#<- have not used that tag in a little while

[cherrychilli]

18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

~

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.  

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

--------------------

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

[the-xolotl]

Sweet, Soft Shadow Man

Alastor x gn!Reader & Al’s Shadow

♡ Itty bitty snip

♡ a/n: i feel like i’ve only been writing smut recently so here’s something soft

summary: Alastor’s shadow adores you, because Alastor adores you, but he’s a lot more reserved with his feelings. His shadow on the other hand has little qualms about showing affection or responding to yours, and maybe Al feels a little jealous.

♡ TAGS: sfw, domestic fluff, slight jealousy, some banter, no use of y/n, latine coded reader lowkey.

One thing to get use to as you and Al had begun dating was his shadow constantly hovering around you anywhere you went where Alastor himself wasn’t. At first it had felt smothering, like he didn’t trust you alone or like you couldn’t defend yourself, when you in fact very much can. You’d roll your eyes every time you caught the shadowy figure out if the corner of your eye or even tried to get it to go back to Alastor but of course it only listened to its master and would stare at your blankly with the holes that are supposed to be his eyes.

However, as you got to know it and Alastor you realized it wasn’t that that your lover thought you couldn’t look after yourself. No, what you came to realize (and kept to yourself because it’s much too precious) is that Alastor is a proud man ok not that, you knew that very well but that he has his peculiar way of showing affection, one way was to keep his shadow with you when he himself couldn’t. His pride got in the way of him being outwardly affectionate towards you even after courting, properly asking you be his partner and all the time spent together, he still kept to himself a lot simply reciprocating what you initiated. But having the one thing that’s an extension of himself guard you and keep you company was one of the first tokens of care he’d given you.

Thereafter this discovery you didn’t mind it as much, in fact, you even gave it a name; Sombra. You grew very fond of the curious creature that mostly kept itself to surfaces or even in the silhouette of your shadow. It made you giggle every time Sombra did, because you could feel an odd, ghostly weight on your person when it did despite being in its intangible form. Sombra,you also found, is very animated with you. It showed a lot of emotion: joy, sadness, excitement etc. And it didn’t always smile like Alastor did, it could frown, or have a neutral expression. The more you got to know it, the more you became attached to it and it to you. Where to even without Alastor sending it to you, Sombra came to you out of its own accord or even when you called it.

While not entirely against it, Alastor found it a little irritating that literal part of him spent more time with you than he did sometimes. After all he’s an Overlord and the manager of the Hazbin Hotel with the Princess of Hell, he’s a busy man. And the fact you named it, like a pet. His shadow was wrapped around your finger the same way Alastor was, but at least Alastor didn’t show it so forwardly. This fact made Alastor a little bashful the first time you had revealed this to him, all of the little things his shadow did for you.

For example it would bring you little gifts, either from Alastor… Or its own. Small trinkets, flowers (not even store bought just wild flowers off the streets) or even limbs. You didn’t question the limbs even if they put you off at times. Sombra became very cuddly and liked to follow you around even when you only did mundane things. Like today, you’re in the kitchen making a dinner you had made Alastor promise to be there for. He’d been unusually busy recently and as much as you love Sombra, you miss your significant other. You had been prepping the ingredients for a special dish you wanted Alastor to try, that while not entirely southern food, it’s very similar to something like gumbo, when out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of a black figure. It disappeared as soon as you turned to look in that direction, so you shifted your focus back to the food.

A few times more this happened before a menacing shadow loomed right over you as you threw chopped vegetables into the pot of already boiling water with salt and other seasonings on it. It made half the kitchen dim and it seemed to swallow up its surroundings. You smiled wide giggling looking up at the ceiling, “Sombra~” you sing-song, greeting the ghostly silhouette, “Want a taste?” you offered one of the still uncooked pieces of red meat. It shrunk down to its usual size on the wall taking the offered food. Chuckling at how the meat hovered in the air before it disappeared as Sombra put it in its mouth. The shadow smiled wide giving you a thumbs up as it watched you add herbs into the cooking pot.

“That’s not a pet, you know that right darling?” Alastor’s unfiltered voice came from the door frame as he entered unannounced. While his voice had its usual uppity lilt his tone came a little annoyed. You had reach to hug and pet Sombra like you always do to welcome it, you thought Alastor wouldn’t come for another while longer so you indulged the little servant before its master arrived but you got caught right in the act. It retracted to Alastor’s side like it always did as he threw it a sideways glance.

“Of course he’s not. But its cute, in its own way,” you smile. “Welcome home, my love,” smiling at the radio demon you gingerly made your way to him wrapping your arms around him with a tight hug. He did the same, planting a soft kiss on your forehead, your smile widen. “I missed you,” you whispered looking up at him with big doe eyes. Because you did. You really, really did. You didn’t want to say it outloud but you almost thought he wouldn’t show or he’d be late. So it made you exceedingly happy he had already arrived. “It’s almost ready, why don’t you go sit at the table.”

From his seat, he watched you prepare the side dishes as the pot on the stove simmered, however his eyes more than fixating on you, they followed the movement of his shadow standing next to you at all times. Handing you things, making you laugh and giggle with little actions. And of course it’s his shadow he could feel how giddy your attention made it. Every time you said thank you, every time you gave it a compliment or whenever you pet it. He felt it’s eye twitch seeing Sombra lay his transparent head on the shadow of your shoulder and you didn’t bat an eye. Part of it is guilt, guilt that he had been so absent and distant for weeks, because he’d been too preoccupied with other responsibilities, and jealousy. The jealousy is what bothered him the most. That damn shadow had been hoarding all your attention even as he’d been sitting in the same room with you.

Alastor wouldn’t admit it’s his fault, of course. So instead he gets up from the table again coming up to stand behind you, long arms wrapping around your middle. It surprised you a little, making your stutter the rhythm of your stirring. Alastor rested his chin on the same shoulder Sombra had, making direct eye contact with the sentient being and intimidating it into moving away from you. If it could hiss, it would have. But it moved away without you noticing. Alastor’s arms tighten around you for a second before speaking softly, “I apologize for neglecting you, or if you’ve felt lonely in my absence, darling,” his words were sincere. Alastor didn’t like being away from you very long, didn’t like having to go places filled with people he couldn’t care less about and having to deal with others he disliked. But duties are duties and work is work, he’s a man of principle.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t long to be with his beloved, and he know he’s godawful at telling you. Part of the reason he’d kept his shadow with you, in hopes to keep you solace, and company when he couldn’t. But seeing you grow closer to the creature and pouring all the affection you couldn’t give him made his chest tighten, a feeling that crawled under his skin and bothered him in ways that shouldn’t matter to him. You were his. Yet, here he is, acting childish even if you are probably mostly unaware. Or he hopes you are. Because this is embarrassing, it makes him feel embarrassed deep down. His ears twitched in annoyance as the thoughts swirled around his mind trying to push them away but failing.

“I know you’ve been busy. I wouldn’t call it neglect really,” you answer back, relaxing into the embrace and tilting your head so that you can press a soft kiss to his cheek then nuzzling him, “But you are gone too often, I had meant to talk to you about it but I didn’t really know how to. I guess I also felt a little bad asking you to give me more than you already do,” you chuckle unhumorously. Alastor did give you everything, hardly ever did he tell you no and did what he could to make you happy. Your relationship had been very rocky at the start. Both of you had to learn to make your relationship work and meet in the middle on a lot of different things. Alastor had to re-learn what it’s like to love someone, you had to adjust to his own way of loving and take baby steps, slower ones than you were used to. Both of you accepted the flaws that came with the other, you were in hell, he wasn’t the worst out there and you weren’t perfect.

“And you don’t have to be jealous of your own shadow, Al,” you quipped, a grin tugging the edges of your lips. You had to press your lips into a thin line to keep yourself from giggling at the flare of radio static around you after saying that. But he didn’t really refute it.

“Very funny, darling,”

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[sweets3rial]

i wanted it to be you. (II)

ch. 1 // ch. 2

di!leon x fem!reader

summary: when Leon thinks things are too late, he gets a friendly reminder that things are never too late.

tags: angst/comfort, happy endings, fluff, wedding ceremony, marriage, vows, talks about future, small mention of overbearing in-laws, reader having many second thoughts, drunk letters/vows, Chris and Claire Redfield mentioned, runaway bride, panic/anxiety attacks, Leon loves you, time skips, teasing, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya' tap it)

warnings: panic and anxiety attacks

word count: 10.3K (yikes srry ya'll)

“my dream house?”

“yeah, tell me.” he urged, bumping your hip with his. you looked up into the sky, pondering his question. it was a good question. you’d never thought of something like that before. you were so used to your two-bedroom and one-half-bathroom apartment.

“well, i want lots of greenery. like plants in every corner and in every room.” you began, using your spoon as a little wand as you spoke. “i also want a lot of warm lights, to give the house a nice welcoming vibe to it,”

he hummed, nodding as you finished each sentence. “i like earthy tones or nude tones, nice soft couches, and a stone fireplace. a big living room and a large dining room- y’know how in those movies where the rich sad family gathers for dinner and it’s very awkward and quiet?”

his eyebrows furrowed, “you want something like that?”

you chuckled, “no, but i want my dining room to look like that just less … sad.”

“i see, it’s like those where the father is at the end and the mother at the other end,”

“exactly,” you smiled wider. you picked a cherry floating atop your frozen yogurt, taking it by the stem and bringing it to his lips. he opened his mouth with an audible sound, wrapping his cold lips around the fruit and plucking it off the stem.

you flicked the stem out of your fingers and onto the street where it’ll be swept away in the wind and trampled on by those who walked by.

“i want a large backyard, with either a poo or just a large field of grass.” you smiled at the thought of walking out onto your porch as an old feeble woman to enjoy a cup of coffee as you stared out into your backyard to watch the sun set or rise. or even watch your future kids play with the family dog.

you never wanted to have kids. just the thought of splitting yourself in half while pushing out new life sent chills up your spine. but sometimes, the idea of holding a child to your chest and watching it grow. the idea of listening to them laugh and play, watching as they discovered new interests and learned new things, and being alive to discover the person they will become, doesn’t sound too bad.

“i want a balcony, one that stretches from one side of the house to the other. that way i can sit outside and i don’t know enjoy a nice cigarette.”

a laugh erupted from his chest at the thought of you only wanting a balcony to smoke a cigarette. but then that image warped into him watching you from the door smoking that cigarette. the wind blowing in your hair, the sun kissing your skin, your clothes flapping against your skin.

he imagined you’d be wearing a baggy shirt, maybe one of his shirts. the wind blowing up from the balcony would cause your shirt to cling to you. to your curves and the dips of your body, the purchase of your hips, and the slim of your waist.

you’d turn to him with your elbows leaned up against the railing behind you, cigarette between the plump skin of your lips as you beckoned him over to join you.

“i had a friend,” you started, interrupting his small daydream.

“her parents had this master bedroom. when you walked in, to your left was a sliding door that led to the balcony overlooking her backyard, and then to the right was a couple’s bathroom,” you sighed at the memory, you envied her.

one, because her parents were happily married and slept in the same bed. two, because she had a big house with a large backyard. and three, because she was happy. she lived luxuriously in her big house, she was spoiled, and her parents doted on her. her life was perfect.

yours, not so much.

“her mom occupied one sink with her makeup and her jewelry, and her dad occupied the other with cologne and little figures,” you gulped down a lump in your throat, looking up at him to see him already looking at you. you could see the sad look on his face. the look of pity and sadness, it left a stab in your heart knowing that you probably ruined his night for him.

“i want that.” your words left your throat with a small croak. you weren’t just talking about a couples bathroom with a jacuzzi bathtub but also to be happy. to live in a large house, to be happy with your future husband and kids, to enjoy luxurious jewelry and clothes.

his heart hurt at the look in your eyes, the yearning and the hope. he could see the pain as you spoke about your friend, even if you were smiling as if it was a good memory. he wanted to say, i can give you that.

he wanted to give you that. not only for you but also for himself, that way when you beckon him over as you smoke your cigarette he can join your side. his daydream began to play again; as he joined your side, you’d put your cigarette out and wrap your arms around his torso with a sigh.

he could smell the shampoo in your damp hair and the lotion you lathered onto your skin — along with a hint of his cologne from the baggy t-shirt that belonged to him. the wind was nice and fresh, a cooling breeze along with the warm morning sun. he’d shut his eyes and hold you to his chest, slowly swaying you back and forth as he enjoyed the warmth from the sun along with the warmth from your body.

“that sounds nice,” he looked down at you, “peaceful,”

you smiled up at him, licking your sticky lips, “yeah, it does,”

your smile slowly faded as you began to doze off, he was very … pretty. the way his dirty blonde hair framed his face so perfectly. golden strands that are soft like silk and fluffy like cotton. his eyes, how they gazed into yours, pulling you in deep like the tide of the ocean and drowning you into his being.

they say the eyes are the window to the soul. when someone furrows a brow, you can tell their soul is confused or troubled. when a tear swells you know their soul is sad. when their pupil dilates you know their soul is in love.

there is a ring around his pupils, a ring of blue — the color of his irises. his plump lips are agape, sucking in breaths and letting them go. his lashes flutter with every blink, his eyes trailing every inch of your face, taking every detail of you into memory.

you did the same. scanning over his dimpled cheeks, his high cheekbones, his strong brow bones, his long lashes, the tips of his cold ears, and the window to his soul. all of it.

“you’re so beautiful,” his words came out almost in a drunken whisper. his brain wasn’t able to process any word that left his mouth until it did.

the blood that pumped into your veins instantly ran to your face. your cheeks heating up as your eyes widened, you looked back down at your melted froyo — hoping that taking a bite would hide away your hot cheeks. “thank you,” you mumbled trying to fight back the smile creeping up onto your sticky lips.

“of course uh- back to your dream house-“

“oh right! um-“

------

a living room with comfortable couches and a coffee table in the middle sitting, in front of a large stone fireplace. a kitchen with off-white cabinets, black tile floors, and an island with black marble counters and a deep sink. a dining room with a large table with seven chairs and a runner underneath.

plants, everywhere. in the front, in the large backyard, hanging from the roof, in every room, and in every corner.

large windows that faced the sunset and sunrise, casting down their warmth and triumph into the house to illuminate every corner without a single flip of a light switch. warm lights, in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, the hallways, everywhere.

a patio out front and out back, a balcony that stretched across the back of the house. five rooms, a guest room, three kids’ rooms, and a master bedroom. a master bedroom where when you walked in, to the left were the sliding doors to the balcony, and to the right a couples bathroom and a walk-in closet.

though, it wasn’t a home. there were drapes over the furniture to keep them from collecting dust. there were no plants just empty corners. the windows were shut and no one lived there.

the rooms were empty, with nothing but carpet and walls. it wasn’t a home. it had no life, no family, no giggles and happiness. it was simply just a house.

“sir, i just need you to sign here and then we’ll lease the house.”

he straightened his posture and blinked away the dryness in his eyes. he looked over at the man, he was about his height. he wore a fancy suit, his mustache was nice and jelled up, his hair slicked back and he smelt of expensive cologne.

he took one last look around the house, his heart aching. if he closed his eyes, he could hear you in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and listening to your music or your podcasts. he could hear your voice calling him from your bedroom. he could hear a dog maybe the giggles of children. but that was just a figment of his imagination.

he was standing in the middle of a house. your dream house. the one you told him about so many years ago. back then, he would’ve said ‘i can give you that’, but he hesitated. would that have made you stay? if he said he was putting all his money into building this house for you.

buying the furniture and the tiling and marble necessary to make it happen. hiring construction workers to add on a balcony and a back porch. would all his effort … would it have made you stay?

“who’s getting married?” the realtor asked, pointing at his boutonniere with his pen. he blinked, once again brought out of his daze.

“uh my … ex-girlfriend,” he grumbled awkwardly. the realtor jumped back a little, a small strand of his slicked-back hair falling out.

“oh,” was all he could say as he too joined him in looking around the house. the real estate agent could tell that this man wasn’t looking to live here by himself, there were so many rooms, rooms for a family. a couples bathroom and a shared walk-in closet.

the realtor sighed, looking up at the man. his eyes were bloodshot red, most likely from crying or being up all night. the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy. he was holding a flask of whiskey and his posture remained slouched.

“Mr. Kennedy,” the realtor clicked his pen and hooked it back onto his suit pocket. he stuffed the paperwork under his arm and puffed out his chest. he was losing business by doing this but he’d rather see a man happy to sell his house rather than sad to sell his house.

“i was young once,” he began, standing next to Leon as he dozed off. “i too had a girlfriend, she was the girl of my dreams,” the man chuckled at the memory.

