#but when I’m just mellow chilling

[rosicheeks]

🤔

[monkee-mobile]

At the beginning when the guys are just getting to know each other, Mike and Davy get into a fight (something silly and easily avoidable, but they don’t really know each other yet and they’re suddenly living in very close quarters, tensions are high). Mike loses his temper and starts yelling (he hasn’t learned to regulate his emotions yet and is used to yell or be yelled at). Davy (who’s the newest to the group and not used to being surrounded by this much testosterone (see: 3 sisters)) gets lowkey terrified since Mike is a lot bigger than him and is extremely scary when mad. Davy’s eyes start to water and he’s kinda frozen in fear and doesn’t know what to do (the others don’t step in because they’re also unsure and its the first big fight in the Pad) and begins to (unwantedly) regress. Mike notices this and is kinda like ‘oh shit’ and immediately calms down and is trying to apologise but it’s too late and Davy’s in tears. Mike has to comfort him and soothe him and from then on the rest is history.

AAAAH OH MY GOODNESS!!

[floral-hex]

maybe we don’t tell my therapist tomorrow that I stayed up late getting high and then browsing through old friends on facebook until my self esteem collapsed

[gilverrwrites]

Man, I need something with Jason's big hands, so big that one hand can cup your entire sex...

He will smack your clit, cup your sex, you'll grind on it and he will do something while cupping your lady bits.

I can live off of your body heat

Jason Todd/Reader, 2.4K

AN: I've actually had mutiple req for Jason and/or Dick slapping and pinching the readers clit which is like so specific, but I get it. Like I feel yall so much. I know Jay being a giant is fanon thing, but goddamn my 5'4 ass wants to be crushed by his hands so bad. CWs: Mentions of Jay's scars, swearing, size difference, Dom!Jay, teasing, Jay being really rough, nipple play, clit pinching, clit slapping. Petnames: Baby, babe, babygirl, good girl, Name-calling: Filthy girl, bitch, slut. Recommended listening: Body Heat - Kate Nash

There’s a scar on his chest. Actually, there are many scars on his chest. However, there’s one in particular that stands out; a long taut piece of skin that stretches from his left shoulder blade, right down to his sternum. Its pale sheen stands out against his tan skin and begs you to trail a finger along it.

Despite the temptation, you don’t.

Jason hasn’t slept this well in weeks so you daren't risk waking him yet. Instead, you watch the gentle rise and fall of his torso under the mellow light of the morning sun until the need to move is too great.

Your feet have barely touched the ground when a pair of sturdy arms close around you, enveloping you in the warmth of the very body you’d just been admiring and pulling you back into the bed. Or more, pulling you on top of his body, primarily by his choice, partially because there isn’t enough room for you both to lay without some overlap. Every time you mention buying a larger bed, Jason vetoes it; says he likes the close proximity. That feeling your body against his helps him to relax and you can’t really argue with that sentiment.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” He asks from the spot in the crook of your neck he loves to nuzzle into. He peppers the side of your neck with sleepy half-kisses.

It would be endearing, were his hands not already under the oversized Red Hood tee you’d stolen from him to sleep in.

“Oh, I don’t know.” You hum, hands wrapping around his wrists, purely for additional skin-on-skin contact. You couldn’t stop him from ghosting his calloused fingertips up your body if you wanted to. It’s strange, and arousing to think that he can, and has trapped both of your wrists in with just one hand.

“You don't know?” He’s rousing properly now, amused by your answer.

“Probably just to shower, make a coffee, maybe read a book until you wake up.”

“I’m awake now.” He reminds you, rolling his hips to emphasise his double entendre. The heat of his mourning wood grinds against your backside, and at the same time, one of his wandering hands finally settles on a target. He cups the underside of your breast, and you can’t help sucking in a breath as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Already so brutal, despite the slow, sensual way he’s been exploring until now.

You sigh in relief when he lets go, allowing just enough time for the blood to rush back before he clamps down again, this time in a twisting motion that has your hands shooting up into his hair. “Jay!”

He seems unaffected by your attack on his scalp, chuckling into the tender spot behind your ear, and causing a chill to run down your spine. “Yeah, baby?”

“You should be asleep.” You’d intended to deadpan for comedic effect, but it comes out in short, strained breaths that only serve to make you sound needy as hell.

It’s at this point you hear a snapping sound, followed by the light sting of your underwear’s elastic waist snapping against your skin, drawing your attention downwards just in time to feel Jason cupping your entire sex in just one of his hands. All the while he never stops the assault on your now raw tits.

“Do you want me to stop?” He questions. At the same time, he palms your folds through the fabric of your underwear, pressing the ball of it against your increasingly aching clit.

“Feels nice.” You sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck which he eagerly accepts, honing in to suck and nibble, sloppily leaving marks in his wake. You don’t want to back down, but God, you do not want him to stop.

“Come on baby, I need a real answer. Do you want me to go back to sleep?” He eventually circles back, lips barely leaving your flesh as he speaks. Distracting you from the erotic sting of your nipples and the heat between your legs as his rugged fingers push all the right buttons. “Or do you want me to keep playing with your cute little pussy?”

“Fuck, Jay please- “ You’re ready to give in but as you speak he hooks two fingers under the crotch of your underwear, and the resulting, embarrassingly wet squelch that sounds out as he presses them between your folds has you hissing.

“Please what?” He goads, now upping the pressure. He’s doing it on purpose, cause he’s a fucking tease. “Please stop?”

“No! Please don’t stop touching my cunt!”

“Your cunt? You’re fucking filthy, girl. You know that?” He plants a quick, hard kiss on your cheek and, as if you weigh nothing, lifts you by your pussy, repositioning you for his own ease until your legs are stretched wide, his own wedged in between to keep you in place. The speed at which he moves is enough to give you whiplash. You barely have enough time to gasp at the retraction of his hands before they’re on you again, settling in new positions. With one hand he completely pulls aside your panties, exposing your hot, soaked folds to the tepid air. The other pulls your tee over your head before cupping the back of your head, forcing your gaze downwards. “Don’t move. I want you to watch everything I do to you. Can you do that for me, baby”

Shit. You think your heart might beat out of your chest. All this vehement energy so early in the morning. “Yes, Jay!”

Immediately contradicting yourself, you turn your head to admire his handsome profile. The determined squint of his eyes, the bed head, the morning stubble, you really lucked out with him you think as you lean closer to kiss his cheek. Before you can make contact Jay's grip tightens on the back of your head, sharply turning you back to watch as he dips two long fingers between your slit. Your clit practically twitches at the sight of them; long enough to span from top to entrance in excess.

You try your hardest to watch as he repeatedly strokes your lips in short, lazy motions but it’s a challenge not to close your eyes and get lost in the moment. It’s even harder not to throw your head back and scream when he suddenly sinks his fingers around your clit and starts pinching, it. Tightly rolling the sensitive bud between two curled fingers.

“Shit, Jay.” You pant through gritted teeth. “That hurts so good.”

Just like with your nipples, what feels even better is the rapid return of blood flow when he releases it. He repeats the process twice over, laughing every time you flinch or whine. Whispering in your ear about how you’re his “good girl”, how “you can take it” every time you dig your nails into his arm in an attempt to relieve the pain.

“Help me out here babe. Spread your pussy out for me.” He instructs, playfully gasping into your ear when you pull back your lips to reveal your now dark and swollen core. You’re too turned on to care about the sight of it. Happy to expose yourself, certain that the moment he starts kneading you with care, you’ll cum in seconds.

Jason must be thinking the same as he dips one finger into your entrance, just enough to coat it with your arousal before returning to your puffy clit to rub around it in circles. Even at twice the size, your clit is smaller than the tip of his finger.

“Ohh, I’m gonna cum soon.” Before you’ve even finished your sentence Jay retracts his hand, ripping a distraught weep from you in the process. You’ve been here a hundred times before, splayed out for him, gasping, and begging for his touch, but the red-hot shame at your flagrant desperation never eases. “What the fuck, dude!?”

“Dude?” Without warning, Jay comes back down. Hard. Your whole body shakes under the intensity of the vicious slap he delivers to your clit. “Who the fuck are you calling dude?”

He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he smacks your open folds again. Flipping the switch in your body from heady to adrenaline-filled arousal.

“Say my name.” He barks as he dispenses a third slap.

“Jay!” You don’t have it in you to say his full name, but it seems to satisfy.

“Say it louder.” His words are punctuated by the lewd echo of sharp, stinging strikes. “I want the neighbours to hear what a dirty fucking slut you are. Want them to know who you belong to.”   

“Jason. You Jason!” You close your eyes and throw your head back, crying with everything you can muster, not caring how raunchy or pathetic you sound. Ignoring the pain of your own nails digging into your flesh. “Jason. I’m yours, Jason.”

“That's better.” He growls. Finally, his arm falls slack. With no friction from your dripping, wanting walls, Jason glides two fingers into your entrance and you tremble, your whole body tingling, ecstatic to finally feel him inside you. It’s just two fingers, two impressively strong, thick fingers that make you feel so full. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

Abashed by his sudden gentleness you open your eyes once more, positioning yourself to look at him as best you can. He’s one to talk. You’re always telling him he could be a model if he decided to quit being a part-time crime lord, part-time crime fighter.  

You’re unable to concentrate on him for long, however, as he starts pumping in and out of you in torturously slow thrusts. After all the excitement, it quietens your mind and eases your muscles. For the first time since he’d repositioned your bodies, you notice the pressure of his cock, pulsing against your lower back. The rigged hardness of it makes you feel fuzzy and content at his equal levels of arousal.

You stay like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the calm as Jason gently massages your insides until it’s not enough. You need more, your body yearns, your core practically twitching for his touch on your clit again. An orgasm is approaching steadily, but you’ll get nowhere without it.

The heel of his hand is so close, so sturdy, you don’t even think about what you’re doing, you just start undulating your hips, rutting up against him in unstable motions. He doesn’t stop you; in fact he curls his fingers and brings his palm down closer, letting you use him to chase your orgasm.

“That's it, baby. Hump me like a bitch in heat.” He coos so softly in your ear that it would set your pulse racing if it wasn’t already running at a mile a minute. “Remember I'm the only who does this for you, the only one who can make you feel so full and cock drunk on just my hands.”

He's right, he's so fucking right.

“Keep that up, I might just cum too.”

“Fuck me.” You breathe, affected both by his words and the reminder of his throbbing dick squeezed between your bodies.

“Not until you cum on my fingers.” He’s only half joking. “Can you do that for me baby, cum all over my finger like a good little slut?”

Fuck yes, you can. You want to say, but all your energy is focused on riding his hand, fucking yourself on his brawny fingers, and gyrating against his palm like it's your job. His groans and rasps become a motivational mantra as you keep bucking your hips.

“You’re nearly there.” He comments, able to feel your walls tightening around his digits, convulsing uncontrollably as it hits you. It takes all your strength to ride it out; to keep going as you topple over the edge but fuck it’s worth it for the full extent of your release. “That it babygirl, cum for me baby, fucking soak me.”

Worth it for the explicit sound of your wet cum streaming against Jason’s hands, for the rush of ecstasy that bleeds through your body, and especially for the unexpected heat that spreads across your lower back in spaced-out intervals; Jason's own ejaculation seeping through his boxers and dispersing on your skin.         

Simultaneously, you both grow limp, breathing in time with each other until the rapid movements of your chests begin to ebb back to a steady pace.

“You were so good for me, I’m so proud of you.” Jason praises as he rolls your bodies onto their sides, never releasing you in the process, but allowing him a better ability to press a smattering of kisses to the side of your head, lingering along your jawline. You're grateful for his sweet words, but still too fucked-out to speak, but you coo when he lifts a hand to run his thumb along your neck, presumably checking out his earlier handy work. You arch to get a better look at him, and given the subtle, but smug smile on his face, you’re certain he’s left quite the mark.   

“Let me guess.” You find your voice. “It’s not just the neighbours who’ll know who I belong to?”

“Hmmmm.” He tilts his head and puckers his lips in mock consideration. “I think you should donate all your scarf.”

“Jay!” You punch his shoulder, and he has enough decency to play along, briefly leaning back as though you could even make a dent on his towering frame. “Is it really bad?”

