#but then wouldn’t you want to go in and try to clear things up when the post gained traction and it was clear the joke was

[writers-potion]

Writing Mad Characters

Okay this is a bit awkward because I had this question copypasted into Google Docs I use to draft my answers, and I realized I've lost the question in my inbox (which is being flooded).

So...I'm so sorry for whoever asked this question. Sorry for the delay because I was struggling with life in general for the past month and definitely SORRY for losing your question (－‸ლ)

Q: I'm writing a story where a major character is slowly spiraling into madness where small details kinda hint into the downfall right before the bigger details appear and then it the floodgates open. Is there anything I should avoid? Anything that I should keep in mind? Anything that I should research?

Things to Avoid

“Mad” or “Insane” is too general. Writing a cliched ‘crazy’ character who randomly talks to imaginary people and lashes out at strangers, you’ll offend a whole bunch of people who've gone through/have mental illnesses. Read up on existing mental conditions (schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, post-traumatic disorder and borderline personality disorder, etc.) to see what your character might have. 

Words like “mad” “crazy” or “insane” aren’t enough when you’re describing their status. As mentioned, these words hardly mean much when it comes to providing a clear description.

Contradicting yourself. Throwing random unhinged symptoms here and there wouldn’t work. In fact, you must have a clear arc on which they’re traveling and ensure that your “hints” are all getting at something.

Making the character overly destructive or harmful to others (when nothing really justifies it)

Justifying damaging behavior with this “madness”. Mad or not, your character will still have motives and goals that drive them forward. 

Making them look incompetent just the fact that they have a mental condition that makes them appear “mad” to others shouldn’t prevent them from achieving success. In fact, they may be even more cool-hearted and logical when it comes to their obsessions/goals. 

Research Tips

Narrow down the mental conditions your character experiences. Even if it’s a fictional condition, try basing it on existing ones and building on top of them. 

Take some time to study characters and/or real clinical cases that resemble the kind of madness you’re going for. 

- Anxiety Disorders: excessive fear and dread (ex. phobias) - Mood Disorders: persistent swings in mood or persistent feelings that interfere with daily life (ex. Depression, bipolar) - Psychotic Disorders: disordered thinking (ex. schizophrenia) - Eating Disorders: extreme emotional attitudes toward food (ex. Bulimia, anorexia) - Impulse Disorders: unable to resist urges (ex. Kleptomania, pyromania, gambling) - Personality Disorders: extreme inflexible personality traits (ex. Anti-social disorder, OCPD) - Past Traumatic Stress: persistent, frightening memories leading to emotional numbness 

Does your character have empathy?  

A sociopathic kind of madness is different. 

General Writing Tips for Spiraling into Madness

Establish a Baseline 

A lot of factors (stress, family history, innate personality, trauma, etc.) can contribute to madness, but it is not going to happen in a week. Define the existing mental and physical conditions your character has, and start from there. 

If you’re aiming for suicidal tendencies at the end, you want to start with symptoms of depression (a condition that may lead to suicide) - growing apathetic, erratic sleeping patterns, irritability, etc. 

This is also the stage where you want to plant some triggers that’ll go off later.

Trigger Events

A perfectly sound character suddenly spiraling down the madness route due to a single accident or traumatizing event isn’t convincing. 

A madness “snap” denies the reader the experience of watching the character’s journey into madness and how they feel about it. 

Internal Conflict (antagonist in himself) 

You must remember that madness is incurable. If someone could “cure” themselves by eating healthy, exercising and taking a few pills, it wouldn’t be much of a madness, would it? This means that the worst antagonist is going to be the character themselves, or the part of them that’s been taken away. 

Show how they are frustrated with themselves, scared of themselves, angry at their “alternative self”. The experience of not knowing yourself is a whole journey of its own.

Physical Manifestations/Quirks

If your character has a routine, show how they break down. 

They might develop habits that they otherwise would never allow themselves to have, perhaps as an effort to “keep this madness out”

Deteriorating Relationships

Depict how the character’s madness impacts his closed/loved ones. In the earlier stages, those close to him might be faster to notice and accept the signs of madness, even if the character denies it him/herself.

The first signs of madness might show when the character is trying to deal with difficult relationships - like losing patience and being unable to pick up subtle social clues.

Choosing Obsessions Over Primal Urges 

For these characters, obsession can take over a person’s normal urge to eat, sleep or even live. This can lead to, more or less, suicide. 

Example: In Black Swan, Nina’s obsession with becoming the perfect ballerina drive her to insanity, to the point where she doesn't mind dying on stage for the show.

[riize119]

(req.) how RIIZE would be as fwb

Shotaro: would be so cool and collected. you immediately make it clear as to not cross any boundaries, and he’d always be conscious of that. no one would even be able to tell there was something going on between you two, which you might’ve worried about a little more than he did. you’d both be supportive of each other’s romantic escapades, spending moments after you times together scrolling through each others dating apps and matching with who you think would be good matches. all in all, an extremely and straightforward relationship.

Eunseok: things would start off normal. very rarely would either of you spend the night at each other’s places or even hang out for a little while after. once your needs were met, that was the end. he made that rule, yet he ends up being the one breaking it, telling you to stay the night because he was “too comfy to walk you out”. he woke up before you that morning, and despite his inner protest, turned to take in every look and feature on your resting face. he’d never dare admit his feelings unless you did first, but you’d notice he would tell you to stay over more often.

Sungchan: give it a week, at most. you’d suggest being friends with benefits, figuring you knew exactly what kind of feelings (or non-feelings) he had for you already. he didn’t hesitate when he agreed, also under his own assumption that his feelings never went past being best friends. all it took was a new touch and the slip of his nickname off your tongue, and suddenly he’s confessing feelings neither of you thought would ever be. he’d apologize and blame it on the moment, but it’d end up happening the next night too. after that second time, he’d give up trying to play it off and would hold his breath waiting to see if you’d cut it off, let it go, or possibly also want to be more.

Wonbin: he would be the one to suggest it, both of you relating that you were tired of dating around as your local dating pool wasn’t really doing it for you. he’d confirm first and foremost that you weren’t dating, just helping each other out every once in a while. somehow, that “once in a while” became an everyday occurrence. of course, neither of you planned it to be that way, but you didn’t stop it either. after a while, you do end up getting asked on a date you actually had interest in, telling him you wouldn’t be available that evening. he’d tell you to enjoy, making a little joke about you abandoning him. much to his own discontent, he felt his joke becoming a little too serious after a few other occasions. he’d never admit it, though.

Seunghan: in a way, it almost made no sense that you two weren’t just dating. already being best friends for years, this concept wasn’t difficult for either of you to get behind. he’s naturally affectionate, so the PDA wouldn’t arise any suspicion from your friends. with this relationship, inside and outside of being friends with benefits, he would be very caring and tender. most times, he’d fixate on meeting your needs, which ended up satisfying him more than either of you originally expected. if/when your agreement ended, things would quite literally be the same as they were before with no hard or lingering feelings.

Sohee: you both met through your mutual friends trying to set you up. neither of you were looking for an actual relationship at the time, so the fwb arrangement actually worked directly in each other’s favor. low pressure and super casual, you’d find yourself in his company at the most random times of day or night (as he never even thinks twice about whether or not he wants to see you right then and there). he’d be playful and respectful, serious if you had any concerns. your friends would find out soon enough, noticing you two hanging out more with each other than them, and you’d never hear the end of it.

Anton: he would have had deep feelings way before this idea was even brought up by you. he didn’t want to decline, worried that you’d take offense, but was also worried to confess his true feelings to save himself from what he assumed would be rejection. the start of the relationship would be a little awkward; he’d be a bit too cautious of how he treated you, not wanting to cross any boundaries. once you reassured him (and initiated 99% of the time), he’d let those feelings go and hone in. a few weeks in, he couldn’t take it anymore. he’d put himself on blast, on the verge of passing out from anticipating your reaction, and almost did when you confirmed your feelings to be the same.

[jrow]

May Prompts (23)

Day 22 here. Start at the beginning here.

Apology

“Wait, is this an apology?”

He looks at Sherlock with a furrowed brow. The man has been acting odd all morning, but it’s been dialled up to 11 since they arrived at the cake place. Fidgety. Mumbling. And now an apology?

Well isn’t this flipping the script.

There have been many times where he’s been desperate for Sherlock to apologize about one thing or another, but that certainly isn’t the case today. Sherlock has been wonderful over the last few days—a lifesaver really. If anything, he should be apologizing to Sherlock!

But instead, Sherlock is now monologuing about apologies and penance and other things he can’t really follow. The head injury probably isn’t helping, but he’s pretty sure Sherlock isn’t actually making much sense.

“Sherlock,” he says, lifting a hand. “Stop, have a bite of that delicious looking chocolate ganache and then explain what the hell you are on about.”

Sherlock huffs but does as he’s told. They eat in silence for a moment. Sherlock seems to be very much enjoying the chocolate ganache, while Rosie is eating only the icing from her confetti cake. He is taking his time with his caramel-topped coffee cake, savouring each bite. Getting to the cake place right when it opened at 11 means they had an abundance of choice and everyone seems very content with their selections.

Sherlock puts down his fork and clears his throat once his cake is about half done. “Let me try again, John. I have avoided being direct for cowardly reasons, but … well, honesty and all that.”

He smiles. “Yes, all that. Now what are you on about.”

Sherlock’s face grows serious. “I … I need to apologize. For your fall.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, I know you think you should be able to … I don’t know ��� stop time or something … but there’s not much you could have done. I tripped and fell off a roof. It happens. There are risks associated with running on a roof. I know that.”

Sherlock cringes. “Yes, that’s just it, John. I wasn’t totally honest about that night. You … you didn’t want to chase the thief. At all. You tried to stop me. You just wanted to leave the thief and come here. To cake. You wanted cake. I forced your hand, John.”

He looks at Sherlock with a blank stare and then bursts out laughing. “Seriously? That’s what you are apologizing for? That’s what’s had you so angst-ridden? The fact that you think you ‘forced me’ on a chase?”

“You didn’t want to do it, John!” Sherlock says, sounding slightly annoyed. “I forced you.”

“I am a big boy, you can’t force me to do anything,” he says before popping a bite of cake in his mouth.

Sherlock shakes his head. “But you really wanted to just have cake. You were so insistent! And ignored that.”

“Seriously, Sherlock,” he says, picking up another piece of cake (it really is delightful), “I love a good chase. You know that. And if for some reason I didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t have.” He shrugs. “I was probably just arguing against it for the heck of it or…” he trails off and stares at Sherlock. Slowly his eyes grow wide.

“What is it, John?” Sherlock asks, leaning forward.

He starts laughing. “I was nervous! God, it’s seems so silly now. I was just so damn nervous. We were going to eat cake,” he explains, waving his fork in the air, “and then you were going to open your gift. I was nervous and anxious and just wanted it over with.” He takes a deep breath. “Jesus, I remember!”

“I don’t understand, John,” Sherlock says, almost pleading.

He sighs happily. It just feels so good to just remember. Not just the events, but his feelings that night. “Sherlock, hear me now. I wanted to chase that damn thief. I always want to follow you across the city and down the alleys and, yes, along the roofs. I just … I had a plan and it took some convincing to get me to change it. But I did change it. In fact, I was excited … I remember thinking it would be perfect actually. Chase, cake, gift and then who knows. Perfect.”

He’s done being nervous. He could have died, but he didn’t and it’s time to just get on with it. He has half a mind to just confess right here, but a big part of him desperately wants to watch Sherlock’s face—his eyes—as he figures out what the gift means. He wants to see that surprise and recognition. And so, he will wait just a bit longer.

Sherlock is watching him with questioning eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, absolutely,” he says with a chuckle. “Now finish your cake. Although I think little miss icing might be interested in a bite.” This is quite the understatement as Rosie, having finished her icing, is now staring at Sherlock’s cake with a rather alarming ferocity.

“Here you go,” Sherlock says, feeding Rosie a rather large bite of the chocolate ganache.

God, Sherlock looks and sounds so damn relieved. It’s heartbreaking in a way.

If only they’d talked about this earlier, much of Sherlock’s guilt could have been avoided. Because it was just an accident—

He drops his fork and it hits the plate with a loud clang. He turns to Sherlock. “You didn’t see me trip,” he says, heart now racing. He remembers!

“No,” Sherlock says, brow furrowed. “But I certainly saw you fall.”

“You didn’t see me trip,” he says again, trying to keep his voice calm, “because I didn’t. Jesus Christ, Sherlock! I remember. I didn’t fall because l tripped.” He sucks in a breath. “I fell because I was pushed.”

Thanks everyone for continuing to read along. The last few days I haven’t had much time to write so things have been a bit rushed, but I am just having so much fun with this!

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 8 - Simplicity

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☆ Content: light angst, dare i say: tooth-rotting fluff

☆ Word Count: 5.8k

With the end of Megumi’s birthday comes Christmas, and you’re set to host it with the Fushiguro family.

It was actually you’re idea, believe it or not. Partially because Toji has nothing in the form of festive décor, and even if he wanted to go out now for some, every shelf in each store has already been wiped clean.

The other reason is your desire to help. Taking care of three kids as a single father is no joke, and it’s a way to repay his kindness towards you.

Following Megumi’s big day, you dug out all the boxes hoarding dust in the back of your closest. It’s not much besides a tree, lights, and various pieces, but it’ll have to do. You have plenty of other ideas in mind to spread the holiday cheer, something you yourself haven’t felt in the years prior to now.

On the eve of the holiday, you invited the kids over for one of your favorite seasonal activities ─ baking sugar cookies.

Regardless of it being the night before Christmas, Toji still has to head in to work later in the evening and could use some time to himself to rest.

You prepared the dough ahead of time, hopefully making today run smoothly. All the kids will need to do is cut shapes and put icing on the cookies, making for a much easier cleanup. Or so you hope.

Your already small kitchen is made worse with you, three kids, and a cat filling the space, but nothing you can’t handle.

“Who wants to play a game?” you ask with some popsicle sticks in hand.

Mai and Megumi cheer in unison, while Maki’s remains stoic, but curious.

The game will decide the order of which the children will have a turn with the dough, helping alleviate any stepping of toes from the lack of room. Each stick has a number written on the end, and all they have to do is pick at random to keep things fair.

Mai will be getting the first shot, followed by Maki, and Megumi last.

You give a quick demonstration on rolling the dough, that way if they want to try, they can when it’s their turn. Mai is eager, with restless hands tapping the countertop. Maki watches intently from the other side of the counter, while Megumi is just happy to have Tsumiki around his feet.

“Now just take one of these… and press it into the dough,” you instruct, using one of the many holiday cutouts you have available.

“Can I pick any?” Mai asks, holding a candy cane shape in one hand, and a star in the other.

“Use whichever ones you’d like, sweetie.” You smile, gesturing to everything laid out. From hats to trees, stockings and presents, you have it all for what is likely any of their first times baking. “There’s plenty of dough to go around so I want you all to do whatever makes you happy. These cookies are for you.”

Mai does hers one at a time, choosing only the shapes she likes rather than how her twin intends to do things.

Maki leaves little space in between each of the cutouts, going at it from an optimal approach. While not blatantly smiling, her focused eyes make it clear enough she’s at least trying to have fun.

In the few days you’ve known the twins, Maki’s been the more difficult of the two to crack. Her relation to Toji is uncanny through more than looks and it’s a shock they’re only cousins. You hope with more time spent together with her, that she’ll open up like Megumi has done with you.

While Megumi hasn’t called you mama again since that day, he has been clinging to you more often than usual. Seeing Yuji and Yuki together may have triggered something for Megumi or made him realize he wants a bond like that with you.

You’re hopeful he’ll say it again when he’s ready.

Being a mother wasn’t something you were always able to envision for your future, especially after being told by a dozen doctors it wouldn’t be possible.

You learned early on not to have dreams about it.

Adoption exists and although you’re open to the idea, finding someone that will except you for everything you are proves more than difficult.

Maki finishes her batch, stepping away from the counter. Megumi grabs at the hem of your shirt in order to get your attention. “My turn?”

“It is, are you ready?” He nods, and you pick him up and onto the stool so he’s able to reach the dough.

As soon as his eyes land on the reindeer cutout, he goes right for it without hesitation. Megumi has some difficulty pressing the cutout down due to his arms not fully able to reach.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Maki chides, a closed fist propping her head up on the counter.

“Am not,” he refutes, but Maki starts pointing to his unintentional error.

“Look, you’re missing a leg and that spot’s too thin.”

Megumi pouts. “So?”

As he shakes his hand from side to side to separate the shape from the rest of the dough, he ends up losing more than just a leg in the process.

“It’s messed up,” Maki bluntly points out, and it’s evident Megumi’s becoming frustrated.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you intervene before things get worse.

What even is the right way to scold someone else’s child? You end up going for a light approach just to be safe, hoping it works out.

“Look here.” You take the botched reindeer into your hands with the rest of the dough, rolling it back into a ball. With the rolling pin in your hands this time, you stretch the dough out properly, ensuring all sides are an even size. “If you make a mistake, we can always fix it. It’s no trouble at all.”

Megumi makes another attempt, looking to you for approval before pushing the cutter down. This time he manages to get a proper shape out of it, his eyes lighting up with joy that washes all the stress away.

“Good job!” you say while clapping, forgetting that your hands are coated in flour. It sends a cloud of white dust right into your face, sticking to your hair. The three start laughing and then trying to mimic you for fun.

So much for mess free baking, but who cares so long as they get to enjoy themselves.

Once the kids all get the hang of what to do, the rest runs smooth and easy. Megumi does however insist that his cookies must be reindeer shaped. The next time you do this with him, you’re going to have to look into some more animal cutouts.

The fact you’re even thinking about a second Christmas with the Fushiguros brings a warm feeling to your heart.

“Alright Maki, this will be the last batch, so make it count,” you tell her, and she’s silent for a moment. You almost believe she’s having trouble deciding what shape to use which is odd given how confident she was earlier.

She suddenly declares, “Megumi can have my turn.”

“Really?” He replies, shocked by her words. It surprises even you, but you guess it’s her way of apologizing.

Maki nods her head, stepping away from the counter to make room for Megumi.

“That’s very kind of you, Maki.” You smile to her, causing a rosy tint to appear on her cheeks. “Now ’Gumi, what do we say?”

“Thank you, Maki!”

Instead of going for the reindeer as expected, he chooses a gingerbread man. Not only that, but Megumi then starts reaching for Maki’s hand.

“Together.”

“You want me to help?” she questions, looking as shocked as he did just seconds ago. Megumi nods his head, further deepening her blush. “F-fine! But only ‘cause it was my turn before.”

You both know that’s not true.

With the last of the cookies ready to go in the oven, you help clean off all their tiny hands before sending them off to the couch with some snacks as a reward for their hard work.

To pass the time until the next step of this process, they decide on watching Santa Buddies first and foremost, leaving you to handle all the oven work. The movie gives you plenty of time to make sure everything’s perfect and cleaned up.

When all is said and done, and the credits are rolling, you bring the kids back into the kitchen for the best part of this whole thing ─ decorating.

You’ve already laid out several bowls filled with a combination of powdered sugar and milk, creating the perfect icing. All that’s left now is for each of the kids to add drops of food coloring, the task you’ve always enjoyed the most as an artist.

They each have their own plate of cookies to decorate, evenly distributed so no competition can come of it. It doesn’t stop them from trying to make the best decorated cookie.

Maki shoots for whatever works, regardless of whether that means Santa gets a blue hat instead of red. Mai’s cookies are color coordinated as intended, and surprisingly is kept within clean edges.

As for Megumi well… he’s having fun, that’s for sure. His reindeer appear straight out of My Little Pony with rainbows or a variety of patterns, some even having Rudolph’s red nose.

Everything except for the gingerbread shapes he’s refusing anyone to see until he’s done.

In the meantime, you’re pulled away from the group at the sound of your door, opening it to an interesting sight.

“Toji? Or should I say Santa?” you tease.

He enters your home wearing the signature hat on top of his usual gray sweatpants, black shirt combo.

“Ho, ho.” He deadpans, playfully shaking his head with a small smile. Toji walks over to the kids, peering over their shoulders. “What do we have here?”

“No peeking!” Megumi shouts at his father while trying to cover his work in progress.

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” Toji raises his hands defensively, backing off. He then turns to you, leaning against your fridge with arms crossed. “Looks like you’ve been havin’ fun.” He gestures to your hands. “Who’d you murder without me?”

It’s only then you realize how stained your hands are in red. “Oh,” you chuckle, “We got a bit carried away with the food coloring is all.”

Toji hums, unconvinced. “Is that so? Well, you better hope I don’t see your name come up on the naughty list then.” He winks.

“Hey, I’m more than happy to be given rocks as gifts ─ even coal! I’m not picky.”

“Sweetheart, you deserve diamonds, not coal,” he scoffs, putting you at a loss for words.

If one were to put rose or cherry quartz next to your face, they wouldn’t find a difference between the two.

Toji yawns, cracking his neck. “Thanks for doing all this so I could sleep, I appreciate it.” He rolls his shoulders and you’re nearly mesmerized by muscles of his arms flexing. A few more pops sound from his back.

“Y-yeah, no worries.” You swallow, realizing your throat’s gone dry. “I’m happy to help.”

“They’ve been good for you, I hope?” Toji asks, swiping one of the cookies from Maki’s plate. She doesn’t say anything in response except for a harsh glare he ignores.

Earlier issues aside, you have no complaints. Some kids would’ve turned your kitchen into a winter wonderland with flour or start a food fight with dough, but not these three.

“The best,” you reply, your words making him gleam.

Toji takes a bite of the cookie, and his eyes widen as he chews. “These are good,” he says in between bites. “What’d you put in them, crack?” You stare at him, appalled for having no filter, even in front of children.

“No, we put love in them,” Megumi tells him, using the phrase you said earlier when discussing the magic of baking.

“Did you now?” Toji smirks, side-eyeing you.

“It’s better than what you’re suggesting I’m feeding these kids.” You know he’s only teasing in his attempt to compliment you, but you’ve gotten comfortable joking back at him like this.

“You gotta admit, they’re equally addicting,” he counters, yet, he does have a point.

For better or worse, love makes you dependent, igniting a deeper craving for more. Insatiable, and your favorite drug. There is no better high than the one you get from someone who you deem your everything in life.

“Done!” Megumi cheers, raising his arms joyfully.

You and Toji come up from behind him, and the twins at either side. There’s a total of five gingerbread men lined up, each taking after everyone in the room. One of the reindeer even resembles Tsumiki in a way, if she were a colorful cervine.

He used green icing to distinguish Maki and Mai by their hair, and somehow got a darker shade when you weren’t looking for Toji and his own gingerbread hair. Their eyes are each their respective colors of green and blue, something you wonder is a trait Megumi got from his mother.

The final cookie then resembles you, from your hair to your eyes, and even the color of clothes you have on.

