#and a gray front door. console

[meganlovesyou56]

Hall (Lyon)

[jockfootstories]

Pushed against the back door, feeling the pressure of the soles against your stomach and chest, Brian saw the college freshman grinning at him as his feet invaded his space. Your bro and his other college friend had gone into the convenience store, leaving you and his bro’s roommate, Austin, in the car. Austin, being the cocky roommate, had started using you as a footrest about an hour into the trip. This wasn’t the first time he messed around with you with his feet, him seeming to relish the dominance over you. One large, gray socked foot lifted up, and pushed against your face. Your nose sunk into the middle as you breathed in his probably week-old worn sock smell, now feeling him rub it against your face. He had gotten his smelly socked feet in your face a few times now as you muffled out,”Dude, your socks stink. I don’t wanna smell them.” You push his foot down, trying to keep it still on your chest. You see the college boy grin as he bends his knee back, yanking off his sock then doing the same to his other foot. “Smell my bare feet then,” he responds cockily and quickly thrusts both bare soles toward you.  With nowhere to escape, you watch the soft bottoms press into your face, their dry, cheesy odor overwhelming your nostrils. You lay there, barely struggling, you begin to get hard down below. You started feeling this way the last time he did this to you, not sure if it was just his teasing dominance toward you or the smell of his feet that was getting to you. You move your face against them, slouching down, managing to push one foot away. Austin not giving up his control, quickly brings it back , continuing to smother the smell into your face. You smear your face across his feet, getting your nose free, but he lowers his foot down, engulfing your nostrils with one pair of toes. You take a DEEP  inhale. Feeling the air being sucked in from between his toes, Austin ask’s,”Like getting feet rubbed in your face wimp?” You see him grinning at you, flexing and stroking his toes against your nose, getting into it. You grunt some and move your nose against his toes and hear him respond,”Oh yah, you totally do. Keep smelling them, little foot boy. ” He consumes your face under both bare soles, letting you lay there breathing them in for the next 15 minutes, hearing him tease you that you'll be his foot rest and rub his feet for the rest of the trip. You both hear voices approaching and you quickly sit up, letting Austin keep his feet in your lap. Your bro and his college friend get in, giving you both drinks and snacks for the remainder of the ride. You feel Austin’s foot adjust and dig his toes down into your hardon. You flinch and quickly move his foot away. Briefly glancing at him, you see him smiling at you as he lifts his head up, giving a long sniff into the air.  “You’re my foot bitch,” he mouths silently at you. You take a long swig of your drink, quenching your dry mouth, realizing that you love his foot odor and hope he dominates his feet in your face again. Also wondering if he would really use you as a footrest on the floor in front of your bro and his other college friend. They get back on the dark road, the inside of the car nearly black except the glow of the console and iPhones. You slightly slouch back down, glancing at your phone, and it isn’t to long before one of Austin’s feet blindly pushes against your face again. You lay there in almost darkness, pretending to be pinned, seeing him on his phone ignoring you, letting his toes play with your nose and mouth. You silently enjoying the smell under his toes as they curl over your nostrils.

[cest-vogue]

Chicago Transitional Entry

[bicyclesonthemoon]

Transitional Entry

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Matters of Fact

CW: Mentions of death, mentions of mind-altering drug use, manipulation.

The Arkham Knight knows what he is, until he doesn't ~1.2k words

The Arkham Knight is a bad person. He knows this. Knows it even as he slips under the covers of your bed. Knows it when he leaves grime and dirt tracked across your windowsill and the floor of your room.

The Arkham Knight is cruel. He knows this when he leaves after you ask him to stay. Knows this when he disappears for days on end to plan his revenge, to train his men.

Knows it when he makes you cry and beg for someone he isn't.

The Arkham Knight is twisted. He knows this when he kills the man who gave you his number. He knows it when he holds you close and consoles you, tells you that guy wasn't worth dating anyway.

Knows it when he tells you that you don't need anyone but him.

The Arkham Knight is obsessed. He knows this because he dreams of the way your lips feel against his skin, the way your fingers thread through his hair, the way your pulse flutters against his hand.

He knows this because he can't seem to leave you alone, even if it would be better for you, and for him.

The Arkham Knight is a liar. He knows this when he tells you Bruce is going to keep him from seeing you. That his enemies will hunt you down, hurt you to get to him. That it's safer, to be tucked away in his base with him.

The Arkham Knight is mean. He knows this when you yell at him over his men stopping you from leaving his base. He knows it when he yells right back, when he grins wickedly as you snap at him in return.

Knows it when you don't shy away as he stalks towards you, tugging off his helmet and grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss.

Knows it when you slam your fist against the plates of his armor before kissing him right back.

The Arkham Knight is sick, knows it when he slips a fine powder into your drink the night he takes over Gotham. It's nothing that'll hurt you, at least, that's what he tells himself.

The drug only makes you happy, relaxed, more compliant when he drags you from safe house to safe house without explanation.

The Arkham Knight is a mess. He knows this because he's not exactly the Arkham Knight anymore. His symbol torn from his chest, his helmet no longer blue but a bloody red. He knows this because he's crying.

He knows this because he's on his knees in front of you, and you look like you don't if you're going to hit him or hug him.

He knows he deserves to be hit. But he so desperately wants you to hug him. You don't do either. You kiss him. His heart is in his throat. He thinks maybe there's a chance for him.

He's not sure what that chance is. Maybe it's to be good. To be better. To really be with you.

But then you say goodbye. Then you break his heart. Then you leave.

He knows he deserves it for what he's done.

Red Hood knows he isn't good. He's not completely bad, but he's definitely not good. He knows this because people flinch when he saves them. He knows this because there's a trail of bodies in his wake.

But he also knows every single one of them deserved it. He thinks maybe that does make him evil.

Red Hood aches for you. He knows this because he finds himself following the familiar path to your apartment before catching himself.

He knows this because he still dreams of you curled at his side, your mouth pressing kisses to his jaw, your fingers tracing the lines of his back.

Red Hood is a shell of a man. He knows this because he goes back to his dirty, disrepaired apartment, and all he sees is gray.

He knows this because his days and nights are robotic, driven only by the mission. The hole that the death of Batman left in Gotham.

Red Hood is weak. He knows this because he opened the door when you came to his apartment. He knows this because he let you sleep on his bed while he stayed on the couch, unable to rest knowing you're so close but so far from him.

Red Hood is in love with you. He knows this because he'd do anything you asked, and everything you won't.

He knows this because when you break down in the morning over breakfast, when you finally tell him why you came to him, he tugs you to his chest and lets you cry.

Red Hood has no mercy. He knows this because he takes his time killing the man who frightened you. He knows this because he doesn't react to the begging, the screams, the terror in his eyes.

He only feels a sick sense of satisfaction, knowing you won't have to be scared of that disgusting creep ever again.

Jason Todd is dumbfounded by you. You keep showing up at his apartment door. He keeps letting you in, as if he could ever turn you away. You keep making him meals, filling his fridge, adding your things to his apartment.

There's throw pillows and blankets on his couch with your favorite colors. Your favorite movie is paused on the TV. You sleep in his bed more often than not, even if he never joins you.

Jason Todd has no idea how to treat you. He's only even made mistakes with you, only ever done things that should terrify you and drive you away.

But you keep coming back, even after the body of the man who hurt you was found by the police.

Jason Todd wants to be good, at least for you. So he tries. He knows he isn't great at words, but he tries to soften his voice. He knows his touch is rough, so he tries to be still and gentle when you lean into his side.

He knows he's scary looking, so he tries to be smaller when you're around. He knows what he does is dangerous, so he sets up even better security in his apartment, and with permission, yours.

He knows there's something wrong with him, so he reminds you not to hang around him so much.

He doesn't know why you don't listen. Doesn't know why you kiss his cheek, why you start to lead him from the couch to sleep next to you in his bed.

He doesn't know why you sleep curled at his side, on his chest, a leg thrown over his thigh. He knows a lot of things, knows a lot about you.

But does he understand why you kiss his scars and nuzzle his shoulder?

No. Absolutely not. But he doesn't think he needs to. Not when you tell him you'd like to sell your apartment. Not when he gets to help you move the last of your things to his your shared bedroom.

Not when he knows he loves you. Not when you say you love him. Not when he knows it's true.

[dearlyjun]

5% tint ☆ c. yeonjun

☆ PAIRING: sugardaddy!yeonjun x collegestudent!reader (f)

☆ GENRE: smut (18+ readers only! dont make me block you)

☆ SUMMARY: you didn't think that doing well on an exam would mean that you would be fucked in the front seat of a porsche; good thing your sugar daddy has 5% tint.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

☆ WARNINGS: gendered terms are used (girl), semi public sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of praise from yeonjun, yeonjun drives a porsche (I think its a valid warning), yeonjun is wearing rings, making out, creampie kink perhaps?, dirty talk, obviously car sex!! lmk if i forgot anything its almost 1am and im an old lady.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: so heres part of the concept that I literally could not stop yapping about if I tried. combining my interests here: a hot man taking care of me and a porsche of my dreams. I am actually considering making this a series, with a backstory and everythingg so lmk your thots :)

a big thank you to @silvergyus @nightlyawnzz @hearts4huening for being my beta readers for this, and I may use your services in the future.

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!

walking to the front of your lecture hall, you collected the results from your latest exam. After finding your name in the pile of papers, you could barely contain your excitement when you saw the boldly printed 100% on the front.

Yeonjun would be so happy.

You quickly walked back to collect your things, before pulling out your phone to text him since he was picking you up from class.

you: going to be walking out in a few. I have good results!!

yeonjun: ahh my smart girl. I'm waiting for you out front.

Soon after you walked out through the double doors of the building that you were in, spotting Yeonjun’s gray Porsche parked up front.

Yeonjun had a pretty dark window tint, so you couldn’t see inside that well. You opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat; Yeonjun beaming.

“There’s my girl.” He had the biggest smile on his face. “Look at you, dressed all cute.” He was referencing your plaid skirt and big crewneck sweatshirt that was actually his.

“Did you just come from the office or something?” You asked him, leaning in to kiss him. “You look so nice.” You smoothed your hand over his button down dress shirt, making him smirk.

“Now let me see this test, huh?”

“Okay.” You quickly dug the scantron out of your folder that you had. Handing it over to Yeonjun, leaning over his center console as he examined it.

He was smirking.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” You spoke with a huge smile on your face.

“Ah, see I knew you’d do well.” Yeonjun put his hand onto your jaw to kiss you.

You hummed against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. “I missed you last night, daddy.” You kissed him again.

Yeonjun smirked against your lips before pulling away slightly. “Yeah? You know I want you to focus on your school too.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s easier to study when I’m sitting on your lap. You know?” You reached down to feel Yeonjun’s cock, which to your surprise was half erect.

“With my cock inside of you? Princess, you know you can’t focus.”

You remembered the time you swore that you would sit still and study on Yeonjun’s lap while he worked. You didn’t last five minutes before you were fucking yourself on his cock.

You pouted as Yeonjun moved to kiss you towards your neck. “But I’m such a good girl for you, Daddy.”

Yeonjun practically choked back a moan; if his cock wasn’t hard before, it definitely was now. “And I always reward you, don’t I?”

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, then went to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants. You let out an audible noise when he finally lowered his underwear, leaky, pretty cock out on full display.

“Go ahead and sit on it, pretty girl.” Yeonjun spoke, shuddering slightly when he swiped the tip with his thumb.

You felt a sudden tinge of shyness when you took off your shoes. Yeonjun could practically read your mind.

“The tints are too dark; no one can see you.”

“Okay, help me.” You answered, slightly laughing at the fact that you were going to climb over the console of a car that cost as much as your parents' house.

“I got you.” Yeonjun held onto you. Before you sat down on him, he pulled the fabric of your underwear out of the way.

“Oh my- fuck, you’re so wet.” Yeonjun gasped. “I’ll slip right fucking in.”

You lowered yourself onto him, and it was painfully slow; making you feel every inch of his cock.

Yeonjun was seconds away from ruining his leather with his fingernails with the way that he was gripping onto the passenger seat.

“Daddy…your cock. Fuck.” You sighed, dropping your head into his neck; taking a breath of his sweet cologne. He was fully inside of you, nuzzled up into that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Yeah, baby I know.” His hands were roaming your thighs and ass. Your underwear was cutting into you, but you couldn’t care less.

You slowly started to grind onto him, trying to find a rhythm in the limited space that you had. Yeonjun looked ahead, subtly watching if anyone walked by his car.

“You look so pretty, you know.” He spoke into your ear. “My dick inside of you in the front seat of my Porsche.” He suddenly gripped onto your hips, fucking you onto his cock.

“You’re my good girl, you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer, just let out a whimper of a moan.

“Repeat it back to me, baby.” His grip was so tight you thought his rings were going to make marks in your skin.

“I’m your…good girl.” You nearly choked on your words. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Yeonjun could already tell by the way that you were clenching around him, and he probably wasn’t going to last much longer himself.

Yeonjun turned your face to look at him in one quick movement. “Yeah? I’m so fucking deep in you aren’t I?” His voice was low; you knew what he was doing.

The sounds of your cunt were obscene; Yeonjun loved every second of it. He studied your face as he angled your hips differently, cockhead hitting so deep that your jaw fell slack.

You’ve never looked so pretty to him. Honors student studying biology. Probably going to end up being a doctor. He knew you’d be decorated in cords at your graduation. But now, he was hitting so deep you couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Letting out a rather loud whine when your orgasm finally hit you, Yeonjun kissed you, shushing you. After all, his car only had a tint; not soundproofing.

“Cum in me. Please, daddy.” You were nearly delirious, whimpering expletives. Yeonjun knew you were actually being serious, because you always begged him to. “That’s my reward, right?”

And how could he say no? Not when you were whining, begging as you pulled on his necklace to kiss him.

“You can take it all?” He asked. Stupid question. You always could, even if he had to fuck it back into you.

You eagerly nodded, lips jutting out to a pout before you kissed him again.

“God you drive me fucking insane.” Yeonjun’s last words before letting go of his orgasm that he was trying to hang onto. “You feel so fucking good.”

The fact that he was probably making a mess out of his seat was sent to the back of his mind. He’d deal with that later, because the moan that you let out made it all worth it.

“Fuck.” He was panting. “You have to be quiet.” Grinding his hips with yours; his cock was still inside of you making you slightly wince at how messy everything felt.

“Shit.” You muttered, looking down at where the two of your bodies connected.

“Yeah, I made a fuckin mess.” Yeonjun jokes, his hands roaming your thighs. “We should probably go back to my place….” His voice trailed off like it was a question.

“Hmm?” You were confused. “I thought you texted me earlier that you wanted to go to the Prada store, no?”

“Yes…” Yeonjun bit down on his bottom lip, smirking. “But I don’t think I'm finished with you yet.”

☆ TAGS: @mhasimp666 @yunsbby @sikkkko

(strike through indicates I am unable to tag, please make sure your tagging feature is turned on!)

[strang3lov3]

GameStop

Summary: Mall Rats 4! (Can be read alone or, catch up with the mallrats in my masterlist) Joel tells you not to fuck with the Nintendo he stole from GameStop. His one rule. You fuck with it. That’s okay, though. Joel makes you play Mario with his fingers knuckle deep inside you.

Warnings: JOEL IS WEARING GRAY SWEATPANTS THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL🚨‼️ fingering, teasing, edging, orgasm denial blowjobs, unprotected piv, creampie, jjoel is so tender and such a dick, arguing, inglewood up to no good, domestic moments, minor injuries, when will these two fucking kiss!?? Idk

W/C: 4.6k

A/N: thank you very much @papipascalispunk i appreciate you taking the time to edit this. I love you so much. did you know that? And everyone else, do you know how much I love y’all for reading and engaging? I do. In case you didn’t know already 🥰

Joel stands in front of your house early afternoon on Saturday, a box of cords and plastic in one hand as he urgently knocks on your door, “Open up,” he barks, “This shit’s heavy.”

“Fuck,” you groan, walking up to your front door wearing nothing but an ill-fitting t-shirt and some old boxers. You can see Joel waiting impatiently through the window. You open the door and squint at Joel, the daylight too bright for your eyes, “What do you want, Joel?”

“Need to use your TV,” he demands, stepping inside your home and placing a hand on your hip to move you aside, “Move.” 

“Why?”, you resist.

Joel motions toward his box with an annoyed expression on his face and your eyes light up. “Oh yeah,” you say, leading Joel to your living room where he sits in front of your old and boxy television, flipping up panels and tinkering with buttons before plugging in cords, “Can I play too? Will you show me how?”

“If you listen to me, maybe,” Joel mumbles as he’s setting up the console before turning to you, “Are you gonna be good and listen to me?”

“Of course not,” you smirk.

“Figures.”

You didn’t listen yesterday, either. You never do. 

-

Something had caught your eye and you went ahead of Joel, something he absolutely hates. He tells you your place is next to him or behind him. He leads. You follow.

“Would you quit fuckin’ wanderin’, Inglewood?”, Joel hissed at you in the second level of the mall, “I give ya an inch, ya take a mile.”

You rolled your eyes, “Why do you call me that?”

“Cause you’re always up to no good.” 

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“I know you don’t,” Joel sighed.

An odd clicking noise startled you both. It wasn’t quite that signature sound of a clicker, but it was enough to set you both off. You turned to Joel with wide eyes, and he reflexively pulled you close, one hand over your mouth and his other arm wrapped around your waist. Behind me, he mouthed. 

You nodded and took your place behind Joel, heart pounding in your chest. He walked forward slowly before stopping, pulling out his gun and his flashlight. In front of him was a dark silhouetted figure, something he couldn’t quite make out. It stood in front of a store with a broken sign, white and red glass lettering shattered. As he tiptoed closer with you following close behind, his eyes began to piece more things together. The figure was unmoving, and upon closer inspection it looked to be wearing almost…tactical gear? Was it FEDRA? He wondered what the clicking noise was. Probably just the mall deteriorating. If there were infected in the mall, they would have shown themselves by this point.

The figure stayed still, unmoving. Finally, Joel saw it. On the figure’s chest read, ‘Call of Duty: Out October 29, 2003’. Joel let out a breath of relief and put his gun down, “False alarm,” he said. “Wait.”

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked as he took quick steps toward the unmarked store. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, “Get your ass over here. Follow me. First good thing in this godforsaken mall. Do you know what this is?”

“You know I don’t know what this is.”

Joel explained that it was a GameStop. They used to sell video games and stuff, had all sorts of fun things. He looked like a kid in a candy shop, stealing consoles and cartridges and gushing about how much he loved these games long ago. 

When you and Joel had returned from the mall, he practically sprinted into Ellie’s room, setting up their shared TV with a PlayStation and introducing her to some games. Ellie was ecstatic, and Joel knew she and the TV would be inseparable. 

-

Which leads him here, to your house, in front of your TV. 

“So I take it Ellie’s excited about the games and stuff you got her?”, you ask amused.

Joel fumbles with a controller to a Nintendo Entertainment System. “Big time,” he says. “They’re attached at the hip. So I’m commandeering your TV for today.”

“You could’ve asked, you know,” you tease, “I would’ve given it to you, asshole.”

“Don’t need you to give me nothin’. Just here to use your TV for a bit,” as he draws the curtains in your room, turns on your TV and adjusts the input, then sits back on your couch, legs outstretched on your coffee table, “It’s more fun when I take it from ya, anyway.”

You wonder if Joel gets physically ill at the thought of being polite, being kind to you. Nothing’s ever easy with him. He’s always ready to argue, ready to instigate. You roll your eyes, then leave Joel to take a shower and get dressed. You’re not sure what you were planning on doing on this Saturday, but video games with Joel seems to be your fate. 

By the time you have showered, Joel has already been playing for nearly 2 hours. You dress yourself in some comfy sweatpants and a hoodie, expecting to hunker down in front of the TV with Joel all day. You can hear the soft music from the video game from your room and Joel’s strings of expletives, or his cheers, depending on what’s happening in the game. You make a couple of sandwiches, some sliced apples, and pour a couple of glasses of water before you greet Joel in the living room. Standing in front of the TV, you watch as Joel tries to continue playing. There’s a little guy wearing a red hat, jumping over blocks and stomping on mushrooms. He makes a cute little ‘boing’ noise when he jumps, and the music playing in the background is playful, melodic. 

