#and i was about to go buy a patch or something just to talk to him

[heavenknowsffs]

I had my wattpad moment last night when the drummer of a band i went to shoot looked at me like 3 times in the eyes in between songs (when i was already in the crowd)

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

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Masterlist

[divinesangel]

— how does your destined person feel about you right now? [detailed]

pm me for an affordable, in-depth personal reading! — 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

current energies: it's quite likely that this person is going through a lot right now, which is causing them to overthink and have so much on their mind. they seem to have been overthinking many things in their life that they’re still trying to figure out. they’re probably talking to others and getting advice, but deep down, they know it’s something they have to work on and figure out on their own. a lot has been weighing on their mind, especially when it comes to connections. it’s likely that they’re ending cycles or bringing closure to situations that have caused them pain or emotional turmoil. they want to put an end to that, and now they’re carrying the burdens that come with closure and moving on. even though it might sometimes feel overwhelming, they understand that this isn’t the end of the world. they believe that better things are ahead, and as long as they stay persistent and know how to play their cards, they’ll get through this. there are many things in this person’s life that they want to move on from because they know it’s not doing them any good, and it’s just affecting their mental health and well-being. these days, they’ve been focusing on taking care of themselves, paying attention to their own feelings and their heart. but sometimes, they feel conflicted about how to feel about certain people. it seems like they’ve gone through some really painful moments with others, and now they’re unsure how to think about it all. part of them craves a sense of justice, wanting those people to get what they deserve. but there’s also a part of them that’s naturally kind, trying to brush it off and move forward.

feelings: this person wants to be with you as soon as possible. they’re really excited to meet you and already have so much love for you. they constantly wonder who their distant person is, what you’re going to be like, how you’ll look, and if you’ll love them as much as they’ll love you. there’s so much affection and tenderness they hold for you, and it’s something they can’t wait to give. they don’t just want to give you their emotional side, but also their material side. they want to provide for you, give you everything you need, and buy you whatever you want. i feel that once you meet, this person will be quick to show you how they feel. they won’t just express it through words or affection but also through actions. this is someone who will make you feel deeply loved and show you just how much you deserve it. they’re very caring, very nurturing, especially when it comes to a connection as strong as yours, which feels almost like a soulmate bond. they’ll feel even more sure about pursuing you and moving forward with you. you make this person feel incredibly stable. when they think of you, there’s this sense that they’re already complete, that they’ve become the person they want to be. the thought of you brings them a deep sense of stability, likely because they already know this connection will be something special. they feel happiness when they think about it, and they know that meeting you will be a turning point in their life. they’re aware that they’re going through some rough patches in their life right now, but the thought of you brings them so much peace. they know that when they finally get to be with you, they’ll find the happiness they’re searching for.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

current energies: this person has been learning to feel more comfortable with themselves and finding contentment with what they have. it seems they’ve recently gone through situations that left them with a sense of lack, and now they’re trying to put the pieces back together. because of this, they’re beginning to realize their potential and finding emotional satisfaction from within, rather than seeking it externally. it’s likely that they’ve had a recent epiphany—a lightbulb moment—that shifted their perspective. they’re determined to leave behind past pains and situations they no longer want to deal with. this self-realization, that they deserve more and deserve to be happy, has sparked active changes in their life. they are very perseverant, and when they want something or are sure about it, they fight for it. they won’t let go unless they no longer feel like pursuing it or something significant happens. i feel like these days this person has been feeling quite confused about whether to pursue certain things or to let them go. it seems like they’re having a hard time distinguishing between what’s worth fighting for and what no longer has a solution. since they’re someone who really believes in fighting for what they want, it clashes with the idea of letting go. however, they’re starting to realize that there are aspects of themselves they need to change before moving forward with something new. right now, they’re in a phase of trying to understand that.

on the other hand, they’re also focused on creating a better environment for themselves, which involves their personal connections and friendships. they’re paying close attention to their circle of friends and acquaintances. it seems like there are some connections that have changed and no longer feel the same. they’re trying to figure out how to take action in this situation and how to let go of these feelings. deep down, they know that to feel better about these connections, they’ll need to let certain people go. overall, they haven’t been feeling their most stable, and they’re working through this to make things work in their favor. i'm hearing they might be attending someone's wedding too.

feelings: this person feels that your connection could be quite life-changing for them. it’s one of the things that draws them to you and makes them feel a deep, perhaps unconscious, attraction. however, when it comes to love, they might not be in the best place right now. they’ve grown up in an environment where those around them may not have been the best influences. because of this, they might have some toxic tendencies or have been involved with toxic people that they still need to move on from.

this awareness makes them think about you a lot. they are very conscious of the people they surround themselves with and the issues they need to leave behind. they worry that you might not like them because of their past or because of who they are now. they often find themselves wondering, "will they leave me once they get to know me better?" or "will they not want me because of my past behavior?" these worries definitely cross their mind whenever they think about you. in their heart, they truly want to give you everything they can, but they wonder if you will view this connection as fair, or if you’ll see their life as one that has been lived fairly. they don’t want to overwhelm you with all these details, so it’s likely they’ll open up to you gradually over time. they know some of their past actions weren’t ideal, and they feel regret and a bit of shame about that. they just hope you’ll still see them in a positive light once they share everything with you.

they’ve already been thinking about becoming the best version of themselves, but they need a bit of support or motivation to fully move out of their current mental state. they’ve been planning how to make these changes, so it’s just a matter of time before they put their plans into action. they’re really looking forward to this connection and have thought about you many times. they’re trying to stay optimistic about your future together and envision the best possible scenario. they’re aiming to avoid any negative thoughts, and they feel that once they’re around you and can communicate more, they’ll be able to express themselves fully and honestly. "i don't want to let them go" is how they'll feel.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

current energies: this person has recently wrapped up a very challenging situation. they’re going through a lot of endings right now, which is a bit uncomfortable for them, but they understand it’s for their highest good. it seems they’ve just ended a connection with someone they cared about deeply. however, they discovered that this person had been deceptive or dishonest, and once these secrets came to light, they decided to cut ties abruptly. this person is very confident and tends to sever connections quickly when they feel wronged or when a situation is no longer beneficial. they don’t dwell on their feelings but focus more on the other person’s actions.

right now, they’re very practical and are concentrating on their stability and finances. they seem to be working hard on a project or business venture that’s aimed at increasing their financial security. this project might be in its early stages but has been on their mind for some time, or it's an idea they’ve wanted to bring to life for a while. they have a strong grasp of how to navigate life and make the most of each situation, which can be quite impressive. they’re aware that not all situations will be ideal, but they believe it depends on how one reacts and how much one lets it affect them. in addition, their perspective of the world might be influenced by their travels or interactions with people from various countries, which is likely tied to their business. they’re feeling very content with their current state and the place they’re in. they’re fulfilled with how they’ve handled things and how everything has turned out so far. however, as i mentioned at the beginning of the reading, they’re going through something emotionally. being a hard-working and somewhat workaholic person, this might serve as their escape. they’re so adept at what they do and at coming up with great ideas that their work becomes a refuge from their emotional struggles. the validation they receive from others provides a sense of relief and makes them feel better about themselves. when they get positive feedback or when their projects succeed, it feels like the most important thing to them, overshadowing everything else. while they’re currently satisfied with their position, i wonder how much more they can handle, as they’re already carrying some burdens.

feelings: when it comes to their feelings towards you and your connection, they feel a strong desire to manifest whatever it is that you want. they are working to feel as stable as possible so they can give you what you deserve, both emotionally and physically. however, there’s a part of them that questions whether they truly deserve someone like you. they wonder if they are worthy of you and this has them feeling quite conflicted.

they have strong feelings for you, but they also grapple with self-doubt about whether they’re deserving of this connection. they want to keep you close, not in a possessive way, but out of a genuine desire to protect and cherish you. having been alone for a long time or having had less fulfilling connections in the past, they worry about whether they will know how to handle a relationship with someone like you.

stability is very important to them, and they value it not only for themselves but also for their partner, especially emotionally. when it comes to your upcoming meeting, they will likely feel overwhelmed and stressed, but this is more about their own nerves than anything related to you. they will be anxious about what to say or do, but they are also looking forward to seeing how things will unfold. they believe that things will happen in their own time, and once you both achieve closure and fulfill what you need in your lives, everything will fall into place and manifest as it should.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !

hi! it's daphne here.

i'm currently offering personal readings for €7 and soulmate readings for €14 so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!

thank you for being here!

[bratzforchris]

guess-m. sturniolo

SUMMARY: in which matt just can't stop thinking about your underwear ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

PAIRING: softdom!matt x subfem!reader (part of my pony!reader au :3)

WARNINGS: smut (no intercourse), dirty talk, oral (f recieving), marking, fluffy aftercare!!

WORD COUNT: 1k

A NOTE FROM LILAH: pony!reader the woman that you are⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You wanna guess the color of my underwear

You wanna know what I got going on down there

The way Matt had been eyeing you all day was undeniable. Ever since you had sported a short, white tennis skirt to the grocery store, Matt’s blue eyes had been roaming your body, trying to figure out what underwear you had underneath the miniskirt. He’d never admit it, but your boyfriend had a thing for lingerie. He loved buying you all different kinds of sets and then getting to guess which one you had on that day.

“Matt, what do you want for dinner?” You asked him, manicured hand coming up to the cabinet to search for something to make for your evening meal. 

“Whatever you wanna make, doll.” Matt hummed nonchalantly, eyes focused more on the heart-shape of your ass than the words that were coming out of your mouth. 

“My eyes are up here.” You joked, feeling the brunette’s eyes watching your backside. 

Is it pretty in pink or all see-through?

Is it showing off my brand new lower back tattoo?

The more you bustled around the kitchen, preparing things for dinner, the more Matt’s imagination ran wild. He couldn’t stop thinking about you in two of his favorite sets, the crotch of the panties already wet with your arousal, just from him dirty talking to you. One of his favorites was pale, baby pink, perfectly accentuating your skin tone (and the fuzzy, pink handcuffs you loved so much), while the other was made of skimpy, white lace that was so see-through, he could practically watch your clit swell as he rubbed circles on your inner thighs. These thoughts, combined with the fact that your cropped baby tee was showing off the new bow that had just been tattooed on your back last week, was enough to make the crotch of your boyfriend’s jeans become uncomfortably tight. 

You wanna put 'em in your mouth, pull 'em all down south

As you slid your lasagna into the oven, Matt had reached his breaking point. The thought that really pushed him over the edge was the way he’d grip your panties with his teeth, sliding them down the curve of your plushy thighs before he plunged into your pussy, devouring it like it was his last meal. 

You had been completely out of touch with Matt’s horniness, oblivious to just how badly he wanted to tongue fuck you at the moment. Without warning, you were being thrown over the brunette’s shoulder and carried into the bedroom, wriggling in his strong grasp. 

“Matt!” You squealed. “Dinner’s in the oven!”

“I think forty-five minutes is plenty of time for me, princess.” 

Without another word, your boyfriend laid you down on the plushy, white comforter that you had picked out for your shared bed. Matt practically ripped your skirt off, tossing the garment somewhere on the bedroom floor. The brunette began to kiss and suck his way down your tummy, leaving hickeys in his wake that claimed you as his girl. 

By the time Matt reached your lacy, baby pink panties, the arousal was taking over him. He gripped the little white bow in his teeth, quickly pulling your panties off the curve of your hips and down your legs. The brunette smirked to himself when he felt the wet patch in the crotch of the fabric, knowing that just the kisses on your tummy had done this to you. 

“Mmmm, Matt,” You whimpered, tangling your hands in his hair as he kissed your inner thighs. “Stop teasin’.”

