alyssarkive

[alyssarkive]

𝓒𝓡𝓨𝓑𝓐𝓑𝓨.      toji fushiguro.

pt.two for am i baby.

ᰔᩚ . . . 7.1k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, relationship building, baecation, outside sex, fluff, overstim /multiple orgasms, spanks, oral ꒰ f. ꒱, masturbation, hair pulling, domestication, size difference, daddy kink srry not srry, squirting, intimacyyy, sub / dom, alcohol consumption + heightened pleasure, unprotected, marathon sex lawd, pet names ꒰ baby, angel, girl ꒱, shyness bc toji’s intimidating, rough sex, small asphyxiation kink, dacryphilia, praise, minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ! ꒱ . . .yall i put my foot into this pls love meeeeeeeeee.

“where the fuck did it go?! toji, oh my god!” 

this was the last thing you needed to start off your vacation, being swallowed by a fucking eight-foot snake. while walking through the thick forest of the island the two of you resorted, you and toji decided to start the early afternoon off by gathering fresh fruits and vegetables for brunch. the sunlight barely peeks through the leaves of the large trees surrounding you, providing a cool shade from the hot temperatures. a rustling sound came from above halfway through your search, and low and behold, your eyes came into contact with an enormous viper coiled up in the tree with the damn bananas. your breath immediately catches in your throat as you clutch onto toji’s muscular arm, frightened by the sight. it’s clear you have a phobia he wasn’t aware of. 

“if i knew you were afraid of snakes, i would've never agreed to this.” 

a tiny screech from you makes the big man beside you invert his lips to keep down a laugh. it’s not funny that you’re scared, but the way you cling to him as if he’s supposed to choke slam the reptile cracks him up. “it’s not going to hurt you, babe. it’s in a tree.” 

“how do you know that?! you see how it looked at me? i can’t see where it went.” 

“i think it’s just minding it’s business. if it did want to eat you, i don’t blame him.” 

your frown deepens as you stare at him. “you’re not funny.” 

“i’m just saying you taste good . .” 

“don’t make fun of meeee!” 

“i swear i’m not. i’m trying to stay vigilant for you.” 

just as toji finishes speaking, your gaze falls upon the snake again, your heart skipping a beat as panic finally sets in. you freeze, breath catching in your throat as you stare at the tan reptile in horror.

“t-toji . ." you stammer voice trembling slightly as you reach out to aggressively grab his arm, nails digging into his skin. “it’s there. .” you whisper, your eyes wide with fear as you point towards the creature. “oh my fucking gosh, it's right there!” 

your frantic whisper draws toji to immediately react, his reflexes kicking in as he swiftly assesses the situation. the snake is indeed close by, it’s forked tongue flicking in and out as it tracks your movements slithering between branches, nearly camouflaging. without hesitation, toji wraps his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest and shielding you from potential danger. your eyes remain bulged, almost going into a state of shock. 

“stay close to me. don't look at it,” he orders firmly, his voice deep and authoritative as he stands between you and the serpent. “let's go back to the villa.” 

thankfully, toji managed to lead you back to the villa safely, the fear coursing through your veins such a pain. you hated those goddamn things. you wished they'd all go extinct.

a private villa in riviera nayarit, mexico, was one of the many dream destinations toji was willing to check off your list. surrounded by lush greenery teeming with wildlife and waters as blue as the sky. staying on a cliff top that overlooked the sea, open doors, daybeds on a terrace with a pool. the architecture and decor is stunning. high ceilings and ornate details. when you first arrived, a sense of awe washed over you, feeling like you were daydreaming. the room is filled with natural light, pouring in through the double sliding doors and shining onto the king-sized bed draped in silk sheets and velvet pillows. waves crashing against the shore creating a soothing background melody. it was truly the best gift you’d ever received. 

he wouldn’t tell you the total of anything, simply because you didn’t have to worry. he offered to treat you and that’s exactly what he did. you didn’t know how to repay him. you weren’t the best at receiving expensive gifts. of course liking it, but feeling guilty after. he’d reassured you multiple times that he did it out of his own kindness, and because he likes you. a lot, clearly. your heart calmed down the moment you stepped back into the villa, wanting to cook to get your mind off of it. the only excursion he had booked today was an atv ride and a day out in the food market, so there was plenty of time to unwind. 

“i need a shower,” he announces, nodding your head as you drop your fruits and veggies basket into the sink to prepare to wash them. toji drops his basketball shorts to the ground, pulling his black tee over his head until he's fully naked. 

“i’ll just get started on brunch!” 

you’d been craving a chicken cucumber salad, deciding to prepare that for the both of you since you know your diet is going to be shit from constantly eating out. you had to make a few things to keep your guts somewhat in shape. toji watches you in the kitchen, humming softly and bouncing in your spot as you turn your brain off. he couldn’t help but smile, this sight something he wouldn’t mind seeing every day. the weight of his footsteps is visceral, your body taking a screenshot when you feel his dick suddenly press against the curve of your ass, gasping when his arms wrap around you to rock the two of you side by side. 

“come shower with me.” 

“i, um . .” it's still so new being this intimate with someone who absolutely fucked the daylights out of you only a month ago. 

coaxing you into taking this vacation with him to further get to know each other. he's been busy with work, and you've been panicking over picking outfits and being alone with him for an entire week. that night even after the cameras shut off, he fucked you a good two more times before saying his goodbyes the following morning. so since then it’s just been facetime calls or small pop-ups where he'd bring a bouquet of flowers and fruits. even send you dinner when your days are too long and you've worked your ass off to afford the luxury studio you reside in. after everything, he still intimidates you. 

your chest begins to burn with anxiousness, gasping again when he lays open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his body practically swallowing yours from the significant size difference. his dick jumps against your backside, and you can’t help but moan from the feeling of his tongue gliding along your sensitive spot. his masculine scent enraptured you. 

“i'm hungry.”

“mhm, so am i.” 

you giggle lightly. “for food. i want food.” 

toji takes the hint and releases you, taking a step back as he recounts the feeling of your erratic heartbeat against his arm. his steel gray eyes rake your body from head to toe before chuckling. 

“you gotta week with me, baby. it's your decision to keep your legs closed if you want.” 

“that a threat?” 

“i didn't say that,” he smirks. 

his heavy footsteps hit along the floorboards as he chuckles and makes his way towards the open bathroom. you distract yourself by prepping the ingredients for your meal. slicing cucumbers and red onions into a glass serving bowl. the wooden cutting board you chopped along echoed loudly with each cut, your mind fading to thoughts as you listen to the shower running.

he’s rinsing away any lingering traces of sweat and dirt as he lathered himself in soap, hot water cascading over his built frame. you try your hardest not to watch, the kitchen island you used to chop at your food directly facing the glass shower. his body confines such a large space. your eyes roaming over his broad shoulders and strong arms covered in droplets and dark ink making your mouth go dry involuntarily. shifting in your spot even as you recall the feel of him pressed against you. flashbacks hitting you altogether. 

as toji continues to shower, he becomes increasingly aware of your attention on him, catching a peek to see you approaching where he stood. body moving without your say. he finds himself unable to fully repress the sensual pleasure that comes from being observed, dick swelling further as he realizes how intimate the situation has become. he lets out a soft groan, pushing deeper into the stream of water pouring down from above, trying to stay respectful to you. 

he knows you've been nervous about having sex with him again, not entirely sure why considering he’s had you in every position imaginable. but he wasn’t one to pressure you into it. if you wanted him, you could take him. he didn’t care. booking this trip wasn’t about that anyways. he wanted to spend time with you and get to know you further because he caught feelings unintentionally fast. things like that usually don’t happen for him, so when it did, he acted quick to show that person that he’s worth having. 

“don't just stare, get in here.” 

a jolt of arousal flows through your body, hesitating for a moment before deciding to stop being a pussy. using your thumbs, you hook them within the elastic band of your skims shorts to slowly drag down your legs, discarding the matching top along with it. biting your bottom lip, you watch as toji’s eyes sharpen as he glares at you, skin bare, hair flowing beautifully around you in dark curls. the freckles cast along your t-zone and thick, pouty lips he needed in his mouth desperately. taking a step forward, the cold stones beneath your feet make you jump, needing to get closer to the water to feel the heat. the steam envelops you instantly, droplets of water clinging onto your skin like tiny diamonds, nipples hardening under the cool air blowing in from outside. 

he goes to grab your face with both of his hands, moaning as he instinctively thrusts his hips forward, a squeak coming from you as his dick nudges against your mound. he groans, dark hair damp along his face, the water beating hard on his back as he bends to your level to aggressively connect your mouth with his. your eyes falter shut, gliding your lips to match his pace, toji pushing you up against the shower wall, the water streaming between where you two meet, kissing hard, almost suffocating as you gulp down the water. his hands are all over you, squeezing at your hips, then your ass to lift you closer so his dick slides between your thighs, brushing your clit. 

“let's focus on showering,” you giggle nervously, trying to catch your breath and pull away, but a hand around your throat pulls you back. 

“yeah, let's stop pretending.” 

you whimper in his mouth as he goes to kiss you again, this time it’s more passionate. rushing his tongue over yours slowly as he grips at your hips, rolling his forward. he goes to take both of your wrists to pin them above your head, locking you still with one hand before he’s lowering his head to suck on your neck. tongue brushing your warm skin and following with hard kisses. the ache between your thighs pursuing, unable to control your hips from rocking, moaning pathetically. toji decides to press his advantage, moving his mouth to your chest where he fondles and puts your tits in his mouth, sucking with a heavy groan. 

your body visibly trembles beneath his touch, and it only serves to drive him on further. he releases his mouth, and with one hand gripping your hip firmly, he reaches between your thighs with the other and starts stroking your puffy clit carefully at first, building up speed as he feels how wet you've become, soon slipping in his middle and ring finger to fuck you open. 

“goddamn, girl. you’re so tight. and pretty,” he looks down at you pinned against the wall, a mixture of desire and dominance etched onto his face. toji knows that he's taken control of this situation, and he relishes in the power he has over you right now. arching shockingly into his touch, the sensation makes your stomach flutter. 

“baby, no f-fair,” you stutter, crying out with your nails digging into his shoulders as you meet each of his powerful strokes with your own eager movements.

“how? you fuckin’ them back,” toji taunts with a smirk, rubbing against that sweet spot that instantly makes your nails dig into the back of his thick thigh. the squelch of your pussy echoes soundly in the area, fingers thick and fucking you good. clenching and keeping them deep within you. 

toji brushes his lips over yours, giving you a rough kiss before grunting in your face, forehead against yours. “let me taste your pussy.” 

you’ve come this far, so you might as well see it through. you nod your head in approval, trailing your hand up the side of his neck before brushing them through the damp coils of his hair, attempting to lower his face with need. he pulls you close to him by the backs of your thighs, taking a seat on the shower floor, your hand on top of his damp head to lower his face and gazing up at you with lidded eyes. lifting your right leg, he sets your foot on his shoulder, instantly dropping his mouth open to latch onto your throbbing clit as you roughly tug at his scalp. 

his heavy tongue sweeps over your cunt with tenacity, jaw widening to suck you entirely into his mouth, your moans vibrating in his ears like broken symphonies. you hold his head still to shift your hips and fuck his face, his salvia mixing with your arousal as he slurps and pulls on your clit with his soft lips, releasing with a pop before he’s raising your thigh higher to sink his tongue into you. lapping up all the juices that have accumulated there due to your arousal. toji’s other hand reaches around to grip your ass cheek, pulling you even closer against him so that there’s no chance of escape. 

his large frame takes up most of the space ensuring your safety, unworried of slipping. plus the rocks have pretty good support. he keeps your pussy firmly locked between his lips as he drops a hand to stroke his dick out of aching need, precum dribbling down its length. growling in pleasure, he takes his fingers to stuff back into you briefly, your gasps and whines make his dick jump as he uses your slick to lubricate his dick, gasping from the interaction. you’ve got him ridiculously turned on. 

“t-toji, babe—g’na cum. tongue feels s’good,” toji’s throbs within his fist he pumps roughly as he moans into your pussy. you listen to his hand connect wetly with his thighs, whimpering from it all. 

“good girl, give it to me,” his deep voice rumbles with fervor, tugging on his hair to anchor him in place so that he doesn't pull away from your cunt too soon. as he pounds into his palm relentlessly, toji’s eyes close tightly as he loses himself in the moment, letting out deep grunts of pleasure with each stroke.

you pant and gasp heavily, cumming in his mouth as he spanks you repeatedly, crying out his name and grinding on his face. body shaking from the intense orgasm he wrung out of you. it happens the same moment toji cums in his palm, groans overlapping yours as ropes of white splurt out and covers his knuckles. the view above him has his thighs tightening, your tits pressed to the glass wall making him stroke the head of his dick with a hiss, leaning his head back against the wall with awe. 

“you’re so goddamn pretty,” he murmured with ragged breaths, looking up with half-lidded eyes filled with desire and submission.

‎               𐦍 

hours pass after your fun in the shower, both deciding to forget about the brunch you planned to make and getting dressed to head out to explore the community. it began raining pretty heavily, getting a call from the atv company stating that they weren’t allowing people to ride today, and ensuring that you could come tomorrow. you weren’t pressed about it, wanting to have a chill day with him anyways. it’s dark out, but colorful lights are bright as toji leads you through the maze of streets and vendors, pointing out different ranges of food and drinks along the way. you stop at various stands, trying street food and drinks together, sharing laughs and intimate moments amidst the chaos of the busy marketplace.

you reach up to grab on to toji’s arm, pulling yourself closer to his side as you weave through the lively atmosphere. you loved the feeling of being protected by such a big, strong man. especially in such a chaotic environment where anything could happen. you savor every moment of your adventure, soaking up the sights, sounds, and flavors of mexico. you feel like you’re living in a dream, surrounded by toji’s protection and endearment. you don’t know if he caught on to it, quite frankly you were the only person on his mind, but lots of women stared at the two of you with envy and jealousy. women eyeing toji’s muscular frame and towering presence. it makes you feel proud and possessive, knowing that everyone is envious of what you have.

"i love this," you whisper to toji, leaning against him for support as you navigate through the crowd toward your next destination.

he smiles down at you, brushing the side of your face with his big hand before kissing your forehead. the two of you find a nearby restaurant, deciding to sit outside since the weather was nicer after clearing up. he had ordered you a strawberry daiquiri, which you drank in under five minutes, ordering another one while he sipped on his whiskey. the two of you hold hands across the table as you search through the menu, music playing loudly in the background, your body moving in the seat to the beat, the liquor finally catching on to you. 

“you’re such a damn lightweight,” toji shakes his head as he chuckles in enjoyment, watching you dance.

shaking your head, you giggle from the tipsy feeling you’re getting, staring lovingly into his eyes as you lean in closer. “they were sooo good though. i kind of want another one.”

“not until after you eat something. you only had churros and elote, sweetheart,” he protests, eyes skimming the menu. stomach leaning toward steak tacos.

“boo, you’re no fun!” you wave him off, attempting to break free from his hold until he’s using his strength to keep your palms interlocked, your body nearly yanking across the table from his strength, persistent on touching you.

toji grins, gently scratching the scar on the side of his mouth with his thumb. "mhm, you won’t be saying that when you’re whining about you being nauseous.”

“but you’ll take care of me, right, daddy,” the punctuation on the pet name had his jaw tightening, chuckling under his breath.

toji studies you, the curly updo you'd done exposing your round face so well, the baby blue of your strapless maxi dress accentuating your curves deliciously. the color radiating on your skin. white sandals on your bubble bath french toes. light makeup, only adding white to your waterline, dark liner on your full lips, and glitter over your matching blue eyeshadow and your body. you're truly his angel. toji rubs his thumb over the zodiac tattoo on your hand, lifting your hand to kiss your skin, smelling your vanilla scent.

“i always take care of you. you know that.”

your heart flutters at the gesture, feeling the blush in your cheeks.

"what? nothin' to say," he teases.

"shut it, i'm thinking," you pout.

"yeah? you thinkin'?" you screech when toji reaches around to grip the leg of your chair, holding on to his bicep while giggling wholeheartedly. he drags you to sit beside him, sliding his hand up the side of your soft face to bring it closer to his own.

"what are you doing," you whisper.

"taking care of you," he rubs the back of your neck soothingly before placing a rough kiss there, practically swallowing your neck.

he repeats on the other side before hovering his lips over yours, steel gray eyes intense before he wetly kisses you, the sound echoing between you two. you moan from the feel, the liquor making the feeling between your legs no better.

"so perfect," he mumbles, giving you one more kiss and pulling away. "you having fun, baby?"

"wha—huh?" you blink, his question coming random. the way he makes you feel is truly indescribable.

"the trip so far. its what you wanted, right? even with me?" it's serious the way he says it, wanting a genuine response.

"oh, yes, mhm hmm. of course i am. i really couldn't be more grateful."

"i know you're grateful, what i want to know is if you enjoy being with me," he clarifies.

his eyes are low as he stares at you as if he's nervous to hear what you say. he's the biggest teddy bear. you smile softly, running your fingers though his dark hair. "yes, toji—i do. love spending time with you a lot. and i think we've been connecting really well. you're really funny, and sexy, also so sweet, protective and all. just everything i want in a man, honestly. i’ve been having the best time here with you."

toji nods graciously. “i'm happy to hear that. you're an amazing woman, extremely beautiful with the biggest personality. and i’ve been enjoying myself as well. i see myself being with you.” 

"awe, you're such a cutie patootieee," toji groans as you kiss all over his face with an exaggerated 'muah muah'.

"don't call me that."

"muffin baby? teddy bear? baby boo?"

"nah," he laughs hard, shaking his head.

there was an item on the menu for couples that seemed to be a tourist special. when the waiter came out, there was an assortment of carne asada tacos plated on a heart-shaped wooden board with red roses planted in the middle along with a singular candle. you gasp in awe, squealing as you clap and immediately pull out your phone to document the memory. you glow in happiness, and it makes his heart warm.

you equally enjoy your food, almost moaning after every bite, ordering more drinks, and laughing in each other’s faces. the later it got, the more people arrived, a few couples dancing together within the brick road to sensual tunes. your tummy is full. toji pays the bill before helping you stand from your seat, kissing your face before grabbing a glass of water and forcing you to sip some for balance.

“drink some, don’t argue,” he holds the straw to your pouty lips, not wanting the buzz to lay off. you in fact ordered another daquiri.

huffing, you wrap your lips around the straw, holding onto his arm as you stare up at him past your lashes. toji ignores the rush of heat that pools into his abdomen from the way you look at him, glancing between your tits where your necklace swings as you swallow your water down until the glass is empty.

"gotta pee," you grumble.

"mhm, let's go."

toji secures your hand and walks you to the women’s bathroom, standing outside of the door for your safety and privacy. when your done, toji comes in to wash his hands before the two of you head back out, the area bustling.

"c'mere," toji's voice is hoarse as he pulls you with him to the middle of the street along with the other couples, wrapping an arm around your waist to press you close to his chest while his other sits low on your back.

"you can dance?" you raise your brow, his hands sliding up underneath your arms to entwine your fingers in the air, both arms raised as he chuckles deeply from your stunned face.

“just follow the beat, dance on me.”

deciding to just be in the moment, you begin to roll your hips to the loud thump of the beat, his larger frame tugging you along in circles. toji begins humming and singing in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and making your nipples unexpectedly harden beneath your dress. the alcohol in both of your systems making you equally sensitive. toji loses himself in you and the music, swaying gently.

“when the hell you learn spanish?” you say quietly, caught between embarrassment and arousal as his hands roam over your body sensually, moving closer to him and matching his movements.

“went to trade school in barcelona.”

as he continues to dance with you, toji's hands wander lower, subtly squeezing and massaging your ass over your dress. occasionally, he bites lightly on your neck or earlobe, leaving you gasping, face definitely hot. the sensation of his large palms gripping your ass makes you moan, arching your back slightly, pressing your breasts more firmly against his chest as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the music and the intoxicating closeness of embrace.

it wasn't anything out of the ordinary considering other couples were doing the exact same thing, the sensuality of touches and connection evident. your own hands slide up toji's muscular back tight in his black t-shirt, nails digging lightly into his skin as you cling to him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck, a soft moan escaping as he nips and kisses the sensitive skin there.

you turn in his arms, grinding your ass back against him, hips swaying seductively to the rhythm. your hands reach back to grab hold of his thighs, pulling him even closer until there's barely any space between you. in that moment, you can feel the hardness of his dick on you, toji groaning in your ear, both of you desperate to leave at this point.

"let's head back."

everything happened so fast. toji called for a car and the two of you tried your absolute hardest not to be obnoxiously inappropriate in the backseat. literally grinding, unnoticeably to the driver, in your seat as he clasps your neck and kissed you, equally intoxicated. 

“ima fuck you so bad,” toji grumbles as he kisses behind your ear, his heavy palm keeping your legs closed while he smooths his hand up and down. 

you giggle almost helplessly, raving in his infatuation for you, feeling like lovedrunk strangers. the thrill of withholding your passion in the backseat of an uber in a foreign country felt scandalous. a breath of air is released from you once you step into your villa, toji guiding you up the stairs so you don’t slip. the quietness of your home gives you goosebumps, the sober part of you realizing that it really is just the two of you. swallowing, you attempt to lessen your anxiety by distracting your brain. 

“ahh, come get meeee!” toji watches darkly as you screech loudly after removing your sandals, rushing out towards the terrace where the infinity pool resided, needing the fresh air since you felt so hot. 

taking a seat on the sunlounger, you turn your back to the brooding, intimidating man. heart thumping in your chest from the ominous silence as he approaches you. it felt like a replay of your first time. smiling like an idiot when you smell his cologne, staring ahead at the trees that blow in the warm air, the scent of the ocean comforting. his fingers graze your skin, and you try not to jump from his gruff voice directly by your ear. 

“why you runnin’ from me?” toji stands up straight, pressing your back to him, feeling the fabric of his dark jeans on your skin along with the imprint of his dick. your mouth begins to water. 

“told you to catch me,” you roll your neck back, whimpering when his hand goes to tighten around your throat, his body leaning over slightly to slide his hand down your chest, pulling down the top of your dress. 

you whimper from the air blowing on your skin, perfume flowing and nipples perk. he wants you so damn bad. “nah, be honest, baby. you still nervous?” 

you bite your lip from his harsh fondles at your tits, tracing down to your stomach while you heave. 

“huh? answer me, ꒰♡꒱.”

“mhm,” you groan, face going hot, not wanting to answer. “it’s stupid.” 

“what’s stupid?” now toji���s picking you up so your knees sit on the chair, keeping his chest against your back as he brushes his lips along your collarbone, leaving wet kisses that make you grind your ass back on to him. 

“it’s just—” you pause, toji’s lips on your jaw as he pulls your dress up to your stomach, moaning when he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, snapping the fabric of your panties on your skin. 

“just what, keep talkin’ to me,” you try to catch your breath, toji slowly pulling them down to the middle of your thighs just so he can touch your clit, a string of your juices disconnecting from the lace.

he kept his chin on your shoulder, letting you fall back into his hold while he reached to stimulate your clit, rough fingers being as gentle as possible as he rubbed your clit in circles, spreading your legs further, pleasure consuming you. your knees buckle momentarily, your sensitivity shockingly high. 

“it’s scary,” you moan, dipping your hips low into his palm, his fingers collecting your slickness by sinking them into you, your hand coming to grip the wrist that’s moving as he slips in and out. 

“what’s scary, angel?” as he’s fucking you knuckle deep with two fingers, guiding him as he does it while thrumming your clit with his thumb, you can hear the metal of his belt clink as he unravels the heavy leather.

“y-you—ah,” he goes to tangle his hand within your hair, creating a sturdy grip as he exposes your neck by pushing you down to arch your back.

toji slings his leg over the chair so he’s positioned right behind you, removing his fingers to trail up the side of your thigh and up to your hip where he squeezes then molds the flesh of your ass up to your waist. 

“i need a straight answer, ꒰♡꒱.” 

your thighs almost clamp shut in surprise from his dick rubbing in between, collecting the wetness within your folds, slowly rocking forward while keeping your head back by your hair. his mouth goes back on your throat, sucking and biting feverishly. 

whining from his teasing, you go to close your legs to add pressure to your clit and to feel him better as he rubs your pussy with only his dick. a hard swat on your ass makes you pause, whimpering and grinding back with impatience. toji pulls himself off of you entirely, smacking your ass once again before he’s situating himself underneath you, your thighs on either side of his head with his eyes on yours. he hits you again. tearing the lace panties off from your thighs, too impatient to move you again just to remove them.

“c’mon, come tell daddy,” he’s pushing you to sit on his face, your dainty fingers tangling within the midnight tresses of his hair to snag. 

blowing a raspberry, your hips stutter from his brutal kisses along your skin. planting open mouthed kisses along your inner thighs up to the side of your hips, his thick tongue tasting every sensitive part of you, besides the one you really needed him to. both hands coming up to squeeze at your chest as he licks and sucks right above your clit, tongue just barely grazing it. you were only making this harder for the both of you. he would’ve fucked you twenty minutes ago. 

“babe,” it’s becoming too much for you, trying to force his face closer to your pussy, needing him desperately. “i just need you. more than i’ve ever needed anyone. it’s so—so different with you. you fuck me so good, and i like you so much it scares me.” 

toji stares at you with visible arousal, that turns him on more than you’d ever know. placing his hand on your lower back, you arch forward, tits against the sunlounger and shoving you on his awaiting mouth. your gasp echoes in the night, listening to your slick drip on his tongue mixing his salvia with it as he rushes it along your pulsating clit. you cry, having a deadlock on the top of the chair while falling forward onto his face. his nose is smushed to your tummy, breathing hard as you ride his face drunkenly. 