“Sweetheart, y’make a better door than a window. Get out of the way,” he gruffs. Joel’s got some fucking nerve today. He could have just kindly asked you to move. Tauntingly, you wiggle your ass in front of him, so he reaches over the coffee table and smacks it, “What’d I say about listening? Do you wanna play the game or not?” With Joel’s eyes still transfixed on the TV in front of you, you sit down next to him and place your two plates on the coffee table. “Everyday it’s somethin’ with you. Always tryin’ to get under my skin, always-”, Joel’s voice trails off as he glances at his plate, “Did you make me a sandwich?” 

You shrug, “You’re extra cranky today. Figured you could use a snack.”

“I’m not cranky,” Joel argues, “And I don’t need you makin’ me any snacks. Can make my own food.”

“Okay,” you say, eating your own food, “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna shove it down your throat.”

Joel stays focused on his game until he hears the crunch of you biting into a slice of apple. “Wait, are those apple slices?”, he asks in a low tone. 

“Mhm.”

“You didn’t happen to cut any up for me, did you?”

“I did. Sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top,” you smile proudly.

You watch Joel grumble to himself and play the game silently until he beats the level he’s on, then he pauses the game and sets his controller down. He picks up his plate of food and eats a couple of apple slices before inspecting his sandwich, “Did you poison this?”

“No, not the sandwich. The apples, yes. Don’t you taste the rat poison?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his sandwich, “Gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart. Up the dose next time. Tasty sandwich, though.”

“Noted,” you smile. Joel smiles too, almost imperceptibly, but you see it, the sparkle in his eyes and the way his face lit up when you told him you sliced up some apples for him too. 

“Tell me about your game.”

Joel raises an eyebrow, “It’s Mario. You don’t know Mario?”, and you shake your head no. “Jesus…you age me,” Joel takes another bite of his sandwich before continuing, “Mario’s a video game. Super Mario Brothers. He has a brother, Luigi. They’re plumbers and they fight Bowser to save Princess Peach. So that’s what I’m doin’ here,” Joel motions to the TV, “Savin’ Peach. Eventually.”

“Is it hard?”, you ask. 

“Kinda. Haven’t played in forever. But Tommy and I’d play all the time. Were always fightin’ over the damn Nintendo,” Joel chuckles, “Drove Mom fuckin’ nuts.”

“Maybe we should invite him over then,” you muse. 

“Nah,” Joel says, “Just me and you today.”

You smile, “Just us?” 

Joel nods, finishing the last of his sandwich and his apple slices, “Unfortunately.” He stretches his legs and his arms out long, then rubs his soft belly with a groan. “You’re trouble,” he tells you, “Tryna’ make me fat. I’m gonna go home and change into something cozier - jeans are fuckin’ tight.” 

“Bet I could make them tighter,” you bite your lip and nudge his thigh. 

“That’s a nice offer. You’re a charmer, Inglewood. Maybe later.” You huff as Joel picks up both of your plates and walks them to your kitchen sink, scrubbing and drying each one before pulling on his jacket. He walks back over to where you sit on the couch and points to the TV and his Nintendo, “Do not touch this,” he says, “It doesn’t have a memory card. So if you fuck with it, my progress is gone. Don’t unplug nothin’, don’t touch the TV, don’t–”.

“What if I–”.

Joel doesn’t let you get another word out, “Nope. Don’t do that either. Just leave it be, sit pretty and behave yourself. I’ll be back soon.”

You scoff and cross your arms as Joel leaves while staring at the paused screen of Joel’s game, then flicker your eyes lower to the controller Joel left on the coffee table. He didn’t say anything about playing the game. What’s the worst that could happen?

You reach for the controller and begin messing with the buttons, playing with the D-pad until the screen changes and you press ‘Start Game’.

The game starts. It catches you off guard. You fumble with the buttons until you figure out how to make Mario move, how to make him jump. A couple times you hit an angry looking mushroom and he dies. You snicker to yourself. Figures. Before you know it, you’ve passed Level 1-1 and you’re onto Level 1-2.

Level 1-2 comes and goes, and then Joel’s back at your door. You pause the game as he lets himself in. You wear a mischievous smile when you see him in his gray sweats and a t-shirt – your weakness. You can see the outline of his dick in those pants, and it sends a pang of arousal to your core. “Well don’t you look handsome,” you purr. 

“Pipe down, horndog,” Joel sits down on the couch next to you. Before he can reach for the controller, you slide your hand over one of his thick thighs and palm his bulge, then slip your hand under the waistband of his pants and play with his cock. He sighs as you stroke him, his sweet sounds getting you all hot and bothered. His cock is thick and warm, half hard and growing harder, but he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away. “Later,” he reminds you, “C’mon. I know you can wait. I don’t have much of the game left to play.”

“Okay,” you mumble. You scoot closer to Joel as he picks up the controller, wrapping your arm around his and resting your head on his bicep. You squeeze your thighs together tightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure at your core. He tries to shake you off of him, but you don’t budge. “I’m cold, Joel,” you protest.

“So get a blanket. I ain’t your heater,” he complains, but you feel him relax with your touch, snuggling up to you a little closer like maybe he’s cold too, “God, you make me nuts.”

You say nothing as Joel reaches for the controller, presses a couple buttons before the game starts again. He starts playing, then squints and furrows his brows. “Woah, woah, woah,” he says, “This ain’t right. What - why - what happened? Did you touch this? Tell me you didn’t touch this.”

“I didn’t touch it,” you lie. 

Joel turns to you and glares, “What. Did. You. Do.”

“I tried out your game,” Joel continues glaring at you and you raise your arms in surrender, “What?”

Joel cups your cheeks in both of his big hands and shakes your head gently, “Why would you do that?” 

“You told me not to unplug anything. I didn’t unplug anything.”

“I also told you not to touch anything,” Joel groans, “Do you know how long it took me to beat those levels?”

“Just pick up where you left off, Joel.”

“I told ya, it doesn't work like that. No memory card, no progress. I have to start over now,” Joel whines, “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

“Beats me,” you say, “But–”, you take one of Joel’s hands from his controller and suck his fingers before slipping it under the waistband of your sweatpants, “Now we can get down to brass tacks. Hmm?”

“One rule,” Joel hisses as cups your mound, “I gave you one fuckin’ rule.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But now that you’re not playing Mario anymore, you can make me come. And then I’ll make you come. And you’ll forget you were ever mad at me.”

Joel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to you, his eyes now mischievously lit up. “You’re right,” he says, “I’m not playing Mario anymore. You are.” He places the controller in your hands, “I told you I wanted to beat the game, and mayb then I’d fuck ya. So now you’re gonna get me back to where I was so I’ll finish up the game, and maybe, maybe after that, I’ll fuck you. Cause I’m not doin’ all of this again. I’ve got other games I wanna play too.”

“Piece of cake,” you reply confidently. Though really, playing Mario is harder than it looks.

“Oh, really? Is it that easy?”, Joel says, raising his eyebrows in amusement at your confidence as you nod, “If ya say so. I thought you said it’s harder than it looks. Whatever. Go on, then.” Situating yourself next to Joel, you adjust your grip on the controller. Joel’s hand is still beneath your pants, fingers resting against your lips. You look at him, wondering if he’ll pull his hand away. “You put it there,” he says. “It’s stayin’.”

Whatever. You start the game feeling confident in yourself, and then Mario hits a mushroom and he shrinks. And then he hits another mushroom, and he dies. Joel hums in amusement and you shove your elbow into his side. “I didn’t say anything,” he smirks.

It takes you about ten minutes to get the hang of it, but eventually you do. When you start a new level, Joel presses two of his fingers against your pussy and it startles you. Mario hits a turtle and he shrinks again. “Joel,” you gasp, “What are you doing?”

Dragging his fingers up and down your folds at a leisurely pace, Joel shrugs, “Nothin’.” He’s definitely not doing “nothing”. It’s getting harder to focus now, and you’re making mistakes, getting hit by enemies, missing those little mushroom power ups that come at you every so often. You huff in frustration, and Joel chuckles to himself, “You suck, sweetheart.”

“Shut up, Joel.”

He presses the tip of his middle finger against your entrance, pushes inside before pulling his finger back out and dragging it up to your clit, smirking when your breath hitches in your throat, “Do you need some help? Pointers, maybe?”

“No,” you grit, “Shut up, Joel.”

“Hmm, alright,” he hums, his thick fingers now circling your sensitive bud. You can feel his intense gaze on you as you play the game, squashing Mario’s enemies to the best of your ability, but you were right the first time, it’s harder than it looks. Joel turns his attention back to the TV, “Hit that box with the question mark.” You raise your eyebrow in suspicion. It’s probably a trap. With Joel, it’s always a trap. “Watch what happens,” he instructs, so you hit the box and a flower emerges. Joel tells you to jump on it, so you do. Warily, though. Mario changes outfits. “There you go. Now if you press B,” he taps the other button on the controller, “You can shoot those guys with a fireball. Try it out.” 

Mario does in fact shoot fireballs at the enemies. This advantage makes the game come along smoother, so Joel ups the ante, drawing tight circles into your clit. “Joel,” you moan, “Quit it. You’re distracting me.”

“Thought you wanted me to make you come,” Joel taunts.

“I do, but not like thi–fuck–Joel, stop.”

“Tough luck,” Joel responds, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

You do your best to ignore the sensation of Joel touching you, but it’s hard. He knows exactly where to touch you, how to touch you to make you squirm and moan for him. You have to fight yourself to keep your eyes from rolling back when Joel pushes two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out for a moment before abruptly curling them upward, hitting that sweet spot he knows and loves. “Jesus, Joel,” you moan, accidentally pressing the lower end of the D-pad. On the TV, Mario slides down a pipe and is brought to a new area. He’s able to run across the top of the screen, then finds an area with a bunch of pipes called the Warp Zone. This changes the game. You’re able to skip levels, making this whole thing go by even quicker. You’ll be on your way to fuck town in no time.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna figure that out,” Joel rubs his thumb over your clit as he fucks you with his two middle and ring fingers. You’re able to find a couple more pipes that allow you to go to Warp Zones, which doesn’t require quite as much focus on the screen. You allow yourself to savor the way Joel touches you, that warmth building up in the pit of your stomach. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moan. That familiar edge begins to creep up just as you’re finishing another level. Your breathing quickens, your pussy dripping and gushing with every movement of Joel’s thick fingers. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–”.

“Thanks sweetheart. That was a big help,” Joel yanks the controller from you with his free hand, then pulls the other away from your core. Now that you’ve gotten him to where he left off in the game, he focuses all of his attention on the TV, as if he was never touching you. 

“Are you serious?”, you’re in disbelief but Joel doesn’t answer, “Joel, I was about to–”.

“I know.”

You scoff, “Fuck you, man.”

“Yeah, I know you wanna. But I told you, you gotta wait til I’m done. You’re very forgetful, you know that?”

Frustrated, you shove your hand under your sweats and pick up where Joel left off. He clears his throat, “You can play with your pussy, or I can. Pick one but we’re not doin’ both. It’s up to you.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. This is bullshit. Joel can take control of your TV, but not your pleasure. You watch him in astonishment, how he pays you no mind as he plays the game. His eyes are glazed over and his lips slightly parted, deep in focus. It’s like you’re not even there. You lower your eyes from his face to his lap where his fingers move deftly, still slick and shiny with your juices. His thumbs dart back and forth over the D-pad and the buttons, and you wish he was still touching you like that. Expertly, with dedication and precision.  And then it catches your eye – the tent in his sweatpants, that little spot of dampness where his head rests against the fabric. He’s fucking rock hard from playing with you, leaking precome. You’re impressed with Joel’s ability to ignore his own arousal. Good for him. You, however, won’t ignore it. 

In a swift maneuver, too quick for Joel to even process, you pull down his sweats and let his cock spring free, setting the waistband under his heavy balls. You don’t even think, you just do it – lifting up his arm, you dive under and grip the base of his cock. You guide his tip to your mouth, swirling your tongue around his swollen head before letting it part your lips. Joel groans, “Think you can play dirty too, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mumble against him. 

“Knock yourself out,” he tells you, “You’re forgettin’ I have something you don’t – self control, my darlin’.”

You don’t care. This is more for you than it is for him, anyway. You haven’t gotten to taste him yet and it’s been on your mind. He tastes heady, salty, and slightly sweaty on your tongue. He’s warm and thick, you like the way his cock feels in your mouth. His smooth skin, how he squirms when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. 

Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand gripping his base, the other fondling his balls. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He rests the sides of his hands on your head as he plays with the controller, pushing you further down on his cock. “Last level,” he tells you. You suck him mindlessly as he plays, listening to Joel hissing expletives. You smirk with him in your mouth knowing which of his curses are directed at you and which are directed at the TV. 

Joel’s cock stiffens and twitches, he’s getting closer. You know it and so does he. “You know,” he says in a soft, warning tone, “If ya make me come, you’re shit outta luck. Can’t fuck you.”

Oh, shit. You weren’t even thinking about that. You pull your mouth off of him instantaneously, smacking your head against his controller and sending it flying out of his hands. “Fuck,” Joel barks. 

The controller lands upside down on the corner of your coffee table, the buttons hitting the edge just so, and Joel watches in horror as Mario disappears from the TV and is replaced by the main menu. 

You rub your head where you hit it on the controller, but Joel is no longer staring at the TV in disbelief. Instead, he’s looking at you. “Shit. I’m sorry, Joel,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry.”

You expect Joel to be angry like usual, but he instead pulls your hand away from your scalp, lowers you so he can check the area you hit and give it a kiss, then lifts your chin back up while rubbing your bump. “It was an accident,” he speaks soothingly, “Mario can wait. Are you hurting?”

“Not terribly,” you tell him. And it’s the truth. 

“No? You sure?” You shake your head no and Joel nods. He rubs your head for a little bit longer, his big brown eyes are soft and sweet and worrisome. The kindest he’s ever looked at you, kindest he’s ever been to you. And all you had to do was smack your head on his video game. He holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, then pulls you close and whispers quietly, “Would you still like me to fuck you? We don’t have to if you’re not up for it anymore.” 

You grin and nod your head, “Yes, please. I want it.”

“Get your ass over here, then,” Joel says as he lifts your hips and pulls your pants off, then pulls his own further down his thighs. He guides you to straddle his lap, holding his cock loosely between his middle and index fingers and his thumb. He drags his tip through your folds, then notches himself at your entrance before pulling your hips down, burying himself in you all the way to the hilt. 

You grip his shoulders and press your forehead to his own, sighing softly as you get adjusted to his girth. “I missed your cock,” you breathe, “Missed it so much.”

“I know you did, sweetheart. I missed you too.”

When you’ve adjusted, you begin to roll your hips, rubbing your clit against that soft patch of hair at the base of his cock, moaning and grunting softly, “Oh, Joel. Feels good.”

“I know it does,” he sighs as he leans forward to lift up your shirt and pulls it off of your body, then takes off his own, “That’s better.” He runs his thumbs over the soft curve of your tummy, then slides his hands up your rib cage before cupping your breasts, twisting and rolling your nipples. 

The way he looks at you makes your cheeks feel hot. You lean forward to hide your face, grinding your hips into him. He holds you close to his body with his hands wrapping around your back before gripping your ass and bouncing you up and down on him, stretching and parting your insides. You allow yourself to rest against him, letting him do the work and take care of you. His cock feels incredible. So thick, so hard, hitting against all of your favorite spots. “So good, takin’ me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, “Ya always do.”

Joel squeezes your ass tighter. He can see your reflection in the TV, loving the way your body moves, how you tremble, how you rock your hips, how you whimper his name. It’s all for him. “Wanna, fuck,” he sighs, snaking his hand between your bodies as he finds your clit with his fingertips, rubbing circles around it, “Wanna make you come on my cock. Make those pretty noises for me.”

With Joel’s cock hitting you right where you need him, his fingers playing with your clit, it’s not long before your orgasm approaches. “Right there, Joel. Like that, just like that,” you moan breathlessly, “I’m gonna come for you.”

“Yeah, gimme a good one,” he says. He fucks you expertly, each of his thrusts deep and intentional. It’s all for you. He just wants to watch you come, hear you moan his name, feel you soak his cock. Your breaths quicken and your moans quiet as you near your climax, and you come with loud cries and moans. Joel pulls you close, fucking you through it as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. “Fuck,” he hisses rocking his hips into you once, twice, three more times before he comes with a groan, painting your insides with rope after rope of his hot seed. 

You fall forward, resting your face against the couch as you both catch your breath. He rests his head next to you, looking deep into your eyes before flicking his gaze to your lips, then back up to your eyes. You stare at his lips too.

“Your head still okay?” he asks, “Smacked it real good.”

“Think so.”

“Gonna keep an eye on it anyway,” Joel whispers, “What am I gonna do with you, Inglewood, hmm?”, bringing his hand to your face and rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. You’re still staring at his lips. His pink, pouting lips that have never kissed your own.

“I’m not sure,” you murmur, “What do you think?”

Joel runs his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down before letting go, “Haven’t got a clue.”

Joel leaves you to grab a warm wash rag and clean you up, then helps you back into your clothes. He reaches for the controller and starts up Super Mario Brothers one more time, and you snuggle his bicep like before. This time, he doesn’t try to move you. 

If you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, send me an ask! Tell me what you thought! Support your favorite writers, we ain't doing this for free!!

No taglist! Follow @strang3stories and turn on notifs!

[cottonlemonade]

Jealous At Training Camp [part 2]

synopsis: the team finds out that Kuroo asked you on a date (same day)

part 1

“Come in!“, Kuroo called when he heard someone knock at the door. He was currently standing in front of the mirror, trying to decide which shirt to wear.

Lev’s lanky shape appeared and he joined Kenma on one of the makeshift beds. The setter took a rare gaming break (his console had to charge) and instead flipped through a random manga one of his teammates had left next to their bed. In short, he was being of absolutely no help even though Kuroo had summoned him to help choose an outfit. Lev frowned at his captain, “Where are you off to so late?“

“Going to a movie.“, Kuroo answered evasively. He noticed the gray-haired menace visibly deflating.

“With Sawamura-san and Bokuto-san?“, he asked, a definite pout in his voice, adding with a mumble, “I wanted to practice my spikes a bit more.”

“No.“, Kuroo smiled at him in the reflection of the mirror, holding up a graphic T with a science pun printed across the chest, “Actually, I am meeting y/n-san.“

“What did I just hear?“

Inuoka popped his head through the door, throwing the older boy a knowing grin.

Kuroo groaned inwardly. He really wasn‘t feeling like getting everyone involved until he knew there was something to get them involved in. But he also knew Inuoka was unlikely to let it go.

“Maybe you should go with something a bit cooler.“, the fellow middle blocker suggested, letting himself drop down next to Kenma on the bed, “Like a button down.”

Kuroo gave him a look. “You’re right. Let me check - oh wait, I left my classy attire in my other sports bag.”, he said sarcastically. Inuoka raised his hands in defeat (although the captain did exchange the graphic T for a plain black one).

“Which movie will you guys see?“, Lev asked.

“Who is this?“, Tora, who had walked past the now completely open door, swerved to be part of the conversation.

“Kuroo-san has a date.“, Inuoka informed in an affectionate tone a mother might use when she sent her son off to his first day of preschool.

“Oooooooh.“ The newcomer leaned in the doorframe, crossing his arms, looking over the chosen outfit approvingly. “And who is the lucky lady?“

Before Kuroo could stop him, Lev answered “Y/n-san.“ putting lots of emphasis on each syllable.

Tora raised a surprised brow. “Our manager?! I didn’t even know you were into her!“

“Then you were the only one. As per usual.”, Kenma muttered, scanning the manga panels with little interest.

“Who’s Kuroo-san into?“ Fukunaga, called over by the commotion coming from the Nekoma bedroom, joined Tora in the doorway.

“Do you all really have nothing better to do?“, Kuroo asked exasperatedly, fixing his hair (as much as possible).

