#but i think enough questioning people or people going through denial look through them enough for it to count

[sysciety]

Just because someone doesn't end up being a system doesn't mean their trauma wasn't "bad enough"

[bouquetface]

TAROT: Gossip on you

As always, I will be detailed. This won’t be for everyone who comes across it.

one.

General read. Not every reading you come across is for you. So please take as entertainment.

I think these people may be family members. They seem very concerned with your direction in life. When will you get married? When will you have kids? And a lot of questions about career. You might be unemployed because it seems someone here is expressing you don’t do enough. However, you probably work very hard. Even if you are unemployed, you likely are applying for jobs. And making good use of your free time. Especially physically, you may work out or walk/run a lot.

They still see this as useless. It seems your values are different from theirs. They may see you working out & going for walks and roll their eyes.

Logically, it makes no sense why this upsets them so much. They seem very bothered by you having your own hobbies/interests. They feel it’s all a waste of time.

I’m assuming your family may be traditional. And they let their expectations for you be known very loudly. You probably grew up constantly being told to fix yourself. Go fix your hair, go change your outfit, etc. You may not even care much for their opinions. Their opinions roll off your shoulder. But they are so loud and consistent in their comments. It’s very frustrating and has probably affected you more than you’re aware. You are likely in a place in life where you can’t even dwell on that. It seems you have a lot of work that needs to be done. Even if that work is looking for work. It’s difficult and exhausting. Wishing you the best of luck, pile 1.

two.

General read. Not every reading you come across is for you. So please take as entertainment.

Someone is talking shit about you. It’s exactly who you would expect. For some it’s an ex lover, for other’s it’s an ex friend. They’ve convinced themselves they did nothing wrong to you. Your reaction was “crazy”. You “changed” for the worse. And they secretly hope you get your karma.

It’s like they have selective memory. They can only remember your reaction to their actions. They can’t remember/acknowledge their actions that got you to react that way. Whoever they’re talking with, is eating up everything they’re saying. You barely know this other person, if at all. It could be their close friend that never was close with you. This friend is loving the drama. They’re going to take this information and spread it to their friends. For them it’s entertainment, they don’t even care about your ex as much as you did.

I almost feel sorry for your ex friend or lover. They have no clue about the person they’re confiding in. It seems karma will get them through this friend. This friend just loves drama and gossip. Give it a few months and they’ll be trashing your ex just like they’re doing you now.

But right now, unfortunately, the two are bonding over tearing you down. I’m hearing this friend say shit like “I hope she gets hit by a car” “I would’ve punched her in the face”. It’s sooo funny to them. Literally witches cackling. They may have given you a rude nickname. In their group chat, they may only refer to you as this name. And someone has definitely called you a “cunt”. Just nasty shit. Sorry pile 2.

On the bright side, I believe for most of you this person is out your life. This seems to be why they’re so hurt. They don’t have the same access to you. Talking about you and checking your socials is the only way they can connect with you now. And ironically, they’re calling you a “stalker”. They’re convinced you’re checking their tiktok and ig religiously.

You might have ghosted them. To you it might be obvious how they fucked up, but they’re in denial. They see themselves as a victim of you.

three.

General read. Not every reading you come across is for you. So please take as entertainment.

Some of the gossip about you isn’t bad at all. You look like you’re doing well in life. You could drive a nice vehicle or people feel you’re just blessed to have a vehicle at all. You have likely done something recently that has people thinking you’re doing well financially. A few comments have been made about this. Doesn’t seem negative though. Just people stating “she’s doing good/ she’s good”.

Now, for someone very specific. The gossip seems to be you’re lying about doing badly when you’re actually fine. It could be work place gossip. Maybe you took some days off but someone here doubts you’re actually that sick. Someone seems fed up in your workplace. It may not even have to do with only you. Lots of stress and irritation from this person. Physically, they may be kinda tall and blonde.

[yuellii]

in the eyes of divine punishment

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they devoted their life to a system you came to betray

feat. neuvillette, clorinde, childe ( separately )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, angst

NEUVILLETTE.

The people of Fontaine have never seen a downpour quite like this one, just as the reserved seats of the court have never seen the Chief Justice Neuvillette act so irrationally like today.

To deter every piece of evidence, to dismiss any accurate claims—they marked the words and actions of a manipulator he did not even intend to be. And yet, it was all so rational to him. To his own justified, lawful senses, you were completely innocent. You did not deserve this baseless conviction that sent you to trial, and you were certainly not guilty.

But when you could not even hold valid evidence to defend yourself, his constant dismissal of your prosecutor began to look so obviously biased.

“Wahh, I’ve never seen the Chief Justice act like this before!”

“I know right?! What a show!”

A show? To all these people, his lover being convicted of a crime ( one that he was so sure you did not commit ) was still a show to them? The anguish he was feeling just seeing you on the stand below him was still a show?

And throughout this whole ‘show’, even as you were swearing truth, you did not look him in the eyes even once. This was so obvious to not only the spectators, but even the Hydro Archon herself that this lack of eye contact was a sign of guilt—a sign that you could not even look the Monsieur in his eyes out of shame for what you committed.

But even so, even after all these signs pointing at your full fault, he was still in denial.

“Pardon my rudeness, Monsieur,” the prosecutor called to him, clearly frustrated much like the rest of the courtroom was, “but I’ve given my whole case and I have clearly refuted all my points now, I think it’s time for the verdict.”

Neuvillette cleared his throat. “It is not over until I say it is,” he glared at the man. “I do not believe there is sufficient enough evidence to—”

“No, no, I think you’ve dragged this out long enough,” Furina yawned. The Chief Justice paused, looking up to see the Archon sitting in boredom with her head resting atop her hand. “Don’t you hear the people, Neuvillette?” she raised her voice, almost as if calling upon the audience in hopes they would agree with her. And for once, the Monsieur feels this is the most frustrated he has even been with her. He may not forgive her this time for the childishness of her deeds; A childishness that will send his love into injustice.

“It’s time for the verdict,” Furina announced, “even though it may not be an outcome you will enjoy.” She sat upwards, looking at the Chief Justice straight in the eyes. “But the Oratrice… The Oratrice is never wrong.”

“So be it,” Neuvillette declared through gritted teeth. And as the blue light circled the courtroom, he spoke as the secondary judge, “I rule the defendant… Not guilty.” His verdict left his lips like a plea, all in sweet, desperate denial.

But the Oratrice Mecanique told otherwise.

Guilty.

Thunderstorms began to cloud across Fontaine.

CLORINDE.

“You aren’t worried about the murder conviction?” Navia questioned, eyes searching all across Clorinde’s face for any signs of distress or any look that pleaded for help.

The Champion Duelist simply replied, “Not at all.” Navia was surprised, to say the least, that it felt like her afternoon tea companion here could not care any less about the charges being pressed against you. “I know the trial will go smoothly,” Clorinde explained. “I was there personally to witness the events of what actually happened.”

“Oh!” Navia realized, suddenly feeling a bit guilty that she assumed anything otherwise. “Well that changes everything! Guess you don’t need my help, then.”

Clorinde only nodded. It was as simple as that: You would never murder someone. She knew it, you knew it, Navia knew it, everyone who was going to watch this trial probably knew it, too. These faulty charges against you were nothing but arrogant misunderstandings from the other party, and it was already foreseen that you were likely to win.

So now, why were you here, standing before the court, calling for a duel to prove your innocence instead of a trial?

“I object!”

“Clorinde, please do not disrupt the process of the proceedings.”

“But Monsieur—”

“By laws of the court,” Neuvillette commands, “This duel is allowed to take place.”

And time was a blur until the moment she stood in front of you in battle. She took pride in being a Champion Duelist, she really did—and you knew of such pride. But this was the first time she truly felt like an animal in a cage, as if she was a lion only tamed by the Gods to kill flesh and blood.

This felt like the ring of a gladiator where you were sentenced to death, only difference being it was against the blade of your lover’s sword. And such a sword was one that you had touched before, one that you had held with open ears as she told you countless of stories of her duels. Of her executions, of her devotion to justice and honor—and now those same ideals would be clashing down on your bloody shoulders.

“You can surrender now,” she practically pleaded, watching as you fell to your knees. She felt sick, knowing she had to perform under the eyes of the Gods. And she was just about ready to throw up from the way the citizens of Fontaine cheered at her like this was some show. She didn’t want to hear this cheering, like it was a good thing she was forcing herself to fight you. “Please, please just surrender now.”

But her heart hurt the longer you continued to pick yourself up from the dirt, prepared to die by her hands.

CHILDE.

“And then?” you smiled, absentmindedly tracing the veins at the back of his hand with your finger.

“And then, we’ll start a family together.” He sounded so excited, much in a way that he has every step of his future with you all figured out. There was a certain type of innocence that lingered in his voice when he spoke like this.

You laughed through your ever-growing grin, looking at him, “A family?” It sounded incredulous. “With me, an orphan of the wretched House of Hearth?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. That was when he took the moment to close his eyes and press his forehead against yours, beginning to whisper the sweet promises of a future life together. And in this position, you could not see the reflection of death in his eyes, nor the ghost of bloodstains under his fingernails. Here, he was no fatuus, he was your lover.

Those were things Ajax selfishly ignored then, and ignored even now when it was too late.

Perhaps he forgot the true meaning of being a fatuus, because he chose to ignore the possibility that his only stability would be threatened by the very God he pledged his devoted allegiance to. The very God that no longer believed in love.

And now, here he stood in her divinity, the floor of ice below his shoes feeling colder than he remembered. Beside him stood the Knave, whom he kept glancing at, for he wished that she would show just an ounce of emotion in these moments. He clung onto impossibility, such as the beliefs that maybe this meeting wasn not real, and maybe the Tsaritsa was lying about you being a traitor.

He wanted to deny it all, even after he knew very well just how much you despised being tied to the House of Hearth. You hated being a fatuus all this time, yet continued to love a Harbinger like him—and your love was perhaps what blind-sighted him. Your love was so warm and welcoming, much unlike the cold bite of “love” his God gave.

“Arlecchino.” He spat her name out darkly once the doors closed behind them. “Let us forgo this mission.”

“Oh?” she almost grinned. A smile that never quite reached her eyes—one that looked like the smirk of a maniac. “So our target means something to you?”

“I will do anything you ask of me just to keep this person alive,” he promised, still attempting to hide just how important you were to him. But that demeaning upturn of amusement in her lips made him more and more desperate. “Please, I mean anything. Just don’t kill—”

“I take traitors of my orphanage very seriously, you know,” she smiled, looking down to inspect her glove so nonchalantly as if the tiny dust that laid atop it was more interesting than her fellow Harbinger’s pleading. “Punishment has always been the system I ran,” she said as she began to turn away. “And, it’s always been the system Her Beloved Majesty preferred.”

The door shut, and he was on his feet in an instant. He had to get to you—he had to finally realize that his own peer and his own trusted God showed no mercy to you. Even if you were his family, even if you were his light; Snezhnaya did not let go of traitors. Ajax learned to love you above and beyond the organization he pledged his life to, but he was also foolish enough to think they would never threaten you.

But as he stood here now, seeing your eyes wide open as you laid in your own blood, he felt that your fingertips were already as cold as the Tsaritsa’s love.

[improbable-outset]

📂 '𝐓𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Fingering, Bratty!Reader, Miguel humbling you, innuendos, finger licking, orgasm denial. This can be read as fwb or established relationship 🤭 I kept it vague here but I prefer the former

𝐀/𝐍: Okay, a seasonal special fic even though I don’t celebrate Christmas myself lol. This is more smut heavy than festive. I had fun with this one though icl

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s the holiday season and for some reason, you thought it would be a good idea to rile Miguel up more than you usually do. That was until you were taken back to his lab and he gained the upper hand over you.

He couldn’t remember how he even allowed something like this to happen in his sanctuary. Something so unnecessary, so tedious. A waste of time really.

Initially, it was Peter who came up to him and asked about throwing a party in the Spider Society cafeteria.

Immediately declined.

His flamboyant demeanor and exasperated tone only added to Miguel’s accumulating annoyance. But the following day, you approached him to ask the same question but this time around, he was very hesitant to say no.

But he didn’t accept it so easily either. Not without enough persuasion and coaxing from you. He didn’t need to think too deeply to know that you both definitely discussed this beforehand and planned on how you were going to approach him.

How insufferable. Reluctantly he gave in.

Now here he was, leaning against the far corner of the cafeteria with the place far too festive for his liking.

He gripped in vexation onto the plastic cup that was half-filled with booze in his hand, crinkling the plastic. He took a prolonged sip, hoping he could drown himself with enough alcohol to blur out the scene that was folding in front of him right now.

The room filled with the sounds of laughter and banter from the Spider People that surrounded him.

Even with some of them greeting him, he still felt disconnected from it all, like a fish out of water. Everyone’s ease at each other’s company made his own solitude more apparent.

He could be back in HQ in the familiar confinement of his office. Even if he didn’t like looking at the monitors and watching the multiverse all day, at least he was comfortable.

The only reason he was here right now was because he could use this as an excuse to admire you. Why did he have to give in to you like this? Why were you his biggest weakness? Your persuasive nature, while it can be irksome at times, held a strange allure and he hated that it had him on a chokehold.

After roaming his eyes around the crown, he finally caught sight of you. As expected, you were engaged in a hearty conversation with a group of Spider People, including Peter and Jess.

You always drew people in like a magnetic force and though Miguel hated being too social, he still found you captivating. As you graced through the room, you left a trail of laughter and sweetness behind you.

Your gaze eventually fell on him, where he stood in the corner of the room before you glided your way to him through the maze of the crowd, carrying the warm air with you.

“I know this isn’t your type of scene but you don’t need to be sulking in the corner like that.” You quipped as you leaned against the wall beside him. You had your spider suit on, just like everyone else, in addition to a few red and green tinsel around your wrist and your hair that shimmered under the cafeteria lighting.

“I’m not sulking.” He resorted back, giving you a sideways glance to maintain his eye contact, instead of turning to fully face you. The last thing he wanted was to be caught staring at you.

You wavered your hands in response, almost dismissing his comment. “Right, right. Observing, brooding — same difference.”

“What are you trying to get out of this?”

“Nothing— you think I’m that cruel that I’d try to prod something out of you.” You said, moving from your position so you were standing in front of him, leaving him no choice but to look down on you. “You can let loose a little, you know. You might enjoy it.” Even with the aroma of various food from the buffet lingering in the air, Miguel still caught a whiff of your scent that overshadowed it all, which triggered a sudden rush of heat to reach his cock under his digital suit— but not enough to give him a hard on, thankfully.

“I find enjoyment in…other things. Not festive gatherings.” He countered, attempting to maintain his composure despite your subtle teasing. The way you were leaning in wasn’t helping his case.

“Shame. I’d assume you’d loosen up especially since it is the holidays,”

He only recoiled in response. “You’re relentless.”

You were more than that. The past few days before this event, you’ve been progressively trying to push his buttons; it only gotten worse each day.

It started off when a new recruit joined the Spider Society and you volunteered to be his mentor and give him private sessions. He knew you only did it to flicker the flame of jealousy within him.

Fortunately he managed to keep his shit together and was nonchalant about the situation, knowing it would disappoint you to see no reaction out of him.

But then you would resort to being more physical with your teasing.

You would squeeze past him and ‘accidentally’ brush your ass against his crotch. At first he thought it was a coincidence until you tried to do it again.

“Mhmm, guilty at charge. Tell you what, I'll let you stay here and sulk in the corner for a little while and then we can go back to the lab later and I’ll take the ugly Christmas sweater off of you.”

Shocking hell, please do.

You were killing him but he wasn’t going to let you get to his head that easy.

“Thanks for the privilege…” he mumbled lowly into his cup he had been nursing, before taking another swing.

You flashed a smile in response before mingling back into the crowd. Miguel could only chew on his lower lip to suppress the amusing smirk that tugged on his lips.

The next few hours felt stretched out. But finally, he was back in the privacy of his lab with you. The door closed behind with a quiet click before Miguel instructed Lyla to lock it.

It was easy to tell that the decor in the lab was a reflection of Miguel’s personality: equipment was stringently organised with no additional decorations, showcasing his no-nonsense approach to his work. The room ambiance was a testament to his preference for efficiency and purpose, with low lighting for his sensitive eyes.

Miguel lifted you up from the waist, his muscles flexing briefly, before placing you on one of the empty countertops.

“You know, if I had to take a wild guess, I’d say you were purposely sulking just so I could save you back there,” you commented, a daring tone in your voice. A coy grin played on your lips as you watched him intently. Miguel overlooked your tease and leaned in until he was eye level with you.

“You realise I can see right through you. I noticed your behaviour over the past few days and how bratty you’ve been acting.” He was staring intently at you to catch any falter in your expression. Even if you did have the upper hand over him the last few days, this was all still amusing to him, watching the way you acted.

“Oh, should I dial it down for you?”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it”

He drew himself closer until his lips were close enough to brush against yours. His hands glided along your sides before grasping your waist to pull you close.

He wasn’t going to kiss you, not yet. If he was going to get you back for teasing him, he was going to drag this out for as long as he could, just to throw you off and see how long you’d last.

The ghost of your exhales from your parted lips fanned against his before you pulled your face away completely and slipped from his grasp and got yourself down from the desk, leaving him perplexed.

“Do you want some empanadas?” You asked, holding up a paper box stacked with napkins before flashing him a sugary smile.

Miguel had to blink a few times before he lost his composure. It took him a few heartbeats for him to fully process what just happened.

You seemed to have completely snapped him out of the sensual mood you were sharing.

“What?” His voice gave away his confusion.

“I got them from the cafeteria. I know you love them, so I got enough for both of us.”

He couldn’t tell if your sudden change of behaviour was to mess with him or if you genuinely just wanted to share some food with him. But knowing you, he had a strong sense that it was the former.

“You went from nearly eating my lips to offering empanadas in a span of two seconds.”

“I’m hungry.” You pouted before opening the box to reveal the steaming empanadas inside and held it out to him. “They’re still warm, you know.” You prodded, gesturing to him to take one.

There had to be a catch from this but nevertheless he took one of the pastries from the box. The savoury scent was too good to resist.

You helped yourself to one before you settled yourself back on the desk. He watched you to see if you had anything else planned or if you were going to dial up your seemingly bratty behaviour before he took a bite out of the pastry. You kept your gaze at him and watched him eat.

“Something you want to say?” He asked. You finished off the empanada in your hand before you spoke.

“I think chicken empanadas are better.” You stated.

Miguel couldn’t tell where you were going with this but for now, he played along.

“The beef ones are definitely better,” he replied, finishing his own empanada in his hand before wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“But the chicken one is more tender,”

“That doesn’t make it better. It’s about the flavour not texture,” he further added to his argument.

For a moment, he dismissed everything that had just happened a few minutes ago and now fully concentrated on debating on which empanadas are more delicious. This was a hill he was prepared to die on and he waited to see what you’d say next.

He didn’t expect you to lean in closer from your seat but he didn’t break eye contact with you just yet. You took another empanada from the box and held it near his mouth.

He cocked an inquisitive brow at you in response. The aroma was filling his senses again and he was getting tempted as you moved your hand closer.

“Bite,” you simply commanded. He gave in and bit down on the empanada you provided for him. He chewed carefully before looking back at you again. “It does taste better when you’re being fed by your girl though,” you teased.

“Now you’re just gloating. But I do have to agree it does taste better this way,” he said before taking another bite. The steam from the filling of the pastry wavered around his nostrils.

There was the last bit of the empanada still in your hand, small enough for him to finish off in one bite. As he took the bite, his lips lightly grazed against your fingertips. The touch was subtle but enough for you to freeze up in your seat.

It wasn’t intentional but after seeing your reaction, he couldn’t help his lips from curling up to a satisfied smirk.

He noticed there were a few flaky crumbs of the pastry on your fingers still. Before you could regain your wits and say something, he reached out and started licking the crumbs from your fingers.

