#and THEN it settles and hes able to sort it out somehow

[salem-s]

can you please write a rafe fic based on the song “back to friends”?

like they were exes turned to strangers but there’s sooo much tension and they’re obviously still sooo in love with each other. just angst vibes with maybe some suggestive fluff? idk

just a suggestion though totally understand if it’s too specific for you!

yes! when you sent this in i had no idea what song you were talking about LOL but now ive heard it and it’s so good. love this prompt!

BACK TO FRIENDS — RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT (18+)

SYNOPSIS you and rafe have been broken up for months, and despite not seeing him since, you haven't stopped thinking about him. then, out of the blue, he's suddenly there at one of your parties: coy yet shy, a presence yet a ghost, looking at you as if he's never seen anything prettier. and all you can think is: what the fuck?

WARNINGS aaaannnngst (miscommunication tendencies is very high here, they’re both idiots), fluff, suggestive content and descriptions of smut. post-grad au, living in a city of your choice. ex!rafe is fun to write, but apologies because this isn't super edited.

WORD COUNT 8.1k.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER back to friends by sombr

You've been single for six months.

Has it been easy? Absolutely not. Was it necessary? That's a bit subjective depending on who answers on the matter, but - of course - most of the time you'd argue no. Your ex would argue yes in a self-depricating sort of way. Part of you knew it was coming to a close in those final weeks, taking into account the way you drifted apart as one of life's natural tendencies.

You were heading in one direction. He was heading in another. There are so many things that he probably thought that he never spoke, especially with the way he hinted towards not being good enough for you, not being good enough to follow you into the next stages of your life. You, of course, knew that wasn't true, that it was his mind sending him into a spiral, not his heart. It ruptured your soul when the last image of him was his back towards you, not even having the gall to face you as he said goodbye. You never thought you'd see him after that.

So why the fuck is Rafe Cameron standing in your living room right now?

He looks good. Too good. The long locks that you used to toy with between your nimble fingers are gone, replaced with a slightly grown out buzz that suits him, makes him look more mature and grounded. A simple t-shirt adorns his torso, snug tight at the seams around his biceps, looking a little bigger than you last saw. He's clean cut, sleek in a way that makes your heart pound, and a head taller than everyone around him, commanding the room without even meaning to.

But his eyes tell a different story.

When those pretty blues meet yours, you see what he really feels: an emptiness and search for something to fulfill his soul, radiating a sadness to them that emulates the look of despair he had the last time you were with him. No one notices. He hides it well. But you were always able to read him like a book, to be able to pin point his emotion like it was your day job, to know how to approach him through various emotions to get him to feel better.

You, apparently, still can.

It's absolutely debilitating when you lock eyes across the room, and you can't even describe the weird feeling that settles in your gut. Is it anxiety? Dread? Excitement? It's a kettlebell in your stomach that only weighs more and more the longer you look at him, the more you register that Rafe Cameron, your ex and probably the only person you'll ever love, is standing in your living room in a state you never thought he'd be in with people you never associated him with.

First you feel shock. Then confusion.

How the fuck is he here? Who does he know? Did he - somehow - stumble upon this party in a stroke of pure luck and humiliation (on your part) or is this intentional? Does he know this is your apartment? Did he recognize the same decor that you had in your old place? Smell your favorite candle? See the furniture and overall mood of the house and think of you? Did he even know? How could he have?

It isn't until (some) of your questions are being answered when you spot another friend of yours, Wyatt, clap Rafe on the shoulder and whisper something in his ear, nodding in your direction and tugging him towards—

Fuck.

Tugging him towards you.

You wish you could move. Or do anything. Pretend to be caught up in a conversation with a friend or sneak out onto the fire escape that you can only access through your room. Anything would be better than this: simply standing in place and waiting for the inevitable. You're angry. Yet sad. Confused. You're mad that he's still looking at you like he's in love with you. You're sad that he's still looking at you like he's in love with you. You're confused that he's still looking at you like he's in love with you.

Before your brain can turn on and make a move, Wyatt's suddenly there with an audacious hand clapped on Rafe's shoulder and gently shaking it to emphasize the presence.

"Honey!” Wyatt chirps brightly (curse his ability to literally befriend a brick wall, and curse the fact that you can't hate him for doing this to you right now if you tried). "This is Rafe, the friend from Coastal that I was telling you about."

"Honey?" Rafe murmurs in surprise, and you nearly stop breathing at the fact that you're hearing his voice again. "This is Honey?"

Before your friend can explain the horrifically embarrassing story as to how you got that nickname that your friends use more than your actual name, you miraculously find your voice.

"And this is the friend from Coastal you were telling me about?" Your tone matches your ex's of surprise.

If Wyatt notices the clear apprehension between you two, he either doesn't notice or simply doesn't care enough to address it. With some sort of magic, he manages to smile wider.

"Yeah! Figured since you both went there, you might know the same people?" He offers innocently, darting his gaze cheerfully between you as if he's waiting for something magical to happen.

But it...doesn't.

Because you fucking laugh.

Right in Rafe's face. And it's out of disbelief (and slight drunkenness) that this is actually happening right now. Your good friend is introducing you to your ex, the same ex that you haven't spoken to (or much less heard from) in six fucking months. The same ex that you've been absolutely devastated over losing. The same ex that you've been attempting to find fragments of in different people, yet coming up short every single time and thus ruining the progression of your love life.

It's comical, really, it is. Because what are the odds of this happening? Of Rafe Cameron standing in your apartment, in a place you thought hidden well enough to shield you from the ghosts of your past? Of the mere concept that this is how you're seeing him again: flushed and drunk and having a great time at a party you organized. It's out of left field, completely throwing you off your game (if you even have one).

"Yeah," you manage to get out, "we know of each other."

Wyatt beams, and Rafe frowns, portraying the happy-sad theatrical masks to a fucking T.

Yet your friend takes that as a cue to pat Rafe's back, sending another knowing glance your way as if to say you're welcome! before disappearing into the party, chatting up another group of friends as if he didn't just cause a rapture in your brain. You let your gaze settling on your friend morphing into the crowd before glancing back at your ex.

Who's staring right at you.

The seriousness in his expression makes you falter slightly, not because of the intensity of it but because you just...miss him. You haven't seen him in so long, haven't been this close to him. If you wanted to, you could reach out and grab him, tether yourself to him, cling onto a bicep like you used to love doing, or sit snug under his arm and relish in the warmth he always unintentionally provided. But you can’t. Not anymore. He made that clear when he ended things with you: he wants nothing to do with you anymore, and that includes your touch.

"Why did you say that?" He asks gently, as if it's plaguing him. "Why didn't you tell him?"

Your expression must look whack, because you manage a confused smile and an arched brow, as if it's obvious. "Because I'm not about to re-hash the semantics of our break up in the middle of the function right now?"

The tone isn't nice, but it isn't mean either. It is indifferent. Tired. As if you've just picked up the pieces of your heart that shattered with him leaving you, only to have the cracks form again and threaten to burst through the seams of the fragile tape you used to stitch your heart back up. It's a bit crazy for him to ask that, you think. Because why would you bring it up? Wyatt doesn't know any better, as the faux introduction was done out of pure innocence, so why damper the mood with the truth?

Rafe pauses at your words, and the longer he's silent the more you feel stupid. You feel stupid that you're essentially backed into a corner, drawing shapes in the wooden floors with the tops of your toes to keep from slipping, swishing around a drink that has one small sip left in it. It's almost worse that he's silent. You want him to scream. To get mad, for whatever reason. Because then it'll be easier for you to pull away, to detach, to fucking move on.

But he doesn't. He's gentle with you. He always was. Never raised his voice or acted out. He was just...Rafe.

He still is, apparently.

"How have you been?" He manages to ask after a moment's silence, opting for the safe choice of not going on a tangent based on your snotty response.

What do you think? You want to snap.

But you don't. You simply shrug. "Fine. You?"

Rafe furrows his brows, as if his answer is obvious yet prolonging the response to see if you really know, or are asking out of courtesy. You're asking because it's the script you normally follow, when someone asks how you are you typically ask them back. It's not rocket science. It doesn't need to be complicated. God, why is he making it complicated?

Why is he looking at you like that?

"Are you going to answer, or..?" You trail off, searching his eyes for any sort of answer but coming up short.

Your tone is detached, as if you're talking to an old friend who you can joke and kid around with. Not the guy you've loved for years. The wince on his face reminds you of that, that you’re not joking around with just anyone. You’re with him. You’re acting like nothing is wrong, like these past few months have been a walk in the park. It’s funny that you’re going at him as if you haven’t shared your deepest vulnerabilities with him beneath soft sheets that smell of him.

Although Rafe has absolutely no room to guilt trip you right now. He orchestrated this. He wanted this. Not you.

You speak before tears can start brimming your waterline. “Whatever. See you around.”

You’re quick to duck around his audaciously broad figure, beelining towards…anywhere that isn’t here and anywhere that doesn’t have him infiltrating your senses, dulling you down. A flicker of anger crosses across your heart, because how dare he? How dare he show up here (even if he didn’t actually know this is your place, the meaning still applies) and send you all these weird signals? How dare he look at you as if he’s in pain?

Because this is his fucking fault. He broke it off, he separated himself when he didn’t need to, he lost faith in himself as a partner. You loved him through his faults, and you still do, yet that still wasn’t enough to make him change his mind. All him. Not you.

Rafe says your name quietly.

Like an idiot, you turn. Despite the thumping bass and the high pitched laughter wafted through each room, you hear him loud and clear. His blue eyes are too pretty, too intently focused on you, too…everything. It’s almost painful to look at, to see the reminder that you lost him, you lost the privilege of staring shamelessly at those pretty, pretty blues.

“You look beautiful,” he says ardently, low in a tone just reserved for you.

But it only upsets you further, makes your heart split in quarters after he split it in half six months ago. You hate how sincere he sounds, as if he’s been itching to say it all this time. Instead of a compliment, it comes across as a reminder that he left.

All you can do is shake your head. “Fuck you, Rafe.”

And you’re disappearing into the party before he can object.

You’re grateful that your room is somewhat secluded from the communal spaces.

It’s especially forgiving in this instant, when you’re cozied up alone on the fire escape that someone can only access from your bedroom, hugging your knees and staring out onto the cityscape with a scowl so deep one may think the horizon wronged you. A joint that was supposed to calm your racing heart lays untouched next to your lighter, and you don’t even have the gall to light it and try and forget about the events of tonight. Knowing yourself and knowing your brain, the weed will only tenfold the nagging emotion.

You fucking miss him. And you fucking hate him. And you fucking love him.

It caught you immensely off guard to see him again, much less standing in your living room and talking with your new friends without them even knowing who he is, without knowing what he did. The result in your brain is immediate: you miss him. You didn’t realize how much you did until you saw him.

You miss the way he’d always wake up before you, either getting up to brew your favorite coffee blend or simply waiting for you to wake in his arms, tracing idle fingertips along your smooth skin or kissing your hairline. You miss how he always made you laugh, no matter how grumpy or irritated you were at him or at the world. You miss his charm, the way he’d always flirt with you regardless of how long you’d been together, pretending to not know you in public just to ask you out all over again. You miss how he knew you, how he knew your favorite things and brought you your favorite foods and candies, how he’d buy you silly trinkets he saw in a store window simply because it reminded him of you, how he’d know how to approach you when you’ve had a bad day. You miss how he loved you, like there was nothing else around him worth his time.

The tears don’t come. They almost do, but when the time comes for them to fall, they just…don’t.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve already used all of them on him. Or because you’re tired. Or because you’re simply sitting with a pit in your stomach about the fact that he’s here, he’s actually here, probably making friends and slowly integrating himself in the life you wanted him to be in from the start.

God, feelings fucking suck.

“Hey.”

The voice (the all too familiar voice) startles you, snapping you out of your thousand yard stare to whip your head around to face the culprit. You blink dumbfounded when your eyes meet his pretty blues, yours definitely blown wide simply at the mere thought of someone disturbing your fire escape time, a fire escape hidden from the party.

Of course, it’s him. How did he even find you?

You didn’t even hear the window crack open. Nor your bedroom door. You didn’t think someone would have the audacity to enter someone else’s bedroom without knocking, or perhaps he did and you simply didn’t hear it. Regardless of the way in which the events played out, he’s still leaning through your window frame and still too fucking close to be considered apprehensive.

At your silence, Rafe clears his throat with a cautious glance. “Can I sit?”

I don’t know, can you? You almost snap childishly, disastrously still wanting to put on the front you had on earlier to attempt to show him your indifference, but it proves unlikely that you’ll have an ounce of that spark you had from before.

Because now you’re just tired. Worn out mentally. Re-hashing the details of your breakup over and over and over in your head to torture yourself. You have little fight left in you, and the mere thought of trying to stay strong only settles more of a kettlebell in your gut.

Wordlessly, you nod.

It’s a bit awkward when he actually realizes you’ve said yes (gestured it, actually), registering that you’ve given him the green light instead of the red that he had been expecting, especially since your venomous words about an hour ago. His limbs are long and lanky, and it takes him a bit of time to actually situate himself next to you and find a position comfortable enough to accommodate his stature. It’s not the most forgiving fire escape, but you’ve gotten used to the harsh ridges and crates that are now a source of comfort.

Rafe notices the unlit joint. “Were you gonna smoke?”

You shrug, because you don’t even know. You brought it out here just to have some sort of outlet in the beginning, but realized it actually might make your spiraling worse, so you left it untouched. Perhaps for later. You didn’t even bring your phone out here.

The stubborn silence coming from you makes him antsy, you can tell. Because there’s one thing that always made him nervous, and that was when you shut down. When you closed yourself off and drifted into the confinements of your mind that aren’t forgiving. When you are silent, because he’s said before that he loves your words, and life without them always hurt no matter what. He dealt with your quiet as best as he could, and for the most part he always handled it well.

Obviously, his method of coddling you back into speaking isn’t going to work now. So instead he sits, picking at his nail beds that confirms he picked up his bad habit again. You almost instinctively reach out to get him to stop, but catch yourself before you can further embarrass yourself.

“You can have it, if you want,” you offer tiredly, voice quieter than you intended.

But despite the volume, his shoulders visibly relax at the sound of your voice.

“No, I’m…” Rafe clears his throat. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

Then, more silence.

He’s so close yet so far, just barely brushing shoulders and you almost don’t want the connection because it’ll simply remind you of how good it feels to touch him. You don’t want to know it again only to have the rug swept out from beneath you once more. So instead you keep your distance, and don’t lean into him as your heart achingly wants you to do so.

You speak before you make a stupid decision. “How’d you find me?”

In your peripheral, you see Rafe’s head tilt quizzically towards you as if he wasn’t expecting you to speak, to initiate the conversation after the drought. He’s quiet for one, two beats, finally registering that, no, he didn’t imagine it, you asked him a question.

“Wyatt,” he responds simply. His eyes feel like lasers boring into your profile, but you don’t give in, keeping your gaze solely on the city. “Gave me directions.”

You hum. Of course.

“This is nice,” Rafe adds after a few moments. “The place and the…view.”

Again, you hum, ignoring how he’s only looking at you.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask gently.

His brows raise at you bringing out the one million dollar question earlier than you both anticipated, but of course it’s the only one that’s been on your mind for the better part of an hour. He’s here, in the place you initially planned for you two to be in, the place he said he couldn’t follow you to because he didn’t want to bring you down. It feels like one big joke, as if your breakup meant nothing because, despite it all, he’s here.

“Wyatt’s helping me get on my feet,” he answers quietly. “Dad cut me off.”

That piques your curiosity, facing him briefly. “He did? Why?”

Rafe almost looks relieved you’re meeting his gaze. “Backed out of the family business.”

“What?”

He nods. “Put myself in it for a few months and it…” He sucks in a harsh breath. “Fuckin’ blowed. I freaked out, got in a huge fight with him and he just…kicked me out. Cut me off. Told me to go do whatever it is I wanted to do without him.”

Your face must be puzzled as all hell.

He…stepped away from his father’s company? The business he’s been groomed to rule his entire life? Every single major step of Rafe’s life was done to accommodate his eventual take over once his father passes or retires. He majored in business and commercial real estate. He picked up ungodly hours during the holidays or whenever he went home or even logged in from miles and miles away from home to help his dad out with a deal. It’s the only path he’s ever known, only thing he’s ever planned for, only subject he’s been focused on since the responsibility of being a predecessor was high.

And now he’s not doing it anymore?

You want to pry, of course you do, and ask if he’s alright after suddenly dropping the one thing his life seemingly amounted to for the entirety of college. You’ve seen how stressed it made him, how business deals tampered with his mental health and the fear of fucking up weighed on his conscious. More so the fear of disappointing his father.

But Rafe looks content…relaxed, even. It’s as if a massive weight has clobbered to the ground off his shoulders, giving him a newfound lightness to him that you haven’t seen before. Sure, his eyes still brim with a hurt that yours surely reflect, but there’s an easiness to his posture and overall demeanor. It’s almost foreign to see on him.

“And what are you doing now?” You ask incredulously, still wrapping your head around the fact that his life has completely flipped.

Rafe looks down briefly, at the ring you still wear that he gave to you on your birthday one year.

“Working at Wyatt’s dad’s construction site.”

Your brows skyrocket.

He laughs boyishly. “I know. Totally rogue, right?”

Despite it all and despite your aching heart, you manage to laugh with him.

“Rafe Cameron in construction?” You joke. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

He hums low and amused, eyes trained on you. “Me neither. But it’s been good. Steady. Keeping me busy enough so I can save up for school.”

You furrow your brows at him for the umpteenth time. “You’re going back?”

Rafe confirms your suspicions when he nods slowly, earnestly. “Hopefully next fall.”

The words ring through silence for a few moments as you study him, really study his face. It’s soft, still laced with the etches of hurt that isn’t seeming to go away anytime soon, but there’s a firmness to his expression that encapsulates his goals for his future. He looks certain of himself, unsure of himself emotionally, but focused with the way he’s talking about his future.

Because he never really had to deal with that uncertainty. Rafe was always going to move back home after graduation and work with his dad. That was always the plan, nothing more or less to it. He never gave second options a chance and always chased the noble pursuits that would aide him in his future with the company.

But now he’s… free? If that’s the right term for it?

You remember how he used to talk about it sometimes as if it was a prison, as a wheel he’s caught on and never not spinning away from his actual dreams and desires. It was always his path, so Rafe never wanted to think about the possibility of doing something different, because it felt like a lost cause. He’d never be able to leave, so why day dream about doing so? It would only hurt his soul.

Now he’s freed from the burden. And he’s never looked more content.

“That’s…” You try and find the right words. “Good for you.”

You say it as genuinely as you mean it, one hundred percent earnestly. Because he does deserve it, the chance to find himself outside the confinements of what he was bred to be.

But it still doesn’t answer the grand scheme of questions, the big kahuna that’s been plaguing your conscious. Not the question of how he found your room, or your private rooftop, but more so you. Your apartment. Your city. You.

“Why here?” You ask gently. “Out of all the places to start over, you…”

You came to me, you almost say.

But refrain. Because that’s fucking stupid to assume.

It must be a coincidence, no? He has friends here, people to fall back on and places that someone else can introduce him to. He’s not completely alone in his endeavors, like he’s said that Wyatt is helping him get back on his feet. That’s no reason for you to assume that his presence, his uproot, is all because of you. You can’t. Because you’ll spiral more than you already are.

And his answer is worse.

“Because you’re here,” he says simply as if it’s law.

Wh—?

You can barely respond. “Bec—because I’m—?“

Rafe laughs quietly at your befuddlement. “I didn’t know you’d be here literally. Wyatt never told me your name when he told me about the party, only called you Honey. So that was…unintentional.” He hums. “What does Honey mean anyway?”

Your panic spikes. “Uh, nothing. It’s not— There’s no reason to— Semantics.” You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s here for you. “You’re here— You— For me?”

When he nods, it literally sucks the air from your lungs.

“It’s strange,” he says quietly after a moment of relishing in your panicked demeanor. “Seeing you with people who are calling you a different name. Seeing pieces of you around the apartment. I knew as soon as I walked in, it just…fucking killed me.” His fingers twitch in your direction, as if his body is involuntarily drawing himself to touch you. “I didn’t realize it would hurt so fucking bad.”

You can’t help but frown. “You’re the one who did it.”

Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, almost pained. “I know. I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know, baby,” he says, the name slipping out like a second nature that stabs your gut. “None of what I'm doing is fair, I- it's selfish. I know that. But I..."

Rafe trails off, scoffing at his own inability to form the words he wishes to speak. You can recognize that, understanding the frustration is not with you but rather the internal turmoil in his own mind. He's constantly fighting with himself, teetering between what feels wrong and what feels right and almost always self destructing in the end.

Words never came easy to him. It's something you learned early on with him, realizing that his actions spoke a lot louder than he ever could. At first, you thought he was odd for shutting down after arguments with his father or after the two of you would disagree on something. But once you saw the laundry neatly folded after one of your classes or the fridge restocked without you asking, you realized that this, the wordless acts, were his versions of mending broken amenities.

You also know that Rafe was probably never taught to properly emote. Orchestrated by the faults of his father.

So you wait patiently. You let him take time to find his words. You allow him to make up for the blunder of his break up.

Playing with the ends of your hoodie (you changed into comfort clothes an hour ago once you promptly decided you will not be returning to the party), you watch as Rafe studies the ring on your finger, brows knit as his eyes narrow in an attempt to ground himself, to focus his thoughts carefully and calculate what he wants to say, how he wants to say it. Trying really, really hard to articulate his bubbling feelings.

"There hasn't been a day that's gone by where I don't think about you," he starts slowly, tone low to articulate his seriousness. "Every fucking day, all I can see is how I hurt you."

The instinct to say something, to say anything, is stronger than you've ever felt. But you hold back, you bite your tongue, instead sucking in a deep breath with the anticipation that whatever he's about to say is going to fucking hurt. Not because you've already been through this before, but because he's probably about to break your heart without even knowing.

He continues. "It wasn't— When you told Wyatt we knew of each other, I... To look at you and pretend you were someone I've never met as if you aren't the only thing keeping my life together at this point.”

Rafe trails off, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily to avoid going on a tangent, to focus on what's important to him in this moment, to not get hung up on semantics from earlier when you were being an asshole.

With another deep breath, he continues.

"I thought I was doing what was right by distancing myself from you, because I knew I'd be suck at home working a job that would've made me miserable, and I..." He sucks in a harsh breath, shaking his head.

But you're yearning for an answer. For anything. "You what?"

Rafe briefly meets your gaze, almost shyly, because you're still here hanging onto every single one of his words. And the look on your face is fucking killing him, because you only look more hurt than before yet prettier than ever.

He swallows harshly. "I know what I'm like. Especially around my old man, and I didn't want to subject you to that."

"Rafe."

It's said as a plea, so earnest and heartbroken that he didn't think you would stand by him, through his wide range of emotions. Because you love him. You know the mental struggle he deals with whenever his father is involved in anything, and you knew that going into your post grad lives. Still, you were going to stick by him, no matter what.

Rafe says your name quietly. "I don't like who I am when I'm around him. I'm mean, and self destructive and...and a total fucking head case."

You whisper his name once more.

But he only shakes his head. "Please, I—I know it sounds stupid, alright? I just didn't want you to see that, to see that part of me. The thought of being long distance with you already fucking killed me, and I didn't need my temper adding onto it."

Rafe's eyes leave yours and settle downwards on the metal crate you're practically both sitting on. His fingers immediately fly to his hand, incessantly picking at his nail beds as a tell that he's on edge, close to panicking. He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it, but his eyes dart back on forth as he shakes his head, almost to himself, as the gears in his mind turn and turn and turn to desperately search for something more to say.

The act is muscle memory when your hand goes to cover his, stopping his bad habit immediately.

His head whips up to meet your gaze, jolted by the contact he surely was not expecting.

But you hold your own, gazing at him gently to stop the horrific insecurities you know he's spewing to himself in his head. For once, you need him to stop listening to himself and listen to his heart, listen to you, to stop trusting the devil on his shoulder and self sabotage in fear of others doing it first. You'd never. Not with him. He must know that.

"I know you," you say quietly. "And I know you would never hurt me without meaning to."

He winces.

Yet you continue. "I know you push people away before they can do it to you. But you need to understand something, Rafe, that I wasn't going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere now. When will you let yourself believe that?"

Rafe frowns impossibly deep, brows furrowing at the notion that you're still here. Despite everything he's done to you, said to you, made you think, you're still here. Wanting him. Caring for him. Being too damn sweet for your own good as you always were. And still are. You're still you, through fragments and a smile that doesn't reach your eyes quite yet, but you're still you. Looking at him like you still love him.

When your hand leaves his to cup his jaw gently, it feels like he can breathe again.

Holy fuck. You've almost forgotten what it's like to touch him. To feel him. To run your fingers along the smoothness of his skin and ground him to a moment so emotional that it nearly sends you flying away. Your palm is practically molded to the sculpture of his bone structure, as if it's been without a puzzle piece for so long, spending so much time incomplete and half of a whole.

Subconsciously, he leans into your touch.

"It feels wrong," he murmurs, eyes boring into yours so deeply that you're getting whiplash. "Having someone care about me like you do. It's not... No one has ever... I don't know how to deal with it."

"By talking," you hum low. "By telling me how you feel. Telling me what you need." Your thumb rubs an absentminded circle over his cheekbone.

He nearly sighs at the sensation. "I don't want to be a burden."

If possible, you frown even more than before. "You're not— Why would you say that? You're not a burden. At all."

Rafe doesn't answer you immediately. His brows pinch at the concept, as if it's foreign, as if what you've said is two plus two is five. His cheek is hot under your palm, hot with nerves and vulnerability that makes him temporarily speechless, and all you do is watch him. You wait for him to come to you. You've said (partially) your piece. His mouth opens and closes once, twice, as if the words are on the tip of his tongue but he refrains last minute, recalibrating his thoughts into something more cohesive.

"My worst fear is disappointing you," he says after a moment of considering your words. "Bringing you down with me. I can't... I won't let that happen."

"You're not," you say almost immediately.

"But I—“

"Do you remember the first week we met?" You blurt out suddenly, rudely interrupting him.

Confusedly, Rafe's head tilts slightly at the anecdote. Nonetheless, he nods slowly, almost egging you to continue.

And you do. "When I cancelled the dinner date at that fancy restaurant you set up? Because I had the flu?"

It was only one of the worst days of your life. Bedridden. Immobile. Practically death without the actual dying part. Too frail to even pick up a water bottle and too stubborn to ask for help. Teetering between being buried under six blankets to cranking the AC on full blast. It was grueling. Debilitating. You missed a plethora of assignments and social gatherings (despite it only being a few days).

He says your name gently. "What's this got to do wit—"

Again, you interrupt him. "You dropped everything, and I mean everything, to take care of me. And then you spent so much time with me that you fucking got sick too," you reminisce, adding a soft chuckle at the end when you think back on the don't be mad text that came from him just days after he was with you.

But he's still not getting it, blinking wordlessly at you in hopes you'll tell him what you mean, why this story has something to do with anything that's going on right now. What he doesn't realize, though, is that it is exactly the kind of thing he sees past. He probably doesn't know how much that meant to you, despite it probably being mindless for him.

How could he even think of himself as a burden? As wasted air? When all he's done is loved you in every way he knows how? How could he even think he's disappointed you when his love has been unlike anything you've ever experienced before? How could he think that low of himself?

"You could never disappoint me," you continue to further add your point. "Never. When all you've done was love me."

“I still do,” he answers almost immediately. “I haven’t stopped.”

You’re moving forward before you both can process it.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, your body is instantly taut to his, chest to chest and cheek to cheek as you find your mold against his body. It’s familiar yet agonizing, almost mind blowing that you’ve gone so long without him, without his touch, without his embrace that you quickly grew to love the first time he held you. You feel like you can finally breathe, finally remember the beautiful feeling after losing it.

Rafe’s nearly — if not more — relieved than you are, wrapping his arms around you immediately with one hand butterfly splaying on your back and the other on the back of your head, keeping you close. The deep exhale that emits from his mouth tickles your ear, and you let yourself close your eyes at the warmth of him, of how he smells the same.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself. “I missed you. I missed you so fucking much.”

Tears brim your waterline. You’ve been without him for so long, loving a shadow of a man without ever seeing or hearing from him. You wanted to be angry, to hate him, to say fuck it and move on with your life. But you couldn’t. Not when he’s the only one who has ever made you feel alive. Not when he’s been hurting in his own quiet way and self sabotaging at the fear of hurting you.

Rafe sucks in a large breath and, with that, his chest bumps impossibly taut to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I made a mistake.”

“Don’t leave,” you plead, your voice ghosting the shell of his ear that makes the hair on his arm stand up. “Please. Not again.”

“I won’t,” he answers immediately, sounding absolutely wrecked. “I won’t, baby. I promise. I’m here. Not going anywhere.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, readjusting your grip around him to pull tighter — if possible — and practically seating yourself in his lap. It’s not comfortable at all, and you can’t imagine it’s comfortable for him against the grate-like fire escape. But it’s when you need, it’s what he needs, and neither of you can fathom how long you spent away from each other, almost like a sick joke.

