#and loosely off of my own body (i have not looked in a mirror in months)

[brutalitybunny]

my annual woman. bassist ema skye :) the original bassist for the gavinners before they blewed up. its probably for the best

[kemistre]

εïз┊𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 — feat. bokuto kotarou, miya atsumu, iwaizumi hajime, sakusa kiyoomi, suna rintarou

synopsis. seeing your other half shirtless is a normal part of a relationship, but how do they react when it’s your first time seeing him without his shirt on?

— content warnings. suggestive, shirtless 2D men, pet names (baby, darling, angel, pretty baby), kiyoomi is shirtless & pantless ;) — word count. 890

εïз┊author's note. posting this gem again for funsies and i literally cannot stop thinking about every single one of these men :3

εïз┊b. kotarou

he couldn’t help but text you as he opened the door to his apartment. after sakusa’s spike to his stomach, he needed to tell you not only how cool it was, but how much it hurt. it wasn’t long after his last text that you were at his doorstep, gladly being invited in by his voice echoing throughout the small apartment. “ko?” “baby!” he popped out from the doorway of the bathroom, a giant smile on his lips. his legs moved on their own as he approached you, his instinct to kiss you upon seeing your beautiful face. he cupped your cheeks, his lips grazing over your own before he pulled back, your cheeks hotter than they usually are. his head tilted in confusion as he stood there half-clothed, his chest—his abs—put on display just for you. “baby? are you still in there..?” he knocked lightly on your head, completely clueless of the effect he had on you.

εïз┊ m. atsumu 

a sigh fell from his lips as he threw his jersey to the side, practice had been tough on him recently. though, he couldn’t figure out why that was. he was just so stiff, and his sets were lacking, it had stressed him out. of course you knew that, he couldn’t not tell you what was going through his mind. he huffed as stretch his back, putting his arms above his head. his eyes found the mirror above his dresser, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he looked at the body he’d made for himself. “h-hey ‘tsumu, i brought food..” his attention was now on you who stood in the doorway of his bedroom with food in hand, it was evident by your face you were flustered, and he knew why. he smiled, stepping towards you with dark eyes. “well thanks angel.” he took the food from your hands, quickly giving you a kiss on the cheek. he smirked, his lips grazed your own before he let out a breathy chuckle. “like what ya see? first time if i remember correctly.”

εïз┊ i. hajime

he let the water slide down his throat, quickly wiping the sweat from his forehead after his morning run. he sighed, setting the bottle onto the kitchen counter as he pulled his tank top over his head before throwing it over his shoulder. you said you were going to stop by earlier in the morning, though he figured he’d have time to shower, make the two of you lunch, and be able to hang out the rest of his day off. thoughts of what to make you filled his head as he opened the fridge. “you look a little sweaty, haji.” you giggled, making him turn to you as you eyed him. he grew flustered at your sudden appearance. “i thought you were coming over later..” “i told you i was on my way.” now that you mentioned it, he did feel his phone buzz in his pocket, though he never got around to checking it. after that moment, after your little smirks towards him the rest of the night there was no way he was going to live down your teasing. he just hoped you wouldn’t tell oikawa.

εïз┊s. kiyoomi

his wet hair dripped water onto the bathroom floor, his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. his curly hair covered his face, his towel loosely wrapped around his waist as water droplets slid down his chest. the steam from the hot shower dispersing through the crack in the bathroom door. with a little shake of his head, he pushed himself up from his hunched over position at the sink, and pulled open the door, the cold air hitting him suddenly. goosebumps appeared on his skin as he threw his towel over his hair, hoping to not get the floors of his bedroom soaked. he paused as he looked through his drawers, hearing a small creak of the floorboards. his eyes flickered towards his door, where — to his shock — you stood. “darling? what-” “sorry omi!” you yelled, your voice cracking as you slammed the door. he flinched at the loud noise, you reaction confusing him until he realized where his towel wasn’t. he slammed his head against the edge of his dresser, his face turning bright pink as his eyes grew wide.

εïз┊s. rintarou

he laid on his bed, spread out on his back as a hand was set gently on his bare stomach, another holding his phone as he scrolled through tiktoks, trying to waste the time away so you’d get there sooner. and it worked, you finally strolling your way through the doorway. his eyes flickered towards you for a moment, then back to his phone as he scrolled to the next video. “what are you watching, rin?” he let out a small hum, glancing up at you from where he laid. your face grew hot, this being the first time you’d seen your boyfriend without a shirt on. a smirk made its way to his lips, he knew, and you knew he knew your body was heating up. he dropped his phone next to his head, quickly pulling you onto the bed with him, making you fall onto of him as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of you neck. “y’know you like seeing me half naked, pretty baby.”

taglist :: there's none at the moment but just send me a message to my inbox if you wanna be tagged :3

[mushies-stories]

Drinking- how TF141 handles a clingy drunk reader for the first time

PART ONE- Price and Soap

PART TWO- Ghost and Gaz

F!Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, little tiny bit suggestive... think that's it?

John Price

The first time he saw you drunk was when you had called him to pick you up from a night out with the girls. You had planned on just taking an Uber home but the more you drank the more you wanted John. so you called him and asked sweetly if he would come get you, telling you just needed to see him.

“Please John… i jus’really need to… to see you.” you whine over the phone.

John doesn’t mind in the slightest. Your slurred words and the pout in your tone made him rush to leave his flat. 

When he found you he couldn't help but mirror the grin that had blossomed on your own face when you saw him. He wastes no time in striding over to you, quick to place a hand around your hip and help support your body as you hug him. Your arms loose around his neck. 

“Missed you s’much.” you mumbled into his neck. 

He chuckles and pats your hair. “That so love? Well I missed ya too.” he tells you. “S’about time I bring ya home, yeah?” he strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head before leading you to his car. 

Back home you don't even have time to get your fingers on the door handle before John is there and swooping you off your feet, caringing you inside with no complaint for you, only drunkenly happy giggles and little kicks of your feet. 

The whole car ride you looked at him and talked about how much you just wanted to be in his arms. You can't wait to be laying in bed wrapped up and warm with your perfect man.

He brought you back to his flat and to his bed. Setting you down at the end gently and with another little kiss to the top of your head. “Just a moment, sweet girl.” he says and leaves the room. He comes back with a glass of water and instructs you to drink some. His hands rub your back and shoulders gently, soothing you and making you hum softly.

Picked out one of his shirts for you to sleep in and helped you change. chuckling when you almost fall back onto the bed when he slips your pants off. “Almost done love, don't fall asleep just yet.” he tells you with a loving smile. 

When he finally got you dressed and everything situated for bed you were grasping for him the moment his knees the mattress. He barely had time to turn the bedside lamp off before you were leaning into his side and gripping his shirt. 

“Alright sweet girl, c’mere.” John pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you with a kiss to the crown of your head. 

You sigh happily against him and let your body relax, sinking into his. “Love you s’much John.” you mumble before letting his warmth soothe you into unconsciousness. 

John fell asleep with a small smile. Your heartbeat eases him into sleep. “Love ya to dove, my lovely girl.” with one more kiss placed on your hair he lets sleep take him. 

John 'Soap' MacTavish

You had gone out with Johnny one night to a bar he liked. He wanted to teach you how to play pool and show off at darts. 

It was when Johnny says something about taking it slow after you stumble over your own foot. Blaming the alcohol and your little tolerance, Soap joked that you already had too much. 

Of course in retaliation, you wanted to prove him wrong by ‘out drinking him’. Needless to say, it did not go as planned and you certainly did not win your bet.

In no time you were a giggling mess, trying to play pool but missing every shot and when Johnny came up behind you to keep you balanced you couldn't help leaning into him.

“Johnnyyy, I love you so much.” you slur up at him with a cheeky, drunken smile. 

He chuckles at your drunken state. “That so? Well I love ye too Binnie.” he says and kisses the top of your head. “How’s’bout we get on home?” he offers, already steering you towards the exit. 

Johnny doesn’t live too far from the pub, meaning you had walked there but… Johnny has to carry your drunk ass back. 

He was being a stubborn tease at first, just helping you wobble along the sidewalk and shaky legs. After some whining and adorably drunk pouty faces, he gives in and lets you climb onto his back. 

While he teased you at first about being such a lightweight, he had to admit that you were rather adorable and really, clingy so that made up for your lack of drinking skills. 

The whole way home you kissed his neck, peppering little kisses and nips along the exposed skin. “Dove, keep doing that and I'll be hard all night.” he chuckles. The grip he has on your thighs tightens a little in warning. 

You giggle and lick a long strip up the side of his neck. “Maybe that's what I want Johnny, want you hard all ni-Ah!” you're cut off with a yelp when Johnny hoists you up with a little jump.

“Watch it shrimp, yer way too drunk to handle any of tha tonight.” he scolded softly. 

You pout like a wounded puppy but concede, it was never going to be a winning battle, you were very drunk after all. But that doesn't mean you can't nuzzle into his back and feel his huge muscles right? 

The rest of the walk was peaceful, you kept your hands to yourself, or rather his large arms. Back home he helped you get ready for bed, brushing your teeth, taking your makeup off and making sure you drank some water. 

He found you his softest t-shirt for you to sleep in. but wouldn't give you any shorts or pants, insisting you wouldn't need them since he was warm enough for the both of you.

You fell asleep with him holding you close, your back to his chest. He kissed your shoulder before nuzzling into the crook of your neck, to which you sigh happily about. “Night Johnny, love you.” your words are slow and in a blink your breathing steady and fast asleep. 

“Love ye too dove.” he smiles to himself, noting how you fell asleep so fast even though not even 30 minutes ago you were pawing at him.

[rottenblur]

Post workout pump|A.ANDERSON

Abby x fem reader 2.3k

Summary: Your gym rat Tinder date isn’t one to not kiss on the first date, a coffee date is much more interesting with her.

WARNINGS: public shit, public fingering??? Dirty talk, Abby being bold as hell, head!! Fingering, quick mention of that liquor. Fucking on the first date.

Abby’s Tinder profile was simple, a couple of gym rat pictures, and a couple cute candid ones someone had taken of her with a background of beautiful scenery. The one that made you swipe on her was a picture of her smiling in the forest, normally you wouldn’t go for “outdoorsy” people, you wanted someone you could comfortably rot away with.

It was her fucking smile. The way that her hair practically glowed in the sunlight peaking through the trees, how her freckles complimented every feature on her face. It wasn’t just her looks though, you weren’t that shallow. Her bio was simple, simple in a way it didn’t seem like she was faking it for people to like her.

“Will fight for you.” And you believed it with every inch of your body, she looked like fought off bears for a living. She could break you in half, part of you wanted her to.

Your conversation on the app was short, you gave her your number pretty fast, I mean she asked for it.

You got a text from a random number quickly after you gave it to her.

(7xx) 8xx-6xxx: Hey beautiful.

You replied quickly.

You: Hey.. this abby?

The typing bubbles popped up immediately, she responded fast and used punctuation, which was rare. In your experience, and probably rare to everyone on dating apps. To be honest, this was your first time on a dating app, you had too much on your plate to even think about dating since high school.

Abby: [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Abby: Sure is.

The picture was a live photo in a gym mirror, she had dumbbells resting by her feet, her body covered in a tank top and loose basketball shorts. Her muscles were huge, you didn’t think someone could be that strong, the sweat making them shiny didn’t help how hard you were staring right now.

You: oh my god…

That’s all you can get out, you have no thoughts.

You: i’m blushing

You throw your phone, you’ve only been talking to her for maybe an hour and yet she already has you wrapped around her finger.

The text bubbles pop up, she’s typing.

Abby: Aw, such a sweet girl, already blushing for me.

If you weren’t blushing before, you were now. You couldn’t stand another minute not being with her.

You: are you busy today? I need to see you

Text bubbles pop up, then disappear, come back then disappear again. Read, for ten minutes. Were you moving too fast? You put your phone down, tidying up your room to distract yourself from the stress. You get into the shower, your phone on the sink counter for music. You wash your hair when your phone starts ringing, fuck.

You grab the towel hanging up, drying off your hands and step out of the shower to pick up your phone, it’s her. You press the green accept button and put the phone up to your ear, pushing your wet hair out of the way.

“Hey.” She says. Her voice, oh my fuck, her voice. It was gentle but so heavy with intent, she sounded like she only spoke if she meant it.

“Hi.” You respond back, wrapping the towel around your body and stepping out of the bathroom to make sure she heard you well.

“God, you sound adorable. I’m not busy, just at the gym right now but I’m free in thirty minutes if you wanna go for coffee.” She says, you can hear the dumb bells banging in the back now.

Your mouth falls open, she really wants to see you? A date? Today? You forget to speak.

“Yeah, yeah please. Where to?” You respond back.

You hear her laugh slightly, then take a breath. “I’ll text you the address beautiful, you’ll like it I know you will.” God people making decisions for you was suddenly so hot.

You agree and giggle, uncontrollably. “Bye bye.”

“See ya.” She says then hangs up. Fuck you were nervous.

You get a text from her, the address was a small locally owned coffee shop just down the street from you, maybe she lived close. Surprisingly you had never been there before, maybe you could have met her sooner if you stepped out of your comfort zone more often, you would have met her sooner.

Twenty minutes had passed, you got back into the shower, finishing it and getting ready. Drying your hair and throwing on a cute fitting outfit, something easy, or just easy access, hey you weren’t against doing stuff on the first date, especially not with her.

You walk to the coffee shop, texting her when you arrive at the front doors, her assuring you she was already there. She was early, you liked that.

You walk inside and that's when you see her. She was in the back, in a booth manspreading under dimly lit lights. You walk over towards her, her hands set on the table, fiddling with a stir stick. She looks up and sees you, her blue eyes light up. She stands up, she towers over you. You look up at her, her freckles are even cuter in person.

“Hey beautiful, you look you know..beautiful.” She says looking you up and down. You smile at her muttering a greeting back. You were almost shaking, she was perfect, everything you could have ever wanted.

“You want a drink? I’ll order, just finished mine.” She says, placing a hand on your upper arm, it engulfed your arm in full. You nod and tell her your order. She smiles at you and walks off to order, you sit down scooting to the inside. A one-sided booth, leaving no choice but to sit right next to her, her boldness was attractive.

She comes back, placing your drink on the table in front of you, scooting herself right next to you placing hers next to yours. You pick up your drink taking a sip, as she lays her arm on the booth behind your back spreading her legs, getting comfortable. “Was that picture from today?” You refer to the picture she sent you earlier. She nods turning her head to look at you.

Her strawberry blond hair slightly damp presumably from a shower, her blue t-shirt clung to her arms, her jeans tight to her legs. God.

“You like what you see?” She says tilting her head at you, looking you up and down in return. You nod shyly looking away as you fiddle with the end of your skirt. She catches that, flicking your hands away, replacing them with hers. “You wear this for me? I like it, looks really good on you sweetheart.”

God the pet name, her hands on you, on your clothes. Her compliments, she has you melting. “I wore it for you Abby.” You say looking at her, she looks up from your legs to your eyes. She smiles, rubbing your cheeks, keeping one hand on your thigh. “God you’re adorable, I got you blushing already.” She takes her hand off your cheek and takes a sip of her drink.

“What made you want to talk to me?” She says as she rubs her thumb on your engulfed thigh. You’re fighting to not squeeze your thighs together. You look at her lips, and her eyes then respond. “You’re pretty, I mean you’re hot, you’re intimidating it’s attractive.” You say. She nods, humming a response to you.

