#I just like have to actually make the jump

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[seventeenpins]

new rules

pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" 😅

You’re in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.

DO NOT PICK UP

You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.

And then it lights up again.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

As you’re spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.

It’s a bad idea. It’s always a bad idea. 

But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what you’re going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isn’t going to happen again–

And then you hear his voice. It’s just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.

“Hi, baby-”

Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.

“Hi Logan.”

—

“It’s been too long, sweetheart-” 

“Yeah, well-” you sigh. You know how this always goes. “I told you not to call.”

“But you answered.” 

Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.

“Sooo-,” you venture, “Is there something you need?”

It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You weren’t gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.

"Just you, hon,” his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.

“You know it’s nearly midnight, don’t you? Are you ever gonna call me when you’re sober?”

You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.

“What do you want, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I come over? I’ve just been missing you. Been a rough day.”

“No.”

“Please, baby? I need you. Please?”

You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but you’re well beyond that now.

It’s always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.

“Can take care of you, princess-“ he pleads.

“I hate when you call me that. And no, you can’t. You can’t even take care of yourself, Howlett.”

He huffs a laugh. “Been doin’ alright a couple hundred years. Keepin’ myself alive.”

You don’t want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.

Is this really living?

“Fine. You can come over.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Motherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?”

With a snort, he ends the call.

He’s on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you remember– he’s all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance. 

With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.

He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady he’d always be there to break your fall.

When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble. 

Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You’ve missed this. Fuck you’ve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you? 

You need to gain some control back.

“Condom,” you tell him. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.”

He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.

Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin. 

In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.

“You got a little boyfriend?” he asks, and you feel your face heat.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”

“Now I’m not seeing the Magnum’s in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you can’t even bother to pick up the phone?”

“The condoms are just in case– better to be prepared– and besides it’s none of your fucking business if I’m sleeping with anyone else!”

“You know I can’t get STIs, right?”

You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.

“And if you’re so worried,” he continues, “I’ll buy you Plan B.”

“Move,” you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, he’s right. Not a single gold packet in sight.

You groan, and he laughs.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because it’s not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. It’s the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything. 

The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, everything he’s lost– you can’t bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.

But now he’s straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and you’re so overwhelmed by the way he’s pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat. 

You don’t realize you’re both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-

He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.

After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.

For a gut-wrenching second, you think he’s changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? He’s not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.

But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no one’s been takin’ care of this pussy, huh?”

Two fingers become three, and you’re overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.

“That’s it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no one’s been fuckin’ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if you’d let me.”

He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as you’re about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. You’re beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake. 

He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust he’s burying himself so deeply you’d swear you could feel him in your belly.

“You’re openin’ up so nice, takin’ it so good,” he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. “Been missin’ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missin’ your old man, too?”

You don’t even register he’s asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. It’s not painful, it doesn’t even sting. And it does exactly what he’d hoped; it refocuses you on him.

“Wha- What?” you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-

“Have you been missin’ your old man, princess? 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. C’mon now, fuck me like you mean it.”

You can’t deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.

It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. He’s pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.

He’s panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple. 

As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.

He’s never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder. 

You’re boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.

At least you got those tide pens. 

You want to tell him off about the headboard–the splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadn’t gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.

You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.

—-

You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you it’s 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.

You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.

Back to this-

"Go home, Logan.” You tell him, and he startles at your voice.

"Baby- I been havin’ bad dreams-” 

You cut him off. "I’ll call you a cab. You’re not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-”

"Sweetheart,” he cuts in, “You know it never sticks-“ 

He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and it’s mean. Makes your stomach flip.

This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. You’d both been pretending for so long.

You leave the room.

A minute later, you’re back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.

"Get dressed.” You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Cab’s on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.”

He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, it’s making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.

"You wanna know why?” He asks, and it comes out slurred.

You ignore him. “I’ll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods again. Looks like he’s trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.

You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.

A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, he’s only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than he’s ever let you see before.

"When I drink I don’t dream-,“ he tells you, “Claws don’t come out.”

Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.

You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.

You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.

And then one night you get a text. 

He’s rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.

DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video

With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god he’s not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. It’s a fear that’s bounced around in your head for a while now, but you’d never ask just in case he hasn’t thought of it yet himself.

Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin and–

It’s anticlimactic. Kind of.

It’s just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.

There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You can’t see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know he’s fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.

This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.

You hit play. 

At first, you can barely tell it’s a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. He’s holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.

“You gonna stop ignoring me?” he asks, his voice a throaty purr. “Quit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.”

AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.

Three dots appear and you know that he knows you’ve seen it. 

A moment later, the text comes through.

“Ready for you, princess.”

God, if only it would take more than that.

As if overtaken by a horny ghost, you’re already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt. 

You’re at his house an hour later. 

You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you. 

You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.

And fuck, it’s the love, too. It never went away.

[fartcloudfartcloud]

Simon Riley x Maid!Reader

based on this text post

Summary: Simon has a house cleaner come clean once a month. What happens when she goes on vacation, and you're her replacement?

warnings: sfw but theres tension 😋, will make an nsfw part two if you guys want it :), Simon being big and scary and offputting per usual, lots of internal dialogue

a/n: loved this concept, and since I actually worked a door to door cleaning job I thought this fit so well and needed to write it. hope u enjoy :)

You took a deep breath.

These were the steps you were to take in this job. You had no reason to feel unsafe or in danger of any sort. Yet, the thought of walking up and knocking on this door had your heart in your stomach.

Simon Riley Is what the work order had listed as the clients name. Ex Military. Large German Shepard named Riley. Liked his wooden floors cleaned with vinegar instead of the regular cleaning solution. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Except for the entry instructions. The small box on the piece of paper that would normally hold a few finely printed words, things such as "Homeowner will be not be home, key is under welcome mat"

or "Homeowner will be home and located in office on second floor, door will be unlocked"

had big, bold font to start. Your manager had to go in and manually change that detail, and knowing her, that must mean this is serious.

The box reads-

"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO OPEN DOOR. HOMEOWNER IS EX MILITARY AND EXTREMELY STRICT. RING FRONT DOORBELL ONCE AND WAIT."

Yeah. Very normal and not at all gut-wrenching.

You keep taking deep breaths as you go through your routine. Read the work order thoroughly once more, try not to shit yourself, go and grab your equipment, and follow the instructions.

Easy. Just follow the routine.

Your equipment is as big and clunky as usual. With a vacuum on your back, a bucket full of microfiber towels, a backpack full of chemicals, and knee pads on both knees, you knew for sure you were a sight for sore eyes.

You're not quiet as you walk either, each step making every plastic piece of your puzzle clunk and scrape in a cacophony of reminders of why you were here. You thunk and bang your way up the front porch, eyes everywhere but the front door, still taking deep breaths as you try to just focus on your surroundings, taking note of the nice front garden and walkway as you pass.

You finally settle on the front porch, your arms dropping the bucket and preparing yourself for the big push to start this job.

One ring, you remind yourself. Then wait. Deep breath.

You look up to find the door bell, hand pulling up in a search for the button when you see him.

He must have heard you, you decide as he stands behind the screen door with his arms crossed.

Simon Riley is massive, standing what feels like a clean foot taller than you, big muscled arms bulging from his tight t-shirt. They're as big as your head, his thighs probably twice so. His face was pulled down in a heated gaze, though the bottom half of his face was covered by a black mask. He was scary as he stood there, his aura menacing and doing nothing to sooth your nerves.

Yeah, ex Military makes sense, Jesus christ.

"Ya pissed of my dog, allat noise." You jump, the deep british voice startling you as he begins chastising you. His face frowns down it you, his eyes angry. You're speachless, "Well? Talk."

You stammer as you realize you were just sitting and staring in awe, mind suddenly back on track and then derailing again as you have no idea what to say.

The routine, Jesus christ the routine what's the next step. You scramble for your binder, pulling it open to his work order page and looking up at him as you muster up the courage to speak.

"Um, are you, uh, Simon Riley, sir?" You ask, stuttering and staggering between every word.

He reaches foreword and opens the screen door, getting a good look at you first before he can respond.

"Hm. You the cleaning lady?" He questions, the hand not holding the door open now stuffed in the pocket of his pants.

"Mhm, yeah, im- uh. I'm from Housekeeping Heros, you have an appointment for, um-" you start rustling through more pages of the binder, desperate to find the information, needing to prove to yourself more then him you were in the right place.

"I know i 've an appointment," He holds out his hand and halts your movements. You relax, all the horrible conclusions you were drawing coming to an end. Though, as per usual, they were quickly replaced with new ones, his voice still short and snippy with you.

Deep breaths, girl, we can do this.

He points to your small pile of equipment. "Ya need 'elp?"

You shake your head no, suprised he'd offered. Though he just responds with a head shake, motioning to give it here with his hands. And you do, you don't even second guess it, handing him your bucket and backpack without a second word, something in you submitting to him without a care in the world.

He turns around and walks everything into the kitchen where he gently rests it on the table, softer then you were expecting. You follow him in, feeling like a stray with your legs tucked between your legs as you fet settled. He looks at you expectantly.

Not sure what he's looking for, you start explaining the cleaning process, using your binder as a reference and pointing to each section. He stands behind you, arms crossed again and chin tucked down as he nods along with your words.

He points to the vacuum on your back, "Not round Riley, ya 'ear me?" He scolds. You take note of the large German Shepard snorring lightly on the couch.

"And none o' this shite," He kicks at your knee pads, pointing to a mop he had in the corner. Thank God, cleaning on your knees always sucked, and why your bullshit company made you do it anyways was a marvel.

"Oh, thank you!" You chirped up. He seemed to scowl further when your voice pitched up, so you slink back in on yourself. Understood, point taken, sir.

You still were not feeling great, the pit in your stomach unrelenting as you organize your stuff.

He looms close by. You figured he would, not doubting the "extremely strict" next to "ex military" on your work order at all.

You start with the first step of your process, filling the bucket up in the sink and soaking your towels in the cleaning solution.

"Where's yer boss?" He grumbles from behind you, making you jump.

"Um, Nancy?" Bucket now full, you throw the towels into the warm water with a dash of solution.

"Eh, whatever her name is," He grumbles. How polite.

"Haha, um." You giggle akwardly, "she's with family right now, I think," you stutter, trying to speak loud enough that he could hear you clearly.

He just hmphs in response. As your towels soak in the water, you reach for your extendable feather duster and start wiping the top corners of the room.

"Whats yer name?" He grumbles. It shocks you when he says it. He couldn't seem to care less about the other workers name, but he was interested in yours?

You told him, quiet, "sir," peeping out after. He just hmms again, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed as he watched you work.

It was nerve-wracking, having him over your shoulder. He hadn't said anything yet, but it felt like you could feel the complaints waiting to come. You just kept up the deep breathing, taking the clothes out of the water and dispersing them on the countertops throughout the house.

He had a very large home, no mcmansion that took up half the street, but a pretty place tucked in a nice down town area. Honestly, if the home and neighborhood wasn't so gorgeous, you probably would've turned around and told your supervisor to give the damn house to someone else.

But thankfully, or not, Simon seemed to harbor a certain comfort for his homes presentation. The indoors of his home reflected it as well, the house put together like it was being staged, every inch perfectly in place.

Maybe that's why it's not so surprising when the first complaint does manage to leave his lips in the form of a hiss as you go to open a cabinet door.

"Oi, what do you think yer doing?" He hisses, rushing over to grab your wrist and pull it from the knob. You gasp as he's suddenly in your space and touching you, flinching as he does.

"Um, I just gotta m-make sure the insides don't need to be wiped down, sir," your muscles shake as you speak— him actually coming over and grabbing had you a little shook up.

He waved his hand infront of your face, dismissing whatever you have to say, "None of that. Don't need'a open nothing that ain't yours." you just nod, taking your first breath once he's finally out of your space.

That would've been a very good thing to include in the work order, Nancy.

Well, at least that's a few less things to worry about cleaning, though you may have failed your task of not shitting your pants, because good lord. He's right back to his perch on the wall, observing you carefully now.

You get into your routine, floating room to room and doing each task per the work order. You slowly scrub the slight musky smoke smell that lingers throughout, instead replacing it with the smell of cinnamon and detergent.

He likes watching you work, but he knows he doesn't show it, not a flutter or twitch anywhere to be seen. He growls small, careful, watch it, leave it, keeping you on edge through every movement.

You do move much faster than your college though, much more gracefully. He notices your wandering eyes, lingering on the photos on the wall and the dates on his calender. He let's you get away with it, for now. Figured he'd picked on you enough, should probably just let you finish your work.

That is, until you approach the end of your routine. You'd been scrubbing and whipping and Simon snipping and snyding for almost an hour now, you'd made excellent time and you hope Simon knows that.

It's all you can think about, actually. Him and the way he has you doting on him, some broken part of you combined with the fear his giant stature instills has you easily folding to do whatever he says and respond to his every grunt. It has your mind a little clouded, even more so as you swing through every step of your routine with practiced care.

It was finally time for the last step of the routine, and you shivered out a breath as you unwrapped the vacuum. Simon had sank a little further away, now sitting at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to a newspaper, anxiety settling slightly without his prying eyes.

You get the cord untangled and laid out across the carpet, searching the perimeter of the room for an outlet. You couldn't see any in the open, and not wanting to risk pissing off Simon for moving furniture, you start to round the corner in your search.

Suddenly, you're against the wall, a giant hand against your sternum as the breath is knocked out of your lungs. His face is in yours, eyebrows furrowed and breath hot on your face as he spoke.

"Tha fuck ya think your doin'?" youre confused and breathless, small under him as he leers above.

"I dont- im-" "Been nothing but nice to ya since you clambered yer way up my damn porch, and I gave you one fuckin' rule." His voiced is raised at you now, chastising you in that brazen, gravely tone. "One! and what do you go and try to do?"

You're just confused, what had you done to elicit this response from him? You thought he was complacent and quiet at the table, what of his million little rules could you have broken?

That's when you see it. Her, you should say. Rylie, the big German Shepard he'd warned you to by no means vacuum around, was bundled up on the couch, inches from where you stand.

Fuck. how had you forgotten.

"Sir, i- I didn't realize, I didn't know she was there sir i-" You desperately try to make an excuse for yourself, but he's just shaking his head at you.

"Do ya think flutterin yer eyelashes a little is gonna make everything better?" He mocks you, his big blue eyes locked on you. You shake your head no, half of it to answer him, the other half just you shivering where you stand.

"No sir- I'm sorry sir I didnt- I forgot you told me and-"

He's clicking his tongue at you, a tsk tsk to put you to shame. To your suprise, each click when straight to your core, and suddenly the heat in the room is rising. Your body is flushed and your sure your face matches, if the way his eyes crinkle when he looks up at you says anything.

His hand doesn't leave your sternum, as he speaks, Inches from your face, "too good at this to be forgetting," he shakes his head, the praise a little shocking, and the soft, "too pretty," that follows it hammers the fact.

You breath is caught in your chest again as he leans into your ear, eyes wide and mouth clamped as he murmurs a deep.

"So how do you think I should go bout making sure you remember?"

[kiddiesmores]

“𝟖𝟔 𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢”: 𝟖𝟔 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Schlatt takes you home from work only to end up staying the night..

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT BRO. SMUT. More afab leaned but there is the use of she/girl, Schlatt is pretty dominant here, grrrr.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞: Yall. I’m so sorry for how long this took, lost my spark but I THINK I GOT IT BACK LETS GOOOOOO. Thank you @michibap for being my savior and giving me the push I needed to finish this chapter. I promise not to leave yall hanging for a month next time! (Might make it two if yall are mean to me again.) ENJOY!! I LOVE U!!! Also this picks up right where chapter two left off, to avoid your confusion.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You look up at Schlatt with a grateful smile, taking the to-go box from him and opening it to see he did, in fact, give you broccoli with your food.

“I’m not eating that by the way.” you mutter, looking up at him with a quirked brow and a wag of your finger, making him chuckle as he shut the box with a shrug. “Yknow what I said, don’t eat it and you’ll have to pay me back for it.” He jokes, watching you groan and grumble as you put the to-go box in your bag.

You fiddle with your fingers, “There’s something I wanted to uh- ask you.” you mumble, dodging his gaze by taking interest in the wine selection on the table.

“Shoot.” he shrugs.

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?”

He stares at you for a second, digesting your question. He grins cockily, “You can’t drive yet?” he teases, leaning down further and watching your mouth flounder.

“It’s a work in progress okay!”

“Sure it is. Course I can, c'mon toots.” He nods, holding his hand out for you to take which you gladly do, gathering your belongings and heading out the to-go door as he shuts off the lights.

He locks up the doors, pointing you in the direction of his truck. “Didn’t take you as a truck driving guy.” You mock, making him scoff.

“Big words with someone with no license.”

“Get off my ass? Please?”

He sucks air through his teeth, “Don’t think I will, actually.” He smirks, opening the passenger door for you with a snicker when you roll your eyes, hopping in and flipping him off as he closes the door.

“So yeah, then Maggie told Chase that she knew all about it the entire time! And that she was just waiting for him to slip up on his own!”

“Wait-wait-wait- I’m behind, aren’t they married?”

“YES BRO.”

“Good lord.” Schlatt chuckles, a hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh as you fill him in on work drama that he doesn’t pay attention to.

“How did you not know about any of this? Swear we’ve all been talking about it for like- months!” you giggle, gazing at him as he shrugs and keeps his eye on the road. “I leave that to Rosie, none of my business.” You scoff, “All of it actually, you hired him!” “I didn’t know he’d fuck Kassie!”

You both fall forward with laughter, wiping a tear from your eye as you cough out a few more giggles, noticing him turning into your complex. A small pout forms on your lips as you realize your little venture home is over when he parks in front of your building.

He squeezes your thigh for a brief moment, looking over at you softly while you stare ahead,half smiling at the evident look of disappointment on your face. “I’ll uh..walk you up?” He mutters, causing your head to turn to him, “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

You smile nervously, mumbling a small, “Okay,” as you grab your bag, jumping out the ridiculously expensive truck as he turns it off, moving to wait for you on the sidewalk.

“After you?” he asks, holding a hand out for you to hold while you giggle and take it, guiding him upstairs to lead him to your shared apartment. As you approach your place your heart pounds, slowly turning to face him with your back pressed against the cool door.

“I’m right here- good ole 416B..” you mumble, looking up at him. The moon is full, the illumination softly painting his face as he gazes down at you, all meek and small in stature, he thinks you look absolutely adorable. His thumb grazes the back of your hand, a small chuckle escaping him as he takes in your nervous eyes and smiles. “Thank you for taking me home, I really appreciate it.” you whisper, feeling him lean in closer, his breath hitting your lips as you start to do the same.

