself by looking at the pictures of him and his family on his shelves as if you haven’t seen them a dozen times, and looking at his nameplate and literally any other object in his office to keep from feeling uncomfortable. 

The horrible 70s rock that plays softly in the background only makes it worse. 

With a final click on his mouse, he turns to you and says, “Sorry about that, trying to get through all these damn sales contracts.”

“Sounds exhausting.” You have no idea if it is - sales isn’t your area of expertise. “I know they’ve been busy.”

“Tons of new clients, which is always great but the paperwork is a killer.” 

“Makes sense.” 

“What is Alice in accounts losing her mind about? I saw that you’re missing invoices for radio stations and it’s way past the cycle?” 

“As explained in my email to Alice, the station in question filed for bankruptcy and has a halt on all their funds. This was something I communicated two months ago with accounting and legal. I believe you may have been on it as well, though perhaps I left you off.” You didn’t leave him off. You don’t leave him off any emails. “Those invoices are all going to be a mess until that’s sorted.”

“Look,” he sighs. “We all have a shit ton going on right now. One email letting us know that payment would be an issue isn’t going to cut it. You can’t assume that we see the emails. Was it flagged as high-importance?”

“Yes.”

And I mentioned it in three meetings and a sticky note, you think. 

“See, it’s just not foolproof. It’s your job to overcommunicate these things. You can't rely on accounting or me to remember these things for you.”

You give him one slow blink. Then another. 

“Understood,” you answer, throat tightening. “I will make sure to overcommunicate from now on, I apologize for the confusion.” 

“Thanks,” he says, a dismissal. “Door closed on the way out, I have a stupid call to jump on.” 

Door closed behind you, you wonder how anyone gets anything fucking done around this place. Because of course doing all of the things logical and reasonable to communicate a change in accounting isn’t reasonable. Going above and beyond and being responsible for other people not reading their email is now your job to compensate for. 

Steam blowing from your ears, you march back toward your desk in a blind rage, fists open and closing. You don’t see it coming when Yoongi smacks into you, eyes glued to his phone and fresh iced-americano now coloring your blue shirt a nice shade of mud. 

“Holy fuck I am so sorry,” Yoongi swears. “Shit - fuck - sorry.” 

Cold leeches through you like a knife. You rush to the bathroom, Yoongi’s cursing and apologies drifting behind you. The press of paper towels lifts a little of the yellow from your shirt, but it doesn’t fix the sticky-cold cling of fabric to your chest and the unmistakable stain down the front of your outfit. 

“Fucking perfect.”

-

Blessedly Seokjin isn’t home when you arrive stained in dry coffee, smelling like Starbucks, and sagging with a delightful mix of rage, wrath, and irritation. Like an angry little storm cloud, you move around the apartment, snapping cabinets closed extra hard and yanking your blouse off with a little more violence than usual. 

A hot shower makes most of the tension bleed away, but not all of it vanishes. Wrapped in a towel and turned into a prune, you reach for the clothes on the counter and realized in your haste to peel yourself out of Yoongi’s coffee, you didn’t bring any with you. 

It doesn’t matter anyway. Seokjin isn’t home, so you yank the door open and march toward your room, running smack into your second person of the day with a startled yelp and thankfully, a very tight grip on your towel. 

“Why are you all wet?” Seokjin shrieks, wiping his shirt as though he could get rid of the you-shaped wet stain. “And naked!”

“I’m in a towel! Why are you here?”

“I live here!”

“I meant right now! You weren’t home!”

“Well, I do come home, usually! And I yelled I was home when I got here so you would hear me!”

“Well, I was in the shower!”

“Obviously!” 

For a moment, the two of you stand there. You’re dripping a puddle onto the tile and the cold air has goosebumps breaking out all over your body. You shiver as Seokjin’s eyes flicker down for a split second before he’s looking at the ceiling and gesturing. “Well - go find clothes!”

“I will! Jeez!” 

You storm into your room, slamming the door and pressing your back against it. Your towel is gripped tight in your fist, heart hammering. You’re both adults and while being in a towel in front of Seokjin isn’t embarrassing or scandalous, it was unexpected and new. 

As you get dressed quickly, you can’t help but think of the way his cheeks tinged pink and the nervous way he shifted. It was… cute. 

With clothes on, Seokjin seems a lot less nervous around you. He’s still a little stiff, you notice. You bump into him as the two of you navigate the kitchen together and he ducks his head, the tops of his ears red. You file the information away for another time, feeling your cheeks warm when you go to reach for a pair of tongs but he already has them held out to you. 

It isn’t uncommon behavior. He’s known you long enough to know your habits around the kitchen, and you’ve cooked enough meals together to recognize the patterns in which the two of you move around the kitchen. 

Music plays in the background, Seokjin humming along. Occasionally, he sings the words, voice low and soft over the notes.

“You have a nice voice,” you note as you flip the oven off. He’s always had a nice voice, but you’ve never said anything before. He raises his brows as you grab oven mitts. “You do,” you insist with a grin. “I promise I’m not lying.”

“A great voice to go with a great face right?”

“Ew, here we go.”

He moves out of your way as you open the oven, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Maybe I should sing on stream. Do you think they would like that? People already think I’m the most handsome streamer.”

“Sure, maybe do some sort of caroling or something for the holidays.”

He pauses. “That’s actually not a terrible idea. What if I just called my friends who were streaming on Discord and started caroling to them? I could make it a charity thing and select streams based on donations.”

Placing the hot pan on the top of the stove, you glance at him sidelong. “Do you do charity streams a lot?”

“All the time. Most of the long streams I do are for charities.” 

“So it’s not all just… earning cash?”

“No, I get plenty of that.”

“So why do you need a roommate?” 

Seokjin leans over you, to pluck a fry off of the pan. He doesn’t move away immediately, eyes dropping down to yours as he sticks the french fry in his mouth. The warmth of his chest radiates through your shoulder where you touch and suddenly, you feel a buzz at his nearness.

It’s impossible not to drop your eyes down to his mouth as he chews. For a moment, you’re dazed by his pillow lips - they really are a marvel to look at. Then he’s smirking and murmuring, “For the cooking. Did you get these out of a frozen bag? Ugh.”

Spell broken you swat at him and he laughs, leaning away again. “I don’t like to be alone,” Seokjin admits. “Having a roommate is nice. Granted, I was supposed to be living with Namjoon until he and Jungkook decided to be in love and all that. Now I have you filling out the rest of his lease.”

“So you can afford to live alone in this city and don’t?”

“Hey, I also save a ton of money. I will want to buy a house one day. Consider yourself as a part of my savings tactic.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Rooming with Seokjin had been of convenience. Finding affordable living in the city was nearly impossible - especially on your salary - and when Namjoon had announced after only two months of living with Seokjin that he and his boyfriend were getting their own place, it had timed up perfectly. You had been vaguely familiar with Seokjin at the time, and you desperately needed cheaper rent.

You’d never really asked why Seokjin had a roommate at all. He had a work-from-home job at a software company doing something that went far beyond your understanding, and he made a ton from streaming. 

Seokjin plops down on the couch instead of the dining room table, a plate full of chicken nuggets and fries balanced on his knee as he pats the seat next to him without looking. You definitely went the easy route for dinner after your terrible day, and Seokjin seems to pick up on the fact that tonight is an eat-from-the-comfort-of-the-couch kind of vibe. 

“Ugh,” Seokjin sighs as he watches Shangela get eliminated from the top four on All-Stars 3. “That is heartbreaking. She worked really hard.”

Seokjin has never really voiced being a fan of the show, but you have a sneaking suspicion he watches it because you are, and it’s something to bond over. Maybe you should play a round of Apex with him.

Instead, you say, “Yeah, she deserved it.” You pause. “Thanks for watching with me, tonight. I had a rough day.” 

“Hmm. I can tell.” He leans and squeezes your bicep absently. “I’m here for ya.”

Though you say nothing, your insides do a little bit of a flip.

-

Glancing at the clock on the stove, you frown. Pausing your show, you pull up your phone, paging over to Twitch to pull up Seokjin’s stream. He’s been doing one of those stream-a-thon things again, and you haven’t seen him come out to eat since the morning. It’s well into the evening now. 

Seokjin’s stream pulls up and you see him in the corner of his screen, the familiar lighting in his room glowing in the background. His room is surreptitiously clean, free of any garbage and clutter. His bed is always made any time you see it, and the beautiful tiles of pulsing lights above it make a nice ambiance for his stream. 

Currently, he is focused, leaning a little too far toward his screen as he talks to his teammates. Taehyung and Jungkook, by the sound of it. There’s no evidence suggesting he has left his room today, which urges you to get up and head to the kitchen, closing out the stream.

In silence, you put together a small meal. A wrap, a small back of chips, and some damn water will do him some good. Pulling up his stream again, you wait until his match finishes and he’s leaning back, talking to chat. 

A little nervous, you walk with food in hand to his bedroom door where you can hear his soft voice. You knock lightly and he calls you in. Carefully, you stick your head in and see him turn. You’re out of shot from his stream, but he’s confused nonetheless. You never interrupt. 

Sliding the plate into view, Seokjin’s face lights up. He rolls away from the computer and comes over, his headset on his head still as he gushes, “Holy fuck thank you. You are literally the best. A goddess. A queen. Royalty. Angel among humans. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, it’s like seven at night idiot.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Thank you.” He bites into the wrap eagerly, taking a few minutes to chew and swallow. He pauses and glances you up and down before smiling. “Really, thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful of you.”

“Uh-huh.” You glance at his screen. “Have a good rest of your stream.”

-

Jin: Left lunch for you in the fridge. I made extra this morning. 

You look at the text and furrow your brow, toothbrush still popped into the side of your cheek. You continue absently scrubbing as you walk to the fridge and pull it open. Sure enough, there’s a glass dish with a sticky note on it and a smiley face. 

Plucking the note off the top, you read it. Thanks for taking care of me. Now I’ll take care of you. 

With a smile bright enough to light up the entire city, you go about getting dressed for work.

-

The smile doesn’t last long. Work drags on unsteady, tired feet, and once again, you are stuck in a slew of responsibilities that shouldn’t be yours, reading emails that are reiterating things already discussed, and joining meetings that should be emailed. 

By the time lunch comes and goes, you realize that you haven’t yet eaten. Tucked in the small cubicle, you nibble on Seokjin’s homemade meal, eyes glued to the neverending scroll of budget tracking and invoices. 

A raging headache lurks behind your eyes and though your lunch is superb - as it often is with Seokjin’s cooking - you can’t help but feel your frustration mount by the time your next meeting rolls around. 

Meeting after meeting interrupts your afternoon, and when you finish your last one long past the time to go home, your nerves are fried and a high-strung feeling follows you all the way to your car as you scroll through all of the emails you have yet to get to.

Because of all the fucking meetings. 

The trip home is silent. Your fingers ache with the grip on the steering wheel of your car and when you park in the lot of the apartment complex, you sit there for a moment, car off, world muted by the car doors. 

Head pressed against the steering wheel, you take a few steady breaths. It feels like you might cry, which isn’t typical after a work day. But you’re frustrated and tired, and that goddamn headache is still looming in the back of your eye sockets. 

Upstairs and in your apartment, you breeze past Seokjin who is in the kitchen. You mumble something about a migraine and he barely gets a moment to say anything before you’re in your room, door pressed shut. You lay in your bed without even taking your work close off, wrapping yourself in your blanket and closing your eyes. 

The next thing you know, there’s something warm pressed against your brow. You frown and groan, rolling over and feeling several joints in your body pop. Your eyes flutter open and you see Seokjin leaning over you, making you flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But it’s really late and you should eat. I know you have a headache so I brought you meds and a cold towel. And ramen. I make the best ramen.”

“Jungkook makes the best ramen,” you correct, sighing and leaning up a little. Your movements are stiff, tangled in a blazer and dress pants. “Ugh, I slept like this?”

“Jungkook does not make the best ramen. I will take that away.”

“Fine, fine.” You take the medicine from the nightstand and chase it with the water glass offered. “Thanks.” You look at all the things he brought you and your insides begin to melt. He lingers near the doorway, eyes soft, expression warm. “Thank you for thinking of me. I… wow.” 

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “No big deal. Now eat the best ramen in the world or I’m going to have a fit.” 

With that, Seokjin leaves you to eat your ramen in peace. The first taste is amazing, already warming you up. You realized you’re ravenous, pulling noodles into your mouth hungrily. Absently, you think that it is the best fucking ramen in the world.

-

“What’s with you?” Seokjin asks as you drag your feet slowly in the grocery store. Rarely do you shop together, but today is an exception. “You look like a zombie.”

You nearly shoot daggers at him. “I lost my headphones,” you snap. “Which means I have to hear your gaming all night.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that loud.”

“Watch one of your streams back, I’m sure you’ll disagree.”

He sighs, turning the cart as you walk down the spice aisle. “Sorry, I’m preparing for this huge Apex tournament. Jungkook and I have been practicing duos a lot and it’s been a bit frustrating. Everyone has fucking aim assist these days, I swear that console players are doing to ruin-”

“Jin.” He pauses his rant. “I’m just asking you to keep it down a little. I no longer have the means to ignore you… moaning weirdly during a game.”

“What?”

“You haven’t noticed? You kind of moan and yell. It’s… ask your stream about it.”

He stops walking, staring at you as you walk ahead. “I don’t do that.” You snicker and he makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t!”

Five minutes pass with Seokjin sulking about your comment. It’s when you’re in the milk aisle that he says, “So you’ve just been imagining me moaning on the other side of the wall, huh?”

“W-what?” 

“Admit it. You’ve been thinking about me moooaaaning you’re having dirty thooooughts.” He sing-songs this to you, poking at your sides as you open the fridge to get milk.

“I am not.”

“It’s totally cool. I get it, handsome bachelor right on the other side of the wall, you’re bound to get curious and - oof.” 

“Put this in the cart,” you deadpan, having hit him in the stomach with the gallon of milk. He takes it from you and obliges, though there is a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Seokjin isn’t right, but he isn’t explicitly wrong. When you first moved in, you had been shy and wondered about the attractive boy who lived just on the other side of the wall. Once you had fallen into familiarity, though, there had not been anything there.

Except recently. 

The last few weeks have felt like the two of you have reached a new level of shared living space. You had done things together before, but now you find yourself making all your meals with Seokjin, bringing him snacks during stream, waking up to him making you breakfast or having prepared you lunch. 

And now you’re doing groceries together, which was something uncommon enough to make you wonder.

You think back to the gentle way he made you dinner and brought you medicine when you had a headache, the way that your insides had turned cotton candy at the action and house these days, your eyes lingered on him just a little bit more. 

But no. Seokjin was your roommate, and you learned in your last situationship that you don’t shit where you eat. Which is why you moved out of the old apartment and in with Seokjin in the first place. 

The rest of your shopping experience goes with mild teasing. You’re still a little bit on edge, but not enough to be truly mad, especially when he offers to cook dinner. 

Once again, you find yourself nestled on the couch watching TV before he finally relents and announces he’s going to practice duos with Jungkook. He assures you that he’ll keep it down this time - he isn’t streaming, so you sure hope so - and vanishes for the rest of the evening. 

When you get ready for bed, it is mostly silent on his of the wall. No yelling, but you can hear the soft lull of his voice. Oddly enough, it’s soothing, and you end up falling asleep with the barest sound of his hum through the walls. 

-

Most nights, you can sleep through Seokjin’s yelling at the sudden sound of his knee hitting his gaming desk as he jumps up, a string of expletives laced with other unintelligible expressions of shock, horror, and frustration. Most nights, you can tuck your headphones in, and blissfully fall asleep to the sound of rain, hearing his insanity only once in a while.

Except now you’ve lost your headphones, you don’t have enough money to splurge on a new pair, and Seokjin has been practicing for a tournament for some extremely long stream he has coming up. 

So now, you go nights without sleep. Nights where you drift off to dreamland after a long shift at the bar or studying for your dissertation. Nights like this, where you teeter on the edge between awake and asleep, and you’re startled straight out of your bed from a shout. 

Heart pounding, you grip the edge of your bed, trying to get your bearings as Seokjin’s shouting echoes through the shared wall. You feel sick with the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear, closing your eyes for a moment as the room spins.

Gritting your teeth and ripping your blankets from you, you march to his room, stumbling as you try to get your bearings from waking up so suddenly. Your stomach does a nasty flip, churning at the unplanned activity as you pound your fist on his door.

“Open up, motherfucker!” You screech, hand slamming on the door without pause. “I swear, Seokjin, sometimes I just want to-“ 

The door rips open and you nearly knock him right in his chest. His very bare, very broad chest, lit up by the purple RBG lights on his headphones and strip lighting around his room to improve the ambiance of his setup. 

“Holy shit, woman! What?” 

You blink, momentarily dazed at what you came here for, distracted entirely by the firm curves of his pectorals, skin smooth and gold. Was Seokjin always this in shape or is it a figment spurred by the rush of adrenaline? 

Finding your words is hard, your brain is scrambled and near ready to make dial-up noises at the site of your roommate’s bare skin. “We just talked about this,” you manage to spit out. “And you’re literally going to start screaming the same fucking day we talk about keeping it down?”

“I mean I’m sorry but damn. You don’t have to break the door down.”

“Then stop screaming!”

“You’re the one screaming!”

“Because I’m trying to fucking sleep! I have dealt with you yelling, cheering, slamming the desk and hollering and doing your little moan-scream for almost a year without saying anything!” You yell back, fists clenched and rage boiling. “I’m so fucking over it!”

“Then why have you never mentioned it before? You know, like an adult!”

Your mouth hangs open at the clap back. “Be for real. I am not the problem here.”  

“Well if I’m the problem, why haven’t you communicated that? You’ve been here eight months and it took me asking you at the grocery store to fess up that I was bothering you.” 

“I mean. Yeah, but-”

“So don’t yell at me that I didn’t read your mind and I had no idea I was bothering you. Or get headphones.” 

“How about you start gaming at normal hours? Have you ever thought of that?” 

He rolls his eyes. “You mean my working hours?”

“I mean between the hours before 11 at night, Jin!” 

“Make me!”

“Fine!” You snap, rage pushing you over. “Shall we make a wager?” 

This catches him by surprise. He blinds a few times, tilting his head. “What are you proposing?” 

Crossing your arms, you nod to the computer. “You want me to play Apex so bad? Fine, we’ll make it a competition.” 

“There’s no 1 v 1 in Apex.”

“Duos. Whoever gets the most kills wins. No shields higher than blue, no turning on each other. Just strictly kill count. If win, you don’t get to game past 11 pm anymore.” 

“And if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“What can I have?” He pauses, looking you up and down. Something feels different as he does this. His gaze heavier. Darker. He licks his lips, your attention is drawn to the way the blue lights glittering on his wall turn the spit-slicked surface blue. “How about any favor at any time that I ask? Are we also trying to win as a duo?”

“Sure. No holds barred on how we get kills.” 

Again, he examines you, trying to puzzle something out. Wordlessly, he walks to his computer and grabs his headset. The door is open to his room, showing that he just has his basic setup turned on, with no intention of streaming. “Jungkook I’ll hit you up tomorrow. I have to kick my roommate's ass.” Jungkook says something on the other side and Seokjin clears his throat. “Yeah, no. Bye.”

He returns, phone in hand. Your phone pings in your room. “Add me on Discord, I guess.” 

Wordlessly, you spin and head to your room. 

There are still things Seokjin doesn’t know about you. Like how you played his favorite game for a year straight, trying to impress your last roommate-turned-fuck-buddy with your skills. While it partially worked in your favor, their failure to commit to you gave you a sour taste about the game. 

It’s been a while since you’ve played. Slower games are more your style, and you haven’t turned on your PC in a while, but as it starts, lights inside of the glass case glittering, you feel a shiver of excitement. 

Your setup is not nearly as advanced as your roommate's, who has three screens, a massive desk and hi-tech camera, a microphone, and a massive custom-built unit that could probably power a tank. Yours is pre-built but sturdy, and you have a single screen with a modest keyboard and headset to match. 

Glancing at the Discord user, you roll your eyes at what Seokjin’s written: WorldWideHandsomeJin.

“Weirdo,” you mutter. 

You add him anyway, getting comfortable in your chair and hitting the call button. He answers immediately, his voice making the hair at the back of your neck tingle as he says, “So are you going to be my Discord kitten?”

“Ew, don’t ever say that again,” you mutter. Navigating your desktop, you start to update the game. “Give me fifteen. I have to update.”

“Really? Newbie.”

“Sorry I don’t play this game every second of my life. I haven’t played since I moved out of the last place.” 

He hums, voice vibrating in your very nice headset. You turn him down a little bit, feeling just a little drunk from the rich timbre of his voice. “That was a… weird situation, huh?”

“A bit.” 

“They play Apex that much too?”

“Not as much as you do.” He hums again. “Who do you main?” 

“Loba.”

“Fine,” you answer as the program opens. “I’m playing Wraith.” 

The game menu blares in your ears, making you squeak and reset all of your old settings. It feels weird to log on, pointedly ignoring the familiar username as you navigate your friends list to add Seokjin. He pops up and selects duos for you. 

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see his rank. “Diamond? Holy fuck do you touch grass?” 

“Says you! You played enough that you hit Diamond in your first season too, nerd. It shows your historical stats. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Whatever. Ready up.” 

Neither of you says anything as the system prepares to put you in a game. You look at his stats, raising your brows as you flip through. He’s historically hit the highest rank in the game, making you wonder why he’s dropped recently. He also has a ridiculous skin on his character, making you wonder how long he’s been playing. 

Apex Legends is a first-person shooter game with a battle royale format. Similar to Fortnite, teams load into the game and pick up weapons and other materials to fight other teams the ring of combat gets smaller and smaller. With Seokjin’s selection of Loba guarantees that you’ll be able to stock weapons and ammo. With your selection of Wraith, you can get in and out of situations quickly and you’ll know when an enemy team focuses on you.

As the map loads, you can’t help but feel the tremor in your hand. Your leg bounces up and down as you wait, watching the dropship come into focus. You give Seokjin the power to drop your duo anywhere on the complex map. You almost expect him to launch immediately, but you’re impressed to see that he has enough patience to drop you a moderate distance on the map.

Which means fewer weapons, fewer shields, and fewer teams to kill. You frown as you navigate your character to land near utility boxes full of weapons. Does he think you need to take it slow? Or maybe he’s worried about giving you too many people to kill easily. 

“Team to the north,” you comm, opening up boxes and selecting weapons, shields, and med packs. “What do you shoot?”

“Energy. Preferably the volt.” 

“Volt here. Let me know if you see a flatline or sentinel.” 

“You snipe with Wraith?” 

“When she says someone’s aiming at me, yeah?” 

He hums but does not comment the two of you use the map to navigate. You fall into a rhythm, using the controls feels sort of familiar. As you work your way toward the next ring, Seokjin startles you when he starts firing shots at a time looting that you miss. You flinch and whirl, but he’s already eliminated the pair. 

“Two zero.” 

“Whatever,” you growl, ignoring his smug voice.

Shooter, move your character in game commands. You dodge behind a box as an enemy team rattles off shots. Your heart pounds as you use a sniper to look in the direction of the shots, seeing the duo up on a tower. Lining up the scope, you click and hit a player. 