“Well, I thought about how fucking cute you’d look with my head between your thighs.” She said it so innocently, her hand moving up under your skirt, you couldn’t handle it your trap her hand by squeezing your thighs together.

She clicks her tongue at you tapping your thigh with her free thumb for you to open your legs. You submit to her order, opening your legs for her. Her finger grazes your clothed clit, your panties wet from her teasing. You look at her and finally respond. “I’d like that, alot.” Your cheeks were burning up, your whole body was burning up with need.

She leans in closer to you, whispering into your ear. “You’re so perfect, so fucking ready for me, so beautiful.” A whine falls out of your mouth, uncontrollably. Her fingers continue dancing from your clit to your slit, teasing you no, torturing you.

You place one elbow on the table, the other gripping Abby’s thigh, you were dripping onto your skirt it was unbearable. You finally mutter out exactly what you need to say.

“I need you Abby, I need you.” You say. She pulls her hand away, awwing in response, turning your head towards hers with a grip on your chin. She smiles and shakes her head. “Ask nicely beautiful.” You lick your lips and nod. “I need you please, please Abby.

She lets go of your face, standing up and holding out a hand for you, you take it letting her pull you up out of the booth. Your legs were weak, even trembling, she noticed this and smirked at you.

She drove the two of you to her apartment, so fucking close to yours, her hand on your thigh the whole way there, her glances never made you blush any less each time. She parks her car and guides you up to her apartment with your hand clutched all the way there.

She unlocks her door, leading you in first, she walks in behind you, and kicks off her shoes. She grabs you, pushing you against the door connecting your lips with hers, locking the door with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist.

She pulls away, looking at you with those lustful blue eyes, they looked much brighter when you first met her but now there's nothing darker. She locks lips with you picking you up and carrying you towards her bedroom, her hands full of ass.

She’s mirroring your whimpers into the kiss with grunts, your arms wrapped around her neck. As she enters the bedroom with your legs wrapped around her, you fiddle with her braid, undoing it and running your fingers through the loose strands.

She throws you down onto the bed, the plush duvet sinking behind your back. Your quick breaths are loud in the quiet room, Abby stares are you eating you up with her eyes. “What do you want beautiful?” she says to you, stripping her jeans off revealing her grey boxer briefs, a wet spot that catches your eye. Apparently, you're not the only one worked up.

When you don't respond she hums a “hmm?” to you pulling you from your thoughts. “I want you, I want to feel you everywhere Abby.” A quiet grunt comes from the back of her throat. She leans to you, putting her knees on the bed and caging you in with her arms. She kisses you, her tongue tangled with yours. She pulls away to strip her shirt from her body, tossing it aside.

You admire her body, stripped from her tight t-shirt her muscles look even bigger. She places your hands on her shoulders pulling your shirt off. She leans down to unhook your bra and kisses you.

She scans your body, her eyes make you want her even more. She kisses your lips, pushing her knee in between your thighs applying the perfect amount of friction as she moves to make out with you.

She kisses down your bare chest sucking purple spots all the way down your stomach, your neck to your hips littered in hickeys. “So fucking good for me.” She mutters out as she flips the hem of your skirt up onto your stomach. She kisses the inside of your thighs, whines and whimpers falling out of your mouth with need.

She leaves marks leading up to your panties, now even wetter with want. She pushes them to the side, taking a quick lick and sucking on your clit then looking up at you. Her eyes, her face from the angle could make you cum right there and then.

“You taste so fucking good beautiful.” You were melting. She attaches her mouth back to your clit spiralling circles with her tongue, holding your hips down with one hand.

She rubs your hip as you fight to ride her face, take control. She sucks your clit and pushes two fingers inside, filling you so well. Her fingers found places inside you, you never knew existed.

Her tongue quickens it's pace as so does her fingers pumping in and out of you. Moans fall from the back of your throat, you can hear Abby’s grunts vibrating against your clit.

She disconnects her mouth, pumping and curling her fingers to the perfect spot at a brutal pace, she looks up at you, arched back gripping the blanket. “Such a good fucking girl.” Her praises push you over the edge. She connects her lips back pulling you quickly to your climax. You look down to her, as your thoughts dissapear.

You pulse all over her fingers, and she pulls them out, kissing your thigh. She looks back at you, as she sucks you off her fingers. “So good sweetheart, so goddamn good.” She crawls her back up to your lips kissing you gently.

She whispers into your ear. “You make such pretty noises for a slut.” That shocked you, after all those praises, she degraded you. It had you ready for round two all in eight words.

She lays next to you, looking you up and down. “Want a drink?” She asks.

You nod, she gets up tossing you her t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear from her drawer, a pair of black boxers. They were loose resting on your hips as the shirt went to mid thighs.

She walks out of the room, and you follow her sitting on the couch as she pulls a bottle of dark liquor from her bar cart. You lay down, she sits down placing your legs on top of hers passing you the drink. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at you, placing her hand on your thigh.

“Wanna stay the night?”

A/N: AHHHH I wrote this really fast if there are any spelling mistakes/ grammar mistakes LOOK AWAY. I love Abby thank you.

[sh1-n0bu]

You ever wonder about scara jerking himself off while you abuse his hole?

Just thinkin' ;)

♡︎ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x nb!dom!reader

warnings: rough sex, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphillia, brat taming, mirror sex, cock can be interpreted as strap on - anything that’s comfy for u guys

notes: a biiiittt different than your og req but still the same thing, just a different tone. i hope you like the recipe! also it has been a while since i visited the sub genshin tags. hello my little horny goblins! have y’all missed me?/jk jk

what’s this???? nobu finishing up another req after publishing another one last night???? has she finally defeated writer’s block?????

“shlo-OOOUH! shlowerrrh~! [nam-] ca-aahnt!♡︎♡︎” letting out a guttural sob, scaramouche squirted all over his stomach again. he was being a little shit for the entire week - ruining your perfectly made cake, throwing tantrums like a kid, cussing you out when you forgot to give him his usual goodbye kisses before leaving for work. the list goes on and on.

and now when he’s met the consequences of his own actions he’s telling you to be gentle? after ruining the hard work you put in your cake’s icing? in his dreams.

the short man let out another choked scream when your cock hit his oversensitive prostate again, the plush soft muscle getting abused over and over ruthlessly by the tip of your cock repeatedly hitting them, clawing at your back with his blunt nails in a pathetic attempt to at least try and get you to slow down so he can properly breathe.

and it seems like his prayers were answered when you slowed down before stopping, the bruises formed by your hands’ rough grip on his waist making him let out a whine at the feeling, the bleeding bite marks left by your teeth still stinging so deliciously. the brat let out another whine when you pulled out of his hole, your cum flowing out of his loose hole and running down his plushy, hickey covered shaking thighs.

unfortunately the brat’s wishes didn’t last long when you manhandled his tiny body, turning him over with his back to your chest - looking straight at the full body mirror propped against the wall. everything looked so lecherous - from the sticky cum covering the insides of his thighs, the dark and blue hickeys on his neck and chest to the remains of his own fluids covering his tummy.

gosh scaramouche was completely ruined.

“[n-name] plea-ashee… n-no mowree~ sensitiIIGGH!!♡︎“ a shrill sound resembling a squeal left his lips when you slammed yourself all the way until the hilt back into him once more. small hands clenching and flexing, seemingly trying to grab ahold of something to try and get his fucked silly mind together again.

“‘m getting a bit tired kuni. so you gotta do some of the work too” guiding his one hand to his swollen, angry red cock you silently commanded him to stroke himself - which scaramouche understood. sloppily running his hand up and down on his cock, rubbing the slit wet precum filled tip with his thumb your sweet dumb boy just couldn’t help but let out another wail when you hooked your hands under his shaking legs and slammed him down to the rhythm of his strokes.

understanding the situation as much as his mushy brain could comprehend, scaramouche jerked himself off at a faster pace. hands stuttering with his tear stained eyes and flushed face looking directly at the mirror, the puppet could easily see your cock slipping in and out of his pink hole over and over. he was so tired - his tiny cock only managing to spill a small amount of cum as he spasmed through another orgasm yet you still didn’t stop.

after all someone’s gotta teach him how to stop being a brat right?♡︎

[harryslittlefreakk]

after the storm

summary: y/n wakes up in her sworn enemies bed, with a city-wide storm keeping her trapped there. in the time that she’s stuck with harry, can they overcome their differences and build a friendship? 🫢🤷

warnings: smut (oral f receiving, unprotected unrealistic shower sex) some angst, typical enemies to lovers

wordcount: 6.6k

a/n: you guys who likes my lil graphic? its diy!! i’ve been slowly working on story for a long time now so i hope you all enjoy! 🤭

my masterlist is here 💓 love u all

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

The headache pounding behind your eyes was the first thing you noticed that morning. Shortly followed by the realisation that you weren’t in your pyjamas, or your bed, and there was a man snoring next to you.

You didn’t even remember coming home with anyone, let alone someone who looked so attractive, albeit from the view you had of the back of his head. There was something familiar about the bedroom, though you couldn’t put your finger on what. The clothes folded on the dresser were the same as every other man’s, the lingering scent of woody aftershave new and yet so familiar. Perhaps it was the memory of whoever you’d met last night, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew this man.

You needed to explore, the leftover alcohol in your system urging you to get out of bed and figure out whose bed you’d woken up in.

It didn’t take much detective work, however, because as soon as you sat down on the toilet, the man in question barged into the bathroom. “Oh, morning.”

No way. No fucking way. “What are you doing here?”

“This is where I live.”

“Why am I here?”

“Why do you think?” he smirked.

Harry fucking Styles. Your sworn enemy, the worst man you’d ever met, the worst man you would ever meet. And you were wearing his clothes, after sleeping in his bed. Your skin itched just thinking about it.

“Fuck off,” you growled, throwing the toilet paper at his stupid, sleep-clouded face.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he laughed, staring down between your legs as he closed the bathroom door. All you could do was let out a hoarse scream. How had an innocent Friday night turned into this?

You looked yourself over in the mirror when you were done, Harry’s t-shirt hanging loose on your body. You kicked the door open, glaring at his reflection as you splashed water over your face. “How do I get to the station?”

He shoved his phone in front of you, a severe weather warning flashing up on the screen. Public transport was down, taxis and delivery drivers ground to a halt as the rain and hail pounded the pavements.

“Brilliant. I’ll walk then,” you sneered, barging past him. “Just wait it out,” Harry told you, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I can walk.” What did he not understand about this being the last place you’d ever choose to be?

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

Realistically, you knew you couldn’t make the 45 minute walk across town in this weather. You hadn’t even taken a coat out with you, and borrowing clothes off Harry just meant you’d either have to see him again, or hang on to his clothing. Neither was appealing to you at all at this moment in time. Still, you were prepared to risk hypothermia if it meant getting away. The idea of being trapped with anyone while deathly hungover was horrible, but with Harry it became your own personal hell.

He followed you to his bedroom, watching from the doorway as you shoved your belongings back into your tiny shoulder bag. “My fucking phones dead,” you groaned, throwing your head back.

“Just wait until the rain eases off. I’ll drive you to the station later.”

“I don’t want to be here, Harry. What do you not understand about that?” Just the way he was watching you was making your blood boil. You weren’t even an angry or spiteful person, but somehow Harry triggered some red hot rage that usually lay dormant deep inside of you.

He was opening and closing his mouth, scarily similar to a fish. One of the deep sea weirdo ones, with extra fins and holes for eyes. His eyebrows knitted together as he searched desperately inside his dim brain for something to say.

“We didn’t sleep together,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“We didn’t sleep together,” he repeated.

You froze, not quite sure how to respond. You hadn’t slept together. Half of you wanted to thank every God in existence, the other half wanted to punch Harry right in his smug face. “Then why the hell did you make me think we did?!”

He shrugged, tiny hints of regret showing on his face. If you were less pissed off right now, you’d consider this a miracle. “Was funny five minutes ago.”

You glared at him, incredulous. “You swear we didn’t?”

“Promise. Look, jus’ let me shower and then I’ll stay in here out of your way. Don’t even have to talk to me for the rest of the day.”

Finally, you nodded, resigned to your fate. “Fine.”

“There’s a charger next to the sofa,” he told you, slipping past you to grab some clean clothes from the dresser. “So you can tell your boyfriend you’re here.”

“Idiot,” you groaned as you walked away, slamming the door shut behind you.

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

You hated to say it, but Harry’s apartment was actually nice. Much nicer than yours. You had no idea what he did for work, but it must have been something good if he could afford a place like this. There was a skylight over the sofa, practically putting you in a trance as you watched the rain drumming against the glass.

You’d been flopped on the beige sofa for what felt like years, your hangover slowly easing off but your current situation not getting any easier. Why, out of all the places you could’ve been stranded, did you end up here? You’d been racking your brains for hours, and as far as you could remember, Harry wasn’t even at the bar. If he had been, he would’ve come over. He’d stopped hanging around your group so much once you’d started bickering, he was irritatingly respectful of your space. But whenever you saw each other, neither of you could resist the temptation of a little sparring match to spice up the night.

You were so deep in thought that you hadn’t even noticed the lights turn off, the tv suddenly flicking to a black screen. It was the deep rumble of thunder that bought you crashing down to Earth, a tiny whimper slipping out when you heard it. Rain and hail were little more than an inconvenience, but you drew the line at a thunderstorm. You’d loved them when you were younger, glued to the windows with your dad as you watched the lightning illuminate the sky. But something changed one day, a new fear set in after a nightmare. You were sitting on top of a hill, a picnic laid out in front of you, when the clouds suddenly turned bright orange and lightning started striking the houses below you. You’d watched in horror as every strike set fire to the roofs, the entire neighbourhood going up in flames and getting closer and closer to you. Then you woke up in a cold sweat as the lightning came nearer, the next strike sure to take you out had you not bolted upright in bed.

“Harry,” you called out as loud as you could manage. You might not like him, but you’d rather have his company than sit through a thunderstorm alone.

When he trudged into the room, you were sitting upright on the sofa, the blanket pulled over your head. “What are y’doing?” he asked, yanking the blanket off of you. “Don’t like thunder,” you told him, squeezing your eyes shut as it boomed overhead again.

“Did the power go out?”

You nodded, watching from squinted eyes as Harry searched across the kitchen counters for something. He walked back over to you with a lighter, and started to light the candles scattered across the room. “Wanna watch something?” he asked you, pointing to his collection of dvds. “You pick,” you told him, too terrified to even comment on why he still owned dvds in 2024. You’d have to save that for later.

He picked one, pushing it into the tv’s dvd player before coming to sit beside you and setting it up. You glanced over at him, your current proximity making your heart race more than the thunder and lightning could ever. You had some sort of problem when it came to men acting as saviours. You were too into rom-coms, too romantic to not develop a sudden and unexplainable mini crush on your knight in shining armour. And clearly, now you had gone a little bit mental.

A clap of thunder shook the room again, and you smacked a hand down on Harry’s arm, your nails digging into the skin. “Harry,” you whimpered. He put his hand on top of yours, grounding you slightly. “It’s okay,” he smiled. “Did no one ever tell you it’s just God rearranging the furniture?”

You loosened your grip as the thunder passed, desperately trying to get a hold of yourself. “No. And besides, that doesn’t help. A reason for the loud noise doesn’t make the loud noise any less scary,” you told him, brows knitted as you looked between your hand and his face. He was about to shoot something back, but lightning illuminated the room, your expression changing quickly back to one of fear.