“Anytime..” he whispers back, staring into your eyes. You both linger for a moment, waiting to see what happened next. “You gonna kiss me or…?” you ask, tilting your head with a coy smile, making him roll his eyes and close the distance. Your lips mold together, holding in place for a moment before he parts only for a moment, pulling you back in for another. And another. And another.

Your tote is on the ground, arms wrapped around his neck while you lean up on your tiptoes and his strong arms wrap around your torso. A soft sigh escapes you between kisses, gasping as his lips travel from your lips to your jaw down to your neck. “Schlatt..” you whisper, eyes shut as he lightly sucks on the warm skin of your neck with a gentle groan.

“Do you wanna come in?” you mumble, eyes still closed as you feel him pull back. He stares down at you for a second, your eyes fluttering back open to meet his stare, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

It all happened so quickly.You unlock the door with haste and slam your bag down on the floor, both of you immediately kissing again and even somehow managing to wrap your legs around his waist, as he carries you to your bedroom. He steps on your roommate's dog toy, causing you both to pull apart with a yelp, quickly looking at each other before giggling, heads tilting to rest on each other to catch your breath before patting his shoulder to put you down.

You take your hand in his, guiding him to your bedroom, pushing open the door to be met with the soft lighting of the moon shining through your open blinds.

Your room was foreign to him, obviously. Accents of pinks and forest green decor scattered across your bed spread and posters. A few pieces of laundry on your floor, your backpack for class on your desk chair and a bulletin board of pictures above it, your room was for sure lived in. He found himself staring at the pictures of you and your friends you had scattered, turning to sit down at the edge of your bed and—woah.

His eyes lit up as they landed on the cat tree in the corner, inspecting it while you turned the lamp on on your bedside table. “You have a cat?” he asks, looking around the room.

You nod, “Yeah, she’s a little scared of new people, mostly guys so just give her a second! Missy? C'mere baby!” you call, hearing a muffled “meooow” from under your bed and a black and red paw swatting from underneath. “Aww there you are, come out and say hi!” you coo, pulling her from underneath and cradling her in your arms like a baby.

Schlatts eyes lit up, awwing as he scratched at the calicos head, taking her from your arms as her head digs against his hand. “She really likes you! And she is a D1 man hater!” you beam, scratching under her chin as he holds her against him with a chuckle. “Nahh, she’s a doll, just like her mom.” he quips, winking at you as your brain malfunctions.

He pretends not to notice, setting Missy down in her cat tree with a kiss to her head. You sit at the edge of your bed taking him in. His long black sleeve shirt and dark wash jeans are really doing it for you, the light stomp of his steel toed boots padding closer as he stands between you.

You look up at him, doe eyes meeting his low ones, whispering out a “Hi..” while you look up at him all pretty, making him offer you a sly smile in return before muttering back a “Hello.”

His knee digs between your legs to part them, hand cupping your neck as he leans down to kiss you again, making you whimper a bit as you lean back onto your bed, his body hovering above you. Soft smacks echo in the room, both of you hungrily nipping and biting each other's lips as your noses press together.

His hand slides down, gripping your waist, holding you in place as he grinds against your hips. You gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth with a low “Mmmf..” His grip tightens as he pulls away, a string of spit connecting you two while your eyes stare into his, full of admiration.

He returns the look with a smug smile, “I really did plan on taking you out before we did all this y'know..” he jokes, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, just get my shorts off.” “Yes ma’am.”

As he starts to unbutton your shorts you peep your kitty in her cat tree, eyes widening before stopping him from going any further. “Wait!” you squeal, standing up and lightly shoving Schlatt to the side, making him grunt and land on the edge of your bed while you make your way to the cat tree to grab Missy.

You hold her up while Schlatt looks at you with a bewildered stare, making you smile sheepishly, “Didn’t want her to see..” you mutter, opening your door and setting her down to leave, which she does, just to go and scratch on your roommates door instead. As you shut the bedroom door you shuffle down your shorts, kicking them across your floor to join your pile of dirty ones.

Schlatt chuckles, making you turn around, “What?” you question with a small chuckle of your own. He shakes his head, “Your panties are cute.” he jokes, making you look down in fear. You totally forgot you were wearing underwear with smiley faces on them.

“Oh..” you mumble, making him laugh a little harder, shaking his head and waving you back over, “C'mere pretty.” he mutters, hands wrapping around your hips to drag you into his lap. You quickly oblige, thighs falling to both his sides as his hands rest on your ass, head tilted up to meet yours and flowing back into your heated kiss from earlier. His hands grip your ass making you moan into his mouth, mewling a bit as he rocks you back and forth.

He flips you back on the bed, bulge in his jeans pressing against your core. You whine, pulling back with a small pout, noticing he’s still fully clothed. “So I get naked and you’re still in..” you look down, “Boots, jeans, and your shirt?” you tease with a smile, watching as his tongue presses to the side of his cheek while he stands up. His hands quickly shuffle with his belt, muttering a “Fuck, hold on.” as he throws it on the floor, chucking his boots off simultaneously.

You can only stare in awe as his pants come next, lost to the sea of lost clothes leaving him in his shirt and boxers. Your thighs clench, the heat between your legs feeling more unbearable every second he’s not touching you. He notices your internal struggle with a smug grin, “Let’s get your shirt off baby.” He grunts, pulling from the hem up and over your head, your tits spilling out your bra from the force.

He stares shamelessly, whispering a small “Fuck.” before demanding for you to take it off, which you scramble to do. He groans at the sight of you, chest exposed and left in your cute panties, it’s a struggle not to just pull them to the side and pound you right then and there but he knew you needed more help first.

Your head tilts with confusion as he starts to get on his knees, gasping when he presses a kiss to the wet spot seeping through your underwear. He lets out a deep sigh, hands gripping your thighs and forcing them to stay apart. He looks up, eyes searching or any look of doubt on your face, which he doesn’t find, your eyes meeting his and hazily nodding for him to continue. He smiles, sinking his face in to pull your panties to the side with his teeth, the cool air from your bedroom hitting your glistening mound, making you hiss.

He buries his face into your heat, wasting no time lapping at your wet cunt while you moan above him, head thrown back onto your soft comforter as your feet curl and legs slightly thrash. He groans into you, palms gripping your thighs to push up your legs, catching a glimpse of your sweet contorted face.

You whine at the loss of his mouth, quieting as he shushes you and spreads your legs back apart. “I need you to put your legs here,” he pats his shoulders, “and lock your legs tight around my head, I don’t want to be able to move. Do you hear me?”

You bat your lashes with a meek nod, but that’s not good enough for him. “Speak. Do you. Hear me? I need to hear you say you want it sweetheart.” “Yes, yes..” you whimper, tightening a bit when he grumbles out a rough, “Good.” before yanking your panties down to your ankles, dropping them near his pants to take home later.

“Yer so pretty like this doll..” he mutters, diving back in to lap at your folds, waiting for you to follow his instructions. You let out a shaken breath, placing one leg on each shoulder and interlocking your thighs around his face, squeezing as tight as you can to keep him landlocked in place.

You taste so good, and god it’s driving him crazy but he needs you to squeeze tighter, but he knows this is your limit. He takes matters into his own hands, squeezing your thighs to lock him in further, letting out a deep groan when he hears your pitch get higher while you moan. His hips rut into the end of your bed at the taste and sound of you, only to growl when he hears you suddenly sound muffled.

He forcefully pulls back, your legs falling from the lack of stability making you gasp, eyes bulging as you stare down at his pissed off expression. “Wh-“

“If I can’t hear you when your legs are covering my ears, you aren’t loud enough.”

You shake your head, “My roommate-“ “I don’t fuckin care about that!” he interrupts, “I need to hear that pretty voice of yours or else I'm not gonna know if you like it.”

Your eyes soften, nodding with a small “Okay..” watching as he sighs and gets back into position. Your voice is low at first, high pitched but still quiet before you see him scowl up at you, silently telling you to be louder. You huff, head tilting back as you decide “fuck it” and let the pleasure take over you, the accidental edging really doing a number on you as you rut on his face while his tongue fucks your hole. He’s trapped between your legs just as he wanted, grunting and groaning at the taste of you coating his tongue while he ruts harder into the end of the bed.

You know you’re getting closer, hands gripping onto the sheets as you grind on his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so slightly but enough to send you over the edge. He loudly laps at your gushing cunt, hands spreading your legs with ease while he looks up at you with a mischievous smile, staring into your eyes as the tip of his tongue glides between your puffy folds and lands on your clit, swirling with a playful look in his eye as you try to push him away weakly with your hand.

“Please..” you mutter, making him chuckle lightly as he presses one more kiss to your pussy before slowly crawling back up and hovering over you. “Wanna taste yourself baby?” he grumbles, watching as you nod slowly and dumb, batting your pretty lashes as his mouth gets closer to yours.

Your eyes shut as he kisses you, huffing quietly as you suck on his tongue making him groan. He feels your hand slowly slides under his shirt causing him to suck in heavily through his nose, reaching behind himself to catch it from going too far. You flinch,“Oh m’sorry-“ “You have nothing to be sorry for.” he comforts softly, lips moving to kiss your neck.

He struggles internally, brain rapidly reminding him not to sink his teeth into your skin, not trying to mark any visible places to avoid your embarrassment at work. Instead, his lips trail to your tits, sucking and nipping on your left while his hand gropes your right. He alternates, leaving a trail of hickeys down the valley of your breasts while gazing hungrily up at you through high lashes, laying his tongue flat against your nipple.

Your sweet gasps and huffs rile him up further, finally deciding you’ve had enough when you stare down at him with your eyes just as hungry as his. He stands back up, peering around the room scratching his head sheepishly, “You got a rubber?”

Your eyes widen for a moment with excitement, nodding and pointing to your bedside table, watching as he hovers over you and presses his bulge against your aching core while he rummages hrough your dresser, wicked grin on his face when he hears your high pitched mewl.

He finally finds one, looking you in the eye as he rips the package open with his sharp teeth, watching your chest rise and fall with labored breaths as you both anticipate what is to come.

He lets out a deep shaky sigh, head falling against your shoulder for a split second making your head turn to look at him confused, “Are you okay?” you whisper gently, hand cupping his nape, nails lightly scratching his hair. He nods into your shoulder, “I’m nervous as shit.” He gripes, causing a loud laugh to shoot out of you while you coo playfully, watching the faux scowl on his face form when he looks at you.

You aww, kissing his nose, “Coulda fooled me..” you mutter, pressing another quick kiss to his lips, “Take your time..”

“Mnn..” he mumbles against your lips, free hand slipping down his boxers while he has you distracted. He grins as you pepper sweet little kisses on his cheeks, turning away to look down between your bodies as he lines up between your legs. You peep down as well, catching a glimpse of how big he truly is, muttering a small “Damn.” making him stifle out a laugh.

“That gonna fit?” “We’re about to see.” he jokes, slowly sinking the tip in making you both let out a deep groan. A trembling whimper escapes you, toes flexing as he slowly pushes deeper with a small shush in your ear, “You’re doing so good, just a bit more, can you take it?” He purrs, nipping your lobe, only receiving a rough grunt from you in response.

He tsks with a slick grin, “Words pretty, use your words.” He teases, pinching your hip slightly making you yelp, “Yes.” you hiss we he captures your lips once more, slowly bottoming out inside of you taking the air out of your lungs.

“Buuuhhh..” you let out while he sucked on his teeth, “Fuuuuck, see baby, shit- knew you could take it.”

He holds still for a moment, knowing if he moved he’d bust immediately. His face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and mouthing at your skin, kissing up your jaw to your lips and resting his forehead against yours.

He takes another beat before whispering, “You ready pretty?”

“Uh-huh.” “Uh-huh,” He mocks, sliding out slowly with a sharp hiss and pressing back in with a deep groan, hands tightly gripping your hips as his mouth hangs open and his brows pull together. “Gonna move again baby okay?”

You start to nod, but you hear the click of his tongue, remembering he wants to hear you say it. “Okay..” you breathe, whimpering when he mutters a gruff “There’s my girl,” before slowly thrusting in and out. You felt insanely dizzy, trying to quiet your pathetic moans when your ears filled with the sounds of your slick and his harsh grunts and low groaning.

His hands roam from your hips to your stomach, feeling the bulge as he begins thrusting all the way in, losing his control a bit as he gets more riled up. Your feet flex, moans airy and high pitched as your eyes remain squeezed shut, which simply won’t do for him.

He takes one hand and brings it to your jaw, holding your face in front of his as he slips a finger in between your pouty lips, “Open those eyes for me pretty, let me look at ya..”

He doesn’t miss the way your teeth grit to hold back from yelling out from the immense pleasure he’s giving you, landing you a slap on the side of your thigh, “Don’t fuckin hold out on me.”

His thumb bullies its way in your mouth, pressing on your tongue and watching you suck, keeping eye contact as you withdraw with a lewd ‘pop,’ throwing your head back with a drawn out moan. You weakly shake your head, catching yourself when you remember Brooke in the opposing room. “C-can’t,” you pant, “My roommate-“

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t fuckin care, let me hear ya.” He mutters, hands pushing up the bend of your legs to press them into your chest for a deeper angle. You can’t help but feel dizzy, throwing out your logical thinking and doing as he asks, gasping as he straightens your legs and holds them with an arm and resting your feet on his shoulder. He keeps you steady, huffing as he plunges into your dripping cunt with a hot kiss to your ankle, a proud grin on his face as you shamelessly moan out his name.

His head falls back, feeling you tighten around him, “Fuck- you look so pretty under me. Tighten up around me one more time like that shit.”

You’re a babbling mess under him, head spinning as if it’s on cloud nine, your body going lax in his grip. You know you can’t hold out much longer, all the while Schlatt’s teeth grit, determined to get you to cum before he does. You whimper about how close you are, hands clutching the sheets beneath you while he chuckles and presses in further, “What did I say baby, don’t hold out on me, come on. Come for me.”

He fucks you through your orgasm, your back arching as you call out for him. He’s not far behind, pressing as deep as possible and grunting loudly as he cums. He holds you there for a moment, basking in the feel of your pulsing core around him while he empties his load.

You both pant as he pulls out with a gruff sigh, lowering your legs and hips back down onto the mattress. He coos as you weakly rub your aching hip, pulling off the extremely full condom with lidded eyes as he stares down at you. He starts to tie it, but your stomach looks too bare.

It’s almost like clockwork, absentmindedly pouring his load onto your stomach and smearing it around with his thumb with a wicked grin on his lips when you mewl at the stickiness.

He falls next to you, hand cupping the side of your face as he asks if you’re okay, allowing you to catch your breath. You nod, sleepy eyes peering at him, “M’fine, are you staying the night?”

He blinks, thinking for a second, “Wasn’t planning on it but, might as well yeah?” He teases, finger lightly tickling under your chin making you giggle and clumsily swat his hand away.

The longer you lay there the ickier you feel, face scrunching whenever you try to roll over and feel his cum drying on your stomach. He makes you direct him to your bathroom, lifting you and carrying you inside so you pee. He sifts through your cabinet for a wash cloth, soaking it in warm water as you watch him from the toilet. He kneels to wipe at your stomach, a bit of his cum still wet to catch on his thumb.

He offers it to your puffy lips jokingly, which you take and lick off with a soft stare, making him groan a bit, grumbling out a “You minx,” before wiping the dried cum off with the wet towel.

When he finishes cleaning you up you hobble back to the bedroom in search of your phone, legs wobbling and causing him to chuckle as you resembled a baby deer.

Your phone lights up under the pile of discarded clothes, squinting when the brightness blinds you. You’re greeted with a string of texts, all from your roommate.

Bookie 🍓:“WHO IS DOING THIS TO YOU???”

Bookie 🍓:“A MAN IS DOING THIS?”

Bookie 🍓:“IS IT SCHLATT?? -CHARLIE”

Bookie 🍓:“EWEWEWEW YUCKKK (congrats) YUCKKKK”

Bookie 🍓: “Heard you say you want to be quiet because I’m here, thanks for thinking of me when bro is laying pipe ❤️”

Your face contorts, full of horror and slight amusement as you quickly type back about a million apologies for the noise and a promise to tell her all about it tomorrow.

Schlatt watches with confusion as his arm hangs sleepily above his head, watching you knock on the shared wall three times and receiving three back from the opposing side.

“What’s that all about?” he mutters, watching you turn back to look at him with a shy expression. “Just sayin sorry..” you mumble, shushing him as he cackles loudly, wiping a fake tear and opening his arms telling you to “Cmere.”

You crawl over to him, resting on top of him while he pulls the blanket to cover both your bodies. He lazily strokes your back, lightly pecking at your shoulder as you hum against his chest.

The two of you lay in silence for a bit, nuzzled in each other's warmth even when he turned you both to the side. He sighs deeply, making you sleepily look up at him with a confused stare. He shakes his head, “Gotta be up at 6 to be back at the store.” he grunts, lightly chuckling when you grimace with a small “Eugh.”

“Should probably get some sleep then yeah?” You joke as his thumbs stroke your hips, softly nodding before offering you one last kiss against your lips before the two of you fall asleep in each other's hold, faces pressed into each other's necks and breathing in your scents.

The next morning his alarm blares, causing you to flinch while he lazily reaches over to silence it. He grunts out a “Mornin’,” kissing your forehead. You hum sleepily, whining as he shuffles unwillingly out of your grasp with a light shush. He yawns and stretches as he stands, eyes tired as he tries to find his discarded clothes on the ground, muttering a low “Fuck!” when he steps on one of Missys toys, making you giggle.

“You gotta get this shit under control.” he glares, scoffing when you shrug with a teasing smile. He shakes his head as he dresses, feeling your eyes on him the entire time. “So about that date,” he starts, forcing his boots on, “There’s this diner I like downtown,” he looks at you over his shoulder, “You okay with breakfast for dinner?”

You smile sweetly with a nod, “That sounds perfect.”

He beams at you, standing and walking over to your side of the bed, leaning down to kiss your lips and stroking your cheek with his hand. “Good, I’ll grab ya around 8.”

You nod, kissing his palm as he slides it away from your face. He grabs his keys and wallet from your bedside table, walking to your bedroom door, “Get some more rest sweetheart, I’ll see ya tonight.” He reaches down to grab your panties from the night before, pocketing them with a sly grin.