“No. No no no.” He’s lying through his teeth, snickering as he leans in to crush your lips with his own. His skin is slick with sweat you realise when you reach up to gently grasp his other shoulder and guide him closer to you. His morning breath is frankly kind of gross, but yours probably is too. Nevertheless, it’s a price you’re willing to pay for his affection.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks when he pulls back from your mouth, continuing to press kisses down your neck, along your collar, and slinking closer to your chest with each brush. He asks some variation of this same question everytime you fuck. Letting you direct how much you can take from him in one go or what kind of aftercare you need.

“I don’t know.” You hum, imitating your earlier indecision, as you stretch against the mattress. “Shower, coffee, and a book still sounds good to me.”

“Sounds very good. Mind if I join?” He’s not actually asking, that much is evident as he lifts you in his arms and cradles you against his chest as he stands. You’ll both be grateful to get your sticky, cum soaked underwear off. You’ll be even more grateful for the chance to lather and massage your boyfriend up in soapy bubbles, to really get your fingers on those pretty scars that call to you. Maybe you can convince him to take a nap later when you’re curled up on the couch, reading together.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jay.”

[charliemwrites]

Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison. 

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[l3irdl3rain]

Is Bianca interested in your birds or is she pretty chill? I know its not really a risk with senior cats but I was wondering if you have to keep Bianca separate from your birds to keep them safe

I’m not going to deny there’s always some level of risk, but I aim to only adopt very mellow cats for this reason. Even when Bianca is at her craziest she’s honestly pretty mellow.

Joey doesn’t even register as a prey animal to my cats because he is large and he doesn’t fly. I don’t leave him unattended with the cats obviously, but if anything they’re scared of him. Even Bianca.

Gonzo is in much more danger. He’s tiny and fully flighted. Bianca was very interested in him at first, any time he fluttered around his cage and she was nearby she’d go running over to look.

Every time she acted too interested in him I made a loud noise and told her no before moving her away from the cage. She also tried to climb his cage one time and he bit her toe through the bars before I could get her down. That was extremely scary for her which I really think helped my “leave the birds alone” training.

She’s really not interested in him anymore but I am still extremely careful when he’s out. When he’s out I never leave the room he’s in. Again, not trying to downplay the risk of keeping predator and prey species together. I’m just pretty comfortable with the level of danger in my house

[foreverisntenough]

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

'Marshmallows*'

3.2k words | Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader | Warning: Smut! MDNI

↳ You're watching a film in the cinema with your kids when your baby Tate asks for hot chocolate. Whilst looking for marshmallows in your pantry Trent joins you to help but more things happen than just finding the sweet.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

It was one of those perfect winter nights where everything felt wrapped in a blanket of warmth, despite the biting chill outside. The cinema was dimly lit, the only light coming from the glow of the television and the flickering flames from the fireplace. The cozy crackle of the fire added to the comfort of the room, while the soft murmur of the movie kept everyone’s attention, each child lost in their own little world of blankets and pillows.

Teddy, just had turned seven years old, had nestled herself beside Marcel, giggling at something he whispered to her. They both looked so content, her little legs curled under her, Marcel leaned in as if he was her age, completely involved in whatever silly joke they shared. On the floor, Theo and Tyde were sprawled out, blankets half on, half off, their eyes glued to the screen. Tyde was almost falling asleep, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute, while Theo, as always, had a little extra energy, kicking his legs absentmindedly as he watched the movie.  Tate, your baby boy, was tucked into your lap, wrapped in the softness of your embrace and the thick blanket you had pulled over both of you. His freshly braided hair smelled sweet as you kissed the top of his head. He wiggled a little, getting comfortable, and then looked up at you with those big, doe eyes—the same ones his daddy had. 

"Mama… I have hot chocklate, pleabs?" he asked in the softest voice, his words gentle and full of that innocence only he could have. Before you could answer, Theo piped up from the floor, raising his hand like he was in school.

"Can I have some too, Mummy?" He asked, his eyes mirroring Trent’s just like Tates.  You chuckled softly, realizing you were now on the hook for not one but multiple cups of hot chocolate. You glanced around the room, sure enough, Teddy was giving you a hopeful look, her eyes just the same. Even Marcel, with a mischievous grin, was watching you with raised eyebrows, acting as if he was one of them. You shook your head in amusement.

"With mellows mama, pleabs." Tyde yawned rolling dramtically onto his side.

"I suppose I’m making hot chocolate for everyone, huh?" you said, laughing as you ran your hand over Tate’s hair gently. Trent, who had been watching you with that same soft smile he always wore when he looked at his family, sat up a little and turned to the room. 

"Okay, okay, everybody, what do we say?" His voice was playful but firm, encouraging a chorus of manners. In unison, all of your babies chimed in—Teddy, Theo, and even little Tyde who was starting to doze off—"Thank you, Mummy!" You let your eyes flutter closed appreciating the fact that your babies were using their manners. Marcel echoed a ‘Thank you, Mummy’ of his own in an exaggerated tone, causing the kids to burst out in giggles.

"Alright, alright," you said with a grin, untangling yourself gently from Tate’s little body as you prepared to get up. "Seven cups of hot chocolate it is." You rolled your eyes affectionately, feeling the warmth of their gratitude and the lightheartedness filling the room. But before you could full get up, Trent slid over from his spot on the sofa, taking your hand and pulling you back down gently, his eyes twinkling with that familiar playfulness. 

 "Let me help, beautiful. You’re not doing this all by yourself." He planted a quick kiss on your cheek after speaking. You shook your head rejecting him cupping his face and kissing his forehead before kissing Tates. When you had made it to the kitchen, you found yourself feeling a bit stuck as you searched the pantry for the marshmallows that were requested. As you began feeling more and more flustered that you couldn't find them, Trent quietly slipped in behind you. His presence was comforting as always, and when you turned to tell him you had it covered, your pout gave away how frustrated you really were. Trent saw right through it, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Can't find something, hmm?" he asked, his voice low, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes. As you rummaged through the pantry, searching for marshmallows that if you couldn’t find would without a doubt stir up questions from the four, no probably five kids back in the cinema. Trent’s voice sent a shiver down your spine as he leant casually against the pantry door, his frame filling the space with a seductive presence. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and a playful smile plays on his tanned, handsome face. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of desire as his intense gaze travels down your body, taking in your own figure.

"Just these pesky marshmallows," you replied with a sigh feigning a deeper frustration because at the moment you were mildly relishing the opportunity to spend some time alone with him. "Tyde asked and now they seem to have vanished into thin air. I swear, the marshmallows were here last week." You huffed playfully. He chuckled, stepping closer, and before you could protest, you heard the quiet click of the pantry door locking behind him. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you turned to face him fully. "T," you whispered, a laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at the door. "What are you doing?" You asked. It really was his plan to come and help but the way your body was stretched reaching up to shelves, the way your t shirt clung to your body, the whole thing was sexier than he anticipated. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him, his body warm, strong, and familiar. His eyes twinkled with that mischievous look that always made your heart race, even after all these years.

"You work too hard," he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead, sending a shiver down your spine. "Making hot chocolate for seven people... trying to keep everything perfect." His hands gently traced down to the small of your back, holding you close as his voice softened. "I just want to make sure you're okay, too." You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, but there was something more in his gaze tonight-something playful. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat. His voice was lower now, huskier. "Maybe I can help you find those marshmallows..."

"Oh, is that what this is about?" you teased, but your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, your fingers lightly tracing the lines of his muscles. You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"Maybe," he whispered, his lips barely brushing against yours. Trent grinned, one hand sliding up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Or maybe it's about making sure you know how much I love you." The pantry felt like a world away from the cozy chaos of the cinema as the moment between you deepened. For a second, you forgot about the hot chocolate, the kids, and the fact that you were in a pantry. Trent had a way of making everything else fade away when he looked at you like that. Your breath caught as he leaned in, finally closing the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a slow, lingering kiss. His touch was gentle, but there was an undeniable intensity in the way he held you, like he couldn't get enough. When he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead rested against yours. “You're so amazing, you know that?" He whispered. You smiled, feeling your heart swell with love for this man.

 "I'm just trying to keep up," you said softly. He kissed you again, this time a little longer, a little deeper, making your knees weak. When he finally let go, his lips curled into that signature playful grin. 

"Well, I think I just found what you were looking for," he said, glancing behind you. You turned, expecting to see the marshmallows, but instead, your eyes landed on nothing. You glanced back at him, confused, but Trent's grin only widened. "Not the marshmallows, beautiful.” He clarified, pulling you back into his arms. "You." You laughed, swatting his chest playfully. 

“I’ll feel so bad if I can’t find them.” You pouted feeling defeated.  

“I might have a solution to make you feel better," Trent said, his voice dropping an octave, sending a delicious thrill through your body. With a swift movement, he stepped into you further, closing the distance between your bodies that had opened up. His hands gently cupped your cheeks, and he leant in again, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Let me take care of you, right here, right now." Your heart pounded in anticipation as Trent’s words send a rush of heat between your thighs. You'd always been a sucker for his cheeky charm and his insatiable appetite for pleasure. The idea of being taken by him in this very moment, in this intimate space, ignited a fire within you. Suddenly you found yourself in a rare moment of alone time and you were more than happy to take advantage of.

"Oh, really?" you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse with desire. "And what did you have in mind, T, baby?” You smirked. Trent’s hands slide down your neck, tracing the sensitive skin, making you shiver. 

"Something hot, just for us," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe, sending electric shocks through your body. "Something to make you forget all about those marshmallows." Without waiting for a response, he lifted your top, his warm hands gliding over your bare skin, cupping your heavy breasts, thumbs teasing your hardening nipples through the lace of your bra. "You feel so fucking good," he growls, his breath was hot on your neck as he kneaded and squeezed your sensitive flesh. "I love how responsive you still are to my touch, baby.” Trent cooed. 

"Please, T," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need more." You moaned softly, arching into his touch, your hands reaching back to grip his strong back, urging him closer. In response, he unhooked your bra with nimble fingers, freeing your tits. He bent down, taking a taut nipple into his warm mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue, while his hands continued to explore your body, stroking and caressing your sensitive skin. Trent turned you around, pressing your body against the pantry shelves, the various packages and boxes digging slightly into your front momentarily, adding a delicious pinch of pain to the growing pleasure.

"You're so wet f’me already," he whispered against your skin, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your joggers, stroking your moist folds through the thin fabric of your panties. "I can feel how much you want me. Have you been thinking about me, baby?” He mused.

"Yeah, baby, I need you. Miss you so much," you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder as his skilled fingers found your aching clit, circling and rubbing it through the damp material. "I want you so bad. Please fuck me, right here, right now." He chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

 "Whatever you want, whenever you want, I’m always yours.” He said, his voice thick with desire. With a swift motion, he pulled your joggers down your legs, along with your soaked panties, leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. He stept back, taking in the sight of your naked body, his eyes dark with need. "God, my fucking wife is so fucking sexy," he rasped, his eyes roaming over your curves. "Absolutely fucking perfect." You felt a surge of confidence as his words fueled your desire. Reaching down, you grasped his hard length through his pants, stroking him through the fabric, making him hiss in pleasure.

"I want you inside me, T," you demanded, your voice confident and filled with lust. "Now, baby." You whined. Trent didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly shed his clothes, revealing his muscular body and straining erection. He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips, and in one smooth thrust, he filled you completely, his thick cock stretching you deliciously in the most pleasurable pain. You were dripping wet but you also had to make this marginally faster than you probably would’ve liked. You were meant to be making hot chocolate after all. Trent let out labored breaths and a chuckle placing his hand over your mouth as you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation of Trent beginning to fuck into you. 

"Oh, fuck…" you mumbled into his palm, pushing back against him, taking him even deeper. Trent set a relentless pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive flesh with each powerful stroke. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the pantry, mingling with your muffled moans and cries of pleasure into his hand.

"You love this, don't you, baby?" he grunted, his breath hot on your neck as he pounded into you. "Always my dirty girl, taking my cock so well." He grunted, removing his hand from your lips sliding it to your front to tug on your nipple, making you shiver. 