“ooo, shit daddy,” the squeals emitting from you are so cute he can’t help but spank you again, pushing your ass up to mold to your hips again so he can reach every part of your pussy, bouncing his head up and down, grunting in you. “mhmm, i love how you eat it, baby. love it.” 

his lips wrap around your clit to suck hard, pulling her free and slurping you up all around, tongue eventually sliding into your warm hole where the sweetness intensified, only making him greedier. 

“fuck, angel,” he sputters against your pussy, mouth enclosing repeatedly on your clit while he pushed your ass forward so you can properly fuck his tongue. 

you lift your right leg to balance it beside his head, rotating your waist and inching further down on his tongue, eyes squeezing shut with your mouth agape. “toji—yesss. ooh, that’s it baby.” 

a hiccup falls from you, whimpering as you grind on his face, feeling your orgasm approach. you push harder against him, encouraging him to go faster and deeper with his thrusts. he’s fucking you with his tongue like he’d fuck you for real. curling and dipping it deep, swallowing all of your cum. with trembling legs, you watch as he wraps his arm around your waist while holding your thigh to the side of his face, slightly sitting up to kiss sloppily at your pussy faster. jaw clenching the wider he dropped his mouth open to taste you, moaning roughly. 

your toes curl as you cum in his mouth, unable to speak, only breathe after a few seconds of silent but heavy breathing. you cry out, fisting his black hair and rocking a few more times just to keep feeling his tongue on you. 

“fuckin’ good girl,” toji gruffs, smacking your ass again before he's lifting up both of your weights, putting you back on your knees so he can crouch behind you. 

he makes you lay fully on your knees, your cheek on the chair with your ass high up. holding on to either side of the furniture, you weakly smile up at him as he removes his jeans, placing one foot up as he comes behind you, kissing up your spine which makes you arch into your knees, shuddering. 

“you’re such a crybaby, y’know that?” his buff right arm comes to lock around your neck, kissing your cheek before reaching for his dick, rubbing the tip up and down your slit and finally to both of your praise, sinking into you. 

his enormous body looms above you, lowering himself on your ass, straddling your thighs and holding onto the edge of the lounge chair for extra balance. your whines are extremely loud, nails digging into his forearm that chokes you, his heavy dick fucking you deep. 

“you’re so damn adorable, i love handling you,” with every thrust he’s grunting by your face, his sharp hips hitting the flesh of your ass, recoiling from every harsh pound. “did all that shit jus’ to tell me you like fuckin’ me. you like being ‘round me. i told you that shit earlier, angel.”

your pussy’s throbbing so badly for him, tiny squeals pouring from you as his thick dick engulfs you, toji fucking you faster the more noises you make. they drive him insane, driving his dick deep, strokes steady but rough. his big body trapping you beneath him, strong muscles encasing you.

“ooo, f—uck baby,” you gasp for air as toji tightens his grip around your neck, your vision going blurry, eyes rolling into the back of your skull from how good he’s fucking you right now. the minor strangulation courses through your body and aims right for your clit, his voice by your ear and his heavy drops making you lose your mind.  

your hands claw at the fabric of the sunlounger, gripping onto it tightly as toji fucks you, dick sinking into your pussy over and over again. each thrust sends waves of pleasure rippling through your core, intensifying the sensations already coursing through your veins.

“let daddy know if he’s too rough.” 

toji’s voice becomes more primal, his words becoming indiscernible as he focuses solely on driving his dick into your quivering pussy, breathing erratically. 

“fuck no, want you rougher,” you grin sheepishly, slurring your words. 

you love how rough he is with you, never holding back when he knows you really need it. begging for it will give it to you every time. every slap of skin on skin, every grunt and groan from toji sends another wave of ecstasy crashing through your body again, clenching and pulling on his dick as if he’d let go. toji hisses, releasing his arm from your neck to spank your ass.

“yes baby, yes yesyesyes —agh fuck.”

“yeaaa, that’s it, angel. keep cryin’. dick got you cryin’ so good. fuckin’ love that shit. mmmm.” 

your gasps come out like weak shudders, lips quivering as you whine and scream. 

“fuck, girl. you’re so fuckin’ needy,” toji is stunned by how sensitive you are. your cries are a surprise, yet he’s turned on. liquor turning you into the neediest girl. 

toji bends down to give you his face, draping your arm around the back of his neck to keep his skin on your back, the prickles of heat comforting you. lips melding together in a desperate share of pleasure. 

“fuck me more.” 

toji manages to let out a chuckle, slipping his dick out to pull you down, laying you flat on your stomach while he hovers behind you. 

"takin’ that shit like such a good girl, aren't you?”

he starts to move, his hips driving forward relentlessly, his balls slapping on your thighs with each powerful thrust.

“your dicks s’so big, baby,” you whimper, feeling his girth stretching your pussy wide open, “i can’t . . you’re fucking me deep.”

you bite your lip, trying not to scream too loud.

“unh uh, you was doin’ all that screamin’ before. don’t stop that shit, girl,” toji grits his teeth, rolling his hips faster, each stroke hitting your spot with precision. 

the occasional muffled curse words slip out between bitten lips, squirting hard and with every clap of your ass back onto his veiny hips, you cover his abs with your slickness. your legs are shaking, tearing up as you cry and he refuses to let up his rough pivots. 

“f-fuck, baby, you’re mine. you’re mine, daddy,” you declare, teary eyes scrolling back into your head from every harsh pound. nobody else can have him, you fucking refuse. 

“am i yours?” he teasingly asks, sweat building up on his forehead, abdomen fluttering. 

“yes . . you’re mine,” you whisper with a pout, teary eyes scrolling back into your head from every harsh pound.

"i don’t think so, girl,” toji murmurs, his voice disapproving. "doesn’t seem convincing enough.”

“please toji, i’m yours,” you beg, tears streaming down your face as he continues fuck you harder. “yours, baby. yours.” 

your voice is barely above a whisper, words punctuated by gasps and moans as he fucks you senseless. you’re completely broken, utterly submissive to his will. toji laughs at your fervent declaration, feeling a sense of control, knowing you’ve completely given yourself to him. mind, body, and fucking soul. 

"swear it then," his voice firm.

he pulls out briefly before holding your ass apart to slam back inside with harder force than before, fucking himself deeper time and time again. you’re sucking him in so good he can’t help but throw his head back, adam’s apple strong in his throat as he hums, patting the side of your ass to watch you consistently squirt. 

“i swear!” you cried out, your voice breaking as he pounds into you, “i swear ‘m yours! ‘m yourss!” 

"good fuckin’ girl," toji rasps, his voice dripping with lust. "now lemme hear you scream that shit.”

“o-ohh god, toji!” you scream, your voice echoing the surrounding area. 

"that's right. want the whole fuckin’ villa to hear that pretty ass voice fucked out f’me,” toji growls, his voice low and menacing.

“fuck, toji!” you yell, voice raw and hoarse, entire body trembling harder than it ever has, legs going numb. 

you’re close, so fucking close, and you want it—need it, desperately. “tojiiii."

“tell me what you need, angel.” 

you arch your ass up to meet his rhythm, eager for more. toji grunts, picking you up to sit himself up on the chair, laying your back to his chest as he scoots down and holds you up by the backs of your thighs. your palms are flat on his chest behind you, tossing your head back as he fucks up into you, your tits bouncing roughly from every hard, greedy, steady pound. 

“thank you, thank you.”  

your words are punctuated by gasps and moans, toji stretching your pussy open around his girthy shaft. tears stream down your face as you cum for the final time, moaning and grinding your ass down when you notice toji’s getting weaker from rutting in you. his calloused hands are rough on your hips, grinding you back and forth as his eyes scroll back and he cums inside of you, panting heavily and leaning his forehead on your sweaty back. 

“fuck me.” 

toji kisses your back to soothe you, rubbing your stomach and gently laying you on his chest. he almost wants to laugh that you were drifting off to sleep, kissing your face before lifting you up to get you cleaned and put to bed.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[alyssarkive]

bunny bimbo. tengen uzui.

warnings … fem!reader, bimbo!reader, pet name usage <bunny, baby>, finger sucking, hair pulling, size difference, dilf!tengen, tengen is in his thirties while reader is twenty, outside sex, truck sex, rough play, voyeur, breeding, black coded, filming w/o consent, camgirl!reader.

mocha’s note … saw someone with this truck the other day and couldn’t get it out my head. i love men who drive nice ass vehicles. wanna be fucked in a pickup truck. *pouts*

“hi, mister! i was wondering if you’d let me wash your car for my college’s charity event.”

to be honest, tengen wasn’t oblivious to your clear intentions. you came knocking on his pristine white door with a cheery smile on your doll face as you swayed side to side in your revealing attire. he’s well aware it’s nearly seventy degrees out, but for you to be wearing high waisted black spandex that had the bottom of your ass hanging out, along with a tight strapped hot pink top that sat just at your ribs was kind of overdoing it. holding your bucket with a yellow sponge inside, bouncing on your tip toes in your black and white converses when you see how attractive the man is, thinking you definitely scored.

Keep reading

[alyssarkive]

˚ʚ Fix Me, Fuck Me ɞ˚

❦Southern!Handyman!Reiner Braun x Bimbo!fem!reader ❦

✿ Contents: porn with a bit of plot , readers hair is curly , she has full lips, reader is a Bimbo.. just reiterating that , sex between strangers , fingering , oral (female receiving) , mentions of creaming and squirting , pnv sex , unprotected sex , creampie , spanking , mirror sex , light spit kink

✿ Note from Winter: I'm sorry this, as usual, took absolutely forever to get done, but I hope you guys enjoy it! ♡

6.7k

It was early on a Thursday morning.

The second you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the warmth of the yellow sunlight that beamed into the large bedroom window through the white, lace curtains before illuminating the blush colored walls.

The birds were chirping happily outside, one of them perched on the dark balcony railing as it sang to the others.

You sigh, sitting up, feeling the plush mattress dip beneath the shift in your weight before throwing the quilted comforter off of your lap. Just as you're about to get up, you hear your phone ding, the sudden noise interrupting the peaceful morning making you jump softly.

When you look at the screen, it shows a notification that the bookshelf you'd ordered weeks ago had finally arrived. You excitedly got out of bed, making your way to the bathroom quickly to ready yourself for the day.

Once you'd gotten ready your body was covered by your favorite pink dress and your hair was adorned by a white scarf that pushed your curly hair back from your face, instead allowing it to fall down your back except for the two strands you kept out in the front.

You looked in the large mirror, admiring your appearance before leaning forward a bit to look at yourself closer, applying a layer of lip-gloss to your full lips and decorating your ears with the large hoop earrings.

"Pretty." You says happily in your mind, giving yourself one last look over before grabbing your phone from the bed and making your way down the marble-tiled hall to the curved staircase that welcomed you to the vast entryway of your beautiful home.

The crystal chandelier above scattered tiny rainbows onto the marble floors as the sunlight bounced off each swaying piece of glass.

You rush to the dark wooded double front doors, opening them happily to be welcomed by the large box you'd been waiting oh so impatiently for.

You grab the box in a tight hug, attempting to move it only for it not to budge an inch. You release it with a sigh and a pout of your lips, placing your hands on your hips.

"Who knew a bookshelf could be so heavy.." you mutter to yourself, thinking about how you were going to get this box inside.

You walk back into the house, grabbing the phone you'd tossed onto the couch, staring at the search bar for a moment before typing "people who can move heavy things and fix things near me".

"Handyman.. that's what it's called.." you say softly, scrolling down the recommended pages as it pops up.

"Braun's Handyman Services..", you read out as you click on it. "hm.. says he's only ten minutes away, so.." You shrug before tapping on the link and getting the phone number.

You text the number, plopping down on the soft couch after sending the text.

Right on time, you see a truck pull into your driveway, a man getting out, a very handsome man in fact.

His blonde hair was short and his frame was quite tall and muscular, like he was crafted to be in a museum. He was dressed in a nice fitting white t-shirt and jeans that fit him just right.

You watch him walk up to the door, so lost in your admiration of his appearance that he had to knock quite a few times before it registered in your occupied mind that you should probably go open it for him.

"Oh!" you exclaim softly, rushing to the door, swinging it open with an awkward laugh.

"Sorry.. almost forgot I needed to open the door.. I like heard you knocking but my brain was like "what's that noise??" you say, rambling a bit as you looked up at his welcoming face, a gentle smile plastered on his lips as he looked down at you, his eyes almost like honey as the sun shined into them.

"That's quite alright ma'am.. this the box you were referrin' to in your text?" He says almost like he was trying not to laugh as he looks down at the unusual text you'd sent to the number on the website.

It included a picture of the box and no other words other than, "Big heavy box, help please. :)"

You nod, "Mhm, it's a bookshelf. I tried to move it but it's heavier than I thought it'd be.. didn't budge an inch."

You move out of his way, retreating back into the house, turning to see him lift the box as if it weighed nothing, putting it on his shoulder and walking inside.

"Anywhere in particular you want it?" He asks as he stands there with the box.

"Yeah, just right over there by the swan.. goose?.. statue.. I always get those confused.." you say waving your hand dismissively at the expensive decoration.

He looks over to the corner, with the fancy glass table and chair, noticing the large open space next to the statue and he gives a small chuckle as he makes his way over, placing the box down gently.

"Swan's a good guess." He says, laying the box flat on the floor and pulling the box cutter from his tool belt after he removes it from his waist and lays it out on the floor.

He carefully slices the box open and begins to pull out the pieces of finely carved bookshelf, the outer panels of it were decorated by fancy lines and intricate designs carved into the costly wood.

"This is a nice bookshelf." He comments on the intricate design, brushing his fingers over it softly.

"Thank you, I designed it myself.. wanted it to look like those fancy bookshelves in rich people's houses that are filled with all those old-fashioned, expensive books they never read."

He looks at the instruction book before grabbing two pieces beginning to screw them together.

"You read yours?" He asks without looking over at you as you'd made yourself comfortable on the fluffy white rug, watching him. You sit on your knees, smoothing out the short dress, placing your hands in your lap politely.

Your eyes are focused on his forearms, noticing the veins that protruded down to the top of his strong hands as he held the piece of wood in place.

"..No." You say softly in response to him. You hear him scoff, a smirk on his lips as he reaches for more screws, amused by your answer.

"Oh! I bought separate knobs for the cabinets at the bottom too.." You say excitedly moving to the table across the room to grab the bag with the knobs in it before hurrying back and handing it to him.

"They're sparkly." You say happily, watching him move the bag, watching the knobs glitter dramatically in the light.

"Well you've got a good eye for design. You always this passionate about furniture?"

"Only when it's pretty and I can get a handsome man to come put it together for me." You say, voice as sweet as sugar.

He stills his screwing for a second, looking up at you before looking back at the shelf, continuing.

"That so?"

"Mhm." you nod watching him continue to put together the tall bookshelf with ease, like he'd put this custom piece together time and time again before.

"You're quite bold, Miss Y/N."

"Was that bold? Oh.. I was just being honest. Whoops."

"Nothing wrong with honesty." He reassures warmly.

Another 20 minutes go by and you and Reiner continue your small talk, conversation paused by a few short moments of comfortable silent.

He finishes the bookshelf, wiping it off carefully before placing the screwdriver back in his toolbelt.

"All finished, ma'am."

You stand and clap your hands together happily.

"Oh my.. it's so much prettier than I imagined!" You exclaim happily, trailing your eyes over the shelves, all the way down to the glittery handles you had him put on it instead of the dull, boring ones it came with.

"You wanna test it out? See how well it holds?" He says, his voice tearing your gaze away from the bookshelf as you turn to look at him, a look of confusion on your face."

"You mean like.. sit on it?"

He looks at you slightly dumbfounded, blinking slowly.

"Uhh.. well I meant the books. Like you can put your books on it now."

You feel heat flood your cheeks for a moment as you move to start gathering the books that sat on the floor.

"Oh! Right, duh.. I was just kidding."

He laughs softly, crossing his arms as he stands back watching you place the books on the shelves before placing some other items on top and in the drawers at the bottom.

"You know.. you're really something else." He says.

Once you finish you step back, admiring the shelf now filled with your books.

"It's beautiful. Thank you." You cheerily give him your gratitude, smile plastered on your face.

"It's no problem at all, Miss. Is there anything else you wanted me to look at while I'm here?"

You turn to him, crossing your arms, thinking.

"Hm.. well I bought a new chandelier for my bedroom but.. I wanna paint my walls before I put that up so.. oh! My coffee maker.. it's messed up.. like really messed up. I think it might be like possessed or something." You say waving your hand dismissively as you make your way to the kitchen.

"A possessed coffee maker?" He says, following behind you, walking into the large, open kitchen and to the coffee maker.

"Yeah it like.. growls at me or like a hissing.. it's creepy. really.."

He turns it on hearing the noise you were referring to before he pulls it forward a bit taking the back off of it.

"Have you been cleaning it?" He asks, looking at the back of it.

"Wait.. you have to clean it?? Like yourself? I thought that's what the hot water was doing.." You say, glossy lips slightly pouted, genuine confusion on your face.

"No ma'am.. the hot water is just for brewin' the coffee. I suppose that's what's wrong with it so I'll just clean it for you, should be good as new, alright? Got any vinegar?"

"Yeah.. strange choice of drink though.. I have other stuff.." you say softly, slight disgust on your face as you move to the cabinet to pull out the vinegar giving it to him.

"It's for the machine." He says as he takes it from you.

"Oh."

He rinses out the coffee maker with vinegar after realigning the tube that had popped out of place.

When he turns it back on the noise is gone, machine running smoothly.

"Wow! That's all I had to do? You're like a magician."

"I don't know about all that.. she just needed a good vinegar rinse.. might wanna let it run a couple more times before drinking any coffee from it though. Just to make sure all the vinegar taste is gone."

You figured he'd be getting ready to go soon but you really didn't want him to, hurriedly thinking of something to say to him.

"Uhh.. if you want.. I can make you a cup of coffee that won't taste like poison.. or I have lemonade, sweet tea, water... snacks.. lotta stuff.. I have goldfish.. they're cute.."

He picked up on you trying to stall him from leaving and decided he'd take the bait.

"Sweet tea is fine, I think I'll hold off on the goldfish though."

You smile happily, moving swiftly to grab a cup, putting him a bit of ice in it before opening the fridge, pouring him a glass of tea.

"Here you go."

He takes the cup from you giving a nod.

"Thank you."

You give him a timid smile in return. "No problem.. least I could do after you put together my bookshelf.. and fixed my coffee maker."

"So have you always been good at screwing things?" You ask hopping up to sit on top of the marble island in the middle of the kitchen before you look back at him.

He's standing there looking at you, the cup paused at his lips.

"Oh.. fuck.. I mean like have you always been good with your hands? I mean like fixing things with like screws and your hands and stuff.. not like that kind of.. screwing.." You ask, quickly trying to fix what you said.

He swallows the tea, sitting the cup on the counter he was leaned against before crossing his arms with an amused look in his eyes.

"Well.. that was somethin'."

You mentally facepalm. "Sorry.."

He smiles and waves his hand.

"I'm just teasing, no apology necessary." He says making you relax a bit before he continue speaking.

"I suppose I always had a thing for it. Started by taking things apart and puttin' em back together when I was a kid. Bicycles, music boxes.. stuff like that."

"That's impressive, I could never do something like that. I'm not exactly good with tools and such."

"What are you good at? Other than accidental innuendos?" He asks.

"You're not gonna let that go, huh? Hm.. well.. I'm good at design.. making things look pretty.. oh and shopping.. I'm really really good at that."

He looks around the kitchen, the living room visible from where he stands.

"I see. It's quite beautiful in here. Looks like a palace for a pretty little princess." He says, his eyes moving to you, not missing how pretty and soft you looked.

The way he looks at you makes your heart flutter softly before you look around, proud of the way your house turned out.

"Thank you.. I put a lot of time into it.."

"I can tell.. got your kinda vibe to it. Soft. Feminine."

"Suppose that is my vibe huh? I really hope I'm not keeping you up.. I know you probably have other houses to get to.." You say a bit of disappointment in your voice.

"Nah.. I'm actually not even supposed to be working today.. I just took this one when I saw the message come through. Feeling it'd be worth it, I suppose."

"Was it?" You ask looking at him as you sit on the countertop, drinking from your own cup.

"Definitely, never quite met anyone like you, ma'am."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He smiles, finishing the cup of tea.

"Well. I suppose I should get outta your hair.." He says, his gaze pointed downward at the cup, thumb brushing against the decorated glass.

You pout a bit feeling your heart sink at the words.

"Do you have to go? I can find something else to break to make you stay.."

He looks at you, raising an eyebrow with a playful grin.

"Really? Gonna tear up all your pretty stuff just to keep me here?"

"If it'll work.. I'm really good at breaking stuff.. wouldn't take long."

He looks at your legs, thighs peeking from the bottom on the dress as the sweet smell of your perfume flutters through the air, filling his nose.

"You know.. you're a dangerous kinda woman.."

"How's that? I don't have any weapons or anything. Do you think I'm trying to keep you here to hurt you?"

He laughs are the look of genuine fear on your face, shaking his head.

"Not what I meant, ma'am. Just mean you got me over here to fix your bookshelf.. your coffee maker.. can't help but wonder what else you'll tempt me into puttin' my hands on.."

You look down at the dress, fingertips coming up to play gently with the edge of it that lays across your thighs, honestly a bit relieved that he didn't think you'd try and hurt him.

"Oh.." You look down at your hands that are rested in your lap.

From your peripheral you can see him beginning to move closer to you, the slow sound of his boots hitting the tiled floor almost sounded thunderous, a noise that for whatever reason sent butterflies straight through your stomach, a feeling of warmth following close behind.

He stops in front of you and although you don't look up, you feel him standing there, tall and broad. His presence makes you feel smaller, it's intimidating.

He sits the cup on the countertop next to you, the sudden clink of the glass startles you a bit and you look up at him.

"You alright, darlin'?" He asks calmly, his voice softer than it was just moments ago.

You nod, eyes drifting around his face, taking in his features as you see him for the first time this close. You notice the tiny scar near his eyebrow, the definition in his cheekbones, the arch in his nose, the few light freckles scattered scarcely across his cheeks, more so on the right half of his face than the other, and you notice the mesmerizing golden flecks in his irises as the sunlight bounces off of them.

"I'm alright." You finally respond softly, the tension between you two made your body feel ten times heavier, like you could no longer move. Your heart raced and you feel like maybe you should move but you really didn't want to.

"Don't get all timid on me now.. you were the one asking if I was good at screwin'. If that's not flirtin' I'm not sure what is, princess."

You can't help the smile that ran across your face as he brought up the comment you'd made again.

"I didn't mean.. I mean..," you voice trails off slightly, "..you didn't say no."

He lets out an amused scoff and grins playfully in return, "No.. I didn't."

A quiet moment follows. It was heavy but not in the uncomfortable way. Heavy in a way that made it feel like with each breath you took it somehow became harder to breathe. It was intense, a feeling you hadn't felt in a while, or maybe ever.

You weren't sure if the feeling was purely from the heat of the moment, the nerves, or from the way he was looking at you like he was already fantasizing about the way you'd taste if he buried his face between your thighs.

You tilt you head, giving him an innocent smile as you spoke.

"So.. is that like a yes.. a maybe?"

He takes a step even closer, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against your knees as his hand comes up to pull lightly on the curl you left out, watching it bounce back into place.

"What do you think it is?"

While you want to think of a clever reply to give him, his close proximity takes over your brain filling your every thought with how intense the situation feels, how nervous he makes you, how much you want to take his hands and just put them right where you want them, the way he'd look at you when he slid in.

"Uhh.. I.. don't know but if you're trying to make me feel like I'm gonna explode then.. mission accomplished." You say, those words being the best response you could come up with in the moment.

He gives a chuckle in response, his finger still toying with the curl despite the fact that his gaze remained focused on your face.

"Explode? I haven't even touched you yet, baby?"

His hand comes down from your hair, his gaze finally moving down to the part of your thighs that's not covered by the dress as his fingers brush against your skin softly.

"I know.. crazy right?" You reply awkwardly, barely louder than a whisper.

"You gonna let me touch you?"

Your eyes move down to where his fingers touch you, watching as he grabs your thigh, squeezing it softly as his thumb rubs back and forth over the smooth skin.

"Mhm. I mean.. if it wouldn't you know be bad.. or get you into trouble.." Your voice softly begins to trail off, your heart beating like crazy.

"Darlin' I think it's already too late to worry about "trouble"."

"Right.." you say, fingers playing with the edge of your dress, unsure of what else to do with them.

He flattens his hand on your thigh, palm brushing higher up your leg until his fingertips just barely slip under the hem of you dress. His palm runs down between your thighs making your legs clamp shut, trapping his hand there.

He watches as your thighs squeeze his hand, not pulling it from between them.

"Want me to stop?" He asks, looking back up at you, meeting your gaze that lingered on him. "I'll step back.. just say the word."

Feeling as if your voice would fail you if you opened your mouth, you shake your head, not wanting him to stop.

"Alright then.. just relax for me." He says, voice lowering as he leans in, breath brushing over your neck as his lips just barely touch you.