“Have a good shift!” you mumble rolling your eyes playfully, sleepily waving goodbye with a tired smile which he returns, shutting your door behind him. There he met with Charlie, also saying bye to your roommate.

The two stare at each other for a moment, Charlie with a stupid shit eating grin and Schlatt with an expressionless stare.

He sighs as Charlie follows behind him, ignoring his snide comments about the two of you as they head out the door.

“Sooo, you and y/n huh?” he teases as he follows Schlatt down the stairs. Schlatt scoffs, “Bring it up at work and you’re dead.” He threatens, jaw tightening.

Charlie raises his hands in defense, “Heard!” he laughs, splitting ways on the way to his car as Schlatt heads to his truck.

Schlatt turns back before Charlie gets into his car, calling out for him, “But between us,”

He turns to look back at Schlatt, seeing the pleased smile on his face, “I like her a lot.”

Charlie smiles back, arms crossing as his head tilts, “You don’t say?”

[broodybuck]

Title: The Boy Next Door

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, childhood friends, neighbors, pining, confessions, friends to lovers, first crush

Summary: Growing up, you always had a crush on the boy next door. Now, twelve years later, you might unexpectedly get your chance with Bucky Barnes.

[ao3 link]

Your parents just handed over the house you grew up in. It was that easy, now it's yours.

They want to be those typical, retired parents and move to Florida — boring! And since you've been renting a studio in Brooklyn for the past four years, you jumped at the chance to have a three-bedroom house in upstate New York. It's already paid off and your parents are wealthy enough, they don't need the earnings for their Florida condo.

You've only been back to your childhood home for holidays in the past few years. Everything has stayed the same, your parents were actually one of the few who didn't turn their daughter's bedroom into a home office or gym. They left the pink wallpaper, the twin bed with the floral comforter, and the tower of stuffed animals on the dresser.

When you arrive with your two suitcases and some extra cash in your pocket since you sold all your studio furniture, you stare up at the house. You smile from the warm memories before you glance over at the house next door.

An older boy named James lived there, but he always went by Bucky. Bucky Barnes is the name that lived in your diary for most of your adolescence. He was four years older than you which meant you had an embarrassing crush on him since you were twelve. He was nice, he always teased you when you saw each other, he even acknowledged your existence for the one year you were both in high school together — you as a freshman and him a senior.

That did wonders for your reputation, you became pretty popular even after he graduated. Still, you would've thrown away all the friends and parties for just one night with Bucky if that was a possibility.

You're not sure you ever got over your crush, more just accepted that it was never going to happen and moved on with your life. It was easy once he went away from college and three years later so did you. You never ran into him again even when you were visiting home for the holidays. It seems the Barnes' residence spent their holidays elsewhere as the house was always dark on those occasions.

Currently, it's two in the afternoon and the sun is beating down so strongly, you start to take off your jean jacket. You're sliding your arms out of the sleeves when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Hey, y/n."

Your arms flap uncoordinatedly, still half in the jacket, pausing in an awkward position as you turn to see your childhood crush standing a few feet away from you. Bucky Barnes, looking sexier than ever.

"Oh, hi,” you splutter.

This man still has the ability to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You do some quick mental math and realize if you’re 27 now then he must be 31. And why do men age so spectacularly? He has somehow managed to become even more attractive in the last twelve years.

"What're you doing here?" you ask as you finally free your arms from the jacket.

"I'm house-sitting," Bucky explains. "What're you doing here?"

"Um, well, the house is sorta mine now."

"Parents gave you the whole thing?"

"Yep, the whole thing," you nod.

"Wow, congrats on the house," Bucky says.

"Thank you," you reply and you both stare at each other in a beat of silence.

"Um actually, since you're around, do you think I could pay you for some manual labor?" you ask suddenly.

"What kind?" Bucky grins fast. It truly takes your breath away, jesus this man should not be allowed to smile.

"I have a dumpster coming tomorrow morning," you explain. "I'm getting rid of my childhood bedroom furniture."

"Yeah, I can help."

"That would be so great, I'll pay you—"

"Don't sweat it. Just treat me to dinner sometime," Bucky shrugs, and your stomach drops. What in the world does he mean by that... like a dinner date?

"Oh, dinner... yeah, okay. You got it," you play it cool and awkward.

He smiles at you, amused.

"Anyway..." you mumble unsure how to retract yourself from this conversation, unsure if you even want to.

"You really grew up, huh?" Bucky says, and he scans you up and down.

"I guess so," you shrug, your face burning. "You too."

"Yeah, guess we haven't seen each other in..."

He appears to be trying to calculate the years but you unabashedly jump in with an exact answer.

"Twelve years."

"Has it been that long?" he asks.

"I... think so," you feign uncertainty.

"So, what time do you need me tomorrow?" he asks.

"Oh, anytime that works for you."

"How about noon?"

"Perfect."

Asking for Bucky's help might've been the worst idea you ever had. When he comes over, he's wearing a cotton-white t-shirt and jeans. His hair is damp and slicked back from a shower. He looks so comfy, it makes you imagine waking up with him. You yearn to know how warm his skin feels fresh from the steam.

You ignore your inappropriate desires and lead him up the stairs to your old room. It's then you realize how many years of your life you desperately wanted to show him your room. Have your crush see these walls, sit on your bed, and make out with you next to your teddy bear.

It's embarrassing but probably every teenage girl wanted the same thing. Unfortunately, the thought slips out of you with a laugh.

"I always wanted to show you my room."

You freeze in the doorway, realizing what you've just said out loud.

"What?" Bucky asks from behind you.

"When I was younger, I meant. I didn't mean... I don't know why I said that, actually."

You turn around and see the look of amused confusion on his face, a small smirk inching from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck it. I had a major crush on you," you confess.

Bucky's eyebrows lift high.

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"I thought you were just awkward with everyone," he shrugs.

"Great, so you thought I was a total loser," you sigh.

"No..." he says quickly but takes a second to elaborate. "If it helps, I didn't think about you that way 'cause you were too young for me."

"Of course, you never thought about me," you brush off, trying not to let your younger self die too much inside.

You step into the room to create any amount of space from this conversation. But you instantly remember the countless hours you spent in here thinking about him. Staring out the window at his family's house hoping the catch a glimpse of him.

"Hey," Bucky says. His hand gently touches your shoulder.

You turn around to meet his eyes which oddly look darker, more intense now.

"I could see myself thinking about you now," he admits low.

You blink, your mouth is suddenly too dry to respond.

"I mean... look at you," he says so fondly that your heart could burst. And he looks you over again, his pupils dilating even more.

Is this really happening, you think.

His right hand hasn't moved from your shoulder. Boldly, you place a hand on his left forearm and you're right, his skin is still warm from the shower.

You breathe in sharply because just touching him, just standing this close for this long is something you were never lucky enough to get back then.

His eyes are still locked with yours and it's honestly so intense you can't look away even as you see him dip his head, lowering slowly to your lips. He waits, an inch from them, to see if this is okay. Of course, it's fucking okay.

You surge the last inch forward and kiss him harder than you anticipate. He stumbles a step back, in consequence grabbing onto your waist, and pushing forward. He walks you back toward the twin bed up against the wall.

When you fall back onto the mattress, it creaks from old age, but you couldn't care less. Because Bucky Barnes, your childhood crush, the extremely attractive neighbor next door, is crawling over you. And it's glorious, it's enough to make you arch up into him and moan.

He lets out a breathy laugh and then kisses you, his knee slides between your legs and presses down. You moan even louder. You're completely shameless, you are, but this is Bucky Barnes. You're not staying quiet for a second of this.

His mouth moves to your ear and he's kissing down your neck while his fingers slip under your shirt, rolling it up.

Your shirt is off and then you're pants are coming off too. You want to get him out of his clothes but his mouth finds the front of your panties and he's teasing you, mouthing at the fabric.

"Please," you whine.

He grins against your underwear and then slides the thin fabric off and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

When he touches you, he's not gentle. He goes right in and rubs your clit roughly but you're so turned on that it's like a jolt of electricity to your body, you leap up from the mattress.

He licks two fingers then and sinks them right inside you. Oh god, it's so easy because you're so wet.

"Fuck," he mutters, realizing this. He stares down, watching his fingers work inside you. Your skin boils endlessly.

He doesn't need to spend much time working you open and he must know that because it's not long before he pulls his fingers out and hurriedly works the button of his jeans open. He pulls open the fly and pushes them down when you sit up to get his shirt. You're not letting this happen without seeing that gorgeous chest again.

You remember so many summer nights when you got a glimpse of Bucky shirtless. Running through the sprinkles or coming home from a neighbor's pool. He was stunning, even back then, but now... oh lord, now he's filled out. He has a firm, thick chest and a set of perfect abs lining his torso. Because of course, he has a six-pack, you always fall for the most unattainable guys.

But somehow you have him, right here, in your very old, tiny twin bed.

You want to lick a long strip from his navel up to his neck but he doesn't give you the chance. Once his clothes are off, he pulls your legs over his waist and pushes inside you so fast you barely have time to prepare. You cling to him with your whole body, legs and arms. And you moan low.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he husks.

You tighten your hold around his neck, he looks up at you and kisses you. You're basically on his lap so start rolling your hips slowly, getting used to how big he feels inside you.

You push him back until he lies down. And then you're riding him. You're riding Bucky Barnes in your childhood bedroom on top of your pink comforter with yellow flowers.

This is your teenage dream come true and that realization plows through you, making you ride him even harder, snapping your hips as fast as you can over his cock. And it's enough that you get a moan out of him, a low gravelly groan that you immediately fawn over.

His fingertips dig into your skin as you keep riding him fast and hard. You know you're nearing the edge, your head falls with a whimper, you grip his shoulders tighter.

"Fuck, y/n. Come for me," he breathes.

And you lose all control the moment you hear that. Fuck, you come so hard.

"Oohhh, fuckkk," you wail and stop moving to let the orgasm crash through you.

Then his hands lift your ass, just enough so he can raise his hips and start fucking into you.

"Jesus," you hiss and scramble to hold onto him again.

He keeps fucking you, gaining speed and making your eyes roll back from the fact that your orgasm can't wane with his cock repeatedly slamming right into you.

He groans, squeezing the flesh on your ass now and you can tell he's close.

He curses under his breath and then he's coming and still fucking you so hard your vision's blurring.

When he finally slows down, he blows out a long breath. He releases his grip on your ass and closes his eyes, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm.

You can feel his cock twitch one last time inside you. You carefully try to pull off him. He winces as you do, still sensitive. You lean down and kiss him, you can't help yourself.

He smiles when you break to let him catch his breath. Okay, he's totally allowed to smile when he's naked in your bed, you decide. You admire the sight for as long as he lets you.

"Well, fuck," he laughs.

"Yeah, fuck," you agree, smiling. "Not sure if I should thank you for your help yet."

He laughs. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Oh, you've done plenty," you tease and plant another kiss on his lips.

He smirks at you and runs his hands up your sides, gentle and light.

"I'll help you move the furniture," he says. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Yeah, I need a few too," you say. "At least this bed is going out with a bang."

And you both laugh. Then you look at him and already remember what he said to you yesterday. You remember almost every word he's ever uttered to you.

"So, about that dinner," you say.

He smiles wide and just kisses you.

[msschemmenti]

monday morning guest

emily prentiss x reader

summary: emily gets a surprise visitor in the bullpen on monday morning.

a/n: crack idea i got driving past my neighbors house.

monday morning— bright and early. the bau team was finally back from a two week stent of back to back cases and emily was finally starting to settle into her role as unit chief. she was no hotch, but she was relying pretty heavily on her interpol experience and the bond the team had built over the years. with such a close knit team, it was always very easy to spot new comers in the office.

so when a woman breezed through the glass doors of the bullpen, emily wasn’t surprised to catch garcia’s bright pink cardigan hurrying after her to intercept the mystery woman. what she was surprised to see was a face she knew all too well.

y/n y/ln. in dc. in her bullpen? what alternate universe could she possibly have walked into this morning. she turned hastily to the mirror she kept in her office and started fluffing her hair quickly. she hadn’t seen y/n since her college graduation and it’s safe to say she looks very different now. not bad per say but older. feeling satisfied with her hair she rifled through her purse for some lipstick and anything to make her not look like it was monday morning.

down in the bullpen, y/n smiled at the brightly colored woman she’d just been stopped by. she scanned the bullpen over her shoulder hoping to catch sight of emily. after hearing the older woman had returned [allegedly from the dead], she hoped on the opportunity to pay her a visit while she was in town.

“good morning beautiful stranger. welcome to the bau, my name is penelope. can i help you with something?” the woman bounced in anticipation.

“hello, penelope. i’m actually looking for someone. your new unit chief actually.” y/n spoke as she shuffled the folder in her hand to shake penelope’s hand.

“emily? emily prentiss? do you have a crime case you’d like assistance on?” garcia asked.

“yes and no. she and i have some business to take care of, now that she’s returned stateside.” y/n smiled waving the folder in front of garcia.

“oh? business to take care of…” garcia repeated sweeping her eyes from the woman in front of her and emily’s office.

“mmhm. do you think she’s available for a little chat?” y/n asked nodding in amusement at the quirky woman.

“well i would think so— who should i say is here?”

“oh where are my manners, i’m y/n. she should remember me.” y/n smiled as garcia nodded her understanding before heading up the stairs to emily’s office.

“ma’am,” garcia spoke knocking on the open door of emily’s office.

“please stop calling me ma’am.” emily sighed wearily.

“sorry, im just nervous. there’s a really pretty woman down there saying she’s here to see you. and that you’ve got official business to take care of. well i don’t think she said official but she definitely said business. and she waved a folder in front of me. are you being sued or something?” garcia rambled.

emily eyed the tech analyst as she rambled and as she took a breath she held her hand up to stop her before she could start again. “y/n y/ln, right?”

“y/n— yes. i don’t know her last name but she said you should remember her. do you want me to go get her?”

“no, no. i’ll come down myself.” emily rose from the desk, giving herself another once over in the mirror before moving toward garcia and the door.

“wait, what was that?” garcia asked curiously.

“what— what was what? what are you talking about?” emily asked obliviously.

“did you just check yourself out? are you primping yourself? did you reapply your lipstick? oh this just got so much more interesting. who is this woman?” garcia jumped.

“i-what no to all of that,” emily lied as her cheeks heated. “and she’s just a friend from my college days.”

“yeah but what kind of friend? i don’t primp in my office when my college friends come to see me.”

emily peeked around the door frame into the bullpen and caught sight of y/n looking right back at her. the woman sent a flirty wave up toward the office and laughed softly as she watched emily’s cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“not now garcia.” emily mumbled as she straightened her clothes out one more time before descending the stairs to meet y/n. “y/n, what a surprise. what’s it been 10 years?”

“far more than that, em. you look good.” y/n smirked.

“wow, obviously not as good as you. garcia said you came on business?” emily replied trying and failing to tame the blush she’d been sporting since she headed down to the bullpen.

“well yes. and may i just say, you are one hard woman to track down.” y/n shook her head with a laugh.

“oh don’t i know it!” garcia piped in from her placed leaned against jj’s desk. at the intrusion, emily sent a glare her way. penelope grimaced and turned to face jj in fear.

“you’ve been looking for me?” emily asked curiously.

“i have for quite a while actually,” y/n smiled softly before waving the folder in emily’s direction. “we’re still married. and have been for about 20 years now. and let me just say, you’ve got a hell of a lot of anniversary gifts to make up for babe.”

“married?!” garcia exclaimed before slapping her hand over her mouth.

emily’s eyes widened exponentially as she caught all of the team’s eyes on her. the shock was evident on everyone’s face and she honestly couldn’t wash it off her own face.

“how about we go to my office and talk about this?” emily recovered, grabbing the folder and nodding toward the office upstairs.

“of course.” y/n nodded and followed emily into the office.

emily pointedly closed the door on prying eyes and turned to face y/n, “now that you’ve successfully fueled the office gossip fire for at least the next month. married for 20 years? is this about the netherlands? didn’t we get that annulled after we got back?”

“i thought so too. until i was a few weeks out from my wedding and they let us know that i was still in fact married according to netherlandian law.” y/n shrugged collapsing onto the couch.

“well i don’t think they call it netherlandian law,” emily paused catching the first part of what y/n said. “oh! you’re engaged. and i’m keeping you from getting married. i can try to get garcia to pull some strings online to help get the divorce finalized faster. or i can call someone over at interpol, im sure they can do something.”

y/n chuckled affectionately, “well while i appreciate the fact that you’d abuse your access to government resources for my sake. that ship has long sailed. the fact i was still married was the least of our problems. but i found that out and tried to track you down and that’s when your mother, still as lovely as i remember, let me know you had died.” y/n deadpanned, leveling emily with a look she knew very well.

“yeah, that was a whole thing.” emily grimaced.

“uh huh, im sure it was. after that, i just went with the whole widowed thing for a bit. until i heard again from your mother, so lovely, that you were alive again.”

“i didn’t realize you and my mother spoke so frequently.” emily mumbled taking a seat on the couch as well.

“you just keep giving us reasons to gab. anyways, i was in the states and figured id try to catch you after all these years. i brought the papers and figured you could sign them.”

“of course. i wouldn’t want to keep you from another marriage.” emily nodded hastily grabbing a pen to sign off.

“ah i figured you’d have run into the issue before me.”

emily dotted her and slid the folder back to y/n, “no, no one worth marrying. well besides you apparently.”

y/n smiled and giggled, “had i been aware, i would’ve been a far better wife to you but at least i didn’t widow you.”

“oh come on! what do you want me to say? had i known we were still married, i wouldn’t have died?” emily laugh incredulously.

“you had a wife to come home to, it could’ve been motivation.”

emily’s smile was free and contagious, “god you haven’t changed a bit.”

“not much sweet, but i can tell you have. lot of responsibility you got here agent.” y/n smiled sadly. “i hope you’re taking care of yourself. and your team.” there was a beat of admiration that washed over y/n’s face before she sighed and gathered the papers. “listen i’ll get out of your hair. thanks for divorcing me. always a pleasure seeing you.” y/n stood from the couch, emily following.

“of course, are you headed back right away?” emily asked hopefully.

“no i’m in the states for a bit for work, why?” y/n asked.

“oh i was just curious. figured maybe i could make up for this 20 anniversary dinners i missed.”

y/n grinned, “agent prentiss, are you asking me on a date?”