And you just stay like this for a bit, holding onto each other as if you’re gripping onto a balloon threatening to float away. Despite his shorter, new hair, his cologne is the same as you first met him. The ring adorning his finger, the family ring, is missing from his hand, instead replaced with a similar looking one. The shirt is sleek and thin and you can feel the ridges and hills of his muscles underneath it. He may look a little different, more mature and in different clothes, but he feels the same as he’s always been, he’s still the person you know through and through.

“Inside,” you say after a while. “Please?”

“Yes,” he whispers immediately, certain. “No need to beg, baby. I’ll do whatever you want.”

When you untangle limbs, it’s slow, calculated, appreciative. His hands linger on your body longer than they should, mapping regions he hasn’t touched in months, re-familiarizing himself with the dips and crevices of your body. You do the same, pressing the pads of your fingertips along his shoulder blades and on the columns of his neck, skimming gently over the single earring adorning his left ear that definitely wasn’t there before. His skin is hot, almost burning for you, yet inviting in a way that makes you never want to let go.

It takes a little while to mobilize. You’re so caught up in feeling each other that you don’t realize how much time has passed. Not that it matters anyway. Because all you can focus on is the man in front of you, putting his heart on a silver platter and serving it to you hot. It’s all limbs and incoordination when climbing back through your window, soft laughter echoing off the alley walls and reverberating into your bedroom. His hands attempt to help you, drifting down to your waist as you climb through and you assume it’s a gesture just for him to cop a feel. But you don’t mind. You’ve missed it. You never want his hands away from you again.

When you change into pajamas and you slither into bed, your eyes brazenly watch him. The way he peels his t-shirt off his body, or unbuckles his pants to leave him solely in his boxers, in his preferred sleep wear. Yet he does it because he knows you: he knows you don’t like “outside clothes” in your sheets, wordlessly respecting your wishes without even being told so.

Rafe climbs under the sheets like he owns it, and you’ve already designated that side of the bed to him long ago, so seeing him here doesn’t feel so foreign. It’s muscle memory when his hand seeks refuge on your waist, shamelessly settling under your sleep shirt to let the pads of his fingertips dig into your flesh to almost stake a claim, but also to tether himself.

Your hand, on instinct, ghosts the skin of his chest, palm skimming over his heart. Despite not pressing fully, you can practically feel how fast it’s beating, how hard it’s thrumming against his ribcage. Though his content expression is a contrary to the feeling, looking more relaxed than ever.

The sensation makes your lips twitch. “Your heart is racing.” You let your palm press gently onto the rhythm.

His smile is impossibly bright.

“Remember when I kissed you for the first time?”

“I remember you being so nervous that you missed.”

“Alright.” Rafe laughs. “Not what I was referring to, but I guess.”

It’s devastatingly refreshing to see his smile, almost forgetting how pretty he looks like this: happy, unguarded, mind quiet of its vulnerabilities and allowing him to enjoy the moment, to slow down and indulge in the simplicities yet complexities of love.

“Then what?” You hum teasingly, his blue eyes piercing despite the dim lighting. “If not that?”

The laughter dies down. His gaze softens. His thumb traces shapes on your skin.

“Thought my heart was gonna burst out of my fuckin’ chest,” he murmurs casually as if that doesn’t make yours skip a beat, even more so when his hand comes up to caress your face, thumb skimming over your bottom lip. “Every single time.”

“You should probably see a cardiologist.”

“Don’t need a diagnosis, baby. ‘S just you.”

You try not to smile. You really try. But it’s really fucking difficult when he looks so pretty, staring at you like you’ve hung the stars yourself and holding you here in place so firmly yet gently at the same time that you couldn’t move if you tried. And he knows it. He knows you’re trying not to give into his charm, the same charm that you’ve been falling for for as long as you’ve known him.

“And now?” You dare, pressing your hand into his beating heart. “How’s it feel?”

“Like it’s gonna burst outta my chest,” he says before kissing you.

Instantly, you’re arching into his body, palms pressed firmly on his chest as a feeble attempt to ground yourself, to remind yourself that this is happening and, no, you’re not dreaming. Rafe’s here, in your bed, kissing you like his life depends on it (and it probably does). Your brows pinch even though he can’t see your face, furrowed in focus to narrow in on the passion.

Rafe makes a noise. A sigh? You think. Regardless, you reciprocate and deepen the kiss by slightly parting your lips, allowing him the access he’s been craving. And he takes advantage in less than a second, a large hand splayed on the column of your neck to keep you here against him, feeling the way your jaw slightly opens to accommodate him.

“I love you,” he praises between breaths as if it’ll kill him if he doesn’t. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You say it back. He says it again. You tennis-match the phrase over and over and over until the phonetics are burned into your tongues. He murmurs it against your skin against your lips, you beck, your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs. You whisper it into the air as if it’s prayer, an incantation that, strung together, produces a spell unlike any other.

And he’s hypnotized. It isn’t until you finish twice on his tongue that he’s even thinking about himself, and it’s only when you, in a daze, paw at his chest as ask for him, for all of him. He nearly double takes, caught up in the moment of simply pleasuring you, and if you hadn’t stopped him, if you hadn’t asked so sweetly, he would’ve went down on you ‘til sunrise.

The whole ordeal is slow. Unhurried. Deep and sensual that rattles your bones to shake. When he slips inside, it’s fucking euphoric, with an overwhelming sense of longing, nostalgia that causes a pleasure tear to slip from your eye, a tear that falls without you knowing. Not until he brushes it away with the pad of his thumb, anyway.

You’re sure you’re a babbling mess, spewing out incoherent sentences and mumbles of an I love you that probably don’t make sense. But he hears you all the same, going as far as repeating the phrase over and over against your skin like a mantra, telling you how nice you feel, that you’re made for him, how beautiful you are despite probably looking like a hot mess.

When all is said and done, Rafe is right there to tend to your needs. He’s kissing your stomach as he cleans the mess from your inner thighs. His thumb is smoothing over the hickies he peppered over multiple regions of your body, praising how beautiful you look, how good you were for him. He patiently waits for you to go to the bathroom and get ready for bed before he’s welcoming you back with open arms, and you’re not hesitating to fall into them. His embrace is warm and familiar, and you find it easy to breathe, to feel like you can relax. Rafe must feel the same, because his breathing is deeper, more evened out. Calmer and more sure of himself. Content.

“Stay the night,” you plea gently as you’re halfway to falling asleep.

You know it’s pathetic to ask, that he probably was going to anyway. But there’s that small sliver of doubt, the tiny voice in the back of your brain that’s haunted from the first time he left, driven to separation by his insecurities. You say it to be sure he knows, that he could stay for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t mind.

“I’m not leaving,” Rafe reassures against your hairline. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not again.”

And you fall asleep like that: entangled limbs and sharing the same pillow despite a whole arm’s length of space. Your even breaths are what lure him to sleep, waiting for the crazy thumping of his heartbeat to die down before you can wake up to it. He relishes in the sensation of your breathing, how your chest rises and falls against his, and how you practically nuzzle into his embrace that confirms that you missed him just as much as he missed you.

Rafe pulls you a fraction tighter, refusing to let you go again. It’s a wordless promise that he’s going to try to be better for you, to stop listening to the vulgarities of his mind and listen to his heart. He’s going to allow himself to be loved by you and he’s going to let himself believe he deserves it.

Because if you say it? It’s as good as law.

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work unless given permission.

notes hope this request is what you envisioned???? hope you enjoyed!!

[shaunasrabbit]

Eyes on the Prize | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI. Part V.

Summary: You play a road trip game with Joel.

Tags: No use of y/n, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, some physical descriptions (has a bush because #bushnation, has hair that can be pulled, and is curvy if you squint), age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his 50s), bratty reader and mean!Joel, dom!Joel, verbal degradation, some pussy smacking, spit, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, use of good girl and other pet names, fingering, m!masturbation (Joel jerkin' it), spit, finger sucking, hair pulling, cum eating, like sort of edging but not really, distracted driving (drive safe, y'all). If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~4.2K

Read on AO3

A/N: I'll be traveling for work this next week, but I wanted to get something out before I'm super busy. This chapter is on the shorter side and mainly smut, so it kind of feels like filler, but I hope you enjoy! Lightly proofread this myself, so my apologies for any typos. All on me. As always, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated and feedback is welcome. Thank you for reading! Divider by @/saradika-graphics

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“Jesus, where d’ya learn to drive?” Joel mumbles, gripping the grab handle like he’ll somehow fly out of the car if he lets go.

“I didn’t really learn how to drive,” you snap, “and it’s not my fucking fault that no one’s filling in the potholes during the apocalypse.” 

You roll your eyes and try to ignore the way your face feels hot under Joel’s gaze, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel. In the last hour and a half, you’ve only hit two potholes and considering the state of the roads, that’s a feat.

It’s surprising that Joel is even letting you drive. When he said you’d be borrowing a truck from Bill and Frank, you were sure that he’d be the one behind the wheel the entire time, but after a solid two hours on the road, he let you take over, still exhausted from fucking you last night. You’re tired too, obviously, blinking away any exhaustion that tries to settle within you, but you’re not going to complain. Knowing Joel, he’d say something like I guess I won’t fuck you anymore ‘cause ya clearly can’t handle it. 

Thinking about Joel fucking you is a mistake. Distracted from your daydreaming, you hit another pothole and your heads nearly smack into the ceiling. 

“Don’t even—”

“Are you even paying attention?” Joel cuts you off with his question. It’s rhetorical, but you start thinking of a snarky comment. “Gonna pop a fucking tire.”

“Joel,” you begin, tone venomous. When he shoots you a sharp look that you catch from your periphery, you bite your tongue. With an annoyed huff, you ask, “How much longer?” 

“Couple’a hours,” he responds, pulling out the map and tracing a line from Lincoln to Lake George. “D’ya think you can manage not to kill us?”

“Stop talking to me.” 

“Gladly,” he murmurs, turning his head to look out the window. He reminds you of an angsty teen and you bite back a smile.

Over breakfast, Joel informed you of your plan. The two of you would head up to Lake George, a roughly a three hour drive if you were able to take the highways, but it would take you longer if you were avoiding infected, raiders, or other smugglers. You’d be trading with some people that Joel met when they were still in the QZ. He said he trusts them enough and if Joel trusts them, so do you. 

Bill and Frank need welded cage wire to secure the perimeter of their safe haven and a few other things, so they’re sending you with a hand crank radio, ammunition, and guns. Joel hasn’t told you what you’re getting out of it, but again, you trust him. At this point, the two of you are hours from the QZ and have to rely on each other for survival, so you don’t really have a choice. If Joel says it’s a good deal, then it’s a good deal. You’ll have to take his word for it.

Are you nervous about the journey? Of course. It’s indubitably dangerous and honestly, a little stupid, but again, what else are you to do?

The silence feels oppressive as Joel stares straight ahead, eyes glued to the busted concrete terrain in front of you. Reaching over, you grab a cassette from the holder in the center console. You’re trying not to hit potholes, so you don’t really look at your selection before popping it in the tape deck. Turning up the volume, you feel your breath catch in your throat when Johnny Cash starts to play.

“Good pick,” Joel mumbles.

“Sure is, cowboy,” you say teasingly, glancing at Joel as he shoots you a dirty look, eyes narrowed. His lips twitch into what resembles a smile.

Then it’s just you two and the music.

I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rolling ‘round the bend.

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when.

You can practically hear your father’s voice from afar, like he’s still in the kitchen singing and making breakfast. You can almost smell the bacon and taste the eggs, your dad appearing in the doorway, juggling plates. Sunny side up, he’d say.  Just how you like ‘em, so you can dip your toast in the yolks. The music drags you back in time.

The tapping of Joel’s foot from the passenger side snatches you from your memory and you feel grateful for the interruption. You let the whole tape play before pulling it out. As you’re retrieving from the deck, ready to toss it back in the console, your hand on the steering wheel follows your turned head and you nearly drive off of the road. 

“I know,” you blurt out before Joel gets the chance to speak. “I’m a shit driver.”

“Not necessarily a bad driver, just a distracted one,” he says. 

“That was almost a compliment, so thanks, but also, I’m not…that easily distracted,” you defend yourself, eyes trained on the open road. 

Joel lifts a brow, looking at you with amusement etched on his face. Glancing over at him quickly before looking at the road again, you furrow your brows. Whatever’s going on in his head makes you uneasy. You think about saying something, breaking the silence, but a firm, heavy hand lands on your thigh. His thumb traces lazily circles over your jeans. You sigh softly, quietly hating yourself for the way your clit is already throbbing.

“Not that easily distracted, huh?” he teases, voice low and dark. You recognize the tone well. You heard it last night when he snuck into your room.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the p. 

Eyes glued to the road, you control your breathing as Joel’s hand snakes up your leg. Nearly brushing your clothed center with his thumb, he moves his hand to the valley where your thighs meet. Unconsciously, you part your legs for him and he chuckles.

“Y’wanna test it? Play a little game to see if you’re right?” Joel asks, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.

You run your tongue along your top teeth, sucking them and shaking your head. Whatever he has in mind is a bad idea, you know that, but he has a way of making you think with your pussy and not your head. The weight of his hand on your thigh alone feels intoxicating and each time he strokes your plush skin with his thumb, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to giving in.

When Joel’s fingers make light contact with your clit through your jeans, you shudder slightly and your breath hitches. Joel hums next to you, satisfied with himself, and cups your mound before smacking your pussy. You hold in a whimper, biting your bottom lip. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. I think she wants to play with me.” Joel’s voice is syrupy, dripping with lust. It shoots right to your core. “Bet she’s already real wet for me.”

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You glance over at Joel and his eyes look impossibly dark. He rubs your clit through your jeans and you know it’s over. You’re going to give in. “What do I get when I win?” 

“Don’t go gettin’ ahead of yourself. Let’s just see if you can be a good girl for me.”

“Joel, I’m not doing shit for you unless you tell me what I’m getting out of it.”

A sharp blow lands on your pussy and you yelp, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that it makes your palms ache. 

“Not off to a good start,” he says, moving his hand away from your pussy. He fumbles with the button of your jeans and the zipper; the angle is awkward and you get a kick out of watching Joel struggle. He’s usually so smooth. Once he gets it, he taps your leg and instructs, “Lift.”

You shoot him a sideways glance, trying not to take your eyes off the road for too long, but you do it, lifting your hips so Joel can slide your jeans down. Almost immediately, you fuck up and press the gas way too hard, the truck jolting forward. Joel puts a hand on your lower belly as if he were your seatbelt.

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t say anything, but you’re still holding your breath. Heat creeps across your face as you think about how ridiculous you must look sitting in the driver’s seat with your jeans down just past your knees, soaked underwear still on. Joel’s gaze weighs on you, his eyes dragging up and down your body, taking all of you in. He unbuckles his seatbelt to move closer to you. Brave move all things considered, you think. 

“Knew she’d be fuckin’ soaked,” Joel growls, running two thick fingers up and down the center of your panties. He leans forward to get a better look at the wet spot that’s formed. “Look how bad she wants me.”

You inhale sharply, knowing damn well that if you were to look down at the mess between your legs, you’d swerve off the road. Instead, you focus on what’s in front of you. Your hand gripping the wheel, the sun tucking itself behind the trees, the broken concrete. 

“I have to focus, remember?” you lilt.

Joel doesn’t respond with words, no. He just shoves two fingers inside of you without moving your panties, pushing the fabric into your leaking slit. With the barrier preventing him from going deep, it’s not enough to make you feel satisfied, but you let out a whimper as if you’re telling him more, more, more. You fight the urge to close your eyes, something you normally would do to focus on the feeling of Joel. If there’s anything that rivals Joel’s touch, it’s the satisfaction of winning. 

When he pulls his fingers out of you, he moves to your clit, rubbing precise circles on your swollen bud. The pressure is perfect and you whine, pushing your hips into Joel’s touch while also doing your best to stay in line. Although it’s not like it matters. No one else is, thankfully, on the road. You’d have bigger problems than your bad driving.

Joel picks up the pace, massaging your clit and rolling it between his fingers. You’re nearly panting at this point and very much struggling to drive well, but you manage to focus on avoiding potholes and debris. 

“Doin’ so well for me. I’m sorta surprised,” he rasps. Joel hits your cunt once—hard—and you whine. “Usually so fuckin’ brainless when I’m touchin’ you.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumble under your breath between moans. “Maybe I should drive us off the road.”

“But then you wouldn’t be able to come and this whore of a cunt is makin’ a mess of your pretty panties,” he says, his voice drenched in condescension as he pulls the waistband of your underwear, letting it go and snap back into place. “I think ya need it.”

You hold back a strangled whine at his filthy words and you catch a glimpse of a smug smirk on his face, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you. 

“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me how bad you wanna come.”

Shaking your head, you clench your jaw and clutch the steering wheel like it’s the last thing tethering you to earth. You do want to come. You want to completely ruin your panties. You want to moan and whine so Joel tells you how pretty you sound. You want him to call you a good girl. Every time you give in, you think you might hate him, but you love it. You can’t get enough of Joel Miller and his stupid, dirty mouth. 

Joel pulls his hand off of your pussy and leans back in his seat. Your eyes go wide as you turn your head to look at him, abandoning the road in front of you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as desperate as you feel.

He shrugs and stares straight ahead. “Not going to touch you ‘til you say it.”

You look out the windshield once again, reminding yourself that you are, in fact, in control of a vehicle that weighs a few thousand pounds. Plus, you want to win. You want to come, badly, but you also want to win. You can do both, right? It’ll mean admitting it, saying what he wants to hear. What he already knows.

“I want to come,” you mutter and it’s barely audible. 

“What was that, sweetheart? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Joel,” you say with a groan and an eye roll, “I want to come. Okay? I want to come, so make me come.”

“D’you think you’re in charge?” he snaps, turning to look at you again. You, sitting there exposed, with your pants down and wet underwear. “Think you can make demands? I don’t have to make you come.”

“I know, but you want to and fuck, I did what you asked.”

“So damn bratty when you’re not getting what you want,” he grumbles. 

You do your best to bite back a smile, noticing that he didn’t deny that he wants to make you come. Knowing Joel Miller wants you as bad as you want him makes you shift in your seat in an attempt to quell the ache between your legs. 

“Please, Joel,” you say softly. “I want you to make me come.”

Joel sighs, like it’s an inconvenience to touch you, but he leans over, spreading your thighs further apart with force; the movement nearly makes your foot slide off the gas pedal. With two fingers, he moves your panties to the side and holds them open, finally making contact with your bare cunt as he dips a finger inside of you. It’s shallow and quick, but enough to make you sigh in pleasure. Now that he’s gathered your slick, he circles your pulsing clit. 

“Oh my god,” you whine as he speeds up. Joel knows your body so well, knows exactly what to do to make your legs tremble. “F-Fuck, thank you.”

Humming in response, he keeps the pressure and pace steady. You can feel your orgasm building low in your belly, your legs shaking as you try to maintain a consistent speed while also avoiding potholes. Driving has never been harder and you sort of hate him for this, but you really can’t when he’s making you feel so damn good.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel’s free hand move and you turn your head fully to look over. Joel’s palming his hard cock through his jeans, the fabric straining against his bulge. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, wet and wanting, and all he can hear is your panting that’s interrupted by moans. He doesn’t even notice that you’re staring at him, eyes completely neglecting the road, until you mumble a holy shit under your breath. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me,” he practically barks, slapping your clit which only heightens your pleasure. “Eyes on the damn road.”

The gruffness of his voice spurs you on and you’re about to tumble over the edge. Your orgasm is so close that your breathing is uneven. Still, you manage to goad him on with your eyes trained on his hand that gropes his own cock.

“Or what?” you ask, your voice sing-songy and dripping with lust.

You’re about to come when Joel snatches his hand away and grabs your jaw, ripping your eyes away from him and forcing you to look forward. He completely ruins your orgasm.

“Or I won’t fuckin’ touch you. Use your damn head,” he growls.

“I was so close, Joel,” you complain, shifting in your seat like it’ll give you any sort of relief. You realize you sound like a petulant child as you whine, but you can’t seem to give a fuck, so desperate to come.

“Whose fault is that?” 

“Mine,” you mumble, knowing that if you don’t take the blame he’ll let you sit in your frustration. 

Joel nods and hums in acknowledgement. You’re staring straight ahead, not daring to look at him, when you hear him unbutton and unzip his jeans. Flicking your eyes over ever so slightly so he doesn’t see, you catch a glimpse at his hard dick that’s been freed from his boxers. He begins stroking himself and your chest tightens with desire, your lips parting instinctively. You could drool just thinking about the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“Now I wanna hear you beg for it, baby. Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me how bad ya want it,” he rasps.

Part of you wants to fight him on it, but you need to come so bad you can’t even bring yourself to argue. 

“Please, Joel,” you say, wiggling in your seat, “I’m sorry. I-I was…I was a bad girl.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to call yourself a bad girl because you know Joel is never going to let it go, but you try not to kick yourself for it. 

“Shit,” he grumbles, low and gravelly. Joel’s strokes himself faster. “Say it again.”

“I’m sorry for being a bad girl. Touch me, please,” you beg. “I swear I’ll be good for you.”

The groan he lets out is from somewhere deep inside his chest and in your periphery, you notice that he’s still jerking himself off. For a moment, you thought he had come by the sound that came out of him. Joel obliges and reaches over to shove two of his thick fingers into your cunt. With his palm against your clit, you begin rutting into his hand, desperate to chase your lost orgasm again. 

Joel leans over, lets go of his cock, and sticks his free hand toward you. 

“Spit,” he commands with an open hand. 

You glance at him for a second to see if he’s serious. With a furrowed brow, parted lips, and eyes so dark you feel like you could get sucked into them like a black hole, you know he’s serious. Dead serious. Spit pools in your mouth before you let it fall into his hand, doing your best to keep your eyes on the road even though you want to look at his fucked out face so badly. 

Joel says something under his breath, but it’s hard to decipher what over the sound of his fingers fucking your cunt and the wet glide of his hand on his cock. You think it sounded like a thank you, but there’s no way you heard him correctly. 

“Bein’ a good girl now, huh?” That sounds more like Joel. “You’ll do whatever I say when you’re needy like this. My pretty, desperate whore.”

Even though it was followed by desperate and whore, he still called you pretty. Better yet, he called you his. Your face and neck get hot from the compliment and your impending orgasm. 

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, grinding into his palm. The pressure that was snatched from you before quickly returns. “Joel, I’m going to—”

“Alright now, fuck yourself on my fingers. Come f’me, sugar,” he encourages, plunging himself deeper into you. 

You unravel as your orgasm hits you like a freight train and high-pitched moans claw their way out of you. Clenching around Joel’s fingers and slamming on the brakes, your trembling legs close around Joel’s hand, trapping him between your thighs. It takes everything in you not to close your eyes.

“‘Atta girl. S’good, sweetheart,” Joel says through grit teeth as he massages his shaft.

Abruptly, you pull over on the shoulder, all gravel and debris. If you could think straight, you’d be worried about popping a tire. You put the car into park and throw your head back on the headrest. Letting your head loll to the side, you finally get a good look at Joel. His cheeks are flushed and mouth is slightly agape as he continues to stroke his dick. When he notices you staring at him, he pulls his fingers out of you. 

“Open,” he commands. His voice is low and firm in the most delicious way.

Once you part your lips and stick your tongue out, Joel puts one of his digits, coated in your juices, in your mouth. You wrap your lips around his finger and close your eyes, humming as you taste yourself. He pulls his finger out of your mouth with an obscene pop. The other finger that was buried in you goes into his mouth as he plays with himself. He sucks it clean and you feel your juices leak out of you at the sight.

You have to have him. You have to.

Leaning over the middle console, you go to wrap your lips around the red, leaking tip of his cock when he grabs you by the hair. 

“No.”

“No?” you ask, slowly and obviously confused. 

“No,” he repeats. “Ya don’t get my cock, baby.” 

“No?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you sit up and stare at him incredulously. “Well, why the fuck not?”

“‘Cause you slammed on the brakes. Y’were distracted,” he states matter-of-factly like you’re an idiot for even asking.

You let out a dry laugh and lean back into your seat, pulling up your pants. The whole time you’re doing this, Joel continues to chase his own release. 

“You’re un-fucking-believable. I was coming. I was doing what you said to do,” you defend yourself.

“Wasn’t the point of the game. Point of the game was to not be distracted.”

You shake your head and turn away from him, crossing your arms. You realize you look childish, but that doesn’t stop you from staring out the front windshield, ignoring the man next to you who sounds closer to his orgasm every second.

“No, c’mon. Look at me,” he demands between ragged breaths. “Couldn’t keep your damn eyes off of me earlier. So right here, look right here.”

Joel grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, your eyes locked on his blown out pupils. 

“Eyes on me, baby.” 

You listen. You always do. Joel’s chest heaves up and down as he gets closer to coming and he looks beautiful like that, with his brows drawn tightly together and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hand cradles your face as he pries your jaw open with his thumb, sticking it in your hot, wet mouth. You clasp around him and suck. This does him in, and he spills all over his hand as he groans. You can’t look away, completely mesmerized by the mess dripping down his shaft and rough hands. 

“Fuck,” he says with a sharp exhale. 

He pulls his thumb out from your mouth and gathers some of his cum on his index finger. Before he even lifts his hand to you, you open your mouth expectantly. Joel smirks at you as he pushes his finger into your mouth. Joel always knows what you want and to some extent, you always know what he wants. You suck until there’s nothing left.

“Fuck,” you repeat back to him, nodding and wiping some spit off of your lower lip with the back of your hand.

Joel’s hand drops and he tenderly rubs circles on your thigh, letting his hand rest there. Your breath hitches at the contact. It’s soft, sweet, and surprising. Both of you sit in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath and come down from your highs. Eventually, Joel squeezes your thigh before pulling away and reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out napkins to clean himself up. Once he tucks himself back into his boxers and buttons his jeans, you slide closer to him and shove his arm.

“What?”

“Move,” you reply. “I don’t want to drive anymore. Someone tired me out.”

Joel rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Never afraid to show his annoyance with you. Even so, he gets out of the car and you slide into the passenger seat. 

Back on the road, Joel’s dead silent, staring ahead and acting like nothing happened. Maybe it’s the nature of the situation, of fooling around in the car, but you feel like you’re missing something. There’s not the weight of Joel’s body on yours, no comforting touch, no kisses on your neck. 

“Do you even like me?” you ask suddenly. Goddamn it, you think to yourself. Why the fuck would you ask that?

Joel glances over at you with one eyebrow raised, looking surprised by your question. One of his arms is perched on the side of the door, his hand resting on his cheek, while the other hand grasps the steering wheel tightly. His knuckles are almost white from the grip.

“Enough to deal with your ass for a week,” he says, looking back at the road. It’s Joel, so he sounds grumpy, but there’s also some lightness to his tone and you don’t know what to make of it.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, “but for the record, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

No. You don’t.

You shake your head and lean against the window, closing your eyes while a smile creeps on your face against your will. 

Joel’s looking at you. You can feel it.

[forestlv4r]

TEENAGE FEVER g.satoru x reader

synopsis: you see him at the library, but did it take you too long to catch feelings for him?

warnings: angst, fluff, really long story, mentions of death and alcohol abuse but like very brief, suggestive content.

5.9k words

© forestlv4r. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

ミ★✫彡༄

The library was quiet. a warm summer evening as the last few exams cram themselves into one last week before summer. The university library was full, sounds of book pages flapping and students whispering their notes to themselves over and over.

somehow, you managed to find an empty table to set your pile of books on. as you settle yourself into your not-so-comfortable chair, a voice interrupts you.

"Hey, is anyone sitting here?" a soft voice asks.

you look up to see a boy about your age, his white hair falls onto his forehead. his blue eyes darting at you as he gives a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"yeah you can sit here it's fine." you say as you continue to do what you were previously doing.

'"thank you." he says before placing his stack of books right next to yours.

"im satoru by the way, gojo satoru." he smiles as he looks towards you through the stack of books with whatever little gap is between the two stacks.

"oh- uhm. im y/n." you smile back, frustrated with the disruption, but still keeping a smile on your face.

You couldn't help but notice that every so often, however, he kept stopping to scribble onto his sketchbook, a small book that sat in the midst of all his psychology and biology books, decorated with a small butterfly sticker that sat in the corner of the worn out book.

ミ★✫彡༄

Countless hours of studying and small glances at satoru later, finally deciding it's time to wrap up this session, you pack your things as you leave the table, giving him a slight smile before you head out.

"Well that's the end of that" you thought, yeah he might be the most gorgeous man you've ever seen before, but it was far beyond the time for you to be oozing over some guy you met three hours ago.

As you settle yourself into bed, you couldn't help but think about where you've seen satoru before.

"satoru...satoru..." you repeat out loud to yourself in an attempt to be able to get any sort of clarification on where you've heard that name before.

perhaps a childhood friend? a family friend? someone that was in your highschool at some point? you brush off the worry that stays in your mind as you doze off to sleep.

ミ★✫彡༄

The loud alarm sound rings through your ears like rings of fire harassing your ears, as you pick up the phone with your eyes still unable to keep open, you attempt to take a look at the time that reads on the screen 7:45AM.

"FUCK" you yell as you hurry up to grab whatever was the nearest piece of fabric to cover yourself up. no time to shower, brush your teeth or even have breakfast. rushing out of the university dorms at a speed that would usain bolt at shame.