"Yeah, Please, please, please.”  you chanted, your body on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. "Harder, T, fuck me harder!" You begged him. You and Trent still got to have sex often but moments like this where you got to sneak around and feel like kids again were perfection and just flat out sexy. Trent oobliged, his hands tightening on your hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more primal. You could feel your orgasm building, a delicious pressure coiling low in your belly. "I'm gonna come, T!" you whined, your voice hoarse with need.

"Be a good girl f’me and cum on my cock baby."  Trent grunted letting his hand glide down your body, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. The combination of his cock pounding into your pussy and his fingers working your clit pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around his shaft as you climaxed, your juices flowing freely, coating his cock with your essence. Trent followed you into the abyss, his own release building rapidly.

"Fuck, baby… gonna make me cum squeezing me like that. Ah… fuck I’m cumming, baby.” He moaned, his hips snapping forward one last time as he emptied his load deep inside you, filling you with his hot cum. Breathless and spent, you both lean against each other, your hearts racing and your bodies glistening with a slight sheen of sweat. Trent planted a tender kiss on your shoulder, his breath still ragged. "I think we found something much better than marshmallows, yeah?" he said, his voice filled with satisfaction and a sweet laugh.

"Much… Much… better, my T," you cooed, turning in his arms to kiss him deeply. "I'd choose this any day." You giggled, a contented glow spreading through your body. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, swaying you back and forth as he glanced around, finally spotting the marshmallows on a high shelf, out of your reach. He let go of you with one of his arms, reaching up to them easily, holding them out to you with a grin. 

"Told you l'd find them. Orgasm and marshmallows lucky you." He winked with a laugh that sent an ache through your heart. He was always perfect for you whether it was finding marshmallows for your babies or if it was making you cum on his cock, he was ever perfect. You rolled your eyes affectionately, grabbing the marshmallows.

“Lucky me.” You giggled. “You always are right, huh?” You smiled leaving the pantry. Trent leaned against the kitchen counter as you gathered the cocoa mix, milk, and mugs. He watched you with that familiar look, his admiration for you evident in the way his eyes followed your every move.

"You know," he said softly, "you make this whole mum thing look so sexy and effortless." He cooed watching you.

"Not at all, but I appreciate you saying it." You warmly smiled at him, shaking your head. He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, pulling you close again.

"I mean it," he whispered into your ear. "I don’t know how you do it, but our kids adore you. I adore you." You leaned back into him, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the strength of his embrace. 

"Well, I couldn’t do any of it without you." He kissed your temple softly before pulling away to help with the milk on the stove. The two of you worked in perfect rhythm, your years of partnership evident in how naturally you moved together. Soon, the rich scent of cocoa filled the kitchen, and you smiled, knowing how much your little ones would love it. As you both returned to the cinema your kids plus Marcel eagerly awaited their hot chocolates, unaware of the stolen moment you'd shared. 

“You took too long, Mummy,” Theo complained in a huff, making you laugh as you carefully handed out the mugs of hot chocolate, as he narrowed his eyes at you and grinned.  

“Sorry, Tio baby. I needed Daddy’s help.” You smiled apologetically, giving him a playful shrug. 

“Did you say thank you to Dada?” Teddy, never missing a beat, tilted her head thoughtfully and asked before flashing to Tate and Tyde. Her innocent eyes wide with curiosity but also a proud glint in them trying to make a point to her younger brothers.  Teddy really dove into her roll as the oldest and being a big sister. You bit your lip, holding back a smug grin. 

“I did,” you said, glancing at Trent with a knowing look. He smirked and, in that calm, easy way of his, picked Tate up from Teddy’s lap and settled him into his own arms.

“Mummy definitely did,” he added with a wink, causing you to stifle a giggle. Marcel, who had been observing the scene from the the side of the couch with Teddy, raised an eyebrow and made a dramatic face of mock disgust. 

“Who knew hot chocolate took half an hour,” he said, shaking his head, “I bet mummy and daddy can do a lot of things in half an hour.” He muttered out with a chuckle. Trent threw a pillow at him. You both laughed as you nestled back onto the couch next to Trent, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as you leaned into him. Tate immediately crawled back into your lap, his little arms wrapped around you. You helped Tate with his hot cocoa, blowing gently on the top to make sure it wasn’t too hot for him. Tate looked up at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you kissed the top of his head, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like the thickest, softest blanket. As Trent leaned over to kiss your cheek, you took the opportunity to whisper into his ear.

“I’ll say thank you again tonight.”  You cooed, your voice teasing and soft. His eyes darkened for just a second, his lips twitching into a smile.

 “I’ll hold you to that.” He whispered. The kids were oblivious, focused on their hot chocolate and the film continuing to play in the background, but you and Trent shared that quiet, intimate moment—connected, even in the midst of the joyful chaos around you.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough here!

[devildom-moss]

Can we get some headcaons for the dateables with a MC who was really aggressive during their highschool years but has completely mellowed out and the only way that they find out is when a family member or friend of MC just brings up as random moment where they just broke someone’s leg cuz they were bullying someone, or something along the lines of that? ^O^

Thanks for the request and about 3 months later, I hope you'll like it, anon. Also I read it as MC breaking someone's leg because that someone was the one bullying (so a kind of righteous violence), so I added that in there. I went ahead and added Luke since this can be a pretty platonic ask.

Finding out chill MC used to be aggressive headcanons (the dateables + Luke)

(a little suggestive for Diavolo, Barbatos, and Solomon)

Word Count: +1,200

Diavolo

Laughs because he can’t imagine you doing that now, but also because you’re full of surprises. That’s new information, and he’s delighted by it. “You’ve changed so much since then, haven’t you? Haha. How amusing. Tell me more.”

He’ll try to get every little detail he can squeeze out, chatting with your friend or family member for hours if you allow him to. He just wants to learn more about your past.

He might not be as entertained if you hurt someone much weaker than you, though. Part of the appeal of the act is your ability to dominate and overcome. Still, he’s not preoccupied by the morality of you hurting another person – especially if you felt justified doing it.

He finds it so endearing, thinking about younger you picking fights. Even if you broke someone’s bones, which he wouldn’t normally condone, he finds it oddly adorable. A feisty human willing to fight for something, what’s not to love?

This man crushes on Lucifer – and that includes his angel era. I think it’s safe to say he has a thing for an aggressive streak.

Again, let’s be real. The thought of your aggression is a bit of a turn on, and he wouldn’t mind experiencing that side of you. When he gets you alone, he might try to tease and provoke you. “Should I be grateful you don’t ever try to punish me?” / “Would you mind showing me a bit more of that defiance? That is, maybe you could rough me up a bit. I know you’ve changed, but come on, indulge me. I’m the prince of the Devildom, I’ll be fine. Please?”

Barbatos

His face will change for a brief second – so brief that you might miss it if you aren’t watching him. A polite smile will return to his lips, and he’ll ask you calmly for confirmation. “Oh? Is that true?”

Honestly, he’s more surprised – well, actually, impressed – that it never popped up on your records than he is about discovering that information. Suddenly, you appear all the more interesting.

Barbatos would pet your head gently, as if he’s trying to praise you for learning to mellow out. He’ll tease, “Should I be keeping a closer eye on you?”

I wouldn’t put it past him to bring it up every once in a while, when you inevitably get a bit angry – just because he finds it amusing. “Feeling fiery today?” / “Hmm? So, you do have a bit of aggression left in you.” / “Shall I help calm that temper of yours?” He’ll probably run his fingertips along your face and neck with a soft, expecting smile.

He’s definitely trying to get you riled up so that you might take any suppressed hostility out on him. He’ll be so good for you – even if you bring out the whip. He likes seeing a different side of you.

However, he won’t tease you if it seems that you’re ashamed of your past aggression. He understands being ashamed of parts of his past, so he wouldn’t want to hurt you by bringing it up again.

Luke

He’s worried and completely blindsided.

What do you mean his supplemental parent best friend used to get in fights? He’ll probably accuse your friend or family member of lying to him because he just can’t imagine you hurting someone. You’ll have to admit it for him to believe them. “Really? MC, how could you break someone’s leg?! That’s terrible!”

He’s the only one who finds no amusement in this at all. Even if you hurt someone for a reason you believed in, he still has trouble accepting it. It doesn’t matter if you were young and hasty. There’s a naïve part of him that doesn’t want to condone violence in any manner.

It takes him a while to come to terms with it, and in the meantime, he acts a bit weird and probably avoids you. Inevitably, it takes him thinking about what he might do if someone tried to hurt his loved ones to understand that part of your past. He argues with demons all the time on behalf of his values and loved ones – and maybe if he was stronger, he would get into physical fights, too.

He’ll probably run to find you once that realization hits him and apologize for not understanding. He’ll hug you. “I’m sorry, MC. I think I get it now. I know you’re a good person. I’m happy that you are who you are.”

Simeon

His brows furrow, he shuts his eyes, and he brings the back of his finger to his lips. He’s trying to imagine it – drawing on every time he ever saw you get irritated or angry.

He just tilts his head and nods. He’s surprised to hear it, but it’s not especially shocking. “Yes, I suppose that tracks.” Aggression can mellow, but sparks of it don’t completely disappear – small signs of a steady flame leftover from a raging fire long extinguished.

He doesn’t pry too much, but if you felt that what you did was right at the time, he won’t judge you for it. And let’s be honest, he would accept that part of you even if you regret your past haste to quarrel and get physical. The shift away from fighting – is proof enough that you’ve learned and grown.

A part of him deeply respects your ability to fight for something you believe in. (Not to get too angsty, but) Simeon sometimes wishes he had that kind of strength, especially back then.

Learning about this side of you makes Simeon more curious about your past. He’ll wait until he gets you alone and take your hands. “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other. Perhaps it’s selfish, but I’d like to learn everything about you.”

He wants to know every iteration of you, unpack every layer. He wants to appreciate your transformation into the person you are now. He wants his affection to encompass your whole existence. For that, he would be willing to be completely understood in return.

Solomon

Thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world. He’ll immediately laugh and ask all about it. He won’t even ask you; he’ll ask the friend or family member. If you’re all in the same room, he’ll turn to them and practically beg them to give him every detail. If you’re talking on a call or something, he’ll interrupt your call just to ask. He needs to know everything.  

While he’s at it, he might as well prod them for any other juicy information he can get about your past. There’s a part of him that falls to pieces thinking about how someone else saw sides of you that he will never see for himself. He knows that’s foolish, but he’s still going to get whatever information he can from that friend/family member.  

Honestly, he strikes me as someone who likes seeing people get a little angry and fierce – especially aggression for a just cause. He thinks it’s kinda hot.

“I could show you how to handle some of those violent urges.” He’d seductively stress the words “handle” and “urges.” Yes, he’s trying to flirt, but he’s also serious. You think this man hasn’t developed a multitude of ways to cope with his anger and aggression? I think Solomon has spent decades in his past constantly seething. Like Simeon, he understands that it can come back – that as much as you mellow out, the passion that causes that kind of aggression remains. If you ever need it, he’s willing to help you channel it.

“If you’re ever in an aggressive mood again, you could always take it out on me.” Shameless.

A/N: Don't forget that the February poll will still be up for a few days. Vote and/or add your input if you want. (And check out that depraved poll fic from January if you haven't yet.)

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: The biggest heartfelt thank you to my friends @alibellerosetta and Cameron who beta’d this fic + all those who reached out and supported me in DMs! ❤️ P.S. There may be spoilers for Coffee Talk ahead, so read at your own discretion.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: Arrival

September 30, 1998. It was heavy rain and howling winds, but your shop was still open, like a beacon of light in the darkness. A flash of lightning and a high beam panned across the window. The rumbling sound of an engine came to a halt. 

Could that be your first customer of the day?

Your question was answered when a young, red-haired woman in a matching leather jacket burst through the front door, triggering the welcome chime that signaled a new arrival. She was drenched like a drowned rat, helmet tucked under her arm as she made her way over to the counter tentatively, her eyes darting back and forth at the empty space before her.

“Hey, uh, you’re open, right?”

“Of course.” Your smile was genial and bright, but not scorching—mellow like the midnight sun in a starless sky. “What would you like, miss?”

She relaxed a little, her shoulders loosening as she placed her helmet on the counter until it appeared as if she remembered something. Looking back, her gaze followed the trail of dirty puddles she had left in her wake. Water pooled from her soaked boots as she gave you a sheepish grin. “Um, sorry.”