“i think i might be asking you on at least 20, if you want to of course.”

y/n walked over to emily’s desk and grabbed a pen and sticky note. scribbling something down and tucked the post it in emily’s blazer pocket with a smirk. “you better get planning then.” y/n threw a wink over her shoulder and left the office with a smile. all the agents scattered to make it seem like they weren’t intently trying to figure out what was going on behind the closed door. y/n stopped at garcia and smiled sweetly, “thank you penelope. have a good day everyone.”

everyone mumbled their replies and watched as emily’s alleged wife exit the bullpen. as soon as the elevators closed they all hurried up the stairs to emily’s open door.

“you’re married?!” garcia was the first to exclaim and emily sighed in exasperation. she eyed her chosen family and knew she wasn’t getting out of answering this. at all.

[katebishopsbaefy]

Shoot Me

billie eilish x reader

𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: you and billie both get your periods at the same time and are the definition of miserable

word count: 1219

You roll over with a groan, pressing your face back into your girlfriend’s side, clutching your stomach. You feel her arms wrap around you. She obviously wanted to feel you as much as you wanted to feel her.

You and Billie had been unfortunate enough to get your periods at the same time, so now here you lay, sprawled on your bed, clutching your stomachs, groaning occasionally. Somehow you’d managed to not only lose track of your heating pads, but you’d also completely run out of pain relief medication, and neither of you felt well enough to drive to the store to get some.

Billie gently kisses your forehead when you press into her. She grunts as she reaches one arm over to the nightstand to check her phone, muttering out a low “shit” upon seeing the many texts and missed calls from her brother, who she was supposed to meet up with today.

You rub your eye and look up at her. “What’s wrong?” you mumble.

She swings her arm back over to hug you tighter, deciding to deal with Finneas later. “Nothing,” she whispers, starting to rub your back. You hum at the touch. “How’re you feeling?”

You grumble out something about feeling like shit, but it comes out muffled due to your face pressing further into her. Your hand finds its way underneath her loose t-shirt in search of more comfort.

This time, she hums at your touch. The weight of you laying on top of her serves as a weighted blanket, and although it’s comfortable, it doesn’t do much for her cramps. “This sucks,” she states. You hum in agreement.

Your short conversation is interrupted by multiple aggressive dings from her phone. She groans again and reaches back over, checking the new texts from her brother.

“Who’s that?” you ask.

She lets out a huff. “Finneas,” she mumbles, “I forgot I was s’pposed to meet up with him today.”

You whine and grip her tighter in response. “Mmm, don’t leave me.”

“I don’t think I could go anywhere even if I wanted to,” she says, giggling quietly at you.

She hadn’t realized that she forgot to respond to him yet again, getting distracted by you, until the sudden alarm of her ringtone and buzzing of her phone forces her to finally respond. You both jump at the sound before she answers. You can hear a faint “hello???” from the other end.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you,” Billie says, exhaustion lacing her voice. “I’ve been asleep all day, me and y/n have the worst cramps ever.” She shifts a little and waits for Finneas to respond. “Actually yeah, that would be super helpful if you have time.” Another pause. “Can I send you a list?” Short pause. “Okay, great, see you later.”

The loss of her warmth makes you groan as she flips you off of her to sit up. “What’d he say?” you ask.

“He said he has some time, so he’s gonna pick some stuff up for us,” she responds. Taking your shared blanket with her, she gets out of bed. You groan for probably the 500th time, but she ignores you and grabs your arm, effectively dragging you out of bed too. “Come on, we’re gonna go sit on the couch.”

“Just shoot me instead,” you mumble. You clutch your pillow to your stomach and trudge your way down the hall with her to the living room. 

She laughs at your remark. “At least we get more time to hang out,” she says, gently bumping her hip with yours. You smile at her and bump her back.

It feels like an hour has passed by the time you make it to the couch. You flop down, immediately leaning into Billie’s side, and you feel her do the same. She sits up for a moment to wrap you in the blanket again before snuggling back into you. “Wanna watch something?” she asks, to which you shrug, and she flicks on a random channel.

You completely lose track of time sitting with her. You have no idea what show’s playing, being too distracted by her hands, which you had taken into your lap. Fingers laced together, palms pressed, her warm hands warming up your cold ones. You’re so spaced out playing with her fingers that you don’t realize you’re starting to fall asleep until she giggles at you.

“Sleepy?” she asks. You look up at her, noticing her eyes starting to droop as well.

“No,” you whisper, reaching a hand up point at her jokingly, “are you?” She shakes her head.

At some point, you had both begun to shift around, so uncomfortable from your cramps. When Finneas arrives at your place, he finds you passed out, sprawled on one side of the couch, gripping your pillow. Billie hogs the blanket on the other side, and your heads meet in the corner. He smiles and snaps a quick picture to send to you later. 

He quietly makes his way over to your kitchen, careful not to make too much noise with his bags. Ice cream, chocolate, and other comfort foods are unloaded into the fridge. Despite how quiet he tries to be, the soft rustling is enough to wake Billie, who quickly sits up and pads over to him, dragging her blanket behind her. “Hey, you don’t have to do that,” she says quietly.

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Go sit back down.”

“But I feel bad,” she mutters. She plops down onto a seat at the kitchen island, resting her head on her arms.

Finneas slides her a container of pain medication over the table, which she gratefully accepts, downing a couple of pills. “If you wanna do something…” he says, rifling through the bags, “go pop these in the microwave for a minute.” He pulls out two stuffed animals, unzipping them from the back to take out the pad to be heated up. Billie audibly sighs at the sight.

“Oh my God, you’re literally a life saver,” she breathes. After heating them up, she makes her way back over to the couch, where you’re still sound asleep.

“Y/n,” she whispers, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you up. Your eyes flutter open and you smile at her. “Hi, my love. I’ll trade you,” she says, referring to the pillow you’re still clutching. You gratefully switch with her, pulling the stuffed toy to your stomach and letting out a breath at the relief it provided. “Better?” she asks, kissing your forehead softly as your eyes close again.

You hum. “Thank you,” you say to her, and, louder this time, “thanks, Finneas.”

He and Billie talk for a little longer, deciding to make up the work they were supposed to do another day, and she thanks him excessively, to which he shrugs every time. Then he leaves, leaving the two of you alone again.

As she sits back down, she pulls your head into her lap. Her hand in your hair, yours on her back underneath her shirt. A few short minutes later, your fingers stop tracing patterns into her skin, and she knows you’d fallen back to sleep. She scoots around, getting more comfortable before falling asleep too.

No matter how shitty you felt, she always made you feel better.

[abiatackerman]

Sweet Banters

⚔️ Levi Ackerman X Female Scout (medic) Reader ⚔️

Canon universe! Comedy! Flirting! Fluff! 1.1K words!

Tags: @laevieee @spouseofleviackerman @levisbrat25 @itsnathateasy @violentvaleska @anti-cupid @meowmewow7 @mikabella7

If you wanna be tagged let me know ✨Masterlist✨

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Levi walks into the medical room, with a clearly pissed expression on his face. The soldiers who he passes by look at him worriedly since it's rare he gets angry or pissed. But they don't give it too much thought since it isn't uncommon for him to visit infirmary as he gets hurt often and comes here for checkup regularly. But today, he is here for a different reason…

He pauses in the doorway, watching you work quietly, then enters without knocking.

"You know that's bad for your health...."

His voice is stern as usual as he finally speaks.

"Huh?"

You say as you look at him with confusion and suddenly remember that you skipped your meals due to the pressure of work.

"Oh that? Haha didn't think you'd know. Don't worry I'm used to it."

Levi's eyes darken at your response and crossing his arms over his chest he slowly approaches you.

"Used to it?! Being a doctor, you should realize you have to take care of yourself first. What the hell are you putting yourself to?"

He demanded, tone sharp.

"Wow wow.... Stop... Don't be a mom."

You chuckle at his sweet demands.

"Are you angry? Sorry, I didn't mean to make you angry. But I had a lot of work to do..."

Levi's already darkened expression darkens even further. He steps closer to you before he speaks again.

"Damn right I'm angry. I'm worried and annoyed you'd prioritize others above yourself even when you know you'll be no use to us if you get sick."

He growls, grabbing your chin, tilting your head up until both of your eyes meet.

"Why don't you care about your own wellbeing? Stop being an annoying brat, women!"

You chuckle at his unusual behaviour and grip his wrist which is gripping your chin. You speak in a sweet innocent tone that makes Levi more pissed.

"Careful captain, I might think you like me."

Levi scowls, his hand moves from your chin to your shoulder. His eyes are narrowed.

"Careful, brat! Wouldn't be wise to tease me right now."

He warns, his voice is low and sharp. He can almost feel his patience thinning.

"I know how to calm you down."

Levi's eyes narrow in disbelief at your words. ‘Calm him down?’ He wanted to scoof but he decided to know what you have on your sleeves since he's feeling curious. He gives you his usual stoic look.

"How exactly are you going to ‘calm me down’?"

He asks, there's a bit of curiosity in his tone.

You smile and bow as you take his wrist gently and kiss it's back.

Levi just froze.

"Forgive me princess, sorry I skipped meals. It's just a natural thing for me."

You speak in a manly tone, trying to suppress your laughter.

Levi still can't believe you just called him 'PRINCESS?!' No one ever did this before so he doesn't know how he should act.

But it's sure as hell he's feeling insulted.

"What the fuck was that?"

He muttered, eyes narrowing as the corner of his mouth twitched. He removes his hand from your grip and you can imagine his veins are jumping due to how pissed he actually is.

"You know what, captain? I believe I'm the only one in this world who has the audacity to tease you. So you better be careful and mind your own business if you don't wanna be pissed."

You say, laughing as you wink and press a kiss on his cheek and move away.

Levi freezes again, his whole body tensed as he feels the kiss. His pale cheeks flushes a little and he lifts his hand slowly, his fingers gently touching the spot where your lips had just been.

'When did she get so damn bold?!' he asks himself. He knows it's practically his own fault though... For behaving more gently and less coldly when it comes to you.... You've become more bold....

But what can he do? That damn cute face of yours.... That innocent smile... He just can't be rude facing this damn beautiful woman.

"The hell…"

He mutters, his heart pounding in his chest.

"What? Don't tell me you've never been kissed on the cheeks before."

You laugh as you sit on your chair making Levi glare at you. He does that to hide his shyness. As his cheeks flush a bit more, he quickly averts his eyes in a poor attempt to hide it. Damn it, why are you so bold? He suddenly feels like he is an inexperienced teenager again, nervous and flustered under his crush's teasing.

He shakes the thoughts, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to regain his composure.

"Well it's damn sure not something that happens often… Unlike useless you the female soldiers have much to do other than kissing my cheek."

He mutters, avoiding eye contact with you.

"I bet a lot of them want to kiss you like me, in my free time. But since they're cowards, they fear you. They should not... You're just a Pookie who deserves kisses. Our cute adorable princess."

Levi just goes stiff once again. Your words, coupled with the sweet tone, has something stirring in his chest.

He wants to snap at you again. Tell you to stop. But damn… That would mean telling you to stop calling him all these useless, embarrassing, lame, cute, affectionate names. And honestly, he can’t deny that they felt… Good. It feels nice to hear you call him those things.

He lets out an irritated huff as he pushes a hand through his hair.

"If you're gonna skip your meal next time.... I swear I'll drag your ass to the mass hall myself and will feed you in the most humiliating way possible in front of the brats. So you better not skip you meals again."

Before you can say anything he walk out of the door, shutting it behind him. A smile creeps up on his face.

He wanted to argue more with you... Maybe wanted you to flirt with him a bit more too.... But he has a lot of paperworks to do.

Sighing, he walks to his office, cursing Erwin for ruining his day with the shitty work.........

[munsonsmixtapes]

If you’re taking requests I would love a fluffy fic between Logan and a usually sunshine! Reader with mutant powers similar to Charles (telepathic). Specifically, one where the usual gang decide to go to a rowdy club to let off steam after a mission. Usually the reader loves team bonding but due to the music, all the thoughts jumping out of the drunk crowd, and her own drinking, she gets super overstimulated and essentially shuts down. Maybe Logan sees her off on her own and trying to manage to get over her dizzy spell while some guy is bothering her and decides to step in and escort her out for a breather and a walk. ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡. Regardless if you pick this up, I hope you’re having a great week and I look forward to whatever you post next!

Thank you so much! I hope you're having a great week as well!

cw: mention of alcohol, reader gets anxious

The club was crowded when you entered it. You were all looking forward to letting off steam after your mission and you just liked to spend time with the team, Logan especially. Even though he never would have admitted it, he had a soft spot for you. You were the newest addition to the group and he just felt the need to protect you. You hadn't gotten full control of your powers yet and he wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong.

You made a beeline fore the bar and ordered your usual drink before sitting down on one of the stools, making conversation with everyone around you, even making them laugh with whatever you were talking about. That was one thing that Logan admired about you, that you were always able to make conversation with anyone you came across, which was not something he could do even if he wanted to. He didn't have your charisma or that bright, bubbly personality that he adored so much.

Once he saw that you were okay, he moved further back into the club, but decided to sit somewhere he could still see you. He didn't like drinking when he was doing things like that. He wanted to be one hundred percent alert so he had no problem volunteering to be the designated driver even though his mouth watered anytime he saw someone drinking one of his go-to drinks.

You sipped on your drink as you made conversation with the man next to you. You really hoped that he wasn't going to make a move, though. That wasn't something you were looking for and people often took your niceness for flirting which made the whole thing awkward.

I wonder how long it will be before I can take her home

Your eyebrows furrowed as the thought that definitely wasn't yours and you realized you were reading the mind of the man who was sitting next to you involuntarily. That had only happened when you were overwhelmed or if you had gotten a few drinks in you so you tried to not go overboard because of that.

And all of a sudden, so many thoughts that weren't yours were flooding your brain, making it ache. And between that and the loud music and the alcohol in your system, you were suddenly feeling overstimulated.

You set your drink down on the bar and clutched yor head with both hands, feeling it pounding, almost as if was going to explode. You didn't know what to do, but what you did know was that you needed to get out of there, and fast.

Logan watched everything unfold from his seat, watching you holding onto your head, seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks even from there. And before he could stop himself, he was making a beeline for you, scooping you into his arms before ushering you out of the building.

He was carrying you by the time you got to the door, knowing that you didn't have it in yourself to walk. And he just wanted to get you out of the madness as quick as possible. He had never seen you like that before and hated the feeling he got in his chest watching you struggle like that.

Logan got you out of the club in record speed and set you down, pulling you to his chest, hoping that getting you out of there was actually helpful to your situation. And it was. As soon as you got out into the open air, the voices fled, the pressure in your head slowly dissipating.

He pulled you to his chest as you cried, stroking your hair while his other hand rested on his back. You held onto him so tightly, convinced that if you didn't, he would just disappear. But he wouldn't. Logan would never leave you and he had told you that numerous times when he helped clean up your injuries after a mission.

"You're okay," he murmured into your hair. "I'm here. Just listen to my heart, okay?"

Logan had to admit that he was never good at comforting people, but with you, it was like second nature. He was able to do it so easily, always knowing exactly what you wanted or needed to hear. And he had gotten so good at it that he noticed you seeking him out for advice or help when you needed as opposed to going to the others.

You pulled away to look at him once you had calmed down and he reached up to wipe your tears away, trying to make sure that you were doing okay before leading you to where he parked his car.

"I have some ice cream in my freezer with your name on it," he said as he opened the passenger door for you.

"You know me so well," you smiled as you got into the car. And he did. He knew you better than you knew yourself and you were grateful for that. Someone needed to look out for you and you were just glad that it was always Logan.

[i-love-ptv]

You Know Me..𐙚⭑

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Based on the prompt: “no, i’m not going to give you a bite because i know you’re not going to like it. then you’re going to ask me how the hell i like it, and i don’t want to listen to that right now.”

Wc: 915

No warnings! Just fluff tbh! :]

An: This is a random blurb I made today at 6am lololol

buttttt NEW CHARACTER UNLOCKED!!! It’s fall, and i’m missing stranger things rn 😣

ALSO!! I don’t know who made the prompt, since I got it from Pinterest, but if y’all know, tell me!!

Not proofread, i’m tired

feedback is ALWAYS appreciated mls <333

You truly think that you’re being discreet. Taking subtle glances at your boyfriend, and more specifically, what he’s eating.

Steve’s mom has this special tuna casserole recipe, and she made it on the off-chance she’s actually home.

Just looking at it makes your stomach turn a bit, it takes you back to the dinner you had at Steve’s house when he first introduced you to his parents.

You can’t remember what his mother made, but what you do remember is how after Steve dropped you off at your house with a kiss, you were in and out of the bathroom all night.

You blame it on the fact that you may have a sensitive stomach, it’s not uncommon!

But, a part of you felt bad, she put her time and effort into making a meal for you. She doesn’t even really do that for Steve himself.

So you couldn’t just reject it, besides, your mother always told you to ‘try everything first!’.

So now, that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Steve had only come back to your shared home with one plate, so you had to think strategically.

Maybe you could distract him, tell him something’s wrong with the bathroom sink. Yeah! That’ll work!

“No, I’m not going to give you a bite because I know you’re not going to like it. Then you’re going to ask me how the hell I like it, and I don’t want to listen to that right now.” Steve’s sentence catches you off guard.

You whip your head towards him, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“..What do’ya mean, honey?”

“No, don’t give me that look. Baby, I know you, and I know you aren’t the biggest fan of my mom’s cooking. I’m not either.”

You jump up at this, nearly falling off the couch, which makes Steve grab your waist with his free hand. He tries to get you to sit back down, rather than kneel on the couch.

“What? I love your mom’s food!” You practically yelled, your voice picking up in pitch.

Steve gives you a look, in both disbelief and amusement.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to lie to me. D’you remember the 4th of July?”

You cringe at the memory of that day.

Steve’s family, meaning his parents, two aunts, an uncle, his grand-parents, and like four cousins - two of which, were kids - had came together for the 4th of July.

Steve, of course, invited you. He figured it would be better for him to bring you so you could meet his family, and so that he didn’t have to be alone.

The company was great, you loved talking and getting to know everyone, especially his grandmother.

But when it was time to eat, you were a bit….Hesitant, to say the least.

Steve’s dad worked the grill, and to be honest, you didn’t think it was going to be all that good, but it was!

But your dinner was spoiled by Steve’s mom’s watery macaroni and cheese, her oddly sweet potato salad, and her rock-hard rolls of bread.

But you refused to cause a scene, so you shoved all your thoughts down, and ate.

…Which resulted in you barking at Steve, telling him to drive home faster so you could use the bathroom.