Your thighs stay closed around his hand but he doesn't try to force them apart. Instead, you heard his voice, deep and smooth near your ear again.

"Relax.." He repeats.

The sound of his voice makes your legs relax, parting just enough for him to be able to move his hand.

He smirks against your skin, planting a soft kiss to your neck after he murmurs in soft praise, "There she is..".

He lets his hand trail up higher, heat from his palm spreading at your inner thigh as he squeezes it softly. He pushed higher slowly, giving you enough time to stop him if you want.

You don't, impatiently waiting for his hand to reach where you'd be craving it since the moment he walked in.

His fingers gently brush over the cloth of your panties covering your pussy, slipping further back slowly from your clit before he brings them back forward, earning a soft sigh of pleasure from your lips.

"Still okay?" He asks, lips parting from your neck just enough for him to speak.

You nod and he slides his hand into the top of your panties, feeling you bare against his fingers, you part your legs letting his fingers slip between your folds.

"Can't hear you." He mutters, sliding his middle finger inside slowly, paying close attention to the warmth of your walls spreading down his finger.

"Mm.. yes.. I'm okay.."

"Good girl."

He pulls his finger back out, circling the now wet digits around your hole before sinking it back in, slowly adding his ring finger along with it, feeling you stretch around them.

You bring your hand up to his shoulder, gripping the t-shirt lightly; your other hand moved to the back of his hair, fingers threading through the short locks as his continuing licking and kissing your neck, tongue brushing along your skin every now and then as his slightly parted lips pressed kisses at your neck.

"Oh, now you wanna touch me?" He grins, his fingers pushing deeper inside you, curling to hit that spot before he drags them back out and up to your clit, spreading the heat from your juices around the sensitive bud just to slide them back down and inside you once again.

You moan, gasping softly as your fingers curled in his hair making him chuckle at your response.

He kisses up your neck, to your jawline and your cheek before he softly captures your parted lips with his.

He sucks your bottom lip gently, biting it before pulling back just enough to come in again, your lips pressing together in a few soft, slow kisses.

He doesn't stop the movement of his hand, the veins in his forearm becoming more prominent as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt.

Each quiet moan is captured by his lips. He lets out a soft groan of his own, loving the way you sit there in the pretty dress with your legs spread letting him finger you like this. The smell of your sweet perfume and the taste of your strawberry flavored chapstick make his head spin like crazy.

He quickens the movement of his thick fingers just to pull them out and up to the clit, spreading the warmth. He does this over and over again, pulling soft moans from your mouth each time his fingers brush past the sensitive bud before sinking back inside you.

Your lips part softly, unable to keep up with his as his fingers move. He can't help but grin, feeling your fingers tighten their grip on his shirt. He moves his lips to your cheek and back down to your neck, trialing soft kisses.

Your soft moans near his ear sound like the most beautiful melody, sending chills down his spine.

"Fuck.. you sound so pretty.."

He pulls his fingers from you slowly, standing back straight again as he brings them to his lips. Your eyes focus on his, pleasure still written all over your face as your eyes move down to his lips, watching him take the messy fingers into his mouth.

The taste of your warm juices on his fingers makes his already hardening cock twitch against the rough fabric of the jeans.

You feel your stomach tighten as you watch him, anticipation feeling the air as he slowly pulls his fingers from his lips, swallowing the taste of you.

You mouth slightly waters at the sight, his lips glistening slightly from a mixture of your cream and his own saliva.

Your hands run up his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles before they curl in the soft material of his shirt, allowing you to tug at him, silently asking him to come closer.

He takes a step toward you, standing right in front of the countertop with your legs spread to each side of his.

He looks down at you, gaze full of want as he feels your hand run upwards over his chest and to his broad shoulders as he plants his hands on your hips, fingers rubbing over the dress softly.

Your hands finally make their way up into the back of his hair, slightly scratching at his scalp as you pull his lips down to yours, kissing him softly before sucking his bottom lip, tasting yourself.

You hum at the flavor on his lips as he brings his tongue out to meet yours, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

His hands reach down to your ass, pulling you even closer to the edge of the counter, your body closer to his.

He brings his hands down to your thighs, his hands rough compared to your soft skin as his runs them up beneath your dress, hooking his fingers into your panties.

"Lift up." he says, pulling back from your lips.

You lift yourself from the counter just enough for him to pull your panties down letting you slip your feet from them.

As he holds the material he looks at them, fabric in the middle slightly darker from your arousal as he smirks, bunching them up in his hand before stuffing them in his pocket.

"Hm. You won't mind if I keep these, right?" His voice more so telling you you won't mind rather than asking.

He runs his hands back down the outside of your legs, reaching down to your ankles as he pulls your legs upward swiftly, making you fall back to your elbows on to wide island with a giggle from the unexpected, quick shift in position.

"Reiner.." you say softly, watching him take your foot in his large hand, bringing your leg up as he turns his head to the side to gently kiss at the skin just above your diamond anklet.

"Mhm?" He hums quietly, not stopping the soft kisses he continues to plant up your leg slowly, eventually reaching your calf, then your thigh.

He spreads your legs open, the fabric of the dress lifted just enough to give him a view of your wet cunt.

"Your pussy's so pretty.." He says just before leaning down, his mouth right above you.

"Can I?" He asks, breath fanning out over your cunt, making your hole clench around nothing.

"Yes.." you tell him in an airy, soft tone.

He doesn't waste another second, bringing his hands up, thumbs spreading open your lips before he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking the tip of it over your clit slowly, making your legs jump.

He grins, twirling his tongue over your clit and sucking it gently between his soft lips before he releases with a soft pop.

"Mm.. you taste just as damn good as you look.." He mutters, warm air fanning out over your soaked cunt providing a cool sensation that's soon replaced by his eager tongue.

His hands move to the backs of your thighs, pushing you spread legs higher giving him better access to your pussy before he dips his tongue in your warm hole feeling the walls quickly clench around his tongue.

He pulls his tongue back out, dragging it flat back up to your clit, feeling your slippery folds part underneath welcoming his tongue between them as it travels back to your clit, circling it before moving back down and sinking into you once again.

You breath comes out in a soft gasp, lips parting as your legs twitch beneath the strong grasp of his rough hands.

He lets out a low hum in satisfaction as he eats you out hungrily, licking, sucking, and slurping at your pussy.

He brings one of his hands down from your thigh, sinking his middle finger into your welcoming hole once again, dragging it out to the tip just to sink his ring finger in alongside it. He pulls back just enough to watch his fingers slide in and out of your walls, juices coating the digits heavily.

He's entranced by your soaked pussy and the creamy streaks it leaves on his fingers. The lewd, wet noises your walls make each time he retracts his fingers and your soft, whimpering moans are music to his ears.

He brings his other hand up to plant it flat on top of your mound, thumb pressing into your clit, massaging slow, deep circles over it while his fingers continue to slip in and out of your pussy. He's spreading them when he pushes them deep to stretch your hot, plush walls around them, twisting his wrist to curl the tips of them up into that spot inside you as he watches cream gush out a bit with each outward drag.

"Shit.. could get addicted to this pussy.." He mutters more to himself than to you before sliding his fingers out leaving you feeling empty as he sucks them clean.

He stands back up, seeing you lying on the elegant countertop with your legs parted still, a look of need and lust in your eyes.

He leans down over you, one hand holding his broad form over you, the other slipping beneath the dress, making it's way up to your waist.

You bring your hands up, gentle touch brushing along his cheeks as you pull him down your lips. It's a soft kiss to begin with, lips coming together gently and parting repeatedly before his hold on your waist tightens, tongue slipping past your lips to feed you the taste of yourself as your own slid alongside his.

He pulls back just enough to speak, "Please let me have you.."

His deep, smooth voice brings that fluttery feeling back to your stomach as you nod softly, voice quiet, "Okay.."

He gives you one last quick kiss before standing straight, lifting you with him. His hands grip your ass, keeping your legs wrapped around him as he makes his way over to the couch, sitting you down, letting your manicured feet hit the furry white rug below softly.

"Got somethin' to put down, darlin'? Wouldn't wanna mess up your pretty lil couch." He asks looking down at you, bringing his hands down to his belt, keeping his eyes focused on you. His gaze and the realization of what was about to happen makes a sudden wave of nerves rush over you.

"It's a.. uhh.. a blanket.. I can wash it.." You say, pointing to the end of the long couch, to an ottoman filled with blankets.

He follows where you motion after unzipping his jeans, pulling a large, thick blanket from the chest before laying it out on the couch.

He stands in front of it, nodding to motion you closer to him.

When you step up to him slowly, his hands quickly come to your hips yanking you closer to him as his hands bunch up the material of the dress.

"Let's get this off.." He says lifting the fabric over your head and tossing it aside.

You stand there in just your bra as he moves, swiftly taking his own shirt off and bringing his hands back to his pants, pushing his jeans down and bringing the boxers down with them.

Your eyes can't help but move down his body, noticing the defined muscles in his arms and chest, the way his abs lead down to the deep v-lines and the blonde patch of hair trailing all the way down to the base of his fat cock that hung slightly just from the weight of it.

He watches your eyes run over his body with a bit of a cocky smirk as he takes a seat on the blanket, legs spread apart. He throws one arm across the back of the couch as his other hand comes to the base of his heavy cock, holding it at attention.

"Come ride me, pretty girl."

You make your way to his lap, straddling him before you start to sink yourself down on his cock, feeling the girthy length spreading you open wider than his fingers did.

You hands run from his chest to his shoulders as you move all the way down, his cock creating a feeling of fullness in your lower belly.

As you make your way down he lets out a deep sigh, hands running from your hips and up your back to undo your bra, freeing your breasts.

"That's a good girl.." He praises, pulling you forward, making his cock hit your spot deep pulling a gasp from your lips as he latches his mouth onto your nipple, sucking the bud gently in between swirling his tongue around it.

He wraps his strong arms around you tight, stopping you from being able to move as his cock stayed nestled deep inside you, fat, leaky tip pressing against your cervix. His mouth switched back and forth, sucking and licking at your hard nipples.

He starts to move his hips, rocking them and rubbing the sensitive head of his cock against your cervix the pressure intense but so good at the same time.

He begins to feel your pussy grow wetter at the deep stimulation, making his eyebrows furrow as he continues lapping at your tits. In between the attention he's giving you he lets out deep, airy sighs, "Fuck..ahh.."

His grip on your body loosens, allowing you to straighten up a bit as he brings his hands to your waist just beneath your ribs. He starts slowly sliding you up and down his cock, veins trailing down from his flexing biceps protruding as he moves you with ease.

His eyes move down to the wet mess you left behind at the base of his cock and all in his happy trail while he was planted deep in your pussy. The sight of it along with the warmth and your cunt steadily leaving more and more creamy streaks and rings up and down his dick.

"Shit.. makin' a fuckin' mess baby.." He moans, feeling you plant your hands on his tensed abs as you rock yourself on his cock, rolling your hips as his hands move down to your ass gripping it harshly as his head leans back against the couch, his cheeks flushed and hot, lips parted while he enjoys the feeling of you riding him.

He licks his lips, biting his bottom lip softly, quieting his moan for just a moment as his heavy hand slaps down on your ass, immediately squeezing the same spot, making you moan louder, whimpering at the stinging sensation.

"Reiner.." you moan loudly as he does it again bringing one of his hands up to wrap his hand around your throat, pressure from his fingers immediately making your moans grow silent, the only sounds in the room now being his deep groans and huffs of air and the wet, squelching of your leaking cunt around his dick.

His hand spanks your ass again, even harder this time. There's a sadistic gleam in his eyes knowing damn well it'd make you wanna cry out but the grip on your neck stops you from being able to do so.

You're body jerks forward pulling off his dick a bit just for him to snap his own back up, pushing his cock deeper again.

Your eyebrows furrow, mind feeling as if it was melting in this moment, lips parted, as saliva dripped from your bottom lip while your eyes focused on his. His gaze darkens as he lets his tongue slip past his lips to catch it before yanking you forward to catch your lips in a messy kiss, as he pushes you back slowly, a string of spit keeps you connected before he brings you back in, sucking it gently from your bottom lip.

When he finally releases your throat, your body falls against his as you let out a soft gasp for air. Your lips attach to his neck as your eyes close, feeling him fuck up into you rhythmically.

The view over your shoulder allows him to get a glimpse of your reflection in the large, arched mirror on the wall. His hand comes up to the back of your head, holding you against him as he watches his dick pump in and out of your messy cunt.

His hand spreads your cheeks apart more, white trails of cream running down his heavy balls.

"Shit." He hisses out, focusing on the sight, loving the way you move and the way the curve of your spine looks while he fucks you.

The longer he watches the quicker his breathing becomes, stomach tightening as he feels your teeth bite down into his neck, strings of sweet moaning rushing to his ears as your cunt drips and squirts against him, running down his dick, pelvis and balls to the blanket below, pussy clamping down around his cock as you cum.

The feeling of your pussy spasming around him immediately making his own orgasm follow yours, his hips slow down to jerky thrusts as your pussy milks hot ropes of cum from his shaft.

Feeling him fill up your cunt with the thick liquid makes you start to slip yourself up and down his cock slow. Your unexpected movement makes him let out a moan.

He watches his cum gush out your pussy around his dick in the mirror. He sucks in a sharp breath, his hands gripping your ass painfully hard.

"Fuck. Fuck.. baby.. shit.." He hisses, voice now coming out in overstimulated moans, watching his cum dripping down over his balls further making the blanket beneath you two messier.

You release the bite you had on his neck as you stop moving keeping his soft cock buried inside you while you both catch your breath.

When you pull back, you see the intense red, bite mark on his skin.

"Sorry.." you mutter softly.

He turns his head to look up at you, giving you a tired smile.

"It's just fine, princess."

You both sit there for a minute, the blanket an absolute mess before he stands with you still wrapped around him. He places you down on the rug gently, making sure your okay standing before you both get cleaned up, You grab the blanket throwing it in the wash on the way.

Once dressed you both make your way back to the living room and he brings his hand up to pull down a curl that's just slightly outta place.

"Suppose I should be gettin' outta here, miss.. errands to run, early work day tomorrow."

"Gonna make time to come see me again? I'll break something if I have to." You say lightheartedly with a sweet smile.

"Tell you what, just shoot me another text, maybe another "Big heavy box, help please." He says teasing you, "And I'll be on my way, no breaking necessary."

"Anytime?"

"Anytime." He reassures.

You give him a small nod swaying softly as he gives you a small nod in return, smirk on his face before he turns to the door, placing his hand on the doorknob, opening it.

"Have a good day, miss y/n."

He says, looking at you once more before pulling the door closed behind him.

♡ Thank you for reading! I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait! ♡

[alyssarkive]

a slap to your cheek brought you back. your eyes zoned in to how fucked out you looked in the mirror. your back arched and face wet with tears and dried cum, your teeth bit and gnawed mindlessly into the big hand that kept you from screaming. all you could feel was pleasure, and it got worse as you made eye contact with the man in the mirror. “c‘mon baby, can’t zone out on me.” toji was mean, a big meany with a even bigger cock. he wasn’t what you needed but wanted so so bad. your body shook beneath him, ass clapping against his cock as he fucked you like a fuck toy. your hands pressed against the cool floor hoping to regain a little piece of your mind but you couldn’t and toji definitely wouldn’t allow you to.

slapping your ass he angled himself, your cunt wet and hot. molding to every vein that he carried on his fat dick. you felt him go deeper, your breath becoming stuck in your throat, ears ringing - and your pudgy stomach poking out a little more as if you were bloated. “that’s my good girl” his rough voice spoke into the air. you moaned loud, a chuckle leaving his raspy throat before a deep growl. “stop squeezing my cock darlin” you stared into the mirror, eyes crossing and pussy clenching over and over. your ass hole puckered and unpuckerd, toji looking at it and spitting on it before easing his chubby thumb in.

“i.said.stop.” using his thumb in your ass he pushed you back on his cock, pretty pussy making noise as he fed it dick and pre cum. he watched as cream dripped onto the floor, your pussy sticky and wet. “messy thing, you love this huh baby?” toji made eye contact with you, staring deep in your soul. you nodded, nodded fast, moaning; voice gone. your eyes could only stay glued to his pretty face, trying to keep consciousness. but you were losing. “c-can’t” you barely whispered, pussy red and sore, filled so much that you couldn’t take anymore. “yes you can.” toji said fucking you harder. “look how this pretty pussy is taking me, she wants it. so do you” he gripped your chin with his unoccupied hand, making you look into the mirror.

“two sluts who are only for my pleasure” toji’s cock jerked inside of you, more cream seeping from between you two. “who’s are you baby?” he said gently, balls slapping against your pussy, and thumb fucking into your ass. he broke you. broke you so bad that you could only whisper his name, your body shaking and eyes rolling to the back of you head. your pussy squirted everywhere and for hours it felt like. the last thing you could hear was toji saying fuck breathlessly, his balls scrunching and his thick cum filling your hole.

[alyssarkive]

𝓡𝓮𝓶𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓴 + 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼

@IamYourWayOut - do not repost w/ out credit

[alyssarkive]

💭𝓡𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓡𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝔀𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵

♡ Couldn't stop thinking about this.. thanks, ovulation..

"Reiner!" You yelp with a giggle as he walks inside, immediately scooping you up over his shoulder after kicking his shoes off at the door, making his way to the bedroom upstairs.

You should've expected it, honestly, after all the dirty pictures and the filthy texts you'd been sending him all day, knowing he had to stay late at work.

"Must think you're funny.." He muttered more to himself than directly to you as he brought his hand up to your ass just beneath the large t-shirt you had on, giving it a harsh squeeze.

"Ow. Rei.." You mumble with pouty lips as the grip makes your body jump.

"Teasing me all damn day.. knowing I couldn't do nothing about it.."

He walks into the bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot before tossing you onto the bed, making you bounce.

His hands instantly move to his tie, yanking it off before swiftly undoing the buttons on his shirt, allowing it to hang open as he undoes his belt and pants, removing those along with his boxers.

He steps forward between your legs, watching you spread them as he looked down at you, wrapping his large hand around the base of his thick, half-hard cock.

"Had me at my desk hard all damn day.. that your plan, huh?" He hisses in a smooth, husky voice.

"Just missed you.." you say in a sugary, sweet voice, slipping your panties off, opening your legs again.

He moves his hand away from his cock bringing it down to rub over your pussy, fingers massaging your cunt in slow circles before he spreads your plump pussy lips, sinking his fingers inside, hearing your wet hole smack as his fingers sunk into you.

He drags them out slowly, watching them shine in the dim light of the bedroom.

"Damn.. you really did miss me, didn't you, baby?"

You nod softly, watching him slide he hands beneath your thighs, grabbing them as he bends down, yanking your cunt up to his lips making you fall flat on the bed.

He spits on your pussy before instantly dragging his flattened tongue over it, soft lips coming together around your clit as he slurps on you softly.

His hazel eyes look into yours as he eats you out. Spitting, licking, and slurping you up.

When he pulls away, a thick string of saliva keeps his tongue attached to your pussy before he retracts his tongue back between his wet lips, making the string of spit break and drip down to your pussy as he drops you back down to the mattress.

You watch him lick his lips as he makes his way around to the bed. Sitting on it with his back against the headboard.

"Come show me how much you missed me.. do all that nasty shit you said over text."

You don't hesitate, making your way to him and straddling his lap with your back to him.

You bring your hand down between your legs, gripping his fat dick and dragging the head over your slick spit covered pussy before sinking down on his with ease.

"Shit..that's it.." he moans, eyes entranced as you lean forward a bit, moving your hands to hold onto his legs as you sink down to the base.

When your cunt slips back to the sensitive tip of his dick he lets out a deep sigh, licking his lips as he looks down at the cream left behind by your stretched pussy and listening to the drawn out smack from his cock slipping from between your walls.

When his cock pops out of your hole you bring a hand back down to hold onto his cock, keeping him angled and still, allowing you to sink his leaky tip in and out of your hole slowly.

You tease him like that as his hands come out to spread you open so he can watch, listening to the repeated wet pop of his dick slipping in and out of your warm pussy.

You eventually grip his legs again for balance, bouncing your ass, slipping your pussy up and down his cock, the feeling of his dick sliding inside of you felt so good it had your pussy making a creamy mess all around his cock, thick streams of it sliding down to the base and his large balls each time your pussy came down on him, pushing it downward.

"Fuuck.. you're messin' me up.." he moans softly, watching the pussy he loved so much make a mess all over him. The ridiculously loud lewd noises of your gushing cunt didn't help either, making his breath come out in heavy sighs as he tried to keep quiet enough to listen to your pussy stroking up and down his dick.

His cock slips from your pussy, instead slipping between your fat ass cheeks as you continue bouncing your ass. Movement stroking his wet cock between your cheeks.

"Shit, baby.. fuck.." he moans, hands squishing your cheeks together as he thrusted his hard cock between your cheeks, watching them slip up and down on each side of his cock.

"Ahh.. fuck.. gonna cum.." he breaths out shakily before ropes of cum shoot from his cock, some of it landing on your ass and the rest, dripping back down his cock and making a mess on his pelvis.

You smirk as you move, turning around and leaning down to drag your tongue up his semi-hard cock, letting him watch a mixture of your pussy cream and his cum spread over your tongue as you looked in his eyes.

You move up to his face, holding your messy tongue out to him, and he leans in, dragging his tongue over yours before sucking on it, cleaning the mess as you two share the taste.

When you pull back, he continue looking into your eyes, gaze trailing to your full lips and back up again as he watched you reach back, scooping his cum off your ass and sucking those same fingers into your mouth.

You could tell just by the look in his eyes as he watched you that it'd be a long night.

Just a little something quick cause it was on my mind. ♡ yes, I abruptly ended this because if I don't, this will turn into an entire fic..

[alyssarkive]

Jack O'Connell in the behind the scenes interview from the North Water DVD

[alyssarkive]

All That's Left Is Yours

Part III

Walter "Lion" Kaminski x fem!reader

summary: Walter Kaminski doesn't know how to be loved without bracing for impact. A washed-up fighter living out of motel rooms and underground leagues, he's spent years surviving hits—in the ring, from his brother, from the world. But when you, a runaway with a sharp mouth and a sharper gaze enters his orbit, everything starts to tilt. The closer you get, the more Walter fears what his hands—trained to hurt, never to hold—might do.

wc: 10.2k

a/n: aaaaand that’s a wrap!! I’m honestly tearing up writing this because this fic is my baby—maybe my favorite thing I’ve ever written. Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, screamed, sent kind messages, or just quietly followed along. Your support has meant the world to me. I also want to give the biggest thank you to Liz @fuckoffbard for being there through every step of the way, for listening to my rambles, and for beta reading every single part with so much love and care. I couldn’t have done this without you. 🖤

Disclaimer: You DO NOT need to watch Jungleland to read this fic but I highly recommend giving it a watch, Jack absolutely crushes it!!

warnings: emotional trauma, PTSD, chronic pain (arthritis), memory loss, abusive family dynamics, sibling codependency, toxic sibling relationship, past drug use (mentioned), past physical abuse (mentioned), canon-typical violence, fighting/violence, objectification, implied sexual coercion (non-graphic), betrayal, trauma bonding as a form of intimacy, hurt/comfort, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unsafe living conditions, sub!Walter, praise kink, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, oral (m!receiving), emotional breakdowns, angst with smut, crying during sex, abandonment, homelessness, food insecurity, depressive episode, intense emotional conflict, slow reconciliation, bittersweet flashbacks, miscommunication, groveling, found family, domestic fluff, rebuilding trust, pregnancy, soft ending

likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated, please enjoy!!

Fic Masterlist/Main Masterlist

Part III: When the Chips Are Down

Every nerve in your body felt exposed, scraped raw, as you walked down the rough pavement. It was cracked beneath your shoes, littered with cigarette butts and loose pebbles that crunched like broken glass with every tired shuffle. Your backpack straps dug into your shoulders, heavier now than you remembered packing it, like you’d filled it with stones instead of the bare essentials that made up your entire life. You curled your fingers tighter around the worn nylon straps, gripping so hard your knuckles ached, as if that small action alone could hold your pieces together.

The night air was stifling—thick with humidity, carrying the sour bite of gasoline fumes and something acrid you couldn't quite place. Sweat gathered along your spine, dampening the fabric of your shirt, and you felt the dull ache of exhaustion settle deep into your muscles, bone-weary and stubborn. Your body wanted nothing more than to collapse, but your heart was beating too fast and too loud, each thud echoing in your temples like an unrelenting drumbeat.

You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. Because if you looked back at that motel room door, you might falter. You might weaken. You might see Walter standing there, lost and silent, holding a paper flower like a final, fragile promise that neither of you had ever managed to keep.

You pushed forward instead.

You passed the motel's battered sign, its faded letters barely illuminated by flickering bulbs, casting weak shadows on your path. The distant hum of traffic murmured low, cars passing along the nearby highway like ghosts in the night, their taillights blurring red and dim, never slowing, never stopping, never noticing the girl drifting alone on the sidewalk.

Eventually, the sidewalk gave way to dirt and weeds and patches of grass yellowed by neglect, crunching softly beneath your shoes. You passed empty storefronts, their windows darkened, shuttered tight behind metal grates. A convenience store sat on the corner, neon signs blinking coldly: 24 Hours, ATM Inside, and Beer & Wine. You considered going in, buying something—anything—just to have somewhere bright and ordinary to linger for a minute, but the harsh fluorescent lights felt too harsh, too exposing, too real.

You kept moving.