He kept his eyes on you to see your reaction, watching your face fall even more.

“What are— what are you doing?” You stuttered out.

“What does it look like? I’m just cleaning up the mess on your fingers.” He continued lapping up your fingers, dragging his tongue slowly over each digit.

You couldn’t do anything but watch in astonishment. At times, Miguel had the upper hand over the two of you and would do something that would leave you speechless, just like now.

You stifled out a low moan and clamped your legs together. Miguel picked up on your body language and his breathing became shallow.

“Someone’s enjoying this more than they should…” He placed a hand on your thigh while lapping up the last flake from your thumb.

You seemed to be drawn back to the present now as your gaze was glued to his hand on your thigh. His hands glided to your inner thigh and stopped at the crease where your thigh meets your torso.

He leaned in to reach the back opening of your suit with his lips feeling the pulse on your neck increasing alarmingly fast.

His ears filled with the subtle swooshing sound of your suit now as it stretched and adjusted to its removal. After a few tugs and pulls, he finally got the suit off you.

He pulled off your panties immediately after to reveal your slick cunt.

“Shocking hell,” he let out a low chuckle at the raw sight of you.

“Be quiet-” you grunted

“Or what?” He slipped a finger through your slick and into your folds, causing you to jolt in surprise.

Your walls fluttered before squeezing around him as he dragged his fingers in and out of you. You grasped onto his biceps and rested your forehead on his shoulders, a low wimped slipping from your lips.

“Mig-” you whimpered.

He continued pumping his fingers in your heated core, feeling how desperate you were for him. The way you rolled your hips in sync with his fingers got his own body responsive.

He felt the familiar heat that rushed to his pelvic area, making his cock twitch desperately under his suit.

The room filled with the squelching sounds from his fingers that was overshadowed by your low moans and it served as a fuel to his perverse delight.

He learned every crevice and every micro expression you made as you frantically tried to reach your high. And he knew how your body responded to all his touches.

He recognised that you were reaching your peak the way your walls tightened even more and how your body shuddered, preparing you for the overwhelming relief. However, just at the very last second, Miguel withdrew his fingers, immediately halting the sensation you were experiencing.

You pulled yourself away when you could feel his fingers anymore, your face dropped in shock.

“Miguel, why?” You croaked out, your voice hoarse from the bliss.

Miguel’s finger was glistening from your wetness. He used his other hand to hold your chin as he spoke.

“You really think I’m going to let you finish after the way you’ve been behaving over the last few days?” He said, almost growling now.

“You can’t be serious…”

“I’m dead serious, muñeca.”

You huffed out in frustration and Miguel felt a surge of satisfaction growing in his chest. He finally had the upper hand after being tormented by you for so long.

But he wasn’t going to do anything that would purposely hurt your emotions. This was just to give you a taste of your own medicine. You gazed back up at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for my behaviour. Now could you please let me finish…” you begged.

“Promise me.”

“I promise, please…” your voice was becoming more frantic now and it only made his cock twitch even further, making it harder for him to deny you even more.

He knew that if he was going to let you release now, your orgasm would be more mind shattering and intense from built up tension from the delayed climax.

He slipped two fingers in this time, feeling the warmth of your walls immediately contracting in response. Your muscles were like velvet and steel at the same time— soft and pliant yet having a vice-like grip on his fingers.

Your eyes followed his hand movement but Miguel lifted your chin with his other hand again so you would look back up at him.

“No me quintes los ojos de encima muñeca.” He instructed. You obeyed.

He watched as your face warped and your brows furrowed as you were lost in the heat of your pleasure while he let his fingers do the talking.

It didn’t take long for your walls to squeeze tighter around him along with your moans becoming more frantic, a familiar trance of your impending release.

Your body convulsed as you unraveled and his fingers were bathed from the sweet nectar of your arousal.

Miguel pulled his fingers out of your heated core, both digits now slippery and sticky from your natural lubricant.

“Be good to me and I’ll let you cum on my cock next time,” he kissed your forehead.

You, on the other hand, we’re still breathless from your bliss. You gulped before you opened your lips to speak. “Thanks for the privilege…”

Icl, I kinda ate with the dialogues here 🤭🤭 God bless c.ai otherwise I would’ve never written that empanada scene

[janeyseymour]

hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes. 

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making. 

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought. 

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

  “The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.2 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. a little internalized homophobia. leg humping. handjob thru underwear. lots of kissing. hobie being a lil shut. weeks of avoiding hobie become moot when you and him find yourselves alone in a bathroom together.

wc: 3.6k

You wish you hated Hobie Brown.

It would be so easy, wouldn't it? He kissed you, did unspeakable things to you in that closet. And you let him. You enjoyed even, you relished in the way his mouth felt, his lithe fingers sinking into your flesh. the way he cooed in your ear. It would be easy to write him off completely, hate him for the rest of your life, his smug face, his hooded eyes that gaze into yours and hold secrets only known between you, him, and God.

But you don't hate him. You can't. You hate yourself more than anything. You should have never indulged him, never let him put a single finger on you. Because now, when you lie in bed at night and close your eyes, all you can see is him on his knees, feel your cock sliding down the pocket of his throat while he looks up at you through his lashes with those dark eyes of his. You can't get it up any other way. Women don't do it for you anymore.

The moment the two of you left the closet you told everyone to leave. You picked up Hobie’s clothes and shoved them into his arms before sending him out the door with the rest of them. You never once looked him in the eye.

Your friends asked Hobie what had happened inside the hour you spent together and Hobie, being quite the convincing liar, simply shrugged as if he had no idea what had set you off. “Nothin’. Think ‘e migh’ be claustrophobic.” But he knew. You both would always know, no matter how hard you attempted to scrub it from your mind. He’d keep it a secret if you did. He might start shit from time to time but he wasn’t into outing people. He’d keep the secret for you if you didn't want it.

You know better. You know yourself. If you were alone with him, something like that would happen again and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

So you avoided Hobie like the plague after that night. Every invitation to hang out was promptly turned down with an excuse that was only a thinly veiled lie, obvious to no one except for Hobie who knew better than to accept that you were sick 3 weeks in a row.

It was understandable. He had made you question everything you had known about yourself all within a matter of an hour. Why would you want to be around him? You feared him and everything he symbolized to you.

“It’s Hobie, isn't it?” Your friend, Riri, sighed. She had come in person to get you out of the house. There was no pretending to be sick, no feigning exhaustion. She came and she called you out so accurately you feared that Hobie might have told her what had happened in the closet. Your chest squeezed and you lost your breath, terrified that she may know.

You scoffed, anxiety swelling within your chest as you pretend to roll the question off your shoulders. “Hobie? Why would I care about Hobie?”

“Everyone knows you can't stand him. And you haven't been the same since we stuck y’all in the closet. Did he say somethin’ to you?” You looked into her eyes for any semblance of your secret and found nothing. You wished you could tell her, your shame, your pleasure, the absolute heaven you felt being in that closet with Hobie. You’d just embarrass yourself.

“No, that's ridiculous. I find him just as endlessly irritating as I always have.” You reach up, tug at your hair softly, and shift your gaze. You were telling on yourself. Fuck, if you didn't agree now, she’d definitely know that there was something up with you and Hobie. “I’ll go, it’s whatever. Just let me get ready.” Your voice was quick, snappy, you were definitely acting suspicious. But you hoped you conceding to going would distract her enough to forget.

It did. Your friends weren't the most aware bunch.

That's how you ended up here, standing in the midst of a true punk party. There was a mosh pit in the front, people inches away from getting punched in the face, starting an all-out brawl. Most were drunk or high off shitty beer and even shittier drugs.

Hobie was on stage performing. You heard his voice before you saw him, the way it echoed in your ears and left you delirious. Riri dragged you into the crowd, just far away from the mosh pit to not get trampled over, and you saw him. His dark skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat, fingers meticulously strumming at his guitar, lips pressed against the mesh of the microphone as if he were attempting to kiss it like he kissed you.

He wore a plaid skirt, his muscle shirt was just cropped enough to reveal the scant of his abdomen and the hair on his slender naval. You saw him and all you could think about was how you wanted to touch him. You wanted his black-painted lips on your neck, wanted to bury your fingers in the new growth of his hair, wanted your cock in his mouth once again and maybe to put his in yours. 

The thoughts terrified you but what frightened you even more was that when you came to, Hobie was looking at you. Smug, careless, beautiful, like he knew just what you were thinking about and he was thinking the very same thing.

Face hot and embarrassed over being caught, you averted your gaze. You turned on your heels and swiftly left Riri to make your way to the bar. You needed a drink, or five, so that maybe your nausea could be attributed to something worthwhile. But no matter how far from the stage you found yourself, Hobie’s voice was still in your ear, teasing your senses, tempting your body. You felt hot and parched. 

“Give me the strongest you have.” You asked the bartender and pressed your face into your hands.

Hobie played three of his songs before his time was over, the entire time you watched from the corner of your eye. Watched the way he swayed, jumped, wrecked the stage, a force to be reckoned with. You watched him and his bandmates, your friends, walk backstage and felt relief. You wouldn’t have to hear his voice everywhere you went. You hadn’t considered that meant that they would all gravitate over to you to have a chat over where you’ve been for nearly a month now.

They came over with Riri, the unknowing traitor, Hobie standing taller than everyone else in the back. They hugged you one by one, slapped your back, kissed your cheeks, told you they were happy you finally agreed to hang. You would have loved to see them if Hobie hadn’t tossed his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him. 

He smelled like musk and faint, fragrant cologne, your nose pressed to the side of his chest. You look up from where you sat on your barstool only to find him already smiling broadly down at you. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with they presence. Miss me, sunshine?” He was so smug, so proud. If only you could kiss that look from his stupid face and leave him breathless for once instead of the other way around.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, shrugging his arm from your shoulders. “Don’t get so full of yourself.” You downed the rest of your drink and requested another one. Hobie came, sat on the stool beside you, and told the barkeep to add all your drinks to his tab.

“Ya been avoidin’ me, sunshine?” Hobie only really seemed interested in talking to you. The others chatted aimlessly amongst themselves. They didn’t seem to notice the way Hobie’s eyes glazed over you, the way his smile seemed a little different when it was directed at you. They also didn’t notice the way he placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing soft circles into your flesh, the way his digits fingered the rips at your jeans.

“Whyever would I be avoiding you, Hobie?” You grabbed his hand to stop his gentle assault on your thigh and he took the opportunity to lace his fingers in with yours.

“I don’ know. Why are you avoidin’ me?” His hand was hot and rough with callouses. If only he’d touch you a little more. Slide his hand up your arm, brush over your neck. You could feel your body growing warmer by the moment. You couldn’t be trusted with him, couldn’t trust yourself for that matter.

You tore your hand from his. “You know exactly why. I hate it when people play dumb.”

“Jus’ add i’ to the long list of all the reasons ya hate me.”

Oh, if only it were so easy to hate. You’d hate him till the day he died. You’d hate him beyond the grave. You’d hate him until the world combusted into flames and everyone burned with it. But it wasn’t so easy. It was actually quite hard to hate someone you longed so carnally for. If you could rid yourself of him for good, you would in a heartbeat.

Hobie ordered himself a nice large glass of beer and leaned in. “Was i’ so bad, what we did? Ya seemed to enjoy i’ in the moment.”

Your eyes grew wide, glancing about to ensure your friends hadn’t heard him.

Hobie scoffed. “Please, too loud in here. They all wrapped up in ‘emselves to pay attention t’us. Look here, sunshine.” He reached out and gently grasped your chin to make you look at him. His touch was like fire all throughout your body. Looking him in the eyes lit something in the pit of your stomach. "Ya look good t'nigh'."

His drink came and he took a sip of the froth at the top while looking at you, his gaze all affectionate and tender. The way one lover would look at another. He didn’t even have to touch you to get you riled up because you both knew him looking at you through his lashes like that was just the way he looked at you when he kissed the tip of your cock.

You needed air. It was suddenly so stuffy where you were, you felt like you were suffocating. The ache of your cock made your jeans tighten. You felt nauseous.

You must have looked crazy standing so abruptly. Your friends attempted to call your name as you pushed your way through them and searched wildly for the nearest exit. The best you could find was a bathroom sign. That would have to work.

The bathroom was grimy and covered in graffiti. Your boots suck to the floor when you walked and you’re sure you could see a leftover powdery substance on the side of the sink. You turned on the water and cupped your hands beneath it to gather some and splash it on your face. 

Nothing between you and Hobie had to change. If he would simply stop provoking you, you could ignore everything else. The way your eyes lingered on his exposed body, the way his lingered on yours, the memory of your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking till he came on your tummy, the way you came in his mouth and he drank it all up.

You pressed your hand against the bulge in your jeans and moaned softly at the pressure. Then there was a knock at the door, startling you out of your momentary pleasure and reminding you that you were indeed in a public restroom.

“Oi, sunshine! Ya alrigh”?” Hobie. He just simply couldn’t let you have a moment of reprieve. Readjusting yourself in your pants so it's not so noticeable, you opened the door only to be met with Hobie leaning against the frame. He looked at you, questioning, before inviting himself right in. “Le’s talk.”

“Talk? You wanna talk?” You slammed the door shut and locked the door behind the two of you out of instinct. “We have nothing to talk about, Hobie. Absolutely nothing.” Your demeanor was cold, your lip curled. It all belied how much you needed him to stop looking at you that way. With heavy eyes and a touch of a smirk on his lips.

Hobie quirked a pierced brow at you. “Who’s playin’ dumb now? Ya tink I ‘aven’t noticed how you’ve been actin’? Yer meaner than usual.” He approached you. Slowly. He looked at you, watched to stand your ground. “God, yer down bad, aren’cha?”

Your face was hot, cock hard in your pants. You said not a word. Let him get close, really close, leaning into you while staring into your eyes.

“It's okay, though. I like ya mean.”

You grabbed him by the shirt, hands tight in the fabric as you turned him around and pushed him against the wall. “You think this is fucking funny, huh?” You shook him a little, pressed his thin body to the door, your eyes aflame with passion and anger. Hobie just looked at you, smiling, with his hands up as if to surrender to you, his eyes heavy with seduction.

You hated that look, so cocky and proud, fucking gorgeous. 

You were rough when you kissed him. You knew you couldn't be trusted with yourself or with him. You knew it would all lead to this. And God if it didn't feel good. His lips were so soft, sweet, a little salty from his sweat. You held his shirt a little tighter, pulled him a little closer and his hands settled on your hips.

You let him slide his tongue into your mouth, let him slide his hands up and down the length of your body, slide beneath your shirt. His thumbs looked into your pants and tucked his knee between your legs to press against the growing bulge in your pants.

Just like that, he took control of you. You melted into him, licked into his mouth as you moaned, rutting yourself against his knee. You were desperate, panting, needy. You showed all your cards just as they were dealt and now you had nothing but an empty hand and a hard cock.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout'cha.” Hobie panted into your mouth, hands pawing at you. Your kiss was sloppy, filled with swapped saliva and sticky tongue. “Missed ya. Looks like ya missed me too.” He chuckled softly as you licked his bottom lip, sighing with pleasure when he pressed his knee harder into you.

You should stop this. You should be stopping yourself. But you simply couldn't control yourself and you didn't know if that said more about you or about him. You were insatiable. You were angry. You were horny out of your mind. 

Hobie let you suck on his lip and tongue, chuckling the whole time. It made you stop, your hands tightening up in his shirt. “Is something funny?” You pushed him against the wall harder, your body pressed against his, your aching cock against his knee. You tried to play tough, your face firming up, but Hobie already witnessed how desperately you've been wanting him this entire time.

Hobie sighed softly, looking at you, smiling broadly. “Nah, nah, ‘m laughin’ ‘cause ya definitely like me, sunshine. Just as much as I like you.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to yours, and kissed you softly. Lips latching, tongue licking, teeth nipping, you didn't resist him as much as you thought you would. You hadn't imagined for it to feel so good the second time around.

“Lemme help ya out, sunshine.” Hobie pressed his knee harder into your crotch and you crumbled, panting into his mouth with your eyes squeezed shut. One of your hands unballed itself from his shirt and found itself settled against the apple of his throat, pressing and squeezing while you humped his leg into oblivion.

The friction was delicious. The pressing and grinding with his tongue down your throat left you a little delirious. You were lightheaded and feared you might faint if he kept holding your waist like he was, moving your hips for you, pressing you harder.

“Keep goin’, pretty boy. Ya got i'.” Hobie crooned into your mouth as your lips fiended for another kiss, a lick, something, anything to satiate the burning in your chest, the fire all over. His fingers sunk into the meat of your thighs with his soft grip that meant to gently coax you towards your climax.

How embarrassing. To cum in your jeans just from humping a leg. But God, if this didn't feel good, if Hobie wasn't doing you so right. You pushed him harder against the wall, squeezed his throat a little tighter as you ground yourself into him.

Your free hand slid down his front and beneath his skirt to feel the bulge of his erection through his underwear. You weighed him in the palm of your hand, clumsy massaging and fondling. You didn't know how to handle him. Attempting to conjure up the way you touched him the last time you two felt each other, you rubbed him, felt the wet patch where precum leaked and soaked into the fabric of his underwear and stroked his tip.

Hobie shuddered, one that rattled through his entire body. He gripped you harder, bruising your hips and thighs and he drove you further into his knee and left you shivering. You squeezed him in your palm and he moaned.

It was pathetic how easy it was to forget how much you wanted to hate him. Your brain was foggy with pleasure and need. Your hands groped at each other with a fiendish desire. Hobie nipped at your bottom lip. “Fuck, jus’ like tha’.”

You were so close. Your lips broke apart from his with a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your head felt back, exposing the supple flesh of your throat which Hobie greedily attacked with lips and teeth and tongue. “Gonna cum f’me? Hmm, sunshine? Go ‘head ‘n make a mess f’me.”

You whined, your body rocking back and forth with the waves of your orgasm. You hadn't cum in your pants since you were a teen and never before because of another man. You felt as though you should be humiliated but you were so wrapped up in Hobie's sweet scent and the way he moaned into your neck as you pressed your hand into him and felt his cock twitch in your hold.

You rubbed him harder, faster, determined to get him to come undone the way he had your world falling apart. Hobie chuckled against your throat. “Tryna get me t’cum, pretty boy?” His lips peppered kisses to your lovely throat. You nodded, your hand stroking his throat with your thumb. “Give it to me, please.” Oh how the mighty fall.

Hobie faltered a bit when you squeezed his balls in your hand, whining into you like a puppy. “Beg.” He sighed softly against your neck. “Beg fo i'.”

"Please, please. Shit, Hobie, give it to me " Overstimulated, his knee still pressed into the wet spot in your sticky jeans, your hips still rutting into the mess you’ve made of yourself, you jerked him off through his underwear, stroking it rapid, blundering twists of your wrist. Hobie liked how inexperienced you seemed, he found it amusing how hard you tried to please him.

You knew he was just on the edge of an orgasm by the way his moan lowered an octave. He sang for you like he sang on stage, your own private show. His hands gripped you with an impossible strength, tongue lavishing over your throat. He nosed at the curve of your jaw and moaned into your ear as he came in your hand, leaking out into the cotton of his underwear.

You were left panting, stroking at each other in tender touches. You were uncharacteristically affectionate, desperate for it. You needed his hands, his lips, his soft chuckles, his pretty smile. God, you were losing it.

“Fuck-” You pulled away from Hobie, your entire body coiling away from him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” It all came back to you like a tsunami. How did you let this happen? Again no less. What in the world were you thinking? What the hell has he done to you?

“Sunshine, calm down. It's okay.” Hobie reached out for you but you almost fell over trying to get away from him. Your hands gripped the sink for stability and in hopes to ground yourself in reality. “No, no, it’s not okay, Hobie! We need to stop this.”

“Whatever we have goin’ on between us-”

“There's nothing going on between us,” you insisted. “There should be nothing going on between us.” Hobie scoffed at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would’ja get ova y’self? We didn' make each other cum by accident. This keeps happenin’ fo’ a reason. We like each other.” He motioned between the two of you, his eyes softening.

