#and they asked if I used strength and I was like... yeah I guess a bit? idk

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 80

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Saturday, April 16; 5:30 PM - Porto Airport.

Here we are, in Porto. I can hardly believe it. I mean, I'm from Portugal, but I've never been here. It's always been a city I've wanted to visit, and here I am. Lucy smiles at me to reassure me.

"Are you ready?"

"As if I had a choice."

She laughs softly and steals a kiss. She's lucky I love her madly. In a few minutes, we're going to get off the plane and meet her parents. Despite her teasing, I can tell Lucy's been nervous since yesterday. She gave me a little rundown of what to expect, and honestly, I have no idea how to act.

"I love you. Don't forget that."

"I know."

We exchange a smile, and we walk hand in hand down the disembarkation corridor. My hands are sweaty. There are people all around us. When we reach the hall, I let Lucy take the lead in looking for them, as I've never seen them. All I know is that her father is really tall and her mother have white hair.

"I see them! Are you coming?"

"I'm right behind you."

She guides me while I keep looking around for them. I finally smile when I see Alexia running toward us. I barely have time to let go of my girlfriend’s hand to catch her in my arms.

"You’re finally here!"

I let out a sigh. I had forgotten they arrived before us. That’s great news.

"Hey. I’m so relieved to see you."

"Me too! I have so much to tell you."

"Really? Did you have a good week?"

I almost forgot she spent the week with Jenni and her sister. I imagine she has lots to share.

"It couldn’t have been better. And you? You look like you got some sun."

"A little, yes," I giggle.

I glance over her shoulder to see Lucy standing next to her parents and Jenni. I smile especially when I see her in the arms of a woman I assume to be her mother based on her appearance.

"You’ve already talked to them, I guess?" I ask Ale.

"Yeah. Your mother-in-law is a bit... I don’t know. Intimidating? She’s something else."

"Thanks, Ale. That’s really reassuring," I mock.

"Sorry," she laughs. "Just giving you a heads-up."

I nod. Anyway, Lucy already warned me that her mother would be the one to intimidate me the most with her cold demeanor. In a way, it reminds me of Lucy when we first met. She was the same, so I guess it’s not insurmountable.

"Her dad, on the other hand, is adorable. He hasn’t stopped chatting with us."

I glance at him. Once again, Lucy warned me not to judge by appearances. He reminds me of my dad, but even more impressive.

"That’s something, at least."

"Come on, I’ll go with you through this tough moment. We’ll chat later."

I nod. I can’t run away forever. Alexia links her arm with mine to guide me. I let her. I’d rather do that than have time to overthink. Lucy smiles immediately when she sees us. Ale lets go of me when my girlfriend reaches out her hand. I take it and don’t hesitate to snuggle against her.

"Mom, Dad, this is Ona, my girlfriend. Ona, this is Diane , my mother , and Kim, my father."

"Hello," I say timidly. "I’m happy to finally meet you."

"And we are too. Lucy has told us a lot about you. Don’t be shy around us. We’re glad Lucy’s brought someone home."

"Well, that puts a lot of pressure on me."

The words slipped out, but they seem to amuse her father, who catches me off guard with a hug that tenses me up. Lucy smiles with amusement beside me. Maybe this trip won’t be as bad as I feared. Well, except for her mother, who has been staring at me the whole time. Lucy’s father saves me from having to approach her by suggesting we hurry home. Lucy kisses my temple, wrapping her arm around my shoulders as we walk.

"You’re doing great, honey," she whispers. "You’re perfect. Just keep being yourself, and everything will be fine."

Her words give me the strength I need for what’s ahead. The non-interaction with her mother bothers me a bit, but I suppose I’ll have to get used to it for now. Lucy said not to expect much from her at first.

"You all must be starving," her father says as we head toward the exit after collecting our bags.

"Oh, yes, you’re not kidding," Jenni replies. "I’ll be glad when we’re home."

"You’ll have to wait a bit. We invited your parents for dinner tonight. We thought it’d bring back good memories."

"What a great idea. Are we having a barbecue?"

"Of course. You’ll help me grill the meat."

"Gladly!"

It seems like everyone’s looking forward to tonight. I really hope everything goes well.

Saturday, April 16; 7:30 PM - Bronze House.

Lucy loved my house, but she didn’t do too badly with hers either. It’s a small house with a lovely, well-kept garden. Like me, they live away from the city, in a very friendly neighborhood. It’s peaceful. You can’t hear anything, even though we’re outside sipping a drink for now. The Dads and Jenni are handling the grilling. Jenni looks a lot like her dad. The mothers are, to my relief, inside preparing salads. I have some breathing room and, more importantly, an escape from my mother-in-law’s watchful eyes. She won’t stop. I feel like she’s scrutinizing my every move. It’s very unsettling. Thankfully, Alexia keeps me relaxed with casual conversation.

"I need to use the bathroom before we sit down," I tell Lucy. "Can you show me where it is?"

"I’ll come with you."

"Oh no, you don’t have to. Just tell me."

"Sweetheart, I’m coming with you," she insists. "We’ll be back in ten minutes," she tells Ale.

"No problem, I’ll check in on the others in the meantime."

She winks at me as we walk into the house. Lucy takes me upstairs, which feels strange at the moment. But then she opens the door to the bathroom, right next to her bedroom. At least now I know I won’t have trouble finding it if I need to during the night.

"Thanks."

"Is everything okay, love?" she asks, stopping me with her question.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?"

"Well, you’re not as cheerful as when we left Lisbon."

"Well… your mother is quite the character, but I’ll be fine."

She chuckles softly, sliding her hands around my waist.

"I know, I’m sorry if she’s making you uncomfortable."

"Oh no, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, and honestly, she’s not making me that uncomfortable. I haven’t even spoken to her yet."

"You’re right," she sighs. "I know she likes to observe before acting, but she’s never been this intense. I’ll say something to her eventually."

"No! Please don’t, Lucy. I don’t want her to think I’m playing the victim or anything."

She sighs heavily. I cup her cheek, and she looks up at me.

"And then what? I’m not going to let her create tension between you two during this trip."

"Well, I don’t know… Maybe she’s waiting for me to approach her? Maybe I should make the first move. What do you think?"

"I’m not sure you’re ready to—"

"Ready for what?" I interrupt. "I think I’ve been through enough to handle a conversation with your mom, Lucia."

"That’s not what I meant," she sighs.

She averts her gaze, clearly thinking it over. I can tell she’s nervous. Either she’s hiding something serious, or she doesn’t think I can handle her mother.

"Okay… If you feel like facing her, go ahead. She’ll appreciate the gesture."

"Thank you."

I smile and kiss her gently.

"Can I use the bathroom now? »

"Yes," she laughed. "I'll wait for you."

She let go of me, and I hurried to take care of what I needed to do. I washed my hands and came back out. Lucy was leaning against the door, looking deep in thought. I stood in front of her and wrapped my arms around her.

"Hey, how are you?"

She shrugged.

"I don’t know. It’s always strange coming back here."

"I can see that. We're far from peace and quiet, huh?"

"Yeah," she chuckled.

I gently stroked her hair, full of love.

"Do you want to talk?"

"No, it's fine."

"Okay... You know I love you, right?"

A small smile formed on her lips.

"Yeah, it seems like it..." she replied playfully.

"You think that’s funny, huh?" I asked, pulling away a little.

"Just a bit."

A small gasp escaped me when she flipped the roles. I found myself pressed against the wall, speechless as she kissed me softly. I kissed her back with growing desire.

"You’ll never love me as much as I love you," she teased.

"Wrong. I already love you more than you love me."

"No, I don't think so," she teased back.

"Girls! We're ready to eat!" Ale called from the stairs.

"Well, duty calls, it seems."

"Yeah, convenient for you."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let’s go fill our stomachs instead of arguing over a debate that, in my opinion, has no possible outcome."

I chuckled softly.

"You're just afraid to lose, that's all."

"Are you done yet? I might start thinking you’re doubting my feelings."

She stepped back, crossing her arms. She was truly adorable when she pretended to sulk. Usually, it was me in that position. I tilted my head, smiling.

"Are you kidding? After our nights at the beach, there's no way I could ever doubt your feelings."

I moved closer to her again, pressing our bodies together. Her hand gliding over my hip caught me off guard, and once again, she had me pinned against the wall. My breath was short, but I let her kiss me once more, tenderly. I felt myself surrender more and more, and I loved it. I had developed an unshakable trust in her. Last week had truly been paradise. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had fully found myself again. We were in perfect harmony, and nothing made me happier than knowing we’d be living together permanently in just a few weeks. I snapped back to reality when Lucy started to venture a little too far along my neck.

"Lucia," I whispered.

That didn’t seem to stop her, but a pinch on her butt certainly did the trick.

"Hey!" she protested.

"You made me wait for nights last week because we were under my grandfather's roof. Don’t think you’re going to get away with it any easier here."

"And what, exactly? Want me to find us a beach?" she teased.

"You’re ridiculous," I giggled. "We almost got caught more than once last night, remember?"

"Oh, come on, it was kind of fun, wasn’t it?" she teased, letting her hand wander under my shirt.

"Sure, but you weren’t the one half undressed when it happened."

"True," she laughed.

I gave in to her lips one last time. That’s when we were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. I panicked a little but relaxed when I saw Ale standing there.

"So, this is what you've been up to this whole time? We’ve all been waiting for you."

"Sorry about that," Lucy laughed. "We’re coming."

"I hope so!"

She turned around without checking if we were following. I was ready to go, but Lucy held me back one more time. I thought we were done.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Forget about all that for now. Don’t worry about my mom tonight. Focus on me, okay? I want us to have a good evening for our first night here. Can you do that for me?"

I took a deep breath but nodded.

"Okay," I murmured. "I’ll try."

"Thank you. I love you, don’t forget that."

I smiled as she kissed me one last time. Now it was time to keep my promise. I just hoped her mom wouldn’t traumatize me.

Sunday, April 17th, 08:30 AM - Bronze House

I groaned as I felt movement beside me. I reached out to place my arm over Lucy’s body, but I realized she wasn’t lying down anymore.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled.

"Shhh, go back to sleep."

"Where are you going?" I grumbled, blinking as she tried to get out of bed.

"I can't sleep anymore. Jenni texted me. We’re going for a run."

I sighed contentedly as she stroked my head. It felt so good. I closed my eyes again.

"You're leaving me alone?"

"We’re just doing a quick loop around the neighborhood. You won’t have to leave here without me, okay?"

"Hmm..."

I heard her words, but I was too tired to process them. Lucy chuckled at my response.

"I love you. See you soon."

I felt her lips against mine. I let out another small groan as she finally got out of bed. I wasn’t able to stop her, but instead, I slid over to her side of the bed, hugging her pillow to me. On the one hand, I hated that she left me alone for her morning runs, but on the other, I loved being able to enjoy her side of the bed in her absence. Without fully realizing it, I drifted back to sleep.

Sunday, April 17th, 09:00 AM - Bronze House

I stretched out in the big bed, realizing I was alone. I vaguely remembered why, thanks to Lucy’s departure. I sighed and reached for my phone. It was still early for me, but I could hear movement in the house. There was noise coming from downstairs. I didn’t know when Lucy had left, but I didn’t particularly feel like waiting for her up here. Knowing Alexia, she was probably still sleeping. She loved to sleep in as much as I did. Or, maybe she had gone with the others. That was a possibility too. I waited for a while, but eventually decided to get out of bed. It was ridiculous to stay there, and with a bit of luck, Lucy’s dad would be downstairs. I took the time to get dressed and make the bed before heading to the bathroom next to the room. I brushed my teeth and fixed my hair before heading downstairs. After all, I was at my in-laws’ house, and the least I could do was look presentable. My feet led me to the kitchen after I noticed the living room was empty. I instantly regretted leaving the bed when I saw that the only person there was Lucy’s mother, who had, of course, already spotted me.

"Good morning," I said, a bit awkwardly.

"Good morning, Ona."

"How are you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

The woman smiled. That was a first. I hadn’t received a smile from her yet. I’d had a pleasant evening yesterday, but I’d had to ignore her to avoid feeling uncomfortable.

"Lucy told us that you don’t particularly like cooking. Maybe you could set the table, if you remember where the silverware is."

I blushed furiously. Lucy had really told them that? We were going to need to have a little talk.

"Y-yes, of course," I stammered.

We’d put the dishwasher away last night, so I remembered perfectly where everything was. I moved toward the kitchen to start looking for the plates.

"So, she was right?" Lucy’s mother asked.

I swallowed hard. Had she painted me as some sort of failure to her parents? I felt embarrassed by the answer I was about to give.

"Yes, it's true. I never really took the time to learn how to cook, but I do help Lucy from time to time since we moved in together. Well, on weekends, at least," I added, unsure of how much she actually knew.

I prefer to stay honest. It’s not by lying that I will gain her sympathy. She doesn’t respond, so I step forward to the table to set down four plates.

“Are you planning to take care of my daughter?”

The question catches me off guard. She stopped what she was doing to look me straight in the eye. I realize she’ll probably judge my answer if it’s not what she expects.

“I understand you might feel uncomfortable with my behavior,” she continues. “But you have to understand, I only have one child. It’s my duty to know if she’s in good hands.”

I take a deep breath. In a way, I’m glad she started the conversation. I would have never had the courage to do it myself. Besides, the question was simple. I just needed to answer from the heart.

“I love your daughter, so of course, I’m going to take care of her. She’s my priority.”

“You love her, huh? So, you’re not with her out of interest?”

“What—what? No!” I reply, offended. “Lucy has given me so much, and I have genuine feelings for her. I would never use her.”