You waved it off with a laugh. “Apologize when you can control the weather.” Grabbing a couple of tea towels from the nearby rack, you handed it to her. “Here, why don’t you dry off while I fix you something to warm up with?”

She thanked you profusely as you got to work, concocting up a special blend of frothy hot chocolate with milk, honey, rosewater, and a touch of cinnamon. The pattering of rain from the outside complemented the chill lo-fi soundtrack you had put on in the background.

Sliding the glass over the surface of the table, you placed it in front of her. “Your Turkish Delight, miss.”

“Claire,” she offered. “Just call me Claire.” 

As she brought the steamy drink to her lips, her eyes widened, like something had caught her by surprise.

“Mmm, wow,” she sputtered. “This is—”

“Good?”

“Really good!” she corrected, as she gulped the rest down enthusiastically.

At that moment, the door chime tinkled again, and another stranger strolled in, attempting to brush away the droplets from his clothes in vain. Running a hand through his slick blonde bangs, his piercing blue eyes fell upon the two of you like a deer in the headlights.

“Uh, um…” he stammered, only to shake his head in response at his own fumbling as he cleared his throat to try again. “Do you mind if—”

But you were already there, holding out another towel before he could even blink.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” The corners of his mouth curled into a shy smile as he took the towel from your hands gratefully.

“You better leave her a good tip!” Claire hollered from where she sat as he chuckled and raised his hands in mock resignation.

“And what can I get you, mister?”

“Leon.”

“Hmm?”

He stuck out his hand, greeting you with an air of innocence and genuineness. “I’m Leon.”

You shook hands and introduced yourself before he would reveal his order. “Just a coffee, nothing fancy.”

“Coming right up,” you called out over your shoulder, a knowing look cast across your face.

As you prepared a pot of black filter coffee, you overheard your two customers exchanging a few words.

“You from Raccoon City?”

“Nah, I’m just here for a few days to visit my brother. Lemme guess, you’re not from around here either?”

“Not really, well, not yet. I mean, I was supposed to start my first day at the RPD—”

“Wait, today? Have you seen the time?”

“I know, I know… I got delayed. Add the insane weather and I’m still trying to work out the directions on this map.”

“Well, rookie, you’re in luck. My brother’s part of S.T.A.R.S., so I could lead you to the station when the weather clears up a little.”

“Rookie? Really?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Pouring the freshly brewed coffee into a cup, you served it to Leon, who had just accepted Claire’s offer, despite his slight hesitation. “Your nothing fancy coffee.”

He snickered, locking eyes with you for a split second before taking a sip. Tension eased from his brows as he closed them shut, sighing blissfully into the cup. “It’s—”

“Really good?” Claire suggested, finishing his sentence from him.

He nodded and pursed his lips, finishing the rest of the drink in a couple of mouthfuls. Gesturing towards Claire’s empty glass, he stated, “I’ll get hers too.”

As he fished out a couple of crumpled bills, you stopped him, instinctively placing your hand over his when he tried to slip them over. His eyes flickered at your touch, but he did not pull away, waiting patiently for your response.

“On the house,” you clarified.

“What? No,” Claire protested as she motioned to the empty seats around her. “How’s your shop gonna survive like this?”

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged before peering out through one of the side windows. “Seems like the rain’s lightened up.”

“We’ll be back,” Leon promised, his gaze stoic and sincere, as he dragged the chair out under him, preparing to leave. Claire did the same.

As the door chime tinkled for the final time that evening, he paused abruptly, popping his head back in to ask, “When are you open?”

At this, you let out a smile. “Only at night.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 8 - Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: tiny dash of spice… making out, hands wandering. Light angst, emotions, late-night confessions.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please don't be mad at me about this - I could not go with the cliche of wedding night. These idiots just need one more night to get their sh*t together. Sorry, and yes, as penance, Chapter 9 will be posted very soon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939 

A nervous energy ripples through your limbs as the four others leave, traipsing across the garden to the neighbouring cottage, leaving you and your new husband alone. Still waving awkwardly from the patio as they all disappear from view. A chill passes through you, just noticing how cold the night air is, autumn drawing in and without the warmth of Benedict holding you in some way, as he has been the past few hours. You startle slightly as he interrupts your reverie by chivalrously wrapping the faux fur stole around your shoulders.

“It’s my something borrowed,” you blurt, unsure what else to say.

“Eloise?”

You just nod, too nervous all of a sudden to look up at him.

“Let’s get inside,” he suggests, observing even the extra layer does not halt your shiver, gesturing to the kitchen door.

You walk awkwardly past, catching a whiff of his delicious scent that you woke up to this morning, the involuntary urge to sway into him intense.

You drift to the living room, Benedict wandering to the gramophone, putting on a mellow jazz record before taking a seat; part of you sad he chooses the armchair, not the sofa beside you. 

“Well… that was a day,” he understates in his usual affable manner.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” you respond earnestly, looking down at the simple band on your finger by reflex. “It’s all thanks to you that I have a chance to escape while I still can.”

“You would have done the same for me,” he demures with a quiet certainty that makes you yearn to touch him. 

Instead, you exchange slightly awkward smiles, the mantlepiece clock ticking sounding so loud, even with the music playing.

“And I'm sure you will get home one day,” he assures. “Your family, I'm certain, miss you… and... And your fiancee,” the reluctance in his words evident.

“I’m not sure a married woman can have a fiancé anymore,” you remark; the lash of guilt every time Stanley’s name is invoked lessening with every moment you spend alone with Benedict.

“You can once you are a single woman again, as soon as you are safe,” he counters softly, so altruistic in his manner your throat almost itching with unspent words—a want to yell. No! Fight for me! I want you more than I ever will want him!!

“You yourself said on the train that perhaps there is something better out there for me,” you respond cautiously. “The longer this adventure runs, the more certain I am of that.”

His mien is profound as you finally raise your eyes to his, wanting so much to say more but feeling too tongue-tied and cowardly to be that selfish, to declare he is what you want. 

He shakes himself a little and leans back into the armchair as if resetting himself and the line of conversation. Like he senses the mutual danger lurking there.

“Tomorrow, when we sail… they will likely notice the date on our marriage certificate,” Benedict counsels gently. “That may raise flags about the authenticity of our union.”

“What can we do to assuage them?”

“Come up with a plausible story. Be physically affectionate. They may ask no questions, or they may ask as many as they wish,” he warns, “especially of you. They may ask you about…” Benedict pauses, his face flushing a little, “… intimate matters. They have every right to ask if the marriage has been consummated.”

You feel yourself flashing hot as he says it. “I should lie?” you whisper.

“You should say whatever you think will make them believe we are a real couple,” he obfuscates.

“I’m a terrible liar…” you confess, blushing when you realise your words could be interpreted as an invitation to be intimate. And on this, your wedding night. 

His gaze is heavy. “You can do it y/n. Your freedom and safety may depend on your ability to convince them you love me... And I you.”

I think I might, your mind screams.

“I know… I… think I can do it,” you falter, replaying every kiss you have shared. “We seem to have done a great job convincing Jerome and Marie…”

“They are not looking to see artifice,” he counters. “British soldiers will be.”

“Sh… should we practice?” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it, champagne again taking your tongue, a deep flush spreading over your skin as you realise it.

“Y… yes, I think maybe we should,” he agrees very quickly. 

He stands somewhat awkward, peeling off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves, leaving his waistcoat. You find yourself again mesmerised by him, as you were that night in Paris, wanting to run your hands over the flex in his arm muscles. In fact, you are so distracted you don’t even realise he is proffering you a hand out of the chair. You spring up to your feet without his help, the idea of touching him right now entirely too distracting, which seems to amuse him briefly before his expression turns sincere.

“We have kissed, but not as lovers, as married people would. We... we may need to do so, casually, of course, within sight of those allowing boarding,” he opines, even as your heart speeds up, realising what he is saying.

“You think we need to… practice more kissing? Now?” you are mildly annoyed by how stupefied you sound.

“Yes,” he confirms, drawing closer, “passionate, real kissing.”

You are looking up into blue eyes and a gorgeous face as fingertips loop around your wrist as if checking your pulse.

“Grab my wrist if you want me to stop,” he tutors softly, so gentlemanly in his approach, even as you fret that he can feel your heart rate hammering hard in your veins.

Once again, time is in slow motion as his lips descend. At first, the kiss is breathtaking but still chaste, like previously. But then there is a noise in the back of his throat that makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end; his lips part yours, a wave of damp heat as the kiss deepens. His tongue swipes yours tentatively, a tease before you mirror his moves. He tastes of champagne and something else that is entirely him, an impulse to bite the inside of his cheek. And then it’s abruptly fervent, wanton - like a dam has broken - his hands gripping the crest of your hip bones, each finger an insistent dig into your flesh.

Finally, given the permission, you don't hold back. Pushing into him, one hand grasping the buckled loop at the back of his waistcoat that cinches it to his slim form, the other winding around his sturdy neck, encouraging him to lean down further, take from you. The kiss seems never-ending, a rolling wave of to and fro, a dance not unlike the one in the square just last night. Those fireworks still explode, but this time, it feels like those ones that are so powerful they knock a punch to your solar plexus, a ricochet you feel physically,

His hands slide up your back, a sensual drag that makes you moan into his mouth, a noise he greedily swallows. But he stops as they reach the faux fur wrapped around your shoulders and reluctantly breaks the kiss.

“Please, take this off,” he implores, “I cannot do this with you wearing my sister's clothing,” he points out with a cringe that creases his face charmingly.

Your responding giggle causes him to break into a lopsided grin, and wordlessly, you untie it as he watches, pupils blown. When you push it back off your shoulders, it hits the rug behind you with a soft whump, and your instinct takes over, rocking onto your tiptoes, one hand sliding into the lush hair at the back of his head and bringing his face back to yours. 

The minute your mouth opens to his, you are heavy and weightless all at once, not unlike that wooden roller coaster on Coney Island that made you see stars. Your nails flex on his scalp as his hands slide over your dress, looping low around your hips, tugging you snugly into his body as your tongues tangle. 

This.

This must be what the girls whisper about—a tart metallic boiling in your blood, a heavy tug deep inside your pelvis that needs relief. A wanting so physical it almost hurts, a hunger that makes you feel reckless, liable to behaviour you could never justify, a pure carnal caprice. But all too soon, he is pulling back, a need to breathe, even as he does so inches from your face, his eyes locked on yours as they flutter open.

“Again,” you murmur, uncaring how gossamer thin your excuse is, just wanting more. 

His eyes are glittering as he complies. Kissing like a wild storm now, hands hot through the thin, cool silk fabric. And you cannot stop the noises you make, shameless and breathy, right into his open, wet, questing mouth. Pressing hard against his body, a solid warmth in his trousers promising things you need so badly you crave to curl around him, open yourself to him. 

You have never felt this before. A tingle under your scalp that vibrates all the way down to your toes. A want to take and be taken. To bite and be bitten. To ride and be ridden. For him to rip your dress from your body and throw you onto the sofa—a yen that feels not entirely human and definitely not civilised.

It's like he senses your thoughts have slid somewhere wild, or perhaps his have too, as when he pulls back, he is panting, and there is a quaking in his entire being like he is crackling with energy.

“Please. Go.” His voice is ragged, deep, almost wrecked. “Please. I… I can’t do this anymore,” his voice cracks a look that is at once hungry, aching, and barely contained restraint.

Please don't be a gentleman now, Benedict. Please. No. God. Not now. Don’t.

“I’m s…sorry,” you stutter, feeling guilty you have pushed it too far but utterly unmoored by the searing passion and the sting of his rejection, albeit reluctant. 

Even you can see the war in his being, physical desire being muzzled by the gentleman he was clearly raised to be. Knowing if you stand here much longer, something will happen that one or both of you will regret. Your wedding ring seems to burn your skin as you turn around and shrink away, leaving the room, not daring to look back, knowing he has also turned away with ragged breaths.

As you climb the stairs, feet feeling leaden, your body in utter turmoil, you hear the discordant scratch of the gramophone being halted. You undress in a daze, swearing you can still feel the heat of his handprints through the silk of your dress. Climbing into the bed approaching numb, champagne swirling unease in your gut with all the rich foods, an oily disquiet that means it takes ages to settle.  