“I can't do this, Hobie. I can't give you what you want.” You rushed past him and escaped out of the bathroom door before Hobie had a chance to catch you. It was a mistake to come out. You should have left the moment Hobie touched you. 

It was just your luck to run into Riri on the way out the door. You bumped into her just as you neared the exit. She had whipped around, ready to let you have it until she saw that it was you and worse, when she saw the tears streaming down your face. As if this night couldn't get even more embarrassing.

You said nothing to her. You simply pushed past her and left the bar with her calling after you. Hobie approached behind her, watching you leave with sulken shoulders and smudged makeup.

“Shit.”

[dontsh0vethesun]

bite the bullet

masterlist

melissa schemmenti x reader

18+: fluff, tiniest bit of angst/insecure mel, smut; fingering, oral, thigh riding, choking, vague dom/sub, unspecified age gap

wc: 2.5k

Not even Melissa’s favourite pasta sauce could ease the sourness in her veins; her fork stabbed into her leftovers harder than she realised, an abrasive action only taken note of by Barbara beside her. The woman daren’t say anything, not whilst fiery eyes stared your way with her jaw clenching tightly at each bite of her lunch. 

She couldn’t bring herself to look away despite the way her skin felt hot with jealousy; she wasn’t the least bit surprised though. It’d be more surprising if the new substitute teacher hadn’t noticed all your charms, all of the things she adored. 

But you weren’t hers, she doubts you ever would be. And she made peace with that; she's older than you, and you only see her as a friend, but now, with this infringement on her unclaimed territory, it’s all become too real. You really are just free for anybody to set their sights on and she abhors it. 

“Damn, you’re lookin’ at the sub like I look at Janine,” Ava spoke as she walked through the door to the breakroom, instantly following the redhead’s gaze. “I’m talking about that time you wouldn’t come with me to the daddy-daughter-day at the zoo. Lotta single dads for widowed Ava,” she finished with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not lookin’ at nobody,” she muttered in return, peeling her eyes away from the hand that had landed on your arm in favour of aimlessly scrolling through her phone. 

“Melissa,” Barbara sighed. “This has got to stop. The poor boy’s gonna have a heart attack with the way you’ve been looking at him. It’s clear there are some feelings - we all see it - but dealing with them through resentment is not going to solve them.”

You weren’t aware of the conversation happening on the other side of the room, instead, your attention was on the man in front of you. It had been pleasant to have a fresh face in the school and though the company didn’t compare to the table you usually shared with Barbara and Melissa, he seemed likable enough and you didn’t want him to feel out of place. 

You didn’t think much of it when his touch lingered on your arm, nor when he shifted nearer to you on the sofa as you spoke. It barely crossed your mind. It never did. How could it when your affections lay elsewhere? Albeit somewhere unattainable. The amount of people who approach you in bars on nights out with Ava, the drunken kisses you might share with strangers, doesn’t matter when you only wish they were somebody else. 

Though you have been thinking that perhaps it’s best to move on.

The conversation had turned to hushed whispers and steadfast denials from Melissa. Of course, Janine and Jacob had joined the gossiping table and so the four of them adamantly tried to reassure Melissa of her insecurities. She’s not ‘too old’, it’s not ‘too late to start something with anybody’, and someone like you is not too good for ‘someone like her’. 

Though she never directly spoke the words, it was clear to them all that she held a place for you in her heart and there seemed to be a flicker of hope when her lips pulled into a soft smile against her will at just the sound of your laugh. 

But then, of course, something had to spoil it. The quiet of the room made it all too easy to hear when the question was posed, an invitation to dinner from that substitute teacher who, quite frankly, was now disliked by everybody on Melissa’s behalf. There seemed to be a chorus of hitched breaths at the waiting of your response but she couldn’t bear to hear it, instead choosing to head directly to her classroom without looking back. 

Safe to say, the rest of her day was filled with a tension she’d not experienced before. A mix of anger and jealousy, shame and complete sadness. She hadn’t realised how much she longed for you, she supposes it had never come into question. She’d never had to see you with anybody else to let the weight of reality sit on her shoulders - she’d rather enjoyed living in this ignorant bliss.

She made sure to avoid you on her way out to her car, making a pitstop for a bottle of her favourite wine on her way home. Though something didn’t feel right in the back of her mind. She let herself drive on autopilot, deep in thought for what could have been hours, giving in to the potentially reckless voice nagging at her. 

She couldn’t let herself overthink the steering of the wheel, the clicking of her indicators turning right and the silencing of the hum of her engine when she parked her car outside of your house. She knew she wouldn’t go through with it if she didn’t just walk up to your front door and knock. But even when she was looking into your eyes she almost dared to turn back around. 

“Mel? What are you- are you okay?” you spoke, shocked to see her on your doorstep with her hands in her jacket pockets and her eyes looking nervously into yours. You had never seen her nervous before.

“I’m fine,” she nodded. “Actually no. I’m not,” she sighed.

“Well, why don’t you come in and we can talk?”

“No,” she answered quickly, adamantly, with a shake of her head. “I gotta just come out with it and say it and be ready to run if it all goes to shit,” she explained, almost folding right there and then at the huff of a laugh you let out. “Don’t go out with him.”

She mentally kicked herself at the words that came out of her mouth; the rehearsed speech was completely erased from her brain and all she could remember was the way she wanted to punch his smug little face. She wanted you to know how she felt and instead, she’d let the envy win. 

“Who?”

“That fuckin’ guy. Steve or John or something,” she huffed. “I’m not good at all this mushy love crap, I’m good at being jealous and being mad and wanting what is rightfully mine. And listen, maybe I’m outta line here - and if I am you’ve gotta tell me - but, I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever.”

“And that was fine but then seeing him looking at you the way I do, and hearing him ask you out, it just rubbed me the wrong way. And now all I can feel is this itch that I can’t scratch ‘cause I dunno what it is. I’ve never felt like this and I have no clue what to do about it. But what I do know is that if you go out with him, it’ll make me feel like I’m dying.”

“Wow, for someone who doesn’t do mushy crap, you’re pretty dramatic,” you smiled.

“I shoulda known you’d say something like that,” she laughed. “After I poured my soul out to you.”

“It’s one of the things you love about me though, right?”

“Sure. I guess,” she shrugged with a nervous scuff of her boot along the ground. “So what-”

You couldn’t put her through more of that dramatic confession, seeing the apprehension all over her face, you had to kiss her. Finally. It felt as good as you’d hoped, the slick of her lipstick against you and the remnants of a cup of coffee on her tongue. 

“So this is a kiss of reciprocation?” she murmured against you, allowing you to pull her over the threshold of your doorway and kicking it shut behind her.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “And it’s also permission for you to let me know just how jealous you are.”

–

Her kiss began softly, like the portrayal of her feelings she’s kept harboured and hidden for so long were finally being set free against your lips. She quickly lead you backwards, pushing you flush against the wall with an eagerness that sent a shiver through your spine. 

Melissa trailed kisses across your jaw and your neck, grazing her teeth along the skin with the heat of her breath setting your skin on fire. You’d never seen her blush, your eyes softened at the sight.

“Nuh-uh,” she muttered with a smirk. “You’re not gettin’ all puppy-eyed at me right now.”

“And why’s that?” you asked, sneaking your hands beneath her jacket to rest on her waist, watching how her eyes darkened, hardly able to tear them from your lips she so wanted to kiss again. 

“‘Cause I’m still mad at you. That’s why.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you frowned, unable to keep the sigh you let out silent when her hold on you tightened.

“I bet you got me jealous on purpose, huh? Flirtin’ with Pete just to get my attention,” you couldn’t help but laugh at the way she grimaced as she said his name - despite it not being his name. Though you couldn’t say she was totally wrong; whether you thought this was a possibility or not, at the back of your mind it had occurred to you that perhaps she would see. That maybe if she saw others find you desirable, she would too. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed, soon pushing you onto the sofa to climb atop of you, ridding herself of her jacket and you of your shirt. 

Her eyes took you in hungrily, stroking musing hands along the bare skin she could see. She was hesitant at first, to let you undo the buttons of her blouse, but the way you looked up at her with all the sincerity and desperation she too felt made her feel safe. She’d never imagined somebody could look at her the way you did, surveying her exposed body as though it was a treasure you’d been seeking, making goosebumps litter her back with the hands you lay there. 

Melissa was ravenous. Ready to show you that jealousy. In a kiss that left you gasping for breath while quick lips sucked against your collarbone with soothing licks against harsh teeth marks; in the hand she cupped your neck with, thumb pushing onto your throat just to hear the hitch in your breathing. 

Each action made your stomach flip. The way she subconsciously made use of the leg you’d slotted between hers, grinding onto your thigh with small grunts of pleasure at the back of her throat. Everything was so hastened and desperate, clinging to one another as though one of you would disappear if you let go, lips swelling and breathing sounding in the room with the heated kisses. 

You unclasped her bra, discarding it in favour of palming at her breasts, rolling pert nipples between your thumb and finger much to her pleasure. You couldn’t have imagined a more sublime sound than the way she rasped your name when your touch was replaced with your lips, sucking the pillowed flesh, flicking your tongue against her while her touch wandered. 

“Can I touch you, sweet girl?” she breathed, inching her hand lower with her words uttered against your lips. And at the sight of your nod she dipped below the waistband of your underwear, groaning at the wetness she found beneath her fingertips. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me?”

“Yes, Melissa,” you nodded, rolling your eyes slightly in amusement as if it could be for anyone else. 

“Gotta work on that attitude,” she tutted with a look that made you shrink in the best way possible, nails no doubt leaving impressions with how she gripped your neck. She knew you liked it, feeling your soaked cunt clench around the fingers she pushed into you, watching your eyes screw closed at the thumb she pushed over your clit. 

Her digits curled into you with a perfect precision, hitting every spot to hear moans tumble from your lips, encouraging them to be put to good use latched around her nipples. She felt each moan against her and it only egged her on, determined to feel you fall apart. 

Melissa could hear how soaked you were with each thrust into your sopping pussy, and she could see it in the head you threw back onto the cushions, murmurs of her name sounding into the room; your hands grabbed at her, clawing at the soft skin of her back with pink lines decorating the creamy white. 

“C’mon, princess,” she muttered. “I’ve wanted to see you cum for so long.”

Just the sound of her rasped voice pushed you over the edge, arching your body into hers as the feelings washed over you and your heart pounded from the pleasure. You returned her kiss as best you could through your breaths, leaning into the hand she pressed against your heated cheek. 

Her desire had only multiplied, pushing her clothed pussy over your thigh, guided by the hands you held her hips with; silently pleading to rid her of her trousers with a tug to her belt loops. It was only then that she broke the kiss, baring her entire body to your view, taking her place on her back with you between her legs. 

Her cunt glistened with the slick arousal brought on by the past few minutes. You created pathways with your kisses, leaving marks of your presence behind between her breasts, sinking your teeth into the softness of her belly and inner thighs.

“Don’t fucking tease,” Melissa uttered through gritted teeth, pushing your head to where she needed it most, lifting up into your mouth when you latched your lips around her aching clit, licking through her folds with her taste on your tongue. 

Her thighs threatened to clamp around your head so you pried them apart with the pillowy flesh beneath your palms, lapping at her cunt while she moaned above you, one hand in your hair and the other toying with her sensitive nipples. To know that the glorious sound at the back of her throat was from your tongue dipping into her made you that much more eager to please, feeling her clench around you. 

“God, honey,” she moaned. “You’re so good. So close,” she panted out, pulling your head away to dig her fingertips into your jaw, biting her lip at the sight of her arousal on your chin. “I want you to look at me,”

It was just as pleasurable for you as it was for her, her eyes fixed on you from beneath you, hips moving in time with the fingers you buried into her cunt with the heel of your palm brushing over her clit. 

Feeling her warmth around your digits was an even hotter feeling of intimacy than you could have thought, fucking her with your hand to watch her mouth fall open with a grunt. With just a few more pumps of your fingers, she came with a sigh, keeping her eyes focused on yours dominantly before pulling you back into a heated kiss, humming at the remnants of herself on your tongue. 

“Bet you’re glad you said all that mushy crap now, huh?” you smiled teasingly against her. 

“Oh, shush,” she laughed, cupping your face with her thumb musingly swiping over your bottom lip. “Now take me to your bedroom, ‘cause I’m not done with you.”

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons that I wrote in like 15 minutes don’t judge me

I feel like both Bal and Ambrosius are the kinds of people who try and act like they’re not sick 

Bal has an amazing immune system he rarely if ever gets sick 

But when he does get sick he’ll be in absolute denial about it 

If someone confronts him all he’ll say is “No I’m fine I don't get sick” and then he’ll push himself until he’s literally sitting in a hospital still acting like he’s not sick 

Ambrosius has the worst immune system you can possibly imagine 

Someone sneezes on this boy and he’s sick for the next two weeks 

But he’s also sick enough times that he’s convinced himself that he can work through anything 

After a while he’s literally forced to relax and be taken care of and he complains the entire time that he should be working 

I’ve kind of alluded to this headcanon but I don’t think Nimona can get sick

But if she could get sick she would be the most annoying person known to mankind 

She would have a sore throat and make the biggest deal about it and force the boys to take care of her

And the boys will comply because this is one of the few times that Nimona lets them take care of her 

I mentioned in this post tags that they all hand make every single present 

The first thing that Bal ever made/gave Ambrosius was welded rose that he made out of scrap metal 

He thought it was a stupid present but Ambrosius got super emotional and said it was the best present he had ever received 

Bal highly doubted that cause Ambrosius literally got a car as a birthday present once 

But then he saw it in a little vase that Ambrosius made and it became kind of a tradition after that

During every big event in their lives Bal welded Ambrosius a rose and he kept every single one 

By the time the knighting ceremony rolled around he had close to 80

Ambrosius made more heavy-duty vases just to hold all of the flowers 

It’s kind of sweet because you can see both of their hobbies improving as the years go on 

The first gift Bal ever got from Ambrosius was a sweater he crochet himself 

He made it cause he knows that Bal runs cold and he would make off-handed comments about it every once and a while

He was kind of nervous cause he never took on a project that big before 

Bal wore it all the damn time 

He treated that sweater like it was gold which is why he was crushed when it started unraveling 

He went to Ambrosius sobbing with an arm full of yarn apologizing and saying he ruined it

Mind you he gave him that sweater like 5 years prior and had knitted and crocheted him a million things afterwards 

It was a miracle that the sweater lasted as long as it did 

He spent the entire night consoling him while asking for his input on the new one he was currently working on 

The first gift Bal and Ambrosius gave Nimona made him tear up and cling to them as an actual koala for the rest of the night 

Bal welded him a little dragon and Ambrosius crocheted him a little rhino

The first gift Nimona gave the boys was for both of them

It was a painting of the three of them the boys thought it was beautiful but also incredibly out of character 

Until they gave them the second painting of the three of them fighting guards as the institute burned down behind them

The boys framed both and hung them in the living room

Whenever Ambrosius goes anywhere he’s swarmed by groups of people and sometimes those people will ask questions about his clothes and jewelry 

And he gets this proud look in his eyes while he says “Oh my kid made this in the living room 15 minutes before I left the house” 

When Bal proposed he actually made both the engagement and their wedding rings 

He always got compliments on both rings and Ambrosius would let them get a better look while gushing about all the little details that were put into it

And this doesn’t stop when Bal and Nimona are around either 

In fact he’ll drag them over and gush about them while they get progressively more embarrassed

[thejujvtsupost]

My Clothes Look Good On You

I’m getting back into the swing of writing, so it’s probably not my best work but it’s a start. Smut starts next part.

Lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist 💗

Notes: F!reader, Pro boxer!Toji, light age gap (Toji is early 30's and reader is mid 20's), pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart), reader is smaller than Toji, getting together, reader is a medic/nurse, light violence (boxing injuries)- the usual series notes.

The texts started not even a day after you met Toji.

Usually stuff like ‘You should come to the gym tomorrow, I can show you a few things.’ And ‘You working for my next match? It’d be nice to have a good luck charm.’

You weren’t expecting anything like this from him, you thought giving him your number was for medical advice or something professional. So his flirting and interest in you was a surprise- one that had you blushing, but you didn’t think he was too serious about it.

And to Toji’s credit, he was nothing but sweet and respectful. It didn’t matter how busy his typically packed schedule was, he was always checking on you, trying to learn more about your life.

“Why don’t you come by the gym after your shift? We could get somethin’ to eat.”

‘I can’t 😕 I’m stuck filling out applications. Maybe another day?’

The reminder of your unemployment stressed you out further. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know you lost your main job after the match. You told him a lot about the work you did with Shoko, but the few hours you had at the clinic weren’t enough to sustain you and everything was going wrong. Your savings were drying up.

‘Whatcha applyin for?’

‘The usual. I’m running late but I’ll talk to you later!’

You didn’t give any specifics, it was embarrassing enough that you got fired. You managed to get an interview at a different hospital, a welcomed change from the countless application denials.

Honestly, fuck Mother Nature.

The interview didn’t go well at all. You had thought there was hope with this job, but at the end of the interview the boss outright told you that they would be going a different direction. You left quickly after that.

Asshole.

The rejection stung. To add insult to injury, it was absolutely pouring rain. Of course you weren’t prepared, too focused on the interview and your clothes were getting more soaked by the minute.

“Fuck!” Your phone was dead, your wallet at home, failing to notice the essentials were missing while worrying about what questions you might be asked was your own fault. You should have paid better attention.

You took an Uber there, so your only option was to walk home, already out of the way of the train station. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad…

The rain was a bitter cold, and your entire body trembled with the pain of the wind whipping against your shaking form not twenty minutes into your trek. The world swallowing you whole would be a blessing.

Or, maybe the real blessing was the gym you recognized up ahead. For the first time in a while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

It would be warm in there, and maybe you could borrow a phone to call a cab. You doubted Toji would still be there, but surely someone was still working out, right? It was worth a shot.

Increasing your pace until the door was at your fingertips, and pulling it open- it was unlocked. You could cry. It was warm, and most of all, dry.

You peeked your head into the main room and saw a few people doing their thing, until your eyes landed on Suguru.

He saw you out of the corner of his eye and smiled, about to welcome you in (under the assumption Toji had invited you) until he saw the state you were in. Shivering, wet and probably bound to get sick.

“What the hell? Don’t tell me you walked here, you should’ve rescheduled or something.” He pulled a few towels out from a large cabinet full of them and offered them to you. “Toji’s not worth getting rained on.”

“Toji’s not what now?” The sight of Toji with his bag on his shoulder to go home made you smile a little through the chatter of your teeth. “Woah what the hell?”

“That’s literally what I said, I can’t believe you didn’t at least send someone to pick her up before you dragged her out like a needy bastard.”

Toji ignored him and took a towel to help get some of the water out of your hair, it was a welcomed gesture. “‘Thought you were workin’ sweetheart, don’t tell me you quit your job to come see me, it’ll go to my head. What were you doing in the rain like that? You’re soaked.”

You knew he was teasing you lightheartedly, but the mention of your job had you nearly tearing up with the stress. “About that…”

Suguru took that as a cue to leave you guys alone, “C’mere, you’re gonna get sick.” A much larger hand took yours and led you to the locker room. “I have some clean clothes in my locker and you can change in the bathroom.”

“Oh I couldn’t-” the protests started as soon as he pressed shorts and a shirt over to you.

“Yes you can, I’ll get a bag for your wet clothes.”

Truly, you were freezing, you hadn’t stopped shivering and you probably wouldn’t any time soon. You sighed in resignation and changed in the aforementioned bathroom, cringing at how huge his clothes were (but enjoying the scent secretly.)

Toji was waiting with a spare jacket you slipped on right away and a plastic bag for your wet clothes, but when he saw you dwarfed by his he laughed. “Holy shit, you’re s’cute. C’mon, you look like you need cheered up. I’ll take you to mine and order takeout. Sound good? Then maybe you can tell me what’s got you down too.”