“Really? So there’s no ulterior motive? Not even a financial one?”

I laugh bitterly. This woman is something else. What does she think? I can see that my attitude doesn’t please her, but I can’t help it. I close my eyes for a moment, clench my fists, and collect myself.

“No, none at all,” I reply more harshly than I intended. “If you know so much, I imagine Lucy has also told you about my father’s death... So you should know I inherited everything from him. Even his house in Lisbon, so you can understand that I’m not in need financially.”

I don’t like that she’s doubting our love so much. Plus, forcing me to talk about my father—that’s the last straw. Unexpectedly, her eyes soften, which is rather disconcerting. Up until now, she’s only looked at me with judgment and coldness.

“I did hear about that tragedy. My condolences. I’m also sorry for attacking you like this, but I’m still Lucy’s mother, and I have to protect her. She’s been through enough, but you seem to be good for her.”

Her words make my heart skip a beat. What does she mean by “been through enough”? Is she referring to her relationship with Keira? I don’t know why, but since what Lucy told me last week and how she’s been acting since we got here, I have doubts that it’s just that. Something else must have happened here too.

“I observed you a lot last night. I can see that you make my daughter happy, and after this conversation, you seem like a remarkable young woman. Know that Lucy needs support, even though she’ll never admit it.”

I struggle to hide my surprise. Until now, I never noticed that Lucy needed support. On the contrary, she’s always the one who’s supported me.

“Don’t look so surprised. You’re already supporting her without even realizing it, so keep it up. The only thing I’ll ask of you is to never betray her or break her heart.”

I blink several times. Am I to understand that she’s finally giving me her approval? It touches me in a way, considering the person standing in front of me. I blush despite myself and nod.

“Absolutely not, ma’am. I wouldn’t even think of it. I love her far too much to do something like that. I fully intend to keep Lucy by my side forever.”

She nods calmly, with a small smile.

“Good. I’m trusting you with my daughter, then. Take care of her. And you can call me Diane from now on.”

A weight lifts off my shoulders at those words. The conversation is going well.

“Welcome to the family, Ona.”

Definitely going well. Her words warm my heart. She’s clearly offering me recognition. I smile gently.

“Thank you... Diane.”

“Do you like pancakes?”

“Oh yes, especially Lucy’s,” I admit enthusiastically.

“Well, you’ll have to settle for mine today. But they shouldn’t be much different from my daughter’s since I’m the one who taught her.”

I smile softly and nod. I continue setting the table, and when I’m done, I hear the front door slam. My girlfriend’s laughter and Jenni’s echo in the hallway before they appear in the room.

“Hello!” she says cheerfully.

Her expression shifts to surprise when she sees me here. She wasn’t expecting it. After all, she asked me to wait upstairs. But that was out of the question for me. I wanted to take the opportunity to talk with her mother, and now that’s done.

“Hey,” I greet them.

“Oh, you came downstairs after all.”

“You told her to wait upstairs?” her mother scolds. “I wasn’t going to eat her.”

“Oh, with you, who knows,” Lucy laughs before coming over to hug me. I let myself relax until I catch a whiff of her scent. I grimace and try to push her away, but she holds on tighter.

“You stink,” I point out.

“What? You don’t like my natural scent?” she teases.

“Yes, but definitely not your sweat.”

She laughs before kissing me. Her lips carry me away every time. It’s as if I melt in her arms.

“Everything okay? She didn’t torture you too much?”

“No,” I giggle. “Everything went fine.”

She nods, glancing briefly at her mother, who doesn’t seem concerned about us.

“Are you and your girlfriend staying for breakfast, Jenni?” she asks instead.

“No, I’m heading home. I’m expected there, and I need a shower too.”

“Great idea,” Lucy comments. “We’ll take one as well. See you this afternoon?”

“Yeah, we’ll text to figure something out.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“See you later.”

She turns around and leaves as if it’s nothing. Something tells me she feels right at home here. She seems very comfortable and well-accepted by my girlfriend’s family. Lucy catches my attention by kissing my cheek.

“Are you done here? Will you join me?”

“Oh, um…”

I blush. I think I understood what she meant earlier when she said “we” to Jenni. I glance at her mother for some sort of approval. She doesn’t seem to care. She’s not even looking at us. I turn back to Lucy, who has a mischievous expression.

“We can’t do that,” I say softly so only she can hear.

“Come on. No one’s upstairs, and we can talk about what happened while I was gone.”

She teases me, playing with the hem of my t-shirt. I shake my head, but Lucy isn’t giving up.

“Mom, will you call us when it’s ready?”

“Yes, go ahead. We’ll call you when it’s time.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

Lucy grabs my hand and leads me upstairs before I have a chance to understand what’s happening. I hardly recognize her. She’s never been this persistent. We arrive upstairs, and she guides me into the family bathroom.

“You’re exaggerating. We can’t do this here.”

"We're not going to do anything. I just want to take a shower with you. Is that too much to ask?"

She tilts her head while teasing the back of my bra under my t-shirt. I roll my eyes but smile nonetheless. She seems to really want this moment, so I give in.

"Just a quick shower, but don’t say I didn’t warn you."

"Thank you, my love. I’ll go get some clothes. You get the towels ready."

She gives me a quick kiss before disappearing into her bedroom. A pretty spacious room, by the way. It’s about the size of our room in Manchester, with fairly neutral colors. Actually, it resembles her apartment’s style a lot—minimalistic, but very pretty and harmonious. I listen to her and go in search of the towels. This room has a bathtub, a shower, and some storage cabinets. I hope she doesn’t get any ideas when she sees the bath... She's been quite playful these past few days. I jump when arms suddenly wrap around me from behind. I didn’t even have time to look before she’s already here.

"Haven’t you taken your clothes off yet?" she whispers.

"I was waiting for you. And honestly, I haven’t even found the towels."

I turn around to face her and also to check if the door is locked, which it is.

"Did you lock it?"

"Of course. Now, undress."

She kicks things off by stripping off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor. Unlike her, I plan on putting mine back on, so I fold them neatly. Meanwhile, she turns on the water and checks the temperature. I feel happy to be getting more comfortable around her. She makes me feel wanted. It's been a long time since I’ve felt that way.

"So, where are the towels?" I ask.

"Right here, look."

She points to a cabinet right next to the shower. I grab two for later. When I turn around, Lucy already has her hand on my waist.

"You're really eager today," I giggle. "What’s going on with you?"

"I don’t know. I just want to spend time with you."

"Quick, remember," I say as she pulls me under the water.

"Promise," she laughs. "Just a shower," she murmurs against my lips.

I smile as she kisses me, closing the door behind her. We try to share the water jets as best as we can. The space is smaller than anything we’ve been in before. Lucy keeps her promise and just focuses on washing me. She takes her time, lost in thought. I know she enjoys doing it, so I don’t say anything. I like it too. The way she looks at me makes me feel like a wonder of the world. It’s so crazy, considering how much I dislike my body.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Of course," she says, smiling softly. "I’m with you, so everything’s fine."

She says that, but I can tell something’s bothering her. She kisses me, so I stay quiet. I rinse off once she’s done. Now it’s my turn to pamper her. I start with her hair. I smile when I see her close her eyes. Looks like someone really needed this. I understand better why she insisted on having me with her. I take advantage of the moment to kiss her shoulder.

"Don’t start if you want me to stay calm," she mumbles.

"Oh, but you will stay calm. It’s my turn to take care of you."

"Really, hmm?"

She sighs in contentment as I give her a scalp massage. I start to wonder if she’s simply letting go...

"Yes. I know how to do it, and you seem to need it."

"You’re right."

I smile. It’s rare for her to admit things like this, especially so easily. That must mean it’s true.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I whisper.

"No."

"Ladies, dinner will be ready soon," comes the distinct voice of Lucy’s father, interrupting us.

"We’d better hurry up," my girlfriend advises.

"Okay..."

I let it go for now. She really doesn’t seem to want to talk. I get the sense I’m not the only one who’d prefer to escape the past... I finish washing her quickly so we can get out. The last thing I want is to upset Lucy’s parents, even if everything seems to have settled down.

[emeraldblonde]

I tried to mod something and the good news is, it didn't crash the game. 🥳 The bad news is, not what I was looking for lmao.

Like, don't get me wrong. I've seen way worse (the stuff of nightmares) on a modding channel I've been teaching myself this stuff lately, so. It's not like I completely fucked this thing up or anything like that.

It's just... I still gotta ask though.

What went wrong here?

[avvocarlo]

holy shit I hate the rules and politics within the community services industry

[dravidious]

Always stunned by how amazing you are

"Wow, March of the Machine is out! My sealed games went great, I can't wait to try out this new transform deck in casual! It's got some weak commons in it, but I'm sure everyone else is also trying out all the new cards so it'll be okay!"

Every single player in casual queue shuffling up their piles of rares:

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 8:46

“Do you have dimples?”

Bakugou doesn’t understand it himself, but you always find your way back to his house after your first visit—asking these out-of-the-blue questions that seem to have no end to them. It’s like a curse has befallen him, one that follows him wherever he goes.

For a moment, his eyes snap in your direction, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, though his intense glare never once wavers. He didn’t know what the hell you were getting at, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to even want to know why you were asking about something so random.

Honestly, he should be used to it by now. But the thing is, he isn’t, because sooner or later you’ll be popping out of nowhere with another of your pointless questions.

“Hah?”

“I asked, do you have dimples?” you repeated.

His eye twitches at the repeated question, and as much as he’d like to give you a snappy remark to get you to stop, he can’t seem to come up with one. So, for the time being, he decides to humor you (and hope for the best that you drop it and move onto another topic).

“Why the hell are you asking?”

“Because Kaminari and I made a bet whether you have dimples or not. I went with yes, you do have them—even if it’s a singular dimple, but Kaminari says otherwise,” you explained, tapping your finger softly against the coffee table.

He scoffs at the childish reason. “And what makes you think I do have one?”

“A hunch,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “I also have just one.” You smiled, showing off your obvious singular dimple on your right cheek.

Bakugou glances at your dimple for a brief moment, eyes scanning over your face and the way that the dimple seemed to perfectly dip into the soft skin of your cheek. He almost found himself entranced for a moment, but his gaze returned to your eyes as he huffed out in mock disinterest.

He was about to dismiss your hunch—maybe just flat-out refuse to even show you—or come up with a lie. But Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a liar.

“What happens if you win the bet?”

“I get 3000 yen,” you answered.

That’s a lot, he thought.

“I can pay you 3000 yen to shut the fuck up and stop with the useless questions.”

“There’s no fun in that!”

He scoffs again as he leans back against the sofa, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your stupidity. He eyed you for a moment, his head tilting to the side as he sighed. “And what happens if you lose the bet?”

“He gets 3000 yen.”

Bakugou almost wanted to laugh at the fact that you were putting so much faith and money on a simple guess, but he managed to hold back on the amused expression and forced himself to remain calm and unbothered.

He leaned back a bit more, relaxing against the plush seats, letting out a mocking “tch” before he said, “What if I don’t show you if I have a damn dimple or not?”

“Please? Oh my god, Bakugou. Don’t do this to me now! Kaminari’s going to do a ‘victory dance’ when he finds out he won by default,” you half-whined.

He was about to give you his final choice when suddenly you started whining at him. Bakugou rose an eyebrow at you, lips quirking to a frown. As idiotic as it is to him, it looks like it was quite a serious matter to you.

“Tch. Whatever.”

You threw your hands to your face, groaning. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top? Spare me some sympathy—and be a team player for once!”

He found himself fighting a scowl at the way you acted. It was somewhat different this time around, and it was making him feel weird. Damn it. You’re a goddamn nuisance.

“Alright, fine. Just—” He motioned with his hand for you to come closer, an almost annoyed expression on his face. “If you tell anyone else about this other than Dunce Face, I’ll make sure you don’t ever see the next sunrise.”

“That doesn’t sound heroic at all—but yes, of course!” you cheered. “Just a little smile, and I shall confirm the goods.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, already regretting giving into your stupid request but at the same time knowing that he would never let Kaminari win against you in all circumstances possible.

He let out a huff and hesitantly let the sides of his own lips quirk up into a half-assed attempt at a smile, but from the way it was so rigid, it looked more like a painful grimace.

You gave him a confused, somewhat flat look in return. “Dude, you look like you’re about to shit yourself—mmph! ” You didn’t get to finish what you were saying as Bakugou’s palms immediately squished your cheeks together to shut you up.

“Oh shut it, dipshit,” Bakugou grumbled, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly as he forced you to pout your lips. “You were asking for a smile. I give one, and you wanna give me smart ass remarks about it?”

“I didn’ even gwet toh shee anythin’! That’s how bwad ith was,” you muffled out through pouty lips.

“Are you gonna keep yapping and bitching about what you asked for, or are you gonna accept my goddamn smile?”

“Fine, fine!” you yielded, pushung his hands away from your face. “Do it one more time, and I’ll actually check this time.”

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were wondering if you were going to actually do as you said or go against it and keep making smart-ass comments. But as you yielded, he let out a sigh and decided he’d rather just get this done and over with. 

Less hassle for him.

He repeated his ‘smile’ from before, which looked more like a forced sneer, and he waited for your verdict. This was his last straw; he was going to murder you (not).

You had to hold back your laughter but failed to do so. “I really can’t— Bakugou, please! ” you mused, hitting his shoulder playfully. “Your ‘smile’ reminds me of that time Kirishima had to hold the biggest shit before the bell rings.”

That caught Bakugou off guard. He remembered the memory of Kirishima’s panicked expression and the weird waddle he’d walked around in as he desperately tried to find a bathroom made Bakugou snort under his breath.