You lay there fitfully for what feels like hours, tossing and turning, picking over the minutiae of every moment with Benedict - tonight and all the nights and days before. Seeing possible signs that make your heart clench. 

Could it be that he is not doing this all for show? 

It's a seizing thought that catalyses your body: it has you up on your feet and rushing down the stairs in your nightgown, breathless and stumbling. But when you round the corner into the living room, all your courage to declare it is sapped by the sight of Benedict sleeping, curled slightly, looking smaller somehow, his back turned to you, face buried into the back cushion of the sofa.

Instead, you back away, padding to the kitchen to take a glass of water, hoping the hydration will stave off the worst of a hangover; the water is a relief to the tumultuous, racing feeling as you stand on the large slab of earthen tile gleaming in the moonlight, cold underfoot. You pour another glass for him without thought.

Tiptoeing back into the living room, careful not to wake him, you crouch beside him to leave the glass of water within easy sight and reach should he stir. But you find yourself unable to leave without saying something. The temptation to confess to his unconscious self is impossible to resist, the grip on your own glass so tight.

“I’ll never be able to repay you,” you murmur to his back, fingers itching to trace over the bare skin of his shoulder blades where they peak out of the blanket. “For this unbelievable act of kindness and generosity. And yet… god, this is so selfish,” you flick your eyes up to the ceiling to stem a tear you feel gathering, “… still I’m greedy. Always wanting more. Wanting…. Wanting to never return to my old life. Wanting to run away. Wanting this… Wanting this to be real.” 

The last phrase is barely audible, but still, you are instantly horrified that you confessed it out loud, even to his unconscious, sleeping frame. And you know you must leave.

God, what is wrong with me? What is this? Temporary insanity? Too much alcohol, a fake wedding and an impending war are not a good recipe…

It’s a silent internal lament as you stand up and withdraw, self-chastisement echoing so loud in your head. And yet, you can't resist a parting sentence from the doorway.

“Goodnight, Benedict, you are truly the very best of men...”

—

What you don’t see as you slowly climb back up the creaking wooden stairs is Benedict’s eyes blazing open, a look of utter astonishment claiming his face as he twists around and stares at the doorway you left by, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He was never asleep.

And he heard every single word.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[miheartsedthings]

All The Lovers in the Night

“Smells like rain.” 

Billy glances from the movie he’s watching to where you’re leaning on the window sill, your nose nearly pressed against the screen. 

“Hm?”

It’s cool out, early spring. 

“Rain,” you say again, “C’mere.” 

Graduation was months ago, and since then you and Billy spend as much time as possible together. Now, you’re at his place while his dad is away on a business trip. Susan doesn’t stand in the way of you being together, as long as you all have some idea of which friends Max is hanging out with. She’s with Lucas and the others, so you and Billy have the house to yourselves and you’ve taken up in the living room. 

You’re on your knees in front of the window beside the TV, transfixed by the little green yard and the trees just beyond. All settled under graying clouds. Billy comes to stand beside you. 

“Smells like…” he pauses, leaning down and closing his eyes. He’s been so at ease since his dad left. Since his ribs healed and the nightmares lessened. So much more thoughtful. More like his true self than he ever would’ve been before. 

“Kinda like ocean.” He says as he looks out. He’s smiling but only with his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you say, taking another big inhale. “Wet dirt, and like…” another breath “the way it smells on foggy mornings, ya know?” 

He nods. He sits down on the hardwood, one knee bent as he reclines on the opposite arm. 

“You’re missing your movie,” you say. 

His eyes are far away, looking out into the sky. 

“It used to be quiet in our house when it stormed,” he says. “My grandma lived with us and she used to make me and my mom huddle up in the living room and pray until it passed. Normally, my dad bitched about everything that woman said, but…when it stormed, something came over him, too. Everything would just get mellow and we’d sit there…damn. I forgot about that.” 

A cool, damp breeze rolls over you, and slowly a shush drums up from the ground as the rain starts to fall. Quietly at first, and then louder, filling the air with scattered water and the sour smell of soil. Billy loops an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. He tucks his face into your neck and kisses the chilled skin before returning his eyes to the window. You settle into him, closing yourself into the warmth of his arms. 

“There’s so much I wish I could change about what happened to you.” 

Your words feel thin. Maybe they’ll slip right out the window and be trampled by the rain. Broken through like butterfly wings. 

“I know,” he says “I know what you'd do for me if you could.” 

His arms tighten around you, somehow bringing you closer to his chest. You know the words are meant to be comforting, but they make you feel powerless. You sit there drowning in all the nothing you can do to fix the things he suffered with. Before you know it, you’ve sniffled, and he turns you to face him with a hand under your chin. 

“Hey,” he says, his face tightening into a stern glare. “You don’t get to be mad at yourself about shit you can’t change. Remember we made that rule?” You nod, but it only makes it worse that he cares so much. “Keep being a crybaby you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.” 

A laugh bursts out of you, regardless of your tears. He’s able to make you laugh whenever he wants, it’s like some weird superpower he has. He smiles a little and kisses you, letting his lips linger. 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You can’t have more regrets than me and shit…I’m here.” 

You’re flooded with more words, more sentiment than you’d ever burden one person with. It’s too much. So you kiss him again and try to telegraph it all through the dense space between your internal self and his. You try to send him healing and care. Compassion beyond description. Forgivenesses not yours to give. All of it. Everything. 

For a moment, when he’s filling you, you think he feels it. By some miracle of the body and the sound of rain, he finally feels how much you love him. You’re so happy you could die. 

Artist Credit: Cécile Berrubé

[ruershrimo]

f. megumi x reader | one moment longer

under the light of the moon, he looks more beautiful than anything.

spiky black hair shining like stunning silver, eyelashes weaved of the silkiest threads one’s genes could offer, green eyes shimmering, scrutinised by the moon’s glow. if there was a painting to describe the epitome of beauty he would be its subject.

the collar of that tidy black uniform you can nuzzle your face into, the hyaline scent of detergent and a freshly cleaned room, the rhythm of his breaths, faint and light, as lithe, warm hands rest on your back the same way puzzle pieces stay connected.

“i love you,” you hear. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

you aren’t a jujutsu sorcerer yourself, so maybe you wouldn’t know enough. still, you know some people say that the world of sorcery is one devoid of hope and humanity; you know the general sentiment among them is that this has always been a sisyphean task, that it was born from the resistance of impermanent lives against an evil which would last for all eternity.

yet how can they let their worlds be entrenched in such darkness and lovelessness?

love and good are everywhere, you think, no matter how much loss there is to endure. you’ve felt so yourself.

you see it when you sip from teacups in cafes where the saucers come with biscuits on the side and your ears notice the shutter of his camera and you gaze at the mellow grin resting on his face. you hear it when he sends you whatever tune he’s been listening to for the past few days, sent with a text saying, “thought you might like this”. you taste it when he presses his lips to yours and kisses him back out of joy in a bold defiance of this world’s sorrows. love and good is everywhere in the mundanity of life and it’s minuscule, quiet moments.

“i love you,” he whispers again, voice as soft as a gentle breeze in an autumn-touched street, but with enough conviction to make the mightiest of rulers fall, you’re sure. you shut your eyes slowly as his feet move languidly in tandem with yours.

“you do?” you ask, “i love you too, megumi.”

one day the world he resides in will take him away from you. one day you’ll be left alone with no one to hold you under the moonlight while it spills into their wooden-tiled dorm room, one day you won’t have anyone to dance with you despite the chills outside.

but today is not that day. tonight is not the night you’ll be screeching and crying as you hear news of his death from a cellphone call. it’s not the night when you’ll be shaking and collapsing over his mangled corpse, if there even is one left.

you want a future together. you want for him to stay even after he leaves graduates, for years and years and years of his life. but even you know that with the life he’s living, with the kind of life where any night is one when he may die, you just wish that it can last for a while longer. if not two years, then maybe two months. if not two months, then maybe two weeks. or perhaps…

…just one moment longer. one moment longer with fushiguro megumi.

I don’t even write for jjk haha, I was just simping at 3 am (I want to sleep. I’ve to wake up before 9 tomorrow. someone pry my phone away from me.) I’m also doing this to cope because gege is cruel. someone help this is probably so bad I didn’t even do any formatting or anything bro that picture isn’t even one of the moon

[elizabebabe]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ೀ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: you're scouted for love island and you and your manager think of it as a business opportunity but what happens when you actually want to find love?, you're in for the summer of your life.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, kissing.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: imagine my shock, it's a chris fic!

you slowly pulled away from the hug, looking him in the eyes. you know he felt it too, you all sit back down at the fire pit ready to ask him the hard hitting questions, 

“you nervous bro?” cade questions him. 

“little bit.” he giggles, pushing his hand through his hair. 

“we all are.” aidan comments attempting to mellow him out.

“what’s your name? age?, didn’t catch it.” leah calmly asks.

“chris, 20 years of age.” his smile is contagious, you can’t help smirking. 

“what do you do for work?” clair asks from next to you, nudging at your side.

you playfully roll your eyes at her, “i do social media, with my brothers.” 

you all nod along to his words, “what’s your type?” leah questions.

“i don’t have one, i know blahbla everyone says that but it’s true, 

i just like someone that can sit back and chill and who can have those normal conversations.” he motions with his hands, everyone intently listens, naturally interested in what he has to say.

“who do you find attractive here though.” cade says in a ‘cut the bullshit’ way.

“they're all pretty.” chris rebuttals.

“he dodged that.” cyrus laughs, making the other guys chuckle.

a ding loudly rips through the laughter, chris checks his back pocket,

 “got a text.” he sticks his tongue out, “islanders, in 24 hours chris will couple up, with a girl of his choice, “leaving a boy single and vulnerable.” everyone's jaw slacks, gasps and groans coming from different places around the fire pit.

 “#you-tu-ber in for a treat.” he laughs at the hashtag, “you are in for a treat!” he exclaims.

all the guys squirm while looking at each other. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after learning the news everyone slowly dispersed from the fire pit, boys and girls separating for their own chats, the girls going to the swing and the guys heading to the kitchen.

“how are you girls feeling?” abby starts.

you adjust yourself to sit comfortably, “i think he's a good looking boy.” you comment, turning your head towards the kitchen, you notice how outgoing he was, how touchy he is, your mind ran wild, not being able to control itself, you imagine —, you get snapped out of your thoughts by clair, bringing your attention back to the conversation you were having.

“he's not my usual type.”  leah comments, kaia agreeing. 

“but he's cute.” leah continues, “not again.” abby laughs, making you scoff.

“abby, how do you feel? i know you’re smitten with cade.” clair’s voice rings with concern.

“m’good, i just really like how it’s going with him.”

“we just don’t want you to close off so soon.” kaia comments, you nod your head.

“i know, i know.” she replies, sighing, toying with the fabric of her dress.

you notice chris approaching the swing, 

you take a swig out of your glass then nudge at clair, grabbing her attention then the rest of the girls.

“heyy.” he says walking up, you were sitting across from abby, you both being nestled to the ends of the swing, you notice kaia and leah making room in the middle of the swing for him to sit, he plops down next to them with a giggle.

“how are you?” leah asks.

he man spreads, his hands in a ball on his lap, he smiles when the question rings through his ears.

“i’m great, thank you!”, “what about you?” he continues, aiming the question towards all of you, inviting you to converse. 

“good.” abby responds.

“better now.” leah replies.

“yeah?” he says sarcastically.

“were you nervous coming down?” you chime in.

“yeah, definitely, this is kind of the first thing i've done without my brothers so it's really nerve racking.”

“you’re close with your family?” you reply.

“yeah, i'm a triplet so we rarely spend this much time away from each other.” 

you all lightly gasp, “that’s so cool.” abby adds.

“thank you!” he smiles, putting one of his hands behind his head.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it was about that time to head to the beach hut, you felt excited for some reason, feeling like you could get things off your chest in there without any judgment.

you sat down in the chair, adjusting your mic.

“hello..” you say nervously. 

“how are you feeling about the new boy?”

you smile, fumbling with your outfit.

“he seems nice, i'm attracted to him so..we’ll see.” you say slowly, carefully thinking about what to say.

“what do you think about leah after your conversation?” the ominous voice behind the camera queries. 