And you probably shouldn’t go with a man that you hadn’t known for too long, but you were hungry and wearing his clothes and tired, and maybe a little weak to his smile-

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” You tried to look grateful, but you couldn’t muster too much emotion other than sad.

Once again a large hand took yours and this time led you to his car in the parking garage.

He waited until you were full and warm with your phone on the charger and the tv low in the background before he started asking questions.

Well, more like he was looking at you with concern and you cracked. “I got fired.”

“What? Today? What happened?” The way he sounded ticked off on your behalf made you feel even warmer. Seriously, you can’t be giving in to his charms, but… he was sweet with you and considerate…

“Three weeks ago… after the fight I ran into my boss. I was wearing clothes with the logo of the clinic I work at with Shoko and moonlighting is against the rules but it’s hard with what I was making at my day job. I needed the money from working a second one and I got caught and the stress is so much to handle I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I can’t find someone hiring!” It all came out of you like word vomit and (more than) a few tears of frustration followed.

“Aw sweets, you should’ve told me you were looking for a job, I could’ve helped. Working that many hours isn’t good for you. But they were dead wrong t’fire you like that.” He wiped your tears and his other hand rubbed yours soothingly and it was nice to be touched gently after several weeks of constant stress.

You sniffled and took in a breath, getting that off your back helped more than you thought it would, Toji’s hulking, kind presence was a balm to a wound. “It’s been a lot to handle, I thought today’s interview was going really well until they rejected me at the end. Didn’t even wait to send me a half assed email, just told me outright. I thought they liked me for the job I don’t know what I said wrong.”

“I don’t know sweetheart, they’re crazy not to hire you. Maybe they were scared of how good your resume looked.” His joke made you let out a giggle and a sigh.

“Thanks for cheering me up, and sorry if you had other plans. It’s Friday night and you’re stuck with me crying on you.”

Toji’s brows furrowed, “Who said I was stuck? The only plan I had was text you enough to bother you and get takeout.”

It was your turn for your brows to furrow “It’s literally Friday night, you weren’t going out?”

Suddenly the floor was super interesting to Toji and he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand before looking at you again.

“I thought I was being pretty obvious about it, but I’m not interested in going out unless it’s what you. ‘Don’t want to rush ya, but I’m kinda trying to win you over here. Y’know? Woo ya, that’s what the kids call it these days I think.” His cheeks were flushed red and it was endearing.

“Woo me, huh? You’re sweet, you know that?” You really didn’t think he was serious before, and now he truly had your heart fluttering.

“So… is it working so far?”

You leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips, chaste but sweet. “What do you think?”

Toji pulled you in for another kiss, unable to let you go so soon. “Can I take ya on a date?” He pulled away panting.

“I think I can pencil you in.”

That night you slept better than you had in ages. Toji’s bed was comfortable and he was warm, holding you all night. You woke up before him to pee and crawled back in bed, you shouldn’t be acting so boldly, you weren’t even technically together yet. But Toji made it hard to not want to be around him. No one had treated you so sweetly in years.

“Wow, leavin’ me all alone like that. Cruel.” Toji was awake when you came back, evidently.

“My clothes are probably done in the dryer, I should get out of your hair.”

Strong polar bear arms wrapped around you tight, “Nah.”

Your lip lifted in amusement. “Nah?”

“Nah. It’s only four, go back to sleep. Gotta eat breakfast first later anyway. And I was gonna invite ya t’the gym with me, got something to show ya. If you want, at least.” He finally peeked an eye open to check your reaction, not wanting to seem too clingy or pushy.

The way he sounded content to keep you (while not making you feel held hostage) made your heart feel warm and gooey.

“If you’re sure… I don’t wanna interrupt your day.” By now your protest was only half hearted. How could you not want to stay with him?

Toji adjusted the blankets and his arms tightened, slowly pulling you closer to cuddle in case you wanted to pull away from him for personal space. “So sweet. You are my day.” He kissed the top of your head to reassure you that you weren’t a burden.

Unsure what to say to that, you rested your head over his heart and tangled your legs with his— and you think, Is this what people mean when they talk about butterflies in their stomach?

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🏷️: @pelicanpizza @tadabzzzbee

[cobblestone-butch]

jus saw ur post ab sculptor etho muse joel, ik u got forcibly ejected from the writers room but if i make another writers room will u write it /hj

hey tysm! I ended up writing a little something so it will be below <3 this is mostly just Cleo helping Etho realise what might be going on with his struggles to sculpt. I hope people like and mostly that anyone who knows anything about art would write for it too (I know nothing!)

"So, first things first! Why do you want to learn to pose armour stands, Etho? Have you got a specific project in mind?"

There's an awkward pause.

"I only ask so I can get a good idea of what to focus on. It's just good if we start our work with something you're already interested in, right?"

She's never seen Etho look so... Nervous. Learning can be a vulnerable thing, sure, but Etho has never been shy with questions and comments and the unknown the way some people are. It feels wrong to turn to insults, light as they may be, to ease the attention - they're at a complete loss on what to do other than let him work through whatever he's feeling.

"Nothing, there's nothing... Specific I had in mind. It's... I tried sculpting."

"Okay that's good. That's great! What did you like about sculpting?"

"I didn't like sculpting."

Cleo laughs, a mix of confusion and genuine amusement, "Alright! So why do you want to learn 'armorstandography' then?"

Etho is still looking down, picking what she now suspects to be dried clay or quartz from his clothes. His shoulders drop a little from their previously hunched state though, which is a good sign.

"I just figured that maybe it would be easier. N-not that what you do is easy, I mean, you're clearly very skilled, and that's why I've asked you-"

"Etho, slow down, it's okay. I am perfectly assured in what I do and how much effort it takes. But still, I appreciate it."

"I thought maybe something with color would be more, familiar? I like vibrant colors and how they go together, and sculpting out of quartz is so... Lifeless."

Cleo shakes her head, "I won't teach you, Etho."

Etho snaps his head upwards, looking for some sign that it's some dry British humor he's missed. Cleo's face is even more stony than his recent attempts at sculpting.

"I won't teach you", they repeat, "Not for that reason. Color won't inject life into what you make, Etho. I won't teach you something that isn't true."

"Uh huh..."

"And besides, I don't think I believe you. I bet your sculptures have plenty of life in them." Cleo sees a frown pull on Etho's features, "Go on, prove me wrong."

---

Etho puts his hand on the door leading to his storage area. It's a big enough space for art projects, and it's nice to hear items sort themselves as he works, frustrated as he's been with the outcome of his endeavours recently. Cleo reads his hesitance immediately, and knows that Etho won't find comfort in their reassuring words. Here, at the doorway, she pushes past him.

She's drawn to her own face first. Sat on a block is her own head, looking back at her. She sees her own soft features, big eyes and strong nose. A dozen other faces around the room, and she can just about identify them as their friends. There's one off to the side, hidden enough to not drawn attention but not hidden too much, as if he's given himself plausible deniability for doing it. Etho's problem is not that his sculptures look lifeless. Etho's problem is denial.

It takes Cleo seconds to spot and minutes to confirm - there's only one sculpture amongst the collection that properly resembles the person it's modelled after. Every other head or bust has been affected by it, flawed in different ways but for the exact same reason. They all look a bit too much like Joel. It's in the furrow of her brow, the fierceness of Scar's smile, the curl of Doc's hair. Their eyes are all bright, smiles meeting them in genuine warmth, and Cleo can see even with just quartz how skilled Etho is at what he does.

Cleo isn't sure how aware Etho is that he's making them all in Joel's image, so they opt for asking something less direct, "What do you think the problem is? With these sculptures?"

"They're all... Wrong. I just can't get anyone right, and I'm not exactly going for artistic liberty."

Cleo laughs kindly, "That's not exactly true, is it? I can see one that's particularly uncanny."

"Uncanny valley?" Etho makes the joke before she can, but it's not what she was pitching for.

She walks over to and stands behind the sculpture of Joel. "I like this one. I've definitely seen this face before I've died a few times."

Etho laughs, and it stops the ever-shifting of his feet and the picking at his hands. He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at his neck as he rubs at it in slight shame. "He's, ah, a vicious one, Joel. He does this little huff thing, and it sounds like a tiger- he's always in some kind of mood and it's always so big, he can't do anything calmly or slowly, you've seen how quickly he builds, and, I just thought what's the most 'Joel' face I can think of? I remembered how he looked building that TNT cannon..."

Cleo lets him talk. It's nice, after all the awkward, to see him talk to openly about all the thoughts that went into the Joel sculpture. She can almost see what he means when he says the other attempts are lifeless; the animation in his voice when he talks about Joel makes everything else pale in comparison. She doesn't think he realises.

"Do you know what a muse is?" They ask after Etho has run himself out of steam, or perhaps noticed a conspicuous lack of interjection from Cleo, a usually very active listener.

"You mean like an inspiration?"

"Yeah! Well, sort of. In Greek mythology, the Muses were goddesses, and their domains included art of all kinds. And we've sort of derived meaning from that, so plenty of artists say they have muses that inspire them. And it helps them make art even if it's not always about them."

"Uh huh. So you think that I need to find my muse?"

"I think you already have, Etho." She looks down at the head between them, and Etho follows her gaze. Joel's eyes look back at him, intense and alive and challenging. He averts his gaze, something complicated settling over him - what they shared was so long ago, in a time and place so far from here. To feel the pull of that, it feels cosmic and mythical in a way Etho naturally rejects.

It's like Cleo can see through him, always. "It doesn't have to be complicated. It can be as simple as knowing someone well enough to capture a second of their likeness. That's what a lot of my armour stands do, they're just snapshots in time. Maybe you should just talk to Joel."

"Oh, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"He'll be insufferable about it."

Cleo actually snorts at that. "Fine then, don't talk to him. Just make more excuses to send him mail and wait for an extrovert to bring you to his base to talk, or whatever it is that you guys do."

"You're not far off, Cleo."

"Oh, I know. I have to hear all about it."

"What?! The next time I see Scar..."

---

Joel stares back into his own eyes. The head was left at the gate to his base, like something the mafia might do as a threat. There was a single sign next to it: Feel free to alter or remove - Etho. It's incredible, seeing his likeness through someone else's eyes. He didn't know his hair was so fluffy, his smile so sharp. He picks up the head with a grunt (Bloomin' heck, is this thing solid quartz?!) and moves it somewhere it can be seen, before pulling a book from the chest under his mailbox and penning his sculptor a message.

[aeoris4lovers]

when caleb is talking to the nein about his past before the dinner with trent, he tells them that in the time he spent under trent, astrid and wulf never wavered in their dedication or willingness. after rereading his origins comic, though, i think he’s wrong. i think there was a pretty significant period of time where eadwulf specifically was having doubts about what they were doing right in front of his eyes.

exhibit a: the bodies

this is the most subtle example of it, but it’s also the earliest and probably represents the very beginnings of whatever doubts were brewing in wulf’s mind.

in both of these instances, there’s a dead or unconscious body on the ground, and wulf is staring at it while bren talks to trent. it’s hard to tell where he’s looking in the second one, but a later frame makes it clear that he’s looking in the direction of a body.

in the first one particularly, he looks to me like he’s visibly upset — his face isn’t as stoic as the others, and his body language looks uncertain, not his usual crossed-arm stance.

these were the moments that first caught my eye. they brought up questions in my mind: what is he thinking? what’s going through his head as he looks at the people they just hurt?

exhibit b: the bath scene

this comes immediately after the second body, and is what confirmed in my mind that wulf definitely isn’t entirely on board with the things they’re being told to do.

he closes the door behind them and just stands with his fist against it. none of them look happy by any means, but it’s clear that he’s upset to a point where even bren and astrid, in the midst of their own feelings, look concerned and go to comfort him.

bren in particular takes a long moment with him before the two of them rejoin astrid. i’ll get into why that — and bren’s role in general — is significant in a moment.

exhibit c: the morning after

this is the most important point in all of this, and the significance of his reaction here really can’t be understated.

in this moment, trent has just drawn their attention to their “memories” of their parents defying the empire. these are, from their point of view, very real and undeniable memories. and yet, the reaction we see here from wulf is one of explicit and absolute rejection.

and he’s not just denying what trent wants him to believe — he’s angry. he’s standing up and slamming a hand on table and raising his voice. doubt has been simmering under the surface in him for a while now, and this is the moment that trent crosses a line. trent has presented something truly unthinkable to him and despite his own memories supporting it, he absolutely cannot believe it. on a very visceral level, he knows it can’t be right.

this moment is significant not only because it confirms beyond a shadow of a doubt that wulf is not completely sure of what they’re doing, but also because we literally never see another student of trent openly defy him like this, nor do we see any volstrucker do so.

let me repeat that: until caleb goes up against him with the nein, eadwulf is the only person we ever see look trent in the eye and say “you’re wrong.” even after all of campaign two, we never see someone actively working under him defy him that explicitly — it’s only caleb, who escaped his control, or people like the nein with no real connection to him. even when astrid acts against him, she does it very quietly and is clearly terrified of those actions being alluded to at the dinner. wulf is the only one we ever see who, while at trent’s mercy, dares to openly and completely reject him.

bringing his family into it was a step too far. at this point, wulf isn’t just struggling with what they’re being told — he’s absolutely not having it anymore.

so what gives?

we know that he ultimately believes trent enough to kill his parents, and is even the first of the three to do it, so how do we get to that level of agreement from such a powerful moment of anger and denial?

that’s where bren comes in.

looking back at that breakfast scene, we can also see how the other two react to their own memories coming to light.

astrid’s is one of betrayal. she’s confused and struggling to understand why they would do it, but she doesn’t deny it either.

bren’s, on the other hand, is one of defeat. he’s clearly upset, but he’s simultaneously totally certain that what they’re remembering is true. and of course he is — his memory has been impeccable his entire life. why would he start to question it now, even if he doesn’t want to believe what it’s telling him?

bottom line: while astrid clearly also struggles with it and may have her own doubts, though not as strong as wulf’s, bren takes it all in stride and never wavers.

and if there’s one thing we know about wulf, it’s that he trusts his people. throughout his scenes in campaign two, we see him looking to astrid for signs of what to do or say and deferring to her when he’s overwhelmed by or unsure of the situation at hand. when caleb takes his hand at the blooming grove, he follows, and when astrid takes his hand and leads him away, he follows her. where they go, he follows. he trusts them implicitly and he looks to them when he doesn’t know what the right call is.

so what is he going to do in that moment, when his own mind is telling him something that he absolutely can’t believe and he doesn’t know how to reconcile it? he looks to them for guidance.

astrid clearly isn’t in a place to offer much, and hasn’t been. she’s not as lost in doubt as he is, but she’s not certain enough to reassure him either. we can already see that in the bath scene — remember when i said it was significant that bren is the one to stay with wulf while astrid goes off on her own? she wants to comfort him and tries to because she cares about him, but it seems that her conviction isn’t quite strong enough to be a steady base for someone else. and in the breakfast scene, we see that again, with her not openly going against it but still struggling with it in a way bren doesn’t.

bren, on the other hand, is consistently certain that they’re doing the right thing, even when it feels bad. caleb says as much himself when he first tells beau and nott his story: “i was so sure, i was so sure, until i wasn’t.” hearing his parents scream as they die is genuinely the first time he ever has doubts. until that moment, he’s sure. he trusts his mind and he trusts trent and he believes in their cause.

so when he sees wulf struggling with it, what does he do? he offers that certainty, reminds him of why they’re doing what they do, assures him that they’re doing the right thing and he doesn’t have to feel guilty. he’s their rock, the one wulf and astrid can trust to be sure even when their faith is shaken.

and that’s exactly what i think happens in the time between that breakfast and the night they kill their parents: bren sees wulf angry and totally lost trying to make sense of the massive gulf between what he remembers and what he knows to be true, he sees astrid confused and not able to put the pieces together, and he reassures them because he trusts his mind and so do they and he doesn’t want to see them struggle.

and i think astrid needs less convincing, but once she’s sure too and it’s only wulf that can’t accept it, that’s when he starts to think that maybe the unthinkable could really be true. bren is certain of what he remembers and astrid is certain that bren is right, so how can wulf, who trusts and relies on them so much for guidance, not at least entertain the idea that his parents really are traitors? how can he deny it and, in doing so, deny them?

that’s how he can ultimately go and do what he’s told, with such a stern and certain look on his face as he does. because his people were sure that it was the right thing to do, and no matter how strongly he feels that something must be wrong, he trusts them even more than he trusts himself.

that’s not to say that his doubts are completely quelled, though, because there’s still more of this thread that we can follow.

exhibit d: the aftermath

wulf’s move to knock bren out and save astrid is a quick and decisive one in the moment, but it’s clear that he isn’t at all sure if he did the right thing. he talks to trent — explaining himself, maybe even apologizing because he thinks he was wrong — and trent has to stop him and say that no, he was right.

this is significant for two reasons. the first and more obvious of the two is that this shows he’s still in a headspace of questioning what he’s doing almost immediately after doing it. that doubt was quelled long enough to allow him to complete the “exercise”, but not by any means gone for good.

the second, which i think is the most important to the person he ultimately becomes, is that this is the first time he’s had to look to trent for reassurance.

before this moment, it’s bren and astrid who comfort and reassure him. but now, bren is lost to them and astrid is in no shape to offer any comfort, much less give him the reassurance bren might have. and she might not want to do so even if she could — she wanted to save bren, not leave him behind, and may very well be angry at wulf for the choice he made. so what choice does he have, with neither of them able to support him, but to look to his mentor for reassurance?

and what happens once he gets that reassurance from trent? before, he doubted trent and even openly defied him, but can he continue to do that now?

if he wants to be able to live with himself after, to live with the choice he made and sleep at night, he has to believe that the reassurance trent offered him that night was right — he has to believe that trent’s judgment is right. if trent is lying or just wrong, that means he did the wrong thing that night, and where can he go from there?

that night is a turning point for wulf not just because he took his parents out of the picture, but because he made a decision that ended up forcing him to trust trent to an extent that he really didn’t before.

the new eadwulf

the wulf that we meet in campaign two as an adult is a far cry from the wulf who stood up at that table and said “no, they would never.” he comes across as largely apathetic to and even comfortable with the things they do — it’s just a job for him, not something to overthink or get hung up on. as far as he’s concerned, the lives they take are unfortunate but still necessary sacrifices, just like trent always said.

and if you ask me, his journey to becoming that person, to the doubt and the fire in him being all but completely stomped out, starts with the night he was forced to give up his one source of constant reassurance and finally put his trust in trent instead. everything we see him do to separate himself from his actions, from his belief in fate and his “good soldier” attitude to the drink he has ready after spending time with trent, stems from that moment. he is the way he is when we meet him not because he simply doesn’t care, but because he can no longer afford to.

caleb says they never wavered while he was with them, but i think it’s only because his vision was clouded by his own certainty that he never saw it. he just couldn’t believe that they might not believe in their cause as much as he did because it seemed so right to him, and how could he believe that the people he loved would doubt something so important?

but they did doubt it, especially wulf, and even as an adult, little bits of that stick around in him — he immediately gravitates toward caduceus after caduceus stands up to trent, and as soon as trent isn’t a threat anymore, he’s perfectly content to just stay with caleb (and probably would have if astrid hadn’t pulled him away when she did).

i think, if bren hadn’t been selected for the volstrucker program or just hadn’t been as confident as he was in all of it, it may very well have been eadwulf who found himself standing against trent in the end.

[maximoffcarter]

Moving on.

Pairings: Casey Novak x Alex Cabot (Past), Casey Novak x reader.

Summary: Casey Novak thought she could never open her heart to anyone else after what she had gone through in the past, but the moment she met Alex, she changed her mind. But sometimes things don't go the way we want them to.