Your throat felt thick, tight like a clenched fist, and every swallow was painful. You hadn’t cried yet; you weren't sure if that was because you were too proud or simply too exhausted to even try. The night stretched ahead of you, vast and unknown, and the city around you felt emptier than ever before. Lonelier. Like every shadow was watching your slow, uncertain steps with quiet, indifferent eyes.

Eventually, your feet carried you to a bus stop bench, its plastic seat cracked and marred with graffiti. The lamppost above flickered weakly, buzzing intermittently, casting warped shadows across the sidewalk. You sat down carefully, setting your backpack beside you, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly, like it could somehow hold you together. The cool night breeze rustled through the trees overhead, leaves whispering secrets you couldn’t hear, and the stillness felt suffocating.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours—time blurred when there was nowhere left to be.

Eventually, your eyelids grew heavier, your body aching for rest, and you leaned your head back against the cool metal shelter behind the bench. You couldn’t sleep here—not safely—but the quiet, steady rhythm of your own breathing lulled you anyway, dragging you toward the edges of unconsciousness. Your body slumped slightly, caught between awareness and exhaustion, lingering in that hazy, uncertain space where dreams felt too dangerous and reality hurt too much.

You knew you'd have to move soon. To find somewhere safer, less exposed, before the city stirred awake again and people began to notice you. But for just a moment, beneath the flickering streetlamp, alone in a world that didn't know your name, you let your eyes slip shut.

You told yourself you'd rest, just briefly.

You told yourself you'd be fine.

But even in that fragile half-sleep, you felt a quiet tear escape, slipping down your cheek to land silently on the cracked sidewalk below.

You were so damn tired.

Dog-tired.

And the night had only just begun.

The bell above the door jingled like an old wind chime, delicate and tired. It was barely past six when you pushed into the diner, but the place was already alive in that soft, slow way only early mornings could be—faint clatter from the kitchen, the sizzle of bacon on the griddle, and the low murmur of a country song crackling from the overhead radio. The air smelled like burnt coffee, grease, and maple syrup, the familiar combination clinging to your clothes like a memory.

You took the booth by the window. Same one as before. Like muscle memory.

The seat was still cracked vinyl, cool against your legs through the thin fabric of your jeans. The table was sticky at one edge, someone’s dried syrup thumbprint long fossilized into the Formica. Outside, the street was waking up slowly—headlights ghosting past, a jogger in neon gear puffing by, the flick of a newspaper being tossed onto a porch by an unseen hand.

Inside, everything felt hushed. A little sacred, almost like a ritual.

You didn’t order anything. Not at first. Just stared out the window, the horizon beyond it, past the frame of condensation fogging at the glass. You waited. Like always. Hands curled around the edges of the table, your fingernails digging into the laminate as if that could somehow keep your heart from folding in on itself.

The waitress—same one every morning—clocked you immediately. She didn’t say anything at first. Just topped off the coffee for an old man sitting two booths over and passed by with a nod. Her eyes were tired but kind, hidden behind half-slipped readers and crow’s feet that deepened when she smiled. She wore her gray hair twisted up in a no-nonsense bun, a faded pink apron wrapped around her midsection, and her sneakers squeaked against the old linoleum whenever she moved. She smelled like cinnamon gum and lavender lotion, and she had a way of speaking like she already knew you’d been through hell and didn’t need reminding of it.

After about twenty minutes, she brought you a cup of coffee without asking. Set it down gently in front of you, along with a small creamer and two sugar packets.

You nodded once. She nodded back. That was the routine now.

You stayed until the sun fully crested the buildings, until the street traffic picked up and the diner got louder. Until the smell of fresh hash browns and eggs made your stomach cramp with hunger you couldn’t quite afford. Sometimes you ordered toast. Sometimes you said nothing at all.

Always, always, you looked at the door when it opened.

And every time, it wasn’t him. The bell would jingle. Your heart would stutter. And then it would be someone else—a mechanic, a nurse still in scrubs, a man in a suit reading a paper.

Never him.

On the third morning, she dropped a chipped mug of black coffee on your table and said, “Morning, sugar. I’m Luanne, by the way. Figured it was time we weren’t strangers.” She placed a small, crumpled napkin on the table too, like she was trying to be subtle. When you opened it, you found a warm blueberry muffin inside. Still steaming. A little cracked on top. Real fruit in the dough, not the dry processed stuff.

You looked at her, brows knit. “I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house,” she said firmly, like she’d rehearsed it. “Don’t go getting your hackles up, sweetheart. Least I can do.”

You hesitated. Then gave her the smallest nod of gratitude.

“Got a soft spot for strays,” she added, a little quieter now. “Comes from having been one.”

You didn’t say anything after that. Just picked at the muffin slowly, your stomach still twisted up with knots but grateful all the same. The first bite was warm and just sweet enough to make your eyes sting. Not because of the taste—but because it reminded you of every morning you’d sat here hoping for something that never came.

Walter.

His name felt like a stone in your throat.

On the fifth day, Luanne set down a plate in front of you—two scrambled eggs, toast, and a wedge of orange.

"Eat," she said simply, folding her arms across her chest.

You looked down at the food. Then back up at her.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“No,” she agreed, “but you look like hell, and I won’t sleep tonight knowing I let you starve on my watch.”

You blinked, still sluggish from another night of bad sleep and the emotional whiplash of expecting—hoping—Walter might finally walk through the door. That somehow, this would be the morning he sat across from you and explained, or apologized, or at least looked at you like he wanted to.

He didn’t.

He never did.

The bell above the door had become cruel in its consistency—ringing with every stranger who entered, each time a false promise that was never delivered.

You’d stayed in that booth—the one closest to the window—for six days. Same seat. Same view. Same ache in your chest. You barely touched your phone. Didn’t bother checking for texts or calls. You knew better. You knew if he was going to reach out, he would’ve done it by now. Still, you kept showing up. Still, you kept watching the door.

Luanne noticed.

You kept the coin he gave you in your hand. The one he pressed into your palm with that small smile, like it meant something. You couldn’t stop flipping it. Thumb, finger, flip. Again and again. A nervous tic. A prayer. A goddamn ritual at this point.

That morning, Luanne slid into the booth across from you. No preamble. Just eased in with a grunt and a sigh, her knees cracking, the kind of sound that made you wince in sympathy. She was off the clock, her apron unknotted, her cardigan a little oversized and full of pills.

You froze, mid-flip.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly. “You don’t gotta keep waiting by the door. He’s either gonna walk through it…or he ain’t.”

You looked away, jaw tight, thumb pressing the coin harder into your palm until it bit the skin.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

“Course you are,” she replied, not unkindly. “But just in case…I got a spare room.”

Your head jerked up.

“It ain’t much,” she went on. “Twin bed. Clean sheets. Bathroom down the hall. Lock on the door. You’d be safe.”

You stared at her. “Why would you—?”

“Because someone did the same for me once,” she said with a shrug. “And I remember what it’s like to be young and out of options. You don’t gotta explain a thing. Just until you figure things out.”

Your throat burned. You didn’t say yes. Didn’t say anything. But when she stood, she placed a small silver key on the table beside your cup and slid the muffin napkin back over it like it was nothing.

You stared at that key for a long time.

That night, after another hour pretending not to cry in the booth long after closing, you walked home with Luanne. Her place was just a couple blocks from the diner. Upstairs from a bait shop, of all things. It smelled like cedar and peppermint oil and had creaky floors that groaned in the quiet. Her guest room was cramped, tucked beside a closet stuffed with old coats and boxes labeled “Jimmy’s Baseball Cards” and “Xmas Shit.”

But the bed was soft.

The sheets were clean.

And the shower had hot water and more conditioner than you’d seen in a month.

You stood under the spray until your skin was red and raw, until your thoughts blurred, until your knees shook. You pressed your forehead to the tile and remembered his voice. His weight. His arms around you when he fell apart.

You didn’t sleep much. But it was the first night you felt warm in a week.

You bought a bus ticket for the next day.

It didn't matter where. You just picked the one with the earliest departure. Anywhere west. Anywhere but here.

Because hope was cruel. And Walter? Walter had made his choice.

You left the key on the kitchen counter with a note that said nothing more than “Thank you.”

And then you packed what little you had, zipped up your bag, and started walking.

Walter hadn't slept since you'd left.

Not really. Not deeply. The kind of sleep he managed was fitful at best, a thin veneer of unconsciousness easily cracked by passing traffic or the buzz of a motel light that refused to stop flickering. Every hour felt stolen—brief slips into darkness that left him more exhausted than if he'd stayed awake.

He lay flat on the stiff motel mattress, staring up at a water stain on the ceiling, his eyes burning and red-rimmed. The wallpaper, once pale and yellowed by decades of smoke, now seemed to close in tighter every night, shrinking the room into a cage that squeezed the breath from his chest.

The air was heavy, thick with humidity that clung to his skin, pressing sweat into the grooves of his forehead and down the tense muscles of his neck. He could hear the muted sounds of the motel: distant arguments, muffled televisions, doors slamming open and shut. None of it mattered. None of it reached him, not really.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, curled at his sides. They trembled constantly now, not just when he tried to use them—like his body was finally rebelling against the years of punishment he’d forced it to endure.

He brought one shaking hand up slowly, spreading his fingers in front of his face, studying them in the dull lamplight. They were swollen, knuckles bruised and joints stiff from untreated injury. They were the hands of a fighter. Of someone who'd spent his life swinging and losing, gripping onto things that slipped away no matter how hard he tried to hold on.

But right now, empty and shaking, they just looked like the hands of a man who'd lost everything that mattered.

Walter turned his head slowly, eyes falling on the small dresser next to the bed. A crumpled origami flower sat there—wilted paper petals bent and crushed from how often he'd opened and closed his fist around it in the last few days. He hadn't let it out of his sight since you'd pressed it into his palm and left him standing there, helpless, mute, unable to speak the words he should have said.

He swallowed hard, throat tightening painfully.

He kept replaying that night over and over again in his head like some twisted loop. The way your voice cracked. How your eyes had welled up, unshed tears glistening under the cheap motel lamp as you told him you couldn't stay.

He'd stood there, frozen, rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to beg you to stay. Every word he'd needed to say had lodged in his chest, suffocating him silently.

And you'd walked out believing he’d chosen Stanley. Believing he hadn't chosen you.

Walter's jaw tightened painfully. He pressed the heel of his shaking hand against his eyes, as though that could somehow force the memories away. But they stayed sharp, vivid, cutting through him again and again.

He remembered how your hands felt against his skin. How you'd traced his bruises, touched every scar, every sore knuckle, as though memorizing them—as though you saw more than a broken fighter, as though you'd found something in him worth keeping.

And he'd still let you walk away.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to stop you—God, he'd wanted nothing more—but he'd felt chained down, weighed by loyalty and guilt, tangled up in a lifetime of feeling responsible for Stanley's failures.

Stanley, who would never learn, who would always gamble, always lie, always destroy whatever he touched. Walter had spent his whole life cleaning up Stanley's messes. But this one—this one had cost him something irreplaceable.

You.

Walter sat up slowly, joints protesting every movement as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The floor felt gritty beneath his bare feet, dirt tracked in from outside, sticking to the soles. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face, scraping at the week-old stubble that covered his jawline.

He needed a shower, needed a shave, needed sleep, needed anything that could dull the ache lodged in his chest.

But most of all, he needed you back.

He’d spent days searching for you already—days spent walking aimlessly, scouring bus stops, shelters, parks, anywhere he thought you might go. His memory had begun to betray him; street names blurred together, diner signs became indistinguishable, addresses turned to nonsense numbers and shapes in his mind. Frustration was building into desperation. Every dead end felt like a cruel joke the universe was playing on him, payback for letting you go.

Walter forced himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily. His muscles burned, his joints creaked, but he moved anyway. He crossed to the tiny, cluttered table under the window, littered with take-out containers, empty coffee cups, and a phone book left by the motel management.

He flipped through the pages again, scanning the same lists of diners and cafes he’d studied obsessively for days, hoping something would spark a memory, something would break through the fog that clouded his mind.

His breath quickened as anxiety coiled tight in his chest. His heart raced, sweat prickling at the back of his neck as he stared down at the endless, identical black ink entries. None of them meant anything. None of them brought him closer to you.

His vision blurred suddenly, stinging with tears he stubbornly refused to let fall. Instead, he slammed the phone book closed with a harsh sound that echoed in the silence. It toppled off the table, falling to the ground with a heavy, final thud, scattering pages across the carpet.

Walter stood there, breathing raggedly, staring at the mess. He was running out of options. Running out of time. He didn't even know if you were still in town. Didn't even know if you were safe.

And he knew, deep in his bones, it was his fault. Every moment of your suffering, your fear, your loneliness—it was because he'd let you go without a fight.

He sank back onto the edge of the bed, head bowed, shoulders trembling slightly. The origami flower sat inches away from him, fragile and broken.

Just like him.

For a moment, the motel room closed around him, silent and suffocating, like a tomb he couldn't escape. He closed his eyes, forcing a breath into his aching lungs.

“I’m gonna find you,” he whispered hoarsely to the empty room, to no one at all. “I swear to God, I’m gonna find you.”

But the promise rang hollow, empty, echoing back at him like mockery.

Because he knew if he didn’t find you soon—if he didn’t somehow break through the haze that clouded his memory—you would be gone forever.

And he'd have no one to blame but himself.

Walter didn’t realize how badly he was unraveling until Stanley barged into his room two nights later, all swagger and indignation, smelling like cheap booze and cigarette smoke, moving like the floor was spinning beneath his feet.

Walter was hunched over the edge of the motel bed, a half-empty bottle of whiskey dangling from trembling fingers. He’d given up pretending it could numb him, given up pretending it could erase the memory of your face, your voice, the ghostly warmth of your hand in his.

Now, he drank just because it burned his throat, because the sensation reminded him he was still alive, even if barely. The bottle nearly slipped when the door crashed open, rattling on its hinges.

"Christ almighty," Stanley drawled, his accent thickened by liquor, the vowels heavy and lazy. "Ain’t you a sorry fuckin’ sight. You plan on mopin’ round here forever or what, brother?"

Walter’s jaw tightened at the word brother, that word Stanley always wielded like a blade—something sharp and binding and painful. He lifted his head slowly, eyes bloodshot and dull.

“Leave it, Stanley. Just fuckin’ leave it.”

Stanley laughed, sharp and bitter, stumbling into the room like he owned it, kicking the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot. The sound echoed like a gunshot. He moved closer, swaying a bit, eyes narrowed and mean, looking Walter up and down as though he barely recognized him.

"You’ve turned proper soft, ain’t ya? All this poutin’ over some fuckin’ runaway?” He snorted, eyes glittering cruelly. “Didn’t peg ya for the sort to get strung up over some little nobody from nowhere. Thought you was tougher’n that."

Walter was on his feet before he even realized he’d moved. The whiskey bottle hit the carpet with a muted thud, spilling amber liquid into a dark, sticky puddle.

His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles throbbing with the force of it, joints aching from days without proper rest. Anger surged hot and dizzying, his pulse roaring in his ears, louder than his own ragged breath.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” Walter growled, voice tight and low. "You ain't got no goddamn right talkin’ ‘bout her."

Stanley smirked, cocking his head mockingly, his voice dripping with contempt. "Why? You think she’s special? Think she’s any different than any other girl who got smart enough to see ya ain’t shit? Hate to break it to ya, Lion, but she gone ‘cause she realized you ain’t nothin’ more than busted knuckles and empty promises."

Walter’s control snapped.

He lunged forward, grabbing Stanley roughly by the collar of his stained shirt and shoving him back hard against the peeling wallpaper. The flimsy wall shuddered with the impact, rattling the lamp on the nightstand, knocking an empty glass to the floor. Stanley's eyes widened in surprise for just a second, then narrowed again, defiance flaring like a spark.

"Fuck you," Walter spat through clenched teeth, voice raw, shaking with barely controlled rage. "You think you know shit about me or her? She’s gone ‘cause of you. ‘Cause you don’t give a damn who gets caught in the wreckage as long as you walk out untouched. You sold me out, sold her out—”

Stanley twisted violently in Walter’s grip, pushing back, anger darkening his face. He shoved Walter hard, forcing distance between them, breathing heavily.

"I did what I had to fuckin’ do," Stanley growled, voice cracking under the strain. "You think shit’s easy, huh? Think I ever wanted to end up like this? Fightin’ over fuckin’ scraps and scroungin’ in the dirt just to keep our heads above water?"

Walter’s chest heaved, his breaths coming ragged and quick. "It’s your own goddamn fault we’re here. You drag everyone down with ya, Stanley—every fuckin’ time—and you don’t care who ya hurt long as you save your own skin."

Stanley barked a harsh laugh, bitter and broken. "Oh, an’ I suppose you think you're better, huh? Think you ain’t just as fuckin’ guilty? Least I own up to who I am. You sit there all high an’ mighty, actin’ like you ain’t stood by an’ let it happen. You watched her walk out that fuckin’ door same as me."

Walter's breath hitched. The words hit him harder than any punch, struck him right in the raw, tender spot he’d tried desperately to ignore. His gaze dropped to the floor, blinking rapidly, eyes burning.

“You know nothin’ ‘bout me, Stanley,” Walter finally muttered, voice tight and quiet. “I been cleanin’ up your messes my whole damn life, thinkin’ if I just tried hard enough, you’d finally fuckin’ change. But all you ever done is drag me down with you. First the dog, now her—hell, you’d sell me too, wouldn’t ya, if it meant savin’ your own ass?”

Stanley’s lip curled, eyes cold and narrowed. “Don’t act like you didn’t let me, Lion. You knew who I was from day one. You chose to stay. You chose this, same as me.”

The silence stretched out painfully between them, tense and brittle. Walter felt a sick, hollow ache blooming deep inside him, a familiar emptiness that settled heavy in his chest.

“You ain’t never gonna change, are ya?” Walter said finally, quiet as a confession, voice shaking with grief more than anger. “I keep hopin’, keep waitin’, but you’ll just keep ruinin’ every good thing I find, won’t you?”

Stanley said nothing, jaw set stubbornly. His eyes flicked away for a second, shadowed with something unreadable—regret, resentment, or maybe just stubborn denial. Then he shrugged, turning back toward the door, dismissing Walter completely.

“Grow up, Lion. This's the real fuckin’ world. You keep lettin’ yourself get tied up with strays, you gon’ end up just like ‘em,” Stanley muttered darkly, stepping over the spilled whiskey bottle, glass crunching underfoot as he reached for the doorknob. “Fuckin’ alone.”

The door slammed shut behind him with brutal finality, leaving Walter standing there in a suffocating silence.

Walter stared at the closed door, breathing hard, heart aching, fists still trembling at his sides. Stanley’s words echoed cruelly in his head, a mocking chorus of accusations and bitter truths he’d spent years trying to ignore.

His legs gave out suddenly, and he sank down onto the floor beside the spilled whiskey, staring numbly at the broken shards of glass glittering around him.

Stanley was right, he realized bitterly. He’d stood by, allowed everything good in his life to slip through his fingers, all in the name of loyalty to someone who would never change. Someone who didn’t care.

Walter swallowed hard, throat tight and burning, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

He’d lost you because he hadn’t fought hard enough. Hadn’t spoken loud enough. Hadn’t held tight enough.

He’d let Stanley take everything that mattered—first his pride, then his dog, and finally you.

And now Walter sat on a motel room floor, hands empty, heart shattered, alone in a silence more painful than any punch he’d ever taken.

And all he could think was how desperately he wished he’d chosen differently.

Walter’s world shrunk down to fragments of streets, half-remembered turns, faded signs blurred by exhaustion. He moved like a ghost, drifting from place to place, his body weary and dragging, but driven by something frantic and feverish.

He barely recognized his own reflection anymore when he caught glimpses of himself in dirty shop windows and cracked mirrors. Sunken eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights, stubble thick and uneven along his jaw, bruises darkening under his skin like storm clouds—he looked like he’d been dragged through hell and left stranded in the wreckage.

He felt worse.

Days blended into nights and back again in a cruel, endless cycle of searching. He wandered from diner to diner, combing through every corner of town, desperate to find the place you’d once sat together, smiling over cheap coffee and toast. He kept hoping something would spark his memory, unlock the cage around his mind, and lead him back to the moment he needed so desperately to reclaim.

But each diner was wrong.

He stood in doorways, blinking against fluorescent lights, the smells of grease and burnt coffee turning his stomach as disappointment crashed over him. He sat in booths, gripping menus like lifelines, desperately trying to force something—anything—to look familiar. But nothing did. Each place felt empty and strange, filled only with faceless strangers who stared curiously at the man hunched in the corner, hands trembling around an untouched cup of coffee.

Time stretched and distorted. His sense of direction and clarity frayed, unraveling thread by thread. Street names mixed together, becoming meaningless strings of letters and faded signs. Landmarks dissolved into vague shapes, blurring at the edges, impossible to hold onto.

Walter moved through the city, lost in more ways than one, losing track of days, meals, and hours, guided only by the persistent ache lodged deep in his chest.

His hands shook worse every day. Arthritis and exhaustion tangled together, leaving his joints swollen and knuckles stiff, pain radiating sharply up his wrists with every small movement.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten properly. The weight melted off him, leaving his clothes hanging loose, the denim jacket you’d once curled into now feeling too big on his frame.

He checked his phone repeatedly, desperate to call you, but the service had been disconnected days ago. No money. No minutes left. He’d spent his last dollar paying off Stanley’s debt—another sacrifice, another loss to add to the pile he’d willingly stacked higher and higher. Now, even if he knew your number by heart—which he did—he couldn’t dial it, couldn’t hear your voice, couldn’t even beg for a second chance.

Walter felt trapped inside his own head, memories swirling together into an agonizing, disorienting blur. His brain fought him at every turn, refusing to reveal the diner’s name, the street, or even a hint of something concrete he could cling to. It felt like punishment. Like penance. A cruel cosmic joke reminding him of everything he’d allowed to slip away.

By the seventh morning, Walter stood outside yet another diner, this one on the edge of town. The lights inside glowed softly, illuminating empty booths and silent tables. His reflection in the glass doors looked hollow, haunted, pale beneath the harsh streetlamp. He took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

A bell jingled softly overhead, delicate and mocking.

He walked to the counter slowly, every step an effort, every muscle aching in protest. A woman stood behind the counter, older, silver hair pulled back tight, sharp eyes appraising him warily. She looked familiar somehow, though Walter couldn’t place how or why.

“Coffee, hon?” she asked gently, noticing his worn-down state. Her voice was kind, but guarded, cautious.

He nodded numbly, sinking onto a cracked vinyl stool that creaked beneath his weight. The air smelled like sugar and grease, bacon lingering from the breakfast rush, stale coffee mingling with cleaner. His hands curled around the warm ceramic mug she placed in front of him, grateful for its heat seeping into his aching fingers.

“Looking for someone?” she finally asked, her voice low, hesitant, like she knew she was opening a door that might never shut.

Walter stared down into the dark surface of the coffee, watching steam rise and curl like smoke. “Girl. About this tall,” he murmured, holding his out to show her, voice rough and barely audible. “Been lookin’ everywhere for her.”

The woman watched him carefully, eyes narrowing slightly. Recognition sparked, just for a moment, flickering behind her cautious gaze.

“Name?” she prompted, voice even softer now.

Walter swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly burning. “She ain’t from around here. Came in town with me a while back. Lost track of her…I need to find her.”

The waitress folded her arms slowly across her chest, expression unreadable. “You Lion, by any chance?”

Walter’s head snapped up sharply, heart pounding violently against his ribs. “How’d you know—”

“Lucky guess,” she said evenly, though her tone told him it was anything but. She studied him a moment longer, then sighed heavily. “You took your sweet time showin’ up.”

His breath hitched painfully, hope flaring hot and sharp in his chest. “You seen her? She been here?”

The woman hesitated. Walter leaned forward desperately, voice cracking with emotion. “Please. Just tell me—tell me she’s okay.”

The waitress’s expression softened slightly, sympathy seeping into the careful mask she’d worn. “She’s gone, hon.”

Walter felt his heart plummet, stomach twisting violently. “Gone?”

“She was here every damn morning,” the waitress continued quietly, voice thick with gentle accusation. “Same booth by the window. Waited hours for you every day. Barely ate. Barely slept. Finally figured you weren’t comin’ and bought herself a bus ticket outta town. Left just today.”

Walter’s hands shook uncontrollably, coffee splashing onto the counter, droplets darkening the white porcelain. Panic surged through him, drowning everything else. “Bus? Which station? Where’d she go?”

The waitress shook her head softly. “Don’t know exactly. Just know she headed west. She needed out. Said somethin’ about not waitin’ around anymore.”

Walter stood up abruptly, stumbling backward, breath coming in harsh gasps. “When? How long ago?”

The woman hesitated briefly, eyes full of regret. “Couple hours at most.”

He bolted toward the door before she’d even finished speaking, desperation coursing through him, adrenaline numbing the agony in his joints as he burst onto the dark sidewalk. The early morning air hit him sharply, cool against his overheated skin, lungs straining with each breath.

West.

He had a direction now. He had a chance, however small, to catch you before you disappeared completely. His heart raced wildly, desperation driving him forward, feet pounding against concrete, joints screaming, pain forgotten beneath the overwhelming fear of losing you forever.

He didn’t know exactly where he was going or how he'd get there. He had no phone, no money, nothing but empty pockets and a heart stripped bare. But he couldn’t stop now. Couldn’t turn back. Because stopping meant losing you permanently, watching the only good thing he’d ever known disappear beyond his reach.