"ms.y/n. you're late." the professor firmly commands. "yes yes i'm so sorry i don't know why my alarm rang so late i'm so sorry" you begin to sprout out anything in hopes of forming a sentence that could save you. "you're going to have to take the test later today, I cannot allow you inside the exam hall at this hour." your professor affirmatively says before turning his attention back to his computer.

sighing in defeat as you walk out of the exam hall, settling yourself on a bench that wasn't too far from the classroom knowing you couldn't trust yourself to go back to your dorm and return on time for the test.

"hey- take this" you feel a nudge at your shoulder, it was satoru already seated next to you at the bench.

'what's this?" you question, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, blinking a few more times to see clearly.

"ube bread, i know it's your favorite" he says, hand still out for you to take it from him.

"oh⎯ thanks, how'd you know?" you ask, confusion forming on your face.

"there was a sticker of it on your laptop, i saw it when i was sitting with you at the library."

"oh my god i forgot about that sticker, thank you i appreciate it"

"You should probably go inside the exam hall now, you look like you've had a rough morning," he says, getting up while a shit-eating grin forms on his face.

"yeah you're right⎯ wait what, HEY COME BACK HERE"

And off he goes, you hear that god damning beautiful laugh as he walks away.

god damn it, why are you smiling to yourself, focus on school, satoru won't benefit you in anything right now, before anything you need to make it out of here, why would you even think of such a thi⎯

"ms.y/n! Are you planning to take the test today!?"

"right⎯ sorry."

ミ★✫彡༄

Graduation day

The sun is high, unforgiving even through the thin layer of clouds that attempt to dim its heat. A sea of black gowns, tassels swaying, proud smiles, and tight embraces fills the courtyard. You stand among your classmates, robe swishing slightly as you shift on your feet, scanning the crowd.

There’s pride swelling in your chest, but underneath that quiet and persistent—is something else. A hollow tug, as if something’s unfinished. Or someone.

You haven’t seen Satoru in weeks.

After that morning he handed you the ube bread, you grew used to seeing him—his effortless presence, his annoying yet charming comments, the way he always somehow knew when you were too stressed and needed someone to pull you out of your own head. You started studying together more often. Talking outside the library. Walking home on colder nights, when the moonlight made his white hair glow like silver.

He never pushed. You never confessed. Something about it all felt fragile, like if you said it out loud, it’d break.

So you didn’t.

And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone.

No replies. No social media posts. No “hey, I’m skipping town.” Just… silence.

You tell yourself maybe he had a reason. Maybe he transferred. Maybe he didn’t owe you anything to begin with. But it still stings.

You force yourself to focus on the ceremony. Cameras flash. Names are called. Applause echoes. Then finally:

“y/n.”

You step up. The applause sounds distant, like it’s happening underwater. As you take your diploma, you feel like it’s not quite real—like the moment you blink, you’ll be back in that hard library chair, glancing up and catching his eyes across the table.

You exhale. It's over.

Except it’s not.

Because when you step down, as you're tucking your diploma under your arm, you hear it—

"Hey, graduate.”

That voice.

You turn, heart lurching up into your throat.

There he is. Satoru. Standing near the courtyard’s edge, just out of the way of the crowd. White shirt tucked under a blazer, hair tousled and a little longer, like he hasn’t bothered to cut it in a while. Same smirk. Same blue eyes. This time, they do reach his smile.

“You’re late,” you say, barely above a whisper.

He shrugs. “You were late to your exam. I figured I owed you one.”

“You disappeared.”

“I did.” A pause. “I had to. There was… stuff going on. Family. Some complicated things I won’t dump on you today.”

“But you could’ve said something.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” His voice softens. “I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.”

You scoff. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

A beat of silence passes. Then, he holds something out.

A small, beat-up sketchbook. The same one he always carried in the library.

You take it.

“Page thirty-two,” he says.

You flip it open, fingers brushing against the paper. Page one is a rough pencil sketch of the library. Page ten—a hand. Page twenty—a field of flowers. And then, thirty-two.

It’s you.

You, hunched over a book. Laptop open. Sticker of ube bread in clear detail. A faint smile on your lips, drawn with such care it steals your breath.

“I kept drawing you,” he says quietly. “Even when I left.”

You look up at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, but his eyes say what his words don’t. “Maybe I couldn’t stop.”

A warmth creeps up your chest. You close the sketchbook slowly, holding it like it’s something sacred.

“So now what?” you ask.

“I don’t know. You tell me. I heard you’re free this summer.” He steps a little closer. “Unless you’re too focused on school or whatever.”

You laugh, the sound lighter than you’ve felt in weeks. “We just graduated, Satoru.”

“Perfect. That means you’ve got time.”

He offers you his hand, not in the dramatic, romantic way. Just a simple gesture.

You take it.

As the crowd slowly fades and the golden light of late afternoon stretches across the pavement, you walk with him—away from the ceremony, away from uncertainty.

Maybe this time, you’ll say it out loud.

Maybe it won’t break.

Maybe it’ll finally begin.

⠀ ミ★✫彡༄

your whole summer was spent with him. days at the park, evenings at the cinema, nights in his apartment, cooking together, playing together, normal activities friends do.

The unspeakable tension in the room kept growing, the more you tried to ignore it the tougher it got. how could you ignore the thumping feeling in your chest when he wipes something off your face while you're baking together, how could you ignore the days in the park where he picks out your favorite flower for you and puts it in your hair.

you often wondered if he felt the same, the feeling of not wanting to say anything too weird incase he thinks you're weird, but you always still felt at home with him. spending your late nights in your apartment staring at your ceiling instead of sleeping. wondering what he's thinking, surely⎯ there has to be some sort of mutual feelings there, right?

"hey, i need to tell you something, can you meet up later today?"

-satoru

"yeah sure, is everything alright?"

-y/n

"yeah, good news actually, our usual cafe at 6?"

-satoru

"yeah of course"

-y/n

ミ★✫彡༄

picking up your phone, to see the time 5:00PM. just enough time to get ready⎯heading to your closet to find an outfit, not too appealing but enough to bring out the soft features satoru always captures in his sketches of you.

doing light makeup and putting your shoes on, you head out the door to walk to the cafe.

as you walk through the cafe door, the bell at the top ringing grabbing the barista's attention, yet, today she's off. as she sees you she gives you a slight smile that doesn't reach her eyes and points you to satoru's table.

you brush it off thinking maybe it's just not her day. until you turn to see him.

you see her.

he looks at you.

your heart drops.

hands start shaking.

you try to force a smile on your face, his arm around her makes it hard though.

you try, you really do. All you want to do is turn around and run home crying. That's not an option currently, so you head over to the table. cursing every moment of your life that made you end up here.

"hey satoru" you say, still having a weak smile on your face, although the frown is trying to break through.

"y/n, this is my girlfriend, julia." he says, looking a little too happy for your liking.

"hi julia, nice to meet you" your hand reaching across the awkwardly small coffee table to shake her hand.

"Julia this is y/n, she's been my best friend since I was a loser in university." he introduces, raising a half-assed chuckle from her.

"hi y/n" she finally speaks, shaking your hand.

oh great, she has a voice. you wish you could say out-loud, although for now you keep it in your head. it's not her fault you were too scared to say anything to satoru before.

you sit through three excruciating hours of PDA and stories of how they met. wanting to cry or die through every second of it. maybe both.

"hey sorry to interrupt your beautiful story of how you guys met⎯ but i really need to go⎯okay bye." you sprint out of there before either of them could say a word to you. you couldn't stand the fact that he was smiling with someone else, probably drawing her in his sketchbook too.

you've felt that he was acting a bit distant for the past week or two, avoiding your touches, stopped bringing his sketchbook with him to draw you eating strawberries when you guys were having a picnic at the park. and when you asked why he stopped his response was⎯ "i just forgot where i kept the book."

ミ★✫彡༄

The drive home was the worst part yet, the tears making your eyes too blurry for you to see any incoming cars, people honking at you, some even rolling down their window to call you an idiot.

finally making it home, you slam your car door. walking to your apartment and fumbling with the keys to find the right one, seeing the key to satoru's apartment that he gave you months back. only making your crying worse.

you knew better than to let yourself fall for him.

The next week was a blur. forcing yourself to go to work and leave as soon as the clock hits 7, then spending the night in your bed eating junk food and barely taking care of yourself. The texts from satoru slowly stopped coming, from wondering why you left too early that day, to asking why you're not answering your texts, then finally, he stopped.

never bothered to show up at your door.

stopped checking in.

stopped asking about you.

stopped sending you silly tiktoks.

Well, why would he? He has a girlfriend that he is happy and content with.

you're no longer needed in his life.

and he's no longer needed in yours.

you blocked him on everything, all his social media, his number, even his spotify account. you were reading to take on this chapter of your life without him.

the teenage fever you felt with him was officially gone.

ミ★✫彡༄

three years later

you've grown, matured, forgotten about him. yet that polaroid of the both of you still remains on your mirror in your room. reminding you everyday of him.

you've become the successful architect you've always told him you wanted to become. joining a company that was treating you right, your boss was friendly enough, your coworkers were inviting you out to their weekly drinks, and your clients were always easy to work with, although here and there, there were clients that made you want to quit on the spot.

Your next day was like any other for the past two years: you wake up at 6:45AM, shower, brush your teeth, do your skin care, and head over to your closet to pick out your outfit of the day. seeing the polaroid of you and satoru held by a piece of tape on the mirror, making yet another mental note to yourself to remove it when you get home. Which never happens, at least you try.

you are out the door by 7:30AM, just enough time to go by your favorite cafe, and grab your spanish iced latte, yeah you know its basic, but you would never cheat on it.

and you're at your company building by 8:00 AM exactly, everyday, and nothing ever changed. ever.

until. you see him. walking towards the office door from the opposite direction, the whole world around you stops. his hair was a little longer, messier, still the same stupid blue eyes he used to get the last bite of your ube bread.

he wasn't wearing a tie, he never did, always said he hated the suffocating feeling of it around his neck. His suit looked like it was tailored especially for his figure, the white button up under it doing nothing to hide the faint outlines of his abs.

maybe if you turned around and called in sick he wouldn't see you, what was he even doing here?

you begin to turn around to take your leave until you hear it⎯

"y/n?" his voice calls out, still gentle, still soft, still the same voice you fell in love with.

"oh my god it is you" he says as you turn around to his voice, his smile reaching his eyes. He seemed genuinely happy to see you.

"yep, it's me." you say, giving a half-smile to him.

he starts walking towards you, as he goes for a hug, you back up. you didn't mean to, it just happened instinctively.

he frowned, trying to hide it with another smile, this one didn't reach his eyes though.

"I've been trying to reach you for forever, I assumed you just didn't want to be friends anymore" he said, so nonchalantly, so easily like the past three years without you went by like a breeze.

"Are you that dense?" you ask, finally standing your ground from his stupidity.

"what.." he said, genuinely shocked by what you mean.

"Like, are you seriously this stupid? Or are you choosing to ignore everything that we had between us? For years I have loved you. I've done things that weren't like me for you ever since I met you. i've spent my whole summer with you, told you my deepest secrets, called you up first whenever something exciting would happen to me." you cried, the tears starting to roll down your cheeks.

"I loved you satoru! You just left me like it was nothing to get into a relationship with a girl you met a week ago! you led me on! this would've all never happened, all the pain you caused me wouldn't have happened if i never fucking met you!" you screamed. sobbing out your words, you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. It was like a word vomit.

"y/n i didn't mean to⎯" he says, his eyes filled with filled with horror, as he tried to grab your hands.

"let go of me!" you yelled, snatching your hands back. you retreat to running inside of the building. leaving him standing there. alone.

The tears wouldn't stop coming, as you ran through the halls of your building, people tried to stop you and ask you what's wrong, but all you could do was run to the nearest bathroom and sob your eyes out.

Why would you still care? this was years ago, you've healed. at least you think so.

ミ★✫彡༄

you've been avoiding satoru like he was the plague for the past month, you learnt that he comes in around the same time as you, so you put in the request to start thirty minutes later, which got accepted.

Another very crucial piece of information that everyone forgot to mention to you was that Satoru was the CEO of the company you're working at.

the day you learnt that you put in your resignation letter and immediately started job searching.

it was another excruciating day at the job, you sat at your desk, the voices of all your coworkers planning the next place to go have their weekly drinks, which you've been declining to go to lately but they never stop asking.

"hey y/n, are you joining us today?" your coworker angela asks, a sweet woman that always asks how you've been everyday since she saw you crying.

"not today, you guys go enjoy your night" you reply, giving her a genuine smile that doesn't show your teeth.

"Okay goodnight" she replies before following up with the rest of the group to the elevator.

you continue to sketch the design for the building you client wants, deciding to stay late to avoid meeting satoru at the gate for the fifth time this week.

The silence of the office is deafening. you hear the footsteps of the higher ups leaving towards the office, a few of them seeing you and waving goodbye to you before heading out.

until you spot satoru, immediately avoiding his gaze till you hear him telling the higher ups to continue without him because he forgot something in his office.

you hear his footsteps approaching you after he makes sure they're all gone.

immediately to start packing up your stuff to leave, you are not about to have this conversation with him today.

"sit." he commands.

"Excuse me?" you question, giving him a frown for the audacity.

"as your ceo i am asking you to sit, i have an important matter to discuss with you." he says, well fuck he got you there. I guess you are about to have this conversation with him.

"If it's not work related, I'm not interested." you say, crossing your arms.

"gosh y/n." he says, rubbing his temple. "It is a work matter now, can we please talk..." he says, his voice is softer, you can see he's trying to be gentle with you.

you sit down at your desk, as he grabs a chair from another desk next to you.

"Why are you quitting?" he asks, his once bright blue eyes darken, his pupils fully dilated. the warm brownish lights reflecting on his hair, he looks tense, but the moment feels relaxed.

"I found another job." You say sternly, no matter how gorgeous he looks right now, you cannot put yourself in the same shoes you put your nineteen year old self in.

"you're lying," he says. "maybe if you're going to lie at least don't search up architecture job openings on your work computer."

"Now you're stalking my search history?" you raise a brow.

"y/n⎯ stop putting words in my mouth" he sighs, rubbing his temples.

"but you literally are, how else would you know tha⎯"

"I broke up with her." He finally cuts you off.

"what⎯ " Why are you even asking? You couldn't care less.

"she cheated on me⎯ long story my point is⎯ i want to make it up to you." he says, his voice deep, soft, genuine.

"you can't just lead me on, forget about me and once you find me you give me a pity 'i wanna make it up to you' " you speak

"i didn't forget about you" he says, "you were running through my mind for the past three years. At some point, Julia was about to break up with me because I couldn't stop worrying about you." he says, this time looking down at the ground. "She said if I ever texted you again, she'd leave me, and I'd already thought you didn't want me to be in your life anymore after I introduced you to her so I decided to stop messaging you because I would've lost her too."

"and i couldn't handle someone else important in my life leaving me." his voice cracks.

flashback

he'd told you about his sister one day in the park, when he was sketching you, you'd seen the butterfly sticker once again, and decided to ask about it.

"my little sister" says, getting quiet.

"oh, what's her name?" you ask enthusiastically.

"it was Lia"

"was?"

"She passed away two years ago. my high-school graduation day." his voice cracks, "my dad had not gotten over my mom's death that happened six months prior, and he started drinking." "turns out that same day he drank before he drove to my graduation, and crashed before they could see me." he cried. "she gave me this sticker a day before, when i was sketching her while she was in my room"

you started tearing up, grabbing satoru to your chest as he cried for the first time in front of you.

"Is that why you skipped town weeks before graduation?" you ask, voice as gentle and soft as ever.

"yeah" he sniffed, "i didn't want to remember it all over again."

you hugged him tighter.

end of flashback

"satoru i didn't mean for that to happen⎯" you speak, softening your voice. "you know, lia never left you." you say grabbing his hand.

he just looks at you.

"please let me make it up for you, just⎯ just dont leave. stay here⎯ please." he says, grabbing your hand back.

"i⎯ i promise i won't."

he smiles at you, a genuine, real smile.

ミ★✫彡༄

It's been about two weeks since the conversation you've had with satoru. He's since been sending flowers to your desk every single day.

and does not miss a day. Every bouquet comes with a note writing one thing he loves about you. your coworkers never stopped talking about how they think is your "new boyfriend" as per angela's words, she says rolling her eyes to you in the break room. "i just hate gossiping, but⎯ you know, who is sending you the flowers?" she asks.

you know her intentions don't mean harm, and she would never go gossip⎯ let alone tell the others who's sending you the flowers.

"satoru." you say shyly, looking down at the suddenly very interesting sandwich on your table.

"WHAT" she yells, the coworkers having a conversation outside the break room looking your way due to her voice.

"hush! keep it down and don't! Tell anyone, Angela, I'm serious." you say, gesturing to her to keep her voice down with your hands.

"im sorry but⎯ gojo satoru!?" she hush-yells.

"yes⎯yes the gojo satoru" you sigh.

ever since that conversation you've had with him, you've both decided to take things slow, not wanting to ruin it by rushing.

you sit on satoru's couch in his office, waiting for him to finish his work call. He'd promised you lunch at your favorite restaurant tonight as a way of his 'making it up to you' but you know he's just hungry, and maybe does actually want to make it up to you.

"no⎯you idiot you cannot add that to the design the whole building will collapse⎯jesus you know what, do what you want but im not paying for the lawyer you're going to need." he yells before hanging up on the client.

"is that how you speak to clients" you chuckle, walking up to the front of his desk.

"they're all stupid" he frowns, walking up to you.

"you however, look gorgeous today⎯ and every other day, but something's in the air today" he smiles, grabbing your waist.

"hm, must be my excitement for the restaurant, or you're just a freak" you give him a wink, chuckling as you walk out of his office to the elevator. leaving him stunned behind.

"hey!⎯ you can't talk to your ceo like that!" he catches up to you.

ミ★✫彡༄

"you know⎯ i really like you." he starts, "i got with julia because, i thought you'd never like me back, so i tried getting over my feelings with you. once i found out you liked me i realized i fucked up and should've just talked to you⎯ but it was too late." he says, grabbing your hand across the restaurant table.

"you never lost me satoru⎯ when we leave here, i wanna show you something back at my house" you blush.

"already? i thought we were taking it slow" he jokes, a chuckle escaping from his chest. he smiled exactly like how he did when you were just teens.

"Satoru!" you hush yell, slapping his hand.

"after you m'lady" he says, bowing stupidly to you as he opens your car door.

you chuckle, blushing. "thank you kind sir" you bow back.

you both laugh as you walk up to your apartment, he notices his keys still on your keychain.

"You kept my apartment keys?" he asks.

"oh⎯ i just⎯ never thought to take them off, i don't know" you speak, embarrassed.

"cute." he briefly says, brushing it off as he walks inside behind you.

"so⎯ what did you wanna show me" he looks around, noticing how nothing about your apartment changed.

"Come" you say, grabbing his hand, leading him to your room.

He walks in and immediately spots it. the polaroid.

"you⎯ you kept it?" he walks up to the mirror, looking at the polaroid that caught both of your smiles from when you were nineteen.

"yeah, always made a mental note to remove it, but⎯ something in me didn't want me to" you shyly smile.

he looks at you through the mirror as he turns around and grabs your waist.

"y/n⎯ i love you." you say looking into your eyes, you've never seen his face so softened and relaxed before. his white hair falling onto his forehead as he never stops looking into your eyes.

"I love you too," you smile.

He kisses you. hard, and needy.

"I've been wanting to do this forever, you don't understand." he says. going back to kissing you harder, needier.

you both fall onto your bed, he lands on top of you but you both never stopped kissing.

ミ★✫彡༄

three months later

you wake up, blinking the sleep off of your eyes as you grab your phone to look at the time, 7:30AM.

"SATORU WAKE UP WE'RE LATE AGAIN" you yell, jumping up from his bed, putting on the nearest piece of clothing you found.

"baby⎯ i'm the ceo, i can-not come in if i want to" he says, closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

"YEAH BUT I'M NOT⎯ I CAN'T BE LATE AGAIN THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK AND WHAT IF I GET FIR⎯"

"And who's going to do that genius?" he cuts you off.

you stop in your tracks.

"oh⎯ you're right." you speak, relieved but defeated as you sit on the edge of his bed.

"come back"

"but we need to go⎯"

"please baby" he says, propping himself up on his elbows, giving you the puppy eyes.

"We need to get you brown contacts." you say, getting back in bed with him.

"I'll add it to my schedule" he sighs contently, holding you tighter to him.

"you're lucky you're his girlfriend," Angela says, sipping her coffee as she stands next to you in the break room while you make yours.

you chuckle. "I always tell him we're late and he lets the cockyness of being a CEO get to him," you smile.

"hm yeah" "im sure its that" she winks at you as she walks out the door.

"angela!" you yell.

"freaks!" she yells back.

you roll your eyes as you continue making your coffee.

"what's that about" satoru questions as he walks into the break room. hugging you from behind.

"nothing⎯ and no pda" you snicker.

"my baddd" he says rolling his eyes and putting his hands up like he got caught.

"i have two things i want to tell you"

"shoot"

"okay first, tomorrow⎯ day off for the both of us because i want a date night and no stress of work in the morning."

"And second," you ask, facing him.

"i want you to be my secretary" he smiles

"what⎯ but that position is already taken i can't just⎯"

"you will⎯ or no work, you practically live with me and i'm obviously providing for you⎯ speaking of why aren't you moved in with me, besides the point i don't want you working, but having you next to me everyday would better" he leans on the counter next to you.

"fine⎯ but we're sending your current secretary a gift basket and flowers" you say starting to walk out.

"Whatever you want my sweet princess" he chuckles, giving you a kiss on your cheek before heading out the other way to his office.

ミ★✫彡༄

The date night was relaxed, satoru's living room lights were dim, you were sitting on the ground in front of his couch, waiting for him to bring the steak to the coffee table in front of you.

"and here is the food" he says, placing down each plate carefully, as proud of himself as ever.

"I have one more gift," he smiles, his voice soft.

He comes back from inside the room with a book. you recognise it. It was his old sketchbook. but new.

"I bought this sketch book, the same as my old one, when we stopped talking." he says, sitting on the ground next to you. " I've made this book specifically for you. i never stopped drawing you y/n. every time i missed you i drew you, which was all the time."

you take the book from his hold as you flip through each drawing, he draws you in every perspective, all the sketches labeled with the date, starting from three years prior.

every sketch you flipped through had focused on a new feature of you, your light freckles, your dark eye color that he managed to capture so bright, your smile when you were eating a chocolate strawberry.

"Satoru this is⎯ i can't believe this" you say.

"page three-hundred-sixty-five." he says, softly smiling at your expressions.

as you flip through the book to find the page you see it. a sketch of you flashing a big wedding right, your smile captured perfectly in the drawing.

as you look up at satoru, you see the tiny box in his hand, your eyes widen.

"y/n. will you marry me" satoru asks as he opens the box, the same wedding ring as the sketch is in the box.

your eyes start to water as you look at him, your lips quivering.

"yes!" you yell, jumping onto him wrapping yourself around him as you cry.

He stumbles back a little as you jump into his arms, letting out a surprised laugh, but he catches you like it was always meant to happen — like you’ve always belonged there, in his arms, like this.

You bury your face into his neck, tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, and his arms tighten around you.

“You idiot,” you whisper through your tears, your voice shaking. “You really kept that sketchbook all this time?”

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, a smile playing at his lips as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Did you think I wasn’t serious about you?”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your fingers brushing away the strands of white hair sticking to his forehead. He’s smiling now — truly smiling. Not the playful smirks or sarcastic grins he used to flash across the library table. But something real. Gentle. Almost shy.

“I didn’t think…” You shake your head, laughing softly. “I just never imagined this.”

“I did,” he says quietly, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. “From the moment I saw you talking to your books like they owed you rent in that quiet library corner.”

You laugh again, and he leans in to kiss you — soft and sure, like he’s sealing a promise he made long before today.

When you finally pull apart, he slides the ring onto your finger — the same design he’d once doodled absentmindedly in the margins of his sketchbook, right next to your smiling face.

It fits perfectly.

The city buzzes behind you. The lights blur in the corners of your vision. But none of it matters. Not really.

Because in that moment — wrapped in his arms, heart beating wildly, the weight of the ring grounding you in something that feels both terrifying and beautiful.

he kisses you again, this time it feels different.

it's your soon to be husband kissing you.

ミ★✫彡༄

© forestlv4r. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

author's notes: thank you guys so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed this!!!!!!

taglist:

[kezoire]

i still haven’t figured out kezo’s specific powers that extend beyond enhanced abilities ( strength, quick healing, etc. ) and im thinking that mayhaps, he never got them ( for now ) <3 assumed the demon inside was too dormant or perhaps too weak, kezo gave up on waiting to depend on those gifts to surface and instead focused on honing the skills he did have, becoming a tad too good at combat and strategics. when his powers do start to manifest, it happens post - rogue and leaves him kind of fucked up while he figures out what is happening

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[notquitecanon]

IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Third part of my Search History series (based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal minds) , the dinner party. The culmination of a month of knowing the boy's browser histories. Not much of a summary, it's pretty much dirty from start to finish.

18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warning: Fem pronouns and genitals, alcohol consumption, alcohol used during sex, porn, emulating porn, group sex, unprotected sex, tagging dub con just to be on the safe side but not really if you read the other parts you get it, Oral (M & F recieiving), fingering, penetration (F receiving) , allusions to penetration (male recieving), inappropriate use of cigar ashes. Genuinely this is just me being gross about these men for almost 12,000 words, proceed with caution. Say it with me one more time- irl this would be workplace harassment and NOT sexy. However, these are fictional war criminals who ARE sexy so we’re forgiving it. 

Original Idea First Prev My Masterlist

made a lil header for the first time these are the vibes of reader and 141 :) (not Penelope's psychical description just her vibes)

pssst see how they're all on their mics in the pics?? its cuz your the voice in their ears :)

When you pulled into a parking spot on John Price’s street thirty minutes early, you automatically feel squirmy and a little foolish. Foolish because you’d convinced yourself that you were reading too much into things. So much so, that, somehow, the boys seeking out your porn twin had circled back around to you feeling like the unprofessional one. Squirming because you’d found the video they’d all watched more than once (more than three times) in the last days of their assignment. Barrack’s Bunny Get’s Gang Banged! 

 (Of course it was a military inspired orgy video, with four men and one woman that looked almost identical to you. Because, JFC, why wouldn’t it be? Was this actress in on the torment? Was she taking requests or was this some sort of cosmic joke where the punchline was your own sexual frustration?)  

Ok, how the hell were you not supposed to read into that? 

You hadn’t been able to watch it all the way through yet, having to pause and take breaks to calm yourself down. The thumbnail alone of your doppelgänger with four sets of hands and… other extremities... was enough to tempt you put your car back in drive and go back home. Because you weren’t sure you could look any of them in the eyes, and also for the third time in the last hour, you were second guessing your outfit. 

Because what the hell does one wear to the porn-party with their boss and superiors? (Ok, maybe you should start by stop calling it the ‘porn-party’, because outside of your own finding in their browser histories, they’d yet to mention any actual porn to you in real life, but what else were you supposed to call this?)

After leaving work, you’d spent a long time debating if you needed to change and, if so, into what, and would it be delusional to put on a matching set? Johnny did say he liked seeing something soft… And were your work clothes too stiff? Was the skirt too presumptuous after that video Kyle liked titled Easy Access ? And was it just you or did your work blouse look slightly too much like the one from the office-scene Price had bookmarked? And why the hell was this all you could think about? Strewing your clothes around your bedroom like a teenager before a party, different combinations and options littering your bed and dresser until you got frustrated with yourself and your closet. With a what the hell moment of ambivalence, you’d settled on something comfortable, but switched into a lacy bralette, lying to yourself that it was more comfortable than the one you’d worn to work, and if the lacy strap happened to coquettishly accent your shoulder when your sweater sleeve slipped down your arm? Well, if it wasn’t a Porn Party, then no one would notice, and if it was, well it’d be sure to draw some appreciative eyes. 

Your car was still cranked as you sat slightly down the block from Price’s house in your casual sweater and hidden matching set, anxiously killing time by alternating between tik tok, instagram, tumblr, and oh yes,  the Barracks Bunny Gets Gang Banged video that you’d been working through thirty seconds at a time because any longer had your overheating and threatening to leave a snail trail on your upholstery. So enthralled and flustered, you’d barely thought of the fact you were quietly playing porn over your car’s bluetooth system, you’d made it to the official halfway mark, and each time you’d switched out to a different app, the ‘break’ was short lived as you went back for more, one hand white knuckling your steering wheel as if this was a particularly good movie with a plot twist you just couldn’t miss. 

So enthralled, that a sudden knocking on your window startled you so bad that you half-tossed-half-dropped your phone with a sound that could only be described as a ’squawk’  as you slammed the mute button to your car’s stereo. It was as you were turning towards the knocker, that you realized you could 100% catch a public indecency charge for this, and somehow were still only half relieved to find Johnny leaning slightly down so he could meet your gaze through your driver-side window. He had his raincoat on, and a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer as he looked in on you with a cheeky smile and raised brows. When you just stared up at him like a deer in headlights, mentally trying to figure out just how long he’d been there and if from that angle he could’ve seen your screen and how good was the sound proofing on your car…. As you ran those mental calculations, Johnny simply knocked again and this time added a downwards motion with his cigarette, requesting you to roll down the window. 