You shiver at the thought of how you spent the rest of the night, in and out of the bathroom.

“Yeah, but, I think it was cause I ate too much!” You stammer, before continuing. “I’m all good now, though! Let me try some!”

You try to reach over to the plate, which is being tilted away from you by Steve’s right hand.

Your hands are resting on the brunette’s shoulders, while your body leans in the direction of the food.

“Baby, please. You don’t have to eat my mom’s cooking, I know it’s not good. Please save us both the trouble.” Steve sighs, you know he’s not mad at you.

He’s actually anything but.

He admires how you’re pushing down your feelings, only to uplift his and his mother’s. But he doesn’t want you to think that you’re required to do so.

After another 5-ish minutes of you blabbering on about how you ‘want to try her hard work’ and Steve arguing back, you slouch back onto the couch with a huff.

“I know y’wanna be nice, baby. But you don’t have to.” Steve softy coos, while rubbing your stomach.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to Steve.”

Steve hums at you, and moves your legs from his lap as he stands up.

You track his body, as he walks into the kitchen, scrapes his plate, then sits it in the sink.

Steve goes back to the couch, picks you up, and then lays you on top of him once he’s comfortable laying down. He puts a blanket onto the two of you, and then rubs your back.

Steve leaves a firm, but sweet kiss on your forehead. “My sweet girl, always so nice to everyone, huh?”

You giggle softly, your eyes growing heavy at the feeling of him drawing shapes on your back.

The last thing you remember is him briefly reaching over you, and using the tv remote to turn down the volume.

Steve doesn’t know how he got so lucky with you, but he’ll spend the rest of his life thanking any, and every god for you.

And you’ll never be able to lie to him.

Cause he knows you.

────♡────

[kittykat-25]

HOME- An S.Coups Fic

Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Comfort, Scoups savings the day

Synopsis: you’ve never had an issue with hiding your relationship with Seungcheol but he does when your ex gets a little too close.

A/N: me being completely WHIPPED for Choi Seungcheol. This is my first Seventeen Fic so I hope you enjoy🥹

Sitting at dinner with your friends from your home town whom you haven’t seen since you moved almost a year ago. You glared at your so called best friend; Tori, she raised her eyebrow at you in question. You cut your eyes to the man sitting beside you, a little too close for comfort. Your ex, who you were not told was coming on this trip smiles at you. You force a smile and turn to glare at your friend. “Your hairs longer.” He said twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “Yeah hair grows out in a year.” You mumbled pulling your head away. “How do you like living in Seoul?” Another friend asked. “I love it, I love the fast pace and the friends I’ve made are incredible, learning the language was a hard start but you pick it up fast.” You friend scoffs, “tell us more about this boyfriend of yours? We don’t even know his name.” You smile as Cheols face fills your mind, “he’s amazing,I’m sorry he couldn’t be here tonight.” You missed your best friend roll her eyes. You jump feeling a hand brush your thigh, grazing the skin where your dress ends. You look over and find your ex smirking at you, shoving his hand away. “Stop.” You said quiet enough to not draw attention. He chuckled and leans back and your friends pepper you with more questions.

A while later you’ve had enough of the constant touches and sly comments from your ex. You excuse yourself and walk towards the bathroom pulling your phone out pressing the first contact in your recents, “Choi Seongcheols phone, the other love of his life speaking!” Rings out as Jeonghan; you and Cheols best friend answers, his voice bringing you small amount of comfort.” Hannie,-“ you are quickly cut off.” Y/n, why are you being such a bitch tonight.” You mute Jeonghan and turn towards your old friend, “excuse me?” You ask, “you are being so rude to him, bringing up a boyfriend that probably doesn’t even exist, you broke his heart and then fled the country. Give him a break.” You laugh, though there’s no humor behind it. “I broke his heart, he cheated on me. He needs to get over it. It’s the consequences of his actions.” You add, “and you asked about My love life. I told you already I was seeing someone. You chose to do that.” You snapped back. “Oh please, we both know you don’t actually have a boyfriend. You just want to make it seem like you have it together over here. When clearly you are losing it.“ Tori scoffs, you roll your eyes, “Fuck you.” Tori’s jaw drops a little, stunned by your reaction. “You’ve turned into a real bitch since you moved. You never use to treat me this way.” You rolled your eyes, “I apologize that me no longer being a push over inconveniences you.” She stomps by and you let out an exhale before turning your attention back to the phone call. “Y/n” Jeonghan started, “please come get me.” You sigh into the phone. “CHEOL” you hear another friend yell, Joshua by the sounds of it. “Where are you?” He asked as you hear shoes being thrown on. The voice of your boyfriend coming to life in the background. “Baby? What happened?” He ground out, worry laced in his words. You heard the car door shut, multiple voices pilling in. “Her friends are dicks, did they tell you your ex was going to be here.” Jeonghan said gruffly. “No.” your voice said shakily. “He won’t stop making comments and- touching me.” You add quieter. You hear an exhale and know it’s Cheol. “He touched you?” A deeper voice asked kindly but you can hear the venom that’s not normally there, Wonwoo. “I’m interrupting guys night, I’m so sorry.” You apologized when you processed all the voices you had heard. “Don’t you dare apologize for calling me when you need me baby.” your boyfriend exclaimed, “We’re five minutes away y/n. We’ll see you soon.” Jeonghan calls to you before the call ends.

You put on a brave face and walk back to the table. Your ex takes him time racking his eyes over you, bile rising in your throat. But your old friend was right, you had changed since you moved. You were no longer timid and shy. Being best friends and dating the leader of Seventeen will do that to a person. Hard to be scared when 13 guys have your back, the few men on their way proving that point. You never told your friend you were dating Cheol, she was a fan and you didn’t need the rumors starting, you had been very careful with your relationship. Only Pledis and your families knew. And yet here he comes to rescue you, the guilt of what this will publicly do starts the make you panic. Worsening as you sat down, your exes hand came down on your thigh. You shoved him off, “do not touch me.” You stated. Loud enough for the three others to hear. He laughed, “there’s no harm in it y/n.” You glare at him, “there is when I said stop. Multiple times now.” Your other friends chuckle, “yall bicker like a married couple.” Tori says with a smile. “It’s not bickering when he crosses boundaries.” You snap. You look into the reflection of the mirror on the wall, breathing a sigh of relief when you see the familiar black car of your boyfriend pull up. Your grin falters when you feel the weight of a hand on your thigh again. You shove him hand off and onto the table, not even thinking before grabbing the steak knife as well. Stabbing it into the table between his fingers. “Touch me again and it’ll go through your hand.” Venom dripped from your voice, your exes face turned sour, his hand rearing back before it was caught in a thigh grip. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Cheol spat, shaving him away from you. Tori gasped when she realized who was behind you, his hand out reached for you to take. You grabbed your purse and slid your hand into his, pulling you gently to your feet, you looked behind him to find Jeonghan standing behind Cheol, Joshua, Wonwoo and Mingyu standing a few feet away. A hard look on their faces, “please take her to the car.” He called back, you walked towards your friends, smirking at Cheols dominance. You made it to the door of the restaurant when you turned back, Cheol leaning down saying something to your old friends making their faces pale. He straightened up, face hard but completely melting into a soft smile for you. Taking your hand and leading you to the car, putting the restaurant and your old friends in the past.

A/n: sooo I might post a pt2 of some sorts. Maybe from Jeonghan’s POV but I hope you enjoyyy

[irislunace]

Siciria Analyzes The Most Complex Stick Figures Known To Man (part 1)

SPOILERS FOR AVA / AVM / INFLUENCER ARC SERIES

READ AT UR OWN RISK

Also here's part 2

I was rewatching Influencer Arc Ep 1 because the music slays, and the fight choreography is just awesome.

*cut to Siciria chilling*

But then I noticed this;

So, to those of you that don't know what I'm talking about, I noticed that Blue just kind of waits there for a moment before going in to help Red. I wondered why, because throughout the series, these stick figures are shown to have really quick reaction times in these kinds of moments.

But then it hit me; it's about personality.

So then I decided to do a deep analysis of Blue's character, which is probably going to be the first of five parts (maybe even more) where I deep dive into everyone's traits and flaws and whatnot.

-

Here goes...

So, we've seen Blue as more of the pacifist assistant. He likes plants, netherwart, potions, and cooking. You don't really see him being the first to instigate something, or the star of a fight. Heck, even in the Raid episode, it's more focused on Yellow and the command block staff than him.

But we do see more of an aggressive trait as well, in that sometimes, he acts without thinking.

LIKE THE LAVA. HE DIDN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT AND JUMPED INTO STICKING LAVA. WOW. WOWOWOW. WOWOWOW.

But, what startles me, is that even though he'll self-sacrificially jump to save someone, and follow someone without thinking, and needs someone to ground him (usually Yellow), there are also times where he just freezes. Like in the Influencer Arc. He freezes when Red is getting beat up by the clones, before shooting at them. His brain takes a second (hehe) to catch up.

And here, too. Yellow is making a plan, where Blue's emotions are overriding any sort of thought.

...BUT AT THE SAME TIME, we also see those two things coalesce together for the better. We see him take action instead of freezing, and actually think about what he's doing as well. And this moment in the battle against the King goes kind of unnoticed, in my opinion, since there were so many hard fighting sequences and emotional stakes.

LIKE WHAT THE STICK. HE LED AN ENTIRE VILLAGE INTO WAR, AND THEY WERE ACTUALLY ABLE TO HOLD THEIR OWN AND CAUSE THE PILLAGERS TO RUN AWAY WITH ABSOLUTELY NO CONTEXT OR PRIOR TRAINING (albeit before they came back with the evoker and illusioner)

But we also don't talk about how much he assists everyone else. Like here. Green would have gone flying twice if Blue didn't have the presence of mind to brace him.

I saw a comment under the video calling Blue the MVP of the fight against Greenscreen. And while I do harbor the opinion that everyone contributed a lot to the win (and don't really agree with the comment, as Green, Yellow, Red, and Second contributed so much too), you can't deny that he assisted everyone frequently during the fight, and was a key part of success.

Blue's character arc is something we don't really talk about much as a fandom, but there are truly some moments which are, like, really cool.

And the most important one of all, of course.

Bluecifer "Elsa" Blonde. (my fanmade name, tell me if u like it!)

#slayqueen

EDIT AS OF 9/24/24:

There's also something else I noticed. Blue is shown to be able to keep track of a lot of things at the same time as well, like the positioning of his friends in a battle, and enhance them properly. He knows exactly what they need and can deliver it to them.

In the Witch, when he arms himself with potions and starts fighting, he has the presence of mind to turn his friends into animals that can stop the witch. For example, when Red is about to strike, he turns him into a golem for it to pack more punch. It's truly amazing, because he was able to pinpoint that that was about to happen before it did.

And even with himself, when the witch started shapeshifting, he did too. He knew exactly which mob would combat which, and he might have won if he hadn't run out.

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right?

"I just don't see how sitting around is gonna do anything!" Dash argues, face to face with Sam.

"Well, if you have other ideas you're more than welcome to offer them, but we can't just take out the giw. They have more manpower than us, more equipment, and the new agents actually seem to be competent in fights! And we are a bunch of high school students!"

They are all, ostensibly in English Class right now, but even Mr. lancer has forgone the illusion of normal classwork. He assigns books and hands out reading assignments every week, but nobody really cares whether they get turned in or not. The city, after all, has a much bigger problem.

"I don't know! But sitting here-"

"He's not entirely wrong, the longer we wait the more likely they figure it out, just like we all did." As Valerie finishes speaking, the room temperature drops noticeably, and the kids all glance nervously over at Danny who's head hasn't moved from it's spot on his desk. He almost seems dead with how still he is. Beside him Tucker stares at his PDA, the only one who hasn't reacted to the temperature change.

"Should I even ask what you're messing with?" Sam asks, walking over while the others stare nervously at Danny.

"Actually, yeah." Tucker easily shifts so they can both see the webpage displayed on the handmade tech. "I got something through."

"I thought getting stuff through wasn't really the problem?"

"I mean, yeah, they're letting Everything Is Normal posts through, but this wasn't. That. I was, um, kind of fucking around with ciphers and shit? Not saying anything relevant, but just seeing whether they'd flag any old weird shit, you know? And um. I got a video out."

"Okay, but how does that help us?" Valerie asks.

"It helps because if they let a cipher through then means if I encode shit well enough, then it'll also get through."

"But if it's, like, that hard to figure out what it says, then won't it be useless on the outside?"

"The chances of it getting into the hands of someone who could crack it do seem, uh, improbable."

"Not if we stack the deck."

"Wes-"

"No, listen, I know you're all still mad at me, but like. If you can attract a community of codebreakers? Then eventually someone will crack the code on what you need them to!"

"If you have an idea then just fucking say it, Wes," Sam snaps.

"Make an ARG. We can even have like, the base level be completely United to anything real, just make up a story about, i dunno, space travel? And then bury the actual info beneath that. Eventually somebody will crack into the real stuff, and if it's popular enough by then, and the GIW tries to suppress it? That'll be even more suspicious-looking, and just make them dig harder."

"What the fuck is a ARG?" Dash asks, pulling his gaze away from their definitely-just-sleeping classmate.

"Augmented reality game. It's like an unfiction thing. Make a story but the story is interactive and people have to decode shit to figure out what's going on." Tucker glances over to Wes. "And actually not a bad idea. If we all work together, we could probably make something cool."

"You could treat it as a class-wide project." Mr. Lancer says, making everyone jump. "That way I can back you up if anyone starts asking questions."

"Make it about black holes," Danny says, finally pulling himself up from his desk. "We can base it in wormhole theory, and distract the GIW with all the theoretical science."

"What, so like we make videos that seem like they're being sent through a black hole?"

"Fuckin. Sure, why not? As if shit couldn't get any weirder around here."

"Star, please try to refrain from swearing in front of me. I know the situation is - difficult - but I am officially still your teacher."

"Sorry, Lancer."

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock - Waste My Time I

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her)Reader  Word Count : 4.6k Warning : Some curses. Fluff. Some cliff hanger, I think? Sets on Matt's uni years. Notes : I will do some updates on the prologue to better fit the plot. Let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters. Cheers! x If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

↞ Prologue

The smell of sugar and roasted beans were thick in the air. The establishment was packed with people. It wasn’t the usual cafe Matt and Foggy would go to. No, the cheap coffee truck on the way to the campus or perhaps the vending machine by their Advanced Constitutional Law class would do to grab a cup of americano from, but today isn’t one of those days. 

Today is one of those days when Foggy would drag him to the other side of the city just to pick up some special sandwich that would guarantee a forgiveness pass from Marci. Today is one of those days when Foggy would pay for his americano, only to forget his wallet by the bedside table. Today is one of those days when Foggy would have to make another promise to pay for his meal as the blonde had to bail and run to give Marci her sandwich.

Now Matt, ever the understanding friend, certainly paid no mind with all of the troubles Foggy dragged him into this morning. He figured he could use the long way to his classes this morning. To try and see what exactly is on the other side of the campus when the sun is still out. When he was in his normal clothes and not hunting robbers. When he could actually be Matt Murdock and not the Daredevil.

But now standing by the side aisle to pick up his order, Matt knew that the lady who was too busy arguing on the phone with who seems to be a disastrous ex-husband, accidentally picked up his americano and left him with what smells to be a matcha latte with twice if not thrice the normal sugar level.

Matt’s lips pout a little. He’s certainly not in the mood to jump start his day with a lethal dose of diabetes, but Foggy’s left minutes ago and he couldn’t just call the barista to exchange his order without actually tasting the beverage. What excuse would he give? That he could smell that the drink in his hand isn’t what he ordered?

“Hi, sorry,” A voice of salvation echoes from his right. A woman who’s now approaching him with a gentle voice greets. Matt could taste the uncertainty in her tone, how her heart beats a little awkwardly as if she wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing yet she does it anyway “I’m really sorry to be coming off as a creep like this, but I don’t think that’s your order.”

“No?” Matt asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I think the lady before you mistook your order.” She explained, taking the cup away from his hand “I overheard your order with your friend earlier, I was queueing behind you. You ordered an americano, right? This is a hot matcha.”

“Oh,” Matt says, feigning surprise “I wouldn’t have known.”

“Yeah.. Here, you can take my americano.” She offers, pushing her cup to his hand “I haven’t touched it or anything, I promise. It’s clean.”

“No, it’s fine I can just ask the barista—” Matt’s words were interrupted when his phone beeped, followed by the automatic reminder: his Conflict of Laws class starts in five minutes “Shit.”

“Yeah, just take it,” She insists “I’ll ask the barista to redo my order. It’s fine, really.”

“Thank you.” Matt says, accepting the warm cup at last “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Matt wanted to prolong their conversation. She seems to be a genuinely kind person. Had he not been in a rush for being on the other side of the campus and having to come to class on time as Professor Barton would lock the door a second past nine, he would have stayed and continued talking to this one kind soul. At the very least, he would have asked for her name and asked if he could repay her kindness, perhaps with a slice of pizza and cold beer after class. But today isn’t one of those days.

Today is one of those days when he passed by someone he would wish he had more time to spare with. Today is one of those days when he met someone he would think of longer than the time he spent with said person. Today is one of those days when he hoped that he would meet her again.

—-

Her hair was dishevelled. She dares not to look at the time as it would only fuel her anxiety even worse. She planned to have her essays done before the clock strikes nine, but it has been hours since and she could barely call herself half way there.

The bigger side of the library has now turned dark. Students have retreated back to their bedrooms or have found themselves better things to waste the night with. It was Friday, afterall. Most wouldn’t even think of stepping their foot inside for the night, yet here she is, trying her best to stay afloat on the ocean of assignments that she’s evidently drowning in.

But when she was ready to take the consolation prize for being the most pathetic student of the year, a boy took the seat in front of her. He took out the things from his bag—several heavy textbooks and a laptop—as he tried to find comfort on the table, completely oblivious to her presence.

It was that boy. The boy she helped the other day in the cafe. Well, the word help would certainly be an overstatement as she only pointed out that he was holding the wrong order and offered hers in replacement, but she had a slight nervousness in her bones as she felt it was overstepping of her when she offered the proposal, so thinking that she was helping him feels a little rewarding and helped soothe her nerves a little.

She silently stares at him as he continues his work. His fingers trace the braille on his textbooks, mouth slightly moving as he tries to read the passages. The boy was beautiful to say the least. Like a beautiful painting you wouldn’t grow bored of even after hours of staring. The soft light of the library was hitting his face in all the right directions, enhancing his features that truthfully need no betterment yet it accentuates his beauty nonetheless.