Harry threw himself down on the sofa behind you, tugging at the hem of your (his) t-shirt. “Come here,” he beckoned, pressing play on whatever dvd he’d chosen. “Why?”

“Because it’ll take your mind off the storm.”

“No.” He was holding out his arms to you. Clearly he’d had a funny turn and was expecting you to snuggle with him. Sleeping in the same bed against your free will was one thing, but actually choosing to cuddle with Harry was something you’d have to bring up with your therapist later. And yet, the offer was somehow tempting. But you couldn’t control your face, and somewhat-accidentally sent Harry a scathing look.

“Fine. Enjoy the storm then,” he grumbled, standing up to stalk back to his room. You stayed silent as he left, waiting until his bedroom door slammed shut to throw the blanket back over your head.

Only, a few minutes later he was back. You could feel his stare burning through the blanket, and he was standing there like a giant dork when you peeked out. “What if I’m scared and I need a hug?”, he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You couldn’t deny Harry was funny, even when you were bickering and snapping back and forth, he’d always make you laugh. And that was more infuriating, because why are you laughing at his jokes when you’re supposed to be annoyed? “Fine. But only because you’re scared.”

You leaned back into his arms, and he was right. It was a welcome distraction. Instead of thinking about the storm and anticipating the next rumble of thunder, you were actually quite content. Although one thing was playing on your mind. “Harry, why do you have the notebook on dvd?”

You craned your neck to look back at him, shifting slightly in his arms so you could see his face. “S’my favourite,” he shrugged sheepishly. “And what time will your boyfriend be home?,” you mumbled, recoiling when he jabbed a pointed finger at the tip of your nose. “Quiet please,” he told you. You turned your attention back to the tv, settling back into Harry’s body.

He was comfortable. That was one more thing to add to your list of irritatingly good qualities about him. He was a good cuddler, caring, funny.. it seemed like that list was growing longer with each minute you spent with him. You pulled his arm tighter around you as thunder crashed overhead, softer this time. “Getting further away now,” Harry whispered, his thumb stroking the fabric of your shirt as if you’d laid this way a thousand times before.

Your eyes were growing heavy, your heart beating in time with each gentle movement of Harry’s thumb. You were too warm, too comfy.

And then a loud vibration practically shook the sofa under you. “Fuck. Sorry,” Harry said, darting to shut off his phone. You rubbed your eyes, still groggy and disorientated. Naps always made you feel all weird and out of sync. You turned around slowly to lay on your back, glancing up at Harry in your peripheral vision. “Missed the whole movie,” he told you, eyebrows raised as he nodded toward the tv. The power was back on, the lights bright against the layer of fog clouding your eyes. “Gonna call them back,” Harry murmured, holding up his phone as he climbed over you.

You were perched on the edge of the windowsill when Harry came back into the room, watching the raindrops drip down the glass. He went into his fancy little wine fridge, pulling out a bottle of red. He held it up to you, eyebrows raised as he silently asked if you wanted any. You nodded before turning your attention back to the rain. The thunderstorm had passed now, the skies finally beginning to lighten up despite the heavy rain. Harry came to join you with two big glasses, as if he’d poured as much wine as he could fit into them.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Thinking back, you didn’t actually know where it all started. Harry was nice enough the first time you’d met, then somehow rude and arrogant the next. He was the cousin of one of your friends, and started to worm his way into your group when he moved to the area. He was harmless, but he knew he was a pretty boy. Every night out was spoiled by him lingering by the bar, flashing his dimpled grin at any girl who caught his eye. He’d buy her a drink, then leave hand in hand with her, always looking back to see if you’d noticed his exit. Everything he did made you roll your eyes, every glance at your legs when you wore a mini skirt, every time he tried to snake an arm around your shoulders as you laughed with the group.

“You’re arrogant.” Proven by the fact that only arrogant people would ask why they’re disliked.

“No one else has ever told me that.”

“Maybe they’re not as truthful as I am.”

He laughed at this, swilling the wine around his glass. You watched as it stained the sides red, the blood colour dimmed under the grey skies. “If I were that bad, y’wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not here by choice.”

“No, I mean you wouldn’t have ended up here at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry’s eyes were squinted when he looked back at you, some kind of secrecy flashing across his pupils. “Let’s call a truce,” he told you, holding out his free hand for you to shake. “Just for however long this storm lasts, you have to play nice.”

“I am playing nice. You’re the one who played tricks on me.”

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair when you didn’t reach out to take it. Your gaze was fixed on the window, seemingly uninterested in what Harry was trying to offer. Truthfully, a truce sounded nice to you. You were wasting so much energy on acting indifferent to him. But with the way he looked after you during the worst part of the storm, the way he held in the giggles you knew he wanted to let out as you cowered in fear of the thunder, you were scared you might actually end up liking him. The horror. The last thing you ever wanted to find out was that you’d wasted years hating him, mentally criticising his every move, just to find out he’s a good guy after all.

“Raindrop race,” he said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“We do a raindrop race,” his head nudged toward the window. “If I win, we call a truce. If you win, you decide if you want a truce or not.” Harry had his usual silly, toothy grin spreading across his cheeks. There was something annoyingly cute about his smile, the way his eyes crinkled and his dimples carved deep into the skin. “Fine,” you laughed.

“Okay, pick yours. This is mine,” he pointed to a tiny droplet near the top of the window. Your eyes gazed over the drops near Harry’s, before settling on one just to the right of his. After Harry yelled “go!”, you followed yours with a pointed finger, trailing down the surface of the window as you spurred your little raindrop on. You didn’t actually care who won, but you were far too competitive to let him win.

They were neck and neck, Harry’s tiny raindrop somehow collecting water from those around it to become almost the same size as yours, and surprisingly just as fast. There were little childlike giggles tumbling past his lips, his free hand balled into a fist as he cheered his raindrop on.

Yours took over suddenly, surging forward before it came to rest on the windowsill. You couldn’t hold in your laughter, watching Harry’s face fall in disbelief. “Looks like I get to decide our fate,” you teased, a smirk resting on your lips.

Harry chuckled, his eyes searching your face for any sign of what you might do. “Truce please,” he encouraged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine. Since you asked so nicely,” you grinned, holding out a hand for him to shake. Harry took it, bowing his head to you before hopping off the windowsill and padding into the kitchen. “Last of our supplies,” he told you, holding up one final bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. “Best make it count then,” you laughed, downing the last sip left in your glass.

Harry went back to the sofa, and you trailed after him, plopping down on the corner. “Tell me something about you,” he said, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa. “I don’t know. You know me,” you shrugged, turning a little to face him. “Fine. What was your first impression of me?”

You shrugged again, gaze falling to the wine glass in your hands. “Thought you were funny. Seemed nice enough,” you told him. Harry laughed, a bitter kind of chuckle. “So where did it all go wrong?”

“Harry, even you have to admit that you were a douche.”

“How?”

“How?!” You couldn’t believe he was asking how. “You’d saunter around the bars, always scouting for which girl you’d take home next. You didn’t even greet me the next time you came out because you spotted a girl behind me.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

You scoffed. “Not fucking jealous. It’s gross.”

He held up a hand, faux-stern expression on his face. “Truce! We have a truce. Don’t wanna break it already.” He had a point. You’d called a truce not even ten minutes ago, and you were already getting riled up again. “You started it,” you mumbled, always reduced to the mindset of a child when you bickered with Harry.

“Don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything,” he smirked, miming zipping his lips. You turned away from him, deciding it was better to sit in silence and try to calm down than risk getting into a full blown row with him when you couldn’t even leave.

After a while, Harry set his wine glass down on the coffee table, getting your attention. “You really don’t remember how you got here?” he asked.

“No, Harry.” Honestly, you didn’t. The last thing you could recall was stealing a cigarette from someone on the street outside the bar, and then a freaky flash forward to waking up next to Harry.

“I was walking past O’Connells and you were on the street alone. All your friends had left and you couldn’t get a taxi, they kept refusing you because you were drunk,” he started explaining, setting his near-empty wine glass down on the coffee table. You were finally paying full attention to him now, an ear turned towards the sound of his voice as if he was telling the most compelling story of all time. “I don’t know where you live, you kind of stopped making sense. So I brought you here,” he shrugged. “Sorry.”

You took a moment to fully digest his words, his kindness to you a tough pill to swallow. The tears that formed on your lower eyelashes were unstoppable, regret bubbling up through you. You’d been a dick the entire day, and while it was a little bit deserved after he made you think you’d slept with him, all he’d done since was show you kindness and care. “Don’t have to be sorry Harry. I’m sorry,” you whispered, pulling your glass up to try and hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He placed a gentle hand on your knee, his touch warm on your bare legs. You hated wearing trousers indoors, a t-shirt, panties and socks the only way you were ever comfortable. Yet now you felt too exposed, too vulnerable in front of Harry. “It’s okay,” he told you, his tiny smile laced with tenderness. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft and shaky. “For looking after me,” you finished, finally drawing your eyes up to meet Harry’s.

He moved a little closer, bringing his arms up to wrap you in a hug. Only as he started to embrace you, you felt something change in the air. The wine had made your brain fuzzy, your senses heightened and yet muddled. You were struck with an overwhelming desire to kiss Harry, to make it right between the two of you, and that’s what you did. You turned your head just a little, closing the distance between you tentatively, waiting to gage his reaction. But he pulled back quickly, his arms dropping limply into his lap.

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, scurrying across the room before you could do anything to embarrass yourself further. You leaned back against the breakfast bar, eyes fixed on the rain drumming against the window. All you could do was replay the way his lips peeled away from yours, the full body cringe making you want to curl up in a ball and scream.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you, his gaze silently trailing across your body. You looked back at him, eyes meeting amongst the almost palpable energy clouding the air. And then he was striding over to you, wrapping a strong arm under your hips and lifting you onto the countertop. He paused for a minute, an unsatisfied yearning in his eyes. He reached out with a gentle hand, pushing some hairs from your face as the other snaked around your waist. And then his lips were on yours, slow at first as if trying to taste and explore you. But with every lick of his tongue the kiss deepened, his movements becoming more urgent and passionate. Harry’s hands were roaming across your body, trailing goosebumps over every curve. The heat was intoxicating, the burn almost physical as you wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck, drawing him closer to you.

Your legs were tight around his hips, pulling his centre close to your core. It was electric, so much being spoken through silent mouths. Every touch, every flick of his tongue had you melting into Harry, the walls you’d built up crashing down around you. “Should’ve done that a long time ago,” he drawled as he pulled away, running his thumb along your swollen, wine-stained bottom lip. You nodded in agreement, still dazed from the way he kissed.

He grabbed a hold of the hem of your t-shirt, eyes locked on yours as he waited for you to tell him to stop. When nothing came, he pulled it off of you, throwing it to the floor behind him. You watched the way his eyes darkened as they trailed over you, the goosebumps that dotted your skin disappearing under the heat of his gaze. “Want to know why I act that way with you?” Harry asked, still surveying the sight before him. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger when you didn’t respond, his free hand pulling your chin upwards to look him in the eye. You nodded again, totally silenced by the way he was looking at you. His lips found your collarbone, kissing and suckling at the skin. “Because,” he murmured against you, pausing to lick a warm circle around your nipple.

“I,” he suckled at the bud, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Wanted,” he was moving lower now, one hand caressing your other breast as he licked down your ribcage.

“You.” He sunk down in front of you, mouth lingering right at the waistband of your panties, eyes fixed on yours. Your chest was heaving as he bought a hand up to it and pushed you back, the marble countertop cold against your skin.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of Harry’s gaze. His fingers traced slow circles on your stomach, igniting a heat inside of you that melted away any other feeling. You were totally powerless, totally at his mercy as he peeled off your panties, eyes never leaving your face.

“Couldn’t handle this sweet pussy not being mine,” Harry told you, voice husky as he ran a light finger through your glistening folds. His hot breath against your entrance had you squirming, his lips so close and yet not close enough. He was admiring you, almost salivating - until you suddenly snapped your legs shut. “I haven’t showered,” you whispered, suddenly hyper aware of how unclean you felt. “Don’t care,” Harry said, pushing a hand between your knees to open you up for him again. “Just means you’ll taste sweeter f’me,” he groaned, finally making contact with your pussy.

His thumb brushed over your clit, replaced instantly by his mouth. He suckled at it, the sudden sensation drawing an almost carnal moan out of you.

His tongue swirled around your entrance, collecting your juices on his tongue as he moaned into you. Your hands tangled themselves in his curls, the burn of your fingernails digging into his scalp only spurring him on. True to his word, he was licking and lapping at your folds as if they held the sweetest nectar.

You were dripping for him, dripping on him, the lower half of his face coated in your juices. It was the wine, you told yourself, and the forced closeness to him. Not him, not the fact that he was giving you the best head of your life.

“Waited so fucking long for this,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss and nibble around your inner thighs as his thumb rubbed over your clit. You were squirming under him, your legs heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah?” you panted, fingers pulling harshly on his hair as his mouth suddenly moved back to your pussy.

“All mine now though,” Harry smirked, his words vibrating into your centre. “All your- fuck,” you cried out, unable to control yourself as he slipped a finger into you, his tongue still working at your core. He added another, then another, filling you until you were bucking into his mouth. He found your g-spot with ease, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched you writhe and moan.

“I’m-” you started, cut off by a ripple of pleasure moving through you.

Harry released your clit from his mouth with a pop, his fingers unrelentingly thrusting into you as his mouth snaked up your body. “You’re what?” he grinned, his face only inches from yours.

“I’m gonna-”. This time Harry cut you off with another kiss, your juices warm on his tongue as it danced around your mouth. You wouldn’t pair pussy juices with red wine, but on Harry’s tongue they tasted heavenly.

He pulled away, eyes dark as he watched you squirm and buck under him. “Gotta say it for me,” Harry told you. You felt like you were buzzing, hot pleasure vibrating every part of your lower body. “I’m gonna come,” you cried out, the ball of heat in your core threatening to explode.

As soon as you said it, Harry’s lips crashed to your neck, suckling and biting at the soft skin. It was the final bit of stimulation you needed, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you finally reached your high. “Good girl,” he repeated, working you through your orgasm until your back collapsed down, flush to the countertop.

You were panting and heaving as Harry pulled you to sit up, hissing as the cold of the stone hit your clit. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your body threatening to crumble if you didn’t support yourself.

“Come on,” Harry whispered, lifting you up. He carried you over to the sofa, resting you on his lap as he sat down. “You okay?” he asked as you stayed silent, totally numbed by the strength of your orgasm. You just stared at the identical triplets of him in your vision, trying to focus on the real one before you. His eyes were raking over your features, your puffy fucked-out eyes and swollen wine tinted pout. Your cheeks were pinked up to match your lips, tiny beads of sweat on the bridge of your nose.

“Thanks,” you whispered, a tiny smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. “For the orgasm.”

“Anytime,” Harry laughed, running a hand up your back. “M’glad we’re friends now,” he told you, moving you over to sit next to him.

“Do you do that with all your friends?” you giggled, swatting at his thigh.

“Oh yeah. Welcome to the club,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

“D’you want a shower?” Harry asked eventually, breaking the quiet. You turned back to face him, still dizzy as your eyes tried to focus on his face. “Desperately,” you groaned. “But I’m still a bit wobbly.”

Harry laughed, pushing your messy hair from your face. “M’gonna have one then,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before standing up.