“Aww, ‘Gumi, these are so cute!” You hug the boy, and his expression turns bashful. “They’re so pretty, I don’t know how I’m gonna eat them now.”

His voice comes at a whisper, “I made family.”

Forget your infatuation with Toji, Megumi has stolen your heart.

“Nice work, Megs,” Toji praises, ruffling his hair before doing the same to the twins. “You too, girls.” They both look happy as well, with a rare, subtle smile appearing on Maki’s face.

When you think about all the cartoons you’ve watched as a child with episodes about Christmas lasting forever and what not, you can’t blame those who want such things.

You love this family, and if every day could feel like today, then maybe it’s worth living to the next.

The rest of the evening is spent gathered around the TV to enjoy another holiday classic, The Nightmare Before Christmas. The fresh sugar cookies taste better than you remembered and made for an excellent treat while waiting on dinner, something else you all enjoy together.

Like family.

The next morning, Megumi is up bright and early knocking on your door, Toji and the twins right behind him.

“Merry Christmas!” they greet in unison, with Megumi running up to hug you.

“Come in, come in!” You wave your hand while parting your door. “I just finished making breakfast.”

Truth be told, you were up early for once in preparation. It was hard to sleep last night, almost like you were a child again with your outfit of the day folded at the foot of your bed, ready to go.

For breakfast, you went with the tradition of cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, monkey bread, fruit, and whatever else you thought would be good. It seems like a lot, but it all comes together quickly and is eaten just as fast by kids who want to unwrap presents already.

You help get the kids seated, filling their plates as well as Toji’s all nice and full, with plenty of extras. He’s off putting gifts below your tree while you do so. With Tsumiki around, it’s a miracle it’s still standing despite her best efforts at making it her designated cat tower.

Toji returns to the table, eyeing everyone’s suspiciously full plates in comparison to yours. “Is that gonna be enough for you?” Toji asks, sitting down.

“Oh, this is plenty,” you tell him dismissively. Even if it’s not, you want to make sure everyone else gets their fill, prioritizing their needs over yours.

“Please, that’s too little.” Toji holds his plate over yours, brushing some of the food off.

“You don’t have to, I’m fine, I promise!” you say, but he doesn’t let up until you have a larger portion than him.

“Eat what you can, I can always finish what’s left.” His words are reassuring, but you hope he’s not trying to hold back for your sake. Ironic.

You mutter your thanks as you begin eating. You’re happy to see the kids all excited ─ even Maki beneath her stoic expression.

Toji on the other hand… well, you know that look of exhaustion anywhere.

It’s likely given his graveyard hours that he hasn’t had a moment of rest since the day prior but is pushing through unbothered.

Three kids are no joke. It’s a lot to shoulder, even with your help. It’s admirable how self-sacrificing he can be for his family, and you hope he knows how good a father he is.

You end up purposely leaving extras on your plate for him.

After breakfast, you all gather into the living room for the main event. Toji takes up his usual spot in the corner on the sofa, and Tsumiki immediately gets up to join him on his lap, purring loud enough for everyone to hear.

“She really likes you, ya know,” you say to him while handing the kids some presents.

Tsumiki trills when he scratches the top of her head. “More than you?” he teases with a grin to match.

“Oh please, let’s not go that far.” You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m practically her mother, she’ll always be my little girl.”

“Whatever you say Ma, but this” ─ Toji points a finger down at your cat ─ “is pretty convincin’ to me,” he chuckles.

There’s hardly a second in between for you to register the new nickname before the kids are gasping at their presents.

“You got me a camera!?” Mai squeals with joy, turning the box over onto all its sides to see. You had gifted her a polaroid in purple ─ her favorite color ─ figuring she’d enjoy it for all her modeling and acting dreams.

Maki took some more thought before you eventually settled on a skateboard. Another commonality between her and Toji is their shared love for athletics, so rather than getting her a ball or something she’d need a whole setup for, she can take this one on the go wherever.

You found one that features a red dragon painted across the deck with clouds surrounding the beast. The grip tape has some scales cut out to match the aesthetic, with black wheels to tie it all in. The overall style is something straight out of Hokusai’s famed works.

She holds the board up to the light to get a better look, and a toothy smile appears on her face. “Awesome…” she mutters.

For Megumi, you got him new games for his equally new console. All of which feature animals one way or another, with titles such as Okami or World of Zoo. Anything to fuel his passion for animals.

You won’t lie, none of these gifts were cheap and you’ll be begging Kento for more work soon but seeing the kids without a care in the world make it worth every penny.

Near the end of all the presents, you pull out the last gift tucked neatly back behind the tree. It’s wrapped in the same paper as all the rest ─ cats and dogs with Santa hats and other festive items ─ but there’s no name written anywhere.

“Who’s this for?” you ask Toji, raising the box up for him to see. Megumi’s eyes go wide as if he just remembered something.

“It’s for you,” he starts, “And before you say anything, Megs helped me pick it out.” Toji knew without guessing you were already planning your protest in your head. You can’t say refuse now if Megumi has some involvement.

You may have grown to not expect gifts or the like, but it certainly feels nice when you do receive something for once; that someone cares enough to bother getting you something.

“Did you now?” you muse, looking to the boy now appearing shy after being called out by his father.

You undo the glittery bow and the wrapping paper that follows. Beneath it is a velvet lined box containing a necklace in your go-to metal. It’s the perfect length, dainty as well ─ fashioned with numerous dangling stars that catch the light like a prism would.

“This is beautiful, guys… seriously, thank you both.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you think you may just start crying.

Megumi must’ve noticed, because he gets right up and stands in front of you. “Do you like it?” He’s scared you’ll say no because why else would your eyes be glossed over?

“Like it? Sweetie, I love it!” You pull him into a tight hug. Megumi cranes his neck around like an owl to Toji who’s beaming at him with a look of pride.

The necklace is a gift from them to you, a reminder of their presence in your life. You can look up at the night sky all you want, but now you know there are stars down here if you only look to your side.

“Come here, I’ll put it on you.” Toji beckons you with the curl of his finger.

You stand up from your spot on the floor, ruffling Megumi’s hair on your way to Toji’s side. You hold your hair up and off to the side for him, and even though you know it’s coming, you can’t help but react to his touch.

His fingers glide around your throat causing a sharp intake of air. He clasps the metal right over a sweet spot that ignites goosebumps down your neck. His warm breath fans your nape, sending that heat straight to your core.

“Turn around, let’s see.”

You’re even closer to Toji than you expected, causing your heartbeat to quicken like reindeer dancing on the rooftop.

His eyes drift from your necklace ─ that piece of him to you ─ and up to your still glistening eyes that seem to twinkle with emotion. When they move to settle back down, they stop over your lips. You don’t even realize you’ve parted them.

A silent invitation that expresses your burning desire.

You look to his and it’s as if you’re now bound by a force similar to gravity, like binary stars in the shape of hearts. All you can do is let yourself be pulled in.

“Snow!” Megumi’s shout interrupts the near stellar collision. He comes bounding between you both, ignorant to what just interrupted.

You and Toji separate, a feeling of embarrassment washing over you.

“Can we play outside, please?” Megumi asks with the best puppy dog eyes he’s able to muster.

And how can you say no to that?

Toji brings a hand up to his neck and exhales. “Only if you bundle up, I don’t need sick kids running around.”

All they needed to hear were the first few words before they’re off to the front door in a hurry. Toji gets up to follow, sparing a glance over his shoulder. “You coming?”

You feel his gaze all over yourself, leaving fire in its wake. You’re avoiding his face, too caught up in your own world.

You almost kissed.

It would’ve been your first real kiss with someone you admire too. You can’t help but feel disappointed.

Toji clears his throat to get your attention again.

“Oh ─ yeah, I’ll go and get ready now!” you tell him, and he makes an amused snort before leaving.

Looking around in his absence, you already miss the noise. It blurs any thoughts you might have in your mind, keeping you grounded in yourself. You’re going to be kept busy either way by the mess of things; torn paper all over the floor, dishes to clean… but that’s a task for later.

When was the last time you played in the snow without a care?

It’s Christmas. Have some fun.

You do still dump any trash Tsumiki could get into. No need for any more vet visits.

Toji and the kids are all back at your door minutes later, their eagerness as evident as rainbows cutting across blue skies with the promise of gold. A rare sight in the wintery season.

But there’s one more gift before you all head out into the cold.

“Do you mind closing your eyes for one second?” Your question posed towards Toji.

He quirks his brow but still does as you ask. “What’s this about?”

“You’ll see,” you reply, shifting your hands to give him his gift. “Alright, you can open them now.”

Toji could feel you place something around his neck, tying it into place with a gentle touch. He lifts his hands up to inspect, looking down at the simple, yet quality wool scarf.

It holds no defining pattern in the threading, instead presenting a solid shade of green. The hue is close to what you’d see on forest leaves bathed in shadows under the moon. Like two pools of jade, with onyx in the center.

His eyes.

“Can’t have you catching a cold either out there,” you chuckle, admittedly with a nervous undertone.

Shopping for kids is easy when the possibilities are seemingly endless as they grow in life. For adults, it’s all about finding smaller, more meaningful gifts they can appreciate day-to-day.

And he loves yours.

You know this when Toji’s arms wrap around your body, bringing you flush against his chest. His heartbeat throbs like yours did earlier ─ hooves pounding on snowy tiles. You close your eyes to embrace the feeling of his warmth. If this took place outside, you’d surely find a perfect circle melted in the snow around your shared forms.

“Thank you,” he says; simple, like the scarf, but the thought behind both express more than what can be made into words.

It’s all you need.

The end of the rainbow may as well be at your feet.

Several more snow days follow.

Several more days of peace beneath skies painted in violet and amber. The golden hues of the setting sun bring the snow alive ─ like fire encased by an endless glacier as far as the eye can see.

Toji wears the scarf every time he goes outside, be it work or play. Exhaustion weighs heavier on his features as the days go on, though he refuses to let it show.

With Megumi and the twins around, you eventually find out he’s been sleeping on the couch so the three can share the bed all night. It is a one-bedroom apartment after all.

It wasn’t so much a problem when Megumi was away in school during the times Toji needed to sleep, but Megumi being home each day now on holiday and Toji having to care for two more on top is taking its toll.

He would never vocalize this discomfort, not wanting to bring worry to the kids. It only makes you want help him more to lighten the burden off his shoulders.

It’s what friends do; you tell him whenever he tries to shy away and claim he’s fine. It’s exactly what you would do too if you were in his place.

A voice in your mind tells you that it’s playing house at best, the desire for something deeper. It’s a relishing feeling to be relied on by your crush, and you crave the comfort it brings.

“Aren’t you up early?” Toji says in lieu of a greeting. It’s another day of you offering your free time. The only difference is that today is a special day.

His special day.

“Kids are still sleeping, but you’re welcome to hang out,” he says with a gruff voice, yawning after.

You think sleep is a nice look for him, if only under better circumstances.

“I can watch them for you if you have any plans today,” you tell him.

Be it friends or a special someone, none of it matters at the end of the day if you can still be something to him.

Something is better than nothing, despite the close call of a kiss.

It doesn’t feel real that it almost happened. You hope it wasn’t a visage crafted through heart-shaped eyes, but insecurities are ever present in your mind.

Either way, Toji chose to stay here with you.

He could’ve spent his day catching up on his sleep while you handled everything, but instead he followed you around like a stray cat would. Though in the case of Toji, a panther makes for a better comparison.

Large, fierce, and skilled in many ways but with a soft spot at their core others tend to forget.

Take tigers for example. If a mother were to pass away early, a cub’s father will step in to raise them. Some do it from afar, offering silent protection from harm, or leading their young to meals. In some cases, they remain glued at the hip, spending day and night till their cub is of age.

You wonder if raven-haired jaguars might act the same, but isn’t it obvious?

As tired as he was, he never let it get in the way. The five of you spent some time playing outside, where Toji became a one-man army in a snowball fight against you and the kids. With a smirk plastered on his face, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Victory was a futile effort, but the kids tried again and again until their energy drained away. Toji let them win in the end, and they were quick happy to bury him in snowballs after. Luckily, they all chose to go to bed early after dinner, giving you and Toji some time for yourself before his next shift.

What better time to celebrate?

You crept towards the sofa with a cupcake in hand. You thought a sheet cake might’ve been too much, so you went with a more simple treat. With Toji being a fan of chocolate flavors, you decided to make one special with chocolate for the base, icing, and even some frozen bark wedged on top around the solely lit green candle at the center.

“Happy Birthday, Toji.”

Your necklace dances when you come into view, the amber reflections of the flames catching his eye. It’s almost enough for him to forget that he’s the star of this show when a galaxy stands before him.

His silence has you questioning whether you misjudged his preferences. “If you don’t like the flavor, I’ve made plenty more so please–“

“It’s perfect,” he says, hands engulfing your own to accept the offering. You find it hard to pull away, his warmth easily outshining the candle.

You sit at his side, and with one quick huff, the flame is gone.

“Did you even make a wish?” you tease.

“Don’t need to,” he says, mirth flickering across his features. His eyes whisper a thousand unspoken words.

Toji barely can get a bite out of the cupcake before you’re pushing a present towards him to take. “What’s this?” he asks, placing the dessert down.

You hand him a sleek black box, topped with a solid green bow. “Open it and see.”

With only nine days to prep for his birthday, finding something last minute proved to be a challenge. It was one you were more than willing to undergo just to see him smile.

The initial curiosity turns to surprise, then crests into a soft look of joy. Gentle; genuine.

The box contains a silver chain leading down to a one-of-a-kind piece of malachite encircled by the same sterling metal. A pool of green with midnight flecks. Leaves loved by moonlight.

“Do you like it?” Worry laces your words as you wait for his approval.

He holds the box out for you to take. “Put it on for me and let’s see.”

You free the chain, bringing it up around his neck. The stone has some weight to it ─ a reminder of its presence and meaning as it hangs close to his heart.

“Well?” Toji turns to face you again, one eyebrow raised in anticipation.

“It’s perfect,” you say, mimicking his words. Simple, but only at its surface.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He smiles.

Your eyes raise from the gem to that smile. There’s no arrogance or amusement, only a gentle tug of adoration. The tethers of an unseen force pull at you again.

Golden hues spill into the room ─ more vibrant than before ─ but easily eclipsed by his body before you.

It’s perfect, for what other light could you possibly desire? Violet shadows are as much his color as the greenery of trees on a midnight walk. If you have him by your side, you’ll never lose your way in the dark.

“Can I?” he asks quietly, one hand smoothing along your jaw. You find yourself leaning his touch, nodding against his palm.

Toji moves with confidence ─ hunger even, when his lips connect with yours. A stellar collision, with no others stars to stop its fate.

Sweetness coats his lips from the residual chocolate, his taste better than any dessert. It ignites a sensation deep in your body that leaves you craving more. An insatiable thirst, and all you needed was one to get you hooked.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but lean forward to follow, missing that lifeline of affection already. Toji’s laugh rumbles deeply and thick, like he’s fresh out of bed.

He kisses you again, forcing you backwards until his weight becomes a blanket over you. The burning feeling from before only grows stronger, like wildfire in need of relief but all you truly want is equivalent to fuel.

“Toji–“

His head falls deeply into the side of your neck, and you feel him relax. From the gentle breaths against your skin, you realize that he’s fallen asleep.

A kiss from Prince Charming may wake a sleeping princess, but from you to your knight in shining armor, it offers peace and serenity.

You let him stay like this. A sense of pride filling you that Toji was comfortable enough in the first place to let himself be so vulnerable with you.

Your hand moves through his hair lovingly, in a way one would pet a cat. He sighs in his sleep, arms coiling in a near possessive manner. You think maybe you aren’t alone with your desire for affection.

And before you know it, you’re following after him.

For the first time in countless nights, your thoughts are quiet as could be, silenced by the presence and warmth that clings you better than any blanket could.

When you come to next, it’s only you who remains.

Toji’s nowhere to be seen, his body replaced by a thick throw. It’s heavy ─ securing, but at the same time, it isn’t him.

One of his pillows now props your head up, providing you his scent at the very least. It flows around you in a way that makes you think he hasn’t even left. The smell is comforting, alluring, and all Toji.

On the table next to you is a note weighed down with one green candle, the letter containing an apology for leaving so soon. It’s too bad he had work otherwise he’d still be here, but you’re glad you got to spend this time with him.

Toji may not care for his birthday, deeming it just another day on the calendar of life, but this year was different.

You made certain of that.

☆ Notes: read a tojikuna fic the other day called “in lieu of” (which I highly recommend btw) and was inspired to try and more metaphors to my work. Idk how good they came out cause honestly I question whether they actually make sense or if I’m just talking out of my ass. Dialogue is hard enough as if for me being autistic wondering if it’s stuff others would say or just me/cringe/lacking/etc. That aside, I hope you guys enjoyed this peaceful chapter cause things are gonna ramp up soon :)

Please don’t be afraid to comment or shoot me an ask about anything really, I love to yap!!! it helps keep me going especially when I have thoughts about quitting whenever I’m feeling insecure about my writing

[camaro-and-smokes]

Get Out of My Dreams, Get Into My Car

Chapter 6: Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad

Tags for the chapter: Mutual pining, some fluffy fluff in the very end

Notes: Moodboard by the lovely @a-redharlequin 💜 Title from the Def Leppard song 💜

Summary: Billy finally catches Steve who's been slipping through his fingers all week and sits him down for a talk. Later, Billy unsuccesfully tries to let go of Steve, and Steve figures out what he needs to do—even though it scares the shit out of him.

Read on AO3 >>

:::::::::::

It was on Friday morning when Billy finally caught Steve—quite literally—before he left for work. Or rather, before he once again slithered himself through Billy’s fingers like quicksand.

Billy was reading an article about new materials used for surfboards when Steve appeared in the doorway.

“Uh…morning. Have you, um, have you seen my shoes?” Steve asked, rubbing his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

Billy looked up from his article and took a sip of his coffee. “Maybe.”

Steve looked at him expectantly for a moment before he spread his hands questioningly. “So? Where are they?”

“I think we have to talk,” Billy said.

Steve sighed and chewed his cheek for a moment. “About what?”

“About…” Billy started, not knowing how he exactly should continue. “Well, about…things. Like, this week.”

Steve closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Just humor me, okay?” Billy asked and pointed at the empty mug on the table he’d taken out just for Steve. “Sit down for one mug of coffee. Please?”

Steve glanced at the front door as if calculating the distance to it from his spot and if he could reach it before Billy would catch him. Then he looked at his watch, wincing, but finally he relented. He sat down while Billy poured the coffee into the mug and gave him the milk from the fridge. “One mug,” he muttered.

“Alright, I’m gonna make this blunt, then,” Billy said as he sat down. “Are you angry at me about something?” He paused, measuring Steve and trying to see if there was something that would give away Steve’s emotions.

Steve just sat there, still clenching his jaw and staring at his mug.

“Like, for example, me going on a date and you thinking you have to find a new place to stay?” Billy continued.

Steve shifted in his seat, but kept his eyes locked on the beige liquid in his mug. “Uh…no. I’m not angry about…anything.”

“Good,” Billy said quietly. “Because you don’t have to worry about that. I’m really not planning on moving in with anyone soon.”

Steve just nodded. After a while, he asked, “Was the date that bad?”

Billy snickered. “No. It was okay.”

Just as Billy was about to continue, Steve asked, “Planning on seeing him again?”

Billy thought about it. Yeah, the date with Jason had been nice. It was nice to have the attention, someone laugh at his stupid jokes, and Jason was a decent guy. But he wasn’t…there was something that wasn’t just right. “Well, he said he’d like to see me again, but we didn’t yet agree on anything since he’s busy. Maybe,” he shrugged. Yeah. Jason just was…not Steve.

Steve felt like crying, but he just nodded and took a sip of his mug. He’d tried to avoid Billy all week just to save himself from hearing that maybe. He was sure the guy was decent, Billy probably wouldn’t want to go on a second date with someone who wasn’t. Decency did nothing to Steve’s desire to kill the guy, though.

The few days that had passed since Billy’s date had been hard. Billy had seemed happy after the date. Singing in the shower that Def Leppard ballad that was on the radio 24/7—and also humming it while cooking.

Steve wanted to leave, get to work and forget this misery for at least the eight hours. But he’d promised to stay for one mug of coffee and he’d accidentally put too little milk on it so it was burning his mouth. So he had to suffer a little longer than he otherwise would’ve.

Billy cleared his throat. Steve was fidgeting, so maybe that was enough of that subject. Billy felt the tips of his ears burning when he tried to find words for the second thing he wanted to talk about. “Um…That wasn’t all I wanted to talk about.”

Steve took a sip of his coffee. “Okay.”

“Yeah. Uh…” Billy took a deep sigh. Better just to spit it out. “The re—red panties…”

Steve had to close his eyes. He felt his face heating, and it embarrassed him. He hoped Billy would take his reaction as just that, embarrassment, and not as anything else. Especially not as something that had launched an avalanche that was shaking his life inside out.

Billy looked at his own mug when felt his face burning so he didn’t see Steve’s reaction. “They’re, uh…they’re mine,” he stammered. “I, uh…I—I like to wear them. Sometimes. It’s a secret and…no one has known until now.” To Billy’s surprise, admitting it felt liberating instead of anything else.

Steve hid behind his mug and drank from it as much as he could, even though it burned his entire mouth, and he was sure he wouldn’t taste anything for a few days. He knew he should say something. Yeah, I figured. No problem, I really liked the idea, was what he wanted to say. “Uh…” he started, knowing he couldn’t say what he was thinking. Ever. This secret would die with him. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, it’s OK. Not my business what you do in your room.”

Billy swallowed, glad that Steve took it like that. But he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed, too. He’d been secretly hoping that maybe finding out such a delicate secret would’ve stirred something in Steve. Apparently it hadn’t, and instead, just made him embarrassed. “Yeah?”

Steve was nodding vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.”

Billy fidgeted with the ear of his mug. “Thanks,” he said. “Sorry you had to learn about it like that.”

Steve swallowed the rest of the coffee and set the mug on the table. He finally glanced up at Billy. A thought of getting up, leaning over the table and kissing Billy pierced his mind. A dream come true.

One he couldn’t have.

“Well, the mug is empty,” he said instead, getting up. He smiled a little. “So, any sign of the shoes?”

Billy looked up at Steve. “So, are we okay? I mean, really okay?”

Jesus, those eyes are blue, Steve thought. He could drown in them and would, too—happily. He found himself thinking that there was nothing he couldn’t forgive Billy. Clearing his throat, he nodded, his smile widening a little. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Billy nodded and got up. “Just a sec.” He went to his room and came back a moment later with Steve’s shoes.

“Do I have to worry about you stealing my shoes again?” Steve asked, with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Billy smiled and offered the shoes to Steve. “You kept slipping away in the mornings, coming home just to sleep and…I just really wanted to have this chat with you, ’s all.”