A/n: Sorry for the delay, shit happened but I figured that posting could distract me at least a bit, so here it is guys😌 This was requested by anon, this anon has requested amazing things and I am so thankful for this sweet anon (hope it is the same if not, I still think you amazing). It was hard, ngl, I had to take a hard decision but here is the final result. More to come guys, I'm working on everyone's requests. Hope you guys enjoy this, leave comments, hearts, whatever you like and reblog so this gets some love🫶🏻

Alternative ending.

*not my gif*

The moment Casey met Alex when she started working in White Collar, she believed that she had gone to heaven and back. She had heard so many things about A.D.A. Alexandra Cabot, she had seen her before in court, and the little crush she had developed in her had only grown the moment they had run into each other when they were both getting lunch in the same place. People would call it a coincidence, but for Casey, this had definitely been fate putting them together; it was silly, yes, but she couldn’t help the thought of it. After that day, it became a routine to set a time for lunch and go out, or Alex calling Casey to come to her office and have lunch there. It took about a month or so for Alex to finally ask Casey out on an official date, she had wanted to do it for so long, but never got the guts because Casey was just so perfect in her eyes that she’d never want someone like Alex.

They had even spent nights together in each other’s apartments, late nights were they were entangled in each other’s bodies, laughs, long conversations, etc. And it had taken them another month to finally make things official; Alex had been the one to pop the silly but cute question one time that they were in her office late at night. Casey had almost begged Alex to let her stay with her because she didn’t want to leave Alex alone, but in reality she just wanted to spend more time her, it was her favorite part of the day, and she was not about to miss it that day. And after an hour or so, Alex couldn’t help but stare at Casey the whole time, a smile painted on her face. Every day that she had spent with Casey, she had not been able to take Casey off her mind, she was the happiest she had ever been, and there was no denial that Casey felt the same way, not when Casey showed her every single day that she loved having Alex around.

“Alex?” Casey asked softly.

Alex snapped out of her trance and smiled. “Yes?”

Casey chuckled softly. “I lost you there for a moment. What were you thinking about?” She grinned softly.

“Nothing.” Alex grinned back.

“Oh, you were thinking about something. I know that look.” Casey chuckled as she closed her file and put her hands together as she waited for Alex to talk.

Alex smiled and shook her head, looking away. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is ever stupid when it comes to you, Alex. You should know that by now.” Casey said softly as she smiled.

“Want to be my girlfriend?” Alex suddenly said as she looked back up at Casey, nervously nobbling on her lip.

Casey stared at her and grinned, trying to hold back the chuckle that wanted to come out. “Alex…I thought we were already dating.”

“We…were?” Alex furrowed her brows. “I just…I didn’t…”

Casey chuckled softly as she put the file on Alex’s desk and stood up to walk to Alex, pushing her chair back and sitting on her lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. “You’re right, we never actually talked about it.” She smiled softly.

“You thought the nights you spent with me were enough?” Alex teased as she looked into those beautiful green eyes that she loved.

Casey tilted her head as she wetted her lips teasingly. “Maybe so.” She grinned. “And yes.”

Alex raised her brows as she smiled. “Yes?”

Casey chuckled as she nodded. “I’d love to be your girlfriend.” She smiled as she leaned down and kissed Alex’s lips softly.

Alex smiled against her lips as she wrapped her arms tightly around Casey, kissing her back softly. “I’m sorry if that was cheesy.” She chuckled.

“Oh, I love when the Ice Queen is all cute and cheesy.” Casey chuckled as she kissed her forehead. “Only I get to see this side of you, and I love it.” She looked into blue eyes as she smiled.

Alex blushed slightly as she nodded. “Only you get this side.” She smiled. “And I get the cheeky, smiley Casey.” She grinned softly as she kissed her cheeks, right where her dimples were showing.

It was Casey’s turn to blush, giggling as she nudged Alex. “Stop that!”

“What? I love when your dimples show.” Alex grinned. “You look so cute.”

“Okay, now you are being really cheesy.” Casey teased as she brought their lips back together.

Casey couldn’t have asked for anything better than this moment right here. Even after always having the idea that she didn’t want to get involved in any relationships, she was happy that she could be in one with Alex. She was willing to do anything to make things work, just like she knew that Alex would do anything for them too.

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

A year or so had passed since Alex and Casey had made their relationship official, at some point, it was decided that Casey would be working some cases with Alex since she had a load of work, but she was not officially part of Sex Crimes, still sticking with White Collar. Their relationship have been so easy, it felt so unreal how well they both worked together. They both understood each other for the jobs they did, and even if their personalities were different, that’s what completed them so perfectly. They both had fallen for each other deeply, even the squad teased Alex on how she had changed once Casey entered her life, and she loved it, she couldn’t deny it. It was everything she had always wanted, and it was everything she needed in her life.

“So, when is Alexandra Cabot gonna propose?” Elliot raised his brow as he looked at Alex, who was sitting with them in the squad room.

Alex looked at Elliot with wide eyes. “W-What? I’m…that’s not happening. I mean…not yet.”

Olivia laughed softly. “Oh, c’mon! You both are so in love, we want to attend a wedding. We need some happiness after the horrible things we see here.”

Alex rolled her eyes playfully as she huffed a chuckle. “We…have not talked about it, okay? C’mon, guys. We just moved in together like two months ago, give us a little break.” She chuckled nervously.

“Fair enough.” Olivia nodded as she raised her brow. “But I’m pretty sure that if you asked Casey…she’d say yes pretty quickly.” She grinned.

Alex stared at Olivia for longer than she expected as she nodded. Of course, this had been stuck in her mind for the whole day, thinking back to her relationship with Casey and how happy she was, the happiest she had ever been and the happiest she could ever be. They were already living together, they were already doing everything that any other married couple did, right? So…marriage didn’t sound bad. She did want to spend her whole life with Casey. And as in for Casey…she wanted that too, but she had barely said anything about it because maybe it was too soon, she had already been engaged once and it had not ended the way she wanted to, so she was a bit afraid that maybe this thing would go the same way, but it was Alex…Alex would never do that.

Casey sighed as she closed the door behind her and smiled softly as she saw Alex walking towards her. “Did you just get home too?”

Alex nodded. “I did.” She chuckled softly as she took Casey’s briefcase and placed it on the rack. She wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her close to her body to kiss her. “Hi.” She whispered against her lips.

“Hi back.” Casey smiled against her lips and then kissed her softly. “You had dinner?”

Alex tilted her head as she smiled. “I was thinking that maybe we could go out.”

Casey raised her brows as she grinned. “Oh, Alexandra Cabot is inviting me on a spontaneous date?”

Alex nodded. “Maybe I am.” She smiled. “What do you say?”

Casey smiles softly and nodded. “Let me get out of these clothes first.” She leaned in to peck her lips and then walked to their room.

After dinner, both women decided to take a scroll through the city, it was still somehow early, not too late to be out in the streets of New York. They kept talking about everything and nothing at the same time, just enjoying each other’s company. Moments like these were the ones that they both enjoyed to the fullest, it wasn’t every day that they had a chance to go out and enjoy a nice dinner and walk, they’d normally go back home, have some dinner, and go straight to bed because work would be waiting the next day. This is exactly what Casey wanted her life to be like. She wanted this life with Alex. They both understood each other’s jobs, they understood each other’s lives, and they couldn’t be happier. For a moment, it crossed Casey’s mind that maybe, just maybe…Alex was the one.

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

Casey ran through the hallways of the hospital as she panted, her phone and bag in hand as she looked around. Earlier that day, Casey had talked to Alex about dropping a case she had, they knew their address, they knew Casey was Alex’s girlfriend, they knew every little detail about Alex’s life, they were both at risk, but Casey cared more about what could happen to Alex if she continued this case. She had almost begged Alex to drop it, and finally, she had decided to listen to Casey.

“Promise me, Alex.” Casey said softly as she placed her hands on Alex’s neck, green eyes looking into blue ones.

Alex smiled softly as she nodded. “I will.” She pulled Casey close to her body and rubbed her back. “I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“I don’t care about me, Alex. It’s you who’s prosecuting. I just want you to be safe.” Casey said almost in a whisper, as if talking louder would hurt them both.

Alex leaned in and kissed her lips softly. “I’ll be okay.” She whispered against her lips, kidding Casey’s chin, forehead, nose, and cheeks, smiling softly as Casey giggled.

Casey rolled her eyes playfully. “Good.” She smiled softly and kissed Alex’s lips softly.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Alex smiled.

“And you’re stubborn.” Casey raised her brow playfully.

“And you love me for it.” Alex chuckled as she leaned in and kissed her lips again.

Casey had court all day, so she only got a text from Alex saying that she had dropped the case and now it was the feds turn, and Casey had texted her back that she’d be seeing her that night, she’d treat Alex to dinner. And then, later that night, just when she was about to call Alex to let her know she was on her way, she got a call from Olivia; Alex had been shot. She had never ran as fast as she did, not even for her games. Her feet hurt because of the annoying heels, but she didn’t care, she needed to get to the hospital.

Casey spotted Olivia and Elliot and walked to them, panting heavily. “Where is she?” She looked between the two of them as she tried to catch her breath.

“Case…” Elliot whispered softly as he looked down at the floor.

Casey frowned as she looked at him and then back at Olivia. “Liv? Where is Alex?”

Olivia took a deep, shaky breath as she placed her hand on Casey’s shoulder. “Casey…she lost a lot of blood. She never made it off the table.” She said softly as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Casey shook her head as she took a step back. “No…no. You’re…you…” she felt a pressure in her chest and suddenly the whole room was spinning. “…no…you’re…I need…Alex. She…she needs me. I…” she sobbed uncontrollably as she fell on her knees.

Casey didn’t know when or how Elliot and Olivia had gotten her on her feet and out of the hospital. Casey could only listen to their voices saying that everything would be okay and that she was not alone, but Casey get off her mind that her lover was gone. She was gone. Forever. Why did this happen? This had to be involved to the case. But she dropped it, she had just dropped it that day, it wasn’t her fault that the feds had caught him. This was not happening, this was not real. The whole ride to their apartment, Casey had been numb, no words had been able to leave her mouth, she felt like her voice was gone. Olivia said something about her needing to stay somewhere else, they had to keep an eye on her too since they knew about Casey. But did it matter? She didn’t care. They had killed her lover.

Casey walked inside their apartment and stood there for a moment, not being able to move at all. Part of her waiting for Alex to walk out of their room and come greet Casey, hug her, and kiss her, tell her that Casey had just been all day at court that she was now hallucinating. But she had stood there for fifteen minutes, and nothing had happened, silence surrounded her, and that’s when Casey’s mind focused back to reality. She closed her eyes as she sobbed, letting herself fall on her knees again. She sobbed quietly, as if she was afraid to be heard, but there was no one there, no one would hear her. She was alone. Casey jumped slightly as she felt arms wrapping around her tightly, she freaked out for a moment but then she heard Olivia’s soothing voice.

“I’m here.” Olivia whispered softly, resting her head against Casey’s.

“She’s gone.” Casey cried out.

Olivia nodded as she sighed. “Yes, sweetheart.”

Casey shook her head. “Why her?”

Olivia tried to swallow back her tears for Casey, she needed to be the strong person at the moment. “I’m not sure, Case. I wish I had the answer.”

“Are you guys going to look for the person who…” Casey took a shaky breath. “…who did this?”

“We don’t know.” Olivia said softly as she rubbed Casey’s arms. Casey nodded softly as she rested her head against Olivia’s chest. “Wanna stay with me tonight? So you don’t go to a hotel.”

Casey thought for a moment and then nodded. “Thanks.”

Casey made a mental note that she’d start looking for a new place. She couldn’t possibly stay here. She couldn’t live in this apartment without Alex. She didn’t know how she was going to continue without Alex.

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

Casey had almost quit the moment Branch and Elizabeth talked to her and offered her Alex’s spot. She was furious that they thought about her for the spot, but as Elliot and Olivia had told her, there was no one else that Alex would want in her place. Alex trusted Casey in every way, including their job. It took her almost two weeks to finally accept the spot, and another week to finally be able to show up in the precinct, and finally be able to get back to work. The first day, she had gone back to her apartment and cried most of the night, not only for how pressured she felt about the case, but also because normally when they had a stressful day, Alex had always been there.

Now almost a whole year since Alex had died, and even if Casey had been going to a therapist, she still couldn’t help but miss her. It took her some time to adjust to her new routine, new job, new office, new environment, new apartment…new life. She had been thankful that Olivia and Elliot had been there through it all, even if Alex had been closer because they worked together, ever since they started dating, Casey also became their friend, and she was thankful that at least at this moment of her life, she had never been alone. She walked into the precinct looking for Olivia and Elliot, but no one was around. She looked at her watch and sighed softly as she realized that maybe they were still at the scene.

“Can I help you?”

Casey turned to find a girl standing just a few feet away from her. “Uh…who are you?”

The girl huffed a chuckle. “I’m…y/n. Y/n y/l/n. I’m the new detective.” She smiled softly. “And you are?”

“Casey Novak. The A.D.A.” Casey said firmly.

Y/n nodded. “Oh! Hi! Well, guess you don’t need my help then.” She chuckled softly.

Casey couldn’t help but smile a little. She found it cute how she was nervous. “First days are not as expected, huh?”

Y/n smiled as she nodded. “Definitely not. I was…left here to find some records, and I’m still waiting for them. I was supposed to go with Olivia and Elliot, but they left in a rush.”

“They’ll warm up. You just need to listen to them.” Casey offered a small smile.

“You’re also new?”

Casey huffed a chuckle as she shook her head. “Ah, no. Actually, I’ve been working with them for a while now. But I was new too. And I know how it feels. But all I can tell you is that they’re a great team. You’ll learn a lot from them.”

Y/n smiled. “And from you?”

Casey stared at her for a moment, not sure what to answer to that. “Sure.” She nodded. “Uh…I don’t…see why not.”

“Good.” Y/n noticed that the squad was walking into the squad room, and she returned her stare to Casey. “Duty calls, Casey Novak.” She grinned as she walked to Olivia and Elliot.

Casey stood there for another minute before she turned to the squad and focused on what they had for the case. Every now and then, she could feel y/n’s eyes on her, and she wanted to be mad about it, she wanted to snap at her for it, but in reality…she felt flattered. She wanted to look at her and let her know that she noticed and give her a grin or a smirk. But why did she want to do that? Was it wrong? Wait…what was wrong? Why am I thinking if it’s wrong? Casey tried to focus back on the detectives and focus on the case, trying to push away any annoying thought.

A few weeks passed since the day she met y/n, and she had tried everything in her power to avoid y/n at all costs, mostly because she had no reason to talk to her when Olivia and Elliot were leading the case, but also because she wanted to avoid her intrusive thoughts about the girl. But then, in y/n’s fourth case, around a month and a half later that she joined, she had made most of the case and the squad had wanted to celebrate the victory of it, not only because of y/n’s terrific work, but because Casey had also won the case, so it was to celebrate both of them. For most of it, Casey tried to stay in the middle of Elliot and Olivia, only listening to them and every now and then joining in the conversation, but that was until Olivia moved and she was beside y/n, and not long after, they had engaged in a conversation full of laughs.

“I’m going for another drink, anyone wants one?” Y/n asked around and then looked at Casey.

Casey smiled as she nodded. “Please.”

Y/n nodded as she grinned. “Coming right up.” She grabbed the empty glasses and headed to the bar.

Olivia moved back beside Casey and raised her brow. “So.”

Casey looked at her and shrugged. “So?”

“You and y/n.” Olivia grinned.

Casey scoffed and shook her head. “We’re not doing this, Liv.”

Olivia tilted her head. “C’mon, Case. You’re gonna tell me that you two didn’t connect since the moment you met? I can see you’re avoiding her.”

Casey furrowed her brows. “Are you…are you keeping an eye on me or something?”

Olivia offered a small smile. “It’s been tough, Casey. But…you’re allowed to.”

“Allowed to what?” Casey raised her brow.

“Allowed to move on, Casey.” Olivia said softly as she smiled.

Casey stared at her for a while, trying to process the words that Olivia had just said, but before she could answer anything else, y/n had returned with their drinks and had gotten in the middle of Olivia and Casey. Soon after, the three of them had engaged in a new conversation, but Casey was still processing what Olivia had said. She was allowed to move on. She was…allowed to continue with her life like she had done it lately. She moved into a new apartment, she accepted Alex’s spot, she had created a new routine, had found a new place to practice batting, she had even changed her hair color…there were a lot of things that she had changed and new things that she had started to do, so…why not give herself that chance?

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

“Oh, c’mon, Case! You gotta admit that I’m slowly becoming better.” Y/n grinned as she looked at Casey, taking a sip of her water as they walked through the streets of New York.

Casey rolled her eyes playfully as she grinned. “I admit…you’re a bit better but…I know you still have more in you.”

“I’m learning from the best, next thing you know, I’ll be joining the softball team and I’ll go against the great Casey Novak.” Y/n smirked as she looked at Casey.

“Oh, I’d like to see you try.” Casey chuckled softly as she looked back at y/n.

Y/n smiled softly as they came to a stop. She sighed softly and then looked away. “I’m glad you finally loosen up with me.”

Casey furrowed her brows as she stared at y/n. “What?”

Y/n shrugged. “Well…for the first month or so…you were kind of off with me. And then we started hanging out more and I got to meet a whole new side of Casey Novak.” She looked back at Casey and smiled. “I like it.”

Casey smiled softly as she looked down at the floor, nodding. “I’m sorry I uh…” she cleared her throat. “I normally don’t open up so easily and I…I was still going through some things.”

“And now 5 months later…we’re friends.” Y/n smiled playfully as she raised her brow.

Casey looked at her and laughed softly. “Yes, y/n. We are.” She smiled.

Y/n nodded as she looked down at her tumbler. “So…it’d be a wrong move to ruin it, right?”

Casey furrowed her brows. “What?”

Y/n sighed as she cleared her throat. “You know what? Don’t mind me. I’m gonna take the other way cause I need to go buy some stuff but I-“

“No.”

Y/n furrowed her brows as she looked at Casey. “What?”

Casey stared at her and shrugged. “It wouldn’t be a wrong move.”

Y/n grinned, trying to hide the fact that she was nervous. “You…know what I meant with that.”

Casey shrugged as she grinned. “One of my many talents, not only because I’m an attorney.”

Y/n chuckled softly as she nodded, looking down at the floor for a moment. “Well…” she cleared her throat again as she looked back up at Casey. “Would you maybe…like to go out for dinner? Maybe Friday?”

Casey smiled softly as nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up…7:30?”

“7:30 pm. Noted.” Casey smiled.

Y/n chuckled softly. “Noted.”

Casey raised her brow. “So…were you really going the other way, or did I make you nervous and you were trying to escape from me?”

Y/n blushed slightly and scrunched her nose. “Second one?”

Casey rolled her eyes as she grabbed y/n’s arm. “C’mon.” She chuckled as they crossed the street.

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

“What?” Olivia said as she stared at Cragen.

“What didn’t you tell us?” Elliot asked almost in a whisper as he stared at Cragen.

Cragen sighed. “It was to protect her. I found out after her funeral.”

Olivia raised her brows as she felt her eyes getting teary. “Almost two years…and she’s…alive.”

“She’s in Wisconsin.”

“Casey.” Olivia whispered as she furrowed her brows. “How are we supposed to tell Casey? She charged him with the murder of Alex. And we supported her because we…”

“We need to tell her. Because…” Cragen sighed as he looked at both of them. “I might have convinced her to come back to help us with the case.”

Elliot scoffed as he crossed his arms. “And you believe Casey is not gonna kill us for this?”

“I’ll take full responsibility. But we need to win this case. For Alex. And for Antonio.”

Olivia nodded as she scoffed, walking out of his office. Olivia thought it was best to not call Casey yet and let the rest of the squad know that Alex was alive. Almost two years of thinking she was gone, but now she was about to return. Olivia pulled y/n aside and explained to her the whole situation, opting to tell her about Casey and Alex before anything else happened. Casey and y/n had started dating after a few dates, it had been a few months of it, and both seemed very happy; Casey seemed very happy. How could they tell her now that her ex-girlfriend, the woman she thought was the one and had died, was returning to help her case.