“No.“, Tora and Inuoka replied in unison.

“Okay, listen. Yes, I have a date. Yes, it is with our manager. Yes, I am nervous. Now, can we please drop it? I have to leave in like five minutes.“

Silence.

“So will you bring flowers?“

“GET OUT!“

For that one person who asked for a part 2 xD

✨ @hotvinimon ✨

[1starqi]

Quiet Nights

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: barely proofread, pet names, manhandling

pairing: mark x sleepy!reader

word count: 635

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

▸ Now Playing: Puzzle Piece (listen for best reading experience! ☺)

The quiet click of the door echoes through the first front room of your apartment. You’ve been passed out for an hour on the heathered couch, waiting for your boyfriend to return from the studio. He sets his gray backpack down on the hardwood floor by the door. His stuffed monkey keychain jingles as he sets it down, the same stuffed monkey that you bought for him on your first anniversary. 

He sees your sleeping form and his heart swells with how cute you look all cuddled up on the couch, but his elation turns into bittersweet feelings when he realizes you were probably waiting for him to come home and do your nighttime routine together. He slowly and carefully closes the door behind him and slowly walks over to you, still soundly asleep.

“Oh, baby,” He mumbles, “I’m sorry that I stayed so late. You should’ve gone to bed.” He tells you. He considers letting you sleep, but as AC turns on he decides how to make it up to you since it can’t be so comfortable sleeping on the segmented couch. He removes your blanket and pushes an arm under your back and one under your legs to pick you up. As he hoists you up in his arms, he makes a quiet oomph sound, even though he picks you up with ease. He’s mindful not to wake you as he passes all of the fixtures that remind him of the memories you’ve made in this house together. As he passes one of the outlets, he’s reminded of the time you were in a rush to get out of the house, and as you put your earring on you dropped the other and it fried the outlet and he let out a small, breathy laugh as he thinks about the memory. When he sees the door to the bathroom he thinks about all the early mornings and late nights you spent doing your routine, brushing your teeth in the exact same pattern (it’s a habit you picked up from each other).

“Mark?” You mumble you’ve woken up, clearly. Whether it was the walk or the laugh that made you wake up, you don’t know. 

“Shh, baby. I’m just getting you to bed. Don’t worry.” He consoles you, afraid that you’d be scared when you’re going somewhere without moving. In his arms, you enter your room and he places you down on the bed. He switches off the overhead light and flicks on the pink salt lamp nestled in the corner. 

“What happened?” You ask groggily. You sit up sleepily and see him darting around the room, cleaning things up and getting things situated to go to bed.

“You fell asleep on the couch, love.” He explains. 

You see him heading to leave the room. “Where are you going?” Still groggy.

“Lay back down, I’m just going to brush my teeth and I’ll come cuddle with you.” Satisfied, you lay back down. You hear the click of the light switch and the whoosh of the water as he wets his toothbrush. You’re counting the second until his warm body comes back so that you can give him a sleepy kiss and then fall back to blissful slumber. You hear his footsteps coming back into your room and you see his dimly lit shape in the doorframe. Back in the bed, you snuggle closer to you and you push your face into the curve of his neck. His familiar smell comforts you, still not awake and not wishing to be.

“‘Love you…” You murmur to him, at a barely audible level.

He responds with what you always expect, but never get bored of: “I love you too, baby.” The pet name makes your heart flutter.

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | 𝘫𝘩86 ୨୧

➪ summary: jack struggles after their breakup, and after a little talk with his mom, he's on his way to get his girl back

➪ warnings: fights, sad jack, broken glass, breakup

➪ word count: 2.8k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: this was the first ever jack fic i wrote and i went back and read it and forget how in love with it i was. i hope you guys are enjoying the reposts, i am hoping to be done with them in the next couple of weeks and then i can start working on new fics! anyway, i decided to use the old taglist one more time because i haven't gotten the chance to sort out everyone that has filled out the form so far. so..... if you haven't already, please fill out the taglist form if you want to be added to the new one! i love you guys so much, and i appreciate each and everyone of you

➪ © sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

jh86 masterlist || nhl masterlist || new taglist || navigation

“Mom I think I really fucked up.”

Jack was in tears as he sat with his back against the door to his bedroom. His room was messy, with pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, suit jackets flung across his bed, and take-out containers on his nightstand, but the only thing he was focused on was the cardboard box that was set less than a foot in front of him. It had a card resting on top of it, his name written in the tiniest of letters. He could faintly smell her perfume on the sweatshirts and shirts that were left inside.

When he walked out of his room, the box was something he wasn’t expecting to see. It was resting in Luke’s hands when he walked out, proceeding to ask what it was. When Luke said it was from her, he grabbed it and ran back into his room, shutting and closing the door behind him. He had only managed to get one flap of the box open before he started crying uncontrollably. 

He had seen the gray material, the logo of his team branded on it. He had backed himself up against the door and tried to collect himself and failed. Deep in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have the right to be acting like this, he had been the one to end it. Yet, seeing the aftermath without her made him realize what he had truly lost. 

The nights when he came home from a game that they won, she wasn’t there to congratulate him, to celebrate with him, to let him hold her. The nights when he came home from a game that they lost, she wasn’t there to console him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to run her fingers through his hair. The mornings that he woke up and felt lonely and cold because she wasn’t in his arms, she wasn’t there to pepper his face with little kisses. She wasn’t there to wake him up in the middle of the night because she was hungry or because she had this genius idea. She wasn’t there to cook dinner for him and Luke when that was all they needed after a long day. She wasn’t there to help him pack and unpack for a road trip. She wasn’t there to help him pick out what suit to wear for the game. She wasn’t there at all anymore.

The thoughts plagued him, angered him, saddened him, hurt him. For some reason, these thoughts never came up before, never this strong. Seeing the things that had been hers, became hers, and weren’t his hurt him. It made him realize what he had done, and what he had done was real. He couldn’t help the new thoughts that came to his mind, the ones that called him stupid, the ones who called him an idiot, the ones that were dark enough that he hated himself for those too. 

When he found himself finding it hard to breathe he reached for his phone, calling Ellen. Ellen was not expecting those words when she picked up the phone. No one had known about their breakup, no one had known about Jack’s words that he said to her that night, no one had known about the way she tried to fight but he refused to even listen to her. 

Everyone knew that the two were off, however. Jack hadn’t been performing well, barely even getting a couple of shots on goal during games. He had gotten into a few fights, mostly because he was stressed and every little thing someone did set him off. He didn’t go out to celebrate with the team after a win, he distanced himself from everyone including his brother. 

She, on the other hand, hadn’t talked to anyone in the past two weeks. She never went to the apartment anymore, she didn’t reach out to Luke or the team at all, and she never drove Jack and Luke to games anymore, it was like she disappeared. In reality, she had been huddled up in her apartment, tears ending up on every piece of clothing she wore, they ended up on the sheets too. There was an abundance of tissues in a plastic bag that rested on the left side of her bed. Her TV had been playing nothing but sad romance movies; The Notebook, Irreplaceable You, All the Bright Places, The Fault in Our Stars, and Five Feet Apart were a few. She hadn’t moved from her spot unless she had to go to the bathroom.

Her main source of food was the snacks that she brought into her bedroom almost every other day. Sometimes if she was feeling up for it, she would order something and wait for it in the living room. She hadn’t attempted to cook, reminding her too much of when she did it for him. She hadn’t understood why he did it, what prompted him to do it, what prompted the thoughts, what she had done wrong to make him feel differently about him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow her to talk, allow them to talk it through. It was a messy night, his voice was doing the abundance of the talking. 

He had yelled at her for no reason. They had been sitting in the living room peacefully and she had commented on going out for dinner. It wasn’t the comment that set him off, he had been in his mind for the majority of the night prior to that moment. He didn’t know what brought these feelings on but he had to get them out. He had screamed for about ten minutes while she sat in silence tearing up. She had attempted to fight for them, saying she was sorry for god knows what. She had attempted to get an answer out of him but was met with silence. She had stormed out after 5 minutes of pleading, leaving Jack as alone as she felt. 

Jack receiving the package was the first form of communication they had had in two weeks. And that had really put things into perspective for him. He had babbled all of this to Ellen, having to take breaks a lot to control his sobs and breathing. Ellen felt absolutely heartbroken as she listened to her son cry. She knew what he had done wrong, it was painfully obvious, but the amount of tears that she could hear from him made her sympathetic towards him. 

Nonetheless, Ellen set him straight, not that he needed to be anyway, he knew he was wrong from the moment she left him sitting there. She had done her best to calm him down beforehand, Jack’s mind still in overdrive. He took in everything his mom said, agreeing with every point she made about him being wrong. She spoke in a gentle yet strict tone, letting him know that she felt sorry for him but what he did was horrible. He knew that and listening to his mom say it too made it feel all the worse. 

When Ellen hung up, Jack was once again left alone with the silence and his thoughts. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, yet he wasn’t in the right place to go and get her back. He thought he would just go over there and make it worse, make it so she would never want him back. So he walked out into the living room and looked at his brother who was watching TV, acting as if he had heard nothing. 

Jack plopped himself down next to him on the couch. He went to say something but he could feel another wave of tears coming. He went to stand up but Luke pulled him down, not wanting him to be alone anymore either. Jack buried his head into his younger brother’s shoulder and sobbed, slightly embarrassed but too sad to worry about it. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The next morning, Jack woke up with a pounding headache but he knew he needed to get his shit together. He took the box y/n had sent him and taped it back up, not taking one single thing out of there. He dressed in her favorite outfit of his, deciding he’d at least look how she liked him too. He even washed his hair, knowing how much she loved it when it was soft and looked like a fluffy mop on top of his head.

He knew that no matter how good he made himself look, it would have almost no impact on the outcome of this conversation. He knew how much he had hurt her and how much trust he had to earn back. He knew that no matter how many gifts he bought or made would ever make up for it, but that didn’t stop him from buying her favorite ice cream and flowers and making her a card.

He drove to her apartment and jumped out of the car as soon as he got there, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open the door. It took a few minutes before he had to knock again and this time, she opened it seconds later, “What?”

“Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk.”

“Oh so-”

“Yes. “So now I want to talk.” Please y/n/n.” He cut her off, immediately knowing what she was going to say. His puppy dog eyes were out in full force and she didn’t know whether or not it was on purpose or a subconscious habit of his when he asked for something he wanted. 

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stand his eyes any longer. She turned around and walked further into her apartment, waiting for Jack to follow her. When he stepped in, his heart stopped at the broken glass that lay in the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes as he shut the door. He watched as she sat down and wrapped a blanket around her.

Before he got there, she had been watching another sad movie, Kiss and Cry this time. She had been caught off guard when she heard the knock and only wished it would go away. However, when she heard it again, she got up and opened it, feeling both upset and frustrated at who was there. Hearing the way his voice broke when he talked also aided in her decision to let him in. She felt sad when he sat down next to her and reached out to place his hand on her thigh like an instant reaction. He retracted it as soon as it made contact with the blanket, nervous that she would yell at him.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in preparation, “I’m sorry. And I know that no matter what I say, or how much I tell you I’m sorry, it won’t be enough. It won’t justify what I did, but just hear me out please.”

She nodded, allowing him to go on. The look on his face showed the gratitude he had for her response, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Truthfully I don’t know why I said what I said. I think I must’ve been nervous about our future together but I feel like that’s just an excuse at that point. I don’t know what I was thinking, believe me. And I’m sorry I didn’t let us even try to talk it out, to let you talk. I- I just- To be honest, I really don’t know, y/n. 

“ I feel so lost right now, I hated you not being there. I hated not being able to come home from a game and celebrate with you when we won or have you comfort me when we lost. I hated not being able to wake up and you were the first thing I saw. I hated not being able to make dinner with you or play pranks on Luke or having you wake me up in the middle of the night because you had the most random epiphany.” He gave her a little laugh, “I hated not knowing that you were okay.”

She had been looking at the ground the whole time he spoke until he said that. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them harboring tears in their eyes. She knew that he meant it, she knew that he didn’t mean anything he said two weeks ago. At first, when she initially thought he would come to her apartment to plead for her back, she wasn’t going to accept the ‘I don’t know’ excuse, but she could tell that he really didn’t know why he did it. 

She reached out to hold his hand, toying with his fingers, “I believe you, Jack. And I’m not going to say it’s okay because it’s not, but I know when you mean something, Jack. I know that you didn’t have a reason to lash out.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “But it’s going to take a while for this to get back to how it was between us.”

“And I know that, and I’m willing to take it at your pace, and communicate with you more, and be there for you more.”

She nodded and turned away slightly to look at the TV, “You wanna finish this movie with me?”

He smiled and nodded, following her request to sit next to her. Jack had thought back to the moment when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and remembered the broken glass, “Are you okay?”

“Now I am, why?”

“Because there was broken glass in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah. I knocked it off yesterday. Maybe the day before, I don’t remember. Hadn’t had the opportunity to pick it back up.” 

Jack went over and picked it up in case she was to forget and got up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water. When he got back, she laid her head on his chest and played with one of the strings from his hoodie, “This is my favorite hoodie.”

He nodded again, rubbing her back, “I know.”

“And you washed your hair.”

He felt his face flush at the realization that she had figured out what he was trying to do, “Did you think that the way you looked would convince me to take you back?”

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged a little, “A little.”

She sat up and kissed him, “You’re lucky it did, Hughes.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before y/n looked up at him, “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?” The name was a force of habit and he went to apologize but when he looked down he saw her grinning at him. 

“When can I get those sweatshirts back?”

Jack let out a laugh, “They’re in my car, didn’t even take them out of the box. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes please.” He went to move her off of him but she clung to him, missing how warm he felt in the past two weeks, “You gotta let go of me baby if you want them.”

She shook her head, snuggling deeper into them, “You want this one?”

She just nodded and briefly let go of him, allowing him to take it off. He slipped it over her head and then opened his arms so she could lay back on him, which she did immediately. They continued watching and she felt a tear hit her head, looking up in worry, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He sniffled and wiped his tears off his face with his left hand. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just missed you, is all.” 

She only smiled and hugged him tighter, both of them falling asleep minutes later with how comfortable they felt with one another.

⬂ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗝𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘆 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

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[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Okay? Okay.

You end up needing to run a few errands at the same time Aegon has his weekly therapist's appointment, so you decide to drop him off and pick him up. But when he gets back in the car, he's desperate for affirmation. It seems the topic of his appointment was his parent's marriage

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: kissing, car sex, semi-public sex, discussions of Vizzy T x Alicent, Aegon is actually pretty tame here suprisingly

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

Okay? Okay.

Prompt: Reassurance & Car Sex

It was a dreary day, the skies a light gray that seemed to suck the color out of everything. You knew it would only get grayer and drearier as the snowstorm grew closer and closer. But you had a few hours before it hit. Which meant you had to go to the grocery store to grab as much as you could amongst the chaos of every person in town trying to do the same thing you were.

And also, that you had to drive your boyfriend, Aegon, to his weekly therapy appointment, as he didn’t have a car equipped to handle winter road conditions.

He would never risk his precious wrapped BMW M8, which he called “Sunfyre,” like that. It wouldn’t leave the garage attached to your small rental if there was even a one percent chance of rain. Which meant it pretty much never left the garage.

Your 24-year-old Mazda5 – aka “Zoomie” – however, could handle anything.

Indeed, she made it to the therapy office without issue. You were about to gloat to Aegon when you saw the glum look on his face. “Hey,” you said softly, reaching to pat his shoulder. “You alright?”

Aegon looked at you, obviously not alright, but he shrugged and gave you a half-hearted smile. “Fine. Just rather be back at home, you know? I’m almost done with my Dark Urge run, so…”

You nodded, assuring him he’d have plenty of time to finish up once the storm blew in. He seemed to cheer up slightly at that and opened his door.

“Want anything from the store?” You asked as he was halfway out of the car.

Aegon thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing and one corner of his mouth curling up. Then, his entire face brightened. “Cosmic brownies?”

You laughed a little, leaning over the center console to kiss him one more time. “I’ll get two boxes, just to be safe.”

-

You’d nearly had to fight a woman to get the last two boxes of cosmic brownies, but when you pulled up to the therapy office again, they were sitting safely in the front seat. But when Aegon pushed off the wall and got back in the car, he just tossed them into the backseat with the rest of the groceries.

It threw you off for a second. Then you saw that Aegon’s eyes were distant and red-rimmed, and he staunchly refused your gaze.

“Aeg? What’s wrong?” You were instantly in protective girlfriend mode. Therapy was supposed to help him, and you’d never seen him come home in such a state before.

He shook his head, “I just…” you watched him sniffle and rub at his nose. “Hard session today, that’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The left side of his lips quirked up for only a second. “That’s what the therapy is for, babe.”

This wasn’t his usual humor – that usually had some hint of suggestiveness or immaturity. He was only this witty, or at least nearly so, when he was upset. Very upset.

“Aegon, please,” you said softly. He understood what was left unspoken – be serious.

He finally turned to you, his usually bright, joyful face drawn and tired. “Babe,” his hand tentatively reached out to yours. “Can we go somewhere else for this?”

You nodded and put the car in drive. “Yeah, we should go home anyway, the storm – ”

“Not home, either. Somewhere like, random.”

Though you weren’t sure what ‘random’ meant, you just started driving. Aegon never spoke, never commented on the winding path you drove through town. You heard a few sniffles and sharp breaths, but you never looked his way. He felt so fragile, like even a wrong look could shatter him. What the hell had that therapist talked about?

Eventually, you found yourself at a relatively secluded park, utterly abandoned in anticipation of the storm. You pulled the car into a parking spot, and waited.

By the time Aegon began, the first few snow flurries had started to fall.

“We talked about my parents today,” he started. “Not about my dad or any of his bullshit, but about both of them. Their relationship.”

That was a subject you hadn’t heard much about. You knew about his mother’s overbearing nature and the pressure she’d put on him his whole life, and about the distance that had always existed between him and his father. The favoritism Viserys always showed his elder half-sister. You could count on one hand the number of stories Aegon had told you where his father actually spoke to him.

But their relationship was never something he talked about. You were under the impression that there wasn’t one at all, really.

“My mom…” a glint of reluctant affection shone in his eyes. “She’s a lot younger than my dad. I don’t remember exactly, but I know it’s something like twenty-five, thirty years or so.”

You had always just assumed his dad looked so much older because he was so sick. This was just gross.

Aegon took your hand and squeezed. “Before they got married, my mom was Rhaenyra’s best friend.”

Super gross.

“That’s why they don’t get along. Rhaenyra thinks my mom seduced her father, and my mom felt abandoned by her best friend. But it’s more than that, I think… I think my dad did love my mom, at least at first. I can see it in their wedding photos. He even looked at me like he loved me, in pictures from when I was a baby.

“But after Helaena was born, he looked different. Like he was only with her at the hospital because he had to be, or that he was only at my third birthday party because someone had forced him to. I’m not sure what changed, but it did. My mom still cared about him, but to him, the rest of us were just like, a job or something.”

You grabbed his hand and brought it up to your lips to kiss. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He shook your hand a little before continuing. “I don’t get why they stayed together. It only ever made the rest of us miserable. How Aemond and Daeron happened is honestly a mystery.”

Everything he was telling you sucked, sure. But he hadn’t started tearing up like he did when you first asked him what was wrong. So when he again went silent, you nudged him on. “Aegon?”

He took a deep breath and turned to you. “Are you going to get bored of me? Decide you don’t actually love me and just… treat me like he did?” Tears ran down his face faster than the snow falling outside your little car.

“Oh, Aegon,” you set your hands on his cheeks and pulled him close so you could kiss his forehead. “Never. I will never treat you like that. I will never get bored of you. I love you so much, Aegon.”

A sob escaped him at your words, and he draped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck as he cried. “I love you, too.”

You continued kissing all over his face as you whispered your reassurance repeatedly. Once he’d calmed, he started kissing you back. And since Aegon was Aegon, kissing could never just be kissing.

When he pulled you over the center console, you were very glad no one else was around – you weren’t graceful at all. But your embarrassment faded as Aegon's hands slipped beneath your leggings, one hand teasing your entrance while the other settled on your ass, guiding you in rolling against the harness growing in his pants.