You’d never noticed how slow your windows descended as the two of you held eye contact (awkward on your side, delighted on his), until there was no longer a pane of glass between you. The cool, damp night breeze carried the scent of tobacco and some kind of Old Spice fragrance into your little car as you looked up at the Scotsman. He seem amused, but happy to see you, "Coming?" 

Your brain short circuited for a moment. Were you… cumming? You stared at him wide eyed, convinced you’d misheard him. 

"What?" Was all you managed to respond with, your brain still trying to scrub filthy, lewd images from between its lobes, like a community service volunteer cleaning graffiti off subway walls. Johnny’s eyebrows only raised higher with his signature, Can’t wait to tell Ghost about this look, as he took another deep puff of his cig. 

"Are ye coming inside, hen?" He clarified slowly with that shit eating grin after blowing his smoke away form you- what a gentleman, "Or are’ye planning to sit out here all night?" 

"Oh, right." You mumbled, resisting the urge to scrub your hands across your face to physically redirect your thoughts. Instead, you nodded and started gathering your things, "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming inside." 

"Good, Si was getting impatient." Johnny grinned, stepping back so you could open your car door after you fished your phone from the passenger floorboards and cut the engine. Si? You hadn’t head that nickname for Ghost before, hell, you still excusively called him Ghost to his face, because you’d not received permission for anything else. Simon was personal, Si… was intimate...  He watched you expectantly, snapping you out of your thoughts, and when you only responded in silent confusion, he reached inside the still open vehicle and tapped the buttons, "Window, bonnie, s'raining." 

Cheeks heating in mild embarrassment, you quickly cut the battery back on so you roll up the window and then get out. You’d always been a little scatter-brained, prone to being in your own little world, but this was getting excessive. Maybe all the porn really was melting your brain… With the windows up and double checking the car was off, you finally got out of the car. Johnny immediately took the plate of brownies out of your hand in the guise of gentlemanly conduct, but actually snuck one from under the plastic wrap before you could scold him.  

"Why so grim? Y’look like yer marching off to war." Johnny seemed pretty pleased with his own little joke, his free arm resting in the small of your back to guide you up Price’s porch step and into the house like you might run off down the street without his guidance. You were considering it anyways. 

"I don’t look grim." You shot him a look but didn’t shake off his arm, nor could you prevent the smile that was fighting at the corners of your mouth, snatching the brownies back from him before he could snag another, happy to have something to fidget with as you smoothed the plastic wrap back into place. 

"No, you most definitely do not." And there was the other sergeant, Kyle, holding the door open for the two of you. Smiling as charmingly as ever, Kyle was already taking the dish out of your hands only to hand the dessert back to Johnny to carry off somewhere else. Then, he was on you, "Glad you could make it, love. Don’t listen to Soap, you look beautiful.” “Hey! Dinnae say she couldn’t be grim and beautiful.” Soap called back, already on his way deeper into the house. 

"Such a shameless flirt." You scoffed just loud enough to drown out Johnny with your own teasing smile, a more usual routine amongst all the overthinking you’d been doing, as Gaz helped you out of your coat. Maybe you were imagining the sensuality, but you were not imagining how his touch lingered, and how his fingers grazed the fabric of your sweater as it was exposed. Hell, he was basically unwrapping your raincoat like it was the gift wrap on a present, "Don’t look half bad yourself, though." 

All the boys looked good in their civilian clothes, hell they’d all look good in anything (or nothing… Focus. Focus.). But Kyle? In his stylish and tailored clothes? He always looked he’d walked off a J. Crew magazine cover when he wasn’t on base. His burgundy sweater looked like something you wanted to rub your cheek against, soft and warm and it fit him like a glove. Gaz grinned at your little praise, not speeding up his maddeningly slow pace of peeling off your raincoat and adjusting your hair for you afterwards, which distracted you just enough that you didn’t notice the others watching his little show. One of his lingering fingers seemed to all together abandon it’s mission, instead tracing the arced lace strap of your (meticulously chosen) lace bralette strap that had fallen off your shoulder. You watched Kyle’s finger follow the flowery lace pattern for a moment before fixing back on your shoulder with an audible snap! that made you jump a little from the sting. 

This time you did see Johnny’s amused grin and slightly devious eyes as your own went wide and you let out a little yelp, snapping your eyes over your soldier at the sergeant. Gaz was quick to soothe the ouch, humming at you before you could get disgruntled while his warm palm cupped the curve of your shoulder and rubbed the slightly stinging skin softly. And if you were still reading into things (you were) you could swear it was just for him to have a reason to touch you more.

"Sorry, love, had to fix it, was bothering me." Was the only explanation offered for his actions. Once your jacket was off, Gaz hung it on the foyer hooks, it looking comically small and feminine between all four of theirs. You knew your brain was melted from all the porn when the visual immediately reminded you of the stupid video’s thumbnail picuture… the pretty, feminine actress with four huge actors surrounding her… Fortunately, Kyle tugging you further into the house pulled you out of your dirty-thought spiral. 

In the kitchen, John Price was waiting, marinating a platter of steaks. You couldn’t help the amused quirk of a smile at seeing the apron tied over his civilian clothes, an unlit cigar in the chest pocket for easy access. The captain smiled first to Gaz with an approving nod, and then to you with a teasing smirk, "Thought you’d sit out in your car all night." 

"I’m early." You defended yourself, cheeks now must be permanently stained into a flush with how easily they managed to fluster you. Gaz parked himself right beside you, leaning on the counter but standing so close that his shoulder was slotted slightly behind you, half his chest pressed to your back, distractingly proving your early guess that his sweater was, in fact, very soft.  It took the steam out of your vehement defense, "You said, eight. It’s 7:50." 

"Yeah, but you’ve been sitting out there since 7:30, love." Kyle chided. You wondered if it was the whiskey he was sipping that gave him the courage to puncuate his teasings with a slight pinch to your hip that made you squirm. His closeness kept you from slipping away as he shifted his attention to his captain, that easy going smile still on his face, "She brought brownies." 

"I know. Johnny’s already had two." Price smiled, slathering another steak with marinade and massaging it into the meat with tender but deliberate ministrations of his long fingers that, for a moment, made you jealous of a dead slab of beef. His eyes caught yours staring at his hands, chuckling as he cleared his throat, "We had something else in mind for dessert. Very sweet of you though." 

Something Price said made Kyle chuckle like it was some kind of inside joke, his fingers still on your hip, tracing little circles that were almost as distracting as… whatever the hell it was that Price was doing to the steaks. 

"Now, go off and relax. I’m about to cut onions and we don’t want to mess up that pretty make up." Price ordered, shooing you off towards his stocked bar cart, before adding quietly enough you thought you might have hallucinated it, "Not yet, anyways." 

__

Later, after you’d been supplied a drink and deposited on the couch with Ghost to watch what you were pretty sure was a rugby match (you were a little distracted by his warm arm draped over your shoulder, fingers tracing the same floral lace Gaz had). 

"Gonna have to make some more room, love." Kyle grinned, looking down at you, holding his drink in one hand and one of your brownies in the other. You looked around yourself, already sandwhiched between the armrest of the sofa and Ghost who hadn’t closed his legs even a fraction when Johnny’d led you to the couch originally. Wasn’t much room to make room with. 

"Oh, I can just-" you started, standing carefully as to not spill the drink Kyle had made for you. Before you could step away to claim the plush arm chair by the mantle (a safe distance from Simon’s thigh against yours and Kyle’s lingering touches), a strong arm wrapped around your middle and tugged you right back down. Instead of your original seat, however, it was Ghost who had pulled you side saddle into his lap, his other hand steadying the drink in yours. Gaz chuckled, taking the spot you had been sitting in, both men unbothered by your startled yelp. 

Despite the fact that Simon had forecully and silently pulled you onto his lap, when you gave him a bewildered look, he seemed not to even notice the fact you were sitting on him, his amber eyes focused on the fame playing even as his finger’s kneaded distracting little circles into the plushest part of your waist, his arm still wrapped around you like you might try and escape. And when you just blinked at him, his only offering was, "Tha’s Price’s chair." 

"Ye look comfy." Soap chided as he came around the corner with a beer and a lo-ball glass of some sort of whiskey, beer for himself and the (presumably) bourbon was given to Simon, both however, were offered to Simon, "Crack that for me, Si?" 

You watched, wide eyed and enamored, as he lifted his mask over his nose and used his teeth to crack the bottle open before taking a long swig and then handing it back to Johnny in exchange for the whiskey. You had a front row seat to the bob of his Adam’s apple, and the way a scar split the top corner of his lip vertically (you wondered if you would feel the scar if he was kissing you, focus, damnit, focus). Soap noticed your expression and the blush in your cheeks with a twinkle in his eyes, " ’s not nice to stare, bonnie." 

You stared a moment longer before forefully shaking yourself out of the stupor and taking a swig of your own drink, thankfully ice cold. The momentary pause allowed you to dip back into your usual well of sarcastic wit, offering the Scot a raised eyebrow, "You’re just jealous I’m not staring at you." 

Johnny only shrugged, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, making his broad chest only seem broader, his grin showing just enough teeth to appear wolfish as his thigh pressed into Ghost’s and therefore the round of your ass, "Aye, maybe I am."  

"Ignore him, he’s been watching too much…" Simon started swirling then sipping his bourbon before tugging his mask down again afterwards. You knew the answer to his trail off and your internal body temp went up five degrees, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Johnny elbowed the taller man, so Simon only shrugged and finished lamely with, "stuff." 

Porn. He’s been watching a lot of porn. You all have.  I know that. You know that. We all know that. You brain chanting in time with those stupid circles he was rubbing on your hip as Johnny took the liberty of adjusting the hair off your shoulder, his voice a challenging chide,  "What’s that look for, bonnie? What’d you think he was gonna say?" 

Your mouth opened, and then closed, and you were saved from answering by Price coming into the living room, declaring the steaks were marinating so they had a while to just hang out. He gave Kyle a shoulder squeeze in passing, and offered you a warm smile before settling in his chair by the mantle. The chair you’d tried to escape to earlier. 

For a get-together planned around watching the game, it occurred to you that not a single eye was on the TV at the moment. Instead, you realized they were all on… you. Price in his chair, smoothing his beard. Simon still had you on his lap, amber eyes carefully scrutinizing your expression as you flicked your eyes over to Gaz, who was watching you- or rather the rise and fall of your chest as he pulled your legs into his lap- with a slightly cocked head, a small smile on his lips. And finally, Johnny, who’d not stopped fidgeting with your hair and the neckline of your sweater. 

Once again, you were uncharacteristically at a loss for words, squirming a bit on Simon’s lap as you tried to figure out what to say or if to say anything at all, because all that was coming to mind right now were two options. Are y’all trying to fuck me? and How’s the weather?. Both options made you want to crawl in a hole and stay there. 

"You’re quiet tonight, sweet, something on your mind?" Price raised his eyebrows, still smirking, knuckles tapping against the armrest, "Something you wanted to tell the boys, right? What we talked about in my office?" 

How were you supposed to broach the topic of their internet history, essentially admit to knowing about your XXX twin, while sitting on your superior's lap, having your hair played with, and your calves massaged through your leggings… 

"No, no. Just… enjoying my drink." You muttered, draining the rest of the beverage before leaning over to place the empty glass on the side table, which was a mistake because it just had you practically sprawled over the three men on the couch, "What game are we supposed to be watching tonight?" 

"Never mind that, hen." Johnny shrugged, clicking the TV off before tossing the remote to Price, "We’ve been into a… different form of entertainment lately." 

Yeah. I know. The problem is that I know. You thought to yourself, now not even able to pretend to watch the screen, forced to focus on all the hands and eyes on you. 

"Let’s stop dancing around it." Simon gruffed, resting his head against the back of the couch, his fingers trailing from your hip to the top of your thigh, "She’s not daft." 

"Lieutenant Riley, always the subtle one." Gaz rolled his eyes before sliding his eyes over to Price who gave him an affirmative nod, not unlike they would do in the field, and then his eyes were back on you, "So, we know you aren’t blind, love, sure you noticed something going on here." 

You weren’t sure if he was talking about what you’d dubbed the porn party or if he was just talking about the general bond between the men that went deeper than just elite squad, so you just nodded, hoping he would proceed with some more context clues… any keep rubbing his thumbs around your calf. It was not helping you focus. Kyle just grinned, his hands gently roaming up your shins to your knees and then back down, "Well, we’ve noticed something, too, love. You." 

"Me?" You parroted, half sincere half forced faux shock, that sent you further back into Johnny’s chest, the Scot who was still fiddling with your hair had also pressed his nose into the crown of your hair to smell whatever products you used. "Don’t sound so surprised, bonnie." He murmured into your hair before leaning past you to Simon, planting an open-mouthed, 

wet kiss against the larger man’s mask right beside your own face. Your mouth dried out despite just finishing your drink, tongue seeming too big for your mouth, eyes flicking rapidly between them and Gaz. You were beyond flustered, your stomach twisting in a both nerve wracking and enticing way. You didn’t know where to look, or if you should look, or look away. You didn’t want to look away, seeing Soap’s tongue find Simon’s mouth even through the cotton. Did they want the illusion of privacy and if so, how were you supposed to give them that when Simon was half groping you at the same time Johnny was lapping at his tongue 

through the balaclava? Johnny slid his eyes to you, barely breaking from Ghost, "S’alright, hen, don’t mind you watching us. After all, s’only fair." 

Your eyes widened, owlishly turning to Gaz though Simon kept you from slipping off his lap. Was that them telling you that they knew you knew? Was this some confession about finding your doppelgänger and watching enough of her content to pay off her car? He rolled his eyes at the other sergeant, his easy going smile returning when his eyes came back to you. 

"They’re so impatient." He chuckled with a what can you do shrug, as if they’d simply skipped to dessert (innuendo intended) instead of started sloppily making out with you in their lap. He quit massaging at your calves, instead using his middle and pointer fingers to trace patterns (you could swear it was a mimic of the lace pattern he’d traced earlier). Your eyes flicked over to Price, who was still just watching, leaned back in his chair, jutting his chin back to Gaz as if telling you to pay attention. Sheepishly, you turned back to Kyle, "So, we’ve… discovered this person online, and she looks… so much like you. Genuinely, love, it’s uncanny. And there’s this video she made that really caught our attention-" 

"She knows the one." "Aye, She’s seen it." 

Both Price and Johnny answered at the same time. Price, because you’d brought up the issue to him in his office. And Johnny… had apparently been standing outside your car longer than you thought and could see your screen. Your cheeks had to be glowing by now. Kyle’s smile just grew, flashing perfect white teeth at you as he leaned in closer, "Perfect, then we can skip that explanation. But once we saw it… well, it kind of got under our skin. You’ve gotten under our skin, love."  

Johnny and Simon hadn’t stopped though they had shifted and suddenly there lips were back and forth on each other, and also over your neck and shoulders as you tried fervently to keep your eyes on Gaz as he leaned closer, pulling the sleeve of your sweater off your shoulder to expose that lace strap again, "And, judging by how you’ve been acting lately, we’ve gotten under yours too." 

"Yeah. Yeah. That’s one way to put it." You admitted in a released breath, eyes flicked down to Simon who’d been kissing and sucking right at the curve of your shoulder for several long seconds, like if he wasn’t already under your skin, he’d supplant himself there personally. Johnny wasn’t going under your clothes, but his hands were tracing the line of your spine, finding the waistband of your leggings, nosing into your hair so he could kiss the shell of your ear. All while Kyle just kept that pretty grin on you, somehow putting you at ease and twisting your nerves even more. 

"And, truthfully, we could sit here talking about it all night, Or…"  And Kyle Garrick, with that unfairly, stupidly charming smile of his, made a veritable orgy sound as commonplace and sensible as going to the pub afterwork, and you found yourself dumbly nodding along to his easy words before you anxieties, logical and/or otherwise, could convince you that group sex with your coworkers was probably not the most professional way to spend a Friday night. But, damn, the sparkle in those pretty hazel-brown eyes was doing a good job of easing any worries that charming smile had missed… 

Price finally spoke up again, but stayed in his chair, "You're nodding, sweet, but we gotta hear it. Out loud. Do you want this?" 

When you looked over again, John Price was looking wholly the Captain he was. If you thought he was making a point to manspread in his office earlier in the day, now… Now he was just showing off. He looked like he was posing on a throne, legs spread, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he settled in, watching the three soldiers and you on the couch.  Seemingly completely nonplussed by his subordinate employees’ heavy petting on his couch. 

Your internal reflection was swift. You were already getting felt up. If going into the office was going to be awkward on Monday, it was going to be awkward regardless of whether or not you cut it off at groping. You might as well let them relieve the nagging itch in the back of your mind while you were at it. So after another dumb nod, you found your voice again, "Yes. Yes. I want it. Please." 

"So polite." Johnny murmured, taking you verbal confirmation as permission to slip his hands underneath your clothes, mapping your bare skin, "And you’ll say something if it’s too much?" 

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded fervently, turning your head to try and catch one of their lips, the sweater had been stifling for the past hour, but now it was itching at your feverish skin. Johnny just smiled, helping you out of the thing. 

"Good girl." Simon nodded before his amber eyes lit up a bit, "Well, would you look at tha’." 

His fingers dipped under the lacy band of the bralette you were wearing. Johnny had already run his hands over the fabric while Kyle just whistled lowly. Price was the one who spoke up about it, "Did you put that on just for us, sweet?" 

"Just in… just in case." You nodded in a breath, leaning back into Johnny as he started rolling your leggings down, exposing the complimentary lace waistband of your panties. Another round of appreciative comments and touches, Simon’s teeth nipping at the curve of your neck again. 

"Too good to us, love." Gaz shook his head, helping his fellow sergeant get your leggings all the way off and tossing them somewhere out of sight, pressing kisses to the top of your thighs, then your knees, and finally one too the inside of your ankle. " So you suspected all along. How’d you see the video?" 

"Go on, sweet, fill him in." Price prompted with that stupid little smirk, the one that tugged the corners of his beard up. The one that made you want to get on your knees and do anything to earn one of those approving nods. 

"I-I can see the websites y’all visit." You admitted breathlessly, watching as Kyle kissed his way back up your legs, how those eyes never broke contact with yours, "I have to clear them for security purposes. I’ve.. I’ve seen all the videos y’all’ve been sharing with each other." “

All of them. So 

that’s why you’ve been so quiet, bonnie?" Johnny hummed, a smile pressed into the base of your neck, watching Simon nip at your neck, teeth digging in harder every time, making you whimper which seemed to only egg Ghost on. 

"Flattered or offended?" Kyle asked, but his smile told you he already knew the answer. Because, with you sprawled over the laps of three men, if you were offended you had a funny way of showing it. 

"I should’ve been." You gulped after breaking off Johnny’s lips for a moment, adding on, "Offended."

"But you’re not?" Price prompted, head cocking to the side as he fiddled with lighting his cigar. 

No. For better or for worse, this roundabout workplace harassment approach had really worked on you. So you just shook your head, opening your mouth as Simon pulled his mask up and caught your lips, tongue domineering itself into your mouth almost instantly. 

"So cooperative, nice change of pace." One of them hummed, but you couldn’t place it, too focussed on the fingers kneading at your inner thighs, slowly working your legs open into a spread so your knee’s were hooked over each side of Simon’s wide spread legs, which exposed the dampened gusset of the deliberately chosen panties. 

"All right, deal’s a deal, Garrick," Simon all but growled into your mouth, your eyes fluttering open to see his amber eyes watching Kyle who was smirking like he’d just gotten away with something, "You get first taste. Warm ‘er up for us." 

Oh. Oh. Just diving right in. Though Gaz was ever the gentleman, charming through and through. 

"May I?" He asked softly, waiting with his fingers hooked in the lacy waistband as he sunk to his knees in front of you. Your breath picked up just from the sight, and it was only Simon holding you to him that kept you from leaning down and catching a kiss from Kyle as well. Since that wasn't an option, you jerked your head in a clumsy nod, punctuating with the cant of your hips towards him that just made him chuckle as your panties were discarded towards the same direction as your pants. 

"Please." You whined, the tone making all of the men snap their eyes up to you, the expressions all reading make her do it again. You didn’t even have time to adjust to the cold air on your exposed bits before Gaz’s hot mouth was covering the sensitive flesh, drawing a gasp as you threw yourself back into Simon’s chest. Ghost only hooked his chin over your shoulder, lazily watching as Gaz licked a flat stripe, first dipping into your entrance, teasing a bit as deep as he could get. Your clit got a little attention from his nose bumping it, make you breathe sharp breaths with little clipped moans. But when he withdrew and  traced his tongue  back up, finding your clit and slipping under the hood, your attempts at demure noises were nixed by a sudden and echoing moan. 

"That good? Yeah, Gaz’s pretty skilled with ‘is tongue." Johnny nodded, nuzzling at your other shoulder as he watched on too, palming himself through his jeans, "Meticulous thing he is." 

"How’s she taste, sergeant?" Price asked, adjusting himself as well. Kyle surfaced for only a moment, replacing his tongue with his fingers when you whined in disappointment. 

"Better than the bloody brownies, that’s for certain." He hummed, his corners of his mouth glistening, eyes flicking up to you as he rested a cheek against the inside of your thigh. You tried to be offended at the diss to your baking skills, but as Kyle dove back in, a skillful swirl and lewd slurp killed any smart comment on your tongue, or rather on his. You weren’t sure if it was even possible to actually decipher, but you were certain he was spelling barrack’s bunny over your clit with his tongue, letter by unraveling letter. All four men seemed to delight in how your breathing sped up, how your head seemed so heavy to hold up that it flopped backwards into Simon’s shoulder. Kyle tolerated your hips rolling twice, but his chivalry ended the third time, reaching up and placing Simon’s hand at your waist to hold you still for him, while his hands kept your thighs from closing around his head. The message was clear. Anything you were getting would come from him and only him. You recalled how so many of his preferred videos revolved around control, pleasure dom, a term you had had to google. All you could do was stare down between your legs and watch him devour you. 

"If she tastes half as good as she looks…" Johnny trailed off, catching the corner of your mouth for a short kiss, his fingers tracing the lace pattern right over your perked nipples, at least Simon was lenient enough to let you arch your chest into the touch, "Right treat you are, hen." 

Your first climax was a quick thing, a full body clench and vulgar moan clawing its way out of your throat, your thighs trembling around Kyle as he licked and slurped his way through your high, collected anything you put out for him. His movements only slowing when your body relaxed back against Ghost. He gave your pussy a comedically sweet kiss before sitting up, and it was only then that he pulled you down to him for your first real kiss from him. It was tender and sweet, with the appropriate amount of tongue, almost the kind of kiss you’d give on a really good first date, if it wasn’t for the fact you could taste your essence on him, your cum making his lips slippery against yours. 

"Called dibs on that weeks ago." He grinned, breaking the kiss to watch his fingers to dip between your legs, collect some more of your wetness and pop it in his mouth, eyes closing like he was savoring a fine wine.  You watched him with mouth agape and eyes half lidded, "Alright then, Tav, surprised you held yourself back this long, go on then."

Johnny’s smile was all teeth as he descended upon you, kissing any of your slick off your mouth that Kyle’d left behind like he was getting a sneak preview. Though, for someone so often ridiculed for being impatient, he was anal about this kiss. Making sure to try every angle of his mouth against yours, then repeating his tests with tongue, and then once more splitting your attention with Simon. Ghost played along for a while, letting his sergeant explore your lips and your chest before he nodded down to the floor when Kyle’d been. 

"Keep yourself busy, Johnny." Was the clipped order, as he took over kissing you, one large hand splayed along your face to keep you drawn to him, as if you might try to get away. He had nothing to worry about, the whiplash of switching partners and desires had you craving attention anywhere you could find it. You were already putty on his lap with Johnny taking over Kyle’s place between you legs. While it was still overwhelmingly pleasurable, his actions were more sloppy than Kyle’s. His strategy was to barrage your nerves as opposed to Kyle’s precision attacks. It still had you whining and squirming, which was enough to short circuit your focus. Johnny didn’t seem to mind you instinctively grinding into his face, in fact it only seemed to encourage him. Simon’s job was to keep you from melting off his lap, which he did while his kisses became harder and harder, sometimes biting at your bottom lip, "Now you just taste like his shitty beer, you’ll lemme fix that, won’t you, lovie?" 

When you nodded, he smiled, tugging the balaclava all the way off. You didn’t even have time to properly admire how handsome he was under the thing, didn’t have time to pepper those scars with kisses or wax poetic about how all his unconventional features played together harmoniously to make him exceedingly handsome. Before you could do any of that, he’d taken a sip of his bourbon, swallowing as he watched you watch him. 

"Open." He directed, nodding when you obediently dropped your mouth open. He tipped your head back at the same time as he took a longer draw of his bourbon, holding it in his mouth for a moment before pulling your lips up to his and kissing the liquor straight onto your tongue, burning off anything and anyone else. When he’d given you every last drop, he pulled back and manually shut your mouth, "Go on and swallow for me, don’t waste it. ’s hard to get this stuff ‘round here." 

Bourbon wasn’t often in your rotation for drinks, the taste smoky and sharp just like the man that had kissed it into your mouth, but one look into Simon’s eyes had you nodding again. As you forced yourself to swallow it, the burn going all the way into stomach, stoking the fires the men had started in you. After he watched your throat bob, he nodded approvingly. 

"Good fuckin’ girl." He praised which made the burning sting worth it, catching your lips in another punishing kiss when you moaned from Johnny’s sloppy slurping. Simon hummed, finding that your mouth now tasted like his preferred pour, "Much better." 

After kissing the taste of his bourbon off you, he pulled back for a moment just to watch you whine and grind against the sergeant between both sets of your legs. After a moment of appreciation for the garment against your skin, the bralette they’d all liked so much was roughly yanked down,  the straps down your shoulders while the cups and band bunched up under your now exposed breasts. Johnny was watching from the floor, his big blue eyes crinkling and lips pulling into a smile against you, while Simon ran his hands over your bare chest, stopping to squeeze and pinch when he pleased. “Johnny- 

Ghost-" You almost shrieked not sure who to call too or thank for the electric static in your nervous system, arching your chest up into his hands, and when the movement moved your hips away from Johnny, he just took your legs off Simon’s knees and hooked them over his shoulders, keeping you firmly in place, "

Shit." 

"Language, sweet." Price teasingly scolded from his chair, still stroking his beard from his arm chair. Gaz and Simon just chuckled when you pouted through another throaty moan. Simon was nudging your cheek with his nose, skimming his teeth across you jawline between kisses that trailed fown your neck, sucking marks that would stay for weeks, always finding his way back to what seemed to be his favorite spot in the curve of your neck. “Should’ve seen the Sergeants when they first found that video, acting like they’d won the fuckin' lottery. Been wanting you for months but tha’ really sealed the deal, lovie, couldn’t even get through the first quarter before this one was panting and rutting. Like it was the first time they’d ever seen a dirty video. Ain’t that right, Johny?”  It was the most you’d ever heard Simon talk in one go, every couple of words grunted and groaned out between kisses across any skin he could reach with you sitting back against him, breath hotly fanning along your neck as he went. And when he finished the thought, he reached down between your legs and fished the sergeant up by his mohawk, leaving both you and Johnny whine at the loss of contact. Simon just laughed coldly and gave Johnny a prompting jerk, much rougher than he’d been touching you, “You gonna answer us, Johnny?”  “Aye. Aye. Knew I had to get ma’ hands on ye.” Was all he managed before diving in for another taste of you, surfacing briefly again to relay a message up to Simon, half moaned half growled, 

"This cunt's like fucking silk, I’ll tell you, Lt.” Strong hands clenching into the plushest parts your thighs holding them around his face like he was 

hoping he’d suffocate down there, "Ye gotta get in here, ain’t nothing like it."

"You want that, sweetheart?" Simon hummed, moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, "Want me in you?"

"Fuck. Yes, fuck me." You rambled which just made them chuckle at you as one of your hands when into Johnny’s mohawk and the other palmed at your breasts. Johnny moaned when you tugged at his hair, sending subtle vibrations up with his tongue that almost sent you undone again. Simon easily pushed you down his legs, still supporting you with one hand as Johnny kept going, and freeing his erection with the other. Gaz and Johnny had worked hard to warm you up, to break you in for them, but Simon’s dick threatened to break you, period. He was just as thick as John, but almost as long as Kyle, cut, veiny, with a pretty pink tip. Como se dice, how you say… hung like a fucking horse.  

He must’ve seen your wide eyes, the subtle fear in your eyes that was chased away when Johnny drug his teeth over your clit with just enough pressure to make you choke on your own spit. Ghost reached down intermingling his fingers with your folds and Johnny’s tongue, "We’ll start easy. Just the tip, lovie. Johnny’ll handle the rest for now." 

They did just that. He held his hand out to Johnny, letting the man on his knees spit into his palm and then rubbed it against his dick, before pulling you back against him once more. Before he even attempted any sort of penetration, he slid his erection through your folds a couple of times just to collect some more slick,  "You are just like silk, Johnny was right." 

He grunted into your neck with another few slippery passes before reaching down as easing the tip into you. He was thick, enough so that it stung a bit as you tried to adjust. Despite his soft voice and unusually soft eyes, Simon’s control slipped, rutting a bit before you were ready. At you uncomfortable whine, Johnny mirrored the sound in disapproval of your upset, immediately going to remedy the hurt with his tongue, servicing both you and Simon with a flat lick up Simon’s exposed length and then up to your clit to help you relax. 