Casey was getting some files from her desk when the door opened and Elliot, Olivia and y/n walked into her office. Casey looked up at them and smiled. “Hey. Something wrong? Found something else on Connors?”

Elliot cleared his throat as he looked at Olivia and y/n. “Casey…we need to talk.”

Casey furrowed her brows. “What about?”

“You need to drop the charges on Alex’s murder.” Elliot simply said, not able to find any other way to say it.

Casey tilted her head confused. “Uh…and why would I do that? That helps our case, we have a chance to get him behind bars, get justice. Why would I do that?”

Y/n sighed as she looked at Olivia and then at Casey. “Case…there’s something you need to know.” She walked to her and grabbed her hand. “I just learned about this…about Alex. But uh-“

Alex.” Casey whispered softly, her eyes glued to the door.

Everyone turned around and her eyes widened as Alexandra Cabot stood by the door, smiling at them. They all stood there, just staring at Alex, and that’s when Alex realized that maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to just show up like that. Y/n felt Casey squeezing her hand, making her turn to look at Casey, and that’s when she noticed the tears in those green eyes that she loved so much. For what Olivia had told her, Alex had meant more than anything else to Casey, and her death had caused Casey a great pain, and now she was back, she had to lie to protect herself and that included lying to the people she cared about.

“Get her out of here.” Casey snapped, breaking the silence.

“Casey…” Alex whispered softly.

“Out. Now.” Casey walked to the other part of her office without looking at her anymore.

Y/n turned to look at Olivia and Elliot and nodded, her eyes landing on Alex for a second before she followed Casey and closed the doors. Y/n stood there for a second, not sure if she was supposed to walk to Casey or not if she was even supposed to be in the room. But she believed that it was the right thing to do since they were dating, and she wanted to be there for Casey no matter what. Almost as in cue, y/n opened her mouth to say something and suddenly Casey was walking to her and wrapping her arms around her, tightly. Y/n only wrapped her arms around her, holding her as she cried and sobbed, y/n pressed soft kisses on her head and let Casey cry as much as she wanted.

“She lied.” Casey finally whispered after a few minutes, her arms still wrapped around y/n.

Y/n sighed softly. “She was in Witness Protection, Case…she couldn’t just come back.”

Casey pulled away and looked at y/n, furrowing her brow. “Who knew? Olivia and Elliot knew?”

Y/n shook her head. “No. Cragen did, though. He told Elliot and Olivia this morning, and…Olivia told me before we came here.”

Casey nodded. “So you know.” Y/n nodded. “Baby…I-“

“It’s not like I wasn’t conscious that we dated other people before, Case.” Y/n chuckled softly as she stroked her cheek softly, wiping away her tears. “You were not ready to talk about her, and I get that. I told you when you told me about…” she smiled softly and stared into Casey’s eyes. “…I told you that I’d be here, no matter what, and whenever you wanted to talk, about anything, I’d be here to listen. And here I am.”

Casey smiled softly, placing her hands on y/n’s neck, and pulling her closer to her, leaning in to kiss her lips softly. “Thank you.” She whispered softly against her lips.

Y/n smiled and kissed her lips softly. “You got nothing to thank me for.”

“I do…because you’re still here.” Casey smiled.

“And I am not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Casey Novak.” Y/n smiled as she peppered her face with kisses.

Casey chuckled softly as she wrapped her arms around y/n’s shoulders to hug her, feeling somehow relieved as y/n wrapped her arms around her waist to hold her closer.

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

“Alright, y/n and Olivia will be here any minute. I believe we’re done with my questions.” Casey said as she closed the door and walked to her desk.

Alex sighed softly as she turned to look at Casey. “Are we not going to talk other than about the case?”

Casey turned to look at Alex, a serious look on her face. “What about? The fact that I got a call from Liv telling me that you had been shot and you were in an ambulance, in critical condition, I dropped everything to get to you in time, but I got there, and you were gone? That I sobbed uncontrollably at your funeral, your mother and I held each other. Or…the fact that you thought it would be better to leave and never tell us that you were alive.” She felt tears in her eyes as she spoke. “What do you want to talk about, Alex?”

Alex closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she stood up to walk to Casey, raising her head to look at her. “I wanted to call. I tried to convince them so I could at least call you, and let you know that I was okay, and that…at some point I was going to come back.”

“Oh.” Casey scoffed. “That’s rich. You wanted to let me know that you were coming back at some point?” She shook her head. “You left me without a word, without a text, without a phone call. Did you just expect me not to move on?”

Alex felt her heart dropping as she stared at her. “You…you moved on?”

Casey tilted her head. “You wanted me to wait for you? You were dead to me, Alex! For two years I thought you were gone! I mourn you, I cried every night for you for so long, and you wanted me to not move on?!”

Alex was taken aback by Casey’s reaction, expecting her to be upset but not this upset. “No, I…I don’t know, Casey, I just…”

“I moved on, Alex. And it was the best decision that I could’ve made, because if I hadn’t listened to anyone, if I had…” she took a deep, shaky breath. “…if I had let myself get lost…I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Alex let the tears roll down her face as she stared at Casey. “I’m so sorry.”

Casey nodded. “It’s a bit too late for that.”

Alex tilted her head as she sighed. “Casey.”

“I’m already in love with someone.” Casey smiled sadly. “And you know…before I dated you…I always thought that I would never want to fall again. For anyone. And you showed up and changed that. And then you…you were gone.” She shrugged as she nibbled on her lip. “I closed myself to that possibility, and then I met y/n.”

Alex nodded. “You’re dating y/n.”

Casey nodded. “I am. And I’m happy.” She smiled sadly. “I cannot hurt her. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I should’ve called, no matter what they said.” Alex said softly as she looked down at her hands. “Maybe I wouldn’t have lost you.”

“We’ll never know.” Casey tried to put on a serious face as she crossed her arms.

Alex nodded as she sighed, wiping away her tears as she stared at Casey. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “I am sorry, Casey. That I didn’t tell you that I was alive. It was not my decision, and I was…furious…about that decision. I understand you’re upset, and I am happy you moved. I’m sorry for the pain I caused.” She licked her lips. “After the case, I won’t bother you again.”

Casey nodded. “I’ll win this case. For Antonio…and for you.” She sniffled. “Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean that I don’t wanna get justice for you.”

“Casey.”

Olivia opened the door and stared at both women, y/n behind her. “Is…everything okay here?”

Casey turned to look at Olivia as she wiped her tears. “Yes. Alex is ready to go.”

Alex looked down at her hands and nodded. “Yeah.” She grabbed her bag and walked to Olivia. She then turned to look at y/n and smiled sadly. “Thank you.” She said softly before she walked out of Casey’s office.

Olivia looked at y/n confused but followed Alex, leaving y/n and Casey alone. Y/n turned to look at Casey. “Baby, you’re okay?”

Casey took a deep breath and then exhaled. “We…sort of talked.”

“Oh.” Y/n nodded. “Right.”

Casey tilted her head as she walked to y/n, taking her hand and the other went to y/n’s cheek, stroking it softly. “You know I love you, right?”

Y/n smiled. “And you loved her, Case. I don’t blame you.”

Casey sighed as she nodded. “She’s my past now.”

Y/n nodded as she stared into Casey’s eyes, smiling softly. “Ready to go?”

Casey smiled. “You’re still staying tonight?”

“Are you kidding? I was promised pizza, of course I’m staying.” Y/n grinned.

Casey rolled her eyes playfully as she turned to grab her briefcase and blazer, and then walked to y/n, grabbing her hand, and kissing the back of it. “Let’s go.”

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

“On count two, the attempted murder in the first degree of Alexandra Cabot, what is your verdict?”

“Guilty.”

Casey closed her eyes and sighed in relief, looking down at her hands. She looked up at the judge and then stood up once they said they could leave. She stood up and put all of her stuff inside her briefcase before turning to look at everyone. Her eyes first landed on y/n who was already smiling at her, mouthing a ‘congrats’, which made Casey smile. And then her eyes went to Alex, who was saying something to Olivia before she looked at Casey, offering a smile. Casey sighed softly as she turned around to grab her briefcase and walk out of the courtroom. Casey walked to y/n and kissed her cheek softly.

“Congrats, Ms. Novak. I knew you’d win this case.” Y/n grinned softly.

“Thanks, detective. Wouldn’t have done it without your help.” Casey grinned and then looked back for a moment. “Would you uh…give me a moment?” She looked back at y/n as she smiled.

Y/n looked to where Casey had looked, and then smiled, looking back at Casey and nodding. “Sure. I’ll be by the elevator.”

Casey nodded. “Okay.” She smiled when y/n kissed her cheek and then walked away. She took a deep breath and walked to where Alex was standing with Hammond. “Give us a moment?” She looked at him.

“Go ahead.” Hammond said before he walked away.

Alex looked at Casey and smiled softly. “Thank you, Casey.”

“You’ll always have a special place in my heart, Alex.” Casey nibbled on her lip as she looked down at her hands. “Yes, I am hurt. But I also understand why you did this.” She looked back up at Alex as she sighed. “But…I moved on.”

Alex nodded. “I know.”

Casey nodded and offered a small smile. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”

Alex sighed and offered a small smile. “Yeah. They’re also giving Antonio a new identity.”

“That’s good.” Casey smiled.

“Thank you for giving us justice.” Alex smiled. “I knew you could do it.”

Casey smiled softly. “I always wanted to do this. And I’m happy I had the chance.”

“Take care, Case. It was…” Alex huffed a chuckle, holding back tears. “…it was so nice to see you again.”

Casey smiled sadly as she nodded. “It was nice seeing you too, Alexandra Cabot.” She offered a small smile before she turned around to leave.

Y/n sighed softly as she looked at the floor. She heard a pair of heels approaching her and she turned to find Casey walking to her. She smiled softly. “Done?”

Casey smiled and nodded, placing her hand on her cheek, and leaning in to kiss her lips softly. “Yeah. Mexican today?”

Y/n chuckled softly. “Sounds good to me.” She grabbed her hand and they walked to the elevator.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"The Test." Part Two. Sugar Daddy AU. Poly!Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Sugar Baby Reader.

Part one here! Hey, hey, hey! Here it is part two! Picking up RIGHT where part one left off! So this is basically all porn, so happy to be finishing this behemoth! So I might add onto this in the future if people want it, there is still the rest of this three day weekend to go over! Feedback very much encouraged on this one! Thanks for reading and enjoy!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.6K. Billy Loomis/Stu Mach/Sugar Baby FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Age Gap. Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby Relationship. Sex Work. Restrained Reader. Tit Slapping. Nipple Play. Pain Play. Knife Play. Blood Play. Vaginal Fingering. Edging. Orgasm Denial. Vaginal Sex. Anal Sex. Blow Job. Throat Fucking. Extreme Kink. Double Penetration. Multiple Cream Pies. Dirty Talk. Praise. Degredation. Aftercare.

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Billy felt a thrill run through him. This was unbelievably exciting, so far, this is everything he’d been wanting, all he’d been hoping for. He and Stu both looked at eacdoh other, even though he couldn’t see the eyes of his long term best friend, he knew he felt the same. Giddy, alight, ready to really dive in. A deep breath to compose and really ready himself. 

You wait, but you aren’t left questioning for long, the hand that isn’t holding the knife comes into view, he palms the now obvious clothed erection so close to your face, so easy to see with how your head is currently tilted. “I think we are going to put that mouth of yours to work.” 

The robe is hauled up, and his belt is open, he isn’t in a rush but also clearly he wants to get inside you after all this build up, zipper comes down, then he is exposed, thick and hard, hanging right there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. 

You open your mouth and try to appear somewhat reluctant about it, a valiant attempt to mask the strong desire to have him in your waiting mouth, you manage it well, to not show the excess of saliva that pools or the want in your eyes from the prospect of getting him inside. You want to please them, play your part of the unwilling victim. Your eyes are locked on the bead of pre-cum at this tip, you want to taste it.

“Mmm, can’t you at least try to look a little happy about it?” The question makes you scoff, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes and instead, while keeping your mouth open, you quirk up at the sides. A nearly comical open-mouthed smile forms from the action that in response makes you feel this wash of an emotion that is surely a cousin of humiliation, it also gets minor praise from him, “Better.”

It hits your ears right before, he shoves his cock into the orifice with such brutality it makes even you, the experienced paid slut for hire, gag. It isn’t the hardest you’ve ever gagged, yet there is still a particular kind of force behind it, your body rocking away before making yourself roll forward, taking him deeper, to the root until your lips wrapped around the base. 

He holds, staring down at you, the bulge of himself buried in your throat apparent and crystal clear, if he reached down and squeezed he could feel the pressure of his fingers through the walls of your neck for sure. As it stands at this moment, he doesn’t do that, the knife is still pressed to your throat after all. The view is spectacular, combined with the sensation, it is enough to make his breath stutter, and you can hear it from behind the mask. 

Slowly, he pulls out before bucking his hips forward again with a quiet curse, “Fuck.”

That one exclamation does absolutely everything for you, the cadence of it, you are able to hear the heavier breathing, both sides of that word almost bracketed by a moan. He starts to get into a sporadic rhythm, it is hard to keep track of when he is going to jam himself in or retreat, but you are trying to anticipate his needs, stay on top of it and please him as best as you can, you are doing this to save your life, right?

While you are distracted trying to work with him, move your head, take him as he pushes forward and pull back when he does so you can sneak in breaths whenever he isn’t lodged in your throat, you are assaulted with another sensation leaving you floundering to contend with. 

What sensation is that? The light touch of leather gloved fingertips on the tops of your thighs, they move, patterns being traced that you can’t keep track of before they slip between your thighs and then part them, spreading your legs, exposing yourself. You can feel drool slipping past your lips, running down your face, gravity helping pull the wetness on its way, you still keep up, but barely as finally fingers touch you where you are soaking and aching. The touch is gentle in comparison to how brutal your mouth is getting fucked, one hand palms you carefully, fingers press but don’t penetrate, they rub but not where you wished they would. The first hand shifts, spreads your lips open and then the second joins, thumb dips slightly into your hole collecting slickness before tracing up, circling around your already swollen clit, and you stiffen, moaning around the intrusion between your lips. 

“God, that feels good.” The cock is forced deeper into your throat, “Again.” 

The pressure increases and the circles get smaller, the feeling becoming more intense, and you moan again, louder, whimper a little at the jolt of pleasure that overtakes, and this is how it goes. One between your thighs, touching and rubbing your clit, the other fucking your mouth with abandon until you feel lightheaded from the lack of proper oxygen, trying to breathe while blowing and getting pleasured like this was proving to be impossible. You swallow thickly, trying to manage the excess of spit you were producing, and it was as if they planned it ahead, the timing of it is perfect. Right when you swallow, the first one pushes his hips forward, the head of his dick breaching the tightness of your throat mid-swallow, and the one between your legs? He slips two fingers into your leaking hole, his thumb pressing on your clit all the while. You gag and your walls clench around his fingers, the drag of the leather of his gloves feels much better than it should, his thumb is swirling around and around your clit, your hips buck, wanting to get more of the sensations he was foisting upon you.  

It becomes a blur of trying not to choke on spit or the dick in your mouth as you are catapulted to the edge with alarming speed. The push and pull of the entire act, the heightened emotions from the scenario at hand, all of it, has you near cumming, your body betrays you, tightening, getting more tense and trembling slightly, almost, so fucking close and right before you can tip over, before that first wonderful spasm can start, the fingers are ripped from your hole, leaving you dangling. Your hole is grasping, clitoris throbbing, both silently calling out for something to push you over and finding nothing. Your hips squirm and you whine around the dick in your mouth, if you were able to pout around the thick shaft, you would have.  

“Stop hogging her mouth and let me have a turn.” The voice cuts through the lustful haze, it sounds playful but with an edge that mirrors the knife being held to your throat. 

“Fine.” He grunts before pulling out of you, your eyes take a second to adjust, managing to catch the sight of the wet leash of your saliva still connecting him and you break as he moves back, the blade lifts off of you as you suck down a series of deep breaths. You don’t have time to try and regain some sense of yourself as you are spun on the smooth, polished table-top with ease. Now you are reversed, confronted with the man who was just fingering you, glove still wet as he hauls his robe up and starts opening his pants. 

You wish that your hands weren’t tied and pinned under you right now, you wanted to reach out and tug him close to you, wanted to taste him the moment that second cock was revealed. Patience was apparently wearing thin, pointer finger and thumb at the base of his shaft, near neatly trimmed coarse hair, he guides himself into your open and waiting mouth. 

The moan of satisfaction was so arousing, you swear to God above you feel yourself get wetter. 

“Fucking shit-” He gasps as he thrusts experimentally and the other one hums in response, “Right?” 

There is less than five thrusts into your mouth before you feel a hand between your legs again, two fingers thrust unceremoniously into your hole, you clench, body tenses, you had backed off from the edge, but you were still incredibly sensitive. His thumb presses to your clit but doesn’t rub, the fingers fuck in and out, the pressure combined with the lack of movement of his thumb is killing you viciously, it isn’t enough, you want movement, more friction. However, you are drenched, the wetness is a comfort and a curse, makes for fluid and smooth work, but it also dulls the feeling slightly. The butter soft leather is lovely, sure, but it isn’t what you need right now. His fingers curl, he finds what he wants and he abuses it liberally, he curls into the firmer, rougher tissue causing you to moan, your eyes squeeze shut. His thumb doesn’t move a single centimetre, he drags you to the edge with his middle and ring finger working at a steady pace, up, up, up and there you are, so fucking close you can almost taste it and he stops. Doesn’t even take his fingers out because of the risk he might accidentally trigger it, he just holds, you are throbbing around him and he waits for the edge to recede before he starts again. 

You groan, much more focused on the intrusion in your cunt than the one in your mouth, you had fallen into a good rhythm with that, mostly letting him do what he wanted, take the lead, do what he wished the same way his partner in crime was.

Surviving the next two edges was equal parts blissful and terrible. He worked them out of you quickly, you, of course, let him without putting up a fight, just moaning mournfully around a mouthful of cock.

You wonder if you can get away with it, with grinding your hips up without him protesting, could instead put forth the effort to rub your clitoris on him instead of waiting for him to rub it that last pass needed to make you cum. If you timed it right you could make it happen, push yourself over, steal that much coveted orgasm out right from under him, because who knows if they had plans to let you cum tonight at all. If you do that, make yourself cum using him before he is ready for you to? Who knows what he will do. 

Should you risk it? You swallow around the cock shoving its way into you, inching further and further down your throat, once more your head spinning with want, so fucking close, you are nearly there, his fingers feel incredible. You are buzzing with pleasure, you could always blame it on the lack of proper oxygen, so with that thought you do something stupid.

You move. 

Hips squirm, arching up and then coming back down, the slip of him, of the firm pressure sliding up your clitoral hood and then back down fully over your clit makes you cry out, walls gripping a bit tighter, and that is as far as you get. That knife is put against your hip, your eyes are watering slightly with the effort and severity of the throat fuck, a sharp inhale through your nose, shoulders shuddering as you jump from feeling the cold steel against heated flesh. 

You feel your pussy fighting it, trying to go over the edge, his thumb was barely touching you now, had eased way up, so the contact was extremely minimal, his fingers inside you still and straight, not even curled, not pressed into the spot you needed and slowly, agonizingly, you feel the orgasm slip from your grasp. You didn’t time it correctly and you missed your chance. 

His voice slices through the air as easily as his blade would be able to do your skin, “Try it again. See what happens.” 

An invitation. You hesitate, obviously, fearful of hurting yourself. He pushes, “I mean it, if you want to cum that fucking badly you’d do it, hm? Trade a little bit of pain for some pleasure.” 