“Knocked,” you call automatically. The second teammate makes a bad call and tries to get their knocked pair up. You line up the shot and click twice. “Knocked. Out.” You move your mouse and finish the other teammate. “Out.”

“Yeah, yeah, good comms whatever. We’re even.”

You grin. “Just trying to communicate to my teammate.” 

He snorts. “Sure.”

For a few moments, the two of you navigate to a safe zone. When you see two teams clash, you don’t even think. Normally you’d wait for one team to finish off the other, but you’re in a competition with Seokjin, too. Suddenly, winning means more than just peace and silence.

“Knocked,” you call, sniping another player. “Out. Out. Knocked.” 

“You motherfucker,” Jin hisses. “You’re supposed to - out - tell me when we’re going to push a team.”

“Hey, that was my kill!”

“You only knocked him!” 

“Whatever. And I pushed them because I want to win.”

“I didn’t realize you were so good at this.” The two of you start looting the load out of the eliminated players. “You kept saying I don’t like Apex and here you are, really good at it.”

“Honestly, I used to like it.” Together, you traverse the map until you enter the next ring. Seokjin pauses to use Loba’s pop shop ability, a cache of weapons and materials in the local area showing up in front of you. As you sort through them, you continue, “But I used to play with my old roommate and I used to do it to impress them. As it turns out, being good at a video game does not a relationship make.”

“Hmm. Well if it makes you feel any better, I like you even without the Apex.”

“I meant I was trying to get them to like me romantically.”

“I know what you meant.” 

You pause. Seokjin does not explain his statement, humming lightly as he picks up ammo and leaves the little shop running. He skips down the hill with his character, his happy little tune deep in your ear. 

Nerves get the best of you in the next firefight with a team. You get knocked and screech into the headset, thinking that your chance to win is over. Seokjin, thankfully, takes pity on you and heals you after your near-death experience. But now he’s in the lead, and there are only five teams left. 

I know what you meant. 

The words sit heavy on you. While you are attracted to Seokjin you know it’s a bad idea. Roommates being anything more than roommates often brings other issues. You’d learned firsthand how poorly not defining a relationship could go. That was on you as an adult too but… you didn’t want something in between.

And you have no inclination of what he meant. 

Seokjin wasn’t a very flirty person. Teasing you came easily enough, and he was always nice. He had been a little extra nice recently since you’d been spending more time together, but there wasn’t anything that would suggest he saw you as more than a roommate. 

Two more people downed, and you were tied. The two of you were more into the game and less into the bet. Your interrupted sleep was long forgotten, and you leaned forward as you devised a plan, locking down a high tower where you could see enemy teams coming to escape the shrinking ring. 

“Glad you got that stupid sentinel,” Seokjin mutters. “Who snipes with Wraith.” 

“Shut up,” you shoot back, though you don’t really mean it. “Your second gun is a fucking wingman.” 

“Because it’s like a one tap to the head!” An incoming team distracts him from arguing with you. “Over by that dino cage.”

“Got it,” you comm back. The second you shoot, you draw fire. “Oh my god do they have a Kraber?” 

“Yeah, but they fucked the shot. You got this.” 

Taking a breath - a little dramatic, you realize as you scope them - you take the shot. You tap one, but they have red armor. You curse, pissed you installed a fucking armor limitation, and duck behind the wall as the other team misses the shot with their kraber again. 

“Best gun in the game and they can’t hit shots!” Seokjin laughs. “Imagine! Their buddy must be fuming.”

You scope again and tap the person again. “Knocked. Do we stand our ground or try and take them?” Another shot misses. “Can you keep a scope on that person you cracked and I can push? Other team is probably trying to wait it out.” 

“If they see you?”

“Then you’re fucked but they’re not going to engage between two snipers. Maybe? I don’t know. Just do your thing.”

And you do your thing as Seokjin runs off toward the enemy team. They no longer have shots on their gun - which makes you roll your eyes, it’s the best gun on the map - and keep focused. Either they think you’re moving or they make a bad call - the healthy teammate tries to pick up their knocked ally and you take the shot. 

“They’re both cracked.” 

“Got it- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OTHER TEAM.” 

His screech makes you slam your knee into the underside of your desk. No wonder he does this all the time, you think, realizing that the disrupting noise is a lot easier to make than you originally thought. “Let them take the kill then!”

“Fuck that I want to win!”

“Ew is this about the bet still? Now I want to win the game!”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Ye of little fAIIIIIITH!”

It’s hard not to giggle as he breaks off into yelling, entering a firefight while you try to provide cover and miss your shots. “Stop fucking portaling where I want to shoot!”

“Stop missing!”

“Knocked motherfucker!” 

“Got it!”

Seokjin finishes the two teammates as the knocked enemies on the other team expire. Both of you scream over your headsets. You shoot to your feet as the victory screen flashes. You don’t even wait - you bolt toward the door, your wired-in headset ripping off your head and nearly yanking you back as you go. 

The door is already open as he yells loudly, jumping up and down and grabbing you by the forearms, jumping around in circles with you. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and you can’t help but feel elated as he shakes you wildly, screaming, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” 

His hands are warm on your biceps, gentle and squeezing you excitedly. And then between one breath and the next, he’s pulling you toward him, pressing his lips to yours. 

A shock goes through you. You freeze for a moment, completely taken aback and unsure how to react. Seokjin realizes what he’s done and immediately backs away, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the strands as he says, “Shit - I am so sorry. That was wow - that was a line crossed without your consent and I’m so sorry.” 

Heat floods you from head to toe. Your heart slams against your chest and you stare at him as he fumbles over an apology, his face red as you feel. Your mind can’t catch up as the warmth spreads from your face to the rest of you.

“I’m genuinely so sorry, I just got really excited and-”

“What did you mean earlier,” you cut him off. “When you were all I know what you meant. Look I… really don’t want to make this living situation weird.”

“Totally understand, I’m so sorry.”

You chew on your lip, looking at him. He looks earnest, eyes round and expression pleading. Your lips tingle where he kissed you, so quickly that you’ve already forgotten. Part of you wants to tell him to kiss you again. It was nice. And the flip in your stomach was… good. 

But the part of you speaking now says, “I had fun gaming with you. Apology accepted. I am super tired though, so I’m going to go to bed okay?”

“Yeah. Listen, I am so sorry. That won’t happen again and I just - that was not cool of me at all.”

“It’s okay.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

You offer a smile, still nervous, fingers twitching. “I know you didn’t like, mean anything by it.”

He frowns. “Well I did but that’s my issue.” 

Your heart is a stone skipping on the smooth surface of a pond. “What does that mean?” 

“Look,” he sighs. “I don’t want to make things weird, alright? I harbor a bit of a crush on you and that was honestly absolutely not okay for me to just-” He gesticulates wildly with his hands. “It was an inconsiderate thing for me to do.” 

A crush. Your breathing hitches and you rub sweaty palms against your pants, nodding. “It’s - we’re okay. We’re fine.” 

Seokjin nods, nibbling on his bottom lip as he stares at you, red-faced and nervous. The silence turns awkward, your mind blanks and buzzes as you try to digest his words.

Crush crush crush crush. 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce abruptly, needing to escape the room to breathe for a moment. He nods, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as you rush out. “Night!”

Behind locked doors in your room, you cover your face, feeling the way your cheeks are flushed. You do some deep breathing, trying to regulate your heart rate as your brain spins its tires on Seokjin’s words- confession. 

He confused. That he has a crush. 

For a few moments, you just lean over and pant, trying to think how you feel. Your stomach is a bundle of nervousness and your hands are a little shaky. But you’re not upset. In fact, you smile a bit, thinking of the way that Seokjin had turned shy and the way his lips had felt soft for that split second of a chance.

Straightening, you stare at the wall between your bedrooms. Seokjin is right there. Has been right there. And has admitted to liking you and is sweet and kind and fun to hang out with and-

It might be a bad decision. You’ve been down this road before. It ended up with you nursing feelings and deciding that feelings with roommates was a bad idea. But your last roommate didn’t have feelings for you like that. They liked the sex, but that was where the attraction ended. 

So maybe -

You knock loudly on Seokjin’s door. There’s some shuffling on the other side and he opens it, brows furrowed and a little breathless. Before he can ask what you’re doing, you’re pushing past him and asking, “When you say you have a crush on me what do you mean? In the physical, only attracted to your appearance kind of way, or like the would date kind of way?”

“Well I am physically attracted to you,” he answers slowly, turning to look at you. “But I also like you. You’re funny and incredibly kind, and you’re easy to live with. I like the way that you make your hashbrowns a little extra crispy and crunchy, and I like that you think of me when you do things.” 

“So you like me?”

“Yes, I think I… included that?”

You lick your lips, taking a shaky breath. “So you don’t want to just fuck me no strings attached?”

He blanches. “No. I don’t. Look I know I made you uncomfortable-”

“Kiss me.”

“What now?”

“Kiss me!”

There is a fleeting smile Seokjin gives you that later, you’ll think on with a fluttering heart and breathless laugh. But now, all you can think about is the gentle touch of his hands as they cradle your face and the delicate way his lips press against yours, pillow soft and sweet. 

Seokjin smells like his body wash, the sage and juniper intoxicating as you wrap your arms around his neck. His skin is warm as you press your palms against his skin, his pulse throbbing underneath your thumb. 

The kiss is chaste, just a firm press of lips and a surprised noise shared between the two of you. Tentatively, you pull away, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. Seokjin’s eyes are swimming pools of darkness framed by long lashes. He’s so beautiful, but up close he’s deadly, flecks of gold glittering in his irises. 

“I just,” you whisper. “I don’t want it to be weird but I also… want.” 

You don’t have to explain. Seokjin’s grin is easy, nodding. He gets it. He gets you. So he leans down again and pulls you in by the waist, fingers curling in the hem of your t-shirt as he tugs you toward him. The motion makes you gasp and he takes the chance to turn the kiss from sweet to carnal, tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Seokjin kisses you slowly, tongue curious and gentle. Your head spins as you kiss him and you can barely breathe, so full of him and thoughts of him and the taste of him that you grip him tight, desperate not to fall over. 

The irritation from him waking you up is long forgotten as he tugs you closer. Your hips press against his, mouths sliding, a mix of gentle smacks, spit, and gasps for air. A buzz tingles through you as you nudge Seokjin toward his bed and he responds immediately, backing up and pulling you with him.

When the back of his legs hit the bed, he falls backward. The two of you become a tangled pile of limbs and kisses and giggles, but you find your place as you slot your knees on either side of his narrow waist, palms flat against his chest and the steady beating of his heart. 

There are stars in his eyes when he looks up at you. For a second, you just look at one another, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs and his eyes locked on your face. His lips and face are rouge, hair messy. You grin and lean down, pressing your lips against him again. 

Kissing Seokjin is invigorating. You can’t help but let little noises slip from your mouth. His fingers press into your thighs, dimpling the flesh as he groans, hips twitching upward for friction. The bulge through his sweatpants makes you squeak and you break the kiss, wiggling your hips down to press against his clothed cock.

“Ugh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut and head pressing back into his mattress. “Don’t do that. I’m so fucking hard.” 

“Do you want some help with that?”

His gaze softens and his thumbs slide back and forth on your thighs, caressing gently. “I want whatever you want. Nothing, everything, something. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well right now… I really want to suck you off.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh.” 

Without breaking eye contact, you drop and slide your hand from where it presses against his chest downward. His abs twitch under your hand as you dance along his over-warm skin. His breathing has turned faint and breathy, body nearly trembling as you brush your fingers along the trail of hair leading into his sweatpants.

Watching him is hypnotizing. Seokjin’s lips part slightly as you slide your hand underneath the elastic, brows shooting up when you brush the sticky tip of his cock. 

“No underwear?”

“They’re - nggg - restricting.” 

His shaft is long and smooth, your fingers brushing along the underside, tracing a vein. You’re impressed by the sheer size of his dick, wondering if you’re going to manage to not choke, but the sound he lets you when you wrap your fingers around him and grip him tight erases the apprehension. 

“You sound so good like that,” you breathe, giving a loose-fisted stroke toward the crown, beaded with precum. “Also you have a sizeable dick.”

“Sizeable, huh?” You brush your thumb over the tip, nail gliding over his leaking slit and he lets out a loud moan, making you grin. “Take it out and see how fucking sizeable it is, hmm?”

It’s hard to take him seriously with how ridiculous he sounds, but you slide down the bed, gently getting onto your knees. Using both hands, you tug at his sweatpants, looking up at him through fluttered lashes. 

And… suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. Your mouth waters a bit at the side, his tip swollen and needy. His thick, and you know how good it would feel to just sink down on top of his length, filling up the throb that aches between your legs. 

Pressing your palms firmly into his thighs, you lift yourself up, dipping low to run your tongue along the thick vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. He lets out a sinful growl, hands fisting the sheet and gasping as you watch him struggle. 

At the tip, you slid a hand up, gripping him firmly as you suckle the dark, swollen flesh into your mouth. His precum is salty on your tongue and you hum, eyes fixed on the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the blush blossoming from his neck to his pecs. 

Seokjin is beautiful under the assault of your mouth. 

Suckling gently, you watch his reaction as your tongue lazily circles around the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips wiggle back and forth but he never bucks up into your mouth, never thrusts deeper than you’re willing to go. 

“Please,” he whispers and it comes out as an almost whine. “More.” 

You give him more, gently sinking your mouth down on him. It’s a stretch but you manage, careful to mind your breathing as you bob gently, hollowing your cheeks for added suction. Expletive-laced moans drip from his mouth, his eyes squeeze shut as you continue to suck gently. 

Drool runs out the sides of your mouth. You let it, the stickiness of your spit and his presume slicking down his cock helps you take more of him in his mouth. When his tip brushes the back of your throat, he nearly growls, fully writhing underneath you now.

Seeing him like this is addicting, worked up and sweating, and falling apart. What you can’t fit in your mouth you grip with your hand, mouth, and fingers stroking together in time to work him up. Your mouth buzzes around him in a self-satisfied hum. 

Seokjin can’t help himself. His hands leave the sheets, one hand going to the back of your head, fingers pressed firmly. He doesn’t push or pull, his grip just firm and begging. The sound as you let him thrust a little is sinful and wet, the cough-choke of your throat accompanied by stilted curses. 

Suddenly, he pulls you up. Cum-mixed spit dribbles down your chin, mouth feeling stretched and swollen as you look up at him. His sweats are around his ankles, abs and thighs flexing as he leans forward, urging you upward. 

Your mouths meet in a heated smack of cum and spit and moans and teeth. Your mind is spinning as he cups your face fiercely, pulling you to your feet and up onto his naked waist. His hands pull at your shirt and you yank it fiercely, breaking your messy kiss just to toss it. 

Seokjin’s hands are warm and starving for you and vicious as he pulls your bralette off, adding it to the messy pile in his room. Steady hands cup your breasts, his eyes glittering as he makes a noise. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Come here.”

You fall forward but his hands steady you, lifting his head to catch a nipple with his mouth. It sets you alight, electricity snapping to life from the motion. You moan, head thrown back, eyes rolling as he nipples lightly on your nipple. 

“Fuck,” you squeak. The heat between your legs hurts, your cunting throbbing for him. “That feels so good.”

He hums, letting go of the hardened peak with a gentle scrape of his teeth, moving his mouth to lavish your other breast. His thumb brushes back and forth over the glossy peak, keeping it stimulated. 

You tremble in his grip, seated in his lap as he places luscious sucks across your chest. 

“You’re beautiful.” Seokjin’s words are mumbled in damp kisses against your collarbone. “You’re smart and sweet and generous and stunning.” 

“You’re beautiful,” you answer. It feels stupid to say, but it’s the only thing you can come up with. Everything feels fuzzy and you’re drowning in the praise. “Why is your discord WorldWideHandsomJin?”

“Shut up.” He rolls the two of you over, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles. “Cause I wanted it to be, and it’s true.” 

“It is,” you agreed, gasping as he slides his hand into your pajama shorts. His fingers brush over your damp panties, and he huffs a laugh when he feels how sticky wet you are. “More.” 

He hums and applies more pressure, but it doesn’t relieve the ache. “No,” you whine, clawing his chest. “Please.” 

“Because you said please.”

With a swift hand, he pulls your shorts and underwear down. You don’t have time to shiver at the cool air of his room hitting your pussy, his fingers brushing up and down. “God,” he groans, dropping his head against the side of your neck. “You’re soaked, baby.” 

Pleasure sparks as he thumbs your clit in gentle circles. You feel arousal flood the pit of your stomach, cunt aching and leaking as he slides a finger up and down, applying pressure to your hole before gently sliding into your cunt. 

It’s not enough. You get breathy all the same, the feel of his finger stroking your front wall making the world around you melt. Your limbs feel heavy and you shut your eyes, feeling the way he strokes your g-spot over and over again. 

“Another,” you gasp, hips bucking upward. “Please, more.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Greedy pussy needs more?”

His filth makes your mouth pop open. He complies, though, sliding in another finger and fucking into you properly. He lets you roll your hips upward, trying to ride his hand as you chase the feeling in your stomach. 

It feels like you can’t get enough air, heat trapped between your bodies, static sticking to your skin. Seokjin feels like heaven and fucking hell, skin sticky where your bodies touch, thrumming with energy. 

And it’s so much - almost too much. You want him closer, want to be fuller, want the snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his biceps, mouth brushing against his, words mumbled between pressed lips, “Please.” 

With a slick sound, he pulls his fingers from you. Immediately you miss the feeling, but you’re rewarded as he brings shine-slicked fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth. He leers around his fingers, eyes dark. 

“Yum,” he whispers, bending down and licking into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips. 

For a quick moment, he fumbles in his nightstand, pulling out a condom and breaking the foil with a soft crinkle. He’s painted a soft blue in the lights of his room, the changing colors making him a mirage of neons and soft colors, a haunting and stunning creature all at once. 

Seokjin shuffles you carefully up the bed, peppering your skin with kisses as he goes. Reverent hands stretch your legs wide open for him as he slots himself against you, giving shallow thrusts so that his cock slides against your messy fold. You whine, needed more stimulation, needing to feel full to relieve the ache. 

Grabbing the base of his cock, he strokes upwards again, letting his cockhead catch on your trembling hole. A stream of expletives falls from your lips as your head falls backward, your entire frame vibrating as he slowly slides in. You’re so wet that it helps, but the thick girth of him burns all the way until he is fully sheathed and your walls are fluttering around him.

“Shit, you’re fucking squeezing me.”

“Cause your cock is fucking big!”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

“No, but please fuck me.”

You need the slide of his shaft against your walls, need to feel the way he hits so deep it’s like he’s in your fucking stomach. Seokjin starts a slow but purposeful pace, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, sliding his hands under your as to lift you slightly. The angle allows him to fuck your spot as he thrusts in, your limbs going slack as the feeling of an orgasm winds from just a few strokes. 

Seokjin fucks you with purpose, stroking a little faster. Sweat beads on his chest, hair clinging to his forehead as he bites his bottom lip, stomach flexing. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers wrapped around his wrist where he holds you, practically pulling you onto his cock as he fucks you open. 

It’s mind-numbing, everything else fading away as his room swirls in colors, punctuated by the snap of his hips against your wet ass and your high-pitched moans. 

You wish you could be more of a participant, but the way he makes you feel has the room spinning. He fucks you down into the mattress, the slide of your skin against his sheets added friction. Your head hits a pillow, knocking it sideways, your hand trying to find a grip on anything. It finds the wall and you press against it, feeling the squeeze of your breath in your lungs and the coil in your stomach. 

“That's it,” Seokjin urges, one hand leaving your ass to slip between your legs. He circles your clit and your eyes roll back in your head, the roaring feeling of your orgasm coming closer and closer. “Fuck your feel so fucking good - you look so fucking good just taking my cock like this.” He is the vision you think. Brow furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth, all tan, flushed skin and twitching muscles. You can't remember the last time you were fucked into mindlessness, no chance of cognitive thinking at your fingertips. The filth that leaves his mouth only sends you spiraling further, admiration-laced curses punctuated with moans.

You can only moan back in response, most of the sound stuck in your throat. You think you’re babbling now, mouth agape, eyes squeezed so shut that colors explode across your vision. He fucks you hard but at a medium pace, each thrust supported with his full weight, hitting so deep that you can’t breathe.

When you cum, it’s like a freight train hits you, the world going absolute white noise and numb. You lose yourself in the feeling, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re aware of the way your pussy pulses around his cock and through the buzz in your ears, you hear him curse, gasping your name as he cums just as hard. 

You have no idea how long it takes for you to come back down. You barely feel your limbs, the tingle in them like when your foot falls asleep but far more pleasant. You roll your head over to find Seokjin breathing deeply, skin glowing with sweat. His eyes flutter open as you stare at him and he grins, tired but genuine. Your stomach leaps. 

“I swear,” he mumbles. “Next time I will last way longer than that. But fuck.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard,” you admit, voice hoarse. “I think that is why they call it le petite mort. Holy shit.” 

He laughs and he pulls you in. With the shift of your limbs, you feel how sticky and wet your legs are, thighs pressed together in the mess. You make a face at the feeling, no longer finding it attractive now that you’re not actively fucking, but he kisses you and you immediately forget about it. 

“By the way,” he mutters, voice deep. “I won the bet so you owe me a favor.”

You grit your teeth, realizing that he did win by a single kill. “Fine. What’s your favor?”

“Not much, just want to take you out somewhere nice. Buy you a beautiful dinner. Learn all of your embarrassing stories from middle school and if you had an emo phase.”

“Did you have an emo phase?” 

“You’ll only find out if we go on a date.”

You smile. Your mouth hurts from the kissing and the stretch of his dick, but it doesn’t matter. You brush the sweaty hair from his face, his eyes fixed on your reaction. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Hmm. Good. Now come on, I wanna fuck you in the shower.” 

“That I can agree with.” 

#seokjin smut #jin smut #jin bts smut #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #jin fanfic #jin x reader #roommate jin #bts fanfic #jin x you #minors dni #minors do not interact

[hanetea]

Flowers in the winter

Summary: 6 months of the year I am technically married to Satoru Gojo; and the other 6 months, well... I still am married to him. Word count: 2.6k CWs: Teen!Gojo, he's a warning in itself..., Timid!reader, Reader!POV Canon compliant till I say so, rom-com, slow-burn, how slow? maybe like 3 chapters slow, fluff, angst, eventual smut, no beta, mildly edited This is part 2 (you can find part one here > part 1 )

“I’m sorry” I sniffled as I heard nothing but laughter for mistaking the other person at the end of the line for someone other than himself. But who could blame me!

“How can you, married for two years by the way, not even recognize the sound of my voice anymore? Was 2 years not enough for you?” his laughter finally dying down, and all I could do was to swallow how much this man was just enjoying my perfectly understandable reaction. 

“But for us it barely was two years huh” he says sighing, finally able to breathe after laughing. I pinch my arm a little. I mean after all he was right, it was barely 2 years, hell it was probably only just 6 months of us together.

“Heh, why are you quiet? Cat got your tongue?” but it's moments like these that I wish it was less than 6 months.