Their hands brushed against each other when Steve took the shoes from Billy. It sent a hot jolt through Steve, and he set the shoes quickly on the floor and tied the laces. He needed to get out before he did something stupid.

+

When Steve left, Billy walked by the sink and looked through the window at how Steve got into his car and drove away. Steve’s warm skin on Billy’s in the tiny point of contact where their hands had touched was still burning his hand. He’d wanted so much to drop the shoes and kiss Steve. He’d needed to.

The truth was, Jason had asked him for another date. But he’d lied to Jason he couldn’t, not this week. That he was busy with a restoration project of an old Mustang and that maybe next week he’d have time.

He squeezed his eyes closed. Why did he always have to make stupid choices? Listening to his heart had only ever brought him heartache. And he’d just recovered from one heartbreak, only to get into another one that would probably drag on even longer than the first. He’d be hanging on to something he couldn’t have as long as Steve would live with him, or at least as long as he didn’t find someone he would truly be interested in.

Maybe he had no other option but to make himself interested in Jason for real.

+

Steve hunched over piles of paperwork in his office, the clack of keyboards and murmur of co-workers creating a soft background noise that reached his office through the open door. He tried to push Billy out of his mind and keep himself concentrated on his work, and the sounds seemed to help him achieve that.

“Hey, did you catch the game last night?” Dave, one of Steve’s colleagues, asked with a smirk, leaning against the door frame.

Steve glanced up. “Missed it,” he confessed. He’d been at the office all night and hadn’t even remembered the office bet pool. “But let me guess—our team tanked again?”

“Like a lead balloon,” Dave snorted, pushing off from the door frame. “We should start betting on how much they lose by!”

A round of laughter erupted from a nearby cluster of desks, and Steve joined in, the corners of his lips upturning genuinely for the first time that morning.

His gaze meandered through the door and across the sea of beige cubicles, his mind pulling him back into the conversation with Billy.

So far, two things had made themselves known. One, Billy hadn’t agreed to go on a second date with the guy—yet—and two, he had admitted to liking feminine underwear. Not that Steve needed a confirmation on that anymore. But it was nice to know for sure. So, Billy was still free and nothing was yet written in stone.

He still had a chance, but he needed to act on it. He just had to come up with something that might reveal what Billy really thought of him. If he really had a shot. No matter the consequences.

Janet, the secretary of Steve’s boss, appeared in the doorway, popping Steve’s reverie like a soap bubble. “Hey, Steve. Your list for the new purchases for the meeting this afternoon…you sure it’s right? I mean, ‘The Scent of a Wow Man’ sounds thrilling, but…”

Steve looked up at her. “What? Oh, that’s not—”

“Or what about ‘Bad man returns’?” she continued with a smirk and gave the paper to Steve.

“Damn it,” Steve muttered under his breath, reaching out for the paper as he felt heat rising to his cheeks. “I’ll fix it,” he said as he hurried to correct the list.

“Well, movies in your mind as they should be, just a little…adult-themed, maybe,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Long week,” Steve admitted, trying to shrug it off, and rewrote the list by hand—careful not to let his thoughts wander to the last thing he’d seen of Billy in the morning: his sapphire eyes.

And then it came to him. He didn’t actually like the idea and what it required from him, but it was something he knew would get Billy’s attention for sure. Apparently, he was willing to leave his comfort zone for Billy.

+

The salty breeze from the Pacific ocean played with Billy’s hair as he sat across from Jason at lunch. All the way to work in the morning, he’d pondered the choices he could make and if he should take Jason’s invitation for another date. When he’d arrived at the garage, he’d called Jason first thing, wanting to stop the useless what-ifs for good.

Now they were sitting on the terrace of The Sand Dollar Cafe, a kitschy eatery by the beach, adorned with seashell wind chimes and driftwood art.

Jason was detailing his latest real estate conquest. “…and it was such a steal,” he said. “The view alone was worth—”

“Sounds killer,” Billy interjected, his mind drifting at the rhythm of the fish fillet he pushed around his plate.

“Uh, well, yes,” Jason said. He wiped the corners of his mouth into a cloth and reached out to Billy’s hand with his. “Everything alright? You look like your mind is…surfing on some distant waves.”

Billy looked up at Jason and forced a smile he didn’t feel on his face. “Oh, no, sorry. Just thinking about…work.”

“Right,” Jason replied, a hint of skepticism in his voice. He settled the cloth next to his plate and drank from his glass. “Speaking of which, how do you stay so clean while working on cars all day?”

“Oh, I just…” Billy started before he really, really heard the words. He frowned and looked down at the front of his shirt and his hands. He’d changed his clothes and checked himself in the mirror several times before leaving work to not have any oil or grease stains on him. Or did Jason actually make a derogatory comment about his job? For a moment, Billy had to hold back really hard not to say the first thing that came to his mind. He tilted his head as he looked up at Jason. “Ever heard of overalls?” he said tersely.

Jason raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “No need to get offended. I just wanted to know how the technicalities work. I have no firsthand experience, that’s all.”

“Right,” Billy said, biting his tongue. He didn’t yet know Jason that well, so maybe he shouldn’t get all worked up over something small like this. Maybe Jason was honestly interested in his work and sometimes just said things as he thought of them, without a filter. He did that sometimes, too.

+

Steve had left work the moment the afternoon meeting with his boss ended.

He knew a shop selling all the gear he’d need close to the bungalow, and that’s where he headed.

“Hey, Steve, my man!” Argyle, the shop owner—and one of Billy’s best surfer friends—greeted him from behind the counter. “Billy sent you to get that new wax he ordered?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly,” Steve said, looking at the rows of surf boards next to each other, lining the walls of the shop. “I’m here…uh, for…myself.”

Argyle’s face lit up, and he stood up and walked to Steve. “Alright! So, what do you need?”

Steve looked at him sheepishly.

Argyle squinted, measured Steve from head to toe, and then placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You’ve never surfed in your life, have you?”

Steve shook his head slowly.

Argyle smiled a wide smile and patted Steve’s back. “Hey, no problem-o, man! Everyone gotta start somewhere.” The tall surfer turned around, looked around his shop for a moment, and started gathering the gear Steve would need. He talked while he sauntered around the shop, collecting everything. “So, Billy’s teaching you?”

“Um, well…I’m hop—I’m hoping he would.”

Argyle turned to look at Steve, who followed him like a lost puppy, and nodded, a wide smile apparently permanently plastered on his face. “He will. I was wondering when you’d get bitten by the surf bug. Billy can be enthusiastic about it.”

Steve laughed nervously. “To be honest, I’m terrified about the whole thing,” he confessed.

“Mmm, real. Trust me, you won’t look back after you do one clean wave,” Argyle said, sliding his hand in the air, imitating surfing on a wave. “After that, it’s just chasing the next one.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m sure about that,” Steve said, feeling his hands sweating just at the thought of riding a wave on a slick board.

Now that he was clearly doing this and not just thinking about it, it no longer sounded such a good idea. But it was the best one he could come up with. For a moment, he had thought of joining Billy’s aerobics class, but the guy who Billy went on a date with was there, so it wasn’t really an option.

And besides, surfing was Billy’s one true love. Sure, he loved fast cars and his beloved Camaro, but what he actually could do, and frequently did, was to spend all day on the waves and go back first thing in the next morning, day in and day out.

So, if he really wanted to get Billy’s attention, this would be the way.

+

Billy slammed the door of the Camaro closed after him and stomped to the front door of the bungalow. He’d gone to the late and long lunch hoping maybe Jason would’ve showed a side of himself that could’ve been worth pursuing.

Unfortunately, the opposite had appeared to be true. The guy hadn’t stopped talking about his work, his accomplishments, and how much money he’d made a year who knows how many years a row. Sure, money was nice, but it wasn’t what Billy was looking for.

He was annoyed at taking off half a day for only learning that he should’ve listened to the gut feeling he had already on the first date and never see Jason again.

Billy opened the front door and the moment he saw what was in the living room, Jason vanished from his mind.

Steve was standing in the middle of the living room wearing a full-body wet suit and leaning awkwardly to a blue and white surfboard.

“Yo, broski, wanna hit the waves?” Steve asked him, the slang not quite fitting into his mouth and making it sound stiff.

Billy couldn’t help but to laugh. “Well, my dude,” he replied, taking in the view and nodding approvingly. “I think you first have to learn how to.”

Steve smiled at Billy’s reaction; the blue eyes were sparkling and the smile on his face was wide and toothy and the laugh genuine. It was exactly what Steve had hoped for. “Well, I was thinking, if you have the time, I could take a lesson or two from the best.”

Billy couldn’t get his eyes off Steve. The guy had been adamant about not getting on the waves. Ever. But here he was, standing, in full gear, ready to go. A warm fuzziness filled Billy’s chest. Maybe there was a chance with Steve after all.

[flowerwrites06]

limelight euphoria — myg

LIMELIGHT EUPHORIA | Yoongi | Oneshot | Request or Original 

Original Request: something like estranged partners but they need to be affectionate to each other in public occasions as they have an image to uphold (angst & petty jealousy) Plot: Two bandmates struggle to maintain a successful tour and their tumultous feelings for each other. Pairing: Rockstar!Yoongi x Rockstar!OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Rock Band AU Type: Oneshot Rating: R18+ Word Count: 5.5k+ Warnings: angst, arguments, implications of cheating, explicit sexual content. Author’s Note: this was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

It was a dream come true and Kiku made sure that was the only thought rushing through her head when Namjoon announced they would be going on tour. The past few months had been nothing but hell with every night fuelled with a heated fight. Even now, Kiku sat far away from Yoongi when in another time, they would be sharing a chair in their studio gathering.

“We’ll be going around Asia,” Namjoon said. His face partially covered by the light plumes of tobacco smoke from the ashtray.

Kiku perked up at the mention. “How many dates in Kyoto?”

“We got two nights,” Namjoon replied, looking down at the different dates. “So you have time.”

Kiku hadn’t been in Kyoto for years. It would be nice to see something a bit more calm compared to the rushing city of Seoul, even though she enjoyed this most of the time. She remembered the daily ritual of her part-time job in the record store with her high school friend, Botan before going to practice with the band. It seemed so simple back then.

“How long will we be gone?” Yoongi asked in a raspy tone, scarred by constant smoking. One of their first cause for arguments was his consistent increase of smoking, drinking and drugs which Yoongi rebutted to be on account of her nagging.

Kiku had stopped nagging but the increases didn’t stop. He kept getting worse and the dark circles under his eyes became a permanent fixture.

“There will be two nights in Seoul and one night in Busan but the whole tour might take a few months,” Namjoon answered with a wave of his hand.

Taehyung cleared his throat, peering through his hair which was getting far too long over his eyes. “Is that gonna be good for you two?”

“We’ll be fine,” Kiku said with an unconvinced tone.

“You sure?” Namjoon asked this time which felt a bit too serious. “You’ve been fighting for the past two months straight.”

“We’ve taken some breaks to fuck,” Yoongi mused.

Kiku glared but tried to keep it brief. “We’ll behave. Promise.”

“She says that but she’s the one who starts the fights.” Yoongi tugged at the strands again, trying to push her because perhaps he knew she wanted something better than this.

That she wanted a partner who was sweet to her instead of aloof, who didn’t pound down drugs and smoke like it was the only thing he enjoyed anymore, who didn’t use fucking as a way to quickly quell bigger problems. He also knew that Kiku wouldn’t do anything to make it stop.

That was what made Kiku most angry and hurt. That he knew she would always keep this going and never let it stop.

“You’re starting it now,” Namjoon said to cut into any tension building.

Yoongi scoffed. “We’ll behave.” He ensured to keep his voice mocking regardless.

“Sure.” Taehyung grabbed a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge.

“Hey, you’ve fought with your girlfriend in front of us.” Yoongi gestured.

“Yeah, once.”

“My girlfriend is in the band so I’m stuck, it’s harder.” He waved his hand.

Kiku’s brows furrowed. “Don’t act like I just got here.”

“You act like you just got here.” Yoongi narrowed his gaze.

“Okay, see that, that’s a fight,” Namjoon said, gesturing to them. “Yoongi, stop being a dick. And Kiku, stop falling for it.”

Kiku rolled her eyes slightly. “Sorry.”

“Suck up,” Yoongi muttered to himself.

-

The morning of the tour should’ve been the easiest of all. But somehow, Kiku had to be welcomed with another tabloid. At first, she assumed it was just dramatic flairs especially since this tour was pulling them into worldwide articles. Unfortunately, pictures showed a different story.

Through a vision of red and heated anger in her chest, Kiku saw him. A drunken Yoongi guiding a girl into the hotel and the journalists having a field day with their buzzwords about how sad Kiku must be. What a pity that Kiku would see this and sob like a broken princess who lost her crown.

Kiku would’ve thrown her phone against the wall if she didn’t need to travel with her band and dipshit boyfriend. She took a deep breath, had a quick shower and stomped her way to the lobby where everyone waited. The crowd outside were much larger now than ever before.

A headache pricked at her forehead. She saw Yoongi from the corner of her eye but didn’t look his way, only getting a glimpse of his relaxed posture and dark hair over his face.

Kiku put her shades on to shield away the sunlight so her headache could be soothed.

“Should’ve gone through the backdoor,” Taehyung said in mumbling, deep voice from just waking up.

“They wanted to make a whole fuss. So hold your breath,” Namjoon said.

Kiku rubbed her temples as they began to open the door. She felt Yoongi’s hand on her back and immediately shifted away. She wanted to push him away and scream at him but clearly, that would only be more excitement for the assholes outside.

It truly was a moment to hold her breath when they finally began to walk through the crowd, getting pushed back by security guards. Everything was going as smoothly as it could. Until Yoongi decided to make her morning worse. All they had to do was get through the entrance door to their tour bus. But Yoongi had to show off as always. He grabbed onto Kiku’s hand, linking their fingers together.

He knew that Kiku had no choice but to pretend that nothing was wrong. That she didn’t want to slap him across the face for the confidence he held after what he did. Finally, the cool air from inside the tour bus cooled some of her skin and one of their security guards slammed the door shut.

As Namjoon and Taehyung moved to sit at her couches, Kiku yanked her hand back roughly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kiku asked in a light rasp.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed. “What now?”

“Don’t just hold my hand for the pictures like a dickhead.” She gestured to the crowd.

“I was holding your fucking hand cause we were in a crowd.” Yoongi asked through gritted teeth. “Are you seriously gonna have a tantrum over that now?”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon said.

“No, it’s the first day and she’s already nit-picking about dumb shit all over again.” He glared at her.

Whatever tears were going to form in her eyes steamed with fury. “Just keep your damn hands off me.”

Yoongi scoffed with a bitter smile. “You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

“Don’t put this on me, you’re the one who fucked this up in the first place.” Kiku ran her fingers through her hair.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Kiku shook her head, looked over to their agent and grabbed the tabloid papers before they could explain anything. Even Namjoon wasn’t intervening. They all knew. Everyone knew and it only pushed her to throw the papers at Yoongi’s face. “Don’t talk to me about having tantrums. What the fuck is this?”

Yoongi wanted to scream and be angry but for a brief moment, he saw the headlines. He picked up the newspaper. It was clear. Him escorting a girl into the hotel. When he stared up, he saw niether Namjoon nor Taehyung looking his way but to the side. Nor their agent. For the past few months, it was both him and Kiku fighting back and forth. They were both at fault. But now he had done it. That final snap of a thread that was already fraying.

“Come on…” Yoongi looked over at Namjoon and Taehyung. Not Kiku but the rest of the band and the fucking agent. As if this was just a public faux pas. “…she’d been driving me crazy.” He gestured to her.

Kiku pursed her lips as hot tears began to form in her eyes. For the first time, her chest clenched. So he did do it on purpose, just to hurt her. “You’re a piece of shit.” She walked away to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

The slam echoed throughout the bus as Yoongi stammered. The throes of his hangover were already making it difficult to explain himself. “Look, I don’t think anything happened.” He knew that was stupid even in all his stubbornness.

Namjoon’s disappointed face was enough to let him know this viscerally. “I’ll talk to you later. Just take a breather.”

-

The drive was uncomfortable as Yoongi expected. Everyone avoided his gaze and there wasn’t even energy to scold them on fighting again. He wanted to be stubborn to somehow maintain a level of integrity but just because he couldn’t remember what happened didn’t mean that he didn’t invite the damn girl into the hotel.

Yoongi was frustrated and got a separate hotel room, just to get some distance and air. But a dark part of him strayed too far and wanted to feel something other than anger.

Once the bus parked, Taehyung and Kiku walked out of the tour bus for a smoke. Kiku didn’t smoke often but Yoongi knew it was always when stress was at the highest point and she physically needed something to relax.

Yoongi stayed sat at the couch while Namjoon settled next to him with a beer. He didn’t say anything but it was a welcome to start explaining himself.

“I really don’t think I did anything,” Yoongi said. “I got high and I might’ve called her in.” It sounded so stupid and dumb but he kept wanting to explain as if it could somehow quell the true reality of his actions.

“Aside from it being a shitty thing to do, it wasn’t safe either, calling her to the hotel room.” Namjoon scratched his brow. “Without knowing who she was.”

“I know.” Yoongi kept his head lowered.

“And…what you said to Kiku today wasn’t okay.” His tone was grim and serious but Yoongi’s stubbornness chimed in.

“Come on, she’s said stuff too.”

“She didn’t cheat on you and then blame you for it,” Namjoon said blatantly like a quick slit to the throat. “Fighting is one thing, Yoongi. This is. . .”

Yoongi hated that Namjoon vocalised it. It was a passing comment that they could’ve so easily forgotten but here it was, landing on him like a thousand bricks. “I wasn’t blaming her.” His voice didn’t make it sound too convincing.

“You said she drove you crazy which is why—”

“—that’s not what I was saying, I was just angry.”

“You’re always angry, that’s why this is a shitshow.” Anger slowly laced Namjoon’s tone. “And you don’t even seem to care about apologizing to Kiku about it. It’s like some part of you thinks she deserved it.”

Yoongi stayed silent for a moment. There was no response because some horrible part of him did want to hurt Kiku and for the first time in a while, he felt himself coil at his own feelings no matter how brief they were. And what truly cut him was what Kiku must’ve known that was his intention. “Do you really think I’m that bad of a person?”

“You just proved my point by asking that first.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Alright…alright, I fucked up.” He let out a long sigh. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Actually talk this time.”

“I got it.”

-

After a few moments of gathering whatever courage he had, Yoongi walked outside in the cold night air to see Kiku. Taehyung saw him before she did and reluctantly cleared his throat, walking away to give them privacy.

Kiku didn’t look at him immediately, taking another puff of smoke and letting it plume in front of her before her gaze finally reached him. Her eyes were glossed and red from crying. Taehyung had always been the better one at handling an influx of emotions but it still gave Yoongi a strange feeling, a yanking of his heart.

He didn’t know how to comfort her anymore. Even now, he couldn’t ask or say anything. In all the flurry and dance of arguments, Yoongi felt awkward starting a regular conversation.

So she spoke instead.

“I want to break up,” Kiku said. Her words hung in the air, turning it to lead.

If there were words forming in his head, Yoongi now had no strength to speak them, his hearing grew numb for longer than he could control.

She took another swig of her smoke. “It’s the best way to go. We’ll go back to being bandmates and we can put this fucking mess behind us.” Kiku kept her gaze away when she said this.

Yoongi stammered, still unable to speak.

“I know you don’t like these types of conversations so you don’t have to say anything,” Kiku tapped the cigarette on the side of the bench. “Just pretend nothing ever happened. It’s better that way.”

The panging got worse, making him feel as if he were bleeding from the chest. “You want to completely pretend this never happened?” Yoongi asked.

Kiku raised her shoulders. “Yeah. It’s all crumbs left anyway.” She let out another bitter chuckle, her eyes glossing more. “What’s the point? You don’t like me and I don’t want you anywhere near me right now. So we forget.”

Crumbs. Their relationship was crumbs. There was some part of him, drowned in whiskey and numbed by sleepless nights, that awoke for a moment as if to argue against it. The stubborn part of him wanted to keep those thoughts inside. Kiku loved being dramatic, she loved heavy emotions in her conversation. It could’ve just been a simple breakup, but she wanted it all gone.

Yoongi assumed it was just dramatics. He even almost laughed.

But Kiku didn’t laugh.

Yoongi happily wanted to accept her anger but she didn’t react at all.

Her expression showed exactly what she expected from this arrangement. Nothingness. Just back to the way it was.

It was smart, Yoongi would give that much. If he started fighting now, it would not only be hypocritical but it also proved her point that they were crumbs. Irreparable.

He tightened his jaw, mustering whatever was left of the courage he had spent gathering before coming here. Only to fall apart like a pathetic idiot as he always did. His smoking, his drinking, his anger and now his infidelity. Everything had piled so high and packed so tightly that there was no escape in admitting this was pointless.

Yoongi was who he was and Kiku would not tolerate it. So let it die.

“Alright,” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“Alright.” Kiku stamped her cigarette and walked back to the tour bus.

-

The Korean leg of the tour seemed to go smooth enough. Kiku and Yoongi performed and enjoyed themselves without fighting a single time. Yoongi drank, smoked and partied to his heart’s content as he always wanted, relishing in his newfound freedom without worrying about Kiku’s disappointed face.

They even laughed together for a second although it was from a joke told by Namjoon. Yoongi seemed to have held this moment in his mind a lot longer than he liked to.

Unfortunately, things frazzled as exhaustion began to settle. On their second night in Tokyo, they were a couple of added songs as a specialty. Two of them being songs that were written by Kiku and Yoongi together.

Even as the song was performed, a vivid and visceral memory replayed in Yoongi’s head like a knife through his skull. Kiku was swaying her legs while sitting on a washing machine as Yoongi cleaned up the last of their dirty clothes. Her humming so close that the screaming crowd numbed around him. All he could hear was her humming in the laundromat.

Yoongi tasted the blackberry tint on her lips when he kissed her, caging her while she sat on the washing machine. He saw her smile. She hadn’t smiled at him in so long. So long that this memory felt like a dream. Some unknown, impossible thing that could never be attained again.

When the show was finished, Yoongi was yanked back into reality where his tongue only tasted the bitter notes of tobacco and whiskey instead of her sweet blackberry tint.

They walked backstage, taking a breather before making way back into the tour bus. Kiku walked into the dressing room to clean up.

Yoongi walked in and started to smoke. For a few quiet moments, he only glanced at her redoing her lipstick with the ends of her hair still matted with sweat. Even when haggard, there was a beauty to her that forced him to keep looking. In a moment of weakness, he walked over to her, leaning in and nudged his nose into her hair.

“Stop it,” Kiku muttered in a soft tone.

“You remember that song, don’t you?” Yoongi asked in the same voice as if a bubble formed between them.

“What?”

“The songs we did together.”

Kiku didn’t reply, patting herself down with a cloth. “I remember.”

“You always couldn’t sleep until you got it right on that day.”