“i like her, i'm not gonna be off with her over something so small.”

“you both seem to like chris.” they state, obvious they’re trying to stir something.

you scoff, “mhm..” 

“how do you feel about your connection with romeo? he seemed to be a second thought when chris arrived.”

your jaw drops, “he is not!”, you defend yourself.

“i’m still thinking about me and romeo, we're going quite slowly at the minute but i like that, plus leah is still in the equation so i’m just trying to get to know everyone.” silence takes over the room.

….

“alright, all done.”

“thank you.” you smile, getting up from the chair and opening the door, closing it behind you, there were two ‘beach huts’ one upstairs and one downstairs, they had called you to the one upstairs.

you walk around the corner into the makeup room, sitting down at one of the vanities, taking a breather, making sure you still look nice.

you needed this bit of downtime, a break, you readjusted yourself in your outfit, fiddling with a bit of it, you stood up knowing it was time to rejoin the others. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

when you walked back out romeo quickly pulled you away bringing you to the bean bags, you slowly sat down a “humph” leaving your lips from the low fall.

“you okay?” he chuckles.

“yeah.”, you quickly realize how unflattering sitting on it was. 

“how you doing?” he asks

“fine, you?”

“good, do you like chris?” he quickly asks, getting straight to the point.

you’re stunned by his question, it naturally takes a while for you to answer, leaving him in silence. 

“i don’t know him yet so i don’t know.” you reply in a hushed tone.

“you find him attractive though right?” he hurriedly comments.

“sure.” you say sharply.

you didn’t know why this conversation annoyed you, but it did, you tried to remind yourself he was just asking questions.

“alright.” he starts getting up leaving you with a confused face, that was it? that's all he had to say to you?

he pushes himself off the bean bag, putting his hand out for you, you put your hand in his allowing him to pull you up, leaving you unsteady, physically and mentally. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it was time for bed, everyone piled into the bathroom to wash their face, brush their teeth. you decided to change first and wait everyone out, you peeled out of your outfit, placing it in your empty suitcase then changing into a t-shirt, you grabbed some toss around shorts and put those on too. 

you opened your designated closet putting your heels on the shelf next to the shoes you unpacked earlier this morning.

the rest of the girls came in bare faced ready to change into their pjs, giving you the signal to head to the bathroom, you grabbed your toothbrush from a little bag nestled onto your vanity.

“this is basically like a big sleepover.” you heard abby comment as you exited the room heading to the bathroom.

you walk into the bathroom noticing chris laying toothpaste onto his brush, you seemed to have the same idea.

“hi.” you say awkwardly, grabbing a used toothpaste tube from off the sink

“heya” he smiles, he shoves the brush into his mouth, brushing ferociously, you can’t help but watch.

you side eye him, a “damn” leaves your mouth making him laugh, his laugh is infectious making you giggle, your interaction bellows through the halls, “who’s having fun without me?” abby questions sarcastically peeking into the bathroom, she notices you too and decides it’s better to not interrupt, walking back into the girls changing room.

you two are too busy chuckling to even notice her, you finish brushing your teeth alongside him, you begin to wash your face as he walks out of the room, presumably heading to the changing room as he was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt.

the guys changing room is across from the girls easily making for chaos but once everyone was done changing and cleaning up you all headed downstairs to the bedroom.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you needed to have some water before bed since it always helped you sleep. you walked to the backyard and into the kitchen, the cool air made you shiver as you filled up your classic love island water bottle, you took a sip of the refreshing water while walking back inside.

you walked into the bedroom noticing couples in their beds and chris on his lonesome, his bed was right next to you and romeo, you headed to the right side since romeo was already comfortably conversing with robert who was lying next to clair.

you sit down taking a sip of your cool water from the fridge, “hey.” chris rolls over to get a good view of you, “hi.” you reply slightly uneasy, it made you uncomfortable knowing romeo was right next to you.

chris giggles at you, noticing your quick zone out, “you do that a lot.” he chuckles. 

you scoff with embarrassment, placing your water bottle on the table in between you and chris’s beds, “you're funny.” he says with a smile, “but i'm not doing anything?” you question, only making him laugh harder.

romeo taps at you gaining your attention, “do you wanna cuddle or no?’”

chris stops laughing, taking note of the interaction, you lift your legs onto the bed and face romeo, “i don’t know.” you reply, genuinely unsure. 

“alright.” he quickly replies. 

everyone slowly goes silent, eye masks going on, ear plugs plunging into ears, mics being laid on the ground or the side table, you slide down, attempting to get comfortable, lifting your mic above your head and placing it next to chris’s.

the lights turn off, romeo turns on his side facing away from you, you hear sheets rustling as people get cozy.

“y/n” you hear a loud whisper from your left making your head turn.

“what?” you say quietly, turning on your side to face the whisperer, chris.

“goodnight.” he smiles, all you can really make out are his teeth and his eyes.

you smile back, “goodnight, chris.” 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the lights are bright and a “good morning, islanders!” echoes, groans are heard from the other side of the room.

you squint your eyes open, a yawn creeping up on you, you bend down groggily grabbing your mic off the ground and slowly hanging it on your neck, everyone around you does the same.

“whoo!!” abby exclaims, causing leah to groan, “too much for right now.” she comments.

“guys, it's the first full day!” she gets up, jumping on her and cade’s shared bed, causing cade to rock back and forth.

you sit up smiling, grabbing the water off your side table, taking a sip.

“let’s have a good day people.” cade basically shouts, making romeo jump.

chris extends his arm to poke you, you look towards him with a confused look. he rubs his eyes, “they’re perfect for eachother.” he says raspily, you nod your head in agreement.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you were needed in the beach hut for some morning catch up, you slowly walked up the stairs feeling like a zombie, everyone groggily followed behind you ready to freshen up for the day, well..everyone except for abby and cade who were basically bouncing off the walls. you entered the room, sitting down ready for the questions.

“first full day, how are you feeling?”

you stuffily giggle, wiping your eyes, “i’m ready to have more chats today, i’ve only really talked one on one with romeo so yeah..” a long yawn gently rips from your throat.

“you and chris seem to get on well, you were talking to each other before bed.”

you scoff, “he’s interesting for sure.” you pause and smile, “he’s like…adorable but also sexy? if that makes any sense.” 

“are you happy with your couple?”

you hesitate, “i was..no i am..?” you think, questioning yourself, “i think little “conversations” i’ve had elsewhere have been smoother than my conversations with romeo..” you felt guilty even hearing that exit your mouth but you can’t help how you feel, right?

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

water hits you harshly, running against your back. you lathered yourself with soap, the guys had already headed outside to have breakfast so you weren’t worried about being walked in on and being made to feel uncomfortable but you still wanted to wash up as quickly as possible.

you hopped out and slipped on a one piece you prepared walking into the makeup room, clair and kaia were the only girls still in there. you sat at your normal spot, cozy next to clair, “how are you?” kaia asks beckoning towards you.

“good, refreshed.”, clair nods agreeing with you.

you started your usual routine, pulling things out of your small bag. 

“clair, how you feelin’ about robert?” you question as you focus on the things in front of you, 

“uhm.” she quickly replies, attempting to think. “i don’t know, i've had good convos with him but i've also had good chats with aidan.” she continues.

“damn, okay little love triangle.” kaia snickers as she moves her makeup brush down her neck.

“i’m just glad to have options.” clair states, 

“how is cyrus?” clair changes the subject.

“he’s good, when he first came in he had a lot of energy but now he's really mellowed out.” kaia answers as she applies mascara on her eyelashes.

“which i love.” she continues.

“that’s gooood.” you drag your word while you attempt to focus on finishing up your makeup, 

applying a lippie before standing up and going towards your favorite mirror, adjusting yourself in your swim-suit, you walk over to your closet picking out some sandals to match. “you look really good.” clair comments as she stops what she's doing to pay you mind.

“thank you.” you smile back at her.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you, clair, abby and leah sat in a circle of bean bags, the heat sticking your body to it, “abby, is there anyone else you’d want to talk to?” leah peacefully questions.

she looks around, noticing kaia and cyrus having a convo at the fire pit, “maybe cyrus? he’s the only one other than cade that checked a few boxes so, i don’t know.” she pauses, 

“it's hard because i need to be open and remember that we’ve only been here for a day.”

she hesitates, “like i keep telling myself that but nobody in here matches my energy like cade.” she continues talking quietly in fear of anyone else hearing, you all nod your heads. 

“i get that.” leah states, “me and cyrus still haven’t talked. should i go pull him?” she carries on.

“right now?” clair asks.

“yeah.” she quickly replies. 

“if you want to.” you chime in, looking between abby and clair.

“ok.” leah pushes herself up from the bean bag, walking towards the fire pit. 

“pulling him while they’re talking is devious work.” abby chuckles, making you and clair laugh, you look over abby’s shoulder noticing chris coming your way.

“chris is coming over.” you whisper.

abby and clair look around them, noticing him approaching.

“i didn't tell you to look for him.” you giggle.

“sorry girl.” abby and clair snicker.

“you want to chat?” chris questions you, “sure.”

“look away, getting up from this is embarrassing.” you comment as you attempt to push yourself up from the bag. you make abby and clair sneer from your comment, he smirks then follows your command, looking away.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you both walk over to the swing then sit down, he sits in a certain position so he can maintain eye contact, your eyes widen. “holy shit, you have blue eyes?” you exclaim, for some reason only noticing this now.

his jaw drops making himself chuckle “you didn’t notice?”

“i had no fucking idea.” you quickly reply.

“so you don’t pay attention to me…okay.” he comments, making a sarcastic frown.

“no, no.” you swiftly say as you giggle. 

“it was dark, they looked brown.” you add, attempting to defend yourself.

“oh really?” he says sarcastically 

“okay mr. sarcasm.” you couldn't stop smiling when you were with chris, this is all you wanted.

“you look pretty.” he observed you, sending a chill down your spine.

“thank you..” you said flusteredly, “you too.” you continued.

“i look pretty, yeah?”  he questions, leaning back on the swing, throwing his hand behind his head.

you giggle, “very.”

he went on to ask you questions about your life, whether it was about the smallest thing or something huge, there wasn’t one dull moment with him.

but that didn’t make you forget to ask him questions as well,

when he talked about his family his eyes lit up. it was so wonderful to see, you intently listened to his every word, highs and lows about his career, favorite food. you could easily talk for hours but unfortunately it was interrupted by a ding.

“got a text!” cyrus shouts, you slowly get up, giving chris a quick side hug as you both walk over to the fire pit, “islanders, it’s time to reveal your red hot flags in today’s red hot challenge.” you bite your tongue in an attempt to not laugh.

“#willyoubemybuoy, #slipperywhenwet”, cade and abby cheer.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you and the girls enter the dressing room, noticing 5 red bikinis lined on the closets, quickly changing and adjusting yourselves in every mirror.

“this is so exciting!” abby exclaims to you all.

you smile at her.

boys and girls will compete against each other in "red flags", you’all each pick a life buoy which will unveil a saucy secret about one of the islanders on the opposing team. then jump into a slime pool and wrestle an inflatable shark, once you exit the slime you’ll do your best ‘baywatch’ inspired slow-mo walk down the sprinkler runway before making your guess by kissing the islander you think the secret is about. 

cade started us off, grabbing a life buoy off the wall and flipping it over. “this girl got caught having sex in her parent’s room.” all of your jaws dropped, you and the girls were lined up vertically along a fence allowing you to give playfully, judgy, looks down the line.

“that’s insane.” leaves one of the boys' mouths but you couldn’t tell who.

cade basically skips over to the pool, jumping in and mounting the inflated shark. the guys cheer him on as well as you and the girls, “get it!” robert shouts.

he jumped out, covered in slime, taking his time getting to the “runway”. he did his best walk while holding the buoy, sprinklers blasting him.

he ran down the line up of you girls, making his way down to abby, performing mouth to mouth, the kiss looked wet and slimy, you cringed as clair laughed next to you.

once they finish their long kiss he walks over to the flags to reveal who’s secret it was, he peels it back revealing leah. you all giggle as she covers her face, “my cat was asleep on my bed, there was no other choice!” she defends herself, everyone gives her questioning looks, “i can think of many other choices.” clair responds.

after cade’s go he lost the boys a point.

it was aidan’s turn next, he slowly picked up a buoy of his choice, reading off the back, “this girl did ballet growing up and still uses it to this day.” he pauses.