You make a sound of question that makes the thrusting into your mouth falter, he pulls out over halfway, just the head of his dick resting between your lips. He joins in, encouraging what the man threatening you between your legs, was suggesting, “Yeah, I want to see it, unless you want to wait for a cock in the other end of you-” He laughs as he slides back in fully, deeply, you gag and he pulls back out almost all the way, “-you aren’t cumming any other way. And you should see how cruel he can be, the stamina on him? He’d be content to fuck with you like that for hours.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief, hours? He could and would edge you like this for hours? You had barely made it halfway to ten, no way could you make it through hours of that particular brand of torment. You whimper, partly from the situation, partly because those fingers inside your wet walls stir, slow, counterclockwise, stretching you, and you decide fuck it, you can’t hold out. You rock your hips, conveying your consent and they seem pleased by this, “Good. C’mon, put on a show like you did earlier in bed, yeah? Show us how bad you wanna get off.” 

The reminder of their voyeuristic tendencies makes your cunt clench again. 

The cock pulls out of your mouth and slaps your cheek wetly, “Hey, don’t forget about me.” He inserts himself back into your mouth, just the head, and you give a small nod. You lick and suck at the head of his cock as his gloved hand proceeds to slowly stroke his shaft. 

He praises you, “Good girl.” 

Hearing that in that voice? Christ, you wouldn’t take long. The fingers inside curl again, his thumb closer again, and you get to work. Your feet are up on the table, knees bent, you roll your hips, arch up and down, squirm and writhe, rubbing yourself to your hopeful end on his fingers, using gravity to help, pleasing yourself both inside and out. You are very, very aware of the knife, it is to your hip, over the bone, and you find with every movement, there is a small spike of fear, wondering if this will be the pass he presses it the few extra ounces of pressure needed to make that first cut. 

Suck, lick, tongue swirling around the tip, flick, gasp, moan appreciatively and closer and closer you get to the edge. “God, you are such a fucking slut, you just couldn’t get away fast enough before, so confident, wanting to run off down the beach for help and look at you now.”

He sounded a mix of joyful, condescending and mocking all in one, “I’m not doing a damn thing, this is all you, I mean Christ look at you! Slobbering all over my buddies dick and fucking yourself on my fingers.”

He exhales amused, “This isn’t even enough to deter you-”, he taps the knife on your hip and it makes your legs jerk, your cunt grasps at his fingers and he laughs, shocked and delighted, “Oh! See? I think it’s more than that, you actually fucking like it.”

You try to shake your head, try to protest that isn’t true but the one whose cock you are currently worshipping isn’t having it, he smacks your left breast, the pain is sharp, he pinches your nipple next and says harshly, “Get off that high horse of yours sweetheart, you are just as fucked as we are but don’t worry we like it!”

“Yeah, we do, we like to take good care of our toys.” He hums, you hadn’t stopped moving your hips, hadn’t stopped trying to satisfy yourself, your movements are getting sloppier, messier. “Oh, look at you, getting close again, hm?”

You nod, your mouth is uncoordinated, but he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he is seemingly loving watching you losing your mind, stroking himself as you slurp at the head of his dick, his body language telling you his immense enjoyment.

So consumed with pleasure you had almost forgotten about the knife, as if he could sense this, he chose that moment to remind you. He pressed harder and the skin breaks, you cry out, eyes squeeze shut and your hips stutter, pausing midair, two slaps ring out, one on your chest again, the other on your inner thigh with the back of his hand before the knife is replaced over the fresh wound. You hiss at the rush of pain, “Show us you want it! Keep. Fucking. Going.” 

You did want it, you did want to cum, you needed it so badly, and his tone left no room for argument. You keep going, you rock with renewed vigor, his thumb is slipping over your clit, fingers pushing into that sweet spot again and again, as you move, you find yourself almost sawing the knife into your hip, the cut isn’t deep, but it is getting wider.

You can’t look, but you feel it, hot blood spilling out, running down over your hip, the curve of your ass, your inner thigh, gloved fingers pick some of it up in the process of your pursuit of pleasure, wet crimson adding to the sweat of your tense body, to the mess of your slick pouring from your cunt, creating the most obscenely erotic lube the pair had ever seen.

They knew they would both have to fuck you, bloodlust feeding into sexual lust, merging, twisting, combining.

The cock is pulled from between your lips, no longer stroking himself, he just wants to watch, wants to hear you. With your mouth unoccupied, it hangs open as you allow yourself to pant and moan through it, vocally express yourself. Even with the pain, it doesn’t hurt or hinder, no, it’s helping, the sharp stinging and burning cut of the blade assists and you are hanging on by a thread that is threatening to snap at any second. A quiet and breathless chant is leaving you, “Please, please, please, m’ so fucking close-”

“Nothing stopping you, certainly not us.” 

Your eyes flick down to the man currently two fingers deep, that mask’s hollow empty eyes are staring back at you makes your breath catch, one more, you know it, you think they both do, one more rise and fall of your hips, one more grind, one more cut, and you’ll be there. Your whole body is trembling with the effort, so fucking near you think you might go insane if he stops you from seeing it through again, “Do it.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, hips fall, fingers press inward harder with him helping, thumb slips over your clit and the band inside snaps, your whole cunt spasms and you cum. A bleeding, sweating, shaking, gasping mess, you cum, walls like a vice around his fingers, throbbing and completely alive. You feel indescribably amazing, barely holding on, vision whiting out, you have no words, unable to begin to convey how strong your orgasm was. It’s the kind of climax that leaves you speechless, gun to your head, or knife to your throat, you don’t think you’d be able to adequately describe it in a way that would save your pathetic life. You are left feeling different afterwards, floating and ears ringing, body uncontrollable, from so tense, too loose as can be. 

When the pleasure did finally stop, when every bit of sensation had been wrung out of your body and you were lying flat back on the table, legs dangling once more, chest heaving, struggling to catch your breath.

It isn’t verbally communicated, or maybe it is, you aren’t sure, you are still kind of out of it, you register fingers slipping out, but not much else, your ears are still fucking ringing. You are repositioned, put on your stomach, one leg brought up, knee on the table, the robe flipped up, covering your still bound hands pressed into your lower back. You try to roll your wrists in their restrained state, and yup, just like you thought they’d be, totally asleep. Your cheek is to the table-top, eyes wanting to slip closed, your pussy and ass are totally exposed like this, hands spread you open and you hear a happy sigh, “Oh come look at this!” 

The other one walks around the table to join his friend, his thumb presses to the base of the anal plug you slipped in after your bath, “When did you get this inside yourself?” His tone sounded pleasantly surprised and very pleased.

“She’s a sneaky, filthy little thing. Didn’t I tell you?” The one whose cock you just had in your mouth pre-orgasm asked and the other responded, “You did, I swear I’ll never doubt you again, now go get the lube.” 

You hear him step away, the other continues to prod at the anal plug buried in your ass for a moment before his fingers hook around the base and he slowly starts to remove  it. You hiss slightly at the pull, you had lubed it very well, but that was a long while ago now, he pulls harder and it pops out with relative ease. Breathing a sigh of relief, you hear the heavy steel plug set on the table further down with a minor clank, as well as more footsteps, signalling the return of his friend. 

“Here you go.” 

“Thank you, so-” He takes the lube and you hear the click of the lid open as if for emphasis, “-she’s an admirable cocksucker, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah, very good, she’s got a nice throat, can take a good pounding.” He sounded gleeful, a sound of agreement rings out before it’s added onto, “You were fucking into it pretty hard for a minute there.” 

So true, he gave it to you rough, your throat will feel a bit raw tomorrow for sure.

“But we still have two other holes to try out, and she was nice enough to start prepping one for us, it’d be rude not to take advantage. Hold her open for me.” 

You feel hands on your ass, spreading you open, and then feel the cold lube pouring down over your tightest hole and in short order, two fingers rubbing around the rim, spreading the cool slippery substance around. You remained relaxed, you weren’t a stranger to anal, you’d done some prep earlier, it wouldn’t take much to get you ready to go. 

“You have a preference?” One asks, and the other responds, “Who says we can’t try both?”

“Elaborate.” One finger begins to slide in, the material of the leather is smooth but still provides some drag, he sinks in to the last knuckle before pulling out, more lube is heaped on before reinserting. 

“Start in her cunt, get a good feel for it, then end in her ass, obviously.” It is said so easily, like it’s unbelievably simple.

“Sure, you are gonna be able to wait me out?” He teases and the other laughs, “Ha! Who says I have to? Once you are in the back, I’ll slide in the front. A whore like her? She can take a dick in each hole, no problem.”

“You are so right! Stupid of me to think otherwise. Too bad we don’t have a third friend for her mouth, could make her airtight.” That thought makes you shiver, fuck.

“Maybe something for the future.” He muses. 

The conversation turns quiet save for the occasional comment from them, or moan from you, as he continues to lube you up and finger your ass open, before you know it you have a second and a third finger buried in you, he was twisting and scissoring them, stretching you wider and wider until he deemed you ready to go. You were excited, very into this and leaking even more, you can’t help it, anal even after all this time, is a major turn on. You had been rocking back into him for a while, moving with him, encouraging him with your deepened breathing and pitched moans, biting your tongue to hold back your begging for more. 

His hands grip your hips and pulls you back towards him, you feel how sticky his fingers are with lube, you feel more alert, recovered from the monstrous orgasm you experienced earlier and ready for more. His hands lift momentarily to slick his cock up, you can hear the wetness of it, your fluttering stomach flat to the table, and his hands are back on you, gripping your hips tighter. You feel it, the hot velvety brush of his cock against you, bumping over your clit, he allows that for a moment, a few passes that makes your breath stutter. You feel next, a hand between you and him, gripping him, “Let me help.”

He assists in dragging the blunt and fat head up through your folds, spreading your ample wetness, adding on further to the slickness already coating him.

“Ready?” It's said quietly, so quietly you aren't sure if you are even meant to hear it, was it meant for you or for him? 

A small hum and a confirmation, asking low, “Stop teasing me.” 

“You're no fun.” It's said light, teasing, ignoring his friend's explicit ask, uttered in such a way it has you questioning just how deep their relationship goes, the true nature of it. 

“Shut up.” The response comes, fond, and with what sounds like a grin. 

He's lined up and he pushes forward, he fills you completely, the hand guiding his shaft into you falls away. You know who is who, now. The one who is buried balls deep in you is Billy, not a single doubt in your mind. The one who was in your mouth first, who threatened you with the knife, who spilled your blood, who edged you into oblivion, made you cum so hard you saw stars and spent ample time fingering your ass open and now was inside you, stretching the walls of your pussy so well, was Billy. He pauses, and Stu, you realize now, asks, “How does she feel?”

Billy sighs, “She's soaked-” He pulls out halfway before thrusting in again, “-and somehow so, so fucking tight.”

He began a slow rhythm, fucking you in earnest, his own breathing behind the mask picking up, that makes more heat flare inside,“You know something feels off.” 

He fucks harder, as if barrelling into your pussy with more strength will reveal the answer he is looking for. His hands are on you as he stills, they start to wander, feeling you, legs, ass, lower back before curling down and his fingers press over your hip and you cry out from him pressing so hard on the cut from earlier. “Oh, that’s what it is! She’s not bleeding anymore.” 

He sounds disappointed.

A beat before Stu responds, “We can fix that.” 

You hear the sound of the previously abandoned blade on the wooden table-top getting pulled up, that distinct schink sound as it is drawn up, “You just focus on fucking her.” 

He comes around the front of you, facing you, looking down and brandishing that knife, he gives a small wave with the steel as if to say, “Hi.” 

Even with his face covered with that mask, you are sure of the look on his face, the playful shit eating grin, eyes alight with mischief.

Billy starts fucking you once more, you moan helpless to resist, brows furrow as the haze of pleasure descends once more and Stu steps closer, the hand not holding the knife reaches down and he cradles your chin. His thumb traces your lips before pressing to your bottom lip, you can smell the leftover juices from when he was fingering you earlier still clinging to the leather. 

“Where should I cut you? Where should I cut you?” He is musing it as if to himself, you know he isn’t asking you. 

You have no say in this. 

He is humming, you can almost feel his eyes moving over your body, currently being rocked from the force of Billy’s thrusts. His hand moves, slips down your throat before tracing your collar bones and then going over your shoulder, strong fingers follow the line of your spine all the way up to the nape of your neck, to where your hair starts. He nods, small, nearly imperceptible and he brings the knife down. The cut isn’t deep, however it is quick, precise, he cuts slightly above where his fingers were pressing, you hiss and clench around Billy’s shaft, making him groan. Honestly, it’s a smart place. Your hair can hide any scar that comes from this easily, he presses harder, squeezes and makes more blood spill and it only has one place to go, down your back. It makes it look much worse than it actually is, the pain isn’t actually the bad, the pleasure is far outweighing it at. 

“How’s that?” Stu asks, and Billy responds easily, “Much fucking better.” 

Billy’s hand reaches up, his fingers smear the blood down your back, his hand lifts only to come back down hard, smacking right on your ass as his hips drive into you the hardest they have all night. Stu’s hand is cradling the back of your neck, pressing down on that wound in time with Billy’s thrusts and the chorus of moans it draws from you are pitched and loud, caught between heaven and hell, pain and pleasure. You inhale through your teeth, musing faintly how thankful you are that all the houses lining the beach are spaced so far apart, some of the moans they have you making would be cause for concern for nearly anyone who overheard your current lustful activities. 

Billy pulls you back as he fucks forward, he tugs you a bit closer, adjusts you slightly and you tense all over. Billy found that same spot he had been practically bullying earlier and you gasped, the pair shared a look over your taut body, shared acknowledgement that he'd locked onto it again. Billy didn't falter, he fucked harder all while staring at Stu, who's fingers were dragging down over your back, smudging and smearing more of your blood as your eyes go hazy and unfocused, consumed with feeling and the slow build of another orgasm.

You push back to meet him and in the process cause Stu to press on the still fresh wound, but just like earlier the pain falls more to the background. 

“Look at this brainless mess, she's on autopilot.” Stu laughed and Billy’s breathing sounds more strained as he asked, “Yeah? Looking cock drunk?”

“Not a thought behind her eyes, all she's focused on is cumming on your cock.” His fingers tangled in your hair near your scalp, he tugs, you wince and Stu asks, “Isn’t that right?” 

You are panting, a nod, the only concern is how your blood is singing, the feeling of intense fire under your skin and keeping this whole experience going, getting as much enjoyment from it as you possibly can. 

“Awe, you're speechless! Is his cock that good? That you have no words?” Considering how close he is already getting you just from his thick shaft splitting you wide and annihilating your cunt for a few short minutes? Yes, he is that good. 

“Not gonna lie-” Billy sighed, the sound again sounds so much better from behind that mask, you clench around him, he pauses briefly, grinding deeply into you before resuming fucking in and out, “-wouldn’t say I’m one for getting pussy drunk but fuck man-” He breaks off in a groan and picks up the pace just a little.

“-this feels fucking in-cred-ible, right?” 

You nod again, agreeing with him wholeheartedly, frantic and dumb as you creep closer to the edge, moaning wordlessly, your walls grasping desperately at his shaft telling on how fantastic this is feeling for you, and when you are roughly fifteen seconds from another brain breaking orgasm, Billy pulls out. You begin making sounds of protest, trying to get yourself together to string together some words to complain, but they are already hard at work again. 

“Help me move her.” Hands are on your biceps, pulling you up and you are being repositioned. You are struggling and putting up a bit of a fight again, they are working you into the configuration they want, you seriously wonder if they talked about it prior or if their non-verbal communication is that strong. Here is how it ends up.

Billy is sitting on the edge of the table, you are in his lap, legs spread wide and hooked over his strong thighs, his hands holding your upper arms so firmly you can't get away. Stu gets on his knees briefly to help Billy lube up extra before he assists lining him up again. You feel the slick tip pressed to your asshole and Stu rises, but his eyes stay locked on where you are about to be joined, he watches intently as the grip loosens and gravity aids in helping you impale yourself on Billy. 

Your hands clenched into fists, you groan as he bounces you up and down a few times, gritting out, “C'mon, open up-” until suddenly he slowly slips inside your tightest hole, once the head pops in he joins you, the mixing sound of pleasure from him and effort from you as you take more and more until at the halfway point he starts to bounce you more vigorously. 

“Was worried it might not fit.” Billy breathed out, and you laugh just as breathlessly, “Me too.”

He is thrusting into you very shallowly, making you take more in small increments as Stu is stroking himself to the picture you both made until finally, fucking finally, he is totally buried in you. 

He is merciful enough to let you take a moment to breathe and get accustomed to him fully inside your ass, but it is only a moment. His hands adjust slightly but remain on your arms, he tugs you up with them and buck his hips up from below to fuck up into you, causing you to choke out, “God-” 

It didn't feel bad at all, but it is an intense sensation, he is very girthy, thank God he put so much effort into the prep earlier or that’d be a different story. Stu could only watch Billy for a minute more before he needed to get in on the action, you had your lips on him far too long ago, he is dying to get inside you again. 

In short order Stu is stepping forward and with the combined height of the table and you on Billy's lap it makes your leaking pussy at the perfect level for him to fuck you too. One hand on your hip and he is nearly flush to you, Billy had stopped moving to allow Stu to get inside of you, and you are confronted with just how imposing they both are when you are in this position, pressed between them, white masks with hollow eyes watching your every move.

The hand that isn't on your hip grips the base of his shaft, the tip drags up through your drenched folds only once before he is nudging up against your grasping hole, his hips press forward with no small amount of force and he eases into you with a harsh inhale through his teeth. “Jesus fucking Christ.” 

Stu isn't quite as thick as Billy, but he is longer, which makes this position easier, to be honest the excess length is what makes this position possible, period. He manages to get about two thirds into you comfortably, his head tipping forward, his breathing laboured behind the mask as he starts to begin a rhythm in earnest. “You are so, soooo much tighter like this-”

The first thing said tonight that didn't fit the true narrative of the role play but no one complains, you are all rather lost in the weeds at the moment, consumed with lust and the only real God that mattered in this house, that of course being the moment, the now, worshipping at the altar of the flesh. 

“Can feel you so easily.” Stu huffs out to Billy, he grinds his hips, his shaft rubbing against Billy’s through the thin wall separating your two holes.

So you weren’t lying to Stu earlier, your stance on threesomes being very pro, especially after this experience, but the threesomes you engaged in were different; they were usually with another woman, another sugar baby or the partner of some client. Sure you’ve had things in both holes at the same time, however never anything as filling as this, nothing close to having a dick in both your pussy and ass at the same time. Now that Stu has a good handle on working himself in and out of your cunt, Billy starts moving again with a throaty groan, responding to Stu's earlier statement, “Can feel you too, man.”

You have never felt more full or more helpless, you couldn’t do much of anything, truly a pliant fuck doll pulled one way and another, pulled up and dropped back down, thrust and ground into. What bliss, having your holes stretched to the limit and lost in the feelings being forced on your body. 

The two men weren't so much as concerned with fucking in and out in that feverish and devastating way you were experiencing earlier, the kind where they pull out almost completely before slamming back in, the current action could be described as more of a firm grind. You quickly come to realize the rutting movements are just as much them seeking pleasure in each other as they are in you, gaining friction from each other as well as the gripping, well lubed and rippling walls of your holes.

The shared moaning and panting between the pair is getting louder, more intense, the dirty talk is fractured and not flowing in as elegant a manner, no full sentences, just short and degrading praise huffed out before breaking out. 

“-her holes are so fuckin’ hungry-” “-leakin’ like a faucet all over us-” “-just listen to her-” “-think she knows how loud she’s being?”

Shit, were you? Tuning in a bit more, you realize that yes you are moaning loudly and pathetically, helpless to stop it from how it all feels. Instead of feeling embarrassment or shame over this fact, you moan.