“We had deadlines,” Kiku said.

“Months away. I’d have to calm you down.” Yoongi reached his face down again, hovering over the crook of her neck. “You remember how I calmed you down?”

Kiku’s expression turned angry as she turned around. “That bitch you slept with remembers better than I do.”

Yoongi raised his head with a sigh. “I told you nothing happened.”

“Like you’d ever be sober enough to gauge anything,” Kiku said. “I told you to leave this be.”

“That doesn’t mean we need to forget the good stuff.”

“The good stuff was when you weren’t coming to me drunk and high every night,” Kiku argued. “This, whatever the hell you are now, isn’t that Yoongi.” She gestured to him with a grimace. “I remember and miss that Yoongi, not you.” She turned on her heel and tried to walk away.

Yoongi grabbed onto her arm. “I’m still the same person.”

“No, you’re not.” Her eyes began to gloss again. Despite all the confidence he had before, the vulnerability in her face was something he didn’t prepare for. It was too soft, too broken for him to even begin fixing it. “Three years ago, you would’ve kissed me without needing to do a line of cocaine. Back then, you wouldn’t have needed an ultimatum and a fucking mistress before saying one kind thing to me. You are not the same person.” Her voice cracked and the sheer sound of it clipped Yoongi’s tongue like a needle pushed through it. “I know exactly who I fell in love with and the reason you’re angry is because you don’t know who that is anymore.”

The door opened to Namjoon with a concerned expression. “Hey, let’s go.” His eyes flickered from Kiku to Yoongi but he didn’t say anything.

Kiku wasted no time before walking away, past Namjoon and to the tour bus.

-

They arrived in Kyoto but by this time, Yoongi felt itching under his skin, as if something was missing. Like a glass of water right in front of him while he was dying of thirst but he couldn’t quite reach it.

What made it worse now was that Kiku seemed to have a new air of energy here.

She went to an old music store with them where they met one of Kiku’s old friends, Botan. He was a bigger man, not quite muscular but generally broad like Namjoon, his dark hair was fluffy as if freshly washed. His eyes immediately softened when he saw Kiku.

Botan perked up in excitement and hugged her tightly, carrying her off the ground easily.

Yoongi held in a groan as he looked away.

“I thought you’d never come back here,” Botan said.

“We’re here on tour,” Kiku said, a little breathless. “How’s the store doing?”

Botan ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s been good, not bustling but good.” He smirked. “Your old records are still here too if you want them.”

“I’d like grab some too,” Taehyung said, grinning.

“Of course, please, look around.” Botan gestured.

Yoongi kept his eyes fixed on like a hawk as Kiku walked to the backroom with Botan while they joked and laughed.

“Stop sulking,” Namjoon said.

“I’m not sulking.”

“Yes, you are. This is the most calm we’ve been in ages, don’t ruin it.”

“Sorry, my relationship problems are causing you inconvenience.”

Namjoon glared. “I didn’t tell you to cheat on your girlfriend, dipshit.”

Yoongi sighed in frustration. “I need a smoke.” He walked out of the store and started on his cigarette. He looked through the window and saw the view through the open door of the backroom. He saw Kiku laughing with Botan so easily without the slightest bit of effort. There had been a time when they would laugh the same way but now even starting a proper conversation was hard. He looked away, his chest feeling congested and pained at the realization that he was losing something important.

-

The band sat together in a hotel room after their concert in Kyoto, the cool air soothing their tired muscles and heated skin. Taehyung was already drunk so Namjoon helped him back to his hotel room, leaving Kiku and Yoongi alone. A more sober Namjoon would’ve double checked if they could be alright alone but this time a tipsier Namjoon was ready to go back to his hotel room.

Kiku rested back on the couch as the hotel door closed while Yoongi blew a plume of smoke above him. He began to cough.

“Stop smoking for a bit,” Kiku said as she tried to take the cigarette away but Yoongi moved his hand away.

“Not my girlfriend anymore, don’t need to do this.” His voice rasped heavily, half-lidded eyes looking at her.

“Am I not your friend anymore either?” Kiku tilted her head.

This loosened Yoongi’s fingers as Kiku grabs it from him and taps it off the ashtray. She poured two glasses of water to drink.

They sat in silence like this for a while. Maybe it was a silent test for both of them to see if someone shouted or if a minor comment could turn into a long argument. But nothing really happened.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi spoke gently into the silence.

“What?”

“I know it’s late and stupid but…I am sorry.” He looked at her, straight in her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. Even when I wanted to, I never wanted to go along with it.” Yoongi then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“It’s done. We don’t have to worry about it anymore.” Kiku leaned her chin on her knees.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked.

Kiku blinked slowly. “I don’t forgive you but we can put it behind us.”

“Good enough.” Yoongi smiled.

She bit down her bottom lip, curling her toes as she watched the slight movements of his own lips.

Yoongi leaned forward and pouring vodka into the water.

“The point was to get a bit more sober.”

“For what exactly?” Yoongi hovered the glass over his lips before seeing her expression.

Kiku tapped the side of her glass, lips slightly parted like the gilded doors of a pleasure garden. Her eyes soft and sweet.

Without a word, Yoongi put his glass away.

Kiku smirked and stood up from the couch, walking over to the bedroom.

Yoongi followed suit, locking the door behind him. He didn’t wait for Kiku to turn before he moved her around, kissing her, hot and sweet with a hint of vodka on her tongue. The third he’d been nursing for most of the tour now finally quenched as she pressed her close to him, relishing in her warm embrace of his cheeks.

He ripped the webs of her fishnet stockings, kneeling down and pushing aside her panties, kissing in between the lips of her cunt.

Kiku held onto his head, throwing her head back as she jerked her hips forward. She moved back and laid on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs. Yoongi ripped the fishnet stockings further, letting her legs hang over his shoulders before he devoured her cunt which was sodden with arousal.

Yoongi hummed against her clit, sucking on it with vigour and passion until pleasure thrummed from Kiku’s lower belly to her head. He licked a stripe up her clit, lapping his tongue as Kiku let out a shaking moan. He kissed each of her lips, using one of his fingers to get his fingers drenched, teasing her entrance.

He lifted and pushed his two fingers into her mouth soak them further. A hint of her arousal touched her tongue, making her mad with pleasure.

Yoongi slid the glistening fingers into her, curling up like muscle memory, knowing the places that made her back arch. He relished in her hands gently brushing through his hair and the taste of her in his mouth. He listened to the squelching of her cunt as Kiku desperately whimpered towards her pleasure.

He kissed the soft, sensitive skin between her lower belly and her core. His fingers curled up, brushing against her sweet spot until made her thighs tremble against him. Yoongi pressed another hot kiss atop her clit. Pulling his fingers out, he relished in the way she whimpered desperately.

Kiku lifted herself up, moving Yoongi to lay down on his back so she could straddle him. She pulled her black t-shirt off showcasing her lace bra.

Yoongi took his chance to caress her breasts, using the texture of the lace to erect her nipples.

She unbuttoned his pants, pulling out his cock and rubbing her wet cunt up the length. The corner of her lips curled in ecstasy before sliding herself down until she was full of him. Kiku hummed in delight, swaying her hips, not waiting as she got into a steady rhythm. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as Yoongi dug his nails into the sweet skin of her ass, still barely covered by her fishnet stockings.

The pleasure thrummed from her core to her toes, making her head dizzy. Kiku may have fought him and distanced herself from him but there was no denying that she missed this. His rough, passionate touch and the feeling of his cock shaping her insides according to her own rhythms. She loved it. She loved him but hated everything about him. It was a cruel feeling, but not one to have right now.

Yoongi’s moans grew ragged, messy as both their orgasms rolled to the edge.

Kiku threw her head back, moving faster and faster until the bed began to creak against pressure. She bounced up and down feeling him getting heavier as her own lower belly began to grow hot with frustration.

“I’m close,” Yoongi breathed out.

Kiku bit down her bottom lip, growing feverish with her pace. Her cunt squelched and ached as her orgasm finally exploded.

Yoongi jutted his hips up, shooting his warm release into her as Kiku’s own bliss ricocheted through her body.

Kiku cried out in pleasure, riding out their orgasms, letting the arousal spill all around them. She rested on his chest, leaned in and kissed him gently.

They didn’t say much to each other. No explanation, no clarification, just calm and bliss.

“Thailand tomorrow?” Yoongi asked.

“Yep.”

-

Their routine of fighting to silence had now turned to a ritualistic fucking session after each concert. Each interaction got more and more friendly, warm which led to a steamy night in the hotel room that left them both blurred in their own ecstasy.

Yoongi wanted to relish in this for as long as humanly possible. He really did. But the small, starving moral part of him knew this wasn’t a compromise that made Kiku truly happy. She was enjoying it and she was excited but even in his idiocy, he knew they weren’t happy like they used to be.

It was their final night in Hong Kong when lying in bed together, sweat sheening their skin. Kiku sat on the bed, sketching out some thoughts while her dark hair flowed down her back and a nightie haphazardly draped over her body.

“I know I’m not really the person to bring this up but…” Yoongi said, mostly looking at her back. “What are we doing?”

“We’re sitting after a fuck,” Kiku said, still facing her notepad.

“We’ve been doing nothing but fucking.”

“No, there’s talking and we’re getting along now.”

“Because we’re fucking.”

“It’s a good stress reliever.”

“You haven’t forgiven me.”

Kiku stopped sketching now, looking over her shoulder. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

Even though Yoongi expected her to say something like that, it still ached a little knowing that was still her view of him. It was stupid to think otherwise, Yoongi wouldn’t have forgiven anyone for cheating either but it still hurt. “So why do this?”

“Do you not want to do this?” She put her notepad away.

“I want to but—”

“But what?”

Yoongi sighed and sat up on the bed properly. “Look, this is fine but it’s not something you do. You don’t leave things blurred.”

“I have to,” she said. “I’m not getting back together with you and our tour’s been going so smoothly with this system.”

“So after the tour…what happens then?” It was a heavier question than Yoongi wanted it to be but Kiku seemed to think on it deeply.

“I’m going back to Kyoto and helping out Botan with the shop.” She played with the fabric of the hotel blanket. “We’re going to be taking a break anyway and I need some time to reflect.”

Yoongi did ask and he got an answer, but that didn’t change the fiery frustration in his chest. “With Botan.”

Kiku narrowed her gaze. “With Botan, yes, Yoongi. I love you but did you really think I was going to heal with you?”

Yoongi stammered, no argument left on his tongue. “You could’ve told me that.”

“You wouldn’t have cared. Maybe now but not then.” Kiku hugged her knees to her chest.

Yoongi could do nothing else but sit in silence again.

-

The tour ended sometime during the edge of autumn and Yoongi spent his holiday at a new café down the road of his apartment. Since his place was now emptied, he felt uncomfortable sitting there alone as opposed to looking like a lonely sob at his corner. Kiku had moved to Kyoto already.

Yoongi wanted it to be a calm morning but unfortunately, the waitress serving him turned out to be a familiar face. The girl he had brought into the hotel room. Her eyes widened when she recognized him but Yoongi could only stammered.

“You don’t remember me?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.

Yoongi furrowed his brows before shifting uncomfortably. “No, sorry, I know who you are.”

She smiled, serving him the black coffee he ordered. “Heard about your break. How’s it been?”

“Not great, I’m alone in a café and I feel like shit.” Yoongi chuckled,

“Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Actually…”

She turned to look at him again.

“This is gonna be a crappy question but…did anything happen between us?”

The girl blinked slowly.

“Like I remember you but I don’t…you know…” Yoongi gestured.

“Well, I remember us doing a few lines and drinking.” She played with her fingers. “You kept complaining about your bandmates and then you fell asleep.”

“We didn’t…”

“I mean, I think we both tried but were too wasted to do anything. So no.” She smiled nervously. "And no, I didn’t do anything while you were asleep.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi waved his hand and the girl turned on her heel to leave.

-

When Yoongi returned to his apartment, he should’ve gone straight to writing new songs on his guitar but his mind kept rushing to call Kiku. Telling her that nothing actually happened even though the girl did mention that they tried. It was bad but a selfish part of him so desperately wanted to grasp at the thread of hope that this could be revived somehow. Anything to bring light back to his place.

Yoongi opened his phone as he rested on the couch, his lit cigarette hanging off his fingers, dropping ashes on the ashtray next to the couch. He scrolled through his contacts but his courage hadn’t quite mustered.

Like a pathetic stalker, Yoongi began to scroll through Kiku’s socials instead. He found new pictures of her at the record store. She was glowing and smiling to her heart’s content like nothing worried her. If he called her right now, he knew that smile would disappear and it would be another pattern of the same shit.

Kiku had to heal and so did he in his own way.

For the first time, he wanted to take no interest in proving himself right. So he shut his phone off and put out his cigarette. 

masterlist

[theriverspath]

Ineffable May, Day 22: 1941

Rated Teen for spicy tension and one mild language.

Crowley lounged on the little sofa of the dressing room, trying not to listen to the rustle of fabric coming from the other side of the changing screen. When a pair of tan trousers were neatly draped over the top, and the black ones tugged down to disappear behind it, he tried (and failed) to not imagine a half-naked angel sliding socked feet into each leg one at a time.

“You know, you really should go take your seat in the auditorium. It’ll raise suspicion if you aren’t there for the first half of the show. We wouldn’t want anyone else in the audience to realize you’re my, what we call in the business, ‘confederate.’” Crowley heard the quotes around the last word, and cringed at his own reaction. What was it about this fussy, enthusiastic side of Aziraphale that caused a swarm of butterflies to take flight in his chest? It had been that way for so long that he’d lost track of when it had begun. In Rome maybe, with the oysters? His mind slid past that, back to that old basement and the ox rib. The butterflies kicked up, threatening to swirl lower down his corporation. Nope. Best not to dwell on that for too long…

“Sure, if that’s what you want, angel. But, maybe I should stick around until you’ve finished changing into your costume? To, er,” Crowley scrambled for a reason to justify his unwillingness to simply saunter out of here, to give up this chance to be in this room alone with Aziraphale, “To have another set of eyes to look over things? Could be useful.” There was a pause in Aziraphale’s movement, and Crowley held his breath. He only let it out when the angel replied.

“Yes, alright.” The words were quieter, a little slower. He didn’t have time to figure out what that meant because the angel stepped out from behind the screen. Crowley stood, suddenly unable to stay still.

“Well, what do you think?” Aziraphale took up the little bit of floor space the cluttered room offered. There was a hopeful, unsure look on his face. He spread his arms a tad, and the sparkling starbursts on his sky-blue cape twinkled in the lights from the vanity. The butterflies in Crowley’s chest settled, replaced by a warm glow.

“Marvelous,” he said, and meant it. Aziraphale smiled, relief flooding in with his happy nervousness.

“Crowley, I can’t thank you enough for this.” Aziraphale took a step forward, and Crowley tried his best to not give in to the temptation to close the rest of the distance between them. “If it weren’t for you…” They both jumped at the loud rapping on the room’s door.

“The show’s starting, Mr. Fell.” A bored voice sounded from the hallway. “You’re on in fifteen.” The speaker didn’t wait for a reply, and they both heard footsteps trail away.

“Well, um. I guess I should…” Crowley gestured past Aziraphale to the door. “Like you said, don’t want to give the game away.”

“Yes, I suppose you should.” Aziraphale nodded, but didn’t move to let Crowley pass. Instead, his eyes remained on the demon’s face. Crowley saw a question in them, and felt his own breath catch. “Before you go, perhaps you could help with my stage makeup? I never can,” Aziraphale cleared his throat and swallowed before continuing. “I never can seem to get the mustache even on both sides.” So quickly it surprised Crowley, he leaned over to the vanity’s desk and snatched up a kohl pencil. Was he imagining it, or did Aziraphale’s hand shake when he offered it to Crowley?

“Er, mmm, uh, yeah, okay, I’ll, uh, I’ll see what I can do.” Crowley mentally kicked himself as he stumbled his way through agreeing to the angel’s request. He took the makeup stick, and his pinkie made contact with Aziraphale’s hand. Sparks flew up his arm, just as they did when he’d handed over the book satchel after the bomb, just as they did when the beaming angel had grabbed his hand in the magic shop. Aziraphale took another step forward so that he was close enough for Crowley to reach. He tilted his face up and closed his eyes, apparently waiting for the demon to start.

Crowley thought his corporation might just spontaneously combust at the sight. He deposited his glasses onto the vanity and took a steadying breath, realizing only too late that Aziraphale could probably feel his exhale. He lifted the pencil and placed it just above the angel’s lip. Slowly, he drew a curved line ending in a little curl. Aziraphale didn’t react, staying perfectly still under the movement. When Crowley tried to start the second side, his hand was too unsteady.

Without really thinking about it, he slid his free hand around the back of Aziraphale’s head to brace himself. He froze at the small gasp of surprise the touch elicited. Pale pink lips parted, and stayed that way. He waited, but Aziraphale didn’t show any signs of wanting him to remove the hand. Unable to look away from the delicate beauty of Aziraphale’s cupid’s bow, Crowley completed his task without knowing if he had achieved the even appearance asked of him.

When he lifted the pencil from Aziraphale’s cheek, he glanced up to find gray-blue eyes looking into his. The question was still in them, and Crowley wanted more than anything to answer it. He felt Aziraphale sway forward, and his fingers gathered the soft curls they had buried themselves into.

“Angel, I…” Crowley’s voice came out as a hoarse plea. He had to know if this was alright, if this was what Aziraphale wanted, too. Did he really see the smallest of nods?

The clomp of heeled shoes and the peal of women’s laughter penetrated the wood of the room’s door. The first number was over, and the dancers were returning to their own rooms to change. Out of instinct, Crowley’s eyes flicked towards the unexpected sound. He felt Aziraphale stiffen in his touch. He looked back down to find the angel blinking, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Thank-” Aziraphale was breathing heavy, like he did when nervous. “Thank you. That was most helpful.” Crowley’s heart sunk. It had been too much, afterall. He released Aziraphale and stepped back. He retrieved his glasses and returned them to his face.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you on stage.” With that, Crowley slithered his way around the angel and slipped out the door. He nearly ran into a human holding a clipboard. The man raised his eyebrows in a knowing look. He even had the audacity to wink at Crowley as he knocked on the door.

“Five minutes, Mr. Fell.” Crowley curled his lip, growling at the human for his puckish impertinence. Unintimidated, the man merely snorted a laugh and walked off down the hallway. Crowley straightened his already impeccably arranged tie, settled his features into an approximation of bored nonchalance, and made his way to the audience. He had better get himself together if he was going to be of any use to Aziraphale in this damned foolish bullet catch trick. 

-------

prompt list

[mymoodwriting]

3.8k, deja vu au, reader appears in the end, alcohol, drinking, depression, past relationship, amnesia, gaslighting, manipulation, denial, character deaths, implied character deaths, car accident, lingering spirits, traveling dimensions, 99% certain you will cry, I cried writing this (@starillusion13)

“Hey… it’s me again…”

Yeonjun laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling while he was on the phone. There was so much he wanted to say, but it was hard to find the words at times.

“I know you’re busy but… you know it’d be nice to hear your voice again… I’m really-”

The beep cut him off as that was all the time he had to leave a message. He thought to try again but he left it that way. He sent you a lot of messages throughout the day, and he didn’t want to piss you off more than you already were. He laid in bed for a while longer before getting up and preparing for the day. The apartment was a lot quieter without you around, and he was well aware of that everyday. Still he didn’t touch your things, leaving them as they were, always waiting for the day you’d forgive him and come home.

On his way out he stopped to look himself over in the mirror, wiping away the tears on his face. He always woke up crying, and he couldn’t understand why. He never remembered his dreams, but he always felt such heartache every morning. He knew he missed you so much, but perhaps he missed you a lot more than he even realized. Once he was out of the apartment he texted his coworker, letting them know he was on his way. He worked as a line cook at a small little joint. It wasn’t anything fancy but it paid the bills and gave him a consistent schedule, so he didn’t hate it too much.

For his lunch break Yeonjun went up to the rooftop, eating in peace and watching the world go by. The scene was quite lovely and it brought back memories. Back then when you had been dating you’d stop by to visit him during his lunch break whenever you had a chance. You could enjoy the view together, and had taken a few pictures together, as well as shared a handful of kisses. It was a little awkward now for Yeonjun, knowing you wouldn’t come up there to meet him anymore, but the memory of you here was what always brought him back. When he heard the door open he perked up, thinking a miracle was about to happen, but instead he saw Soobin walking over. His friends knew of his lunch spot too after all.

“Where you been, man?”

“Ah, you know, just living my life.”

“But you don’t have time to text or call?”

“My bad.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Soobin took a seat next to Yeonjun. “How you been though?”

“Okay, I guess. Just going through the motions.”

“You know we’re here for you, right?”

“I know. I just don’t wanna burden you guys or sound like a whiny bitch.”

“You wouldn’t be a burden, or annoyance, you know that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna test our friendship over something like this. It’s not a break up, just some miscommunication. We’re taking a break, that’s all.”

“… oh…”

“I’m fine though, really.”

“… yeah… yeah I can see…” Soobin cleared his throat. “You know, the guys are gonna get together on Friday for some drinks, you wanna come? Wouldn’t be bad to spend a night out with us, right?”

“I’d like that.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details.”

“Thanks.”

Yeonjun admired the view once more, deciding to take a picture and send it to you. Soobin watched him curiously. He could admit it was nice to see the world from up here.

“Who you texting?”

“Y/n. We used to come up here a lot and enjoy the view together. This way we can still share it even if she’s not here now.”

“… right… I, uh… I gotta get going, but I’ll see you Friday?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. See you later.”

“Be safe.”

Yeonjun stayed up on the roof for a while longer before heading back down to finish his shift. He lived close to work, so the commute wasn’t that long, but most nights he’d pick up a few odd jobs doing deliveries. That way he got to travel past all the places you’ve made memories together. The restaurants you’ve dined at, the walks you took together, the ice cream you shared. It was a happy trip down memory lane, and he hoped to do it all again someday. He stopped along the way to check his messages, and just like before you hadn’t responded. Countless messages have gone unanswered, and he could see that you haven’t even opened them. When he finally got home he decided to try giving you a call.

“Hi, you’ve reached y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can! And if it’s you, Yeonjun, I’m sorry I missed you, but I’ll see you later, love you! Okay, bye!”

Hearing your voicemail message always brought a smile to his face. Perhaps that’s why he kept calling. After the beep though his mind went blank, unsure of what to say at first until the words came to him.

“Hey… how are you? I hope you’re doing well… I, uh, I sent you a picture earlier from the rooftop… it brought back a lot of memories… you know, you could at least let me know you’ve seen my messages… I don’t mind if you leave me on read, but I guess you must be busy… Soobin came by today, told me this Friday-”

Another beep told him his time was up and the line then went dead. He sighed and looked back at his texts, but there was nothing new from you. He lingered in the shower afterwards, trying not to break down in tears. It had been so long now without you, but he was still doing pretty well to hold himself together. He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long before he finally fell asleep. His alarm would wake him in the morning, freeing him from whatever tear filled dream he wouldn’t remember. It was probably more accurate to call them nightmares, but all he knew was what he felt in the morning, nothing else.