You listened out for the sound of the shower turning on, but Harry’s footsteps had stopped just outside of his living room door. You looked over to him as he stood frozen in the doorway. “What was that asshole’s name?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to remember.

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Harry, seriously. I’m naked right now and you want to me to think about my ex?” You rolled your eyes at him.

He shrugged, “can’t remember his name.”

“Jamie. Why are you even talking about him?”

“Because you could’ve had this a long time ago if you hadn’t showed up with him.”

You grabbed one of the cushions, launching it in his direction. He strode over to you, picking you up and flinging you over his shoulder as you shrieked. His hand landed a heavy blow on your ass, raucous laughs blending together in the silence of the night.

Harry set you down in the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind you. “Throwing isn’t playing nice,” he tutted, leaning around the shower screen to turn it on. “So now you have to be punished.”

“Oooh,” you teased. “What’s my punishment, a shower? Or are you going to drown me?”

“Y’have to shower with me. While m’all sexy and naked.”

“That’s not a punishment,” you frowned, watching as he stepped under the water. Harry had always had a decent body, but he’d gotten pretty jacked up since you saw him last. If anything, showering with him was a reward.

“Mm, but you have to keep those hands off me, you horndog,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, following him into the shower. He side stepped past you to let you under the water, trying his hardest to avoid your touch. “I’m not going to molest you,” you told him. “Going to have to touch once or twice since we’re in a tiny box.”

“Fine. Just no feeling me up,” he shrugged, mockingly shielding his cock from you.

“Was it worth it?” you asked Harry as you stepped away from the water, passing the soap to him. “Was what worth it?”

“All the fighting, all your jealousy,” you poked your tongue out at him. “Now you’ve finally got in my pants, was it worth it?”

Harry stepped up behind you, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. “How am I supposed to answer that, sweet girl?” he drawled, pulling you around to face him.

You stepped back, pressing yourself into the cold tiles. Harry stayed close to you, his wandering hands finding a home on your hips. “Can’t say it was the easiest chase, can’t say I really enjoyed it,” his fingertips were trailing up your body again, his thumb pushing past your parted lips. His face hardened at the sight, imagining something other than his digits between your pout. “Would do it all again though.”

You bit down on his thumb, grinning as he pulled it from between your lips with a yelp. “You don’t have to fight me for three years just to sleep with me Harry. Could always just ask,” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Is that right?”

You nodded, watching as his eyes moved over your face. “Or get down on your knees and beg me. Either works,” you shrugged. He chuckled, shaking his head at you.

Harry stayed silent as he lathered up the soap between his palms, hungry eyes fixed on you. “Turn around,” he finally told you, putting the beige bar back in the shower tray. He pulled you back into him, his length solid against your ass. His wandering hands finally put themselves to use, rubbing the soap across your body. He paused at your sternum before one hand wrapped around your throat, the other cupping the curve of your breast. Your breath caught, a tiny moan echoing around your mouth as he squeezed lightly, his cock twitching against your skin.

He took his hand from your breast, reaching between your bodies to push his cock between the tops of your thighs. His tip brushed your sensitive clit, your teeth clenching as electricity surged through you. “Can I please fuck your pretty little cunt?” Harry growled, using his free hand to wash the soap from your body. He was throbbing at your core, his cock likely painfully hard by now. “Please, Harry,” you whimpered.

He grunted at your neck, pushing your upper body forwards until his cock lined up with your entrance. He was nudging into you, your pussy dripping and ready to welcome his girth. You’d never needed more like this before, though you’d never felt as good as Harry had made you feel. He released his hold on your throat, one hand lowering to circle your clit as the other splayed across your lower belly, his fingertips digging into the plushy skin.

Your hips rut into his hand, a cry tumbling from your lips as the quick movement forced his girth into your tightness. Your already shaky legs could’ve buckled right there, your body barely able to hold itself up around Harry’s cock splitting you wide open. It took Harry by surprise too, a shaky moan echoing off the walls as he bottomed out inside of you, the extra lubrication from the water pushing him deep into your core. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, stilling as he caught his breath. “Y’okay?”

You moved a hand down to hold onto his wrist, silenced yet again by his cock. “More,” you whined, pussy throbbing as he started to fuck into you hard. You’d skipped the slow, figuring each other out sex. It was as if you already knew what the other needed. Harry was fucking you, his thick red tip tearing you apart as you both raced for another orgasm, each thrust sending you closer to Heaven. The steam and the sounds of the water pounding the shower floor clouds your mind, unable to feel anything except the fullness Harry’s cock gave you.

You were getting close, the burn in your core spreading down the tops of your thighs, before Harry suddenly pulled out. Just as you were about to question him, Harry spun you around. “Want to see your face when you cum f’me,” he panted, sliding one arm under you to lift you against the tiled wall. He slipped back into you with ease, the new angle forcing his cock into places you’d never even known you could feel so much pleasure in.

Your hand tugged at his wrist, pulling his fingers back up to your neck. Harry let out a dry chuckle, his fingers wrapping back around your throat with ease as he slammed into you.

He was a fucking vision. His wet curls hanging down into his eyes, the shine of the water on his tattooed body. Just the sight of him staring at you with those hungry eyes was enough to have you gasping and panting. “Harry, I’m-” you started, a loud moan cutting you off.

He picked up his pace, hips snapping into yours with the deafening slap of skin on skin. “Not yet,” Harry grunted. “Gonna cum w’me.”

Your walls were already tightening around his shaft, hips bucking into him uncontrollably. You bit down hard on your lower lip, nails digging half-moon shapes into the thick muscle of his shoulders. “I can’t,” you whimpered, throwing your head down onto him. “You can, and you will,” he told you, removing his hand from your throat and instead using it to pull your chin up to meet his eye.

You nodded, face contorting as you tried desperately to ignore the fire coursing through you. “Please, Harry,” you whined. Your walls were clamped around his girth, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he got closer. “Come,” he commanded, wrapping his free arm under you as his legs started to shake. You howled as you finally let go, the stars in your vision exploding like fireworks. The tiny shower cubicle was suddenly full of carnal moans and cries, Harry’s lips spitting out your name over and over and over again as he shot ribbons of white-hot come into you.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, before Harry slowly let you down onto the floor. He held you up as your legs shook, a light hand brushing over the finger marks left on your throat.

“Are you still on birth control?”

“No. Should I not be holding my legs up right about now?” you asked, watching as his eyes went wide.

Harry pulled his arm from under you, ready to let you collapse on the floor in his panic. He screwed his face up tight, a quiet “fuck, fuck, fuck,” mumbled under his breath.

“Relax, I am. Sorry.” you told him, a tiny smirk playing on your lips. He reached out and pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as you yelped and smacked his hand away. “Serves you right, bastard.”

He re-washed between your legs quickly, a gentle hand washing away the remains of your juices pooled between your thighs. “Better?” he asked, reaching behind you to turn the water off. “Mhm, just need a good sleep now,” you told Harry. “Oh yes, need to go to bed and think about the beautiful friendship we’ve ruined,” he smirked, handing you a towel.

You dried yourself off before following him to the bedroom, pulling on the clean t-shirt Harry handed you. He was humming a silly tune as he ruffled his hair in the mirror, watching your reflection expectedly. “Used to annoy you when I hummed,” he said, climbing onto the bed to join you.

“Still annoys me plenty,” you told him, pulling the duvet over your legs as you settled back into the pillows. “Just too fucked out to care right now.”

part two ??

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz @cicicavill7 @drewsephrry @tswiftsgf @ashleighsss @bikestyles @he6rtshaker @prettygurl-2009 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @teammom4 @chesthairrry @golden-hoax @lilfreakjez @swag13r @cursingatdaylight @s-h-e-l-b-e-e

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello!!!

Can I put in a writing request??

Because I love your writing!!! 🥹

Can you do (either human alastor.. or demon alastor i love both but human alastor has a chokehold on me haha) but his partner is plus size and they are very self conscious about it

Can be smut if you like (I'm waaaay okay with that)

omg yessss i’m gonna do human alastor because he does need some attention <3 also felt this personallyyyy so i did it sooo fast 🙈 ima chunky gorl myself and with summer approaching things always get tough. i lot of what i wrote here is my own personal experience and shit so i don’t want anyone to think this is something they should feel or notice or be ashamed of! Just so you know!

warnings: SMUT 18+, gender neutral but use of clit, feral alastor, Human!alastor, kinda ooc in the way he is ravenous for reader sexually, reader doesn’t know he’s a murderer, self loathing, self hate, body worship maybe, biting breifly, alastor kinda rich or whatever for the time, insecure reader, plus size reader, body part like stomach thighs highlighted, crying, husband alastor, comfort from Al. swearing, lmk if there’s anything else! NOT PROOFREAD YALL

also i wanted to use junoisded ‘s work (on IG) but i don’t think they like things reposted unless asked and i am way to shy but go check them out their human alastor is mouthhhhh watering gawd

Closing the door behind you, you sat your bag on the table a sullen look on your face. It was particularly difficult week for you, it was getting warmer in New Orleans and when it got warm what was really meant was hot humid gross. It almost felt embarrassing at times to leave the house, the clothes companies made weren’t anything like what other people wore they were hideous, and you sweat, and just felt kind of self conscious.

Especially with Alastor. His popularity grew expeditiously over the last couple of years, with people now being able to recognize his voice all around. His popularity was a gift and a curse, a gift because you didn’t have to work through the stock market issues whereas many people your age did, and a curse because more women and men alike wanted him.

You weren’t jealous because Alastor made it pretty clear he only had eyes for you, however you couldn’t stop the comparison, you usually felt decent about yourself and your looks and Alastor made you more assured in your beliefs. But as more people would recognize him, and he’d give them that charming smile, and they’d flirt, you’d get a little jealous and insecure.

You walked into yours and Alastors shared bedroom, slipping off your shoes and looking into the mirror. You wanted to buy some nice clothing for an event you and Alastor were attending within the week, it was very hush puppy as it served contraband, however you couldn’t find anything at the market, and the tailors would be just too much to ask of Alastor.

Your lip quivered not with sadness but frustration, you just wanted to be at the same level as everybody else, without the issues, and being constantly told how to eat or use your body or dress yourself. Sitting on the bed your thighs spread out around you, stomach resting atop. Tears kept flowing pitifully as you took a moment to wrap your head around your spiraling thoughts. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your arms around your back, begining to take off the clothes that stuck to your sweaty body.

‘Loose leisure clothes.’ You chanted as you shook your trousers to your ankles and opened the drawers to your dresser. You remembered as you caught sight of one of Alastors red suit jackets, a gentleman who had commented that Alastor was far too small to lend his jacket to you on a cold night, which make you feel so bad about yourself. Slamming the drawer closed you cradled your head, this wasn’t fair, you would be ten times better with yourself if people weren’t so casually cruel.

You were okay, you were loved, but it seemed in other aspects of life people had to assure you weren’t due to how you looked. “My dear, what’re you doing all dressed down like this?” Alastors voice rang out joyfully. With a jump and a squeak your arms go to cover your body, however Alastor had already turned his back for you. “I’m so sorry sweetheart! I should’ve knocked!” Even though Alastor was being respectful, a nagging voice in the back of your head told you it was because he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

“Uhm, well you can look actually…” You muttered voice just above a whisper as you rubbed your arm. Alastors hands were on his hips, elbows pointed out head facing down, then he perked up head looking behind him. Smile present on his face his eyes shamelessly drank you up. “I couldn’t find any clothes,” You mutter your throat closing as the tears returned with the thoughts of before.

Alastors body finally turned his smile falling as he watched your from recoil away from his gaze. Stepping into the room his dress shoes clinked against the wooden floor as he approached you his arms outstretched to you. Immediately you fell into his embrace holding back the urge to cry, you wanted to be as strong as he was; smiling through no matter.

However when his hand began rubbing your back, soft words of worry falling from his lips, you lost it. Burying your face into his shoulder you cried, muttering your insecurities into him as he cradled you. “And Alastor they must think i’m a joke, you’re so small compared to me.” You cried out, pulling back to look into his chocolate eyes. Quickly he pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket, his smile now a frown as he watched tears roll down your cheeks.

“My my, that’s the best part doudou. I love having flesh to bite, grip, squeeze,” Alastor grinned speaking through his closed teeth as he gripped your waist pulling your hips to his and you looked down hiding your face at his ridiculous nickname for you. “I feel proud to be able to feed you, my mother would be proud too, she’d absolutely love you. Worry not my dearest doe, i will have anything tailored to your need, and any crude bastard to comment on you I will hand slaughter the night of thee event, just to send a little message.” Alastor puffed his chest into you, his voice strangely dark and possessive, his eyes gleaming with pride as he kneaded your flesh beneath his fingers.

You never thought about it like that Alastor being able to properly provide for you, no; that was the fun of Alastor though he always knew how to twist things into something better than. Not to mention the idea of him being willing to commit a crime for you in the midst of a serial killer going around, that was something very special to you, strangely enough.

“Alastor you’re insane sometimes, but i love you.” You grinned finally, in turn making Alastors smile return larger then ever. Hands crawling up his chest and neck, you pulled him close and into a kiss. Your immediately Alastor gave into your tug, crashing his lips quickly onto your own roughly, his body grinding into your own as he did so, impatient to show you how much you mean to him though his psychical affections.

His hands gripped every little bit of flesh they passed, trailing up and down your body rolls and all, indulging his desire for you. You moaned lightly into his mouth when you felt the hard pressure of him pressed against your thigh. Alastor pulled away biting your lip as he did so, dragging it out. His eyes were lidded and one of his perfectly gelled curls fell forward and down touching the brim of his eyeglasses. “See how quickly you make me indecent my dear? Oh sweet doe, you make me so disgusting.” Alastor whined in a way, which you’d never heard, and stuffed his head into your neck, kissing, biting and sucking at your warm neck

“Alastor i’m sweaty!” You squeal as he dragged his tongue up your neck, biting at the flesh under you chin. “I know,” He mumbled quickly barely breaking away from decorating your neck. “So stop!” You huffed noncommittally as your hands came down to rest on his shoulders, lightly pushing him. “Why my little doe, you taste better this way.”

Alastor pulled back his coy smile on display as he did so, there was something so disbelieved and feral about how he looked despite not being unkept in the slightest. You felt slightly embarrassed by him admitting he liked you sweaty, but it was also comforting knowing that things you thought made you repulsive, actually attracted him.

“Come to bed with me, chérie?” Alastor hummed slyly, pulling your wrists gently toward the direction of the bed, where he was walking. “To sleep?” You asked flatly eyebrow raised, this caused a genuine laugh to bubble out of Alastors chest his head shaking just a bit. “No, and i think you knew that.” He whispered as he tugged you into him and then down onto the bed. You tensed as he did so, sitting up on your elbows you look at him and scold him.

You paused as Alastors gaze beat down on you hotly, it was sinful how he was looking at you with that cheshire grin on his face. He pulled off his glove with his teeth and used his degloved hand to remove the other one before he undid his vest, chucking it aside carelessly. You took a deep breath your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you watched him closely.

Yes you’ve had sex with Alastor before, although neither of you had a high libido so it wasn’t often, and when it was it wasn’t needy like now, no, it was loving, passionate. Alastor tossed his shirt aside crawling ontop of you right after, groaning as he pressed his bulged into the warmth of your thighs. Whimpering you covered your eyes unable to face the lustful look he was giving you.