“we were young and very, very stupid,”

Leon’s head slowly turned towards the man beside him, he found that the realtor was looking out the window with a smile on his face which caused his mustache to turn upwards.

“i was poor and she was wild, i wanted to give her a proper life. so i worked and i worked to the point that i’d tire myself and i barely had time for her.”

Leon let his eyes fall to the ground, this story was sounding a bit too familiar to him. not having time for each other led to miscommunication and arguments all the time. it was not a story that he wished to retell.

“so she left me, one day i came home and she was gone.” the man sniffled a bit, watching a bird fly out of one of the trees that sat on the front lawn. the bird reminded him of her, his songbird, always singing and so loud. though, he loved it when she sang and tweeted like a bird.

her voice was always like music to his ears anyway.

“i crashed her wedding like a fool and she told me that she would’ve been happy getting married without a big ring and a big house. that she would’ve been happy with how things were,” the man let out a sigh, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“so, my word to you is…don’t let it be too late. if you love her and hopefully she still loves you then … make it work.” the man placed a hand on Leon’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. a sign of support for the young man since he too has been in Leon’s position once.

“it is never too late to be what you wanted to be,”

'i wanted it to be you.'

your voice replayed in his head. he could still hear the tears clogged in your throat and he could still see the look in your eye. he could still smell your perfume and feel your lips on his skin. it isn’t too late. he wasn’t too late.

Leon slowly began to nod his head, building up the courage to do something anything. he knew it was time to let you go, that it was over and done.

'do you still love me?'

'goodbye, Leon.'

those were the last words you said to him. he replays the sound in his voice every night and it keeps him awake at night. he tosses and turns, missing the warmth of your body and the feeling of your skin. he feels selfish, yearning for someone who wants nothing to do with him. someone who is getting married in a few hours.

but you aren’t just anyone. dare say, you are the love of his life.

“thank you, Mr. Gudzynski.” Leon smiled at the man, taking one last chug of the whiskey in his flask before making his way out the door. Chris stood there waiting for him, leaning up against his car with a cigarette hanging from his lips as he stared down at his phone.

upon hearing Leon’s foot crush the rocks beneath him, he looked up. he stomped out his cigarette as he blew out the last puff of smoke.

“how’d it go?” Chris asked, rolling his shoulders to let the sleeves of his suit adjust.

“did you just put out your cigarette on fresh cement?”

“i guess you sold it then,” Chris chuckled dryly.

Leon took a moment to reply, looking at the porch behind him. it was empty, just plain wooden slabs. he knew how much you wanted a patio, this was your house after all.

completely inspired by you. every corner and every detail of this house you had spoken to Leon years ago. he made your dream a reality, though you'll never know that.

“i couldn’t,”

Chris turned to Leon, his frame tensing up, “uh you what?”

“i couldn’t sell it, i just…” Leon ended his sentence with a shrug and much to his dismay, Chris nodded understandably.

“i knew you wouldn’t be able to,” Chris sighed, opening the door to his car.

“what?” Leon said with a lift of his brow.

“just get in,”

the whole drive to the church, Leon could feel his body growing heavier and heavier. he was nervous. unsure of what he should do or say? will he have the time? he was constantly wiping his hands onto his pants, trying to wipe the nerves and sweat away.

he was staring out the window blankly, bouncing his leg and biting on the inside of his cheeks.

~

’stop that,’

‘stop what?’

your fingers reached up to tap his cheek, ‘stop biting your cheeks, you’re making me anxious’

he stopped instantly, licking over the skin that he was just biting at. you sighed, standing in front of him as you fixed his tie. you worked with straightening the silk fabric and tightening it around his neck — not too much.

he looked down at you and his nerves instantly eased. your face was relaxed, your breathing slows, your lashes fluttered with every single blink, and god you were glowing. he couldn’t help but smile, he knew he had no reason to be nervous if you were right by his side.

and here you were; fixing his tie and smoothing out his suit.

‘you got this, it’s just a simple speech, we rehearsed it many times,’ you leaned up onto your tippy toes to place a kiss on his chin. ‘and i’ll be right in the audience supporting you,’

~

his lips curled into a small smile at the memory, he would’ve for sure embarrassed himself if it wasn’t for you being by his side. he remembers it clear as day, standing up on that podium as he received his award, his hands were shaking and his vision was blurry.

he was trying to read off of his speech but he couldn’t. that was until he found you in the room and then suddenly, you two were in the living room of your shared apartment. you were sitting on the couch with takeout in your lap. as he practiced his speech, you’d slurp your noodles or take a bite of your fried rice as you pretended to be a high government official.

once his eyes found yours in the large crowd, you smiled up at him mouthing the words; ‘you got this,’

“we’re here,” Chris sighed aloud. Leon looked up to see many familiar faces walking up the steps into the church, hand in hand and with smiles on their faces. all dressed in black suits and dresses, a simple and traditional color.

you were never a religious woman, you weren’t the type to go to church every Sunday or pray before every meal. but here you were getting married in a church, under the eye of god as if you hadn’t slept with another man just a few months ago.

your eyes were stuck on the cross hanging above you. the hairstylist you hired was busy touching up your hair, your makeup artist was powdering your nose and adding more highlight to your cheekbones consistently saying the same words, ‘make sure you smile that way you can really pop.’

you’d give her a small silent nod, whatever made her happy.

you haven’t smiled once. it was your wedding day. after months of trying on dresses, trying cake flavors, sending out invitations, and picking out bridesmaids. the day was here and you couldn’t smile. you’ve been sitting in this chair for hours, getting your hair and makeup done.

your bridesmaids would come in screaming excitedly while waving around bottles of champagne. you put on a fake smile with fake laughs and giggles but your mind was elsewhere.

you were thinking of a lot. your future after today, losing your last name, kids, and in-laws. but mostly you were thinking about him. it was hard, writing his name down on an envelope and sending it to him through the mail.

your fiancee, soon-husband, didn’t know about you and Leon. he believes you two are coworkers and nothing more. acquaintances or even strangers. he didn’t know the deep love you held for that man.

he was excited to see that you were inviting the other agents. he felt special. as if him being married to a D.S.O agent would make him a better tech or get him a promotion.

it was so hard sending him that invitation. most of the other invitations were given in person unless the guests lived far away. you wondered if he would come, part of you hoped he did and the other part of you hoped he didn’t.

“it’s almost time,” you looked to your side to see your uncle standing in the doorway. you chose him to walk you down the aisle, he’s been here for you more than your father. he was there for your daddy-daughter dances, for your graduation. elementary, middle school, and high school.

you stood up from your chair, smoothing out your dress. your dress was itchy and heavy, the pins in your hair stabbed your scalp with every movement, your makeup felt heavy and cakey, and your heels hurt. everything felt wrong.

“are you ready?” you looked at your uncle, a smile on his face as he looked at you. that was when tears welled in your eyes and you shook your head, suddenly you were a little girl again, crying to him when you didn’t get a toy you wanted.

your uncle’s face contorted with worry as he rushed to your side.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

you sobbed, throwing your head down so your tears wouldn’t ruin your makeup. you grabbed the back of your chair, trying to find your words and your breath but it was hard with the corset constricting your every movement.

“i can’t do it, i can’t go out there-“

“of course you can,” he reached over for a few napkins as his hand rubbed up and down your back, “i know it’s stressing, this is your big day, and your life is going to change after this.”

you shook your head again, pursing your lips together to keep another sob from leaving your lips.

“but this is the day you’ve been waiting for, you’ve stressed yourself out enough. after this, you get to enjoy your honeymoon and your house.”

you looked up at him, blinking away another tear. he smiled at you, taking the napkin to blot away the tears. you couldn’t help but think, only if he knew.

only if he knew where your heart truly lies. who your soul calls to. what you did, more specifically who you did. you couldn’t tell him. it was too late to tell anyone. what were you supposed to say? i slept with another man. quite frankly, the only man i’ve ever loved.

you’d be burned at the stake, by everyone in the church. especially, your mother-in-law.

so you sucked in a deep breath and stood up straight.

“okay,” you croaked, and you held the napkin to your tears. you hoped he wasn’t here, you really did. you knew if you made eye contact with him somewhere in the crowd, you would break.

so you linked arms with your uncle, standing up straight and putting a smile on your face. your uncle smiled back at you, giving your arm a small squeeze. your feet were already beginning to hurt and the minute the piano started your limbs began to shake.

your nerves were on edge, your palms were sweaty and you could barely control your breathing. you walked out of the small room you used to get ready and into the main hall. there were photographers, gasping at the sight of you.

gorgeous dress that made you look like a princess, the fabric along with your veil trailed behind you, leaving a path of your essence. instantly, camera shutters were beginning to go off. you gave the photographers a nervous smile and wave as you stood in front of the two large doors.

you looked up at the roof, naked baby angels danced above you, they were holding harps and chasing each other with smiles on their faces. clouds surrounded them along with doves. hints of gold were seen in the paint.

it was beautiful. architectural and just pure with grace. even if the paint was fading and cracking, it was the most beautiful thing you've seen today.

your uncle knocked at the doors, signaling whoever was inside that you were ready. when the doors opened you were met with gasps and the sound of people rising from their seats. you made eye contact with a few people both from your family and his.

you watched as a few covered their mouths in shock, their facial expressions softening in awe. you smiled at a few, keeping your head forward most of the time. your fiancee stood at the end with a wide smile on his face. his friends were giving him firm pats on the shoulder, demonstrating their support.

you smiled at him, pursing your lips as you let your eyes wander. to your left, in the second row, seated in the very first seat…there he was. he came. your face dropped upon seeing him, your knees suddenly felt weak, and a large pain erupted in your chest.

he stood with his hands folded in front of him. his lips were agape, his jaw hanging loose. his eyebrows were upturned in awe. your steps slowed a bit as you got closer to him. you wanted to see him one last time before it was too late.

in his mind, he was standing there at that altar instead of that bearded man. he was watching you walk down the aisle and you were smiling at him. you looked beautiful. god, that color always suited you. your makeup and hair were done beautifully, he’s never seen you this way — all dolled up.

it put his heart to a complete stop. he couldn’t focus on anything but you. your eyes were stuck on him as you passed by. he watched your smile fade as you both made eye contact and he felt a stab in his chest. for a second, he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t blink. he was just frozen in time.

as you walked past him, your head fell to look at the ground. Leon too looked away, continuing to bite on the inside of his cheeks, this time he could taste blood. he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t watch this happen. he couldn’t. he couldn’t.

but he wanted to, today was special to you but it was the complete opposite to him.

he watched as you stood before your husband, a smile rising to your mouth as you gave him a small ‘hi’. Leon let his head drop to his lap, his leg was bouncing uncontrollably. he couldn’t do it. he couldn’t be here.

he was about to look up at Chris to tell him he had to go but he was interrupted when Chris put his hand on Leon's knee. when he looked at Chris, he was looking ahead. a toothpick between his lips and his eyes stuck ahead on you and your future husband.

he knew Chris was trying to convey something, probably 'calm the fuck down,' but also some type of support.

Chris knew today was hard for Leon. with each passing day that the wedding got closer, Leon has been sulking and slacking off during training. his flask was his best friend and so was his bed.

Chris was the only one who knew how deep Leon’s love ran for you. Chris was there during the nights Leon would stumble around drunk and depressed. he gave Leon a hand when he was at his lowest. he helped Leon get rid of his addiction. he got Leon a therapist.

he did a lot for Leon when you two split, same for you. Chris was like the older brother you never had, he was supportive and kind. he was always understanding. you were able to confide in him comfortably. you could sob on his shoulder and use him as a punching bag instead of Leon.

Chris saw both of you at your lowest points and he brought both of you back.

he did so much to bring you two back together but here he is; watching one get married while the other watches with tears in his eyes. Leon kept his head down, unable to face you and watch the scenery before him. the priest prompted you two to begin your vows and he was first.

there was a nervous smile on his face as he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. he unfolded the paper, his eyes flickering between you and the speech before him. he cleared his throat, facing the crowd.

“first and foremost, i want to thank everyone for being here; friends and family.” he cleared his throat once again, looking towards you. it made Leon’s stomach twist with jealousy as you smiled at him so lovingly. he also couldn’t stop admiring how beautiful you were. pure innocence and grace, well he knew you were far from innocent.

“and most of all my gorgeous wife-to-be,” your smile dropped into a simple lift of your lips. but slowly, you began to look around the crowd. your eyes landing on your family, your in-laws, and then Leon. from there, you stayed fixated on him.

you haven’t seen him so polished in so long. his suit was nicely tailored, sleek back with a white brooch. though his tie was crooked and he was chewing on the inside of his cheeks. his frantic leg bouncing stopped once he made eye contact with you. his body froze in a way, his breath caught in his throat.

he smiled at you, gently. the look in his eyes spoke for him, ‘you look beautiful,’ he said.

he tried to keep calm, for you. even though he was on the verge of a heart attack. even if he was terribly heart broken, he needed to be happy for you. today is your day.

you smiled back at him even wider, shying away from him with visible heat in your cheeks, ‘thank you,’ you said back, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. your fiancee’s speech fell on deaf ears, you were paying attention to everything else but him at the moment.

Leon sat right in your field of view. at the other side of the aisle, in the second row, towards the very end of the bench.

you sucked in a deep breath, your lips falling agape as you kept eye contact with him longer. suddenly, the feelings you wished to bury. the ones you’ve been trying to bury for years were coming back. it was like slowly drowning. you can see the surface still but as you sink deeper and deeper, it becomes blurry and you are forever trapped in the ocean beneath you.

his kisses, his touch, his love, his passion, his laugh, his smile, his hair, his teeth, his nose, the hair on his arms and legs, the scar on his shoulder, the mole on his neck — it was all coming back. he was coming back.

the happiness you felt when he would wake you up with gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder. the joy you felt walking into the kitchen to see him there making coffee, he hated coffee. he hated the feeling it left on your tongue. the bitter taste and the smell of your breath after taking a sip. he hated coffee but he still made it.

it made him feel like a normal person living in an apartment with his normal girlfriend.

the comfort you’d get when he’d hug you. the excitement you felt when he’d come home. the small things he did that aroused you to the point of insanity. the arguments…you even missed the petty arguments. arguments never lasted long. Leon hated arguing with you.

it would usually end up with him sleeping on the couch that night. then he’d wake up with a heavy weight on top of him. of course, it was you. or it would end up with him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you both in your shared bedroom together.

even if you two argued, you refused to be away from each other.

you were woken from your daydream by the wave of chuckles around the room. you joined in subconsciously, blinking your dry eyes and averting your attention away from Leon. meanwhile, he was gripping the pants of his suit with butterflies in his stomach. he couldn’t shake off this feeling.

the feeling of loss. the feeling that maybe it was too late.

your fiancee had finished his vows, folding up the paper and storing it back in his pocket. you looked up at you, a blush on his cheeks and sweat brimming at his forehead. you could see he was nervous, he was shaking — constantly rocking back and forth and itching at his beard.

you reached into your bra, pulling out your vows. you were so unprepared. you wrote your vows probably a few nights ago, drunk one too many drinks and elbow-deep in a bag of your favorite chips.

the minute you unfolded the paper, you knew you should’ve read it over.

‘To my beloved, Leon…’

you swallowed a lump in your throat, nervously looking between the paper, your fiancee, and Leon sitting in the crowd. you were drunk and wrote vows to the wrong man. no, it was to the right man. Leon was the right man. he always has been.

“um, to my beloved, future husband,” you began, your voice trembling and your throat aching. you read over the first line and you instantly felt tears swell up in your eyes, “i miss you, um,” your eyes flashed over to Leon.

“i miss you even if you’re right next to me. no words can summarize how much i love you, how much i burn and yearn for you every passing minute … every passing day.”

Leon felt his heart break into a million pieces right then and there. your eyes remained on him, only looking away to glance back down at your vows. were you … reading these to him? Leon swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyebrows upturning as he tried to hold himself together.

you were making up things as you went, your words completely different from what was really written down:

“i am glad to have you by my side,” i wish you were by my side, holding me and singing your cheesy songs in my ear.

“i am blessed to wake up to you every morning and suck in a deep breath of your essence and your being,” i miss waking up to you every morning, staying in bed for a few more hours just so i can watch you breathe and stir in your sleep.

“i was broken when you found me but you pieced me back together, slowly and patiently,” you broke me. we broke each other but every single piece of me will crawl back to you in the end. no matter how shattered i am.

a tear slipped down your cheek, you were beginning to choke up the more and more you read. it was getting hard to make things up and say those instead of reading what you wrote down. a full page confessing your every feeling and thought to the right man … to Leon.

tears continued to fall.