 “that would be normal but there’s a winky face.” he snickers, 

“just look at their feet.” cade says, making everyone laugh.

aidan quickly made his way through the pool and the runway, making it time for him to choose a girl. you could tell he really wanted to earn the boys a point as he took his time thinking about who to pick.

he looks down, taking cade’s advice, you all squirm in an attempt to hide your toes, he smiles, “fuck it.” he mutters, going over to clair and placing the buoy round her neck then leaning in for a wet, sloppy snog.

it seems to take her by surprise, you try not to look but it goes on for a while.

they finally stop and he makes his way to the flags, pulling the sticker back revealing clair’s name, “holy shit!” the boys cheer.

cyrus’s turn! he quickly grabbed the buoy, “this girl once peed in a shoe hiding in an ex’s closet.” he quickly jumped through the slime, doing his funkiest baywatch walk and making his way down the line, he wrapped the buoys string around leah, bringing his lips down to hers.

right…next..to..kaia, you look down the line attempting to get a good view of her reaction, she didn’t look very happy, especially when that didn’t remotely seem like something leah would do, she’s too chill. 

“yikess..” abby says quietly, he pulls away from the kiss making his way to the flags, peeling back the sticker to unveil kaia’s name. you silently gasp and you can hear clair having the same reaction.

“i found out he was cheating on me and i had his house key, i spied on him.” she quickly says, she’s definitely told that story before.

it was romeo’s turn, he grabbed a buoy off the wall and cleared his throat, “this girl lived in a strict household and didn’t have lingerie so she cut big holes out of her granny panties.” you scoff, watching people's reactions as you knew this was you, what are the chances he picked your damn story.

all you could think about is how you didn’t want romeo to kiss you especially in front of chris.

while you zoned out he was already covered in slime, awkwardly making his way down the runway, then observing all of you, ‘don’t kiss me.’ was the only thing echoing in your mind.

he walked up to you, putting his hand around the side of your neck, you could hear cheers from the boy's and abby’s loud self.

he leaned in placing his lips on yours, it was messy as you attempted to find a rhythm that worked for you both, he easily led the kiss, the cold buoy from his other hand hits your side like a tambourine making you squeal.

he takes advantage of your open mouth, slipping his tongue past your lips, you can’t stop thinking about chris, how he feels. your teeth bang together reminding you you’re still kissing him, you slowly pull away in an attempt to let him down easily, he smiles at you and you lightly smile back.

you fearfully avoid eye contact with the boys, clair nudges you, you look at her and she discreetly points towards the boys, you look over soulfully noticing chris’s gaze making you quickly turn away.

romeo pulls the sticker back, your name bold for everyone to see, the boys cheer, everyone except for chris.

robert was next, you couldn’t pay attention to what was happening with him as your mind raced about what just happened,

 you were only able to notice him having a quick peck with abby, then pulling the sticker back and getting it right, earning the boys another point.

lastly, it was chris’s turn, you felt sick to your stomach, guilt continued to wash over you but you didn’t know why, you didn’t do anything wrong, right?

clair had to touch your shoulder to get you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to reality as chris splashed into the slime, it oozed off of him. 

he quickly glided down the wet runway, him holding the buoy in his hand reminded you that you didn’t pay attention to the prompt, he walked down the line of you all tapping his lip with his finger.

he tsked, walking up to you and using his unoccupied hand to hold the back of your head, he delicately kissed your cheek then pulled away, giving you butterflies, he peeled back the sticker revealing kaia’s name, “awe, shucks!” he comments sarcastically.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it was finally you and the girls' turn, you switched spots with the boys, them now standing in the line.

abby was first, she excitedly grabbed a buoy off the wall, “this boy has never been in a relationship.”, oohs and ahhs are shared between everyone, you and the girls huddle, 

“what you guys think?” abby whispers, “it’s not robert, he’s 28.” leah mentions. “that doesn't mean anything..” kaia slowly replies, “she’s right to be fair.” clair says, “i think it’s chris.” he’s only 20, abby states.

“he’s on social media though, surely...” leah replies, “i back that actually.” you comment.

“kk!” you all quickly stop huddling, and watch as abby dives into the slime pit, “it’s in my nose!!” she complains.

she struts down the walkway, the sprinklers hitting her at every angle. 

she darts straight to chris, placing the buoys string over his head, he giggles as she snogs him, you can’t get a good look which is probably for the best.

she pulls the string off his head then walks over to the flags, pulling back the tape to reveal chris’s name. you girls cheer and rally, you notice cade having a sour face as abby walks back over.

you all played to win, not considering who you wanted to kiss but who you had to, your lips ended up locking with aidan which was unexpected but ended with you getting a point, the only point you girls lost was leah’s turn with a bad guess.

as you girls guessed the most flags correctly, you were all crowned as winners, ending with jumps up and down and cheers from you all.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

everyone  arrived back at the villa, wet, slimy and sticky messes.

you and the girls decided you needed some chat after the game, heading to the swing, 

“did you see cade’s face, abby?” clair starts.

“what?” she quickly replies.

“he looked pissed.” leah states.

“what’h i do?” her words mush together from her panic, you all shrug.

she rolls her eyes, “anywayyyyy, we won!” she exclaims.

the rest of you cheer alongside her.

“high fives!” kaia places her hand out and you all join her.

a ring is heard from the fire pit, where all the boys were talking. 

“text!” chris shouts, all of you stickily get up from the swing, walking over to the boys.

“it’s time to get freshened up as chris will take two girls of his choosing on dates!” the guys cheer, patting his back. he chuckles.

“#sunsetdining, #sunkissed.” he delivers with a smile.

who will chris choose to go on dates with? find out next time on love island..

i'll definitely keep the challenges based off real ones so they aren't extremely hard to imagine, this one is based of aussie love island, season 4. also since this is a chris fic i'll probably end up doing one for matt, i have an idea in mind....anyways, ilysm <3

[count-alucard-tepes]

Kengan Ashura hotties headcanons😍 Type of S/O they’d marry 💍

Raian Kure 👹: his S/O would be mellow and nonchalant but strong and supportive at the same time. Ngl his S/O has to be a bad bitch/savage to handle all that Raian is and put him in his place. 

Kanoh Agito😁: his S/O would be a wild child that is practically bouncing off the walls with the amount of energy they have, definitely golden retriever energy.

Kaolan Wongsawat🥊: his S/O would be someone level-headed who is career driven and down to earth aka humble.

Kiryu Setsuna 🥰: everything that is Ohma…lol jk. His S/O would someone strong willed and head strong, they have to be because he’s been through a lot.

Adam Dudley😬: his S/O would have a rich cultural background that they are proud of and he can’t help but admire them for this.

Hatsumi Sen😍: when he finally settles down (who knows when that would be😂 ), his S/O would be someone who is a homemaker but also a strong, bad bitch that makes him do cartwheels for them😂

Sekibayashi Jun 🤼‍♂️: his S/O would be someone who always laughs at his jokes, makes him laugh and who can cook really well, he loves a good sense of humor.

Hassad❤️‍🩹: his S/O would be strong and calm, probably from where he is from with the same upbringing and values.

Himuro Ryo🤍: his S/O is someone who is calm and kind, I feel like he’s quite the timid person and would want a partner similar to him.

Inaba Ryo🖤: his S/O is someone who just adores how cute he is and loves helping him with his hair. They always compliment him and make him blush.

Kiozan Takeru🤼‍♂️: his S/O would be quite the traditional person but who calls him out when he gets arrogant and snappy. He immediately is eating out of their hand and pouts.

Muteba Gizenga🪖: oh man he’s never getting married lol he apparently just loves anything that’s female, that’s all I’m gonna say😂

Nikaido Ren 🤩: his S/O would be someone who is as humble as they come, not someone who feeds his ego and he’s captivated by it.

Sawada Keizaburo💅: his S/O would be someone who comes off as shy but they give off savage energy as soon as they’re with him, no one can say anything negative to their Sawa-Chan.

Yoroizuka Saw Paing😜: his S/O would be super chilled and relaxed to balance him out. They love his energy though, it always makes them smile.

[bbyboybucket]

Beds

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: While sharing a hotel room with Reader, Bucky has a nightmare.

A/N: Surprise. Bet y’all didn’t expect a fic from me. How longs it been? Too long. Anyways, I’m rewriting one of my old fics, or more so taking the same concept but doing it more in character. Also I think this is the first time I’ve written something where we don’t see Bucky’s pov, so I think that’s kinda fun. Btw I’m rusty so don’t judge me if it shows. Also I think this is gender neutral but I’m not sure?

Warnings: language, sexual references, nightmares, ptsd, panic attack (not too intense), allusions to some hydra stuff but nothing graphic, hurt/comfort, frenemies to lovers, Bucky is moody, the one bed trope™️, no use of “y/n”, kinda sappy

—————————

A loud sigh came from the left of you just before the elevator dinged and the metal doors creaked open. You ignored him, you chose not to engage in his passive aggressiveness. You weren’t going to accept the invitation of a petty rant hiding behind that sigh.

You walked down the hallway with Bucky stalking behind you, like an angry pitbull trailing after its owner.

“I don’t even know why we got a fucking hotel in the first place.” Bucky grumbled, and you could practically feel the weight of his eye roll, even though you couldn't see it.

“Here we go.” You muttered under your breath. “What did you want? A safe house? It’s not like we’re on some high stakes, undercover op. Anything more than a hotel would be excessive.”

“Anything more woulda had better sleeping options.” He whined. “Coulda at least got us separate rooms.”

“My god, give it a rest Bucky, you’ve been complaining all day about this.” You we’re exasperated, it was about the third time you’d heard him gripe that day.

“Well, I’m not a fan. Us sharing is the stupidest fucking idea Sam’s ever had.”

“Bitching about it isn’t gonna change anything. And, it’s not like we have to sleep together or anything, I’ll be in a whole different bed.” You said, unlocking the room door. You had been looking forward to chilling out and resting, but as soon as you entered the room, you realized that your night would be anything but restful.

“Fuck.” You laughed, humorlessly, knowing you were about to hear an endless rant. “I take that back, there isn’t different beds.”

Surprisingly that rant didn’t come. Bucky weirdly seemed calmer than he had before and merely shrugged. “‘S fine. I’ll take the floor.”

“Well, one of us can try the couch?”

“That thing could fit a toddler at best.” He gestured towards the small leather love seat as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion he had ever heard, and in all honesty, he had a point.

You pinched the skin between your eyebrows. “Sam said he booked a two person room.”

He shrugged again and then blankly said. “This is why he shoulda booked separate rooms.”

“My god Bucky, I’m not that bad of a roommate. I don’t snore, I don’t sleep walk, and it’s not like I’m gonna kill you in your sleep. It’s one fucking night. Just-“ You took a deep breath and tried to mellow out. “You can have the bed.”

“No, you can have it.”

“You’re obviously more tore up about this than me, so it’s yours. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No.” He refused, his eyes held an odd stubbornness. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I literally don’t care, I’ve done it a million times. Plus, your grumpy ass probably needs some good sleep.” You half teased, trying to do the nice thing. You unzipped your bag and pulled your belongings out. “I’m gonna go change clothes.”

When you came back from the bathroom, Bucky was already in his boxers and a T-shirt, positioning a pillow and blanket on the floor.

“I told you the bed was yours.”

“Okay, and?”

“Why are you getting down there?“

“Why the fuck are you arguing?”

“Because you’re all pissy about this whole situation, so I’m trying to make your life easier and give you the bed.” You didn’t understand his defiance and odd aversion to the thing he’d been complaining about restlessly: the better sleeping option.

“I don’t want the goddamn bed, just shut the fuck up about it!” Bucky snapped. His outburst caught you off guard, he acted as if you had been purposefully pushing his buttons.

“Damn, fine.” You held your hands up in defeat, almost offended at the way he lashed out. “I get you’re trying to be all gentlemen-like but ya know, the aggressiveness defeats the purpose.”

“It’s not about being a gentlemen. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not being nice, I-“ He grunted. “Never mind I don’t owe you a fuckin’ explanation. Just get in bed.”