His warm flesh melted into yours as he lowered himself ontop of you, his skin hot and sticky from being out in the louisiana heat, his breath tickled your skin as his lips dragged around your neck teasingly. “Gosh Al, I - you’re making me feel so- please.” You moaned quietly unable to place the feeling coursing through you. A mixture of wanting to beg him to devour you and wanting to hide yourself away from his heated gestures.

“What is is it you need, my dear?” His voice was sweet like honey as he breathed his sin into your ear, hand coming up under the leg hole of your undergarments, inching closer to your core. You breath was quievered as your hands found there way to his slightly musicled biceps, sinking your nails into them. Finally he backed up on his knees, and yanked down your undergarments, making you gasp.

Your husband has never been this, it made you dizzy and confused, why has he been hiding such ravenousness from you? Alastor looked down at you with pity, your legs reflexively closed before he could get a glimpse of your pretty. “Please darling don’t be modest, I need you more then ever now. I’m a starved man don’t you know? I need your quench.” You watched him as he spoke, his eyebrows knitted his face soft as he mockingly pleaded with you while he undid the button in his slacks and soon pulled down the zipper.

With jagged breaths you watched him disrobe, pulling his cock from his boxers and stroking it for you to see. Precum dripped from the tip and down his shaft, mixing into the dark coiled public hair at the base. “Oh fuck Alastor,” You whined looking away, you heard him chuckle at an octave you’ve never heard before. “What’s wrong darling? Can’t stand to see how perverse you make me? How cruel, honestly.” He huffed before his warm hands came to grip on your knees, yanking them apart. “My dear, you’re absolutely devine, you have no idea. It’s sickeningly cruel on my part, but I can’t help but be greedy about the way I only get to have you. In a world of commons, i get the rare.” Alastors hips slotted in between your thighs like many times before but this time you were so soaked you needed no foreplay. The head of his shaft prodded at your entrance, making your hips tilt forward attempting to gain friction and contact.

“Please Al, don’t make me beg you.” You moaned quietly, ashamed of how quickly you bent to his will. Alastor grinned down at you, admiring your body relaxed and needy beneath him. There wasn’t a soul he’d replace you for, you were everything and more. He could come clean about his murders and you’d kiss his cheek and serve him some whisky for his stress, because you were family, you were his.

Alastor slid into you slowly, feeling every inch of you against him, his thighs pressed against your own, he loved the feeling of you consuming him all at once. The way your body embraced his own was heaven on earth, you were his comfort that he didn’t deserved. As he watched you beneath him gasp, shake and moan as he sunk into slowly, harshly and repeatedly, he whispered sweet nothings to you. He let out a condescending chuckle while calling you a good pet, told you your body was his to love too and for shame for berating it.

You saw stars and he would slowly pull out and slam back in, believing that was the extent of this session. However, Alastor pressed his hips fully up against your own, kneading the softness of your belly as he stilled. Leaning down he captured you in a kiss, catching you off guard. You reciprocated fisting his curly hair and pulling him closer, which in response made him growl and grunt into you. He felt you clench around him at the sound, and in the moment decided he’d show you how good you make him feel, how much he loves you.

Suddenly Alastor pulled his hips back, and grinded back down into you, his public hair tickling your swollen clit, juices from your arousal squelching as he did so. This time he wasn’t slow, his pace was even and moderate, fucking you into the mattress so hard, the springs snapped, the wood creaked and you swore the bed frame was moving. Alastor pulled away from your swollen lips burying his face in your neck, he moaned for you.

You rolled your eyes back at the sounds he made, ahs, uhs and groans that were only for you. “Oh fuck Alastor i’m gonna cum,” You squeaked clenching your toes tightly as he jackhammered into you, breathing and gasping into your ear as he felt you grip him. Alastor wasn’t proud to admit it but he was too weak to respond, instead he bit down, sucking and groaning into your skin. His pace got clumsy as you cried out in ecstasy, coiling your body around him as you came harshly.

Your arm around his back, one arm around his neck and gripping his hair, and your legs tightly locked around your hips, yeah Alastor couldn’t resist himself from shooting strings into you. Your body jolted as he came shaking your while body, his grunts and whines making your sensitive hole clench him nearer. Without a warning his body collapsed ontop of yours, a deep breath escaping him as he finally relaxed. “I’ve never felt that before dear,” Alastor admitted after a moment of silence. “Me neither, made me forget about everything.” You say hazily, your voice lifted and raw from the noises you let out.

Alastor chucked his fogged glasses to the side, pulling himself out with a huff. Smiling sweetly you watched him gently place a kiss on your stomach and walk off. Sitting up you nearly went to call after him, before his naked body came waltzing back with a rag. “Wanna have a lazy evening in chérie?” You hummed approvingly, and attempted to take the rag, he scoffed at you and lightly pushed your hand away. Softly and embarrassingly so, he cleaned you from himself, enjoying the sight while he was at it.

Once finished Alastor returned the rag as you readied the bed, wanting to cuddle with him. Coming back in Alastor went to grab you both clothes before you called to him. “Can, well- i want to feel you still?” You questioned more than said. Shutting the drawer with a slam he grinned like the little cheshire he was and crawled into bed with you. You pulled him in and he you, nuzzling yourself into his chest you whimpered at the contact, feeling various emotions run through you.

“I chose you my dear, for many reasons not only your looks, your love, your passion but your body too, I love all parts of you, and I know how thoughtless people can be, I will protect you from those comments in the future.” Alastor whispers into your head kissing the top of it right after. You caressed his chest with your nails, throwing your leg over his torso. “Thank you Alastor. I love you too, hell there’s nothing that would make me not love you.” Alastor scoffed his grin returning. “Even murder?” He questioned angling his neck to the side to meet your eyes. Smiling up at him you gave a point nod. “Even murder.”

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

The Kilt Stays on | John “Soap” MacTavish x AFAB/Female!Reader

Summary: You and Johnny attend a wedding together. You fuck. That’s it. Fluffy Smut. W/C: 3,657 [AO3] Warnings: semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, praise, the kilt stays on, unprotected PiV (no mention of BC, wrap it up in real life folks), established relationship, idiots in love, confessions, voyeurism, voyeuristic badgers. Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for doing beta and proofing work for me <3 ILU.

CoD Masterlist

18+ content below the cut, NSFW, minors DNI.

“Johnny!” You call from the hotel bedroom as you smooth down your dress, letting out a heavy sigh as you look yourself over in the mirror for what must have been the hundredth time this morning. 

“What’s up, hen?” Soap asks as he pushes the door open with a broad palm. You look over your shoulder and your heart skips a beat as you see him in his finery. 

He’s wearing a kilt in his family tartan, poppy-red with differing shades of blue interlocking in the traditional weave. His matching Fly Plaid affixed on his left shoulder, accenting his black kilt jacket and waistcoat as it flows over his shoulder and down his back. 

A black bowtie dangles loosely from his neck where he’s clearly tried and failed multiple times to tie it himself. Your eyes wander down to the sporran and you can’t help but wonder if Johnny had followed tradition to the letter and forgone underwear. 

“I need help with my zip,” you say as you catch his bright eyes looking you up and down in a perfect mirror to your wandering gaze. 

“Funny,” he says with a chuckle as he closes the distance and lets his hands trail up your sides, “I need a hand with my tie, how ‘bout we do a trade?”

His fingers skirt up to your ribs and you sigh, leaning back against his hard form as he reaches around to cup your breasts gently. His mouth finds the side of your neck as his stubble scrapes delightfully against your skin. 

“Johnny,” you moan as he hums contentedly, sucking softly as he noses against your neck, “Come on, stop fooling around, we’ve got a wedding to get to.” 

“Mmm,” he hums as he teases his tongue against you, trailing his hot mouth up until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your earlobe, “Not like it’s our wedding, ‘can afford to be late.” 

“MacTavish,” you whine as he slides his right palm down over your sternum, sweeping over the curve of your stomach, “I mean it.” 

“I know, hen,” he growls against the shell of your ear as he slowly retreats his thick fingers from your body, “You just look so bloody good.” 

The metallic slide of your zip being pulled taut brings you back to your senses as you look at Johnny in the mirror. The pair of you are a picture, a glimmer in each of your eyes, you smile at him before turning to help him with his tie. 

“You look rather handsome yourself,” you admit, looking him up and down as you finish up his tie, “Even if you shouldn’t be wearing a dirk in public, Johnny.” 

“It’s ceremonial,” he protests as you lean down to snatch it from his sock. 

“Yeah?” You challenge as you inspect the blade with your thumb, the scrape of the sharp blade against the grain of your fingerprint proves your point, “It’s an offensive weapon, John.” 

“Aye,, do you have to say John like that?” He pouts and you hand him the blade, handle towards him, “Besides, I am an offensive weapon, blade or nae.” 

“I know you are,” you roll your eyes playfully as he reseats the knife into its sheath, “Save it for the reception, yeah?”

“Anything you say, love.” 

~*~

You’re swaying on the dance floor, shoes long discarded, as tiny feet rest atop your own. The flower girl, Anna, is one of the few kids still awake, her bouncy curls swaying with every movement as you move her around. 

“You have a good day?” You ask as you smile down at the young lady, she’s one of Gaz’ nieces and she took a shine to you from the moment the wedding reception kicked off. 

“The best,” she says with a big yawn, the events of the day finally catching up with her it seems, “I ate so much food.” 

“Me too sweetie, me too,” you say as you cast your gaze around the pavilion. It must be late, most guests have left, and Gaz and his bride absconded at least an hour ago. 

“Think it’s time for you to head to bed,” you hear Anna’s dad say from behind you and you slowly spin around, Anna’s little feet still glued to yours. 

“But, dad!” Anna groans in protest but when she looks up at you, she’s met with a raised brow. 

“I think your dad knows best, kid,” you say with a soft smile, “But thank you for the dance.”

“Thanks for looking after her,” her father says with tired eyes. 

“No bother,” you wave him off as you hear a loud roar of laughter from a table behind you, “I’ve got a Scotsman to send to bed, so wish me luck.” 

Anna’s dad gives you a sympathetic look before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her off to bed. You slip your shoes back on before scanning the nearly empty pavilion for Johnny. 

You turn to see a throng of familiar faces sat at a table near the far edge of the marquee. Price and Simon are shaking their heads as Johnny splays out in a chair, kilt draped across his lap as he looks over at you. The moment he sees you, he downs the last of the amber liquid in his glass before mumbling something to the other men. You watch a blush spread up the back of his neck as Simon says something you don’t quite catch. You almost don’t want to know. 

“Hey,” Johnny says with a slight slur to his voice as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you firm against him as he presses his lips to yours.

You gasp as his tongue darts across your bottom lip, your arms loop around his neck as you lick into his mouth. He groans at your dominance as you taste whiskey and cigars. You press your front against his, smiling at the jingle of his sporran as he pulls back to look down at you with lust-blown eyes. 

“Take me to bed, lass?” He whispers as he rubs his nose against yours. 

A sharp wolf whistle form Price jolts you out of the moment and you flip him off over Johnny’s shoulder, just as you hear Simon yell “Get a room!”

“Should do as we’re told,” Johnny chuckles as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’m not one for disobeying orders.” 

“You’re a terrible liar, Johnny,” you say with a sigh as you step out of his embrace, holding your hand out to him with a sly smile on your face, “But yes, for once, do as you’re telt.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“God, I hate it when you call me that,” you say as you pull your phone out of your purse, booking a taxi as you lead Johnny through the venue’s gardens. 

“Force of habit, lass,” Johnny chuckles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Strong women are my weakness.” 

The crunch of loose stones beneath your feet and the soft calls of owls fills the silence as you lean against him. As ever, he’s positively radiating heat, keeping you warm from the chill of the night air. He smells of the aftershave you bought him for his birthday, mixed with the tang of cigars and whisky and his own natural musk. You breathe him in as you feel your chest flutter, you’re in love with John MacTavish, you’ve known it for a while now. But never have you felt it more in this moment, alone under the stars, walking along a moonlit garden path.

“Hey, Johnny?” You say, voice barely above a whisper as your phone vibrates, alerting you that the taxi is waiting for you at the end of the path ahead. 

“Aye?” He turns his head to look at you, cerulean eyes swimming with affection as his lips turn up into an instinctive smile. 

You want to tell him now, profess your love to him under the starry sky.

“Thank you for asking me to come to the wedding,” you chicken out last minute, and he gives you a look, as if he knows that’s not what you were going to say. 

“I mean,” Johnny says ponderously as he scratches his stubble with his free hand, “Ghost already had an invitation, so I couldn’t exactly ask him…” He trails off, face neutral, as you narrow your eyes at him. 

But any anger quickly melts away as you see the smirk threatening to break out on his face the longer you scowl. 

“You’re a right pain in the arse sometimes, John,” You huff as you give him a taste of his own medicine, shrugging off his shoulder as you stride ahead, waving at the taxi driver as you make a beeline for the car. 

“Aw, hen,” he calls after you as he quickly matches your pace, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you to face him, “Dinnae fash, I was kidding.” 

You fall into his arms, pliable and willing as you grin up at him. The worried knot in his brow eases as he realises your ruse. 

“You’re a devil,” he growls as he cups your cheek with his right hand, framing the side of your face as he dips his head down, “You know you mean the world to me,” your name slips from his lips, and you nod slowly. 

“I know Johnny,” you whisper, “I know.” 

Your lips fuse together and your arms loop around the back of his neck as you let him claim your mouth with his tongue. His free hand presses flat against the base of your spine as he holds you to him. 

It’s heavy, charged with emotion as you feel the scrape of his coarse facial hair on your skin. Your tongues slide over one another as you groan into Johnny’s mouth. The beep of the taxi’s horn cuts the moment short. 

You part, lips swollen and glistening as you pant into each other’s mouths. 

“C’mon, Johnny, I need you,” you whisper against his lips as you glance towards the car, “And I’m not letting you fuck me in a bush again.” 

“C’mon, it wasn’t so bad,” Johnny chuckles, but relinquishes his grip on you, instead keeping his hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the cab, “Besides, I thought being peeped on by a badger was kind of hot.” 

“You’re gone in the head, Johnny,” you laugh as you let him open the door for you, “I’ve never been able to look at badgers the same again.”

Johnny simply shakes his head as he chuckles, shutting the door behind you before walking around to the driver’s side window. You arch an eyebrow  as he whispers something to the guy in the front seat before handing him a handful of notes. 

“Johnny MacTavish,” you say with accusation in your tone as he slips into the seat next to you, “What on earth-?” 

You yelp as he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, you feel heat prickle over your cheeks as you feel his bare thighs on your own. 

“Shh,” he coos as you feel his hands push up the fabric of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing your lace panties to him, “Driver’s happy for us to fool around, just no getting come on the seats.” 

“Johnny!” You slap his chest in admonishment as you look down to see his kilt bunched up around his thighs, his cock erect and leaking as he grins up at you, “This is so wrong.” 

“Tellin’ me this doesn’t get you even a little wet, hen?” He hums as he trails his broad hands back down to your knees. His thumbs swirling patterns up your inner thighs as you feel the car lurch forward. You tremble above him as you feel arousal licking through your veins like fire. 

“You know it does,” you whisper, not wanting to make too much noise with the driver directly behind you, “Christ, Johnny.” 

You whine as his hands find their way back up to the apex of your thighs. His coarse thumbs brushing against either side of the drenched fabric of your panties as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You brace your hands on his shoulders as you lean forward, foreheads pressed together as you slowly relax. 