“Sorry sorry, I’ll stop teasing” he chuckles as if reading my mind. I pout as I bring my knees closer to my chest. Since he called me he should be able to tell me where to go right? Maybe even pick me up at the train station… I could hear a hearty sigh on the other line. “ so, you're coming tomorrow?” He's going to at least give me an address as to where jujutsu high is right?

“Yes” I said, twirling my hair between my index and thumb. ‘Please tell me where to go-’

“Great! I’ll see you then-” “WAIT!” 

There was a pause of silence between us. Me letting my nerves get the best of me, and unintentionally cutting him off mid sentence. Embarrassment creeps into my cheeks as I try to bury myself with a fistful of my hair, bringing it to the front of my face. I should’ve just asked through text or something.

‘Ahhhh I want to diee’

Gojo clears his throat, breaking the silence. “What’s wrong?” he says in a completely oblivious tone, which only made me more nervous on what to say. 

I try to collect myself breathing slowly so that I can get my words across,

“Um, Gojo, so about Jujutsu tech…” I start but my mouth just shuts on its own, 

“Gojo Satoru is not a kind man”

My mothers warning rings in my head, and my palms start getting sweaty by the second. ‘I should be more polite’ I thought, still trying to find the words to say but before I could add more he gives me a big ‘Ah!’ making me jump a little from the sudden noise.

“Yea! The admission wasn't that bad, though you know that the elders were being such a big pain about it.” he gave a loud sigh to exaggerate how much he hated it, which made me smile, this man does not like being bossed around. 

“Yknow what's crazy tho?” his voice suddenly hushed as if trying to not let anybody hear “there's only 3 students in my class” which gains a small gasp from me “i-including you?” I whisper back. In the same hush tone that he was using, “Including me!” he responds back, I can't even begin to imagine a class of 10 people, how much more just 3? With yourself included? And the worst of it is that you’re classmates with Gojo….

‘I feel bad for them…’ A whole year with him… I can't even begin to imagine how that would be, without missing a beat Gojo fills my silence with little stories of his time at jujutsu high.

“The campus is HUGE! It's very traditional in terms of architecture but I think you already know that.” He continues to ramble, Gojo can really carry the conversation with just himself, and honestly it's comforting to know that he won't get mad if I stay quiet. However…

“Um, sorry Gojo but to be honest,” Gojo turns quiet in the other line, I swallow what timidness I had to get my words across, feeling that the man on the other side is also going to listen to me. “I’ve never been to jujutsu high, o-or know where it is” I finally put out. Gojo still stays silent in the other line which makes me hope he didn't take offense. “...you’ve never been there?” he says softly which makes me embarrassed

‘Was I supposed to know?’ I bite my lip

“M-my mom doesn't really tell me about jujutsu society…” with every word that escapes, the quieter it becomes. Growing up I’ve been told that women have no place in jujutsu society. And my mom reaffirms this belief by raising me as a normal girl as much as possible. Since a woman’s role is to be a wife to her husband, I was kept in the dark about anything that revolves around jujutsu. 

‘I only know some things because it involves Gojo…’ but now I’m starting to think I should know a little bit more, just to keep up with his life… He is at the center of it after all…

“Is that so?” his voice rings clear, in a span of a few months, Gojo’s voice changed. I wonder what he looks like now? This is no longer the Gojo Satoru that I knew a year ago. Will he be disappointed that I, his wife, didn't change at all? Will I be tossed aside, the older we get?

“I can pick you up, which station are you going to?” I shook my head trying to rid of my thoughts that was occupying my head 

“M-my ticket is for Asakusa station, but I can catch a train to whichever is more convenient for you-” he giggles at the other end, confusing me as I don't really know what he found funny “no that’s fine I'll pick you up there.” His voice is so gentle, it almost made my heart leap out of my chest. I can't let myself misunderstand, Gojo didn't mean anything about it. 

“Thank you” I say, barely a whisper, twiddling my toes trying to warm them up  “No worries.” he hummed in response. My shoulders relaxed, as I let go of the breath that I didn't know I was holding. Gojo, despite his obvious status, was very different from the other male authorities that I have the displeasure of knowing in Jujutsu society. He wasn't someone to hold his authority above you unless provoked. Even though we aren't the typical couple, where mutual feelings isn't the thing keeping us together, but societal pressure. I'm happy that we are different from a typical jujutsu marriage. It’s comfortable,

“Gojo Satoru is not a kind man”

But I'm okay that it's him that I have to be with.

“Goodnight (y/n), I’ll see you soon” he says one last time before hanging up.

I heave a heavy sigh, dropping my phone to the side, My other hand playing with my hair. I really ended up having a casual conversation with Gojo… ‘Gojo is so easy to talk to… I mustn't be swayed’ I thought. The more comfortable I am, the more I am able to make mistakes. I don't think he’ll be pleasant when that day arrives.  I imagine a cross Gojo, but it seems like it's hard to picture what that looks like. I twiddle my toes more just trying to think. Instead, a picture of an more diabolical Gojo came to mind, ‘No, I think he will just endlessly tease me if I do… ahhhhh’ now scratching my scalp, hating the second option even more, I look back towards the picture frame that I previously dropped.

I don’t want the marriage of a jujutsu sorcerer. Constant avoidance, infested with malice, a bitter marriage that would’ve been better off separated. ‘I don't want that’ But if that was the fate that I was preordained to have…

I pulled the picture off the frame and folded it into my wallet. Giggling as I see his little pout still peaking through.

‘I mustn’t feel anything for Satoru Gojo’

I placed my wallet into my bag, I'm now fully packed, ready for my journey… my 6 month long journey, easing my heart in what lies ahead.

-

“We have arrived to, Asakusa station” 

I inhale a lungful of air, waiting for the doors to open. As I'm immediately greeted to the warmth and bustling crowds of Tokyo. 

I hold nothing but just one luggage in my hand, and a small backpack for more personal items to be easily accessed. 

This is the station where I'm supposed to meet Gojo. If he were a normal man, I wouldn't exactly be as worried as I am right now,  it's not exactly hard to spot a 6 foot something with unbashful white hair and a pair of intimidating stark black glasses but with the lack thereof and with his track record of tardiness to multiple events. It doesn't take rocket science to deduce that I may be waiting here for a bit.

I heave a heavy sigh, one that often is released during an intense exam season. Feeling an intense load of anxiety suddenly turning at the pit of my stomach.

‘I wanna go homee’ I sob inwardly walking around the area that's within reasonable reach from the waiting deck, so that I can be easily spotted just in case the unreliable clan leader decides to swing by and save me from the predicament that he himself caused.

I find an empty bench to occupy as I wait for the time being. I tug my sleeves a little as I start to feel a chill, what a perfect welcome to the winter season. 

Ping!

I felt my phone vibrate as I open my phone I saw that I've received a message.

My eyes widen, it was a message from Gojo.

Gojo 10:15am

Sorry, the mission took surprisingly long, I'm 10 minutes away from the station did you just arrive?

I look at the message for a little bit, feeling relieved and a bit embarrassed that I assumed that he was just being leisure With his time when in fact, Gojo was a man who's always short on time with how busy he was.

But regardless he still found the time to help me when I'm in need.

You 10:16am

It’s okay, I've just arrived anyway. Take your time.

Was that too casual? Despite being similar in age I have a hard time talking to Gojo since I was taught to respond formally, but since Gojo hates tradition I was told by him explicitly to ‘ease up’ 

Ping!

I looked at the notification, it was a reply from Gojo 

Gojo 10:17am

10 seconds

“Eh?” I accidentally said out loud, but before I could ask what he meant he sent another message

Gojo 10:17am

5 seconds

By now I think I was sweating bullets, what do these mean? And why are they so ominous?

I felt a single tap on my shoulder making me to jump in surprise, I turned around and was immediately greeted to a wide grin.

“ It's been a while ” he's still as big as ever, I scramble to my feet feeling my soul leave my body just to race back inside to regain control. Gojo, despite saying he’ll arrived in 10 minutes arrived in less than a minute, and yet not a single hair was out of place or a single sweat roll down his face. Effortlessly he looked pristine and perfect. While a single tap made me look like a rag doll ready to be washed. 

“Did I scare you?” he chuckles as I feel my face with my hand to realize not only am I sweaty, my cheeks were also hot from the shock.

“I- I” stammering finding no words to say as my head was a jumbled mess. Standing in front of me was no Gojo I met from when I was 15

This was a different one, a leaner, taller and older Gojo, if his looks didn't kill me before It will kill me now.

“Wow! You haven't grown an inch!” he says while taking my luggage off my hand. While his eyes continue to inspect me. We stand with a fair distance away from each other but his domineering figure if it were to topple over would bury me whole “You look like you still sleep with a nightlight”

“I-I do not” I defend myself from the embarrassing accusation.

But I still do, every night.

‘ahh this man is too much’ I bring up my hands to fan my warm face, I can tolerate Gojos teasing but I get easily embarrassed and it shows on my face which I believe he has much delight in seeing by getting a rise out of me. I prepare myself for a wheeze or a chuckle from him, a sadistic reaction at least to come out but instead I felt a gentle cool touch my cheek. It was a hand, his hand. 

“Gojo?” I was shocked at the sensation that the name just rolled out of my tongue. 

I looked up to him and saw that he was staring down at me still wearing a smile. But it was different, my breath hitches on my throat. His glasses were still blocking his eyes, but compared to before, his smile was gentler, and his face had completely softened. 

He continues to move his hand to cup my cheek, making me squeeze my eyes shut from the sheer cool of his palm. His cool hand was a stark contrast to my warm skin. Which contributed to the growing embarrassment rising with every touch.

“But you’ve changed…” he said, tracing my lashes with his thumb as I kept my eye shut. “Your eyelashes got longer…” his hand,  never leaving my face caresses my cheek, leaving specks of cool on my skin everywhere he touches. He moves my head gently as if trying to observe every nook and cranny, Not really missing a single area, feeling like he wouldn't be satisfied till he saw everything. He slid his thumb down my nose bridge, outlining it. “Your nose is still the same” he gives a little giggle before sliding it down lower, his thumb now ghosting my lips, I puff a breath on it from the cool that it radiates but it doesn't move. Only keeping a distance, never truly touching me.

“You look good” he says softly, he moves his hand away to push some hair away from my face, and tucking it gently behind my ear before giving my earlobe a little pinch that made me flinch. 

The reaction only making him giggle as he gives my nose a little poke with his finger before shifting the front of his body away from me, while I was left with the sight of his broad back. “let's hurry before we miss our train” he moves with long strides.

I stand there completely frozen, my brain not really understanding what just happened until it starts crashing down to me like a tidal wave. I covered my mouth before a scream exploded out of my body. 

‘What was that? What was that?’ my brain was in a jumbled mess that my knees gave out and I'm left crouching on the ground. 

My heart was doing somersaults with the way it's beating. Being awestruck by how much he changed was one thing, but being caressed was a whole different story! 

“Pardon me~” I felt a strong arm slither around my waist. In an instant, my entire body was hoisted off the ground with much ease. Gojo stands there carrying me like a duffle bag. He looks down at my pitiful state but not really minding it.

“As much as I want to enjoy your reactions, we have 3 more trains and a bus to catch” the silver head beams a wide smile while announcing this, my eyes furrowed in confusion.

‘Why do we need to ride 3 more trains?’ He gives me a toothy grin as if reading my mind.

“How else are we going to reach Jujutsu high! It's all the way on the other side of Tokyo from Asakusa station.” His legs start moving as he carries me in the same awkward position. 

“EXCUSE ME?!” Gojo only laughed in response.

#jjk #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fandom #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #haneblurbs

[callingmelili]

A deal.

So I am currently in a virtual class and I should probably be paying attention. I'm sure my teacher would not be impressed by me writing this when I'm supposed to be taking notes, but of course this would be the moment for the horny muse to come back. I may have a second part thought out too.

My set up is the usual, full-body mirror, one of those light rings I used to make fun of other girls from having, mat on the floor in case the gif he sends requires me to kneel. Mark's contact winks at me from the messaging app on my phone, online and writing. His messages always come between seven and ten pm, never at the same time, the bastard has been taking up this window of time every Friday for the last three months.

This time around, the message comes early.

It's only a gif, but it's the worst one so far. A girl kneeling on the floor in knee socks, hair in pigtails , tits bouncing inside a lace bralette as she bounces on a dildo stuck to the floor. A text comes in right after. 'You have 20 minutes, Mia.'

I sigh and head for my dresser, this is the first time one of Mark's gifs goes that far. But do i have another choice? I don't. He is not my boyfriend, he is not a man I can say not to, even if he didn't have a bunch of humiliating videos of me --if he made them public, he'd be shooting himself in the foot anyways, I have proof that he's the only person I've sent them to-- he has something worse… for now.

He and I have a deal. No, really. We do.

Honestly, when he first caught me cheating on a test, I thought I was done for. He was my advisor at the moment, able to report me without breaking a sweat. I never have been a particularly good student and I would have been done for.

I didn't make it this far into graduate school without being decently stubborn, though and I grasped at the one straw still within my reach. I would laugh at how cliche it is if it wasn't my life right now.

Obviously I told him to ask anything of me. I had seen how he looked at me during our one-on-one thesis, I was fully expecting to be asked to get on my knees and blow him, I was also more than prepared to do it if it spared me expulsion.

What he asked for was… a step further.

But I really had no other choice. It was either do this until the end of the semester or face being exposed and expulsed.  So far he has only asked me to emulate the gifs, nitpicking only rarely. I had to do a couple repeat performances  of the fourth gift he sent me of a blonde girl deepthroating a dildo. He kept saying it was not 'far enough' and my face was not 'red enough', pouting, I scroll up to glare at the finished product of that particular exchange. My eyes are watering and my cheeks are flaming red. Brown hair frames my face as I furiously work the dildo in and out of my mouth. It takes me a while to look away.

"I better get this over with," I say to no one in particular before turning up the light and leaving the camera on standby.

Sighing, I get my hair into the pigtails first before getting the dildo with the suction cup out from it's usual place in a box under my underwear. I have no bralette's that look just like the girl's so I end up wearing the top of a swimsuit instead. The socks I do have a pair of similar ones, only in baby blue rather than pink. Mark usually doesn’t mind small changes due to unavailability of certain items in my apartment, and anyways it shows about the same amount of skin.

"And now as for the pose…" The mat has to go so the dildo can stick to the floor and I can feel the skin of my knees protest as soon as I lower myself over it. The silicone meets slick, oversensitive flesh and I am torn between feeling shame or being relieved that I don't have to warm myself up for it.  My thighs are already shaking, skin prickling at the cold of the floor and how a hear seems to have settled deep within my pelvis.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes with a message, then another and another.

'5 minutes left, Mia.'

'Tic, toc.'

Drawing in a shaky breath I reach forward and turn the camera on. It's set up to stream only to him. Sometimes he will return the favor, I found it gross at first but it's even stranger to do all these things while only hearing his voice coming from my computer speakers. "You could be trying more with the top." He laughs, speak of the devil. Tonight he wants to keep his face hidden it seems, it doesn’t show up in the computer screen.

"Just why would you think I would have that sort of underwear?" I hiss.

I can imagine him shrugging. "You're the type that's usually prepared? Anyhow, I don't like it, just take it off."

"But--"

"Take it off, you're bare-cunted already. What's the damage with me seeing your nipples?"

My thighs shake. "Fine." The bra is the tie-up kind, two swift pulls and it's falling off my tits, leaving my nipples to stand in response to the cold air in the room. "Damn, you could do a better job pretending you don't like this. I can see how wet your cunt is from here."

I roll my eyes at the camera. "I like to be prepared, as you said." I lick my lips, glancing at the mirror. "Lets just get this over with."

"Aye," he laughs, "Well, first off, sit down baby. Aren't your knees getting tired?"

Of course, he means sit down on the dildo I am hovering over. I do so, slowly. Wet as I am, the intrusion stretches me beyond what I'm prepared for, making the descent a little shaky and making me moan. "That's a nice face," mark comments.

"Fuck-- Fuck you." I say, glaring at the camera.

"Of course you wish it was me baby." I can imagine him grinning. "Alas, you're gonna have to do the work there. I believe the girl on the gif has her legs spread out wider."  I shiver, but do as told. I can feel the tip of the dildo pressing up into my cervix.  "No, wider." I whine. "Wait, no, that's too wide, go back."

The inside of my thighs is wet already, moving on the dildo proves easier than it should. "Good?" I ask, between forced breaths.

"Hmm, good. But stick your ass out more." I do, and the tip of the dildo brushes something that makes me lose my balance and cry out. "Ha! Well, that isn't quite it but do stay there." He laughs, again. "Now, start bouncing."

If I could I'd sag with relief, but all I can do is bounce and hope he's satisfied soon.

Five minutes later I can't believe how wrong I was. "Nope, stop!" He calls, like he's directing a porno and I guess he is. I can't help the protesting jerk of my hips when he does. "Get off on this later, will you?" He huffs. "Cross your eyes more, Mia, and stay still for a second." Time stretches, silent for far more than a second. "Ok, now."

It's the second time he does it, and there are a third and a fourth. I'm not dripping on only the dildo now, but also the floor. He doesn't care, I'm sure enough now that he's somehow learned to see when I'm close and he always stops me at that point before pleasure becomes pure heat. "Isn't that enough?" I pant after the latest interruption.

"No, again. Push your chest out, show the girls off, will you?" His voice is lower now than it ever is in class and I'm so tired by now, knees aching and core throbbing that I just mindlessly obey, eyes crossing, hips slamming down  once, twice, three times. This time he doesn’t stop talking, but none of his words urge me to stop or slow down this time. Rather, Mike encourages me. I can't say he compliments me but it's all the same to my foggy mind. "That's it Mia. That's it little whore. The tongue is a nice detail but you're going to have to repeat this performance just for that." He laughs. "No, don't stop on my account, you're too far gone. I thought you weren't getting off on this? My little, pathetic Mia, don't think I haven't noticed just how you get all the other times." It's only his voice filling the room, only his voice and the sound of my ass slapping into the floor, losing rhythm as I come closer and closer, slumping forward and losing form. I know he'll make me repeat it now, I don't care, I just want to cum. "That's right, that's all you want isn't it? Not even to be free from our little deal, you'd sell yourself out for an orgasm, wouldn't you? Well go ahead."

I just want to cum, and I do.

Afterwards, I'm slumped forward, dildo still halfway inside me as I catch my breath. That's when I hear the tell-tale sound of the lock on the front door, and then a familiar voice, coming from both the living room and my computer. "By the way Mia I forgot to tell you I'd be dropping by to drop some material for your thesis off." Mark laughs, it echoes off the walls. "I also wanted to talk about a couple of things. Stay right where you are and maybe I'll be nice and give you a passing grade on this little recreation of ours, even though you didn't get it quite right."

#dumbification #mind control #story #blackmail #corruption kink #exhibtionist

[jadedxhearts]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

Your crew abandons you on an island, one that's said to have the demon of a once-legendary pirate inhabiting it. Though you never expected for the demon to desire pleasure, above all else...

Warnings: smut, demon! Law, fem reader, not proof-read.

Shivering from the breeze on the island, you frowned as you trudged on to find a spot for shelter. Your crew had laughed when you’d directed them to the island, claiming that the tales of the demon who resided on the island were childish fantasy stories. As their captain, you’d rolled your eyes and gone to the island anyway. But now- you were starting to regret that decision. 

The second you’d stepped foot onto the island, the wind seemed to change, an odd low humming sound whistling through the air. Your now ex-crew, being freaked out and panicked by the odd phenomena, threw your small amount of personal belongings off the ship, claiming you were now “cursed” and “would bring bad spirits back” if you got onto the ship again. And without another thought of you, their captain’s safety, they took off with your ship, leaving you on the lone island. 

With your items in a small pack, you continued walking, eyes scanning your surrounding area to look for anything of use. Food, a fresh water source, shelter, anything. Seeing nothing, you grumbled out curses, bad-mouthing your ex-crew to any unseen animals or spirits around. 

Finally, just as it started to rain, you came across a cave. It was an interesting cave; crystals in varying shades of blue and gold all along the top of the opening in the mountain. Deciding this was as good as you’d get for now, you dove into the cavern, escaping the worst of the weather.

Starting a fire wouldn’t be too difficult, you determined, seeing some branches and dried leaves that had blown into the cave who knows who long ago. You had some flint in your back, thankfully, so it seemed you had some luck. 

When you’d finally gotten the small fire going, you drank a small amount of water, not wanting to waste what you had. Then, you sat, alone, looking at the various crystal formations in the cave, thinking they looked incredibly pretty as they shimmered from the light of your fire. 

Then that low hum picked up again, and you were suddenly horribly aware of how alone you really were. 

“Who do you think you are, venturing into my domain, mortal?” A deep voice echoed throughout the cavern, scaring you.

Eyes widening, you flew up to your feet, head spinning in all directions, looking for whoever had just spoken to you. But there was nobody. At least, physically, there wasn’t. 

“I- my crew abandoned me here,” you managed to say, voice uneven. Your fear was evident. Not good.

“Did they now? How come?” The voice questioned.

“I… wanted to investigate the tales of this island,” you replied. “The legend of an ex-warlord, one of the most fearsome pirates, part of a no-longer existing group named ‘The Worst Generation’… his spirit is said to reside here,” you explained, then realizing something as you spoke. “That… must be you?”

There was a low chuckle, and it sent goosebumps over your skin. It was oddly delightful to hear.

“I was once a pirate named Trafalgar Law, that is true,” he told you, and you could almost hear the smirk in his tone, “but now I am nothing more than a demon. Tell me, mortal, why did you seek me?”

“I, uh…” you trailed off, not really sure, “I just… I like investigating these things. Wanted to see what was true and what was myth.”

The demon hummed, suddenly materializing before you. He wasn’t what you expected, honestly. He resembled a human, but his skin was now dark blue-ish in color, though you could barely make out black hair and regular human features on his body. He seemed to have tattoos that traveled up his form like flames, bleeding into an aura of pure darkness that surrounded him. And most of all, this demon had piercing gold eyes that seemingly glowed.

Gasping, you reflexively took a few steps back, startled by the sudden physical being in front of you. 

“Didn’t anybody tell you what really happens in my domain?” He then asked, and you could see him smirking. 

Feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach, you shook your head, voice evading you.

“When I was still a mortal being, I had a devil fruit that allowed me to cut up bodies without actually harming them,” he explained, eerily. “But here? They get chopped up and are left to die.”

Your eyes widened more, and you continued to back up, until you were met with the wall of the cavern against your back, giving you no more space to flee. 

“I… I’m sorry,” you shivered, a more urgent fear and sudden, icy chill running through you, “I meant no harm, honestly… I… I’ll do anything, please!”

“Please what?” He growled, icy finger grazing under your chin. 

“Spare me!” You cried, “I’ll stay here… doing whatever it is you can’t in an immortal form, i-in your service!”

He hummed, licking his lips. “There’s one thing that I haven’t had since being a mortal…”

“W-which is?” You stammered, hoping it wasn’t some sick desire that would result in your death.

“The pleasure of having a pretty girl like you in my… company,” he purred.

“Wh-what?” 

“The warmth of a woman’s flesh, sinfully close to me,” he clarified, closing in on you. “Only foolish, greedy men looking for my nonexistent treasures have come to this island for the last couple centuries.”