‘i miss you. god, i miss you. i should’ve never left. i should’ve stayed. it was my fault. i broke us, i hurt us. i died when i left you but you brought me back to life when i saw you standing on that cliff.

when i saw you, the emotions running through me i couldn’t comprehend. i wanted to run, i wanted to turn away because i knew if i approached you it would be bad. but my body made its way towards you anyway.

i love you. i always have and i always will. i wish i could hold you again. i wish i could go back. they say to never open the closed doors of your past. fuck not opening closed doors, your door never closed.

when i turn back i can see you, standing there in the doorway watching me leave. just like the night i left. it hurts looking back, it hurts because i want to run back to you so bad.’

‘do you still love me?’

his words rang in your head like an alarm. you were looking down at your paper, vision blurry with tears. you could feel the weight of your tears falling onto the sheet as you sat there in silence. a small sob left your lips as audible whispers rang throughout the room.

you folded the paper in half, shaking your head as you looked up at your fiancee.

“i’m sorry,” was all you said as you took a step back. your body moved before you could process anything. you ran down the steps, lifting the skirt of your dress with one hand while the other held your love letter with a vice grip.

you ran down the aisle, towards the large doors. your throat was on fire and as you burst through the wooden doors, you finally let out a singular sob.

everyone in the church stood and watched you run out, looking between you and your fiancee abandoned at the altar. the whispers became louder, and gasped erupted through the room. your fiancee stood at the altar looking at his feet, completely still.

his mother ran up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she threw a million questions towards him. he stayed silent, eyes fixed on the ground below him. he couldn't believe it and neither could anyone else.

Leon looked back from you running out the door towards Chris standing behind him. his face was painted with worry, his eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched together. Chris nodding his head towards the door, signaling Leon to go after you.

“go, she needs you,” Claire said from behind Chris. Leon nodded silently, a heavy breath leaving his lips as he ran after you.

he was second to burst through those doors after you. he looked right and left, panicking. what happened? what was wrong? he knew he shouldn’t have come. this was his fault. if he didn’t come, you would be running out of this church with your husband on your arm. not like this.

those vows. they weren’t for your husband. he knew that for sure. your eyes were stuck on his, he watched with agony as tears slipped past your pretty eyes and down your cheeks. god, he hated seeing you cry more than anything. he just wished he could scoop you up in his arms and coax them out of you gently.

a sign against the wall that read ‘garden’ caught his attention. the sign pointed to the left and Leon was quick to take after you.

he knew you well. he knew you loved gardens and flowers, always plucking them from the ground or from their bush and sticking them into Leon’s hair. you once mentioned to him how when you’re troubled you tend to turn to nature or your bed. you’d take walks, sit outside in the sun in silence. you’d brush your fingers against the soft petals and leaves.

your bed was nowhere in sight so he ran in the direction of the garden.

he made way down the steps into the garden, loosening the tie around his neck. he shut his mouth, listening to your voice over his beating heart and his heaving breaths. he could faintly hear sobs coming from his right. his head snapped in the direction of your cries, his heart breaking as he spotted your heels on the ground.

they most likely slipped off as you ran away. he sucked in one last deep breath, trudging through the grass of the church garden to pick up your heels. the garden was beautiful, tall bushes acting as walls to a makehsift maze.

white roses were planted everywhere. the grass was healthy and warm, tickling at his ankles. bees buzzed around the bushes, hopping from flower to flower. birds chirped in the trees, singing melancholic tunes on this beautiful afternoon. or pretty drastic afternoon.

as he walked further into the maze, he caught eye of you. your back was turned to him, you had sat down on a bench in the middle of the maze and in front of a marble statue. he stopped in his tracks, gulping down the lump in his throat which somehow made his presence clear to you.

you turned around surprised, eyes wide and a small gasp leaving your lips.

when you caught eye of him standing there, holding your heels with one hand and the other tucked in his pocket. you felt tears welling up again, though you hid it away with a dry laugh.

“how cliche huh? runaway bride.”

he didn’t answer, making his way closer and closer to you. he rounded around the bench, getting down on one knee in front of you. he took your right ankle into his hands, rubbing at your soft skin.

Leon tried to ignore the damp paper in your hands — your vows. he was curious, what did they really say?

he slipped on your heel, continuing to draw circles onto your skin.

you watched him, inhaling deep, trembling breaths and gripping the edge of the bench with all your might. the tension was thick, so thick to the point neither of you could breathe.

“say something,” you sighed out.

“i don’t know what to say,” he croaked out, his voice stuffy and hoarse. he took a hold of your other ankle, slipping on the last heel.

“say that i don’t know, i’m stupid. i’m an idiot. i embarassed myself, i-“ you cut yourself off with a heavy sigh, dropping your head into your lap. there was a moment of silence, leaving you two stuck in an oasis of tweeting birds, rustling trees, and buzzing bees.

“look at me-“

“no,”

“please, baby look at me,” he practically begged. butterflies arose in your stomach and you shut your eyes, hoping you could shut him out. hoping the noise in your head would stop, just hoping everything will quiet. “i need you to look at me.”

that was all it took. you slowly looked up from your lap and at him. once you met his gaze, you felt like you were that young girl again. that young girl walking down the street after a dinner date, eating froyo in freezing weather and talking about your dream house.

“you’re not an idiot, you’re not stupid, you’re perfect. you’re so perfect,” he sighed out. “why’d you run?”

you shook your head, “i couldn’t do it, Leon, i-“ you stopped yourself to suck in a deep breath, but it felt so constricted. your head was pounding, everything felt heavy and you were so dizzy. every thing was falling down. you felt like you couldn’t breathe or think, your head was spinning and your knuckles white.

you gripped at your chest, nervously playing with the pendant of your necklace but at the same time trying to tug it off. you felt like you were choking, your vision began to cloud with tears but at the same time you felt like you were losing consciousness.

“hey, hey,” he came to sit next to you, instantly wrapping his heavy arms around your shoulders to bring you into his chest but still giving you room to breathe.

his fingers began to loosen the ribbons to your corset. his movements were stable and calm. “breathe with me ‘kay?" he soothed, "in and out, just how we always did,”

you nodded, gripping onto his suit, “in”

you shut your eyes and took a deep breath in. “good, what’s one thing you can taste?”

“um my lipstick,” you said, as you both exhaled.

“in,” he rubbed your back with one hand while the other held you firmly against him, “what are two things you can smell?”

his voice was getting deeper and quieter. slowly, your body began to relax. you could breathe again. you focused on your surroundings, naming off the first things you could. “the grass and…” you paused to let a deep breath out, “you.”

he wasn’t going to lie, your reply made his heart jump a little bit. he tightened his hold onto you, burying his nose into your hair. “in.”

as he took a deep breath in, he was bombarded with the smell of your shampoo and hairspray, “what are three things you can hear?”

“birds, wind and your heart beat,” you whispered to him as you let out another deep breath.

“in,” another deep breath in, “almost there, what are four things you can touch?” he could feel your body loosen up as you began to feel around him. your eyes were shut and your body began to go slack against him.

“your suit, the bench, and a button,” another deep breath out.

“good, almost there, in.” you were prepared for this one, pulling back from the hug just a bit so you could look around your surroundings. “what are five things you can see?”

you looked up at him, your breath hitching in your throat and your knees going weak. even if you were sitting down, you felt like jelly — as if you would melt right through this bench. you opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out but a weak croak.

he whispered out your name, concerned. his eyebrows curling upwards and his eyes searching yours. the longer you stayed like this, looking into his eyes and breathing with him, the quieter it got. there was no more pounding and noise in your head. your dress didn’t feel itchy. the pins in your hair no longer stabbed at your scalp. the soles of your feet didn’t hurt.

it was all so peaceful. everything.

“i do,” you managed to croak out.

“what?”

“to answer your question,”

‘do you still love me?’

“i do, Leon, i do. more than you’ll ever know,”

you couldn’t read the look on his face, all you saw was a flurry of emotions. he searched your face for any hesitation or lie, anything to keep him from taking you away from here for good. something to stop him from being selfish and keeping you all to himself.

“i love you, Leon Scott Kennedy.”

~

To my beloved, Leon,

i wish you were by my side, holding me and singing your cheesy songs in my ear.

i miss waking up to you every morning, staying in bed for a few more hours just so i can watch you breathe and stir in your sleep.

you broke me. we broke each other but every single piece of me will crawl back to you in the end. no matter how shattered i am.

i miss you. god, i miss you. i should’ve never left. i should’ve stayed. it was my fault. i broke us, i hurt us. i died when i left you but you brought me back to life when i saw you standing on that cliff.

when i saw you, the emotions running through me i couldn’t comprehend. i wanted to run, i wanted to turn away because i knew if i approached you it would be bad. but my body made its way towards you anyway.

i love you. i always have and i always will. i wish i could hold you again. i wish i could go back. they say to never open the closed doors of your past. fuck not opening closed doors, your door never closed.

when i turn back i can see you, standing there in the doorway watching me leave. just like the night i left. it hurts looking back, it hurts because i want to run back to you so bad.

you’re my everything and you’ll continue to be for the rest of my life. i cannot breathe without you, i cannot think, i cannot function. my head is foggy. but when i see you it all becomes so clear. when i go to sleep at night and the thought of you crosses my mind i can’t help but smile.

i wish i still had that picture of you by my bed because it’s never enough to see you smiling in my head as i lay in the dark. the sheets are cold, this house is cold, my heart is cold. i need you Leon.

it’s too late to go back now. i can’t keep doing this to you. i’m sorry. i love you.

~

a heavy hand was draped over your waist, strong firm muscle pooling you into a brick wall of a chest. you smiled, placing your hand over the one on your stomach. light kisses were pressed to your neck and down to your shoulder. rough stubble tickling your smooth skin only prompting you to smile wider.

“good morning,” a hoarse voice spoke in your ear. you looked up at the clock on your nightstand, it read 12:16. you grumbled, turning over and burying your face into chest and muscle, draping your arms around his frame and intertwining your legs with his.

“it’s so early,” you whined, hiding away from the sun peeking through your balcony doors.

“baby, it’s noon.” more kisses were pressed to your face, slowly waking you up with each one. gentle and wet kisses, you smiled at the feeling, nuzzling your nose between his pectorals with a low groan.

“it’s time to get up,”

the sound of you faking a snore earned you a small chuckle, the chest you lay on bouncing up and down — shaking you awake a bit more. the hand on your back traveled further south, rubbing over the bare skin of your ass.

“i tire you out last night, huh?” he taunted, kissing over the love bites forming on your neck and shoulders. you nodded shamelessly, every single one of your limbs was sore and you could barely move an inch without wincing in pain.

“that’s unfair, you folded me like origami and you expect me not to be tired, let me sleep,”

“i'm sorry baby, but i’m not done,”

a smirk grew on your lips and all of a sudden the pain in your body was gone. you were flipped over onto your back, making you squeal out in surprise. you were met with a pair of blue eyes and a messy head of brown hair.

warm lips met yours in a heated frenzy of a kiss — full of flame and passion. you tangled your fingers into the head of messy brown hair, moaning deeply into the kiss. you lifted your legs and brought them up and around his waist.

you could feel his hard cock press against your inner thigh, a small groan left his lips at the contact and a needy moan left yours. his hand reached between your nude bodies, two fingers slotting in between your folds and a slow and languid pace.

the tips of his fingers found your clit, rubbing small and slow circles around the sore nub. your walls fluttered around nothing, craving his cock that throbbed against your thigh.

you failed to kiss him back as a small whine left your lips.

“so wet already,” he kissed your chin, “were you dreaming about me, baby?”

you couldn’t help but give him a large smile, “maybe,”

you watched a smile grow on his lips as he placed another deep kiss to yours. his fingers left your aching cunt, leaving you pleading for more. his hand glided up your thigh, making sure your legs were securely wrapped around him.

he pulled away from the kiss, kissing your nose and then the corner of your mouth.

“i love you,” he breathed out.

“i love you too…ah,” your voice faded away into a moan as he slowly thrust into you. a weak moan left your lips and your nails dug into the skin of his back. you were never used to the sheer size of him, even if he was given to you just a few hours ago here you are, gasping for air as you clench around him.

“so beautiful, taking me so good,” he praised with a small groan. his tip nudged against your cervix, practically knocking the air left in your lungs straight out. he kept a hand on your leg, keeping you as close to him as possible.

with each deep thrust, he watched your every facial expression, watching as your mouth dropped open into a moan and as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. he watched your lips try and form words, the only words you could moan out was his name:

“Leon,” you whined, dragging your nails down his back. he winced at the pain but he reveled in it, the way you’d claw at his back as he’d pound into you was better than any pain ever conflicted upon him. or when your teeth would sink into his shoulder, muffling your whines and moans.

the image only saturated his need.

you could feel his cock twitch inside of you and his hips began to roll against yours. still plagued by sleep, you buried your head into his shoulder, whimpering with each thrust. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, locking your ankles around his waist to bring him closer.

you loved feeling his weight on top of you, keeping you pressed firmly into the mattress, that way you had nowhere to run. not like you’d ever want to, the pleasure he gives you when he’s on top of you like this is inexplicable.

his arms underneath you, pulling you to his chest as he brought you up with him. both of your jaws dropped open, this new position allowing the tip of his cock to press further into you. you cupped his cheek, breathing in his heavy gasps as you slowly began to roll your hips down into him.

your breasts were pushed up against his, sweaty bodies sticking together and the smell of sex filled the room. soft and gentle moans slipped past your lips, your hands grabbing at anything in reach; his shoulders, his face, his arms, just him.

“you’re so beautiful,” he groaned, gripping the back of your neck and forcing you to look down at him. your lips met him in a frenzy, your cunt squelching the base of his cock as you rocked your hips against his faster — desperately chasing that high.

your stomach was burning with need, and every part of your body from your toes to your neck was on fire. you’ve never burned for someone like you do for him. his hips jolted up to meet yours and you gasped into his mouth which allowed him to slide his tongue against yours.

he was meeting you halfway with his thrusts, a gasp of pleasure leaving your mouth with every single one.

“fuck, it’s too much,” you whined as his lips traveled down your neck, biting down on your shoulder and your collarbones — he wanted to leave a mark.

“you can take it,” he heaved, “can’t you, baby?” he urged, as his teeth scraped against the plump of your breast. a shiver rolled up your spine at both the pain and pleasure, either way you nodded ecstatically.

“yes! i can take it,”

he smirked wider, his hips thrusting up faster. he watched as your tits bounced against his chest, your head rolling back which let your frizzy hair fall over your shoulders. his eyes were glued to the love bites decorating your body. the bruises and the redness growing on his skin.

the image of your body was now forever painted in his mind. your thighs wrapped around him as your hips ground down into his thrusts. your puffy cunt taking him so well, his cock sheathing inside of you and out again. your juices soaking the tuft of hair surrounding the base of his cock. your breasts bouncing and your ribs poking out.

“oh Leon, i’m so close-“ you whined, wrapping your arms around him. one of your hands running up the back of his neck and into his brown hair, the other wrapped around his shoulders with nails digging into his skin.

“let go for me, baby.” he egged you on, teetering close to his high as well. he screwed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into the fat of your ass, helping you meet his thrusts.

you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, muffling your loud moans into his skin. the sound of wet slapping skin only got louder, along with the sound of needy moans and the headboard banging against the wall.

the fog in your mind only got heavier and stars danced in your vision. your legs clamped around his waist as you came undone around his cock. stars danced behind your vision as you called out his name in a chant.

he wasn’t too far behind, biting down on your shoulder as he shot his seed deep inside of you. hot and thick, coating your gummy walls and painting you as his.

he continued pulling your hips down into his, slowly and carefully to help you ride out both of your highs. you slumped against him, completely worn out. all the soreness came back in a flash and your eyes felt heavy. but you smiled, draping your arms around his shoulders and allowing his softening cock to stay inside of you.

you turned your right, met with the bright light of the sun and the most beautiful view ever. the sun high in the sky shining down on a field of green grass. birds flew around in the distance, gliding in the wind and twirling in the air. you watched as they flew up and up until they were out of sight.

you pulled back from leaning on his shoulder, cupping his cheek and guiding him to look at you. his eyes peeled open slowly, his pupils contracting against the bright light he was exposed to before dilating again as he caught sight of you hovering above him.

he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling up at you.

“hi,”

you chuckled, “hi,”

he placed a deep kiss on your lips, sealing in the steamy morning you both shared. as he pulled away, he let his eyes stay shut for a moment, he wanted to mesmerize the feeling of your lips alone. he wanted to remember the feeling of your sticky body pressed to his. he wanted to remember the sound of your voice. he wanted to remember this moment. that way if he died tomorrow, he would be able to lay back and remember you.