And Walter had already lost far too much.

So he kept running, kept pushing forward, breath ragged, body trembling, tears stinging his eyes, hope the only thing left driving his broken body onward.

He would find you.

He had to find you.

Because you were the only thing worth holding onto, the only chance left to make things right, to fix what he'd broken.

And Walter wasn’t sure he could survive losing you again.

It's not until he ducked into a nearby Starbucks to ask the barista where the nearest station was when his eyes caught it—one of those little postcard racks stationed by the counter.

Most were glossy tourist shots of Golden Gate fog and painted cable cars, but one, near the back, was different. A battered white lighthouse perched on jagged cliffs, waves foaming below, Bodega Bay written in curling script at the bottom.

He didn’t breathe for a second. Because just like that, he was back in the motel room that smelled like old radiator heat, sweat, and something sweet-sour from the vending machine pie she left half-eaten on the table.

It was stuffy, the kind of heat that clung to your skin and made the sheets feel damp. The ceiling fan ticked with every lazy rotation, like it was counting down to some end neither of them could name.

Walter lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped around your waist. Your skin was warm, the soft press of your hip snug into his side. Your leg draped across his, your breath fanned across his chest. He could still feel the aftershocks of what you'd just done—every nerve settled into a thrum beneath his skin. A peaceful ache. Like he'd finally been let into something sacred.

His fingers traced the curve of your spine without thinking.

He hadn’t said much since. Wasn’t sure he could. Not when every time he looked at you like this—bare, open, calm—his throat cinched up tight around all the things he didn’t know how to say.

You broke the silence first, voice low and sleepy, tracing one of the old scars on his chest.

“…Was that from a fight?” you asked, her fingertip ghosting over the pale ridge near his collarbone.

Walter huffed. “Nah. Wrecked my bike when I was ten. Hit the curb chin-first. Split my whole damn face open and had to get staples. Stanley told me I looked like Frankenstein.”

You chuckled against his chest. That laugh—quiet and curled with mischief—was quickly becoming his favorite sound.

“You kinda do.”

Walter smirked. “Yeah? You’re the one spoonin’ Frankenstein, sweetheart.”

He felt you grin against him, the way your body relaxed into his a little more.

A pause.

Then, “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

The question caught him off guard.

He blinked at the ceiling, the fan’s shadow casting lazy, circling arcs over cracked, uneven plaster.

“…Anywhere?”

“Yeah. No rules. No money. No Stanley.”

The name hit a little harder than he expected. Like a slap in the dark. His fingers curled tighter against your side without meaning to.

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to answer, but because the answer felt…foreign. Like trying to remember a dream you barely had.

“I dunno,” he said at last, voice low and rough. “Ain’t really thought about it like that.”

You shifted beside him, chin resting on his chest so you could look up at him. “Really? Not even once?”

Walter met your gaze, and the vulnerability in your expression made something stutter in his chest.

“I don’t exactly live in the kind of world where daydreams make much difference.”

Your expression softened.

But he wasn’t trying to brush you off—not tonight. Not when you were here, and warm, and real.

“If I could, though…” He shrugged a little. “I always thought it’d be nice to run a laundromat.”

Your brows jumped. “A laundromat?”

Walter laughed. “Yeah. What?”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I ain’t!” he said, grinning now. “Think about it. It’s quiet. Predictable. People come in, drop their mess, sit quiet a while, and leave. No fights. No fire drills. No cops. Just a radio hummin’ in the corner, a couple snack machines, and me, not gettin’ yelled at.”

You laughed again. “You sound like a grumpy old man.”

He rolled toward you, pinning you a little with the weight of his arm across your waist. “Grumpy old men don’t make you come like I did.”

You elbowed him, laughing louder now, and he grinned at the sound. But the grin faded.

Because even in that moment, he knew it was borrowed time.

“I like the idea of somethin’ slow,” he said. “Somethin’ that don’t ask much of me. I never had that, y’know? Was always Stanley barkin’ orders, or makin’ messes I had to clean up. I just…want a life that don’t cost so much.”

You stared at him for a long moment before rolling onto your back.

“Bodega Bay,” you whispered.

Walter furrowed his brow. “Where the hell is that?”

“California coast. Foggy. Quiet. Small town, like something out of a dream.”

He turned on his side to watch you.

“It smells like salt and old books and fresh bread,” you said, smiling faintly at the ceiling. “I saw a picture once. A lighthouse. Paint was chipped. Waves crashing. It looked…lonely. But not sad. Like it didn’t need anything.”

Walter reached out and brushed a knuckle down her jaw.

“Still want to go?” he asked.

You nodded. “More than anything.”

“Why haven’t you?”

You hesitated. Then, “Because I kept waiting for my life to calm down long enough to go. It never did.”

He could feel something twist in his gut. A deep, slow pull.

“You should go,” he said. He didn’t even think before the words left his mouth.

Your head turned. “Come with me.”

And there it was—the moment he couldn’t stop playing back, even now.

He wanted to say yes. God, he wanted to say yes.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Didn’t know how to untangle himself from the mess of Stanley, from the weight of all the years he spent trying to fix what was broken.

So instead, he just looked at you.

You sat up slightly, reached toward the nightstand, and picked something up—a crumpled napkin, folded awkward and careful into the shape of a flower.

You took his hand and placed it in his palm.

“I thought you were gonna toss that,” he said, voice quiet.

“I couldn’t,” you whispered. “Not when you made it for me.”

His fingers curled around it like it meant more than it should.

“You keep it,” you told him. “Just… promise me you won’t throw it out.”

Walter stared at you.

“I won’t,” he said. And he meant it.

Then he kissed you—slow and full of everything he wasn’t brave enough to say. It wasn’t hunger this time. It wasn’t about heat or urgency or skin.

It was grief.

It was the shape of a goodbye.

And in some fucked-up part of him, he knew it’d be the last moment like this he’d get.

He just didn’t know how soon it’d all slip away.

The Greyhound station was washed in the gray-blue tint of a too-early morning, the kind that crept in through dusty windows and settled heavy over everything like fog. The kind of light that didn’t wake you gently—it just reminded you that the night was over.

You'd been there since just after six.

The waiting room stank of mop water and old gum, tired grease from the all-night burrito truck parked in the lot, and the faint metallic scent of nerves. Somewhere, a vending machine sputtered behind scratched glass and made an angry whirring sound every few minutes like it might just give up altogether. The overhead intercom kept announcing boarding calls in a half-dead garble, crackling with static, like even the station itself couldn’t be bothered to stay awake.

You were sitting stiff on a plastic bench near Gate 4, legs curled under you, your backpack pulled into your chest like a shield. The vinyl seat stuck to the backs of your thighs when you shifted.

Your coffee—if you could call it that—was still in your hands, now cold and stale. Burnt. You’d stopped sipping it a while ago, but it gave your hands something to do. Something to hold. Something to grip so tightly your knuckles had gone white.

You couldn’t keep still. Your knee bounced. You tugged the hem of your sleeve down over your fingers. You kept checking the cracked analog clock above the departures screen, even though time barely seemed to move at all.

Every time the front entrance doors groaned open, you looked up.

And every time, it wasn’t him.

You weren’t even supposed to be here anymore. By now, if you’d kept walking—if you’d gotten on the earlier bus—you’d already be halfway down the coast. You wouldn’t be stuck in this purgatory, ears straining for the sound of his voice in a crowd that didn’t know you. You wouldn’t be praying for something you told yourself you no longer believed in.

But you couldn’t go. Not yet. Not until the very last second.

You turned your face away from the entrance, stared out the smudged plexiglass window. The light was changing now, brightening from gray to the dusty-gold haze of early sun. Outside, the world continued as if yours hadn’t broken.

A couple argued over car keys in the parking lot. A kid dragged a wheeled suitcase shaped like a dinosaur. A bus hissed and rolled off into traffic, and your breath hitched at the sound of it leaving.

Another door opened. You didn’t look this time.

“Bus to Bodega Bay boards in twenty minutes,” the intercom muttered overhead.

Your grip tightened around the cup. The name stung.

Bodega Bay.

It sounded like a postcard, like a wish. Like something made up. A place that existed in daydreams and foggy longings and pillow talk—not real life.

But you remembered.

You remembered the motel bed. The scratchy sheets, the AC rattle, your legs tangled with his. The night after he’d patched you up, kissed your bruised skin soft like penance.

You remembered the weight of his arm thrown across your stomach, the thump of his heartbeat against your back, the quiet in his voice when the adrenaline had drained and all that was left was him.

You’d been laying there together in the dark, half-draped over each other. And you’d whispered it into the hush like a secret.

"If you could go anywhere," you’d asked, voice so low it barely stirred the air, "where would it be?"

He’d been silent for a moment. Thoughtful. Fingers still drawing lazy, tired shapes on your hipbone.

“I dunno,” he said, soft. “You first.”

You’d hesitated, then whispered: “Bodega Bay. I looked it up once in a travel magazine when I was fifteen. It was some article about the coast in autumn. Said it was the quietest town in California. Said it smelled like salt and firewood. Like someplace nobody would find you unless you wanted them to.”

His voice was barely a rasp when he spoke next. “Sounds peaceful.”

You rolled over to face him, your noses almost brushing. “What about you?”

That crooked smile of his had been faint, but real. “A laundromat,” he’d said, a little sheepish, like he was embarrassed to even admit it. “Silly, I know. But I always thought it’d be...I dunno. Simple. You open the doors, people come in with dirty things, and leave with clean ones. Doesn’t ask much. Doesn’t need much.”

You remembered laughing, but only a little. Because it wasn’t silly. Because it made perfect sense.

Because for all the things Walter was—restless, damaged, fierce—he was still a boy who wanted something quiet. Something that didn’t hurt.

And now, all you could think about was that line. People come in with dirty things, and leave with clean ones.

You weren’t sure where you fell on that spectrum. If you were the stain, or the machine.

Another fifteen minutes.

You wiped under your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, not caring who saw.

You’d already bought the ticket.

You told yourself you’d leave if he wasn’t here by the time they called final boarding.

And you told yourself you weren’t hoping.

You lied.

He hit the pavement running.

Shoes slapping concrete. Chest burning. Palms raw from where he'd tripped earlier scrambling off the wrong bus. He nearly collided with the door as it wheezed open—too slow, too goddamn slow—and shoved his way into the Greyhound station with the urgency of someone being chased by something no one else could see.

Walter’s eyes flicked fast over the room.

To the left: a mother wiping jelly off a toddler’s cheek.

To the right: a couple sharing headphones, heads leaned together.

Dead center: a man snoring into his hoodie.

No sign of you.

His chest was already heaving, shirt clinging to the sweat that had bloomed beneath his collar. He hadn't slept. Hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Hadn’t stopped moving for longer than ten minutes since the waitress told him, “She’s at the station—go, before you miss her.”

He’d gotten the name from her lips like a goddamn miracle, and now every beat of his heart felt like it might burst through his ribs.

And then—he saw you.

You were standing in line at Gate 4, profile turned toward the window. Same coin-colored hair he’d brushed back from your face a hundred times in his head since you left. Same hoodie she always tucked her hands into when you were nervous. Same backpack he’d watched you zip closed with trembling fingers the night you walked out of his life.

His mouth parted.

His legs didn’t move.

For a split second, he couldn’t. Just looked. Like he wasn’t sure you were real.

God, you looked tired.

Not just in your body, but in your posture. Like every inch of you had sunk inward. Shoulders slouched. Eyes hollow. Like all the light in you had dimmed and dulled and flickered out somewhere between motel room and morning coffee.

He couldn’t stand it.

He started walking. No, moving. Pushing through bodies. Apologizing without stopping. Shoving past a man with two duffel bags and narrowly avoiding an entire rolling suitcase. He didn’t care. Didn’t stop. Not until he was three feet behind you in the line, heart pounding like gunfire in his ears.

And then he said your name.

Soft. Just once.

You didn’t turn.

So he tried again. Louder this time.

“Hey.”

And this time, you did.

You turned so slow it felt like the whole world bent around the movement. Eyes wide. Face unreadable. Your lips parted, but no sound came. Just breath. Just disbelief.

You stared at him like a ghost. Like something you thought you'd buried and now had to grieve all over again.

He stepped closer. Swallowed hard.

“Don’t get on that bus.”

Your throat worked once. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His voice cracked. “Came lookin’.”

“How’d you even find me?”

“Went through the goddamn phone book.” He laughed, but it was breathless. Shaky. “Went to every diner in the damn county tryin’ to remember which one it was. You’d think I’d remember the place I first saw you smile.”

You blinked. Didn’t say anything.

He kept going.

“I—shit—I know I fucked it. I know that. But I’m not lettin’ you walk away. Not without sayin’ it.”

“Saying what, Walter?”

His voice was hoarse when it came.

“That I love you.”

You looked like he’d hit you. “You don’t get to say that now.”

“I didn’t know what to do when you left. I didn’t know how to pick between you and my fuckin’ brother and by the time I realized I should’ve picked you, you were already gone.”

You folded your arms. “You didn’t come after me.”

“I did!” His voice broke, too loud. Heads turned. He lowered it. “I did. Just…not fast enough. I’ve been tryin’ for days. I used what I had left payin’ off the piece of shit who tried to lay hands on you. My phone’s cut off. I didn’t even know where to start. But I’m here now. And I know it ain’t enough, and I know you don’t owe me anything, but I need you to know I love you.”

The driver called “Final boarding—Bodega Bay!” from the gate.

Walter looked at the bus, then at you.

“Don’t go.”

You swallowed so hard it hurt. You were already crying. Silent tears. Your lips were trembling, and you shook your head once.

“I can’t go back to that motel,” you whispered. “To Stanley.”

“You don’t have to.” Walter stepped forward. “He ain’t part of this no more.”

“What changed?”

“You did,” he said. “You showed me what peace looks like. What home looks like.”

The intercom crackled again.

You turned your head, looked at the bus.

Then looked back at him.

Walter took something from his pocket.

Held it out in his palm.

The origami flower. Crumpled now, weathered, but still intact.

“I kept it,” he said. “I kept everything you ever gave me.”

The clock was ticking.

The driver started closing the door.

Walter’s voice dropped. Almost a whisper.

“Please don’t get on that bus.”

And for a second—

One impossible, soul-stretching second—

The entire world held its breath.

And in that collective, cosmic inhale, you didn’t hear the shuttle door close behind the last passenger.

Didn’t notice the quiet click of the driver’s clipboard or the way he paused, gave you one last look like he knew, then turned back to his wheel.

Didn’t hear the soft cough of the engine warming up or the whine of the brakes easing out of lock.

Because all you could hear was him.

Walter.

His breathing.

Shaky, desperate, real.

You turned around slowly. Like it hurt to look. And maybe it did. Because there he was—standing in the doorway of the station like something half-dreamed and full-broken. Sweat at his temples. Hands on his thighs like he’d been running. Shoulders heaving with the effort of holding himself together. One step away from collapse.

Your chest cracked like a fault line. You didn't cry yet. Not quite. But your jaw ached from holding back every word that wanted to escape.

You blinked once.

Twice.

His lips parted first.

“I’m sorry.”

Two words. That’s all it took.

Like a match dragged slow across stone.

You flinched.

And he took a step forward, careful like you were made of glass and one wrong move would send you scattering across the floor.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry,” he said again, thicker this time, voice fraying. “I shoulda run after you. Shoulda followed the second you left. Hell, I wanted to. But I—”

He looked down like he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes.

“Truth is, I ain’t never been good at goin’ after the things I want. ’Cause I figured I didn’t deserve ’em.”

He laughed once, bitter.

“But that’s just coward shit, ain’t it?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

So he kept talking.

“You were good to me,” he said, softer now. “Better than I’ve had any right to. And I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t know love could feel like...like not bein’ scared all the fuckin’ time. Like breathin’ easier. Like wakin’ up with your back to someone and not wonderin’ if they’re gonna leave.”

His voice broke on the last word. Just gave out.

You looked at him then. Really looked.

And you saw it all.

The dark rings under his eyes.

The cracked lips.

The dried blood at his knuckles.

The man who used to sleep with his fists clenched now standing open-palmed in front of you—offering.

“I dunno if I can be perfect,” he said, eyes shining. “But I’ll be better. I swear to fuckin’ God, I will. For you. Just tell me where and I’ll be there. I don’t care where you go—Bodega fuckin’ Bay or goddamn Mars—I’ll be there.”

You stepped forward.

Your fingers trembled as they reached for his collar.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I ain’t.” His hand cupped your cheek, thumb rough and shaking. “Look at me. I ain’t lettin’ you leave thinkin’ I didn’t want you. That I didn’t love you. ’Cause I do. I fuckin’ do. And I don’t wanna live in a world where you ain’t in it.”

That broke you.

Finally.

Your breath caught like a sob in your chest and the tears came, fast and quiet, slipping down your cheeks in hot, messy trails. You closed the gap between you and pressed your forehead to his. Your voice was barely a whisper.

“I was gonna go,” you said. “I really was. I bought the ticket. I packed my bag. I thought if I could just forget you, I’d be okay.”

Walter’s voice was a rasp.

“But you couldn’t.”

You shook your head.

“I couldn’t.”

And then he kissed you.

And it wasn’t clean or easy or sweet.

It was everything.

Salt and tears. Smoke and rain. Coffee and motel soap. The raw ache of wanting and waiting and almost losing. Your lips fit like a promise. His hands shook as they cupped your jaw, slid down your back, held you so gently it made you want to scream.

You clung to him like drowning.

He held you like home.

“I’ll fix this,” he murmured against your mouth. “Whatever it takes. I’ll give you peace. I’ll build you a life. We’ll get outta this goddamn town and I’ll open a laundromat and you can paint the walls whatever color you want and we’ll get a dog who won’t listen to me worth shit and I’ll bring you coffee every mornin’—the cheap kind, the good kind, whatever the fuck you want.”

You laughed through your tears, clutching the front of his shirt.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you want?”

He looked at you like it was the easiest answer in the world.

“You. Always was you.”

A long silence.

Your heart beat against his chest.

“I was scared,” you whispered.

“So was I.”

“But I think we can do it.”

He leaned down again, kissed the side of your jaw, the edge of your mouth, your temple.

“I know we can.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, swimming in the blues of his irises, watching his lips curl as he added, “let’s go.”

“Where?”

He smiled.

“Home.”

“And where is that?” you asked, confused—not because you didn’t understand the word, but because you had never had one. Not really. You always thought a home had four walls and a roof that didn’t leak, a front door that locked, a fridge full of food and someone who left the porch light on. Something fixed. Something solid. Something you could touch and point to and say that’s mine.

But when he answered—

“Wherever you are.”

—something inside you broke open. Because suddenly you understood. It wasn’t the walls or the roof or the door. It was him. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing he needed. The way his arms felt more like shelter than any place you’d ever been. That was home.

He was home.

Epilogue: All-in

The bell above the laundromat door jingled softly as you walked in from the early afternoon drizzle, wiping your feet on the worn mat by instinct now. The air inside was warm and soapy, thick with the familiar scent of lavender detergent and sun-dried cotton. The machines hummed in their steady rhythm, spinning clothes in circles like time itself was gently resetting. Outside, the fog clung to the edges of Bodega Bay, where gulls wheeled in lazy arcs and sea mist curled into the alleys between buildings.

Walter looked up from behind the counter, one hand wrapped around a chipped mug, the other rubbing absently at his wrist—a lingering ache that hadn’t quite gone away, though the flares were fewer these days. He smiled the moment he saw you. That slow, crooked grin that still managed to knock the wind out of your chest like it did the first time.

“You forget your dryer sheets again?” he asked, his New England accent curling around every word, teasing.

You scoffed, toeing the door shut behind you. "I live here, dummy. Everything in this place is technically mine too."

He leaned forward on his elbows. "Then technically, I should be usin' your mug."

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. "You already steal all my socks."

He chuckled, eyes glinting. You crossed the room and let him pull you into his side, the swell of your belly pressing gently against him. His hand slid instinctively to rest there, thumb stroking the curve with the kind of reverence that made your throat ache. The baby kicked and he blinked, like it never stopped feeling like a miracle.

The laundromat had been open for six months now. Business was steady—locals came in with gossip and salt-stiff linens, tourists dropped off bulk loads before heading to the beach. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was clean, it was his, and it was honest. Every scuffed tile and chipped paint corner held proof that he’d started over.

He’d ripped out the broken vending machines with his own hands. Painted the walls a soft blue you picked together. Set up a little corner with a bulletin board and bookshelf where kids could sit while their parents folded shirts. Sometimes he made repairs with his bad hand anyway, even when it hurt, just to prove he still could.

And every evening, when the sun melted into the Pacific and the tide whispered up against the rocks, he locked the front door, flipped the sign to CLOSED, and walked home with you.

Home was a small cottage tucked behind the laundromat, wrapped in ivy and morning glories. It had creaky floors, a wood-burning stove, and windows that rattled in the wind—but it was yours.

He fixed the porch railing while you picked out curtains. You planted rosemary and sage in the windowsill box. You argued over where to hang the framed photograph of your first week there—the two of you soaked to the bone from rain, laughing over a busted umbrella.

He didn’t talk about Stanley. Not anymore. There was nothing left to say. No calls. No letters. Just a final voicemail deleted without being played. And a silence he chose to keep.

But sometimes you caught him staring out toward the edge of the ocean, quiet, thoughtful. You never pushed. He always came back to bed.

The puppy—Bean, short for Pinto—was sprawled out in a patch of sun behind the dryers, snoring. You’d surprised him with her after the first ultrasound. Said it was practice. He’d rolled his eyes and called you a sap, then spent twenty minutes on the floor rubbing her belly while pretending not to get choked up.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Walter murmured now, nodding toward the door as it creaked open.

It was a neighborhood kid dropping off her mom’s uniforms. You gave her a wave and promised to save her one of the strawberry sodas from the back fridge. Walter went to help her count quarters while you leaned against the counter and watched him.

His shoulders were broader now. Healthier. He smiled easier. Laughed deeper. Still had a temper, but you knew how to talk him down from it.

Later that night, you lay on the couch, your head on his lap, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your temple. The baby kicked again, and he murmured something soft you didn’t catch. You closed your eyes and let yourself believe it—that this was yours. Not just borrowed. Not just temporary.

Forever didn’t have to be loud.

Sometimes, it sounded like a washing machine cycle.

Sometimes, it looked like fog rolling over a sleepy bay town.

Sometimes, it felt like a hand resting on your stomach, steady and warm.

You finally got to keep something.

And it loved you back.

[alyssarkive]

lion request where reader finally convinces him to stop fighting and let stan go and they end up opening that dry cleaning business tg 💔💔💔💔💔

PRESS  N'  FOLD                                       lion  kaminski

angel  talks               ugh  MY  SWEET  BOY.  yes  1000x  yes  bcuz  he  so  deserves  the  world.  just  smtn  short  n  sweet  and  all  fluff + like one swear word

#NAV.ᐟ jack o’connell mlist

THE SHOP SMELLED LIKE LAVENDER AND WARM COTTON BY NOON.

Lion was at the front counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, eyes squinting at the instruction manual for the new tagging machine. His brow was furrowed in that helpless, boyish way he got when something had more than two buttons.

You watched him from your perch atop the folding station, sipping your coffee and trying very hard not to swoon over the way his forearms flexed every time he fiddled with the machine.

“Sweetheart,” he said without looking up, “if you’re laughing at me, I will make you re-tag all the sports jackets.”

You smiled into your cup. “You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”

“It’s a badly written manual. Not my fault.”

You set your drink down and hopped off the counter, walking over to him slowly, socked feet silent on the linoleum tile. Lion looked up just in time for you to tug the manual out of his hands and toss it gently onto the counter.

“I don’t need a manual,” you said, rising up onto your toes. “I’ve got you.”

Lion’s grin bloomed like something warm and syrupy. His big hands immediately settled on your waist, pulling you in close until your chest met his, your nose bumped his chin, and all the air between you tasted like dryer sheets and something sweeter.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “That why you keep me around?”

“Well, that and the fact you do the ironing like a total pro,” you teased.

“I take my wrinkles seriously.”

You hummed, fingers lazily brushing the nape of his neck. “Mmm. That’s not the only thing you take seriously.”

Lion leaned in, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed the softest kiss to your temple. “I take you seriously.”

You melted like fabric softener under hot water.

It still caught you off guard sometimes—how gentle he could be. For a man built like a brick wall with fists that used to end fights in minutes, he kissed like he had all the time in the world. Touched you like porcelain. Loved you like it was the only thing he’d ever been good at.

And maybe now, it was.

Because he’d done it. He’d left the ring. Let Stan go. Hung up his gloves and traded in his bruises for warm loads of laundry and a little dry-cleaning shop that only had one broken machine so far.

“Hey,” you whispered against his chest, “you ever think about how weird this all is?”

“What, us?”

“No,” you laughed. “I mean… yeah. Yes. Definitely us. But more like… this. Here. Now. You, me, this shop. Like—we own a steamer now. That’s unhinged.”

Lion chuckled, resting his chin on your head. “We also own fifty wire hangers and five boxes of starch.”

“Major business owner shit.”

“Undisputed champions of clean collars,” he agreed solemnly.

You giggled and pulled back just enough to look up at him, hands still looped behind his neck. His face was open, soft, completely unguarded. You could read everything in it—how much he adored you. How content he was. How settled.