Suddenly, there were cold, ghostly hands roaming your body, running up and down your arms, gliding over your waist. Leaning into the touch, you let your head fall limp against the wall behind you, mouth agape as icy fingers tugged at your clothing. Allowing the demon once known as Law to forcefully pull your clothing off, you relaxed your body, aiding him in removing the barriers between his immortal form and your soft, warm flesh.

Now bare, you whined as the demon ran his hands over your breasts, squeezing them and rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples. 

“Such a needy thing, aren’t you?” He teased, frosty breath landing on your ear, running down to your exposed neck. You were suddenly glad he wasn’t the type of demon with sharp teeth, as the thought of him sucking out your blood and killing you crossed your mind.

Pulling your body away from the cavern wall, the demon carried you closer to the fire, and your heart fluttered as you thought, perhaps he was trying to keep you warm? Whether it was out of kindness or because he craved to feel warm skin, you were grateful to be less cold now.

Laying you against the cool floor, the spirit grabbed your wrists, almost clawing at them as he raised them above your head, a sudden unseeable force holding them down as his hand left them, joining his other in feeling up your thighs, massaging the flesh between ghostly fingers.

“Such a pretty mortal,” he hummed, forcing your legs apart. “To think you’ll be all mine… for eternity…”

One hand slid over your cunt, feeling around your folds until his fingers pressed against your clit, the tip of one rubbing against the little bud, making your pussy begin to drip with need.

Moaning, you strained against the invisible force holding you down, your hips being the only thing that you could move up. Grinding against the demon’s hand, you cried and begged for more. 

“Please, demon,” you whined, head shaking against the ground, “take me, make me your whore for the rest of time!”

Chuckling, the demon’s breath tickled over your neck, and he bit down, licking the skin between his teeth. “As you wish, mortal.”

You weren’t sure when it’d appeared, but there was suddenly a hardened length prodding at your cunt, the demon using one hand to hold his cock, the other pulling your folds open, making your tight hole visible to him. 

The head of the length pushed into you, and you let out a gasped moan at the intrusion. Squirming, your fingernails dug into your palms, not realizing how big this demon was compared to you until now.

He continued to shove himself inside, burying his cock into your pussy, stretching you wide open. His hands grabbed at your hips, clawing into your skin and surely leaving marks, as he lifted them off the ground and pulled you flush against where his abdomen would be. Pulling back, the demon then slammed into you, rocking your entire body, extracting a pleasured-scream from your lips.

“Cry for me, mortal,” he demanded, licking your lips. “Nobody can hear you. Nobody will save you from your life as my little toy.”

Letting out the loudest moans and cries you’d ever made, the demon chuckled deeply and continued fucking into you, claiming your body as his. You clenched around him, body hot and alive under his powerful, ghostly form. He was incredibly big, reaching so far into your cunt that you could almost swear his tip was kissing your cervix, pounding into your womb.

“L-Law!” You sobbed the demon’s name, which seemed to have a powerful effect on him. Growling wildly, almost like a rabid animal, the demon’s fingers dug deeper into your skin, and he bit down on your neck, teeth bruising the skin as his tongue sucked red spots into it, marking you as his. His hips slammed into yours with such force that your whole body swayed with the thrusts. He was so strong, holding so much power over you. As your velvety walls clamped down on him, orgasm beginning, you thought he was close to killing you with how rough he fucked into you. And gods, did it feel good.

Suddenly, an odd warmth erupted in you, filling your cunt with the hot, liquidy substance that spilled from the demon’s cock. You weren’t even aware that demons could cum, but here was one, stuffing you with his seed. And it was apparently a lot, from the way more and more continued to spill into you. 

Tears slid down your cheeks, though you were certainly in no pain. You felt such euphoria, a rush of intense pleasure that had you feeling drunk, wanting even more. Mind feeling cloudy with thoughts of other ways the demon could fuck you, somewhere in the back of your head you realized there must’ve been some sort of aphrodisiac in the demon’s cum. Truly, he meant it when he’d said you’d be nothing but his whore forever. You’d forever be addicted to his touch, forever desperately needing more as the effects of his seed coursed through your veins. 

And you’d happily accepted it, drool spilling from your lips as a small smile formed on them. This was the best possible outcome to being abandoned on an island. Bound to a demon, as his dutiful mortal lover, for eternity.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader smut #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar d water law x y/n #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #trafalgar d law x reader

[y3ager]

WE OUTSIDE.

— a night you initially weren’t looking forward to ends in the best way imaginable.

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: high school au, modern au, marijuana and alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), mild cream pie. minors dni.

DESPITE HOW YOU refused it for months, here you stand in a mansion someone had the money and connections to reserve holding the worst position anyone can have on graduation night: designated driver.

you’re the coveted mom friend, the only one in the group with a level enough head and fear of, you know, dying to make sure you and your girls don’t end up on the morning news the following day. after weeks of promising that they wouldn’t be back home after walking across stage, here they all are enjoying one last night of partying before they all go their separate ways, to different universities and states, some of them never seeing each other again.

obviously you’re not one to knock someone else’s fun, but it’s just not your thing and you knew that with the first party you snuck out to. it’s loud, crowded, and smacking the ass of your friend or fighting your way to the front for a good view of it is only fun for the first 20 or so minutes. it’s three am and no one shows signs of stopping.

you nurse your cocktail of lemonade with a dash of pink whitney because it helps to have something in your hand. you stay off towards the back and hug the wall, watching your peers have fun and dreading when you inevitably have to shove 7 shitfaced girls into one car. three are horny drunks, one does nothing but cry by the end of the night, one more tends to get punchy…

you feel a solid body bump against yours and lurch forward a bit. “sorry!” you shout, but with the bass of the music and everyone’s yelling, they probably don’t even hear you.

“no, you’re fine..” all of a sudden you smell nothing but weed, enough to make your nose wrinkle a bit. he brandishes his blunt to you, obviously inviting you take a hit. that’s what all these parties are, people swapping blunts and taking sips out of bottles and repurposed polar pop cups.

“no, um, i’m good..” your better judgement starts to kick in, even though you’re probably the only person in the entire house using some right about now. it could be filled with god knows what, what if your job springs up a surprise drug test, you’re not supposed to take anything from a damn stranger!

a little voice in the very back of your head reminds you that this is your problem: playing it safe, keeping your head down, abstaining from doing anything even mildly reckless.

you reach your hand up and pluck the glowing blunt from the strange boy’s slender fingers and pop it between your glossed lips. a quick toke fills your lungs, streams out from your nose and makes you give out a quick cough. “thank you,” you say dumbly, honestly, as you pass it back to him. who the fuck says thank you after that? “sorry for the, uh.. gloss.”

“you’re fine,” he says again, popping the joint right back into his mouth, coconut flavored gloss from the beauty supply store be damned. you finally get a chance to really look at him, the flashing strobe lights momentarily illuminating his face. tanned skin, green eyes tinted just a smidge red, and dark brown hair pulled back into a bun, a light sheen of sweat making the baby hairs stick to his forehead. he nods to your cup. “what’s that?”

“that.. oh! oh.” you look down at your cup, suddenly feeling awkward for staring so intently. “lemonade with.. uh.. pink whitney.” you realize how close he is to you, nudged forward by the many bodies and his interest in what you’re saying, and it makes you sweat. “do you want some?” looking back up, you hold the cup out to him. “it’s not that strong, i have to drive later…”

he shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pushing the drink back into your bubble. “keep it.” he looks down at you, taking in your brown eyes framed by your freshly done lash extensions, accented with a thin strip of one of your school’s colors, your cropped shirt and skin tight biker shorts, comfortable but exposing a lot of your gleaming brown skin. “designated driver, huh? your friends sound mean dumping you with that job. you having fun?”

you shrug, heating up even more under his hungry gaze. he’s so fine, if you look fast enough, a tongue ring is getting caught by the flashing lights when he opens his mouth to speak. “it’s okay, i don’t like getting shit faced, and, you know…” you look off to your left to see that four of your friends have successfully made it onto the stage. “it’s fun watching them have fun.” when you look back at him, he’s holding his blunt back out, and you take it again without even being told to. “thank you.” you blow out another cloud of smoke and pass it back to him. “it could.. be a little quieter, i guess?” another body passing through makes you lurch forward. “with less people?”

he laughs again and holds his joint between his teeth. “you wanna leave then?”

your inner mom comes back out again, and you look to your left, scanning for your friends. you’re supposed to stick together, you have to keep an eye out on them, they’re all supposed to know where everyone is in case anything crazy pops off. “i.. i shouldn’t leave my friends…” you shuffle unsurely on your feet, “i don’t know.”

“text them,” he offers. then he points off into the general direction when he assumes they’re at, based on where you’re looking. “or go tell one of them. we’re just going up to a room upstairs. they’ll be okay, and you’ll be okay. we’ll come back down when you’re ready.”

fuck it. you think. you whip your phone out of your purse and type up a quick message in the groupchat that they probably won’t check, but at least you told them. ‘going upstairs for a bit’ “okay,” you say as it sends. “let’s go.”

thirty minutes later, the blunt is completely gone and the stranger—no, eren’s tongue is deep in your mouth, working against yours while his hand holds your face firmly in place. your manicured hands have pulled his hair out of its haphazard bun with all your tugging and pulling and you’re doing everything you can to hide your wanton moans. he’s just such a good kisser…

eren pulls away slightly to look down into your glazed over eyes, the sound of your blood rushing and your heart pounding rivaling the sound of the music booming downstairs. “pretty girl,” he mumbles. your kissing has long left your gloss awry, and he rubs an errant mark away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “feelin’ good?”

“yeah,” you whisper breathlessly, his kiss swollen lips calling you back in and he laughs as your mouth meets his again. either he pushes you down into some stranger’s bed, or you pull him on top of you, but now you’re on your back and he’s looking down at you, with one hand trailing down, down, down…

and you’re doing nothing to stop him.

deftly, eren pulls off your biker shorts, and catches your thigh before you can instinctively close them off from his sight. “so fucking wet already…” he remarks as he pulls your panties down until they eventually fall down to your ankles. you kick them off, and brazenly, boldly, spread your brown lips for him, the white of your long french tip acrylics a beautiful contrast to your chestnut skin and perfect pink center.

“fuck, ___,” eren groans, mouth almost watering at the sight. he wants to devour you so bad. “you’re trying to kill me. you were so shy earlier. that changes when you wanna get fucked, huh?” your whimper at his last comment makes him grin. “now hold these up.” he commands, reference your legs as he pushes your knees up to your chest, prostrating yourself before him for his perusal. he’s laying down now, his aching crotch now rubbing against the bed in a welcome wave of pleasure.

the noises eren begins to make on your pussy are downright pornographic, the spitting, smacking, slurping, feasting on your drooling cunt as if it’s his last meal. his tongue is everywhere, going from swirling your clit around to dragging against your inner lips, that damned tongue ring never far behind. it’s nearly too much for your poor cunt, but the focused glare he gives you with his blown out green eyes deters you from bringing your legs down and diminishing the access he has to you.

“e-eren! oh, god!” the sound of your wetness makes your ears burn in embarrassment, it’s just so fucking messy. you catch a sight of the mess you’ve made on his chin when he momentarily comes up for air, only to dive right back in. his plump, pillowy lips latch firmly on your throbbing clit, making your eyes roll back into your head and a shaky moan escape your own lips. “eren, please..!” you writhe against the sheets, his expert mouth overwhelming, you’re not a virgin but, god, if he keeps up.. “e-eren, eren, i’m…!”

“c’mon, baby,” he mumbles between suckling, open mouthed kisses, and drags of his skillful tongue. “give it t’ me, don’t be scared. i gotcha.”

his words make your greedy hole pulse around nothing, and a mix of a moan and a week sob escapes your throat. thighs spasming, you pointlessly attempt to close your legs again only for him to continue holding them open as he drowns your cunt in sloppy kisses, determined to savor every last drop.

“good girl,” his sinful voice rumbles against your core. “good, good fucking girl…” as he pulls away, that tongue darts out to sweep up the last remnants of your heavenly juices. “c’mere..” those strong hands grab at you hips pulling your pliant body towards him near the edge of the bed. “y’ready?”

“yeah, yeah…” emotions flood through your head, lust, need, want, you’re ready to beg for him inside you if he wants you to. faintly, you hear the sound of clothing hitting the floor, but that’s the least of your worries right now. “‘ren, please..” he taps his leaking, blushing tip against your pulsing clit one, two, three times to make you sigh. “please, please..”

“y’doin’ all that beggin’…” now eren’s easing in, hissing at the feeling of you gripping him so tight, walls soft and wet. he throws his head back at the new sensation of your cunt greedily sucking him in, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and his tanned fingers tightening in a bruising grip on your hips. “fuck,” he groans under his breath, the underlying whine in his voice makes your body grow hot. “fucking- relax, or-”

“oh, g-god..” you stutter, feeling full, and hot, and greedy. “‘s so.. big, eren.” your manicured hand rests against his toned torso in a fruitless attempt to stop him, but his hips meet yours and the two of you whine in unison. “fuck!”

“quit that. take it.” eren swats your hand away from his stomach and tosses your legs up to place them on his shoulders, effectively treating you like a little doll for him to fuck on. slowly, easily, he pulls his hips back only to push them forward again, progressively beginning to get drunk off the feeling of your perfect cunt. “so fucking good,” he mutters. “so, so fucking good.”

the slow drag of his cock against your walls begins to have the same intoxicating effect on you, making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and whine, low and wanton as you clamp down onto him. you open your eyes, which you didn’t even realize were closed, and stare deep into his green-gray eyes. oh, you’re screwed now.

“fuck yes,” he huffs. eren buries his face in your neck, biting, sucking, leaving hot kisses on your damp as he chases his high and quickly begins to bring to your second. the feeling of your acrylics clawing and digging into the skin of his back only spurs him on more, the music downstairs secondary to the dizzying sound of skin slapping against. “‘s your dick, baby, cum on it for me.”

and you do, shame be damned as your back arches off from the tousled sheets and cry out his name, letting any poor passerby know exactly what’s going on just feet away from the firmly closed door, and exactly who’s fucking you just that good. eren bottoms out with a low groan that reverberates from his chest, a breathless chuckle passing his lips as his cum shoots in deep only to spill back out when he withdraws.

“pretty girl,” he calls out, pulling you out of your fucked out daze. one hand reaches up to wipe the drool from the side of your mouth while the other rubs at your spent, used cunt. your eyes roll back down to look demurely back at his.

“you got another one in you?”

a/n: obligatory plot but this has been in the drafts since january 2022…… it’s time to release her 😭 could i have updated it from high school grad night yeah i could’ve but mannnn…. just relive them days chile

#🏙.aotmodern #❤️‍🔥.aotsmut #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren x black reader smut #eren yeager x black reader smut

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for my fanart and how I responded to someone's negative reaction of it?

Okay so some background to start. I'm (genderfluid, 18+) in a fandom that was originally a book and got a live action adaptation several years ago. The adaption is MUCH more popular than the book series and honestly very different from it (a lot of characters have different backstories, the main character doesn't have a brother in the adaption, and ages were changed) but very few people have read the book series. (Admittedly, the fandom is not very big. It's actually the smallest one I'm in, which means I'm kinda limited in the number of people to interact with) Anyways! I'm in a discord (it's 18+ tho I don't know the actual ages of anyone else involved) for this fandom and although they promote themselves as being for both book and adaptation fans, according to the roles I am one of five people of the 40+ people in the server who have read the books, so that's not a lot.

Now, for Valentine's day I made fanart of the main couple, the mc and his wife (they get married in the series. In the books they are already together in the beginning but the adaption wanted drama and decided to not have them be together in the beginning. One of the changes that I very much do not like.) They're the most popular ship in the fandom. I love them. Anyways, I shared it in the Discord for Valentines and did not get a nice reaction.

See, in the books, both characters are white, but in the adaptation the wife is black. (The mc looks different in the adaptation too, shorter and with different hair and eye color, but he's still white) I drew the book version, because that's what I like. They're my blorbos.

Another person in the server took MY art and recolored it so that the wife was black and posted it in the server with a comment about whitewashing characters of color. I told them that I didn't whitewash her and that it was really fucking rude to edit someone else's fanart. They replied that she was black, I was racist, and posted a screenshot of a Google search asking the race of the actress who plays the wife in the adaptation. I replied with a screenshot of the her books' fanwiki page and said that my fanart was of the books and if they wanted fanart of the adaptation they could make it themself. They asked how they were supposed to know it was from the books since nobody read them and they were shit. I replied that they could realize the mc AND his wife looked different, that I read the books, and they were better than the adaptation, and how would they know if the books were shit since they obviously hadn't read them?

Anyways then the mods stepped in and made us break it up. One of the mods (the only one to have read the books) dmed me and told me that they understood my frustration and that another mod was talking to the person I had been fighting with about respecting other people's work but I needed to understand that assuming I was racist and whitewashing wasn't going to be uncommon since the books weren't as popular as the adaptation and I needed to be respectful when people confronted me with this. I replied that if the other person had confronted me directly and not just assumed the worst and edited my work I would have been more respectful. The mod agreed that the other person was out of line, but the whole thing seemed to be one giant misunderstanding so neither of us were getting strikes against us this time.

Anyways, the mods added some rules about not editing people's work and a thing in the announcements channel explaining the differences between the books and the adaptation but everything in the server has been really tense especially since people in the server started vague posting on Tumblr, some people favoring me others favoring the other person. I blocked the person I fought with on Tumblr but neither them nor I were involved in the vague posting.

(also idk if it matters but I'm white, idk the ethnicity of of anyone else involved)

So! Tell me, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 13

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: SMUT, p in v intercourse, face sitting (oral F), tiny mention of butt stuff 😜, angst, period, Emma embarrassed, anxious Sy, Nana (because her sassiness is a warning), language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 12

Two weeks have passed since Emma’s parents visited and we have been spending the night together every night since. I’ve cleaned out a drawer in my bedroom that now holds extra clothes for when Emma’s here including some work scrubs so she can leave straight from my house. She cleaned out a drawer at her house for me and my spare clothes. I haven’t had this level of commitment to someone since I was in my twenties, but rather than feeling afraid I feel comforted. Coming home to her is just the most incredible feeling. She has really transformed my house into a home simply with her presence. We gave each other spare keys to each other’s homes last week so we wouldn’t have to wait on each other. I have finally accepted that Emma is my end game and I can’t run from happiness anymore. She’s basically aware of how damaged I am, having seen me through my worst flashback yet and even then, she wasn’t scared away. I often catch myself thinking about us living together, marrying her, and what our lives would look like if she would have me. I made myself so hard thinking about her pregnant with my children that I had to take a second shower one day last week. May have tapped into a bit of a breeding kink there but I plan to keep that to myself.

Tonight, it’s a Friday night and we decided to stay at mine. I’m on my way home and pull up to see that Emma’s jeep is already parked in the driveway and I smile. The vet clinic closes early on Friday afternoons due to it being slow, but this is the first time she’s beat me home. I unlock the front door and my nostrils are assaulted with the most incredible smelling aroma after a long day in the sun. I’m surprised that there are no dogs rushing to bombard me with excitement at the door, but as I walk further down the hall to find them practically on top of Emma on the couch as a show played on the tv. 

“Hi Darlin’. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I say with a kiss to her forehead from behind the couch that she’s resting on. Emma’s lounging in one of my t-shirts and some of her teeny tiny sleep shorts that never fail to make me instantly hard. I can even tell that she’s braless and I’m tempted to cop a feel. 

“Mmm. Hi babe. How was work?”

“Hot.” I say honestly as I spent the majority of the day outside in the sun building a porch for a client. “Something smells amazing in the kitchen.”

“The lasagna has about ten more minutes until it’s done. I figure that’s enough time for you to shower or change into comfortable clothes before we eat.”

“You’re too damn good to me, Sugar.” I say as I tuck a stray hair from her eyes that’s fallen from her messy updo. 

“Nope, just trying to be as good as you deserve.” She says with a shy smile and I find myself not wanting to leave her presence even for just a quick shower after being without her all day. I make a point to greet the dogs who have traitorously not left Emma’s side even to greet me as I chuckle to myself at how quickly this astonishing woman has won all of us over.

I head to my bedroom, chucking clothes off as I go and toss them all into the hamper, which is surprisingly empty. I hop in the shower not wasting any time getting back to my girl, and a delicious smelling meal. Once I’m through, I put on some lounge shorts and a t-shirt and find Emma in the kitchen plating up our food. She’s made lasagna with garlic bread, and she poured us each a glass of sweet tea. My stomach growled at the sight and she giggled cutely as I helped carry the food to the table. Before she sits, I wrap her into my arms and kiss her. 

“Thank you for making dinner, Sugar.”

“Mmm, anytime. You sure you’re okay with me using the key and showing up before you got here? I was bored at the house and figured the pups would keep me company.”

“Darlin’, I can’t possibly tell you how much it brought a smile to my face having you here when I got home. I always want you here. Feels like a home with you in it. Now, let’s eat this feast, babygirl.”

“I made brownies for dessert.” She grins as she picks up her drink.

“You trying to make me pop a boner at the dinner table?” I ask jokingly and she chokes on her sip of sweet tea. Once Emma’s breath comes back to her after I dutifully contributed by smacking her back, we both start laughing so hard she has tears streaming down her face.

“I did not expect you to say that, Sy!” I’ve noticed she calls me Sy when she’s being playful or out in public. When it’s just us or family around, she calls me Austin and I honestly really like that since nobody ever uses my first name besides her.

“I usually think of that sweet pussy when I think of dessert, but I don’t mind having a brownie or two first.” I say with a wink and she shakes her head at me with a grin.

“So vulgar, Mr. Syverson.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Ms. Miller.” I joke back.

We ate dinner until we were stuffed and I quickly began cleaning the kitchen.  “Don’t look at me like that, woman. You cooked all of this. I’m cleaning. Go turn on your show and relax.” I tell her and she smacks my ass as she walks to the living room, with the dogs faithfully following her lead. I clean up and don’t hear the tv going so when I go looking for her, I see her in the backyard with the dogs. The summer heat has lessened as it is approaching dusk and Emma stands just outside the screened in porch throwing a tennis ball for Mills. Aika is rolling in the grass as lightning bugs start appearing at the edge of the yard. I walk out and wrap Emma tightly in my arms. 

“I thought I told you to relax, Angel.”

“I am. This house, your property, everything about being here relaxes me. It’s so calm and quiet here.”

“Yeah? Always thought of this place as my little slice of heaven. Even more with you here.” I tell her and she smiles.

“Think you could see yourself living here with me one day?” I ask knowing it’s probably way to early and I might freak her out. To my surprise, she smiles and wraps her arms along my forearms that are holding her waist. 

“It’s almost too easy to imagine that.” She whispers.

“Yeah?” I ask and she nods.

“Want to move in with me?” I ask surprising myself even. It’s early in the relationship still, but it feels right.

“Isn’t it too soon?” She asks as she turns and looks at my face scanning for the answer to her question.

“I guess that’s up to us to decide. I’m not ever wanting to pressure ya, Sugar, but I can’t say I don’t picture us living here together in this big old house. Maybe one day even some kids to fill up those bedrooms.”