“my body hurts,” you groaned, leaning back and taking him with you. as you both hit the mattress with a loud ‘puff’, he couldn’t help but smile.

“let me guess, you’re going to spend the whole time in bed,” he chuckled.

“what? i can’t enjoy my honeymoon? and my new house,” you smiled widely up at him. he cupped your cheek, smiling happily as he brushed your cheek. your smile faded as you nuzzled yourself into his palm, with a small sigh.

“you know, the moment i got home after that date with the froyo,” he began, licking over his dry lips. “i went home and began mapping out how your dream house would look,”

"really?" you smiled as you turned towards him, bunching the duvet up to your chin. he nodded and you gave him a small playful scoff, "and here i thought it was just a question,"

"well, it wasn't,"

your heart ached at the image of a young and blonde Leon sitting at his crowded desk, sketching out a house with the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his lip. you smiled at his confession, letting him plop down beside you as his arm wrapped around your waist to bring you against him.

“i was determined to make it happen,” he chuckled to himself, “i bought the property, hired construction workers, and interior designers. now that i think about it, i was so mean to them.”

you laughed at that, his story playing out in your head like a movie. you wondered how long it took and how much it all cost. though, he refused to tell you. he refused to tell you anything about the making of this house. you didn’t know about it until just a few weeks ago.

when he carried you out of the car bridal style with a blindfold around your eyes. he placed you onto the ground for a moment and you could hear the jingling of keys and the squeak of a door. when you stepped into the house it smelt stale, like wood and dust.

but when he took that blindfold off you were faced with something much better. you were face to face with your future — your dream. he mapped it out perfectly, just to your desires and nothing could ever be better. it was better than your dreams. so much better.

“the day of your uh other wedding,” he paused stifling a small nervous laugh as you giggled, “i was about to sell it. i was about to throw your dream away,” you frowned, both feeling guilty and saddened at the thought. he reached down under the covers, finding your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours.

“our dream…i was going to throw our dream away,” he laid his head down against the pillow, looking down at your hands as he ran his thumb over your delicate knuckles. “it wasn’t your fault, i just couldn’t stomach the thought of living or owning a house that was meant for you,”

“oh Leon,” you sighed.

“you didn’t know about the house, i never got to tell you and well it was too late to.”

you brought your joined hands to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles as you scooched closer to him. you didn’t go back to him because of the house, even if you did know about the house, you knew that you would have gone back to him for the sole purpose of being with him.

you could still be in that dainty old apartment and you’d be happy. you could be living in a studio apartment with him and you’d be happy. you could be living in a cardboard box with him and you’d be happy. as long as you were with him. home was where he was. Leon was home.

“the realtor convinced me not to, he told me a story similar to ours,” his other hand reached up, cupping your cheek and stroking the puffiness underneath your eyes.

“his story didn’t have a happy ending like ours but he told me, ‘it is never too late to be what you wanted to be.’” Leon sighed heavily, looking deep into your eyes. you looked at him attentively, eyes wide and eyelashes fluttering up at him. he smiled at you, finding the look on your face adorable, like a kid listening to a bedtime story.

“and well i wanted to be with you,”

your heart swelled with love and your features softened. you gave him a look of pure adoration, and every waking moment and every waking day you found yourself falling more and more deeply in love with him. from the moment you woke, to the moment you slept and into the dreams you inhabit, you loved him dearly.

your heart called for him in your strongest and weakest moments. your soul was tied to him and your every thought revolved around him.

Leon. Leon. Leon. he was all you knew and all you wanted. he was your dream, your prince charming, your fairytale. he was your everything. he held you in the palm of his hands and he didn’t even know it. from the moment you met and to this very moment now, laying in bed with limbs entangled — stealing kisses and whispering sweet nothing, you were his.

you wanted it to be him.

you wanted him to be your partner in crime. you wanted him to be your husband, your partner in life and death, the father to your children, the man you introduced to your parents, the man to give you his last name, the person you woke up to in the morning and fell asleep next to in the night, the sole owner of your heart and soul.

and now he is that. he is your partner in life and death, your husband, to father of your future children, the man you woke up to and fell asleep next to. he is that man.

“i’m glad it was you.”

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

tags : @xoxoloveless @luvrgreyy @ynsvnte @satinwithsilk @child-chomper1 @porcelain-sea-shore @stefoooo @spfoah @chesue00 @daervannafia @puppyina @prettyntxhee @leonkennedygvrl @altissia-09 @leqonsluv3r @yuiopiklmn @folksriddle @squazmine @its0214-am @xqlenkdy @belovedcloud @beafart (loved ur lil note btw! it made me laugh) @admirxation @neverg0nnagivey0uup @fancyyme @marymustdie @bloodstainedbandaid @jeonmochi99-blog

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

taglist

author notes: MY GOD! pt. 2 is done and this shit is LONG! literally i did not need to write this much but i hope you guys enjoyed this one and tysm for filling out the taglist i was so surprised to see so many people wanted to be tagged in my work i thank each and every one of you ToT!!

also, summer is officially here for me so expect me to be active much more :D! - V!

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.3)

W/C: 3.1k #SFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, mentions of death, yuuji has entered the chat, gojo has entered the chat, idky this got sad tho lol

A/N: This bit made me very sad please suffer thank you!!! Also the main story will be wrapping soon (I think next part will be the last part?) and then after that, it'll probably be drabbles! There might be a 'sequel' that touches on the culling games tho because b r u h they've got some down time during that arc so hfhfhfhfhghghf imagine what I could do--

tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

A strict no-contact order had been placed on Yuuji, and, subsequently, Sukuna. Neither were to come into contact with you while you recovered, and neither were to be alone with you considering the control-slip incident. 

Still, the curse had been rampant in the young man’s mind, constantly pacing back and forth just behind his consciousness, waiting patiently as a predator should for Yuuji's guard to go down. Granted, even if Yuuji was caught by surprise, it'd still be near impossible to overtake the peppy twenty year-old. Sukuna didn't have an explanation, but it was what it was. 

He would have gladly seized control now, when you'd somehow managed to slip away from your recovery prison and get comfortable in Itadori Yuuji's bed. Sukuna would have slaughtered everyone at the academy for a second to touch you again, to breathe you in.

But the brat finally realized something was off, and woke to find your head tucked under his chin, his arms slung across your waist. Your breath fanned across his collarbone, tickling the sorcerer's touch-starved skin and feeding the fire burning in his cheeks–Sukuna, though, didn’t seem pleased his host was the one touching you. Yuuji counted that as a victory. 

Suck it, dickhead.

Hm? A stranger’s voice rippled instead of the king's. 

Yuuji jolted, his blood growing cold for a second before recognizing that voice–it came from that tidal wave of memories. But it didn't tick him off the way Sukuna's did. It was…nice.

Uh…you can hear me? Yuuji wondered. He tried to envision his voice as loud and clear as possible to help it reach you. 

Your brows twitched in your daze. Yes, I can hear you. There's no need to shout. 

Oh. Sorry. Uh, how'd you get in here? 

The door. 

Oh. Cool. Yuuji shifted a little. I'm not really supposed to, y'know, make contact with you or–

But you're warm. Your nails lightly dragged across his back, leaving trails of tingly pinpricks dancing across his skin. Yuuji swallowed a moan. God, why did the littlest touches feel so nice? 

Y-Yeah? My grandpa used to say I ran hot. Like a furnace or somethin’. 

I agree. You burn like firewood. And you smell warm. Like cedar and honey. You stretched languidly, and the younger stayed put, not strong enough to pull away from your praise and touch. Your teasing fingers raked through his hair daintily, and this time Yuuji did moan. Just the slightest bit before he snapped his mouth shut and bit his lip. 

You leave me wondering how you taste. 

“What?” Yuuji squawked. Your eyes lazily opened a crack, seemingly put off by the sudden break in room silence. It gave the sorcerer an opportunity to admire the golden glints of divinity hidden in the hue of your iris. 

But he found fear in that moment, too. Yuuji knew what most didn't–the curse sealed inside of him thought you to be his equal. You were the only beast Sukuna would bow before, the only one whose attention he craved and sought in his reign. 

You were, in a way, a king yourself.

Do you think I'll eat you, Yuuji? 

“I–uh–you–well–” Yuuji fumbled exceptionally, choking on flustered words. “I just--Sukuna ate people, right? So, uh. Maybe you did too?” 

You looked him over for a moment. Your gaze traced the cute curve of the younger's nose, the petite fangs worrying at his bottom lip, the caramel swirl of his eyes. He looked so much like Sukuna. It made you wonder. 

I've eaten humans, yes, You agreed, nonchalant. Do you want me to eat you?

“Eat me?” Yuuji deadpanned, unsure if he should feel just bothered or hot and bothered. “I, well–”

No. Sukuna’s voice cut like ice through Yuuji’s mind. For a second, it scared him. It reminded Yuuji of what exactly Sukuna was. What he’d do. 

So what would you do?

“Hey,” Yuuji started, suddenly calm, serious. “Why’re you on Sukuna’s side? You don’t seem like a bad person.”

You took a deep second to think before sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. Your tails curled weakly around your clothless frame, swallowing up any spot a young man’s curious gaze might wander in the secrecy of night. Maybe you’d been in this situation before. 

“‘Good.’ ‘Bad.’ We all have different definitions.” Your voice rattled and scraped out your tired throat, yet you didn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I do what pleases me: garden, sew, eat. Sometimes, I may cause harm in the process. I care sometimes, and I don’t others. Does it make me evil to choose what I care about?” 

Yuuji’s head started to ache. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up with your fancy, archaic way of speaking, but he was sure as hell gonna try. 

The younger sat up, too, and ruffled up his hair. “I mean. Don’t you wanna try to, y’know, not hurt people? Not cause harm, ‘n stuff?”

“Is fire wicked? Or does it simply exist?” You posed. “In the control of man, it is sacred. It cooks food, illuminates the dark, cloaks you with warmth. Yet it burns down trees. Swallows homes. Devours crops. Kills.” 

You looked at Yuuji, rose-wrapped eyes resentful of something the sorcerer could not know. “Man regards fire as a blessing when controlled, yet it is a curse when it runs free with nature–existence, the black and white of the world, is in the eye of the beholder.” 

Yuuji didn’t like how much that made sense to him. Objectively, Sukuna was bad. He killed. He murdered for fun. He ate people–

Yet your words, your pretty way of speaking and philosophies gave Yuuji pause. It didn’t click, despite igniting grim sparks in the cogs hidden far behind his eyes. He already made his mind up about good and evil, yes and no, white and black, and yet–

You poked him in the forehead, between his eyes, and Yuuji blinked. 

“It’s merely food for thought, Yuuji.” Why did you know his name again? “Don’t burden yourself with making decisions or anything of the sort. I suppose my answer was long-winded in regards to your question.” 

“Yeah, kinda,” he laughed, rubbing his cheek. “But, uh…it helped, I guess.” Yuuji pulled your hand down from poking him. “You don’t think Sukuna’s bad,” he concluded.

“I think he was a force of nature.” Your head tilted. Your eyes softened. “A monster to some, a god to others.” 

“‘N to you?”

Your eyes caught the morning light, iris reflecting with waking embers. 

“He was everything.”

Gojo thought you were pretty in the same way Getou was pretty; you were handsome with fine features, you radiated with odd power, and you spoke with unmatched poise and purpose it almost made the man’s ego swoon. 

But you looked tired as Getou had, too. Skin void of blushing warmth, eyes distant and hazy, dark circles pulling your gaze away from him. He didn't like it. It made him remember that cold hand ripping his heart to pieces. 

“Look who’s awake!” Gojo cheered as he sauntered toward you, hands in his pockets and a smile adorning his face. “Hungry? I could getcha some–”

“You were listening, were you not?” You wondered, running your bony fingers through matted fur systematically. Your split nails picked and clawed through tangles and knots thoroughly, as though it’d make a difference in your beat-up appearance. 

Gojo tilted his head before settling down in the seat beside your bed. “Hm? Me? Listening? To–”

“Yuuji and I.”

“Ah! You mean the night you snuck out to do some naughty, naughty things with my student?” 

You deadpanned fiercely, looking at him the way someone else used to. “Ha. Hm. Surely you jest.”

Gojo waggled his brows as much as he could, hoping they’d peek out over the top of his blindfold. “Hah, you think I don’t know what my sweet, precious Yuuji does behind closed doors? I know everything! I’m–”

“You misunderstand,” you cut him off, looking more and more concerned with each passing second. “You are a teacher? Why? How? This does not seem ethical.”

Gojo died. Rather, his pride did. Which was essentially his lifeforce. 

“What are you–okay, I’m just gonna chalk it up to you being cranky after getting woken up, alright? I’ll give you a pass. Just once!” Gojo nodded as a benevolent creature should. “You should thank me.”

“I’d rather not.” You sighed and returned to your grooming. “If you wish to interrogate me, I require food first. Tofu, specifically”

Gojo laughed. “Man, you are one high-maintenance god. Alright, you want normie tofu, or agedashi tofu?” 

You blinked and looked at him, curious. 

“Agedashi tofu?”

You really liked agedashi tofu. You liked the little sauce it came with, you liked the other random shit Gojo bought to try and win over your compliance–well, honestly, he also just wanted an excuse to shower someone with the food and snacks he liked. It’d been a long time since he’d had the privilege to. 

“So,” Gojo said as he popped the marble into the ramune bottle for you and handed it over, “About you and Sukuna.” 

“Mhm?” Your eyes glittered in fascination as you took the drink and examined it from all angles, carefully tilting it here and there to watch the blue bubbles rise to the top as the glass ball rolled and spun in its tiny prison. 

Gojo almost lost his train of thought watching you, but he reigned it in quickly.

“Seems like you were close.” Were was important. You'd referred to the menace in past tense when speaking with Yuuji–clearly, you didn't realize the curse resided within the young sorcerer. Best to keep it that way.

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment.

“I suppose. Why?” 

“I'm just nosy!” 

“I know that already. But there exists intelligence behind your annoying behaviour.” Your gaze slid to him, staring through the veil of fabric and straight into his eyes. “You're a monster like he was, aren't you?” 

“Hah?! Rude!” Gojo whined, but regained composure just as fast. “Seems your intuition is pretty good, huh?”

“It's simply an understanding of nature.” 

“Is that what pulled you to him? His nature?” 

“No. I was given to him. As a gift. By a clan of sorcerers.”

“Huh. A gift.”

“Yes. The harvest festival required as much. He was revered as a godly creature. Something to be feared.” 

“And so were you,” Gojo guessed, and you frowned and looked away, instead picking through the treats and snacks brought to you. 

“The people saw us very differently.”

Sukuna didn't walk through the city below often–not until you decided you liked it down there. 

Finding out that you walked through those streets alone sent a trill of something unpleasant up Sukuna's spine; knowing you were alone, vulnerable and under the eyes of so many that so often cursed Sukuna and wished him dead made him…uneasy, maybe. You could handle yourself. Sukuna simply couldn't handle the disrespect.

But things weren’t as he assumed.

You walked through town, and the people revered you as they would Amaterasu incarnate. Most didn't address you, but all saw and accepted your presence with grace and kindness, nodding or flickering small smiles as you passed by with the king trailing behind. 

Sukuna could understand; you'd become something astoundingly breathtaking. Lush, full tails dipped and swayed as you walked with the poised elegance of royalty, the feeling only enhanced by the careful, intricate way you presented yourself in your attire. Sukuna knew you felt beautiful. You were beautiful. 

“It's (Name!)” A child cried, and Sukuna fought the urge to punt the little shit into the restaurant across the road when the tiny human grabbed at your clothes. 

But you smiled. You actually smiled when you patted the girl on the head and said your sweet hellos before ushering her along after her mother. The corners of your eyes crinkled for once, showing that, yes, you'd aged and felt joy and become so perfect because of it. And when you cooed sweet farewells to passing little ones, your fangs flickered against the colour of your lips, just for a second. 

Your gilded gaze caught his carmine stare, and you tilted your head. 

“Sukuna.” You held your hand out to him, and he took it. He had no choice. He was only human, and you were God. Walking through a city of mortals.

He let you lead on, wandering to the shops where you bought thread and fabric for your stupid little projects with money he didn't even know you had. You could have just taken everything you wanted, especially with the king stood right by your side, but you eased the shopkeeper's nerves with kind words and ample pay. 

Sukuna all but picked you up and launched you both back home the second you were done meandering. He had a job to do; he had to fully commit to siring a runt.