"Breathe for me, lovie." The Liutenant ordered, like he was trying to be gentle with you but his jaw was gritted, trying even harder not to snap his hips against yours and bully his too-big dick into your hole, "Try to relax for me." 

You were panting, cheeks puffing with your breaths, not sure if Johnny’s tongue was helping or just tensing you up more, but God, it felt good and you weren’t going to be the one to tell him to stop. Not yet at least. You got another inch in, which earned a kiss to your neck. 

" s’all I can take right now." You breathed, reaching back to support yourself against him. 

"Better than I did on my first go, eh, LT?" Johnny grinned up before kissing up the length of Simon’s cock that wasn't inside of you, flicking his tongue over the stretched rim of your entrance that was still trying to clench around the sudden intrusion, "She’s tryin’ so hard." 

By the look in his eyes, he wasn’t talking about you. The She in question was just your pussy. Simon nodded along, hissing curses into your hair. 

"Alright, lovie, alright, no more for now." He gritted out, " ‘m gonna move now, just try and stay loose as you can for me." 

Humming in agreement, you tried to let yourself be pliant against him, feeling his hips rock, the in and out of his movements pleasurable enough to draw out a keening moan despite the less than comfortable stretch. His lips were at your neck again as he continued his thrusts, slightly steadier, growing more confident. And then it was his teeth, nipping between sucks, though his words were still growled, "That’s it, doing so good for me, for us." 

Your mistake was losing yourself in the feeling, letting your hips rock because it shattered what little control Ghost had at the moment. He sunk in another few inches, teetering between painful and pleasurable, making you cry out, nails digging into his forearms as a tear slipped down your cheek. The dig of your nails only urged him on, the nip of your teeth turning into a full bite, enough to break skin just slightly. However, the moment your cry was one of actual discomfort instead of pleasure, he withdrew completely, kissing over where he’d bitten, "Sorry, sorry, lovie, got too rough, too quick with you." 

He slowly eased you off of him, nudging Johnny off as well, still kissing at the spot he’d bitten too harshly, fingers kneading comfort into your hips and then your thigh, "Y'alright? Need to stop?" 

You took a breath, let the initial shock of the stretch and the bite fade away, let him swipe the rogue tear off your cheek, let your body readjust…. and then shook your head, signalling you wanted to keep going, pulling him by the back of the neck down to you again for a kiss. Johnny was still at your knees, massaging your thighs, watching Simon deepen the kiss as much as you’d let him, and then pushing a little further, his fingers flexing hard into you again making you wince just a little. Honestly, you could’ve endured that, hell with another couple of kisses, you could’ve enjoyed it. But this time, he cut himself off, pulling back with a slew of curses that’d send a sailor to confession. 

"Fuck, ‘m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve never been good at taking it slow." Simon growled, jaw still clenched so hard you were afraid he’d crack a tooth., thumbs easing the irritated skin he’d clenched just slightly too hard, "You’re just too perfect, can’t keep my head on straight."

Ghost stopped to think for a moment, breathing hot and heaving against you skin, before flicking his eyes down to Soap who’d stopped massaging your thighs in favor of featherlight kisses where his stubble had chafed you. You’d seen this before, the internet called it cuteness aggression. 

"Price." He called, nodding to his Captain, a signal to take over. John nodded, and after meeting your still lust glazed expression, ascertaining you were alright, seemed rather amused by the tag-in.  It seemed, despite the civilian clothes  and whatever intimacy was shared amongst the group, rank hierarchy was still firmly present, because when Captain Price finally rose from his arm chair, the sergeants and Lieutenant wordlessly moved out of his way, presenting you along the way for him as his belt buckle jingled being loosened and discarded. 

Still, despite his evident imposition, his strength was gentle as he peeled you off his lieutenant who stood, manhandling Johnny off with him to the chair. Half dazed and panting, you were grateful for his patience as he asked with only a little teasing, "Can you stand for me, Sweet, just a little?" 

And when your legs were still jelly and trembling, he just chuckled, leaking cigar smoke into your mussed hair, "That’s alright, Sweet, you just let me lay you out all pretty." 

With that, you were bent over the arm of your boss’s sofa, callous hands traced slowly down your spine and then paused at your hips, massaging your flanks much as he had his cuts of steak. Price massaged his way from your hips, over and around your ass, and then worked from outwards to the inner most part of your thighs. Finally, he dragged a flat palm up your exposed sex, and when you looked over your shoulder, he was licking his tongue across that same hand, a deep rumbling growl shaking you to your core as you watched him taste not only you, but also notes of his boys, "Sweeter than fuckin’ sugar, love. Fuckin’ perfect." 

You just stared at him with wide eyes, limply spread over the arm rest, hips instinctively pressing back into him to find more touch, more friction, more him. Words failed, only high pitched whines made it out. Which made Johnny, off to the side, chuckle. 

"Think this is the longest I’ve ever seen her quiet." The scot chided, watching with great interest as Price took another swipe through your folds, coating his cock in whatever (whoever’s) bodily fluids he collected there. 

"Maybe you should take some notes, mutt." Simon gruffed, taking a fistful of the sergeant’s Mohawk and tugging it rather harshly backwards, exposing Johnny’s throat that his teeth descended upon almost immediately. Some time between being between our legs and being in Simon’s lap, Johnny’s shirt had disappeared, his jeans still on but unbuckled and Simon was fishing his erection out. 

"Ignore ‘em." Price chuckled down to you, physically redirecting your attention by giving your clit a bit of attention as he eased himself slowly in, all the way to his base, "Y’feel even better than you taste, sweet thing, y’know that?" 

You didn’t know that, but you’d take the compliment, if you remembered it, or your own name by the end of… whatever this was. He gave one slow and steady thrust, almost like an experiment, one hand holding your hips in place, the other holding his cigar up to his lips. 

"Dessert before dinner, how about that, lads?" 

There was a moment of recall to his earlier words, "Already had something else in mind for dessert" echoed with what he just said in your fuzzy mind. You had been dessert all along, and judging by the ravenous eyes with varying degrees of satiation,  the 141 intended to eat their fill, your online look-a-like was simply a taste test. A momentary taste of vindication on your tongue- you hadn’t been reading too far into things or fluffing your own ego, this was premeditated, and your matching set wasn’t presumptuous. Still, that only lasted a singular breath, the smug vindication was phsycially forced out of you with a rough snap of his hips, the first of many from the demanding, almost brutal, pace John set for himself. 

"There’s a girl, you just take it for me," He grunted between thrusts, seemingly pleased with your little cries and moans, "Just like that, sweet, you’ll be taking Simon’s cock in no time."  

John Price’s couch was not picked out with ‘being bent over the side’ in mind. Or perhaps, you were just a bit softer than the other’s that had had the pleasure of being bent over the arm like John had you at that moment. Taking mercy upon your ribs, or perhaps just for his own selfish purposes, Kyle slotted himself underneath your front and sat you up against his chest, throwing your arms over his shoulders. While John still had your hips over the couch arm, Gaz had pulled you chest up to his, his lips finding your lips, your cheek, jaw, and breasts as he went. 

"Poor sweet thing" Kyle cooed, his perfect pearly teeth nipping at your ear while is chest steadied you against Price’s onslaught that pushed a thought our of your mind with each quick, but deep, thrust, "Didn’t know what you were walking into, did you? And now look at what a mess we made you?" 

You couldn’t tell if Kyle was mocking you or praising you, kind words and little digs were both dipped in that sugary sweet tone that just made you nod up at him with wide eyes and a pouted lip. One of this thumbs reached up and swiped a mascara laden tear out from under your eye, the same thumb dipping into your mouth and holding it open in the pornographic O-shape after Price drew a vulgar moan out with a particularly deep thrust that also managed to scoot the sofa a couple of inches. Gaz didn’t even waver, just laughed a bit as he held you steady, "Mean, innit he?" 

Another moan blocked the chance at a snappy reply, not that you had the current brain power to make one. The sergeant just took the chance to swallow your noises with his mouth over yours, kissing you and biting your bottom lip as he pulled away. With what little fortitude you had, you grabbed the collar of that soft sweater and hauled him right back up to your mouth. It was aggressive kissing. Tongue and teeth and nails, sloppy and  dirty, your noses bumping together from the force of Price’s thrusting. 

When Price adjusted your hips, it forced you onto your tip toes to maintain the angle. And while the new angle provided incentive and reward in the way of relentless pounding of that delicious spongy spot inside you, that fact only made it harder for your already shaking legs to support you. 

"Hold her fast, Sergeant." Was the grunted order as he gave your ass a smack, like he was punishing you for the indiscretion of already having you legs fucked out from under your from the other men in his living room. Honestly, How dare you? Kyle took orders beautifully. The best multitasker on the squad, as he not only, held you at that perfect angle for his Captain, but also, trailed wet, hot kisses down to your chest, locking onto one of your nipples with devious precision, only sucking harder when you cried out. 

" ‘m gonna cum-!" It was strangled and whined into Kyle’s shoulder still fisting the collar of his shirt while your other hand posed serious risk of shredding the upholstery. 

"You gonna cum on me, sweet? Go ahead, but I’m not stopping." Price chuckled through his warning, leaning over your head and pulling Gaz in by the back of his neck for a sloppy kiss of his own. 

"Go on then. Give it to him." Kule urged in that sickly sweet tone, "The captain’s working so hard back there for you, least you could do is let ‘im feel how pretty you fall apart." 

Another moan, a garbled cry of both of their names mashed together when they pushed you over the edge in tandem with a well timed deep thrust and light smack to your clit from Price at the same time that Gaz tweaked both of your nipples.. 

"You feel that Cap? That flutter?" Gaz called, talking (literally) over your head as you sagged, twitching against him, unlatching from the hickey he was sucking into your collarbone, "That’s fuckin’ magic, that is." 

"Flutter? She’s wringing me dry in there." Price groaned, his pace only slowed by the vice like grip your core had as your eyes rolled back, "Sweet’s cunt’s practically swallowing me, bloody hell, greedy thing, aren’t you?"

The only reprieve you had was Price leaning forward so his warm chest pressed to your back, his big hands circling your clit like it might encourage you loosen back up for him so he could resume his movements, "C’mon, love, you gonna answer me?" 

"Yes…" You drawled, flopping your head over so you could meet his eyes over your shoulder, that signature mirthful smile twitching the corners of his beard of as he tweaked the little bundle of nerves to correct you. With a little cry, you answered once more, "Yes, sir." 

"Atta girl." Price nodded approvingly as he took a long draw of his cigar his pinkie shaking off little bits of ash onto your raised posterior (which should’ve made you feel degraded, or maybe it did which is why it made your eyes flutter again), both at the answer and at the relaxing of your muscles allowing him to build his pace back up.  

"Hear that, love?"  Kyle’s attention returned down to you when your face dropped back down into the curve of his shoulder, "what a good pussy, taking us all so well, and she just keeps wanting more." 

"More?" You croaked out through another moan, panting and trying to count the stars dotting your vision, not sure if you were requesting or parroting in disbelief. Though with a clearer mind, you wouldn’t have been so shocked. Price had barely stuttered in getting his rhythm back up to it’s pace, riding you all the way through your orgasm. 

"Told you, ‘m not fucking stopping." Price growled with another smack to the round of your ass. Something between a moan and a cry crawled out of your throat, but tapping our hadn’t once occurred to you. 

"You can take it, love, bet you can even give us another big finish, yeah?" Kyle encouraged. It occurred to you the Gaz had now coaxed you through two orgasms, and really hadn’t even asked for anything in return from you. And while you were sure, between the four of you, someone would throw him a bone(r), you decided to take that cross upon yourself, reaching down between him and yourself and wrapping around his dick. From what you could tell, he was on the leaner side, but he was the longest in the group, slightly curved. Which gave you plenty of room to rub and squeeze, from base to his tip where you thumbed the slit, spreading the precum back down as you followed the vein on the underside. Kyle tried to chuckle through a moan, "Bloody hell, love." 

Jerking off took on a new meaning as your movements, meant to be languid and smooth, turned jerky and choppy with the force of Price’s increasing speed, his rythym stuttering as he chased his own release. Kyle leaned down using one of his free hands to roll a nipple in his fingers, catching the other in his mouth as you continued to pump him. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to come close to the edge once more, and you didn’t even have time to be proud of bring both of them over with you in tandem as your third orgasm tore through you, leaving all three of you dazed and breathless. You were vaguely aware of Gaz’s cum on you chest, kind of feeling the warm, sticky trail it left as it leaked down your front while John gave a few more lazy strokes as he softened inside of you. Though Gaz twitched hard again just watching your eyes roll back, and when Price was finally done, he gave your thighs a gentle, almost proud squeeze, watching his spend leak out for a moment before gently collecting you upright once more. With a sweet forehead kiss that contrasted so heavily from the cigar ashes and ass slaps, he gave your cheek a little pat, "Still with me, sweet?" 

"Mmmhm." You nodded, eyes only half opned as Gaz sat up behind you and sucked kisses across the back of your shoulders. You’d be wearing turtle necks for weeks. John’s attention shifted over to Simon, who you now realized had been watching the show with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen with poor Johnny taking the brunt of whatever storm Ghost had brewing. Your eyes fluttered watching the liutenant’s hand tighten around Johnny’s throat. Despite the tears on the Scot’s face, he didn’t appear to be too upset with his current predicament, in fact giving you a groan through a watery smile as Simon’s other hand tightened even more around Johnny’s leaking dick. 

"Got it all out of your system, Lieutenant?" Price asked with a raised brow, both him and Gaz still keeping you upright with gently roaming hands. Simon gave both his hands another squeeze making Johnny pant. 

"I’m solid." He nodded, surprisingly tender as he released Johnny, the sergeant stumbling off his lap.  Simon rose behind him, both men approaching the couch. You weren’t positive what ‘it’ was or why it needed to be out of Simon’s system, but Gaz nodded and pressed one last sweet kiss to the curve of you shoulder before letting Simon slide into his place. The largest of the men simply laid down on the couch, taking up most of the three-seater, efficently pulling you backwards so you straddled his lap facing away from him. 

"Nice and slow for me, lovie." Simon directed, lining himself up with your entrance after bumping your clit with his tip. Thank god for his strong hands guiding your hips down at the pace he set. Though Price had thoroughly broken you in, and you’d already partially taken Simon once, you still tensed up nervously but set your jaw with determination to do it again and get all of it from this new angle. With your back to his face, you had a front row set to the others watching hungrily. Kyle was leaning back against Price’s chest, the older man reaching around to palm the sergeant’s erection as Gaz pressed his back to Price’s front, grinding backwards. But Johnny, poor Johnny, with his cock almost purpled by Simon’s earlier teasing, rocking on his heels like he was just waiting for permission to join in, sapphire eyes bouncing between Simon’s face, your face, and the stretch of you pussy around Simon’s cock- like he couldn’t decide who was most jealous of. 

Inch after deliciously painful inch, Simon helped you ease yourself down until your ass was flush with his hips. From this angle, though Simon could still rut up against you, the pace was all your decision, making it harder for him to lose control again. With your hands braced against his tree-trunk thighs. Simon gave you a minute to adjust, to pant and try to focus your eyes. The soldier underneath you grunted, fingers flexing on your waist as he adjusted himself making you whimper and almost fall forward. 

"Si-" Johnny whined, his hands twitching forward like he wanted to help you, or maybe just touch you, his cock leaking down his leg. Simon’s voice was not as gentle to his sergeant, a gruff order. 

"No’ yet."  Before returning his attention to you, voice softening slightly, "Take your time, sweetheart, move when you want, I want you to feel good." 

Giving a jerky nod, you gave an experimental wiggle that nestled him somehow even deeper. Your moan was lodged in your throat as your eyes shut, but the movement earned a deep groan and hiss from Simon. With a deep breath, you managed to move past the acclimation stage so the actual pleasure started building again, which felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Next, a roll of your hips that genuinely blurred out your vision, feeling so good that our body instinctively did it again to chase the feeling. And then again, and again- head falling forward and then rolling back. 

"That’s it, lovie, find your rhythm." Simon tried to prain but it sounded more like a growl as his hands flexed again into the softest parts of your waist, his long fingers spanning so far that they kneaded into the plushness of your stomach, "Fuckin' hell." 

"Si-" Johnny whined again, drawing the clipped nickname into two syllables, this time his twitching fingers finding purchase in the arm of the sofa you’d been bent over earlier. If you weren’t so focused on Simon’s cock rearranging your internal organs, you might’ve heard the ominous creak of the fabric under his strength. When your eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Johnny’s bright blues, darkened to a stormy hue with impatient want. His Scottish brogue thickening deeply, "Ah keened you’d be better than the lass in the fuckin’ videos, so fuckin’ sweet and pretty-" 

"Alright." Simon gruffed  before his voice softened down again, "Go on, sweetheart, show the mutt some love, won’t you? He won’t shut up until you do." 

Even though the permission had been given to you, Johnny was immediately upon you. Much like Gaz, Johnny took up the job of supporting your upper body as Simon had your hips firmly in his grasp. With one knee pressed into the couch cushion, he hugged your chest to his, his hands groping and feel any part of you he could get his hands on like it was the first time he’d touched you or any other soft and pretty thing. Unlike Gaz, his mouth on your started out aggressive and when you would moan, he’d mirror the noises, groaning them right back onto your tongue. 

"And soft. Ye sound better too." Johnny groaned when Simon suddenly rutted against your rocking, leaving you crying out and digging your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. With strong but surprisingly gentle grip, your fingers were removed from his shoulders. Johnny led one of your hands in an exploratory trail down his chest, following the path of thick, dark body hair, past his abs, until he wrapped your hand around his cock which twitched even at your slightest touch. 

"So fucking soft, bonnie," he breathed, coaxing your hand into movement while kissing your other palm, before looking over to Simon, "Not a callous on her hands, Lt, dinnae even think about that." 

Simon merely grunted in acknowledgement of Johnny’s discovery, seeing as his focus was an entirely different part of your anatomy. The larger man seemed content letting his sergeant be the vocal one, sometimes rewarding you with a hiss or a strangled groan. He’d given up on letting you control the pace now that you were acclimated and half bouncing against him, rutting and grinding against you in time with your own rolling and rocking as you sped up. It was only natural for your hand on Johnny’s cock to speed up as well. 

"Sweetheart, why don’t you show him something even softer than your hands? He went through a lot for you, after all." He didn’t give you time to ask what that was supposed to mean, but you figured it had something to do the vicious series of bites and hickies on the man’s neck. You could tell Simon was moving because his cock was shifting angle inside of you, making you gasp. One of his large hands splayed against the small of your back, pressing you firmly forward and down. A sudden thrust as he applied pressure to your back made you go boneless, letting the men push your cheek first into Johnny’s stomach and then down to where your hand was still pumping Johnny’s cock. 

"Look at that, a multitasker. ’s why she’s such a good analyst for us." Gaz chided from the sidelines like he was commentating on a sports match, watching as you were stroking Johnny, holding your cheek against him while trying to catch your breath from Simon’s thrusts. Johnny helped guide himself into your mouth. It wasn’t so much length as the girth, even thicker than Price, that stretched your jaw uncomfortably. But the way that Johnny moaned sinfully above you when your nose pressed into the dark curls at his base, the way he all but melted over you like butter, encouraged to breathe through your nose and keep going. 

"Steaming Jesus, Si, I cannae last like this-" Johnny moaned, seemingly not even noticing how loud he was. Simon only laughed lowly, reaching around your thighs to dip between them, circling your clit. Your thighs were trembling, moans getting louder and less restrained, nothing about this was restrained anymore. 

"That’s alright, Johnny, neither will she, will you, lovie?" He asked with another deep thrust, "feel ‘ow she’s shaking?"  

You were shaking your head still with a mouthful of Johnny’s cock, because you weren’t going to last much longer, eyes rolling and fluttering, landing on the arm chair again where Gaz being treated as well, both him and John watching appreciatevly as Ghost and Soap had you in lopsided Eiffel tower. You were pulling out any trick for Johnny that you managed to remember between Simon’s thrusts, swirling tongue and bobbing heads. But what did him in was actually Simon’s doing. When Simon rolled his hips into you just right, hitting every good spot and giving your clit a swipe, your eyes crossed and you moaned, practically screaming around Johnny’s member, the vibrations and look on your face enough to finish him. His hand tightened in your hair, hips snapping, pushing your nose into his pelvis, and holding you there as he came with what some might call a battle cry.  After everything Simon had put him through earlier, he was pent up, leaving him cumming. and cumming, and cumming, until you had to swat at his thigh because you couldn’t take anymore. 

You swallowed what you could, taking a couple more spurts to your face and chest before Johnny crumbled onto the couch against you, kissing the taste of himself right off your tongue as Simon continued his thrusts, getting incrementally faster and harder as you proved you could handle it. The scot took over the praising and encouragement as his superior fell back into the quiet grunting and groaning against you, though you could barely make out any of the words as you approached your fourth finish. For the first time in your life you understood the phrase "fucked stupid". You were somewhat sure you were rambling gibberish accolades to the men, cries of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ’thank you’ intermingled with moans and curses that put your over the top XXX twin’s to shame. 

"C’mon, sweetheart, one more f’ me." Simon growled out, switching positions so quickly and effeciently that you didn’t even realize it until you body was pressed face down into the couch cushion, Simon still behind you, drilling into you with a pace that put mechanized machinery to shame. You weren’t even sure how you were taking it just that you were and if he stopped you might start crying, "I know you’re close, just lemme have it-" 

Johnny was back on his knees in front of the couch, catching your nipple in his mouth. And you turned your head towards John and Kyle, locked in their own encounter, and then it just snapped. Your orgasm not just washing over you, but a tidal wave crashing over you and frying every nerve a long the way. For a moment your vision whited out, the only thing you were aware of was Simon’s strokes slowing and working you through it. With your body practically vibrating with overstimulation, you let your unseeing eyes roam to to the cieling fan and let your mind wander as you floated somewhere above reality for a bit, enjoying the electric feelings between each neuron firing. Every noise and sight becoming background information as overstimulation fuzzed it all out except the aftershocks and twinges in your core. 

You weren’t sure how long it was before you came back to yourself, but you heard Johnny’s voice first, "C’mon, bonnie, float back down to us."

"There she is." Kyle cooed in tandem with the other sergeant while your cheek, "Lost you for a bit there. Alright?" 

You were more than alright, body more sated than it’d been in years, still thrumming and twitching with the aftershocks, so you just nodded slowly, trying to focus your eyes in on one thing at a time, voice slightly slurred with nothing to do with the drinks, " ‘m alright." 

"Was worried I broke you." That was Simon, who’s lap your head was in. You only offered a dopey smile and a lazily blink.

"You might’ve, but I’m ok, more than ok." You sighed with a dry laugh, turning your head so your cheek pressed to his thigh, though you noticed he’d slipped his sweats back on. 

"Si’s gotta work on being gentle, we don’t make him practice enough." Johnny teased, running soothing hands along your sides. Suddenly, a cup of water with a straw was placed in front of your face, and when you looked up it was Price holding it down to you before Kyle took it and held it steady for you. 

"Never see you complaining about it, McTavish." John teased right back, trading off the cup so he could smooth hair off your sweaty forehead, "Take as long as you need, sweet, y’did good for us. So good." 

His praise nestled deeply, right between your ribs, making you smile softly as Kyle coaxed the straw into your mouth, letting you sip on the water as he ran a caring thumb over the apple of your cheek.

— 

You must’ve dozed off, because when you woke up, you were still on the couch, but everyone else had moved around you liked you simply always been nestled amongst them. The thought made your lips curl in a dopey grin as you looked around them. Half upright and wrapped in someone’s hoodie, you were laying against Price’s chest, head tipped back into his shoulder as he worked around a plate filled for two, the atmosphere was cozy now, the electric  frantic tension from earlier had morphed into something warm and intimate. 

“Evening. Hungry?” His chest rumbled as he held the plate closer to your field of view. Two very juicy ribeyes, baked potatoes, green vegetable- the stereotypical macho man plate. John seemed all too proud of himself when you opened your mouth to accept a fork of perfectly cut bite-size steak, laughing when you hummed in approval, “There we go, sweet, worked up an appetite, yeah?” 

“Really? Thought we already stuffed ‘er pretty good.” Kyle teased, still gently swiping warm rags over your body, wiping away any evidence that wasn’t etched or sucked semipermanently into your skin, occasionally following his ministrations with gentle kisses and soft praises, “Feel ok, love? Need anything?” 

When you shook your head, gently squeezing his wrist in gratitude, he only smiled, giving you a tender kiss to the forehead before retrieving his own plate and sitting on the opposite side of Price, claiming the captain’s other shoulder for his own head.

Johnny was in the same boat as you, though whatever the hell Simon had done to him made his attention to you look like princess treatment, having obviously reigned himself in with you. Was that what Ghost was getting out of his system before coming back to you? Still, the scot didn’t seem to have many complaints after Simon sat him down between your legs on the couch, letting the sergeant lay facedown against the softest part of your stomach, where he’d nuzzled the hoodie out of the way so he could rest against your bare skin. It was then you noticed that you and Johnny were the only ones still in a state of undress which if your mind wasn’t moving at a snail’s pace, you might’ve tried to read into. 

Like you, he seemed half asleep and fucked out, a couple more bites around his neck that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been touching you. Soap’s mohawk gave you something to gently fidget with as Price nudged another bite against your lips. Simon took his seat on the floor, leaned back against the base of the couch with his head tipped back against the curve of your hip. One of his arms wrapped around the leg that Johnny had dangling off the couch, massaging gentle circles into the mans calf muscle. His other other arm was propped on his knee so he could catch your wrist where it flopped down on his shoulder. He was tender as he ran his ungloved hand over yours, massaging your fingers and comparing them to his much larger hands, murmuring himself, “No callouses.” 

“Told you, Si.” Johnny sighed almost dreamily into your bare stomach, leaning into your fingers in his hair. With the rest of the men doting on you and Johnny, Simon didn’t even retaliate or tease something back, just snickering quietly and fondly, offering straw topped water bottle to the sergeant. 

Another bite of food was offered to you, along with water, and something struck you funny, drawing a quiet chuckle out of you as you turned your face into Price’s neck to stifle the noise. It drew the group’s eyes, clearly waiting for you to divulge. “C’mon, hen, share with the class.” Johnny prompted with grin, always down for a laugh, propping his chin up on your belly so he could look at you through the valley of your cleavage, eyes shining like you’d hung the moon. 

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” Price rose his eyebrows, cutting another bite of meat for you. 

“Nothing, it’s dumb.” You snicker a little more, earning a expectant but amiable tug to your fingers from Simon, “It’s just all a little backwards, s’all.” 

“Backwards?” The liutenant parroted in that deep Manc accent, making you giggle a bit more, nodding against Price.

“I let y’all fuck me every which way from Tuesday, and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.”  You mused, ironically before taking another bite of one of the best steaks you’d ever had, which could be an effect of the post-sex endorphin rush, or maybe John was just a grill master. “Our apologies, sweet thing.” John rolled his eyes playfully, his apology deeply sarcastic as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“In our defense, dinner and a very nice bottle of wine were on the agenda before, but some people,” Gaz’s eyes flicked over to Johnny and Simon who didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Simon was stone faced as usual, still playing with and kissing at your fingers while Johnny just smiled into your belly, “got impatient.” 

“Hey, the first time Simon fucked me all I got was the drink mix and wet nap from his MRE.” Johnny whined which only made you laugh harder. 

“Y’didn’t ask for anything else.” Simon shrugged tilting his head to press an uncharacteristically romantic kiss to the curve of the Scot’s knee. “ ’sides, I got your mouth on her didn’t I? think I made up for it.”  And before you could question if Simon was really the one to orchestrate all of this, Price quieted you with a bite of potato while Gaz leaned over to distract you with his lips on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

  And for the first time since you’d seen their search histories, you weren’t worried about much of anything other than when this might happen again.

 ____ 

me, who doesn’t ever really write smut: yes i will enjoy writing a fivesome with at least ten hands, five mouths, ten arms, and four penises to keep up with. 

Y’all should see the notesapp where I had to like draw out stick figures to see if what I was writing was anatomically possible. I feel like this has gotten me on some kind of watchlist. 

Taglist in Comments because there were too many of y'all!! Thanks to anyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged! Whenever I'm feeling uninspired, I just scroll through y'alls comments and they make me smile so so much!!!

[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

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 — 𝐂.𝐒.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ʚɞ Chris loves that you're his. ⤷ smut, fingering, dom!chris, posessive!chris, begging, not proofread!

The ink doesn’t penetrate past your skin, but somehow, you can feel it in your bones. It’s like a pulsating warm. Maybe the heat is coming from Chris’s mouth running along the black ink, or maybe it’s just your body’s way of saying this is right. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. This…” he trails off, his eyes daring upwards and into yours. The duvet beneath you seems to sink as he settles more of his weight onto you. His hands are burning into either side of your waist, clutching into your skin as if you belong to him. “-this is perfect,” he husks. 

Your gut tightens from his sultry words. The lust in his hooded eyes is making your head feel lighter, your breath coming out in short pants as he lays another open mouthed kiss on the healed tattoo. 

He’s been waiting to do this for weeks. Chris would never interfere with the healing process, putting you in any sort of discomfort or potential harm made him tick with an indescribable rage. He was tempted to kiss the mark through the plastic saran wrap at some point, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop once he started. 

Afterall, that’s exactly what’s happening right now. 