“There you go,” Johnny whispers as he brings one hand up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Such a good lass,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he slips his free hand under the flimsy lace. 

You gasp as he slips two fingers through your slick folds, bumping over your clit rhythmically as you bite your lip. 

“Kiss me,” he commands in a hoarse whisper, and you moan into his mouth as he slides his fingers from your chin, wrapping his hand around to the back of your neck. He pulls you down to crash his lips into yours as his middle and ring finger ease the gusset of your panties aside. 

“Johnny,” you pant into his mouth as his thick digits ease into your tight cunt, “Fuck.” 

“Shh,” he hushes as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling just hard enough to make you whine, “Y’take me so well, gorgeous,” he growls before pressing his thumb down hard on your clit. 

You feel like your body is on the brink of shattering as you vaguely register the dark, peaceful countryside outside the windows blurring into the bright lights of the city.

You’re almost at the hotel. 

You grasp for Johnny’s cock, your fingers ghost along his precome smeared tip for a second before he snatches your wrist, letting go of your neck as he tuts at you. 

“Not yet,” he admonishes you as he moves your sticky fingers to rest on his Fly Plaid, “Can’t risk coming until we’re out of the cab.” 

“Fucking need you, Johnny,” you whine as you feel the way your walls clench around his thick fingers, you’re so close. 

“Come like this for me,” he says with a hum as he swipes his thumb back and forth over your swollen bud, “Hurry babe, we’re almost there.” 

You kiss Johnny, a flurry of tongues and teeth as you add to the friction by fucking yourself on the digits impaled in you. Your teeth knock against his as you come hard, a desperate whine escaping the back of your throat as he continues to pump his fingers up into you. 

“Good girl,” he coos in your ear as you drop your head to his shoulder, “Good fucking girl.”

“We’re here,” the gruff voice of the cab driver makes you yelp, like ice water sliding down your spine as you remember where you are. 

“Thanks, Drive,” Johnny says cheerily, as if his fingers aren’t currently sliding out of your cunt. He pulls your panties back into place with a wolfish grin on his face as you feel the tips of your ears burning with embarrassment and arousal.  

“Y-yeah,” you breathe shakily as you slide off Johnny’s lap, “Have a good night.” 

The driver scoffs noncommittally as you clamber out of the cab, your panties clinging to your drenched folds as you stumble onto the pavement. 

“You’re an absolute menace, MacTavish,” you hiss as you watch him awkwardly adjust himself under his kilt. The tenting material beyond conspicuous without underwear to keep his cock contained. 

“Yeah, and you fuckin’ love it,” he purrs as he slaps your ass, “Come on, let’s get moving, I might get arrested for public indecency like this.” 

“Fucking hell,” you laugh as you push him inside, the two of you giggling as the clerk at the front desk raises an eyebrow at you both. She quickly notices the tenting in Johnny’s kilt and smirks before winking at you. You grin back sheepishly before pressing the call button for the elevator. 

Johnny pushes you through the doors as soon as they open, pinning you against the back wall as his lips find your neck. 

“Looked fuckin’ stunning tonight,” he rasps against your skin in between wet drags of his tongue and hard sucks against your pulse point that threaten to leave marks, “Was at half-mast most of the damn day, d’ya know how hard that is to hide in a kilt?” 

His tone is feverish as he nips at your earlobe, groaning as you trail a hand up his thigh, feeling under his kilt. 

“Isn’t that what a Sporran’s for?” you ask with a groan as you finally wrap your hand around his length. Soft, velvet foreskin gliding under your touch as you pump him slowly. You don’t care that you’re still a few floors from your room, there’s even a little thrill at the thought someone might walk in. 

“Sassy fucken’ mouth,” he growls as he nips at your jaw, his stubble catching on your skin as you press your cheek against his. 

“You love it,Johnny,” you whine as you feel the elevator shudder to a halt, two floors before yours. 

The doors glide open, and you look on in horror to see a group of men in their twenties appear before you. 

“Take the next one!” Soap barks as he looks over his shoulder, you catch the fire in his eyes, and you can’t help but shiver at the way his body presses harder against you. It’s possessive, protective, as he bucks his hips into your hand. The doors close again as you hear the hollers of encouragement from the young men as the elevator continues its ascent. 

You arrive at your floor, stumbling out together with breathy giggles and barely concealed groans. You fall over the threshold of your room, mouths fused together as Johnny kicks the door closed behind you. 

You fall back onto the freshly made bed and pull Johnny down on top of you, parting your legs wide, granting him access as he practically crushes you into the mattress. He starts to pull off his jacket and Fly Plaid, but you stop him. Your hands circling his wrists as he looks down at you with exasperation. 

“Fuck me like this,” you breathe as you lower his hands down to your hips, “Keep the kilt on.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice, love,” he groans as he yanks your panties down and off, flinging them somewhere in the room before lining himself at your core. 

“Fuck me, please, Johnny,” you plead as he runs his tip through your drenched folds. 

“So fucken’ wet,” he groans as he bumps your clit with his tip before guiding it back to your entrance, “Didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist, hen.” 

“Jonny, please,” you mewl as you buck your hips up, pushing his tip inside you. 

“So needy,” he rasps as he buries himself inside you in one desperate thrust. 

You cry out at the stretch; you’re impaled on his thick length and your vision blurs at the edges as he splits you open. 

“Touch yourself, hen, I’m not gonna last long,” Johnny growls as he falls forward, elbows either side of your head as he captures your lips in his. 

You moan into his mouth as he slides his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth as he drags his thick cock almost all the way out before snapping his hips back down into you. You slip your dominant hand down to your clit and rub at the swollen bundle of nerves in earnest as he pounds into you at a desperate pace. 

“Looked so fucken’ sexy today,” Johnny rambles in your ear as he pulls back, gasping for air as he locks eyes with you, “Couldn’t stop imagining you impaled on this cock.” 

The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills your ears as you feel the burning heat rip down your spine as your orgasm builds. Johnny’s breath is hot on your face as his pace begins to falter, he’s close. You redouble the pressure on your clit as you chase your own release.

“Where’d you want me?” He pants as he ruts into you with erratic, devastating force. 

“Inside Johnny, fill me up,” you beg and that does it. 

You feel the tight twist in your navel as you come hard, your cunt squeezing hard around Johnny’s cock as he buries himself deep inside you as he comes. You scream as you feel euphoria wash over you, the hot pulse of Johnny’s come coating your walls has you floating as your back arches off the bed. 

You wrap your ankles around his waist as you pull him in closer, making him groan in your ear as he collapses on top of you. 

“Fuck,” you breathe as Johnny’s weight presses down onto you, almost suffocatingly heavy as you press soft kisses to his temple. 

“Yeah, fuck,” he responds breathily as he nuzzles into your neck. 

Eventually you peel yourselves apart, making sure to pee and wash up before diving under the covers and nestling against Johnny’s chest as his strong arms wrap around you. 

“I love you,” he breathes against the crown of your head as he places tender kisses in the wake of his words. 

“I love you too, Johnny,” you sigh as you loop your leg over his hips, nipping gently at his chest as you nuzzle your nose into the tight curls of his chest hair, “Was going to say it earlier.” 

“I know, didn’t want to push,” he sighs as he trails his fingertips down your arm, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin, “Just needed you to know I feel the same.” 

“You’re a sweet man, Johnny,” you smile as you take his nipple between your lips and hum.

“Only for you, lass,” he chuckles as he peppers more kisses about your head as you snuggle in even closer. 

Tags: @amyg1509

CoD Masterlist

[scribble-dribble-writes]

The boy with the freckles

Pairing: Alex Walter x female reader

Context: Alex is in college but his past still haunts him and then he meets you

>>>

———

Being fifteen felt like yesterday, but it was years ago.

Alex woke up with a groan, the new day didn’t bring anything new. It reminded him of his past more than he would have liked. In his last year at college, he felt the scars of his teens come alive to haunt him.

It was tumultuous and panic filled, nightmares of that moment he came to know Jackie had left without a word. His ability to place his trust in people had faded because if his own brother could betray him time and time again, why wouldn’t a stranger?

He squinted his eyes at the sunlight that crept through into his dark room. He dragged his cover over his head. It was hard work, getting to silence the thoughts in his head. He was a work in progress, he was aware of all the areas he had to be mindful of.

He had to remind himself he was his own person. He had to become secure, to know that he was enough as he is. That the love he gave away for free was actually priceless. That Kylie breaking off their friendship was so she could heal and he had no control over it. He had to come to terms with it, that life changed and so should he.

This dorm room felt huge or maybe it only felt like that since he was alone. He didn’t have Nathan sharing his room or Isaac yelling down the hallway. He could just rot beneath these sheets and no one would know.

But as he slumped in his bed, contemplating if he should skip calculus, there was a knock on the door.

He let it pass. Most cases it would be other students coming by to drop invitations to parties. But there was another knock and he pulled away his blanket to see the faint slit of shadow underneath the door.

“Who is it?”, he yelled out to see the shadow feet shuffle before answering.

“Sorry to bother you but I was told to meet you if I wanted to join the gaming club.”, he heard a voice.

He got out of bed in an instant. He would recognise that tone anywhere. He searched for a shirt as he pulled it over his head to then run past the mirror to make sure his face was alright.

It wasn’t, his hair was a mess, the sunlight had made his freckles stand out. On days like these he wished he looked more like Cole. The only ‘effect’ he had with people was off putting.

“I’ll probably come by another time.”, he heard the dejection in your voice as you began to move away and it threw him into overdrive.

He couldn’t care less about his appearance.

He reached for the door knob and yanked it open, his muddy green eyes catching yours. His throat ran dry, he froze.

He felt like he was fifteen again, not twenty three.

He watched you like he was trying to memorise the brush strokes on a painting he could never get up close. The dark curls of your hair, the deep tan in your skin, the flush of colour in your cheeks and your magnetic eyes.

There he stood, as though life had thought him nothing.

He didn’t know what to say.

He noticed you look away and the skeletons in his closet broke loose.

He was unravelling, his mind convincing him that you could see right through him.

He had to act fast, to work through this, so he stuck out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Alex Walter.”, he winced as he said it. He could see himself from your gaze. He sounded stupid.

But to his surprise, you took his hand.

“I know.”, you replied as your fingers wrapped around his palm.

“You’re the boy with the freckles.”, he heard you say and it made his cheeks flush.

“Ah yes, my only defining quality.”, he sighed as his smile faded.

He knew where this was going. It reminded him of who he wasn’t like. That this was his effect.

He let go of your hand as he folded his arms, he couldn’t help it, the way his body became defensive, ready to hide away.

He had done this before, give away his best in the hopes of a little attention so now he fought against it.

“Makes me stick out like a sore thumb.”, he shrugged his shoulders as he caught the change in your expression.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to be rude.”, you panicked. He was taller than you with his toned arms crossed across his chest. You could tell the glimmer in his eye had vanished, now he looked at you as though he was seeing a ghost.

“I..”, you had lost your words. Where had all your confidence gone?

Your gaze shifted to catch a glimpse of him. His bed head hair mussed like he was a crazy scientist, his eyes reminding you of the meadows back home and his freckles that haunted your dreams, tempting you to reach up and touch his cheek.

“I just think it makes you look beautiful.”, you said, not realising the step you had taken towards him or that his eyes softened with that glow again.

His gaze dipped to your lips just as you looked up to see him.

He was incorrigible, just like his brother. Cause here he was feeling that blissful sense of warmth fill his heart as much as he had tried to run from it.

“Do you?”, he whispered before he could catch himself

“I…”, you were about to respond to his question when he shifted his weight and the moment broke.

“Do you want to come by to a club event today?”, he changed the question.

You thought it was for the best. Alex Walter deserved someone who wasn’t a wreck like you.

He was a coward. All those moments of convincing himself to build up his courage to take on a new adventure had all boiled down to nothing, cause truth be told he was scared.

He was scared of all the love he held for you.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: Some nights you just can't seem to sleep no matter how hard you try, it's alright though because Miguel's on his way home.

Warnings: None, it's just very, very soft.

A/N: Not a request, but I have to write at least one fic about dancing in the middle of the night with Miguel. Set in the same universe as What's In Between, listen to the song mentioned here. Enjoy!

Everyone has those nights where they just can’t fall asleep. Whether it’d be the stresses of the day before or the next, an issue that has been troubling you, or simply because you can’t shut off your mind and fall asleep, it inevitably happens to us all.

Unfortunately for you, that was tonight. After tossing and turning for the last two hours, you had enough.

Maybe it was because the bed just felt so empty without Miguel in it, who knows.

All you knew was that you could not fall asleep. So what better thing to do than to make a late-night snack?

Sliding out of bed, you blearily blink your eyes as they readjust to the kitchen light. After a few moments of scrolling through your playlists you settle on a soft one, to match the mood of the early morning (or late night depending on who you asked).

The music played softly in the background as you made your favourite snack, humming along to the song. Miguel’s shirt hung loosely down your frame as a warm summer breeze floated in through the open window.

The reason you loved the night so much was because it was so quiet. So simple, so peaceful, with only the light of the moon shining its way.

“One day, I will stop falling in love with you~” you sing softly, swaying from side to side in between bites, a happy little smile on your face.

Miguel watched as you swayed gently from side to side, a soft look on his face as he feel himself relax with your presence alone.

He still wore his Spiderman suit, the aches of a difficult mission starting to settle in his bones but he seemed to forget all of that the moment he saw you.

“Until then I’ll drink my coffee, eat my pie pretend that we are more than friends~,” you sing, swirling around as you feel that familiar prickle giving away his presence.

His eyes seem to widen slightly as you acknowledge him before a small smile settles on his face.

“Then of course I’ll let you break my heart again,” you say, making your way up to him as the smile on your face mirrors his own.

“Dance with me?” you ask him, holding out a hand for him to grasp. He only shakes his head.

“Mi alma, you know I’m not much of a dancer,” he replies but eyes your hand for a moment.

“Oh, c’mon Miguel,” you plead, a hand held out waiting for him to hold it. “Just one dance?” And even though he tried his hardest, he just couldn’t resist the look in your eyes.

“Alright, but just one,” he says, grasping your hand warmly before pulling you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your expression lights up as he does, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his chin.

He can’t help the smile that plays across his face, his heart growing so warm in fondness.

The longer he holds you in his arms, the more he can feel his body relax within your embrace as you sway from side to side with the slow melody.

Being a protector of the multiverses, he didn’t have time to be soft. Not when the decisions he made, when the decisions all the spiders had to make under his direction would destroy that softness in an instant….But with you, he could afford that vulnerability, because he knew you would hold the frail wounded heart hidden behind the walls he built gently.

He reserved that softness for you, only you.

“Someday, one day,” you continue to sing, and he lets your voice wash over him like a calm ocean wave. “I will stop falling in love with you.”

He lifts an arm up from your waist for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t think I ever could, querida,” he whispers softly. “Stop falling in love with you, I mean.”

You look up at him, unable to stop the tears from welling in your eyes at the admission but he wipes them away before they could fall.

“I don’t think I could either,” you say softly before leaning your head back on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “You’re stuck with me, unfortunately,” you chuckle, but he only pulls you closer.

“How are you feeling?” you ask hesitantly, noticing how he looked more tired than usual. You knew it was a 50/50 tossup as to whether he would answer in truth, but you knew he appreciated the thought.