Now, Gojo didn't need to know all that, but it didn't stop your mind from wandering to that night; it was the first time he looked at you like that. It was the first time he decided against lording his power over you, instead holding you close and taking things slow. You missed it. You yearned for the night he stopped seeing you as a toy and saw you as you. The night he finally learned your name.

“They viewed me as something divine,” you continued, digging out of the warmth of memories. “Perhaps because I walked alongside someone like him.” 

“Well, only gods can walk through a volcano and come out unscathed, no?” Gojo smiled a bit as you looked away, embarrassed. 

“That's a poor analogy.”

“Eh?”

“How would one walk through a volcano? None would even think to get close enough to do so.”

“W-Wait–”

“You would be underground, would you not? With limbs melted, oneself ablaze? And one would not walk but wade through lava.” 

“It's just a metaphor!” Gojo wailed. 

“A poor one.” And you continued to pick through snacks, unbothered that you'd just destroyed the strongest man alive as you munched on cheese-flavoured rice puffs.

Gojo laughed, though. “I can see why he liked you. Supports the theory he's not the one who put you in the coffin.” 

“It wasn't him,” you snapped. Your ears flattened against your skull as you shrunk in on yourself. “At least…not directly.” 

Oh? Gojo leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together.

“Then who was it? What happened?” 

“I don't fully understand it myself,” you confessed. Your voice was a whisper, cold and lonely like a far North winter. 

“Maybe I can help.” 

You looked to him and back down again. 

“There was a man. A sorcerer. I don't know his name–I never cared to learn it. He was odd.” You tore up little bits of hi-chew wrappers as you spoke. “He asked me if I would sacrifice myself for Sukuna.” 

“And?” Gojo prodded. 

“I would not,” you said. “Sukuna would never need my sacrifice, he'd never need my aid. He was the strongest.” A light frown tugged at the corners of your mouth. “That creature thought otherwise. He mentioned something about additional wombs, but I don't know what that means.” 

Fuck. Gojo nodded politely. “Gotcha, gotcha. What'd this guy look like? You remember?” 

“Unremarkable, save for the odd sutures across his forehead.” 

“Oh? Interesting. Alright, last question, my cute little kitsune–”

“(Name),” you cut in. “Address me as (Name).”

Gojo sparkled. “Waaah, I think our relationship just leveled up to A-tier! One more level and I can romance–”

“Please do not make me hurt you.” 

The white witch whined and deflated against his chair. “Boooring.”

You huffed and flicked your ear. “Ask your question, goblin.” 

Gojo took a breath before he spoke. 

“Are you with child right now?” 

The world changed suddenly. Seal papers coating the walls drowned in bones and flowers as the pungent sweetness of orchids and decay curled around Gojo. Around you, a cage began to rise, jutting out from the earth and encircling you like thousands of rigid arms holding you in an embrace. And your eyes–they shone with abhorrent divinity, outshining even the nine, pristine tails breathing with blackened fire. 

But there was screaming. Two voices intertwined. Little and distant, warped and outraged at–at something. Maybe Gojo? Maybe his accusations, his questions? 

Just when the sorcerer was about to act, your clasped a hand over your stomach, and you whispered with the thrum of a thousand voices:

“Be still.” 

It all moved slowly, then. The phenomenon–the apparent domain expansion–reversed, sinking back into the floors and walls with the soft sound of chittering and cooing taking the place of wicked screeches. You, too, cooed back to the twin voices, placating them with maternal ease. 

Your divinity faded with the last shreds of the illusion. Now, your colours faded further, painting you in desaturated tones of exhaustion and worry. Gojo hated that palette. It'd been used too many times on too many he doted on. God was stupid like that, creating such sad, worrisome colours.

The sorcerer took a deep breath in the silence of the room. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. He was never good at this kind of thing. His other half was much better at this. 

But he had to try. The look on your face told him he had to try. 

What would he have done?

Gojo’s hand reached out as he leaned forward, and he caught your scarred, bony hand in his own. You didn’t pull away, you didn't fight him, you instead curled your fingers around his and held your breath while your gaze became unseeing, your heart ceased beating just as your breathing had. For a moment, you died.

“I'm sorry,” Gojo whispered. And you nodded. Somehow, he knew it meant, ‘me too.’ 

It was then, touching you, that he could feel the negative energy thrumming beneath a shell of divinity. Two different un-lives coiled inside of you, filled with bitter hate for man and undying love for their mother. For you. It wasn't unlike the bond shared between Yuuta and Rika, but this was not as simple. 

“Your ilk did not approve of Sukuna siring children,” you murmured. Your grip on his hand turned poisonous. “If you try to take them from me–”

“What'll you do?” He asked, knowing they'd never be born. 

“--I will turn everything to ash. Set fire to the skies. Just as I have once already.”

“Good.” Gojo smiled. “You'd be a good mother.” 

“I hope I one day can be.”

The masked menaced nodded again as he idly soothed his thumb across your knuckles. “Never say never, yenno? We'll figure something out for you. If you can do something to help the school–”

“I can give gifts. Once I have the energy.” You didn't sound like you did. Gojo wasn't sure if you ever would.

“Yeah? Like what?” He asked anyway. 

You looked at him, weak and defeated, yet still clinging to life. 

“My divine favour.”

[angelltheninth]

Dick Grayson as Your Secret Boyfriend

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, secret relationship, dating, sneaking in, kissing, flirting over comlink, mission dates, co-workers

A/N: He kinda secretly dated Starfire in the animated movies.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson has a private comlink channel where the two of you can talk without interruptions. You used to get flirty before but it was before you were really dating, it was banter then. It's a good cover up if you accidentally call on the wrong line.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson insists on going on missions with you every time. Again, not that unusual if he didn't get weirdly defensive when called out for it. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't trust you but he knows no one will watch your back as well as him.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson got a bit distracted while talking to you and almost missed his target. He thinks you did that deliberately so you'd have something to tease him for later. Nice try, but it will take more than simple flirting to get him to make a mistake.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson uses your fight practice rounds as cover ups for flirting in front of the team. There's a lot of words, body contact, taunting, heated glances traded between you two. A perfect way to blow off some steam.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson enjoys post-mission showers and massages with you. Since you're both already tired there's little, but not zero, chance of things going further than a shower. It's also a good opportunity to check each other for injuries.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson leaves a message every morning and night. In the morning before he leaves your apartment, first most of the time. Or at night when he can't make it to your place. He wants you to know he's always thinking about you.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson has alert systems in place around his apartment. This is for the villains... but also to ensure your date nights and makeout sessions aren't suddenly interrupted. Now that would be a dead giveaway to the true nature of your relationship.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson blows you a kiss when you part ways on your patrol. If he feels extra dramatic he will bow to you and kiss your hand. He was raised in the circus, theatrics are in his blood.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson makes sure to remind you to leave lipstick marks below the neckline of his superhero suit. He already had to lie about who left a bright red mark on his neck once. Not easy to keep avoiding questions when his dad is one of the worlds best detectives.

Secret boyfriend!Dick Grayson is always on time for your dates no matter if they be on a rooftop, at your place, his place, or anywhere else. It's rare that either of you have to cancel for a sudden mission. And if you do then you flirt the whole mission, making it into a date.

[slutteok]

Highs and Lows (Jeong Yunho)

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

pairing ✭ dom!yunho x afab!reader

summary ✭ you and yunho always joked about getting a dog bed.

content ✭ smut 18+ MDNI

word count ✭ 2.8k

warnings ✭ smut, unprotected sex, restraints used, slight degradation

tags ✭ praise kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex, slight disinterested kink (if u squint), yunho has a big dick, size kink, gamer! yunho, pet play in the form of nick names.

notes ✭ please enjoy :3

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

You two always toyed around with the idea of getting you a dog bed, and always had joked about you giving him head while he was in the middle of a game. You never suspected it to become a reality until the day you came home and there was a dog bed under his desk, big enough that you could lay on it.

Yunho hadn't even noticed you came home, and was busy playing valorant with his friends. You knew exactly who he was playing with too, but you didn’t mind at all. You take a few steps over to him, gently patting his shoulder. He pulls one of his headphones out, and looks over his shoulder at you with a smile.

“Hi, welcome home.” he says, excitedly. You glance at his second monitor and see that he isn’t muted yet, so you reach down to the cable of his headset, and quickly mute him.

“Whats this?” you ask, leaning over him a bit and gesturing to the dog bed that sat under his feet. Honestly, it did look really comfortable. Yunho’s eyes dart down to it, then back up to you and he gets a nervous look on his face.

“You don’t want to..?” he trails off, but you shake your head, before you can even think. He perks up, and the smile returns to his face. He scoots his chair back just a bit, and gestures for you to move under his desk. Your eyes widen, and your lips part slightly, feeling the all familiar heat in your belly start to pool.

“N- not right now. Can I get cleaned up before?” you ask, sheepishly. Yunho chuckles, and shakes his head, almost in disbelief.

“Clean up? What for? I’m just going to make a mess of your pretty little mouth anyways.” A gasp rockets out of your mouth, and you can feel your knees give out just a little- you’re sure there’s a moan trapped and ready to escape instantly.

“You're in a call though… Yeosang and Wooyoung will hear, surely.” you try to find any excuse to not do it right now, but it seems like Yunho is set on his decision, entirely. He wouldn’t give you any leniency now, he had enjoyed this thought since it first came out of your mouth.

“I’ll be quiet, don’t worry.” Yunho smirks, gesturing to the dog bed again. You want to do as he says, but your feet are glued where you are stood. Yunho’s gaze flickers to his screen before groaning. He grabs your wrist and tugs you over to him, you grunt from the force but allow him to pull you. He plants you in front of him, before looking up at you from his seat. “Be a good puppy, and get on your knees.” he says through gritted teeth, your eyes fly open again and your stomach feels like it just exploded into butterflies, and you can feel your core start to ache for him.

You swallow hard but do as you're told, moving down to your knees. Yunho pulls his hands from you, and scoots his chair forward, making you have to move back down onto the dog bed. He puts a hand on your head, ensuring you don’t hit your head on his desk as you lower yourself. He looks down at you, pulling his headset back on, with a sly grin on his lips. He caresses your cheek, passing his thumb along your bottom lip before hooking it on your bottom teeth. You’re surprised by the sudden whimper that leaves your lips. He gently pulls his hand from your face before patting your cheek, forcefully which dazes you for a moment.

With one last look at you, Yunho grabs something off his desk.

“I trained you so well,” he grins, pulling away from you again, making you whine softly. He beckons you forward just a little, and you oblige, scooting forward. You notice his hands move in a rotating fashion, and it doesn't take too long for you to figure out he was holding a silk blindfold. You suddenly remember the one time you mentioned that the idea of being blindfolded and losing all sense of control was hot.

You watch as he wraps the silk in his hands, then pulls his hands apart, revealing two silk pieces. He sets one on his desk, and leans down to grab your hands. Your eyes widen and you watch as he guides both of your hands behind your back, and leans over you, to tie your hands behind your back. He pulls away, and looks at his monitor again, before scooting his chair forward, back into you. You stumble back a bit, but catch yourself and move back under the desk, seating yourself between his legs.

“Sorry my love, the round started.” he mumbles, reaching down and unmuting himself. You can see the silk blindfold dangling off his desk, as if it were mocking you. You huff and try to pull your hands out of their restraint but apparently Yunho was really, really good at tying things because although it was loose, you could not figure out how to free yourself.

“How am i supposed to suck your dick if i can’t use my hands to pull your pants down?” You grumble, and Yunho uses his knee to nudge you, to be quiet. You whine softly, and roll your eyes before scooting forward. You can see just by the bulge in his pants just how hard he was, and you wondered how long he had been waiting for you to come home and deal with this.

Yunho groans and slams his hands against the desk, slumping back in his chair.

“No, that Reyna is just too good. I hit her for 50, but she used her heal.” Yunho grumbles, to his teammates. He huffs, and looks down at you, his eyes follow yours. He mutes himself again, before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. A moan escapes your lips, and he twitches at the sound.

“Aren’t you a stupid little thing? Can’t figure out how to take my pants off?” He grins, cocking an eyebrow at you, before letting go of your head. “I’ll help you.” he croons, his hands falling to the button of his pants and undoing it. You watch as he slowly unzips his pants, and lifts his hips out of his chair to pull his pants down.

You hum in satisfaction, a small smile crossing your lips as his hard dick springs from his pants. The heat in your belly grows hotter and hotter just by the sight of his size- just knowing how deep it can go inside of you. You let out a little breathy moan, a little more eager for his dick in your mouth than you anticipated. Yunho lets out a light laugh, admiring how pathetic you look. He looks up at his monitor once more, and scoots his chair back in. He reaches under the desk and grabs a fist full of your hair, pulling you as close as he can get you, before stroking himself once.

“Be a good girl and let me use your pretty little mouth however I want, okay?” He whispers, his grip in your hair tightening, eliciting a small whimper out of your lips. You nod in response, but he raises an eyebrow and tilts his head at you. “Use your words, puppy.” He growls. Your legs immediately feel like jelly under you. You groan, and nod again.

“Okay.” You mumble, his lips form a straight line, dissatisfied by your response, but he knows you don’t like it when he gets super pushy, so he drops it. He lets go of you completely, letting you stumble forward into his chair, you take a second and watch his attention go back to his game- watching his slender fingers press the unmute button on the cord of his headphones, the heat in your belly just growing more.

You push yourself forward but Yunho's faster, and before you know it, the tip of his dick is pressed into your lips. Your eyes fly open, and look up at him, but he’s not even paying attention to you. You roll your eyes, before opening your mouth. He jerks his hips a little, and you look up again, seeing his face twitch for a split second.

“Two in showers, Harbor hit for 85.” Yunho mumbles a command to his friends, but doesn’t look down at you, and his hands are still on his keyboard and mouse. You close your eyes, and hollow your cheeks out, flattening your tongue against his shaft. You can hear the breath in his throat catch, and he tenses up just a bit. You start to move your head slowly, careful not to make any sounds that his mic could catch and expose the two of you to his friends.

“Fuck!” Yunho groans, thrusting his hips up, making you gag on his dick. You go to pull away but Yunho’s hands immediately come to your head, holding you down. He thrusts into your mouth, and you can feel the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat, making you gag against him again. You try to pull away, finding it hard to breathe and you’re already getting dizzy, he holds you there for a few more seconds, pushing his full length down into your throat. He lets out a little moan before letting go, and you come flying off of him, gasping for air, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re so fucking pretty, puppy. God.” Yunho reaches for your face again, his thumb catching against your bottom teeth again, and pulling you back to him. His eyes never even met yours, they were glued to your lips. You blink a few times at him as you catch your breath. He moves his thumb further into your mouth, and your mouth clamps shut down around his digit, your tongue swirling around his thumb before he pulls it out with a quick ‘pop.’ “Such a pretty little thing. So pathetic.” He groans, wiping your tears away from your eyes. He chuckles at the sight, before taking another fistful of your hair and pulling you back to him.

He doesn't even give you a chance to prepare yourself for him again, before he’s filling your entire mouth again. Your nose is fully pressed against his pubic bone, and he lets out another moan. His eyes darted to his monitor, confirming he was muted. He sighs softly, and loosens his grip on your hair, just a bit. He bunches your hair up, and uses it as leverage to move your head to a pace he likes. He has absolutely no regard for how you feel right now, your only job right now is to pleasure him and that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” He groans, as you hollow your cheeks once more. He looks down at you, and wipes a few more of your tears away, his hand lingering on your cheek for a second, before pushing you back down, his dick hitting the back of your throat again and making you gag again. He moans, and holds you there again, before pulling his hands from you once more.

You whine, not liking that he won’t give you his undivided attention, and you watch again as he unmutes himself again. You roll your eyes again, before moving to the head of his dick. You swirl little circles around the head of his dick, and every so often giving it a rough suck, making him jump- you watch as his muscles tense up, and relax with each movement you make.

This time he seems to have a harder time keeping himself collected. Every single movement you make, quick or elongated, seems to get a reaction from him, even if your movement is limited due to your hands being tied behind your back. Your eyes flicker back up to the silk blindfold on his desk, which seems to be mostly forgotten about; which you were grateful for- seeing the effect you had on him was too good to miss. His twitching muscles, the way his lips would part slightly, and the way he eyes fluttered shut whenever he had a second to relax.

“f-Fuck!” He groans again, as you lick up his shift from the base to the tip, taking the tip into your mouth and sucking on it harshly. He snaps a hand down to your hair, grabbing a fistful of your hair again. “N-no i’m fine, i’m okay.” Yunho says through gritted teeth, looking down at you with a look of pure pleasure. He huffs, shaking his head at you and looking back up to his monitor.