Five if not fifteen minutes after her staring, she realises that she has to make her presence known. She wouldn’t want him to be startled if she makes any noises or movements, or worse makes him feel unsafe by her stealthy actions. The last thing she would want is to make him feel like she was a threat instead of a friend.

She taps on the table lightly, catching his attention, “Uh, I just want to let you know that you’re not alone at this table.”

“Oh, right,” The boy answers “Should I move?”

“No, no! I just wanted to let you know, that’s all. Please don’t move.” She says fast.

The boy’s lips curved into a smile but his brows knitted, “I’m sorry, have we met before? You sound familiar.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m the girl from the cafe,” She says, the same uncertainty lacing her tone “I swear I’m not trying to stalk you or anything. I just happen to be in the same place you are for some reason.”

“I never thought of you as one,” The boy says with a smile “I’m Matt, by the way.”

She tells him her name.

Matt whispers her name, letting it roll on his tongue like it’s going to settle for a long time there, “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing in a library on a Friday?”

“The same reason as you have, I’m sure.” She says with a sigh, not wanting to elaborate “What major are you taking?”

“Law, you?”

“International Affairs.” She answered, biting on her pencil as she judged him “Law, huh? Well, aren’t you a smarty pants.”

Matt chuckles. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

Stupid heart.

“Listen,” Matt says after a visible nervous lick of his lips “I hope this isn’t too straight forward, but I really appreciate what you did the other day, and I figured I owe you some form of gratitude, so I was wondering if.. You’d be free some time soon? Maybe this weekend? We can grab some food and sit by the park or do whatever it is you find amusing.”

Her smile grows, “Are you asking me for a date?”

“No, I’m showing you my gratitude,” He argues “But masked as a date, yes.”

It was practically impossible for her to bite down her grin by now. Eternally grateful that most of the lights in the library are out and that he couldn’t see the stupid smile on her face. She was sure that her cheeks were red and that her eyes were as big as puppy’s with how charming Matt is. Exactly how more perfect can the man sitting in front of her be? Beautiful face, delightful talking, and certainly a brilliant mind. At this point he could either be her knight in shining armour or a complete psychopath, no in between.

“So.. Would you have any free time?”

“How’s next week? Friday?”

Matt nods, smiling softly, “Friday it is.”

—-

Days leading up to the date passed as slow as it could get, even when they were spent by meeting her at the library before his night patrols. Matt knew that it was practically wrong of him to insert himself in her life. To come uninvited to her table that night, acting as if he didn’t know it was her nor did he not know of her presence, but in his defence, he didn’t deliberately plan to meet her. It only so happened that he finished his nightly patrol quickly that night and that she was in the library when he initially wanted to spend the rest of the night finishing his paperworks.

At that moment, he thought that God was aligning their stars. It wasn’t everyday that he had the urge to finish patrol early. It wasn’t everynight that he wanted to spend the rest of the night in the library. It certainly wasn’t every Friday that he would find her there. In fact, he couldn’t recall if she’s ever been to the library before. He would’ve caught the familiarity of her scent at the cafe if she was a regular there.

Though Matt knew that he couldn’t offer much to her, not his full time nor attention as they’re both reserved to keeping Hell’s Kitchen a little safer each night, Matt was willing to give everything he has left to get to know her better. It wasn’t everyday he could meet someone who would treat her with kindness that is pacifying without any hint of humiliation. She knows just the right amount of care to show without having to walk on eggshells around him and that’s something Matt very much appreciates.

All of it felt like it was meant to be. That he was meant to get that wrong order and that she was to intervene and rescue him from that God awful latte. It felt like he was meant to go to the library that night and meet her once again. And it certainly felt like their date tonight was meant to happen.

“Oh, this is gold,” She moans as she takes another bite of their pizza.

Matt smiles, satisfied to hear her blissful commentary, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“The best,” She says shortly. There was a sudden silence from her and Matt wonders if something had happened but she quickly speaks “Uh, you’ve got.. Um, you’ve got some sauce on your lips.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, his free hand wiping the sides of his lips.

“It’s still there. I think it’s dried a little,” She says, that hint of uncertainty reappearing in her voice “Can I just?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

And she wipes the corner of his lips gently. The warmth of his skin was in contrast to the cold wind that gushed their way and it only amplified the butterflies in her stomach as their skin made contact. Supposed he felt the unexpected jolt of electricity too because his jaw tenses a little before he lets out a sigh when she finishes wiping his lips.

“Thanks.” Matt whispers with a smile.

She didn’t say a word, only humming a little to show response.

Had Matt not have his heightened senses, he would have thought that something wrong happened but he could hear the not-so-steady beat of her heart and how her body heat rises a little. She was just nervous, just as much, if not less erratic than he is. If only she could feel his heart and hear just how loudly it’s beating right now, acting as if it’s trying to burst forth his ribcage, she would perhaps feel a little less agitated.

It was too soon to say, but Matt couldn’t ignore all the blissful connections they’ve shared. He felt as if he’s finally met his match. The knot to his strings, the solace to his rage. He knew that there’s still so many layers of himself that he’s yet to show her, the sides of Matt Murdock and Daredevil that he’s yet to expose to her, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt like he could take his time and savour the moment as it unfolds.

A little egoistic of him, but what exactly can he do at the time?

“This is great,” She says, breaking his train of thought “I very much enjoyed tonight.”

“Oh no, are we reaching the end of the night?”

“No,” She chuckles, shaking her head “I just wanted to say it, just in case I forget to and you wonder if I’m having a great time or not.”

Matt grins, his heart swells in pride and joy, “I’m having a great time, too.”

The night passes far too fast for either of their liking. There seems to be a never ending topic for the both of them to discuss. From the major they’re taking, their roommates, down to how honking your car is illegal here in New York, everything feels like an interesting subject to dissect. Like an overflowing flow of soft ripples that hit your ankles on the beach shore. Soothing and intriguing at the same time.

Both their feet now carry them around the city, directionless yet certainly not lost. She was clutching on his arm, trying to make sure that he wouldn’t trip as they walked through the park and around the neighbourhood. For most it would certainly be the most bland date as neither of them knew where to go nor what to do, but neither of them had any complaints. It was perfect as it is.

Until it wasn’t.

Matt could feel the sudden spike of her heartbeat. Whoever it is that’s standing by the porch, whoever’s house party it is that they stumbled upon, she certainly didn’t have any intention to join nor stopped by at it, yet from the sweat that’s starting to build on her skin, he knew that she has to.

“About time you appear!” Some girl yells, clearly directed at her.

“Shoot,” She mutters, sounding like she was caught red handed over some crime he wasn’t sure about “She’s going to have my head on a spike for this one.”

“Is everything okay?” Matt asks, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Yeah, it’s just my friend’s birthday and I— Fuck,” She curses, running a hand through her hair “I completely forgot it’s today.”

Matt forces a smile, “It’s fine, we can call it a night.”

“No, I’ll be right back,” She whispers to him, squeezing his arm a little before she jogs a little to the group of people on the porch.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” One of the girls says as she approaches them “Gaby’s been asking for you for hours! Your phone’s dead, we couldn’t reach you—,”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She apologises, she was honest with her apology, Matt could hear it in her heartbeat “I completely forgot about her birthday party, and I double booked tonight, and I just—”

“So you chose to bail on your best friend's birthday instead?” Her friend argues.

“I mean, he’s cute, I would totally bail on Gaby’s birthday too,” Her other friend commented, making Matt smile a little “Who’s he? I didn’t know you’re seeing someone.”

“I— It’s a long story, okay? I’ll tell you guys later,” She frantically says, trying to save herself from the wrath of her friends “I’ll call it a night with him. Please don’t tell Gaby that I forgot about her birthday, okay? Just tell her I overslept or something.”

Matt bites the inner of his cheek. One of the downplay of hearing every and each conversation others have is knowing what’s to come before it actually hits you. Sure it might come as useful for certain times, but Matt was reluctant to bid his goodbye just yet. He wanted the night to last just a little bit longer, to feel her presence just a few hours longer and to walk around with her just a few miles further. Now it’s clear that he would have to scrape those desires off of his list.

“I am so so so sorry about this,” She says as she comes close to him, her words dripping with regret and guilt “I completely forgot about her birthday party and I just— God, we should’ve taken a left from that park.”

Matt chuckles, “We should have, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry,” She says once again “I’d invite you in but I don’t know how Gaby would react with me being four hours late to her birthday party and I really don’t want you to be trialled for it with me.”

“I understand, don’t worry about it.”

“God, I’m really the biggest arsehole there is, huh?”

“For now, yes,” Matt jests “But don’t worry about it. I had a great time.”

“I had a great time, too. Do you.. Do you know the way back?”

Matt nods, “I’ll manage.”

“Okay,” She smiles apologetically, clearly not wanting to part either yet her feet are already moving towards the house as her friends continue to call for her “I’m really sorry, Matt. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Once again, Matt nods and smiles.

He turns his body away from the house, retracing his way back to the campus. Sure it wasn’t the most ideal way to end their date, he feels like he could and deserves to yell a bit to her friends for stealing her away from him ever so rudely like that, but he figures that he’s had his fair share of her tonight. He reminds himself that it was a Friday night. It was honestly a little too good to be true for someone as delightful as her to have her night free of dates and appointments, so to find out that she’s actually booked for a party is certainly not much of a surprise. Matt only wished that he didn’t know it the way he did.

They certainly should’ve taken a left from the park and avoided this neighbourhood altogether.

“Wait, Matt!”

Matt’s pace was put to a halt. He turns back to face the direction of her voice. He could hear her slight pants and the slight jog she made toward him. A small smile returned to his face, “Yes?”

“You surely didn’t think I’d let you go without a kiss, did you?” She asks, her breathing fickle from the short exercise “Or did you not want one?”

“I’d love one,” He says fast “Please.”

Matt’s grip on his cane tightened a little as she took a step closer. She places her arms around his shoulders and Matt swore he suddenly forgets what’s to do with his limbs. He wasn’t sure if he should put his hands on her waist or should he keep still. It was very much out of character for him. He’s had kisses before, had dates with plenty of other girls, but how is it that he has no idea how to act when it comes to her?

When their lips met, Matt swears that he could climb the Empire State Building with his bare hands. It was an uneventful kiss, certainly not the most creative that he’s ever had, but the electricity he felt was beyond compare. It was as if the kisses he’s had before were mere teasers to what it truly is. Like he was deprived of something he’s been so hungry from. Like he was deprived of her.

“I had a great time tonight,” She says as they part, sounding as if the kiss didn’t just flip her whole world upside down like it did to him “I’ll see you soon?”

“Tomorrow,” He promises “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” She agrees through her smile “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

She chews on her lower lip as if determined to make them bleed once again. Her eyes were glued to the clock, watching as it ticks with each second instead of averting her focus back to the papers on her table. Finishing her tasks prove to be a more challenging issue to tackle with each passing day.

Before she knew it, it was already Thursday. Matt promised to meet her the next day after their date, yet such a promise was never fulfilled. She figured that he might just have to do a rain check about their meeting, perhaps having some last minute task that he has to finish before the weekend ended, but even when Monday comes, he still was a no show.

Sorry, something happened. Will be in touch once it’s resolved. M

Now what should a girl do with such a short message?

Each day she would wake up early to go to the cafe where they first met and each noon when her classes were finished, she would try to run herself to the library, hoping that he would magically pop up out of nowhere like he did the very first night they met. Those efforts prove to be no avail as the expected man never bothered to make an entrance.

She wonders if their abrupt separation was what caused him to ghost her. She argues, the kiss they shared should’ve been enough to make him overlook the unpleasant farewell. It was much more than enough for her end, but could it be that it wasn’t the same for him? Could it be that he was more baffled about her last minute dick move that he decided to cut it off? Could it be that he’s had enough of her?

“Is this seat reserved?”

Her head perched up, excited to hear the familiar voice that she so missed about, “Unfortunately, yes. It’s been reserved for a week, actually.”

Matt shows an apologetic smile, “Is it still reserved?”

“Depends,” She teases, closing her laptop as she realises that there would be no work done for the rest of the night “If the culprit could explain and give a life-threatening excuse to save himself, I suppose he can still claim his reservation.”

“What if he could only offer an apology and say that he’s desperately sorry for being a douche?”

“No explanation?”

Matt hesitates, “No, none that he could disclose.”

“Not even a little?”

“I—,” Matt licks his bottom lip. It was a habit he does whenever he’s nervous, she notices. He takes the seat and rests his white cane on the side of the table. He looks troubled, like he’s trying to piece words in his mind that he’s not familiar with “Look, I.. I don’t exactly have any explanations to give you. I just.. I have been away. And I fear that I will have to be away for more times than I’d like in the future.”

She remains quiet, listening and watching as he tries to speak.

“I like you, a lot. We had the best date of my life last week, but I don’t think I have what you’re looking for,” He continues, looking conflicted and hurt with his own words “I just— I’m sorry, I really hope I could give more than what I have, but at the same time, I selfishly don’t want to lose you either so if we could just— If we could just be friends, I think I would like that very much.”

Matt could sense the piqued beating of her heart. The news he came to bear was certainly bitter, even more to him than her if he could only be so honest. But what happened earlier this week made him realise that he wasn’t in a position to be in a relationship with anyone. Especially not with someone who looks like she’s willing to go the extra mile for him.

It was supposed to be an easy rescue mission. Some petty robbery that happened on some dingy alley of Hell’s Kitchen that he expected to be settled an hour at most, only to turn out to be a complicated one as he came home with more bruises and wounds than he could count. He had to once again lie to Foggy and say that he was the one being robbed by a group of thugs in order to be able to go to their dorm room and sleep in. But as the lies roll off of his tongue, Matt realises that she would be another person he would have to lie to everytime he comes back bruised from a patrol. She would be another person he would have to deceive with excuses that never truly touch the truth. She would be another tally in his long list of people to ask forgiveness from.

And that’s something he doesn’t think he could live in for long.

So he figured to lock himself inside for a couple of days until his bruises heal. He refuses to meet her when he’s still littered with wounds he couldn’t explain to her about. Even when his finger itches to text her, even when his feet were begging him to let them carry him to the library, even when he was yearning for him more than ever, Matt has to hold himself within the walls of his dorm room that feels like they’re closing in with every passing day.

Now that he finally looks decent enough to go back to his classes, he finally gathered the guts to see and talk to her. There was a mix of bittersweet feelings when he sensed her sitting by their table alone. Relieved to know that she’s waiting, yet sorry that he has to come bearing bad news.

“I.. I don’t know what to say,” She says, blinking rapidly as she tries to digest his words “Are you in some kind of trouble, Matt? You can talk to me if you are. We can try and figure it out.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” He answers “It’s more of a.. Me thing. I just have to deal with some things first.”

She nods, feeling a hint of grief pooling in her heart, “I see.”

There was a pause. Neither have the slightest idea to go forward from this. Both clearly want to continue whatever it is they left off, but they’re truly on a stalemate here, aren’t they? What could she do when he’s asked her to let this go and stay as friends instead? What could he do when he wanted to have her close but only have just started to be the Daredevil? What could they do when they have so much to say yet so little to share?

“I’m really sorry,” Matt says instead.

“No, I understand,” She shakes her head, forcing a smile “Friends it is, then.”

And so it begins. The never ending loop of wasting each other’s time for the sake of wasting time. The never ending cycle of stealing a brush of the other’s hand under the table for the sake of accidental touches. The never ending series of pouring each others’ heart through the stories they share just for the sake of sharing. Always more than what friends do, but never less than what lovers should.

[rootedinrevisions]

Jealousy in Motion: Part 2

SUMMARY: Your relationship with Damian is going great. That is until you're put into a storyline where you have to kiss Jey Uso. Damian's reaction to seeing you kissing Jey in the middle of the ring is less than ideal. Later that night he makes sure to remind you who you belong to.

WARNING: Jealousy. Possessiveness. Biting. Leaving marks. P in V Sex.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the person who requested this! (will refrain from mentioning anyone in case they wish to remain anonymous.) Hope you enjoy it!

TAG LIST: @miss-kuki-nz I @just-another-personal-side-blog I @caramara3 I @yana3sworld I @terrortwinunicorn I @hotwheels1108

The hum of the crowd already gathering outside the arena was palpable as you pulled into the parking lot. You parked your car, exhaling deeply as you took a moment to collect your thoughts before heading inside. The last few months had been a whirlwind of great storylines, and tonight, you were particularly excited. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and slung it over your shoulder, stepping out into the late afternoon light.

As you walked through the side entrance, security gave you a familiar nod, and you couldn’t help but feel the usual buzz of adrenaline that came with show days. Inside, the hustle and bustle of crew members, wrestlers, and staff filled the hallways, but you were quickly intercepted by one of the backstage producers.

"Hey, they need you in the meeting room with creative," he said.

You raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. You weren’t expecting to be pulled into anything major right away. Normally, you'd get time to settle in and catch up with some of the other superstars, but it seemed today was going to be different. You nodded and followed him, your mind already spinning with what could be on the agenda.

As you approached the meeting room, you could see through the open door that a few familiar faces were already seated. Jey was there, his usual confident demeanor slightly subdued, and around him were a handful of writers, along with Triple H at the head of the table. A quick glance from Jey gave you a hint of hesitation, which only made you more curious about what this meeting could be about.

You took a seat, nodding at everyone, and before you could ask what was going on, Triple H jumped right in.

"Alright, let’s get to it," he began, fo+5+lding his hands in front of him. "We’re shaking things up tonight. We’re putting you into the Rhea Ripley and Liv Morgan storyline.”

Your heart leaped a little at the mention of Rhea. She was one of your best friends, and working with her was something you’d always looked forward to. Plus, you had great chemistry with Liv, so the idea of being inserted into this feud was exciting.

But the excitement quickly shifted to confusion when Triple H continued. "You're going to turn on Rhea during tonight's segment."

You blinked, processing his words. "Turn on Rhea?" you echoed.

"Yeah," Triple H confirmed, leaning back in his chair. "You’ll go out to save her after Liv attacks, but then the twist—you're going to kiss Jey in front of Rhea and Damian. You’ll take off your shirt to reveal Jey’s underneath, showing that you’ve been aligned with him the whole time. Jey we’re going to spin it that you’ve been getting close to Rhea to get to what you actually want…her best friend."

You glanced at Jey, whose expression mirrored your shock. The idea of turning on Rhea, one of your closest friends, especially in such a public and dramatic way, made your stomach churn. And then the added element of kissing Jey in front of Damian, well… that complicated things even more.