This was his usual routine, so he just went about his day as normal. He’d call and leave a message, getting ready for work and spending his day out in the world, distracting himself from your absence. He felt cold in a way he couldn’t describe. It was spring, leading into summer, so the weather itself wasn’t a reason for his feelings. He knew what was, but he didn’t want to dwell on it too long for fear of being swallowed up whole. Yet every passing day made him feel as if you were fading away, and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

Every morning he’d feel the tears on his face. Sometimes he’d wake before his alarm, sobbing uncontrollably, his throat burning from the tears. His face hurt from all the crying, but it seemed he was getting used to the pain now. Once he calmed down he found himself staring at the blank ceiling once more. It was easy to zone out that way, drifting back into the memories of the past, the memories forgotten. Although every time he tried to look back it seemed harder to grasp those moments, to grasp onto you. Such feelings always led him to call, even if you wouldn’t answer. He still hoped that someday you would.

“I miss you… I really fucken miss you… and I’m sorry… I honestly can’t remember what we fought about that day but I know it must have been something stupid… we’ve fought before over worse things but this… whatever it was… y/n please… please let me make it up to you… I want to hear your voice again, I want you to say my name again… I can’t… I can’t lose you-”

He screamed after the beep and threw his phone across the room. It was all true. He missed you like crazy and yet you were nowhere to be found. He desperately wanted to remember what happened that day, but even after all this time it was a blur. The stupid anger he felt, knowing you were leaving upset. Things shouldn’t end that way, and all he wanted was to make it up to you, to see you again and apologize for hurting you. Yet ever since that day you’ve disappeared from his life and gone silent. All his messages and texts have gotten him no response, and he was quietly going insane. Somehow he still managed to live his life, day by day, but it was becoming unbearable the longer this went on.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Yeonjun! It’s so good to see you!”

Taehyun and Kai ran up to hug their friend when they saw him, the atmosphere growing brighter with his presence. Everyone was happy to see him as it had been a long time since they all last hung out together.

“Thanks. Soobin invited me, and I thought I’d see how you were all doing.”

“This is gonna be fun.” Kai admitted. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Let’s drink till sunrise.” Taehyun added. “I’ve built up my tolerance, I can totally take you on.”

“Ya, relax.” Soobin stated. “We haven’t even ordered the first round. We’ll see if your words hold up later. Sit, sit.”

“I’ll order.” Beomgyu said. “It really is great to see you, Yeonjun.”

“Same here.”

To be surrounded by friends, and drinking for joy, it was truly something Yeonjun had needed. He wasn’t alone, and he could forget his sorrows while in this moment. Everyone talked about what they had been up to, their plans going forward, and they all promised to see each other again soon. It was kinda strange to feel happiness like this again after so long, and Yeonjun wished to share it with you. By sunrise they were all pretty gone, but Yeonjun still had enough sense of self to act on his own.

“Excuse me for a minute, I gotta do something.”

“Hurry back.”

Yeonjun got up from the table, stumbling a bit towards the door. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number. Of course he was met with the usual ringing, but this time things were different. As he was walking out he stopped, hearing a familiar sound. 

“Y/n, could you please pick up the phone, it’s your boyfriend calling.”

Yeonjun had recorded a special message for you to use as a ringtone whenever he called. So hearing it now sent chills down his spine, sobering him up in a second. He looked around the place, searching for the source, but it was naive to think you were there somehow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the truth. Beomgyu pulled out a phone, your phone, quickly shutting it off before slowly looking up at Yeonjun. Their eyes met and for a moment the world froze. It was just the two of them in this silence, but the rage inside Yeonjun quickly burned away the cold and he stormed back over to the table. Yeonjun dropped his phone and reached over to pull Beomgyu close, getting up in his face.

“Why the fuck do you have y/n’s phone!”

“Yeonjun, I, I can explain.”

“What the fuck! I have been trying to reach her for weeks! Why the fuck do you have her phone!”

“Yeonjun, calm down!”

Everyone had sobered up in an instance. Soobin and Kai grabbed Yeonjun, pulling him away from Beomgyu. The boy took a few breaths, Taehyun looking him over. Yeonjun tried to free himself, a fire burning inside him, and his eyes locked on Beomgyu.

“Where is she!?” Yeonjun yelled. “Where is she, Beomgyu!?”

“Yeonjun…”

“Tell me! Where the fuck is she! You fucken bitch! Where-”

“Yeonjun, stop it.” Soobin interrupted. “Don’t do this here.”

“Let me go! I need him to tell me the truth.”

“That’s not gonna help.”

“Fuck you! Tell me where she is, Beomgyu! What has she told you!? Where is she!?”

“Yeonjun-”

“Where-”

“She’s gone!” Taehyun spat. “Yeonjun, she’s fucken dead.”

“… huh?”

“Taehyun, don’t.” Kai said. “This isn’t-”

“She got into a car accident a few weeks back.” Taehyun continued. “You were there, you went with her to the hospital and she… she didn’t make it…”

“… no… no… no, that’s not true! Liar! You fucken liar!”

“It’s true.” Beomgyu added. “You disappeared after the doctors pronounced her dead. You didn’t even go to her funeral. We didn’t see you for days, and when you suddenly reappeared you were talking about some fight and that you two were taking a break. You fucken gaslight yourself, and we just let you be cause surely you’d come to your senses eventually.”

“She… where is she?”

“I can tell you where she’s been laid to rest…”

“No, no… no…”

“We all miss her too, Yeonjun.” Kai added. “I’m sorry…”

“… you’re lying… you’re all liars…”

Yeonjun fell to his knees, his vision being blurred by tears. He didn’t want to believe any of this, yet his heart hurt like never before in this moment. Soobin and Kai let him go, cautiously stepping away to give him space. They all knew the truth had to surface somehow, but they didn’t want it to happen this way.

“Why did you have her phone?” Soobin questioned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was the one who took her belongings and before I could deactivate the phone I noticed Yeonjun kept texting and leaving messages. I couldn’t… I don’t know what would happen if I suddenly cut the line.”

“You should have told me you had it. I thought he did and he was feeding his own delusion. Why did you even bring it!?”

“I forgot to leave it at home, besides I didn’t think he’d leave a message right now.”

“Yeonjun- where did he go?”

When the others tried to look for Yeonjun they realized the boy was already gone, having run off when he had the chance. Yeonjun had no idea where he was running too, but he just had to get away. Tears blurred his vision, wiped away only for a moment by the wind. Somehow he wound up running away from civilization and out into the fields. The light from the sunrise illuminated his path, but it did nothing to soothe the pain in his chest. His legs could only take him so far and he eventually collapsed, falling to the ground. He struggled to breathe, the lack of air and pain from his tears making it hard to regain his breath. 

While he laid there images began to flash before him. A car wreck, fire, sirens in the distance getting louder and louder. The crowds around him, screaming and calling for help. A vague image of an injured hand sticking out from an overturned car. He stood frozen in place, taking in the whole scene before screaming and running towards the fire. Yeonjun jolted up, still in the field and looking around at the emptiness. He was alone, completely alone. He didn’t want to believe you were gone, he couldn’t, yet he felt it in his heart. All those dreams he had, they had truly been nightmares, memories of that day. Yet he wanted to deny it all.

“Please… please…”

Yeonjun had gotten on his knees, praying, begging, to see you again. Things couldn’t end this way, definitely not like this. He had been terrible at times, unable to keep promises or leaving you alone in all kinds of ways. Still he loved you, he loved you more than anyone else, and he’d never love another like he loved you. So he prayed, begged, to anyone who would listen, if he could have you back, promising to never let go again.

“You lost her, didn’t you?”

Yeonjun opened his eyes to see Beomgyu standing before him, then the boy kneeled down to embrace him in a hug.

“It’s okay, it’s okay… I lost her too…”

“She can’t be gone… she can’t be…”

“She is… but I can give her back.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Promise me you’ll look after her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeonjun!!!”

Yeonjun turned around to see his friends running in his direction, all four of them. Once it clicked in his head he looked back at the Beomgyu by his side.

“What…”

“There isn’t much time. Please, promise us you’ll take care of her. She can’t be alone.”

“I��”

“Promise us.”

“… I promise.”

A blinding white light changed day into night. Yeonjun found himself alone once more, standing in the middle of nowhere. It took him a moment to truly regain his composure, confused about what had just happened.

“Yeonjun!”

Your voice, he had almost forgotten what it sounded like in real life, and not just some recording. Tears stung his eyes, except they were of joy this time. Although that feeling only lasted for a bit. When he turned around his eyes went wide, memories rushing in. That day you had come to pick him up, the two of you planning to get the others and you were all going to go on a weekend trip. He had a bad day at work and just snapped at you for no reason. You were rightfully upset, telling him to get himself together and call you when he wanted to be picked up. You drove off without another word. He already regretted his actions as he watched you leave, and when he turned his back he heard a loud noise.

Screams soon filled the air and he ran over, seeing smoke rising into the air. He was met with a horrifying scene. Your car was turned over, some other idiot hitting you and causing the whole wreck. He was frozen in shock, being able to see your hand sticking out of a broken window. When he saw your fingers move he snapped into action and rushed over. It was all really a blur from there but now he stood before a similar scenario. There was an overturned car just off the road, a giant fire roaring from it and the bits of debris around were also engulfed in flames. You were on your hands and knees before a body, screaming and crying.

“Yeonjun! Yeonjun! Yeonjun, get up! Please, Yeonjun… Yeonjun… you can’t leave me alone… please… Yeonjun! Get up! Please… please… yeonjun…”

Yeonjun wasn’t dreaming this time, or reliving a memory, this was something else entirely, and there was no waking up to reality. This was the real world, and it was like deja vu. He took a shaky step forward, one foot after another. Your name escaped his lips as a whisper, in the moment he struggled to call to you although seeing you again was what he had desperately wanted. As he got closer he noticed four other bodies scattered around, and your face became clearer, illuminated by the fire.

“… y/n…”

“… yeonjun… please wake up… please…”

“Y/n.”

Yeonjun choked back tears as he said your name. From where he was he could see your clothes were torn up, and that you were covered in cuts and bruises. When you looked up to meet his eyes he froze. It really was you, he could never forget those beautiful eyes, even when they were full of tears and agony. He couldn’t forget your face either, regardless of how many injuries decorated it.

“Yeonjun…?”

“Y/n.”

“Yeonjun… Yeonjun!”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the searing pain from your leg as you finally stood. You tried to run, but it was more of a desperate limp as you made your way over to Yeonjun, tears blurring your vision. Maybe this was all just some hallucination, or maybe Yeonjun had come back for you, either way there was only one way to know for sure. Yeonjun caught you in his arms, almost in disbelief that it was really you. He held you tightly, so fearful you’d suddenly disappear again.

“Yeonjun, is it really you…?” You sobbed into his shirt. “Don’t leave me alone… please…”

“No… no, I’m not going anywhere… I got you… I promise.”

Yeonjun’s legs gave out, the adrenaline wearing off, but he kept his hold on you. The two of you collapsed to the ground, but neither said much. Yeonjun stared at the car wreck, slowly looking down at your battered body. The car suddenly exploded, causing you to scream and hold Yeonjun tighter. He did his best to shield you, watching the flames grow brighter, and noting all the bodies were suddenly gone.

“Yeonjun… what’s going on?”

When Yeonjun heard his name he looked over to see his friends walking towards him. They looked worried, and confused, coming to Yeonjun for answers, but he had none.

“I… I don’t know…”

Yeonjun noticed his friends covered in injuries as well, their clothes different from when he last saw them and now torn up. He suddenly winced, looking down at his own body, seeing injuries that hadn’t been there before, and realizing his own clothes had changed.

“I thought you were dead…” You sobbed. “I thought you were all gone…”

“Y/n?” Kai questioned. “Is that…”

“We’re all okay.” Yeonjun cut in. “We’re all gonna be okay. I promise.”

The boys all looked at each other, but now wasn’t the time for questions. Soobin and Taehyun helped you and Yeonjun get up. You were in no position to walk, so Soobin picked you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style and having you wrap your arms around his neck. They all had a vague sense as to where to go, starting to walk away from the wreck. Yeonjun stayed close to you, softly petting your head and assuring you he was right here with you, they all were. Your eyes stared deeply into his, feeling that his words were true. Yeonjun saw the fire reflecting in your eyes, seeing something strange and turning around. Among the flames he saw five silhouettes, not needing to wonder what that was.

“I promise.”

The smoke overtook the fire and he turned back to you, offering you a smile. You reached out to hold his hand and he took it, feeling the warmth it brought him. He may not know the past here but whatever the future held he knew you’d see it all together, and make new memories. He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your hand, forever grateful his prayers were answered. Yeonjun would keep his promise, as he was sure they all would.

“Yeonjun.”

“Hm?”

“Everything’s gonna be okay… we’re gonna be okay… right?”

“Yes. I promise.”t

[robinsversion]

Some people really need to learn the meaning of the phrase “play stupid games win stupid prizes”

[bigguyenthusiast]

141 and their captain’s assistant

- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing

- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help

- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly

- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager

- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course

- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+

- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’

- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain

- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”

- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base

- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork

- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no

- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates

- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”

- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !

- “so why ar’ ye here?”

“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”

- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”

- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask

- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food

- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly

- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you

- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”

- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes

- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’

- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground

- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast

- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”

“The mess hall still have some food there”

- “I don’t eat that rubbish”

“Well too bad, you need to eat”

- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now

[lemonlover1110]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Firefighter!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: A question has the power to ruin a whole marriage. After you ask if he's having an affair, Toji is so upset that he can’t look at you for too long. Until a tragedy happens and he’s reminded that he can’t fathom the thought of living without you.

Warnings: MDNI, firefighter!Toji, talks of cheating, house fire, silent treatment, hurt/comfort, smut, oral sex (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, choking, breeding kink, cream pie, shower sex, semi-public sex (fire station bathroom), pregnancy reveal (at the end)

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“I missed you, honey.” Toji plops down on the bed, throwing his arm over you. You bite down your lip, holding back tears as you think of the worst. Your husband is a firefighter, he’s always worked long irregular hours– But he feels distant lately, leading you to believe something is up. Something that’s heart wrenching, even if you’re just wrapping your head around it.

You really can’t help but think of the worst, even when Toji has shown you nothing but love. He’s the best husband you could ask for, yet you find yourself scrolling through his phone while he sleeps. The only thing that Toji’s done is work… Yet you wonder if he has someone else since he’s barely home. The fact that you’ve read how firemen cheat a lot doesn’t really help you either.

His thumb begins to caress your cheek before he whispers, “Are you asleep?”

You don’t answer, letting him believe that you are. He whispers the same three little words before kissing your forehead, making it infinitely harder for you to hold back your tears. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, holding back a sob as tears begin to stream down your face. You can’t fight them back no matter how hard you try. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, feeling your hot tears on his fingertips. “Did something happen? Why are you crying?”

“I’m fine.” You answer, turning so you’re not facing him. But it’s obvious that you’re not fine, if you were you wouldn’t be crying. Toji wouldn’t usually push you to tell him if you’re in a bad mood, but you’re crying so something is clearly wrong and he wants to help. He wonders if it’s something he did wrong, and if it’s that, he wants to fix it.

“Let’s talk so I can help you.” He sounds concerned, and you begin to feel dumb for crying. Toji pulls you close to him, kissing your shoulder, his hands going under your shirt so his thumbs can trace lazy circles on your skin. 

“Toji…” You begin, and he patiently waits for your next words. Time feels eternal to him, wondering what’s bugging his precious wife. You sit up on the bed, taking a moment to gather your feelings. You don’t want to become a sobbing mess while speaking to him.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asks, following your lead and sitting up as well. He rubs your back, attempting to help you calm down. You take a deep breath before you spit the words out, knowing that dragging it out will make the moment even more interminable for the both of you.

“Are you having an affair?” The words are incoherent since you talk too fast. Toji furrows his brows, confused as to what you said. He asks you to repeat what you just said, slowly, and you regret repeating it so he understands. 

“Am I…– What?” His face contorts, offended by the mere question. The mere thought would be a disgrace to Toji, and he’d repent a thousand times before thinking again. You bite your tongue, not daring to speak again. He scoffs, “This is… Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t waste a second, but that doesn’t fix the mess that you just caused. You don’t know what you’ve just caused, it could just be the downfall of your marriage. Maybe any other time Toji would be understanding and reassuring, but you’re not seeing that he’s doing all this for you.

“Do you really think so little of me?” He begins and you frantically shake your head, wanting to make it clear that you didn’t mean it. Your words won’t leave your throat though, and that’s not helping your case. He scoffs again. “I devote my whole life to you, and this is what you ask me…”

“Toji, I– I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve just been seeing a lot of how firemen tend to cheat, and you’ve just been away lately so… I just thought–” You’re all over the place, and Toji grows even more annoyed with every sound that leaves your lips. He’d never think that he would feel like this about your voice, but he can’t stand to listen to it.

“So you just thought I’d be a dirty piece of shit and do that to you. Got it. So nice to see what the love of my life thinks of me.” Toji answers, standing up from the bed and grabbing his pillow. He can’t sleep next to you tonight. The couch will do for tonight… And for a couple of days after that. 

Your bottom lip quivers as you think of how to stop him and how to properly apologize. You’re in the wrong, you know you are, but you can’t speak up. Toji sighs before he begins to walk out of your bedroom. You’ve had many arguments, but never did they end up with him walking out of your shared bedroom and going to the living room to sleep. He tries to talk it out before going to sleep, and if that doesn’t work, you sleep with your backs facing each other (even though in the morning you wake up cuddled up). He’s clearly upset, and you have no idea how to solve it this time.

He slams the door shut, and you blankly stare for a minute before laying back down on the bed. The crying doesn’t stop though, instead it gets worse since you know you’ve fucked up.

Toji leaves the kitchen and goes to the backyard when you begin to walk to him. He leaves his morning coffee on the counter, a hot cup that he just served to get his morning started. You didn’t expect him to react this badly but you understand. If he had accused you of cheating, you wouldn’t be too forgiving either. 

A sigh leaves your lips knowing that your day just started but it’s already a shitty one. You pour yourself a cup of coffee before going to the glass sliding door to watch what your husband does. He cleans up anything that looks out of place, doing stuff that neither of you ever do. 

You start off your day without speaking to each other, and you think of ways to make it up to him. Thankfully, you have all the time in the world to think about what to do, until you finally land on cooking his favorite meal and taking it to his job. He works a long shift today, and he didn’t pack anything to go. Knowing him, Toji will just end up eating instant or something of that sort. He’s content with it but you know he’d prefer something made by you.

So you cook something for him, one of his favorite meals, saving up the dish that he absolutely loves for dinner. You never really liked the saying that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but it’s fitting for Toji. You make an effort to dress up and look good for him– In other words, you’re doing everything in your power to make him happy with you again. 

All eyes are on you when you get to the fire station. Toji seemingly didn’t hold back on your argument from last night, and you feel as if everyone is judging you. You can’t exactly be upset at him for it, you’ve been cursing yourself since last night for bringing it up. But you can’t help but feel insecure.

Lately you feel as if you’ve changed a lot from the woman that Toji loves, and the fact that he’s been working so much doesn’t really ease your nerves. Yes, you should’ve communicated with him better instead of straight up asking if he was having an affair, but you weren’t thinking straight when the question left your lips. It shouldn’t matter what they think anyway, you’re here to amend your problems, which half of their partners wouldn’t even bother.

You get to the kitchen, finding some of his co-worker but not him. Their eyes fall on the bag you hold, and they begin salivating at the mere thought of the food that’s inside. If Toji doesn’t want it, they’ll take it. 

“Is he in the training room?” You ask after a simple greeting. They nod in response, and you put the bag on the counter. You point at it, warning them, “That’s for Toji. Don’t touch it unless he doesn’t want it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They answer, mentally praying that Toji isn’t hungry– Or that he’s too mad that he rejects it. They don’t care about the cause, they just want to eat Toji’s food. 

Just as you expected, Toji works out in the training room, wearing his uniform pants and a black undershirt. He lifts himself up, a grunt leaving his mouth which lets you know that he’s been at it for a while. You don’t mean to interrupt him, leaning on the door frame watching him workout. It’s a rare sight… And it’s certainly doing something to you. You feel your face and body get warm, erotic thoughts filling your mind.

You force yourself to look away, you’re here to apologize to your husband, you can’t let other thoughts fill up your mind. Your main and only focus is getting Toji to forgive you. You end up clearing your throat, and Toji’s eyes land on you. He lets go.

“Why are you here?” He doesn’t bother to greet you. Your presence isn’t welcome today, at least that’s what he makes it sound like. He needs time away from you to calm down and gather his thoughts, but he can’t exactly do that with you here. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

“I’m just dropping lunch off for you, Toji. Nothing else.” You answer. You bite down your lip, knowing you should say more; you should apologize. You have no idea why, but apologies are so fucking hard. You know you’re in the wrong, but no matter how horrible you feel, admitting you’re wrong just doesn’t come easy. You did it last night without a problem, but today it’s hard.

“Is that all?” He asks, and you shake your head. You have more to say, you just have to take a moment before saying it. Toji watches you, waiting for your apology.

“I’m sorry for what I said last night. I shouldn’t have said that.” You say, and Toji isn’t satisfied with the answer. You shouldn’t have just said that, the thought shouldn’t have even crossed your mind. “I don’t know what came over me… I just feel so insecure as I get older and change. I’ve been changing in so many ways, and I feel so different from the woman that you once fell in love with.”

“And you just thought that I’m so horrible that the slightest change would make me look for someone else?” He’s getting even more upset. You have valid reasons to feel the way you’re feeling, and he partially understands but Toji can’t find himself to tell you that he somewhat gets it. He just hates that you even thought he’d do something like that to you when he would burn the world just to see you smile.

“It’s not like that, Toji—“ You take a deep breath. “I’ve just been in my head, and you’ve also been working a lot and I’ve felt you distant which doesn’t really help… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t understand how upsetting it is to hear my own wife say that. I’d do just anything for you and–” He begins but he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. An exasperated sigh leaves his lips and he shakes his head. “I need time. Just leave. I’ll see you at home.”

“Toji…” You begin, but you end up nodding. “I left some food for you in the kitchen. Love you.”

He hums in response, going back to his work out. Now that stings. 

Toji regrets giving his wife the silent treatment the moment there’s an emergency in his home. His heart completely stops beating for a moment, regretting not talking to you for a couple of days. He feels as if the firetruck moves slower today, which makes him want to get out and run to you to assure your safety. 