“Chris.” you hum, biting on your lower lip as he squeezes you just the faintest bit tighter. His hands swarm under your back, pulling your chest to arch into him as his lips graze on the slightest raised skin. 

“What? I can’t take my time with you?” he taunts, looking up at you with pure mischief as he circles his tongue upwards, cupping the underside of your bare breast. “-you’re mine, aren’t you, pretty girl? I mean…” he sucks in a mocking breath, his cold, nimble fingers dancing over your ribcage before landing on the letters;

𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼

“-says it right there, baby,” he rasps, the unmistakable look of pride making his lips curl into a devilish smile that makes your core ache between your legs. “All mine.”

Your mouth falls open as he wraps his lips around your nipple. Chris lets his hand wander down south, his thumb grazing between your folds as you both lets out a noise of pleasure.

"Shit." he cureses.

The feeling of how wet you are is absolutely daunting to him. He wants to take his time, appreciate this like he's been unable to, but it's fucking hard.

He's fucking hard--throbbing, even.

"My girl's wet for me, huh?" he taunts, his eyes gleaming with lust as you nod your head into the pillow, moaning quietly as he slowly dips his finger inside of you slick entrance.

Your chest tightens, your stomach dropping. Everything burns. Your hips are lifting as he starts to finger-fuck you with a single finger. It's not nearly enough to feel satisfied, but maybe it's some sort of sick payback for how long he had to wait to do this.

"I want you to say it."

You struggle to look down, but once your eyes land on his, you can tell he truly means it.

He needs you to say it so bad.

"I'm," another long moan erupts from the back of your throat, his fingers curling and grazing the perfect spot making you lose all train of thought as you become pliant under his touch.

Chris clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He adds a second finger, making you squeal with delight before retracting it viciously.

"No, please-"

"Say it. All you gotta do is say it."

There's something about the way he's looking through you that makes your walls tighten around his fingers. Chris groans, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gently massages your inner walls.

He's trying to get what he want, but it's so hard not to touch you.

"I-" You stutter as his thumbs rests on your clit, your eyes flutter before snapping open as you feel him slow his motions. "-'m yours. All yours, Chris. I'm...'m all yours," you breath, a long satisfied noise echoing through the room as he buries two of his fingers deep inside of you, making sure to curl them in the way he knows drives you to tense your inner thighs with desperation.

"Mmmmmm, mhm," he listens closely, the sound of your slick slapping as he really fucks his fingers into you, "-all fuckin' mine, sweetheart. All mine."

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ʚɞ When I tell you I stopped fucking breathing when I found out....

·˚ ༘ ʚ 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒔, 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𖧧

꒰ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ꒱

[sunsturns]

summary: you can’t sleep without your stuffed animal and matt becomes your second option.

warnings: anxiety/start of an anxiety attack, fluff, “angst” (slight arguing if you squint), reader ATTACHED to this stuffed animal, pet names (baby, sweetheart), mr wrinkleton mention!!!

wc: 1k

𝓨ou walked into matt's room after a very long day, getting ready to fall asleep. he was already in there per usual, under his blankets. he looked at you as you walked in, a soft smile growing across his face. you just wanted to be cuddled up next to him underneath the comforter, with your childhood stuffed animal, lucky.

but when you took a closer look at matt’s bed, the place you last left the faded blue bunny, there was no stuffed animal to be found. that’s when you noticed matt’s bedding was switched out from what it was this morning.

starting to worry, you asked, “matt? where’s lucky?”

“the stuffed animal?” his eyebrows furrowed, not sure if he knew exactly what you were talking about. you’ve told him the name you gave your stuffed animal probably once, so he was hesitant in assuming that was what you were talking about.

“yeah.” your expression dropped, as the missing stuffed animal was starting to settle in your mind. you had no idea where it could be and it was starting to make you anxious. bad things always happened when you didn’t sleep with that stuffed animal, and the thought of that happening tonight, terrified you.

"i was just giving it a quick wash, it should be done tomorrow." he said, hopefully comforting your nerves with his confirmation. but it was somehow the exact opposite happened, your chest started inflating a little too fast, and matt was quick to notice. he shoved the blankets off of him, getting up to meet you where you stood. his hands immediately grabbing ahold of your arms, in attempt to comfort you, calm you down. "im sorry. was i not supposed to?" he asked, severely concerned. he couldn't stand the idea of messing something up that meant so much to you. he didn't think anything of it when he decided to toss it in the wash along with mr. wrinkleton, but he was now hating himself for not taking an extra second or two to think.

you had no answer to his questions, feeling completely overwhelmed with the sudden change you were going to have to deal with tonight. you never slept without that thing, even when with matt. you still found a way to slip it into your nighttime cuddles. suddenly, tears threatened to fall from your eyes as the anxiety started to take over your body. you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight, but you didn’t realize you weren’t going to have to deal with an anxiety attack on top of it.

"hey, sweetheart. it's okay." he pulled you into a comforting hug, soothing out your nerves before they could get to be too much. he brushed his hand over your hair over and over again. it was a constant, familiar feeling and it immediately helped ground you. your face still felt extremely heated, but it felt as though it was slowly fading away. just before matt said, "there's nothing to worry about, okay? he'll be done by the time you wake up tomorrow."

“you don’t understand, matt. i haven’t been able to sleep without him since i was a kid.” you mumbled into his chest.

"wait a minute, him? you've been seeing another guy this whole time?" he accused with a chuckle, obviously trying to make you laugh. it kind of hurt when it failed, though he had to admit it was a very horrible kind of joke now that he thought about it, and it probably only made everything worse.

“not funny.” you shook your head softly, expression flat, as another tear rolled down your cheek. “im serious, matt. i need him,” you told him. the words sort of hurt matt in the process of you speaking them, of course you didn’t mean to, but it made him feel like he wasn’t enough for you. made him feel less than the stuffed animal. he understood your problem and knew how much you depended on it, but he wished that he could help just as much as the small plush bunny.

he lead you over to sit on the edge of his bed, as he crouched down to be perfectly aligned with your face, his hands now rested on your thighs for support. now looking directly into your eyes, he started rubbing small comforting motions with his hands. his words were just as comforting when he said, "i'm really sorry, baby. i really didn't mean to put him in there."

“it’s okay…” you accidentally broke the eye contact, feeling kind of ashamed for what you were about to say. after all it was just a dumb plush bunny. you refused to look at him, forcing your eyes to the ground next to him instead, before you spoke, “i’m just like really scared to sleep now.”

he lifted your head, making eye contact once again, making sure you were listening to what he was saying. “why? you know i’m right here.”

you shrugged, feeling stupid for even feeling like this over a fucking stuffed animal. "i don't know... i just know whenever i don't have it, i have nightmares. vivid nightmares." your lips started to quiver as some examples started replaying in your head.

matt grabbed a hold of your face, wiping any excess tears from your cheeks, “hey, i’m going to be here the whole time, okay?” you nodded your head in response, trying to hold back the avalanche of tears that you felt.

matt swiftly headed over to where he was laying before, but this time making a little spot for you to snuggle in. “c’mere,” he said, holding out an arm to you. you immediately crawled to your little spot, letting him engulf you in his arms the second you got there. he pulled the blanket over the both of you.

“goodnight sweetheart, i love you.” he planted a kiss upon your forehead before you nuzzled into his chest, now knowing he would be the one to suppress the horrible dreams.

but when you woke up the next morning, you couldn't quite tell if that had been the case. because as you held onto matt, you felt something fluffy in between the two of you. grabbing it, you realized it was the faded beige bunny you had been so worried about the night before.

NOTES ! 🫐

a/n: yall ever know the feeling when someone you love messes something up on accident but you can be mad at them so you just feel the overwhelming urge to cry?? yeah that’s how this feels 😭

[strwberri-milk]

Could you do a drabble with Rafayel and Sylus individually where MC Reader has an accident during a mission and forgot everyone and everything BUT them

To explain better, she's forgotten everyone in her life and doesn't remember her coworkers, where she is, who she is, what happened during that mission. But when she sees them, she immediately recognizes them.

Like imagine the worry they'd feel getting the call that their beloved is in the hospital and doesn't remember anything and perhaps worry that she has forgotten them again but this time, they're the only thing she remembers. Sorry if this sounds odd or weird!

Rafayel is relieved, honestly. The second he hears that you've got amnesia he's freaking out and trying to figure out if he can somehow convince you to fall in love with him one more time. His heart is torn and he can't think of anything but what sort of state he'll find you in.

He sees how afraid you look, the nerves as you try to comprehend what all the medical staff are telling you. He practically rushes into the hospital room much to the chagrin of all the staff. They try to stop him, worried that a strange man coming into your room would make you panic but when you call out his name he's by your side, holding you tightly as he soothes you.

The staff see how settled you are with him and decide that it's better to keep Rafayel by your side, even if he's crying a bit, totally emotional over the fact that you somehow still remember him despite losing memory of everything else. He'll take you back home with him the second you're discharged and not a moment sooner, wanting to make sure you feel safe.

He'll pamper you and do everything he can to try and help you while you recover. He gently tries to help you remember things about your own life, knowing that to see you thrive is another way to feel the love that you have. He does sort of love the fact that you know nothing but him right now which makes you almost depend on him, but he also wants you to be able to have a sense of independence from him, which is why he'll work with you at your own pace to help rebuild a life that's also your own.

Sylus is almost afraid to see you again. He stands outside your room, waiting for the staff to let him in as he tries to figure out what he'll do if it turns out that you've forgotten him once again. He already had a hard time dealing with it when he first saw you after so long but now he thinks he might be crushed if he sees that lack of recognition mixed in with a slight fear.

The staff introduce him to you when he's finally allowed in and he's a little taken aback by how distraught you look when you see him. His heart clenches and he's prepared to leave to avoid worsening your condition but he sees you reach out to him, saying his name in such a broken voice he knows that you recognise him.

He's right by your side, speaking to you softly as he reassures you he's right there with you. He takes your hand in both of his, dwarfing your bedside as he leans over and kisses your knuckles reverentially. He watches you as you rest, refusing to leave your bedside until you can come home with him.

He doesn't want to remold your life but he wants to make you comfortable. He'll ask you what you want, and assist either way. If you decide just knowing him is enough then the two of you will take the approach of remembering your previous life slower as you build a new one together - that's, if you even want to remember before him at all. If you want to remember everything before him as well then he's there all the way, making sure you don't over do it while supporting you in every way.

[troublesh00terfaery]

BELOW 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT. THIS WORK IS NSFW! KEEP OUT! [THIS WORK IS PURELY FICTION] | Pinned Navigation | Chapter one of CREDENCE | [Alhaitham x AFAB! Reader] Synopsis: In the heart of Sumeru, thrives the peaceful and unique kingdom to which governed by the monarchy. A young prince experiences a strange succession of dreams to which a mysterious woman comforts him. Wouldn't it be delightful to make this dreams into a reality? Words: 5.4k (NOT BETA READ)

Tags: AFAB! Reader, slight teasing, Prince! Alhaitham x Goddess Reader. Pronouns for AFAB reader are she/her. Alhaitham slightly obsessed with you. Alhaitham raging thoughts about you (look at what you did to this poor man!) So far, this will be main tags, more will be added on the following chapters. A/N: OKAY, I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO UPDATE FOR MONTHS. I know I should've posted this around August but I was so busy and experienced writers block so I went to travel and did girly stuff just to get back on track so I sincerely apologize for the very late upload. I'm currently working on the third part since I planned on making this having four chapters. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this and upcoming chapters! - xoxo Circe𝜗𝜚 [Credits to this beautiful artist for the Alhaitham fanart, this was one of my inspos for this work!]

TAGLIST: @ayumneedsleep @zetianzz @surfacecigarettes @flwerie @yxnnu (If you want to be tagged for the upcoming chapters, comment to do so!)

This was rather unexpected, you thought to yourself. He was different and that bothered you. Was he not satisfied to see the literal woman of his dreams come to life? The thought itself made you furrow your brows as you tagged along him and his pet.

Upon reaching his study, the motif itself was very much like the monarchy and himself. Cabinets filled with scrolls and another separate cabinet that are yet to be filled with scrolls of whatever he is working on. His study was open and wide, the heart of his study was his huge table decorated with weighing scales and papers piled up and two papyrus papers were scattered open in the middle that somehow looked like a map that is yet to be filled up.

"Have a seat," Alhaitham spoke, instructing Jihad to sit down to which the feline responded with a chuff before settling himself down and yawning.

You stood there by the door that was just closed and watched him unfold in his usual setting. I guess Alhaitham would call this his own man cave. He gazed at you and heaved a sigh. "I meant you, of course. Have a seat, don't mind Jihad."

In return, you only replied with a small nod and found a seat just beside the cabinets. You decided not to sit and to stand and observe the scrolls piled up. Your eyes are busy with the tags and labels of each scroll. Alhaitham on the other hand kept sitting by his table and crossed his arms.

The probing has begun, he asked numerous questions to which you replied. He didn't ask where you came from, he was objective, thus only questioning matters regarding the further regions of the sands. From hidden mausoleums to locations to mark, he continued to seek the pursuit of knowledge for the expansion project. It was quite strange, here you thought that he would be asking you rather personal questions. It did bother you but of course, it would not let you falter.

"Your highness..." one of his servants came inside after knocking. "...it is dinner. The young lady is invited to eat as well, said your father."

Alhaitham replied with a nod before the servant left. He then gazed back at you before he stood up and spoke.

"You heard him."

Oh the knock of this guy. You thought.

Dinner was quite fine, the sorts of foods that would satisfy one's appetite. Alhaitham exchanged a few words with his father and his father to you. At some point, the question directed towards you was answered by Alhaitham.

"Please eat, I will answer my father's questions." He whispered to which you only replied with a slow nod as you took a spoonful of the desert.

The following days were the same, this time it was different. You were actually helping him out with the mapping. You could see how delicate and neat he works with the maps. Not only that, he was detail oriented as well. Asking you questions about what was within that small area or what notable features did it possess. He was indeed more than just a prince with a face, he possessed an aristocratic and wise quality.

It was because during mapping sessions, guards and scribes would randomly enter his study chambers and update him with the ongoing plans and treaties that he, of course, would indulge himself and the queries.

"If you'll excuse me, I will return in a short while." He left his markers and tools used for outlining the maps scattered at the table. You replied with a small nod and watched him leave the chambers whilst talking to one of the scribes.

This day, the mapping was almost finished but he was summoned by his father. Leaving you alone in his chamber. It was afternoon and the chamber was filled with rays of the sun that beamed, highlighting small spaces within his study. Come to think of it, no matter how busy this man is, his study was undeniably neat. Not a single scroll was misplaced nor scattered around the floor. You would expect that this man had no time to organize yet his room differs from your expectations.

His study was a wide room with an open space in the middle with a long and rectangle shaped table. Beside it was a red sofa filled with plush pillows on each end. You took the liking of comfortably sitting and observing the space he usually works on a daily basis. A whiff of the incense laced your nose, inhaling the comforting scent. A little while later, Jihad entered the study with a big yawn as he slowly walked towards the sofa.

He was a big feline but such a baby when his prince was near him, demanding for rubs. As you stayed in the palace for quite some time, Jihad has grown fond of you. He would greet you with his successions of chuff or nudge his head against your knees, a cue to pet him to which you spoil him. Surprisingly, Jihad took the big pillow he usually sleeps in by dragging it with his teeth and placing it near your feet and comfortably laying himself for a short nap.

"You know what, Jihad..." you spoke, stretching your arms and back before you took one of the pillows and patted each side. "...a nap doesn't sound bad after all."

And just like that, you lie down and slumber visits you. On the other hand, Alhaitham was discussing with his father. The usual one, expedition and mapping. Not until his father mentioned how you were.

"What do you mean?" Alhaitham asked, not looking at his father as his eyes were too fixated from the pieces of figures in his father's embossed maps.

"Do you even know her name?" The king paused from placing a few more pieces.

"That's rather a strange query, your grace." He took one of the pieces, a triangular shaped piece, and placed it near two smaller pieces with the identical shape.

Of course, he didn't know your name. It didn't cross his mind to know or ask what was your name. Not that it didn't curious him, he simply just didn't feel it. Now the thought of what your name was, he recalled addressing you as 'hey' or 'woman' a couple of days ago. Strange and certainly infuriating.

"Do you know her name then, father?"

"My, of course, son."

"Good for you."

The king only sighed at his rather indifferent attitude. Truth be told, he was genuinely curious about you. Everything about you was a mystery that is yet to be revealed. In an outward perspective, he did not care. To which you and probably the king, finds strange.

He was quite aware of how you and his woman of dreams looked alike and how similar your voices were. On top of that, the little fluid and elegant manners you had as you carried yourself in helping the young prince further expanded his curiosity. He found you rather strange but in his mind, you and that woman of dreams of his were different and he rejected the idea that it was you personified.

"She's quite a pretty woman herself, don't you think?"

"Hm, she is, I suppose?"

The talk about you went on for hours, only for Alhaitham to reply in such a stingy way.  After a few more talks, the prince decided to go back to his study to check the scrolls.

It was the same routine everyday, to the point that it seemed like a loop that never ended. At this point, your plan seemed like a written reminder that you somehow never did.

"The expedition begins in two days, I suggest you get your best sleep since we're heading to the sands." Alhaitham spoke, without looking at you, afterall, he was a busy man with a scroll on his right hand and a pen on his other hand.

"I'm coming?" You stopped petting the feline.

"I will accompany you with a few of my chosen travelers and men."

"Oh..."

"Your ladies have also prepared your tent and things, do you wish to bring anything else?"

"Uh...I-I suppose I'll be thinking about it."

"Hm, tell me what you'll be bringing so I will get them to prepare it. Understood?"

"Yes," you replied, looking at him as Jihad nudged his head gently against your cheeks and chuffled. "Thank you."

Come to think of it, your world revolved a bit of eating savory meals, having to experience luxurious baths almost everyday, a free stroll around the extravagant palace, watch people do stuff for you, dressed up with the finest silk offered by the palace, and of course, having a premium closeness to the prince by being his aid. Suitable just for a goddess like you. But alas, do they even try to know what you truly are? Does HE know or even try to know you? Shame that you will never know.

It was no doubt that the prince had a charming face and a mysterious personality that entices a few faces from different kingdoms. Princesses and high ranking courtesans seemingly throwing themselves to the young prince's feet, offering themselves to him as an act.of devotion. To which of course, he politely declines. These ministrations and how he reacts to it somehow made you curious over the past few days that you couldn't help but want to ask. However, you decided to ask a different and a more serious query.

"Alhai- I mean, your highness, is it okay if I ask something?"

The young prince stopped what he was doing and slowly turned and tilted his head, enough for you to see the side of his face.

"Call me 'Alhaitham', we're in my chambers." He spoke. "I'd like you to call me by my name, so refrain from addressing me formally."

"Why so?"

"Is that what you're initially asking then?"

"No."

"Hm, then I'll only answer you if you do as I say." A small smile formed on his lips.

Truth be told, Alhaitham wasn't fond of questions. It was like a meticulous task for him and it tired him out. However, there are such exemptions to these matters especially when it comes to you. Of course, he could only think of it as a way to return his favour because you had assisted him for almost a month on his ongoing expedition. Think of it as him being a gentleman.

You slowly nodded with his instructions and slowly said his name. It was new, you were so used to calling him with his honorary titles, but the prince himself granted you permissions to casually call him his name. Oh, what a beautiful name, you thought to yourself.

"Alhaitham."

"Hm? What is it?" He slowly shifted his body, dropped his pen and scroll to his table, and faced his body to you. Now he was welcomed with this... rather innocent view of yours. You were sitting by his carpet while his dear feline rested its big head on your lap. Your sincere eyes meeting his hawk-like gaze, plump lips, and such beauty.

Alhaitham wouldn't deny it but your beauty would be considered as the realm's delight. Such beauty you behold, he wonders what kind of alchemy create such ethereal beauty like you. And then he realized something, your beauty alone had a choke hold on him and he realized it late.

"I have come to notice that you have suitors, women coming from different regions." You started slow but with an obvious topic to which you already prepared the rejection of answering your curious query. "Why do you not entertain them?"

You asked, seemingly patting the head of Jihad yet you never really looked at him.

Alhaitham paused for a moment, and pondered, what the real answer is to that question. Was it an academic curiosity that urged him to convince his father to explore the desert that genuinely kept the young prince  in a hectic place? Perhaps the idea that marriage was far from his perspective as of the moment, considering he never was in a position to rush matters that revolved around tying bonds with anyone? Does he even see himself falling for someone? Of course, but when will he start to do so? Was there really a remarkable person that could persuade the heir to the throne?

He only stared at your petting to his Jihad as he sighed, he wasn't really sure what to tell you. Although this question wasn't new to him considering the king has nagged him about it ever since he was of age, he somehow had a peculiar feeling. He silently commended you on how you questioned him about serious matters, but as an outsider to his personal life, you really had the guts to ask him.

Maybe answering you wasn't much of a hassle, after all he had the time in the world to either reject your query or keep your growing curiosity company.

"I suppose if I tell you, then you will keep it a secret?"

The answer he gave you made you look up to him, never in beat would you think Alhaitham would set aside his usual work for a question that can be answered with a word or two. You slowly gave him a small nod, signaling that you had your senses focused on him. Alhaitham picked up your nod and took his chair, gently dragged it, and placed it just in front of you. He sat and slowly lowered his upper torso to level your face. The proximity between you and him now closer, finding yourself having a close up view of him and the very details of his astonishing beauty.

"How about this," he whispered, he was serious but there was a hint of playfulness in it. You couldn't tell if he was either serious or not, he was, after all, unpredictable. Something he had naturally. "I'll give you three statements, two of which are lies and one is the right answer."

"...and?"

"Of course, you have to guess the right one. In return, you will be doing the same." He crossed his arms and rested against the comfortable seat of the chair. Laid back and composed as ever. "If either of us had the wrong guess, a dare will compensate for it."

"I never expected the young prince to be playful, might as well amuse me by playing truth or dare?" you let out a low chuckle and caressed the feline's cheek with your thumb. Alhaitham replied with a soft scuff, since when did you start to get that kind of sarcasm?

"I'm keeping your curiosity company, might as well leave you and Jihad alone so I can work peacefully."

Never in a millennium had a man genuinely amuse you in such humor. Come to think of it, he was always serious and never replied much nor replied. You have to conclude that he was like a living machine, so to witness him in such proximity in this situation was never on your plate.

"Alright, young prince," you cleared your throat and now looking at him, your attention undivided. "Entertain me, if you please." a soft reply, you spoke.

Upon your response, Alhaitham let out a ghostly smile before he shifted his position. Alhaitham started, positioning himself by leveling you. He leaned once more, whilst he rested both his  arms at each thigh, arms supporting his weight and legs partly spread.

"The kingdom of Sumeru is vast and yet to be discovered. Despite our lineage being at the throne for years, some parts itself is yet to be uncovered." he started off. Each word leaving his mouth made you gently nod, absorbing the words he said.

He continued his story coming from his past royal lineage being unsuccessful of searching through the vast sands due to the lack of equipment and knowledge of what lies ahead. Among the few of his ancestors have passed because of unexpected circumstances of their expedition during their reign. Fortunately, through the sacrifices of his kin, the present throne is able to push through the expedition and further survey of the area.

"The sands fascinated my curiosity since I was a young scholar." he crossed his arm yet he kept his gaze focused at you, never breaking it. As if he really had no intention of keeping his eyes off you, not that you'll escape. "I have no intention of taking the crown to begin with, I intend to spend my time as a man who seeks knowledge and the grain of wonders of the dunes of Sumeru."

You replied with a hum, that somehow adds to your hypothesis regarding him finding you and how this curiosity and ongoing questions somehow simply align themselves to give you answers. You weren't in a rush nor had the realization you had initial questions about how he was determined to expand his knowledge and the past aspirations of his kin to broaden their expansion.

"That leads me to saying that I do not wish to marry." Alhaitham's tone was relaxed and monotone, leaning by the soft backrest of the chair he sat.

Shifting, he rested his right hand by the arm rest and his left hand supporting his head as he paused. He looked at you, observing your curious face as he took a pause. Surprisingly, he somehow found himself pleased with this view. Not that he felt that he was superior looking down on you, it was more of how you looked. How effortlessly you made him look at you in awe with your beauty. Those curious and innocent looking eyes you had, spoke for you. It felt like you didn't even have to utter a word for him to digest what you're thinking. Perhaps it is true what they say: the eyes never lie.

"Why?" you gazed at him.

"I am not in a rush nor has it ever crossed my mind," he replied.

"I doubt."

"Who are you to doubt me?"

You let out a soft chuckle with his question.

"I don't doubt you, my prince." you replied. "I doubt how it never crossed your mind."

Alhaitham, interested with your answer, slowly let his curiosity tiptoe. Perhaps it was the perfect time to open your subject to him. The reason why you are here, the reason why you're infront of him, and why he even has the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, you didn't want to surprise him with everything. You had other plans, after all, who doesn't like the chase?

"Perhaps not marriage."

"Then?"

"Perhaps you had someone in mind." you lowered your voice but sure enough that Alhaitham heard of it, he never recalled anyone being so pesky in his mind. He was after all a busy man, he was.

"How can you confirm this suspicion then?"

"I think that leads us to me answering your little game, your highness."

Delightful but terribly annoying on how you seem to know or even assume he gave out the wrong statement but alas, he would never know your true potential if he did not give you the chance to speak. He never belittles anyone's academic and intellectual capability, it was just that he never truly had to try hard to prove anything. But here you are, it seems like someone like you knows how to bite.

"Go on."

"Based on the structure of your statements, I concluded that you were telling the truth regarding the matters of your family's lineage dating back and your history with the dunes." you started, confident but sure. You sat upright but never forgot to pet the asleep feline by your thighs.

"This also leads me to sum up that you do not have plans nor initial plans with the crown, I can recall a certain interaction with the king. He mentioned, nonverbatim, that 'the prince truly amuses me for he is the only heir of this dying lineage of kings, yet he spares no time to reckon keeping up this dynasty of honorable kings.'" With a smile, you looked at Alhaitham.

Perhaps the young prince looked down on such a peculiar woman like you. He often had the perception that you were just an odd woman looking for trouble near the site. He wasn't new to women performing such an act just to get his attention. That in case he was presumably correct, he paid no attention at all. Truly, you were more than just a delight to his study chambers, you intrigue the young prince.

Your assertion kept the young prince amused. In a way he could never comprehend with simple words. Something ignited inside him that his chest felt heavy, in a sense that it also wanted to break free. He could hear the hitch of his inhale and heavy yet silent exhale. 

There was something about you that kept Alhaitham's feelings exalted at the present. For such an ethereal looking woman with a peculiar habit of surprising anyone, you did so much aside stir up feelings from him that he could not comprehend what it was. It was warm yet a chill would run his spine. 

“Perhaps you can say that marriage itself has never been in the status as convenient to you but to say that you had no person to think of intrigues me a lot, sir.”

“You're doubting me?

“I distress your majesty, perhaps let us put it in this way…” you sat up and fixed your posture. Surely, this would sound ridiculous but oh well, better have said it then regret it afterwards. 

“You’re assuming then?” Alhaitham argued, keeping up his neutral expression while internally being entertained with her little show. 

“No-” you said. 

“Suggesting?” 

“Your highness-”

“Are you a matchmaker then?”

With his rapid interruption, you heaved a heavy sigh, admitting defeat as his interruption unfortunately got through your nerves. You didn’t wish to be annoyed at the young prince, it was pretty much obvious that he was doing it on purpose. Alhaitham somehow finds it rather…amusing. 

“Your highness, I think we should call it a night.” you closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “You have errands tomorrow.” 

Alhaitham let out a low chuckle, seemingly enjoying his small victory of trying to get into your nerves. 

“Ah, and they say escape is defeat.” Alhaitham shifted his seat and made himself comfortable by leaning onto the back cushion of the seat. His eyes gazing at your defeated look, eyes looking away and your plump lips pouting. He was never the type to exasperate anyone just because he wanted to lest he never experience the annoyance from someone who does it randomly. 

But here you are, looking incredibly annoyed yet delicately beautiful without any effort. He must admit that he never came across any woman with such sharpness and wit, still blessed with her beauty and grace. 

“Apologies, I must have you at wits end.” He spoke as he stood up from his seat.

He walked towards the center of his chambers. At the center of his chamber lies a square pool filled with varieties of fresh flowers and lotuses that float the pristine water. He took one nilotpala lotus and a single zaytun peach and sat back at his chair just near you. 

You watched him closely come back to his seat. He placed the zaytun peach just at his table for he kept both of his palms busy with the lotus. 

“I do not think this is an appropriate gift for making amends with you but…” he looked at the damp and freshly bloomed lotus in his palm before he gazed at you. “...allow me to offer this lotus to you, they say it only blooms at night to reveal its beauty.”

He gently took the flower and handed it over to you. Taking the flower, you placed it and carefully cupped the delicate lotus. You never had the opportunity to see it bloom, thus this was a sight to see to you. 

Unbeknownst to you, Alhaitham came to know that you had taken a liking to these delicate lotuses. He observed you sit by the pool of the garden, looking at your reflection and the lotuses that are yet to bloom. He knew you would sit hours just for it to bloom but to no avail, you eventually wasted your afternoon just for it to bloom. 