Things between you and Damian had been going great for the past few months since that night in the club, and you knew Jey and Rhea were in a solid place in their developing relationship, too. This on-screen twist felt like it would blur the lines between real life and the storyline in ways that could create all kinds of tension.

"Are you sure?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Triple H gave you a knowing smile, as if sensing your hesitation. "This is going to push the feud to the next level. The audience won’t see it coming."

You could feel your pulse quicken, the weight of the storyline hanging heavily on your shoulders. "And we’re doing this tonight?"

"Yep," he confirmed. "First segment. You, Jey, Rhea, and Damian all in the ring. Liv’s going to attack Rhea. You run in for the save. After the dust settles, you turn on her. Kiss Jey, reveal your loyalty, and we’re off to the races."

Your head was spinning as you tried to absorb the full scope of what was being asked of you. Glancing at Jey again, you could tell he was just as thrown by the sudden twist.

"Any questions?" Triple H asked, looking around the table.

Neither you nor Jey said a word, both of you too stunned to fully process what was about to happen. Triple H took that as a no, standing up and signaling the meeting was over.

"Good luck tonight. This is going to be big."

After the meeting, you left the room, still reeling from what had just been laid out. You made your way down the hall toward your locker room, your mind racing. A storyline shift like this had the potential to be game-changing, but it also came with its fair share of risks. You couldn’t help but worry about how this would play out not just on screen, but backstage as well.

Once you reached your locker room, you set your bag down and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves. The wardrobe team soon arrived, handing you the shirts you’d need for the segment—Rhea’s signature shirt for the first part of the show, and Jey’s to wear underneath for the big reveal.

“Don’t worry, it’ll look great on camera,” one of the wardrobe assistants assured you, sensing your unease.

You nodded, managing a weak smile as you slipped into the outfit. You kept your black jeans and shoes on, not needing full gear for this segment, but the weight of the two shirts felt heavier than any ring attire you’d ever worn.

The plan was simple enough: you’d run out to help Rhea after Liv blindsided her, and the four of you would stand tall in the ring together—until you turned on Rhea in front of everyone. The kiss with Jey, the shirt reveal—it was all designed to shock the crowd and push the storyline into new, dramatic territory.

But as you stared at yourself in the mirror, wearing Rhea’s shirt over Jey’s, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at you. This storyline was about to blur the lines between reality and fiction in ways you hadn’t expected, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would affect your relationships off-screen.

Glancing in the mirror one last time, you exhale sharply and leave your locker room, your thoughts racing as you head down the corridor in search of Damian. You need to find him before the segment starts, to explain the last-minute storyline twist.

You weave through backstage, checking every corner, but he’s nowhere to be found. Frustration builds as you text and call him, but every attempt goes unanswered. The minutes seem to slip through your fingers. The show’s about to start, and the clock is ticking.

From your spot near the monitor backstage, you watch as Dominik and Liv make their entrance, smug looks plastered on their faces. The crowd greets them with a mix of boos and jeers. They take the ring and start cutting their promo, Liv with a mic in hand, mocking Rhea and Damian.

“Rhea Ripley? Damian Priest? Pathetic. Honestly, it's embarrassing how they think they can stand up to us,” Liv sneers, pacing the ring as Dominik smirks at her words. "At the next Premium Live Event, they’ll finally be put in their place, and we’ll prove once again that we run this show."

The crowd stirs, boos growing louder as Liv continues to berate your friends. You glance toward the Gorilla, just in time to see Damian and Rhea poised to make their entrance. Your heart races as you watch them, knowing the storm that's about to hit.

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” you start, grabbing his arm gently.

Damian turns, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Before you can answer, the producer barks, “Rhea, Damian you’re on, go!”

You watch helplessly as Damian and Rhea stride through the curtain, completely unaware of the bombshell you’re about to drop on them. Your stomach tightens as you realize you won’t have time to warn him before the kiss happens.

“Great,” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair. Damian’s not going to take this well—especially not without a heads-up.

Rhea and Damian hit the stage to a wave of cheers from the crowd. As they walk down the ramp, Rhea has a fierce expression on her face, playing up the intensity of the moment, while Damian’s presence is brooding and confident. You can feel the electricity building in the air as they enter the ring.

“You two think you’re untouchable?” Rhea growls into the mic, glaring at Dominik and Liv. “You’ve got another thing coming. At the PLE, we’ll show you exactly why you should’ve never turned your backs on us.”

Damian steps forward, his eyes locked on Dominik. “Scared little kids playing in a grown-up’s world. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Predictably, the promo escalates into chaos. Liv and Dominik waste no time in turning the verbal sparring into a full-blown brawl. Liv throws the first punch at Rhea, and before you know it, fists are flying. Just as planned, JD, Finn,  and Carlito emerge from the crowd to join the fray, jumping into the ring and overwhelming Damian and Rhea.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Jey’s music hits, and the crowd erupts. You spot Jey sprinting down the aisle from somewhere in the audience, slipping into the ring to even the odds. The chaos in the ring intensifies as the three of them—Rhea, Damian, Jey —try to gain control of the situation.

Then, your music blares through the arena, sending a surge of adrenaline through you. The producer waves you toward the curtain, and before you know it, you're sprinting down the ramp. Your heart pounds in your chest as you slide into the ring, jumping straight into the fight.

For what feels like a chaotic blur of moments, fists are flying, bodies are colliding, and the crowd is on fire. You and your thrown-together team manage to push back the new Judgement Day faction, sending them retreating up the ramp as the crowd roars in approval.

Just as you, Jey, Damian, and Rhea stand tall in the ring, victorious for now, you feel the cue from the cameraman at ringside. This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading all night.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Jey is standing just to your left, his breathing still heavy from the fight. You turn toward him, heart hammering in your chest. The crowd is still roaring, but in this moment, everything seems to slow down.

You step closer to Jey, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, there’s a flash of understanding between the two of you—this is about to change everything. Without hesitating, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The reaction from the crowd is instantaneous. Gasps, cheers, and shouts fill the arena as Jey’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than normal, the way Triple H had scripted it to be, the tension between you and Jey was palpable. Neither of you was fully comfortable. When you finally pull back, the heat of the moment is still coursing through you.

You glance over at Rhea and Damian. Rhea, ever the professional, has perfected her expression of betrayal—her wide eyes and clenched fists sell the shock and hurt brilliantly. It’s almost too perfect, and for a moment, you’re grateful that she’s been fully briefed on the angle.

But Damian... Damian is a different story. He’s not acting. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed, and the look he’s giving you and Jey could burn a hole straight through the ring. If looks could kill, you and Jey would both be six feet under by now.

Your stomach drops as you realize the fallout from this moment is going to be far more intense than you ever anticipated.

The segment ends with a chaotic blend of cheers and murmurs as the crowd begins to dissipate. As the ring clears, you and Jey make your way out, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You’re grateful for the moment of quiet, but the heaviness of what just happened weighs on you.

You navigate backstage, Jey’s presence beside you a comforting constant. The backstage activity fades as you spot Rhea, who is headed toward the locker room. She gives you a quick, sympathetic nod before disappearing behind the door. You hope she understands how hard this is for you, despite her well-played betrayal.

Your gaze scans the area, searching for Damian. Your stomach twists in knots as you think about the confrontation you need to have. The minutes tick by slowly, each one stretching into what feels like an eternity.

Finally, you spot Damian walking down the hall, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. Your heart races as you call out his name, “Damian!”

He doesn’t turn, his steps steady and deliberate. You quicken your pace, desperation mounting with each step. You reach out and touch his arm gently, trying to catch his attention.

“Babe, please—”

He jerks his arm away from you, his face still averted. “Don’t.”

The single word cuts through you like a knife. It’s sharp and final, the hurt and anger in his voice unmistakable. He continues down the hall, not sparing a glance back, leaving you standing there, heart heavy and eyes stinging.

You watch him disappear around the corner, the space between you feeling impossibly vast. The crushing weight of the night’s events settles on your shoulders, and you feel a wave of sadness that’s almost unbearable.

Jey, noticing your distress, approaches cautiously. “Hey, are you okay?”

You can’t find the words, only shaking your head slightly. Jey’s hand rests on your shoulder, a silent offer of comfort, but it does little to alleviate the ache inside you. You turn back toward the locker room, trying to steady your breath as you prepare for the fallout to come.

Back in the locker room, you sit down heavily on a bench, the adrenaline of the night giving way to a wave of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. The door opens and Rhea steps in, her face a mix of concern and understanding.

“I tried to talk to him,” Rhea says quietly, sitting beside you. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to hear it.”

You nod, unable to speak as your emotions bubble up. Rhea reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your back. “You did what you had to do out there. I know it’s hard.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I just wanted... I wanted to be honest with him. I tried to find him before the show–”

Rhea gives you a sympathetic smile. “He just wasn’t expecting it. I was briefed on the segment, but I don’t think he was. It’ll take time, but he’ll come around.”

You hope she’s right, but the uncertainty gnaws at you. As you sit there, surrounded by the remnants of the evening’s chaos, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight’s actions have set in motion a chain of events that may be impossible to fully unravel.

With a heavy heart, you prepare yourself for the long night ahead, hoping that somehow, things might start to heal before it’s too late.

Once you get back to the hotel after the show, you make your way up to your room on the fourth floor. The hallway feels impossibly long.. The dull hum of the elevator ride lingers in your ears, and your mind races, replaying every moment of the night over and over again. The kiss. Damian’s cold departure. His refusal to even look at you.

You reach your door, fingers trembling as you pull the keycard from your pocket. You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Damian not being there gnawing at you. The two of you were supposed to share this room, but after the way he walked away, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d found a different room—putting even more distance between you.

But still, hope lingers as you slide the keycard into the lock. You take a deep breath as the door clicks open. Stepping into the dimly lit room, you brace yourself for an empty, quiet space, but instead, your breath catches in your throat.

Damian is there. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His head is bowed slightly, and the shadows from the dim light cast across his face, making it hard to read his expression. But you can feel the tension radiating from him—tangible and heavy in the air.

The door clicks shut behind you, and Damian’s eyes flick up to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His jaw is clenched tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. The silence stretches between you, thick with unresolved emotions.

You take a tentative step forward, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your chest. "Damian…"

He doesn't move. His gaze remains locked on yours, but there’s a storm brewing behind those dark eyes, a mix of hurt and anger swirling beneath the surface.

“Why?” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but the pain in that single word cuts deeper than anything he could have yelled.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you search for the right words. “I didn’t want it to go down like that. It was the storyline—creative made the call.”

Damian’s lips twitch into a bitter, almost mocking smile as he finally stands, towering over you. “You think I care about the storyline? About what creative wants?” His voice rises slightly, the frustration bleeding through. “I care about what you did out there—kissing him in front of everyone. In front of me.”

You take a step back, feeling the weight of his words, and the hurt they carry. “It was just for the show, Damian. It didn’t mean anything.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his movements sharp, and agitated. “Didn’t mean anything?” He shakes his head, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “You expect me to believe that after what I saw out there? After how you kissed him?”

Your heart aches at the accusation in his voice. “Damian, I—” You stop, unsure of how to explain, how to make him understand that the kiss, while real, wasn’t what he thought it was.

He takes a deep breath, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "You could’ve told me. You should’ve told me before the show, before I had to stand there and watch it happen.”

"I tried," you plead, your voice breaking. "I tried to tell you, but you had to go out for the segment before I could. I didn’t want to hurt you."

Damian lets out a bitter laugh. “Well, you did.”

The air between you feels like it’s thickening, the tension palpable as Damian turns away from you, pacing the room. You stand frozen, unsure of what to say, how to fix this. The weight of the night crashes down on you, and for the first time, you wonder if this is something that can even be fixed.

“Damian,” you whisper, taking a cautious step toward him, “I’m sorry. Please, just talk to me.”

He stops in his tracks, his back still turned to you. For a moment, he doesn’t move, the silence deafening. Then, slowly, he turns around, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice is quiet now, the anger simmering down into something deeper—something raw. “That everything’s fine? That I’m not furious? That I don’t feel like you broke something between us tonight?”

You feel your heart shatter at his words, the weight of them too much to bear. “I didn’t want to break anything,” you say softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “I just… I didn’t know how to make this right.”

Damian’s shoulders slump slightly as if the fight has drained out of him. He stares at you for a long moment, his expression a mixture of hurt and exhaustion. “Maybe you can’t,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Damian sits back down on the bed, his frustration and confusion still thick in the air between you. His jaw clenches as he runs a hand over his face, trying to make sense of everything that happened during the show. 

You take a cautious step toward him, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t say anything, but the unspoken tension between you crackles with intensity. Gently, you place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back just enough that he leans onto his elbows. He looks up at you with a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, his dark eyes searching yours for some kind of explanation, some kind of reason for your actions.

But instead of talking, you swing a leg over him, straddling his lap. You feel the tension ripple through his body the moment you make contact, his muscles tightening beneath you. He knows what you’re doing, and for a second, you can see the conflict flash across his face. 

His hands instinctively come up to your waist, as if to push you away, but he hesitates. “Stop,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, but there’s no real force behind the word. You can tell he’s trying to maintain control, to hold onto the anger that’s keeping him grounded, but you also know that you’re chipping away at his resolve.

Ignoring his half-hearted protest, you lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whisper, “I want you to show me who I belong to.”

You feel the shudder that runs through him at your words, and a low groan rumbles from his chest. His eyes close for a brief moment as the temptation washes over him, the possessive side of him that you know so well stirring just beneath the surface. But still, he’s fighting it, trying to hold onto the anger that’s been keeping him distant.

He tightens his grip on your waist, trying to lift you off his lap, but before he can, you roll your hips down against him. The motion elicits another involuntary groan from him, his breath catching in his throat as you grind against him, making it clear what you want. His eyes snap open, dark and filled with both desire and frustration.

“Don’t,” he warns, but his voice falters, betraying the struggle within him.

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear as you whisper the words you know will push him over the edge. “I want you to have your way with me.”

His grip on your waist tightens as he inhales sharply, the possessive part of him rising to the surface. But there’s still a sliver of hesitation in his movements, as if he’s trying to keep a hold on his self-control, to resist the pull of the temptation you’re offering him. 

You know he’s torn between wanting to claim you and still being angry about what happened tonight. And then, you say the one thing that you know will break him.

“I want you to leave marks.”

The tension in his body shifts instantly. His eyes darken, and the possessiveness that’s always been just beneath the surface finally takes over. You’ve never let him leave marks on you before, always worried about appearances and what people might think if the cameras were to catch any during a match or promo. But now, you’re giving him permission, and that’s something Damian can’t ignore.

He exhales slowly, his hands still gripping your waist, but there’s a new intensity in his touch now. The anger may not be completely gone, but it’s morphed into something else—something darker, more primal. You feel the shift, and it sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice is deeper now, rougher, and you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This is a line you’re both about to cross, one that will blur the boundary between control and release.

You nod, your gaze steady as you meet his eyes. “I’m sure. I want you to.”

Damian’s expression hardens for a split second, the last shred of restraint slipping away. In one swift motion, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His hands roam up your body, and you feel the heat radiating off him as he leans down, his lips brushing against your neck.

“You asked for it,” he murmurs darkly. 

Damian wastes no time once he’s unleashed. His hands move with purpose as he grips the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your underwear in one swift, practiced motion. You lift your hips to help, and before you know it, your legs are bare beneath his gaze. He tosses your clothes aside, his eyes dark and unreadable as they trace the lines of your body.

You feel his hands slide down your thighs, rough and warm, before he spreads your legs apart. The vulnerability of the position sends a thrill up your spine, but it’s the look in Damian’s eyes—the possessive hunger—that makes your heart race. 

He leans down, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh. The anticipation of his touch is almost unbearable, and then you feel it—his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard, but enough to leave a mark that will last. The sensation sends a shiver through you, a low moan escaping your lips.

Damian pauses to admire his work, the dark bruise forming under his lips. Then, without missing a beat, he shifts to the other leg, repeating the same rough treatment. His lips press against your thigh before his teeth follow, leaving another mark that will be a reminder of this moment long after tonight.

Once he’s satisfied, he crawls up your body, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of you. His face hovers inches above yours, his breath warm and heavy against your skin. 

You’re still wearing Jey Uso's "Yeet" shirt, and as Damian glances down at it, a dark smirk curls his lips. You expect him to pull it off, to strip it from you in one fluid motion, but instead, Damian grips the fabric in both hands and rips it clean down the middle. The sound of the tear fills the room, and your breath catches as the cool air brushes against your newly exposed skin.

“Oops,” he mutters with a smirk, the smugness in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His hands run down your sides, the pads of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ribs, making you arch up into him. The intensity of his touch, combined with the sharp contrast between his anger and desire, has your mind spinning.

His hands slide around your back, and with one swift motion, he unclasps your bra, pulling it away. Before you can react, Damian leans in, his mouth finding the soft skin of your breast. His lips are soft at first, but then you feel his teeth again, biting down just hard enough to leave a dark bruise behind.

A gasp leaves your throat as Damian continues, alternating between soft kisses and rough bites. He takes his time, marking you as his, leaving evidence of his claim all over your skin. Each mark feels like a promise, one that will stay with you long after the night is over.

You feel the heat rising between you, the desire building to a breaking point. Damian pulls back for a moment, his breath coming fast, his eyes locking with yours. There’s no more hesitation in his gaze now—only pure, possessive hunger.

"You belong to me," he growls, his voice deep and commanding as he captures your lips in a rough, bruising kiss.

Damian’s eyes remain locked on yours as he leans up and swiftly pulls his belt free from the loops of his jeans. The metal buckle clinks against the floor as he drops it carelessly, his fingers already working to unbutton and unzip his pants. He pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees, his movements rough and hurried, his need for you palpable in the tension rolling off his body.

You bite your lip in anticipation as Damian positions himself between your legs, the heat of him pressing against your entrance. His large hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, and then with one smooth motion, he slides into you. The sensation of him filling you so completely draws a long moan from your lips, but Damian isn’t satisfied.

“No,” he growls, his voice deep and commanding. “Say my name.”

His thrusts start slow but powerful, each one driving him deeper into you. You comply immediately, moaning his name breathlessly. “Damian…”

But it’s not enough. His grip tightens on your hips, and he begins to move faster, harder, his pace becoming relentless. He’s hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur, and your breath quickens as pleasure coils tight in your core.

“Say it louder,” Damian demands, his voice edged with authority. His hips snap against yours, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You call out his name louder, your voice trembling with the intensity of each thrust.