Once more, you watch his long fingers press the mute button, and you grin, innocently at him.

“Brat. I’m trying to play a game, you know?” Yunho growls, and you giggle softly, which only makes him look visibly annoyed with you. You try to take him into your mouth again, but he pulls you back by your hair. “Naughty puppy. This isn’t how I trained you.” he scolds, and your mouth falls open slightly, a whimper escaping your lips. “I’m gonna cum down your pretty little throat, and you’re gonna take every last drop of it.” He says, casually. You feel your muscles clench, and you whine and nod in response. He raises an eyebrow at you, and clenches his jaw.

“I won’t waste a single drop, Yun.” you mutter, and he makes a hum of satisfaction, loosening his grip on your hair. He moves back towards you, and you take his dick back into your mouth, flattening your tongue against him. He groans and thrusts up into your mouth, making you moan against him.

“Fuck, I think I like looking at you like this.” He groans, finally taking his headset off, setting it on the desk. His full attention is on you again, though you kind of liked when he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to you. You look up at him, tears forming in your eyes again as he continues to use and abuse your mouth and throat.

Your tear stained cheeks, your eyeliner mixing with your tears as they run down your cheeks, makes you look so pathetic. He loved when you looked like this. So small, so needy, so desperate all for him.

He growls, letting his head fall back, as his hands hold your head still. He fucks up into your throat at a punishing pace, and you can feel your throat beginning to feel raw and sore. He lets out a moan, his grip on your head tightening.

“Oh, fuck.” He moans your name, a sweet sound coming from him, making you moan in response. Your moan against him makes his dick twitch in your mouth, and you brace yourself, knowing he’s about to explode down your throat. He loosens his grip, letting you pull away and catch your breath before moving your head back, pressing your nose to his pelvic bone before.

He looks down at you, smiling once more at your pathetic, tear stained cheeks.

“Fuck, so fucking pathetic. You stupid dog.” He moans, his eyes closing. Your moan against him again, and the feeling makes him jolt- his dick twitching in your mouth before spilling his seed down your throat. “Oh my god, fuck.” He moans, the grip on your head so tight, you could swear he was about to pop your skull.

He pulls you off, both of you panting heavily, and covered in a slight sheen of sweat. He drops your hair back around your shoulders, and quickly runs a hand through your hair. He scoots his chair back slightly, leaning over you again to untie your restraints. You sigh in relief and watch as he grabs his water bottle, and hands it to you.

“Wha-?” you stare at him for a second, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“What? You don’t want water? I just abused your throat.” He chuckles, and you nod, taking his water bottle from him. You didn’t realize just how badly you needed the water, as it soothed your sore throat. You sigh, and hand it back to him after a few long sips. He puts it back on his desk and holds his hand out to you. You take his hand, and he pulls you to your feet, then right into his lap.

He moves his head towards you, capturing your lips with his in a sweet, tender kiss. You can’t help but smile against his lips. He smiles back, and pulls away, looking at his monitor.

On the screen, you have to squint a bit, but you see it.

In the discord, the words ‘yunho, you forgot to mute.’ were written on his screen; leaving you both, now absolutely fucking horrified.

[seiya-starsniper]

Seiya's Dreamling Week Fanfiction Masterpost

Hello my darlings in Dreamling Fandom! Dreamling Week 2024 is upon us, and as part of the event, I'm making a masterpost of all my Dreamling fics! Some of you who have been here a while probably have seen me make different masterposts for various events so this shouldn't be anything new, just a more convenient list for all my Dreamling works.

Also, in tandem with @arialerendeair, I'll be collecting and reblogging other writers and artists masterposts! Here's how to send me your masterposts:

Send me an ask on Tumblr with the link to your masterpost

Send me a direct message with the link to your masterpost

Tag me in the replies to your masterpost

Once I've received your link, I'll send you a confirmation, add it to my queue and then reblog it during Dreamling Week. If you send me your masterpost during Dreamling Week, I will do my best to reblog it asap!

I am also going to be madly reblogging various posts, so if you don't have time to make a masterpost, no worries! I'm going through my own blog for content, and also the dreamling tag, so chances are high I'll catch your post.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the fic list:

Non-Explicit Fics

Six Degrees of Separation (Dead Boy Detectives crossover, Incomplete, 2/5 chapters, 3.5k words)

A Symphony of Hearts (Age Gap, Human AU, Incomplete, 1/2 chapters, 1k words)

do you remember all the city lights on the water? (Human AU, Complete, 1.9k words)

For The Birds (Human AU, Complete, 1.3k words)

Well Met, My Good Sir (Renaissance Faire Human AU, Complete, 1.6k)

first time, forever (Omegaverse, Complete, 1k words)

Begin Again (Retired Dream, Complete, 1.2k words)

dreaming of you tonight (Knight AU, Complete, 1.2k words)

a little of that human touch (Post Calliope Episode fic, Complete, 1.3k words)

Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me) (Human AU, University AU, Complete, 5.5k words)

surely heaven waits for you (Simon Snow crossover, Human AU, University AU, Complete, 2.6k words)

Fly Me to the Moon (Human AU, Complete, 783 words)

Flowers for a Sick Man (Sickfic, Dream cares for Hob in the dreaming, Complete, 821 words)

Remember Me, For Centuries (Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, Complete, 971 words)

Hold me tonight (say it's all right) (Human AU, Complete, 1.4k words)

right where you left me (Canon Divergence, Hob doesn't meet Dream at The New Inn, Complete, 664 words)

Pictures of You (Episode 6 continuation, Complete, 807 words)

Everytime we touch (Fluff, Complete, 899 words)

Waking up together (Fluff, Complete, 584 words)

Duck Socks (Fluff, Complete, 503 words)

Unclip My Wings (Human Hob & Monster Dream, Complete, 1.4k words)

Don't Let the Light Go Out (Sci-Fi/Space Opera AU, Complete, 611 words)

Endless Love (Marriage fic, Complete, 1.3k words)

Set the Night on Fire (Human Hob & Dragon Dream, Incomplete, 2/4 Chapters, 10.4k words)

Coffee & Flowers (Miscommunication, Courting Rituals, Complete, 2.1k words)

The Lament of Morpheus (Rescue from Hell Fic, Angst, Complete, 2k words)

Dreams for a Dozen Cats (Meowpheus, Complete, 2k words)

A sweet dream (Main Character Death, Angst, Complete, 1.4k words)

they say our love's just like Magic (Magic the Gather Competitive AU, Human AU, Complete, 3.9k words)

Wake Up & Smell The Flowers (Human AU, Florist Hob, Complete, 5.3k words)

Mature/Explicit Fics

Soixante-Neuf - (Human AU, Complete, 1.1k words)

Turn the Page (A New Beginning, Another End) (Canon-adjacent AU, Fantasy AU, Complete, 42.9k words)

Summer Loving - (Human AU, Complete, 1.2k words)

All Wound Up (Human Hob & Centaur Dream, Complete, 3.1k words)

Midnight Pleasures (Vampire AU, Multiship, Complete, 16.7k words)

Waiting for Tonight (Supernatural AU, Complete 1.4 words)

sweet like poison ivy (Dreaming Sex, Complete, 884 words)

wrap me up nice and tight (love me all through the night) (Human Hob and Naga Dream, Complete, 3.5k words)

By the End of the Night (Centaur AU, Complete, 5.2k words)

In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams) (Hobrintheus, Canon Divergence, Sequel Fic, Complete, 3.3k words)

Cherry Slick (Omegaverse, Age Gap, Selling Virginity, Complete, 3.5k words)

Spoils of War (Warprize Dream AU, Complete, 3k words)

secret moments (shut in the heat of the afternoon) (Omegaverse, Sequel Fic, Regency AU, Complete, 2k words)

Break Me, Shake Me (Omegaverse, Complete, 4.4k words)

Let's conspire to ignite (Fuck or Die, Complete, 11.5k words)

A Dream for a Viscount (Omegaverse, Regency AU, Complete 11.5k words)

A Maiden's Dream (Human Hob and God Dream, Blessed Maiden AU, Complete, 3k words)

A View to a Dream (James Bond crossover, 00 Agent Hob, Human Dream, Complete, 12.1k words

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified (Hobrintheus, Canon Divergence, Complete, 41k words)

[grapehyasynth]

nature boy

wille has always been told not to expect to marry his soulmate. others dream of the day they’ll get their soulmate mark – it appears the day after the first meeting and is there every day after, but changing each day to reflect something meaningful from your soulmate’s previous day – but wille’s mother insists he has duties to fulfill, that he can create his own fate and find a partner whether or not she's a soulmate. (and yes, they only ever discuss in terms of she.) 

he's on his way to another one of the dates his mother keeps setting up for him, and it's about thirty minutes before he needs to be at the restaurant, but instead he's at a greenhouse. he approaches the front desk, where a young man in a button-down shirt open over a looney tunes t-shirt with a name tag that reads Simon is nodding off over a textbook.

"i was hoping to buy some flowers for a first date," wille explains, when simon has looked up.

"we don't actually do bouquets," simon says.

"i know, i - i thought i would get something they could plant, afterwards," he clarifies, and he hears himself use they and tries not to make anything of it. he’s trying not to second-guess himself, knows his mother would tell him to go with a traditional bouquet, can picture erik all dashing with a few roses.

simon sets his pen down, looking at wille with a new expression, like he's reconfiguring his impression of him. "that's really thoughtful. i can help you with that."

wille follows him into the greenhouse, winding past tables of ceramic pots and meter-tall fronds, ducking under some vines that boast a sign about an upcoming workshop. simon hovers over a few plants before moving on. every now and then he glances at wille, seeming to size him up and factor this into his considerations. (wille wishes he knew what simon was seeing.) finally he scoops up a medium-sized pot with pale purple flowers, holding it out to wille with both hands.

"spreading bellflower. it's similar to the small bluebell, which is--"

"our national floral emblem,"  wille finishes for him, because of course that's the kind of nonsense his mother has made him learn, though it feels a lot less vapid in this moment.

simon looks impressed. "exactly. everybody wants the small bluebell. we don't sell a lot of the bellflower."

"it's perfect," wille tells him, and as he lifts the flowers to his nose, he sees simon's eyes crinkle with a smile.

his date is lovely, much more unpretentious than he's used to, nervous but striving to be genuine. she's definitely a bit thrown by the flowers, and she sounds apologetic when she explains she doesn't have any outdoor space, not even a balcony or patio, and her windowsills are too slim to host the plant. wille feels a bit wounded, wants to insist that she could just find a small table and set it near the window, but she's already suggested that he take it home with him and care for it "for me, until i can visit," she says, and he doesn't mind the idea, actually - has grown a little attached to the flowers.

he goes to sleep thinking of brown eyes and purple blossoms. he wakes up with them on his chest. the blossoms, that is, not the eyes. the spreading bellflowers bloom across his chest like elaborate watercolor tattoos, and he feels his heart leap behind the flowers as he traces them reverently. so he met his soulmate yesterday, and the bellflowers were meaningful to their day. but is it the boy from the greenhouse, or his date?

he knows who he wants it to be, but maybe fate, like his mother, has its own ideas about his path.

he doesn't want to contact simon or his date until he knows a bit more, so he has to wait a full day. he drags himself through his classes at uni, biting his nails down, the bellflowers burning under his clothes. (he'd been tempted to wear a v-neck shirt, show them off, but he also wants to cradle it to himself for a little while.) he stays up late, skin itching as the clock ticks towards midnight, at which point the bellflowers fade. instead, vines twine up both of his arms, curling like bracelets, embracing his wrists and forearms and the cut of his muscle. he knows those vines - couldn't name them, but he recognizes them from the greenhouse. there'd been a sign next to them, for an upcoming workshop, which he's guessing simon led yesterday.

he has an answer. and if the interest is mutual - which it isn't always, with soulmate marks, but he suspects it might be, if the bellflowers were a meaningful part of simon's day - then he is eager to bloom under this plant boy's touch.

[tending-the-hearth]

the pevensie siblings find, when they return to england after being in narnia for so long, that it's not the fact that they're twenty years younger that is the most difficult to adjust to, but the clothes.

not in a "i wore expensive fabrics and jewels and silks and velvets for twenty years and now i have to go back to wearing inexpensive fabric?" way but in a "i spent twenty years wearing layers of comfortable heavy clothes and cloaks and soft fabric that didn't scratch and the feeling of loose clothing is a sensory nightmare" way.

edmund, who is perpetually cold, and always had at least three layers + a cloak on, and who the narnian tailors learned preferred inner linings of velvet because any other fabrics let too much of a chill in, and cloaks made of a study fabric meant strong protection against the elements

lucy, who can feel every little scratch and out of place tag in her clothes, always having narnian clothes fit her just right, made of soft fabric that never scratched her skin, and the narnian tailors knowing exactly what to use, and how to stitch the clothes so no loose threads ever bothered their beloved valiant queen

susan, who hates being restricted by her clothing, who loved the looser, softer-fitting arms of her gowns, because it meant that she could draw her bows faster, and tailors being able to pick which fabrics were the sturdiest and could withstand susan's draw, while still giving her the gentle appearance that perfectly hid her true abilities

peter, who can't stand anything tight around his neck, who only wore close-collar shirts when he had to, and who the narnian tailors knew to make the shirts a little looser around the neck, making sure that nothing closed too tightly, and making sure that his battle wear, though protective, never felt too constricting

and lucy and susan begin wearing headbands when they're back in england, every single day to mimic the comforting sensation of wearing their crowns that they're desperate to maintain

edmund and peter missing the weight of their shields on their backs, so they carry their school bags around as long as they can just to feel more balanced out as they walk alongside their sisters back home

just all four of them growing so accustomed to the weight of their narnian clothes and gifts and crowns, the lengths and layers of fabric, that when they are back in england, their old clothes are the biggest sensory nightmare to all of them, and they're just desperate to get their comfort back

[macabr3-barbi3]

Entanglement (Sub Vox x Reader)

A request from the lovely @jurijyuu for a tentacle malfunction Sub Vox 💕📺

Tags: Restraints; Light Bondage; Sub Vox; Teasing; Begging; Dom/sub Undertones; Tentacles? Sort of? are Vox's cable/wire things tentacles? the world may never know

💙❤️💙❤️💙

Who could have guessed that trying to do something nice for his doll could have resulted in something like this?

Vox had been waiting for you to finish up with Velvette for the shoot that was happening this evening. He knew after hours of the fucked up poses that Vel forced you into to get the perfect shot you would be sore- she had had you hanging by your knees from the fucking chandelier on one occasion, insisting that the slight sway to the fixture would result it a cool shot from your camera (it did; that wasn’t the point). Her favorite photographer, Velvette was always fucking stealing your free time away from him. It was good for business, but bad for his plan of simply keeping you naked in his room at all times for easy access.

He had been laying in the bed, lazily stroking himself just in case you showed up, when the idea struck him to run you a hot bath and light some candles around the room. It shouldn't have been too much longer before you arrived so the candles wouldn’t burn out, and you always enjoyed it when he ‘set the mood,’ whatever that meant. He could probably sell you on fucking before your bath, too- even more deep aches and sweet bruises for the hot water to soothe.

He was too lazy to get up though, so he had snaked out a few of his cables from the back of his head, long and prehensile, a few pairs of them diving into the various drawers in the room searching for the candles and matches and two slithering across the floor towards the bathroom. Had he thought to check the floor for water from his shower a few hours prior before sending two very much electrical tentacles into the room he might have had better luck.

Currently though, his luck was shit. The water found its way into his wires and shorted them out, electrical current traveling all the way through to the base and fucking up the other cables as well; they whipped and snapped across the room in wide arcs and twisting wriggles, and his attempts to grab them from the air and cease the destruction to his room only resulted in his wrists getting tangled up in the mess.

So here Vox had been for the last fifteen minutes or so, restrained by his wrists in the bed and still achingly, frustratingly hard. His cables didn’t so much as twitch when he tries to send some power to them to reverse the entanglement, or when he tugged his arms a bit. His cock does though, and isn’t that something interesting that he doesn’t want to think about right now.

And then like an angel, there’s the sound of the door opening and you coming home. “Baby,” he shouts from the bedroom, and he hears the telltale thump of your camera bag on the kitchen counter. “I could use your help in here!”

“What did you do now? If you cracked your screen off the stand again-” Your voice trails off when you enter the room and see him- he’s sure he looks fucking ridiculous, spread out like he is, and he feels the spread of pink pixels over his screen in a blush.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” he says, “and got some water in my wires. Everything went haywire, and, well, now I’m here. Be a doll and help me get loose?”