“You wanna talk about teasing, doll?” Matt chuckled, licking a stripe up your pussy with the flat of his tongue before pulling back. “Let’s talk about you wearing that tiny skirt all day. Makin’ me all hard ‘n shit.”

You moaned at the dirty talk, rutting your hips closer to Matt’s body. “Mmmm, please.” You whined. 

Try it, bite it, lick it, spit it

Pull it to the side and get all up in it

Without another word, Matt dove into your pussy, taking tentative, teasing tastes. He began to slowly eat you out, his tongue exploring your swelling clit and dripping hole. You moaned at the sensations, gripping onto your boyfriend’s brown curls as you practically fucked his face. Every now and then, Matt would add a cheeky little bite on your sensitive bud, making you squeal with pleasure.

“‘M gonna cum.” You whimpered, your back arching up off the bed. 

“Already, sweetheart? I’m just getting started.” Matt hummed against your pussy, running the flat of his tongue against your swollen pussy. 

Your eyes were already rolling back in your head, mind hazy with lust as Matt spit on his fingers, pulling your lips to the side and beginning to finger you. His hand motions were rough and fast, making the ball in your tummy tighten. 

“Oh…oh god,” You panted. “Matt, mmmmm.”

He was fully indulged in you now, mouth devouring your pussy while his fingers worked on your clit and dripping hole. The pleasure was unlike anything you had experienced before as you tangled your hands in Matt’s hair, equal parts hating and loving how he was edging you. 

“Fuck, you taste so fuckin’ good, doll.” Matt mumbled greedily. 

“‘M gonna cum, Matt.” You whimpered. 

“Go ahead, baby,” he hummed. “Cum all over my fuckin’ face. Do it f’me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You immediately let go, your body pulsating with your orgasm. It was probably one of the strongest climaxes you had ever had, wave after wave of pleasure taking over your body. After a while, you went limp against the sheets, panting and fucked out as Matt licked his lips and chin. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good, pretty girl,” he mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You like that?”

You nodded, your legs still shaking with the after effects of your orgasm. Matt chuckled, before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands and get a wipe to clean you off. You were still completely out of it as your boyfriend crawled into bed beside you after cleaning you up. You immediately curled into the soft fabric of his crewneck as your breathing returned to normal.

“All because you wanted to tease me and make me guess what underwear you had on” Matt chuckled, running a strong hand along your body. 

You curled further into your boyfriend’s side with a soft giggle, enjoying the peace. All was well for a few moments until you suddenly sat up. “Shit! I forgot about dinner!”

tags ♡: @blahbel668 @mattsturnswhore @sofieeeeex @jetaimevous @pkfferoo @idekman1231 @svphscc @littlestar44 @https-roman @flow3rsturns13 @supercoolgirl69 @hearts4chriss @urprobablyscuffed @pepsiluvr0209 @vsigishishis @addiestarx @sturn1ololuvr @sturnclouds @memea32221 @hoes4matthew @whoreformatthewsturniolo @facingreailitysgravity @sturnsmia @sturnobsessedwh0re @sturniolos-f4n @nicksbestie @muwapsturniolo

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

That day, the bus is mostly empty. It's only you, an eldery couple, and the driver. The ebb and flow of traffic slows the wheels as the driver passes by vacant stops. You watch the pavement roll by between patches of grass. 

The dulcet ride lures you into a calm even as your pre-work nerves buzz. You hug your bag in your lap as the driver stops and the doors open to let in another passenger. The axel squeals as the vehicular behemoth pulls away from the curb. 

You continue to watch the city as the new rider strides between the seats. You sense their shadow loom closer and closer. You expect them to claim the empty seat across from yours. Instead, the sit right next to you. It's an odd choice given the few passengers aboard. 

You fidget and make yourself smaller. You turn your head straight as you try to see the stranger from the edge of your vision. They're big. Broad enough that their arm presses to yours even as you try to shrink into yourself. Tall too, his knees against the row in front of you. 

He sits rigidly beside you. Uneasy at his proximity, you fish into your side pocket and slide free your phone. You open it aimlessly, tapping habitually on the crossword app you play at work in the low times. 

The solutions elude you as your mind can't detach from the man crowding you into the window. Why can't he sit anywhere else? You look around at the unclaimed seats. He stays as he is, stiff, straight, unmoving. 

You close out of the came and lock your phone. You clasp your hand around the device as you hug your bag once more. Your other hand toys with the little pom pom that hangs from your zipper. 

The bright bus signs pass by. You're stop is coming up. Now is the awkward part. Getting the man to let you out. 

You pull the cord to signal your intent but he's already on his feet. You glance over and thank him softly, a brief glimpse at his face. A scar ripples from his hairline, through his temple and angles down his cheek to his jaw. His eyes are a bold blue and his nose finely cut despite the large blemish.  

He stands back as you grab your bag and sidle out. You go to the doors. He follows. 

Huh? 

He grips the yellow bar behind you, his large hand gripping as if he might crush the metal. You stare at his knuckles and the bus jerks to a stop. You nearly fall off your feet. The man catches you by your hip with his free hand. 

You set your feet and cough out another thanks. Embarrassed, you slap the doors and they open. You scurry off and the men once more trails after you. As you veer towards the mall, he waits until the bus takes off and crosses the street. With him, your suspicious leaves. 

You're frazzled as you enter work. You don't know why. You just... are. Something about that man sticks with you. Even if he never said a word, it felt like he was trying to tell you something. 

You clock in and try to shake it off. His face flashes in your mind. You can't place what seems so familiar about him. You would remember if you met him before. How could you forget? 

You go to the counter as Layton talks with a customer about the new seasonal blends. The tea shop has its peak times, especially as winter approaches, but it's one o clock on a Tuesday and that's never very busy anywhere. 

You greet the next customers. Two girls interested in the cold brew pots. You show them what you have and explain the store's points card. The buy a sampler and nothing else. Typical. 

Layton finishes at four. The traffic picks up once he's gone. You don't mind as it keeps the time moving. It peters out as the dinnertime rush fills the food court. You can hear the crowd from around the corner. 

You set to wiping down the counter and putting away the few stray canisters left out. As you turn back, you have to swallow down a shriek. You didn't hear the man over the mall's top hits playlist. 

You hesitate as your eyes meet. It's him. The man from the bus. You blink and press your lips together. 

"Hello, uh, how are you today?" You ask.  

He just stares. No answer. No sign he even heard you. 

He's in all black. Boots, jeans, cargo jacket. He stands like a soldier. You part your lips again, "are you looking for anything in particular? Today we have our apple crisp chai as the sample." 

He still doesn't react. Not more than his eyes falling to the nervous twiddle of your fingers on the counter. Your scalp prickles and your nape burns. If he keeps this up, you'll have to phone security. 

He raises his hand to reveal a familiar object. It's the fluffy pom pom from your bag. Your brows pop up, "oh? Thanks. It must have fallen off." 

You reach for it and your mind races. As nice as it is to return the key chain, you can't help but wonder. How did he know where to find you?

As you grasp the soft ball, his other hand comes up and snares your wrist. Your squeak and try to pull back. You're stuck in his grip.  

Your eyes round and flick up to meet his. His gaze bores into you and at last, his stony expression cracks. He smirks, the scar on the side of his face paling as the lines around his eyes deepen. He releases the keychain and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

"Ow!" You squeal and yank again.  

He rips your hair out at the roots and you exclaim again. Hets go of your arm and you hit the shelves behind you. He nods and spins on his heel, clutching the handful of your hair.  

You whimper and rub your head as your scalp burns. Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You just gape at the door. What just happened? 

[gamemakerm]

In honor of Mermay and the current trend of Animal/Therian HRT going around (inspired by @ayviedoesthings's Dragon HRT series, @welldrawnfish's Fish HRT, @kaylasartwork's Bat HRT, @nyxisart's Puppy HRT, @deadeyedfae's Human HRT, etc etc etc, love all your work), I wanted to share the short story I wrote last year about medically turning yourself into a mermaid. This got published in WriteHive's Reclaiming Joy anthology, and we're now just outside of the six-month publishing exclusivity, so I can make it publicly available.

This was really raw to write for me, and there are trigger warnings for transphobia(/whatever the equivalent would be for mermaids?), implications of violence and hate crimes. However all the stories in the anthology were ultimately about perseverance, courage and love. I hope you enjoy, and if you want to get this and eleven other uplifting stories I can't recommend the anthology enough (though this is the only one relevant to the tags as far as I know). And if you really, really like it, you can buy me a kofi!

Scales

When the scales began to break through skin, they said you were becoming a monster. Blue and green, seafoam to pearl. You weren’t certain at what point you started to believe them.

You began to wrap yourself in tighter layers, a futile effort not to draw attention to the rough patches. Elbows, knees, along your arms, mottled with foundation and concealer caked on like spackle. Toner to offset the iridescent shine so that a passing glance wouldn’t be drawn to it. Constant checks and double checks, bathroom visits far beyond the routine. 

Your careful camouflage is usually enough to deflect scrutiny, but occasionally a stranger catches on. Nobody has said anything to you yet, but you have noticed more glances on the train. The old woman’s frown of disapproval. The young man with something to prove to you, himself, the world. His jaw tightens as he calculates his ability to start something. You tuck your chin and pretend to be busy with your phone. In the dark screen you can see the skin flaking on your cheeks. The beginnings of another patch betray you.

As you touch up in the bathroom mirror you tell yourself you wanted this, that you were prepared for the hardships. 

You walk to the public library after your shift ends. You walk most places these days, telling yourself it’s a last hurrah. The fact is you sold your car to make a dent in the cost. You’ll sell everything eventually. You’re going to have to. 

The forums have a list of books everyone checks out when they choose this path. There aren’t many and most are fantasy. There’s a running joke: if anyone mentions Hans Christen Anderson, run. You spot The Little Mermaid on a small display. You don’t run. You check out your books. The librarian gives a knowing nod, but doesn’t remark. You silently thank her for the discretion.

You take a long shower, makeup swirling down the drain. You can’t help but scratch at the itching patches on your thighs, peeling skin tearing away for new growth. Shampoo and blood circle under your feet. Your fingernails are sharper than they were this morning. You exfoliate, letting the city, public transit, the glances of strangers be cleansed. Your reflection in the mirror, a colorful smattering of new scales dusting your cheeks, is tear-streaked, ethereal. Beautiful.

You knock the concealer into the trash bin.

Your mother left a voicemail. She avoids the elephant seal in the room, talking about her gardening, your cousin’s new baby. She lingers for a moment, then: You’re being selfish. She burns brightly as a beratement begins, emboldened. But without someone to riff with she loses her steam, trails off and repeats it. You’re being shellfish. She can’t help it; she laughs despite herself. There’s a minute where she doesn’t speak, but you can tell she’s waiting for the sob in the back of her throat to settle. She promises she’ll come to your party and the voicemail ends.

You still haven’t heard from your father. You don’t expect you will. You’ve made peace with that.

You do your weekly injection on the alternating leg, needle piercing deep in a gap between scales. The plunger delivers 200mg of concentrated hope directly into your bloodstream, salt water in salt water. You put a hello kitty bandaid over it and wait for the feeling of ice in your veins to settle, the tension to go out of your muscles. It doesn’t.

You pass an enraged man on the street, spit flying, a home-made sandwich board making his message clear: The Siren Is The Devil’s Agent. The back offers an equally cogent argument: Go Back To Atlantis, Fish Freaks. You would if you could, you think dryly. He notices you and seethes, but the current of the crowd carries you away before he can curse you out.