“Oh my god, you’re laughing!” you gawked. “And have a dimple! Just a singular one, like mine! We’re matching.”

There it was. A singular dimple on his left cheek.

Bakugou tried to regain his lost composure and let out a scoff in an attempt to mask the slight tint of pink that reached the tip of his ears. He forced his hand onto your face, shoving you (lightly, if he may add) away from him to prevent you from getting another look at his dimple.

“It’s not a worldwide discovery, dumbass. I can fucking laugh if I want to, and it’s just a fucking indent on the cheek.”

“Still cute,” you shrugged, pulling up your phone to text Kaminari. “I need to let Kami know that I won the bet, then we celebrate with bubble tea— my treat!”

“Hey wait— You—“

He tried to protest against your sudden celebration, wanting to tell you that he wasn’t going to let you treat him for anything. This whole damn thing started because of a stupid bet, and he doesn’t really find joy in gaining something from it, but as you pulled out your phone and began to text Kaminari, he sighed and leaned back again with his arms crossed tight against his chest.

“Whatever. You’re fucking annoying.”

“Kay,” you answered. “Also, your actual smile is pretty charming, if you ask me. It’s different from the usual sneer you have on your face. That’s just my opinion, though.”

Bakugou’s face grew a bit warm at your unexpected compliment, but he quickly tried to hide it and turned his head to avert his gaze away from you. His mouth opened to reply with a snappy remark or something like that, but he found himself hesitating.

He eventually scoffed and muttered a low, “Tch. Stop spouting nonsense.”

“Bakugou Katsuki has a singular dimple,” you sing-songed aloud, though you knew that no one would hear since his parents weren’t even home.

Bakugou felt his eyes twitch at your teasing, resisting the urge to tell you off and even going as far as to just punch your shoulder lightly. “Shut the fuck up, dipshit.”

He later found out that there was no bet, and you had just made up the whole scenario to confirm your curiosity. That Bakugou Katsuki does have a dimple, a singular one at that.

Could you imagine how furious he was?

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[k-hotchoisan]

active recovery

<yunho x fem!reader>

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it. 

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast. 

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs. 

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised. 

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting. 

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer. 

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do. 

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches. 

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick. 

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed. 

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.  

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling. 

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit. 

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank. 

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”,  Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach. 

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time. 

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you. 

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock. 

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles. 

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now. 

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you. 

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?” 

Maybe you should take up on that offer. 

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove. 

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second. 

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him. 

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you. 

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.” 

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear. 

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy. 

So is Yunho. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him. 

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you. 

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium. 

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release. 

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head. 

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick. 

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day. 

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim. 

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you. 

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down. 

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp. 

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.” 

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head. 

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?” 

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @mylovelymito @softwsan  @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson. 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering. 

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me. 

8k words

Masterlist Part 2

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’. 

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’. 

Weird. This does not look like a printers. 

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly. 

Oh. 

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop. 

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors. 

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it. 

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look. 

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’. 

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare. 

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.” 

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?” 

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare. 

“Really? You?” 

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance. 

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?” 

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over. 

“You can let go now princess.” 

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing. 

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume. 

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up. 

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.” 

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac. 

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!” 

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips. 

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?” 

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again. 

“Are you immediate start?” 

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-” 

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.” 

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.” 

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you. 

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it. 

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this. 

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations. 

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.” 

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.” 

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time. 

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad. 

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled. 

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place. 

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that? 

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand. 

Oh I'm not falling for that again. 

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed. 

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.” 

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.” 

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here. 

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms. 

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him. 

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.” 

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away. 

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.” 

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing. 

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie. 

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie. 

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?” 

“Any appointments with Eddie?” 

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?” 

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back. 

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm. 

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?” 

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?” 

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.” 

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement. 

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!” 

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back. 

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!” 

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind. 

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand. 

“Hey, how you getting on?” 

“I'm good, just bored.” 

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?” 

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers. 

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.” 

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe. 

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown. 

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.” 

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.” 

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.” 

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe. 

Right, let's just play nice. 

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing. 

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light. 

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.” 

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you. 

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?” 

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-” 

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo. 

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing. 

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.” 

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step. 

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people. 

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe. 

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots. 

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were. 

“Morning Eddie.” 

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words. 

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him. 

“I'll be nice if you will.” 

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee. 

“I'm sorry Eddie.” 

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs. 

“Are you sorry…?” 

“What for?” 

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away. 

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop. 

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face. 

“Yeah, how do you know?” 

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client. 

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again. 

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move. 

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first. 

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?” 

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?” 

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.” 

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.” 

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.” 

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement. 

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?” 

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.” 

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?” 

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.” 

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process. 

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word. 

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you. 

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson. 

“So, questions. Can I go first?” 

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin. 

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?” 

“23.” 

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.” 

Act younger is more like it. 

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.” 

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling. 

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?” 

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow. 

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.” 

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink. 

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.” 

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask. 

“How did you start working here?” 

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.” 

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look. 

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.” 

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen. 

“What band is that?” 

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt. 

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.” 

“Oh, what do you play?” 

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.” 

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?” 

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away. 

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red. 

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply. 

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.” 

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing. 

“Your turn princess.” 

“I don't want to play anymore.” 

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.” 

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?” 

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.” 

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.” 

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.” 

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused. 

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you. 

“All done.” 

“Huh?” 

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.” 

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip. 

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.” 

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.” 

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second. 

“Eddie what do I owe-” 

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him. 

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line. 

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap. 

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, what is it Miss?” 

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?” 

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him. 

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.” 

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer. 

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear. 

“What you up to, princess?” 

“Fuck!” 

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach. 

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look. 

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass. 

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!” 

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal. 

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.” 

Pouting, you hit him on the arm. 

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-” 

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands. 

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home. 

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you. 

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing. 

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door. 

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it. 

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.” 

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest. 

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away. 

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?” 

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself. 

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?” 

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.” 

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist. 

“For your modesty. Come with me.” 

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried. 

“What's going-” 

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?” 

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods. 

“Not a problem.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth. 

“I'll be right back.” 

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin. 

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar. 

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” 

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.” 

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.” 

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal. 

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.” 

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you. 

“Eddie, we're still working I-” 

“It's one beer. It's alright.” 

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?” 

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug. 

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.” 

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier. 

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.” 

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?” 

“Come on, don't make me say it.” 

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you. 

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.” 

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty. 

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull. 

“And I'm the Easter bunny.” 

Giggling, you take another sip of beer. 

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.” 

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?” 

“I promise.” 

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough. 

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?” 

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar. 

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles. 

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.” 

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes. 

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.” 

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings. 

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.” 

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it. 

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.” 

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.” 

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.” 

“We can keep it professional.” 

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord. 

“Professional? You?” 

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.” 

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words. 

“You're really confident.” 

“You haven't seen what I can do.” 

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.” 

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.” 

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need. 

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?” 

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?” 

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind. 

“Final rule. No kissing.” 

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?” 

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.” 

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out. 

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness. 

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it. 

Those theories are put to bed on day three. 

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?” 

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes. 

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely. 

“Maybe.” 

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. 

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.” 

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands. 

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.” 

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards. 

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision. 

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?” 

“Hey princess.” 

“Come on up.” 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy. 

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles. 

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?” 

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table. 

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.” 

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.” 

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. 

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt. 

“Yeah, you know who they are?” 

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.” 

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.” 

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.” 

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve. 

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own. 

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms. 

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him. 

 “Come on then, sit down.” 

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed. 

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?” 

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?” 

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?” 

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes. 

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him. 

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more. 

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?” 

“Porn, sweetheart.” 

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.” 

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him. 

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-” 

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.” 

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.” 

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?” 

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.” 

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?” 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.” 

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm. 

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop. 

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?” 

“Alright.” You whisper. 

“You comfortable?” 

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.” 

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine. 

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed. 

“Now just chill sweetheart.” 

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck. 

“Fuck, that's really nice.” 

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed. 

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word. 

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe. 

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!” 

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment. 

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.” 

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck. 

“I- I haven't decided yet.” 

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core. 

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him. 

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?” 

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words. 

 “N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.” 

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.” 

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast. 

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point. 

“Really?” 

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back. 

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand. 

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more. 

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass. 

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you. 

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples. 

“Holy hell!” 

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach. 

“Eddie, please.” 

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit. 

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest. 

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?” 

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs. 

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel. 

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more. 

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?” 

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple. 

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess. 

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison. 

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control. 

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-” 

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him. 

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent. 

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair. 

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.” 

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-” 

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up. 

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light. 

“What do you mean sweetheart?” 

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...” 

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.” 

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief. 

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again. 

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.” 

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.” 

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.” 

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting. 

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

[catssluvr]

𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅, spencer reid

spencer reid x roommate!reader

in which everybody’s falling in love and you’re falling behind or you come back from an awful date and spencer comforts you. well, he does his best

warnings: kinda sad for a bit, r really wants to be loved, two idiots in love <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You take off your shoes as soon as you reach your apartment's floor, exhaustion taking over. One hand reaches inside the bag to pull of the keys and the other rubs against your face one more time. You're sure your mascara is all smudged already. Not that you would ever cry for someone like that, but you don't think you've heard someone talk about their car as much as him and it honestly made you get sleepy.

You regret accepting to go on a blind date, deeply. It's never been your thing so why did you decide it was a good idea?

The truth is that it's hard to watch all of your friends fall in love and brag about their happy relationships when you don't even know how it feels to truly be loved. It's also not great that you're in love with your roommate when it's clearly not reciprocate. You have so much love to give, so why can't you find love as well?

Besides, the guy you just went out with is a total jerk. He made at least four sex jokes before the drinks arrived and bragged about his career for about half of the time (the other half was about his car). As soon as dinner was over you practically bolted out the restaurant, ignoring his comment about a 'second desert'. It's safe to say you never want to see him again.

Unlocking the door with a sigh, you are met with the sight of Spencer sitting comfortably on the couch with a book in his hands. You curse inside your head, it's not that you don't want to see him. In fact, you think he looks absolutely adorable in a sweatshirt all curled up in his seat. But you don't want him to see you like this, it's obvious your date didn't go well.

"Hey, you're home early." His voice is laced with fatigue. He leaves the book behind and approaches you, his signature smile in full display.

"Yep." You use all your strength to give him a smile back. You don't want to be unpleasant with him just because of a not so great date. Turning your back to him just as fast to place your shoes on the shoe rack.

"How did it go?" He asks tentatively and you frown at the way he seems nervous to know the answer.

"Uh- not great." You decide to not elaborate it, all you want right now is to bury yourself in your bed covers and cry.

"Oh, i'm sorry." You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, you really don't want his pity. What you miss is the way a sparkle of what looks like relief flashes across his eyes. Before you can dismiss yourself he adds, "You know, given half a billion potential soulmates, the chances of finding your true love on a blind date are one in ten thousand."

As much as you want to tell him that's not necessarily what you need to hear right now, you don't feel like you have enough strength to do it. You know he's mostly trying to comfort you and he's just really not an expert when it comes to emotions.

"Yeah, i guess so." You answer and it's now his time to frown. You're usually way more excited to hear about his statistics. "I'm just gonna go to my room. Night, Spence." And then you're scrambling to your room, closing the door behind you before he can have a reaction.

Exhaling deeply, you throw your bag somewhere in the room and move to the bathroom. You turn on the shower and quickly discard your clothes to the floor, feeling immediately better when the warm water hits your skin.

Stepping out, you get yourself into some comfy sweats and a large old shirt before rushing through your skincare. Not bothering to dry your hair, you slip under the covers with a content hum. You can't help but imagine how it would be better if Spencer was laying with you, it would be tempting to curl up against his sweatshirt and forget about all of your problems.

Snapping out of your daze, you grab your laptop and settle for a comfort show that you know will help you relax. Your stomach grumbles slightly in hunger and you now realize how you had barely touched your food at dinner. Ignoring it anyway because the chances of you leaving your bed for the rest of the night are very low.

A gentle knock sounds from your door and you grumble, dragging yourself to open it. But as soon as you do, regret fills you for getting annoyed at all. There stands Spencer, wide and concerned eyes staring at you.

Now you take a moment to actually look at him and not just his sweatshirt. His hair is mussed by his position in the couch, his mismatched socks peeking from his sweatpants and his lanky hands hold a bowl of mac and cheese and a can of your favorite soda - like he's read your mind. It just reminds you of a few of the reasons to why you're so head over heels for him. He can read you like a book without having to profile you.

Sometimes you wonder how you're ever even going to get over him. Since becoming his roommate a year ago, this was the first time you had gone out on a date. It's not that you didn't want to go on dates, not being the most outgoing person came with it's liabilities. But you always thought going out with someone would make you forget about Spencer. Turns out it just made you realize how perfect he is compared to any other guy.

"I-I just thought maybe this could cheer you up. I know i wasn't much of a help." He smiles sheepishly, standing awkwardly on his feet. Your heart clenches at remembering how you dismissed him earlier.

"Thank you. You really didn't have to." You smile back kindly, looking at him with nothing but adoration.

He clears his throat nervously, "You know- uh- there's a study that says hugs slow down the heart rate and decreases the level of cortisol, the stress hormone. In turn, it makes people feel relaxed and safe." He stutters along his words.

You can't help but chuckle at his peculiar way of offering a hug. "A hug would be great, Spence." You say as you take the food from his and settle it somewhere on your bed. Returning quickly to stand by him and wrapping your arms around his shoulder with no hesitation.