“I love you, Lion.”

You never had to say it first, but you always wanted to.

He touched his forehead to yours. “Love you more, baby.”

You stayed there for a while, swaying slightly in each other’s arms to a song that wasn’t playing, the hum of a nearby dryer filling the silence like background music in a quiet domestic daydream.

Eventually, Lion kissed your nose and muttered, “We should probably finish that drop-off order. The one with all the silk scarves?”

You sighed dramatically. “You mean the mountain of delicate hand wash? The pile that haunts my dreams?”

“Exactly.”

You groaned, “You promised me donuts if I made it through.”

He grinned. “I’ve got Boston creams in the fridge. Bribery remains a foundational part of our relationship.”

“Thank god,” you said, already walking toward the back. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

From behind you, you heard: “You got with me for the discount detergent, admit it.”

“I got with you for the folded laundry, actually.”

“Even better.”

And there, in the middle of a shop that smelled like lavender and fresh starts, Lion Kaminski slipped a donut into your hand, kissed powdered sugar off your cheek, and smiled like a man who’d finally figured out what love was supposed to feel like.

It was this. Not a fight. Not the win.

It was clean sheets and sleepy mornings and someone to press your shirts. It was silk scarves and shared toothbrush cups. It was softness.

It was you.

[alyssarkive]

I'm not even sorry at this point. Here's Jack O'Connell as Lion Kaminski in Jungleland (2019)

[alyssarkive]

contains : erotic & horror themes, including depictions of monsterfucking, violence & blood. reader is imagined to be black, though interpretation is open. MDNI 18+ note. english is not my first language, ignore typos

MAMA USED TO SAY AINT NO GOOD EVER CAME FROM A MAN WHO TALKED SMOOTH. told you that they’re either preachers or predators, and neither’s worth your virtue or your time. (sometimes, you think maybe she was just trying to ward you off pretty white boys.)

she also told you all about vampires.

according to her, vampires couldn’t cross a threshold unless you bid them, that holy water’ll make their skin slough off like boiled peaches. she said they couldn’t cross running water either.

that part, you’ve since learned, was nonsense.

it was a vampire who damn near carried you across the creek last week when your heel got wedged between the rocks. he didn’t flinch at the current—simply hitched up his trousers and waded through, big arms hooked beneath your thighs like you weighed nothing at all.

your mama was a wise woman, but there are things she couldn’t have known.

after all, she never met remmick.

he first came to you when the heat broke. the song of cicadas gone silent, purple bruised sky leaking copper. june’s breath turning sweet and spoiled like ripe fruit. you opened the door barefoot, porch boards sun-warm beneath your soles.

now he comes and goes as he pleases.

his skin is as cold than the river stones under your feet that day. cold even when he’s fully sheathed inside you, fucking into you nice and slow.

his pupils stay tar-black until he’s hungry. then they bloom red—rich and furious, red as poppies—just as he’s yanking your bloomers down, breathing hard against the inside of your thigh.

his mouth unhinges in such a way that can only be described as serpentine. you’ve seen the full spread of it. a row of fangs where a human’s teeth should be, gums slick and red like fresh meat. tongue, long and deft, moves with inhuman control—circling your clit, lapping at it in slow, surgical swipes like it was shaped for that purpose alone.

he keeps the claws tucked away most days. but you’ve seen them. curved obsidian sickles catching the lamplight, retractable like a cat’s. the first time he let them slip during sex, he raked them down your back mid-climax—tore your nightgown straight down the spine, left welts that stung for days. another time, remmick clawed through the headboard, splintered it clean, hips stuttering while his mouth stretched wide, teeth bared. you watched it happen from beneath him, utterly struck by the sheer violence of it. and the beauty.

he’s not entirely invincible, though. the smell of garlic makes him recoil in disgust. sunlight and silver blisters his skin on contact.

remmick is the monster you’ve been warned about. the thing with claws and fangs, glowing red eyes and cold skin.

you’re not stupid. you knew better. that’s why you keep a silver charm strung around your neck. holy water in a flask on your bedside table, and most importantly — a stake under your pillow.

but knowing hasn’t stopped you from letting him kneel between your thighs and lick you open with that obscene mouth in search of ripeness. hasn’t stopped those cold lips from murmuring “mo chroí… cailín milis…” against your skin as he pushes in slow, every thick inch of him dragging against soaked velvet walls.

you want him.

in ways that aren’t just carnal, even if you both pretend otherwise.

and maybe—just maybe—your mama wasn’t warning you about monsters.

maybe she was warning you about the mistake of falling for one.

[alyssarkive]

MISS PERFECT | FLUFF

one-shot: saja boys x ocd manager! fem! reader

summary: everything must be perfect to you, and almost addictingly so. a twist occurs in your voice, so your lovers really think it’s time for you to relax and take a good break with them.

a/n: language, comfort, silly boys and reader. kinda short but idk, lemme know what yall think

Everyday would be the same routine to you, and you memorized it beat by beat.

Heck, even as a manager for the best singing boys in town, you make sure they’re prim and proper. Ever see a stray hair on them? Yep, immediate hair appointment asap!

“Where’s your other button?!”

You nearly scream, your hand flying around as if you were free-falling from the sky. It’s four minutes before showtime and your something-amorous lovers were stressing you the-fuck-out. Especially Abs.

His floral shirt was missing a blue button, and you had the utter urge to rip his shirt off and slap on a new one.

“It flew off when I buttoned it,” he laughed, giving you a head pat as you steamed with anger, “But don’t worry babe—“

“No! You don’t get to babe me! Take your shirt off now!” you pull out your radio, channeling in to the backstage dressers, “Floral button up, size XL with big bust, immediately!”

The others were barely walking in as they rolled their cuffs and chatted softly. Your eyes trailed their figures, making sure that nothing was too tight or too loose. Then, you begin the routinely check, and you pull out your clipboard, your pen ready to check;

“Radio?”

The boys smiled, some crossing their arms as others lean against the frames of the pillars, “Check.”

“Mics?���

“Check.”

Your brows furrowed as you look up, only seeing Romance reply to you with dreamy eyes. The others were tapping their foot impatiently, the pink lights leaving a beautiful afterglow on them.

“Romance, thank you,” you say, your knuckles turning white with how hard you’re squeezing your pencil, “The rest of you, what the hell?”

“y/n,” Jinu grabs your chin gently, titling it up slightly, “Please, everything’s alright and everything will be fine. So don’t you worry your pretty little head about it—“

“Floral button up, size XL with big bust!”

A scrawny demon holds up the big cloth, string clings from its claws as it sweats. You knew your stars were demons, and honestly? It just made things more interesting. But now? They’re just like any other human.

You grab the cloth from him, inspecting it back and forth for perfection, and then toss it to Abs, who pouts, “Put it on,” you snap, “And I’ll button it up for you.”

Mystery and Baby were staring at the screen held by their hands, the familiar sound of food asmr coming from it. It irked you the way they slouched; but you didn’t say nothing.

“The tour has to be amazing, Jinu, and I appreciate your concern,” you turn as you talk, buttoning the shirt on the fit man, “But I like seeing you all in great excellency and in the happiest of moods.”

“So,” you press a kiss on Abs cheek, earning you a chuckle, “I’m fine, and I’m so not worried…”

Your voice trails off when you look down at Jinu’s shoes. A single pretzel crumb was staining it, contrasting with the beautiful pink color they were. And it seems that he caught sight of it because he immediately lifts his leg to swipe it off, making you grin. He’s worried as he talks;

“How about after this show we all go on a—“

He didn’t even get to finish talking when the host had already called out their names, introducing them to the stage. You whispered as the crowd got louder and the boys began to run out;

“Good luck...”

You watched them from the side, and in your head you’re making sure they’re copying every move and every word they rehearsed. When you breathe, you feel a slight heave in your chest, and you place your hand on your throat. You swallow, but the very action makes your throat hurt more.

Is your voice gone?

You bounced off your chair, sprinting quietly to the food court behind the stage— which was luckily meant for crew. Very few demons were in their human form, and others were picking and nibbling at the food. Biting your lip, you spot a water bottle at a distance, and you try to shout before a demon took it;

“N-nho!”

The words come out as a choke, and you wince. The pain didn’t hurt, it was more so the way your schedule will have to change.

Again.

Pairs of eyes looked at you in concern, raising a brow as you kick and hit the air in a fit. You couldn’t let the boys know— absolutely not! If they did, they’d immediately put you to rest and you’d have to stay in bed. All. Freaking. Day.

“My love!”

The familiar bright voice makes you widen your eyes, and you stare at the shadows running up to you. Yep, you’re cooked.

“We didn’t see you waiting for us, what happened?”

Romance hugged you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist as Baby looked at you quizzically. You smiled, a forced one, and put your thumbs up. His ocean-blue eyes stared at you, taking your figure in.

“You…okay?” he asks, frowning when Romance begins to smother your neck with kisses, “You should be yelling at him now…”

“Wait…” he gapes at you, lips turning upward as he gives you a sly grin, “Did you get us a surprise? Is that why you’re so quiet?”

Thank god he was dumb as hell. You nod feverishly, making a ‘zipped lips’ motion. You hear the other three coming in, and you spare a quick glance. Jinu is unbuttoning his shirt as Mystery slouches and yawns, heading toward the food table. Abs follows shortly behind, holding a torn shirt.

“It kinda ripped…”

Now it’s your turn to gape as you push away from the pink-haired demon. You walk to Abs, holding the ripped shirt, which was in a clean two-part tear right at the middle. He only laughs, trying to give you a kiss;

“It’s totally fine though, gave some fan service y’know—“

You cracked, forgetting that your voice was diluted and hoarse.

“Yuh fuhking sthoopid rihhped muhnkay! Yuh twah—“

Your voice died out and all that was left was you punching the steel wall of a man before you with left and right hooks. A moment of silence fell around you, and you stop, confused at first. And then you turn tomato red.

“Now don’t tell me that you lost your voice, huh?”

Jinu walks up behind you, and you’re wide-eyed as you stare in to the pores of Abs literal abs. You feel a hand touch your shoulder, and a smooth voice talk to you;

“y/n, did you lose your voice?”

Like a child who got caught stealing, you shake your head, your cheeks still flushed. It was all he needed to know before he stepped back with crossed arms.

“Seize her.”

Your head snaps back, but it’s too late as Abs grabs you from behind and Romance is already rushing to grab at your kicking legs. Mystery pulls out one of his hand warmers, and the cloth is wrapped around your wrists tightly.

“Baby, make sure she’s taken home and given tea.” Jinu orders, watching you flail around like a flopping fish, “Miss Manager needs a break.”

Now you’re at home, literally strapped onto the plush bed. Baby and Mystery are on your legs like pets watching the stupid iPad again. You’re on your breaking point to silently scream if you hear another damn crunch of chips from that device.

“Now this is Cheetos’ new limited edition flavor, called chestnut spice, let’s try it…crunch!”

You kick your legs up, huffing furiously as you tried to hurt one of the two. But they’re horribly heavy and only spare you a raised brow;

“You wanna watch too?”

Yeah! I wanna watch you guys leave the room and watch that shit somewhere else!

Yet, you could only narrow your eyes down to a glare.

“Oh, you want to try the chips?” offers Mystery, ready to order it, “I can’t tell…”

Before you could start snarling, Abs and Romance come in with a dinner tray. It had a great array of meats and sushi, but the organization of it made you tinge with need.

“We brought sushi for the amazing miss y/n!” Romance sang, holding a pitcher of what seemed to be lemonade, “You look so beautiful in bed!”

You stare at him with a blank face, your jaw open as you blink. Again, you’re strapped onto the bed with chains on your persona to prevent you from running away. And he has the audacity to say you look beautiful?

Abs sets down the tray of food before you, grinning as he pulled up a chair to sit near. Jinu made his way inside as well, holding a stack of old movies between his two palms.

One of the boys tries to feed you but you refuse; moving your head to the side. There was no way you were going to eat that uneven sushi. The balance of fish and rice was terrible, and it showed that they made it.

“C’mon we made it—“

You glare daggers into Abs, your eyes switching from his and to the ugly sushi disgustingly. He frowns,

“Romance how about you try,”

You snap your head at the other, eyes even wider as you stare into his soul.

“Jeez, you look like a worm in a hawks hold,” sighs Baby, watching your fit, “The food is fine, why won’t you eat?”

Cause it’s ugly.

“Either you eat it or we feed it to you,” yawns Abs, eyeing the food blindly, “It’s literally good.”

You wiggle your arms, raising a brow. Set me free. Jinu grimaces, understanding your request, but ever so slowly. He sets down the discs on the nightstand, looming over you.

“What’s wrong with the plate…”

His voice trails off, seeing the food scattered all over. You raise a brow, your frown as deep as ever.

“Is it because it’s messy?”

Yes!

You nod, moving your leg to bump the plate up, fix it. The others look at you with dumbfounded faces, not understanding.

Mystery eyes the plate, taking the chopsticks from Abs as he moves around the sushi. Your frown lifts a bit. But just a bit.

“Move the meat to the left,” offers Romance, watching the way your frown eased as they organized the food, “And then the wasabi there,”

“Miss perfect, huh?” Jinu says, chuckling as you silently watch the others work together to organize the plate, “As long as it makes you happy.”

You smile sweetly at him, motioning your head for him to come forward, and he listens. The conversation turns inaudible as he leans, pushing his hair behind his ear to hear your whisper;

“I’m gonna touch you, horribly.”

He grins, and some of the boys perk up from their challenge when your smirk falls.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, princess.”

work and rights belong to me, laurel.

[alyssarkive]

ABSOLUTELY YOURS, TRULY | FLUFF

one-shot: saja boys x manager! fem! reader

anon ask summary: Being a manager to the infamous Saja Boys is no easy feat, and how you got contracted was a mystery. Maybe you want attention, or perhaps just for them to see how much you’re doing. You don’t want a raise, no you want them to shine. But that’s taking a little too much out of your own soul to do

a/n: mostly Jinu interaction? kind of fluff, definitely humor and flirting. crashouts & language.

They were annoying, and you weren’t going to gaslight yourself into believing they weren’t. To the public, they were handsome, iconic boys— eye-catching and mouth-drooling to every human being.

To you, they were like bratty little kids. Who never once tells you about their next song, and simply toss you their script and ads that need to be publicized. Like, hello? You’re practically known at Coffee Bean for your same order at the same times.

Get a load of that shit.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom. Your once illuminating eyes were now adorned with tear burns and eye bags. Rubbing your thin lips together, you feel your chapped flesh rub against each other roughly. Maybe you should order that family-pack of chapsticks. (You dismissed it easily— the boys would simply get their hands on it before you.) Sighing, you rinse your face with the cold water of the faucet. Its cold sensation awakens you, refreshing you for about the next two hours.

“You done in there?”

The voice of Jinu makes you groan, “What the heck do you want cover boy?”

You dry your face with the branded Saja Boys towel, and ruffle your hair to make it look at least a little more fluffier. The hours of restlessness and no sleep leave you tired, but you have to last— especially for them.

With them you felt needed, wanted. Or at least you think you did, because you convinced yourself that because you lasted for a year with them— it makes you at least needed. But you knew you were killing yourself with the stress and overwork, and you didn’t want them to notice. Because…they might just hire somebody else.

Oblivious to you, they only saw you as a pawn. Someone temporary to their plan for obliterating Huntrix. You only needed to know the details and they could expect results; you never let them down and never once retaliated. All the others before who did, well, never lived to tell the tale.

“Well like everyone else, we need to use the bathroom. Don’t use up all the water.”

You mocked his voice as you opened the door, “DoN’T uSE uP aLL tHE wATer!” You raised a brow, eyeing the surprisingly well-dressed raven, “If only you coordinated your outfits yourself, you would save me a ton of time at the tailors.”

Behind Jinu was Mystery, who chuckled lightly at your remark, “You’re cute when you’re mad, say,” the iconic boy leaned against the doorframe, “You look a little wasted, don’t you?”

A pang hits your heart as you deny it immediately, “Wasted?!” You roll your eyes and laugh a little too excessively, “I’m just not wearing makeup, so perhaps be a little nicer?”

The pair shrugged and dismissed you, with only Jinu turning back, “Fix yourself up, it genuinely doesn’t look good on you.”

Whether it was a compliment or not, you took it seriously. From that day forward, you bought every high-coverage make-up you could. It masked every dark mark you had and made you full of color. But even now, behind stage, it didn’t last very long.

You got noticed every now and then; not just by the boys, but by the crew as well. Every, “Are you okay?” and “You look tired y/n…” just adds another brick to your load.

And it simply didn’t take long until you were stuck home, sick and unable to lift yourself off the bed. Bare in your oversized t-shirt saying “best manager ever” (a gift you gave yourself) and a thong, you mustered the energy to pick up a ringing call.

“y/n?” spoke Abs, “We’re looking every fucking where for you! Where are you?!”

You pulled the phone a distance away from your ear, waiting for the nuisance to quiet down. Of all the band, Abs had to be the most prodding one of all. The one who pokes your rib, asking if they were having hotpot tonight— and if you didn’t, he’d annoy you to death for one. Which actually might be possible if he did right now.

You lick your lips, making a smacking noise as you sing on the phone, “Are we done?”

A silence followed, but not before he continued, “We haven’t seen you for a week, and we don’t have anyone to do your work.” A shout is heard in the back. Was someone screaming that the printer didn’t work? Well duh, you thought, only you knew how to work that old thing.

“I can’t,” you murmured, plopping yourself on the plush bed, “I’m drained. I did a BP check and I’m so fucking low, so if I were to work today…” you sighed, “I’d probably drop dead.”

“In my arms? That’d be perfect; just confess your love to me before you do.”

You sat up immediately, fuming, “Okay, so fuck you first of all—“

You didn’t finish, being startled by the doorbell. Abs probably heard because he made an “oh!” sound;

“That’s probably Jinu and Baby, they’re going to pick you up.”

You were gonna explode. Yep.

“Tell them to go back! And how the hell do you know where I live?!”

“It was on your job application.”

You hissed through your teeth, muttering incoherent words as you carried your phone to the door. Well, halfway through the journey anyway. The pair was already settling themselves in your tiny kitchen. “I bet my freaking house keys was on my job application too, huh?” you said, hanging up before Abs could reply. Baby was eyeing your hot sauces, his lips whispering the ingredients to himself as he inspected the bottle. Jinu stared at you, a grimace on his face as he stared at your beaten bunny sippers.

“How are you not decent in your own home?” he begins, tilting his head as he points at your legs, “Nice pair by the way.”

Your eyes want to bulge out of your skull as you bite your finger. How the heck were you going to get them out? Moreover, in a way that doesn’t get you fired?!

“Aha, well funny story actually,” you begin, but not before snapping your fingers at Baby, “Drink that shit and your asshole will burn like the flaming ring of hell when you obliterate your organs in the fucking toilet.”

That enough made him place the bottle back onto the counter and let out a little “jeez”.

You continue, rubbing your temples, “First of all, this is my house— so I wear and do what I like, alright? Second of all, isn’t it so obvious that I look dead?! I mean look at me!” You open your palms expressively, your jaw dropping in exaggeration.

Jinu rolled his eyes. He’s always such a bossy boss bossy boss!! You can’t help but frown, your brows furrow together as you hum, waiting for a reply.

“You look fine.” he said simply.

Oh my gosh, you thought, if he wasn’t your boss, he’d be done and gone and folded away into blank space. You look at Baby, who didn’t say much as he nodded along with Jinu’s response.

“I’m literally wearing panties in front of my coworkers and they aren’t fazed,” you hiss silently, “Gosh.”

The raven eyed you, watching you almost go crazy with your expressions. You were still expendable, and your soul still fluttered with its natural blue aura. If you couldn’t work, then he’d make sure you’d be put to use— as above, and as below. Yet, you began to cry.

“I’m tired alright?” you crack, “Of all the drama and all the work! ‘y/n do this!’ and ‘y/n do that!’ but never ‘y/n take a break’ or ‘y/n here’s this drink for you so you don’t fucking dehydrate yourself!”

”I practically live my life at work, okay?!” you shout, feeling confident enough to jab your finger at his chest, “I live to make you guys shine— to have victory at every award you guys qualify for. I’m the one pulling the strings, getting the connections, and making sure you look fine as fuck for your fans! So I’m sorry if—“

“Is this a bad time?”

Romance is followed by Mystery and Abs, who come in with a wad of papers, “You need to make copies of this, it’s due later on.”

You jump, like literally.

“See?! See?!” you shout, your eyes tearing, “And then all I get is work work work! I need a break, and if I can’t even get that, then I at least need care! I’m fucking human!”

You point at the papers like as if they were baby spiders being birthed in your home, “I’m not a machine! I’m not a workaholic! I wanna help you all, not-not-not do all this! Like lighten the load, please!”

Another moment of silence passes. A mutual consensus passes through the demons, unbeknownst to you. Yes, this seems like that others call a human “crashout”, but there was reason and rationale. They aren’t going to help you immediately of course, but they just hum. Clearly, you’re still loyal— but they’ve been using you too much.

Romance sets the papers by your coffee mug, whistling as he breaks the ice, “Out of topic, but did your ass get flatter? It used to bounce a little more when you ran about.” Of course, Abs nodded. Slowly, you turned your head, blinking once, two times, and three times. You didn’t have the energy, but you had that angry human fuel through you. You sauntered to the pink men;

“Well, maybe if I had the time to go to the gym and work on my glutes— I would please you more. But please,” you opened your arms, “Be my guest and judge me more. I’m definitely not going to sob on the floor.”

Another period of silence, and it’s broken by you this time, “What’s so hard to understand? To say?”

“What is there to say?” says Mystery, scratching his chin, “We’re not you, so we’re not supposed to understand if you never say anything.”

Scoffing, you reply, “So like what? I can just tell you guys ‘Hey, I’m tired! Can I sleep on the couch for a while and work on this later?’ Like you’d let—“

“Yeah.”

You turn to Baby, who finishes licking his lips clean of the sauce you warned him about, “You’re our manager, but if you can’t manage yourself— then how are you supposed to manage us?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s going to feel the effects of that sauce soon. Your voice was nearly a sob;

“So I can just say I’m tired and be excused for a few hours?”

Heads bobbed in the room, making a “well duh” face. You felt stupid, over exaggerated even. You threw this fit for nothing? All these sleepless nights when you could’ve just asked for a break?

“S-so can I,” you sniffle, looking at Jinu, “…take a b-break? Without being punished?”

“We care about getting you well, of course.” he sighed, running his fingers through his gorgeous locks, “You can take the week—“

You jumped onto his chest, sobbing, “I fucking love and hate you guys— I feel s-so bad!” His shirt was scrunched in your palms, being soaked with your snot and tears. He won’t say anything for now, but a week from now he’ll be sure to remind you.

“Group hug!” You sobbed, and when no one moved, you hissed, “Group hug or I’ll make sure you guys wear leather tights in your next debut!”

It truly worked as a charm.

It’s been a few months since your confession, and every now and then you’d take your necessary breaks. Not too much to make them doubt you, of course, but enough to make you better than you were before.

You were finishing the final paperwork for the next show. Costume designs, props, and the set ups all had to be finalized before you could release the advertisements. Sighing, you picked up your pen, ready to sign away.

“y/n?” a knock on the door followed, “I got you a little something from the boys.”

One of the stage crew held a grand bouquet of flowers, full of every color imaginable. A small thank you note was attached to it. You pouted, taking the flowers with a sniffle and a thank you.

Well they certainly have been appreciating you more. A big card slipped from the bottom of the bouquet, and you picked it up, reading;

check the bottom of your drawer, there’s a surprise for you. attached is a card for you to enjoy. thank you for planning the show for us. - sincerely, The Saja Boys p.s.(romance & abs) can we take you out to apologize? :( jinu hit us

You laugh, pressing the pink card to your heart. Taking the advice, you stroll to your desk, opening the bottom drawer to find a shirt saying, “The Saja Boys’ Best Manager”

“Oh I’m absolutely yours, truly guys.” you whisper, holding it dear to as you gasp at the gift card that slipped. “500 fucking dollars to Coffee Bean?! FUCK YES!!”

A row of smiles outside the door chuckled, oh they were glad you were back on your feet. “Shit, I gotta shit,” whispered one of them.

“She did warn you.”

work and rights belong to me, laurel.

[alyssarkive]

saja boys meeting you at a fansign

genre : fluff

contents : reader is not a fan of theirs and they take it as a challenge , mild beefing with jinu, baby saja aegyo im sorry,

you couldn’t believe you’d given in. your friend had been bugging you for days about this new boy group that had debuted and you were getting tired of it.

she had been blowing up your phone with edits, memes, and variety show clips of these guys non stop from the moment she caught wind of them. you didn’t understand what the fuss was all about at all. where did they even come from? no big company behind them, no obvious ties to the industry. you were convinced something fishy was going on.

totally not because they were charting higher than the groups you loved.

regardless of your opinion on them, you had ended up in line for their fansign and would have to act interested for the next hour.