You drag your potted plants down to the front stoop and post a craigslist ad: free to a good home. They’re gone within the hour. You allow yourself the rare indulgence of posting a selfie, eyes closed, serene, to the reddit: Learning to love my scales <3! It’s still difficult to type on your phone with the new claws. The upvotes start to come in; everyone loves a guppie.

You catch up on the shows you haven’t gotten to yet. Where there was once only the metaphorical List, there is now an actual list. Despite your best efforts it’s becoming increasingly clear you’re not going to finish all of them. You knock a few off, restructure it based on length. It still looks too long.

You have dreams about choking on toxic waste, getting minced by a boat propeller. You keep a running count of the number of times you’ve dreamt of getting your head stuck in a six-pack of soda rings. You’re up to four. 

Every few days you do laps in the local pool. You’re getting faster, but you feel exposed. There are whispers around the locker room. 

Your cat knows something is happening, but doesn’t understand what that means for her. You hold her whenever and for as long as she’ll allow, give her as many pets and treats as she wants. Despite clearing out your apartment you’ve spoiled her. She licks the scales on your cheek as you cry over her. This seems to inspire something in her; she demands her tuna crunchies. Dutifully you give her the tuna crunchies. She can have as many tuna crunchies as she wants.

You doomscroll your twitter feed, making sure this isn’t the day you lose access to your meds because of some white man in a suit. A sister is assaulted by a violent extremist with a sense of humor: he shot her with a harpoon gun. Her crowdfunding campaign starts on the maidens reddit and goes viral.

You triple check to make sure your friend is still willing to take your cat when you go. They promise to spoil her and tell her stories of you every day. You continue to cry over it. They invite you out for sushi to talk about it, then backtrack to ask if that’s a microaggression. You go to sushi. You’re thankful for the distraction.

By the time your legs are more scale than skin and your fingers begin to develop webbing you’ve given up on pretense. The looks are now constant, but you get reflective sunglasses and a new patch for your jacket: Don’t like it? Drown, with a scaled hand reaching out of water and flipping the bird. You put the energy out into the world, and the world doesn’t fuck with you.

Children love you. Their parents do not. 

On the train a young girl quietly asks if she can feel your scales. You allow her to touch her little fingers to the aquamarine pattern running up your arm, giving her your most reassuring (but still fanged) smile. She’s fearless, enamored, reverent. Her mother pulls her daughter away and hastily apologizes for her, not looking you in the eye. But you know that girl believes in magic now.

A group of white supremacists go out on a boat loaded with assault rifles for “no reason” and get lost at sea. This is somehow your fault.

The day your fins begin to push their way out from your arms, your boss calls you into his office. You both know he can’t fire you in this and seven other states, but you both also know you won’t be staying much longer. He’s done his best to make you aware you’re making his life more difficult. You put in your two weeks before he can flounder for another excuse. He moors you with paperwork for the rest of the afternoon.

Someone leaves a rotting fish in your pool locker. You don’t go back, and you don’t file a report. You tell yourself the chlorine was bad for the gills freshly forming under your ribs anyway.

Your friends take you out clubbing. You lose yourself under the waves of music, submerged under strobe lights and the salty sweat of dancing bodies. You whisper sweet nothings into a stranger’s ear, entrancing her as you move against each other. You can see iridescence shining around her eyes, shimmering glitter and an emerging pattern beneath makeup. You brush a thumb against her cheek and she melts into your touch. You don’t get her name. You don’t need to; you’re both not long for this world. You catch up with your friends smoking outside, your lips still tingling with vermouth.

Weeks pass. Work ends. Your apartment is down to furniture and cat supplies. You take longer showers. News stories continue to come out, the machine churns and roils: monsters walking among humans, the mark of the beast, sacrificing daughters to the ocean. 

You make sure your meds are reupped for the final stretch.

When your legs start to merge you know you don’t have much time left. You donate the last boxes of your clothes. Your friends get first dibs on furniture before it’s put on the street. They bring drinks and sit on your floor, an impromptu celebration and wake. They ask all the usual questions: what are you going to do for food? Shelter? What if you get hurt, or attacked by a shark? Do they have waterproof laptops yet? Will they ever see you again? What if it isn’t right for you? Can you ever come back?

You don’t know how to answer most of those questions. The group stays with you through the night. At 4AM you put on The Little Mermaid and the group drunkenly sings along. Everyone knows the words. It’s juvenile and you can hear the maidens on the reddit rolling their eyes and tutting about misrepresentation, but you know everyone in your position does it. You try not to cry, but the waterworks start and don’t stop.

At daybreak you put your cat into her harness and everyone piles into a friend’s van. It’s not far to the beach, but they take the long way around. One final tour of the land. Your cat sits on your lap and stares out the windows as you pass old haunts, your grocery store, your gym, your high school. You realize you still have library books to return and almost get them to turn around, but someone promises to go back for them afterwards.

There’s an isolated area on the beach where a canopy and tables are set up; banners, food, friends. It’s a regular going away party, as if you’re going on a short trip abroad. You suppose you are, in a way. Someone rented a wheelchair with fat tires to help you get down to the beach.

When your mother arrives she pulls her shirt off to show her custom-made clam bra. Her eyes are already red and puffy, but she’s doing her best to be energetic and upbeat. She holds you for a long time and says she’s happy for you, that you’re beautiful, that you’re so much stronger than she ever was, and then she puts on a brave face to help everyone get served at the buffet. Your cat chases small crabs across the beach around you, and you sit in the sand. The party goes strong.

The tides come up until your fin is tickled by the seafoam. Everyone knows that means it’s time to go. You pass your cat off to her new owner and she gives you a last headbutt. She seems to understand. You kiss your mother’s cheek one last time and she clings to you. The group raises their drinks as you paddle out, disappearing beneath the waves. You give them the money shot and leap out of the water on your way out of the sound, and you can hear cheering from the shoreline. You hope someone got a video for the maidens.

You keep the city in sight for a while, but the currents lead you further into open waters. There are boaters out on the water who wave to you. You wave back and keep swimming up the coast. 

At dusk you rise to the surface and watch the setting sun turn the horizon from blue to pink to purple and orange. There’s nothing for leagues around. As the sun sinks below the waves and the skies darken you sing your first real siren’s song. Shaky and imperfect, it soon resounds over the ocean breeze. You leave everything behind in it. There are no words, only feeling and sound. It’s a lament, an invocation, a dirge. It is many things, but it isn’t an apology. You have nothing to apologize for.

In the seas beyond a chorus joins in with a language you never learned but understand, integrating your song into theirs. You swim to join them.

[todomochi-uwu]

Who (1/?) -J.Y & S.M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Other chapters: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

"Mingi, please. I think we should talk; I don't feel good and…" He was quick to cut you off.

"Y/n not right now, I'm tired."

You are always tired these days…

"Yunho, love do you want to go out and check out that new cafeteria? I heard they have…" He was quick to cut you off.

"Y/n not right now, I'm busy."

You are always busy these days...

Things haven't been the same in a while, always in a rush, always in a mood. You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you. It was a type of routine you had grown accustomed to, and even if it was killing you inside, the idea of being without them was way worse than the pain of their neglect. Cold, endless nights laying in a bed that was way too big for you; tasteless dinner plates that would end up in the trashcan or at the back of the fridge rotting. A home that was crumbling from its foundations, one that you had so desperately tried to patch up and fix by yourself. But in the end, you just had to face the cruel reality, that they don't care. You were not a priority; your relationship was at the bottom of their list.

That's how you ended up at Chan's apartment, in the middle of the night, with so much as your phone in your pocket and your heart in your hand.  He had been your main support the last weeks, anything you wanted, anything you needed, no questions asked. Whenever you woke up crying, whenever you broke down in the middle of the day, Chan was always there to comfort you. And so, you laid there, in his chest, the aftermath of a movie night in which you had only cried twice, an important milestone.

The constant buzzing in the pocket of your pyjamas was making it quite hard for you to continue sleeping. You knew exactly who dared bother you so late at night, it had been the same callers every single night for the past month.

"Don't answer it." Chan's groggy voice filled your ears. He was right. You declined the call and turned off your phone.

But said-call had already done its job, you couldn't stop thinking about the phone, well the people behind it. Your phone was full of texts and missed calls, eight people behind them, because their friends were loyal like that.

They are so sorry.

Please talk to them.

Yunho is drowning himself in work.

Mingi doesn't even talk to us.

Funny it is. A few weeks ago, it seemed they could live perfectly fine without you; they could go on with their day without even glancing your way. You gave them every single piece of your being just to get crumbles in return. But at the same time, your heart is weak, it can’t help but break every time you read one of their texts, wondering if they miss you that much, if they are sorry, if maybe, just maybe, you should go back.

“Y/n… you are overthinking again.” Bang Chan said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I know, I just feel bad, Chan. Maybe I overreacted, maybe if I tried a bit harder to talk to them…” There you were again, trying to justify their actions. Chan gave you the same stern look he had been giving you for weeks, every time you blamed yourself.

He got up, not mentioning the subject anymore. Tired of going on about the same subject, “Hey, are you hungry? I can make you something or we can order in.”

It would be a lie to say you were not enjoying Chan’s presence. Having someone to talk to, someone to have a meal with, even someone who sits next to you without being on their phone or computer, you miss not feeling alone. And even though you were heartbroken, you felt warm on the inside.

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

While you might be doing somewhat okay, the other parts of your relationship were not. The house was in complete silence, no matter the hour, no matter the day, no one would dare say a word, their mouths too busy sobbing every single time they remembered their sins, taking you for granted, neglecting you, breaking you.

Yunho would keep himself busy at the hospital, the idea of going back to a broken home simply made him nauseous, and even if the lack of food and the stress were killing him, he much rather endure that than face the harsh truth. Mingi wasn’t any better, endless nights spent in the office, acting as if he was reviewing cases, but the reality was that he just wanted a place to cry without anyone noticing him. Even the love between them was running cold. Fight after fight, they spat cruel words and thoughts trying to get all the hurt and anger out of their chests, blaming themselves, blaming each other. How did they not notice things were so wrong? How could they let things get so wrong?

“Oh, don’t act as if I'm the only one who wasn’t here, you slept at the office almost every day. I came home late, but you didn’t even come at all.” Yunho said, venom in his voice and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Mingi scratched his forehead in frustration, he could feel the bile going up his throat. “Forgive me for trying to pay the bills, someone has to pay for the house, the student loans, the fucking food that’s on the table.”

“Fuck off, don’t you dare say I’m not bringing any money. Besides, you know that this is temporary while I finish my residency…”

And there the cycle began once again, a screaming match of arguments that never went anywhere, masking the true cause of their pain. Tears ran down their faces, their voices broke down more and more with each word they let out, Yunho's body trembled so much it hurt, while Mingi’s chest felt as if it was about to explode.

“I’m not okay, Yunho.” It was the first time any of them said it out loud, his voice was much raspier and heavier than the usual one.

“I'm not either, Mingi.” He whispered, fearing he would break down even more if he admitted it much louder.

“She left three weeks ago.”

Yunho could only nod.

“She’s not coming back, is she?”

“I don’t know, Mingi.”

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, mentions of bodily injury and blood(not reader's), allusions to oral sex (f)

Let's just say that Eddie eats you out a little too well and suffers the consequences.

The bleeding's finally starting to stem you're relieved to notice, pulling back his bloodied bandana to peek at his swollen nose, all flushed red like crushed berries. Streaks of dry blood trail down to his chin in thin ribbons and you look at him sympathetically.

"I'm dellin' you bade, id loobs worse than id is", Eddie tries to assure you once more though you're not convinced because you can make out the beginnings of a black eye on his face too, a purple half moon starting to take shape below his left eye.