He visibly relaxes at that, nose burying in your head and breathing in lightly. His sweatshirt really does feel just as soft as it looks. He squeezes you, hard enough to pull a giggle out of you but somehow affectionately.

You find yourself not wanting to pull away, a dramatic pout forming in your mouth when you force yourself to do it.

"You wanna make me company while i eat? We can watch Star Trek." Your fingers move almost involuntarily to untangle his curls as you speak.

He nods eagerly before mumbling, "Yes, but we're watching Friends. Last time i picked so we should watch something you like this time." Before he's walking to your bed, sitting comfortably with the covers to his lap.

You almost blush at the thought of him wanting to watch your favorite sitcom with you.

When you join him in bed, he's already setting up the show on your laptop and your heart almost bursts at how comfortable you feel with it, with him.

You eat your mac and cheese, occasionally offering him a few bites.

You feel a weight on your shoulder and turn to see Spencer with his cheek pressed up against it comfortably. You question if he feels sleepy but his he looks wide awake, gaze fixated on the screen in front of you.

Your thoughts drift again as you look at him. You question if maybe this i all just a silly crush because he's so nice to you. But you really don't think you're supposed to be thinking about a silly crush on a date with another guy.

Or maybe you just need to tell him. Maybe if you confess it to him it'll be easier for you. It wouldn't be a secret anymore and even though he doesn't feel the same, a weight would be lifted off your shoulders. You don't really get to think much about it before the words are spilling out of your mouth.

"Spencer?" You call gently and he answers with a small hum, not moving from his position on your shoulder. "I only went on that date because of you." You admit, heart breaking when you feel him tense up and sit up.

"Why- What do you mean?" His brows furrow in confusion.

"I only went on a date because i thought it would help me get over my feelings for you, turns out i'm way too in love for that. And i'm sorry, i know it's one sided. But can we please keep being friends? I promise i can pretend we didn't have this talk- i just needed to get it off my chest." You feel your eyes grow wet as the words come out, imagining the worse scenarios possible. It's already bad enough to feel like you're never going to experience true love, you don't want to lose your best friend too.

"You think i don't love you?" Spencer seems even more confused now, but he looks at you more gently than ever. His eyes glow with the dim yellow light and you find it hard to concentrate on his words.

"Not the way i do, Spence." You breath out, eyes fully glassy now and you're sure that anything can cause you to fall apart now.

"I leave you coffee and a note every morning, i've read all of your favorite books just so i could learn about your interests, i got an email just so you could send me videos of cats and i don't feel disgusted with the idea of eating your food or giving you hugs - not at all." He pauses before adding, "You think i don't love you?" He asks again, just as gentle as before - if not more. It's more of an affirmation then a question.

"Oh." You can't help but feel like you've been blind for all this time. You were so stuck with thinking that you would never find someone you could comfortably show your love for that you didn't notice he was right there, right under the same roof.

"I'm such an idiot." You chuckle, rubbing the tears off your eyes with the back of your hands.

"You are. But i'm also a complete idiot for never doing anything about it." He grinned sweetly, moving to sit closer and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Hm, how 'bout i kiss you, you kiss me back, and we call it even?" You play with the long sleeves of his sweatshirt, smile mirroring his.

Spencer's cheeks redden as he pretends to think before he lets out a chuckle of his own, "I'm in."

You have to contain your smile when you lean closer, lips finally touching his after waiting for so long. And now that you get to do it, you don't think you ever want to stop. His hands gently hold your face, thumbs rubbing against your cheeks in the softest way, as if you can break with anything.

It doesn't last as long as you would have wished, both your smiles getting in the way.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

love you,

cat 🤍

[roturo]

`· . ౨ৎ OTAKU HOT GIRL !

౨ৎ summary: “I like a tall woman with a nice big ass, haha.” Shocked faces turned to the pink-haired boy, not expecting such blunt honesty. “Just sayin’.”

Out of sheer curiosity, Todo leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Got an example?”

WARNINGS: smut, male masturbation, lewd language and thoughts, overstimulation, sub-ish!yuji itadori, semi-public, use of pet names (puppy & ma'am) aged-up characters, whimpering, obsessed!yuji itadori, reader is mentioned like a person with big ass and tall, and lmk if i missed smth!

౨ৎ a/n: guess who's back baby! i listened to megan's new song and couldn't resist writing for my golden boy after hearing his voice omfg... 🫠i'm still a lil rusty and this might be short (1.4k words) but owmawgawd, this got meee

“I like a tall woman with a nice big ass, haha.” Shocked faces turned to the pink-haired boy, not expecting such blunt honesty. “Just sayin’.”

Out of sheer curiosity, Todo leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Got an example?” The room filled with mixed reactions, some intrigued and others apprehensive. They were already tired of his daily talk about Jennifer Lawrence. Who could he possibly like more than her?

The boy smirked, leaning back casually. “Like the new grade one sorcerer from Kyoto, [Y/N] [L/N]...”

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Everyone knew about you, the formidable new sorcerer who had quickly risen through the ranks. But hearing that someone admired you in that way was a revelation.

He flashed back to the first time he met you. The memory was vivid. It was during a joint training session between the Tokyo and Kyoto schools. You had walked in with an air of confidence that immediately caught his attention. Tall, strong, and undeniably sexy, you had an aura that made it impossible for him to look away.

From the moment you started sparring, he was entranced. Every move you made was precise, powerful, and graceful. He could barely focus on his own training, his eyes constantly drifting towards you. When you finally spoke to him, your voice was low and sultry, asking for a sparring match. He was so flustered that all he could manage was a shaky “yes ma’am,” despite you being the same age.

The sparring match was intense, the air thick with tension. He gave it his all, but you were relentless. Each of your strikes was met with awe and admiration. By the end, he was exhausted and utterly defeated, but he didn’t mind. He was too impressed by your skill and the way your body moved.

After that day, you became a frequent topic of his thoughts. He admired not just your beauty, but your fierce dedication and prowess as a sorcerer. Every time he saw you, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how captivated he was by you. His fantasies about you became more vivid, more intense, fueled by the memory of your close combat and the way your body pressed against his.

“So yeah,” he continued, snapping back to the present. “That’s my type.”

The room fell silent, the other boys processing his words. Some were still shocked, others nodded in understanding like Panda and Todo. It was clear that his admiration for you went beyond mere physical attraction. It was rooted in genuine respect and a desire that bordered on obsession.

You and he had been talking for a few months now, and his clear attraction to you only grew stronger with each passing day. Your casual conversations and shared laughter were becoming the highlight of his days. Sometimes, during joint training sessions between the two schools, he found it increasingly difficult to focus. His eyes would wander towards you, watching the way your body moved with precision and strength. The mere sight of you was enough to send a surge of desire through him, making it impossible to concentrate. On more than one occasion, he had to leave the training area, his cheeks flushed and a raging erection straining against his pants. The frustration was palpable, but he couldn’t help it. You had a hold on him that was both thrilling and torturous.

He had to leave training again just to find some privacy in the restroom, where he urgently pleasured himself through his pants, softly moaning your name. The need had become insatiable, every thought consumed by the image of you—your intoxicating smile, the curve of your hips, and the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders.

In the quiet sanctuary of the restroom, he leaned against the cool tiles, his breath hitching with each stroke. With trembling hands, he hastily undid his pants, revealing his throbbing cock already slick with anticipation. His mind replayed every encounter with you, from the shared glances to the moments when your eyes held a tantalizing promise.

Despite the overwhelming sensation after coming once, he couldn't resist the need to relieve himself. His hand moved almost mechanically over his throbbing cock, slick with his own essence. The thought of your touch, your fingers wrapped around him instead of his own, consumed him. He imagined how much better it would feel, how your soft, skilled hands would bring him to the brink and beyond.

As his hand wrapped around his pulsating shaft, he couldn't suppress a low groan. The touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through him. Starting slow, he savored every sensation, but the ache only intensified. Each stroke brought him closer to the edge, his fantasies blending seamlessly with reality in a haze of desire.

Soft, needy moans escaped his lips, mingling with the sound of his rapid breaths. He imagined your touch—delicate yet commanding, expertly teasing him to the brink. His cock twitched at the thought, pre-cum slickening his fingers as he quickened his pace.

Lost in the moment, he couldn't help but fantasize about how your lips would feel against his skin, your hands exploring every inch of him with a hunger that matched his own. The idea of you taking control, guiding him with a firm touch, made him shudder with anticipation.

His movements grew more urgent, chasing that elusive release. He could almost feel you there with him, your presence palpable in the confined space. With a guttural moan, he finally spilled over the edge, his release pulsing through him in powerful waves. He rode the wave of pleasure, his body trembling as he emptied himself, gasping for breath.

But even as he came for second time, his body continued to react, hypersensitive to every touch. He overstimulated himself, prolonging the pleasure and pushing himself to the brink of overwhelming sensation. Despite the intensity, he couldn't stop, his hand moving almost mechanically, seeking that final, blissful release.

As he leaned against the cool tiles, spent and still trembling, he couldn't shake the lingering desire for more. The fantasy of you lingered in his mind, fueling a hunger that would not easily be sated. He knew that the next time he saw you, every glance, every word exchanged would hold a newfound intensity, a longing that burned deeper than ever before.

Curiosity got the best of you as you entered the restroom in search of Yuuji, wondering why he had abruptly left practice. It had been unlike him to disappear without a word, and you couldn’t shake the concern that something might be wrong. Pushing open the door, you were met with the unexpected sight of him sprawled on the cool, tiled floor. His pants were pooled around his ankles, and his toned abs and hands were slick and glistening with his own release. Despite the aftermath, his cock stood proudly erect, a conflicted expression etched on Yuuji's face as he stared at it, small whimpers escaping his lips in his desperate quest for release once more.

The air in the restroom was heavy with the musky scent of arousal, adding to the charged atmosphere. Yuuji’s eyes, normally vibrant with energy and mischief, now held a mix of embarrassment and raw need. He looked up at you, his gaze pleading silently for understanding and perhaps even assistance.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. His vulnerability in this moment was palpable, and you found yourself drawn to him despite the unexpectedness of the situation. Slowly, you approached him, the click of your shoes against the tile echoing softly in the silence. As you knelt beside him, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his skin flushed with desire and frustration.

He whispered your name, thinking all of this was a dream– Tentatively, your hand trailed down his chest, fingers ghosting over the slick, sensitive skin. His breath hitched at your touch, a mix of anticipation and relief flooding his features. "Please," he begged, his voice strained with desire. "Poor puppy– leaving training just because hormones got the best of him." He whimpered at the pet name you used, your hand now gently caressing his balls, catching him off guard and eliciting a loud moan that made you quickly cover his mouth with your hand.

"Shh, puppy," you whispered, your tone teasing yet commanding. "We wouldn't want others to hear what a needy slut you are, would we?" His eyes widened, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he shook his head frantically.

"Good boy," you cooed, your touch firm yet reassuring, knowing exactly how to play him.

pt2?

[heartlogan]

all coming back to me

✮— logan x f!reader (set in x-men days of future past)

✮— summary: logan didn’t realise you would be here in the past. all that follows.

✮— a/n: first time writing for logan / the xmen films, be gentle pls. also wrote this in like 20 mins at 1am so kindness pls. ok goodnight.

✮— warnings: character death, major character death, (mentioned mostly, not the most graphic depictions), logan’s relentless guilt, reader’s insensitive curiosity, muddled timeline maybe idk, mutant reader (unmentioned power) , kind of abrupt ending , lmk if there’s more!

MASTERLIST

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

When Logan had realised he was the only viable candidate to do this job, he had felt the immense weight on his shoulders, had known that he had no choice but to succeed. He had been prepared for that part, mostly. But even still, the plan was sudden, and he hadn’t thought most things through. After all, Logan was more of a fight now, think later type of guy.

So waking up in some random woman’s waterbed was unexpected, yes, but even more unexpected was the bone cutting through his skin when he had to face those goons. It had been so long since the adamantium had been melded to his skeleton, that he could almost forget it hadn’t always been that way. If it weren’t for the pain that still haunted his every nightmare, that was.

It was an adjustment, definitely, especially because it had been so long since he hadn’t felt completely indestructible — untouchable. There was no metal safety net, here.

Seeing Xavier’s school falling apart was certainly an adjustment, too.

He had known this school only in its prime, when Charles had already formed the X-Men, had already settled many kids into their new home. Logan couldn’t ever imagine this place being so devoid of life.

“Can I help you?” A young man asked, after a few silent moments of Logan waiting for the door to be answered. He sounded vaguely familiar.

“Uh… yeah, what happened to the school?” Logan asked, eyebrows raised as his eyes trailed over the vines crawling up the building, the dust coating the glass.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at Logan strangely before he decided to speak. “The school’s been shut for years. Are you a parent?”

Logan scoffed. “I sure as hell hope not. Who are you?”

“I’m Hank. Hank McCoy. I look after the house now.”

He’s doing a great job at that, Logan thought to himself, surveying the damaged grounds, before he clocked on to what the man had introduced himself as. He squinted at the small stature of the guy, half hidden by the door he was pressing himself into the gap of.

“You’re Beast? Look at you,” Logan commented idly, “Guess you’re a late bloomer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hank warned, features hardening instantly at the name he hadn’t heard for a long time. “But I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The man started closing the door in Logan’s face, not expecting him to shove himself against it, keeping it open. They strained, muscles tensing on both sides, before Logan inevitably won without Hank’s extra strength that accompanied his transformation.

“Where’s the professor?”

“There’s no professor here.” Hank responded, before Logan soon managed to shove the door open, flinging him back.