Emma beams and kisses me. Moments of gentle kisses soon become heated and I’m guiding her back inside the screened in porch, the screen door squealing in protest as it slams behind us. 

“Time for dessert, and I don’t mean the brownies.” I say between passionate kisses. My hands are under the too large shirt she’s wearing, and I pull it over her head. She seemingly has no qualms about being topless here in my secluded backyard and I quickly reach behind my neck and pull my own shirt off so I can feel her skin against mine. Our hands are everywhere, groping and teasing at the same time before I turn her back against my chest and take her breasts in my hands while nipping down her neck. After sucking on her skin, I turn and lay myself down on my back on the outdoor couch that I had built a few years ago. 

“Climb on, sweetness.” I tell her and she slides her tiny shorts down along with her barely there thong and steps out of them. Emma reaches for my shorts that are tented from my very obvious boner but I shake my head and point to my chin. Emma’s cheeks turn bright pink and I smirk at her.

“Got your seat all ready for ya, Darlin’. Let me have a taste of that perfect peach.”

“I’ve never done that.” She whispers as I pull her close to my face. 

“Sit down.” I tell her.

“Austin, you won’t be able to breathe, I’ll smother you!” Emma frets. Like her tiny little frame could possibly suffocate me, but even so that would be the ideal way to go.

“Woman, just sit on my face!” I say as I pull her hips and ass down and hold her tightly. Emma gasps when she contacts my beard and I blow my warm breath onto her delicate core.

“That’s more like it, Sugar. Relax and let me eat.” I command with a smack to her ass cheeks. Emma surges forward and grips the arm rest of the couch as I get to work. I slide my tongue around her entrance and lick up in figure eights around her clit. Emma’s breathing becomes faster and when I spear my tongue into her opening she moans. My hands knead and massage her buttocks as I stare up at her heaving breasts that are chasing each breath she takes. Her eyes are closed tightly as her head tilts back slightly from the sensation I’m providing. When I begin putting pressure on her sensitive little button, Emma begins grinding against my face, her earlier hesitation seemingly no longer of concern. I double down and focus my efforts of pleasuring her as best as I can. My arm stretches out and grabs a handful of her breasts and lightly pinch the peaked bud. God, I could stay down here all day watching her like this. I continue teasing her sensitive nipples and am finally rewarded with her grinding down hard as her hands are grasping the short hair on my head. Emma moans loudly in her bliss, not caring one bit that we are outside. Her thighs clamp around me as I suck on her sweet little nub and greedily swallow up the juices that are dripping from her core. I maneuver Emma to where she is laying on top of me as she comes down from her high and wipe my soaked beard with my hand. Emma leans up to kiss me and I’m certain she can taste her little cunt on my lips which makes me painfully hard. 

“Fuck me, Sy. Hard.” She whines which makes me immediately sit up and lean her over the arm of the outdoor couch. Emma is panting in wordless anticipation as run my finger through her slick arousal before dropping my shorts and pressing myself against her. Emma impatiently pushes her ass further into my leaking erection and after spreading her legs a little wider, I slide home.

“Fucking hell, Darlin’. Never had a pussy feel so good. You’re perfect, baby girl.” I growl at her warm, wet heat as it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. It’s a privilege being able to worship her body and that knowledge is not lost on me. I give her only a moment to adjust before I retreat and then slam into her again. 

“Ah! Baby! You feel so good inside of me.” She mewls as I thrust into her. I spread her round globes and look at her perfect little asshole.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby girl. So beautiful and sexy.” I grunt.

“Tell me if you don’t like what I’m doing, Sugar.” I command. My ball sack is smacking her clit each time I thrust forward and I can no longer help myself. I spit onto her tight hole and gently circle it with my thumb. Emma moans at the sensation and I slowly slide my thumb into her tight rim. I smack her left ass cheek as I gently prod my thumb in and out of her snug hole.

“Fuck babe! I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah Darlin’, let go for me. Let me feel you soak my cock.” I grunt.

Emma moans as she clamps down around me and I spear into her harder and faster until I reach my release, spurting my seed into her channel. Emma presses her body against the couch and I can’t help but lay across her soft back as I try and catch my breath. I’m not as young as I once was, but Sy’s still got it.

Emma looks absolutely shattered so once I remove myself from her, I gather our clothes, let the dogs inside and carry her to the master bathroom. I set her on the toilet while I start filling the bathtub and appreciate Emma’s sleepy smile at my preparations. While the water is filling, I jog back down to the kitchen, wash my hands, and grab the platter of brownies Emma made with two cups of milk. Emma giggles when she sees me smuggling our treats back into the bathroom and setting out a stool next to the tub to place them on. When the water is filled and the bubbles are sufficient, I step in first before helping Emma in and positioning her on my lap. Emma’s back rests against my chest and I think about the last time we bathed in here together and how nervous I was for her to sleep over. Now, I only sleep poorly when she’s not next to me. I lean forward and get each of us a brownie and we gently bump them together with a “cheers” before digging in. 

“I gave Millsy-bear his last set of puppy shots this afternoon when I got here, by the way.” She says.

“Thanks, Sugar. No wonder he was snuggling hard on the couch when I made it home.”

“I gave him treats and extra cuddles for having to get a shot. Aika got one just for being cute. Bribery is key in veterinary medicine.” Emma says.

“You make house calls for all of your clients?”

“Only one. My favorite.”

“You’re my favorite too, Sugar.” I place a kiss on her temple.

“Oh, I was talking about Mills… Awkward.” She jokes and I tickle her ribs.

 “I guess you’re up there on the list of my favorite things.” Emma says with kiss to my lips before picking a brownie crumb from my scruff. She smiles as she eats it and then takes a bite out of her dessert.

“Are you always this happy?” I ask her without thinking. I know I have a reputation of being extremely serious, or a ‘grump’ as Alex says, but Emma is the opposite. She’s like sunshine. The daytime to my nighttime. She’s made me smile and laugh more in these three months than probably ever before.

“Um not at all. You just make me really happy, Sy.” 

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Darlin.”

Emma and I lay in the tub talking about all things that come to mind until the water gets cold and my perpetual warmth isn’t enough for her. She's shivering as we climb out. We rinse off the bubble bath in the shower quickly before getting in bed and falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. 

I wake up early the next morning, close to six am and see my sleeping beauty is still a mess of hair and disheveled blankets next to me. She slept in one of my t-shirts last night since she was still cold from our extended bath, and as no surprise it’s twisted up around her waist. I smile at her disarray before snuggling up to her. When I do, I feel like I’ve rolled in something wet so I lift the covers. Oh no, a little patch of blood. Emma must’ve started her period in her sleep and knowing what I do about how she’s been treated in the past, I don’t want her to panic. I ease out of bed to grab some clothes, using my military stealth to do so as quietly as possible. Luckily my girl could sleep through a tornado, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I scribbled out a quick note telling her not to panic, and that I’ve run to the store but I’ll be right back in case she wakes up before placing it on my pillow.

Thank goodness there is a pharmacy about seven minutes from my house. I walk in and try my best to think of anything she might need. I purchase some tampons, pads, painkillers, a hot water bottle, and all of the chocolate my arms can carry. They even had some flowers there and I grabbed those at the checkout. The elderly woman at the register just smiled at me and told me I was a “good man.” This should be the standard for men taking care of their women, but clearly, it’s not. I quickly load everything up and head back to the house. I head to bedroom and Emma hasn’t moved an inch. I take the female hygiene items to the bathroom and place them on the countertop, before going to gently wake Emma up. I hate to do it but I figure it’s likely better to let her only see a little spot of blood rather than a big one and panicking even more.

“Sugar… Hey beautiful.” I stroke her hair away from her face and she gently shakes her head at me.

“uh-uh… no.” She grunts and I chuckle. 

“Darlin’, can you wake up for me for just a minute please?”

“It’s Saturday… and still dark out, Sy.” She says after peaking one eye open.

“I know, and I’ll let you go back to sleep in just a minute but I need your attention.”

She yawns before I continue.

“I don’t want you to panic, so please remember, it’s okay. I’m not like the guys you’ve been with in the past.”

“Sy? What are you saying? It’s too early for riddles.”

“I think you may have started your period last night. Now, it’s no problem but I wanted to let you know so you co”

“Oh my god!” She interrupts, jerking covers up above her head to appraise the situation. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” She says with tears rimming her eyes as she lifts her head from the covers.

“Now, stop it right there. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. It’s okay, Sugar. Take a breath.” 

“I… um.. need to head back to my house.” She says quickly as a tear falls from her eye.

“I’ve got everything you need, baby, and I’m going to take care of you. Now, head on into the bathroom and take care of what you need to, and I’ll take care of this.” 

“Sy, I’m so embarrassed. I need tampons and I didn’t bring any. I will replace the sheets.”

“No need, I’ll just toss ‘em in the washer and it’ll be just fine. I bought tampons and pads. They’re on the counter.” I help her out of bed and lead her into the bathroom. 

“I tried to get a little bit of everything since I don’t know what you prefer so you just do what you need to do, baby girl. Nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise.” I kiss her forehead and she nods as more tears streak down her face. I want to scoop her up and stop her tears but figured she might just want a minute alone to collect herself. I hear the shower turn on as I close the door behind me.

I walk out and quickly strip the bed and throw the sheets in the washer before making the bed up with clean sheets. As I’m making the bed, I get angry thinking about her douche ex-boyfriend who made her feel so ashamed for her body doing something that it is supposed to do. The more I think about it, the angrier I get as I’m shoving the pillows into the new pillowcases.

“Um, thank you, for the stuff.” I hear Emma whisper as I quickly turn around and see her there. She looks so small as she wraps her arms around herself.

“Is what I got okay?” I ask and she nods before going to her bag and pulling on some new panties, t-shirt, and sweatpants.

I pat the clean bed and she crawls up next to me before I hear her sob into my chest. I can’t seem to get her to look at me as she buries her face into my chest so I just hold her until her breath comes easier.

“Feel better?”

“Not really. I’m just embarrassed.”

“No need to be baby girl. I promise you, it’s fine. I just want you to be comfortable.”

“You make me comfortable. It’s just hard to change how I think after being told it was disgusting my whole life.”

“Trust me, if I ever see that douchebag again I will punch him so hard for ever making you feel like that.” I tell her as I wipe a tear from her cheek.

“Let me take care of you?” I ask and Emma nods with a small smile.

“Good. I got you an arsenal of chocolate, some painkillers, and a hot water bottle too.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Isn’t that stuff helpful?”

“It is, very much so… I just mean you didn’t have too.” 

“I want too… Sugar, I love you.” I say and Emma sits up to look at me.

“You do?” She bites her lip.

“I love you more than I can even articulate.” I tell her truthfully.

“I love you too, Austin. I love you so much.” She says and I swear to God, I am beaming. 

I love this woman and she loves me. Emma leans forward and kisses me in a kiss so consuming I can picture our whole lives together. After kissing a little, we lay back down and I stroke her hair until she’s fallen back asleep. When she’s thoroughly asleep, I ease up and decide to take the dogs out to get them a little bit of exercise before heading to the kitchen to make us some breakfast. 

Emma saunters downstairs about two hours later seeming more well rested as I’ve got her breakfast plated up. She kisses on the dogs who are eagerly corralling around her legs before walking over to me and kissing me tenderly. 

“Thank you for breakfast.”

“Anything for you, sweet darlin’.” I wink over my coffee cup as Emma fills her cup and adds her creamer.

Emma glances at her phone with an inquisitive look. 

“Everything alright?” I ask.

“Yeah, I just was checking my security cameras. I think the Rodriguez family across the street from me got their teenager a car. It’s been parked out in the street across from the house all day yesterday. I knew he must be close to driving age. It just turned around in my driveway so I got a notification on my phone. That’s all.” She says nonchalantly and I nod at her assumption.

“What should we do today?” I ask her as we eat.

“Maybe go to the grocery store? I figured I could go ahead and meal prep for the week. I also need to get the ingredients to make banana pudding for your Nana and PawPaw’s house.”

“Sugar, you don’t have to go to all that trouble.” I start but Emma shakes her head.

“No, when we talked last week I told her that I wouldn’t mind bringing dessert.” I just about choke on my bacon.

“She called you?” I ask and Emma blushes.

“She did. Is that okay?” 

“Of course, that’s more than fine… I just don’t want her bothering you. She’s a bit of a handful if you know what I mean. I didn’t even realize she got your number.”

“Well, she told me not to tell you because you would ‘whine about her interfering’, but she called the vet clinic and got in touch with me there. She said she wanted to make sure I was joining y’all for lunch Sunday, and then wanted my mom’s number so they could keep in touch.”

“That woman.” I shake my head incredulously. 

“I ask her to not interfere, and she goes around calling you and your family. Good grief.” I chuckle at the audacity of Nana. She’s going to get her way no matter what. She’s never gone to these extremes to contact anyone I’ve dated though, so maybe it’s a good thing.

Emma giggles.

“I think it’s sweet. Anyway, we got to talking about her cooking and I offered to make dessert. If that’s okay with you, let’s go ahead and go to the store after breakfast.” 

“I’ll do anything you want me too, Sugar.” 

We eat and chat a bit before Emma changes clothes and starts gathering her items to head to the store. I head upstairs and throw on some different clothes as well before we load up and head to the store. 

When we get there, I’m in charge of the buggy. Emma has a list on her phone of all the items she needs to get, so I just follow her with the cart as she gathers her items. I also add a few of my own favorites as we are traversing the aisles, such as chips and beef jerky.

Once we’ve got everything on our list, we head to the checkout and I insist again on paying. Emma crosses her arms, jutting out her hip with a scowl that I can’t help but chuckle at. She’s like an angry kitten and I just want to kiss all over her face, so I do. After we pay, we make our way out the doors.

“By the way, you said you wanted steaks one night this week. Did you remember to put those in the cart?” 

“Shit, I totally forgot. Here,” I hand Emma my truck keys. “Let me run back and grab some while you put the groceries in the truck?” I ask and Emma nods. I kiss her forehead before jogging back in the store to collect and purchase the forgotten steaks. 

I skip the small talk with the cashier and head straight for the self-check out so that I hopefully don’t keep Emma waiting too long. After buying our main dinner entrée, I head outside toward my large grey truck, with Syverson Contracting Inc. embossed along the side. Emma must’ve loaded the groceries quickly as I don't see her. I walk over and notice she’s not in the passenger seat before I hear her scream.

“LET GO OF ME!” I drop the bag and turn to look for her. About 30 yards away, I spot someone I recognize. Then it dawns on me who it is. 

Colin.

Part 14

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar

Author's Note: Ya girl's struggling with a sinus infection right now but I was able to finally get this posted! Had an ultrasound today and baby was healthy and active so I am happy!

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fluff

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: The aftermath of injury leads to a desire for comfort.

Warning: Mentions of injury, hospitals, probably incorrect info on concussions, mentions of alleged abuse (like for a second but not in great detail), fluff. P.S: Idc if reader is coming off a little childish in the beginning, i said it before and i’ll say it again reader is honestly almost completely based off of me and something about me is that i hate hospitals. I’m a chronically ill girlie and i still despise them, every time ive had to go ive complained—it’s who i am as a person.

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn

Word count: about 2k

Rest

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)

“So where to next?” I ask as I buckle my seat, allowing my head to rest finally. I am more than happy to leave behind this apple-loving, pagan-worshiping town.

“‘Bringin’ you to a hospital” Dean answers, starting the car. I jolted up, immediately regretting the action as the pain in my head spiked and my vision wobbled. “Nooo. No. No hospital” I plead, not caring if I sounded pathetic, “I hate hospitals!”

“I wasn’t asking if you wanted to go, sweetheart” he quips. “No, please! I’m totally fine, sure I'm a little beat up but nothing a bandaid and sleep can’t fix.”

“You’re not winnin’ this one” he replies with a little half shrug. I turned to Sam, who already had the map out, and pulled open. “Sam, help me.”

“Sorry Y/N, Deans right.”

Dean sighs dramatically, “I love bein’ right.”

“Shut up” Sam half laughs, “Seriously though Y/N, you probably have a concussion. You should get checked out for a definitive answer.”

“Okay, well, Dean he was hit over the head with a gun too.” I try and deflect. Sam turns his head to face me giving me a “really?” look, “He’s also walking and talking fine, and doesn't look like he’s fighting to keep his eyes open.” I thought I was talking and walking just fine despite feeling like everything was spinning and I was doing a wonderful job of ignoring the ringing in my ears.

I open my mouth to make another retort but I don’t get a single sound out before Dean cuts me off, “If you try any of your escapes I'm callin’ your brother.” That shuts me up, I love my brother but he's very protective and will yell at me if it means being safe. I lean back against the soft seats of the car, pouting, I hate hospitals. I catch Dean's eyes staring at my lips in the rearview mirror, “You can pout as much as you want to, ‘still going.”

I know I'm acting like a child but hospitals are the worst, sure the doctors can be nice but there's so much always going on that it's just too overwhelming and they poke and prod at you. And especially as a hunter, you must make such elaborate lies just to be seen.

The dark-haired doctor removes the small yet extremely bright light from my eyes, “You have a minor concussion” she concluded after the many tests she ran, “there's not much we can prescribe you. But you need a lot of rest and to relax, no drinking or crazy activities for at least a week. You can take Advil in 24 hours if the pain is too much.” If the boys were in this curtained-off room they would most certainly say ‘I told you so.’

She suddenly looks a little nervous, staring back at the curtain before looking at me again, speaking quietly, “This is a safe environment, if those boys are hurting you I can help you.” Her eyes slipped to my wrist, of course she saw the bruises and made the connection to restraints. And so much of my appearance from the now cleaned and bandaged wound on my head to my dirt-stained clothes would lead her to that thought.

I tug down my sleeves, trying to cover them, “No! No, they didn't do anything, they would never do that to me, seriously” I insist, eyes wide. She doesn't seem so convinced, “Look” I sigh, “The person who did this is being charged, alright the cops know about all this. The boys I came with did not do this.” It was mostly a lie, of course, but the point was to clear their names, that part was true. She nods, “I’ll be back with your discharge papers.”

She pulls back the curtains, and the second she's out of sight I sigh. I know it's her job but in this case it wasn't helpful, I didn't want any further fights or complications to go on today.

….

I hold a hand up, “I don't want to hear it. Yes, you were right.” Sam’s lips curve up into a smile, “Hey I said I don't wanna hear it” I cut them both off before they could say anything. Dean swings his arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side, “Like I said, ‘love bein’ right.”

It was still early afternoon when we pulled up to the motel. It was just your regular-looking motel, with two floors of rooms to choose from with dingy lighting but I could not be more happy. We all exited the car rather quickly, it had been a long couple of days. I grab my bag meeting the boys by the trunk, Dean distributing our duffle bags. But when he gets to mine he doesn't hand it over, just closes the trunk, “I can carry my own bag, you know.”

He shrugs, “I know.” God, he was a sweetie pie. I study him as he walks just a few steps ahead of me, after everything that transpired I don't think I want to be alone. I wasn't scared per se, I just wanted comfort and I didn't have any stuffed animals packed. I didn't want to be a burden to him, he was probably tired and would want a bed to himself. But maybe I could just hang in their room for a long while.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, stopping to look back at me. Of course, he could practically sense it. He places our bags on the concrete, getting close enough that I could easily breathe him in. He lifts his hands to cup my face gently, he’s been doing that a lot lately. “‘Your head hurtin’?” He was looking down at me so carefully, his green eyes softening as he watched me. I have to remind myself to respond even as my thoughts extinguish each time his thumbs caress my cheeks, careful to pass over the bruises there, “Well yes but that's not…” I don't finish my sentence not having a single idea of what I should say to him. He looks down at me expectantly, just waiting. I wanted to hug him, keep my head buried in his chest even as my head pounded like a bass playing through an amp, but I can’t exactly say that.

I sigh, “Is it okay if…” I swallow, speaking quietly, “Can I stay with you?”

His eyes widened a fraction and if I wasn't looking right up at him I would have missed it entirely. It's not like this was anything new for us, we've cuddled before while watching a movie or something and even slept in the same bed if needed for a hunt. But to ask like this somehow felt so different, so much more personal. “Of course” he answers simply, eyebrows scrunched together as if he was insulted that I would be so hesitant to ask. He lets go of my face, and I immediately miss the steadiness of it all, he takes a single step back but not before grabbing hold of my hand and picking up our duffles to hold in his free hand.

We catch up to Sam in the small lobby, two keys in his hand instead of the usual three. Was it a coincidence that they just didn't have a room I could use or did he just know? I guess it was possible he saw us in the parking lot and figured out what I would want, am I that easy to read?

….

The room was quite nice, the walls were grey with some white detailing. And the beds were big, most likely a queen, with the crisp white blankets and a tall cushioned headboard. Sam walks in first, choosing the bed on the far side of the room, which was predictable at best seeing as Dean preferred being closer to the door out of a sense of protectiveness.

Dean places his duffle on the bed, handing me mine, “You can take a shower first” he says, telling me more than offering. I swing off my messenger bag, placing it on the bed before looking between both boys, “Are you sure?” I was already intruding in their room and his bed I didn't want to take over the bathroom too. They both nod their heads, I mumble thanks before heading there.

I didn’t care to study the bathroom, just wanting to be under the hot water and wash away the dirt and feelings of the day. I turn the shower on, lifting my shirt over my head before having to stop with it halfway off of me to stop the room from spinning. I close my eyes forcing myself to relax and not sway as I stripped down to nothing.

Being naked only made my bruises look worse. My wrists were rubbed raw, painful red marks adorning each one, and my cheeks had dark bruises on them from being punched twice over the span of a couple of days. Never mind the gash on the corner of my forehead, which I’d have to bandage again after the shower, and the subtle black and blues on my side likely from being thrown to the ground.

I swallow hard, I don’t want to think of any of this anymore. I step into the rather small shower, the hot water pouring over my head and down my body taking the tension with it as it went down the drain.

I step out of the steamy bathroom feeling infinitely times better despite the spinning room and hurting head. My hair was wet and clean and felt lighter now that it was no longer dusted with dirt, and I was in comfortable pajamas.

Yes, it wasn’t nighttime yet or time to sleep but that doesn't mean a girl can’t wear comfortable clothes. It was nice to be in pajamas, wearing some white plaid pants and a loose tee with a cute little embroidered bear in the corner and of course an oversized sweater because somehow I was always cold. It was a wonderful yet small feat.

Dean’s sitting up in bed, both boys watching some football game on the small TV. I slump into the bed carefully lying my head down as I get underneath the covers. Dean seemed to study me for a moment, smiling softly, he was probably trying to assess how I felt. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to find, nodding to himself before getting up and heading to the bathroom with a change of clothes. A moment later the shower turns on.

I sink into the bed further, turning away from the TV, I didn’t care enough for sports to want to watch it anyway. The weight of the past few days catch up to me quickly, my eyelids feeling heavier and heavier.

….

The bed beside me suddenly sinks down, and my eyes flutter open being met with Dean’s familiar frame, “Sorry sweetheart didn’t mean to wake you.” I shake my head, I must have been out for just a couple of minutes, “It’s okay” I mumble still on the outskirts of sleep. He gets under the covers, his black shirt accentuating the muscles in his arms as he moves.