You'd apologized profusely when it happened, nearly brought to tears over how guilty you felt about the whole thing but all he did was grin proudly like he couldn't be happier about it, teeth stained pink with fresh blood.

"Bade"

"Yeah?"

"You're nod wearin' a bra"

You look down and realize he's right, your nipples hard and showing through your shirt because hospitals are such cold, sterile places. Now that you're looking at yourself you notice that your shirt's inside out too but of course he doesn't notice that detail because he's too busy staring at your tits.

"Oh. Yeah well, I kinda forgot in the rush to get here", you tell him, uncaring if anyone else notices because your priority right now is your boyfriend's wellbeing.

"No id's good. Helbs take my mind off the paib", he grinned again, raising his eyebrows at you suggestively.

Even with a broken nose and all that blood on his face and clothes he still manages to look handsome, still charming in that loveable dork kind of way that made you fall for him all those years ago, stirring something warm in your belly.

"Just let me do the talking, okay?", you stroke his cheek gently, placing a quick kiss there which makes his face turn pink in a way that's unrelated to his injury. You looked over the forms one of the nurses had handed you when you first came in, filling the blank spaces with Eddie's personal information.

Fell down the stairs. That's pretty believable, right? You continued to jot his details down, hoping the doctors and nurses will buy what you're selling because the last thing you wanted to divulge was that your boyfriend made you cum so hard while going down on you that you kicked him in the face on accident.

"Baaade"

"Eddie, don't talk you might start bleeding again"

"Jud one more ding", he nudges his shoulder against yours.

You look away from the paperwork then, catching a lilt to his tone that sounded serious. "What is it?", a tendril of worry winds up your spine. Had you concussed him? Oh shit, if he's got a concussion too then-

"Did you forbet your panties too?"

The tendril withers away unceremoniously.

"Eddie", you deadpanned. "This is not the damn time."

"Pleab jud answer the quedtion", he gives you the eyes, those wide, bottomless whiskey brown eyes and you crumble.

"Fine. I forgot, okay?", you duck your head and whisper in his ear. "You were bleeding so much- I just threw on whatever was closest."

He then eyes your skirt in that same way that got him in this situation in the first place, tongue swiping over his blood tinged bottom lip.

"Great becob I wad thinkin'. Round two in the van afder they patch me up?"

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis With Benefits - Part 5*

Keep me awake, buy me a coffee!

Summary: “Friday nights at the bar are harmless fun, until Harry’s ego and your jealousy get in the way…”

Wc: 4.1k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: SMUT, exhibitionism kink, daddy kink, degradation, spanking, jealousy, bit of possessiveness but not much

A/N: Hiya! Back again :) Here’s the newest part of Nemesis With Benefits! Things are getting real… enjoy!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

It's Friday night, which means getting drunk at the bar nearest to campus.

At least, that's the way Rebecca sees it.

And because you are Rebecca's friend, it is how your Friday night is also being spent. Benjamin and the others mentioned they might come too, so you were very excited to go out tonight. You had to admit that there was a small part of you which wondered whether Harry was going to show up too.

He did.

He joined the group a bit later, but your stomach felt funny when you spotted him walking through the door. You realized, of course, that you should immediately do something about these... feelings, but not tonight. Tonight was for dancing, and drinking, and secret glances.

Ones you have been sharing with Harry all night. Traces of the memories of the other night are still lingering in his eyes, and you are sure in yours too, as you catch his gaze every now and then. It makes your core heat up, just thinking about other things you could do on a night with him. Or day, or morning. Are you ovulating? You have to be.

Despite the fact that your eyes pull to Harry like fucking magnets, you put all your energy and focus into keeping up with Benjamin and Rebecca's conversation. Harry turns around and joins the three of you—which is noted by Benjamin as his body stiffens and he shares a nervous glance between the two of you—making it even more difficult to pay attention to what your lovely friend is saying. Until you hear the mention of your name

"I just need to find a random someone and have mind-blowing sex, like Y/N." She waves towards you as she explains the dry patch she has been going through for the past months. She's been so caught up in school that she hasn't had time to date at all.

Your mouth dries and your cheeks flush, feeling all eyes on you, especially Harry's. Benjamin's head whips towards you.

"You had mind-blowing sex?"

Before you can answer, Rebecca chimes in. "Yeah, she hooked up with some guy she met on that one dating app, and it was amazing, right?"

You are so utterly fucked. You know you are completely fucked when you say, "Yes."

"See? I need that too!" She asks, while Benjamin is still gazing at me with his mouth wide open.

"Oh my god, girl. So, he was good? Was he... you know? Big?" Benjamin, in very Benjamin-esque style immediately fires his blunt questions at you.

Before you can stop yourself, your eyes flick to Harry and back, uneasiness dripping off of you. You sigh.

"Yeah, yeah he was."

You hear a sniff of laughter on your left. With a clenched jaw, you try to control your breathing. You can't believe you got out in this embarrassing position. And you have no one to blame for it other than yourself. You hate this, the cocky bastard's ego is only going to get more inflated by hearing this conversation.

"Are you gonna see him again?"

Filled with irritation and a desire to humble the guy standing next to you, you shrug. "I don't think so. It's kind of like a disposable razor, after a few times it just won't do it for you like it did before. Plus, his arrogance alone took up like half of the space in bed."

Benjamin and Rebecca chuckle at your comment, and you smile, satisfied with that little jab you managed to make towards Harry. When you glance at him for that slight second that you allow yourself to, your stomach turns at that standard lazy smirk he wears.

You talk for a bit more, and Harry slowly fades out of the conversation over time. It takes everything to not let your eyes see where he is going as he walks away and disappears into the crowd. He probably went to pee, you tell yourself.

After a while, the song selection in the bar improves and finally Rebecca drags you onto the very occupied dance floor. You move on the beat like two idiots who look like they've had way more to drink than they actually have. Tonight is a 'dance like nobody's watching' night, filled with funny made-up moves, as opposed to the 'dance like everyone's watching' nights, which are filled with sensual hip movements and cute hair flips.

Just as you've finished your just invented dance move called 'the lawnmower', and are watching Rebecca's dancing rendition of turning on a lamp, you spot Harry at the bar. Your laughter fades a bit, concentration now full on where he is standing, and talking, to a girl.

She must be at least five inches shorter than him because there is quite a height difference. Her auburn hair is really shiny, though, and it looks like she is funny because Harry is laughing at whatever she just said.

You force yourself to turn your attention back to the dance floor, and continue dancing with Rebecca. However, despite your best efforts, your eyes keep flicking back to the bar, and that stupid smile that paints Harry's face as he talks to that redhead.

"I'm gonna get a drink!" You shout over to Rebecca, "do you want something?"

When she shakes his head, you give her a thumbs up and walk away. It is quite crowded so it takes a few seconds to get to the bar, but you arrive, right in front of Harry and the redhead. She has blue eyes, you notice. A flare of anger shoots down your spine.

"Excuse me, can I just—" before waiting on a confirmation or even a step back, you wring yourself between Harry and the girl, leaning over the bar to try and flag down a bartender. You don't miss the clench of Harry's jaw as he leans back a bit, giving you a bit of space instead letting you lean against him a bit.

It takes long enough for a bartender to arrive that the redhead decides to turn around and walk away, and you try not to smile too hard at the sudden free space beside you. You move away from Harry a bit, and he turns around and leans over the bar as well, getting closer to your face.

"Jealous?" He asks. You snort, slightly shaking your head.

"Thirsty." You shoot up straight at the feeling of a guy touching your waist and shoulders as he passes by—something which is entirely unnecessary because there is enough space to walk without touching you. You frown at the man who passed by, but re-direct your focus to Harry as you correct him. "I simply needed a drink and spotted some free space by the bar."

You can't look Harry in his eyes for too long because you know that he knows that you are lying through your teeth, so you turn your eyes back to the bar, hoping a bartender may have spotted you. You won't let yourself look as Harry moves away from the bar a bit, but your core flutters when you find him standing right behind you, hips pressed against your ass and his hands leaning on the bar, leaving you with no other place to go.

You try to be as casual as you can about it, but you can't help the shiver that runs down your spine as Harry leans into your ear and whispers, "You're jealous."

The low voice almost has you crumbling immediately, and the urge to lean back into him is almost too big, but you hold on to that last sliver of restraint. Luckily, a bartender finally comes to help you, so you can distract yourself by ordering a drink. While you wait for the drink to arrive, you turn around to Harry.

"You need to back off, all our friends are here. What if they see?"

Harry tilts his head, "You mean, what if they find out that I'm the guy from the mind-blowing sex?"

"No. I mean, what if they find out you are the disposable razor." You bite back, and Harry tsks you, a wide grin displayed on his face. He nods to the bar, and you quickly turn around to find the bartender putting your drink down. You thank him and lean forward to grab it, but your ass accidentally brushes against Harry's crotch as you do so.

He leans forward once again, saying lowly in your ear, "Everyone went outside to smoke, I saw them walk out just a minute ago."

You bite your lip at the thought of an open field, and lean back a bit further in response to his reassurance. Your ears catch the small chuckle that grumbles from Harry's throat as your ass presses tight against his crotch. His hand travels to your waist, tracing up and down as you take some sips of your drink.

You find it proves to be very hard to act like your entire body doesn't feel like it is engulfed in flames and his hands aren't the gasoline. It is way too warm in this room.

You gasp in surprise when Harry wraps his arm around your waist and pulls your entire body against him. You can practically hear your thunderous heartbeat as his hands glide down to your thighs and teasingly nudge your dress up a bit, and the heat of his breath fanning against your ear doesn't do much to help you either.

It takes everything in you not to turn around and kiss him, and you bring your drink to your lips, occupying your mouth with that instead. You drink, and drink, and drink, as if it's a potion of restraint. Ironically, it only takes you about twenty seconds to finish it. And even as you turn around and drag him towards the bathroom by his shirt, your mouth feels incredibly dry.

What you don't expect, though, is for Harry to change the path. Your brows knit together in confusion as he leads you to a random door that you've never seen before at the end of the hallway. He opens it, and suddenly you find yourself standing outside, behind the bar, in a small alleyway. You look on both your sides, but it seems to be impossible to access it from outside.

There are piles of crates filled with empty beer bottles that you have to shimmy around, and the other side of the alleyway is marked with only a chain link fence that looks out on a nearly empty, barely lit parking lot.

"Nice spot, do you take all your hook-ups here?" You joke, but you realize that as you say it, there is some hidden bitterness to the comment. You pray Harry doesn't catch it, but it doesn't seem so in the way he replies.

"Only the ones I hate." He looks back with a false innocent smile, coaxing you until you're leaned against the wall.

"Do you let them suck you off too?" You ask as you crouch down, maintaining eye contact and letting him see that salacious smirk displayed on your face. The hoarseness in his voice is apparent as he chuckles, observing you as you unbutton his pants and take his cock out of his briefs.

"Only the desperate ones." He retorts, satisfied with his humbling answer. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, and wrap your mouth around the tip of his cock. You press some small kisses to it, a lick here and there, and try not to smirk at the hisses sounding from above you.

You feign easing in, spitting on his cock and stroking the wetness all over his length, but when you put your mouth on him again, you instantly take him entirely down your throat. It takes focus, relaxation in your mouth and a lot of breathing through your nose, but the whine that falls from Harry's lips is worth it. You pull back, smiling up at him.

"Who's desperate now?"

With that invitation to a challenge floating in the air, you take Harry back into your mouth. You bob your head back and forth, this time making up for what you haven't got in your mouth with your hands. You take him deeper and deeper, until your nose hits his pubic hair again, and his cock slightly twitches in your throat.