“you’ll fall in love with them after seeing them in person y/n, i swear!” your friend had exclaimed, her phone in your face displaying the results of the fansign lottery she had entered god-knows how many times to win these tickets.

you looked around at the others in the queue as she tried to predict which member would be your favourite. god, everyone here is obsessed. every single person other than yourself was completely dripped out in saja merch. not a causal fan in sight.

that thought became solidified when the doors finally opened and security began to allow everyone in. utter chaos erupted from all around you. screaming, crying and shaking fans pushed you from every direction. all you could do was allow yourself to be moved by the crowd into the building.

the building was a decent size but the sheer energy of the fans was taking up a lot more space than the room was set up for. you’re pretty sure your feet got stomped on twice and your hair got yanked out of the style you’d put it in this morning amidst the chaos, as well as losing your friend in the crowd .

after around fifteen minutes of elbow-jabbing hell you managed to squeeze yourself through to your assigned seats only to find your friend already sitting there “jeez, that was insane” you laughed as you sat down, hoping your friend would joke back and make fun of the crazy people too.

she didn’t respond. her attention was glued to the empty table up front, her hands nervously playing with the lion keychain on her purse. your eyes widened a little in shock. you had never seen her like this; so wound up over celebrities that she’d only known of for a few days.

before you could tease her, the room erupted into crazed shrieks once again.

the saja boys had arrived. they walked out in a line, hair swooshing perfectly and jewellery swinging just like in all the ads. yeah, they were hot. you couldn’t deny that. but you live in the city, there’s hot people everywhere! you weren’t convinced to join the mass psychosis of the pride just yet.

the boys bowed and thanked everyone for coming before taking their seats and setting up for the signing. security started to choose people to line up, your friend being one of the first.

you could’ve sworn you saw the light leave her eyes for a second, shock overtaking her at the thought of being one of the first people to go see them up close. you put your hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“you’ve got this, go see them!” you smiled. as much as you thought she was overreacting, you knew she would beat herself up if she didn’t go up there. she nodded anxiously and let security guide her to the front.

you pulled out your phone and began recording her as she went along the line of idols, it was the least you could do for her after not being very enthusiastic about this whole thing.

once she finished chatting to the last member, she quickly skedaddled back to you and threw herself back down on the metal chair. the feet screeched across the floor a bit but no one noticed over the sound of her hyperventilating.

“oh my god, y/n……oh my god” she repeated, face in her hands.

you laughed nervously, worried that she would work herself up into a serious panic attack or something.

“mystery touched my hand…i can’t wash it ever again.” she choked out, showing you her very normal looking left hand.

“yeah…glad you enjoyed yourself” you said.

before you could show her the video you took, you felt a tap on your shoulder. a tall security guard stood over you in a defensive stance. he looked like he was expecting you to pounce on him.

“your turn”

your heart almost fell out of your chest, making you panic for a completely different reason. you couldn’t go up there, you weren’t sure you even remembered all of the members names. you weren’t a real fan, surely it wasn’t fair that you should meet a group you don’t even care about when there were thousands of people who would kill to be in your position right now.

“oh no thank you, i’m just here for emotional support. she can go again though!” you pointed towards your friend who was still cradling her hand like it had been blessed.

the security guard relaxed his muscles and stared at you as if you had just grown a second head.

“you don’t want to go? you need to go. it’s unfair if one fan gets double the time with saja boys. you have a ticket, you see them” he stated plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you looked to your friend for a second and mouthed a ‘i tried’ before reluctantly getting up from your seat and joining the line to meet the saja boys.

it takes you far too long to realise you don’t have anything for them to sign other than a crumpled napkin that’s been living in your back pocket for god knows how long.

jinu

the first member at the table is jinu. you know his name since he’s the one speaking in most of the promos and ads you’ve seen. he’s still finishing up talking to the girl in front of you but once she moves away he locks his attention onto you.

you look away awkwardly and sit down opposite him, only looking back up once you’re settled in your seat.

“hi” you say quietly, not really sure what to say to him. you’ve been to fansigns before but you’ve known the groups well and had so much to say to them that you’ve never had to worry much about there being an awkward silence before. this was a first for you.

he sees that you’re looking around a lot, not saying much, and assumes that it’s nerves. that’s the case with everyone he’s seen today. and the day before that, and the day before that.

“hey, no need to be nervous, what’s your name?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to try and meet your gaze.

your head shoots up, oh no he thinks you’re having a total fangirl freak out. you need to let him know that you’re chill and that he doesn’t need to do the whole loving idol shtick for you. it’ll make this a lot less awkward for both of you.

“oh nonono im not nervous, i just don’t have anything to say to you really” you start, laughing awkwardly.

“my friend dragged me here, i don’t even know all your names if i’m honest, i’ve only seen you guys do some ads and stuff and i’ve heard the song but i’m not too crazy about it so don’t worry about doing the whole ‘i care about you so much i love my fans’ act. i’m chill, you’re just some guy to me” you smile, genuinely hoping that it’ll relieve some tension from the situation and he can get a five minute break from being an idol while he chats to you.

jinus face completely drops. he looks a little disgusted even. he definitely didn’t take any of that as friendly and genuine. if he lifted a hand and asked for guards to seize you, you wouldn’t be surprised. shit.

“oh” he says, dumbfounded.

you stare at each other, both completely shocked by each others reaction. before the silence starts to make you itchy.

“my names y/n…by the way…” you blurt out, realising that he did ask your name.

something changes in him and you see it. like he’s been switched back onto regular programming. your slight moment of awkwardness reminds him that he does have the upper hand here. you’re not totally disinterested if you’re at least trying to make him comfortable–he can win you over. he smiles sweetly, relaxing his eyebrows.

“nice to meet you, y/n. i’m jinu, the leader of saja boys” he gestures over to the rest of the boys along the table.

“i would give you a heads up and tell you the names of the rest before you speak to them, but i think this is pretty funny” he says, his smile turning a bit sinister now that he’s switched his tone to teasing.

your mouth drops open. what an asshole.

you reluctantly hand over your napkin for him to sign, and he shoots you a confused look before flattening it out the best he can and signing his name with a little ‘:P’ next to it.

you narrow your eyes at him as you move over to the next seat, sticking your tongue out at him in defiance.

not like you care about the stupid beautiful saja boys names anyway

(you absolutely do now)

abby

you step over to the next chair and place yourself on it. sitting across from you is the second saja boy on the line up, one of the pink haired ones.

“hi” you say, meeting his eyes.

he says hello as he shifts in his seat, stretching his arms out behind him. you had watched him pull this move every single time someone new sat down in front of him so you were prepared to be met with his muscles up close.

what you weren’t prepared for though was for his shirt to come untucked from his jeans in the process, the waistband of his boxers daring to peek out from behind them and the shadows of his v-line revealing themselves to you.

the force it takes for you to wrench your eyes back up to look at his face could hold back an army. looking away feels like a sin. but you succeed. he grins when he makes eye contact with you again.

“want a copy?” he asks, pointing a finger to his stomach.

you don’t answer, but your face does. eyebrows screwing together in confusion.

he takes that as a yes and rips off a fresh piece of paper from a notebook he has on hand before slapping it across his lower torso and creating a tracing of his abs.

you can feel yourself gawk. who on earth does that? he seems so pleased with himself when he hands you the paper, signed.

“i won’t charge you any extra” he winks at you.

you can’t help but feel a twinge of admiration. he’s looking at you like a labrador that’s super proud of the hole it just dug in the garden. he doesn’t seem like he has any thoughts in his head at all.

you kind of like that.

“thanks.” you smile.

mystery

you slide into the seat across from saja number three, who’s already waving at you with both hands.

“hello” you say, waving back at him.

he’s wearing a longsleeved shirt that has thumb holes, giving him permanent sweater paws. it’s cute.

you decide to comment on it since he seems shy and being the first to speak might make things a little less awkward.

“i like your shirt. i used to cut holes like that into my school uniforms.” you admit, smiling at the memory. although yours was the result of crappy d.i.y. and his definitely cost most than your months wages.

he nods excitedly before creating claw shapes with his hands so you can see better. maybe he just doesn’t speak at all?

you stare at him for a little bit before snapping out of it and sliding your napkin over to him for him to sign. he takes it from you and goes to reach for a pen, but there’s none on this part of the table.

you start searching too once you notice what he’s looking for, but there are none on the floor or in the pen pot that’s sitting right next to him.

he grabs your attention quickly by waving his hands around frantically before raising a single finger to his lips in a ‘shhh’ motion.

next to him abby is posing, muscles on display for the fan in front of him. he’s so busy checking himself out through the fans eyes to notice mystery stealing his whole pot of pens.

you share a mischievous giggle with mystery as he triumphantly signs his name.

they all seem pretty close, maybe they aren’t a perfectly manufactured cash grab group after all.

romance

by the time you reach the fourth member he is covered in a ridiculous amount of hair accessories, necklaces and bracelets that have been gifted to him by fans. you scoot over to the seat across from him and try to keep a straight face as he removes a pair of huge sparkly pink sunglasses that were given to him by the last person.

“ah there we go, i can see your sweet face properly now” he says casually, placing the glasses down on the table.

you almost gasp out loud, the image of him looking so silly completely wiped from your memory. god that was smooth.

he takes the napkin you’ve been getting signed straight out of your hand, letting his fingers brush the back of your hand briefly.

“what’s your name, love?” he asks slowly, with the confidence of someone that knows his face would send poets mad.

“y/n” you stutter out. you aren’t sure how to speak to this guy who’s flirting so heavily with you, even if you suspect that he’s definitely like this with everyone.

he nods, as if it’s obvious.

you watch him as he signs his and your name together in a heart with a little plus in the middle.

he doesn’t comment on the napkin, you’re not sure if he even notices. he’s looking at you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the world, his dopey, loved up gaze piercing through your soul.

you reach to take the napkin back and he takes your hand as you grab it, flipping your hand over and kissing the napkin on top of your open palm.

there’s a faint lip gloss kiss-mark on it now. you didn’t even notice he was wearing any. he looks as if he wakes up in the morning with perfectly shiny lips.

god y/n snap out of it.

you don’t know how long you were just staring at each other for but before you could keep track you were being ushered to move to the next seat.

it takes you another hour until you notice the phone number daintily written around the heart.

baby

you finally reach the last member of the group and notice that he looks super young. he’s definitely the scary rapper that your friend always talks about, you remember something about his ‘crazy duality’.

he had been watching you as you were talking to the other members, unbeknownst to you. its not often they come across people that don’t care much for them already so he’s interested in speaking to you.

“this your first time seeing us?” he asks. it wasn’t a question really. he knows the answer, he just wants to see what you’d say.

you’re taken aback a little by how deep his voice is compared to his youthful face and the way he is styled. the fluffy pastel jumper doesn’t exactly scream baritone.

“uh, yeah. didn’t know a thing about you guys until today actually” you laugh awkwardly, sliding him your napkin to sign.

he takes it from you and nods, signing his name with bejewelled fingers.

“are you a fan now?” he asks cheekily, looking up at you with sparkling eyes. you try not to pay attention to his dimples and the way his cheeks seem to puff up like dumplings when he smiles.

“ah, i’m not sure. i’m just here for my friend” you say, trying to sound as polite as possible even though your words aren’t the kindest.

he scans the crowd briefly before locking eyes with who he assumes you came here with. you look over your shoulder too, towards your friend. she has her phone in the air, recording. yeesh.

the cogs start to turn in his mind, if he cant make a fan out of you now he should at least give you something to watch over and over until you become one.

“aww you’re not a fan of baby saja?” he pouted, grabbing your hands and placing them on both of his cheeks. he keeps his hands on top of yours for a good few seconds, running his fingers over yours while he holds them there.

you stare, shocked. this level of fan service is crazy, you think. you won’t be surprised if security come in and wrestle you away from him right now. surely this isn’t allowed.

“i might be…” you trail off, struggling to find anything else to say when you’re holding his face in your hands so tenderly.

“good!” he chirps, letting your hands fall away from him. he slides your napkin back over to you and waves you off “thank you for coming !”

he knows you’ll be back.

[alyssarkive]

KAMINARI x FEM!READER

♫ ⏯︎ WasteUrTime - Kevin Walkman

☆IT’S A PARTY! REQUEST EVENT | MASTERLIST

KAMINARI (BNHA) x AFTER PARTY

REQUESTED BY ☆ @laurenmarieie

LENGTH ☆ 5.7k

CONTAINS ☆ MDNI! Modern AU, first time anal, fwb!kaminari, alcohol + drug mentions (whip-its, acid, general mentions), detailed drug use + descriptions of high (poppers), dubcon (intoxication), fingering, praise, consent checks, tiny bit of nipple play, use of “slut” (playfully in convos, twice during sex), public sex mention, std mention, reader has breasts and is referred to as “girl”, anal creampie + cumshot, a little bit of realistic sex awkwardness

AN ☆ Anal!!! That’s all I have to say. lol no really though, I had so much fun writing this silly little guy ~ The first two lines of dialogue are a reference to this post by Eve (it’s just a tiny thing my brain did for some reason, but I wanted to give credit to it lol ily Eve!) and you should definitely read it! Also, the song is courtesy of your local Denki kinnie Kas, another one of my fave people on here whose blog you should check out! Ok I’ll shut up now, really hope enjoy and ty for reading!! <3

“Send you my location, let’s try something new…”

“At least I’ve never fucked somebody at the rail.”

“Oh my god dude, that was one time. I can’t believe I’m being slut shamed in my own home.”

Laughing, you plop down on the couch between your friends and hand one of the Trulys cradled in your arms off to the blonde on your right. Your raven-haired friend to your left smiles slyly, bringing the nozzle of the thick silver “whipped cream” dispenser he’s been cradling for the last hour to his lips for another whip-it. The nitrous shoots into his mouth with a hiss, and he breathes deeply, holding it in before continuing the conversation with a slightly thickened voice.

“You’re a slut, Denks, that’s just objective truth. I never said you needed to be ashamed of it.”

Denki scoffs, “I’m a slut, ok – if I remember correctly it was your name they were calling at the clinic when I had to take you there after you went home with that random couple,” his voice pitches up mockingly, hands coming out as he pantomimes checking a clip-board, “Mr. Hanta Sero, it looks like you’ve tested positive for fucking gonorrhea.”

You gasp, head swiveling back to the left, fully enjoying watching your friends banter with each other. Sero just shrugs, leaning back in the cushions as he fishes around in the box of tiny nitrous canisters perched next to him. Little bullet-shaped containers clink together, the metallic tinkling sound joining the low thrum of bass-y music as he prepares to load the dispenser with another one. 

“It’s just the clap, like everyone gets the clap at one point in their life, just nobody talks openly about it,” he gestures accusingly towards Denki with the canister, “you wanna talk about slut shaming and yet here you are stigmatizing very normal sexual health issues. Now you should be ashamed.” With that he shakes his head in mock disapproval, and sucks down another whip-it. 

Everyone else in your group has either knocked out in their chosen spot around the apartment, or driven back to their own place because their red-haired roommate had gotten too drunk and “needed to sleep it off in his own bed in case he puked his dumbass brains out”. The only ones still going after a full day at the music festival are Sero, Denki, and you – which is typical, the three of you always finding yourselves lounging together, riding on the final fumes of whatever drugs you’d consumed earlier in the day, and adding new ones to your system until sunlight begins to filter into their shared apartment. 

As exciting as being at a music festival is, this might truly be your favorite part of the day. Partying is fun, but the after party is something sacred. Your most cherished memories with this group seem to be made in the hours of the night that are meant to be quiet. They’re made loud with laughter, raucous games of Mario Party, and shared music or strange movies – and sometimes even heavy breaths of pleasure.

Tonight you all opt for a horror movie. (“An instant cult classic,” Sero had said as he aimed the remote at the TV.) It’s strange, and gratuitously gorey, and no matter how many times Denki calls the movie ridiculous and “not scary”, he continues to bury his face behind your back at every tense moment. You sip at your drink and exchange comments with Sero, until his witty responses stop coming, having finally dozed off with the aluminum bottle clutched to his chest. 

Denki lets out a sigh of relief when you pause the movie and restart the ambient music. “I don’t think I could’a watched another minute of that. Because of how dumb it was.” He tacks the end on quickly, and you just chuckle in response.

Downing the last of your Truly and setting the empty can on the coffee table, you turn to the blonde, who’s lounging in the cushions now, knees spread wide and arms slung over the back of the couch. 

You appraise him for a moment, taking in his lanky form, which is currently drowning in a black t-shirt and highlighter yellow sweats. He yawns into the back of his hand, body stretching and pulling his shirt up to reveal a sliver of toned abdomen. His sweats are hanging low on his hips and, if the sharp v-line you can see disappearing beneath the waistband is any indication, he’s not wearing anything under them. 

Your eyes flit back up to his, and his lips turn up into a knowing smirk.

“Getting sleepy?” You ask.

“Nah,” he responds, “that tab I took still has me wide awake.” He looks you over deliberately, eyes lingering on the crease of your thighs in your cotton shorts before returning to your face. “What about you? Not gonna tap out on me, are you?”

“I never do,” you offer him a cheeky smile, leaning back on your hands, noticing the way his eyes flash down to your chest, which is free and braless under your thin, stretchy shirt. “Kinda wanna keep partying though, got anything that won’t make us too cracked out?”

“Ooh, I know—“ Perking up like a puppy who just remembered his toy basket, Denki snatches up his backpack from the floor and begins to rummage through it. His tongue pokes out between his teeth as he digs around, and finally his face lights up when his hand wraps around what it’s looking for. 

“There it is—“ A tiny amber bottle emerges from the canvas, perched between his fingers and held in the air triumphantly. Some liquid swishes inside, and a black sticker wraps around the body of it, two words clearly visible to you: Jungle Juice.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Denki… why do you have poppers?”

His lips pull up into an excited, oblivious smile. “You’ve done it before?”

“Yes,” you pluck the bottle from his hand, turning it around in your fingers to examine it, “but you know where I’ve done them before?”

His face scrunches in confusion.

“Gay clubs.”

Denki’s eyes go wide, pink pricking at the high points of his cheeks. He waves his hands, sputtering a semblance of an explanation. “I — I’m not — I mean I’m not like straight but—“

You snort a laugh, amused by the pure innocence of his reaction. “I’m not judging,” you reassure between laughter, “just — where did you even get this?”

“Actually, Kiri gave them to me. Said this brand isn’t strong enough…”

…

“That checks out.”

“Yeah, I dunno why him and Bakugou don’t just come clean already, we all know they’re fucking.”

Fingers gripping the little black cap, you twist until it gives. You’ve used poppers a few times before, familiar with the strong chemical smell that wafts out, excited for the short rush of euphoria it will bring. 

Raising the glass up to your nose, you press the pad of your finger into one nostril and take a deep, huffing breath, then switch nostrils and repeat. Denki watches intently as the effects take hold of you, a heady warmth spreading in your skull and trickling down your body. Your eyes flutter closed, a pleasured exhale pushing through your parted lips as the rush makes you dizzy for a moment.

“Feel good?” 

Your response is a sleepy smile and a weak nod, then you’re handing the bottle off. Denki huffs, and huffs again, and then a dreamy look to match yours is washing over his face as he screws the lid back on. His head lulls back a bit, golden blonde hair falling away from his face, the soft glow of colorful LEDs caressing his features.

He’s so pretty, vulpine appearance made even sharper and more mischievous in the dim light. He’s handsome in the way you’d imagine the fae would be — smooth, almost boyish, with an otherworldly androgyny that would pique anyone’s interest. When his gaze meets yours it’s always impish, something glinting in the gold that beckons you forth, makes you want to play, see where following the curious creature will take you.

Carried on the steamy cloud of your high, you lean forward to press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. The feel of the sharp bone against your lips stirs something in you, pulling you to kiss again, and again until he’s chuckling low and arching his head up to give you better access. 

“Didn’t realize it felt that good,” mumbles Denki, hands finding your hips and pulling you forward to straddle his lap.

“M’shuddup, y’talk too much.”

His pulse races under the hug of your lips as you kiss and suck, giving his neck the attention you know makes little breaths get caught in his throat. His small sounds of pleasure — a sigh here, a moan there — makes a dull ache throb to life between your legs. You don’t even realize you’re grinding down on his lap until fingers are digging into the flesh of your ass, pushing and pulling and encouraging you to grind harder.

“If I knew you liked poppers this much,” he breathes, “I would’a started wearing it as cologne.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing hold of his cheeks and giving him a pointed “shut up” look before slotting your lips between his. 

Even after a couple months of casually hooking up, Denki still tends to chatter nervously during the buildup. It’s charming, really, to know that you make him that flustered, and at this point you know to just give his mouth better work to do; If there’s anything Denki knows how to use well, it’s his mouth.

Your lips move together languidly, wet and warm and softened by the fluff of euphoria filling you both. It’s a high that’s powerful at first, making your ears ring and your head spin, but begins to taper off into something comfortably exhilarating within minutes. And in that comfort, lit by vibrant buzzing light and cradled by quiet bass lines, you wrap yourselves around each other, the way you tend to do in the late hours of the night.

Your kisses quickly become hungrier, swallowing each other’s breaths, his cock beginning to swell and leak onto his sweats as you rub yourself against him. Lithe fingers play at the hem of your shirt before snaking beneath it, and his palms feel smooth as they travel over the dip of your waist before coming to cup under the fat of your breasts. He squeezes and pushes them together with a low groan – and then Sero’s sleeping form stirs next to you. 

You pull away with a start, suddenly reminded that you’re in the living room surrounded by your unconscious friends. Truthfully, they probably wouldn’t mind all that much, and they’ve probably already caught onto the way you sneak away together when the night ends, but Denki nods towards his bedroom door anyways. You pull him by his wrist with a giggle, and he reaches to scoop up the bottle of poppers before shuffling through the hallway behind you.

XXX

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, weight resting back on your hands behind you so you can arch into Denki’s warm mouth where it’s wrapped around your nipple. He’s on his knees between your legs, kissing and sucking at your chest feverishly, one hand sliding teasingly through the folds of your pussy. You yelp when he bites playfully down on the sensitive bud, and he flashes you a devilish grin before squishing your tits together and burying his face in your cleavage. 

“Sero was right,” you laugh, carding your hand through the blonde locks, watching the way the jagged black line in his bangs falls back into place as you release the strands, “you are such a slut.”

He reappears from your breasts with a look of mock outrage, mouth falling open on something between a scoff and a laugh. “You little–” The sting of his fingers pinching at your nipple makes you yelp again, but Denki quickly swallows it, licking into your mouth and enjoying the way you squirm under his harsh treatment. 

He finally releases you, but before you can quip at him again he’s shoving the little bottle of poppers into your hand. “Just shut that pretty little mouth and do that, and let me make you feel good.”

You huff from the bottle, the sudden rush of heat mixing with the fire that blooms from each wet kiss Denki trails down your torso. A thought comes to mind as you tighten the cap back on, and your high brain is quick to let it trickle out.

“Mmm d’ya know what poppers are supposed to be used for?”

His brows turn down, head tilting to look up at you in question from his place between your thighs.

“Anal sex.”

Blonde locs flounce comically as Denki’s head pops back up, a barely concealed excitement painting his face.

“I have lube.”

You blink slowly at him. “Why do you have lube?”

He smirks. “In case a beauty like yourself ever decided they wanted me to fuck them in the ass at four in the morning.”

You roll your eyes for the upteenth time tonight. But you can’t help but smile, and hum in consideration. You wouldn’t have mentioned it if it wasn’t something you were already curious about.

“Well,” you finally say, and Denki perks up in anticipation, “I haven’t actually done full blown anal before. Just like, fingers and plugs.”

Denki is silent, and then his eyes are sliding down toward the carpet.

“Oh my god, you’ve done anal before? So Sero really was right.”

“Jesus— it was one time. And we didn’t get very far, it was too painful for her. But that time I didn’t have this.”

The poppers bottle is presented once again, held up between you and glinting in the light like some sort of magical elixir. The nitrite swishes around in the glass, and the thought of trying anal for the first time swishes around in your head. 

Finally, you shrug. “Fuck it, why not.”

“Oh hell yeah—“ Denki springs to action, practically bouncing around the room as he opens one drawer, then another, then fishes in a box on a shelf in his closet. “Found it!” He’s got a white bottle in his hand, a towel slung over his shoulder, and a goofy grin on his face when he finally returns to push you back onto the bed.

You lay back with a giggle, and he slides the towel under your hips before perching himself with one knee resting on the bed. He’s standing over you, tall and lanky, his sinewy chest bare and his long cock tenting the front of his sweats. You can see that he’s excited from the dark stain of sticky precum that continues to ooze from his tip into the fabric. You reach out and ghost your thumb over it, and the cool wetness rubs against your skin.

There’s a faint pop, and then lube is being squeezed onto your naked pussy, flowing down in a smooth glide from your clit to your ass, where Denki’s fingers begin to rub it into your sensitive hole. He uses his other hand to push your leg back and open, and curses under his breath at the sight of you.

A long, lubed up digit slides into your puckered hole, and then another right next to it. Denki stretches you out slowly, arching over you to kiss and lick and nip at your skin as he goes, and you keen into his touch, letting him work you up. He thinks he might go crazy, feeling the way you open up for his fingers, watching the way your pussy is clenching and dripping more and more as he prepares your ass to take him.

You whine, telling him how you want it already, how you need him to fuck you, but your pleading breaks off into a moan when he adds a third finger.

“This little ass is so tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, hand pumping and twisting as he works his fingers in and out of you, “gotta stretch you out first, don’t want you tappin’ out on me.”

“I can take it, Denki, please.”

His cock twitches in his sweats, achingly hard for you, and growing even harder with the way your cute voice pleads for him. “Mmm you want my dick in your ass that bad, huh?” His fingers slide out of you, both thumbs coming to hook in the waistband of his sweats. “Who’s the slut now?”