The way you’re watching him is a little disconcerting- not bad by any means, he loved having your eyes on him, just a little unusual. You slide your jacket off your shoulders and toss it on the armchair, sliding your hair out of its bun that you wear to keep your hair out of your eyes while you work. When you go for the button on your jeans he clears his throat.

“I appreciate the strip tease, sweetheart, but there’s more pressing matters at hand here.” He lifts his wrists in demonstration, the wires brushing his skin in a way that makes him suck in a harsh breath, dick twitching in his boxers. “Come on, help me.”

You work your jeans and panties down your legs, his eyes trailing the whole way before settling on the space between your legs. Then your shirt comes off, perfect tits on display as you do a rotation, let him take in the visual of your body in front of him before running your hands down your skin and back up- one hand plucks at a nipple while the other dips down between your legs.

Vox’s mouth is hanging open, pixelated lines of drool coming off his mouth as he watches you, cock throbbing out of his reach. He tugs at his makeshift restraints, a little breathless when it sends a bolt of arousal through his body- seriously, what the fuck? “I am in no mood to be teased right now,” he tells you, but the words are a little reedy and almost whimpered. He clears his throat and tries again- “Seriously, help me.”

You come closer to the bed, climb onto it and settle yourself between his legs. “Come on, Voxxy,” you murmur, and the low, dangerous tone to your voice goes straight to his straining erection despite the use of that fucking nickname that he hated. “Tied up all pretty for me and not even going to say ‘please?’ That’s not how you get what you want.” Your hands run up his calves, up his thighs, and your thumbs brush into the dip of his pelvic bone. Your touch sends electricity crackling through him, static sparking between his antennae. “That’s what you always say anyway- you wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite, would you?” You drag the waistband of his boxers down, and he’s half-mortified when his hips automatically cant up to make it easier for you, his dick slapping heavy onto his abdomen when it springs free.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He can feel the manic grin on his face- confused by the turn of events, by his sweet, perfect doll not simply doing what you were told and, what? Trying to get him to beg? As if- even if it was hot as fuck (and it was, Christ). “Baby, I- ohhhh, fuck-” 

Your head ducked down to lick a stripe up his cock, tongue curling around the head- his hips buck up, try to sink into the wet cavern of your mouth but you pull back with a soft smile. “Say please.”

“Fuck you.” Vox says this affectionately- he was the one in control in the bedroom, this was cute and all, but he wouldn’t plead with you for it.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t be,” you snap back with a wicked grin on your face. And you’re gone again, bent over to lick and suck at the hard length of him with your ass in the air, just the way that he likes.

Again, when he tries to thrust into your mouth you pull off, and he tugs uselessly at his restraints, head falling back against the pillows when you bring a hand up to cup his balls, thumb running gently over the sensitive skin. “Haah- you’re going to fucking kill me.” He’s a little embarrassed by that whiny moan that had escaped him, but you’re not even looking at his face, head resting on his thigh to gaze lovingly at his fucking dick while you stroke and kiss and generally tease him.

Vox thinks he might be losing his mind, just a little. But fuck does he want it, want to lose himself in the wet heat of your mouth, sink deep into your slick cunt and watch you bounce in his lap. He could still do that with his hands restrained, right? He wouldn’t be able to grip your hips the way he wanted to, or get his fingers on your clit and revel in the way that always made you clench tighter around him- but he could make do if you wouldn’t release him.

And there’s the thought that does him in- that maybe you wouldn’t let him go, would keep him tied to the bed with his own goddamn wires to tease him endlessly, unable to do anything about it himself, evidently unable to convince you to do anything for him. He was at your mercy here, the thought making him dizzy with arousal and an unprompted whine falling from his lips when he notices you working your fingers between your legs while you finally let the head of his cock slip past your lips, suction on the tip that makes him see stars.

“P-please,” he breathes out, and you release him with a pop, such excitement lighting up your eyes that he wishes he had given in sooner- you were so beautiful when you were pleased and excited, what would you look like when he gave in to you like this?

You move up the bed, legs on either side of his, and slide your drenched folds against the length of him. Leaning down so your face is next to his, you press a deep kiss to his mouth, slipping your tongue alongside his before you pull back and whisper, “again.” Your hands press into Vox’s chest as you slot him against you, rub the head of his prick against your clit and groan in ecstasy.

His hips jerk at the sensation. “Please, baby,” he says darkly, “let me fuck you.”

“Hmm, not quite what I’m looking for.” You lift off of him, slide back and out of reach again. “Try again?”

“What? Come on, I can’t-” He pulls at his restraints again, and the way your eyes go half-lidded at the sight gets the message through. “You wanna keep me trussed up, is that it?”

“Is it so wrong for the photographer to want to keep a pretty picture on display?” Your fingers twitch between your pretty thighs, grinding tiny circles into your clit while you wait for him to give you what you want. “I wish I hadn’t left my camera in the kitchen; I would love a shot like this. I’d have to get some different lighting…” Your hips stop moving for a moment as you look around the room. “Maybe candlelight would work? I think that would cast a nice glow on your skin, so pretty- fuck, should I go get my camera?”

“No!” The word breaks past the dam of his lips when you use one of his own tricks against him- the threat of ending the pleasure when you’re so fucked out and cock drunk, on the brink of cumming. “No no no, doll, don’t leave- fuck, please, alright? Please touch me, fuck me, ride my cock. I’m fucking begging, I need it-”

A shudder rolls through your body, and finally, finally you sink down on him, a slow, delicious slide that has his fingers clenching uselessly where they’re held, wishing he could hold you, dig his claws in like he usually did.

“I didn’t say stop,” you moan, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Come on, Voxxy, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stop fucking t͖͖̠̬͛ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅi̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ me-” Your hips slow and Vox bites his tongue, rephrasing- and this time, to his chagrin, the stream of words doesn’t fucking stop. “Please, baby, don’t stop- f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, so fucking good, I w-want- I wanna cum, please, keep going, you f-feel so f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓-” An honest to God whimper comes out of him, so invested in both of you cumming that he can’t even find the sense in him to be embarrassed by what was happening. His screen is glitching out, his vision broken when he goes full static every couple of seconds, but the glimpses he’s getting in between of you with your head thrown back are going to fuel his jerk-off sessions when he can’t spend the night with you for the rest of his afterlife. You felt fucking perfect around him, your swollen pussy walls squeezing him just right as you rode him.

“Say please,” you command, fingers working between your legs, the back of your hand brushing against his abdomen and causing the muscles to flutter under you. “Ask me to make you cum- ask for permission and I’ll let you cum in me-”

And didn’t that just sound like the perfect end to the evening? He doesn’t even question it, couldn’t stop his traitorous tongue if he tried. “Please, doll, oh my fucking- please please p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, let me do it, cum with me-” He feels the tension in his entire body, from his suspended arms to the tips of his goddamn toes- he might actually fully fucking short out, he thinks deliriously, processors overloading in his brain at the sights and sounds and the feel of you sucking him into your greedy body. “- p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ let me, baby- oh f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, I’m gonna-”

You hit the peak of your orgasms together, your body jerking in his lap like you’ve been electrocuted while your cunt wrings him like a fucking towel, tensing and rippling around his cock as he spills into the slickness, long pulses of cum as far inside of you as he can get and its not enough- he can never be close enough to you to feel complete so he settles for filling you with everything he has to give.

Vox doesn’t black out, but its a near thing- the explosion of sudden voltage to his circuits actually jump-starts the core of his cable tentacles and they spring to life, his wrists finally coming free and falling to the bed so he’s spread out like some fucked up crucifixion. They’re numb, he realizes, but before he can get to doing anything about that you shift, reaching for them and massaging feeling back into his limbs. There’s some light bruising, but nothing crazy, not any worse than you had whenever the pair of you occasionally delved into bondage. 

The heavy breathing of you both evens out, and you bring his hands to your mouth to press light kisses to them. When you’re satisfied you release him, and his arms wrap around your back. You press a gentle kiss to his screen and rest your head on his chest. 

“You know,” you mutter into his skin, “technically I didn’t give you permission to cum. That’s gotta count for… something. I’m not sure what.”

He snorts into your hair. “Doesn’t count for shit. You cheated, waiting until I was right on the brink to say that shit.”

You hum, and snuggle closer. “You liked it though? Maybe a repeat in the future?”

His instinct was to say no, but he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed it- you were a dangerous force in control, something he would maybe have to mention to Velvette so she would let you direct your own goddamn shoots. “We’ll talk about it,” he settles on, still a tad embarrassed by his reaction to the whole thing. “I do think you should have to draw the bath now, though- for both of us, since I think you rode me so hard my thighs have bruises.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh into his chest, but you still roll off of him and disappear into the bathroom- the sound of running water fills the room while Vox tries to remember how to make his legs work.

“I better not see that camera in here, either!” He shouts, and your responding giggle brings a smile to his face.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56081230

[slushycoookie]

My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.5

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5

Relationship: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: Lactation kink, pregnancy sex, childbirth, MINORS DNI!!!

Summary: In the final stage of your pregnancy, you find out a new thing your husband likes.

A/N: This will be the "last" part of this mini-series. I'm leaving it open-ended just in case I have another one in me. But count this as complete! I appreciate anyone who's been reading! (And I totally forgot to make a tag list. I will do that next time I do a series.)

“Aww, you shouldn’t have!” You hold up the hundredth spider suit onesie designed for an infant.

Miles' small smile was something you couldn’t be upset at, “It's no problem. But there's more.” He points to the tissue paper, causing you to look deeper inside. You gasp at the hand-drawn baby book. It's colorful and bright with a story about how a young spider made her way to find her family.

“Miles! This is adorable.” You squeal with excitement, holding it up for Miguel who was watching from afar with a smile. You motion Miles over to proceed to kiss his face with gratitude. Miles accepts your appreciation before politely pulling away.

“You're welcome.”

“My turn!” Another spider jumped in with another present.

For some reason, you've never pictured yourself having a baby shower. At HQ, out of all places. Plenty at Spider Society wanted to give you gifts to celebrate the baby. Which mainly consisted of their spider merch for babies.

Others were thoughtful. Hobie gave you a few CDs of punk music for the baby. He said it was supposed to help with developmental growth. Pavitr and Gwen collaborated on buying some baby toys. It was mainly stuffed animals. Somehow you also noticed the stuffed version of their spider personas in there. And Margo gave a few video games that also helped the development of the baby. Although these weren't going to be used until your child was big enough to hold a controller.

You were ecstatic to have a large circle who loved and cared for you genuinely.

“Oh, you're…leaking.” A spider pointed out. You looked down and your blouse was getting stained by milk droplets from your breasts.

Miguel was immediately by your side with a few wipes, “We can stop if you want-”

“I'm ok.” You said, “It's just a little milk.” In fact, it's been happening occasionally throughout your third trimester. Milk staining your shirts, preparing for your baby. Your husband lingered by your side for a moment and you caught him glancing at your breasts. Probably out of concern.

After getting home from the baby shower, Miguel insisted you relax on the couch. Making you watch him carry endless boxes from the party through the portal, setting them inside the house.

“I guess we don't have to worry about getting baby clothes for a while, huh?” You joked, losing count on how many baby spider onesies you all received.

“I'm not having our daughter just wear clothes that look like spider suits.” Miguel sighed, looking amongst all the boxes. Trying to figure out where to put them. You stood, ready to come to his aid. “I got this, baby. Go sit and relax.”

“I've been sitting all day.” You reminded him. “I need something to do.” You picked up a marker and started to go through what was in each box and label it. The two of you agreed to keep a few boxes in the house and put the rest in the garage. ‘It's what they're for’ as your husband would say.

It was a comfortable silence while you two dove in the boxes. After spending all day surrounded by people who constantly congratulated you, giving you stuff you needed, it was nice to enjoy the quiet. You two were pretty much ready for the due date in a couple of weeks. Miguel was not going to stand being underprepared if he couldn’t help it.

The boxes were almost done, your husband paused and honed on your breasts. “It's happening again.”

“God.” You huffed, going to the nearest bathroom. Quickly grabbing some paper towels. You understood that you had to produce milk for your baby, but it was getting a little annoying.

“Shut up.” You heard your husband say. It caused you to peek out from the doorframe in question.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Miguel quickly said, “It's just Ravage.”

You blinked, decided to not indulge and went back to cleaning yourself up. You were actually surprised by Ravage's willing cooperation throughout your pregnancy. The alien was still insatiable though and you were hesitant at first. Once the doctor reported that you should expect to have a healthy pregnancy, the symbiote was on to have sex a lot. Not letting a baby bump stop them from getting what they want..

It was actually nice though since your hormones have been off the charts. If you even looked at Miguel, you'd get horny. Not caring where you were at all. As long as he fucked you.

“Need some help?”

Miguel asked, standing by the door with a washcloth in his hand. He closes the door to the bathroom to create some more privacy like you two didn’t have.

“It's ok.” You try to decline but he takes away the paper towels, tossing them in the trash.

“It's not. Let me.” He dabs the warm, damp cloth on your breast. A much better feeling than the coarse texture the paper towel gave. You didn’t protest, knowing he was going to care for you in any way he can. But you watched his eyes.

They were honed in on your breasts. As if he was under a spell. Enraptured by the rag soaking up the milk droplets from your nipples. You held your breath, worried that if a small gust escaped you, it would break him from his trance.

“I think you're good.” Miguel snaps himself out of it, shooting you a small smile.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm ok. Why?”

You weren't sure whether to bring up what you just saw. Maybe it was your hormones acting up again. “Nothing. Nevermind.” You reassure him with a kiss.

While getting ready for your due date, you wanted to get ahead on things. You spoke to Jess on some breastfeeding tips. You figured it would be a good idea to ask since you've been leaking every five minutes.

The spider woman helps you on how to hold the baby, demonstrating by holding the air. You were listening to what she was saying, but you wondered if it would be better to have a visual aid.

“I would show you with Gerry, but he's a bit old to be breastfeeding now.” Jess laughs, “But I think there's something that could help.”

She shows you the breastfeeding dolls. Designed to do exactly what the name says. A baby with its mouth partially opened, giving you ample amount of practice to hold your baby correctly while they're feeding. And you could customize the baby too.

You quickly bought one, excited when it arrived a few days later. You undressed your fake baby from the plastic, eager to try it out.

With the help of Jess’ advice and a few diagrams from the pamphlet that was with your baby, you practiced. Holding the child close to your chest, making sure the mouth was positioned correctly so your not real kid was fed. How convenient that while you were practicing, milk started to leak from your nipple again. Into your fake baby's mouth.

“What are you doing?”

You turn from your position on the couch to see your husband, back from work. His face twisted in question. “Practicing. Wanna see?”

“Practicing what?” Miguel hesitantly walks over, answering his question as he sees you and the fake baby. “You need to practice breastfeeding?”

You nod, still cradling the child in your arms. “I want to make sure I get it right. I don't want to mess it up.”

“You won't mess it up.” He sits beside you, “I know you won’t.”

“Thanks. But I just wanna make sure.” You go back to pretend feeding your baby. Miguel is still next to you, watching you practice. It wasn't weird, you figured he wants to see how it works.

“And you need a fake baby to practice?”

“Yes, Miguel.” You give him a quick kiss to make him hush and you think that works but…

“This baby doesn't have fangs. Our baby might.”

You purse your lips, “I know. We already talked about the genetic make-up of our kid.” It was concluded that there was a strong chance your daughter would have fangs and red eyes. Since the percentage of spider genes in your spouse was 50/50. But you didn’t care. You'd love your daughter if she had eight eyes.

“Then maybe you should practice with something that has fangs.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “The baby design options were not that detailed. And we don't know any babies with fangs. Not that I'm saying to steal a baby, I'm just-”

Miguel takes the fake baby from you, placing it behind himself. Your eyes follow his movements when he turns you to face him.

“I have fangs.”

You blink, “They retract.”

“So?”

“So, I'm not going to breastfeed you.”

“Why not?” He looks at your chest again, still exposed from your practice. Milk leaking out once more.

You force out a chuckle, “Mig, you don't want to drink from my boob.”

“I didn't say that. Why are you implying that I don't want to taste?” His thumb presses against your nipple, drops of milk pouring down his digit. “It's food that helps feed our baby. It's not dangerous or anything.

You bite your lip as he flicks your nipple to watch the milk pour out. You didn’t want to admit out loud that seeing him like this was sexy.

“Is this you or Ravage being like this?”

Miguel leans forward, his body right above yours, “This is me and Ravage.”

“Oh.” Your face starts to get hot, “How long have you two been like this?”