It wasn’t often he allowed himself to be vulnerable, truly vulnerable with you. To spill all those thoughts swirling in the beautiful chaos that was his mind. That strong front he put up was the only thing that held him together.

“I’m alright, mi corazón,” he answers, though his eyes held the depth of a thousand words.

He was tired…but he was home.

Taglist: @remuslupinwifee

[lessi-lover]

perfect for you II a.russo ~

author note - this is part two of ‘cleats and kisses’, and is loosely based around this request. anyways enjoy and have a holly jolly christmas 🎄 xx

23★ ~ a.russo

in the gentle embrace of the morning sky, the sun casted an unusual warm, golden, light through your large bedroom window. the window, adorned with soft, rustic curtains, slightly ajar, allowing the peaceful glow of the morning to filter through. framed photographs decorated the walls, each capturing a memory in time, all shared with your favourite blonde.

the same blonde lay peacefully in bed, with her hair spread out across your cream sheets. her face, half - buried into her pillow, only allowing calm, rhythmic breaths to leave her parted lips. a softly painted, hand draped itself across your waist, light pink nails slightly digging into your hips.

after a tough, but rewarding game against tottenham, all you wanted to do was allow your body to be welcomed by your lover’s comforting embrace, to feel the joyfulness of the holidays. you had quiet conversations discussing your plans for christmas, and enjoyed the unusual peacefulness you both felt.

her thumb gently traced patterns on your bare thigh, which was tucked tightly between her own pair of legs, a soothing gesture that would be able to ground you both in the moment.

“only if you’re ready to meet my family, lessi. they can be quite overwhelming.” your voice muffled by the blonde’s neck. during your 'cuddle session', your girlfriend had brought up the idea of potentially meeting the rest of your family for christmas. she had already met your parents couple months ago and the introduction couldn’t have gone smoother.

the blonde lifted her head from between your shoulder blades, her eyes filled with love and affection. “i’m willing to face the storm of mccabe siblings if it means i get to keep you,” alessia replied, arms wrapping tightly around you. a cheeky smile adorned her face, small dimples forming on the girl’s cheeks.

“absolutely love, and i promise i will tell them to keep the interrogating to a minimum,” you added, hoping to ease the girl of any worries. you had been dating for almost a year now, and making this step felt like a natural progression for your relationship.

“then saturday night sounds perfect, amore mio,” kissing your cheek, she gazed out the window.

the fading sunlight danced on her features, highlighting each perfection of her face, and you found yourself lost in captivation by her beauty.

~

"darling, are you sure i don’t need to go buy anything, and this outfit is appropriate?” the blonde asked, gesturing to what she was wearing. you had offered to help her get ready, knowing she was quite nervous about meeting your family.

“yes, i promise you don’t need to bring anything. and you look perfect, lessi, you always do,” you reassured her, a soft smile on your lips. you let the girl fuss over herself in the mirror one last time, the judgement in her own eyes, enough to make you cry.

“ready to go?” you asked the blonde, again she gave herself another look in the mirror and nodded, taking a deep breath. “okay, i can do this,” she said shakily. taking your hand, her confidence growing with your support.

~

the living room was alive with the sounds of a long - separated family finally together again. the house decorated with red, green and white tinsel, your christmas tree displayed proudly by the fire. the air thick with the smell of home- cooked food, and the walls echoed with laughter.

“hello, everyone!” you called out to your family, with a beaming smile, as the two of you entered through the front door, her hand firmly intertwined with yours. the living room erupted with cheerful greetings.

your family members were quick to welcome the both of you with open arms, instantly making the blonde feel like a part of the family. “how are ya!” your sister ella, was first one to reach you, excitedly engulfing you in a long awaited hug, nearly lifting you off the ground.

then came your youngest sister lauryn, and perhaps the one you missed the most. she crashed into you both, wrapping her arms around the both of you, before extending the invite alessia, pulling her into the embrace.

letting go, your sisters immediately started to create conversation with the blonde. her brows furrowed, both your sister's accents somehow stronger than the irish woman she saw daily, making it difficult for her to understand. questions about where you too met and how she dealt with you were dished out.

your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, as your siblings told your most embarrassing moments to your girlfriend. about to cut into the exchange and save the poor girl, you were abruptly swept up in another embrace, by another set of arms wrapping around you, this time belonging to your mother.

cupping your face, your mom let a few tears slip, in which you wiped away with a small chuckle. "far too long, darling," your mother whispered, holding you so tightly in her grasp, as if you would slip away if she let go.

you hadn't been home in almost a whole year now, your thigh injury meaning you missed the ireland camps, and were forced to stay in london to recover. "i know, but i'm here now, that's what matters," you reassured her, rubbing her back up and down.

then suddenly, her watery eyes shifted to the left of you, arms immediately letting go. curious, you turned to see what had captured her attention. as if a moment in time paused, you saw your mom extending her arms out to alessia, enveloping her in a warm hug. you watched as your mom and girlfriend chatted, your mom making cheesy jokes that she can call her 'mom', and alessia doing her best to keep up with her rambling.

after exhaustingly greeting each of your family members you were finally able to speak to your girlfriend. although not without a few sly comments from your siblings, about the "fashionably late couple", courtesy of your well complimented outfits, - which the blonde would profusely deny she chose.

my father's entrance from the kitchen was perfectly timed, strutting around in his 'dad apron', he announced that dinner was ready. the heavy scent of food was now flowing freely through the house, everybody sitting down, excited to finally eat.

throughout dinner, alessia charmed everyone with her wit and kindness. your family was captivated by her presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride seeing how well she connected with them, effortlessly joining conversations. the blonde once shy, began opening up more, cracking jokes and adding the playful banter between your siblings.

"can't forget the time when y/n tried to bake a cake and it ended up looking like a deflated football?" your sister, katie pipes up. laughter erupting amongst your family. "never letting that one go. it's in the mccabe hall of fame now," your older brother added. laughter breaking out through the dining room.

"was it at least edible?" alessia asked, with a playful glint in her eye. "hey! it was, it tasted… well, it tasted interesting, i'll have you know." you responded before any of your siblings could, feigning offense to the comments about your cooking skills.

"interesting is one way to put it. i think even dad had second thoughts." your youngest sister said teasingly. the table bursts into laughter, even louder this time. "i think we've found a new judge for our family cooking contests!" your mother exclaims. alessia laughs, looking more relaxed than she had felt in a long time. "just wait until you hear about the time y/n tried to fix the sink on her own, and flooded the kitchen!"

alessia's eyes widen in amusement, turning to you with her eyebrows raised. "i'm being ganged up on! that didn't happen!" you threw your arms up, trying to think of any excuse to save yourself. "oh that reminds me!" your mother changed the topic, everyone confused as she swiftly left the dining room looking for something.

a moment later your mother returned, but this time with 12 wrapped gifts in her hands. "presents!" she exclaimed, your siblings faces lighting up and their mother's clear excitement. handing each gift, you waited patiently for your turn.

your mother handed you a wrapped gift box, a deep blue wrapping with a golden coloured bow lay in front of you, attached the gold ribbon read a small handwritten tag with your name on it. next to you alessia's eyes glistened, face lit up in anticipation. until, the blonde was given her own gift. "and one for our newest family member," you mother said, her voice laced with warmth. the comment making the blonde's eyes twinkle, a large grin plastered on her face.

"well don’t just stare at em, open them!" wrapping paper flew, a series of cheers chorused as each sibling opened their gift. each gift contained a christmas styled sweater, customised for the sibling.

for alessia, her sweater was a classic, elegant design, in a soft heather maroon colour. it featured a ribbed pattern, and a vibrant red turtleneck, perfect for chilly nights in london.

opening your own gift, you were given a similar sweater to the blonde. a chic, oversized sweater, with a trendy off the shoulder cut, although yours was a slightly richer red, more of a deep burgundy, both sweaters again complimenting each other.

a wave of cozy, oversized sweaters were lifted up in hands across the table, a mix of black, blue, greens, reds and pink sweaters clouded your view, each sibling as happy with their gift as the last. your mom stood at the end of the table, and you could only describe her facial expressions as truly at peace, her children finally together in time for christmas.

giggling with the blonde, you felt so at ease. she really was the one for you. ahead of you, both your parents stood, looking so proud and content. your father's arm was wrapped around your mother, holding her close, eyes glistening. they shared a knowing glance, their gazes both loving and approving. an unspoken message laying in their eyes, a silent affirmation that seemed to say, "she's perfect for you."

as the night went on, you found yourself falling even more in love with alessia, appreciating the way she effortlessly fit into your family and made everyone feel at ease. it was a night you would always cherish, the beginning of many more gatherings to come. you had never felt your family bond feel so strong.

after all, this was what christmas was about.

~

Liked by leahwilliamsonn, @y/m/n_ and 93,048 others

Alessiarusso99 Beautiful way to end a really positive 2023, with my girls and thank you mom for the sweater, the girls loved <3

View all 728 comments

Y/n_Y/l/n Understatement of the season. That sweater is incredible. 💗

victoriapelova ❤️❤️

Leahwilliamsonn I want my own one @Y/n_Y/l/n

Y/n_Y/l/n @y/m/n_ leah wants one as well

bethmead_ i think we all deserve a sweater for christmas? 🧐

katie_mccabe11 😍

lottewubbenmoy love you, sis ❤️

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15 hours ago

[fic-over-cannon]

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

[the-atlas-sister]

TᕼEY ᗯᗩᒪK Iᑎ Oᑎ YOᑌ ᑕᕼᗩᑎGIᑎG/ᑎᗩKEᗪ- TOKYO ᖇEᐯ. ᑭᗩᖇT TᗯO

𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐… 𝚁𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘, 𝚁𝚊𝚗, 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚞, 𝚂𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚞, 𝙽𝚊𝚘𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚘

(IM SORRY IF SOME ARE OOC CAUSE- CAUSE I DON'T KNOW ALL THE CHARACTERS ALL TOO WELL)

𝚁𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚒

At the beginning of your day you had no idea that your boyfriend would be clinging to you at the end of your date, saying he just wanted to keep you, just for the night.

And how could you deny him with that cocky smirk of his, the one he gave you when he knew that you just couldn't say no to him.

So now here you were, stripping out of your uncomfortable date attire, still aiming to visually please your boyfriend after a year of being together. You shivered slightly as you stood in the bathroom in only your undergarments. You looked down at the pile of clothes Rindo had offered you, noticing that he not so slyly failed to include any shirts.

"Rindo?" you called, pulling on a pail of his loose boxers.

"You ready- woah." You flushed, your face turning hot as Rindo opened the bathroom door- his eyes going wide as he eyed your topless figure.

"You didn't have to barge in, I just need a shirt..." you grumbled, subconsciously covering your chest and torso.

"I kinda like you like this," he chuckled, leaning on the doorframe, making you roll your eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll go grab you a shirt." He laughed slightly with that same stupid smirk you had fallen in love with. You couldn't help but blush as he winked and turned around- seemingly to find you that shirt.

𝚁𝚊𝚗 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚒

Being Rindo Haitani's best friend had a lot of advantages. Roaming through the streets of Tokyo feeling safer then you ever have, getting the opportunity to beat his ass at any game you play together and of course, the opportunity to tease his brother.

Opportunities, like this one for example.

"He- o-oh," Ran said, his eyes going slightly wide as he opened to door to his brother's room, only to find you wearing nothing but your undergarments.

"Yes?" you said, smirking slightly at his flushed cheeks as he not so subtly eyed your naked body.

"I- I was looking for Rindo," Ran said, continuing to stare at your legs and body. "Thought he'd be in here."

"He's in the bathroom," you stated, bending over teasingly to pick up your shirt. You felt Ran's gaze on your ass, making your smile giddily.

"I didn't know you two..."

"We don't," you said quickly. You stood up fully and looked at the taller brother. "We were just messing around in the rain and Rindo let me shower here."

"Oh," Ran hummed, a tone of almost... relief in his voice. "Well, sorry for walking in on you."

"Don't be," you said with a small smile.

Ran smirked back at you before walking out of the room.

𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚞 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚢𝚘

You knew how much Sanzu idolized you. He told you every day, every night and every time in between. But as you stared at your own naked body in the long mirror within your shared bedroom... you just couldn't understand why.

You were having a day where it seemed as though every flaw you saw within yourself was pushing to the front of your mind, all desperate for attention.

You bit you lip lightly as you ran a hand along the skin on your stomach, continuing to graze over your hips.

"What did I get to deserve this?" you heard Sanzu's voice break you from your trance, making you jump slightly. You hadn't even heard the door open. You look at him behind you through the mirror- unable to bear the look of pure admiration shining in his eyes. The scars on his cheeks wrinkled at he smiled at you widely. He threw off his jacket and approached you. His hands replaced your own, quickly wrapping around your stomach and hips. "My perfect girl, naked and waiting for me," he mumbled, placing a soft kiss behind your ear and along the back of your neck.

"Don't say that," you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away from what you saw as the flaws littering your body.

"Hm? Say what? How perfect you are?" Sanzu asked, looking at you in the mirror. "Can't understand how you can't see how beautiful you are, my pretty girl." He continued to kiss the back of your neck and shoulders. "Lemme show you, yeah?"

𝚂𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚞 𝙸𝚗𝚞𝚒

Living with someone was weird.

This is what you had come to realize after you and Seishu made the decision to move in together. The first few weeks were nice, being able to cuddle to sleep, cook for one another and preform other domestic activities.

It wasn't until you walked in on him pissing for about the third time due to his forgetting to close the door, that you realized how odd it truly felt.

Even after weeks of being in the same of apartment, you had yet to change in front of one another. Hell, you don't know if Seishu has even really seen you naked. Both of you would shyly wander into the bathroom when it came time to change for the day or take a shower.

But now, you figured it would be fine to change in your shared bedroom. Seishu was still at work so it'd probably be fine. Right?

You hadn't even heard the door open when he walked in. You were completely naked, only covered by your underwear. You jumped in surprise when you felt Seishu's hand, rough from working in the shop, grab your own softly. He turned you to face him, his green eyes silently scanning your body.

Your face flushed as he raised your arm slightly, as if he was examining your body.

"Even more beautiful than I imagined," he said softly, hesitantly reaching out to touch the skin of your waist. You shyly looked away, leaning into his touch as you shared this new level of intimacy. "Wanna see more of you," he whispered in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest.

𝙽𝚊𝚘𝚝𝚘 𝚃𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚊

Being Takemichi's cousin fucking sucked.

You had no idea how it happened, but you had become wound up in your cousin's time travel. You honestly didn't understand most of it. All you knew is that his future and your present, was constantly shifting and you remembered every bit of it.

The only consistent thing you knew was Naoto Tachibana.

In every changing timeline, Naoto was there. There for your cousin and for you.

Which is how you found yourself within the detective's small apartment. You didn't understand it, but he said with the current timeline, it would be safer for you to stay with him. You currently stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, wearing an extra pair of his shorts and your bra. You tried to figure out how you had gotten yourself in this situation. Or better yet, how Takemichi had gotten you in this situation.

You snapped from your trance when you heard the door to the bathroom click. You turned to see as Naoto opened the door, his eyes going suddenly wide as his gaze settled on your topless figure.

"S-sorry," he said, clearing his throat a bit and turning to the side, an obvious blush on his cheeks. "You were taking a while. I was worried."

You couldn't help but smile softly at his show of worry. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't developed a crush on the younger man and his worrisome tone made your heart flutter. "I'm okay," you said softly, pulling on his oversized shirt. "I was just thinking about stuff."