The glare you shoot him is short lived, your gaze instead following his down to his cock. Glob after glob of clear, glittering lube pours down onto it, his hand smoothing the liquid over his length and making it glisten in the light. It’s so long and pretty and wet in his hand — the tip flushed an angry red, veins tensing along the side. If it weren’t for the copious amount of lube, you’d want to wrap your lips around it, feel him press into the back of your throat.

He discards the bottle off to the side, still languidly fisting himself as he gets into position between your legs. “Ready?”

His cock head is satiny smooth when it comes to tease the tight rim of muscle, swiping against the sensitive ridges before beginning to apply a slow pressure that makes your breath catch between your teeth. Holding the base of his cock firmly in his hand, Denki angles his hips forward, prodding hesitantly at your ass as he tries to coax it open around him. But you’re so tight, and so lubricated, and he slips against you, sliding painfully down your crack with a hiss. 

“Shit, sorry–” 

Getting impatient, you rise up on your forearm and grab hold of him, squeezing his girth tightly as you slot his head back between your cheeks. You’re both silent with concentration when he pushes forward once more, the tension building agonizingly slow. Your eyes are locked on where he’s teasing into you, focused on keeping him angled just right as to not slip, and Denki’s are bouncing back and forth from your ass to your face, wanting to watch himself stretch you out while also checking for signs of your discomfort. 

But both pairs of eyes meet, wide with excitement, when the tight little band finally gives. Denki rocks forward a bit more, and the flared ridge of his cock head pops into you, locked in place by the vice grip of muscle. Strangled sounds leave you both, and you fall back against the mattress once more with a soft oof.

“Holy shit, that’s tight,” Denki breathes in awe, admiring the sight of your hole wrapped around him as you both pant, adjusting to the feeling. “You ok?”

Your eyes are squeezed shut, brows pulled sharply together. The high of the poppers has your muscles significantly relaxed, but there’s still discomfort, the harsh stretch a brand new sensation. It’s a strange feeling, and it stings a bit, your hole wanting desperately to close, tensing around the rigid girth holding it open. You wince when Denki sinks a hair deeper, and his eyes snap up.

“Hey,” a thumb smooths over the furrow between your brows, pulling you from your own head. Your eyes flutter open and find his expression decidedly soft, worry only present in the way his golden gaze flits nervously around your face. “Is it too much? Y’wanna stop?”

You shake your head, wanting to see it through. “Just hurts a little.”

“Here,” he leans over to grab the poppers from the side table, careful not to jostle you too much, and presents the open bottle to you, “Take a deep breath for me, cutie.”

You do, letting the fumes sting at your senses once more, relaxing back into the sheets as the heat fills your body like a milky hot chocolate filling a mug. It soothes you instantly, the pain subsiding as your tense muscles turn to jelly. 

“Good girl, doin’ so good.” You feel the cool slip of lube dripping down onto your ass, Denki adding even more and spreading it over his free length with a careful hand. “Gonna move now,” he tells you, sounding further away, “Let me know if I’m hurting you, ok?”

And then his hips are pressing slowly forward, pushing his length further into your ass, gliding smoothly as clear liquid collects around his cock and drips onto the towel beneath you. You both groan, hoarse and gravely, and Denki rocks back and forth shallowly, working more and more of his long cock past your tight rim with each gentle movement. 

Your body is beginning to get used to the feeling, discomfort melting quickly into a pleasure that makes your clit twitch. Your hand finds it absentmindedly, rubbing small circles as the euphoric tension takes over. And then he’s finally seated fully inside you, hips pressed to the round of your cheeks, cock buried in your ass to the hilt. 

It’s the most full you’ve ever felt, his cock nestled snugly in a place nobody else has been before, and it’s so deeply, profoundly pleasurable that it makes your eyes roll back in your skull.

Denki stalls there for a moment, arching over you with his knee coming up to slide under your leg. He kisses you sloppily, his cock twitching and leaking inside of you, feeling so high on the way you’re squeezing him. And the way you’re moaning into his mouth as your fingers begin to rub harder into your clit – he has to bury his head in the crook of your neck and grit his teeth, staving off his own release with everything he can muster.

But you’re chasing your own high now, rubbing desperately at your pussy, arching up into the slim body pressed to yours. You need him to move, need the extra push of friction. “Denki, please,” your other hand finds his firm ass, squeezing at it and pulling him further into you, and he whines a response, “Need you to fuck me, I’m so close.”

“Fuck… already?”

“Mhm.”

He bites at his lip, his determination to perform winning over his need to cum, and then he appears back over to watch the look on your face as he slowly rocks back. 

“Ohmygod–!” Your mouth falls open, eyes wide, and tears begin to prick at the edges of your vision when he slides back in. He does it again, and again, rolling his hips against you, never fully leaving you as his cock pushes your insides out of the way with each careful thrust.

It’s surprising how good it feels, how quickly the sensation of having a cock in your ass is sending you barrelling towards your end. It’s an intense pleasure, a pleasure that feels engorged and feverishly warm, but it’s also a familiar pleasure – and then, as if the familiarity of it all has flipped a switch, a writhing panic suddenly twists in your stomach.

“W-wait!”

Denki straightens up, pulling out of you as his eyes pick over you quickly. “What'd I do? What’s wrong?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, avoiding his gaze, heat pricking at your face.

“I’m not… making a mess am I?”

He blinks at you, confused. 

You groan, hands coming up to hide your face. “You know like… a mess, like–”

“Ohhhh,” Denki chuckles, looking down to check, fingers moving his cock around gingerly as he cranes his neck, “No, we’re fine.”

Taking a deep breath, you peek up at him through your fingers, his amused expression waiting for you. “S-sorry, I ruined it, we can stop,” you squeak, voice small with embarrassment.

Hands run softly over your hips, an action that soothes you a bit, making you drop your hands and relax a bit into his touch. 

“Do you wanna stop?” His question is light, nonjudgmental, fully prepared to accept whatever answer you give. 

“No…” Blonde brows raise at you, awaiting the “but” that hangs on the end of your response. You sigh, “But what if… I do make a mess?”

“Is that what you’re worried about? We’ll just hop in the shower, it’s not a big deal. Kinda comes with the territory, I think.”

“But it’ll be humiliating.”

Denki comes to rest between your legs, an elbow digging into the mattress by your head as he props his chin in his hand, the other ghosting absently up and down your thigh. 

“Remember when we fucked in the shower that one time and I slipped and broke the toilet? I definitely don’t think it gets more humiliating than that.”

Your mouth twitches into a small smile. “I think you high-fiving me after we hooked up for the first time beats the shower fiasco, actually.”

“Ok, y’know what, I was nervous– I thought we agreed to never talk about that again.”

Your laughter is music to Denki’s ears, a chime that reverberates in his chest and fills it with a satisfaction more potent than any drug he’s ever experimented with. The gold of his irises glitters, bouncing around your face, taking in the way the swell of your cheeks forces your eyes shut as you give him a genuine, unfettered laugh. 

It was the first thing he’d noticed about you actually — that beautiful, boisterous laugh of yours. He was immediately enamored with it, finding himself willing to do anything, make a fool of himself in any way to hear it again. 

(The second thing he’d noticed about you was the way your tits strained against your top when he got that laugh out of you, but that’s neither here nor there.)

You can feel yourself soften, feel a different sort of fuzz under your skin as you dab the gleeful tears from the corners of your eyes. This is the effect that Denki has on you, his own goofiness somehow always creating a safe space for you. There’s no room for embarrassment in his cozy brand of silliness – he’s a pillow fort built over laughter in the living room, encouraging you to let your worries and insecurities go, and just play.

He leans in with a smirk to kiss at your cheek, then your jaw, then nip playfully at your ear. “Look,” he says between kisses, “We can do something else if ya want, I don’t care, I’ll fuck any part of ya — your ass, your thighs, your feet, honestly I’ll even stick it in your ear—“

“Oh my god, please shut up,” you push him away with a giggle, “I’m not a quitter. We can keep going.”

He grins, all teeth and flushed cheeks. “That’s my girl.” 

Your face burns at the moniker, and you’re thankful that he’s too busy adjusting back over you to notice the way you suck your lower lip between your teeth for a moment.

His eyes rake over your body appreciatively, hand squeezing lightly at his half-hard cock.

“Touch yourself for me, baby.” 

You do, fingers dipping down to gather the mix of slick and stray lube, rubbing it into your still sensitive clit with a sigh. He watches hungrily, groaning his encouragement, hand pumping over his dick. It swells quickly at the sight of you, stirred back to life by your little sounds of pleasure as you play with your pussy for him. 

Denki squeezes more lube out onto his cock, making it glisten as he strokes it wetly. Returning to his place at the edge of the bed, he lines himself up with your ass and sinks into you slowly. The tight ring stretches easier this time, welcoming his girth as it glides back into place. Denki groans, long and breathy as he feels your snug walls around him, and your fingers begin to move quicker as that intense full feeling returns.

“So fuckin’ good,” he tells you, hips beginning to rock slowly, watching intently as his cock disappears into the tight heat of your ass, “you’re so fuckin’ good, squeezin’ me so tight – takin’ me so well.”

Denki thinks he’s never seen anything more arousing – your tiny hole swallowing him up, stretched so far around his cock, and your pretty pussy on display for him, quivering and oozing arousal as your fingers dance over your engorged clit.

He could cum from the sight alone, wants to commit it to memory, so he presses one hand into the back of your thigh to spread you open more for him, give him an even better view.

“Fuck… Tell me where my cock is, pretty girl.” 

“In—agh my ass,” you tell him, body heating up at the proclamation, “It’s in my ass.”

“That’s right.” His breaths become ragged, his voice huskier as his pace quickens. “Does it feel good in your ass?”

You nod weakly. You’re hardly able to hold onto your sanity, the friction making your toes curl, the familiar storm at your center swelling quickly. 

“Tell me, baby girl. Tell me how it feels.”

“S-so full, fuck so full,” You choke out.

Denki licks at his fingers sloppily, coating them in his spit, then presses two at your entrance. You gasp when he sinks them into your cunt, burying them to the knuckle and curling into you as he continues rutting into your ass.

“How ‘bout now? Feel more full?”

Now this is the most full you’ve ever felt.

But you’re not able to tell him, your response nothing but a broken, squealing string of curses. It’s deliciously, agonizingly overwhelming, having both holes filled like this, and Denki can see it on your face, the way your eyes cross and your mouth hangs open dumbly.

“Fuuuck, you like that, huh? Like me stretching out your ass and your pussy at the same time?”

Your holes are quivering and clenching around him, so hot and wet and needy that it makes his head reel. Your ass is so tight around his cock, sucking him in and wringing him with a vice grip unlike anything he’s ever felt before. 

He’s hanging on by a thread, his hips slamming into you now, fingers pumping hard into your cunt. And he’s running his mouth, filth tumbling from kiss-bitten lips the way he knows you like, the way he knows will bring you to your end faster. 

“Who knew you’d be such a little anal slut,” he grunts, leaning over you, trying to focus on anything but his incessant need to empty his balls inside you as you spasm harder around him, “Don’t worry, cutie, I’ll stuff this ass whenever you want, fill up every one of these pretty. little. holes.” 

Your orgasm is a lightning strike, unfurling at breakneck speed and crackling through your body with an intensity that makes your vision go white. You scream, back arching up off the bed, tits bouncing as Denki fucks you harder through your release. And when you clamp down around his cock and his fingers at the same time, pussy squelching and leaking into the slick mixture of lube that coats you both, he knows he won’t be able to hold back any longer.

“H-holy shit, I can feel you cumming, fuck so– tight,” 

And then he’s following close behind you, whining and gasping over you. You can feel each slight twitch of his cock as rope after rope of cum shoots through it, releasing so much of it deep into your ass that it’s filling your belly with a swirling warmth. 

He pulls out suddenly, hand working quickly over his length. The lube squelches loudly as he rides out the rest of his orgasm, the last hot spurts of cum dribbling from his tip and painting your swollen folds white.

Denki twitches and moans as his hand continues to move, overstimulating himself while he watches cum drip down through your pussy and ooze from your gaping hole. Collecting some of the sticky mess on the tips of his fingers, he pushes it back into ass, which is so warm and loosened and inviting that he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll get to be in it.

Catching your breath finally, you bury your face in the crook of your elbow, huffing a small laugh. “Fuck, that was…” 

Denki wipes his hands as best he can on the towel laid under you, then grabs a water bottle from the night stand and taps it against your thigh. Sitting up, you take the bottle to drink deeply from it before finishing your thought. “That was insane.”

He chugs what’s left of the bottle and throws it into a trash can in the corner, turning back to you with a grin. “So you are an anal slut,” he waves a hand out in front of him, arching it slowly the way one does when they’re describing a sign, “True Life: I’m Addicted to Anal — that’s gonna be your episode.”

You snort, kicking out at him, then grimace when you suddenly become aware of how sticky you are. 

You both waddle across the hall and into the shower, needing to properly wash off the layer of lube that has found its way all over your bodies. You laugh and splash and steal kisses under the spray of warm water, wasting more time together as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. 

He hands you a towel as he rubs his own roughly over his hair, reappearing beneath it as you step from the tub. “So, the poppers were a win, then?”

You wrap your towel around yourself, whispering as you follow him back into his room. “Yes, Denks, obviously.”

He flops down onto his bed, not bothering to get dressed. “Sooo then, you wanna use them again? Y’know, like, next time. Sometime?”

You shoot him a look, understanding the implication, and he just wiggles his brows back at you.

“How about this,” you say as you pull one of his t-shirts over your head, “we can use them again, but it’s only fair if next time you’re the one with something in your ass.” 

He gasps, hand coming to flatten against his bare chest in mock offense. “Do I look like some kind of slut to you?”

Lifting the sheets to climb into bed next to him, you stop to give him another pointed look. He laughs, reaching out to pull you down into his arms.

“Alright, alright, fine. You got a deal.”

[alyssarkive]

Giving boyfrined!Ino Takuma a hand(y)

ʚ cont: no gender specified for reader, hand jobs, making out, dirty talk, neck kisses, crack at the end ^.^

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Ino's fingers dug into your thigh, threatening to leave a bruise as he held onto whatever drops of sanity were left inside him using your thigh that was slung over his legs. Your hand was braced on his soft chest as he kissed you like he was poisoned and inside your mouth was the antidote, small whimpers and groans leaking from his mouth and into yours, which you greedily swallowed up.

Ino couldn't stop himself from letting his head fall back for a moment, detaching your lips, his mouth open in a wide O shape as he screwed his eyes shut, groans falling freely from his lips as you focused your hand on his tip, making hard quick strokes over it. "Fffuukc baby, oh fuck that feels so good." Ino groaned, his forehead tipping against yours as he looked past your eyes and watched your hand jerk him off, going back to rotating your hand over his entire length as you jerked up and down.

"Yeah? Your tip is so sensitive, huh?" You coo, your lips hovering right over his, your chin tipping forward a bit, almost closing the distance. Ino's eyes locked on yours as he nodded, his eyes fluttering in their sockets before he pressed your lips together, his other hand slung behind your neck, gripping you tightly there. "So sensitive, feels s-so good." He whined between kisses, his hips jerking up every so often to meet your thrusts when he was unable to hold them back any longer.

"Fuck my fist ino, you're close aren't you?" You ask, feeling the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching from his cock kicking against your hand and his abs clenching rhythmically. He nodded dumbly, his lips working sloppily over your own, his fingers curling harder into the back of your neck. "God your hand feels so good, r-right there-" He groaned when you focused your attention on his sensitive tip, rubbing your thumb against the soft skin just under the head of his cock.

you slung your leg fully over his thighs, sitting on him, making sure to keep your lips collected while you did so. Ino released your thigh and the back of your neck and gripped your hips, his hands shaking with the need to finish. Reaching between his legs, you grabbed his full balls with your other hand, massaging them as you worked on his tip. Pre-cum flooded over your fingers at the contact, making you think for a moment he had finished already.

"Oh fuck meee-" Ino whined, his eyes rolling back in his head as he kissed you like a man starved, a long whine traveling from his lips to yours. "I'm cumming baby, b-baby I'm gonna cum-" Ino whined, his body jerking and twitching under yours. You felt the muscles of his thigh tense and relax as he thrust into your hand weekly, spit leaking from the corner of his mouth as he became more incapable of kissing you back properly.

"I know, I know, come all over my hand Takuma." You encouraged, massaging his balls expertly, rolling them in your fingers. You felt them tense as his cock kicked stronger this time against your hand, quick needy pants falling from his weak lips until they eventually stopped moving against your own, falling open in a wide O. Ino locked eyes with you, his face all screwed in pleasure, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, his teeth gnashing together tightly, making the muscles in his jaw strain against the skin.

When you felt the first rope of his hot cum shoot from his cock, spilling over your hands, you were unable to stop your own whine from falling from your lips. His body jerked and shook under yours as cum flooded from his cock, his eyes rolling back in his head after every rope of cum. "That's it, good fucking boy Takuma, give it to me, cum all over my hand." He groaned at your words, his hand wrapping around your neck shakily when you leaned down and sucked the skin of his sensitive neck into your mouth, only making him jerk against the sheets more.

He wrapped his other hand around your own when his cock stopped kicking, you only released him until you were sure he had nothing left to give. Takuma laid bonelessly against the sheets, his mind god knows where as you kissed and sucked on his neck, waiting for his soul to come back to his body. "Jesus Christ, that felt so good baby," Ino whined, cradling the back of your head with his weak hand, pressing you deeper against his neck.

You giggled at his breathless praise, lifting your head against his protests to sit up on his thighs and take in his disheveled look. His blonde hair strewn in every direction, his gorgeous face flushed with glossy, unfocused eyes to match. "Thought I lost you for a second there." You joked, caressing his face with the back of your fingers, making sure you don't get any of his cum on his face.

"Think I did, swear I saw an old man with a white beard at the end of the white light when I came." Ino joked back, a dumb, fucked out smile on his face as his fingers drew lazy shapes against your hipbone. "Thinking about old men when I'm the one making you cum? That's not very nice. Didn't know that was your type." You tease, poking him right on the tip of his perfect nose. Ino scrunched his nose and grabbed your wrist with whatever little strength he had left before he placed your hand back on his face, leaning into the touch like a kitten as he closed his eyes.

A content smile graced your features when he rubbed against you as you stroked his cheek with your thumb, feeling all the tension dissipate from his very tired body. He had such a long day after all, and now he was finally able to relax.

[alyssarkive]

if you’re still taking these then lion and “x” (or number 10) from the domestic fluff prompts 👉👈

heart of promise

PAIRING: lion kaminski x fem!reader

WC: 1.5k

WARNINGS: tooth rotting fluff XD

A/N: my first lion fic!! it honestly feels so weird to write ‘walter’ but i’ll prob get used to it. sorry it took me a second anon, thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy!

from this prompt list

x, tracing gentle shapes on the other’s back while they lie on top of them

masterlist

There’s still a trace of supper in the air by the time you retire for the night. With an unusual amount of time on your hands, you’d spent a majority of the day deep-cleaning the apartment.

You aren’t a housewife. No desire to be one.

But there is something special about watching your man stroll through the front door to a clean home.

The bookshelves neatly organized, the blankets folded on the back of the couch, and not a speck of dust to be found.

On his days off—even if there weren’t many—Walter did the same for you.

“Oh, baby,” he’d said with a hand over his heart. “It’s like a whole new place.” He’d spun you around for the simple pleasure of hearing your laughter.

The apartment wasn’t perfect. Or anywhere near it. Sometimes, the windows wouldn’t shut and let in a draft of cold air through the air. An outlet in the living room didn’t work, and the plumbing made questionable sounds.

But it was yours to share with the one person you loved more than anything else.

Walter was enough to make it a home.

You ate dinner in front of the television together. Laughed at some of the odd commercials they aired nowadays.

He’d washed the dishes because you’d done the cooking—a deal the two of you struck on your first day in the apartment that you hadn’t broken for nine months. You listened to him sing along with the radio as he worked. Steam and silly bubbles rising into the air, dishes clattering in the water.

“You liked the pasta?” You’d asked, leaning against the counter. “Tried something new with the recipe.”

“I thought it tasted even better. It’s delicious, baby, always.”

And after the tasks for the night were finished, he’d quickly changed into shorts and a sweatshirt while you watched TV. Pressed a kiss to your cheek like your dad used to with your mom.

“Goin’ for my run, sweetheart. I’ll be back in 20.”

“Be careful.” You’d said.

Walter always was. And besides, he was more than capable of defending himself, even if he’d given up using his fists for work when he met you. “You don’t lose that sort of thing,” he’d told you.

So now, the faint aroma of pasta still drifts about, making it even to your bathroom.

You spit into the sink, frothy, minty toothpaste sitting near the drain until you flush it out with water. Some of the paste collects in the corner of your mouth.

Then, the front door creaked open. Closed shut almost immediately after.

Footsteps trailed down the hallway before you heard a distant “Shit”. Fumbling to quickly tear off his shoes. You rinsed your toothbrush as the steps resumed, only for Walter to appear behind you in the mirror.

He instantly smiled at the sight of you. Hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. Chest still heaving to catch his breath.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, baby,” you smirk and arch a brow. “You wear your sneakers on the carpet again?”

He pursed his lips, trying to fight an even wider smile. Eyes trailing off like a toddler who’d just gotten caught. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He moved to wrap his arms around you, but before you could, you shrieked and wormed out of his grasp. “You’re all sweaty, Walter!”

You gently pushed him towards the shower. He waved his hand in defeat. And smirked.

“Oh, you love when I’m sweaty. Just only when I’m on top of you, doin’ all the work.”

If you were a weaker woman, your knees would’ve buckled right there and then. You thanked God he had his back turned as you squeezed your legs together.

He begins to strip from his athletic wear. Throws it in the laundry hamper.

“I don’t make you do all the work,” you cross your arms.

You look up to see him stark naked as the shower starts to run. He runs his hand under it occasionally to check the temperature.

Then, he turns to face you. And you force yourself to chew the inside of your cheek so your eyes don’t drift down…

“I don’t mind doin’ all the work, doll.”

Walter smiles when he notices your restraint falter for just a moment. He lets his mind wander at what’s waiting for him underneath your t-shirt.

You playfully roll your eyes and wave him off. “Go take a bath.”

His laughter echoes in the shower as you turn on your heel, back to the bedroom.

He doesn’t take long. Just enough to rinse the grime and dirt from the day off of him. Gives himself an extra few minutes because the hot water soothes his hands like nothing else—other than you, of course.

From the bed, you can hear the water stop and the shower curtain slide open. There’s a few minutes of ruffling and brushing and deep, paced breaths before the light switches off. As soon as Walter’s beside the bed, he collapses onto you.

You laugh under the weight of him. “Okay, okay,” you gasp, adjusting how you lay.

He looks up at you, “You’re so beautiful.”

He’s said a million times, and will say it a million more.

“Thank you, baby.” Like an instinct, your fingers find themselves running through the hair above his ear. The smell of his shampoo still fresh.

“I love you,” he says into your skin.

You chuckle, “I love you, too.”

“No, really,” Walter shifts to wrap an arm around you, letting the other lay flat against the bed. Rests his head on its side like you’re a pillow. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow. Hand curling to the back of his head.

You feel his lashes flutter against you as his eyes close. “Jus’ really love you. Think about you all the time.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your arm.

“Well, I really love you, too,” you smile.

“It’s different than that, baby.” Your hand trails to his neck and then his shoulder. “I mean, I think I waited my whole life for you.”

You freeze for just a moment. A warmth spreads through your chest.

“I never thought I’d be here, ya know? Didn’t even know if I’d be alive. And I didn’t really have a reason to be alive. Was just goin’ along with it.” He chuckles to himself. “If you told me then that I’d be here—with you, this home, this life—I woulda laughed in your face.”

Your fingertips begin to dance over his spine. “I’m glad you’re here. With my whole life.”

“I owe you everything I got,” he continued. “All that I can give, and it still won’t make up for what you do for me.”

“Hey,” you move to correct him, but his arm around you tightens.

“I’m not lying, baby. Not jokin’ around, either.” His eyes—a soft, muted blue that makes you swoon—meet yours desperately. “Sometimes, my head hurts. ‘S too small to keep up with how much I think of you. When I’m at work, when you’re at work. Hell, even when you’re in the same room.”

“You’re gonna make yourself sick of me.”

“No, never.” He said hushed. The slightest bit of fear in his voice at the thought of even being away from you. “Could never be sick of you.”

He planted a firm kiss on your ribs. Sighed at how your fingers felt dancing over his back. It’s silent for a long moment.

You glance down. “You asleep already?”

With his eyes shut softly, Walter shifted only half awake. “I’m gettin’ up early tomorrow. Gonna cook you a nice big breakfast, clean it up, too.

“Then, I’ll do all the laundry. Fold it and put it away just how you like. Water all the plants.”

He begins to recognize the swift movements of your finger on his back like ink bleeding into paper. Warmth blooming under his skin every time your touch brushes past. A curve and a straight line. He spells it in his head: Walter.

His leg involuntarily twitches, a sleeping habit you first noticed dhring your first night together. A remaining need for defense since all he knew before you was to fight.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby. Gonna give you everything you want. And you don’t gotta ask for—” Walter yawns. “Nothin’ in return.”

His voice trails off at the end, heart thumping like he had five pages more to say. But the man laying on top of you, holding you like nothing else mattered, slowly falls to sleep.

You lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Go to sleep now, honey,” you whisper, switching the lamp off. “Tell me the rest in the morning.”

© faestunna 2025.