"Shit..." He hisses, his hips bucking forward a bit and hits the back of your throat. A moan escapes you and it vibrates on his hard cock. By the pained sound he makes, you know that Harry is close to his orgasm. A sense of pride fills you as you begin to pick up your pace, but much to your dismay, your mouth is being pulled off of his cock.

"Hey! I wasn't done yet." You begin to protest, but he turns you around and bends you forward. You grasp onto the chain link fence, your cunt absolutely dripping as he flips your dress over your ass and roughly pulls down your panties. His fingers trace over your wetness, and you bite your lip to refrain yourself from making too much noise.

"Shut the fuck up, and just take it." Harry growls, his cock lining up with your entrance and pushing into you. You let out a sigh of relief at the now familiar warmth filling you up, and as Harry starts driving into you, you find yourself driving back into him.

"This is what you wanted right? That I fuck you somewhere in the dark instead of talking to that girl inside." He tuts you, grabbing your hair and pulling your head backwards. You whine at the impact. "Such an attention whore."

"I— I was just getting a drink." You croak out, shooting forward at every hard thrust that Harry makes. The fence echoes the impact of it, and every time you are sure you are going to fall down. But your legs refuse to give out because that would mean giving out on Harry's cock sliding in and out of you the way he is right now and you'd rather give up anything else than that at the moment.

You let out a small shriek when Harry's hand flies across your cheek, the stinging sensation instantly making you more wet.

"You're a bad liar, baby." He purrs, and another slap lands on your cheeks. You let out a string of mumbling words insisting he go on and 'harder'. Harry laughs lowly, and it almost sounds evil.

"So filthy. What would your friends think if they could see you right now?" His fingers find your clit as he speaks, slowly drawing circles.

"I don't care."

The words have left your mouth before you can even realize that you, indeed, really do not care. All that you care about right now is being fucked by Harry in this alleyway and you don't care who sees or hears it. As long as you can still feel this good.

Harry sniffs, and you know he's not taking you seriously right now. For some reason, you feel the need to prove him that you are in fact being serious.

"I wouldn't care if they were standing on that parking lot, I'd still let you fuck me." You confess, and your words seem to be the fuse for the cannonball that you send flying. That cannonball being Harry, and flying meaning he starts to jackhammer into you like his life depends on it.

"F—fuck! Ah, oh. My. God. Harry!"

What should be sentences leaving your mouth are only remnants of words, and what should be thoughts in your head are only him. The smell of him, the sound of him, the feeling of him. Everything disappears around you and it's just him and his extremely big cock pounding into you.

"You're a filthy fucking slut— fuck!" He rambles, the chain link fence masking the harsh sound of your bodies colliding with each other, and the ragged breathing that comes with it.

"Yes, yes, yes, daddy!"

You haven't even really noticed the nickname until Harry's reaction makes you aware of it. He groans out and brings his hand to your cheek again before focusing back on your clit and rubbing earth shattering circles that have your legs wobble.

"Fuck... Such a dumb fucking cock slut. Daddy needs to fill you up, huh?" Every word is laced with his cockiness, but you don't miss the gruffness that his hidden underneath. Harry is close and you know it, even if he doesn't want to let it shine through too much. In response to that, you begin fucking yourself into him once again.

"Fill me up daddy."

It's a demand, not a question or a suggestion or proposition. You need it, and he does too. But Harry refuses to obey you immediately, fixating on your orgasm first.

"Soak me baby, and I'll fill you up."

The promise causes you to let go. Harry uses his free hand to clasp it over your mouth, muffling the cries that fall from your lips as you clench around him over and over, soaking him as he requested, and it seems to be the catalyst for his orgasm.

You smile to yourself as you feel him fill you up, the almost pained noises you hear from behind filling you with some sense contentment that you are afraid to find out the details about.

But maybe you should, and then throw them away. The last thing you want is to develop feelings for the man who helped break your last relationship. It isn't right.

You push the thought aside, though, as Harry slowly pulls out of you and slips your underwear over your core again. You stand up straight and adjust your dress, turning around to the guy who just fucked you within an inch of oblivion. You giggle, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the situation. Harry grins at your amusement, finding it as entertaining as you do.

When you've both made yourself decent again, helping one another with some adjustment with their hair—and with that meaning Harry adjusting the mess he made of your hair—you decide it's time to get back inside before anyone gets too suspicious.

"We shouldn't go in at the same time." You say, and Harry nods in understanding. "You should probably go first."

He eyes you for a second, then shrugs, and waves at you weakly as he walks back to the door where you both came from. As soon as he's disappeared behind the door, you let out a sigh. For a second you let the realization of what you just did kick in, and much to your surprise, a giggle falls from your lips as your initial reaction.

It's just so... stupid. But it's funny, and you're enjoying it. Maybe you should start accepting it, and maybe that should start with starting to see Harry as a friend.

With that thought and a faint smile on your face you tread back to the door and head into the bar. When you emerge from the bathroom hallway, you crash into Rebecca, who grabs your shoulders and pushes you back into the hallway.

For a moment, you think, this is it. She's found out and she is going to absolutely flip. But the distressed look on her face makes you reconsider, and out of is instinct you look behind her to the bar.

Where is Harry?

"I've had enough of tonight, shall we go home?" The hurried tone of her voice only draws in more confusion from your side.

"What's going on?" You ask, shaking her hands off your shoulders. She keeps them by her side, her eyes filled with compassion... pity maybe?

"Rebecca?" You frown, tilting your head. She huffs and throws her hands over her face.

"I'm a horrible friend!" She confesses, peering up at you from behind her hands. "Dylan is here..."

Oh.

You stare blankly at your friend, your brain seeming to malfunction on choosing a reaction. There is nothing that really comes to mind. Most everything regarding Dylan has left you kind of numb. Well, except what happened between him and Harry of course.

Harry... shit!

You strut past Rebecca, walking onto the busy dance floor, and you spot your ex, standing by the pool table with another girl. You almost want to go over to the poor girl and tell her to run, but maybe she doesn't mind being a one night stand. You hope she does, you hope she doesn't get her heart broken by him like you did.

You want to do something... pour a glass of beer over him or anything else that feels even remotely cathartic. But somehow you can't. Somehow, all you can think about while looking at the boy who once used to be your boyfriend, is what a fucking pig he is.

The betrayal, the wound that you have been tending to, the one you have let breathe and has slowly started to heal feels like it has been ripped open again. That face and his features, you haven't seen them in a while and it makes it all so real.

He cheated on you. He cheated on you with someone in the friend group while you were together. He cheated on you with Harry.

And you just had sex with Harry.

You feel sick to your stomach. What the fuck have you been doing? How have you let yourself forget what kind of a person Harry is? God, you had even started to like him! Just five minutes ago you were beginning to think you might be able to be friends with him. You've made your life such a fucking shit show.

With tears blurring your vision, you turn your head back to Rebecca and say, "You're right, let's go."

She hurries over to you and gives you a hug before escorting you out of the bar. You don't know if Dylan sees you, but if he did he doesn't seem to care.

You walk to the car and step into the passenger seat, one question floating in your mind. One you're afraid will be too vulnerable, but you take the risk of asking it anyway.

"Where's Harry?"

It almost comes out in a whisper, but it's quiet enough in the car for Rebecca to hear you anyway. She looks over at you, all sympathetic like she's been looking at you for the past months, like she'll let anything slide just because she feels bad for you.

"Home, I think. Benjamin went with him. He practically stormed out as soon as he saw Dylan."

You look down at your lap, a heavy ache filling your chest. You have no idea how to identify what you are feeling right now. There is a part of you that wants to talk to Harry, ask if he's okay. But there's this other, bigger part of you that knows he is part of what caused this entire situation in the first place. And it just fills you with such anger... you don't know where to place it, you don't know how to filter through it and you especially have no idea how to ever get past it.

How can you ever have a healthy relationship— or well, friendship, with someone who did something like that to you? And why does the impossibility of it flood you with a sadness you've never experienced before. It's like... it's like you're doomed.

What the fuck do you do now?

taglist: @hisparentsgaleryy

[captain039]

Part 5 Daddy’s Little Girl

Logan x reader

Warnings: Age gap (early twenties reader), swearing, first times, virgin reader, plus size reader, tension, oral f receiving, smut, daddy kink, dom! logan, Abuse (Not from Logan), anxiety, depression, mention of self-harm scars, reader has muscle issues and body pain, angst

@mmeerraa @the141bandicoot @clairealeehelsing @dirtydianaahah @babey-fruit-bat @roseydoesypoesy @landlockedmermaid77 @nonamevenus

Previous part <-

After shopping you head back to his house. You feel like curling up and sleeping or crying, you haven't decided. Logan’s giving you soft smiles and comforting looks and you just want to slap him. You don’t know why, maybe to knock him out of whatever spell he’s under so he realises the situation. You don’t say much apart from a thank you and a going to go to your room before he can speak. You close the door softly sagging against it before you put the two bags down, Logan ended up paying for everything much to your protest. He gave you one raised eyebrow and you should’ve just kneeled at his feet. You huff gripping your hair briefly before sighing. You need to wash the clothes first before you wear them. You in pack and take the tags off before sneaking out hearing Logan on the phone. You tip toe to where you’ve seen his washing machine and frown at it once you’re there.

“Can’t be too hard” you mumble laying your clothes down and looking at the buttons.

You give up, whatever rubic’s cube bull shit this is and go to find Logan. He’s standing in the dining area phone still his ear as he speaks softly. He hangs up with a small sigh before sensing you and turning around.

“What’s up?” He asks.

“Um, can I borrow your washing machine? I don’t know how to use it though” you fiddle your jumper sleeve briefly before he smirks lightly but nods heading to the small room.

“Washing liquid goes in there, turn the dial here, press these two buttons and then the start” he explains and you relay it in your head and nod as the machine starts.

“Thank you” you say and he nods cursing softly when his phone rings.

“Scuse me, princess” he mutters and you nod heading to your room instead. You hear him talk angrily and tense up. You close your door and sigh a little shakily before unpacking the other things you bought. All toiletry items plus some extra things, pain meds, funny looking heating patches, a soft blanket too. You had been embarrassed when you wandered to the bedding area and began running your hands over the blankets with a 6’2 muscular man behind you, watching you. You explained in a mumble how you couldn’t sleep without one and liked the comfort of them. He didn’t judge though saying you didn’t need to explain yourself and that you were shopping for you to be comfortable. A small knock comes and you answer seeing Logan open the door and lean against the frame.

“Alright?” He asks and you nod.

“Everything alright with you?” You ask and he sighs.

“Thomas is kicking up a stink, mans always been bitchy” you can’t help the snort that leaves you at his words, it’s true though Thomas always had something to complain about.

“Sorry” you say laughing softly, seeing him smile too.

“Don’t be” he chuckles and pushes off the door before sitting by you. Your heart picks up as he takes your hand, the one you punched your father with. It’s bruised now not as bad as you thought it would be though. He brings it to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles softly making you flush as he sighs a bit.

“What’s wrong?” You ask and he offers you a smile obviously hiding away whatever thoughts he had.

“Don’t worry about me Bub, you want some lunch?” He asks and you hesitate but nod. He gets up and leaves and you sigh quietly.