Once he situates himself he holds his arms open to me, silently asking if I wanted to get closer. He always seemed to know what I wanted or what I felt, sometimes I feared he knew me too well. I shift closer to him and he meets me halfway pushing me the rest of the way into him.

He practically places my head on his chest, close to his shoulder, his arm closes in on me holding me impossibly closer to him, his hand resting on my waist. His body warmth immediately reaches me, and in his embrace, any fears or anxieties I had the last few days seemed to dissipate. I place a hand on his chest feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The hand on my waist begins to move slightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles into my side, my heart seems to flutter and I fear I won't be able to move on from this. It is moments like these that I find it hard to keep my feelings to myself, my love seems to bustle in my veins threatening to spill out. And with everything I have in me, I must bottle them back in, even as he places a soft kiss on my forehead and I think my heart just took off flying.

I melt into him, neither of us saying anything–not that we needed to. I can feel his rings on my side and the comforting weight of his hand there, the warmth he let off and his scent of something like pine or maybe it was wood, and just for a moment under the fog of a mild concussion, I imagine a forever like this. Being able to fall asleep each night to his hold and wake with him still there right beside me.

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #john winchester #slow burn #dean winchester x witch reader #witch reader #witchcraft #the hunter and the witch update #the hunter and the witch #dean winchester being a cutie #dean winchester x f!reader

[pedrostylez]

How The Crow Flies - pt. 8

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter Summary: You return to the apartment Javier set you up in, and find him waiting for you

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, mentions of violence, hitting, slapping, mean words (again we got a Capricorn reader who maybe feels bad for putting Javi in this situation) mentions of fucking others, some jealousy, Javi big time emotionally damaged, shower fingering sort of smut as a way to make it up to reader, DUBCON mentions and references

A/N: Thank you guys for being patient. Honestly, February has been one of the worst months ever for me on a personal level, and so writing has both been difficult and all I would rather do. I'm thinking about how best to write the next 2 chapters, and part of me thinks I can really just have it be 1 more...we will see! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

It’s all mostly a blur.

Driving up to the apartment and noticing Javier’s vehicle parked in the driveway. The tuft of his hair poking over the top of his seat, lolled to one side as if he was asleep. 

The sun on your face as you slide sunglasses over your eyes, warming your skin as you unlock the front door. 

The way Javier’s car door shuts behind him, calling your name and following you into the apartment. It’s like you barely hear him call your name as he trails you up to the doorway.

Staring at Javier and seeing only Frankie, wondering what he is doing in the moment is the only thing you can think about. The ghost feeling of Frankie’s lips on yours as he whispered a goodbye to you just a few hours ago. His smile as he pulled you back to him, telling you to not come back to the jungle unless it was to “ruin these assholes’ day.” The way his thumb and finger pinched gently at your chin when you rolled your eyes; the way he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth until he finally leaned in to kiss you again. 

You couldn’t get those things out of your head. Swirling, swirling, swirling around as you walked around your apartment and began sliding things into cardboard boxes. 

The way Javier asks where you have been doesn’t really register. 

No, nothing is really memorable until his fingers grasp around your wrist and spin you around to face him. His eyes, not trained on your face but on your shirt, welling with tears. “What happened to you?”

It was all just noise until he says that. You blink, shaking your head and pulling your wrist out of his grip. He follows you, hesitant but determined as he speaks again. “Please, hermosa I-I’ve been so worried–”

“You blew my cover.” It spills out of your mouth, holding your hand up toward his chest to silently tell him to stop moving. 

He pauses, visibly paling and mouth agape like a fish. It was hard to surprise him–you had come to know that over the months of working with him. Right now, you have somehow done so, his eyes searching yours desperately for an answer. 

He blindly is reaching for the wall behind him, his knuckles flushing white as he squeezes at the door frame his hand landed on. “What?” He hiccups, looking you over and eyes continuously going to your shirt-over and over and over. 

You set the cardboard box down in your hands-half full of the trinkets he had told you to decorate with. You have this urge to suddenly go back to your own apartment. “You called me so many times that I was cornered, and I had to say who I was to not have my neck sliced open.”

It feels like a bit of an exaggeration at this moment, especially after this morning with Frankie. But it is the truth-you do not doubt that if you hadn’t said who you were, that Frankie would have killed you in that moment. 

Javier’s eyes flash back to your shirt again, and you finally look down. You find your shirt stained with dried blood, likely from the cuts that Frankie put there. “Did…d-did you get hurt?” His voice is barely above a whisper, hands releasing the door frame to run through his hair.  

You look back down to the task at hand, placing drinking glasses into the box. This overwhelming feeling of annoyance starts to course through you, hands beginning to shake as you stack each glass. The clinking, the piercing sound of glass on glass starts to rub at your bones unpleasantly. 

You close your eyes to try and recenter yourself, Javier’s pleas fading to the background again as he asks more questions. A loud crash has you opening your eyes again, glass shattered at your feet from where you’ve missed the box. Breaths come heavy, your chest rising and falling more rapidly as your anger comes to a head. “I had a fucking knife held to my throat because of you.” 

It comes barreling out of your mouth, the same way you said your cover was blown, but more angry. You’ve whirled around to him, clenching your jaw and lifting a shaking finger. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

Javier shakes his head adamantly, sniffling and blinking rapid to hold back tears. Brokenly, he asks for you to wait, to hold on before flying completely off the handle. 

You can’t help how you’re still shaking with anger, stepping forward to give Javi a shove to step away from you. “You called me so many times that I was backed into a corner, had a knife held to my throat!”

“Please, baby you weren’t coming home–”

“I had to say I was DEA! This is your fault! You called when Frankie–”

“Frankie?” His hands have clasped around your wrists now, the sadness and worry swiped away from his face in an instant. You realize your mistake, naming Frankie out loud as the person that discovered who you were, instead of one of the security guards. “What the fuck was Frankie doing keeping you an extra day? What were you doing together?”

You scoff, attempting to pull away from him but his grip tightens. Javi’s eyes are wild with anger, searching for answers he still can’t seem to find. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“It is my fucking business when you’re getting threatened by some drug addict that was practically fired out of his little squad he was in with Santiago Pope.” He snarls, releasing your wrists and looking around your apartment, pacing. “Really? None of my concern? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of information from him.” You attempt to sound secure in your answer, clearing your throat to have it come out louder than before. You didn’t know that about Frankie. “He wouldn’t have known or found out if you hadn’t been calling me over and over.”

Javi has the audacity to begin laughing, scratching at the back of his neck and glaring in your direction. “What, do you keep me as ‘PENA DEA’ on that phone? Are you that fucking stupid?” He’s reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and lighting one, blowing smoke directly in your face to piss you off.

You reel back, surprise overtaking your insecurity about Frankie’s past with another slew of anger.  “Are you stupid enough to call me over and over and not think that maybe I was busy gathering information? Like that maybe they are getting raided today? Right now!”

Javi stubs out the cigarette on the counter, watching the plastic burn slightly before throwing it into the sink. “Right now?” He asks, watching your single nod in defiance. He runs his hands through his hair again, not able to hold back the groan of frustration.  “And you didn’t think to come back sooner? To call me on the way? You waited until you were here?”

“They aren’t after what we’re after–”

“Stechner has been on my ass since I’ve had you on this. He’s sniffing around for a mistake, and you’re prancing around being an actual fucking whore?” He yells, face heated and eyes wide to take you in. 

And what can you do, exactly? Lie and have it be another argument? Not say the truth and have him know that you have, in fact, been sleeping with your own informant? Instead of a shrug, or an apology, or an admittance, you pull out the only thing in your arsenal that you can think of. “How is that any different than what you did before?”

He shouts as if pained by your words, hunching over himself before standing straight to point a finger at you. “I can’t believe you!” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh, your hand rubbing at your forehead.  “What were you actually fucking expecting right now, Javi? You asked me to sleep around with men for information that wasn’t even part of an active mission. And then you blew my cover, and had the audacity to yell at me!” You screech back. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately you’re back to pushing him, wanting him out of your space. You want him to leave, to leave you alone.

To his credit, Javier takes your shoves, your slaps, and only closes his eyes to breathe deeply through his nose. You wonder briefly if you are going to leave a bruise on him. 

He opens his eyes and stares at you, waiting patiently for your shoves to reduce to almost nothing. When he speaks it comes out calm, ready to try again. “You could have called me. Before you stayed the extra night, after he held a knife to your throat-you should have called me if you needed me.”

If you needed me. “I don’t need you.”

The pain in his eyes is apparent, reaching for you again to hold you steady against him. He furrows his brows, shaking his head and desperate to get his point across to you. “You don’t get it.”

You shut your eyes, refusing to look at him. He gives you a small shake, sighing deeply.”You don’t understand how terrified I was? After we fought you haven’t spoken to me, or called me back and I’ve been barely holding it together.” You go to interrupt him, but he continues. “I thought I lost you last night. Thought you were trapped, or hurt and…I shouldn’t have called you so much that it put you in danger, but if you had just told me what was going on–”

He sighs heavily, clasping a hand around the back of your neck to hold you still as his forehead presses to yours. “I need you.” A whimper bubbles out of your chest, listening to his rough swallow. “This isn’t about the money, or the side mission. I need you; do you understand?”

You open your eyes, watering and wide as you stare him down. You’re searching, trying to see if he’s lying. “You can’t guilt trip me.”

Javier holds his breath, pulling you impossibly closer. Your chest is pressed to his, and you’re sure that he can feel your heartbeat through the layers of clothing, pounding. “I’m not. Please, hermosa hear me.” 

It’s quiet between you, your breath puffing over his face in humid clouds. You soften slowly, tension leaving your body until you’re leaning all your weight against him. You can’t help it; you’re trying to understand. He was concerned, worried, not thinking as a boss, but as someone that cares for you. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you close to him. “I thought I lost you, baby. I’m sorry.”

You’re silent for a while longer, nodding when you finally decide. “I’m sorry.” You whisper against his chest, hands grabbing at the fabric. “I should have called you back.”

Javi hums, rubbing his hand down your spine gently. You pull away from him, sniffling and looking up to his face. “There’s a whole team of them…just raiding the place for money. There won’t be any proof they were there.”

Javier nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead in acceptance. “Let them take the money.”

Javier ushered you out of the apartment quickly, packing what boxes you’ve started into the back of his car and promising to stop by at a later time to get the rest of it. 

He’s such a fuck up. 

He thought he could handle this months ago, when he first met you and got you involved in this side mission. He thought that you would give some intel, they would do a raid, and that would be the end of it. 

He was sorely mistaken. 

You’re next to him in his car as he pulls away from the apartment, and his hand slips over yours. You’re stiff for a moment before looking over at him and sighing, squeezing his fingers in reassurance. “You’ll never have to do that again.” He promises, and he’s not sure if he’s promising never to do undercover again, or to being away from him. 

He doesn’t want to define it in case you don’t want the latter. 

Javi keeps quiet when you don’t respond, squeezing the meat of your palm in his and rushing to his own apartment. He hadn’t told you explicitly but he was not going to leave you alone to your own devices; the dried blood on your shirt had him spiraling enough that he wanted to watch over you tonight. 

He has so many things he wants to say, but none of them come out as he unlocks his door and takes your bag for you. He wants to ask if you’re actually okay, if this is what you expected, if you were still mad at him. Were you just appeasing him to stop arguing, or were you genuinely sorry? What happened with Frankie beyond a knife to your throat that made you not tell him what was going on?

None of it comes out as you tell him quietly that you are going to take a shower. He just nods, watching you step away from him and shut the door softly behind you. No, nothing comes out of his mouth until a few minutes later after the water has started, that he hears deep breaths and sniffles echoing off the tile. 

He didn’t want to push you, but the sound of you crying was something he couldn’t handle. It urged him forward, lightly knocking on the door and calling your name. When you don’t respond he opens the door, eyes falling to your defeated figure in the stream of water. 

“Are you alright, hermosa?” He asks, watching as you step away from the water to glance at him. Your eyes are red, waterlogged and shivering as you nod at him. 

“Y-yes. Yeah.” You sniffle, shaking the water from your head and attempting to cover yourself. “I’m fine.”

Javier pauses, stepping forward to close the bathroom door behind him. It’s hot in the bathroom, humid clouds floating from the shower head to him and fogging the mirror. It makes it harder to breathe, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be closer to you. Javier observes you, not letting his eyes wander much until you face him fully. He can’t help but let his eyes fall to the neat lines across your chest and collarbone, red and angry staring back at him. “What’s that?”

You look down like you weren’t aware you had cuts on your chest, dumbfounded for a moment before you give a noncommittal shrug. “Just a few scratches.”

Javi shakes his head, stepping toward the glass shower door and popping it open. A closer look is all he tells himself, just to inspect that they are fine and that you won’t die from bleeding out in the middle of the night, or of infection at a later date.

His hand reaches out tentatively, running his finger across one of the marks and looking up to your face to watch for a reaction. When you don’t have one, he sighs and let’s his eyes settle on yours. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, his thumb drifting up to the skin covering your pulse, rubbing back and forth as soothingly as possible. 

“You don’t need to be.” you say just as quietly, lifting a hand and resting it on his chest. The water on your hand seeps through his shirt, leaving a hot brand on his skin.

Javi’s throat closes, emotions running high. “I should have protected you.”

You shake your head, chastising him. “There was nothing more you could have done, Javi.”

He winces, pressing himself further against you. His shirt is fully soaked now, but he doesn’t care. “I shouldn’t have let you go in the jungle.”

“It’s okay, Javi.” You pat at his chest, pulling your hand away as if you’re only just now realizing that you’ve gotten his clothing wet. His own covers yours, bringing it back to the imprint you’ve left–he wants to feel you against him.

“Please, forgive me.” He begs; he knows he’s begging. He doesn’t beg as far as he is concerned, but something in him is crumbling. He leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, above your brow, your cheekbone, your jaw. He breathes heavily in your ear, shutting his eyes tightly.

He feels your slight nod, a quiet “I forgive you, Javi.” and he’s choked up with tears. He’s rushing to join you in the shower, a couple buttons popping off his shirt as it slides down his arms, your fingers going for the button of his jeans. 

Once he’s fully naked and pressed against you, the water is beating down on his back, your fingers drawing gentle shapes up his spine and his face resting against your shoulder. If he opens his eyes, he can see the cuts directly in front of him, and it makes him shutter more. “I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to make right.” You sigh, tapping with only your index finger as you think. “We’ll raid Lorea, and it will be over.”

He nods, pressing his lips to your collarbone and feeling the mark from Frankie’s knife. He wants to punch himself for not telling you sooner about what he found out. About how Fransisco Morales was a drug addict, that he was not mentally in the right place the last time he was in the military. It feels suffocating, knowing that you had been around him, speaking to him, fucking him. 

How did it all go so wrong?

His hands drift from your shoulder blades, down to your hips and give you a squeeze. “Let me make it up to you.” He gruffs, finally making eye contact with you. He sees your confusion, your sudden realization of what he means.

“You…you don’t have to.” You say quietly, letting his fingers drift to the curve of your stomach. Watching him, carefully assessing. 

“I want to. If you want me to?” He watches your pupils blow wide, interest peaking as his thumb brushes through the patch of hair above your center, moving down, down, down. 

You sigh heavily, swallowing and nodding again. Javier is convinced that if he can make you feel good like he knows he can, then maybe you’ll actually start to forgive him. Even if it’s slowly. His fingers drift between your folds, up and down as lightly as possible. You squirm against him, spreading your legs just enough to let his knee hold one to the side. 

Javi looks down, leaning a bit away to get a better look at you while his other hand is still wrapped around the back of your neck, soothing circles into your jaw. “You’re so pretty, baby.” Javier growls through clenched teeth, letting a finger swipe quick circles over your clit. 

You pant, reaching a hand out to his bicep and squeezing. No response, just the acknowledgement of your moan is all that he needs. 

A single finger is pressed into you, curling over and over as his eyes flick back up to yours. He’s desperate to watch you unfold, feel you pulse around a finger, anything to give him the approval, the want that he desires. 

You’re quick to finish, his thumb brushing back and forth over your clit while his finger curls inside of you, his eyes on yours as he talks you to completion. “So fucking perfect, in my place, taking what you want from me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to yours as if to seal the deal between you. 

When he pulls away, your eyes opening and half lidded in exhaustion, he reaches for the shower knob and turns it off. Javi helps you out of the shower, drying the both of you efficiently before guiding you into his bedroom where he’s already placed out clothes for you to sleep in. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need something, okay? Get some rest.”

He waits for your small smile and nod, hanging by the door for a moment to see his shirt fall over your torso before heading to the kitchen. He planned to stay up for the rest of the evening and through the night, planning this raid on Lorea and letting you finally get some rest. 

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #javier peña #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you

[moonlight-prose]

EVERGREEN WASN'T SUCH A BAD DREAM

➝ A HURT DRABBLE

a/n: this first started out as a small idea jotted down in my notebook way back in august. i was trying to write hurt and it was being put on hold cause honestly i was scared to continue it. i didn't think i'd ever write it and honestly it didn't make much sense to me given the way the fic played out. but i couldn't get over the idea that these two got a little bit of joy in their lives. it's pre-chapter six so i hope y'all enjoy! divider by the incredibly talented @saradika.

summary: in the middle of destruction nature continues to follow the same path as before. starting with the first snowfall of the season. you just happen to be there to witness it with him.

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, soft joel, cold weather antics, fluff, a tad bit of romance, angst, grief, talk of the future in a hopeless world.

SERIES MASTERLIST

A blanket of white covered the world, turning everything brighter. The sun reflected off the snow, practically sparkling. You heard the crunch beneath your boots—the sound familiar and inviting. It called to the small fractured piece of joy that still remained in your body; begged you to finally let go and have some fun. Even as the world went to shit, the first snowfall never failed to make you smile.

Your breath collected in the air in front of you. Showing you just how cold it really was. Which only made you smile more—your nose practically numb with the frigid air.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slipping on the heavy gloves that he found in an old shop a few towns back. “It’s too cold.”

You shrugged, taking in a deep breath that burned on its way in. ‘Yeah but…it snowed.”

His eyes narrowed at your overjoyous smile. “It’s a pain in the ass to travel through snow.”

That was true.

Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset about such a beautiful thing. Snow has always been attuned to joy in your life. The start of fun spent outdoors with your brother. Hot drinks with friends as your university began to set up for the worst. And sure there were the annoyances and hardships that came with this weather. But you had always found that the positives far outweighed the negatives in this case.

Joel couldn’t necessarily say the same. A bitter feeling of grief began to build in his chest—Sarah’s face entering his mind. They spent holidays in the snow. Holed up in the house as they watched a movie—usually a Christmas movie with a predictable script—often inviting Tommy for the night. It was a time he’d give anything to return to.

The weight in his chest pressed down painfully—attempting to drag him down. Back into the darkness he was so used to residing in.

Except something bright broke through its walls. As if sunlight was once again shedding its light over him. Warmth consumed him; offering him hope with a soft press to the agony that splintered him half. Only when he tore himself out his mind did he realize what it was.

The sound of your laughter.

Small flakes began to fall from the sky, catching on his hair and jacket. They stung his face slightly. He couldn’t focus on that though. Not when you were smiling, your bare hands trying to catch each snowflake—your tongue sticking out. For the first time he saw a childlike wonder in your eyes. The cloud of grief he’d grown so accustomed to—now dissipated as you played in the snow.

“Havin’ fun?” he asked as his lips pulled up at one side.

You laughed again and Joel felt a bolt of lightning go through his heart. Even though it was freezing outside, that warmth spilled into his chest, spreading out to the tips of his fingers. He understood what love felt like. How it affected a person, but this…this was more. This was the missing emotion he thought he’d never see again in this lifetime.

“As a matter of fact—I am having fun.”

You stepped closer to him, letting your freezing nose press against the hollow of his throat. He jolted, eliciting another small giggle from your lips. But he refused to move. Simply shifting slightly to open his jacket in order to pull you closer until his body heat seeped into yours. He wrapped his arms around you, tugging you until your feet were pressed between his.

“Gonna get sick,” he muttered under his breath.

A puff of cold breath left you, caressing against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. “C’mon Joel, it’s fun.”

“Boston—”

“Don’t you remember fun?”

He stiffened, hands frozen on your back. Only this time you didn’t immediately apologize for possibly saying the wrong thing. You remained silent. Gave him a chance to process the pain that was no doubt overtaking his body, a grief you would never be able to understand. Each of you carried your own demons—dragged down by the weight of them daily, and only for a brief moment did you see him allow them to lift.

“I do,” he replied, his voice thick with torment.

You shut your eyes, ran your hands up his back and let out a breath. “Tell me about it.”

Tell me about your past. Tell me about her.

Joel rarely mentioned anything when it came to his past. That continued to be a locked door you held no key to and you accepted that. You took what you could with him. But standing there in the middle of a snowy serene winter, you finally wanted to see each broken part he hid from you. You wanted to watch the sunlight glint off them like glass and catch their beauty in the palm of your hands.

You wanted to know him.

“We’d celebrate Christmas,” he said softly, lips pressed to your hair. “Nothin’ fancy. Nothin’ big. But we’d get a tree.”

He never told you who Sarah was to him, never revealed what happened to her. You were just happy to finally hear about something joyous in his life. That once upon a time…he might have smiled. Hell he might have even laughed often. You could tell by the lines around his eyes, proof that this man had experienced more than just this.

“In Texas?” you pressed, face peeking up to see his gaze already on you.

He nodded. “My brother usually joined us.”

Surprise lingered in your body, but you pushed past it. “You never told me you had a brother.”

And there it was, that small hint of a smile showing through the heartbreak on his face. “Yeah…Tommy.”

You tried to conjure up a picture of the other Miller. Did he have brown eyes like Joel? Was he older or younger? Was he still alive? Something told you with the way Joel reacted simply by saying the man’s name, that he remained okay. That somewhere on this Earth he was alive. You wanted to ask more, see if he’d let you in on a life you were never meant to be a part of. But pressing Joel to do anything—especially talking about his past—was not something that would go over easily.

“Did you play in the snow?” you asked, a smirk pulled at your lips.

He sighed, glancing up at the sky, a soft red stain flushing across his face. “We did.”

“I knew it.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, fingers pinching at your hip. Only to feel his heart flutter at the echo of your laugh being pressed to his chest.

He swore his heart responded to the sound, twisting in a way that he didn’t know was possible. It wasn’t wracked with pain, it wasn't threatening to drown him beneath his grief. It simply just existed.

Perhaps that’s what he could do for this one moment.

Stand in the snow as a man, holding a woman he loved, and exist.

“Hey Texas.”

He ran a soothing hand up your back, fingers lightly tracing the hem of your jacket. “Hm?”

“Will you play in the snow with me?”

Something lit up his eyes, the brown suddenly a lighter gold that struck a chord in your heart. He played you like a fucking guitar and with that one look, you’d let him. Joel took a breath, mouth parting, and did the one thing you longed to see. He smiled. Nothing small or minor, but a full blown smile that made your heartbeat cease to exist. For the first time…he looked happy. As if the man from before had shoved his way forward to finally give you a proper look at who he once was.

At the man he longed to be again.

“Yeah Boston,” he said, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours. “I will.”