A million thoughts run through his head, wondering what happened. But that’s not what bothers him the most. The thought of your last interaction ending in you telling him you love him and him not answering back will haunt him forever. If something happens to you, he’d never forgive himself.

There’s a couple of neighbors huddled up outside, watching the flames that are on the left side of the house. Toji doesn’t really have time to watch, he runs into the house to search for you. He feels as if his heart is in his throat, ready to leave his body until he finally finds out. You’re passed out on the bathroom floor but thankfully away from the fire.

He throws you over his shoulder and carries you out. He gets you to the paramedics, and stays by your side, knowing that everything else is under control. Time goes so slow yet so fast while the paramedics check you, and while you’re out of danger, he’s more nervous than before. The saddest tears spill from his eyes, yet they hold so much relief when he’s assured that you’re okay. The situation could’ve ended much worse, but thankfully you’re okay. 

Toji has many questions about the situation, wondering what could’ve possibly happened for you to pass out on the bathroom floor like you did. But he doesn’t worry about the details, he doesn’t care that half of his house is burned, he’s just happy that you’re safe. Your safety is all that matters. 

When you gain consciousness, you’re bombarded with love from Toji. Toji is off work for a week to make sure that you’re okay, after all, you did faint in the bathroom which caused half of your home to burn down. Toji’s love is weird though, at least compared to before. Toji isn’t verbal with his love, he shows it to you physically. However, the week that he stays by your side, Toji doesn’t touch you in any way. 

Toji views you as fragile, even though you assured him that you were okay after going to the hospital. It’s as if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that you’re okay, and it irks you. Maybe it irks you more than it should because whenever you try to initiate something with him, he turns you down.

When you kiss his exposed shoulder, hugging his waist from behind, giving him some sort of hint that you need to feel his touch, he stops you. He cuts you off with a yawn, telling you that he’s too tired to do anything. It leaves you frustrated in so many ways– Not having sex isn’t the part that annoys you the most, it’s the fact that Toji is coddling you. 

Toji doesn’t let you do anything he considers mildly dangerous, and he won’t talk about any topic that might upset you. Your argument before the fire hasn’t been resolved yet since he dismisses it every time you try to apologize for it. 

Toji acts as if he’s guilty of something but he’s done nothing wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” Toji asks. Last time he said similar words, his tone was harsher, his anger clear, but right now he’s concerned. Did something happen? You look fine as you sip on some tea… He just can’t wrap his head around as to why you’re here.

“I think we should have a talk.” You answer. Maybe this could have waited until later, but he’s on a twenty four hour shift and you feel as if your thoughts are getting the best of you again. You watch as everyone scatters out of the kitchen, sensing that the topic that you’re going to talk about is something serious.

“You’re just here to keep an eye on me, huh?” He jokes, followed by a lighthearted chuckle. You roll your eyes and he begins to walk away, “I’m going to take a shower, we can talk at home.”

You stand up, following behind him, calling out to him, “Toji, c’mon. We both know that you’re not going to talk when we’re at home. It’s quick.”

Your words go ignored. Toji gets to the men’s bathroom, practically shutting the door in your face. You cross your arms, staring at the door. He knows you’re too much of a prude to enter the men’s room. You think about how Toji only takes ten minutes in the shower, but you have a feeling that he’ll take at least an hour today. You think about leaving– But no, you’re going to talk to him now. Whether he likes it or not.

You look both ways before barging into the man’s bathroom, and you feel your face get hot, embarrassment taking over you the moment you step a foot inside. There’s luckily no one inside, so you have no reason to actually be embarrassed. You lock the door behind you before looking for Toji. Your ears follow the sound of the water droplets that hit the ground until you land on the closed curtain. 

“Toji.” You call out his name, yet he doesn’t answer. If it’s not him, you could crawl into a hole and die of shame, but you know it’s him. There’s no one else in here. “Toji Fushiguro, I swear–”

You shut your eyes before you take a deep breath. You begin to get undressed, getting more and more irritated by the second. Once you’re completely bare, you open the shower curtain and enter the shower. You almost squeal at the cold water, but you get used to the feeling quickly. He lets out a low laugh when he feels your arms wrap around him, feeling your warmth behind him.

“You should warn a guy. I almost punched you but then I felt a pair of boobs press against my back.” Toji says as you press a kiss on his wet back. He heard you call out his name, he knew it was you. Toji isn’t deaf even though he loves to pretend like he is hard of hearing.

“I’ll fucking kill you. I called out your names a couple of times.” You tell him. He’s smiling as he turns around to face you. He kisses the top of your head as you hug him tight, and it feels like the first touch you’ve gotten from him after some time. It makes you feel warm inside, a smile unwillingly coming to your lips. “Now you have to talk to me.”

“Isn’t that what we do daily.” Toji answers, and your bottom lip sticks out.

“About serious matters, Toji.” You respond, and a sigh leaves his lips. He can’t escape this– Although he isn’t exactly upset with the situation. “C’mon. I’m fine, am I not? We can talk. You were upset before.”

“Yeah… But I overreacted.” He replies. He had the right to be upset, but he regrets not saying that he loves you back. He can’t forgive himself for almost letting your last real interaction end with him just humming when you told him you loved him. “You tried to talk to me and I was… A little bitch.”

“A little bitch, really?” You can’t help but giggle. He could’ve used any other words to describe himself. “I’m glad you came to your senses.”

“But look what had to happen for me to use my brain.” Toji’s fingers caress your back. You press a kiss on his chest before your hands go to the back of his neck, pulling his head down so you can kiss his lips. 

“You were rightfully upset… You did drag it out a bit though.” You tell him, and he laughs. He did. He had your perspective and he still treated you harshly. He can’t help but think that this whole incident wouldn’t have happened if he treated you better in that moment. He also thinks that you’re hiding something from him about your health because last time you were honest with him, he had a bad reaction.

“Are you really okay, though? Is there anything wrong with your health?” He asks, and you shake your head in response. It’s the truth, you’re more than okay. But it isn't so easy to believe that, after all, you wouldn’t have fainted if your health was completely fine. 

“I’m more than okay.” You reassure him. You press your lips against his again. “Why are you so… Distant?”

“What do you mean distant?” He furrows his brows in confusion. If anything, he’s closer to you than ever. You bite down your lip before you say,

“This is the longest you’ve held me ever since our argument… You don’t try to touch me anymore.” 

“I…” He begins, and you watch his eyes tear up. You didn’t mean for that to happen. You peck his lips, hoping that it’ll make the tears go away. He smiles before telling you, “I’m just an idiot.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You ask him. He can’t bring himself to say it. He felt too guilty to touch you. He could’ve avoided it all. A simple kiss just takes him back to that moment– He feels unworthy of you and of your touch. But right now he feels different. He should’ve told you he loved you back. All his hopes and dreams with you almost slipped away, and he’s at fault for that. He hums in response, that’s all he’s willing to share. 

“Did you lock the door before coming in here?” He changes the topic. A mischievous look comes to your face, which is the answer to his question. He doesn’t waste a second before his lips land on yours, his tongue moving past your parted lips and into your mouth. You pull him closer to you as your tongue presses against his. 

Toji’s hand goes down and grabs a handful of your ass before he practically pushes you against the wall of the shower. The kiss gets more heated by the second, and every ounce of shame leaves your body as you feel his hot hands on your now cold body. He manages to set your body on fire even in such cold water.

“I need you so badly.” You mutter when he pulls away from your lips, kissing your jaw following down your neck. His hands fondle your breast as your hand goes down to his erection. Even in cold water you get him so fucking hard. His index finger and thumb pinch one of your nipples, while he kisses down your neck and to your chest. His mouth wraps around your other nipple, and he sucks.

You begin to stroke his cock, eager to feel him inside of you. You need his touch now more than ever. You’re needy. Toji’s hand goes down to your cunt, two fingers running through your folds, making your thighs squeeze out of pure excitement. Toji unlatches, getting down to his knees to do what he should’ve done a long time ago.

He kisses your clit before his tongue runs through your folds. He’s fucking missed your taste– And the way you softly moan when his tongue moves on your cunt. His tongue focuses on your clit while two of his fingers tease the entrance of your cunt. 

He pushes two fingers in, making a breathy moan leave your lips. Your hand slaps over your mouth, remembering the place you’re at. They can’t hear you, you’re safe, but panic still sets in. Toji stops flicking your clit to tell you, “I need to hear you, baby. Want you to be loud.”

“Not here, Toji.” You whisper, cut off by a moan as his fingers curve so they brush against your sweet spot. Toji’s mouth doesn’t waste time going back to your cunt, quickly getting used to the taste and not being able to stay away from it for too long. You can’t help but mutter, “You’re doing so good– Fuck…”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Toji does everything in his power to make you feel on cloud nine. The best way he knows how to apologize. You can’t argue with it, not when you’re on the verge of screaming his name because he’s making you feel so good.

He’s working you up, leading you up to your climax. The pressure on your lower abdomen builds up and just as your release nears, he pulls his fingers out, leaving your cunt to clench around nothing. He rises from between your legs, his lips messily kissing yours again.

“Need to feel you around me, baby.” Toji’s voice and actions are filled with desperation. You can’t judge him because you feel the same way. Toji runs the tip of his cock through your folds before reaching the entrance. He slaps the tip on your cunt, teasing you. He would almost make you beg for it, but he can’t wait any longer. He slowly pushes himself in, hissing as he feels your cunt take him in.

He gives you a moment to adjust to the sudden change before he begins to thrust in and out of you.  You’re struggling, holding back moans in the back of your throat. It’s hard when his cock feels so perfect inside of you.

“It’s so good, Toji.” You’re so quiet, he fucking hates it. He loves when you’re loud, letting him know just how good you feel because of him. It’d be so embarrassing for his co-workers to hear, but fuck, is it painful to not hear your sweet voice.

Toji’s hand goes to your throat, lightly squeezing. His index and middle finger go up and reach your lips, and as soon as your mouth slightly parts, the two fingers enter your mouth. His lips go down to kiss your shoulder before he bites down. He can’t help but tell you, “You feel so perfect around me, baby.” 

“Toji-” You sound so pathetic. He wants to hear you scream his name, but he knows you won’t. It’s surprising that you’re even doing this with him. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, moving them down to play with your clit. You moan his name again, but louder.

“Need to tell you how much I love you.” Toji’s lips go to your ear. He moans in your ear as he feels your cunt squeeze around him, and fuck, he knows he won’t last long. You’re just so nice and warm around him, he swears this is heaven. “Need to give you all my cum, baby. You’d like that? You want my cum, baby?”

“I need your cum, Toji.” You begin to squeeze around him. Toji loves to tease you about knocking you up, and it always riles you up. You shut your eyes as your hands go into his shoulders and your nails dig into his soft flesh. You’re so close to your release.

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll knock you up.” He watches your face filled with pleasure. It’s taking everything in him to not lose control.

“Toji!” You see white, reaching your climax. He holds on to you as your legs become weak for that moment. 

He keeps moaning into your ear and telling you, “Need to knock up your sweet little pussy.”

His thrusts become unregulated. He doesn’t want to stop now but he does have to go back to work before an emergency pops up. He wishes he could spend all day beside you, making you feel so good. Toji finally moans your name, as his warm cum fills you up.

You spend a moment in silence, hearing the water hit the ground before he pulls out. You quietly clean yourselves up, and you almost gag knowing that you’ll be smelling like a three-in-one old spice body wash for the rest of the day.

“How am I going to sneak out of here, Toji?” You ask when he turns off the faucet. He shrugs in response. Maybe getting in the shower with him wasn’t the best idea. Your wet hair is a dead giveaway at the fact that you were doing something that you weren’t supposed to be doing. 

Toji gives you the towel that he was going to use, while drying himself up with the towel that was meant for his hair. He picks up your clothes from the floor, setting them down on the sink. “Just ignore them. We weren’t the first people to do this, and I doubt we’ll be the last.”

“It’s still embarrassing.” You respond, and Toji furrows his brows in confusion before a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Good thing it wasn’t my idea. Let me remind you that you came in uninvited. Plus, they should be understanding since half of our house is getting renovated.” Toji answers, making you roll your eyes. Your bedroom and bathroom is still intact, it’s really no excuse.

“Yeah, whatever.” You aren’t exactly too upset since things are back to being somewhat normal. You begin to put your clothes back on, as Toji mindlessly watches you. You tilt your head to the side before asking, “Is everything okay?”

“I know I’m all talk and shit about knocking you up but…” He begins, and it’s an unexpected topic. You’re fighting back a smile as you hear him say, “Don’t you want to start a family soon?”

“Oh, Toji.” You finish putting on your shirt, stepping closer to him and kissing his cheek. It's a weird response… Is that a yes? He thinks so at least. “I’ve been keeping something from you.”

“Huh?” He’s scared of what you’re going to say next. “What…?”

“When I went to the doctor, there wasn’t anything wrong with me exactly… Nothing concerning.” You begin, and he grows impatient as he waits for you to get to the point. “I was feeling dizzy and all while cooking so I thought going to the bathroom and washing my face real quick would help me, but I fainted.”

“Yeah, I know that. You’ve told me a couple of times.” He interrupts you since he’s too impatient. “What are you keeping from me?”

“I’m pregnant.” You blurt out, and Toji’s eyes widen. Are his ears deceiving him? He stares at you in shock for a moment before you repeat, “I’m pregnant, Toji.”

“I–” He’s speechless. He can’t say anything, but he can wrap his arms around you and kiss all over your face. This news is the best news he’s gotten in his life– Sure he was expecting this to happen a couple months into the future, but he certainly isn’t upset about it. He tells you over and over again, “Thank you, my love.”

You were worried about his reaction because your life isn’t all that ideal right now, but he’s over the moon. And so are you. Toji’s nose is nuzzled in the crook of your neck as he holds onto you. He holds still for a moment, until you finally tell him, “Go put on some clothes, Toji. Half of your dick is still hanging out.”

“Wait for me so I can escort you out.” He responds. It’s like he wants to parade you after fucking you in the bathroom. 

He smirks at you. That’s exactly what he wants to do.

[rowarn]

ENAMORED (m.)

soap mactavish / reader !

tags: established relationship, BIG dicked!soap, afab!gn!reader, virgin!soap, sub!reader

cw: loss of virginity, squirting, size difference, teasing, pet names, praise, wet&messy, missionary, mating press, cunnilingus, fingering, pussyjob, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie

note: this is the fic from the pwp royale i posted recently! loss of virginity won so here's the result!!! MDNI.

; with a too-big-cock, he hasn't managed to lose his virginity yet. until he shares a sweet little moment with you, the love of his life ♡

5.7k words

Soap had been thinking about this for ages. He had been in positions like this before, without a doubt, with previous partners. 

But there was something deep inside him that was breathless over the fact that it was you situated so cute in his lap, dressed all cozy in some clothes you had left over at his place from a previous night you had spent with him. You two had been dating for some time now but he had done his best to avoid being in this predicament because he was worried it would end the same as it had with everyone else. 

Even though Soap was 28, charming and had a lot of luck scoring dates, he was still a virgin. It was the most embarrassing little fact about him. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course. In fact, all his teammates in 141 were positive he’d gotten laid more times than he could count. But bringing a pretty thing home from a bar always ended the same for him – with them scurrying out of his door with their clothes bundled in their arms the second he pulled his dick out. 

So to say Soap was nervous right about now was in understatement. 

You were so warm against him, smelled so lovely that it made his heart flutter in his chest. Everything about you was so intoxicating that he was terrified this was going to end the same way it always had with other partners – with you becoming intimidated and fleeing with your tail tucked between your legs.

He was so enamored by you that he didn’t think he would be able to cope if you walked out on him like everyone else. 

You pulled him out of his head when you cupped his stubbly cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. His hands flexed against your hips, tugging you even closer on his lap. He was growing harder and harder underneath you and he silently prayed that you didn’t feel it. 

Your hands trailed down to his chest, pressing your palms flat against the firmness there as you deepened the kiss. You sighed sweetly into his mouth, dipping your tongue in to taste him as he eagerly kissed you back. His hands weren’t idle either, going from squeezing your hips to kneading your thighs, bared from your shorts.

Suddenly, he pulled back, eyeing the string of spit that connected your lips before smiling at the way you were panting from a kiss. 

“Can we do…more, Johnny?” you ask softly, rolling your thumb over the scar on his chin.

“Are you sure you want to?” he fires back, meeting your gaze under his lashes.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you smile, adjusting yourself in his lap and he has to fight to hold back the groan from how good the pressure feels even though he’s still confined to his jeans, “I love you. You love me. Of course I want you.”

The way you say it so simply and sweetly makes him smile. He suddenly takes hold of your chin and tugs you close so your forehead rests against his, “I’m not goin’ to lie, sweetheart. I…” he nervously cleared his throat, “I’m a big guy.”

You blink owlishly at him for a moment, “You mean like…”

Your hand slips further down his chest and he quickly intercepts it, taking your hand in his with a nod of his head. Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth and he can see the way your pupils dilate. 

“Okay…” you whisper, “You can just…work me open, yeah?”

His lashes flutter at those words, a groan getting caught in his chest. His hands find purchase on your waist, easily hoisting you up and tossing you onto the other end of the couch before crawling over you. He immediately begins kissing your neck and you eagerly let your head fall back so he can have more access. His chest is pressed against yours, pinning you down with his weight alone as his hands continue to caress your thighs which are splayed open around his hips. 

His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, throbbing with need when he realizes you've started trembling under such simple touches. You lay there so sweetly underneath him, arms splayed on either side of your head letting him touch you and see you however he wants. Pliant.

“So sweet…” he coos, muffled with his lips pressed against your pulse point. 

You sigh contentedly, heart hammering in your chest when his hands finally move north and start pushing your shirt up. Slowly, over your belly button, over your ribs, catching on the swell of your breasts before you lift your head and let him strip the material off. He tosses it somewhere in the living room but neither of you care where it lands. 

“Shite…” he groans when he leans back on his heels, eyes landing on your bare breasts, “You’re somethin’ special.”

Before you have the chance to offer anything in reply, he's got his lips wrapped around one of your nipples. One hand supports his weight beside your body on the couch and the other carefully slips under the fabric of your panties.  You eagerly spread your legs even more, anticipating his touch where you need him most but he doesn’t make any further movements. 

His hand falls completely still, fingertips resting just above your clit, just the slightest twitch down and he would be touching the little bud. 

His tongue eagerly swipes over the pebbled bud of your nipple that’s trapped in his hot mouth. You let out low sighs of pleasure, mindlessly arching your hips up in hopes to get him to move that damned hand lower — but he refuses, intent on teasing you with its presence so close to where you needed him.

He's got you wound taut, tense and aching for him. He dips down and you think he's going to give you what you want, but instead he uses two fingers to peel your folds apart. You feel like the air gets punched out of your lungs, thighs threatening to twitch closed but are blocked by his hulking form in between them. You can hear the sound of your folds parting, wet and sticky and it makes his cock fucking throb. 

“You’re so wet, you hear that?” he teases, popping off your nipple with a crooked grin. 

“Shut up,” you intend for it to come out biting but it comes out weak and soft, which only makes his grin broaden. 

Your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling and leaking into your panties. You feel like you could cum if so much as a breeze brushed over your clit. You've never been pushed so close to the edge from someone teasing you like this. 

One of your hands finds purchase in his mohawk, tugging the short strands so he is forced to meet you in a heady kiss. You whimper into his mouth and his free hand cups and gropes your tits in his large hand, massaging the soft flesh as he eagerly kisses you back. As you kiss, you attempt to rut your hips up in hopes of getting him to slip between your folds and make you feel good, but it doesn’t work and he chuckles. It’s cute you think you can distract him like that. 

The kiss is messy and sloppy, strings of spit connecting your lips when you finally part to take a breath. You look up at him with a dazed, heady look to your eyes that has him pecking your lips once again before descending back to your breasts. You cry out in surprise when you feel the nip of his teeth against the bud. As he tortures you with his mouth, he takes the chance to tug your shorts down your legs. You eagerly lift your hips to help him rid your body of the offending clothing, tossing them to get lost somewhere alongside your shirt.

Once you’re bare, you let your legs butterfly open, giving him a full view of your completely bare body. 

You’re practically panting when his hand slinks down your body once again, parting your folds with that sticky sound that has heat flushing to your cheeks, much louder now that there’s no clothing blocking it. Soap’s eyes drop to your pussy, index and middle finger holding your labia apart so he can see how your clit throbs and your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling down to the couch. 

“So pretty,” he coos, wishing he could roll his thumb over that pretty little clit just to watch your body twitch from the pleasure but he’s on a miss.

He surges forward again to kiss you, soaking in your happy sigh at the little affection, but it doesn't last long before he's mouthing his way down your body — nipping and suckling at your skin as he makes his way further and further down. 

His large, callused hands grip under your knees and pin you embarrassingly wide open with your knees to the couch. He kisses up your inner thigh and over your pelvis, stopping to press his lips against your hip bones before his tongue dips down and swipes over one of your labia. 

Your taste lingers on his taste buds and he practically moans at the feeling. You gasp, hands flying to his mohawk when he gives the other side the same treatment, cleaning up your mess with his tongue. 

You desperately attempt to rut your hips up, whining with your need to feel his touch properly where you need him but he backs off and waits for you to sink back into the cushions in defeat before pressing a kiss above your clit. His pretty, blue eyes watch every pout and furrow of your brows that crosses your face from his teasing. 

He can tell you’re getting frustrated and needy – just the way he wants you. The fact you’re so pliant and at the mercy of whatever he’s willing to give you is intoxicating. You’re so sweet for him. 

It feels like hours that he torments you, kissing around your thighs and lapping over your folds but never giving you what you actually need. He continues to clean up any mess without actually touching where you desire him most, simply savoring your juices on his tongue. 

Your clit aches, twitching with need as it begs for just the slightest touch from him — something to put you out of your misery. 

“Johnny…” you pathetically whimper, fisting his t-shirt, tugging him closer in hopes of getting him to give you what you want.

His long lashes flutter as he looks at you, “What is it, sweet one? Something you want?” 

“Need,” you correct hastily with a tearful glare. He thinks it’s supposed to be intimidating but he only seems to find the display cute.

He laughs softly, a charming smile crossing his face as he looks completely endeared by you, “Need, huh? Are you always this needy?” 

“Only for you, Johnny!” you whimper, moving your grip on his shirt to his hair again, hoping it’ll give you more leverage but he doesn’t budge. 

He laughs softly, “That’s right, little one. Just for me.”

You feel so on edge, like he’s worked you up to an orgasm without ever actually touching you properly. He thumbs your folds apart, leaving the needy little bud open and exposed to his greedy gaze. You wish so badly he would just breathe against you so you could experience something more than this mind-numbing teasing your boyfriend has subjected you to. It’s pathetic, you realize, wishing for so much as a breath against your bud. But there’s just something about Johnny that always has you hanging on everything he does. You’re enamored, in love.

That thought has you whimpering, sinking back into the cushions of the couch.