“This is a nilotpala lotus.” you spoke, observing the intricate parts of the flower up close. You had a waft of its floral and sweet scent. “I’ve always wanted to see them bloom but I do not get the opportunity to see them fully bloom.” You looked up to him with bliss and with a smile.

“Is that so?” He knew, of course. He wouldn’t say it. Perhaps this would be his reward and somehow, he felt a sense of contentment seeing you in such bliss. He took the peach, effortlessly tore it in half, and gazed at you

“Truth is, your answers are all correct.” he admitted defeat with a sigh, he slowly took a bite from the other half of the peach, his eyes never leaving you. Upon hearing him, a little smile formed your lips. 

“So, you have someone on your mind?”

He then propped himself by sitting at the red carpet, just in front of you

“Indeed,” he answered.

You were surprised by the prince’s offering. He was acting unusual in a way that intrigued you. He was the busiest person inside the kingdom and never did he spare time for such trivial matters that would slow him down. And now, he’s eating a peach in front of you. You could only watch him savour the sweet peach, another bite and the juice of the fruit ran down to his chin. 

Instinctively, you wiped the juice from his chin with your thumb. He caught your wrist, guided it near his lips, and pressed your thumb gently to his lips. Upon your thumb making contact with his lips, he briefly closed his eyes before he bore and gazed back at you. Alhaitham’s eyes were half lidded and seemingly focused on you, never did it cross his mind to let your thumb break from his lips.

You were dumbfounded by the sudden action, as much as you wanted to break free from the contact, you found yourself unable to do so. As if you turned into a statue, unable to react nor say a word. For a few moments, the both of you stayed still as if trying to savor every second of the moment. 

He took the opportunity to study your face. There was no doubt that you looked exactly just like the woman in his dreams. There was no flaw, no inadequacy, no spot for him to point out and convince himself that you are not her. You are her, he’s starting to believe. For days, he never had any particular dreams about that woman again. Could it be that the dreams were no longer needed because you are here? The mysterious woman in his dreams was in front of him, thus the dreams were no longer active, he theorized. 

“My prince,” a soft and hushed voice called his attention back and it was you, flustered and heart racing from such sudden intimacy the prince showed. 

He only let out a small chuckle, pressing a small kiss by your thumb before he looked at you. “Who are you, really?” 

He gazed at you with such curious and longing eyes, as if trying to decipher and unravel the hidden divinity of you. He then kissed the knuckles of your hand, to the back of your palm, his lips touching and leaving kisses through your arms, now reaching to your shoulders and leaving a small peck to your shoulder. He then drew his lips closer to your ear, inhaling, before he spoke. 

“Tell me, please.” he rested his forehead to your shoulder, his ministrations leaving you breathless and speechless. Your body started to heat up from the proximity between you and Alhaitham. He left a single kiss by your neck before he cupped your cheek and gazed at you with such intensity. 

He gazed at you, expecting that your eyes might at least give him answers he is looking for.  You could only return the gaze with your doe like eyes scanning his face with visible frustration etched in his face. There was so much intensity between the proximity between the two of you. No words uttered from thereon, only deep breaths and fervent exchange of gaze. 

Your faces were inches away, almost like the space between the two of you was edging the both of you. Alhaitham was the kind of man who knows what he wants, he had no business with being indecisive nor mingling with people being indecisive even at the most little matters. But at this very moment, this proximity had him questioning his ability to recognize and decide. Seems like his logic and to rationalize was slowly slipping away from his mind.

“Won’t you?” he whispered, his cheek against your cheek. This was completely different from the dreams he had with you. This was the closest thing for a dream to come true. You could feel your cheeks and nape heat up. Goosebumps running through your skin, his delicate touch seemingly adding more fuel to the fire. 

And when he couldn’t resist you anymore, Alhaitham left a soft and long kiss against your plush lips. This was beyond comprehension, everything was happening all at once. A while ago you were anticipating a plausible argument and now, the esteemed and sought after prince of Sumeru is at your level and kissed a goddess who hindered herself from the growing world. 

Just before Alhaitham could deepen his kiss, a presence of two women entered his huge chambers. Just by the hallway, stood two ladies-in-waiting. They didn’t dare to interrupt nor get closer to the rather peculiar situation between the prince and you. They couldn’t comprehend what it was since Alhaitham’s back was facing them, and the kiss was angled in a rather hidden manner. As curious as they may seem, they dare not to probe their majesty.

“Your highness, we apologize for interrupting,” one of the ladies spoke, her head hung low.

Alhaitham slowly broke the kiss, his eyes half lidded. You couldn’t deny it; this man was attractive– no, he is a beautiful man. To say that he is simply attractive is an understatement, what more when the prince himself yearns more kisses from you. Upon hearing one of your ladies-in-waiting speak, you quickly hid your face by his side, as if wanting to disintegrate yourself from the embarrassment. 

“Hm,” Alhaitham hushed. “What is it?”

“We came here to escort our lady back to her chambers. It is late and she was supposed to sleep an hour ago.” she spoke, softly. 

Hearing this, Alhaitham let out a ghostly smile. “Yes, your lady here has fallen asleep on my carpet.” 

Your brows furrowed from his answer but you knew it was a better reason than telling them what had actually happened.

Alhaitham looked at the ladies, instructing them with his usual tone as if nothing happened. “Prepare her bed, I will be carrying her to her room.” 

To which they nodded and left his study chambers

And just like that, Alhaitham picked up a soft white linen from his bed and carefully covered your body so that it would not be exposed by the cold breeze of the evening. He carried you in a bridal style and still you never spoke nor looked at him again. Everything was fresh and surreal, you kept thinking about it and you never noticed that you were already being laid by him at your bed. 

You quickly hid your face upon reaching the bed and covering yourself with the blanket. 

Alhaitham only looked at you, but deep inside, he knew what you felt. He could’ve done so much if he wasn’t interrupted but he also knew it was better that things do not escalate as he wanted to know more about you and what you truly are. 

One of the ladies escorted him out of your room when he spoke.

“Be sure to fill her vase with fresh padisarah flowers by the morning.” he stopped his track as he reached outside her room. “See to it that you get a big jar and place nilotpala lotuses to it, let her tend to it once it arrives.” 

The lady nodded in response. 

“Dress her tomorrow, we will be having a stroll by the royal garden and city.” 

A/N: See ya guys on the next chapter. If you wanna be tagged, comment! | Pinned Navigation | Chapter one of CREDENCE |

[mwahstarrii]

⟢ : FINDING OUT ✶⋆.˚

⟶ characters; luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji ⟶ cw; sfw, afab!reader, fem!reader, pregnancy, talk of pregnancy, mean-ish reader in Usopp, [mentioning of] vomit, food cravings, fainting, [mentioning of] sex (nothing described), Zoro is (playfully?) possessive at the end of his scene, not proof-read ⟶ xtra; brrrr making anime men brain go crazy :P also i'm still super early in the anime? so mostly based of live action personality yupyup [previous | masterlist | next]

Zoro ── .✦ (1.1k)

The relationship between [YourName] and Zoro was always interesting, they had started off with bickering and over time it had formed into something platonic which somehow turned romantic. The crew was shocked at first upon the reveal the two were actually affectionate toward each other, but it grew to become normal to find the two tangled up together in the crow's nest asleep.

What they didn't expect to figure out would be a year into their relationship that [YourName] would suddenly develop some sort if sickness. Maybe the word 'sudden' is too harsh, but it felt quick how everything happened! It started off with [YourName] not being able to keep food down and then she started getting so tired to the point she didn't even want to leave the bed. At first, it wasn't something [YourName], Zoro, or the crew was worried about! Maybe it was just a bug.

Well, perhaps it was more than a bug. Because when [YourName] started to get frustrated over being drained and not being able to keep much down, she finally decided to get checked by Chopper. It would be done right before everyone started to settle down for bed, but right after dinner. "I can do some blood tests?" Chopper offered, [YourName] groaned at the thought of it- but agreed in th end.

After getting what he needed, [YourName] stuck around a bit, but would retire to her and Zoro's room when Chopped told her that it would be a bit before results came back. Zoro was already in the bedroom when [YourName] walked in, "Nice to see you awake." Zoro joked lightly. [YourName] rolls her eyes, climbing into bed after stripping of her pants, "Like you're any better." she bit back.

"Yeah, yeah.." Zoro mumbles, after finishing his before-bed routine, he climbs in right beside his girlfriend. [YourName] got comfortable in his arms, her face pressed against his chest as she thought for a moment. "What is I'm dying?" [YourName] asks in a hushed tone, "What? No- What? Just because you're throwing up and sleeping a lot, doesn't mean you're dying." Zoro said trying to recover from the shock of [YourName]'s thinking process. "You're not dying, now sleep so we can find out what's wrong in the morning.." Zoro mumbled, squeezing [YourName] making her giggle before falling asleep.

Following morning, Zoro was already up and walking around the ship by the time [YourName] had woken up. After eating a very light breakfast, catered toward what she could keep down, she headed over to Chopper's office for any information. After a short knock and entering, Chopper ushered [YourName] in and made her sit down. "Okay, so.. After a lot of digging, putting symptoms together, and the blood test coming back- you're.. pregnant." Chopper announced to the woman in front of him.

"Haha. What?" [YourName] asks, trying to seem as if she wasn't guilty of unprotected intercourse with her own boyfriend. "You're pregnant." Chopper says again, [YourName] just took a moment to process the news. "Damn. I thought I was dying too." [YourName] says as she holds her face, Chopper just chuckled and shook his head. "No. None of that. You're just experiencing classic signs of pregnancy, [YourName]!" The reindeer says, a smile on his face as if he hadn't just dropped life changing news onto his crewmate.

[YourName] sighed softly, rubbing between her eyebrows as she thought on what to do next. "Do.. you want to keep the baby?" Chopper asked, he didn't know how to do such an extensive and invasive surgery to terminate the pregnancy which meant they would have to stop at an island maybe. "What? Oh! N-No, I mean, I want the baby, but I can't raise it by myself if Zoro doesn't want it.." [YourName] explained, Chopper couldn't help but give a small weak smile at the reply. "You wouldn't be raising the baby on your own either way, we all would be there." Chopper tells the woman, and he was right about it.

With a little chuckle from [YourName], Chopper turned back to his desk and dug out a few papers "I'll make a diet then for you to follow, along with things you should do throughout this first trimester!" he says with excitement. [YourName] nodded, she waited a moment to collect her thoughts before standing up and sighing- suppose she has to tell Zoro soon. How would one casually mention they're to be parents soon?

[YourName] decided to go along with her day, trying to enjoy food more despite knowing the little thing inside her wouldn’t disagree later and make her throw it up later. She didn’t really care about that anymore, wanting to make sure it was well fed. [YourName] did her usual, helping around the ship and ending the routine before dinner by sitting and reading a book while Zoro trained. [YourName] couldn’t focus on her book as much as she usually could, the thought of telling Zoro was way too strong. Half of her wanted to just blurt it out right then, but she knew it could result in some sort of injury from catching her boyfriend off guard. She then thought about saying something at dinner, get it all out while at dinner, but she shot that idea down too just in case Zoro wanted her to terminate the pregnancy. Her relationship with him was more important than something not yet in the world, and if Zoro said they weren’t ready then perhaps they just weren’t ready!

It would be as they’re prepping for bed that [YourName] would finally say something. [YourName] was brushing her teeth while Zoro was showering, after he got out [YourName] watched him tend to small cuts on his hands and remembers all the times where he was so gentle with her and how he treats children with such care- maybe he would want to be a father with her. While laying in bed that night, [YourName] stared at the ceiling while Zoro held her waist to keep her close. “Zoro?” [YourName] asked, just seeing if Zoro was still awake, “Yeah?” the green-haired man mumbled into her shoulder.

“I- Uh.. I’m pregnant.” ‘[YourName] says pretty casually, biting the inside of her cheek as she waited for a reply from her boyfriend. At first, she had thought she lost Zoro to the sandman when she didn’t get a response for a moment but she couldn’t help the soft chuckle when she felt Zoro’s hand move from her waist to her lower stomach. “Hot.” Zoro said, chuckling as [YourName] nudged him in his chest. “You can’t just call me ‘hot’ when I tell you life changing news, doofus.” [YourName] scolds lightly, Zoro sighs and hums before kissing [YourName]’s cheek “Fine. I’m excited and you’re gonna get hotter. Everyone is gonna know who put that baby in you.” he said with a smug look as he got comfortable again.

[YourName] couldn’t help the flush of her cheeks, whatever! Fine! She’ll be hotter, but she’s pretty sure the dad title on Zoro is gonna make her go feral.

Luffy ── .✦ (1.3k)

Having been a part of the crew from the semi-beginning, [YourName] had gotten to watch Luffy grow and mature. Although not much has changed with his stomach, loads had changed with how he thought. So when they had regrouped after those two years of being apart and everyone had grown up more, gotten taller, stronger, and more ready to take on their next adventure as a crew- [YourName] couldn’t help but develop what she described as a ‘small crush’. Yeah, if small meant trying to dress to impress him, learn to cook for him, and trying to prove herself to be a valued partner in life- then yes! Small crush!

When it had gotten to the point the crew was making small teasing remarks about the crush that [YourName] realized she needed to do something about it. After a lot of late night talks with the girls, [YourName] sucked up all nerves and found Luffy and confessed to him that she saw him more than a friend or a captain but rather a person and someone she wanted a future with. When she was expecting rejection, she had gotten her feelings returned. [YourName] remembered rambling about how he didn’t need to return her feelings and that things would be normal, but Luffy had told her to ‘shush it’ and that he quite liked [YourName] too- even thought about her more often when they were away.

So when the years passed by and their relationship remained romantic, the crew wasn’t hugely shocked to figure out that recently [YourName] had gained Luffy’s appetite. No way was she close to how he gets with food, but rather how much she ate was similar. It was a pretty known fact that in any relationship, people slowly picked up habits of their partners or friends- so when [YourName] had suddenly started asking for more dishes catered toward her and Luffy’s favorite meals- no one batted an eye. “We had this last week?” Luffy asked with a mouth full of his favorite dish, “Yeah, but it was requested again. I thought you liked this meal?” Sanji asked which Luffy nodded excitedly in return. “I do! I was just curious!” Luffy said with joy, [YourName] chowing down on her second plate by then.

Later that night, [YourName] started to toss and turn slightly. Having merged rooms a few months into dating, Luffy had eventually woken up when [YourName] finally sat up. He tiredly watched his girlfriend groan before stumbling to the bathroom, only to return while chewing as she crawled back into bed to get more comfortable. “Food? In the bathroom?” Luffy asked with confusion, [YourName] just let out a breathy chuckle “No, Hun, medicine to help with this heartburn..” she said as she gained comfort in Luffy’s arms once more. [YourName] had noticed she was getting more heartburn recently, but she just chopped it up to the new amount of food she had started to intake suddenly.

Nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t until they stopped for a bit that she noticed she had started feeling nauseous, but nothing ever came from it. When packing to start moving again, [YourName] had to drop the bag she had and rush to the side of the dock to vomit into the water. She hated throwing up, she felt lightheaded, shook slightly and saw stars from her pushing so hard. “[YourName]!” Nami yelled out, dragging the woman from her foggy brain and fixed herself so she sat on her legs and no longer leaned over the docks. “Are you okay?” The ginger haired woman asked her friend, putting a hand on [YourName]’s shoulder. In return [YourName] looked up at Nami slowly before going to shake her head but quickly doubled over once more and vomited into the sea (again).

Once that episode of throwing up was finished, Nami had escorted [YourName] back onto the ship. She warned Chopper about what had happened and took her to his little office where [YourName] could rest until she could be seen properly. Any quick or sudden movements made [YourName] feel so sick, the exam done by Chopper had to be done while she was laying down. After collecting some information on her and the situation, along with knowing her recent history of heartburn and sudden eating habits changing, Chopper came to the most reasonable conclusion in his head; “You could be pregnant?” he suggested.

[YourName] simply chuckled, then realized that Chopper could be 100% right with this suggestion. “Wait- shit..” [YourName] said, holding her face as she closed her eyes to try and put words together so they actually made sense. “How do we test that?” [YourName] questions, slowly turning her head toward Chopper trying to see if there was truly a full proof way of finding out the truth. “Oh! Easy! Pee sample~!” Chopper said, moving around to dig through a drawer or two and offered a cup to [YourName]. “Go ahead, use this when you use the restroom, and i’ll set the test up!” Chopper says with a smile, [YourName] took the cup and sighed as she had eventually made her way to the bathroom.

It wasn’t as awkward as she thought it would be, watching Chopper work his magic to test and see if she was pregnant or not. After a few minutes of watching Chopper focus on something, the reindeer turned to [YourName] and nodded his head. “You’re pregnant!” Chopper announced to the woman, in return [YourName]’s jaw had slightly dropped. This was expected after finding out it was a possibility and she knew that unprotected sex was risky- but when it felt as good as it did, the brain doesn’t really think of risk factors and just says to keep on with what you’re doing.

Once she was given a few tips for nausea and told Chopper would work on a diet for [YourName] to follow, she was dismissed. By now they were on the track for their next adventure, so [YourName] simply shuffled her way to the bedroom. Eventually, she had fallen asleep. She only woke when she felt Luffy crawl into bed and start poking at her sides, “Stooop..” [YourName] mumbled as she tried, and failed, to push her boyfriend’s hands away from her body. “Fine, but only if you come sit with us at dinner and tell me what Chopper said.” Luffy said, trying to strike some deal with his girlfriend.

Oh. Yeah. She would have to tell Luffy the news too, she couldn’t just try and let him know through mind-to-mind contact. That wasn’t possible. “Fine, fine..” [YourName] said, sitting up and chuckling at her boyfriend’s playful grin at her agreement. “I came to ask about it earlier, but you were sleepin’ and Chopper mentioned how you needed the rest..” Luffy explained, brushing some hair from [YourName]’s face. She couldn’t help but feel all blushy and warm at the thought of Luffy caring for her well being, despite him doing so during their entire friendship and even more so during their romantic one too. [YourName] looked into Luffy’s eyes, held his face, and slightly squashed his cheeks together making both of them laugh.

“Good, because growing a baby takes loads of rest, food, and time.” [YourName] said, smiling as she watched the gears turn in Luffy’s head to process her words. “You’re pregnant?!” Luffy asked in an uncharacteristic soft voice, [YourName] nodded in return and that’s when the tears had started to flow. Luffy teared up and the thought of Luffy crying made [YourName] want to cry, so they both were chuckling and fighting back tears. “This is great, oh this is amazing! I can’t wait to teach it everything- it’s going to need siblings too. I had them. It was so much fun.” Luffy said, starting some random ramble, but [YourName] just laughed at his excitement. “Siblings? Already thinking of more before this one comes?” [YourName] asked curiously, “Future planning!” Luffy said as he tackled his girlfriend in for a hug.

Usopp ── .✦ (1.3k)

Perhaps it was the natural chemistry between the two, but the crew saw Usopp and [YourName] getting together way before they did. [YourName] tended to Usopp with such gentleness and care and in return, Usopp would do his best to be brave and protect [YourName]. There were hints of the relationship turning romantic before everyone had split temporarily, but nothing was confirmed. It wasn’t until they found [YourName] once more and the first thing she had done was run to Usopp, tackle him into a tight hug, only to pull away and bring him for a kiss. The crew around them would be shocked at first but would erupt into cheers and laughter. “I missed you..” [YourName] whispered to Usopp, just enough for him to hear over the crew’s cheers.

During the next few years, it was full of [YourName] sitting back and listening to these stories Usopp most definitely made up or added dramatic details to and a relationship that was deemed soft yet still very much romantic. Usopp was a natural romantic person, surprising [YourName] a little bit when the relationship had started to become more serious rather than playful. From the beginning of just crushing on Usopp, [YourName] thought she’d have to lead the way and guide the relationship but that had totally changed once the relationship officially went from friends to lovers.

The only time [YourName] truly takes the reins of the relationship is when communicating needs to be happening. When they argue and need to apologize? She typically nudges Usopp to apologize first, or if she was truly in the wrong she will apologize first. It was healthy and [YourName] was happy to be Usopp’s partner in crime. Always there to support him and do her best to point him in the right direction!

So when [YourName] started to become more tired and irritated, things started to worry Usopp. Anything could trigger an argument which would end in [YourName] crying and apologizing because she didn’t know why she was acting like that. Usopp didn’t know what was happening, what was causing this- because [YourName] didn’t even know! All he knew was to protect [YourName]’s peace when she napped, and boy did she start napping in strange places! It was like her and Zoro were having a competition on who can nap the longest and in the most awkward spots too!

Usopp once found her quite literally on the kitchen floor, cuddling a bag of her favorite snacks. “Look, I didn’t want to wake her.” Sanji said as he was prepping dinner, “She just came in, mumbled a few words, glared at me, and laid down.” He further explained as he tossed the potato into the water to boil. “Oh?” Usopp said, crouching down and checking to see if [YourName] was just breathing, which she was. “Good, she hasn’t been the best person to wake up recently..” Usopp then says, Sanji hums in acknowledgement. The crew hasn’t been safe from her wrath either, nor her sobbing reaction when it was over.

“I wonder what’s going on..” Usopp mumbled as he stood back up, deciding to let her be. “Menstrual cycle?” Sanji suggests, genuinely trying to crack down what had gotten so into [YourName], she could be her total normal self and then explode all the sudden- he hated to see how sad she got when she realized how she hurt others for seemingly no reason. “No, she typically tells me when she starts- but it has been about a month and a half since she last told me about it..” Usopp points out, the news seemingly stops Sanji in his tracks.

Sanji looks up at the younger man across from him, “Usopp.” Sanji asks as he sets the knife down and sighs as he mentally preps himself to tell Usopp what he is about to tell him. I mean, Usopp and [YourName] had been together long enough- surely they had prepped or talked about this possibility? “You should try and get her to go to Chopper.” Sanji tells Usopp, not even realizing how bad he had sounded. Panic immediately took over Usopp’s face, trying to put puzzle pieces together on why his girlfriend would need to see a doctor! Was there something he hadn’t caught on to and Sanji just had!?

“Oh, fuck- No! Sorry, I mean go to Chopper.. For a pregnancy test.” Sanji clears up, shaking his head as he goes back to chopping. Usopp’s panic dialed down quite a lot, but it was still very much there. “Pregnancy test?” Usopp asked Sanji, confused on why he thought [YourName] could be pregnant. Sure, they were safe but sometimes things just happened! “Well, if she typically tells you about her cycle, but hasn’t… she could be pregnant. Women rarely bleed during a pregnancy.” Sanji explains as he glanced up, over toward the sleeping [YourName] and back to what he was doing.

Usopp nodded, he supposed he could get [YourName] tested for that.

Unfortunately Usopp had underestimated how [YourName] would react to him asking her to test. “What the HELL is that supposed to mean?!” [YourName] yelled at her boyfriend, “Am I getting fat or something?! I bet you have an issue with that too.” she added as she scoffed. “What!?” Usopp asked with genuine shock at [YourName]’s accusation, “No! No! That is not why, [YourName]- it’s just..” he said, getting a little frustrated at the end of him trying to explain himself. He just started to feel more guilty when [YourName] was giving him the look she was giving him. “[YourName], even if you were getting fat- I hardly noticed, and I wouldn’t care.” Usopp says trying his best to clear the air, the pout on [YourName]’s lip turned into a little frown while she fixed herself to better listen to her boyfriend.

“When did you last get your cycle?” Usopp asks, trying to do more investigation before pushing for [YourName] to see Chopper again. “Oh, well..” [YourName] thought for a moment, “Two months, maybe?” she then said as she fixed her posture so it was less pouty and more welcoming. Usopp nodded, trying to get her to realize what Sanji helped him realize! Just by one nod and the look on his face, [YourName] gasped and covered her mouth. “No! No- that- oh my god..” The woman said as she finally realized why Usopp wanted her to see the doctor.

Guilt immediately ate at her, “Oh no, I am so sorry..” [YourName] apologized. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything, you’re so sweet- everyone is! I just have been.. Bitchy recently.” She explained further, holding her face as she finally put two-and-two together. After a hug, Usopp and [YourName] found Chopper and after taking a urine sample from [YourName] they sat together while Chopper worked on finding answers. “Mood swings and lack of a cycle could explain why you’ve been so…” Chopper explained while he worked “Bitchy. I’ve been bitchy, Chopper.” [YourName] says, filling in the word Chopper couldn’t bring himself to say or use to describe someone who is normally so sweet.

Chopper shrugged, after a few moments he hummed as he turned to the couple. “I think Usopp was right to ask for you to test! You’re pregnant, [YourName]!” The reindeer says, watching the reaction of the couple to see how he should feel for them. [YourName] would look over to Usopp, trying to see how he was feeling, but all he did was nudge her and nodded. “Thank you, oh god, this explains so much.” [YourName] says with a soft chuckle, Chopper nodded and mentioned how he would put some stuff together for [YourName] and Usopp to take note of.

When Chopper took his leave momentarily, [YourName] turned to Usopp and before she could get a word out he had that grin that washed away any fear. “You’re pregnant!” Usopp said quietly, making the woman laugh and nod “That I am.” [YourName] says as she brings Usopp’s hands up and interlocks their fingers. “I can’t wait to meet them. Oh, you’re going to be an amazing mother.” Usopp praises, pressing a kiss to [YourName]’s forehead. “And you’ll be an amazing father..” [YourName] softly cooed, noting the smile she felt against her forehead from her boyfriend.

Sanji ── .✦ (1.3k)

Sanji and [YourName] had history before Luffy had come around and recruited Sanji to the Straw Hats. [YourName] worked as a waitress for the Baratie, becoming close to Sanji when they both were young and eventually their relationship blossomed into something very romantic. [YourName] did get annoyed with Sanji flirting with customers who were also women, but Sanji always apologized and would remind her how much he thinks of [YourName] rather than that woman- he hardly remembers what that woman even looked like! All his mind is full of at this moment is how beautiful [YourName] is and how adorable she looks in her uniform.

When Sanji first was recruited by Luffy, he had declined because he didn’t know how [YourName] would react to the thought of them both joining this random kid’s crew. Yes, together. He didn’t want to leave [YourName] behind, that was worse than death he felt. After some talking though and a fight with fish-men, [YourName] had agreed to let Sanji go– even if it meant she couldn’t tag along. Relief was very much felt when Luffy casually agreed for [YourName] to join too!

From there on out, [YourName] kept Sanji in check, and after a while he got used to not flirting with Nami or Robin loads. [YourName] helped out in the kitchen when it came to cleaning and setting dishes up, basically being Sanji’s sidekick in the kitchen while kicking ass on her own when need be! Nearing the time where everyone was split up, arguments started to become more frequent between Sanji and [YourName]- not only were they frequent, but they were genuine too. So genuine that [YourName] would sleep away from Sanji, not much as a punishment to him but so she could calm down and get sleep too.

Their relationship was in a state of limbo, but during those two years of being apart [YourName] started to miss Sanji and [YourName] was all that Sanji thought about. The crew was happy to be reunited and to see Sanji and [YourName] back to their loving state once more, playful bickering had replaced those heated and long arguments and sweet kisses were shared when no one was around. Life on the sea went by quickly and when returning from the Whole Cake Arc, and as it had played out differently in this scenario, Sanji immediately proposed to [YourName].

It had been so sudden, [YourName] thought he was just playing around. When she realized he was being serious, her facial expression changed from relaxed to complete shock. “You’re not joking?” [YourName] whispered as she held Sanji’s face, “No, never. Not about this. Not about us.” Sanji replied in the same tone before sharing a loving kiss with [YourName] right before she had accepted his proposal. News of the engagement had gone around the ship quickly- purposely done so too when Sanji and [YourName] agreed to telling Luffy first, making them do less work.

Everyone was happy for them, even Zoro mumbling a quiet ‘congrats’ at dinner when everyone was talking about it. [YourName] and Sanji would then talk about how they wanted things to go, at the next stop they would buy rings and get married by the church there and go on from there. Technically, they didn’t do all that- but they wanted to. They wanted to spend the berry on each other and on the officiant so they could be married legally somewhere. They did as planned, instead of wearing the ring on their ring fingers though they chose chains to keep around their neck. Sometimes, when they feel like it, they wear their rings- but it wasn’t often. Also mostly when the crew was at a bar and [YourName] needed to silently tell others she was taken, as if the arm constantly around her from her husband wasn’t a telltale sign she was off the market.

Children had become a topic a good few months into their marriage. Sure, they talked about the idea of becoming parents before- but it hadn’t been as much of a topic or even a thought as it was becoming now. Many nights the couple had spent together in Sanji’s room (which slowly also became [YourName]’s room) at the Baratie, talking about a future together. How children would be a part of that, but never how many or what- just that it would be a little one with Sanji’s hair color and [YourName]’s attitude. When [YourName] slowly realized that both Sanji and her had baby fever, she didn’t want to jump on the train of becoming a parent so fast- no matter how much she wanted to jump her husband’s bones.

After much discussion and back and forth about the possibilities- Sanji and [YourName] began to actively try for a baby. [YourName] had gotten a whole written up report on her menstrual cycle so they could pin-point the perfect window to truly put all their effort into, after a few months things were starting to become less exciting and more depressing as there were no results and [YourName] would bleed every month. As much as a baby together was the end goal and a huge want for the couple, they stopped being hopeful every month.