A laugh escaped your mouth when he shoved you back lightly, hands reaching for the freshly fallen snow on the ground. You did the same. Digging your fingers into the freezing icy ground, pulling up a small amount to make a ball. Only for Joel to throw one at you, hitting you square in the shoulder.

“I wasn’t ready!”

He chuckled, heading for you. “Move faster.”

“Ironic you’re telling me that.” He stuttered, eyes flashing dark at the memory of having you the day before, but that faded with another grin. One that taunted you with something more.

A promise of a life that could be.

His arm wrapped around your waist, the snow falling from your hands as he hauled you backwards. A yelp escaped your mouth when he fell, your body landing on top of his—snow sticking to his hair and yours. The sun still burned bright in the sky, flakes continued to rain down around you, but for this one single moment…you existed in a space that felt good.

That felt normal.

“We’ll have a tree,” you said softly, rolling over to lay beside him.

He turned to look at you, eyes tender. “A tree huh?”

You nodded. “One day.”

“Okay,” he murmured, hand cupping your cheek. “We’ll have a tree.”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #my writing

[l0starl]

LIST OF THINGS TO LEAVE IN 2023 ‼️‼️‼️‼️

“B-bu”

No stfu 🥰

These are all things I’ve seen in Astv tags and drama on tumblr and just in general, this is not proof read

2024 is in 9 days starting Jan 1 and we still writing for underage characters??? When 2024 arrives I better see some change but you know damn well you’re gonna be the same. And if you haven’t change at all and STILL writing for underage minors…There really is no hope for you AT ALL

Let’s start off with milescest, How does 2 people who are literally the same person have a romantic interest together? I’m really confused about that

I think some of you are forgetting miles is 15? He even said it himself in the scene on the rooftop party where he was arguing with his parents, unless you just zoned out or don’t give a shit at all??

Because miles is not having sex with reader bro…? And it’s the fact that some of yall don’t age it up AND EVEN IF ITS AGED UP ITS STILL NOT OK‼️‼️

And some of you are giving miles 42 the worst stereotypes, why suddenly is he toxic? Why suddenly aggressive, abusing reader, being a “gangster”, all of those unnecessary things. He only had like 15 seconds of screen time and that’s how you think he acts? You know damn well rio would not allow that!!!

And let’s talk about some of these writers saying the most ridiculous things 💀 Miles is not listening to Taylor swift and I stand on that. And Miles is not going to be apart of anything 18+

Miles 42 has lost his father, trying to assist his mother during those hard times while being a vigilante stealing medical supplies from the sinister six cartel just to help his mother at the hospital. Just by that, it’s clear some of you don’t care about how certain characters are portrayed, AND ITS WHEN PEOPLE POINT IT OUT, THE WRITER GETS UPSET AND SAYS THEIR WRONG?

Moving on let’s talk about reader….

Y/N is supposed to be the reader but honestly it feels like Y/N is their own person because I don’t relate to this y/n person at all 🧍🏾‍♀️I am not twirling my hair Nor am I gonna cry when some random person in the story is about to fight me 😐 Theirs so many things to use to refer to the reader, for example hobie! Stop making him say “luv” or “love” every five seconds!! For example “Dove” or anything that seems like hobie would say idk

Anyways that it, have a nice Christmas, Hanukkah,Kwanzaa, or just have a nice day ^^

#﹑ ୨୧ chit chats!! 🍰⟢ ␥ #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #e42 miles #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales imagine #across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales imagine #e42 miles morales x reader #atsv #atsv fic #fluff #fanfiction #miles molares #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales spider man #miles morales 1610 #1610 miles morales #1610 miles morales x reader #spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miles x reader #miles morales fic #miles morales fluff

[buckys-little-belle]

Hellfire Babysitting Club (Part One)

Little Fairy

Eddie Munson x Little! Reader (They/Them Pronouns used)

Warnings - the word ‘hell’ is in this a few times because the ‘hellfire club’ is mentioned!, honestly not very edited, the reader is sad at one point, the word ‘freak’ is used in a demeaning way. This is so not something I usually write so I HOPE it’s okay! Reader is ‘big’ in the first half.

Note - this totally has space to grow eventually if people like it, so if you like it let me know because I can totally see this becoming a cute little story, “Hellfire babysitting club” Anyone?

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this fic and this blog SFW

(Part two and three are now out and can be found on my masterlist (Pinned post))

- - - - - -

Hawkins was a small town, a seemingly sweet and calm town, one that accepted people and welcomed newcomers. At least that’s what Y/n’s parents had said when they convinced them to move. Now though, as they sat alone at lunch with people around them laughing and snickering at their loneliness and isolation, they knew their parents were oh so wrong.

Seemingly no one here wanted to accept a new person into their existing friends groups, Y/n worried that maybe it was their clothing, the second hand outfit paired with an old backpack covered in pins. Or maybe it was their personality, so willing to talk, the positivity that radiated from them. Either thing could be off putting maybe, there was just no way to tell, they couldn’t ask someone as everyone seemed to avoid them.

That is until two boys stood at the end of Y/n’s lunch table. “You’re the new kid right?” The boy with a hat asked. Y/n nodded in agreement, their mouth full of the sandwich they had packed that morning.

The two boys looked at each other in great excitement, the boy with long black hair then spoke up. “I’m mike, and we are in a club called …” He paused, and unbuttoned his flannel. “Hellfire. We play dungeons and dragons every tuesday and Thursday after school, you should totally join.”

Y/n hesitantly looked at them, unsure if these boys were being sincere or if this was a long prank that would eventually explode later. “Here is a flyer, I’m Dustin, the best player, just ask for me when you show up.” He offered a pice of paper with seemingly hand written text covering it, letting the recipient know the room, time, dates, and idea behind the club.

“Or they could ask for me!” Mike argued back, the two boys beginning to walk away from Y/n’s table, letting them contemplate the invite. It was Tuesday after all, and a game would start after school in the drama storage room.

The whole day Y/n thought about it, paying more attention to the boys walking around school in the club’s shirts than the schoolwork that they were assigned. ‘It can’t hurt to try it out.’ Y/n though, really what was the worst that could happen? A game with a few sweet nerds sounded lovely to them.

- - - - - -

Walking around the school once everyone had left was weird, the hallways were silent with a faint echo, and the school seemed to lack a sense of purpose when no one was in it. Before they could wander any longer the two boys Y/n had once seen at lunch came back into veiw, this time with another boy tagging along. “Hey! You looking for the club?” Dustin shouted from his position down the hall.

Y/n just nodded their head, the boys waved them over. “It’s in here.” The new boy said as he motioned towards the faintly lit room. “I’m Lucas by the way.” He said, extending his hand out for Y/n.

“Um, I’m Y/n.” They said shyly as they shook Lucas’s hand, still adjusting to all this welcoming attention from strangers. “Am I allowed to join? I don’t want to intrude or anything.” Y/n asked, genuinely worried about putting the club in any type of uncomfortable situation.

“Of course you can join!” Dustin exclaimed. “Eddie will probably make you just sit in for your first few games, just to really understand the game.” He said, the three boys finally walking into the room, gesturing Y/n to follow.

“Who’s Eddie?” Y/n asked, taking the seat next to Lucas and Mike that the boys had offered them.

Before they could answer someone walked in. “Helllllfire club!” He shouted, walking in bowing. “Your humble game master has arrived.” His smile large and his demeanour care free.

“That’s Eddie.” Lucas whispered, a grin matching Eddie’s on his face.

Eddie sat in the large chair at the head of the table, pulling things out of his bag and placing them in front of him. When a small pile was finally accumulated on the table Eddie turned back to the table to face the other club members. The three boys Y/n had met earlier, Y/n, and three other boys sat around the table, waiting for Eddie to speak. Eddie himself took a scan around the table, his intimidating scowl changing into a welcoming smile as he laid his eyes on Y/n, suddenly singling them out. “And who do we have here.” He asked, gesturing to Y/n.

“This is Y/n!” Dustin spoke up when he noticed Y/n wasn’t going to say anything. “They are the new student I was telling you about.”

“No I actually pointed them out first.” Mike interrupted. “We invited them to come and play.”

“It doesn’t matter who got them to come, I’m surprised the two of you could convince a real person to come and try the club out.” He chuckled, a few of the other boys chuckling alongside him. “So Y/n, have you ever played DnD before?” He questioned, his hands sat clasped in front of him as he turned his wholehearted attention towards the new comer.

“No, but the boys said I could just watch.” Y/n said, slightly uncomfortable with how much attention was current place on them. “So that I know how the game works, before I play.” Y/n averted their eyes back to the table, scanning the flyer in-front of them to distract themselves.

To be honest Y/n struggled with authoritative people, especially when they paid genuine attention to them. The care and kindness often tips them over the edge, plunging them into little space. The current pressure of trying new things, and now a kind leader, were slowly chipping away at their big demeanour.

“I can go, I don’t want to be a hindrance!” Y/n exclaimed, looking around the table for peoples reaction, trying to see if maybe they wanted them gone from their club.

“No no, fairy you are welcome to stay.” Eddie beamed as he began propping up a few binders. “We love new additions to the club, if you stay long enough you might even get a shirt.” He winked, making Y/n heat up as they smiled.

- - - - - -

Ever since that first Tuesday Y/n sat at the hellfire club table during lunch, walked with the boys in between classes and even began getting a ride home from mike’s sister. Slowly they blended right into the club, their appointed nickname being ‘fairy’, because for some reason ‘Y/n’ wasn’t good enough. “Your name is too boring for such a complex character like yourself.” Eddie had once said.

Things seemed to be going well, Y/n slowly began understanding the game more and more, even beginning to shape their own character for a future campaign. But like all good things, this routine quickly got shaken.

Y/n’s locker was near the gym, a hotspot for the basketball jocks, the boys who, well think that they, ran the school. Often they would walk by and snicker as Y/n grabbed things from their locker, trying to get books for the next class, or grabbing a sweater as the school always seemed so cold.

As Y/n was putting their books away and getting ready to head towards the drama room, a boy appeared on the other side of their locker. “Hey, you must be Y/n.” He spoke, his perfect blonde hair and green jacket making him look oh so obnoxious. Y/n simply nodded, hoping the interaction would be over soon, allowing them to escape to the place they really wanted to be. “You know the club you hang out with are demon worshipers right?” He scoffed, tugging on the newly gifted hellfire shirt Y/n was currently wearing.

“It’s just a game.” Y/n whispered, growing unconsciously timid during the interaction. The boy scoffed, letting go of the shirt and rolling his eyes.

“You freaks never learn.” He laughed, a few other green jacket clad boys gathering around. The group eventually left, Y/n now regressed, the stress and tension too much for them to truly handle at the moment.

“‘m not a freak.” They whispered, closing their locker and making their way towards the drama room. “‘m not a fweak.” The repeated, their words becoming more slurred as their emotions began getting bigger.

The drama room door came into sight and Y/n walked in, looking up at the group that seemed to be waiting. Y/n looked distressed, a few tears falling down their face, their shirt off centre due to the rude boys tugs. “‘m sorry, I don feel good.” Y/n stuttered, hoping that the excuse would allow them to get out of todays meeting. “‘m jus gonna go home.” They quickly walked away, making their way through the school and towards the parking lot.

“Why was Y/n talking like that?” Lucas asked, confused as to why their words were slurred and not fully articulate.

“They were crying what do you think?” Dustin retorted, trying his best at a reasonable answer.

“Maybe they were drinking.” Mike added. The three boys continued to discuss their theory’s as Eddie got up out of his seat. “Where are you going?” Mike asked, the group stopping their bickering and turning to their leader.

“I’m just going to check up on Y/n, you guys go raid the cafeteria for snacks while I’m away.” He said, finally leaving he room. “Oh and look for juice boxes!” He called out to the group as they too began to make their way out of the room.

- - - - - -

Y/n was sat on a curb that divided the parking lot and a small garden that was planted right outside of the school. Their backpack was sat beside them, their water bottle sat next to them. They had stopped sobbing but tears still trailed down their face, they were confused by their surrounding, frustrated that they weren’t big, and mad that they couldn’t play the fun game with their friends.

“Hi fairy.” A familiar voice called, this time the usually loud and extravagant voice was smooth and calm. When Y/n looked up they were met with Eddie, his face contorted in concern and his body language showing restraint. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.” He soothingly said as he sat next to Y/n, his long legs awkwardly laid out in front of him as the curb was far too short to sit with his knees to his chest.

“‘m fine Eddie.” They whispered. “I jus’ need you to leave.”

“Fairy it’s okay, I know.” Eddie offered, his eyes trained on Y/n’s form as they curled into themselves.

“‘m not a freak.” Y/n cried. They thought that being called a freak would be left in the old town, the name being directed at Y/n’s tendency to regress when stressed, but now being used being they were in a fun and welcoming club. “‘m not.” They whispered, playing with their fingers as a few more tears escaped and made their way down Y/n’s cheeks.

“I know you aren’t.” Eddie comforted, his hand now resting on their back. “You just feel small, that’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Y/n was confused at Eddie’s sudden acceptance, his kind approach not expected. “But ‘s weird.” Y/n murmured, their brain moving a million miles per minute.

Eddie laughed. “Out of everyone in the club you think that you’re weird?” He exclaimed. “Fairy you are the most normal person in that room, and even if you were weird we would all still love you.” Eddie announced, standing up from his seat and grabbing Y/n’s discarded backpack and water bottle. “I sent the boys to get snacks.” He said excitedly. “Let’s go see what they got.” Eddie grabbed Y/n’s hand, helping them up and then tucking them under his arm.

“But.” Y/n Began.

“No ‘but’’s, I won’t tell anyone.” Eddie held out a pinky, gearing up for a pinky promise. “But you do need to sit next to me, I can’t have you running off again, I don’t want to loose you.”

Y/n smiled. “Sorry.” They whispered, embarrassed by their rash decision to bolt, in their defence it always worked before, people usually don’t follow. Eddie wiggled his pinky, stopping in his tracks waiting for the promise to be confirmed. “Promise.” Y/n giggled at his wiggling pinky, bringing their own pinky towards his to seal the deal.

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x little!reader #eddie munson x reader #little!reader #age regression #eddie munson age regression #age regression fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson little fic

[rottingfern]

sweetened breath, tongue so mean || a Bad Omens fanfic

Pairing: Noah x nonbinary OC

Summary: They're screaming at each other. They're throwing hands. They're half a second away from a violent hatefuck. And at the end of the day, they'll still call each other friends.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: ANGST, toxic relationship, language, heavy consumption of alcohol, degradation kink if you squint, brief discussion of body image, OC gets deadnamed, depiction of a panic attack, choking, cunnilingus, penetration, hair pulling, slightly dubious consent, spitting.

A/N: Wow do I love angst. But be warned going into this: THESE BITCHES IS TOXIC. Noah is not a very nice person in this, and neither is OC. This fic does not depict a healthy relationship. This is a work of fiction depicting a fictionalized version of Noah and does not represent him in real life.

A MASSIVE THANK YOU TO @signs-of-ill-portent AND @the-way-of-words FOR BETA-ING THIS FIC AND SCREAMING ABOUT IT WITH ME, for getting on my characters' levels with me and for egging me on to delve as deep and dark as I needed for this fic, for not allowing me to mince words and for listening to me catastrophize about the story beats as I figured out how to convey all the nuance this fic needed. Y'all really did the most when you didn't have to, and I AM EXTREMELY GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR THAT! My heart eyes are laser focused on you.

Brainrot Club: @meekahy @foliosriot @badhedonist Theme song is Hatef--k by The Bravery. I actually made a whole playlist! Click here to listen. Masterlist here.

Title taken from Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier; banner made by me; dividers by @saradika

Lee’s just about done with this show (though it hasn’t even begun) when their shoulders hit the poorly finished wall of the back hallway of the venue. 

His lips are searing, supple and wet and clingy as they suck to their own. They clench their teeth shut at the insistent push of his tongue past their lips, demanding entry into their mouth. Maybe this whole moment - the hands on their shoulders, the thigh between their knees, pinned between drywall and a solid mass of body heat and want - would be hot, desirable even, had it all not belonged to the one shithead they’d been hoping to avoid tonight. 

Of course, Lee would have more luck surviving a plane crash into the ocean than avoiding a shithead when said shithead is Noah Sebastian Davis. This whole situation is vomit-inducing. Embarrassing, honestly. They push on his chest, hard, like their life depends on it. 

“God, knew you’d want it,” Noah pants when Lee finally manages to separate his suction cup of a mouth from theirs, his shit-eating grin planted firmly like he’d done something - whether he meant to be sexy or purposely disgusting, they’re not sure - and it doesn’t help he hasn’t learned to be less cryptic since they’d seen him last. “What, no ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’?” Lee shoots back. They’d backpedaled out that green room as soon as the members of their entourage were occupied by conversation, though they really should’ve expected this. Noah following them down dimly lit hallways with dishonorable purpose is par for the course. “Didn’t think I’d need one. Once a slut, always a slut.” His chuckle is like shattering ice, each shard aimed at Lee. “Isn’t that right, Leanne?” 

Noah hasn’t changed in the ten years since they’d met, and Lee isn’t about to let the persistent press of his thick, hard cock against their stomach through layers of denim and terry cloth (or the way an engine downstairs springs to life when they feel it) change their opinion of him: that he’s a shithead through and through, cocky in the worst kind of way, hell-sent the day he was born when the universe decided not only to make him a bigheaded fool but also to let him win the genetic lottery in one fell swoop. 

Doesn’t stop the clench of their cunt that they struggle to suppress. Doesn’t prevent the mental scolding they’re forced to give themself: the chaos monster that is Noah Davis’s entire being isn’t worth dealing with for even a hookup. It’s pathetic, tacky even. 

Something primal, old and hungry flashes in the glassy gel of Noah’s eyes when he forces Lee’s gaze to his, fingers hooked firmly round their jaw; something uncontrollably soft in the way his jaw trembles to mirror Lee’s own when he grazes their hip with his free hand, when he presses his thumb firmly to their clit through the denim of their shorts. 

There are a million things Lee could’ve picked from the Rolodex of elaborate insults soaked in a decade of contentious acquaintanceship they’ve stored specifically to knock Noah off his self-appointed pedestal, if only the butterflies insistently bubbling below their gut would just shut the fuck up for a single second. Could’ve, had Noah’s propensity to always control every situation so it goes his way not also applied to their own bodily function, apparently. Instead, they lower their chin, defiantly forcing his grip on their throat to tighten. 

Dangerous mistake. Stupid fucking mistake, because their hips buck forward along his thigh at the pressure, just an inch, and Noah’s smile widens dangerously, and oh. Oh no. They know this look, and the words that are bound to slip from his mouth in three, two -

Like a miracle from God or whatever the fuck other omnipotent being lives in the sky, a shout of their name echoes through the corridors. Noah’s hands find Lee’s shoulders again, head dipping once more as their own hands push desperately against his chest in a mad scramble for dominance and escape. They will not be caught - will not be seen - kissing Noah fucking Davis in front of their coworkers. No fucking way. Gag. Although… 

It does feel nice to be wanted, and it’s been so, so long since they’ve allowed themself this - no strings, mindless, just a quick way to get theirs. How long has it been? Since before they got sick, since before they put on the weight, surely. And Noah throws them around so effortlessly, they didn’t even feel that hot sting of insecurity as his hands ran down their body just minutes ago. And it’s not like they aren’t attracted to him, as long as he doesn’t speak. He’s always been hot - even Lee’s freshly-eighteen mind had been excited by the idea of snapping his scrawny little bones with their bare hands back then. And he’s only gotten hotter, with that fucking haircut and the way his once-concave pecs now ripple with muscle under their palms. 

So, what’s the holdup? It’s not like the two of them haven’t done this before. It would be so easy: they give Noah what he wants, they get theirs, then they never have to see each other again (at least not for another three years or four years, likely). Why shouldn’t they just let him kiss them again?

“Lee!” comes another shout, snapping Lee from their reverie. It’s closer, the sound of footsteps to match echoing just around the corner now. 

Their wandering mind had loosened their push on Noah’s chest to a caress, but now they use his momentary distraction to force him from them with all their might once again, schooling their stance into a casual side-lean against the wall just seconds before their friends round the corner. 

“There you are,” Mike sighs. “C’mon, bitch, we don’t wanna miss the openers!” As Lee follows Mike and Noor out to the floor, they toss a playful smirk over their shoulder, but Noah’s already replaced his mask of impassiveness, arms crossed sternly with clenched fists. His loss.

Noor’s laserlike gaze scans Lee as they collect their drinks from the bar. “Have a sweet reunion?” she asks.  

Lee huffs. They get enough of this shit from her at home, at work, basically everywhere. They love Noor, truly, but she’s impossible to fool and Lee really doesn’t need her picking around their brain when they themself don’t have a full understanding of what’s brewing in there.

“Sweet as fucking vinegar,” they instead reply, eyes rolling demonstratively. Noor’s lips purse in suspicion, so they turn away before she can do that fucking clairvoyant inspection of details thing she does, leading them back through the crowd to their coworkers. 

It’s not that Lee is stupid enough to truly believe they’d manage to avoid Noah at a Bad Omens show - rather that they’d have elected to straight up Not Attend were the outing not made mandatory by their boss. 

Mercury Hall is the largest venue in Burlington - a mid-size club with two balconies, standing thirty years with a stellar reputation to boot - but behind the scenes, despite a revolving door of staff, Mercury regularly employs a group of college kids who collectively have the common sense of a single person. Not that it’s surprising, really, considering Burlington houses two universities and both offer a “music business” major. Lee thinks Mercury should be hiring communications majors instead - maybe that’d fix their massive communication problem. 

Ouroboros - Lee’s place of gainful employment - is a smaller club on the other side of Downtown, and has absolutely no affiliation with Mercury… except that the owners of the two clubs go way back, oldheads who’ve been buddies since school and all that, and Lee’s boss regularly makes any problems down at Mercury his problem. 

Or, the problem of his long-suffering staff, to be precise. 

Just like last week, for example, when Lee was just trying to sort out next month’s scheduling while jamming to some ABBA, and was interrupted by their boss Roy roping them into solving the issue with Mercury’s scheduling instead, on only a week’s notice.

Really, the solution was a no brainer. One band was not local and on a tightly-scheduled tour; the other - from just three hours south in Boston, were playing just a one-off gig. Ask the Boston guys to move to the following night - they’d get a Friday spot anyway, way better deal. Enlist Mike and Noor to assist with rescheduling the hired crew to Friday. It helped immensely that the Boston guys only recently graduated to playing Mercury, that Lee knew them from their years of traveling up to play Ouroboros. The other band was Bad Omens. So, really, Noah should be thanking Lee.

Thanks only came in the form of Hank, Mercury’s owner, interrupting their pre-show planning meeting two days ago to inform Ouroboros staff they’d been guest-listed for the Bad Omens gig. Lee thought better thanks would’ve come in the form of Hank hiring staff capable of doing their jobs, and stands by that opinion. 

Excited chatter had erupted the minute Hank shut the door behind him - it’s a rare occasion that a decent metalcore act rolls through Burlington - but Lee could only focus on the cold pit that opened in their stomach at the thought of seeing Noah again. Later that night, they’d get disastrously wine-drunk with Noor on their ratty porch couch and lament on the absolute asshole that was Noah Sebastian Davis, but in that moment they only sat blank, nodding along obediently, as Roy instructed them to attend Hank’s “extremely generous offering”.