“So sweet,” he coos dismissively, smile only widening as you tearfully glare at him.

His gaze darkens at the sound of a sob tearing through your chest and he bites his lower lip when his cock fucking throbs. He didn’t really think he’d be the type to enjoy seeing his partner cry and he’s not even sure he would be into it if it was anyone but you, but here he was. 

Soap thinks you look so precious like this, defeated and waiting for his next move.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commands suddenly, chastely kissing your navel when you finally meet his gaze, unfocused and tearful, “There you go, good. Don’t look away now, okay?”

You nod your head, finding yourself getting lost in his unwavering eye contact. His pretty blue eyes and long, soft eyelashes that you could simply marvel at for hours. He was so handsome and all yours and that alone made you even wetter. Your boyfriend was on top of you, giving his all in making you feel good. 

As you're lost in thought and his eyes, his fingers finally dip down to where you need him most, pressing the pads of his digits against your clit. The little bud is so hard and sensitive that the small amount of stimulation has you toppling over the edge immediately. 

Your eyes remain open and locked with Soaps as you cum with a weak cry of his name. His fingers gently circle your clit, sticky, wet circles over the bud to ease you through the high. 

When you finally slump against the couch, thighs twitching against his sides through the aftershocks, he pulls back. Your eyes flutter closed, panting from the exertion of your orgasm. You’re practically boneless as Soap suddenly moves you trembling legs over his shoulders. 

His gaze falls to your swollen, pulsing cunt. Your folds are covered in a slick film and he can still see the way your clit and hole throbs, drooling your cum messily with every clench. Your eyes flutter open, cheeks heating when you see how intently he’s staring at your pussy.

“Don’t stare…” you whine bashfully, voice dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Can’t help it,” he gives you a crooked grin, “You’re so pretty here.”

You whine at his response, kicking your foot against his back in retaliation.

Suddenly it's like all rational thought flies out of his head and he's pinning your knees to your chest. 

You gasp at the change in position, “Johnny!” 

He chuckles at the way you sound shy, as if he didn't just have you cumming underneath him a minute ago. 

The feeling of his breath against your sensitive folds is enough to make your thighs twitch in his grasp. He makes a show, when he finds you looking down at him through your lashes with your chest rising and falling from how hard you're breathing, of letting his tongue fall from his mouth. 

Slowly, he descends, sliding his tongue between your slick folds. You practically wail, your back bowing against the couch when his tongue swirls around your clit, suckling it into his mouth. Your head slams against the couch cushion as your eyes roll back in your head, your hands gripping at his mohawk as you wail his name. 

“Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!” you squeal, legs kicking and flailing at the feeling of him eagerly slurping at your clit.

He backs off for a moment, releasing your bud with a lewd pop. You're panting and trembling, your knees still pressed against your chest, open and vulnerable for him. Your precious cunt is now coating in a slick film of your own cum and his spit.

“Keep yourself open for me,” he commends with a sharp look that makes you immediately do as you’re told. Your trembling fingers grip under your knees, hugging them to your chest. 

He spreads your folds apart with his thumb before his mouth finds its place there again, eagerly slurping up your cunt with a moan. He desperately eats you, swirling his tongue over your clit and dipping it into your clenching cunt to taste your juices. He's messy and sloppy, drool and your cum dripping down his chin and neck.

You cry and tremble beneath the onslaught of his tongue, he introduces two fingers, swiping them against your drippy entrance. You barely even seem to notice, too distracted humping your clit against the flat of his tongue when he lays it flat out for you. 

“Oh, Johnny!” you cry out, toes curling in your fuzzy socks the closer you get to your second orgasm, “Don't stop! Please, don't stop, Johnny!” 

He moans against you, the sound and feeling of it sending you over the edge. When he feels your clit throb on his tongue, he finally slips those two fingers inside you. The feeling of suddenly being stretched and filled sends you flying even higher. Soap has to use his body to hold you down as you kick and squirm from the overstimulating pleasure of having his thick fingers crooking inside you, grinding against that gooey little spot. 

“Johnny-!” you cut yourself off with a deep, long moan as you messily squirt all over the front of his shirt. 

Johnny continues to grind the tips of his fingers into that tender little spot inside you until you simply can’t take it anymore and shove him off with a weak cry. Soap pops the cum covered fingers immediately into his mouth as he watches you twitch and tremble against the couch, tearfully staring up at him. 

“Too much, sweetheart?” he asks, once he’s cleaned his fingers off.

You nod, taking a deep breath, “I-I’ve never…” you trail off and he quirks a brow. 

“Never squirted?” he finishes and you nod, “Well, I’m honored then. I guess we’re even.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, finally uncurling yourself from your position with a weak grunt, opening your arms to pull him close to you, finding yourself needing his touch.

His cheeks heat up, realizing it’s time to finally tell you his little secret, “Well…it’s my first time.”

“Making someone squirt?” you offer him a soft smile but it quickly fades when he shakes his head.

“No, I mean…” he clears his throat, “I mean havin’ sex.”

Your eyes go wide, “Really? But you’re like…really good with your tongue.”

He chuckles softly, forehead falling against your chest, shaking his head, “No I’ve got a lot of experience in foreplay. It’s after that I’ve never gotten to.”

You sit up at that, shock apparent on your face, “You’re a virgin, Johnny?”

“Aye,” he solemnly nods, trying to hide the embarrassment that bubbles under the surface.

“But how?” you question, “You’ve dated a lot. You’re good looking and kind.”

He grins at your praise, “I told you, little one,” he sighs, figuring now would be a good time to properly warn you about what you’re getting into, “I’m a big guy. Most people get scared off.”

Your brows come together in confusion, “Really?”

He nods slowly, carefully watching your face for any signs of apprehension. But you only continue to look confused. 

“Will you show me?” you finally ask. 

“You want to see…?” he finds himself stumbling over your question, heart hammering in his chest when you eagerly nod your head.

Wordlessly he sits up on his knees, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the material and he does look big but you want to see him completely. 

He unzips his jeans and reaches inside, hissing at the feeling of his hand wrapped around his neglected length. He finally pulls his cock free, twitching at the feeling of the cool air against him. He’s been leaking precum profusely, incredibly turned on from making you cum twice. 

“Johnny…” you whisper breathlessly, eyes wide as you stare at his length wrapped in his fist, “Holy shit.”

“I told you,” he smiles crookedly but deep down he’s nervous. 

This is the moment that will make or break you. Either he finally gets to be with you, the person he wants to share his love with the most, or you give him that terrified look and go scampering away. 

You reach out and knock his hand away, replacing his grip with your own. His breathing stutters when you give him a few, slow strokes. Your hand is so much smaller than his, unable to touch your fingers around the girth of him. The sight has him biting back a moan because fuck you’re so much smaller than him.

“You’re going to have to really prepare me, Johnny,” you playfully glare at him from under your lashes. 

His brows shoot up in surprise, “You mean you…”

“I love you, Johnny,” you smile softly at him, “I want this with you. Just…take your time, okay?”

“Of course,” he swallows thickly, quickly batting your hand away and urging you to lay back once again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, “Let's go to the bedroom.”

“Yeah, yeah we-we can do that,” he stumbles over his words foolishly, making his ears burn red in a way he hopes you don’t actually notice. 

After some stumbling and giggling, the two of you quickly find your way to his bedroom. After shutting the door, you crawl onto the bed, relaxing into the pillow, looking like his own little piece of heaven all naked on his sheets just for him. 

He strips himself where he stands at the foot of the bed, tossing his shirt into the hamper in the corner before letting his jeans and boxers pool at his feet. 

He’s on top of you before you know it, bringing you in for a kiss. As you eagerly spread your legs to accommodate his big frame, he reaches between your bodies and grips his cock again. Your entire body tenses up when you feel him pressing the tip against your folds.

“Johnny, no,” you whine, pressing against his chest, “Y-You’ll tear me open if you try to–”

“Not tryin’ to get it in, pretty baby,” he coos, “Jus’ trust me, yeah?”

You watch as he swipes the head through your folds, sliding the length between them, rutting his hips. You gasp as he grinds over your clit, making your whole body twitch from the stimulation. You’re still sensitive from the previous orgasms he had milked out of you. 

Before long, he pauses.

“Look at that,” he grins, “That’s how deep I’ll be.”

You feel your cunt clench pathetically at the sight of his length resting over your pelvis. You know that when you take him all the way, he’s going to be prodding painfully at your cervix. But you know you’re going to love every second of it. 

Not only is he long, his girth is amazing. You know it’s going to stretch you wide, you can practically feel the phantom burning feeling you know will accompany it. His cock is uncut, messily drooling all over your skin. The prettiest fucking cock you’ve ever seen and it makes your mouth water. 

“Think you can take it?” he teases, playfully tapping the heavy length against your clit. 

You whine and nod, “W-Want you to make me take it, Johnny.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” he chuckles softly, “Aye, we’ll make it fit, little one.”

Soap’s hand finds its way between your thighs again, two fingers prodding at your entrance as his other hand cups one of your breasts. You lay back in his pillows, staring up at him like he hung the moon and the stars as he stretches you open on those two digits. 

You’re pillowy soft and wet inside, pretty cunt making sticky clicking sounds as he fucks you with them. Your cum coats his skin and a creamy mess begins to form at the last knuckle when he works that tender little spot up top. 

Before long, he’s introducing a third finger. He slowly presses it in alongside the other two, stretching you open carefully and methodically until all three digits are pressed inside the tight clutch of your cunt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages, “Open up for me so I can give you my cock.”

You whine at that, “Want your cock, Johnny.”

He groans, pressing a kiss against your knee, “I know you do, sweet thing. Jus’ let me stretch you open for it, yeah?”

You nod and toss your head back, working your hips down against his fingers. He carefully fucks you with them, spreading them inside so you get used to the feeling of being stretched and filled for when the real thing is finally pressing inside. 

Fuck, the thought makes his cock ache. 

His thumb sneaks up and presses against your clit. The extra stimulation makes you clench around them like a vice and you moan so sweetly for him. He can’t wait to feel that around his heavy cock. 

“Johnny, please!” you cry, “I want you already.”

“Fuck, alright, sweetheart,” he grunts, pulling his fingers from inside you with a wet sound. 

He wraps those slick fingers around his length, smearing the mess across the soft skin. It’s embarrassingly desperate, the way he grips your hips and yanks you closer to him. You gasp at the forceful handling but quickly relax into the sheets when he leans down and kisses you again. 

As you’re occupied with his lips and tongue, he grips the base of his length and carefully begins to prod at your entrance. You whimper into his mouth when he starts to press inside.

Just the tip of him is a lot to take and you can't help but wince when that fat head finally pops inside. Soap feels the way you jump and quickly pulls out, biting back a groan when he sees wet, sticky strings of your cum and his pre connecting his cock to your cunt.

He uses the head to circle your clit, making you sigh in pleasure before he’s pressing back inside. This time he, when the head pops inside, begins rolling your clit under his thumb to soothe the ache.

“Just relax,” he coos, slowly circling the bud as he sinks more and more of his length inside. 

The stretch stings and he fills you up more than you’ve ever experienced before. He feels so heavy and hard inside you and his finger on your clit makes you reflexively clench and spasm around him. He moans at the feeling, pretty blue eyes rolling back as he feels half his cock being hugged. 

Before long, he’s balls deep, deeper inside a cunt than he’s ever been in his life. Its euphoric for him. A painful ache settles in your stomach from how he’s prodding against your cervix. He stills, watching your furrowed brows as you get used to being stuffed full of his cock for the first time. 

It dawns on him suddenly that he’s lost his virginity. To you. He’s got his fat cock buried in the one person he adores more than anything on this Earth. 

He’s overcome with affection, surging forward to press his lips against yours. You whine when the angle change makes him press even deeper inside you but you kiss him back anyway. 

He pulls back slowly, “Just relax,” he assures you again, “That was a lot, huh? You took me so well, pretty.”

After a few moments under his careful caresses and kisses, you relax into the bed. Blinking blearily up at him, you flex your hips and stir his cock inside. You whimper at the feeling and he slowly pulls back so only half his length is left inside. 

“Pretty,” he mutters, “P-Pretty and fuckin’ wet.”

“Johnny…” you sigh sweetly, clutching at his sheets as he begins to fuck you in earnest. 

Your tits bounce in time to his thrusts and he can’t take his eyes off them. He’s still a little shell-shocked from having you speared on his heavy, aching cock. He can’t believe he’s got the sweetest thing creaming around him, crying his name. 

“Johnny!” you cry sharply, hands flying to cup your own tits. 

Your eyes are wide, almost like you’re shocked, “What is it, pretty?” he asks, panting.

He watches in wonder as you toss your head back, squealing and trembling. You’re cumming, he realizes. Squeezing and clenching around his cock like a vice. 

“Shite,” he moans, hands trembling as he grips your hips, helping you rut against him as you cum, “‘S it, ride it out for me. Cummin’ nice and hard, hm? Barely even did anything and you’re creamin’ all over me.”

You whimper, eyes rolling at his filthy words. You slowly sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh, heart racing as you stare up at him. Soap loves seeing you like this, covered in sweat and twitchy from how hard you came from nothing but his cock stuffed inside you. 

“More, please, Johnny,” you whine, locking your ankles around his back, locking him against you, “I want more. Please make me cum again.”

He scoffs in disbelief, pressing his hands on either side of your head on the bed, “You just came and you want more?”

“Yes, please?” you ask softly, batting your lashes at him. 

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers, slowly grinding his hips against you, making sure his pelvis grinds against your clit, “I’ll give you whatever you want. This cock’s all yours now, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, “All mine, Johnny. ‘S all mine. You’re all mine. L-Love you so much.”

“Fuck!” he growls, fisting his sheets as he works his hips faster and faster against you, “Love you too. Love you, love you, love you.”

He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed at his babbling. All he can do is work his hips against yours, listening to your pretty moans and the slick sounds of your pretty pussy being fucked. 

Your back arches and you reach between your bodies to circle your clit with trembling fingers. His jaw drops at the sight. He never thought he would have the chance to see a sweet little thing like you working themself to orgasm on his cock like this before. 

“Sweet baby,” he whines, sounding broken and completely broken, burying his face in your neck, “You’re so wet. You’re makin’ such a mess around me. Pretty cunt’s so wet.”

You sob at that, eyes rolling as you toss your head back. You can feel another orgasm brewing, heating your skin and making you tremble underneath your boyfriend's massive body.

“Johnny, please!” you wail, feet kicking against his back.

“What? What do you need?” he pants, drooling against your skin from where his face is still buried.

“Please!” you cry again, pressing against his shoulders to push him back. 

He looks dazed, completely fucked out and stupid from having his cock fucked for the first time. You grab his hand and shove it between your thighs. He quickly picks up what you need and starts rubbing your clit.

“This what you needed?” he pants, “Needed me to play with this pretty clit so you can cum nice and hard again?”

You squeal, jaw falling open as you back bows off the bed. He moans at the feeling of you soaking him, gushing and squirting against his bare chest and all over his hand. His mouth practically waters at the thought of getting to taste you as you cum again.

“Already?” he gasps, “So fuckin’ sensitive, cummin’ so easily for me. Fuck, so good for me. I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You nod your head, still shaking from your orgasm, “F-Fill me up, Johnny. Please. Want you to cum inside!”

“Fuck, are you sure?” he gasps, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

You nod your head, “Yes, need it, Johnny.”

He fists the sheets on either side of your head as his entire body begins to tremble. His hips lose their rhythm and with a few more, weak rabbiting thrusts, he’s cumming. He cries your name, rutting his hips against yours. The movement causes him to grind against your sensitive clit, making you whimper and twitch beneath him. He grinds painfully against your cervix from how deep he is but it’s worth it to see the pretty way he cums inside you. It's a hot, thick load that fills you up and oozes out the sides of his cock and drips down to the bed. 

Afterwards, there’s a stillness that falls over the two of you. The only sound you can hear is the faint hum of the TV in the living room and the heavy panting between the two of you. 

Soap can’t think of anything to say, all he can think is to lean down and press his lips against yours. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close to him as you cling onto him, still trembling. 

“Love you so much,” he whispers, muffled against your lips because he’s not willing to pull away.

“Johnny,” you whimper, “I love you.”

He smiles crookedly, pecking your nose and forehead over and over again before you’re giggling and pushing him away. 

With his cock softened, he slowly and carefully pulls out of you, both of you wincing from how sensitive you are. Your thighs are still open and he watches as his cum oozes from your thoroughly abused cunt. His hand slides up your thigh, nearing your folds but you quickly slam your thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. 

He looks up to find you glaring at him, “Don’t even think about it.”

He grins crookedly, shrugging his shoulders, “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t fancy a go again?”

“After that?” you cry, throwing your head back to laugh, “I’ve never cum so much in my life, Johnny!”

“Ah, you really know how to boost a man’s ego,” he chuckles, flopping onto the bed beside you. 

He pulls you close, tucking you against his side, “Hard to believe that was your first time.”

“Aye,” he hums, kissing your temple, stroking your back slowly, “I’m glad it was you.”

“I am too, Johnny,” you snuggle close to him, kissing his bare chest.

There’s a quiet that falls over the two of you. Your breathing slowly begins to even out and he quickly realizes that you’ve fallen asleep. He hugs you closer, protective instincts urging him to keep you safe while you’re well-fucked and vulnerable like this in his arms. 

His heart skips a beat when his gaze lands on his night table, remembering the ring he’s got hidden away within. He wonders when he’s going to grow the nerve to finally ask you to wear it. 

DO NOT REDISTRBUTE, TRANSLATE, OR MODIFY. DO NOT RECOMMEND ON TIKTOK.

[kafkasmuses]

innocence — modern ! coriolanus snow + reader : your friends ask you to get some drugs from the local dealer, but you never expect he would take a liking to you.

tags : 18+!!! MDNI!!! drug dealing ! coryo, drugs, praise kink, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, porn with feelings, p in v sex, fingering, special treatment

coriolanus snow hated parties, they were loud, and the people were insufferable— but he needed the money from the things he sold. cocaine, weed, even some ecstasy. whatever the people wanted, whatever helped support his grandmother and cousin. they weren’t living in the most luxury like all the other people who held parties in these neighborhoods, so that’s why coriolanus attended them, they always paid the most.

he typically got douchebags or stuck - up pretty girls, they both always paid him in crumpled up ones that he took forever to straighten out and count— what a bunch of assholes.

what he never expected, though, was you, coming up to the man dressed in a korn shirt and baggy jeans with a bow in your hair as well as wearing a pretty dress. your doe eyes peered up at him when you tapped his shoulder, he turned, eyes slotting down to meet yours, “hey.”

“hi,” you hesitate, cute, “i.. do you sell drugs?”

he clears his throat, “sorry?”

“do you—“

“probably shouldn’t repeat yourself, doll,” he tips his head up, “i do, are you buying?“

“just for my friends, yeah,” you smile shyly at him, and he returns it.

you’re so innocent, had you ever done any drugs before? definitely not the ones he sells, maybe the weed, but cocaine or ecstasy? no, no way. if it were for you, he wouldn’t be selling you it anyway. coriolanus had a certain soft spot, if you will, for the innocent girls that wander up to him at parties with their batting eyelashes and naturally pouted lips.

“alright, let’s go upstairs,” he tips his head to the stairs, chuckling when you move to give a thumbs up to your friends before following after him, “why do they make you ask for them?”

he suddenly moves back to grab your wrist when the halls find themselves crowded, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people, nor you lose him. you were a client, a customer, and he always treats his customer this way.

loud incorrect buzzer.

he doesn’t!

coriolanus never dares to allow himself to sweeten up around his customers, or anyone, but something about your shy, deer like attitude— it had a wolf wanting to protect.

“they say they’re too nervous to do it themselves,” you finally answer when he leads you into the nearest empty room, closing the door behind you.

he finally lets go of your wrist, “that so? what are they askin’ for?”

“cocaine,” you swallow.

“then they’re not nervous,” he chuckles, having to deal with his fair share of cocaine users, none of them are nervous to approach him, “why do you let them push you around?”

he moves to sit on the bed, chopping up the cocaine from his pocket on the nightstand next to him. he typically doesn’t like when his customers stand over him, because he never knows what they will do, and he likes to be in control at all times— but you’re harmless, aren’t you? just a little deer.

you exhale a nervous laugh, “they’re not pushing me around, they’re just asking me for favors.”

he hums, eyes peering up at you as his hands absentmindedly work on the pearl powder, it was muscle memory for him at this point. “you promise you’re not doing this shit, too?”

“i promise,” your lips tip up to a curt smile, “it’s really.. scary, honestly.”

he exhales, eyes trailing over the curves of your face before they meet the nightstand again, swiping the powdered sugar like substance into a little baggie. you watch him, almost admiring, “yeah. it is really scary, dangerous, too— don’t want you doin’ this shit too.”

a warm feeling courses through your veins, you hardly realize he’s holding the baggies out for you until he clears his throat, you blink a few times, quickly trying to grasp the money you had— it wasn’t given to you by your friends to spend for them, it was just your own money. how cruel.

“it’s on the house,” he quickly says, almost unaware of what he was saying himself until it finally passes his lips.

you bat your lashes at him, “what—“

“free, doll, just take it,” he allows himself a faint smile.

you hesitantly reach to take the baggies, “are you sure…?”

he nods, “‘m positive.”

“thank you, snow,” his eyebrows furrow at how sweet his name sounds on your tongue, like nectar delivered by the kindest dove from the gods.

you turn to leave, but he quickly stands, “hey—“ he pauses, eyes sweeping over your figure as he tries to figure out what to say, you probably go to millions of parties with your asshole friends, possibly with other dealers.. “some other dealers are gonna try to rip you off, make you pay a lot for a little bit— so just, come to me and i’ll treat you good as long as you’re staying out of trouble, princess.”

“okay, i will,” you nod quickly.

“good girl.”

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

you don’t see coriolanus for a while after that night, it has been no more than a few days, less than a week but the idea of you is rotting in his brain and eating him whole from the inside out. at every party he went to, every girl with a bow in their hair (he despises that it’s the latest trend) or wearing a baby pink dress reminds him of you. with their fluttering lashes and soft smiles, god, he hates that he sees you in every one of them. he hates that you have completely plagued his entire conscience, but yet he never complains about it, not once.

sometimes, sejanus, one of the other known dealers, though he more so considers himself a look - out when coriolanus is selling, or a promoter for coriolanus’ business— he notices how coriolanus’ eyes linger more than usual on the women at parties, it almost makes him laugh, or tease coriolanus.

isn’t he supposed to be intimidating? not a man easily falling for women.

a lover boy, that’s what he seemed like now.

sejanus swishes around his drink in his cup, eyes falling to coriolanus, “what’s up with you?”

coriolanus blinks once, twice, “what are you talking about?”

“you haven’t blinked in like an hour,” sejanus liked to overexaggerate, “are you okay?”