You had gone food shopping as well, Logan buying a trolly full of things, asking what you liked and didn’t like. It felt strange and to surreal, like you were going to wake up in your bed now, your father yelling at you for sleeping in. Logan makes sandwiches and you thank him before eating quietly at the table. Your minds in a whirlwind of thoughts. You can’t stay here forever, obviously that kiss he gave you didn’t mean much, he just being overly generous, kind. He’d never want someone like you. You barely finish your sandwich before excusing yourself to go back to your room. You grab a pen and paper, searching up jobs, different hotels, places you could stay it’d be almost impossible to get a job though even if the town was small. You’d need a record of your past two years of work which you didn’t have, bank statements. You spiral into things you need and crash. You lie sideways staring at the wall a few pieces of paper spread on the floor. You read your dad’s messages, hurtful, guilt tripping, fake apologies. You delete them all and his number feeling a little better. Logan had given you access to his wifi so you had free internet for now to research how to live on your own. You googled therapists, the doctors in town too, you needed a referral from the doctor to get into a therapist though. Another knock comes, but you don’t answer it but the door still opens.

“Sorry bub, checking to see if you were asleep or not” Logan says and you feel too exhausted to speak so you shrug. You expect him to leave but the bed dips with his weight and you frown lying your phone down and glancing to him.

“I think this bed is more comfortable than mine” he sighs and you smile slightly but stay facing your back to him.

“What’s with all the papers?” He asks casually and you tense.

“Doodling” you lie and he hums.

“You alright?” He asks after some silence and you sigh. No you’re not alright, you don’t want to explain it to him though.

“You can talk to me if you want to Bub” he says and you clench your jaw. You sit in silence before he sighs softly, gives your shoulder a squeeze before he leaves.

You skip dinner, pretending to be asleep when Logan comes back to check on you. He closes the curtains, covers you with a blanket and flicks your light off before closing your door softly. You wait till he’s asleep before going to your clothes out drying. You grab the ones you had with you that day and put them on again, you fold the blanket up nicely and make sure everything is tidy and neat. You move ordered a taxi to meet you down the road a bit, you have no idea where you’ll go, but it can’t be here. You don’t bother with a note and somehow you’ll pay him back for what he bought. You put what you had in a plastic bag and sneak down the hall. This place isn’t really big enough to sneak around and when you get to the sliding door you see his shadow reflected in it. You stop breathing hoping it’s a figment of your imagination.

“You’re not exactly quiet, princess” he says and you glare at his reflection, great now he’s mocking you.

“I’m leaving” you turn to say like a grown woman.

“A taxi is waiting for me down the road” you add.

“Where will you go?” He asks walking slowly to the end of the hall, flicking the light on making you squint.

“There’s a cheap motel in town I’ll stay at for a few nights” you say.

“Then what?” He asks walking forward some more.

“I���ll find a job somewhere, seek out some job help” you answer.

“Then what?” He repeats and you frown.

“Then I’ll eventually find somewhere to live maybe, or I’ll rent a room with someone” you shrug as he doesn’t speak, just crosses his arms across his naked chest and stares you down so you scoff.

“Stop with this silent scolding attitude I’m not a child, I’m a grown woman, you don’t want me here Logan” you say harshly feeling your own heart break with the words.

“How do you know what I want?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“I haven’t taken anything you bought it’s all neatly there with the receipt, I’ll be out of your hair soon” you sigh as he comes closer.

“You didn’t answer my question” he says voice quieter but deeper as he stares you down.

“You saved me out of pity or the kindness of your heart, and I thank you I’ll never forget it and I don’t know how to repay you, but I’ve over stayed my welcome and your resources” you say hating the way your heart beats rapidly and how small you feel. Your phone vibrates with a notification your taxi is here.

“Thank you Logan, and goodbye” you turn so he can’t see your tears going to open the door till a large hand splays atop your head against the screen and stops.

“Logan” you sigh hanging your head. He snatches your phone from your hand and you frown turning.

“Logan!” You yell as he holds it to his ear.

“Hey, sorry Bub, I’m going to have to cancel the ride” he says as you stare with your mouth open.

“Yeah no, it’s a stage name funny enough, yeah I know” he laughs as you glare him down.

“Sorry buddy, have a goodnight” he hangs up eyes meeting your glare as you scoff.

“What the hell?” You say.

“You’re not going anywhere, not till you’re on your feet” he says finale.

“Logan!” You snap at him and he meets your challenge.

“I didn’t do it out of kindness or pity, I did it because I wanted you” his eyes go dark as he stares at you.

“Because I was a selfish prick” he adds clenching his jaw.

“Because I see the way you look at me like I’m a beacon and I relish it” his voice drops and you struggle to breathe.

“I want to take care of you like nobody ever has, I want you here forever in my life, I want your smile in the morning, I want your bad days and good, I want to touch you in so many ways, I want your thighs around my head, I want to treat you like a princess” his words leave you speechless and short of breath as he stared at you with intensity his chest rising and falling quickly. You falter feeling your panties wet and warm, your body reacting on its own accord as you open and close your mouth briefly.

“Oh” is all you manage though.

Next part ->

[nrdmssgs]

Little things, they do (Alex, Soap, König) (headcannons)

Masterlist

Part 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz) here

Ok, guys, first of all, thank you all for giving this little sketch THAT much love. Honestly, I'mm shocked. I'm blaming mister Riley here, but boy, thank you so-so-so much for 100 beautiful followers. I`ve actually had something for this milestone, but I was sure, it would be hit somewhere in the end of the summer. Hope, you like it!

Little things, they do, that get you every time. Silly, warm, heart-melting, wholesome things.

Alex Keller

Almost unconsciously lowers his head to stay on your eye-level whenever you two are sitting at a table and chatting.

If you are cooking and even insisting on doing it solo (maybe it's just your thing, maybe you like to have more room in the kitchen), he is never leaving you. He will just sit there and keep you company, or tell you some stories, or maybe find a youtube video for you both to listen to, while you're doing your magic.

Talking about your cooking, he never turns down anything, you've made. Never. “Alex, don't take that bun, I burnt it!” Eats it anyway, because it's your effort that counts and makes anything you cook so special to him.

If you are dating, and he needs to go early in the morning, he covers your eyes with the corner of his blanket (very carefully so as not to wake you up!). That way, he can turn on the light and collect his clothes without waking you up.

Def pulls you closer in his sleep. Buries his face in your hair, mumbles some sweet nonsense, places a soft kiss on the top of your head. (by gods I need more headcanons on this man sleeping)

Sometimes just stops whatever he is doing to say “I love you” and give you a kiss. The fridge is still open, his sweater is halfway off him, his hands still wet and water runs on uncleaned dishes? Doesn't matter, the kiss is what important to him.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Once Price saw how you two interact and commented it like “Looks like our Tweedledum finally found his Tweedledee…” And while other pairs could get offended, you two weren't bothered at all (you're two chaotic crows, nothing can stop you!). In fact, from that moment anything he buys or makes for you, comes with a small handwritten note, saying, “to: my Dee. from: your Dum.”

Once he cooked an absolutely amazing pie. You were practicaly moaning, while savouring it and he just sat there all bright with pride. In a few years you saw the same kind of pie in a menu in the pub, where you were supposed to meet Johnny and others from the 141. Once you pointed it out to Johnny, others flinched and looked at each other. In response to your uncomprehending look, one of them admits that Soap was so worried that you would not like his cooking that he practiced at the base for several weeks. Because of it, their diet consisted only of Johnnys` pies for these weeks.

Has no concept of “too girly stuff”. Will gladly go shopping with you, paint your nails, help you dye your hair at home, if you feel like it. Will sneak your eye patches, because they smell so nice, and he feels so fresh after using them!

During his deployments, sends you tons of the most random photos just to calm you down and cheer you up (because every time you are too scared, this could be his last mission). “Ok, bonnie, this time I present you the collection of random rocks, I've met on work.” For the next week, you keep getting… exactly that. Photos of rocks with short comments like “Here's wee one.”

You don't know why the last photo he sent you that week was a photo of some guy in a creepy mask. You also don't have a single idea, why Johnny then goes radio silent for two days and why he has a brand-new phone, when he's back.

König

You have a stiff back? He will gladly take you by the hands and lift you up so that your spine is extended. "König! No, no, wait, don't, OH!... Oh… Sweet mother of jesus, I actually feel better..."

Even if you are just friends, and you are staying over at his place - he presents you with a shampoo, shower gel, conditioner and body lotion of EXACTLY the same brands as you're using at home. He just notes these small things and wants you to feel relaxed and taken care of when you're around him. 

You can call him anytime on any occasion and if his phone is on, he will answer in SECONDS. You had a bad dream, and it's 4 am, and he lives on the other end of the town? In another town even? No problems, he answers almost immediately and comes to you as soon as he can. Even if It's just to hold you for 15-20 minutes, while you slowly drift to sleep, and then to drive back to his place for another good hour. 

Thanks you for everything, and not only verbally! Writes small notes and leaves them on your bag or just straight gives them to you. He doesn't take anything for granted. Every your intention is a gift for him.

And that goes not only for the time, when you two have just met each other. You are his wife or husband since 10 years, you already have 2-3 beautiful kids? He still writes you notes, thanking you for the most incredible goodnight kiss, you gave him yesterday (every your goodnight kiss is the most incredible to him).

[o-sachi]

Busted Lip ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ an ice pack should be enough to heal a busted lip, but you have another trick up your sleeve

ଳ character; hiragi toma (wind breaker)

ଳ tags; fluff, soft toma, gn reader, no y/n, ume silliness

[🐟]: To anon who requested a hiragi fic... thank you from the bottom of my hiragi-loving heart.

This was far from an unusual sight—Hiragi coming back from a scuffle and requiring you to patch up any injuries he sustained. But, as often as it happened, he would still insist that he was "a grown man" and that he could handle first aid on his own.

Too bad for Hiragi but you were more stubborn than he was. Despite his protests, it would always end up with him yielding to your commands.

He'd try to look annoyed and displeased with that grumpy look on his face, but the slight tint of red on his cheeks would betray him each time. At the very least, you'd spare the poor man of your teasing.

The Vaisravana unit came back to the school grounds a little later than expected. You were sure that if it were anyone else dating Hiragi—they'd already be shaking in their boots. But not you. You trusted Hiragi and his strength that no one would be able to take him down. Besides, you were also being pep talked by Ume as the two of you waited for them on the Furin rooftop.

"Ume-san, which part of town did they even go to? It's taking so long and I miss Toma already."

A booming laughter erupts from his chest. "They probably took a detour—buying us some food or something. Don't worry."

Oh well, it was always food with Ume. But if he isn't worried then, why should you be? You sat back in your seat, marveling at the setting sun before you while Ume continued taking photographs of his plants.

You sigh, longingly—and as if on cue—the doors to the rooftop swing open abruptly. A smile stretches on your face upon seeing Hiragi and all the other members on his unit. But your smile quickly turned lopsided once you noticed his busted lip. Hiragi thought he was being smart, trying to turn his head sideways and hoping that you wouldn't notice the glaring injury on his face.

Ume, on the other hand, was frowning for totally different reason and it had something to do with them coming back emptyhanded.

"You guys took so long and here I thought you were bringing back food..." With the way he pouted, it was almost impossible to tell that he was the top dog of Furin.

"Who said we were bringing ya back food?" Hiragi retorts, scratching the back of his neck.

Suo steps in with the usual calm expression. "It took us a while to come back because we encountered a couple of townspeople who requested our help."

Ume nodded. "How about we go get some food then and enjoy it up here? Hm? How does that sound?"

Nirei and Suo were on board as they always were with Ume's plans. Sakura insisted that he'd be heading home already, but that wasn't allowed on their watch. And Sugishita would go just about anywhere Ume wanted them to.

You already knew how Hiragi would respond, but would you felt being a little cheeky today in exchange for him making you miss him too much. Standing up from your seat, the grainy sound of the wooden chair against the concrete floor prompted the boys to look at you.