“Can we get arrested for this?” He asked as he pushed your leggings down and frantically lowered his own sweatpants.

You sighed in delight as you sank onto his cock, savoring the stretch. He wasn’t the longest you’ve ever had, but he was thick, and it was wonderful. “We can, but only if someone sees us.”

He laughed, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth and pulling slightly as he brought his hands to your waist to support you as you began to ride him slowly. “Thank the gods for the snowstorm, then.”

Words were quickly abandoned. At first, you’d wanted to take this slowly, to show him exactly how much you loved him. But Aegon wasn’t patient, and soon began thrusting into you as fast as he could, the car rocking beneath you.

Aegon came first, biting down on his shoulder to stop his screams. One of his hands dropped to your pearl and began rubbing furiously, until you screamed yourself and clamped down on his length, pulling a pitiful whine from him.

“You okay?” you whispered, holding him as close as you could.

Aegon smiled slightly. “I’m okay.”

Thanks to your activities, the car windows had fogged. You leaned over to wipe away the condensation and saw the snow falling harder now, the ground completely covered. “Okay, help me back up,” you commanded. “We’ve gotta get home quick.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning back down to kiss your neck. “We can stay a little longer. Zoomie’ll plow through the snow to get us home.”

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 12

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Nothing but fluff, baby.

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta!

___________

The New England winters tended to hone its inhabitants like an axe against a grindstone, sloughing off the weaker bits until you were left with only the hardest, sharpest edges of the soul. 

The anticipated nor’easter was due to hit sometime in the next few days. Local newscasters said it was likely to be severe. Currently, it was the calm before the storm. The weather was still, like all the substance had been sucked out of the air so the storm could dump it out again once it hit. 

On the ground, gray-stained slush clung to sidewalks and frozen lawns, still leftover from last week’s snowfall. The bitter December air stung at your nostrils and turned the tip of your nose red, and Noah Davis’s hot breath drifted out of his open mouth in billowing clouds as he looked down at you from where he stood in his door frame. 

It was early morning—three days after you’d spoken with Nick. The western edge of town had all but cleared out, having been comprised mostly of students, who had all gone home for the month-long winter break. 

Noah sniffed, blinking down at you and you cleared your throat. 

“I, um…I have your stuff.” 

You held out the clothes he’d let you borrow, freshly washed and folded, stacked neatly in a pile on top of your mittens. 

Noah stepped to the side and gestured for you to enter, which you did, apprehensively. Something about being in his space felt off-limits to you, yet he welcomed you in without hesitation. 

Briefly, you surveyed the space before you. A worn sofa and two overstuffed armchairs surrounded a stained coffee table littered with empty beer cans, paper plates, and ashtrays with the spent butts of cigarettes and, you suspected, joints. 

The mess was contained to the coffee table, however. The rest of the living room was fairly clean. A large-screen TV sat atop a dark glass stand. An array of gaming consoles and controllers decorated the shelves below it. It was off, and you could see a shadow of your reflection in the black glass of the screen. 

Noah cleared his throat and you spun around to look at him. He regarded you with intention, surveying you up and down, but his face didn’t betray whatever information he gathered from the act.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked. 

“I’m good,” you said, and immediately regretted it because it wasn’t until after you spoke that you realized how dry your throat had become. “Water, actually.” 

He let out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, moving to the open-concept kitchen space to fetch a glass out of the cupboard. “Have a seat,” he called over to you without looking. 

You took a seat on the brown tweed couch, shrugging off your coat and removing your mittens, and bundled them into a neat pile on your lap. 

The acrid smell of stale cigarettes stung the inside of your nose and you discreetly nudged the ash tray across the coffee table. 

Noah appeared at the other side of the table, a glass of water clasped in his outstretched arm and you took it gratefully, working hard not to look at him too much. 

Though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him since your one and only sexual experience, it was still a shock to your system. Noah stood in front of you, looking regrettably Jesus-like with his long hair cascading down his shoulders. His clothes were unassuming—gray hoodie and black jeans, but they fit him effortlessly well. 

He took his seat on the armchair to your left, legs about six inches too long to fit comfortably between the chair and the end of the coffee table. He rubbed his shins, friction offering more warmth than the sputtering vents and the furnace that whined in protest. Even your ancient dorm with its concrete brick walls could stay warmer than the drafty rental Noah and the band called home. 

You noticed a distinct absence of sound or movement in the house. 

“Just you today?” you asked. 

“Folio and Ruffilo went home for the holidays,” he said, settling back into his chair and sipping from a mug of black coffee. 

You didn’t need to ask why he wasn’t doing the same—with all the baggage he carried from his family, you’d be surprised if they even exchanged Christmas cards. 

You bounced your knee, knowing there was a conversation to be had, but not wanting to approach it. 

“I’m surprised you’re still in town,” he remarked. 

This time you chanced a look at him. The coffee mug obscured part of his face, but his eyes still held the same intensity they always had. 

“My parents are on a missions trip in Africa,” you said. 

He quirked his head to the side, forehead wrinkling in confusion, and something about the crease between his eyebrows had you looking away again, too overstimulated by your own attraction to him. This was going to be harder than you thought. 

“What’s a mission trip?” he asked. 

“Missions trip,” you corrected. “It’s where groups of people go and build schools and stuff in small towns that don’t have enough resources.” You said this into your glass of water, thankful for something you could anchor your focus on. 

“That’s pretty sick, actually.” 

“Yeah,” you said, taking a sip to quell the tightness in your throat. “Yeah, I mean, it’s all sort of religiously-motivated though. The real reason is to spread Christianity.” 

You almost felt his face twist with displeasure. Glancing over at him confirmed it. He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t need to. You understood what that look was about and you felt the same. 

A few awkward moments passed while you tried to think of anything you could say that wasn’t the one thing you came here to say. 

“How were your finals?” Noah asked, coming to your rescue. 

“Good,” you answered too quickly in a rush of air. You cleared your throat and forced your next words to come out at a more conversational pace. “They were good. I think I passed all of them.” 

If Noah noticed anything off about your energy, he didn’t let on. Instead, he smiled. “I’m not surprised.” 

You gave him a questioning look. 

“You’re really smart,” he explained, setting his coffee on the table in front of him, sans coaster, “and you seem like the type of person to study hard.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair while he said it, resting his chin on the palm of his other hand. 

You smiled back because he’d clocked you. “Does that make me boring?” you asked, finally relaxing into the usual back-and-forth of your conversations with Noah. 

His smile grew wider, and you were stuck by just how sharp the corners of his mouth were. “I don’t think it does. I mean, if that was all there was to you, it might, but you have more layers than that.” 

“Like an ogre,” you said. 

His face fell and he blinked, waiting for you to explain. 

“From Shrek.” 

“Get out.” 

Your composure cracked, and through the fissure erupted a fit of giggles, surface tension finally breaking into something warm and homey. Noah snickered and at last, the shields were down—both of you disarmed and ready for what lay ahead. 

It took several moments for the energy in the room to settle where it needed to be. When it finally did, you regarded Noah with your full attention for the first time since arriving. 

He looked tired. The light bags that usually hung around just under his eyes had deepened into something sadder. Patchy stubble dotted his chin and upper lip, and his hair looked stringy and unwashed. 

“So,” he began, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. 

“So,” you parroted. 

In the span of a few seconds, the air around you folded in on itself and grew twice as thick—dense with unspoken sentiments and the possibilities for what could come out of this conversation. 

He fixed you with a serious look, assessing your demeanor before speaking again. You’d been on the other end of that look before, but every time it happened, it struck you just how large and intimidating Noah’s presence was. 

“Should we talk about it?” he asked. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning back in your seat. When you opened them again, you were staring at the ceiling. “No….” 

You heard Noah huff a laugh through his nostrils. That was good. At least he was amused by your discomfort. Without lowering your head, you shifted your eyes over in his direction. He smiled at you, and it took the edge off. 

“I promise I won’t make this any harder than it has to be.” You appreciated the gentle tone he took—a nurse soothing his patient before administering a shot. 

You said nothing, but no longer protested. He took it as his cue to go on. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You exhaled deep. “I know,” you replied, unable to look anywhere but your hands. His apology didn’t make you feel any better about what happened. It was more for him. 

“I know you know,” he said. “But I want to explain why.” 

It was already too much. You squeezed your eyes shut and blinked them back open. You hated everything about this situation. “Why you ghosted?” 

“Why I’m sorry,” he said. 

You looked at him with trepidation. He had your attention, but you were still wary and unsure if you wanted to hear what he was about to say. You almost hated yourself for being stupid enough to give him the chance to apologize. 

If he got it wrong it would feel like reopening a wound. 

He took a deep breath. Somewhere behind his eyes, an unnamed heaviness settled in and you had to look away. The last thing you wanted to do was empathize with the man who hurt you.  

“I’m not the best communicator,” he began slowly. 

“Ya’ think?” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm from slipping out. His face went from soft and patient to something more frustrated.  

“Sorry,” you muttered. 

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he resumed. “Things like honesty and vulnerability? They were weaknesses in my book for a long time. I could go into detail about why, but that’s not really important.

“What’s important now is that you know that I’m trying. I understand that I fucked up. I hate that I did it. I wish I wasn’t that person, but it’s a shortcoming that I’m learning to deal with.” 

“I also hate that you fucked up,” you said, matter-of-factly. You didn’t say it to hurt him, but it was true, and it was important to you that you no longer filtered your thoughts to protect his feelings. 

Noah, being Noah, saw the humor in your statement and huffed. “Your honesty is refreshing. If not a little cold,” he said. A half-smile painted his face and God, if you didn’t want to slap it off him so that you’d no longer have to look at it. 

Letting his face fall neutral again, he continued. “You’re not the first important person that I’ve hurt because of this,” he said. “But hurting you did force me to pay attention to how that feels, and I don’t like it. I’m tired of being an asshole, and I think, moving forward, I want to be more honest. Not just with you, but with myself. I think I’ve been fooling myself for a long time about what’s important to me, and I’m starting to realize those things don’t make me happy.” 

You resisted the urge to ask him what things he was talking about. You wanted to break out of the habit of giving him more attention than he’d earned. That had always been a problem for you with men, and you suspected it was what got you into this mess in the first place. 

You could see on his face that he almost expected you to ask him more, and when you didn’t, he faltered for a moment. “Good,” you said with a nod. 

He deflated, but ultimately melted into a smile. “Thanks,” he said. You could tell he meant it, and holy bricks, did that have you softening more for him against your will. 

A warmth blossomed between the two of you, slowly at first, but it grew with each passing moment. You could feel it in your bones, and despite your best intentions, you caught yourself smiling. 

You didn’t want Noah to have this pull over you. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved that he’d done a good job with his apology, or resentful because it would have been so much easier to write him off had he failed. 

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” you asked, ready to be done with the conversation for the time being and beyond grateful it hadn’t stemmed into more intimate territory—you didn’t think you could handle that. 

“How are you?” he asked. “I feel like so much has happened since we last talked.” 

“Ha!” you said. “You could say that again.” 

Noah leaned back in his chair, shifting his weight to make himself more comfortable. “Tell me about it. Do you want to get some food? I’d love to catch up.” 

“Maybe another time,” you said, with only the slightest twinge of regret. It was for the best. “I’ve got laundry to do.” 

It was a lie. You had nothing to do, but as much as you wanted to spend more time with him, your intuition was telling you to go, and you’d promised yourself you’d start listening more. Something inside of you wasn’t ready to be alone with him for much longer. 

“I understand,” he said, voice dipping in enthusiasm, but clearly respectful of your boundaries. “What about tomorrow?” 

You didn’t have an excuse ready—the knee-jerk denial didn’t kick in at the idea. Perhaps that was a sign? 

“I…I can’t commit for sure, but I’ll think about it.” 

He seemed satisfied with your answer, offering a smile that was a little too sincere for you to handle and you had to get out of the room before you lost all sense of self. 

“Okay. See you around,” you said quickly, shuffling to grab your backpack and swing it around onto your shoulder while nearly tripping over the coffee table on your way to the door. 

Noah didn’t chase you—you knew he was going to give you whatever space you needed in order to be ready for him. 

And that might have been what scared you most. 

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

The tip of Noah’s nose almost touched the mirror with how close he was leaning over the bathroom sink. He’d been dealing with a very stubborn ingrown hair in a painful spot right under his nostrils. It was angry and red, but it hadn’t quite come to a head yet. 

Perfect. Just what he needed. 

He leaned back to get a better macro view of himself. The spot was definitely visible, but he was more than likely fixating on the small flaw. He couldn’t help it though—he was nervous. 

Letting his gaze drift over the rest of his face, he noticed he’d missed a spot while shaving. Fetching his razor from the shelf in his bathroom cabinet, he ran it under water and brought it to his face, moving it slowly around his jaw. 

Fuck! 

He nicked the skin. 

At first there was nothing, but then red began to seep out from the tiny cut and Noah had to grab a tissue and dab at the small drop of blood that had gathered around the wound. 

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he grasped at the porcelain sink with both hands before facing the mirror once again. 

This was stupid. He was stupid. You were just someone he liked. There was no reason for him to be so on edge. This wasn’t even a real date, you were just meeting up for coffee. 

Exhaling slowly through his nostrils, he brought the razor to his face once again, this time successfully removing the hair he missed. He finished up with moisturizer, giving one last menacing look at the angry red zit above his upper lip and recognized that it was a lost cause. There was nothing he could do about it now. 

He reached for the bottle of spiced oil he usually wore and then thought better of it. This was a special occasion. He had a small sample bottle of designer cologne tucked away in the back of his sock drawer. Normally he wasn’t the type to reach for expensive brand names, but he was nineteen at the time and he liked the way it smelled, so he shoplifted it from an outlet mall that wasn’t smart enough to keep their shit in locked displays.  

Noah smiled bitterly at the memory. He’d done a lot of stupid shit in his youth. He supposed he was still in his youth, because hardly four months had passed since his last petty crime—the one that had led him to meet you. 

He understood why he did it all. But lately the desire to act out wasn’t there, and he didn’t know why. 

Perhaps these days, there was a greater incentive to earn his joy. He no longer needed to steal it. 

Dabbing a small amount of the cologne on his pulse points, he stuffed it back in the drawer and shut it away. He could reflect on his shifting morality later. Right now, he needed to figure out what he was going to wear. 

________

Noah exhaled into his palms, warm breath serving to heat up the red, frozen extremities. It was a short walk to your dorm, but the air was bitingly cold and the snow was already ankle-deep. The storm was due to hit sometime within the next 24 hours, but he still had some time before the sidewalks grew too treacherous to walk. He wore the nicest outerwear he owned—a black pea coat and pair of black leather boots, but they were no match for the harsh December cold. 

He raised his hand and rapped three times on your dorm. 

He heard momentary shuffling on the other side before you opened the door in a flurry. The first thing he noticed was the light dusting of pink across your cheeks and the way your chest heaved with labored breathing. Try as he did to keep his eyes focused on your face, he let them drop for only a moment to take in the sight of you in your plain white top and faded denim jeans. 

You looked clean, comfortable, and unassuming, and for some unknown reason, it did things to Noah. 

“Hi,” you breathed and all at once, the moisture in Noah’s mouth evaporated, leaving a dry, scaly desert in its place. One hundred percent of his brain power was devoted to taking in the sight of you until it was satisfied that it had catalogued every inch of your presence. 

“Hi,” he said once his speech returned. His voice came out softer than intended. 

“You ready?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the back of the door. He tried to peek inside your dorm room—wanted badly to glean any additional knowledge of who you were when you weren’t with him, but you didn’t afford him the chance, stepping out and shutting the door behind you in one swift motion. 

“Yeah,” he replied, and then he didn’t say anything else because he’d apparently never had a single conversation in his life and had no idea how to begin one. 

You and Noah walked in silence, boots leaving two pairs of footprints in the snow. You wrapped your arms around you as you walked, and Noah noticed you wore mittens instead of gloves. He liked it. He liked that you wore mittens instead of gloves and it stuck out to him because he couldn’t remember ever liking any article of clothing worn by a woman that wasn’t about what wasn’t covered.

You observed the surroundings while Noah observed you, every once in a while commenting on a specific tree or building you liked, pointing to it with a mittened hand and Noah briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much time he could observe you being yourself before he got bored. He hoped he’d never reach it.  

“What’s up with you today?” you asked as the two of you rounded the corner that led to the coffee shop. “You’re quiet.” 

“Sorry,” he said casually. “Would you like me to talk more?” 

It wasn’t sarcastic, but a genuine question, asked in the way a server would if they found out their customer didn’t enjoy the meal. Did you want him to bring something more appetizing to the table? 

“No,” you said, looking down at your boots. “I just…want to know what’s on your mind.” 

The only thing on his mind was how physically aware of you he was. To ease the tension that had been pulling on his bones, he took a step closer to you. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch you in some way—grab your hand or throw his arm around you or something—but he refrained.  “Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Just vibing.” 

You rolled your eyes, sighing as the two of you reached the entrance to the coffee shop and you pulled on the large brass door handle, gesturing for him to enter first. “Well, I take back what I said earlier then,” you said. “I do want you to talk more. I’m doing all the heavy lifting.” 

Noah smiled, tickled by how unapologetically honest you were. He liked this version of you. Not that he didn’t like every version of you he’s had the privilege of knowing, but something was different. You were less eager to please him. Almost like you wielded the sharper parts of your personality as a weapon, testing to see if its sting would scare him away. 

It wouldn’t. 

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” he asked as the two of you made your way to the counter. 

“Just jumping right in, then? No warmup?” you asked. Noah shrugged. “Grande cinnamon vanilla latte, please.” you said to the barista. 

“Medium black coffee,” said Noah. 

Noah was reminded of the first time the two of you went to this café together. You were wearing the same rubber boots and Noah was doing his best to flirt with you. He smiled to himself and pulled out his card to pay. You let him without protesting. Good. You knew you deserved it. 

“I’m not sure anymore, to be honest,” you said as the two of you slid over to the pickup window. “I used to think I would work at the church my dad owned. Be office personnel or something.” 

“That doesn’t seem like you,” Noah observed. 

You shrugged. “It was the obvious choice at the time. My parents both believe I belong in the ministry in some regard.” 

“Would you be a pastor one day?” Noah asked.

You let out a loud, bitter laugh. “I don’t think our church would ever be ready for female leadership. It’s so old-school.”

Noah frowned. He didn’t like hearing that. In his opinion, you’d make a much better pastor than any other religious person he’s met. You actually practiced what you preached. 

“So what do you think you’ll do instead?” he asked, trying to shift the subject away from religion. He got the feeling that those wounds were still fresh for you. 

You shrugged. “To be honest, I haven’t put much thought into it. I know I should, but so much has changed in the last few weeks—I’m still kind of wrapping my head around it.” 

“I get it,” he said, reaching to pick up the drink orders that had arrived. You led the way over to a small two-person table in corner of the otherwise empty café. Noah followed dutifully, trying his best to express with every single movement how completely present he was here with you. He was sure you didn’t notice, but that wasn’t the point. For him, it was about the intention. 

“You do?” you asked, sitting down. Noah sat across from you and indulged in a moment of unapologetic eye contact. 

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “I mean, not that I’m experiencing it or anything, but I know that when it comes to big decisions like that, I need a clear head. If there’s too much stuff going on in my life at one time, I don’t have the headspace to think about it.” 

Some of the tension in your shoulders slackened—not by much, but he was so hyper-aware of you by that point that he couldn’t miss it. He wanted to think it was because of him. 

Rather than responding, you sipped at your latte, closing your eyes and savoring it. He took another indulgent moment—this time, to observe how your face responded to the small moment of pleasure. It was almost sexual, he noticed, the way you tucked your lips between your teeth and smiled. He appreciated that this moment was clearly for you, but that you allowed him to witness it. 

His mind drifted, picturing himself drawing that same response from you with his touch. A hot coil tugged just behind his navel. Saliva pooled on his tongue and his thumb twitched with the urge to reach out and tug your bottom lip away from where it sat tucked under your teeth—until he caught himself. Lusting after you felt forbidden in a way he hadn’t allowed lust to feel since middle school. 