You aren't sure cumming from this is possible, it feels fucking incredible, but not necessarily in a way that could build towards an orgasm, it feels too overstimulating for that. Furthermore, you feel a strange mix of limp and tense as together they use you, mind blanking out with every jolt of overwhelming pleasure. You are more than aware this isn’t about you, this is about them, their mutual enjoyment, you are a prop for their fantasy and yet, you don’t feel objectified, or bothered, in fact, you find yourself loving every single moment. It feels good to be part of what they have, be privy to this level of closeness, it feels startlingly intimate. You had no idea how much more intimate it was about to get. 

Stu instigates it, his hand is off your hip and coming up, it pushes the bottom of his mask up, exposing the lower half of his face and he reaches out to do the same to Billy, he catches him off guard, you hear the question of, “What are you doi-”

Which is promptly cut off by Stu jerking forward over your shoulder, his mouth capturing Billy’s in a kiss, your eyes go wide as you look up and to the right to watch the frankly filthy looking tongue kiss the pair is engaged in. Billy doesn’t fight it, he moans into it and fucks into you harder. 

It doesn’t last much longer after that. 

Billy cums first, hips stuttering unevenly, choked sounds of pleasure expressed against Stu’s mouth, you think you can make out a curse or two, but you aren’t sure as he gives a few more shallow thrusts as he milks the last vestiges of his orgasm. You are seated fully in Billy’s lap as his chest heaves, slowly trying to recover, his currently still hard cock plugging your ass enough to keep the cum deep inside, something you sure would no longer be the case when he pulled out. 

Stu on the other hand was chasing his orgasm much more aggressively, now without having to try and contend with Billy’s movements he could fully focus on getting his. Stu’s hand is resting on the back of Billy’s neck, he had broken their kiss, lips an inch from his best friend’s, panting out as he ruts into you, “Fuck, fffuck, M’ so close-”

“Do it, come on, fill her up.” The encouragement seems to be what makes it happen, you feel him still, throbbing, the rush of warm as he shudders from the sheer force of how intense it feels. 

The come down takes a good minute, the only sounds are your collective harsh breathing, but when you all catch up they start to move. First things first, the masks come off, Stu face is revealed to you as he fully removes it, tossing it onto the table near the long discarded knife. He grins down at you, hair looking a little sweaty, cheeks a bit flush but eyes as playfully mischievous as ever, he says a soft, “Hey.”

You laugh softly, returning it, “Hey yourself.” Before you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, he returns it for a moment before you feel still gloved fingers trace your jaw, turning your head. Once he has and you are looking at him, you realize Billy had taken his own mask off, his smile has a soft but still smug quality to it as he also repeats the greeting before kissing you for the first time. 

You melt into it, the realization that Billy had fucked every hole you had, cut you, hurt you, caused you to bleed and cum all before you ever kissed running over your brain like liquid fire. Your body responds automatically, clenching on them both, twin small groans pulled from them both as you squeeze their slowly softening dicks still buried in you. The kiss breaks and Billy asks, “When was the last time you came?”

A small laugh as you admit with a shrug, “Just the once, earlier on your fingers.”

He tsks, “Shit, well that’s no good at all Stu, hmm?” Stu nods in agreement, “Not good at all.”

“What’re we gonna do about that?” He asks with a hum and Stu offers, “How about we get her cleaned up, get all the cum and blood off her and then get her off real slow, comfortably?”

Billy’s nose runs up the side of your neck and you sigh out at the feeling and the thought, being freshly clean and in soft bedsheets as they focus on you, devote themselves to getting you off again hard as fuck, “Sounds good.”

“Yeah? Then that’s what we will do, the least we can do to show our appreciation for how good you did tonight.” Stu kissed your forehead and you ask, “Mmm, yeah, I did good?”

“Oh my God, the best.” Billy gushed, he slowly pulled out of you, causing you to gush in turn, Stu pulled out too and the amount of cum that spilled forth was impressive. They finally untied your hands, you rolled your wrists and open and closed your hands, trying to will the feeling back into them, the robe was used to mop up the cum you leaked out onto the table and floor. The robe was caked in now dried blood, it looked totally wrecked, you doubt it could be cleaned but oh well, the sacrifices we make in the pursuit of kink and pleasure, some casualties are meant to be expected. 

You are way too unsteady on your legs to walk, they are constantly trembling, Stu was carrying you upstairs, Billy carrying the ruined robe, knife and masks as he trailed behind. 

Soon the bath was running, you were sitting in the tub as Billy and Stu got out of their costumes, the Ghostface garb was being stripped away and finally he asked the burning question, “So what did you think? Did it live up to the hype?”

Billy scoffed, a fond roll of his eyes, “Is that why you were so quiet on the way up here? Worried what I would say?” 

Stu brushed him off, “Pfft no. Obviously not.” 

He hummed unconvinced, finished taking off his boots he walked over to Stu who was still unlacing, leaning down he kissed him on the forehead and said, “Stu, it was so fucking amazing it makes me wonder why we waited so long.” 

Stu grinned and pushed his friend’s shoulder playfully, “Shut up, yes you do.” He glanced over his shoulder to you reclining in the tub, enjoying the hot water slowly filling the porcelain, relaxing in your now second bath of the night. He finally admitted that Billy was right, that they needed the right person to make this as good as it was, he admits this by saying simply, “We were waiting on her.”

[kazumiku]

— SIMPLE AMUSEMENT

NSFW (crossposted on AO3 @Kazumik)

SUMMARY; Your best friend, Heizou, has no sense of self-control. Nor does he have any dignity left, or shame for that matter, as he keenly allows his perverse side to reveal itself during a lecture, appallingly enough in front of the professor's presence. And, well, everyone else's included for that matter.

READ WARNINGS; ooc Heizou, sadistic Heizou (i think), sexual content, public fingering, minors do not interact

you have now been warned...

The professor’s silvery voice enters through the mic as he stood at the mini podium, echoing through the lecture hall as he goes on about the current lesson for the semester. It was boring, to say the least, some students sleeping and others playing on their laptop, acting like they’re listening or something along the lines. Only proves as testimony to how sleep-worthy the time was rather than to listen to a tedious babble that people could study later on the internet—or in the library, if you’re feeling rather brave.

Heizou had finished his classes for the day, so he joined in yours instead, choosing to sit beside you like a clingy koala that can’t live without its tree that it calls a home. You’re his home, after all, might as well be one as he’s basically stuck with you by the hip at this point.

Of course, you allowed him to do so. You always do. You’re as infatuated with him as he is to you, and it’s painfully obvious to everyone who spares a glance at the both of you. If the sky is blue, if water is wet, Heizou wants to fuck you; giving you those bedroom eyes of his should be confirmation enough. Ah, but young love always comes denial, so before any labels, other than ‘friends,’ are established, his hands are already on you.

The skin of his hand calloused, rough from his training in martial arts, but it’s nothing you’re not fond of. Each part of Heizou is a puzzle you’ve already solved—well, partially, since his feelings are mysterious as a 20-year-old unsolved case could be (even if it’s as clear as day in other people’s eyes).

His palms squeezed your thigh from under the table, his olive green eyes looking upfront as if he wasn’t touching you, caressing you so… sensually. Heizou’s fingertips played with the hem of your skirt before slipping under the fabric to grope your plush skin, his sinful hands contradicting with the bored look on his charming face as he yawned. If people didn’t know better, he looked drowsy—he’s quite skilled in the arts of deceiving.

“Heizou, what are you doing?” You whispered with an accusatory tone, directing to the redhead beside you who simply glanced briefly before shrugging.

“What are you talking about, babe?” Heizou answered with a question, his voice as low as yours as to not perk anyone’s attention to the both of you. He will, eventually, though.

You could only shoot him daggers with your eyes, threateningly so, he found it adorable as his lips broke into a mischievous smirk. Chuckling under his breath, his hand moved higher, using his nail to trace imaginary shapes on the flesh of your soft thigh, inching dangerously close to the lace trim of your underwear. Thank god, if it weren’t for the desk covering the scene and the fact that you both sat at the far back, you would’ve been sent to detention by now and Heizou’s rights to see you during class-times would be revoked.

 Pressing his thumb above the fabric your panties where your clitoris would be, you jerked in your seat, leaving people to cast fleeting glances at you, a variety of bewilderment and suspicion. You simply offered an awkward smile to anyone who turned their head, leaving them to brush you off and resume to what they were initially doing.

Turning back to Heizou with a scowl, cheeks puffed, round like a chipmunk’s as you furrowed your brows together, frustrated and awfully aroused. “Stop it, we’re going to get in trouble,” Squirming slightly in your seat, you whined, a hand reaching down to grasp his wrist and endeavored to pry it off you, hoping that would be enough of a sign for him to stop.

But, rather than the response you were hoping for, it was as if his whole arm became rock solid, with impossible strength that you couldn’t possibly compare with.

The redhead turned his head to you with a grin, lazily leaning back on his seat before his fingers shift to slide between your slit to feel the dampness that accumulated from all this harmless teasing. “You’re so easy,” Heizou snickered before slipping his fingers back to between your folds, now prodding against the soaked material. As much as he wants to shit on you for getting so turned on by getting toyed with in class, he was equally as aroused as you, the tent growing in his pants telling much more than he’d like to reveal.

Tugging the trim of your panty to the side, shivers ran up your spine as the contact of his rough skin met flesh with your bare pussy, the hairs on your supply skin standing up. He was playing a risky game, but a thrilling one nevertheless, the blood pumping fast upwards to your face as Heizou started to caress your sensitive folds.

His fingers sought out your little nub, pinching and twisting the erect pebbled flesh that poked out of the hood of your pussy. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as hastily as you could before any lewd noises might come out to spill, swallowing your sounds back down along with the growing lump in your throat.

You still had a hand around his wrist, but due to his unmoving resolve, you could only dig your nails into his flesh in an attempt to ground yourself. You couldn’t stop him—might as well indulge, no?

Heizou smirked at that, passing you a wink before he pushed his middle finger inside you experimentally, though easily pushing past the natural resistance of your entrance due to the slick nectar that pearled out, using its viscosity natural lube. His digit rubbed your insides, nudging at your velvety walls to seek a spot that he can bully while you could do nothing but squirm and suffer in your seat.

Chewing down on your lip won’t be enough as you brought a hand up to your face, opting to cover your mouth instead while tilting your head down, sweat dripping down your forehead as you breathed heavily, inhaling and exhaling deeply as quietly as you possibly can. It proved to be a challenge to do so, though, once he found the spot that drove you to almost choke out a loud moan if it weren’t for the hand suppressing your erotic tune.

Your grip on his wrist had become impossibly tight, grasping on him like a lifeline as he added another finger, stretching you out and curling up towards the spot he’d memorized. Tears sting your waterline as you perched your forehead against the surface of the desk, your hair draping down the sides of your face to cover whatever lewd expression graced it. That was an ego boost for the redhead, to see you all so submissive and adorable like this.

Heizou leaned his head down, cradling his cheeks in the palm of his hand before whispering straight into your ear, “You like this, don’t you? Your cunt is sucking up my fingers so much, baby,” He purred before shifting his head to press a kiss on your neck then going back to his initial position, sitting straight on his chair. His fingers remained relentless nonetheless, pumping in and out of your slick heat in earnest.

It was a miracle nobody has found out... yet, the squelch of his digits abusing your insides getting drowned out by the professor’s loud voice in the speaker, luckily enough.

After what felt like an eternity (though it was just a few minutes) had passed, your insides clamped around his fingers, indicating your growing climax, a familiar knot inside your stomach snapped and your limbs felt like mush. Your arms gave out and you panted, desperately trying to regain what little air you had inside your lungs for the moment, your whole body sensitive as Heizou rode out your orgasm with a devilish smile.

You hadn’t realized your hips had moved on its own, bucking weakly against his fingers before he pulled them out of you, a string of translucent slick connecting his hand to your pussy before it snapped and dripped down to the floor. The redhead chuckled as he heard your little whine from the empty feeling, and as much as he’d like to do more, you’ve already attracted a much bigger audience than he expected when small whispers started to emerge from left to right.

[rarestdoll]

a sight for sore eyes (pt.1)

prompt: mizu just can't seem to escape you no matter how hard she tries, even in her dreams

tags: lesbian, 18+, black fem!reader, using she/he pronouns for mizu, they/them for reader!

warnings: none yet! nsfw in later chapters!

with that, mizu makes her arrival around midnight, just as shop is about to close. slipping through the alleyways and back roads, she heads straight for the noodle shop. she half wonders if ringo will want to see her, especially for all the time she's been gone and for her lack of letters. she knows ringo is soft hearted with an even softer soul so it wouldn't be out of his nature to be upset over something like that especially when it came to mizu. the thought of it makes her brow knit together, frown forming at the edges of her mouth, nervous to see her friend(s) again. she takes a deep breath of the cold air, letting the crisp shock her back into a somewhat calm state, and she steps into the restaurant.

chest first she is met with hot soba broth, colliding head on with something- no someone soft, and bowls are sent flying to the floor. she doesn't even have time to react before the person has their hands all over her, dabbing and wiping with a cloth that seemed to have come from nowhere while spewing out a rapid mixture of curse words and apologies, the first directed at themselves while the later are at her.

“i'm so fucking sorry sir, i didn't even see you there! i must've been so wrapped up in my head and then you suddenly appeared and i’m the only one in shop right now and i…” mizu is barely paying at attention to the words coming from the person SHE bumped into, only able to stare at the gloss coating plump lips, the rich brown of their skin, the shine of their dark spiraling coils and even shinier brown eyes. she doesn't know what to do with herself, heart beating almost dangerously fast to the point where she finds herself reaching up to clutch her chest to as if to slow it down. she feels hot all over, not just from the noodles but something else, like she's sitting in a suffocatingly hot iron cauldron and she can't find enough moisture in her mouth to swallow down the huge lump that's formed in her throat.

“uhhh i um” she says dumbly, finally finding her voice and hoping the person she's blathering in front of doesn't notice the cracks in it. “no i'm sorry i was not watching where i was going and i did not check twice before entering and i swear i am usually not this clumsy and uh…” she trails off lamely as the person laughs melodically, eyes twinkling in mirth and curiosity and mizu thinks she's never seen anything prettier than the sight before her now.

mizu doesn't realize that she's still clutching her chest until the stranger reaches out to unbind her hand from the front of her cloak, a look of concern crossing their face as they examine the huge wet spot on mizu’s clothing. mizu is taken aback by the gentleness, stomach flipping again for the second time today but this time for an entirely different reason, absentmindedly letting the strangers roam their hands further along her torso.

“are you feeling hurt anywhere? that food was very hot and i am sure you must have gotten burned from its temperature, would it be alright for me to take you to the back to take a look at any possible injuries?” the stranger questions sincerely, face knit with worry and round eyes so big it reminds her of a baby doe and she wants to smooth out the creases in their forehead. adorable. a voice chimes in her head making her eyes widen in both denial and realization. she feels the burn of eyes of a few people leftover in the shop on her and quickly moves to distance herself from the stranger, shaking her head so hard that she almost strains it.

“no,” she manages out, fixing the front of her cloak to ensure that her bindings aren't showing from the stranger’s hand musing her clothes about. “i'm fine, is there any way i can repay you for the spilled food and for your kindness?”

the stranger's face slips back into the same from before, curiosity overpowering amusement more than anything, a kind smile gracing their glossed lips once more. “the boss is away for a few hours to run a few late night errands, if you would be so kind to help me finish the dinner rush and then i could treat you to a nice bowl of soba, a hot bath, and some company and that will make things even, do you accept?”

mizu rolls the idea around in her head a few times, deciding if this was even a good idea given what she originally came here for. seeing that is was trickling down to closing time and there were quite a few people left in the restaurant, maybe the stranger did genuinely need assistance so why not. thoughts about what could come after filled mizu’s mind and she found it even harder to say no now.

“alright, i will help you. however, would it be possible for me to receive a change of clothes, it seems that mine are quite ruined now.” she says, plucking the now cooling broth soaked cloth away from her skin in slight distaste, now smelling like soy and green onion.

the stranger only laughs at this, turning lightly on their heel to lead mizu towards the back end of the shop, slipping into the storage area to hand mizu what looked like cleaning supplies before rounding their way back into the kitchen, “oh there is no need to change silly, you will only get messier until closing! now would you be so kind to clean up the spill that you made and then once your done you can help me re-serve that order to our waiting customers!”

“what the fuck have i gotten myself into?”

once the door flaps shut behind the final customer, mizu slumps onto the nearest floor cushion, rubbing tiredly at her wrists. she hadn't worked this hard since she first started to train, wrists aching pathetically from the amount of soba laden bowls she had carried in the last hour. you had introduced yourselves to each other earlier and mizu could feel her face redden when you repeated her own name back to her in a giddy tone, eager to finally be able to put a name to her face. she feels slightly guilty, ashamed to be thinking of another person this way when she should be focusing on finding her friends. but for some reason she just can’t bring herself to care too much at the moment. she will find them first thing in the morning and besides she can’t turn down a hot meal and equally as hot bath (although she’s looking forward to being in your presence more). sighing as she settles herself into a reclined position on the floor, she scans the room looking for your silk robe clad form, fingers twitching when she spies you across the room tending to the leftover dishes in the wash area. she wants to help you but you scolded her like a child, telling her to wait for you to be finished then you both could eat. her stomach growls in remembrance and she frowns lightly, wanting nothing more than for you to be finished. like she's hoping for something, more than dinner and some fresh clothes, more than just company. her ears burn at the thought and she forcibly shakes it from her mind, guiltily flicking her eyes towards you in hopes that you didn't somehow read her mind.

“you know, i used to watch you sometimes.” you pipe suddenly, hands still sink deep in dish water. you continue to scrub, lips quirking up into a solemn smile at the reminiscence, “up in the mountains, training your heart out, always wondered just exactly who was this onryō that everyone was so scared of. but you were not the only one who was an outcast.” you speak calmly, like you've already rehearsed what you wanted to say, but with a certain sadness that mizu recognized, akin her own. she hears the small shake in your voice as you continue, “as a child i spent so much in kohama’s forest. my father’s sister grew up on the outskirts of the town, hidden away from prying eyes because she looked almost exactly like me, which in turn meant i too was hidden away. i lived with her for most of my life, until i turned eighteen then i was sold off to a group of bandits in kyoto.” mizu feels herself dim at the mention of the men, already knowing what you mean without you having to even fully explain it. “‘i never seen a creature like you before’ they would say.” you fidget uncomfortably, shaking the shudder that started to rack through your body, pushing yourself on for the sake of getting to the point. “what i’m saying is, i’ve see you since i was a kid. i think we are both the same in a lot of ways, except i’ve never raised a sword in my life. i did, however, end up slaughtering those men. a few tried to have their way with me while i slept so i slit their throats with my kitchen knife in return.”

this punches a surprised laugh out of mizu, not because she didn't believe that you would do that but because she knew you could. “i’m not sure why you are telling me any of this but i am glad that you managed to escape from there. those scum deserved nothing but what they had coming to them.”

“oh it was ringo that actually helped me. funny thing is, the big sweetheart ended up killing more men than me!”

the mention of her friend makes her shoot up from the floor, making her way into your space in less than five strides. the strength of her grip as she grasps your wrists in near desperate manner makes you gasp harshly, not at all expecting her hands to be so inhumanly cold.

“ringo?! you know ringo?!”

“well yes! he owns the shop, meaning he is my boss. he should be back soon!” a wide grin graces mizu’s face at the news. seems like what she was looking for has been here all along! she slumps her shoulders in relief as if a huge weight has been lifted off of them. you eyes follow her curiously, faintly wondering what business a lone samurai has with ringo but mizu just smiles loosening her hold on you slightly to guide you away the sink back towards the seating area.

“you sit down, you have helped me enough today. i'm going to make dinner and no don't make that face i've had my share of lessons from ringo so i won't poison you i swear. i would however appreciate those clothes you promised and a hot bath, if you could be so kind?”

a/n: here’s the first chapter! so sorry for the delay i’ve been very sick and i’m just now feeling well enough to work on this again! hope u enjoy ^__^