Soon, the food Sanji would cook for the crew would start making [YourName] annoyed or nauseous. They didn’t think much of it, perhaps she just grew a dislike for the seasonings Sanji had put in, which is expected when you’ve had them for so long, she would lose the distaste for them eventually. Since the sudden dislike for the smells had happened far between dizzy spells, and [YourName] was spotting this month, the couple hadn’t thought about putting all these symptoms together and made the conclusion that their efforts had possibly worked.

When [YourName] apparently had used too much energy in a small fight the crew had with a few enemies and fainted, Sanji was an absolute mess. He had assumed the worst, getting back to the ship so Chopper could run tests. The only thing preventing him from going balls to the wall was the fact [YourName] was breathing still, he watched her chest rise and fall like a hawk. While Chopper was running the blood tests, [YourName] had woken and Sanji practically cried while hugging his wife- just to make sure she had a few crackers and water.

Chopper’s face lit up when he got the results, things were all good! “Everything is alright here!” The doctor reindeer announced, chuckling at Sanji’s confused face at the news, “[YourName] is pregnant!” Chopper then further elaborated. Both Sanji and [YourName] gasped at the news, “But I’ve been spotting?” [YourName] mentioned which Chopper nodded “Can happen, I’ll keep a close eye on that though! Nothing to be fretting over though.” he said, easing the worries that quickly festered in the woman’s brain. Sanji’s silence would soon be broken with a soft chuckle, which would soon reveal tears running down his cheeks. “I’ll give you two privacy, congratulations!” Chopper then says, hopping down from his stool and taking his leave from his own office.

“We’re going to be parents!” Sanji said, pressing his forehead against [YourName]’s while gently holding her face. “We are- it’s finally happening.” [YourName] replied softly, pressing quick yet soft pecks against her husband’s lips. “Oh god, I love you so much- thank you, thank you so much.” Sanji said, pulling away just to tuck his head where [YourName]’s neck and shoulder meet and pressing soft kisses to her skin. [YourName] giggled, trying her best to not get her own tears all over her husband, “You're welcome? I think I should be thanking you, Hun, you also put in the work.” she said as she ran her fingers through Sanji’s blond hair. “Yes. But you accepted my proposal, you agreed to having a child, and now you’re creating and carrying that child- you are truly a goddess.” Sanji said, pulling away from his wife just so he could admire her and that blush she still managed to get from him despite being together for so long.

this will be a series so tag list is open, just comment or send an ask in yurr

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 3

Masterpost

So this one is a bit longer, but that's because part of it is the same phone conversation from the other side.

~~~~~

“Road trip!” Dick calls out. All of the- siblings(?)-younger people start to scramble before Bruce calls out for them to stop.

“This is going to be a 12 hour drive one-way, which means we won't be back until dinner tomorrow at the earliest. Not all of you can go.” This causes a lot of frowns and Danny holds in a chuckle. They start arguing over why they should be able to go and Bruce pinches his nose, right between his eyes as they shout at him.

“First and Foremost, I do believe that Masters Duke, Damian, and Stephanie have school tomorrow.” Alfred inserts. Everyone quiets to listen to him, Danny notes. Everyone else they’ll talk over, he must be important, be extra nice to him.

The three must sigh and sit back down at the table. 

“Cass, if you wouldn’t mind staying to keep them out of trouble overnight. I’m sure Alfred will see them out to school.”

Cass shrugs, then signs at Dick who responds “Of course!” Danny hadn’t realized that she was speaking sign language this whole time.

Bruce then turns to face Dick and Tim. “You have absolutely no way to keep us from coming.” Dick sing-songs.

“You both have work tomorrow.”

“Actually, Dick and I called out ten minutes ago, family emergency.” Tim shrugs. “We won’t be in for a few days unless things change.”

“Alright, go grab your things.” They both whoop and you can just tell they were both about to start running when they catch eyes with Alfred and just start walking really fast. “Pack light, and grab some changes of clothes for Jason!”

Before they can leave a phone starts ringing. They all look around before all eyes settle back on Danny. He feels around his pockets for where the phone is, before pulling it out and seeing his own number on the caller ID.

“Oh, it’s me!” Danny hurries to pick up as he hears someone mutter “Why didn’t we think of that?” from the table. Dick and Tim are almost immediately right next to him as he mumble out a hello.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” His heart thumps when he hears his own voice coming out the other side of the phone. It somehow makes the whole situation seem a bit more real then it did before.

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Hey, we’re his family”

“We’re all his brothers and Cass is his sister.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

So much talking at once, Danny tries to focus on his own voice coming through the phone. It’s a little deeper than it usually is, gruffer and lilted like it’s trying to talk in an accent the mouth isn’t familiar with shaping. Danny supposes the voice he’s speaking with now must be doing the same.

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason sighs loud enough to hear over the phone and Danny chuckles at the response. 

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?” They were all home the last he checked, and Jazz usually tells him before she heads out. 

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Danny rubs a hand down his face just thinking of that - his homework- being his soulmate's first real impression of him. 

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

Danny shakes off the embarrassment “I think so?” 

“Of course we are!”,  “Was he not paying any attention as we decided who should go?”, “We were just planning.” There are so many people talking at once again.

 Danny pulls his face away from the phone and turns to the room at large “Stop it, buzz off!”. He turns to face a wall and takes a few steps away.  “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny hums, focused on something else. “Look, I do need to warn you…” what if he goes ghost, can he go ghost with Jason in his body? What are his parents working on today? “ about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?” Weird ice mist coming out of your mouth would be pretty unexplainable at the moment, but random things shooting at him can be avoided!

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.” Almost everything in that lab is to be avoided, although since he is already in Danny’s body he shouldn’t be bothered by the potential radiation.

“Kid, what?” 

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Danny does not know how he would explain this over the phone, with a room of eavesdroppers behind him. Although they’ve become respectfully quiet, more whispers than anything now. 

“Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” That would be best, Jazz will definitely help him. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and puts the phone on speaker before calling out to the room, “You’re on speaker!” so everyone in the room knows as well as Jason. 

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick has bounded back over to Danny, right up in the personal space. 

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells from the table, where she continued eating at some point.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

Danny starts laughing so hard he doesn’t register everyone else in the room having frozen at the outburst.

“Oh, wow, same.” Danny gets out once he can breathe again.

The room is staring at him again, but they seem to do that a lot.

“You must be Jazz.” They hear coming through the phone. “I’m Jason.”

“Jazz!” Danny calls out. 

“Danny would like to talk to you.” There’s a small shuffle. 

“Danny?”

“Hey, Jazz! So, apparently I’m the younger, so today’s the day. I’m with his family right now.”

“You have a plan? Are you coming home?”

“Yeah, just. Would you mind keeping an eye on Jason until I get there? It’s going to be a long drive so could you make sure nothing shoots him and that he gets edible food?”

“I’ll take him to Nasty for dinner, don’t worry.” Danny sighs in relief, he knew Jazz would help, but he did not need his soulmate food fighting with dinner.

“Sounds good, he’s in my body so he shouldn’t really be poisoned but Mom and Dad still can’t really cook. Speaking of which! He is in my body so if anything happens with the, um, medical condition, help him through that as well.”

“Of course, Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz! We were just deciding who was coming along, but apparently, it's about a 12-hour drive? So, you guys won’t see us until tomorrow.”  There’s a lot unspoken in this conversation, but Danny knows she’ll do her best. “Try not to interrogate him, and no psychoanalyzing!”

[generalsmemories]

sensitive

✧ sunday x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: the wings by his ears are far too sensitive for what you're both about to do to them.

✧ contents: just a lil scenario for the piercings on sunday's wings. and the hc (that has probs become every writers canon take) that his wings are oh so sensitive. established relationship, mildly suggestive cause why not, uhh, mentions of blood? sunday being utterly weak against his lover. ooc sunday cause goddamn i have NOTHING on this man.

✧ a/n: breathes in. listen i don't believe in any god but good lord i would start praying for this man if he asked me to.

jing yuan wips still in order, i just want to be on my best self mentally when writing for my eepy general so have this brainrot so i can function this week at my work and hopefully i'll write something more <3 thank you once again for your patience!

NOT BETA-READ THIS WAS WRITTEN WITHIN AN HOUR CAUSE THIS BRAINROT HAS BEEN BREWING INSIDE THE MIND FOR A MONTH, IM SORRY FOR THE ALL OVER THE PLACE WORDS - I HAVEN'T WRITTEN SINCE THE LAST JING YUAN ANGST PIECE.

Your fingertips have barely grazed the very edges of the feathers when the distinguished leader beneath you flinches in surprise. The fingers that grip your hips tightening further which causes your body that was previously hovering above him to settle down on Sunday's leg. You can hear a tiny sigh leaving his lips before you feel his head rest against your shoulder, the action causing you to chuckle.

"The longer you delay this, the more nervous you'll get, you know?" you muse, threading your fingers through his hair in an effort to coax him to lay back in the same position he previously was in. You're barely able to touch his right wing again before a gloved hand shoots up from his side and you feel a sharp nip at your neck in warning - causing you to immediately halt all of your actions.

"It would've gone a lot faster have you decided to not do it in such an orthodox method, dear." Sunday retaliates with a sigh, pecking the bite mark as some sort of apology, an apology that you knew was not sincere in the slightest.

You giggle once again, settling down comfortably on his legs whilst slightly leaning back to fully look at your lover. Your arms loop over his neck while cocking your head to the side in slight confusion, although said confusion doesn't reach your mischievous eyes or the huge grin on your face. "Why I thought this would help calm you? It was your idea to pierce these wings of yours after all," you remind him, tapping the piercing gun that you're currently holding onto on his shoulder.

The man before you sighs, seemingly in exasperation over your usual antics whilst shrugging away the piercing gun that you're continuously tapping him with. You can however clearly see the slight reddening on top of his ears, while his wings tuck a bit behind his ears - clearly a signal that he's feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You're well aware of the effect you have on me, my love." he admits, the hand on your hip moving from its spot to instead rest against your neck. "Hmm? Then I suggest that you hurry along to let me pierce your wings before said effect makes you lose your patience," you tease with a quiet laugh. "I do have a lot of experience with this lil' gun of ours after all." you cheekily say - causing Sunday to direct his gaze towards your own ears, which have a few more piercings than your average person.

"... I'm well aware." Sunday replies.

Well aware of how sensitive your own ears are, almost as sensitive as his own wings that have yet to be pierced. He could let out a breath beside them which causes you to tremble, a small peck would make you gasp softly, but if he were to use his tongue-

"You're thinking of inappropriate things again, dear." you mutter into his ears before unlooping your arms from his neck to rest against your sides, your whole weight supported by the singular hand Sunday has on your hip.

"Hardly."

For someone not of Halovian descent, you're somehow able to discern his thoughts immediately - quite a hassle to be honst.

"Well then, my dear? Why don't you relax so we can get this over with so you can return to your duties?" you whisper, moving your body to sit between his legs so that you can get a closer look on his right wing, where he preferred the piercing to be on.

"... Just- don't say anything when you're about to do- Ah!"

The single clicking noise of the needle piercing his wing before retracting back to it's original spot makes Sunday jolt in surprise, the grip on your hip increasing in pressure, but you're too busy looking at the placement in glee to care for your distraught lover right now.

You notice the edges of the piercing reddening a bit, extending your finger to gather the tiny bits of blood that had escaped from the wound. Glancing at Sunday, you notice his slightly glossy eyes that immediately diverts from your gaze.

The quiet laugh you let out makes Sunday glare at you, but his eyes widen slightly when you lick his blood away from your fingertips with closed eyes. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask, opening your eyes again to lock eyes with Sunday, diverting your gaze slightly to his right wing.

You decide not to comment on his glossy eyes, deciding to instead scoot closer to peck the corner of his eyes, "Sorry that I surprised you, but as you said - Doing it this way is far more convenient for the both of us," you explain, lips pressing against Sunday's to coax him into relaxation.

"Mhm, thank you for indulging me, dove." he whispers, arms wrapping around your waist, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving.

"Although..." you murmur in between various pecks against Sunday's lips, your lover raising an eyebrow up in confusion and imploring you to continue speaking.

"I think you said you would go for 2 of the same piercings if the first one looked nice, no?" you say before pressing your lips against his once again. Sunday was barely able to understand the meaning behind your words before he could feel the same pain of the needle shoot through his already overly-sensitive wing.

The loud gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips, his open mouth letting your tongue slip inside while the piercing gun in your hand slips away from your lips now that you've done your part of the deal. Your hands settle themselves against Sunday's cheeks now- wiping away the few tears that have now slipped down from his glossy eyes with your thumb.

There's a certain desperation in Sunday's hands by your waist. He had first bunched the material of your clothes upwards by surprise, but now he's slipping his gloved hands beneath them and quickly traveling further up - he moves in a way that you don't know if he's trying to push you away to scold you, or press you closer to him to feel your warmth.

He eventually decides to push you away. His cheeks are reddened and he's heaving for breaths while he's glaring down at you in mild disappointment and a hint of excitement - and yet the hands that's dragging the buttons of your shirt from inside to snap them open tells another desire from the esteemed leader of Penacony.

The same mischievous smile is present on your lips when you part ways, your lips are a bit swollen but it doesn't stop their journey from grazing against his now incredibly sensitive right wing, the jerk of his entire body not bothering you in the slightest as your lips glide over his feathers, your lover shuddering a bit when you let out a breath right over his newly pierced wings.

"All done now, my love," you mutter into his ear, shrugging off your now ruined shirt off of one shoulder, "Do I get any reward for doing this so smoothly and quickly?"

Sunday lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your triumphant expression before shoving you down onto the couch the two of you were previously resting on. "I'm thinking a punishment is more fitting for how you didn't warn me of your actions twice, no?"

[dckweed]

SWEETNESS, andrew ‘pope’ cody

summary: in which pope’s new neighbor is a generally sweet but heart broken musician that declares him her friend and for some reason..he just can’t say no, not when she's so sweet to im and he's he’s so damn attracted to her, and certainly not when she’s begged him to fuck her oh so sweetly...

warnings: PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION FOR THIS CHAPTER, MENTION AND DEPICTION OF ANIMAL DEATH. graphic violence, graphic mentions of sex, choking, spanking, marking, spitting, mean dom!pope, soft dom!pope, crybaby reader, musician reader, you're a slut for this man !! bust open like a can of biscuits whenever he wants it kind of slut and ngl im not mad at it !! there will be mentions of death at some point, eventual pregnancy, eventual description of death, kidnapping, physical violence, mentions of mental health struggles

hello loves, its not as in depth/emotional as i wanted it to be, but it's SOMETHING. im not able to spend too much time typing/editing anything due to the injury to my hand (also found out i have the beginning of carpal tunnel and im not supposed to spend alot of time typing because of that too), the next one however, is going to be absolutely filthy and slutty. ALSO, sweetie is a musician, i will be using songs that alot of people already know and just rewriting them to fit the story/sweetie whenever she perfoms or sings..song from this cap is called hot girls in hell by lolo

series masterlist here.

PART TWO: hot girls in hell?

The weekend passes by all too quick and before you know it, you’re back in your classroom. The bright lights glare off of the white tile, the few students that elect to take your class are off doing their own things and somehow, you’re still thinking about Andrew.

It’s embarrassing, honestly. The way your stomach tightens every time you hear him unlock his front door, the way your ears perk at the sound of his voice through the thin beachside walls. You’ve been spending more and more time around him lately — always with a reason, of course. You’re not just throwing yourself at the man. (Even if you sort of wish you were.)

“Do you know how to change a lock?” You had asked last week, twirling your house key around your finger, lip between your teeth.

Andrew looked up from the tire he was patching outside, sweat already dotting his brow, black tee clinging to his chest in the worst/best possible way. “Yeah,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Why?”

You shrugged, trying to look casual. “Jake still has a key. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

He didn’t ask questions. Just nodded. “I’ll grab my tools.”

And then he was at your house, crouched in front of your door, muscles flexing under that stretched-out tee as he yanked out the old deadbolt like it personally offended him. The air was thick with salt and sawdust, your heart pounding as you leaned against the frame watching him work.

You’d never wanted someone to fuck you through drywall so badly.

You started dressing a little differently around him after that. Not obvious. Just... smaller shirts. No bras. Shorts that hugged just a little tighter. Tank tops with the thinnest straps known to man. You caught his eyes flicking down more than once, caught the way his jaw clenched when you bent to pick up a box or reached for something high.

He never said anything. But God, you knew he was looking.

And you knew you liked it.

That’s what made it so easy to start spending your afternoons next door. Sometimes helping him clean up, sometimes pretending to help with whatever project he was working on, sometimes just curled up on his too-small couch with your feet in his lap, a book open but unread as you pretended not to notice the way his hand settled on your ankle.

He never moved it. And you never made him.

Last night? He was sat on your love seat, watching you strum on one of your guitars, smiling around a beer as he listened to you sing your silly little breakup song..he didn’t think it was silly though, that was what you had called it, he thought it was sort of neat..hated that you were writing those though, that someone had hurt you enough to cause you to write breakup songs in the first place..

“You’re fuckin’ disgusting, you’re good for nothing..you told me you loved me, you don’t fuckin love me.,” He was pretty sure that he fuckin’ loved you, pretty sure he was even insane enough to say that shit, to believe it when you hadn’t even fuckin’ kissed him yet, when he hadn’t taken you out and called you his yet. You were his though, whether you knew it or not..you’d been his from day one, from the moment you yelled at his brothers in your oversized tshirt, hair wild and eyes sleepy.. “You think that you’re special, i think that you’re mental, I hope there’s no hot girls in hell..”

Andrew hoped there weren’t any hot girls in hell too, for your sake. Hoped that he never landed a nice piece of ass again, hoped that he got some chick pregnant and was left with the meanest, bitterest baby mama imaginable.. “How could you do this? You’re mean and you’re stupid..you’re getting wasted and im getting too thin..” He got the feeling that this was a song you’d written about this man awhile ago, you hadn’t lost any weight..if anything you were packing it on, thickening up with the food Andrew had been bringing you and taking you out to eat almost nightly..he loved watching you do your little happy dance in your seat when you took the first bite of food, loved watching you smile and be a little goofy around him. “You should be crying, painfully dying, I hope there’s no hot girls in hell..”

“Don’t you think that there would be hot girls in hell though? Aren’t some demons called succubus or some shit?” He asks, sipping his beer. You toss your guitar pick at him, it bounces off of his forehead and you snort in laughter, choking a little bit on your beer. He loved the way you laughed, how it always came from deep in your belly..it wasnt pretty by any means, it was just fuckin’ funny, so fuckin’ you. He fell asleep on your little loveseat, lanky legs stretched out to the floor, body slumped somewhat to the side. You slept right next to him, head on his shoulder, his arm around yours, chest rising and falling with yours, reruns of the dumb reality show you had coaxed him into watching with you playing on the tv, the cat curled up on the arm of the love seat, snoozing. He hated waking up, and so did you. 

The day it happens, it’s a Tuesday.

You’re at school late, cleaning up after your final class. The marching band has a parent meeting you offered to help set up for, and Andrew’s off somewhere with his brothers doing prep for a job. You texted him earlier — something stupid about the new coffee place opening on 3rd — and he left you on read, which wasn’t like him. But you figured he was busy.

It’s already dark by the time you pull into your alley. You know something’s wrong the second you get out of the car. The porch light is out. The front window is shattered.

Your stomach drops, hands clenching tightly around your car keys. You hear a voice in your head telling you not to go in there, to call for help. It’s the smart thing to do, the best option, really..but..cops would take forever to get out here, you don’t have forever to wait, don’t have the fucking patience to sit in your car and stare at your home, you just fucking dont. 

Against better judgement, against the fucking nagging voice in the back of your head, you race up the steps and throw the door open. Glass litters your floor, the window broken from the outside for sure, door left cracked open like someone left in a hurry. You note the scuff marks on the outside of it though, like someone tried to kick it in. 

The heat hits you first. It’s sweltering in there, the heat hitting you like a fist to the face as soon as you step in, like it had been trapped inside waiting to get out. “What the hell?” You know it was Jake. Who the hell else would have trashed your entire living room, but not touch the most expensive items sitting in the corner, your keyboard and guitars, the easiest things that he could have taken. No..no he went after something else, the drawers of the end ables were ripped out and turned over the, shit littered from the couch to the hallway, and probably to the fuckin’ bed room too if he went after what you think he went after. 

The smell hits you next. Burnt hair, fried skin..

You gag, hand over your nose, heart hammering. “Snickerdoodle?” Your voice cracks, frantically looking around what part of the house you could see for your cat, your chunky little man. 

You step inside, glass crunching under your shoes, and that’s when you see it.

The oven. The flicker of heat. The light still on.

A crutch wedged up against the handle.

No.

No.

No.

You scream.

You collapse.

Your knees hit the floor so hard you barely feel the sting of the glass shards burying in your skin. Tears stream down your cheeks as you scramble forward to the kitchen, wrench the oven open with bloodied shaking hands only to be hit with a wall of heat and the smell of burning flesh. You scream again. The kind of sound that tears something in your throat.

Your cat. Your fucking cat.

Jake did this.

You fumble for your phone. Hands slipping. You can’t see through the tears. Can’t even breathe.

You hit the first contact you can think of.

“Sweetness?” Pope’s voice crackles through the speaker.

You don’t speak. You just sob.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“Home,” you choke. “He—he broke in. Andrew. He—Snickerdoodle—”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming.”

The line goes dead.

You’re still sobbing on the floor when he bursts through the front door less than ten minutes later.

You don’t even hear him come in — not over the sound of your own grief. But then there are arms around you. Strong ones. Holding you tight against a broad chest as you fall apart in his lap.

“I got you,” he mutters, voice shaking with fury. “I got you, sweetness.”

You cry until you can’t anymore.

When you finally speak, it’s a whisper: “He used his crutch to hold the door shut.”

Andrew doesn’t respond. Not out loud. But you feel it — the way his entire body tenses. The way his jaw grinds against your temple. The way his hand curls protectively around your waist.

“You’re not staying here.”

“Andrew—”

“You’re not, the windows busted out, he nearly got the door kicked in based off the scuff marks..” he growls, standing and hauling you with him like you weigh nothing. “You’re not sleeping another fucking night in this house.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. He helps you up, crouches down and picks the glass shards out of your knees. You cant tear your eyes away from the oven, away from it. You don’t hear what he says, but you know he’s talking to you, large hands cupping your bloodied knees in a manner so gentle that it surprised you. 

You stand outside, dazed, as he calls Deran and Baz and makes them box up your entire life. You watch him carry your guitars with reverence, your clothes with care, your makeup like it’s sacred.

An hour later, he’s locking the door to his house. Tossing your keys on the counter next to his. Tugging a blanket around your shoulders as he settles you on his couch,  stretching your leg out so it’s perched on the surface, a first aid kit right next to your foot. You wonder how many times he’s had to patch up his own wounds, or his brothers’. 

“You’re here now,” he says softly, kneeling in front of you. His eyes are wild. Dark. “You’re with me. And no one’s ever fucking touching you again.” 

You believe him.

Even if part of you is still too broken to say so out loud.

But your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt as he starts to work, cleaning all the little wounds, blowing on it to make the stinging stop. He doesn’t seem to mind you holding on, touching him. He’s safe, he’s strong, he’s warm.. He’s never hurt you, never made you feel anything but safe and okay in his presence. 

And that’s enough for now.

taglist: @thatchickwiththecamera @sidneysidney123 @cheyennerenee10 @thvxr

[hippopotamusdreamer]

Period Reds

genre. [F][C]

warnings. Talks about periods; as in MENSTRUAL CYCLES. No actual mentions of blood but it does talk about tampons, pads and cramps.

additional notes. Female! Reader | You/Your pronouns, reader is aged between Hyunjin and Han, includes all members of Stray Kids in some way, Lee Know as Minho

This was a request by an Anon!

Hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a bit!

pairing. OT8 x 9th member

w.c. 1.1K

synopsis. It's that time of the month again, so how do the boys handle it?

Kpop Masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Waking up, you knew that that day was going to be a problem.

You’d started your period yesterday. And as usual, Day 2 was always the worst for you. Everything felt twice as difficult. Lower back pain? Unbearable. Cramps? Unbearable. Overwhelming urge to not move? Unbearable in your line of work.

Not only did you have to waddle to the bathroom like some sort of deranged cowboy, but the ondol in the apartment stopped working at the beginning of month so your tootsies were cold. Your mother had always nagged that your cramps were worse because you were barefoot on the cold floor. You hated every second you were out of bed…

Not to mention your lower half needed a soak but the unfortunate thing about Korean bathrooms was that there was no tub. Just a double filtered showerhead attached to the sink.

At least the water heater worked…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

After allowing the discomforts of this morning literally go down the drain, you found yourself holed up in one of Binnie’s pullovers. Not wanting to be confined to your room, you made your move. Fuzzy socks and house slippers on, you trudged your way to the living room, the plush couch calling your name. Everyone was out for the day besides Hyunjin since it was one of the rare days off.

Speaking of Hyunjin, the couch was where he found you not even fifteen minutes later of laying down. Half asleep and cozy with s Pochacco blanket that remained in the living room. The title song of some random Netflix show playing on the tv nearly lulling you to sleep.

As he dried his hair with a towel, he made his way to you. A pep in his step until he saw how your eyebrows remained furrowed. Kneeling by your head, he touched your forehead while calling out to you gently.

“Y/N-ah?”

“Mm?” you roused softly.

“You ok?”

“Mmhmm”

“You don’t feel warm, so you’re not sick…at least not yet.”

“’m not sick Hyunjinnie. My uterus is just mad at me for not being pregnant,” you mumbled.

“Oooh,” he says, already used to how casually you talked about your period with them. With that new information squared away, he took out his phone to message Minho.

‘We have a Code: Empty Nester’

Minho hyung: How is she?

‘Image.png sent’ Minho-hyung: Ah it’s day 2 Minho-hyung: Give me 20 minutes. I’ll be there soon. Minho-hyung: Message Felix too ‘Ok’ ‘Lix, we got a Code: Empty Nester’ Yongbokkie: Which day are we on? ‘2’ Yongbokkie: ‘2 ½ batches of extra fudge brownies coming up.’

Nodding to himself, he looked back towards you. You’d basically conked out on him, so he couldn’t ask you if you needed any of the American medicine you had. Instead he decided to do the next best thing.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Minho and Han walked into the rapper dorm; hands loaded with groceries for the soup that he was going to make for you. You’d commented once that it had settled your stomach when he’d whipped it up the first couple of times during your period. So now it was basically a staple during these times.

They were rendered motionless immediately after taking off their outside shoes. Through the opening that lead inside the apartment, they were able to see you and Hyunjin asleep on the couch. Somehow Hyunjin had managed to wiggle himself behind you and had essentially koala wrapped himself around you. They silently chuckled as they walked past, careful not to make a sound. It was common knowledge amongst them that you got terrible sleep any time you got your period.

The two of you stayed asleep until the soup was just about ready for lunch. Felix and Jeongin walked through the door, each carrying a kimchi container filled with brownies. Smiling as they watched you stir, Felix handed over his container to the maknae and made his way towards you.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he greeted softly while cupping your cheek as he crouched in front of you.

You gave him a delirious smile in return, still in the process of waking up.

“You hungry?”

“I am,” the muffled voice of Hyunjin was heard from behind you. The two of you giggle as the lanky man detangled himself from you.

“Minho-hyung made your favorite-” the Aussie began.

“Soooup,” you cut him off with a croak.

“Haha, yeah soup. And I made brownies.”

“Extra fudge?”

“Of course, I’m not a monster.”

“You guys are the best,” you said with your best half asleep smile.

“Wanna get up?”

“Yeah, just give me a sec,”

The other thing about Korea was that tampons were not widely used in comparison to pads. So getting a box of 12 was not worth the price. Instead you had to wait for your friends and family back in America to send you a mega pack to keep over time. Which meant that you were able to feel everything shifting as you moved about.

Hyunjin helped you up slowly from your laid down positions. Occasionally having to stop every now and then. Until a sudden pain in your lower stomach had you take a breath in sharply. A few seconds of worried glances from the boys had you reassuring them that you were fine and that it happened every now and then.

“I’m gonna go freshen up first then meet everyone in the kitchen, ok?”

As you made your way to your bathroom, you heard Jeongin calling after you.

“Hyung said that him, Changbinnie-hyung, and Seungminnie-hyung were at the store picking up snacks for your stash. But then Sungminnie-hyung said that they were out of your chocolate covered sunflower seeds. They said they’ll be here in like 15 minutes.”

“Aww, tell them I said that’s ok and thank you!”

Phone in hand, you sat on the toilet. You couldn’t help but reflect as the sounds of the boys getting rowdy in the kitchen intensified. You were very appreciative of them and how far your relationship with each of them had come. How grateful you were for their understanding of you and your menstrual cycle. There have been plenty of childish men in your life that had tried to make you feel bad when talking about it but they were no longer worth your time.

Your guys certainly made everything easier to deal with.

You knew you’d gotten lost on your phone doom scrolling when a timid knock sounded from the door and Chan questioned if you were alright.

‘Uh-oh…’

“…I’ll be out in a sec!”

a/n. For my sake, 9th member will never be a different age than where she's at. Just to keep everything orderly.

Tag list: @elizalabs3

This in no way reflects the actual persons involved/based in this fic, nor their actual character. This is purely fiction.

© hippopotamusdreamer, est 2024. all rights reserved.