“Professor!” Logan yelled into the empty house, hearing his voice rebound off of the walls. The echoing made him uncomfortable, and seeing the house that had been destroyed so long ago in his time was odd. It was familiar, and yet so different. Logan wasn’t sure he could ever get used to the empty manor, despite his many complaints about the kids at the school.

The moment Logan began to ascend the stairs of the manor, Hank leapt at him, freshly transformed. Logan was momentarily shocked by the appearance of his blue fur, but he quickly got over it, defending himself from Hank’s admittedly rather weak attack. The Beast managed to stun him, tackling him onto a table in the middle of the foyer, while the blue man hung from the chandelier above.

“Hank?” A voice called out, confused and slightly concerned. “What’s going on here?” He asked, descending the stairs and squinting down at the vaguely familiar man on top of his table.

“Professor?” Logan asked, surprised, sitting up on the table to make sure he was seeing things right.

“He doesn’t like to be called that.” A new voice said, coming from Logan’s left, and he startled, head whipping towards where you were standing. You were leant against the doorway, arms folded across your chest as you watched the situation unfold with unhidden entertainment.

His heart practically stops.

He hadn’t seen you for almost three years. Three very long, very difficult years.

Logan didn’t even want to think about the last time he had seen you. It had been one of the worst days of his life to date, and he’d had a lot of bad days. And yet, here you were, alive. Trying to tamp down your amusement, though it was written clearly on your face, evident in the slight curve of a smile that he had missed.

“You know this guy?” Hank asked Charles, who made his way down the rest of the stairs while Logan only continued to stare at you.

Charles looked at Logan with a vague sense of recognition. “Yeah, he looks slightly familiar.” He commented distantly, already appearing completely checked out of the situation. “Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank.”

The sound of the glass above him clinking together brought Logan to his senses, reminded him that he had a job to do. And no matter how much he had missed you, your presence couldn’t get in the way of that.

“You can walk.” Logan stated, checking back into the conversation with shock still darting down his spine. He watched the Professor carefully, brows furrowed in thought.

“And you’re perceptive.” Charles replied dryly, “Which makes it slightly perplexing that you missed our sign on the way in. This is private property, my friend. I’m going to have to ask him to ask you to leave.” He said, nodding towards Hank who stared between the two men as if watching some sort of tennis match. He looked uncomfortable with the confrontation occurring. “Or her, if you’re more inclined.”

You raised your brows.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

Logan didn’t end up leaving, much to your surprise. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to get Charles to do anything he didn’t want to do. Hell, it had been a long time since anyone had managed to speak to the man, save for you and Hank. He turned everybody away, never heard anyone out, no matter how desperate they sounded.

Instead, Charles seemed to accept the fact that this man was from the future. A future which sounded dire, by the way.

And if his glance towards you when he had spoken about watching good people, friends, die, told you anything, it was that you didn’t make it very far in the future. Which didn’t faze you all too much. It didn’t sound like much of a future for those who lived, anyway. But that knowledge had taught you something about this Logan. He had cared for you, some years from now.

It was as clear as day. He looked at you like he had been missing you, like he was greeting you at the airport after a long trip. He seemed to think he was being discreet about it, always glancing away when you turned to him, but you were observant.

You sidled up next to him while Hank went on the hunt for the phone book, and Charles wandered off to regret his decision.

“So, how’d I die?” You asked, feeling bad but also slightly amused when Logan practically choked on air.

“What? How did you—”

“Oh, please. It’s all over your face. I may not know you, but I can see that much.” You responded, cutting him off and watching the cogs turn in his head.

You had always had a strange way of reading him better than anyone else. Not that this version of you knew that, but Logan did. It made his chest ache all the more, feeling like you were so close to being in his grasp, and yet so far away from him. He had to remind himself that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t exactly know this version of you.

You seemed… not happier, exactly, but something was different. Perhaps you had suffered less at this point in your life. He had met you in one of the most difficult times you had ever been through, and it was strange to see you without the baggage that had followed you from that.

“I’m that transparent, huh?” He replied, going quiet soon after. He didn’t want to talk about this with you. With anyone. He didn’t want to relive that moment any more than he already did. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, every time the Sentinels had approached in the future.

“You are.” You paused. “So? What happened?”

“You don’t want to know about this, kid.” Logan stated, pointedly not looking at you. You were so young now, and he missed the lines on your face. This wasn’t the you that he knew or loved. He didn’t know this version of you. And you certainly didn’t know him.

Logan had the fate of the world resting on his shoulders, the fate of every mutant and human who had the decency to be kind towards them. Your fate. The fate of everyone else he had lost. He couldn’t get caught up in this, in seeing you here, as much as he wanted to soak in the sound of your voice, the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin.

“Why not? We’re going to save the world anyway. It can’t hurt.” You said innocently, regretting the latter part of your statement the moment you realised how it came across, how Logan’s face creased.

He wanted to appreciate your optimism, mostly because he knew how much of it you had lost by the time you died, but you couldn’t understand. It did hurt. Logan had watched you die in front of his very eyes, his adamantium and courage powerless to stop it. He had been dragged back to the jet, forced to leave your body there to rot, or to be taken and experimented on. He didn’t know which was worse.

Even now, he could feel the pressure on his chest from Storm pushing against him, the pain of Magneto pulling at his skeleton, forcing him to leave you behind.

He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, eyes flickered across the room, never quite landing on you. It hurt him every day. He could feel the weight of your loss even now, knowing that if he failed to do this, you were lost. This version of you, the one who had so much suffering to come, would die at the hands of a Sentinel, and he would be powerless to stop it.

“Sorry,” You said, when the silence stretched on, Logan seemingly getting lost in his own thoughts. You could see the pain written across his face, could see him getting distant, reliving whatever had happened in the future. “That was insensitive. I was curious, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here to save us all. And I’m here to help this time.”

He finally looked at you, and you could see the exhaustion on his face. Perhaps putting more pressure on him wasn’t the best idea.

“Okay, I’m messing this up,” You admittedly, fidgeting nervously now, eyes flickering between him and the door as if expecting Charles or Hank to walk in on you embarrassing yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Logan paused, apparently trying to find his words. “You don’t need t’be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

You looked at him, seeing him more clearly then. You didn’t know his past, and you certainly didn’t know the future, but this man cared about you. That much was obvious. “It’s not yours either, you know.” You said, and the slight grimace he made didn’t escape you. He clearly didn’t agree. “However we know each other in the future, it can’t change the fact that I am an adult. I would never expect you to take responsibility for me dying. Or want you to! I take care of myself.”

He blinked at you. “We were meant to take care of each other.”

You faltered slightly at that, struggling to imagine yourself relying on someone that much, but then you understood.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now? You’re here, fifty years into the past, trying to make things right. The war wasn’t your fault, Logan.”

Despite knowing that was true, it still didn’t quite dislodge the guilt that pulsed in his chest. He felt more vulnerable here, without his adamantium. With your prying eyes. Even now, it appeared that you saw him in a way nobody else ever could.

“You know what? This might be totally inappropriate, but…” You trailed off, and he had just opened his mouth to question you when suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his neck, squeezing him close in a way that finally let him breathe again.

His hands hung idly by his sides for a few moments, before finally wrapping around you, holding you tight. He seemed as though he may never let you go, but you could understand that. Logan was in pain, and it seemed that despite your slight uncertainty, this had been a good path to go down. Taking care of one another, or something like that, right?

A heavy sigh left his chest, and you squeezed him tighter, letting out a short breath into his neck. You only pulled away when you heard Hank’s footsteps creaking on the aged floorboards, heading your way. Logan let you go, with much reluctance, but you lingered. Your arm brushed against his jacket.

If Hank noticed anything, he didn’t say a word, simply holding up the phone book victoriously. You glanced at Logan, watching the creases slowly come back to his face as he was reminded of his burden once more. You leaned against him the slightest bit, and pretended not to notice him glance at you.

This would all work out, you were certain of it. And if it didn’t, well, at the very least there was something to look forward to in that bleak future. Logan seemed worth the pain.

[starseungs]

the subtle art of cliche confessions. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — as aware as you were that life wasn’t like the fictional stories of romance that you enjoyed, a part of you still relished the thought of experiencing it for yourself.

GENRE/S — fluff, humor kinda, maybe fluffy angst but not really, battle of the bands au, lead singer!seungmin, college au, kinda semi-established relationship • 2.5k words

WARNING/S — profanity for humor, some self-deprecation as a result of nervousness but its not that bad, romance is complicated!

( ✒️ ) a gift for @starlostseungmin for successfully completing her big exam 🙇‍♀️🤍 congratulations lovie, you deserve a fluffy seungmin fic !! the ending may be trash im sorry its 1am and i have class in a few hrs

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

“Jisung, I think I’m about to pass out.”

The person mentioned comically froze on the spot, his right hand halting from its previous task of double-checking his electric guitar’s condition. Jisung lifted his head up menacingly to look at the offender—who currently looked like he was seconds away from losing all strength in his legs. Despite the concerning comment, life backstage did not stop for anyone. Crew members were still seen running around like headless chickens, desperately trying to keep the show running smoothly even though they, themselves, were already functioning on greater levels of adrenaline than the performers. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jisung warns lowly. “Kim Seungmin, you are not about to leave us without a lead singer right now!”

Unfortunately, Seungmin was not kidding. At all.

The loud cheers of the crowd from beyond the stage were deafening. It tells him that the band currently performing before them is doing a great job of keeping the audience entertained. Normally, that would’ve set him on fire to do better; bits of his competitive nature steeling his resolve to outdo the competition. And yet, something seemed to be different in today’s specific battle. 

He couldn’t care less about the crowd—no, his mind was only revolving around one thought. Or one person, to be specific. 

This makes him blanch once again. “I genuinely feel like throwing up.”

Chan snickers from his position near the dividers set up to create a makeshift waiting room for the performers. “Are you that nervous?” He asked lightheartedly. “Don’t stress about it too much, Min. We all know Y/N is going to say yes.”

Seungmin wanted to believe him. He really did. If anyone were to be asked about his natural demeanor, he was one hundred percent positive that the word ‘rational’ would come up at least once. He knew that the chances of the drummer’s words were the most probable—after all, he did his best efforts to capture your heart over the past year. And yes, Seungmin did also know that you had romantic feelings for him. That was why he was in this situation in the first place.

“If I were them, I would!” Hyunjin chirps, happily tapping on his bass guitar. “Imagine getting asked out by the lead singer of a band in the middle of their set? Anyone would be over the moon.” Seungmin merely scoffs in response.

“Of course you would, Mr. Hopeless Romantic.”

The bassist chokes out an offended noise. “Says the one doing a public confession,” he huffs. “Glad to know you learned a thing or two from those romance movies I pitch in on movie nights.”

“Yeah, well this isn’t fiction.” Seungmin deflates on his seat. Any more, and his band would’ve witnessed a person merging with a plastic chair. Wouldn’t that be a great memory to live with? “This is so cliche. What if they think it’s cringy?”

Jeongin, the keyboardist, shoots him a look full of judgment. “Why are you only second guessing this now?”

“To be fair, you both are already cringy.” Jisung stands up from his seat to stretch, only to receive a glare from the band’s lead singer. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying. It’s a miracle how long you two went on without an actual label. Everyone knows you two have been practically dating since months ago.”

And to that, Seungmin has no retort. What Jisung said had its truths—even he, himself, didn’t know why it took him so long to ask you to be officially his. It definitely wasn’t a commitment issue; he hasn’t even entertained anyone else intimately ever since he met you. There were even nights where he mentally beat himself up for being a coward about this whole thing, only for him to end the torment by convincing himself it was him going through the courting stage with you.

Not that he even asked, but that was what he was doing. Right?

It’s not his fault you always rendered him speechless. Not too much, of course. He wasn’t that starstruck that he’d make an absolute fool of himself. It was just that you made him really nervous and awfully conscious of himself. The way you talked was like music to his ears, and he swears he could listen to you all day. He finds himself wondering if his own voice ruins this fantasy of his.

You had to have noticed his advances as well. There was just no way that you didn't, with how smart you were. He just didn’t know whether to be grateful or frustrated with the fact that you never said a word about it. What if you were actually uncomfortable with the whole thing and were just too nice to tell him. Oh, he should’ve asked. This is terrible. A massive mistake on his part. An angel like you shouldn’t be forced to be with someone like him.

“What if I’m getting ahead of myself and they don’t actually like me like that?”

Jeongin’s jaw drops. “You have got to be kidding me.” He was going to tease Seungmin further, but something about the look on his friend’s face screamed anxiety, so Jeongin was quick to force his mouth closed. “Y/N does. Have you seen the way they act when they’re with you? Heart eyes, I swear.”

Okay, there’s that too. Seungmin wasn’t blind, nor was he dense. If he didn’t think you were interested in him like this, then he wouldn’t have actively pursued you time and time again. He was confident, not someone who didn’t know their boundaries. And fortunately, you seemed to have wordlessly affirmed that he could get close to you over the months you’ve been talking. He was sure that if you had even expressed the slightest bit of disapproval of his advances, he would have pulled away immediately. As well as reassess the situation right afterwards.

Seungmin sighs. “I just want to do this right.”

“And you will,” Chan says. The drummer gives him a firm pat on the back. “Trust in yourself. We’ll also have your back. Go out there and perform like you always do, just that you have your little plan before the bridge comes in.”

All Seungmin got from that was how you were in the crowd. Right, you were in that crowd. The very same crowd he didn’t give a single fuck about at this moment. You were the only audience he needed, and it both comforted and terrified him to remember that he left you to sit in the very front row earlier before the program started. Just where did all his courage go? The bastard who planned a public confession on their campus festival’s Battle of the Bands competition should be the one present to go through all this.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been this nervous to perform ever.”