Noah sipped at his coffee, eyes trained on you until you were finished squeezing all the serotonin out of the taste. It was bitter, but in a good way—like he needed a palate cleanser to shock his system after the sickening sweetness of the last few moments. 

“What about you?” you asked eventually. “Are you planning to stay at your job?” 

“No,” he said. “The job is there to pay the bills while I try to find something else.” 

It had become apparent that he’d have to find something else sooner rather than later. As much as the piece work gave him time to think, all of the repetitive motion was taking its toll on his body. He came home at the end of every shift with back pain on his left side and he’d been having to spend more and more time in the gym evening it out. 

“What would something else be?” you asked, eyes trained on him and his neck grew warm under the intense observation. 

“I want my music to take off, if possible,” he said. “I’ve been working on a lot of new stuff. Actually, I’d love to show you sometime if you want.” 

“What kind of stuff?” you asked before taking another slow sip. 

“Different from what I usually write. More experimental. I like it, but I haven’t shown the band, so I’m not sure what they’ll think.” 

You nodded slowly, mulling something over in your head and Noah waited patiently while you found your words. 

“I think…,” you began. “I think I’d be okay with hearing it. If you wanted to share, that is.” 

Noah blinked a few times. “I mean, yeah. I’d love to share it with you, but why the hesitation?” 

You smiled bashfully, full lips still wrapped around the edge of your cup. “It’s hard to explain. And it sounds mean.” 

“Please humor me,” said Noah in earnest. He liked when you were mean. You deserved to be mean. He had a sneaking suspicion that you’d only ever been overly nice in the past and the more you dropped the façade and stopped worrying about being polite, the more he enjoyed your company. 

You licked your lips, staring down into your mug and smiled to yourself again. “I’m trying to be careful with how much attention I’m giving to men these days.” 

“Oh.” The word escaped in a breath from Noah’s parted lips. His eyebrows lifted up towards his hairline and he had to take a minute to digest this bit of information. 

Something that felt a lot like jealousy flared up in his stomach and he had to examine it. He didn’t like it, whatever it was. It felt hot, slimy, and thick, and it sat just below his ribs. 

“Other men too?” He couldn’t help but ask for clarification. Perhaps he was showing his cards by bringing it up, but he didn’t care. 

The way the corner of your mouth lifted in response to his question let him know that you caught on to the implications of his question. “If there were other men, yes.” 

“So there are no other men,” he stated, feeling a flicker of hope rise up in his chest. 

“They’ve all gone home for Christmas break.” The teasing smile never left your lips as you said it. 

Fine. You could play your cards close to the chest if you wanted. He was fine with that. Whatever. 

He liked it though. Underneath the frustration, he liked this version of you: empowered, a little bitchy, tongue like a whip, lashing him in penance for his sins. The sick, masochistic side of him wanted more. Needed more. [4] 

He took a deep breath to help him refocus. “So why the newfound caution? Not that I’m against it, it’s probably a good idea. But why?” 

You raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking if he really wanted to get into it, and he did, so he held your gaze until you decided to grace him with the truth. 

“I think I’ve given men a lot of unearned attention. It’s come back to bite me many times over. I’m trying to learn my lesson this time.” 

Noah nodded. He knew he was one of the reasons. He was prepared to hear that. But then… 

“What other times have you done that?” 

You tilted your chin down, narrowing your eyes in skepticism. “You mean aside from you?” you asked. 

He couldn’t help but smile, appreciating how resistant he was growing to the sting of your candor. You weren’t afraid to let him know just how much he’d messed up. 

He nodded. 

Your eyes flicked up to the ceiling while you thought. You sucked on your teeth while your gaze drifted across the room, picturing invisible figures from your past and the moments they’ve wronged you. 

“My dad, for one.” 

He was hoping you’d say that one. 

“How?” Noah scooted forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table between the two of you. Part of him was eager to know how his fuckup had fared in comparison to other men in your life.

“Even just listening to him preach every single Sunday. Sometimes the sermons would be worthwhile, but a lot of them were just him spouting his opinions on how people should behave. I don’t like that he has the platform he has. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

Your face had morphed into a scowl as you talked. Noah could see the resentment you held for your father and he wished there was something he could do—some word of comfort he could offer, but he knew it wasn’t his place, considering. 

“Isaac, too,” you said, and Noah rejoiced internally. He’d been hoping you’d say that even more.

“What did he do?” Noah asked, training his face and voice to appear calm and unbiased. 

“Oh my god,” you said, setting your cup down in front of you and clasping your hands together with a newfound focus. “I forgot you don’t even know!” 

“Know what?” 

“Isaac donated the proceeds of the showcase to a pro-life organization.” 

Noah had to force himself to swallow the sip of coffee he’d just taken. “What?!” 

You launched into the story, telling him all about how you’d been lured into participating because he’d said he wanted to donate the proceeds to charity, and how he’d been respectful the entire time, despite knowing how you felt about the subject. How he didn’t tell you about it beforehand because he knew you’d protest, so he went and did it behind your back, and how you didn’t find out until right before you were supposed to go on stage and sing. 

“Which I rocked, by the way, and you totally should have been there to see it,” you said, crossing your arm and fixing him with a scowl. 

“Something came up. I’ll have to make it up to you somehow,” he said. He didn’t have the heart to tell you he’d gone, but was too much of a coward to go inside the sanctuary. 

“Yeah, I know. That Something apparently lives in my dorm and had a lot to say.” 

Noah’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?” 

Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Within the span of a second, you were back to being closed off from him, arms folded across your chest and chin jutting out while you stared out the window. He probably deserved that. 

“I forget her name. Madison or whatever,” you said. 

Internally, his body hissed at him. He forgot he’d been trying to use Madison as a distraction. He hated that he’d done it, but at the time it felt necessary. He wasn’t sure how he could explain that to you, though. 

“So yeah,” you said. “I’m done with men for a while,” you said, still staring out the window and bouncing the leg that was crossed over the other. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry,” he said. “I should have been there. It was…not my best hour.” 

He could tell you wanted more of an explanation, but weren’t about to beg for one. He’d tell you what really happened eventually…just not yet. 

 “What can I do to earn your favor?” he asked. 

“Be worth my time.” You said it without missing a beat and Noah had to hold back a snort. He was not expecting such a no-holds-barred answer from you and it hit him like a bucket of…not exactly ice water, but something warmer. Kinder. You were giving him the information he needed, unafraid of whether or not it would hurt his feelings. God, there was something about that he couldn’t get enough of. 

“Noted,” he said. “Still, I can’t believe Isaac did that.” 

“Yeah, well…,” you trailed off, mouth still pulled down into a frown. A few beats passed where neither of you said anything, and in the silence, Noah realized what he had to do.

He drained the rest of his coffee, then stood up and collected his things. 

“I should get you home then,” he said. 

Your face morphed into one of surprise. “What?” Noah wished he could take a photo of how you looked right then. Lips parted in bewilderment. Eyebrows pulled together in confusion. It was cute. 

“Your time is precious,” he said. “I don’t want to take up more than I’m worth.” 

“That’s not…are you serious?” you asked, turning to face him. He was already setting his empty mug in the dirty dish bin at the end of the counter. He turned back to face you and nodded to the door, gesturing for you to follow. 

You dumped the remainder of your latte into your mouth and stood, shoving your arms into your coat and hurrying to catch up. “What’s the rush?” you asked. 

“Trying to respect your time,” he said, smiling to himself as you struggled to match his pace. 

“Noah,” you said firmly, grabbing his arm and turning him around to face you. You didn’t say anything else but studied him with your jaw set firm. 

He stared back, face calm, but unyielding. The wind picked up, blowing a few strands of hair across your face. The skin at the back of his neck stood on end in the cold. His nose began to run, and he sniffed it back. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked. In the back of his mind, he registered your hand still wrapped around his arm. 

“I just got back into your good graces,” he admitted. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”  “Overstay? Noah, we’ve only been hanging out for an hour.” 

“I know,” he said, resisting the urge to pull you in closer. “It was an hour I wasn’t sure I’d get.  I’m grateful for that.” 

“Okay,” you said, looking off to the side when the eye contact grew too intense. “So, what’s the problem?” 

Noah searched for the right words, trying to describe what until now had only been a vague emotion that hadn’t quite surfaced. 

“The problem is that I will always want more than I’ve earned,” he said, softly, like he was only just now admitting this to himself. “An hour is already more than I deserve. Any more, and I’d get spoiled. But I would love the opportunity to earn your company again soon.” 

You processed what he said for a few beats and then rolled your eyes, lips stretching into a begrudging smile and if Noah had the ability to freeze time, he’d use it right then and there to study every inch of your face. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” you said, sighing and hooking your arm through his. You allowed him to walk you back to your dorm. 

“Maybe,” he said, enjoying the pressure of your elbow against his. “Hopefully a harmless one.” 

“Is this love bombing?” you asked, short legs still struggling to keep up with his long ones. “Are you love bombing me?” 

“I hope not,” he said. “That would be really fucked up if that were the case.” 

“It would make you a terrible person,” you agreed. “You better not be love bombing me.” 

“I’ll watch out for that,” he said, smiling to himself. “What counts as love bombing in your book?” 

You grinned, as if this was a special interest of yours and you’d been waiting for someone to ask you that exact question. 

“Showering me with compliments, for one,” you began. 

“Noted. You look terrible today.” 

“Ha!” you said, nearly skipping with energy and warmth bloomed in Noah’s body at the thought he’d made you happy. 

“To be honest, I don’t exactly know,” you said. “I think people who love bomb have this skill about them–where they can pay close attention to a person, pick up on what they want or need, and then give it to them. But it doesn’t come from a good place, and they can’t sustain that energy. They do it until they get what they want, and then they leave.” 

Noah’s stomach twisted, the warmth that had previously inhabited it sucked away in a vacuum, leaving only tightness. 

He’d done that before. Many times. Fuck. 

As the two of you walked back to your dorm, Noah’s conscious weighed heavy on him. You continued talking about red flags, but Noah’s ability to actively listen was compromised with the weight of his guilt. 

He had a habit of justifying his past actions to himself–if women were naive enough to fall for simple flattery, they deserved it, he told himself. 

His stomach rocked again and he felt like he was going to be sick. 

He couldn’t change his past. He was well-aware he’d done things he wasn’t proud of, but he could change how he was going to act moving forward. 

This time, he was determined to get it right. 

“I guess this is where I leave you,” he said, unhooking his arm from yours. 

You stared at the door longingly, and Noah hoped that meant that you weren’t ready to leave. 

“You want to do this again sometime?” you asked, turning to him. 

Noah nodded, swallowing the sinking feeling in his chest for now. He could process everything when he got back to his apartment. “This or whatever else. Whatever works best for you.” 

“It can’t all be about me, you know,” you said. Your hand rested on the door knob, keys dangling uselessly from your fingers. 

“I know,” he said.  

Your face grew serious as you studied Noah, looking like you were still trying to figure out if he was for real. 

“Why are you doing all this?” you asked. 

Noah didn’t have an answer at the ready for you, so he simply shrugged. “Feel like it.” 

You continued to regard him. He couldn’t help when his eyes dropped to your lips—full and flushed with pink from the cold. He had a feeling he was letting his cards show, but he didn’t have much incentive to keep them hidden from you anyway. 

He brought his eyes back up to meet yours and caught the second your eyes flicked back up from his own lips. When you realized you were caught, you averted your gaze to your shoes. Noah did the same. 

“I, uh. I should get going,” he said, reaching to rub at a spot on the back of his neck. 

“Yeah,” you said, side-stepping away to break some of the tension that had been building for the last thirty seconds. You fiddled with your keys, finding the right one and using it to unlock your door, but made no move to enter. 

This was the hardest part. He didn’t want to leave. From what he could pick up, you didn’t want him to. But it was important that he did. He knew it. He wasn’t going to fuck this up by being impatient again. 

Just when he was about to say his final goodbye, you beat him to it. 

“See ya,” you said. And then in one swift motion, you grabbed the lapel of his coat, pulled him down, stood up on your toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

Before he even registered what had happened, you’d unlocked your door and disappeared behind it. 

It took all of Noah’s willpower not to follow you.  _______ All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[akaridream]

all the right buttons (college AU Goku & Vegeta x reader)

have y'all seen the figure from FuzzFeet Studios featuring our favorite boys gaming on the couch in the sluttiest little shorts? lemme say, i was feeling thirsty after I saw it for the first time. thus, this fic was born.

vegeta and goku both will get a part 2, choose your own adventure style (coming very soon!)

As you padded down the hall of Bulma’s apartment building, muffled male voices arguing rang through the walls. Your favorite chemistry study buddy had warned that her two roommates would be home while you did homework together, but you hoped the voices were from a neighboring unit. Your hopes were dashed when you stood in front of Bulma’s door and knocked, the voices now quite clear in the hallway.

“Hey! Pipe down you two! My friend is here and we need to get some work done!” Bulma’s voice interrupted. The door swung open with a whoosh, revealing the blue-haired bombshell. She rolled her eyes and shuffled you inside.

“Sorry about the boys, Goku found his old game system and they’ve been at it for a while,” she explained as you kicked off your shoes and dropped your backpack by the kitchenette table. “I was hoping they’d be wrapping it up by now but-”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” you said with a dismissive wave. “I grew up with two brothers, so they won’t bother me!"

Beyond the kitchen sat the infamous roommates, backs turned on the couch, facing a comically small CRT television in front of Bulma’s fancy flat screen. The tiny TV sat precariously on a mini fridge, and on the floor was the little gray console, one which you hadn’t seen in at least a decade. The chiptune soundtrack was nostalgic and familiar.

“Is that Tenkaichi Tournament 5?” you asked.

“Yeah!” came the chipper voice from the guy on the left, though his focus remained on the game. His black hair splayed in all directions and his blue tank barely covered his built shoulders.

Oh shit. These boys are fit, you thought.

The guy in blue’s arms were bulky and strong, intimidatingly so. And the blond guy was just as fine with a cut-up yellow racerback showing off the hard work he had put into his lats. With their backs turned, you shamelessly admired what you could see of them, salivating at the sight of their carved muscles.

Bulma elbowed you and lifted a brow, tilting her head in the direction of the guys. Your eyes grew large and you fanned your face, mouthing “Oh my god” to her. She grinned and nodded.

“This is my friend from chemistry I was telling you about!” Bulma yelled over the TV, hands on her hips.

The guy in blue paused their game and turned around, draping his arm over the back of the worn couch.

“Hi!” he said in a sweet voice, eyes bright and friendly behind a pair of black frames.

The blond gave him a dirty look for pausing the game. “Hello,” he offered over his shoulder.

“I’m Goku! Nice to meet you!” he said with a wave. “This is Vegeta. Sorry, he’s a little sour because he’s lost three rounds in a row!”

The blond scoffed. “I am not sour! You just keep spamming your super move and it’s fucking annoying!”

“Have you tried countering him with a block?” you asked. That got the blond’s full attention and he turned around to you with an incredulous expression.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

With a look at both of their faces, you weren’t sure who was more handsome. Goku had boyish good looks and a natural charm, complimented by his endearingly wild hair. Vegeta resembled a model with smoldering eyes and immaculately styled hair sweeping upward. It was like comparing a golden retriever and a wolf: both were beautiful in their own ways. Had you known her roommates were perfect 10s, you would have opted for an outfit more put-together than your cotton booty shorts and oversized tee…

You swallowed, suddenly nervous under the gaze of two gorgeous men. “Um, if you hold down or back when he tries to hit you with a super move, you’ll block half the damage. But you have to get the timing just right,” you explained.

Vegeta pouted his lips and turned to Goku. “You didn’t tell me that, Kakarot!”

Goku laughed and shrugged. “I thought you knew how to block!”

“So you’ve been winning because you haven’t told me all the rules! New match, come on!” Vegeta shouted.

“It’s not really a rule,” Goku murmured with a glance to you and a smile. You smirked back as he turned towards their game once again.

“Try to keep it at a reasonable level guys, please. We have an exam next week and I am not letting my A slip to an A-minus because of this stupid game!” Bulma warned and led you to the round table in the kitchen. You extracted your laptop and a notebook from your backpack and opened up to your most recent homework.

From your seat in the kitchen, you could see directly between the pair of gentlemen, straight to the tiny TV. You couldn’t help but watch as Vegeta’s character desperately tried to master the block timing, barely eeking out a victory.

“HA!” Vegeta celebrated. “In your face! See, all I needed was to actually know all there is to the game to beat you!”

“Oh whatever Vegeta! Bet you can’t do it twice in a row!”

Bulma tapped a manicured finger on your laptop. “Um helloooo? Are you with me?” she asked.

You blushed and turned in your chair towards her. “Yes, I’m sorry! My brothers and I used to play that game together all the time, it’s been a while since I last saw it.”

She smiled at you knowingly. “Or are you just enjoying the eye candy?”

You sucked on your lips and shrugged. “Well… I’m not not enjoying it.”

The two of you snickered quietly at the table.

“I’ve heard that ladies find them attractive, but I’ve known them both since we were little kids. I just can’t see them that way, you know?” she said.

You nodded and glanced over at them, making sure they weren’t listening in. “So you’ve never dated either of them?”

“Goku, never. There was a very brief time in middle school where Vegeta and I went out but it just got weird and… Ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it. But that was ages ago. And both of them are single now,” she offered, brow raised.

You tapped your pencil to your lips. “Hm. Good to know…”

Despite the looming chemistry exam, between the noisy video game and the attractive boys playing it, your focus was gone. As the evening glow began to darken, every few minutes you glanced over between the muscular shoulders on display to see who was in the lead. They were quite evenly matched, trading wins without any notable streaks for either.

After having to steal your attention back several times, Bulma snapped her laptop shut and shook her head.

“We aren’t getting anything done tonight, are we?” she asked.

You turned fully towards her. “Geez, I’m sorry Bulma. I know you wanted to have this assignment finished up but-”

She chuckled and waved her hand. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Like I said, we both have solid A’s and the exam isn’t ‘til next week. We’ve got plenty of time. Go see if they’ll let you play a round!”

“You really don’t mind?” you asked, glancing over the back of the couch once more.

“No, we’ll finish up later. Go have some fun!” she insisted.

You grinned and stuffed your belongings back into your backpack and set it by the front door. “Thanks!”

Just as you approached the living area, Goku rose from the couch and stretched, his skimpy tank top rising to show his midriff. It was just as toned and hard as his arms. The tiny gray shorts he wore left little to the imagination, in both the bulk of his thighs and the size of his package. Oh Christ, you though. The room suddenly felt intensely hot.

“Done already?” you asked, trying not to drool.

Goku smiled. “Nah, I’m just taking a quick water break. You want anything?” he asked.

“Not to drink, but I wouldn’t mind going a round or two at Tenkaichi,” you said.

“Sure!” Goku said. He walked around the couch and handed you the controller on the way to the kitchen. “Kick his ass!”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and looked at you over his shoulder. “Hm. Bring it on.”

As you walked around and plopped on the couch next to Vegeta, you got a better look at him. Significantly smaller in stature than Goku but just as built, he sat at the edge of the cushion with his elbows on his knees. You chuckled internally, recognizing it as the ‘serious’ pose your oldest brother took when playing video games. His gym shorts fit too small, his muscular legs pulling the fabric tight in places. The cut-off tank he wore displayed his fine musculature in a way that made your heart stutter.

Fuck’s sake, he is unbelievably hot, you thought.

Finally tearing your hungry gaze away, you selected the only female character in the game, earning a sideways smirk from your opponent.

“No way you’ll win with her,” he boasted as the game loaded.

“We’ll see,” you contested.

You took a few moments to refamiliarize yourself with the controls, but held your own against Vegeta. He had quickly mastered the block, but the timing came back to you like an old friend. The match was close the entire time until Vegeta managed to pull off a super move while you were in the air, catching you off guard. He smiled.

“A valiant effort,” he offered. “Best two out of three?”

“Of course!”

You fought again, but this time, you managed to recall a hidden combo you had memorized way back in the day. It took your opponent by complete surprise, depleting his health significantly before you moved in to finish the job for an easy win.

“What the hell was that?” he barked.