"Toma, you stay here with me," you say, firmly.

The others started snickering and teasing Hiragi who had the biggest scowl on his face—a scowl which was directed at them, of course. God forbid that he look at you with such a nasty expression.

They bicker a little more, wishing Hiragi good luck before he faces your "wrath". Exasperated, he shakes his head while everyone else filtered out of the rooftop. Once it was the two of you left, Hiragi glanced over at you.

"Ya thought that was funny hm?" he asks as he made his way over to you.

You watch as he pulls a chair closer to yours and you smile sweetly at his question. "They did laugh though, didn't they?"

He plops down on the chair with an exaggerated huff. Walking all afternoon was tiring enough and here you were—being brazen as ever. In front of the others too no less.

"You're a real piece of work," he murmurs. Normally, that sentence would have you raising your brow, but it came from Hiragi. He had a strange way of showing affection—not like you minded it.

You point a finger at his face, more specifically, the lip that was swelling up. "That. That's the real piece of work here. What happened to you huh?"

Hiragi clicks his tongue. It was naive of him to think that you'd let him get away with it without so much as an explanation. Seems pretty easy to do, but the fussing that would occur thereafter was the one thing he wanted to prevent.

Looking off to the side, he muttered beneath his breath. "Sakura hit me with a sign..." He spoke so softly as if the less you heard, the less you'd care about his busted lip.

Your brows furrow in confusion. You understood what he said, but at the same time you didn't.

"A sign? What sign? What were you guys up to?"

"We were helping an elderly couple put up a new sign on their store. So all of us hoisted up the sign and we were supposed to do it on my count of 3. But that damn kid doesn't know how to listen and hoisted too early."

His gaze wandered down to his feet, perching his elbows on his knees. "...Hence the busted lip."

A sigh of relief left your lips. Thankfully it wasn't a result of a fight this time. You could already imagine the kind of back-and-forth they had earlier with that sign. It made you giggle a bit—thinking about Hiragi and Sakura pointing fingers while everyone else stood awkwardly.

As soon as you stood up, his eyes were on you. "Where are ya going?"

"To the infirmary, duh. I'm getting you an icepack for that lip."

You were already a few steps ahead when he stopped you. A firm grasp was on your wrist as he held you in place. "Ya don't have to. Just stay here. It'll get better on its own."

You turn to look back at him. His gaze was firm, telling you that he was absolutely adamant that you stay put. Not wanting to be that overbearing partner, you give up on it.

Instead, you looked back at him with the same intensity. You two did this quite often which resulted in the others calling this little thing of yours as "flirting". Your own brand of flirting that is.

But a cheeky grin broke out on your face again at a silly thought that had crossed your mind.

"If you don't want an icepack and if you don't want me to move... well, I thought of a remedy that doesn't require any icepacks or me leaving here."

His interest... or trepidation, rather—was piqued.

Whatever "remedy" you have up your sleeve, he knew it was just another way of saying, "Oh I have another way to tease you and make you look like a fool in love."

Great. Just great, knowing that he had to indulge you as the good boyfriend that he is.

"What is it th-"

His sentence cuts off once you had your hands cupping his face and your lips on his. For someone weaker than him, you sure were strong enough when it came down to it. You pulled him down to your height while keeping your lips locked.

For a moment, you let him pull away. You wondered what kind of expression he'd make after this stunt that you pulled.

"Seriously?"

Once again, he tries to convince you about how disgruntled he was. But with the way his lips bent, it was clear he was trying to suppress a smile. How adorable, you thought.

The only attacks Hiragi couldn't defend against were the flurry of kisses you planted all over his face. His lips, cheeks, the tip of his nose, forehead—none of those were safe from your affections.

Before you knew it, the smile he had fought hard to subdue had made its way on his face. His own hands cupped your face, finally reciprocating the fondness you so kindly showered him with.

Your little moment, however, was interrupted by a squealing Ume.

"Hey, Nirei, get this on camera!"

... to which everyone else face palmed.

Not only did he ruin your fun, but he gave away their presence. So nothing was caught on camera that day.

Hiragi let go of you, giving you one last gentle gaze before scowling at the idiots that interrupted the two of you.

Well, he had to teach them a lesson before they could tease him, right?

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 '𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧?' ♡

[Synopsis】 : Coming back from a house party, you and Woo couldn't seem to keep your hands off one another. Everything was happening so fast. You two didn't even make it to the bedroom.

『Word count』 :  1.18k

-> Genre: Smut Without Plot

Pairing: Boyfriend!Wooyoung x F.Reader

[Warnings] : Unprotected sex. PIV. Pet name. Oral. Dirty talk. Drunk sex. Mention of weed/smoking. Wooyoung his so pussy drunk and reader is very cock drunk. They are both crazy. I wrote this around 3 a.m., so it's honestly all over the place. But given this is drunk/high sex, i feel like it fits ahha.

Thank you, @8teez-woo , for this request. They requested a Woyoung fic inspired by 'Slow Down' by Chase Atlantic. I hope this is to your liking, my dear. ♡♡♡

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Maybe taking that last shot wasn't the best idea, and maybe playing some horny ass card game with your friends while smoking was also not your best move, but you could care at this moment. All you could care about was Wooyoung's lips kissing down your neck, suckling on your collarbone to create perfect purple marks over your perfect skin.

Wooyoung swears he could just come now in his pants, by the sheer noises you were making. The way your legs were wrapped around his waist as he ground his erect bulge against you while your fingers gripped the edge of the hallway table. Everything was so desperate and hot. Your minds were cloudy and your head, spinning. All you could taste on his lips was beer and hints of vodka and soju while he tasted the sweet Malibu and coke on your tongue. Your shirt was forgotten somewhere down the hall while he started to rip, not pull, tug, or shift, literally rip your shorts and panties off.

He promised himself he'd buy you new pairs, but all he needed right now was his head in between your legs, or better yet his cock. honestly, he didn't care at the moment. all he wanted was you. no matter what. "Fuck, you're so wet." Was the first words spoken since you and Wooyoung had gotten home from the house party San was throwing. Things got a little out of hand from there. You barely made it through the front door when you were both pushing yourself towards one another.

"Wet for you…" You moaned as his lips smashed back onto yours, picking you up he tumbled into the bedroom but he didn't make it to the bed, no, he fell with you tightly into his grasp onto the very soft floor rug you recently purchased.

Neither of you cared where you were, though, as his hips humped against yours, making a wet patch form from your slick on his jeans. Everything was so loud yet quiet, and that bottle of whiskey you both downed was starting to come into effect. Your body's senses were heightened. Your sense of smell, your hearing. Everything was making you dizzy in the best way possible.

"Woo, please, just…hnng..fuck." Your fingers tried to tug at your boyfriend's pants, but he suddenly sat up, leaning over towards the bed, reaching for something.

"Wait, baby, slow down." He chuckled at your eagerness, but you brushed off his words. Sitting up to unbuckle his pants, tugging them down his thighs enough so that you could get his cock free. You wrapped your hand around his shaft while he still tried to reach for god knows what on the bed. But his movements suddenly came to a screeching hault when he felt your mouth wrap around his angrily hard tip.

"Oh fuck…" his free hand lifted his shirt slightly so he could get a view of you sucking him off like your life depended on it. "You're gonna suck the life outta me doll."

You just giggled around his cock from his stupid remark, pumping him at a pace that got him so hot he felt like he was gonna nut within seconds. He couldn't handle it anymore, gripping your hair tightly, making you pull off him with a loud audible pop. "Please, Doll." His fingers tangled in your hair as he gave you a long drawn-out kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, before pulling away to say; "If you kept going, I would have came down that pretty throat of yours. And I'd rather fuck you first."

"Okay, Youngie." You gave him a big grin. The alcohol had made you become a gigging mess, laying down on the rug, waiting for him to give you another order. But he finally could grab the pillow he was trying to reach prior. He leans down, giving you another quick kiss while putting the pillow under your head before suddenly grabbing your hips, and rotating you in one swift motion.

"What, you wanna fuck me like I'm famous youngie?" You wiggled your ass in his view, letting him give it a loud sharp slap making your words catch in your horse throat.

"No…" he rubbed your red asscheek, "I'm gonna fuck you like it's my last day on earth."

You groaned into the pillow feeling the harsh burn of his cock sliding into you without prep. Your mind wonders why you never had drunk sex before. Wooyoung was talkative during sex normally, but this… this was different. There was no filter between you two. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just raw emotion.

"FUCK WOOYOUNG!." His hips snapped into you, making you take all his length in one motion. Your screams were buried in the pillow. You were too loud for your apartment. And your neighbours would probably call the cops for a noise complaint any second now. "Fuck fuck fuck, woo, please, hnngg.. shhhiitt.."

His fingers dug into your hips, leaving crescent moon shapes from his nails. There would surely be bruises by the morning, along with bright red marks on your ass from how hard Wooyoung was slamming his pelvis against you. "Fuck baby, you are so tight. Squeezing me so well. Oh my god, I'm gonna come."

He sped up, losing himself from the feeling of your tight, gummy walls. Your throat was burning from your yelps and screams. Wooyoung's high-pitched moans harmonised with you, making a song only you and he could make. "W-w-woo-ooyoung!! What‐fuck…what happened to going s-sloww."

Wooyoung snaked one of his hands under you, pressing his fingers against your clit rubbing at the perfect pace to tip you over the edge. "I lied."

You squirted, coming around Wooyoung's hard cock, making a mess on the carpet and Youngie's thighs. He pulled out of you, needed to catch his breath for a moment. Edging himself. You sit up, pushing him down against the end of the bed, hooking your leg over his delicious thighs, before sinking down on his cock. You gasped at the sensitivity but inched deeper nonetheless. Wooyoung slammed his head back against the bed, feeling himself so close to nutting just from the feeling of your tight soaked cunt around him. "Fuck doll, I'm gonna come. Cream inside your cunt."

"Oh god." You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling yourself climax again. He planted his feet on the ground, fucking upwards into you, spilling ropes of come deep inside your abused pussy. You bit down on his shoulder, silencing yourself from screaming any louder while Wooyoung freely moaned with his head tilted towards the roof. You were definitely going to get a noise complaint from this.

—♡

[loganwritesprobably]

First Meetings with.. (One Piece Edition)

Part two with Zoro, Robin and Luffy Part three with Crocodile, Mihawk and Buggy Part four with Benn, Shanks and Smoker

A tumblr exclusive collection of little reader insert drabbles - these won't be going on my AO3, these are just for the feral people of this wonderful hellscape

Requests are open for x reader things! I will write basically ANY kind of reader - male, female, non-binary, gender neutral, trans, disabled, black, white, latino, asian, neurodivergent, etc

I'll probably do more over time but here's three to start with - Ace, Law and Sanji. Readers are all gender neutral, but for Sanji reader is fem presenting (so he would be nice)

"Well hey there gorgeous." A voice said behind you, startling you to the point of hitting your hand against the counter in front of you. You were just minding your business, attempting to buy some food for the week, when some random guy had appeared behind you. You had half a mind to turn around and give him a piece of your mind, when the shopkeeper's eyes widened, and whispered his name. Fire Fist Ace. The pirate. "Who do you think you are?" You asked, turning to face him with a scowl. You wouldn't attack him outright, but you were not happy with the look on his face (now that you could see it) and wouldn't let it go. "Your future boyfriend, hopefully." Ace replied, and you scoffed. You turned back to the shopkeeper and bought your groceries, before making to leave the store. Ace followed behind you closely, making no secret of the fact that he was there.