"Future stuff?" he asked, finally looking back at you. She somehow looks even better in my clothes, he thought with a small blush.

"Present for us," you chuckled bitterly, looking back at the mirror.

"Right," Naoto nodded. "We could... talk about it when you're done if you'd like."

You smiled back and him and nodded slightly.

𝙺𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚘

You had always had a crush on Kakucho. Ever since you could remember knowing him you had. And you knew he had a crush on you as well. It was obvious.

You could tell from the way he watched you play in the rain, or how protective he got simply by someone looking at you the wrong way.

What you didn't understand was why he hadn't confessed. It had been years and yet... nothing. Perhaps it was his more shy demeanor when he was with you. Or perhaps it was Izana being your brother.

Whatever it was... you had had enough.

You inhaled deeply as you paced within Kakucho's room. You wore a pair of short shorts and your bra. Remember the plan, you reminded yourself. You had just stumbled into his home trying to get out of the rain. You had to strip and change clothes to try and get warm. He had said you were always welcome so it should work.

You stiffened as you heard the door to Kakucho's bedroom click open. Regrets and thoughts of what could go wrong flooded your mind as he opened the door. As soon as his eyes landed on you, they grew as wide as saucers. His hand stayed glued to the door handle and he stayed frozen in place.

"I can explain-"

"Naked-" Kakucho choked out, his face turning a shade of red you had never seen before.

"What?" you almost wanted to laugh at his response.

"You're naked- in my bedroom," he continued, his grip tightening on the door handle. His free hand went to his crotch. You raised an eyebrow at the action.

"I was just trying to get out of the rain and I remembered that you said I was always welcome-"

"It's not raining," Kakucho stated, his brows furrowing in confusion.

You mentally cursed yourself for forgetting such a critical detail. "Shit," you mumbled, your face flushing. "Look- I'm sorry-" You quickly collected your shirt and went to walk past Kakucho and out the door.

His hand quickly moved to softly grab your upper arm before you could leave, his gaze remaining straight ahead. You looked up at him with wide and hopeful eyes. "Don't tell Izana," he said softly before pulling you into the room and closing the door behind him.

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/mooskey/735171493771771904

[1997devil]

watch me

pairing: jww x fem reader

w.c.: 2.4k

warnings: consensual filming during sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk & praising

if there ever were a place on earth like what the books described heaven, wonwoo would think it to be your bedroom.

it’s not the place you spent your childhood in, but it’s your private bedchambers you decorated all by yourself to your heart’s content. if there were a place that was you embodied, it would be here in this very room. he loves all the little details you store in every peeking corner. he recalls the way the door lock so often let loose on its own–a product of the old but sturdy building you resided in–, the way the plain white curtains flutter as the breeze let itself in from the window you popped open in the mornings, the way the fairy lights strung over your headboard painted a glow on you as you lounged about wrapped in his arms, talking to him about anything and everything.

nothing could ever disturb you when you were here. wonwoo liked the idea of that. of you having a safe space, a place for you to rest and let loose, and he was utterly grateful you let him step into your safe haven and shared it with him willingly.

you’d opted for a night in this day, sore and tired from the hectic work week you’d gotten wind up in. you called wonwoo earlier in the day to inform him you have the rest of the week off and he said he’d be over once his workday was finished, with your favorite takeout.

you’d clicked on your diffuser when you first returned to your apartment in the evening, casting a sweet lavender scent to waft about your room. you had changed your bedsheets just recently too– wonwoo helped you put it on. once you had dinner settled, you retired to your room, wonwoo trailing at your feet like a sweet clingy kitten. your feet tangled under the covers, laptop on your lap as you laid back to chest, attention half on the screen and half on wonwoo’s skittering touches across your skin.

just as you were about to click open a new tab, you had pressed on the photobooth app by accident. you pulled up rows upon rows of shots of yourself, mostly you at home, some taken secretly at work with your colleagues, then some of you barefaced and some done up–you liked to turn the camera on while you did your makeup, using it as a mirror and a personal log of your days spent.

“can i look at these, baby?” wonwoo kindly asked you, considerate of the fact that you might not be comfortable with sharing these private records with him. you nodded your head, pushing the laptop closer to you so he could see better.

wonwoo hummed as he clicked through the photos. you looked so beautiful. he pressed a kiss for every photo he clicked on, blazing a simmering heat to your cheeks where his lips laid. he found his favorite shot of your collection, your lips pulled into a beautiful grin, eyes scrunched into half moons. you looked genuinely happy, healthy, glowing, like a princess, like the goddess of the moon.

“my beautiful girl,” wonwoo rumbled, the vibration of his voice humming against your body. “is it alright if you send me some of these? i want to keep them, see them everytime i miss you.”

you giggled, telling him of course, sending over your and his favorite shots to his phone. you saw him put a heart to every single one, even creating an album to catalog the photos in, so he could easily access them.

as he was busy tinkering about on his phone, you clicked back to the main screen. you clicked on the camera button, the countdown going off immediately, and wonwoo hadn’t even realised it. you created a hilarious candid of you sneakily smiling as wonwoo remained unaware of the photo op.

you poked his cheek to get his attention back on you, finger racing to click for some new photos. this time he posed for the photo, putting on silly poses and sticking his tongue out. your camera roll soon being overtaken by these couple shots, shots that you would cherish forever.

in a series of photos wonwoo’s kisses travelled from your temple, your cheeks, to the sloped tip of your nose and finally your lips. you barely pulled away from his lips against yours to switch the camera mode to video, hitting record.

you started talking like you were in those beauty videos you enjoyed watching on social media. wonwoo simply watched you talk and wave about the camera, you pretending to introduce your boyfriend to your audience.

it was all too terribly endearing. wonwoo resumed his attack of kisses, distracting you from whatever you were saying, airy giggles floating up with every peck he gave you.

you tipped your head backwards, pressing your lips on his. you easily gave way for his tongue, licking against yours, reaching into your mouth. wonwoo thought you tasted like the strawberry flavored toothpaste you had, the coffee from this morning, and the gum you chewed on to keep yourself awake through your work.

a light moan slipped through as he bit on your lower lip, tugging you closer to him if it were even possible. wonwoo saw the way your eyes began to droop and sweet sounds began to pervade. he knew all the ways to make you feel good and he gave no rest when he wanted to make you sing from his touches.

you didn’t even notice the camera was still rolling when he slowly pushed it off of your lap and to the side, careful to not nudge it with your leg. he slid you down so you were laying on the bed, your fingers rising to nestle in his hair, keeping him pressed to you. wonwoo’s lips slid down to your jaw and neck, pressing butterfly kisses that had you keening in pleasure.

“wonwoo,” you sighed out, feeling a tingle rise deep in your core. you needed him to take care of it.

“hm?” wonwoo responded coyly, hand now tucked under your camisole, running over your waist and tummy. “what is it, darling? does it feel good?”

“yeah,” you breathed. “you always make me f-feel good.”

he recalled the troubles you’d spilled to him earlier, the way your workweek had been physically and emotionally draining. “what do you need, baby?” he lifted his lips for just a moment, tucking your messed up hair behind your ear. you could barely keep your eyes open, your muscles melting into pliance and putty under his touch.

“n-need you, won.”

“where, baby?”

he let his thoughts take over. “here?” he grabbed your breast, fingers pinching and grazing over your nipples, your chest arching into his touch.

it felt good, but it was nothing like what you needed deep in your core. you barely shook your head no, letting his hand travel downwards. he reached out to your thighs, drumming his fingers. “how ‘bout here?” close enough. he knew exactly what you wanted, he just wanted to hear you say it, beg for it sweetly.

“maybe here then?” he cupped the apex between your thighs, warm from the cotton sleeping shorts you had on. there were layers of clothing between his touch and your skin and yet you keened from the pleasure like he was touching you closely.

“does baby like that? baby wants more?” he muttered into your ear, fingers tracing the lips of your pussy. you vocalised your agreement, voice wispy and trembling, like you were worked up.

he rose up to his knees. he tugged off your sleeping shorts and panties easily, leaving you bare from your waist down. he traveled down your body, adjusting the camera so it would capture him settling in between your legs, lips inches away from your already sopping wet cunt.

he started with gentle licks before he dove in with desperate sucks and shoving his tongue into your pussy, fucking your cunt just how you liked it. your skin was damp to touch with your wetness leaking out, and wonwoo’s spit coating your skin down to your inner thighs. he could so easily make you cum with just his light touch and he knew the exact way to work you

up.

he muttered dirty phrases as he kept eating you out, loving the way your taste lingered on his tongue.

“w-wonwoo, shit,” your voice took a higher pitch, signalling your incoming peak. you broke off into mere syllables the closer you got to cumming.

“you g’nna cum, sweetheart? gonna let me taste your come?”

“yeah, ah, i’m so-so close, won, i can’t,” you sobbed, fingers flying to grab at your chest again, fondling with your nipples for extra stimulation.

“you can, baby, and you will,” he licked in between, “come for me.”

it didn’t take long for you to come after he commanded you to. your thighs threatened to press against his head, and wonwoo would simply be happy to die like this, your sweet arousal decadent on his tongue.

he lifted his mouth off of your dripping pussy while you were coming down from your high, slipping in a finger. he marvelled at how wet you were, how easily his finger entered you all the way to his knuckles. he added another digit, scissoring in you, feeling your juices coat his fingers.

“can you take me, baby? got me so hard and now you gotta take care of me, too.”

“yes, i can,” you peered at him through your lashes. your eyes were glazed over, still riding on the orgasm he just gave you.

“that’s my girl,” he slipped his fingers out of your sopping cunt as fast as they went in, tapping the pads on your lips, red and bitten down.

“clean me up first.”

his fingers prodded into your mouth easily, your tongue swirling and sucking around them like a lollipop. you swore wonwoo’s eyes went darker than they already have, breathing heavy, tickling your cheeks.

wonwoo barely pushed down his sweatpants to his thighs, just enough so that his hard cock would jut out. he snidely laughed when your eyes went wide when they landed on his dick, knowing just how crazed you’d become even from just one orgasm and barely any contact aside from his mouth.

he slicked himself up with the juices that shone on your cunt, coating his tip with your come from earlier, barely pushing in. you mewled, hips unconsciously raising to catch his dick and push it in deeper.

“lemme hear you ask f’r it, baby,” wonwoo mumbled, catching each of your wrists in one hand and pressing them to your tummy, holding you down.

you whined, eyes going shut. “i need it, won, i need to f-feel you deep in me, please, i need you t’make me cum, god, i know you will, ple-ase give it to me.”

god, you do so well for him everytime.

he pushes in slowly, the same pace your mouth drops open, sensation of taking him raw never ever settling upon your muscles, blowing your mind to otherworldly proportions.

it didn’t take long for wonwoo’s thrusts to gain speed, him trying to hear more of the noises endlessly spilling out of you. he tucks your arm down, your fingers barely reaching your clit, his fingers above yours, directing you to rub against the sensitive bundle of nerves. the added stimulation makes you yowl, and your pussy tighten up impossibly, wonwoo letting out a few groans of his own that sound straight from a porno.

wonwoo sees your computer that’s still blinking on, camera still rolling. you’re not being loud enough for the microphone to fully pick up on your sounds, but it’s capturing every single thrust he makes and the curve of your body as you try to stave off the pleasure.

“turn around for me, darling,” he requests from you, and it takes you a few seconds to gain recognition of your surroundings, wonwoo’s dick driving you to a drunken haze.

he lets up on your hands, his warm palms grabbing your waist, rolling you over so your stomach lays on the bed. he grabs onto your thighs next, pulling them upwards so your knees are on the mattress, spine curving into a beautiful arch that both you and him know will have you feeling his cock in your gut for days to come.

he continues his pace from earlier. he keeps an eye on the screen, admiring just how wrecked yet beautiful you look, that it was all his doing.

“eyes open, baby,” he groaned, thrusts never letting up, “and look up.”

you barely pried them open, only now registering your laptop that is still turned on, camera still rolling, recording the way your body trembled under wonwoo’s, crackly speakers catching every moan and whimper, shaking with each deep thrust of wonwoo’s hips.

“you like when i film you becoming such a cockslut, hm? should we do this again next time?” he tugs on your shoulder, causing you to straighten up, before dropping both of your bodies down, his head tucked into your neck.

you cannot even say a word in response, letting him talk you into what’s surely the biggest orgasm you’re about to have in however long it’s been.

“don’t worry, babe, never g’nna share this with anyone, you know only i can fuck you like this, right?”

“this way you can see how pretty you look when i fuck your sweet pussy, baby, how gorgeous you are when i make you come.”

you can feel your core impossibly tightening, your whining growing in pitch, sweat dripping down your neck as wonwoo all but pounds into you.

“come for me, baby, then i’ll come too, give you my cum, watch it drip out of you.”

wonwoo comes not long after you do, you not even registering the wet hot kisses he presses to your shoulders as he gently fucks into you to ride you through your orgasm. he slowly lets up on your body, letting you plop down onto your covers, muscles loose and body–and mind– obliterated.

he soothes your tingling skin with his hands, muttering sweet nothings into your ear to keep you awake and conscious, slowly easing you back into reality. he glances at the camera, watching through the screen the way your eyes blink out of your stupor and droop slowly, nearly throwing yourself into a deep slumber.

[sugoi-writes]

Alastor with a reader who tries on his suit jacket and mimics him in a mirror ( I feel like this nut has a closet filled with the same clothes) and gets caught by him? I’d have to shoot myself if this happened to me but I want to feel the embarrassment radiating off the reader. (He finds it cute tho—phew!)

🍻D runk Danny Asks 🍻

Ahah, same warnings as before!

❤️❤️❤️

You poised in the mirror with your hands on your hips: Superwoman style. You heard that this was a pose that could actually boost confidence if you repeated this action daily... some sort of positive-reinforcement via brain chemistry. But, your train of thought was cut off as you did a giddy little twirl.

You fanned out the longer coat tails of Alastor's coat, marveling the split that made room for his fluffy tail. You squirmed at the thought of seeing it wag, but you controlled yourself. You grabbed a hair brush off of Alastor's nightstand, posing like you had a microphone to your lips.

"Salutations~ Good to be back on the air!" You attempted in your best transatlantic accent. You snorted, fanning your face as you shrunk in on yourself," Hells, that was bad!"

You pretended to lean on your imaginary cane, a hand to your chest as you belted out," Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, QUITE the pleasure! Have you heard of my podcast~?"

"As a matter of fact, I have~" You froze as a slow clap came from the doorway, a shit eating grin on the Radio Demon's face," Dare I say, I'm a huge fan of yours~" He perfectly mimicked your voice, a slight static over the intonation of your cadence. You squeaked as Alastor strode towards you, eyes filled with a prideful glee.

"Dear, if you really wanted to impersonate me... you should really do something about this posture!" Back to his normal tone, you nearly shrieked as Alastor's hands grabbed your hips. He angled them back slightly as he kissed the crown of your head. His hands slid up your body, making you gasp and writhe between them and their wake. He took hold of your wrists, hands loose but firm in their grip. The both of you looked into the mirror, your face warm at the sight of Alastor towering over you.

"Much better, dear... much better~" he practically purred in your ear, your breath becoming a distant thought. You had effectively forgot how to breathe. And Alastor would have been content with the teasing... if your hips didn't meet his own.

"I wonder... how do you sound when you moan my name...?"

You gasp as Alastor ground against your ass, a shocked mewl escaping you.

"Let's find out~"