You grew shy and shrunk into the couch. “Just some muscle memory coming back to me. I’m guessing Goku didn’t tell you about hidden moves either, then?”

Vegeta turned towards you wearing a curious expression.

“Of course he didn’t. There are hidden moves?”

You pulled out your phone and furiously typed away. “Yeah! Each character has a combo that isn’t listed in the actual game anywhere, but they’re the strongest moves there are. My brothers and I used to play this all the time back in the day, but I only know Chacha’s combo. I’m looking up the combo for Prince Monkey so you can try it.”

He eyed you up and down as you searched, admiring the fact that you needed no makeup to look cute. Your features were soft and feminine, your smile lighting up your entire face. His cheeks grew warm when you scooted closer to him on the couch, showing him your phone.

“Here’s the button input. Give it a try!” you encouraged, leaning forward into your own ‘serious’ gaming pose, knee touching his.

He did as you suggested, but struggled with the combo at first. You eased back in the fight, allowing him time to figure it out before he finally blasted you away, winning the match by a hair.

“Nice! You did it!” you praised.

“It’ll be interesting to use that move against Kakarot,” he mused with a smirk.

“Kakarot? I thought his name was Goku,” you said.

“Kakarot is my first name, but I always go by my middle name,” Goku explained as he returned. “He just calls me that because he’s an ass.”

Goku held a dripping bottle of water against the back of Vegeta’s neck, making him recoil and snatch the bottle away.

“So who won?” Goku asked, taking a seat on your left and sandwiching you between two chiseled thighs.

“That would be Prince Monkey,” you admitted. “I took one round though.”

“You held your own well against me,” Vegeta said, giving a tiny hint of a smile. “It was an admirable effort.”

You nodded in appreciation and handed the controller back to Goku, but he waved you off and took a swig of water from his bottle.

“Keep playing as long as you want!” he said.

And so you did, managing to beat Vegeta in the next round thanks to your mastery over the hidden combo. Goku was flabbergasted when he saw the wildly powerful moves for the first time.

“Whoa! What the heck are those?”

"Hidden combos. You’ll have to figure it out on your own, Kakarot!” Vegeta sneered, his knee bumping into yours, then his elbow.

“Hey!” you chuckled, elbowing him back. “Quit trying to throw me off!”

“What are you talking about?” Vegeta rebutted. “I’m not doing anything!” He leaned against you and jostled your arm with his elbow.

“No fair!” you cried. You still managed to win the match, making Vegeta huff in annoyance.

Goku laughed. “Damn, she’s good!”

You shoved Vegeta playfully as he leaned for his bottle of water on the floor. You caught a glint of flirty eye contact as he did, making you want to kick your feet.

“That’s two to two,” Vegeta said. “One more to break the tie?”

“Absolutely. But I do want to change characters,” you said, inputting a code on the character select screen.

“King Monkey?” Goku asked after a new selection appeared.

“Wait, there’s another character?” Vegeta squawked. You nodded proudly.

“Yep. I know all the secrets to this game! Let’s see who will come out on top now!”

King Monkey, a larger and stronger version of his son, quickly dominated with a combo that devastated Vegeta. Despite his best efforts, he struggled to damage you, letting you come out on top without much trouble. Vegeta tossed his head and leaned back on the couch with an irritated grumble.

“Oh man!” Goku said. “That was really one-sided!”

You shrugged and laughed. “Well, King Monkey is a boss character so he’s not exactly fair. But I had to get him back for fighting dirty!”

“Tch, whatever,” Vegeta pouted, handing his controller off to Goku. “I have to get going anyway.”

You frowned and watched him get off the couch and head towards his bedroom down the hall. “Aw, bummer. Where you off to?”

“Astronomy lab,” he said over his shoulder.

Bulma called from the kitchen. “Oh, that’s finally happening?”

“Yes, finally,” Vegeta yelled down the hall, then reappeared with his backpack. “First clear evening in weeks. Cloud cover has been a pain in the ass all semester.”

“Sounds super interesting,” you said. “Well, it was really nice meeting you Vegeta!”

He gave a small smile and wave as he headed out the door. “Yeah. Been fun. See you around.”

“See ya, Jeeta!” Goku called from the couch.

As the door shut behind him, you blushed at the sweet, barely-there smile that had formed on his lips as he said goodbye. Intrigued by his stony, competitive personality, you wondered how Bulma would feel about you asking for his number…

“So he’s an astronomy major?” you asked. Bulma padded over and sat on the arm of the couch.

“Astrophysics, actually,” she explained.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. Didn’t take him for such an academic.”

Bulma snorted. “I know, right? Seems like more of a meathead like Goku.”

Expecting a retort for the insult, you turned towards him, but Goku was unperturbed.

“You gonna let her call you a meathead?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Well, I’m a kinesiology major, so I kind of am!”

You nodded. “Ah, I see. So you wanna be a physical therapist then?”

“I could do that,” he said, leaned his head from side to side. “But I also think running my own gym would be fun. Haven’t decided yet though.”

Quintessential himbo, you thought to yourself, smiling. Bulma’s roommates sure were interesting, to say the least. “Well, you certainly have the physique for it!”

“Thanks!” Goku said with pride. “Vegeta and I lift together all the time. Even though he’s really hard-working on his studies, he works just as hard in the gym. You should see all the other astro nerds, they’re like half his size! Well, in the muscle department at least.” Bulma laughed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of the pint-sized yet built Vegeta sitting in class with a bunch of pale, scrawny bookworms he could tear in half.

“So are you a chem major like Bulma?” Goku asked.

“Oh gosh, I could never do chemical engineering like her!” you said. “I’m just a regular chemistry major. She’s way smarter than me, plus I don’t really like math all that much.”

“Ugh, me neither!” Goku said, selecting Master Turtle as his character to fight you. “I barely scraped by the general math class, and that was all thanks to Bulma and Vegeta! I’d be stuck in there forever if it wasn’t for them!”

You fought round after round, not even noticing when Bulma slipped away to her bedroom. Conversation flowed easily with the amicable Goku. He had a way of making you feel comfortable even in the silence. He asked about your brothers, told you that he had an older brother but Vegeta was more like a brother to him. As you got to know each other, the twilight faded into darkness, the only light in the living room coming from the tiny TV.

“I need a break, my thumbs are killing me,” you said, rolling your wrists.

“Can I try out that hidden character you had earlier?” Goku asked.

You took his controller and punched in the secret code for him. As you handed it back, your fingers brushed his for an instant. You made brief eye contact, his handsome features illuminated by the TV. He couldn't help but smile at the dusting of blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Your long lashes framed your pretty eyes perfectly, he thought, and your bright smile made his stomach feel lighter than air. Neither of you had noticed that you had migrated towards the center of the couch, only separated by an inch between your thighs.

You watched Goku figure out the new character, following his expressive brown eyes dancing across the screen. You hoped he couldn’t tell how hard you were staring at him from the corner of your eye. He was too damn handsome to take your eyes off of for long. And his pecs looked like they’d make a perfect pillow…

As Goku fought against the computer-controlled Prince Monkey, a twinge of conflict made you bite your lip.

Shit, you thought. I have no idea which of these guys I like better! Surely you couldn’t ask Bulma for both of their numbers, that would just be greedy. But you had to get one of them. No way could you pass up the opportunity. They were far too fine.

As if she could sense your dilemma, Bulma emerged from her bedroom and came back into the living area.

“I cannot believe how long you have been playing that damn game, Goku,” she laughed.

He grinned. “I’m just glad my old TV still works! Wish we could hook it up to the big screen though.”

As he continued to play, you stood from the couch and motioned for Bulma to join you in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I have a question,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder to make sure Goku was distracted by the game.

Bulma got the hint and lowered her voice. “Sure.”

“How would you feel…” you hesitated. “If I wanted one of your roommate’s numbers?”

She grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I freaking knew it. Which one though?”

You crossed your arms. “That’s the problem. I can’t decide!”

Bulma put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Are you for real?”

You nodded and smooshed your cheeks in your hands. “They’re both so hot!”

Bulma thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Ooh! I have an idea! Let me ask them how they felt about you, try to get a feel for which of them vibed with you the best.”

“Oh gosh, are you sure?” you asked. “Don’t make it too obvious though.”

Bulma smirked. “Please. I know the art of subtlety, my dear. I’ve got you covered.”

You bounced with glee. “You’re the best!”

“I know!” Bulma said with a shrug and proud smile.

After your nightly shower and bedtime routine, you climbed into bed to see your phone lit up with a new message.

BULMA: soooo i talked to the boys about you

YOU: ahhh

YOU: i’m gonna puke

BULMA: one of them actually asked about you before i got the chance to ;)

YOU: omg fr shut up

BULMA: wanna guess which one???

Part 2: Goku

Part 2: Vegeta coming soon!

dbz masterlist

tags: @artof-aristocracy

[demonvibez]

The Book Club

Characters: Satan x F! Reader ( x Asmo ) Rating: Mature [Minors DNI] Word Count: 2.5k+ Tags: smut, public sex, unprotected sex, cock warming, exhibitionism/voyeurism, masturbation, oral sex, threesome, cum in mouth + vagina, female body parts, they/them pronouns for reader, mam and levi are briefly in the story but are not involved in this smut (sry loves) A/N: just an idea that popped into my head and took off! also! highly recommmend the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde. I haven't read it in forever so I'm gonna give it a reread, but you should check it out if you can. Anyways, pls enjoy ♡

It wasn't unusual for you and Satan to hang out in the House library and read together. Whether it was for educational purposes, or simply recreational, the two of you loved being in the library. So much so that, if his brothers needed to find one of you, they would often only need look in the there. Typically the two of you took to Satan's bedroom for your more intimate affairs, keeping your sexual adventures together private. This evening, however, you had something else in mind.

There you both sit on the plush purple couch, the fire roaring in front of you two. You sit perched in Satan's lap as he has one arm around your waist, the other hand holding his copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray for you to read aloud. A soft, fuzzy blanket is draped across the two of you, concealing the fact that Satan's throbbing cock is fully sheathed inside of your tight, wet pussy. The two of you wanted to relax while you read, and nothing is more relaxing to Satan than having his cock warmed by you while reading a nice book. Cuddling with you in his lap while your warmth squeezes around him, the fire crackling in the background with the gentle melody of your voice reading to him - Satan has never been to the Celestial Realm, but he'd be willing to argue that this is better. As you shift slightly in his lap to flip the page forward, Satan can't help but to let out a tiny groan, his cock twitching inside of you. You feel so good wrapped around him, it took every ounce of self restraint not to just throw the book down and fuck into you right now.

"Careful, kitten," he whispers in your ear, "if we get too heated, we may have to-" Just as Satan was finishing his sentence, the library doors burst open. In through the door Mammon comes rushing, already arguing with Leviathan and Asmodeus who are walking in behind him. Asmodeus is wearing an annoyed expression, clearly in disagreement with Mammon, while Leviathan seems barely interested and is playing his handheld console. You could feel Satan tense up beneath you - his lime green finger tips digging into your hip, his expression stoic and expressionless. You knew Satan well enough to know that this was the calm before the storm.

"Oi, human! I've been lookin' for ya! Settle this argument we're havin'," Mammon shouts as he approaches the two of you.

"Seriously, Mammon? You really think they're gonna approve of such a stupid scheme? You're such an idiot," says Asmodeus, rolling his eyes as he stands next to Mammon with a hand on his hip. Leviathan leans against one of the study tables, his eyes still focused on his game.

"Yeah, Mammon. They're not gonna tell you anything different from us," he says without looking up. Mammon has a betrayed look on his face, turning to plead his case to you. Before Mammon can even begin to explain, Satan interjects.

"Not even a single fucking word Mammon, the answer is no."

"LOL!"

"But ya didn't even-"

"I said no, Mammon. We don't want to fucking hear it. I've known you my entire life. I know the kinds of schemes you concoct, I know that you want to drag my human into it and ultimately leave them with the mess. I don't care what it is - the answer is NO." You could feel Satan's wrath building up from his side of the pact. The two of you were supposed to be having a nice, relaxing, intimate evening, and the last thing you wanted was for Satan to fly into a fit of rage. The situation needed to be diffused before it reached a flashing point, and there was no one better in all three realms to soothe the situation than you. You squeeze your walls around him, reminding him of the situation you are in. A small gasp escapes Satan's lips, a hint of surprise in his emerald green eyes. You move your hand to gently stroke his golden blonde hair, the wrath you felt building up starting to ease. Satan's eyes can't help but to flutter closed at all of the different sensations, and as you continue to stroke his hair, you turn to address Mammon and his other brothers.

"Hey! Whaddaya mean by your hum-"

"Mammon, sweetheart," you cut him off, "I know you probably think you have a good plan...but whatever it is, if this many people are telling you it's a bad idea, it probably is."

"But-"

"No buts. You know in the end you're just gonna get strung up from the ceiling again. Now, if you will excuse us, we were busy reading Oscar Wilde before the three of you interrupted," you said, turning your attention back to the book and ultimately trying to get your evening back on the rails. You feel Satan's cock twitch inside of you once again as you take the book from his hand, forcing you to bite your bottom lip.

"Tch, whatever. Who even cares, I've got tons of other ideas," Mammon says as he sulks his way out the library door. Leviathan pushes off the table, also making his exit as he simultaneously continues on with his current in-game mission. The only brother that still remains is Asmodeus. He remains stood across from the two of you, a hint of suspicion on his face as he watches you. Unbeknownst to you, he had been observing you both since he entered the room. The obvious lust lingering in the air upon his arrival, and again a few moments ago, had been enough to keep him curious about what you two are really up to. Folding his arms across his chest, Asmo is determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Reading...sure..." he says, an eyebrow raised, clearly implying that the two of you are hiding something.

"Clearly, we are reading. We're in the middle of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a novel you would probably do well to read. Now, I don't know what you think we're doing Asmo, but why don't yo-"

"You know exactly what I am implying, big brother," he remarks, a sinister smirk on his face. "Or have you forgotten I'm the Avatar of Lust?" At the mention of lust, Satan can feel you clench around him and hold on. His breathing hitches yet again, his heart racing right along with yours, at the prospect that Lust itself has caught you in the act. "Did you think you two could hide this from me? Such blatant lust right in front of me," he says in a lightly mocking tone. You look over to Satan to see his cheeks dusted with blush and his eyes avoiding the both of you. You can feel yourself dripping down his hard length in anticipation of what could possibly happen next - whatever it is, the haze of lust grows in your mind, and you're just hoping to get some relief. It's hard to even focus on what the two demons in the room are talking about when all you can think about is your growing desire to just start bouncing on Satan's cock. It's not like Asmo would care, right? So tempting...

Before you can even make a decision, Asmo steps forward and reaches down, pulling on the blanket covering the two of you. Satan tries holding on to it but Asmo uses all of his force to pull on it, ripping it away and exposing your little cock warming session.

"I fucking knew it," exclaims Asmodeus, clearly satisfied with the results of his query. He tosses the blanket down on the ground, then goes to sit in one of the reading chairs across from you, his eyes glowing pink and his sinister grin wide. "Oh, don't mind me. Our darling human clearly needs you more right now, dear brother~♡" As much as Satan wanted to protest, he'd have to punish his younger brother later. Neither of you have the resolve to hold back any longer, and if the Avatar of Lust insists on watching, then he better enjoy the damn show. You both knew waiting was apart of the fun of cock warming, but neither of you expected such an agonizing pleasure. You had been carefully rubbing your thighs together, trying to find a small bit of relief, while Satan quite literally bit his tongue to hold in the moans - that was, until, you two had been exposed. To hell with hiding; to hell with waiting. You place your arm on the back of the couch, pushing yourself up and sliding back down Satan's cock. Moans escape from both of your lips in unison, like music to Asmo's ears. He reaches down to undo his belt buckle, the sound of which causing Satan to open his eyes and shoot him an emerald death glare. You can't help but to let out a whine at Satan's lack of attention - you don't give a damn what Asmo is doing, you need Satan to fuck you into the couch, and you need him to do it now. Hearing you whine seemed to have done the trick, because the moment he looks at you and sees the desperate look in your eyes, he starts to thrust up into you.

"Finally," you sigh happily, relieved to finally be properly taking the cock you've been craving since he slid himself into you. As you bounce on Satan's lap, your eyes flutter closed, your hand clenching into the back of the couch as the other grips one of your breasts through your shirt. You open your eyes momentarily to see that Asmodeus has taken his cock out of his pants, and is now stroking it while watching the two of you over on the couch. 'Fuck,' you think to yourself, feeling yourself get even wetter at the sight. The pace of Satan's thrusts picks up as he reaches down in front of you to toy at your swollen clitoris, a jolt of pleasure being sent through your entire body at the moment of contact. 

"Fuck...yes kitten, just like that. So good for me," Satan praises as he continues to fuck you towards your first orgasm. As Asmodeus watches the Avatar of Wrath pound into your needy hole, he did his best to match the pace of his brother's thrusts with his own hand. He'd love to be the one passionately fucking you right now, but he'll settle for watching you as long as you get pleasure. Lust being his sin, he is feeding off the two of you right now. Even if you were ordinary he'd be soaking it in - but you're his darling human and he is simply obsessed with your pleasure. You have no idea how gorgeous you look to him right now - how amazing you look when you wear his sin on your face, the gorgeous way your voice reverberates off the walls when you moan. You truly are a work of art ~ ♡

The three of you moan in harmony as you continue to make your way towards the peak of your first orgasm. Satan continues to pump into you at an unwavering pace as he massages your sex, and you can feel yourself finally being pushed over the edge of your first orgasm. A warm tingle spreads over your entire body, your moans becoming erratic and your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Satan continues on, overstimulating you in the best of ways. You ride the high of your climax until you come down, Satan slowing the pace of his thrusts to allow you to catch your breath. 

A few moments later, you feel both of his hands clasp your hips, and suddenly he's bending you over the arm of the sofa. He begins driving his hips into you, hitting spots inside of you that no one else has before. He fucks into you at a steady pace, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips with each thrust, and in your mind's lustful haze you swear you can see fireworks. In the midst of it all, Asmodeus spots an opportunity for himself. With his own throbbing cock still in his hand, he stands up and makes his way over to your side of the couch. With his free hand, he cups your cheek, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb as he strokes himself.

"Darling, you look absolutely delectable. May I? Please~?" he asks as he puts the head of his cock near your mouth, looking down at you with pleading eyes. You nod and moan out a 'yes' before he slides himself into your mouth. A sigh of relief and an unrestrained moan fall from Asmo's lips as he feels your soft mouth around his hard shaft. The way Satan is pounding into you from behind creates enough momentum to fuck you onto Asmo's cock for him - all he has to do is watch, and he is simply entranced by you. He pushes your hair back out of your face, cupping the back of your head gently as he watches you. The way you're looking up at him as you suck his cock is enough to make him wanna bust alone, and that's without taking into consideration the way it feels when you moan against him. 

Satan starts to pick up the pace, feeling his own climax starting to come close. He reaches down to massage your clit once again, his thrusts starting to become harder and more erratic. Your muffled moans grow louder, as does your orgasm once again, as the three of you frantically fuck each other, trying to get each other off. Satan can feel your walls begin to tighten around him, your orgasm being the first to hit it's peak. 

"Fuck, yes kitten, cum all over my cock," he says as he pounds away at your increasingly tightening hole, his seed spilling into you after only a few more thrusts. As you moan all over Asmo's cock, he can't help but to thrust his hips into your face, his cum shooting down your throat as he gently moans your name. Asmo pulls out of you immediately after finishing, wiping your face with his thumb to clean up any stray. A few moments later, after catching his breath a little, Satan pulls out of you and quickly fixes his pants. He sits down on the couch and pulls you into his lap, not caring about anything leaking onto him. He wraps his arms around you and you both just sit together, continuing to catch your breaths. Asmodeus breaks the silence.

"I think I'll have to come to book club more often."  The three of you erupt into exhausted laughter. Book Club may have to become a regular occurrence - in a more private meeting room, of course. 

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[felixtrash469-blog]

Gen Narumi x F!Reader - Fakers

Gen Narumi x F!Reader (Y/N usage) 

5.5K words

Fluff, Smut, angst. 