Hyunjin hums. “Then that means you really like Y/N!”

“Exactly. We didn’t agree to make a whole new original song for this competition just for nothing,” Jisung adds. “Well, I guess it’s also good publicity for when we actually do this band thing for real. Show the public our sound, you know?”

Seungmin finally begins to breathe easily again. He briefly stares at Chan fiddling with his drumsticks, twirling them around with his fingers to soothe his own nerves about their upcoming performance. After all, this wasn’t just a performance that Seungmin was doing alone. The competition also meant a lot to his other members in their own different ways, yet they still gave their full support to him when he told them about his plan.

He had great friends.

“Stray Kids?” A slightly hoarse voice called out. Seungmin knew the figure as Changbin, someone from the student government. The guy was normally a lot more energetic than this, but he guesses the fatigue must be getting to him from being one of the organizers for this particular event. “You guys are up in a few seconds.”

Well, this is it. Seungmin stands up to get ready, clearing his throat to calm himself. There’s nowhere to run now.

The crowd’s enthusiastic roars never seemed to stop after the previous band’s set ended, and it was beginning to tick you off. Granted, you should have been happy that Seungmin’s band was going to be greeted by a happy crowd, but that also meant that they were subject to pleasing an audience whose hearts were clearly already captured by the performers right before them. And you would be nothing if you weren’t competitive. Biased or not, you would die on the hill believing that Seungmin’s band is better than the others.

They had a national treasure of a voice for their lead vocals, so how could they not be the best?

An amused snort came from your left side. You didn’t have to think too hard to figure out that it came from your friend, Felix. He was probably finding humor in the way your face didn’t spare a single effort to even plaster an indifferent expression. What can you say? You were loyal.

“Alright! I see that all of you enjoyed that wonderful performance from Xdinary Heroes!” The program’s host, Lee Minho, came back out to hype the crowd. It was then that your attention snapped back up to the big stage, your eyes watching like a hawk as Seungmin and his friends settled into the equipment. A bubbling giggle found its way out of your mouth at how Seungmin looked so focused on adjusting the height of his mic stand. “A very unique band name, if I do say so myself. But it does look like the new trend, as all of you here might also find interest in our next band’s name.”

“Seriously,” Felix starts, his tone teasing. “You are so down bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Be quiet. It’s starting.”

“Yeah, sure.” Felix laughs at your reaction. “We wouldn’t want to interrupt your longtime dream of being confessed to by a singer in the middle of a set now, would we?” Your face burned warmly at the accusation.

It was such a cliche thing to happen. As aware as you were that life wasn’t like the fictional stories of romance that you enjoyed, a part of you still relished the thought of experiencing it for yourself. There was a reason why these kinds of events were heavily romanticized in the media—they held their own charm. It just so happened that you agreed to the notion that getting a proclamation of love from a singer on stage was one of the more appealing choices.

Too bad those don’t go too well in real life.

“But it’s—”

“It’s cliche. Yes, you’ve already told me countless times that it’s not as good in real life. But we all have our fantasies, Y/N. No judgement.” Felix shrugs. “Good for you, though. You are one determined person to bag an actual singer. In a band, no less.”

“You are so—”

“—over. Give it up for Stray Kids!” Lee Minho’s booming voice cut you off again, letting you know that the performance was about to begin.

It started off like normal, with Chan using his drumsticks as a countdown before the instrumental started. Except this time, the song was surprisingly unfamiliar to you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t the piece they practiced when you came over to watch a week ago. You didn’t recognize the song in its entirety either, though it was already proving to be a song that fit right with your tastes. Seungmin’s voice echoing through the space was also adding so much to the experience. 

You let the pride you felt at how well he was doing bloom in your chest. It was great to see him shine after going through the rough process of preparation with him. You watched him passionately go through the song smoothly without any mistakes. From the day you first met him until this moment, you’ve witnessed how determined he was to achieve his goals in life. It was then that you knew you’d always be proud of Seungmin, no matter what. You were already the happiest you’ve ever been just by being by his side.

“Did they change their set?” You asked no one in particular. 

Felix bops his head to the beat, clearly pleased with the song. “Don’t know the song, but it’s great!”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him. Though the sudden change in song choice admittedly peaked your curiosity more than it should have. Your eyes found their way back on stage, as if telling you to simply enjoy the performance now and ask later. But it looks like fate had other plans for you, as your eyes immediately locked with a certain lead singer’s.

He left no argument as to who he was looking at. It was clearly you, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at the way his gaze alone held the answer to the question that lingered in your head. There were sparks of electricity being mimicked throughout your body, sending you into a mild shock. Like a scene from a movie, everything else in the world just seemed to go on mute.

All except his voice.

“Before we proceed to the bridge, I’d like to share something about this song. Would that be alright?” Seungmin spoke to the crowd, despite his attention still obviously on you. You could vaguely hear them answering back to him in interest, positively telling him to go on. It was difficult to miss the way his smile grew at this. Seungmin looked so stunning when he smiled. You always felt like falling in love all over again whenever he did.

The band continued with the instrumental, albeit toning it down as their lead singer continued on. “So this song is actually an original from us.” Oh, that makes so much more sense. “And it was written as my confession to the person I like.” 

Wait.

In the fuzz of your brain, you could barely make out Felix jumping up and down in excitement while looking at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

“I’ve been contemplating this for a while, wondering when I’d ever deem it the perfect moment for me to ask the important question,” Seungmin adds. “But I’ve realized that I was just dragging things out too much for my liking. So, to the one who my heart yearns for even through the nerves I’m feeling right now—” You felt overwhelmed at the moment, but you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off the way Seungmin looked at you with such fondness and admiration.

“—Y/N, will you give me the honor to be yours?”

And when your voice sings out the answer, the instrumental starts picking up again as Seungmin finishes the song with newfound fervor. You chuckle your happy tears away, with your friend playfully punching your arm.

“Now, what did I say?”

Maybe cliches weren’t so bad in real life after all.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby

[bunnys-kisses]

Can I get a sausage roll and crostata, with coffee, a vodka shot and a vitamin water with Max Verstappen! (I already submitted but forgot to hit anonymous pls use this one lol)

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu, there's tons of things to choose from! i hope you find something you like, orders can be big or small, it's up to you! as for this lovely anon, i briefly saw both your messages and i was like "wow two people want the exact same thing at the same time", but don't worry! your off-anon message has been deleted! but thank you!!

sausage roll ("i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt.") + crostata (“stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”) + vodka shot (rough sex) + vitamin water (dom/sub dynamic) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, rough sex, dom/sub dynamic, semi-public sex, parking garage sex, mild choking, panty gag, car hood sex, quiet sex, clothed sex

you once joked with max that the best necklace you could ever own was his hand around your throat. that line buried its way into max's mind and never let go.

the sight of you, under total ownership of him. you were a bratty sub, you liked to kick your legs like a horse so to speak. you ran your mouth like a motor and got your sick kicks out of standing toe to toe with him. even though he was the dom in this little game, it didn't mean you were going to take it lying down.

to those in the restaurant, you two looked like the perfect couple. the champion of f1 and the woman he held so dear. the front of your shoe rubbed up against the side of his ankle.

"behave." he warned.

he tried to order your usually and you simply said, "i don't want that." then ordered yourself. then you refused to drink the expensive wine he had ordered for your table. once again, bucking against him. why it was a little amusing at first, the act grew tired quite quickly.

and after dinner, in the quiet parking garage. max kept his grip on you, he said in your ear as you entered the garage, "you think this is a joke, don't you? forget all the rules i've given you."

you giggled, "well yeah, if i followed them all the time. then you'd get bored."

he took you by the back of the next and looked at you. even in the low lighting of the garage you could see the intensity in his gaze. he replied, "no, i'll have peace of mind."

you stuck your tongue out cheekily, "simp." then tried to scamper off towards the car, but max's grip on your neck was a little tighter. he held you still against him, you could feel his erection in his jeans. you swallowed, this meant trouble.

“stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.” he said, "gluttony isn't a good look on your, my treasure... or i guess you're my slut. stupid little thing." then gave your throat a squeeze before he practically dragged you to the car and got you up against the side of the hood.

you collided with the metal of the body and whimpered, that was going to leave a bruise on your elbows come more. thankfully the garage was near dead quiet and the dim lighting left you hidden.

he pushed up the skirt of your dress and took your panties off. you always forgot how strong max was, years of training and driving have left him enough strength to rip those panties off of you.

you heard the ripped of fabric and you were about to make a comment before the fabric was stuffed in your mouth and max held your jaw close around it.

"you keep these safe, alright?"

you tried to say something but the fabric muffled your voice into gibberish. max's large hands groped your ass with your skin exposed to the air.

"i give you everything." max said, "the world and all the stars. the shirt off my back and all the love in my heart. all i ask is that you're good for me." he undid his belt, the sound of the metal sent a shiver though you.

he stroked his cock a little bit, he admired the sight of you over his car. he couldn't waste too much time, but allowed himself to indulge in the pathetic sight of you. as much as you snapped your canines at him, you'd always be his pretty sub.

"i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt." he wondered absently before he pressed his cock up against your pussy, "snap a few photos." he rubbed his aching cock up against you more, further pressing you into the car. "i bet you'd love that. formula one's little whore. max verstappen's little fuck toy. wear it with honor like you do all of my bruises."

he was quick to get his cock into you. little formalities or tenderness. if you just behaved then maybe he would've afforded you that. but for now you were just something he owned. like the dress you wore, the meal you had and the luxury car you were pressed up against.

"you look so good under me." he said, "you know how to take me so well. so why do you misbehave? why do you sit there and act like a brat. you are so greedy."

you whimpered as you tried to find some way to leverage yourself on top of the shiny car hood. everything screamed wealth and a sick perverted desire. you two played this sexual cat and mouse and it excited you to no end.

max was a good dom however, he cared for you so deeply. but, you two had an agreement so he of course had to pushed you down against the hood his car and move against you.

you both had to keep it quiet. you could feel the rush of being so out in the public. slightly hidden away as max thrusted into you. your nails dragged across the paint of the hood. you tried to keep your noises to a minimum, but it was hard when you felt your insides get twisted in knots.

"see, this is how i like you. you look prettier like this. under me, gagged and letting me split you in two." he kissed at the side of your face, his slight facial hair tickled your face and made you nipples grow hard.

you felt your hips hit against the metal of the car and your pussy clenched around his length. you felt hot all over, the heat pooled deep in your gut.

the wet sounds of your fucking could be heard alongside his heavy pants. your mouth felt dry due to drooling all over the panties in your mouth. you eventually rested your cheek against the car hood.

his licked his lips as he admired the sight of your back. he made a note later to leave marks across your skin. he wanted you to remember tonight. the lesson he was trying to teach.

he demanded you to be a good girl, a good sub for him. he worked a lot and he didn't need more stress thinking that his sub was misbehaving. he knew it was possible. even if you had a bit of a bratty streak.

"good girl. see."

you whimpered and exhaled through your nose. you tensed up and arched your back. your breathing was heavy pants as you felt your heartbeat throb in the back of your head.

the rush of the possibility being of being caught only added another layer of a hot need in you. you wanted to say something to max, but he wanted you gagged and quiet.

max gave a few more heavy thrusts. your forehead was placed against the metal of the car. you felt like a live wire. you whined something around the makeshift gag. your back arched further as you came around his cock.

he then reached for your neck and held onto it tightly. you groaned a little louder, your brain felt like a puddle as he kept that pussy of yours occupied. subby sluts like you always demanded more, more, more.

he kept you pinned down and fucked you. it didn't take long for him to finish as well. he pressed his entire weight onto you, keeping you down as he finished inside of you. the pathetic noise you made only riled him up in his post-orgasmic bliss.

but sadly he couldn't get another round in with you. someone was going to come looking for their car soon and max didn't need his face in the tabloids. he pulled down your dress over your ass and let his cum leak down your thigh.

the panties were taken out of your mouth and thrown to the floor before he got you into the car and got out of the garage. his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

he knew a good place that was right near the water, where he could have a little more time taking his beloved sub apart then piece you back together. maybe then you'll remember, max was in charge. <3

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 7 part 2

Masterpost

Jason pulled his phone out of his back pocket when they were just a couple minutes away from the planetarium. Danny stopped talking and he shook his head. “No, no, go on,” Jason reassured. “I just need to make sure that Duke didn’t start a fire. What was that about catastrophic depressurization?”

He genuinely paid attention to what Danny was saying and swiped open his message to check that there was no problem. It was weird for Duke to message him so soon after they’d left, so it was worth checking out but probably-

“Ugh.” Jason showed Danny the phone.

Danny’s lips moved when he read. It was, Jason thought, really goddamn cute. “Nosy sibling?’ he asked. His brow scrunched up. “Hiding on your balcony? Aren’t you really high up?”

“Yeah, but you can’t keep Dick out of your place for love or money. It’s not even worth the headache of trying to brother-proof it.” Jason waved his phone a little. “I’m going to tell him to pretend that he doesn’t know Dick is there, and ask him to let us know when Dick is gone.”

“But we promised Duke dinner.” Danny frowned and bobbed a little. Jason absently put a hand on Danny’s ostensibly human head to keep him from lifting up too high. It was adorable as fuck but it was also kind of noticeable. They didn’t need to deflect an attempt to kidnap him and sell him on the metahuman trading market. 

‘That would work, though,’ Jason realized. In the back of his mind he composed a plan that would draw out the operation he knew damn well was operating somewhere in his city. 