“of course i am,” he scoffs, “‘m gonna find arachne.”

arachne, sejanus’ best friend, albeit she talks so much shit about him behind his back. sejanus is sweet, passive, and arachne is the complete opposite. some would call arachne a maneater, coriolanus thinks of her as a conceited bitch who needs to be put on a leash. she had a tendency to run off whenever she went to parties with coriolanus and sejanus, so coriolanus always had to run after her to try and find her.

sejanus nods, offering a small i’ll look too.

coriolanus allows sejanus to walk the opposite way as he turns the corner, eyes scanning each room for a brunette with a bold red lip. he doesn’t find her anywhere, god, she better not be having sex in one of the rooms upstairs like how she was last time. coriolanus likes to think opening that door to that sight was something out of a horror movie.

he does find a different brunette, though, with more golden tones and curlier hair.

festus creed, of fucking course creed is here. he was another one of the other well known dealers in the area. he wasn’t that well with his sells, mostly because he acts like he’s above everyone else in the worst way possible, and even allows people to pay with sex.

coriolanus heard his sex is never good.

funny, isn’t it? how someone with a small dick and hardly any skills on pleasing women would offer sex as payment.

coriolanus, at least, thinks it’s hilarious.

what he doesn’t think is hilarious, though, is that festus is talking to someone coriolanus is far too familiar with. glittery eye makeup, a lacy bow in their hair, baby pink dress.. it’s you.

coriolanus’ mouth runs dry when you spot him in the corner of your eye, your lips twisting into a sugar - coated grin as soon as your eyes widen, “snow!”

you immediately move to give him a hug, festus’ searing gaze following your every movement in the creepiest way possible— god, coriolanus hates him. his fingers lace around your waist, tugging you close, “hey, princess.”

“princess?” festus snickers.

coriolanus tries to ignore him, but he finds it near impossible with the words that leave your lips next, “this is festus, my friend, do you know him?”

coriolanus scoffs, does he know him, what a joke, “i know of him.”

festus finds himself chuckling bitterly, “is that right, pretty boy?”

coriolanus takes a step, and you feel a certain mold of metal against your waist when he does, a gun, his cold lips part, “sure is.”

your eyes roam over his features, the curves of his skin when his brows collide, the way his eyes darken with malice, the grit of his sharp teeth, the flush of his jaw against his flesh as he moves it. his muscles flex underneath his baggy band t - shirt, veins pulsing. he was angry.

festus’ lips part, but you speak before him, “snow?”

his head nods in your direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

“answer your girl, snow,” festus taunts.

“go upstairs,” he mumbles, it’s to you.

so you do.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

coriolanus sighs when he closes the door behind him, coming in mere minutes later. you had been sitting on the bed in the vacant room, fingers playing together, eyes glossed over in fear and pricking with tears. coriolanus wasn’t the only one who carried, but you didn’t hear any shots, fortunately.

“kid’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles, cracking his bruising knuckles, “he’s not sellin’ you shit, is he?”

“sometimes—“

“don’t buy from him anymore,” coriolanus pauses, swallowing, “he laces his shit sometimes.”

it was true, festus was messy with his work, he didn’t lace the products himself but the people that distributed them to him would, he was just too lazy to even notice.

“i’m sorry,” it comes out hushed, a mere whisper, but coriolanus’ ears pick up on it easily.

his tone is softer now, “why?”

“i didn’t know—“

“then don’t apologize,” his head tips to the side, sniffling the bubbling blood in his nose, he inhales, pupils wide as they roam your features. a glass tear raced down your pliant cheek, and he immediately moved to carefully wipe it away, “don’t cry, doll.”

you don’t say anything, merely melt into his touch. coriolanus isn’t good with affection, he’s hardly had any girlfriend before and if he has, they don’t last long due to his struggles with showing kindness. so it’s obvious the next word that leaves his mouth isn’t one born from honeysuckle, “cocaine?”

your lips move nervously, bottom lip tugging under your teeth as your mascara covered lashes move to his frost - bitten eyes, “do you have.. ecstasy?”

his lips drop to a frown, “why?”

your lips tremble when they part, cheeks heating under his touch, “my friends want to try it.”

“no,” he swallows, jaw ticking, “i’m not selling you that shit.”

“what? why not?”

“that shit is too dangerous,” he chuckles, albeit it’s bitterness, “i don’t want you around that, it’s trouble.”

“i’ve been good,” you reassure, hips swaying when you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“have you, now?” his thumb is gently rubbing against your skin.

“i have, i promise,” you offer, feeling his fingers move so his thumb is now moving against your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth ever so slightly.

you smile around it and his pupils dilate even more, are his eyes blue anymore or merely just sole pupil? “naughty girl.”

then he stops, as if he had realized something, and pulled away. your lips curve downward to a frown, desperate to have his touch again, “snow?”

“don’t,” his molars collide, “i’ll hurt you.”

“that’s okay—“

“—i’m bad news—“

“—i don’t think that—“

“—i’m dangerous, doll.”

you hesitate, inhaling sharply, “but you won’t hurt me.”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute, “so, you want cocaine?”

you give him a careful nod, and he smiles. again, he’s being sweet.

“you know how to chop up cocaine?”

you allow yourself a giggle, “you know i don’t.”

“i’ll show you.”

and he does, his hand is gentle as it guides yours, fingers curling against the curve of your own as he crushes up the cocaine, guiding you to chop it up with the card he gave you. you’re warm underneath his cold touch, his movements experienced whilst yours are new. “how many times have you done this?”

he shrugs, breath fresh against the shell of your ear, “a couple hundred, for sure.”

“i could help you, you know, with the business,” you offer, despite not even really wanting to.

“no,” his fingers are tighter against your skin, but not enough to hurt, “i don’t want you in this business, you being around me is dangerous enough.”

“you’re not dangerous, snow,” you hush out.

he moves closer, and you feel his gun brush against your ass, lips curving into a smile, “you think so?”

you shiver from the touch, it’s loaded, the safety is probably off, “i know so.”

your thighs push together, he feels it, making him chuckle, “you’re so needy, princess.”

“snow,” you breathe out, “this isn’t fair.”

“how so?” he presses a soft kiss behind your ear, “just because you aren’t getting what you want?”

“do you want it?” you pause your movements.

“of course i do, i want it as much as you,” he moves your fingers so you drop the card, guiding them to his bulge, “‘m just not spoiled.”

you frown at his works, fingers curving around his bulge, god, how big was he? “‘m not spoiled either.”

“whatever you say, princess,” he grits out.

you palm him so well, it nearly has him rutting against your hand, breathing getting heavier against your ear. his fingers move to trail down down your back, dipping underneath the hem of your skirt and tracing along the thin material of your lace panties. his jaw shifts, “such a dirty girl, wearing these panties.”

you whimper when his fingers graze along the soaked part of your panties, thick fingers brushing against your clothed clit, “please— snow.”

“please what, princess?” you mumble something in response, but it’s nearly incoherent, more of a whimper, “use your words.”

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he nods, pressing kisses along the side of your neck, finding himself already pussy - drunk. it almost felt sacrificial, a sinful man dipping his fingers inside of a goddess, the way you moaned at the feeling of his finger stretching you out— it was as if he could be confessing of his sins at any minute.

to see your hips bucking against his finger, his name hushed on the tip of your delicate tongue. didn’t you know that many people wanted him dead? how many people hated him? how the police could arrest him at any second? yet you didn’t care, a lamb to the slaughter, a deer in between the jaws of a wolf.

yet you were rutting against his hand, begging for more, desiring him to push another finger in— and he did exactly that, prepping your tight cunt for his cock, “you’re so fuckin’ tight, doll, i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“it will— it will, i know it will—,” you’re just babbling nonsense at this point, and coriolanus wanted to be gentle, he really did, but your sweet moans, your sugary whimpers, the way he so easily pushed his fingers inside of you, the way that when you curl, your moans up a few octaves. you were so sensitive, god, were you a virgin?

the thought had coriolanus pulling his fingers out, twirling you around so he can push his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as his other hand undoes the belt holding his baggy jeans up. his eyes are crystalizing the memory of your tongue swirling against his fingers, sucking up every taste of your own cunt— have you thought of this as many times as he has?

he moves his hand to take his gun before it falls, placing it on the counter behind you, his fingers move from your mouth to help him push his jeans down, your lips part, “why do you have a gun?”

he smiles sweetly at your words, nearly chuckling, “why do you think?”

“‘m not sure, that’s why i asked,” you had a certain tinge in your voice that makes him quirk a brow.

“it’s to protect myself, princess,” he pushes his boxers down, finally freeing his cock, “now be a good girl, turn around, and bend over.”

of course you do exactly what he asks, bending over the counter so he can push your skirt up. the feeling of your innocence being stripped away right in front of you was far too good, like a cross ripped from the chain around your neck, or your holy water being unpurified. you were a cupcake with frosting on top, and coriolanus was sinking his teeth into you, rotting his sweet tooth.

his dick slaps against your heat when your legs part with desire, making you whine against nothing, “snow— please..”

“just say it, princess,” he moves to rub his red tip against your clit, making you shudder, knees buckling already.

“fuck me— f..fuck me,” you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to press a sweet kiss on the back of your neck, bones colliding when his cock finally pushes into your cunt. you were so tight around him, squeezing him around your velvet walls. your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

his breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. your fingers graze along the gun placed on the counter, right next to the cocaine. his tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the counter with the sheer snap of his hips. your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

it’s so obscene, all of the things that he finds himself spitting out as he harshly bucks into you. so cute, jus’ wanna ruin you, takin’ my cock so well, that feel good princess? he can’t help the way his hands snake up to your hair, tugging at the pretty bow wrapped around it, earning a frosted moan from your glossed lips.

it’s not long until you’re cuming on his cock, with him pulling out to twirl you around and push you to your knees, allowing you to jerk him off until thick white stripes are decorating your face. the white glitter, the sweet scent of your lip - gloss, now accompanied by his cum.

how cute.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbles as he tucks his dick back in his boxers, pulling his jeans back up when your painted nails move to wipe away the cum on your face, lapping it up with your pretty tongue.

you giggle sweetly, “do you do this with all your customers?”

he shakes his head, “no, doll, you’re special, you know that.”

and it’s true, you really were special.

you were a dangerous man’s doll.

[sing-you-fools]

thinking about Good Omens 2. and stories, and the shape of them, and Terry Pratchett and his themes. and something clicked.

Aziraphale is cackling.

it's not just the ball. he spends the entire season trying to force the story into a shape it's not, and everyone suffers for it.

i've seen some less than charitable takes on Crowley's actions and they all ignore how much Crowley did try to talk to Aziraphale, did try to ask Aziraphale questions, did try to help, only to be ignored or brushed off. because his questions, his offers, they didn’t fit with the story Aziraphale was telling himself.

quiet, gentle, and romantic. it was, if you're our favorite Angel - right up until the end, at least. because he decided that's the story he was in. from the very beginning, he's off in la-la land, living out this romcom with a cute little mystery wrapped up in it, completely ignoring what's actually going on around him. i'll set Nina and Maggie up! (completely ignoring that Nina tells him she has a partner, and at that point, he has no reason to think she's anything less than happy.) i'll take ~our~ car to go do investigate this silly little mystery (he's not taking it even a little bit seriously!) while you stay here and run the bookshop and it will be so quaint and domestic! soon we'll dance and confess our feelings that we obviously share because we're already so clearly a couple we just need to finally say it!

Crowley knows the entire time that they're in a horror story but Aziraphale ignores every attempt he makes to point that out because it doesn't fit the story he decided he's in the middle of.

he brushes off Crowley's concerns and questions - his QUESTIONS! - like they're nothing. he doesn't want to see it, so he doesn't. and Crowley should have told him more?

why would he?

when you are CLEARLY in distress and it's being BLATANTLY AND WILLFULLY IGNORED, what the fuck are you supposed to do? "Crowley didn't comminicate" well okay if I were having a panic attack about something and my husband completely ignored it, chattering on about our dinner plans or whatever, that wouldn’t exactly make me want to open up about what was wrong! that would send the very fucking clear signal that he didn't want to know!

words aren't the only way we communicate and Crowley's body language, the entire season, is that of someone who is living in a horror story, knows he's living in a horror story, and is fucking terrified. if Aziraphale were paying any attention to Crowley instead of focusing all his energy trying to set things up just so for the big climax of his love story, he would know something major was wrong.

why would Crowley have told him how cruel Gabriel was about the execution when Aziraphale's already so thoroughly convinced that heaven is pure and good and has shown over and over through the millennia that he's not really open to considering that it can be cruel!

just look at them at the dance. Crowley freaking out because there's a horde of demons out there and Aziraphale giggling as they go to dance. that's the whole season!

you know who Crowley reminds me of this season?

he's watching helplessly and with increasing levels of distress as Aziraphale shoves every plot point into the romcom hole even though it's obviously not remotely romcom shaped! and i'm sick of people saying he was abusive because he raises his voice about it a few times!

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon making it clear that you are the only one he wants

“You alright, sweetheart?” Simon’s deep, gruff voice hit your ears, pulling your out of your thoughts. 

You nodded without a sound, subtly trying to divert your gaze so that he wouldn’t look into your eyes and see all the emotion swimming inside, but at this point you really didn’t need to answer the question. The way you sit across from him with your brow furrowed into two steep peaks and your shoulders slumped forward and tight as you idly picked at the skin around your fingernails was enough of a sign. Even though you tried to dismiss him with a few muttered “I’m fine” and “It’s nothing” phrases, the man knew; whatever it was had been eating away at you for some time. 

Turning his full attention to you he took your chin into his coarse grasp and tilted your head upward until your eyes met. “Then why can’t ya even look at me?” he posed his next question. 

You let out a sigh, nowhere to run now as Simon wasn’t gonna let you back out. “It’s just…silly...” 

An incident had been on your mind for a week now, something that should have been resolved already, but try as you might to let it go it just couldn’t be shaken. A new younger female recruit had got it into her head that she wanted a piece of the huge, mysterious Lieutenant and began to flaunt that young, supple body in his direction. Simon had not allowed it to continue for even a second after that initial encounter, making sure that you knew everything in detail, and immediately she was reprimanded and reassigned, but the damage had been done to your confidence.

Were you really right for him? Were you enough? You had never really thought of yourself as ugly, but when pitted up against some pretty thing that had the freshness of young beauty on her side, you weren’t so sure if you could really compare and that made your usual abundance of self-confidence drop to nearly zero. 

Amber eyes gazed back at you as Simon waited patiently for your reply. Taking a deep, calming breath you continued. “I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you made the right choice,” you said.

“And what choice is that, hmm?” he pushed, letting you use your words even though he was sure where this was headed.

“Choosing me,” you said so softly it was barely above a whisper.

Just as he suspected, it was still bothering you and he kicked himself for not doing more before now to show you that there was no one on base or even in the whole fucking world that could compare to what he had with you. There was no one up until now that had ever kept him so tightly wound as you did that he constantly felt like he couldn't get you out of his head, that he never could get enough of you; it was a constant struggle just to keep sane so that he could do his job when he knew what would be waiting for him when he got home.

That’s why it took nothing for him to know exactly what it was that he needed to do now.

Without a word the grip on your chin was released as Simon stood to his feet. He reached down and took a hold of your hand, giving it a good, solid tug. “Come on,” he beckoned with a nod of his head to stand with him and through a bit of stubborn reluctance, you followed.

As soon as you were on your feet he pulled you into his hard, warm chest, leaning his head in close until you could feel his breath against your lips. “Of all the fuckin' mistakes I've made in my life, ya ain't one of 'em. I think someone needs a bit of extra attention, and I was a fuckin' fool waitin' till now to give it to her,” he murmured, his voice lowering into that register that always sent shivers down your spine. “Let me take care of ya, let me turn that brain of yours off for a bit and show ya how sure I am that I made the right choice.”

Before you could answer, his lips had already connected with your own to steal the words right out of your mouth. If there was one thing that experienced military man was superior at it was making you come apart at the seams like it was his fucking job. And boy did he take pride in his work.

But right here and now he would be even more meticulous in his affections as it was clear you needed to be reminded that you and only you were the best goddamn thing to grace his miserable existence. All of his undivided attention would be yours tonight and he would not stop until every single worry had left that pretty little head.

Promises were breathed into your mouth by him. "I'm not stoppin' until ya know just how fuckin' much I don't want anyone else besides ya."

In a flurry of lips and tangled limbs, you found your way over to the bed. Like a surgeon performing a delicate operation, he carefully removed each article of your clothing one by one, making sure that the exposed skin was immediately caressed and attended to before he moved on to the next. Every inch of skin on you would feel the passion in his embrace. By the time you hit the mattress’ surface, your body was already a tingling mess of nerve ends bursting to life in ways that made your mind numb.

The lights had been turned down low, their soft incandescent glow warm and inviting as the breathy sounds of unspoken desires from a man consumed filled the air. It was hard to think of anything as the thick tension permeated the space while you lay there naked sprawled out across the sheets with Simon at your side. Adoration was what he was after tonight, needing you to be left as nothing more than a puddle of pure bliss in the middle of his bed.

Toughened fingers traced all of those subtle imperfections lining your body with such tenderness as if each scar and blemish and indention were incredibly precious to him; his lips followed not far behind as he whispered praises into your skin. Those gentle words that were only for your ears alone as he couldn’t have people thinking he was going soft…even though he absolutely had been since the moment he got with you.

“How could ya ever think I would want anythin’ other than this, other than ya?" he breathed the question into the skin of your torso. “You're all I could ever want, all I fuckin’ think about; the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me. My pretty girl.” 

His nose nuzzled against the crook of your neck and he caught that scent: the smell of your body’s natural musk that just one whiff of could make his head fuzzy and his body tingle in a way he could not describe. All those beautifully fragrant notes that combined together to create a profile that was distinct to you so that even if he couldn’t see you he knew you were near. Closing his eyes, he breathed you in deep.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he purred into the warm skin of your shoulder before he was on the move, lips caressing over the swell of your breasts with nipples already stiff. “I just can’t ever get enough of ya. How could ya ever fuckin' think I'd give up all this for some young tart who'd get sick 'a me sooner rather than later? Fuck, you’re all I want, all I'll eva fuckin' need.”

Down, down, down he continued over the length of your stomach towards your thighs. It was like performing a sacred act, him giving you the full breadth of his overwhelming desire as he made his way from your lips to your legs, getting everything in between. He shot a hungry glance back up at you as he reached those pillowy creations that he loved so much.

He sighed. "Every inch of ya is like a goddamn dream."

Extra time he spent on your thighs as he embraced those voluptuous curves over and over again with his mouth, kissing and sucking, running his nose along them until you were whining and writhing beneath him. Shit, he had not even touched anywhere near your throbbing clit yet and still you could not stop the way your heart pounded out of your chest or your short, sticcatoed breathing that filled the silence. 

“Please,” the plea fell from your open mouth, but there was no need to beg. This was your night after all and he was not about to deny you of anything.

"Whatever my pretty girl wants she's gonna fuckin' get," he smiled. "Always."

Slowly Simon’s large hands spread you open just wide enough that he could lean his face into your mossy bank. More delicate kisses were dotted over your petals, his mouth embracing all around that tender slit before his tongue gently slipped inside the folds. All that doting on your body had done it’s job in stimulating so that he was met with a wetness on his tongue as he dived in. 

Shit were you sweet, like eating a peach except this one would not run out before he had gotten his fill. 

That masterful tongue drew short, concise circles around your clit, lips locking around the bud intermittently to suck, using the two techniques in tandem while his nails drug lightly over your thighs until your were bucking against his face. There was no rush in his movements; he was going to take his time in drawing out your pleasure. 

You couldn’t make a sound, your mind consumed completely with every flick of his tongue, every press of it firmly against you, every pass of his hands over your thighs; overstimulated doesn’t even begin to describe it. Eyes closed, mouth wide open, desperate music being moaned into the room was all you could muster as he brought you closer and closer to the precipice of your pleasure. 

Leisurely Simon lapped at your clit, no rush, no hurry, with measured strokes that eased you pleasantly into your orgasm instead of violently throwing you over. You came so effortlessly that you are able to ride out that wave of ecstasy for minutes as his pace stayed at that steady rhythm until there was no more left for you to give. Only then did he emerge like a man baptized anew. 

By the time he finally thrust inside you, you were a glorious mess of sweat and mewls and cum. He took you right on your back, needing to see that look in your eyes that made him feel like he was your whole world. No muscle-straining positions will he put you in tonight as all he wants is to gaze down at the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“Do ya think I have any doubts now?” he asked with a muted smile. "Think I could do this with just anyone?"

Your cheeks, already warm and pink, flushed bright crimson. “No,” you shook your head.

“That's a good girl,” he praised as he adjusted your legs to be comfortable around his thick torso. “Then let’s finish this off right, yeah? You and me, sweetheart.”

Slow, even thrusts he pounded into you, stretching you and filling you full even at this angle, as he met your lips again to nearly choke you on all his passion. You could taste yourself on his breath as he claimed you body and soul. 

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good, just wanna stay buried in ya all the time,” he groaned between precise thrusts through your tight, moist core. Your body was paradise and he could not get enough. Pulling back he watched the connection of your bodies right at the point where he slipped inside of you. You were so full of him there was no distinction between where he ended and you began.

Simon was never a religious man, most of the time as far from it as humanly possible, but the closest he would ever come to faith was the moment he got his first feel of all that glory that first time you two went at it. It was then that your body became his church and from then on he was more than ready to give his life to worshiping at your alter with his fingers and tongue and cock; any and all instruments at his disposal to show you his unwavering devotion. 

That man had been starved for far longer than he would like to admit, but the first time he buried himself in you that was all it took to fill him up. It was only you that he craved: your softness and warmth and light and no one else would ever do. As much as you were his, he was yours.

His hands ran up the sides of your torso, leaving burning trails that made you shiver as he palmed both of your breasts in each one of his hands to massage the flesh. “I want ya to come for me again,” he said, more need in his voice. “Can ya do that for me pretty girl?”

Rapidly you nodded your head up and down as you focused on what was coming.

“That’s it; wanna be sure my girl gets everything she needs to stay satisfied with me.”

There was a feeling of safety and security that you got when you were with him; no matter how rough or passionate the sex got, Simon was always right there with you in the moment so that you never felt that it was one sided. Right now that feeling spread through you along with the gathering warmth in your abdomen to help you get out of your head and let go. All those worries, all those fears, they left completely as he thrust inside you a few more times and you spilled over the edge once more.

He kissed you hard on the mouth, holding your raw lips together once more as he followed right after you. His shoulder shook as his released himself and fell into that high that he would never tire of- not when it was with you. As he let go of your lips, he smiled back down at you; that glow of ecstasy causing his heart to skip a beat.

“Ya see, there’s no one in this whole fuckin’ world I want more than ya, sweetheart,” he whispered into your temple before placed a quick kiss. “And I am always willin’ to show ya that you are the only girl for me.”

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.