Heading into the base proved to be nerve-wracking, more then initially thought. I stood looking towards it, head held high, proudly displaying my name badge and title;

‘(First name)(Last name) 

Fortitude researcher’

Hasegawa, vice Captain of the first division, stood at the entrance, awaiting my arrival. Hasegawa met me halfway between us before providing a formal greeting and welcome. Following him into the base, Hasegawa explained the layout of the building before providing me with the schedule of today's meeting. A small sigh escaped his lips when he spoke the name of the captain of the first division, offering an apology for what I might experience with him and asking me to not pass judgment on the rest of the team based off Captain Narumi, the first meeting scheduled.

Stopping in front of the two wooden doors, Hasegawa reached up and knocked rather harshly before calling out to the captain. When no answer was received, the look of irritation passed Hasegawa’s face and he pushed on the doors. The room was dark and smelled rather strong. Looking closer, there was wrappers and cans littered over the floor, Yamazon boxes created a wall between the view of the door and the presumed desk behind it. Off to the side was a messy bed and a couch filled with rubbish in front of a tv surrounded by consoles. Squinting my eyes to adjust to the dark room, I found a figure leaning against the boxes, hand-held console strewn to the side. The figure looked towards the door at the intrusion of light. I noticed his two-tone hair of black and silver creating a fringe just above his eyes. His eyes looked blood-shot, a range of reasons possible. 

“Hasegawa” The voice came out in more of a whine then a word. “Close the damn door, and while you’re here, lend me some money.” 

Hasegawa looked ready for murder. The man glared at man before walking over and picking up the man by his collar. 

“Is this the way you greet the new staff? I warned you (Last name) was arriving today. I sent you a text message, I woke you up. What more can I do? Have you even showered?” 

At the last comment, Hasegawa’s nose wrinkled at the, most likely, ripe smell that came from the man clad in gray sweatpants that had seen better days judging by the stains. 

“I don’t care for your work politics. I’ll meet them, when they prove themselves.”

With that, I leaned forward, giving a little wave of my hand and a false smile gracing my face. 

“Hasegawa, this seems to be a waste of your time and mine, shall we leave captain Narumi to wallow in the heap of sadness?”

Hasegawa dropped Narumi and made his way to me. He gave the captain one last look of disappointment, before shaking his head and closing the door. He started walking and I matched his strides. 

“Well, at least this base is interesting, much better then the sticklers from my previous division.”

Hasegawa hummed in agreeance at my comment about the 5th division. He came to a stop when we reached a staircase. 

“Up there is probably one of the best lunch spots in the whole base. It’s a rooftop with benches that overlook the ocean. The lunch room with bento boxes is around the corner. Head left and take a right at the second doorway. You have an hour left until your next meeting.I’ll meet you here at 10 minutes to.”

I watched a Hasegawa walked back down the hallway before following the directions to the lunch room. I reviewed the board of options for lunch. I had trouble deciding between two options. I settled on getting both and saving one for dinner.

I made my way up to the rooftop as directed by Hasegawa. The sun was harsh on my eyes when the door swung open. The salty wind from the ocean hit my nostrils, giving me a sense of peace. I stepped out and waited for my eyes to adjust to the natural light. Once they had adjusted, a range of smaller buildings leading towards the deep blue ocean greeted me. Sitting on the seat and opening my bento box, I watched as the waves lapped at the vibrant yellow sand. The bustle of Tokyo faded into the background as I ate. I thought over my father, the reason I moved to this division. I thought about how I had to see him while I still had the chance before his illness took hold of him.

Interrupting my thoughts, the door behind me opened with a loud bang as if someone had kicked it open. I swung my head around and was greeted with captain Narumi. He deeply frowned up at the sun and used a hand to shield his eyes from the barrage of rays being emitted his way. Narumi released a sigh before noticing my presence. He froze for a moment before making his way to me. He sat on the bench beside me, his deep breathing only just reaching my ears. It was both awkward to be here with him, not talking but it also still remained peaceful as we both peered at the view. 

The peace was broken by his stomach rumbling loudly. I looked over to him, the tips of his ears red in embarrassment.

“I apologise, I’m usually here alone and the smell of the bento box made me hungry.”

I looked down at my spare bento box before extending my hand in his direction, holding out lunch. 

“Take it, I couldn’t decide between the two and got a spare anyway.”

Narumi hesitated for a little before taking the box out of my hand, opening it and smelling deeply. I licked the saltiness of the wind off my lips before speaking again.

“Is there a reason you didn’t bring lunch if you were hungry?”

“I spent all my money on the limited edition figure that came out this month.”

“That’s why you asked Hasegawa to lend you money?”

“It’s only until next week when we get paid again!”

“Instead of borrowing it, how about I provide you a way to earn it?”

Narumi’s head snapped in my direction as he eyed me suspiciously.

“I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend every now and then. I’ll pay you well, we don’t have to do anything inappropriate and we won’t be working directly together. Look, my name badge says fortitude researcher. I work in the lab and find out the reason for the fluctuations in fortitude from the Kaiju. Just think about it, if you agree, I’ll give you more details. Swing by my office if you want to take me up on it.”

Narumi continued to stare at me, I assumed mulling over my proposition. I packed up my rubbish before waving a farewell and leaving him to his thoughts. 

I sat in my office in the lab, decompressing from all the meetings. I sunk a little more in my chair sighing. A small knock at my open door was the only thing that brought my eyes to open.

“I feel the same after meetings, they’re really bad, huh?”

The two-toned captain looked in my direction, gesturing to my posture. 

“I guess you could say that, what brings you to my office at this hour?”

The clock ticked beside his head, showing 9 pm.  

“I want to know more information.” Narumi shut the door and pulled out the seat across from me.

“First of all, everything that is said here is confidential. I don’t want other staff knowing about this. As for the role, I need you to come with me to visit my father and pretend to be my boyfriend. If he likes you, it will most likely be a weekly thing, if he doesn’t, it will be monthly. I’ll pay you $100 a night and I’ll make your lunch every day so that you don’t starve in the meanwhile. I’ll need you to act affectionately, possibly having your arm around me, holding my hand and in moments, kiss my forehead or cheek, all though those will be limited. If this is too much, please let me know now. Otherwise, do you have any questions?”

“Why do you need to hire someone to do this?”

“My father believes that I have a partner and he wants to meet him. I need to hire someone to act lovey-dovey with me.”

“Why don’t you just get a boyfriend?”

“My father is ill and doesn’t have the time for me to go out and fall in love.”

“Why did you choose me?”

“You seemed driven by money and not much else from my first impression, so I’m assuming you will keep this strictly business like I want to.”

“Why does your father think you have a partner?”

“That question is off limits.”

“One last one, when do we start?”

“Two days from now. Be ready at 5pm and meet out the front of my office. We’ll head to my father’s house from there.”

“I look forward to doing business with you.”

We shook hands before Narumi left. I sighed as I sunk back into my chair. Pulling out my phone, I messaged my father to let him know that my partner would be joining us for dinner. I hoped that all went smoothly before getting up to go to my dorm to cook lunch for both Narumi and I for the next day. 

The next two days were uneventful, filled with work, only seeing Narumi when handing him lunch. When 5 pm rolled around, Narumi was outside my door, dressed in a fresh pair of black skinny jeans and a tight fitting blue shirt. His hair was slicked up, the same way I had seen him on TV so many times. He smelled of spiced apple and the smallest hint of fresh mint when he greeted me. I was impressed with how well he cleaned up. I watched him giving me a once over, taking in my cream knitted shirt and faded jeans. 

“Are we going to your old mans house now?”

I nodded, closing my office door behind me and walking towards the exit of the base. We reached my father’s house, giving a soft knock. I braced myself, hearing his footsteps approaching the door, remembering the excitement he was buzzing with over text message. The door flung open and I was greeted with my father’s exhausted face. He looked worn down and exhausted, a clear sign of his illness besting him these days. He reached out to hug me, welcoming me in, before extending a hand to Narumi for him to shake. 

“Welcome to my home son, come in.”

Narumi stepped in after me, my father closing the door behind both of us. I led us down the hallway to the dinning room. I took a seat, Narumi mimicking my actions beside me and my father sitting across from both of us. Small talks of how everyone was exchanged, with my father frequently looking over at Narumi. 

“I think I might go get started on dinner, Gen, dad, are you two okay to get acquainted while I cook?”

I received a nod from both as I rounded the corner. I could hear the conversation start. 

“So son, what’s your name?”

“Gen Narumi, Gen is written with the Kanji for string and Narumi is made up of the characters Naru for ringing and Mi for ocean. Should I refer to you Mr (Last name)?”

“Please, (Dad’s first name) is fine. Say, are you the one I always see on TV with the Kaiju?”

“That would be me, yes.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect my daughter to be able to bag a big shot like you! Honestly, she rarely tells me anything about you. I would hear that she went out with her partner every now and again but when she stopped mentioning you a month ago, I just assumed you had broken up. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

“I’m sorry to shock you like that sir, I promise we’re still going as strong as we previously were.”

“So, after three years of avoiding me, I assume you’re here to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage?”

“Dad! Stop freaking him out. I told you he is always busy with work.”

I could hear my dad’s laughter echo throughout the house. Dad and Narumi continued a light-hearted conversation about work, hobbies and interests while we ate dinner. At the end of the night, my father hugged us both, asking Narumi to not be a stranger and arranging for us to meet up again next week. 

Narumi and I walked back to base in the brisk night. 

“Your dad is really nice.”

“Yeah, he’s always been really friendly but I think he’s extremely happy to finally meet a partner of mine.”

“He said three years, did you have a partner of two years that refused to meet him?”

“That depends, are you wanting to continue this arrangement?”

“I plan to continue, I already spent the $100 you gave me on Yamazon. I also think it’s good for your dad.”

“I appreciate that. I did have a partner, we were together for just over three years. He never met my dad once.”

“Why not?”

“He said he wasn’t ready to meet parents yet. Apparently it would make it too serious.”

“Too serious? After three years? What a jerk.”

“Says the arrogant man that didn’t want to know me until I was offering him money.”

Narumi laughed beside me as I nudged his side. The rest of the walk was filled with Narumi discussing his current game he was invested in. 

The following days were filled with my dad texting me about how much he liked Narumi and wished he met him sooner. I passed on the messages when I handed Narumi his lunch. We slowly got closer, having inside jokes based off what my dad said, spending a night gaming together over online platforms and eating on the rooftop together when the days were especially nice. 

The weeks came and went. Narumi grew closer to my father and I. The visits became more frequent but Narumi rejected me paying him more, offering a gaming night in exchange for spending time with my father. I could see their happiness grow with each visit together, my father would muster up all his energy just to spend time with Narumi. His smile would grow even more when we would show up with hands held together. He would pretend not to notice each time Narumi’s arm snaked its way around my waist when we all stood talking in the kitchen or the way he would kiss my forehead each time he took the dishes from the table to the sink. I knew my father would pretend not to notice but the way he’d glance in my direction after with a soft smile made me know that he approved. It gave warmth to my heart seeing the little twinkle in the corner of his eye. 

I tried to pay no mind to how the warmth would fade on the way home when Narumi would drop his hand from mine. I constantly reminded myself how this was just a business transaction. I would never again get involved with someone from any division, but especially not my current assigned one. I just needed to play happy couple for my father. I could grin and bear it all for my father.

On an unimportant Wednesday, I received a message from my father, asking me and Narumi to visit. I received confirmation from Narumi that he could attend after work. 

We arrived, hand in hand to my father’s place. When my father opened the door, I could see that today was a particularly bad day for him. We both greeted him before making our way to the dinning room. I went to sit down, when my father gave me a look that was almost pleading and nodded towards the kitchen. He wanted to speak to Narumi alone, it made me extremely nervous. Never-the-less, I announced I was going to the kitchen, receiving a small peck on the forehead from Narumi and making my way. 

When in the kitchen, I started preparing dinner, straining my ears in the meanwhile to try to get the gist of the conversation. I stopped when I heard my father talk about how he didn’t have much time left. It was too much to listen to, I instead focused on cutting the vegetables. 

Dinner was mostly filled by light-hearted conversation between Narumi and my father. Narumi did the dishes in the end before we went back to base together, wishing a farewell to my father. On the way back, Narumi didn’t release my hand this time. He held my hand tighter each time I tried to pull away. Finally looking up at him, I could see his eyes avoid mine. 

“Come game in my room tonight. I’ll get us both a day off tomorrow.” 

I felt my heart rate pick up. Game? In his room? No one else but the two of us? I couldn’t say anything, in fear that my voice would crack, instead opting for a nod to show my agreement. 

Reaching back to base, I quickly ducked to my room to shower, put on some more comfortable clothes and grabbing my console before making my way to Narumi’s room. I glanced at the doors before gently knocking with my free hand. Narumi opened the door, still in his jeans and shirt from the night, his hair still slicked back. Narumi stood to the side, welcoming me into the room. 

Instead of showering, Narumi had made a blanket fort for us on his couch, in front of the TV. He grabbed my free hand in his and lead me over to the couch, sitting us both down. I couldn’t help but notice the proximity between us. I felt my leg pressed against his, his arm behind my shoulders and resting on the couch. I could clearly smell the intoxicating scent of his spiced apple cologne. I could feel the tips of my ears heat up and held my breath to slow down my heart rate. 

“I know you brought your console, but I have two controllers, I thought maybe we could play a two player game?”

I nodded and placed my console on the ground. Narumi got up to get both controllers and I felt an almost longing at his warmth being removed. Narumi sat a little more away when he brought back the controllers, handing one my way. I spared a glance at him before flicking my eyes to the TV. Narumi pressed start on the game after I had curled up comfortably on the couch. Narumi continued to sit up, leaning forward when he was losing and the game got intense. I could see him shift his eyes on me for a moment when I was really invested in the game. 

“You remember how your old man spoke to me tonight?”

“Yeah, what was that about?”

“He told me a bit about his illness. He explained what it was and that the doctor’s suspect he might not have long left, as you already know.”

“Oh. I’m sorry he’s told you that. I know this is business for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. Anyway, he said that he could see that you really love me. He also said he really approves of our relationship.”

“Pfft, that old man, he doesn’t know what he’s seeing anymore.”

“Regardless of that, he gave me something.”

“Something?”

Narumi paused the game, pulling something out of his pocket. Now that I was looking at him, the awkwardness became apparent again. When I could finally see what was in his hand, I didn’t know what to say.

“He asked me not to leave you. He gave me the ring he gave your mum so that I could propose to you. It doesn’t feel right for me to hold on to this.”

Narumi reached the ring out to me. I slowly took the ring from his hands. I looked over it multiple times, admiring the shine of the ring in the TV light. Without realising, a tear rolled down my cheek at the look of the ring. I didn’t notice until I saw Narumi reaching over. His thumb wiped the tear off my cheek. I flushed, realising how he was leaning over me. One hand of his held his weight, while the other still rested on my cheek. His face was mere inches from mine and his body was so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him. I stopped moving, his eyes flickered to mine. I could see the small details of Narumi now. The red in his eyes was vibrant, the slim show of black hair that came through his silver undertone, the light dryness of his pink lips. My breath hitched. God how I wanted to kiss him. How I wanted to feel his body heat warming me as his hand caressed my face.

“You’re staring.”

I gulp slightly, now more aware of all the things I could feel. The ring burned in my hand as I thought about Narumi. I just kept staring at him, watching his eyes shift over me, hoping he couldn’t hear my heartbeat. 

As if in slow motion, Narumi dipped his head until his lips met mine. The kiss made the butterflies in my stomach go mad and my head feel dizzy. Narumi didn’t break the kiss, instead he attempted to open my mouth to let him in. I slowly parted my lips, letting Narumi explore. When he pulled away, his face was close enough for me to feel his breath fanning my face. His eyes searched mine for hesitation. When he found none, he sat up and pulled my arms with him so I sat up as well. 

He leaned more into me, connecting our lips again. Nothing else was there in the moment but the pure giddy I felt to finally be kissing the captain of the first division. Until it clicked. The captain. Of the first division. 

I pushed Narumi away abruptly. He gave me a look of confusion, not understanding what the difference between now and a moment ago was. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed it.” Narumi looked to the side, almost ashamed of himself.

“No, it’s not that I don't want to. Trust me, I really really want to. I just can’t. I promised myself i wouldn’t. 

Narumi refused to look my way. I took it as a sign that my time here has expired. I grabbed the ring and my console before leaving. I felt the sting of rejection and guilt. The guilt of feeling things only Narumi should be feeling. I cried myself to sleep that night, everything of the day being too overwhelming. 

For the next month, Narumi avoided me. He didn’t answer any texts, was only in the same room as me for meetings and refused to answer the door when it was knocked on. I had no official reason to see him, so I didn’t get to apolgise. My father seemed increasingly concerned each time I came over without Narumi and the excuse of ‘work is busy’. My father didn’t push me though.

Another month marched on in a similar fashion. Narumi had still avoided me. I went through many emotions, upset, angry (He is acting like such a child), longing, anything to get me through the period of losing someone that became almost like a best friend. Someone I had let my feelings grow for. 

I sat in my office, the day done with work, when there was a knock at my door. I shot up, thinking it was Narumi. Hasegawa’s head popped through the door. 

“Can I steal a moment?”

“I have to say, work finished an hour ago, but sure.”

“I’m here in a personal capacity.”

My eyebrow raised at his statement and I gestured towards the seat in front of me. I waited for Hasegawa to speak. 

“Truthfully, I don’t know what went on between you and Captain Narumi, I don’t care to know either. But what I do know, is that for the past two months, Captain has been moping all the time. He acts strange whenever you walk past or your name is mentioned. In the past month as well, he has had me start to obtain things from your personnel file. I am telling you this, because I don’t believe he is obtaining these for professional purposes.”

“What types of things do these files that he can access obtain?”

“Previous employment records, length of employment, capability testing and your HR files, such as if you have needed to use our resources, why you left your last division, etc.”

I could feel my heart sink at the last sentence. Why I left my last division. The nightmare of the fifth division has plagued me since I left. 

“Thank you for your consideration, Hasegawa.”

“In exchange, please assure you aren’t too harsh on him when you patch things over. If you patch things over. Goodnight.”

I sat in my office after Hasegawa left, thinking over the previous division. The memory of my previous partner flashed in my mind. I shook away the thought, remembering would only hurt me. 

A further week went on without any word from Narumi. He continued to avoid me. It hurt each time I saw him in the halls, returning from a Kaiju execution. His crimson eyes glimmered in full display when his bangs were up each time I saw him brag about how well he had done. His eyes would dull, if they landed on me, the hurt of rejection showing with the wounds to his pride from our night alone. 

On a Friday, he had returned from a mission, bragging loudly in the halls about how a girl ran up to him to give him her number. He glowered with his team. When his eyes met mine, a small lift of his lips ensued. A smirk graced his face and a small flick of his wrist, brought my attention to the paper in between his fingers. I left the hall, deciding against saying anything to him. 

In the shower that night, I grew my determination. I got dressed and made my way to Narumi’s room. I knocked on the door before immediately opening it. Narumi stood in the middle of the room, towel hung around his waist, hair slicked up and dripping, his chest bare for the world to see. I felt my determination waive, seeing Narumi half naked. We stood, both staring in shock at each other. I broke myself out of my trance, closing the door behind me and walking up to him. 

“Gen Narumi, I know I hurt your feelings but do you care to explain why you’re decided to avoid me for TWO whole months?”

“You? Hurt my feelings? Don’t kid yourself. It was just a bit of fun and I didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.”

“If it was just fun, then why did you poke around in my file. I know you want to know why I left division five.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Hasegawa ratted you out. He told me you were looking through my file.”

“That bastard. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes. It does. If it doesn’t matter, why avoid me? Why do you seem so angry now.”

“You want the truth?”

“Please, that's all I ask for.”

“You didn’t even give us a chance. You brought me into your life, you introduced me to your dad, you asked me to kiss you and hug you, you looked at me like I was someone special to you. But that wasn’t enough. You threw what we had away because of your stupid ex-boyfriend. Because he cheated on you, you believe we’re all going to do that or something? You think we’re all going to cheat and break up and turn the whole base against you. I’m mad because you didn’t even try to let me change your mind.”