He crossed it out in the next instant. Danny was not a Gotham vigilante. He was absolutely not asking his date to play bait in order to draw out human traffickers. That was not second date material.

Fifth date, maybe?

No. Bad. Danny probably had trauma from whatever had killed him. Jason shook the work-thoughts away, unreasonably irritated with himself for acting like fucking Bruce. Not everyone in his life was a tool or ally in the fight against evil. He needed to be gentle with Danny. 

He managed to straighten out his expression before Danny looked back at him with his big doe eyes. Aww. 

“Are you sure this is fine?” Danny broke eye contact. “It’s kinda nerdy and all that. We could do something else like go to an arcade or bowling or-”

“This is fine,” Jason reassured him. ‘But man, we should hit the arcade next time. What are your thoughts on phasing your arm into the crane game?”

“I have no scruples,” Danny said cheerfully. He latched onto Jason’s arm and Jason’s brain shut off. “Fuck the man.”

“Ahuh.” His voice came out hoarse. He didn’t look down. He couldn’t look down.

“I would steal,” Danny continued contemplatively. “I would go full Catwoman, I think.”

Jason closed his eyes and tried to find a convenient well of inner strength. He didn’t find one. He instead found his best guess as to what Danny would look like with cat ears on. Motherfucker. He picked up the pace as best as he could without shaking off the oddly cool weight attached to his arm. He desperately searched for something neutral to say. “The whip too?”

That wasn’t it. That was not the neutral topic change he wanted.

“I think I could rock that.” Danny sounded confident about it, too. “On account of how slinky and sexy I am.”

“I would say more cute,” Jason corrected.

Danny’s expression went a little flat and his grip on Jason’s arm tightened enough to convey danger. “Cute,” he echoed. “I’m so strong it’s not even funny, buddy. I am not cute. I am a perfect specimen of masculine athleticism.”

“You’re adorable, even,” Jason said, because starting a fight was much better than risking where the hell that conversation had been going. 

“Spoken like a man who wants a piggyback ride to the planetarium.” Danny let go of his arm for a millisecond and adjusted his footing for more stability. Jason reacted to sensed danger and darted away, across the sidewalk, before Danny could grab him.

He took an instant to picture that scenario. He extrapolated how he would feel if Danny picked him up and carried him up the eight flights of stairs to the planetarium, and exactly how many T-shirts Barbie would have the camera stills printed onto.

‘At least 5 shirts. Her, Steph, Cass, Timbo, Dickhead. Duke may or may not support me.’

Jason booked it, sprinting at top speed. He heard Danny shout “Oi! Come back here and take your piggyback ride like a real man!”

“No thank you!” he yelled over his shoulder with a laugh. He dodged a crowd of pedestrians and vaulted over a toddler on the sidewalk. Danny shrieked in delighted outrage at the sight. 

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Conversations On Top of an Elevator

Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader

Summary - Well, your brother has gotten you and Steve into another mess, this time on top of a Russian elevator. While Steve stresses out, you reassure him that you've gotten out of this shit before, you can do it again.

Word Count - 1.4k

Warnings - Language

If someone had asked you how you thought you would be spending your extra long holiday weekend, being stuck inside of a Russian elevator was not an option you would have come up with. Yet here you were. 

Letting out a sigh, you glanced around the elevator again, as if some way to exit would magically appear before you. Erica was slumped over in one corner using her backpack as a pillow while Dustin was snoring against your shoulder and Robin was pacing around the room, moving things around and trying to find another exit. From above you could hear the sound of Steve also walking around, also trying to come up with a plan, but every few steps a curse word would join the noise. 

“You should go check on him.” Robin spoke up when she noticed where you were looking. 

You bit your lip as another loud cry of “Fuck!” sounded from above. “You’re probably right.” Carefully, trying not to wake your brother, you eased him off of you and to the makeshift steps you guys had made to reach the opening at the top of the elevator. 

Peeking through, you watched for a moment as Steve walked around, muttering under his breath, looking panicked and irritated until you cleared your throat to get his attention. “You doing all right up here?” 

“Oh, yeah, just fucking dandy.” He said, kicking the wall half heartedly. 

You raised your eyebrows at the sassy tone directed at you. “Oh you sound it. I can hear you dancing around up here. Sounds like you’re having the time of your life.” 

But Steve was clearly not in a teasing mood. He turned to you, frustration clear in the set of his jaw. “Really Henderson? You think it’s the right time for your sarcasm?” 

Ouch. He hadn’t directed that sort of annoyance at you in months now, and you had to admit it hurt a little bit. You held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Heaven forbid I try to check on you Harrington. I won’t bother next time.” You started to back down into the elevator, but before you could, you felt his hand on your arm. 

“Shit, wait, I’m sorry. I’m being a dick.” He admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

Rolling your eyes, you responded. “Tell me something I don’t know.” 

He didn’t hesitate. “That I’d feel a lot better if you were up here with me.” 

That made you pause. The words were spoken so sincerely and honestly that you couldn’t help a small smile forming on your face. You hoisted yourself up the rest of the way on top of the elevator and sat down, glancing up above you until the walls of the elevator faded to black. “That’s really fucking high.” You said. 

He plopped down beside you, his thigh pressed against yours even though there was plenty of space. “A lot higher than that rope in gym class.” 

“I hated that damn thing.” You admitted. “And I don’t think even you have enough body strength to get us all the way up there.” 

Steve didn’t deny it, instead he leaned over covering his face with his hands. “I don’t have a fucking clue what to do.” 

You didn’t like to see him like this, but you understood why he was. “Hey,” You placed your hand on his back, rubbing it. “We’ll figure it out. One way or another this elevator is going to end up either opening down here, or opening up there. I think we just need to be ready for it when it does.” 

He lifted his head and stared at you, his expression unreadable. “How are you so calm about all of this?”

You hadn’t realized you were feeling calm until this moment, but you knew the reason. You shrugged, sending him a small smile. “When we got stuck in shit like this, we found a way out last time right? I guess I just have faith we’ll do it again.” 

“But what makes you so sure?” Steve asked, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. 

“Because I trust you.” You said, the words flying out of your mouth before you even really had the chance to consider them, but you wouldn’t take them back anyway. “Plus Dustin and Erica are pretty smart. I’m sure they can help us come up with a plan once those doors open. Not to mention Robin who is also smart as -”

Warmth exploded through your side as you felt Steve’s arm slip through yours so that he could grab your hand. “You trust me, huh?” 

You tried not to show how flustered that made you, but you could still feel the heat gathering on your cheeks. “Well, you have saved my life so . . .”

“I’ve done that like once -”

“Once is all it takes.” You said, bumping his shoulder playfully. “Do you trust me?” You asked, your tone was curious, teasing, but you found you actually wanted to know the answer. 

While your tone had been teasing, his was serious with the tiniest hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn’t believe that you had to ask. “Of course I do. I don’t tell just anyone my hair care secrets.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, which made him smile at you. “Did it.” You said, once your laugh had died down. 

His brow furrowed as he looked at you, but the slight smile didn’t leave his face. “Did what?” 

“Made you smile.” You admitted, heat rushing to your face once more as Steve, instead of gripping your hand like he had been, entwined your fingers together. “I - You - you really needed to chill out, Harrington. I can’t have you and everyone else panicking on me at the same time.” Once again, you tried to hide how much this gentle touch was affecting you, but you knew from the grin on Steve’s face that he saw right through you. 

“That was all it was, huh? You wanted to make me smile so I’d calm down?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“What else would it be?” You countered as your heart sped up to an almost unbelievable rate. God, you were practically begging him to say something with your eyes. Give some sort of indication that you hadn’t imagined everything that had happened this summer. That even if you had never in your life imagined being in love with Steve Harrington, he was feeling the same about you. 

The two of you kept looking at each other, waiting for the other one to say something. You could feel the tension building and your grip on Steve’s hand got tighter as he finally said your name in the softest tone and began to lean forward - 

“Ow, shit!” 

You both jumped apart in time to see a yellow “Camp Know Where” hat disappearing back into the elevator. 

“They were having a moment, dipshit!” You heard Robin hiss. 

You let out a sigh, realizing that the moment was over as Steve settled beside you once more, his back against the wall. However, he didn’t let go of your hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, you found yourself leaning towards him until your head rested on his shoulders. “Hey, Steve?” You said after a couple of seconds of silence. 

“Yeah?” He said, his voice soft even in the silence of the elevator shaft. 

“If I had to get stuck in a Russian Elevator, I’m glad it’s with you.” You admitted. 

His head settled against the top of yours, and you smiled at the gesture. “And your little brother, Lucas’s little sister and Robin?” Steve teased. 

You let out a little chuckle and eased yourself even closer to him. “Yeah, but mostly you.” 

“I’m glad you’re here too. It’ll keep me from murdering your little brother after he dragged me into this shit again.” He admitted. 

At his words, you remembered the conversation you had overheard when you were coming to pick Dustin up from the mall, and couldn’t help but tense up slightly. “Oh really? I thought you wanted to be dragged into it so you could impress girls and be an ‘American Hero’.” 

Steve’s thumb brushed the side of your hand, the gentle caress sending your heart into palpitations as he responded. “Yeah, well . . . There’s really only one girl I’m trying to impress.” 

You sat up at that, wanting to see his face. The look in his eyes told you exactly who he was trying to impress. “Maybe you don’t have to impress her.” You said, your voice as soft as his touch. “Maybe she’s been impressed by you for a long time now.” 

That smile you loved appeared on his face again. “You think?” 

You found yourself mirroring his smile. “I’ve got a hunch.”

[luvfy0dor]

“Please Don't Cry ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; crying, Nikolais kinda an asshole

Description; The BSD men seeing you cry, whether it's their fault or not

A/n; hi guys :333 one more request until they're all finished!! It only took me 6 months to do what, 11? 12? I don't know, I'm really slow when it comes to reqs, so I'm sorry it took so long!! I've also decided not to change to a gray theme cuz I don't wanna feel like I'm copying anyone, maybe one day though!!

Osamu Dazai ★

• It's probably his fault in most cases, but for this scenario we'll assume it isn't. Your day has just progressively gotten worse, and you were at the point where any minor inconvenience or annoyance would set you off and make you cry.

ೃ⁀➷

You pushed open the door to your apartment that you shared with your boyfriend, bags in your hands ready to rip from the weight of the groceries inside. You huff and kick the door shut behind you, annoyed when it doesn't fully close and requires you to kick it one more time. You carry the bags to the kitchen counter and set them down rather aggressively, not minding the strength you put into roughly placing them on the surface while you turn to put them away and wait for your boyfriend to arrive home from work for once. You sigh with a hand on your hip and the other on your forehead, opening the fridge and observing your current minimal amount of food and get to stocking up. A few things make it into the fridge before you hear the door open again and your boyfriend call out to you. "Y/n? Home?" A hum erupts from your throat in response and he quickly makes his way to you, following the sound of your voice. "Hey, babe, how was your day?" He asks, grabbing a head of lettuce to hand to you. "Terrible, 'Samu, nothing tragic happened but like, all the little things, you know?" You say, shoving the head of lettuce into one of the bottom drawers of the refrigerator. He reaches over to grab the milk, but realized that the half-gallon wasn't completely full, and upon further investigation (lifting the jug up), he realized that the plastic had broken and milk was spilling out into the plastic bags, onto the counter, and down onto the floor.

"Oh, the milk broke." He says, taking a large, exaggerated step past you and over the milk to bring the half-gallon to the sink. You straighten your posture and stand up straight, head swiveling towards the counter with whiplash inducing speed. You felt your throat close up, making you unable to say anything in response. Before you knew it, your shoulders started shaking and your tears quickly followed that motion. You whimpered quietly into the palms of your hands which attracted Dazais attention again over the milk. "Aw, don't cry over spilled milk now!" He jokes, but when you give him an agitated glare and open your mouth to defend yourself, he switches up and pulls you in for a hug. "No, I was just joking, but it's okay! There's nothing to cry about, we can get more milk. Do you have any idea how it coulda happened?" He asks you, stroking your back. "M-might've put the bag down to roughly.." you say, sniffling and wiping your tears from your face. He gives a pitiful frown and kisses your cheek quickly.

"Well that just means you're too strong for your own good! Oo, see I knew there was a reason why I had to clarify I was joking, you could've broken my neck if I didn't." He playfully says, trying to cheer your up a little bit. You let out a shaky sigh and nod. "Yeah...I guess. We can go without milk for tonight, I'll get some more for tomorrow." You grab some paper towels from the roll on the counter and start cleaning up all the milk. He nods in agreement and pulls you into his body, pressing a kiss to your forehead and squeezing your shoulder. "Yeah, we'll live. We should get take out for dinner, I don't think either of us are really in the mood to cook." A little bit of weight is lifted off your shoulders, one less responsibility for tonight. "Okay, Chinese?" he nods and smiles. "Yeah. I'll call right now, you want your usual, right?" He asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You hum against his chest, ready to knock out and take a nap. His words blurred together as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, but with that you also felt great amounts of gratitude for your boyfriend for making you feel just a little better. Or maybe you just needed to cry a little, who knows.

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Chuuya is no stranger to annoying co-workers and tiring missions, often wearing him down through the day, but sometimes he's unintentionally snappy. Don't worry, he's always quick to make it up to you.