The issue isn’t going to the Bad Omens gig, because if there’s one positive thing they can say about Noah it’s that he really hit his stride with this project and Lee respects the grind. Nor is it the idea of being in the same room as him; it’s not like they haven’t been around him plenty and willingly over the past decade between touring through RVA with their college band, and in the multiple shared friend groups they’d amassed over the years. 

Noah’s annoying as all hell: the kind of person who says and does whatever, whenever the hell he wants, who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up, who will unapologetically push forward if it pleases him. And, apparently and unfortunately for Lee, his biggest pleasure is making them absolutely fucking miserable whenever they’re in proximity of one another. And especially unfortunately, he knows exactly how to push Lee’s buttons, which ones to push, and how to drive them to absolute breaking point. 

And, his greatest pleasure is knowing Lee will just hatefuck him when they get too fed up. Lee would bet their life savings (spoiler: not much) that he was one of those kids who pulled all the girls’ pigtails on the playground. 

Going into the evening, Lee’s biggest issue was just that: that they’d snap at him in front of their coworkers, that Roy or Hank would clock the familiarity and fire them or something, that they’d get overwhelmed and just fucking cry. Dealing with Noah’s antics was even a knife’s edge in the past, in casual environments where their friends would laugh it off as “Noah and Leanne bullshit”, when they’d had security in their identity and image. 

In the now times however, with their confidence dropped to near-zero, with meds that make them burst to tears at any strong enough emotion, with a fragile half-decades acceptance of their queer identity (and Noah’s inability to fucking catch on and stop misgendering them), Lee wasn’t certain they’d be able to handle the pressure of the battle of wills Noah insisted on having each time they met. 

Now, as the giant party of the Ouroboros staff, the touring party, and those of the Mercury staff who are legal to drink head to the Archives for after-hours drinks, Lee’s issue is that they’re actually enjoying themself because Resident Shithead Noah Sebastian Davis is being actually fucking pleasant. And they’re really not sure how to deal with that. It’s new territory. A no-person’s land, if you will. 

He’d slowed down to where Lee trailed behind the rest of the group, likely sick of tripping over Church Street’s uneven cobblestones trying to keep up with Joakim’s (they refuse to call him Jolly. What the fuck kind of grown man calls himself Jolly?) speed racer pace. “Hey,” he says quietly. 

Lee releases a long-suffering sigh. “Hi, Noah.”

They walk silently beside each other for a few minutes. From the corner of their eye as they tilt their head back to admire this year’s lighted arches, Lee sees Noah fidget uncomfortably. They’re seconds from spitting out an out with it, already when he finally asks, “So, archaeology was a bust, huh?”

Here we fucking go. They’ve decided their Rolodex of insults is useless and resort to just tossing him a nasty look, a roll of the eyes, and to speed up to walk with Mike, Noor and Folio when he hurriedly follows up with, “Only you seemed so excited about your degree.” He sports an unfamiliar expression Lee has never seen him wear (is it sheepishness? abashedness?), head dipped low. “Y’know. Back then.”

Lee’s brain is short circuiting. That’s the only explanation for the wall of static and dial-up tones smashcut with thirty different trains of thought that occupies it and allows them to respond only with a blank look and a dumb-sounding “oh” because, did Noah actually just ask them about their life????? 

Since when did he give a flying fuck about anything but making their night hell? All Noah Sebastian Davis cares about is his boys, his music, and getting his. But, it makes sense, right, since the last time they saw each other was at a holiday party and barely spoke at all - maybe he is just curious. He’s being pleasant, but to what end? When does the other shoe drop?

Or, a small part of their brain whispers, maybe he’s finally grown up. He does look awfully sincere, chocolate eyes wide with concern. “Just didn’t work out,” Lee shrugs, electing to open up. “For a lot of reasons. Mostly because, I guess I didn’t love it enough to work up to the fun stuff once I started getting hired.” A bitter, self-deprecating chuckle escapes their throat way too loudly for comfort. 

The group has reached the Archives now, and Lee sends a short nod in response to Noor’s concerned glance as she hesitates behind Mike at the bar door. They light a cigarette and lean against the wall, shuffling their foot along the pavement awkwardly. Lee tosses their gaze back up when Noah’s shoes stop before them. He’s open, inquisitive, and they can’t help but relax into it, dumping the rest out: “It’s a lot of travel. And my aunt was sick…”

They choke on the rest, and are suddenly enveloped in possibly the most comforting, needed hug they’ve received since she died. 

“My mom, too, recently,” Noah eventually lets out, voice matching Lee’s choke. He presses them harder to his chest, holding them, clinging, letting Lee soak his shirt as they rock back and forth. 

They break away from each other after a few minutes, Noah turning to let Lee try to wipe their tears without ruining their eyeliner as he swipes his own away with the heels of his palms. They turn back to each other with tight, abashed closed-mouth half-smiles, letting out matching embarrassed chuckles. 

He slumps against the wall and they stand, shoulders grazing, gazing at the night sky. “Y’know, it’s strange to see you here, because I associate Philly with you first, Leanne,” Noah ponders lazily, “But Vermont strangely suits you.”

There’s that bitter feeling again. Lee lights another smoke (having lost their previous to the hug) and follows the smoke trail as it draws circles around the distant stars above, shining bright as though they’re watching from somewhere far, far from civilization. 

There’s something you don’t get in Philly - that feeling of awe, of being just a molecule amidst the inconceivable mass of this universe, of every worry and problem being an ant to a continent, and you’re just trying to live your life to survive to the next and the most you can do is just live and love it. There’s something they’d missed for years being away from the far Northeast, something they take for granted until quiet, gentle moments like this. They don’t share any of that with Noah. Instead, they reply: “Noor’s rich parents bought her a house here, and she took me with her.”

“How long?” Noah sighs. He sounds dreamy, on the verge of sleep, eyes closed, body leaning firmly against theirs. 

“Nearly five years, now.”

Noah’s eyes snap open, a smirk spreading his face like wildfire, words flowing faster than Lee can even brace for the hit. “Five years of Vermont Cheddar’s done wonders for that ass,” he snarks. 

There it fucking is, the other fucking shoe. Leave it to him to open his stupid fucking mouth at a moment like this. Here they are, opening up about shit they’d barely even told their best friend, crying about their dead family together, and he’s making caveman-brain comments about their body. 

Lee kicks off the wall, dislodging Noah’s resting body, flicking their unfinished cigarette at the ground. If there’s a God, he’ll make the ash ruin Noah’s squeaky-clean white Vans. 

They feel an absolute idiot for trusting this idiot, for choosing these feelings to entrust to him. Should’ve known better. “With as much disrespect as possible: fuck you, Noah,” Lee spits at Noah’s stumbling form before jerking open the bar door, slamming it shut behind them. 

Note to future self (which will inevitably be forgotten and ignored): beware the Archives after hours - it’s completely shot and always devolves to the same bullshit. Yes, every time. Do not be fooled by the arcade machines - they are half broken and will not save you.

Hank and Roy left after chugging their first and only beers in under a minute the way Frank and Charlie shovel down cat food before bed on Always Sunny. Mike’s sniffed out that one gruff DL crew guy that’s seemingly copy-pasted onto each tour that comes through town and is working on enticing him to go back to his place above Ouroboros with that fucking slick grin of his (“It’s only around the corner, they’ll be none the wiser”). Nobody’s behind the bar, because it’s easier for Donny to just let people serve themselves - not like afterhours is official or legal here, anyway - so why would he bother serving? 

Everyone’s broken off into small groups or pairs, and Lee? Lee’s nursing their fourth whiskey, stuck finishing the shitty fries Noor always orders after she’s had her first drink, the same shitty ones she eats like, five of before pushing them away in disgust. 

The floor is sticky, left to be cleaned by the opening staff, and more than half the bar’s got their wax pens out, making the whole place smell like wet dog. Like the top note of a sick perfume resting above the heart note of the sweat of thirty slightly-too-warm people. Eau de metalhead. They really oughta turn off the heat in this place already - it’s fucking June.

It’s not the heat that’s got Lee absolutely boiling, though, no, that would be too simple. It’s that among this absolute hellscape, Noah is ten feet away, laughing like all that shit outside just didn’t happen. He’s fucking with the glitchy Ms. Pac-Man machine with Nicholas. He’s shotgunning beers with Mike and Mike’s newest conquest. He’s not looking at Lee. 

“- and after all that, like we had a moment, and after all that -” Lee laments to Noor, “For fuck’s sake, bitch, will you quit making eyes at Folio for one second?” 

Greta Van Fleet’s “Heat Above” is playing over the tinny speaker, and Noor’s distracted “uh huh” as she bops along is tell enough for Lee. The bitch is gone. 

“Fuck’s sake, Noor, you really gotta fuck the drummer every time?” Lee hisses, reaching blindly behind the bar for the whiskey they’d set in arm’s reach. Noor doesn’t hear them. Noor is too busy being her beautiful self, flicking a chunk of perfect raven curls behind her shoulder. Lee watches in horror as Folio presents the other tell that Noor’s one-hundred-percent gone for the night, something Lee has only seen happen genuinely, unironically in two situations - one in movies, and the other when Noor flirts with men: Folio fucking wiggles his eyebrows at her. 

There’s the whiskey. Goddamn, do they need another drink. Somewhere behind them, Noah cackles. Nails on a fucking chalkboard. 

Can you hear that dreadful sound? Fire still burning on the ground, Josh Kiszka screeches. You, or the other one, Josh? thinks Lee as they pour themselves another drink.

They turn, ready to shoot Noah a dirty look, and the fucker winks at them. They down their three fingers in one go and push off their stool towards the toilets. 

Their vision swims, not from the five whiskeys, not from getting up too quickly, but from the pins and needles of bitter fury tearing at their chest. 

It’s not that Noah’s enjoying himself. Good for him. It’s not that he’d been a vulgar dick, either, because they’re pretty sure that wasn’t the first time they’d gotten the “wonders for your ass” dig from him before. 

It’s that they’d allowed him a single moment of benignant sincerity for probably the first time ever, let him in, showed their tender belly, and then he’d gone and stabbed them where they’re most vulnerable. That he’d pissed on any genuine connection they’d been building up to then. 

It’s not that Noah was an asshole tonight, that will never change. That’s the sky blue. It’s that this time, Noah actually hurt their feelings. 

Lee shuts the bathroom door with their back, melds themself against the metal, digging the heels of their palms into their eyes as they let out a dry, heavy, tear-less sob. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale -

The second sob drags up with it hot spittle, sending them coughing and gagging into the sink. It’s that it’s all their own fault for letting him in, for getting comfortable in the first place. That’s what you get when you let Noah in. 

How fucking shot in the head do they have to be to expect anything less than this bullshit? Because this isn’t how someone with an ounce of sensibility would handle this, right? RIGHT?! Hey, let’s go trauma dump on this dude who’s never had a kind thing to say to you. Let’s go talk about our feeeeeeelings with the guy who still deadnames you FOUR years after you changed it everywhere. Oh, he gave you a hug? Oh, he shared his little emo feels with you too? Awwww. Ohhhh. Cute. Fucking. Idiot. 

Their eyeliner is smeared, their skin blotchy and red, and their hair absolutely refuses to lay well despite all their efforts to make it behave. Under the overly-bright fluorescent lighting, they can see the blue of the vein bulging in their forehead. They look like they’ve been beaten, or fucked, or both at once. Lee swears their reflection grins at them then.

They need to clean themself up and get another drink, and then they need to punch Noah in his stupid, smug, sexy face. Another dry heave works up their throat. No, no, this isn’t right. This is neither healthy nor productive. They can’t keep going on like this, can’t keep allowing themself in situations where the rage literally makes them sick.

Lee sighs, rubbing a hand over their tired face, presentability be damned. They need to go home; just crawl into bed and sleep it off and avoid any gatherings Noah might be at forever. They should probably cut off their mutual friends, too and never step foot in Richmond again, or L.A. for that matter, though they’d never willingly end up in that helltown, anyway. 

Home. Bed. Sleep. Never see Noah again. 

But when they swing open the bathroom door, he’s on the other side.

There’s a beat as he takes them in, and a small part of Lee thinks, hopes, prays he’ll grant mercy this time. Just this once. Look at me. Please. Mercy.

But prayer’s so unreliable, and Noah is so, so consistent. “Lookin’ good, doll,” mocks the physical manifestation of No Sense Of Time And Place. “Whoa -”

This is it. Their chest is exploding, they can’t breathe, they’ve lost their eyesight. This is how they die. 

Noah catches their wrist inches from his face before Lee even realizes they’ve swung.

They let out a hysterical laugh, ripping their arm from his like it’s a third-degree burn, backpedaling so fast from his advance they nearly trip over their own legs. 

He’s all, “hey, whoa,” he’s all, “hey, Leanne,” but they’re too busy contending with the fact that each breath feels like a leaf blower full of nails tearing their windpipe. “Leanne, what -” he says, but they knew this wasn’t normal the moment Noah started grabbing at their shoulders, at their face, the moment they couldn’t hear him pleading for them to get themself together. “Leanne, c’mon, Leanne, please,” he’s begging somewhere, but they can’t stop fucking laughing.

God, but doesn’t he sound so tender, so pretty when he pleads?

This isn’t normal, right? Like, what’s that saying about doing the same thing over and over? Right?????? And now there’s godforsaken tears pricking at their eyes and they can’t stop and - 

They need him to stop. They need him to shut up, and they need him out of their field of vision. But he keeps getting in front of them, putting his hands on them and Lee wants them off but they can’t feel their hands - 

Someone’s released an anguished, animalistic scream somewhere. Everything’s too tight. There’s arms caging them in, they need out, they need escape why are there arms fucking everywhere - 

“Fucking, ow!” Noah’s left hand flies up to nurse his jaw where they’d managed to catch him, but the right finds purchase in their hair immediately, like it’s an instinct, like it belongs there. He yanks, hard, forcing their face to his as he crowds them against the sink. 

There’s something grounding, calming in the pain at the back of their head, something reassuring in the way he’d tear their hair out at a moment’s notice. He’s so close they can smell the spearmint of the gum he’d been chewing under the liquor and smoke, nose nearly pressed to theirs. His hair tickles their cheekbones like a balm, like a promise.

He’s a vision of fury, all tightly clenched jaw and steely eyes, scrunched nose and furrowed brows. “What the fuck is your problem?” he sternly asks, voice quiet, chillingly flat.

An involuntary, scornful bark of a laugh escapes Lee’s throat. “You wanna know my problem? YOU’RE my fucking problem! I haven’t known a moment of peace since I met you!” they shout through their sob-torn throat. The dam bursts, there’s no stopping this train now, whichever metaphor you prefer. “You’re absolutely insufferable! No regard for anyone but yourself! You wanna know why people leave you in the dust and never look back? Because you’re the fucking worst! You’re a fucking mistake!”

Noah’s mouth twists that smirk again, the one Lee has been on the receiving end of too many times tonight, but there’s no joy behind it; his eyes are empty and cold and tinged red, omnipotent in the weight of his gaze. He doesn’t even need to say it. That cruel twist of his mouth is enough. Takes one to know one.

His lips are on Lee’s in an instant, barely connected for a second before he forces his tongue past their teeth, his free hand wandering anywhere he can reach. His hips push them into the porcelain, fingers brushing up the exposed skin of their belly, hand sliding overtop their binder. A harsh breath huffs out his nose as he passes a thumb over their hard nipple through the thick fabric, pulling a tiny, pathetic whine from Lee’s throat. 

There’s a beat when he pulls their head an inch back, hovering by their ear once more, hips giving a miniscule, barely there roll. Then, in a movement so quick Lee can barely acknowledge it happened, he rips their arm round their back, flipping them so fast they’d faceplant into the mirror were it not for the grip he keeps steady on their head, fingers tangled in their hair, nails digging at their scalp. Hips press them into the edge of the sink, fingers pull their head to his shoulder, the arch lighting a tight burn in their spine. 

Mirror Lee looks like roadkill, and Mirror Noah looks like the vulture circling round their corpse, towering over them voraciously.

He rolls his hard, clothed cock into the small of their back. “Look at what you do to me,” he croons. A hand trailing fingers dangerously slow up their bare leg. “Look at what a mess you are.” His hand trails lazily from their hair to their throat, nestling there like a puzzle piece fit into place, forcing their gaze on the mirror. “Look at you.” He trails kisses behind Lee’s ear, down their neck, the trail of saliva he leaves behind chilling in the stale air. “Look at you.” His fingers brush their belly. “Look at you.” A kiss on their pulse point. Lee lets out an anxious shudder at the fingers dipping below the waistband of their shorts.

His eyes snap to meet theirs in the mirror, and Lee’s screwed because Noah’s just caught them soaking wet. They can’t force themself to blink, to look away from Noah’s piercing gaze as he slowly, predatorily brings his mouth to their ear. Punctuated by a single flick of their clit, through barely-parted kiss-bruised lips, he whispers: “Slut.”

It’s then their mind catches up to their body, and as their face hits the cold, wet porcelain of the sink bowl, they realize they hadn’t fully caught their breath. They heave as the stoneware digs into the bottom of their ribs, muscles spasming over their whole body as they consciously force them to relax. 

The heel of his palm pushes at the base of their skull, his fingers tangling tight in their hair once more, and a single, foreboding finger whispers assurance as it runs down their spine. Cold air on their bare ass as he unceremoniously tears down their shorts and underwear in one fell swoop. His cock prods at their hole and they, body before mind, back against him. 

For the warmth, of course.

Nothing more. 

That’s definitely not their whine when he slides home with a single snap of his hips, when he pulls out nearly completely, when he snaps back home again with twice the force. 

Mercy. What a silly thought to entertain, what a silly plea to beg when you’re begging Noah. Noah doesn’t do mercy. That’s not his modus operandi. Noah winds you up, then puts you down. Like Lee is now. Down. Face down in the sink bowl. Like the stupid, stupid slut they are, in Noah’s own words. 

They’ll never get used to the stretch, they think, no matter how many times they fuck Noah. It might be the size of him (though they’ll never admit it to his face, lest it make him grow a second head for sheer lack of space from his already overly-inflated ego), or maybe it’s that he’s just there to get his, and no matter how he fucks - slow, fast, hard, gentle - he’s never thinking about them. And despite that, despite that he’s just jackhammering, shoving their face into the porcelain with force which will surely leave a bruise, the roll of his hips tells them someone cooked here.

There’s no tenderness in the dig of his short, blunt nails into the flesh of their inner thigh, woefully close to where they need him, nor in sticky snap of his hips against their ass, and certainly not in the merciless drag of his heavy cock against that rough patch in them which serves to topple them like a Jenga tower, slowly, shakily, then all at once. They’re so full. So empty. They’re a coin-operated doll, helpless to be broken down and sold for parts on the whim of a single man. 

They’re a wet mess, clit so swollen they think it might burst, hands a mess of numb pins and needles. They’re gonna be covered in bruises tomorrow, they’re gonna be so fucking sore when they pee, and for what it’s worth, this shouldn’t feel good at all, but Lee is so fucking close.

Embarrassing. 

When Noah’s hips stutter, when his grip releases their head just enough for them to turn their head, he’s got his bottom lip in his teeth and his eyes are squeezed shut and he looks so, so gone (or maybe it’s Lee who’s gone) in the flush of pink running from his cheeks down into his shirt. 

That’s not Lee moaning. They’re just trying to catch a breath. But, god, they’re right there, they just need something, they just need more - 

Noah freezes, collapsing on them with a short, quiet groan, burying his face in their neck. 

His breath is hot, wet, the weight of his heaving chest pressing their ribcage into the porcelain. There's barely a moment of peace before the fingers in their hair tighten once more, pulling their face up to meet his eyes in the mirror. 

All it takes is a miniscule shake of Lee’s head for his blissed out gaze to turn stormy once more, for him to drop to his knees.

It’s a race to the finish line the second Noah’s tongue touches Lee’s neglected clit. Quite possibly all their synapses fire at once, all their focus single-mindedly on the way he sucks them, on the calluses on his fingertips as he pads at their hole, on the vibration of a moan they can’t hear. 

Lee is jelly. They don’t need to be held down any longer, compliantly staying slumped in the sink, but the soothing scrape of Noah’s nails on their scalp as he presses two fingers in grounds them, turning any distracting thoughts to a static hum tuned to the note of fuck, Noah. 

All it takes is a single curl of his fingers, like the press of a button before they’re falling, trembling on an overdose of oxytocin into oblivion. 

With a final suck, Noah rises to his feet, bringing a deer-legged Lee with him. They’re dizzy, vision blurred as he turns them gently in his arms. Arousal-coated fingers pry their jaw open, and Noah comes into focus when his hand settles at their throat in an inky-fingered necklace. He forces Lee’s jaw open wider and spits, using the same hand to then cover their mouth. His eyes are wide and wild, rapt as he soothes the saltybitter spend down Lee’s throat. “Look at you, look at that dirty mouth,” he’s mumbling feverishly, voice still deep with arousal. “Look at you swallow that cum. Who else does it for you like this, hm? That’s right. Nobody. Only me.”

Lee chokes out a heaving breath, willing the tears that prick their eyes to not fucking fall, and he deflates, collapsing into their shoulder, arms dropping to circle their waist. “God damn, Leanne,” he sighs after a beat, dulcet and spent.

They glance down uncomfortably. His face is calm, unmarred by the everpresent lines and tension it usually carries, nose buried in their neck. “It’s Lee,” they say. 

At least he has the sense to look embarrassed. “Right. Lee.”  

They don’t clean themself up, they haven’t the energy. They let Noah pull up their shorts, shuffle them out the bathroom and out the back door, and walk them home. 

The streets are quiet, streetlights haloing the street corners in gold, everyone with any sense of decency long-retired to their homes. Lee wonders what they look like from a bird’s eye view, or from outer space, alone together in a grid of light. What do the stars think - would they shame Lee? Would they judge them? 

They stroll lazily, Noah’s arm draped round Lee’s shoulder. He looks so at peace, between the half-smile playing at his lips and the way the streetlights illuminate the lashes of his half-closed eyes. Something acrid bubbles in Lee’s chest. At least they get him like this, blissed out and pleasant before they never speak to him again. Before they never - 

No. They won’t think about that. Just remember this. 

Lee is halfway up the porch stairs before Noah yanks them back by the wrist, catching them from their awkward tumble into his chest. “Give me a call sometime, alright?” he mumbles, grazing the exposed skin between their shorts and shirt. “Don’t be a stranger.” 

Their heart stutters. It’s too sweet. It’s too nice. This isn’t right. “Whatever, asshole,” they say. Weakly. Unconvincingly. With the weakest push they’ve got, with no resistance from Noah, they start again on the stairs. 

He doesn’t pursue. 

“Call me whatever you like,” he laughs. “‘Long as you call me.” 

In the morning, through a blinding headache and a metric fuckton of hangxiety, Lee rushes to check their phone the second they pull their face from the pillow. 

Among the sea of texts from Noor and Mike, work emails, and bullshit app notifications, there it is: Stupid Silly Man: hey, asshole. My number is still the same, btw.

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