“Damian!” you cry, your hands grasping at the sheets as your body arches beneath him.

A dark smirk crosses his face as he watches you, clearly satisfied with your response. “That’s my good girl,” he growls, his tone dripping with approval. His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, making your body tremble beneath him.

He continues to pound into you, his pace ruthless, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. Your moans become more desperate, and you can feel yourself unraveling, your climax approaching fast.

“I want to hear you scream my name when you come,” Damian demands, his voice husky and low, his possessive gaze locked on you as his hips slam into yours again and again.

The tension inside you snaps, and with one final thrust, you’re sent over the edge. You scream his name, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes through you, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through every nerve.

Damian isn’t far behind. He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you still as he pulls out just in time. He finishes on your chest and abdomen, his warm seed painting your skin as he releases a deep, satisfied groan.

Breathing heavily, Damian looks down at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a proud, almost smug smile spreads across his face. He surveys your body, covered in his release, marking you in yet another way.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, but the possessive edge still lingers. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the roughness of the moments before.

As Damian catches his breath, his eyes soften as they sweep over your body, the intensity of moments before melting away. Without a word, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your forehead before standing and making his way into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the room, and a few moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth in hand.

He kneels beside the bed and gently wipes the cum from your chest and stomach, his touch so tender it makes your heart swell. His gaze meets yours as he leans down and brushes a soft kiss to your lips, so different from the fiery passion you shared earlier. This kiss is slow, comforting, filled with unspoken reassurances.

Once finished, Damian returns to the bathroom to dispose of the washcloth, and when he comes back, he heads straight for his suitcase. Rummaging through it, he pulls out a pair of sweatpants for himself. After slipping them on, he tosses one of his oversized t-shirts to you. You smile, feeling a warmth in your chest, and eagerly slip it on. The familiar scent of him fills your senses as the soft fabric drapes over your body.

Damian climbs into bed beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms, his strong body enveloping yours. You nestle into him, resting your head on his bare chest. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat under your ear brings you a sense of calm, and you let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling safe in his embrace.

After a few quiet moments, you tilt your head up to look at him, your voice barely a whisper as you ask, "Are we okay?"

Damian looks down at you, his thumb gently stroking your arm as he meets your gaze. 

"Yeah," he says softly, his voice deep but tender. "We’re okay." He takes a breath, his expression softening further. "I probably could’ve handled it better. I just… seeing that kiss…" He trails off, shaking his head slightly. "I know it’s just a storyline, but it hit me harder than I expected."

You nod, understanding the conflict he must have felt. 

Before the tension can return, Damian gives you a playful smirk and gently nudges your side. "But let’s be real… you look way better in my shirt than Jey’s."

A small laugh escapes your lips, and the playful banter instantly lightens the mood. You snuggle deeper into his chest, feeling the weight of the night slowly lift as you share this intimate moment with him. His arms tighten around you protectively, and you close your eyes, knowing that despite the challenges, everything between you two will be alright.

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Eternal Blood Animate Tokuten CD ☽ Vol. 1 & 2 ・A Certain Day at the Mukami Household

Original title: ある日の無神家 Voiced by Sakurai Takahiro (Ruki), Suzuki Tatsuhisa (Yuma) English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (as always, BIG thank you to @karleksmumskladdkaka!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This CD was very generous with the fan service, to say the least... I can safely say it's one of my new absolute favourites! The cooing, the teasing, the brotherly banter, Ruki's tired dad energy near the end, and both Ruki and Yuma fawning over you? _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): I hope you have as much fun listening and reading along as I had translating it!

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

00:00 [The scene starts with Ruki quietly reading in his room.]

Ruki: What a lovely day it is today. A pleasant breeze is coming in from the window, and time is passing ever so slowly... There couldn’t be a more perfect time to read.

[Ruki turns a page.]

Ruki: I see. There’s much more to this book than I thought. I only bought it on a whim to pass the time, but… it’s actually not bad at all.

[Ruki turns another page and continues reading. The sound of rushed footsteps comes from the hallway.]

Ruki: Oh. Those footsteps… Is that Yuma?

[Ruki snaps his book shut with a sigh.]

Ruki: If he’s heading this way, he probably wants something from me. I’d hoped to spend a quiet day alone, but it seems like I’ll have to let that go…

[Yuma bursts into the room.]

Yuma: Hey! This’s bad, Ruki!

Ruki: Do not run in the hallway. Knock. Wait before I answer until I open the door. How many times do I have to tell you all of this?

Yuma: There’s somethin’ much more important that I need you to take a look at. You got time, right?

Ruki: What happened? You came all this way to disturb my reading, so at least tell me why.

Yuma: You’ll know the reason when you just come to the garden ‘n look at it.

Ruki: At what? 

[The scene shifts to the Mukami mansion's vegetable garden.]

Ruki: Ah… What on Earth is this? Hey, you. You were here together with Yuma, right? Explain the situation.

[You try to explain, but you’re so worked up that you keep stumbling over your words.]

Ruki: I shouldn’t have asked you. I can’t have a conversation with you when you can't even string together a sentence.

Yuma: Well… you know how most of the veggies in the garden are pretty much ripe for the pickin’ right now? She was pickin’ them for me, and then she suddenly called out that she saw somethin’ underneath the dirt. So, I got curious and dug it up, and it was… this.

[Yuma pats the box next to him.]

Ruki: This box? It looks like a coffin. You could lock up a full-sized human in there.

02:04 Yuma: Haha. You ain’t wrong. Like you said, it might be a coffin. Might be a vampire inside that was buried while he was sleepin’ or somethin'.

[You definitely don’t like the idea of that.]

Yuma: What, you scared something’s gonna jump out at you? You’d better fight like hell. Heh.

[You ask him what he would do if something were to jump out at you.]

Yuma: Huh? I’m just gonna stand by ‘n watch, of course. I ain’t comin’ to your rescue for free.

[Yuma comes closer.]

Yuma: If you want me to save ya, you got somethin’ to give me in return, right? That sweet stuff that’s flowin’ in your veins… Make me an offer and I might give it some thought.

Ruki: Yuma. That’s enough.

Yuma: Yeah, yeah, got it.

[Ruki steps closer to the box.]

Ruki: Hmm… The lid of the box seems to have a lock on it, but it’s in really bad condition. It looks like it would open easily.

Yuma: So? Let’s take a look inside.

Ruki: Hold on, Yuma. Don’t do anything reckless. Haven’t you read any literature on these kinds of things?

Yuma: Literature?

Ruki: These kinds of boxes are often traps. I’ve read about them in books. For example, there was one case in which a box washed up on a seashore. A man opened the box and smoke poured out, which gathered into the shape of an old man. It’s likely some kind of curse.

Yuma: Those kinds of curses exist?

Ruki: And then there are also these boxes of various sizes, collectively called tsuzura. You’re pressured to choose a single box, and if you choose the biggest one, there’s a trap inside: a monster jumps out of it. There are innumerable examples.

04:01 Yuma: Really? That’s some scary shit.

[You tell them those are probably made-up stories.]

Ruki: Oh? Do you really think they’re mere myths, Livestock? I’ll let you open the box, then.

[You immediately backpedal and try to run away, but Ruki catches you.]

Ruki: Oh, no. Don’t think you can run away now.

[You tell him you don’t want to do it.]

Ruki: You’re the one who said they’re myths. This is an order from your master. Hurry up and open it. If a monster really were to jump out, you’d have nowhere to run. It could easily tear you to pieces. I wonder what happens when it sinks its teeth into this pale skin of yours…

[Ruki’s hands palm your bare skin. You get flustered and try to move away.]

Ruki: What’s wrong? Did you already imagine it just by me touching you? Ah… So you actually prefer pain over pleasure.

[Ruki pulls you closer.]

Ruki: Don’t lie to me. You’re eagerly awaiting it, aren’t you? Your body seems to be trembling in delight, actually. Show me that expression of yours properly.

[Ruki grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.]

Ruki: Oh. I see the colour has completely drained from your face. Fear is not such a bad look on you. Well, then—do as your master tells you and open that lid.

[You tell him you’re scared and repeat that you really don’t want to.]

Ruki: That’s precisely why I’m making you do it, of course.

[You’re on the verge of tears.]

Ruki: Heh. You look miserable when you’re about to burst into tears. It’s quite enjoyable. However, you seem to be misunderstanding something. I’m not doing this to punish you. It’s your reward for helping Yuma. 

[Ruki pulls you even closer while you struggle.]

06:03 Ruki: To have your will completely ignored, your body pinned down until you have no choice but to obey… you actually get off on such wretched situations, don’t you? I’ll make you humiliate yourself. Now, how about you wag your little tail in delight and do as I say?

[You violently shake your head.]

Ruki: Good grief… You really don’t know when to give up, do you? You still have no intention of obeying?

Yuma: You’ve really gotten more stubborn since you started livin’ with us. Or, well, you were prolly already stubborn from the get-go.

Ruki: Livestock who don’t follow orders don’t do themselves any favours in terms of charm. Ah. Let’s do this on different terms, then. If you open the lid, I’ll make you your favourite for dinner.

[That piques your interest. You immediately say you’ll do it.]

Yuma: That makes you agree straight away?!

Ruki: Ah… I’ve clearly been using the wrong methods to discipline you. It’s like I’ve got one more Kou or Yuma in my household…

Yuma: What do Kou ‘n I gotta do with that? Well, fine by me, though. Besides, this lid’s pretty heavy. You sure you can lift it with those tiny arms?

[You try to lift the lid but fail miserably.]

Yuma: It ain’t movin’ at all. Are you even tryin’? Put some more effort into it or Ruki’s just gonna yell at you.

[The lid still doesn’t budge despite your best efforts.]

Yuma: I thought you said you’d do it yourself. How pathetic.

[You give up.]

Yuma: You’re so hopeless it ain’t even funny. Hey, Ruki. It’ll take all day if we leave this to her.

Ruki: It certainly seems that way. It can’t be helped, I suppose. Lend her a hand.

Yuma: Gotcha. Let’s see… I’ll give you a hand, so at least put some effort into it, alright? If you can’t open that lid, I’ll sink my fangs into you so deep you’re gonna beg for mercy. Makes it a bit more thrilling, right? Really, though. You keep yapping about the lid being heavy, but how heavy’s it really?

[Yuma gives a little push and the lid gives right away.]

08:24 Yuma: Huh? The fuck? It ain’t even that heavy. You really are useless. You shoulda been able to lift it lickety-split, Sow. I’ve given you a head start, so you do the rest. I’ll let go, so don’t drop the lid, alright?

[Yuma lets go and you immediately almost drop the lid.]

Yuma: C’mon, hold it up a little higher, Sow! Are you really puttin’ all your strength into it? You look like an idiot. Makes me wanna laugh. If you don’t put in the effort like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, we’ll start from scratch again. Jeez… I’ll teach you how it’s done.

[Yuma puts a hand on your lower back, which startles you.]

Yuma: Here, right here. Focus your strength in your lower back when you brace yourself. What, you ticklish? 

[You shake your head.]

Yuma: Ah, I see, I see. So you’re just weak? Besides, you can’t really fight back when you got your hands full. Even if I were to do this…

[Yuma puts his hands on you again.]

Yuma: Hehe. That’s a great reaction. Doesn’t matter how tough a position you’re in, you still love it, dontcha? You’re workin’ so hard so hold up that lid, but I wonder what’ll happen if I do it again…

[You unconsciously brace yourself.]

Yuma: You’re shiverin’ like a little rabbit. Ah, come to think of it, there’s a lil’ somethin’ on your clothes…

[Yuma puts his hands on your waist and squeezes. You almost drop the lid.]

Yuma: Haha! Don’t let go so easily. Are your sides really that weak? Besides, I think you know already, but if you let go, you lose. Hm… You don’t wanna get punished, do ya? Better fix that attitude ‘n please your owner. Brace yourself ‘n take it. C’mon, c’mon!

[Yuma tickles and gropes you until you finally break and drop the lid.]

10:24 Yuma: Ah, for shame. Now the lid’s closed again. Time’s come for this useless little piggy’s punishment.

[Yuma grabs you from behind and pulls you against him. Your arms are trapped behind you.]

Yuma: Well, you can’t run away when I’ve got you from behind like this. Your chest’s completely unprotected. Should we punish you right here, right now? C’mon, Ruki. Join in on the fun.

Ruki: Good grief. What are you playing around for? However… You didn’t follow your master’s orders. This indeed calls for punishment.

[Ruki walks over to you. You turn your head to the side in embarrassment.]

Ruki: Are you trying to seduce me, exposing your neck to me like that? You really lack discipline.

[Ruki trails his fingers along your neck, causing you to shiver.]

Ruki: Heh. You’re already losing control of your body just from a little touch of my fingers. Did you fail on purpose because you actually want to be punished? Normally, I would’ve sunk my fangs into you right away, but I think I’ll keep you in suspense today.

[Ruki trails his fingers along your skin again—your cheek and your ear this time.]

Ruki: Your cheek, your ear… Where would you like me to bite you?

[You tremble.]

Ruki: What’s wrong? You’re already trembling from my fingers tracing your skin… Does it excite you that much?

[You deny it.]

Yuma: You can deny it all you want, but you don’t sound very convincing. You’re just covered in weak spots, right? I bet you’ll cry out nicely when I touch your back. Let’s see…

[Yuma caresses your back and your voice slips.]

12:00 Yuma: Haha. What was that shameless sound just now? That’s all it takes to turn you on? What a lewd lil' thing you are.

[You struggle.]

Yuma: For fuck's sake... What’re you actin’ all innocent for when you’re clearly beggin’ to be touched?

Ruki: Are you writhing like that because you want it so badly it hurts, then? You’re out of luck, though—I’ll drag it out. You won’t learn discipline if you always get what you want right away, after all. I'll caress you slowly, deliberately, until you’re absolutely flushed with heat...

[You quietly protest, but like Yuma said, you don’t sound convincing at all.]

Yuma: Nah, you’re actually way into this, ain’t you? If you want our fangs, beg for it.

Ruki: Where would you like me to bite you? Tell me. I can't promise that I’ll honour your wishes, though.

[You struggle against them with all your might, kicking and screaming.]

Yuma: Hey, calm down—

[You accidentally kick the coffin in your efforts to get away.]

Yuma & Ruki: Huh?

Yuma: Oh, dammit. Now part of the lid’s broken because you were kickin’ so hard.

Ruki: The coffin itself has deteriorated quite a bit, too. That said, your kicking did most of the damage. Yuma. Let her go. Her punishment is on hold for now. We can’t have her destroy that coffin before we confirm what’s inside.

Yuma: Well, whatever.

[Yuma lets you go and your knees immediately give out.]

Yuma: Haha. What’re you sittin’ down for? Didya really feel that good? Well, we’ll take our sweet time with you when we continue later. I mean, you wanna see what’s inside the coffin too, right?

[You get up again.]

Ruki: Yuma, can you open it up?

Yuma: Yeah, hold on—

[Yuma opens the lid of the coffin all the way.]

Yuma & Ruki: Oh? 

Yuma: The hell’s this?

Ruki: They look like kimono (1) and combs from a long time ago… 

Yuma: There’s a whole bunch of stuff that I don’t really recognise, too…

Ruki: I see. It seems we’ve unearthed a time capsule.

14:08 Yuma: A time… capsule? What’s that?

Ruki: People put various things from their time in a box and bury it. Usually, they’re unearthed after a long time, when someone wants to reminisce.

Yuma: Why’s it buried here in the garden?

Ruki: I don’t know what happened on this land before the Mukami mansion was built. However, whoever buried this box clearly put a lot of thought into it.

Yuma: Huh. So what’re we gonna do with it?

[You suggest burying it again to preserve its contents.]

Ruki: Easy for you to say, considering you were kicking it earlier. However, I have no objections to that idea. Let’s put it back in the ground.

Yuma: Even though we went through all that trouble to dig it up?

Ruki: We have no need for it. 

Yuma: Well, that’s true. Let’s bury it somewhere where it won’t interfere with my garden. I don’t really get it, though. What’s fun about preservin’ the past?

Ruki: I wonder. It’s a human endeavour first and foremost, though. It has little to do with us.

[You shift on your feet.]

Yuma: Huh? What’s up?

[You tell him you understand.]

Yuma: Understand what?

[You explain.]

Yuma: The feelin’ of wantin’ to cherish your memories?

Ruki: Heh. Memories are worthless. It’s truly something for shallow humans to want to convey memories from their own time period to later generations. Do not think there’s any worth in doing that.

[You disagree. You’ve made nice memories with the Mukami family, after all.]

Ruki: What?

Yuma: Haha. Well said. So, even though you haven’t had it easy since you started livin’ with us, you still made some good memories?

[You nod.]

Yuma: Heh. Isn’t that ‘cause we’ve trained (2) you to think that? Well, I do kinda get what you’re sayin’. Everyone’s got at least some precious memories, after all. Right, Ruki? 

16:08 Ruki: Heh. Still, I don’t understand the need to bury them where they’ll never see the light of day.

Yuma: Yeah, I’m with you on that.

[You try to convince them, but…]

Yuma: Nah, it’s alright. Besides, you gotta help me bury this thing again. And after that, we’ve still got harvestin’ to do!

[You’re surprised.]

Ruki: Heh. You unearthed it, so it’s only logical that you have to help burying it again. You’d better work up a sweat while you’re at it.

Yuma: Hey, Ruki. You’re already here anyway, so lend us a hand too, will ya? With the harvestin’ and all.

Ruki: What? You’re seriously asking me that?

Yuma: You’re makin’ her her favourite for dinner, right? We won’t make it in time for dinner if you don’t harvest the necessary veggies yourself.

Ruki: Tch. That’s not something I should need to dirty my hands for. Hey. Harvest whatever you’d like to eat yourself.

Yuma: C’mon, Ruki. Put in the work for once. You’ll be covered in mould eventually if you keep readin’ so much.

Ruki: You might want to consider that we’re vampires. Do you seriously think there are other vampires who think it’s healthy to work outside on days when the sun’s this bright?

Yuma: I like it, so that’s all that matters! You think so too, right?

Ruki: For fuck’s sake... I won’t do it. I refuse!

Yuma: It’s alright, it’s alright! Hurry ‘n c’mere!

Ruki: You two do it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Besides the obvious traditional Japanese clothing, the word kimono literally means ‘things to wear’ and can also be understood as ‘clothes’ more generally. I think the latter may also apply here.

調教（ちょうきょう）refers to the training of animals.