ೃ⁀➷

Throughout the day, the texts between yourself and Chuuya had indicated that Chuuya was having a rather troublesome day, especially because of the frequent complaints followed by the facepalm emoji. You decided that you'd kick back with Chuuya and relax, opening a new bottle of one of his favorite wines and maybe giving him a back massage or something to relieve his stress. You eagerly awaited that familiar sound of his key in the door, and when you finally heard it, you stood up from your seat. In walked Chuuya, his appearance a little roughed up. He hung up his coat and hat without a word or glance to you, walking right passed you into the kitchen. 'That was kinda rude.' You thought to yourself, but you knew Chuuyas job was stressful and sometimes overwhelming, so you let him walk off on his own for a while. You knew where he was going and it didn't concern you, just to the balcony for a cigarette. You crossed your arms over you chest, hoping that he'd come back in a bit of a better mood. You turned on the TV and occupied yourself with that for a little bit before his familiar, light footsteps were heard coming back into the house. "Chuuya?" You called out to him. You could hear his loud sigh. "Yes?" His tone of voice was clearly agitated and disgruntled.

You were taken aback by how clear it was that he didn't want to talk to you right now, and you knew it wasn't personal, but you couldn't help but be saddened over it. "Are you alright-" you go to ask, but he quickly cuts you off. "Yes, I'm fine, y/n, just leave me alone. God..." His words were followed by the bedroom door closing. You were stunned. Your mouth hung agape for a moment before you had to close it to swallow the shock that closed your throat up. After prying your eyes away from the closed door, you averted your gaze to your feet, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You felt bad for crying, but what could you do? All you wanted was to make him feel a little better and he wouldn't even give you the chance to. He chose to take some alone time instead, which you didn't mind, but he didn't have to be so mean about it. You went into your hands, some of the tears falling through the cracks in your fingers and silently onto the floor. Your sobs became louder and audible to Chuuya, who laid face first on the bed. He felt a bit guilty too, he never once asked how your day was and for all he knew, your day could have been just as bad as his. He knew you only had good intentions, and he didn't need to shove you off like that.

He sighed and got out of bed, opening the door gently instead of swinging it open and walked into the living room again, frowning at the sight of you. "I'm sorry, doll, y'know I didn't mean it..." He whispered quietly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look into his eyes, seeing the apologetic expression that painted his face. "Yeah, I know, but you didn't have to be so mean about it." He sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Yeah, I know, that was a dumb move. I just wanted some alone time, ill be better about it next time though, I promise." He says, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. "Wanna tell me 'bout your day?" He asks, looking over at you. "Thank you. It wasn't terrible, just bland and regular." You tell him, erupting a hum of understanding from him. "I can only assume you already know I had a rough day." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm real sorry though." The smile from his laugh turns into a more neutral one, almost a faint frown. "It's fine, just don't let it happen again, I don't like it when you're annoying like that." You punch his shoulder playfully. He groans in response, laughing as he stands up. "I won't, promise." He says, tilting your head backwards to kiss your lips. "I do still want that alone time, though, so I'll see you in a little bit, alright?" You nod in understanding. "Alright." He walked back into the room, giving himself some time to do nothing more than exist. He didn't sleep and he didn't think, just existed. You stayed on the couch, waiting for him to return with open arms, happy to see him giving himself personal time instead of forcing himself to be around people, even if it was yourself. Everyone needs a break sometimes, and Chuuya was grateful that you understood.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor came home to you, and that was enough to make you sob your eyes out. Happy tears, ofcourse, but your days had been riddled with anxiety since he left. He knew you'd feel that way, and he was fully prepared to open his arms to you again with that faint smile.

ೃ⁀➷

You watched the helicopter land on the helipad with your heart pounding in your throat. Your fingers fiddled with the collar and fabric of your shirt as you waited for the propellers to come to a full halt and your lover to step off. Leaves, gravel, and dust alike all blew around your feet as the blades finally slowed and your boyfriend came into view. Your body tensed and almost started moving towards him on its own, but your anxiety stopped it, keeping you in your place. Your eyes scanned over his intact body and granted you a sense of relief when you saw no visible large injuries. He took notice of you and gave a small wave, walking towards you with a steady pace. You couldn't stop it anymore and all of a sudden you were moving towards him at an increasing speed. Before you knew it, your arms were once in their familiar spot around his torso and he was quietly chuckling. He ran one hand up and down your back and kissed your forehead. "Someone's excited." You nodded, feeling your tears falling down your face. It wasn't until he got a better look at your face that he noticed you were crying, and his smile widened. "You missed me that much, Myshka?" He says, tilting your head upwards to look at him.

"Obviously! You knew I would." You huff, sniffling and wiping your tears off of your cheeks, but they just kept on flowing. He laughs at you and pulls you back into the hug. "Well i'm home now, and you don't have to worry about me anymore. For now, atleast." Now he's already got you stressing over his next leave, but luckily you're able to push it away from your head in the moment and be grateful to breathe in his familiar scent again. You felt him place a hand on your head and exhale, his heartbeat being your favorite sound next to his voice. The feeling of his hands on your body was easily #1 in the category of touch, and his appearance was, to you, the very best sight. And his kisses, his lips, were by far the best taste. It had been so long until you felt his lips on yours, so you went for it again, cupping his face with your right hand and pulling him into you. He hummed and kissed you back, rubbing your hip with his thumb. When you pulled away, his face was pinker than before and his breathing unsteady. He swallowed before speaking. "Everytime I come back to you it's like adding gasoline to the bonfire that is my love for you." He says, looking into your eyes.

You couldn't help but find his words as silly as they were romantic and pulled him in for another brief peck. "You talk so formally all the time, it makes me giggle." You tell him, caressing his pale pink lips with your thumb. "It's better than the things I say that make you cry, yes?" He had a point. "Very true." He grabbed your hand and held it in his own while leading you away from the helicopter and to your car, more than ready to go home. "Your face is still wet from your tears." He whispers, wiping the remaining dampness from your cheeks with a smile. "Much better." You blushed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm glad you're finally back to wipe my tears for me." You tease. "Was a workout doing it all by my lonesome." He laughs at your remark and 'tsks'. "Well then maybe you should get more active or stop crying so much." He replies, a smug grin on his face. "Says you, the only arm movement I ever see you getting in is moving the mouse of a keyboard around." He shakes his head. "That's very untrue, you see me using my arms for other things rather frequently, actually." He insists. The sun shone down on his raven hair and gave him a halo-like highlight. How unfitting to the rest of the world, but sensible to you. "Fine, I guess so." You leaned your head on his shoulder as you continued to walk, finally liberated from the depression and anxiety that overcame you when he had left all that time ago.

Nikolai Gogol ★

• Nikolai doesn't mean to hurt your feelings with his teasing and jokes, but when you trip and fall face first into the pavement in front of a bunch of people and all he does is laugh with them, you can't help but cry out of embarrassment.

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You walked along a sidewalk with your boyfriend, one hand holding his and the other holding a coffee. Your conversation was filled with mindless chatter as your stride stayed at a steady speed. Your eyes were flickering between him and the pavement in front of you as you were careful to watch where you were going. You saw the feet of many people walking passed you both, avoiding the states they were bound to give you and your clownish boyfriend. Something astonishing must have come out of Nikolais mouth at a point though, because you've never turned your head so fast to look at him and stare for long enough to not notice the tree roots that poked out of the ground far enough to trip you and land you right on your face with both coffee and dirt all over your shirt. All falls silent for a moment before you start hearing snickers and then the outrageously loud cackle of your boyfriend.

You pushed your body up off the ground, clearly embarrassed over the whole thing and shot a glare at Nikolai. "Really? You're just gonna stand there and laugh?" Your cheeks were hot and your heart heavy with both annoyance and fluster. "I'm sorry, dove, it was just so funny! That stains gonna take awhile to come out, though." He says, pointing out the big splatter of coffee on your light colored top. You can't help but scoff. "It was so funny that you couldn't even help me up?" He nods, exhaling audibly and wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. "But ofcourse! If I wasn't paralyzed by my laughter than I would have been the first to help you." He started walking back home along the paved path with you, going to grab your hand but furrowing his eyebrows when you snatch it away. He looks up to your face with an exasperated frown. "Oh, don't tell me that made you cry." You just sniffle and huff, letting your tears drip from your waterline. "Come on, don't be such a baby. It's just a material item, I can always get you a new one." He says, referring to the shirt. Your expression is one of confusion before you snap out of it and correct him. "It's not that, it's the fact that you just let me trip, fall, and spill coffee all over myself and let everyone laugh at me! You even laughed with them! That's so rude." You say, trying to cover the stain to no avail.

He blinks. "Oh. Well, I told you I would have if I wasn't laughing- I thought we were like that, we laugh when the other falls, you know?" He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, yeah, but not in front of other people." You say, chewing on the inside of your lip. "That was....oh my god, I'll never erase that from my memory." You say, still completely overtaken by embarrassment. He bites his cheek and grabs your hand before reaching over to wipe your tears from your cheeks. "I'm sorry." He tells you, leaning his head on yours. "It wasn't ever with ill intention, darling. We'll go home and I'll get you changed out of that ruined shirt and whatever it takes to make you smile again." He says, smiling and opening his portal to whisk the two of you away. Soon enough you were standing back in your living room with a new shirt already in hand. "See how quick that was? Can I take this off for you?" He asks, tugging at the hem of your ruined shirt. You sigh and speak. "I can take it off on my own, thank you very much." You roll your eyes and pull it off, but it's quickly replaced with the new one. He laughs for a moment at your discombobulated expression, but the noise quickly quiets. "I really am sorry, sweetcheeks." He says, leaning in to rub your noses together. You peck his lips and brush his hair from his face. "It's fine, but don't be doing nothin' like that again. That was so embarrassing." You say, averting your eyes. He hums. "Alright, as long as my dove forgives me!" He smiles and pulls you into a hug, happy with your decision to forgive him.

A/n; dawg I'm writing this in the tj Maxx bro forgive me if it sucks lol

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you. (Part 2)

hello hello! here is part 2 as promised. there are less characters than I hoped to write, but in exchange each blurb is a little longer than pt.1 !

part 1 can be found here

🦌🪼🤡🦎🪞🤕🕯️🎭

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🦌 Bane rubs his chin, tracing his memory. "Hm... Indeed, I'm familiar with that name. I'd suppose that's someone I knew when I worked for the DeRosses." He crosses his arms with a low, contemplative grunt, as if struggling to remember anything else. "I'd need a photograph." I happen to have a couple on hand, and he takes them gently. A long period of silence follows. After leafing through the photos for some time, he says: "I remember. They were always talking about marriage." With you? "Mm. I was never interested, but I never said no. Eventually I made them a ring from a scrap of iron. I hoped they'd stop visiting me if I satisfied them... It's too dangerous to come to the forest everyday." Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring of his own. "In exchange, they gave one back." He's been cherishing it all this time, even when he'd forgotten its origin.

🪼 Ivy - "I'm no stranger to feeling like I'm missing my other half, you know. That sense of loss is one of the only constants I have left. (Y/N) fills my emptiness, and without them it increases twofold." I open my mouth to ask, Do you think you could be soulmates? but then my eyes dart to the Yithian and I realize my mistake. Sorry, was that insensitive? Ivy is not amused with my implication that she might be interested in claiming (Y/N)'s soul. "My dear interviewer, I am a scholar, not a monster. Whatever you're insinuating, you're gravely mistaken."

🤡 Joker's face suddenly hardens, in spite of the fragile, twiddling-thumbs demeanor he'd shown me thus far. His hands ball into shaking fists and his lips purse, as if he's psyching himself up for a fight. Are you okay? I ask, preemptively guarding myself with my clipboard. Tears brim his eyes and the strength falls from his shoulders. He mutters out, "All I wanted was to be their sword and shield, their angel of light, and they left me out of my mind. Hahaha... Wanna know the biggest joke of all? I'd let them drive me crazy all over again."

🦎 Luchino's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. "That one's a cutie, eh? Had the pleasure of meeting them yet?" I shake my head, reminding him that (Y/N) is the focus of my current investigation. I guess his laidback attitude fooled me into saying too much. He promptly straightens his back, the smile fading. "Yeah... Yeah, from one researcher to another, I get the intrigue," he says. "But I can't say I fancy another guy using my love as a test subject."

🪞 Mary - "Do you take pleasure in nosing around a lady's private affairs? I'd expect more tact, even for an interviewer." The chill in her tone startles me. I sputter out something in my defense, but Mary huffs and waves me into silence. "(Y/N) is enjoying the privilege of being my right-hand. They're my favorite one so far, too. I dismissed the others without a second thought."

🤕 Naib - "On good terms." Wringing out any insightful answers from this man is tougher than I thought. In hopes of inspiring more of a reaction, I tell a small lie: When I interviewed (Y/N), they described a rather colorful affection for you... Almost immediately, Naib breaks eye contact and crosses his arms. But I still only get a guttural "Hm." in response. Can you confirm if this is true? I press. His answer is, once again, a curt "Hm." (Slightly more affirmative, I would say).

🕯️ Philippe - "My work has always stood as a testament to my love," he caresses the wax figure grafted onto his shoulder, "but shielding someone in life is a far greater challenge than honoring my losses. My worries are endless." Suddenly reminded of his sister's tragedy, I offer a sympathetic smile. Do you believe (Y/N) is in danger? Philippe returns my smile, though I can't make out the intent. "Of course. Evil lurks around every corner. At the very least, it won't reach them while I'm around."

🎭 Sangria - A fond smile graces her face as she recounts her memory. "It was clear to me after some time that I had disastrously entranced them." Then she adds, lightly, "I hadn't meant to, of course. At the time, I thought, I'm not looking for love—no, I'd had enough of it all—but soon, their smile would appear in my mind every time I sang. When someone gives you that much inspiration? You'd be a fool to let them go." She has a playful tone of voice, but I can tell (Y/N) means a great deal to her.