"Are you lost?" You snarked, rolling your eyes at Ace. He was persistent, you'd give him that. "Oh no, just hoping you'll look at me like that again. You're perfect." "You're disgusting." You grumbled, although you'd certainly never been called perfect before, and in another circumstance you wouldn't be mad about it. "Hey, now that's harsh." Ace replied, but he was laughing as he said it, clearly unphased by your displeasure being directed at him. You took off walking again, not walking toward your place since you didn't exactly want to lead him straight to it.

Ace, to his credit, continued to follow you and eventually began to just talk. He seemed to be able to talk forever, uncaring whether or not you were listening - though you were. He was a pirate, pretty high bounty, almost a warlord, he had a little brother who he was stupid proud of, and an even bigger family waiting for him back on his main ship. "While this is all very nice, are you going to leave me be any time soon?" You asked eventually, back on the main street of the town once again. "Are you going to tell me your name?" That was all? You told him your name, utterly exasperate it. "Well, gorgeous, you'll be seeing more of me soon." With that, he took off in the opposite direction of your home, with a swagger in his step, happy he'd gotten what he wanted. You kind of hoped that you would be seeing him again soon - you liked him, reluctantly.

You weren't even hurt that badly. The guys were gone, and you were managing to stumble home just fine. You had a first aid kit in the kitchen that would be able to patch you up, and then you could go to the doctor when you had the time and had gotten some sleep. It was too late to go see her now.

As you stumbled down the dark street, clutching walls for stability, a man began to approach you. "Fuck off! Not in the mood." You snarled, clutching the broken shard of glass you'd gotten in the fight, a strip of your shirt wrapped around it to protect your hand. "You're injured." The guy stated flatly, and then you'd hit a stalemate. "Duh?" You said, still brandishing the shard in your hand. "I can fix it. I'm a doctor. Don't have to drop the glass, but I'd prefer if you didn't stab me." The supposed doctor drawled. He seemed.. familiar. Something about him just sparked recognition in the back of your mind, and that put you a little on edge. "You're familiar - why?" You questioned, shuffling backward to get a little further away from him while you waited on his answer. "I'm Trafalgar Law. My bounty poster is on the wall you're clutching." The pirate doctor pointed out, nodding toward it. Well, that made sense. Surgeon of death you'd heard him called - so at least that meant he was a doctor right? "Alright. But one wrong move and you'll be needing your own medical care." You threatened, and Law just half nodded. He knelt down in front of you to look at your wound, then pulled some bandages from a pocket in his coat. He wrapped your leg, doing so in complete silence and without hesitation. When he was done, he stood again and grunted as he nodded.

"Should be fine now. It'll hurt to walk still, but less risk of infection." He summarised, stepping around you to continue in the direction he'd been going. "Wait! Why did you do that?" You asked, spinning quickly on your good leg. "You're cute." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. He lifted his hand, said a word you didn't hear, and then in a flash of blue light he was gone.

You'd bumped into him entirely by chance, and gotten talking. He was a nice guy, he was sweet if a little much when it came to women he saw. You didn't mind - you could see that his intentions were good, for the most part. He offered to pay for a drink for you, since you'd narrowly avoided colliding with him outside of a bar, and you'd accepted. He let you order what you wanted, and he paid, not even blinking. It was second nature to him. He was kind, and offered endless compliments that you withstood with a smile on your face - you weren't quite used to such a bombardment of affection.

He disappeared after an hour or so, but returned the next day. You'd tried to ask where he went, but he danced around the question and asked you on an official date. You'd had a nice enough time the day before, and so you agreed.

He took you to a restaurant, it was classier than you usually allowed yourself to go to with a modest amount of money, but it didn't seem to be any object for him. He told you that he wouldn't compromise on good food, and allowed you to order anything you'd like, with no concerns about how many beri it would set him back. It felt nice not to worry about it for once. You ordered starters, then mains, with drinks flowing easily between you, and then a dessert to share to end the experience. You'd been there for hours, but with the money that you'd spent, no waiter could argue.

The conversation between you was easy and light, he was enraptured by your every word, he couldn't help it. He looked at you as if you'd hung the very stars in the sky. "All I've done is talk. I know almost nothing about you." You said to him, and Sanji laughed awkwardly. "I suppose so. But I'm afraid there's not much to tell." He said, and just as you'd been about to argue, a woman with orange hair came bursting into the restaurant calling his name. You looked at him with wide eyes and stood quickly. "No! She's not-" Sanji said hurriedly. "How much of my money was spent on this date?" Nami demanded, fire in her eyes. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realise you were-" You attempted to say to the woman, hoping she wouldn't direct her frightening anger at you. "Oh you're gorgeous. Well played cook, didn't think you had it in you." She praised, and then bewildered confusion fell over you. "Oh Nami, your praise is a balm on my heart." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms, raising an expectant eyebrow as you stared at Sanji, waiting for an explanation. "I'm a pirate. She's our navigator, and.. treasurer I suppose." He explained, and you sighed. "So you're not staying." "I can't." Sanji agreed, with a sad smile and nod. "But we're not leaving for another few days. So have fun while you can." Nami said, giving you a wink and Sanji a firm punch before turning to leave the restaurant.

Fun. You could do that.

[fraugwinska]

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

[rodolfoparras]

Three’s a crowd.

Summary: Price is your first love but you aren’t his.

Pairing: John Price x Male reader

Cw: enemies to lovers, past John Price x Nikolai, angst with a happy ending, not actually unrequited love, near death experience

A/N: this is from a spitball session that’s been completed, separate parts can be found here i, ii, iii,

Thinking about Price and Nik who used to date back in the day. While Price considered Nik to be his first love, Nik just didn’t feel the same way.

They still keep in touch, hooking up every once a while but it’s clear that Price is hoping that they’l get back together one day.

Both Price and Nik were sure that Price would never be able to move on until one you came along.

You’d been dubbed the troublesome soldier, kicked out of every squad you’ve been in but for whatever reason Price had taken you into his team and under his wing.

You don’t really know why since you vehemently denied any help he tried to give but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t develop feelings for him.

But any flicker of hope is quickly snuffed out when you find out that he’s had a past with the Russian man.

While Nik buys Price gifts like records from his favorite bands, Price has to patch up your wounds because you got into another fight.

While Nik knows the tea Price likes to drink when he’s sick, you know how to push every single one of Price’s buttons until he’s fuming

While Nik knows how to fuck him right, you’ve never even slept with a man.

So you keep your mouth shut, choosing to only admire him from a distance.

But by doing so you also miss to see that the tea Nik buys for him, Price makes for you when you’re down with the flu.

The records Nik buys for him, Price mentions to you in hopes of finding something in common with you.

He even finds himself visiting Nik less and less because all he can think about is you fucking him into the mattress.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Although the two of you can’t see it, everyone around you is aware of the feelings you harbor for each other, especially Nik.

You’re all Price talks about when Nik and him are hanging out. Many times he’d call off one of their hm- meetings because you needed him that night and it’s hard to miss the love struck look in Price’s eyes, something Nik hadn’t even seen when the two of them had been dating.

Nik thought that Price would confess his feelings, take any opportunity to move on from the man he’s been hung up on for years but for whatever reason, Price wouldn’t confess, even played stupid when Nik brought it up to him.

So Nik tried another approach, by making you jealous in hopes of that being enough to make you fess up but instead it only managed to push you further away.

Nik almost pulled his hair out, flying a helicopter was much easier than getting two people together so he gave up, and let universe handle it instead.

In the meantime 141 was on your ass about it, telling you that it’s so clear that the captain reciprocates your feelings.

For one moment you had allowed yourself to believe it. With one too many drinks in your system you had stumbled over to Price’s office in an attempt to confess your feelings.

However what you saw had shattered your heart.

Stupid, stupid so stupid you think to yourself tears trickling down your cheeks as you sprint to you room, far away from Price’s office.

Of course Price didn’t reciprocate your feelings, he was busy getting fucked by the man he was actually in love with.

“What is he going to think? Fuck!” Price says after you had hastily walked away. kicking the trash can laying around in his office, still half naked.

“John cal-“ Nik tries to say but gets interrupted by the older man.

“Don’t, Nikolai, just please leave, please? I would like to be alone for a moment”

Nik wants to argue but instead he lets out a sigh and picks up his clothes off of the floor, quickly dressing himself before walking out through the door.

“You should tell him you know?” Nik says with a sad smile on his face. Price doesn’t even get to spit out an impromptus lie about how he doesn’t like you in that way before Nik is walking away.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The opportunity to talk doesn’t come around. His days are filled with missions and his nights are filled with paper work that just seem to be piling up and when the two of you have some sort of interaction Price doesn’t even know what to say because it’s not like the two of you are anything in the first place.

He did nothing wrong by fucking Nik he was just lonely and tired of pining for the man who doesn’t even seem to noice him. But then that very same man walked in at the wrong moment and everything came crashing down on him.

Stupid stupid so stupid, Price thinks to himself as he sulks in silence.

Weeks have passed after that incident, the two of you are distant as ever. Price thinks that maybe it’s meant to be this way, you weren’t even anything in the first place.

But just as the thought pops up in his head there’s blood - your blood splashing across his face and you’re falling to the ground while he rushes towards your bleeding body.

You’re muttering I love you’s while he’s carrying you to the emergency room, because you’re so sure you’re going to die that day and Price is repeatedly saying that he won’t say it back not yet because this isn’t a goodbye and if you’re going to confess your love for him you have to ask him out on dinner first. You have to be alive and well when you do it, goddammit!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

There’s going to be a next time he says as he sits in the emergency room while you’re being operated.

There’s going to be a fancy dinner and he’s going to wear the suit that barley fits him anymore, even if the doctors had told him there were complications.

There’s going to be an opportunity to say that he loves you, he thinks to himself as he watches you still asleep in the hospital bed, monitors connected to every bit of your body.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sun is pleasantly warm as it shines down on your face, the drink you’d been nursing is cold in your hand. The only thing missing is-

“Clementine ?” Price says already knowing what you’re thinking. Your face lights up, shining as bright as the sun and you eagerly nod at his proposal.

It’s certainly not a dinner like you had promised but due to your injuries you were still recovering and sitting outside on the grass on a warm summer day and eating clementines is as close to a fancy dinner as you’ll get.

Price can’t help but laugh as he hands you a piece. “It’s funny no?”

“What is?” You say biting down on the fruit, tasting the sweet and sour goodness.

“You hate the smell of clementines yet you love eating them” he says before giving you another piece which you gracefully take.

“They’re good as long as I don’t have to peel them” you say with a playful glint in your eyes.

Price scoffs as if offended but you can still see the smile on his face as he hands you another piece. “What am I then? You personal Clementine peeler?”

“Yes yes you are” you say, a laugh escaping your lips but quickly disappearing as you see the mischievous look on him.

Before you know it he’s burying his face in your neck, the smell of clementines engulfing your sense and his sticky fingers touching all over your face.

“No go away you stink” you say through fits of laughter but Price doesn’t care, continues to nuzzle his face in your neck while lightly dragging his sticky fingers alongside of your ribs to not agitate your injuries.

“Okay okay you win! You’re not just a Clementine peeler is that what you wanted to hear?”

Price halts his actions, eyes peering up at you with a playful smile on his face.

“You know what I want to hear” Price says, and as he says the words you feel heat creep up your neck ears and cheeks but nonetheless you say the words he’d been longing to hear.

“I love you Jo-“ you don’t get to say anymore than that before he’s slotting your lips together.

You can now taste the fruit juice on his lips can even get a whiff of the cigar he’d been smoking as you lose yourself in the kiss.

But it doesn’t last long before he’s pulling way.

“I love you too” he says with a flush on his face “so much”

The end.

Spitball w/ me?