I stared at Narumi for a little, unsure what to say. When I couldn’t find the strength to argue back, I stepped towards him until I was close enough to wrap my arms around his waist. 

“I’m sorry Gen. I should have thought about it. Will you give me the chance I failed to give you?”

I felt droplets of water fall on my head as he sighed. 

“Man, my date is going to be pissed I canceled.”

“You can go, I’ll stay here and save over your progress on your games.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook. You still need to prove you’re willing to give us a chance first.”

Narumi unwraps my arms, taking my hand in his again and pulling me to the couch. Narumi lays down, pulling me on top of him. He grabs the controller and puts on a show in the background. I sit myself up on his stomach, looking down. 

“Do you think you could maybe get dressed before we cuddle?”

“Why? Does seeing me this way turn you on?”

“And if it does?”

Narumi didn’t hesitate to grab the collar of my shirt and pull me down into a kiss.I felt his hand that he had previously placed on my waist, make its way under my shirt to grope me. Through the towel, I felt a slight poke on my thigh that was growing bigger by the second. When Narumi was fully erect, he broke the kiss.

“If it turns you on so much, then be my good girl and help me out.”

I nodded hungrily, getting off Narumi and kneeling on the ground in front of him. Narumi put one leg either side of me and allowed me to unwrap the towel that hung on his waist. When the towel was unwrapped, I gasped at the sight. Narumi seemed unbelievably hard, the vein on his length was prominent and the top leaked pre-cum from us kissing. 

I flattened my tongue and ran it across the head, tasting him. Following the same pattern, I took the head in my mouth, using my spit to lubricate his length as my head continued to go lower. I gripped my hand at the base of his shaft, moving my head while sucking. Before long, Narumi’s hand was gripping my hair, while whispering ‘oh fuck (first name)’ ‘god this feels so good’ ‘don’t stop’, followed by a round of guttural moans. When I could feel his grip tighten and his hips start to rock, I pulled away. Narumi looked down with disappointment, muttering about how I looked so good with his dick in my mouth. 

Narumi’s look of disappointment quickly changed when I stood up and slid my pants and underwear down. Narumi couldn’t stop staring as I did a small strip tease while taking off my shirt, Narumi pumping his length while I did so. I stumbled onto his lap. Narumi was quick to lean back, attempting to line himself up. When he was aligned, I slowly slid down, Narumi throwing his head back, moaning. I gently bounced on his lap while readjusting to fit him inside. When I started picking up speed, Narumi attacked my collarbones, leaving love bites and traces of himself. The closer Narumi got, the more dirty talk he would use, telling me how I was his good girl and he was the only one that is allowed or even could fuck me this good. My moans got louder when his thumb roughly started rubbing circles on my clit. The feel of his fingers tugging me to the edge while his length continuously hit my g-stop was too much, but I was unable to stop, chasing my high. I started to feel the coil in my stomach come undone and my head start to go fuzzy, I stopped riding as vigorously. Narumi took over, thrusting up into me, finally pushing the last part of me over the edge. I didn’t realise until i had come down from my high that Narumi had also reached his. I could feel him throbbing inside me and the hot liquid lining me. 

We stayed in the same position for a while, Narumi still inside me, while we rested. Eventually, we got up to clean up. Both heading to the shower together. 

“Hey (First name), now that I’ve dicked you down that good, will you let me take you on a date?”

“I’ll consider it when you apologise to my dad for not visiting him.”

We both started splashing water at each other, giggling while doing so. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard your laugh. I really missed you (First name).”

“I really missed you too Gen.”

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling The Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 19

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28 hours.

Those were Law’s least favorite shifts.  Where his bedroom was a temporary call room with a stiff twin-size mattress and a single flat pillow, and where his companion was his hospital pager and not the warmth of your body next to his.  Not like he got much sleep to begin with, not with his pager going off in the ungodly hours of the morning due to the sheer spontaneity of cardiac events.

After 28 long, grueling hours, the warmth of the summer sun finally graced the skin of his exhausted face as he stepped through the hospital’s entrance doors and walked through the parking lot to his car, placing his work bag in the passenger seat.  Normally, he’d head straight home to hold you in his arms and bury his face in the flesh of your belly where you were the most soft and warm, but today he had a different plan.  From the inside of his bag, he procured a small box, placing it securely in the empty cup holder below the center console before putting his car into gear and driving to his destination.

It didn’t take him too long to get across the city where he miraculously found street parking in front of his destination.  He placed the box safely inside the pocket of his slacks, reaching into his car’s ashtray to procure a few coins for the parking meter.  Stepping out of his car and onto the sidewalk, he gazed at the sign of the building in front of him.

SABAODY’S JEWELERS

A longtime, family owned business known for their exceptional craftsmanship of handmade jewelry, Law was very familiar with the owners.  After all, it was where he had your engagement ring made.  He palmed the box in his pocket as he took a deep breath and walked through the entrance.

A black-haired older woman sat behind the front counter, casually flipping through a newspaper as she moved an unlit cigarette around her lips.  Her sharp, analytical eyes darted upward at the sound of the bell on the door signaling Law’s entrance.  She smiled upon seeing the man, folding the newspaper and uncrossing her legs to stand from the stool she was perched on.

“Trafalgar Law, it’s been a minute!  How’ve you been?”  She excitedly leaned over the counter, her v-neck tank top revealing a bit more cleavage than Law was comfortable with, but he smiled fondly at her enthusiasm.

“I’ve been well, Shakky, thanks.  How’s Rayleigh?”  The man kept his hands in his pockets, fidgeting with the box.

“Oh you know, can’t get him to sit down.  Not even for a moment,” Shakky joked, removing the unlit cigarette from her lips and placing it on a small napkin behind the checkout register.  “How’s the wife?”

Law’s smile grew a bit wider at the mention of you.  “We could be better, that’s kind of what I came in here for.”

The older woman’s eyebrows quirked upward in confusion as she watched Law pull the small box from his pocket, opening it and placing it on the counter.  Inside was a tiny plastic bag filled about halfway with a dusty, gray powder.

“Are those…” she started.

“Ashes,” Law replied, finishing her sentence for her.  “We’ve… uhm… we’ve been having some fertility issues, to keep the story short.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” her voice was quiet and apologetic as she stared down at the tiny bag.  It seemed she picked up on what the ashes were from almost immediately, making Law relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain any further, not thrilled about reliving the sight of his dead baby in a bedpan.

“I was wondering if you would be able to make these into two pieces, I’m thinking of a ring and a necklace.  I don’t really know how jewelry works, but I figured you’d be able to come up with some ideas,” he offered, keeping his hand on the box as if to protect it.

Shakky’s eyes lit up at the prospect.  “Of course I could, I’ve done many cremation pieces before.  Do you mind if I take a look at them?”  She made a small motion towards the box, catching on to the way Law’s fingers remained positioned around the tiny bag to snatch it away for safekeeping.

He pushed it forward, wordlessly giving her permission.  Shakky’s long fingers gently picked up the bag from inside of the box.  It was astronomically tiny, the small amount of ashes barely being more than a teaspoon in size.  Her heart clenched at the sight.  She was always so fond of you and Law, owing the heart surgeon a great deal for assisting with treating her own husband’s atrial fibrillation.  To think that such a sweet couple have had to go through something so traumatic, it made her soul weep at the thought.

“I have a fantastic idea,” she piped up, looking at Law.  “Come with me to the back, I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

Law followed her as she rounded the counter and trekked through her small storefront, past display tables full of handmade bracelets, earrings, and necklaces.  She pushed open a metal door in the far back of the shop, entering what Law presumed to be her workshop, or at least a small part of it.  He watched as she placed the box with the ashes down onto the countertop before she approached a small plastic storage container and procured a tiny fabric drawstring bag.  She emptied it into the palm of her hand, revealing a small, simple gold ring band with a flat, circular pendant in the middle.

“This was an experiment I was doing with plant ashes, so it’s not for sale, but I’d be able to do something like this.  I melted down glass, mixed the ashes into the glass, and cooled and shaped it to fit into the face of this ring, similar to a gemstone.  I’m able to change the color of the glass depending on what you might want,” she explained, moving the ring around under the light so Law could get a good look at the details.  “Considering how there’s… well… not many ashes, I think this might be the best choice.”

The tiny piece of jewelry was indeed quite beautiful, even if it was just an artistic test.  The way the ashes were embedded into the colorful glass gave it a quartz-like appearance that glittered under the fluorescent lights of Shakky’s work room.

“What kind of colors can you do?” he asked, officially intrigued.

“All kinds, but I typically do white and blue for glass pieces,” she offered.  “The blue is a light, sky blue color, similar to an aquamarine.”

Law nodded, contemplating.  “Are you able to do one that’s more plain?”

“I’m able to do whatever your little heart wants,” she teased.

The black-haired man grinned.  “Can you do blue glass for the ring and white for the necklace?  The necklace is for me,” he asked, tracing his collarbone with the pads of his fingers.

Shakky smiled from ear to ear, clutching her test ring in her palm as she excitedly nodded.  “Law, dear, I’d be honored to do this for you and your wife.  If you want to hang around, I can have them done in about two hours.”

“That quick?” he asked, exasperated.  “I don’t want you to have to drop your current work just for me.”

“Boy, did you see me doing work when you walked in?  If you call doing the daily crossword ‘work’ then I’m concerned about what you do on your breaks!”  She tossed a joking smile at the man as she slipped her test ring back into its fabric bag, placing it back into the storage container it came from.

“I’ll meet you by the front to pay–” Law began before Shakky cut him off.

“Nope, on the house.”

“Shakky, this is work,” he argued.

“It might be, but this is special for you and your wife.  Consider this part of a gift from me for all you’ve done for myself and my family,” she said, her words laced with tenderness.  “If you really want to repay me so badly, bring me a six pack later tonight before I close.”

Law smirked.  “You got yourself a deal.”

Shakky sealed their arrangement with a hearty, friendly smack to his shoulder, making him wince slightly.  She was far stronger than her outward appearance let on.  “See you in two hours, kid.”

Law exited her back room, making his way past her various display tables and shelves to the front of the store before exiting out the front.  He pulled his phone from his pocket, navigating to your contact and calling your cell phone.

It rang about three times before the receiver clicked and your voice spoke through the speaker.

[Hi, baby!  Are you on your way home?]

Law thought you must have had some form of supernatural ability, the way your voice was able to consistently brighten his day every time he heard you.  “I’m actually downtown, are you free right now?”

Small shuffling sounds could be heard in the background.  [Once I’m done cleaning out the cabinets I will be!  Do you wanna meet somewhere?]

The man chuckled.  “Why are you cleaning out the cabinets?”

[I was bored and didn’t want to be alone with my own thoughts.]  You had a point.

“Well stop cleaning, meet me at Cafe Brook.  I want to see you,” he chided through the phone, his voice giving away the smile on his face as he spoke to you.

[Aye aye, captain!  I’ll see you in a bit, I love you!]

“Love you, too, baby,” he replied before the call was cut off.  He shoved his phone into his pocket and began the short walk to the agreed upon location.

—

Law was waiting outside the restaurant for you and grinned as you approached, a sundress adorning your body and your bag slung over your shoulder as you walked with a slight skip in your step.  While your husband wasn’t much for PDA, that didn’t stop you from taking his hands in yours and pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Hi,” you said with a small giggle.

“Hi,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist to guide you into the small cafe.

It was late in the morning nearing the end of the brunch hour, so many of the tables were empty leaving you and Law with a wonderful table in the corner by the sunlit window.  You hung your bag on the back of your chair before you took your seat, adjusting your dress under your legs while Law immediately took a sip of the complimentary tap water on the table.

“This was such a nice surprise!” you said, jovially.  “Why were you downtown?”

Your husband shrugged, keeping his smile content, trying to hold in what he was scheming.  “Just had to run some errands, that’s all.”

You rested your head in the palm of your hand on the table, your eyes gazing at him knowingly.  “You’re not trying to surprise me, are you?”

“I would never.  You don’t need surprises,” he replied, tossing a mischievous smirk at you.

You laughed, poking your tongue out at him.  “Well, whatever you were doing, I’m always happy to get brunch with you.  Especially after such a long shift… how was it, by the way?”  Your own hand clutched your cup of water, your fingers releasing some of the condensation and causing droplets of water to flow down the outside of the glass.

Law groaned as a response to your question, making you smile sympathetically.  “28 hours of pain,” he griped.  “Everyone always waits until three in the morning to have urgent health issues.”

You reached your hand across the table to pat his forearm.  He responded by adjusting his arm so his hand could hold yours.  “Well, now you have two days off!”

A waiter came by and passed out some small paper menus, but the two of you almost immediately decided on what to order.  A plate of curly fries to split, a hearty breakfast sampler for Law after having eaten very little in the last 28 hours, and a toasted blueberry muffin for you.  A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you gazed around the interior of the restaurant.  The entire joint was trying to be old-school rock and roll themed, but it harshly clashed with the rustic wooden entryway and wall sidings.  The entire establishment was a strange cacophony of design choices, made even more humorous with the multiple posters and framed platinum records of the famed jazz musician Soul King Brook, who’s name was the inspiration for the establishment.  (No one actually knew if Brook had anything to do with the place, though.)

“Hey, remember how my friends came over last week and left that basket of stuff?” you asked, alerting Law’s worried attention from the frightening poster of the almost skeletonized pop star.

“Yeah, what about?” he asked, giving you his full regard.

“So I was actually texting Vivi again yesterday,” you stated.  “She gave me the names of a few counselors in the area who specialize with women’s health and pregnancy issues… and I think I’m going to try one of them out just to see what’s up.”

Law straightened his shoulders.  “That… sounds like a fantastic idea.”

“You think?” you asked, slightly nervous about his opinion.

“Of course, I think that’d be really good for you to help you adjust to everything that’s happened,” he clarified.

You smiled, feeling your chest flutter with his support.  “If my first appointment goes well, would you want to maybe come with me?” you asked.  “I mean… you know… you deserve support, too.”

Law felt his own chest clench at your words.  You were right, he was just as damaged as you were over the whole situation.  His mind flashed back to Shakky’s jewelry store, where the woman was most likely hunched over her work table shaping hot glass as they spoke.  He nodded slowly, albeit enthusiastically.  “I think that would help me a lot, if I went with you.”

“Even just to talk everything out with a professional,” you added, hoping to solidify his decision.

Your husband nodded once again.  “Exactly.”

The smile you gave to the man made his face flush with heat.  Your beaming grin, a sight he seemed to have missed more often since your second miscarriage, the smile that bore the heat of one thousand suns and yet filled his entire soul with the fuzzy comfort that only you could provide.  He fell in love with you more and more each time he saw that brilliant smile.

Your food came out from the kitchen and was passed toward you, Law’s mouth instantly beginning to salivate at the sight of the greasy bacon and eggs spread out on the porcelain, next to a generous helping of homefries and whole wheat toast.  He watched with a small smile as you took a delighted bite out of your blueberry muffin that was cut in half down the middle and slathered with a smear of butter on each side.

—

“Law, why are we at Sabaody’s?” you asked, your voice riddled with skepticism as your husband led you by your hand the few blocks it took to get from the restaurant to the jeweler’s.  Law had received a text during your meal that made him appear jumpy, and he remained that way until you had finished eating and paid the bill.

“No reason,” he replied, the weakest excuse known to man as he pushed open the door to the storefront, beckoning you inside.

Shakky rounded the corner out of her work room, smiling upon seeing you.  She held two boxes in her hands, but quickly placed them safely in a small brown paper bag which she promptly handed to Law.  

“Oh, dear, it’s so good to see you!” she called, making you smile as she dipped down for a friendly hug.

“You too, Shakky!  How’s your husband?” you asked, figuring the same question must have been asked by your own man.

“Constantly running at 100% capacity,” she responded with a sarcastic eye roll.  She turned her attention back to Law and tossed him a wink.  “All set!”

“Thank you so much, Shakky, I really appreciate it,” he answered, reaching over the checkout counter to shake her hand.  

You watched their interaction with profound confusion.  “What are you two scheming without me?”

“Nothing,” the older woman responded, a coy grin on her face as she waved the two of you out of the storefront.  

Law kept the bag clenched in his hand as he walked, his opposite hand holding you as he led you back to his car.

“Law, I parked down the road,” you indicated, but he quickly opened his passenger side door and ushered you inside.

“I know, but this is important,” he uttered.  His words sounded rushed, almost panicky, making worry begin to sprout in your mind.  What in the world had he done?

You watched as he rounded the front of his car and plopped himself into his driver's seat, closing and locking the doors around you with the switch below the handle.  He nervously fumbled with the bag, pulling out the two boxes that had been handed to him by the older woman.

“So… I… uhm…” he was frantically tripping over his words, a far cry from the man you had met for brunch almost three hours prior.  “I might have gone behind your back and done something.”

You stared at him with concern.  “... Okay…?”

Law’s hands were slightly trembling as he opened the smaller box, revealing a brilliant silver banded ring with a small blue glass pendant in the middle.  It glittered in the sunlight, the tiny but stunning faux gem casting blue hues reflected from the sun on the top lid of the box.  He passed it over to you, watching as you gently took it in your hands and gazed with wide eyes at the subtle piece of jewelry.

“Law…?”  You looked over at him as he opened the second box, revealing a similar small pendant necklace on a thick, sturdy silver chain.  The stone on the necklace was a simple white stone that looked similar to an opal.

“At the hospital, after you fell asleep and before we went home that night, I tracked down the nurse that took our baby and asked her to bring me to the mortuary to have someone cremate him,” he explained.  “His ashes are in the jewelry.”

Your eyes were wide as you took in his words, gazing back at the bright blue glass pendant on the ring.  Your voice was trembling as you struggled for words.  “You… it…”

Law reached his shaking hands over to you, pulling the ring out of the box and taking your right hand in his.  He slipped the ring over your right-hand ring finger, feeling inwardly satisfied as it fit perfectly on your digit.  He laced his hand with yours, your eyes never tearing away from the pendant on the ring.

“I got the ring for you, and the necklace for me,” he whispered, leaning closer to you over the center console.

Your eyes darted upward to meet his own, tears brimming in the corners as you bit your wobbling lip.  With a blubbery laugh, you gave him a small, playful shove on his shoulder.  “You need to stop making me cry!”

Law chuckled himself, pulling you in for an uncomfortable hug over the center compartment in his car.  You eagerly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your head into the junction of his neck.  He could feel your smile on his skin as you sniffled into his shirt.

“Law…” you mumbled, pulling away from him to gaze at the ring.  “I can’t… I can’t believe it…”

Your husband was smiling, a content grin that held the same amount of sadness that you still felt in your heart after losing your unborn 12-week-old.  His attention was torn from your soft face as you reached over for the other box in his lap, pulling out the necklace and unlatching the clasp.  Your hands trailed around his neck to link the chain around him, watching with fondness as the white pendant sat perfectly in between his collarbones.

“Looks good on you…” you sighed, your hands tracing the tan skin around the pendant, the feeling making goosebumps rise on Law’s skin.  “Our baby…”

“Now he’ll still be with us wherever we go,” he whispered.

You wiped away your tears with the collar of your dress.  “When did you get so sappy?” you asked, jokingly.

Law grinned.  “Well, admittedly, one of my nurses gave me the idea.  She told me her sister lost a pregnancy, and they had the remains cremated and made into little rocks that they spread through their favorite hiking trail.”

“That’s so beautiful,” you cooed, your tears slowing down.  The new ring on your finger brought you a strange sense of comfort you had yet to feel, something almost akin to closure.  It was a small patch in the cracks that made up your broken heart, cracks that your husband was slowly learning to rebuild, and that you were doing to his own.

“God,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat.  “What did I do to deserve you?”

Law’s hand brushed over your cheek.  “I should be asking the same thing.”

You stared blankly out the front windshield before asking, “Can we just have Shachi or Penguin pick up my car?  I don’t want to leave you.”

Your sudden question made Law snort out a laugh as he pulled out his phone.  “I’d be more than happy to ask, my love.”