“Since you started leaking. I'm not proud of the unnecessary thoughts I've had.” He ducks his head in embarrassment. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that your husband wants to suck on your tiddy.

“I don't mind.”

Miguel groaned, his hands gripping the couch. “Sure you don't. I feel like a…pervert.”

“You're not a pervert.” You reassure him by resting a hand on his cheek. “You're just…discovering something new.”

“That's putting it lightly.” Miguel starts to push away, shutting himself down from what he craved deep down. But you didn’t want him to make him feel ashamed. You wanted him to do it.

By taking his arm, you make him stay. Removing your shirt, ignoring the milk dripping down to the underside of your breast. You keep calm as Miguel’s eyes darken at the sight of you. Licking his lips at the sight of the liquid. “Do it. It's ok.”

He bends down after your permission, capturing a breast between his lips. Miguel sucks, his body rumbling at the taste of your milk. Because of your hormones, everything was dialed up to 11. The sensation of his lips on you was enough for your wetness to stir down below. An embarrassing whimper escapes you, while you clutch at him in need.

Miguel makes sure both of your breasts are tended to by licking a strip of excess milk up from your other breast. His groans fill the open space and your ears.

“You taste delicious.” He compliments after getting the remaining droplets from your skin. “Our baby will love it.”

You notice his bulge amongst his pants, “You're loving it too.”

Miguel’s hand dips inside past your sweatpants and underwear. The lightest touch amongst your folds makes you croon as he feels your wetness. “So are you.”

Miguel became relentless once he started tasting your breast milk. The two of you played it under the guise that you were practicing when this was nowhere near that. Whenever you two were alone and you started leaking, instead of using a tissue, he used his mouth. Collecting every ounce of milk that came from your nipple.

It was addicting.

Your husband taking turns with the symbiote, tongues lapping at your nipples, tasting every single drop. Satisfied for the day. Especially when it came during sex.

You wondered if your belly would be in the way but Miguel took care of that. Using his strength to make sure he did all of the work, not you.

He would secure you by gripping your thighs. Spreading your legs just right before lifting you up and sinking you down on his gigantic cock. You refrain him from taking his symbiote form while having sex during the last trimester, unsure if his larger length would affect the baby. But his normal body was more than enough.

You'd whine while taking him as he lazy thrusts up into you. His face buried in your chest as he did so. Sucking on any drop of milk, groaning with his movements. Your arousal coated his cock, easy for him to slip and slide right in. And then a sense of satisfaction waved over your body once you were finished.

You had to enjoy these moments while you still can.

Your due date was coming in a few days. In a perfect world, Miguel would stay by your side. Watching over you and ready to go once the big day arrived. Instead, there was an influx of anomalies popping up in different dimensions. Leaving your husband to take care of it.

Plans had to change. He connected his watch to yours so he'd be informed when you call him for the big moment. He promised to pick up right away. You noticed his annoyance of the change of plans, knowing he didn't like not being nearby while you were like this. But you took it in stride. Soon, your baby girl will be here in your world.

Miguel had to go once more, kissing you goodbye along with the usual spiel of what to do when your water breaks. You decided to do a once over the baby’s room for the fifth time this week. A wide range of emotions consumed you, from excitement to fear. You want to be a good caretaker for your daughter. But you didn’t want to mess it up. All the self-help parenting books in the world wouldn't help you with the real thing.

A strange rush of fluids went through your lower body, staining your pants and the floor in the baby's room. Did your water just break?

Sharp pains riddle your stomach as you lean on the crib for support. The baby was coming. You tried to call Miguel through your watch, taking slow, deep breaths. You weren't going to panic. You two had planned for this.

He wasn’t picking up.

You could hardly move. Any attempt committed shockwaves across your entire body. You can't have the baby here, by yourself in the baby room. So you called Lyla.

“Heyo! What can I do for ya-oh that's not good.” Lyla says while watching your hunched state.

“Where's my husband?”

The AI shows you a bunch of screens you couldn't understand at the moment. “Tech issue while on a mission. Margo and I are working on it but communication is currently difficult.”

“H-How long will it take?” You were hoping for a good answer, anything to soothe your worries.

“ETA is ten minutes for all communications to be back online.”

That was definitely something you were not looking for. “In ten minutes, I'll be having this baby-” You groan, a contraction hitting you. “I-Is it possible…to tell Miguel that our baby is coming?”

“I can but it'll be delayed. He won't get the message right away due to his location.”

“Would anyone get it at HQ?”

“Oh yeah, there’s no issues there.”

“Who's at Spider Society?”

Lyla did a scan. It was quick but in your current state, she took forever. “Ben is.”

“Will the message be delayed if you reach out to him?”

“No, he should get it instantly.”

You told Lyla to send messages to Miguel and his left-hand man. You knew your spouse was going to be upset that he missed the start of what would change both of your lives. But you don’t think you could wait for him any longer. With all the strength you could muster, you grab the baby bag and place it on your shoulder. It takes everything you can to maneuver to the living room so Ben could pick you up quickly.

To your relief he was there in a flash, blue eyes darting around to get a clear look at the situation.

“Hi, Benny.” You gave him a weary smile, “Can you get me to the hospital?”

He quickly nodded, putting the baby bag across his shoulders. “I can't wait to tell Miguel I came to the rescue. You think he'd give me a metal?”

“Maybe.” You pat his shoulder as he gently picks you up, positioning you tight as he goes through the portal.

Your husband made sure there was a maternity ward and a birthing center in the building. Making sure you get top-notch level care throughout your pregnancy. Right when Ben takes you in, Miguel picks right up.

“Are you okay? Lyla told me the baby's on the way.” Before you could answer, you whined, a contraction stopping your words completely. That was enough to answer his question. “I'm coming. Just breathe like in those exercises we saw, okay? Like this.”

He starts breathing through the watch in a certain rhythm and you follow it as your doctors put you in a room. You lean against the hospital bed, the nurses helping change you into a gown.

“I really need you here, Miggy.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were scared. You had nine months to overcome your fear but now that you’re facing it, you wanted him there.

“I'm coming. Don't worry.”

True to his word, Miguel is in the delivery room not long after. Still in his suit but instantly by your side. You felt much better by his presence, gripping his hand as the birth of your baby began.

The entire labor was eight hours. You were doped up with medication so you couldn’t tell. The trials and tribulations of pushing, Miguel holding your hand to help you through it all. Thank goodness for his spider strength. It was hell, you weren’t sure if you wanted to get pregnant again after this. But it was all worth it for your baby girl.

Gabriella was beautiful with her brown skin, gentle red eyes and curly brown hair. Almost a spitting image of her father. A person you two made together after going through constant efforts of conception.

Miguel wipes his eyes, unsuccessful at holding back tears of joy. “She's beautiful.” He kisses your daughter's head and then yours.

Ravage comes out, the symbiote getting a good look at the sleeping baby in awe. “She smells. Like baby powder.”

“She does.” You press your nose to your daughter’s head, taking in that new baby smell. “Thanks, Rav. For helping us have this baby.”

The alien gets taken back. You wanted to express your gratitude, knowing your baby wouldn’t be here without them. “You are welcome.”

“We’re not letting you babysit though.” Miguel says, making it clear.

“At least until Gabi's older.” You clarified.

Ravage hums, “Fine. As long as we can have intercourse again.”

Miguel fights the urge to pinch his nose while you giggle. “Of course. Don't worry about that.”

[kanpaeki]

heyy. can u do a fic about dom being needy on tour? just always talkin bout y/n during his sets any chance he gets & being clingy underneath of them right after.

not nsfw this time lmao. sex mentioned but no acts. not proofread. love you guys <3

x

this time around, dom was way more involved in the behind-the-scenes aspects of the tour, walking around and making sure everyone on the team was good and helping them when they weren't. the authoritative tone in his voice as he told them, respectfully but firmly, what he was looking for. walking up and down the same hallway, carrying out tasks from person to person, it was so amusing to watch. you only saw him with this same passion when he was in the studio, his lips pressed and a slight arch in his brow. most people wouldn't notice but you'd studied this man at every given chance, you noticed every tick of his. which is why you knew, he couldn't wait to pull you to the green room and shoo everyone out so he could get you alone.

with a knowing smirk on your lips, you're leant against the doorframe of said green room, watching as he's on his way to deliver electrical tape to who knows. "you're gonna tire yourself out before the show even starts," you warn, knowing how he tends to take on more than he can chew.

"nah, i got plenty left, trust. get in there and close the door, i'm coming in there after this." he shakes his curls out before breaking into a jog, hurrying to whoever he had to pass the tape to.

you just watch him pass you, eyes trailing over him until he's out of sight, pressing your lips together to hide your smile as you step back, closing the green room door while it was still empty of stragglers.

it didn't take too long, scrolling on tiktok to pass the time when the door opened without a knock, signalling it was dom. he closed and locked the door behind himself, strolling right over to you and before you could get any words out pressed his lips to yours. he was eager and needy, kisses rushed but yet like he was trying to savor your taste before he had to hit the stage. putting your hands on his chest, you kissed him back but gently pushed him away.

"after." you smiled knowingly, watching him deflate with disappointment.

"i've been hard for the past ten minutes." he complained, not trying to make you feel guilty. he knew you were right - you always were. but you were sure he was starting to hurt. "you're wearing those fucking jeans." burying his face in your neck, leaving little kisses and nipping you right where he knew you were sensitive.

you laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. his favorite pair of jeans on you. he claimed they made your ass look 'even hotter'. you couldn't disagree. with the hefty price tag, it better be working wonders. rubbing his back, you only soothed him, knowing better than to give in.

"i'm flattered. but you have soundcheck in like... twenty." you checked your apple watch. you got used to wearing a watch after he started up doing shows and public appearances again. he tended to run late.

"twenty whole minutes? that's plenty of time!" he gasped, whining like a child, only making you roll your eyes.

"you have to have your mic pack on before then. people are gonna interrupt any minute." you cup his cheek, bringing his face up to meet yours, pecking his lips chastely. "and as much as i love you and i love quickies, i want to take my time with you. is that okay with you?"

it took him a few seconds to take in your words before he gives you that crooked smile, "well i'm not gonna say no to that."

during the show, he couldn't help but to mention you. he often did during his sets but not like this.

"this next song is called bodies. and i wanna dedicate it to my fine ass girlfriend over there," he slouches over the mic, guitar strap around his neck as he points to you waiting in the wings, "cuz we're starting fresh right after this show's over. let's go!" he goes into the song, bypassing the innuendo that he made and leaving your jaw dropped. he laughed into the lyrics as he looked back at your reaction, fingers flipped to send him the bird playfully as he continued into the song.

[devirnis]

WIP Wednesday 🌲

tagged by @daffi-990 & @tizniz

Started a new WIP last night for what has been affectionately dubbed "stalker summer". In all likelihood this won't be done until after my vacation (so late August) but have a tease from early on!

There’s an ancient-looking metal object mounted on the wall next to the bed. It seems a strange item to display – like a frying pan with a lid and a really long handle. It almost reminds Eddie of a … “Is that a bedpan?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose. He knows the owners are proud of the cabin’s history but that seems a little much. Buck follows his gaze, and then starts snickering. “You don’t need to get grossed out. It’s a bed warmer.” “A what?” “You know.” Buck drops his bag on the bed and flaps his hand. “People used to put embers in them and stick them under the covers to warm up the bed.” “Sounds like a fire hazard.” “Oh, it was. Plus, the fumes from the embers were not great. They were common from the mid-17th century until people invented hot water bottles.” Eddie hooks his fingers in Buck’s belt loops. “Mm, keep talking about bed warmers.” Buck laughs. “Yeah? That’s what does it for you?” “When you show off that sexy brain of yours?” Eddie yanks Buck closer. “Fuck yes.” A blush rises on Buck’s cheeks. “Well,” he drawls, looping his arms around Eddie’s neck, “there were also these things called bed wagons, which were, like, wooden frames that you could put the pan in…” Eddie kisses the words right out of Buck’s mouth. After that, there isn’t much talking for a while.

If you wanna @bigfootsmom @homerforsure @princessfbi @bisexual-buck @bidisasterevankinard @spaceprincessem @sibylsleaves @eddiebabygirldiaz @honestlydarkprincess @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bvckandeddie @loserdiaz @monsterrae1 @messyhairdiaz @shitouttabuck @exhuastedpigeon @sunshinediaz @lemonzestywrites @rainbow-nerdss @underwaterninja13 @father-salmon @thewolvesof1998 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @watchyourbuck @smallandalmosthonest @wildlife4life @starlingbite 💜

[dangerpronebuddie]

WIP Wednesday!!

Tagged by @theotherbuckley @tizniz @daffi-990 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove who all shared absolutely BRILLIANT stuff y'all should definitely show some love!! 💚🩵

I am pushing through Severed Artery until I get it done! I'm really really hoping it'll be posted tomorrow, if things go right. While I fill in the last missing pieces, have Buck reminiscing™ about the shooting. Because if there's a chance to tie anything back to that moment, I'm gonna take it lol:

“Uh, could you… grab some clothes from my locker?” Buck asks as he wanders into the showers. He turns on the faucet at the sink he usually uses, not even daring to look in the mirror, afraid his bloodstained face would be staring back at him. Tommy enters only a moment later with Buck's jeans and a hoodie that Buck knows Eddie stole from him. He doesn't know how it got back in his locker, but he's not knocking it. “Do you want me to help?” Tommy asks. Buck wants to say yes, he wants the comfort Tommy usually brings, but… what he really wants- who he really wants- may not… “N- no. I got it,” Buck says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Why don't you get out of those clothes and I'll throw em in the washer,” he suggests instead. Buck simply nods and quickly sheds his clothes, the tacky blood drying on his skin making the fabric stick to him a little. He hands them to Tommy without looking at them. He can't. Tommy disappears and Buck shoves his hands under the too hot water. His heart drops into his gut as the water turns a pale pink. He's suddenly staring at his bloodied hands in a hospital waiting room, horrified at the fact he didn't notice how much of Eddie's blood covered him. Each time he reached to wipe tears away, he'd flinch at the sight of his hands. Chim had showed up with a shirt for him, and Bobby had softly coaxed him into the bathroom. Chim stood silent by Buck's side as Bobby scrubbed his hands. Buck made the mistake of looking in the mirror then, at the specks of blood scattered across his face like the freckles he used to have as a kid. “He asked if I was hurt,” Buck had whispered as he stared at his reflection. He had huffed a humorless laugh and shook his head. “I don't think I would've noticed if I was.” He doesn't think he would now either. He whimpers as his hands shake. He remembers the tremors from the last time, that didn't really go away until Eddie was out of surgery. He hadn't noticed them until Taylor took his hands. Maybe he should've asked Tommy to stay with him. Maybe he could put Buck back into some semblance of order before he faced Chris. No. It didn't work with Taylor. It won't work now.

(tags under the cut. As always, please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

Absolutely no pressure tagging:

@13shadesofanni @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @wikiangela @kitteneddiediaz

@inell @exhuastedpigeon @spagheddiediaz @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @thekristen999

@actuallyitsellie @daniwib @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life

@rainbow-nerdss @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6

@misshiss727 @likeamollusconarock @lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92

@smallandalmosthonest @thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22 @lady-elaine and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

[lightningmonarchda3]

How to find bots in the asexual tag

the bots have become way more creative and sometimes they can go unnoticed by bot hunters because they aren't semi-naked trans women.

the most important thing is to check the tags of posts!!!

these tags are often what bots also tag wrongly in their posts along the asexual tag:

taylor swift

mariah carry

ryan gosling

yellowjackets

starwars

donald trump

the owl house

margot robbie

barbie

and some others that i can't remember

some posts can be really challenging and some accounts can really fool you. the most creative one i've ever seen has to be this:

the bot only had like 5 posts and all of them were about usual, typical life. one was of 2 little girls (the bot's "daughters")

but if you looked at the tags of all of the bot's posts, it did not match at all. there was a mix of asexual, taylor swift, and donald trump

(and also, there's no way a middle aged proud republican would even know what tumblr is)

some other points:

look for bots in the latest section of the tag, not the top (more likely to find bots)

when you find a bot, you to the bot's account and report all of the posts and then the bot itself; even if not all the posts have the tag asexual, it's still a bot

(even if you believe that the user is an actual human person, but have used the asexual tag incorrectly, i would still report all of their posts and then themselves. you should never intentionally tag incorrectly)

the bots tend to reblog their own posts to increase the number of spam posts

stuff like ai art of scenery are usually bots (again, check the tags)

i bot hunted for about 1 to 1.5 hours today and i didn't found any bots after a while of scrolling. i think we reported most of them, but there are still some out there.

keep fighting!

we will get our tag back!