“I will, thank you, cause I’m tired. Especially tired of whatever the fuck is up your ass and has you so bitchy.”

You said it with full sincerity, of course you were used to bickering with Bucky but it always was in a playful manner, even when annoyed with each other, it was always friendly fire. There had been no sign of that all afternoon, Bucky was purely hostile and treating you like his greatest burden.

“You running your damn mouth and arguing isn’t helping anything.” He spat as he turned off the lights.

“Wow, sorry. Didn’t know offering you the bed was so fucking rude and offensive.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He groaned.

You muttered “fucking dick” under your breath.

“I heard that.”

As you settled into the bed, you couldn't help but roll your eyes in frustration. You found yourself pondering what you could have possibly done to provoke such a strong reaction from him. You couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't entirely about you. Maybe something else was going on and you were standing in as Bucky’s punching bag, just being the unfortunate catheter for his anger.

It didn’t matter. You had to force all the worry and aggravation out of your head because his attitude wasn’t worth losing sleep over. The last thing you need was to be exhausted on a mission.

—————————

You were jolted awake by a sudden, loud gasp, followed by a soft groan emanating from his direction. Rubbing your eyes, you opened them to find him sitting upright, his knees drawn close to his chest. He looked so small, a stark contrast to the huge stature and borderline intimidating presence you’d become so familiar with. His breathing was audible despite the distance between you, it was quick and shallow.

“Buck?” You concernedly called out to him but he didn’t answer. You then got out of bed, and flicked on the nightstand lamp.

“Bucky?” You tried again when you were closer.

Out of all the time you’d known Bucky, this was the first you’d seen him vulnerable. He was trembling harshly, hyperventilating too. He seemed equally dazed and terrified, but also distant as if he were lost in his head. You always thought Bucky had rather sad eyes but right now, the way they were widened with fear and slightly watering, took it to a whole new level.

You knew what was happening and seeing it felt like a stab to the heart. You slowly sat down in front of him, keeping space between you as to not worsen his panic.

“Buck, it’s okay.” You cooed. “Can you hear me right now?”

His gaze shifted to you, finally making eye contact, which gave you an answer.

“Okay, can you try to breathe with me? Deep breath…in 1…2…3” You exaggeratedly took large, slow inhale to lead him. “Out 1…2…3…”

You repeated the example, guiding until he finally started to follow along with you. “Good, you’re doing good. Do you know where you are?”

“….hotel. We’re on a mission?”

“Good, that’s right, good. It’s okay. You’re safe.” With a gentle and caring tone, you spoke to him, hoping to bring a sense of peace to the turmoil that was raging within him. Your heart felt heavy as you seen the pain that was laced within him, and you wished so badly that you could erase it all. You’d been scared you weren’t doing the right things, but his increasing improvement made you more confident.

“Can I touch you?”

He nodded.

You supportively placed your hand on top of his, stroking your thumb over his skin in a soothing manner. He initially flinched but didn’t pull away. “Starting to calm down now?”

“Yeah.” He released a long heavy breath and wiped the wetness off his eyelids with his free hand.

You sat silently with him, providing that tender, tactile support as he as he worked to regain his composure and steady his breathing. As he gradually calmed down, you noticed the shame creeping over him, causing his cheeks to flush red and his gaze to avert from yours.

“I didn’t want you to see this shit.” He finally said after minutes of silence.

“It’s fine-“

“Fuckin embarrassing is what it is.”

“No, stuff happens. I’m not gonna judge, ya know? I understand. I know what having panic attacks is like.” You revealed in attempt to make him feel more seen.

He slightly shook his head, at himself instead of towards to you, but he stayed silent.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He paused for a moment, he licked his lips and hung his head even lower. “‘M used to it. Get ‘em bout every night.”

“The panic attacks?”

“Nightmares. Those sometimes comes after though.”

“Oh.” You whispered, feeling like something in you had just shattered. “About hydra?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You offered carefully.

“Nothing you should hear. My head’s a fucked up place.” He laughed humorlessly.

“Try me.”

He hesitated for a moment, you assumed he was debating on wether or not he should trust you with such a heavy part of himself. “Basically all memories. Not so much dreams, more so just stuff that’s already happened. Flashbacks I guess.”

As his mouth parted to speak, only to close again, you knew that he wasn’t finished so you waited patiently, allowing him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

“Most of the time it’s…you know…what I’ve done. People I’ve killed. It’s….of course it’s horrible. Pretty gruesome but uh….I’ve gotten better at dealing with those, it’s still….I just get em so much that I can calm down faster now. But sometimes…it’s the shit Hydra did to me and it’s just….I’d get punished a lot. Some kinda torture or beatings, I’ll spare you the details.”

You continued to stroke his hand and stayed silent, not wanting to push him.

“But uh…they had this chair. Um, I’d get strapped down and they’d electrocute me. That’s how they’d…ya know. And I’d always end up there for a wipe after I fucked up. Or even if I didn’t. I don’t what’s worse honestly…the sick twisted shit they’d come up with or the wipe but…but reliving all that….”

“That’s fucking terrifying.”

“Yeah. Yeah, terrifying is an understatement. Sometimes…it’s hard to feel safe after that.”

His breathing started to pick up again. The cracks in his voice made it clear he was starting to get overwhelmed.

You then firmly grasped his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. “It’s okay, you don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t like to think about all that. I try to never actually. It’s like…obviously it’s…I can’t describe how fucking awful. But at the same time, if I do think about it, it’s like I’m ignoring all the evil shit I’ve done. And that’s not fair to everyone I’ve wronged. So then….if I never think about or deal with the torture….when I have to relive it in these goddamn nightmares…it just fucks me up worse. And my fucking luck is one of the few times it happens is when I’m sharing a room with someone.”

Your heart sank to the floor, your own eyes were watering at this point from getting just this small glimpse of his pain. “I’m so sorry, Buck. Hell, I don’t even know what to say right now. I wish I could do more to help.”

“You’re doing enough.“

“You didn’t deserve it, ya know? I don’t know everything that went on but you never deserved to suffer like that.”

“Half-debatable. At certain point it had to become karma for the suffering I was causing myself.” He shrugged solemnly.

“That’s not true. You had no control.”

He sighed exasperatedly, filled with a sad frustration directed at himself. He put his face in his palm. “We’ve had that conversation. You already know I don’t see it that way.”

“Yeah but I hope one day you will. And I’ll die before I stop trying to get it through your head that you’re innocent. You know you’re strong, right? So damn strong to be holding it together right now. After going through all that pain and to still be here and be a good man? To come as far as you have. I’ve never met anyone as strong as you.”

“We can agree to disagree but I appreciate it….and thanks sitting with me and calming me down and all that.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. This is why…I didn’t wanna share. And this is….one…of the reasons I don’t like sleeping in a bed. Makes the nightmares worse sometimes. That’s not your fault though, so I shouldn’t’ve…I just didn’t want you to know.”

“It’s alright. I get it now.”

“I shouldn’t’ve took it out on you. I really am sorry.”

“Buck, I get why you were upset. Well kinda, I honestly can’t imagine even a fraction of what you go through.”

“Goin a little far with the pity.” He grew a tiny smirk.

“Compassion.” You corrected. “And I can’t help it, I mean…not to get all sappy, but I care about you. A lot.”

His smirk morphed into a smile and you mirrored it. You wrapped your arm around him and laid your head on his shoulder, Bucky then slowly encircled you with his own arms. You knew the hug was Bucky's way of wordlessly affirming that he cared about you too.

“Didn’t know Mr. Grumpy was capable of hugging.”

“Consider it a one time gift.”

You chuckled in response but then an idea entered your mind.

“You think it’d help if I slept with you?” You asked softly.

He gave you a cheeky grin. “Could at least take me out to dinner first.”

“You know what I meant.”

He sighed. “Not to be an ass but I literally just told you I don’t like beds?”

“No dumb ass, I mean down here.”

He tilted his head and gave a tight lipped frown. “You don’t gotta do that.”

“No. But if it’d help you feel more comfortable, then I want to.”

He didn’t answer at first but because his face had always been an open book, revealing every emotion with striking transparency, he wore an expression that was etched with heartbreaking gratitude.

“Yeah…we can try that.” He whispered, as if he was in shock.

With gentle movements, you plucked the blanket and pillow from the bed and nestled yourself beside him. As you lay towards him, your faces drew closer, until they were mere inches apart. You could feel his warm breath caressing your skin. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you both gazed into each other's eyes, it was almost hypnotic. There was no awkwardness when it should have been expected, instead, a comforting feeling washed over you. You were consumed by excitement, tinged with a soothing calmness. Sure, it was paradoxical, but it was consuming and left you lost in the moment.

“Um…” Bucky started hesitantly but then cut himself off, he bit his bottom lip nervously.

Before you had a chance to even consider the words, they spilled from your lips. You were surprised with your own spontaneity, but the question had already slipped. “You wanna cuddle?”

It was as if you read his mind, you could practically see all the anxiety melt off Bucky before he pulled you into his chest. “This okay?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You replied, allowing yourself to sink into the comforting warmth of his body, all while listening to the soft thumps of his heart beating. It was a new intimacy that strangely felt familiar and natural, like everything had suddenly fallen into place.

You heard him yawn and you hummed fondly at how cute it was. “Goodnight, Buck.”

Tenderly, he leaned in and softly placed his lips upon your forehead, holding them there for a fleeting moment before settling his chin atop your head.

—————————

Bucky straddled your lap, his hand cupping your face as he devoured you in a passionate kiss that unraveled you with each flick of his tongue. His other hand roamed to less innocent regions of your body, exploring them with a touch that was both bold and tender.

He repositioned and pressed you down onto the couch, towering over you as his tongue continued to dance in your mouth. You were both breathless, and desiring more. He proceeded to plant kisses on your jawline before moving down to nibble on your neck.

He suddenly stopped, muttering against your skin. “You wanna move to your room? Have a little more space for this?”

“You know what’s funny?”

“Hm?”

“How before we got together, you hated beds, but now you want in my sheets every damn second.” You teased.

“Well…feels a lot more pleasant now.”

“Weird way to say ‘I’m always horny’.”

“I’m making up for 80 some years. And like you aren’t, you’re worse than me half the time.”

“Definitely worked up now, so get me to the bed and we’ll go as many rounds as you want, pervert.”

“Fuck you.” He laughed.

“I’m waiting for it.”

[saintblk]

*ೃ— INDULGENCE | ROY HARPER + KALDUR’AHM

warnings: foul language, drug and alcohol use, mfm intercourse, dubcon (reader is drunk + nonconsensual creampie), threesome, p in v, double penetration, manipulation of you squint, unprotected sex (use protection pls!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (all gender neutral), roy x kaldur (established relationship), college au — gender neutral afab reader, considered to be black + thick

word count: 3.9k

note: RAH ITS FINALLY OUT. i been wanting to finish this for sooooo long:0 if there are any pronouns please don’t hesitate to let me know ! i proofread like three times but there is a chance that i may have missed something. lmk what you think! i might do a poly drabble/series if ppl really like it🙈i think this was more for me than anyone else but enjoy;3

had to repost cause it wouldn't show up in tags the first time:(

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

YOU WERE OUT of your element — that much you knew. in your three years of college, never had you been invited to a frat party and it seemed convincing yourself you weren’t missing out on much finally paid off. because you truly could not see the appeal of the environment before you. it was hot–no, humid. the entire house stunk of sweat, alcohol, weed, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. the air was charged with hormones and filled with so much smoke you weren’t sure how there was enough oxygen. not to mention, the amount of times you nearly threw caution to the wind to fight the third guy who used the tight space as a reason to grope you.

it had to be a lie when people talked about how fun and crazy a party was. a ruse to rope other people in to make a big house feel like a small, stuffy room. the reason for your attendance that night and your very best friend was donning a screwface that went quite well with her dark red dress as her gaze stayed attached to the man who’d invited her. he had one hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, and the other around the neck of the girl he was sucking face with.

“i told you, he’s not serious about you.” you tried to reason with her over the loud music. “let’s just split and you can forget about him-”

“fuck that. i’m gonna stay and show him exactly what he’s missing out on,” she decided before eyeing the crowd of people. “you can chill, grab a drink or something.”

rolling your eyes, you make your way to the drink table and find mini bottles of tequila. packing several of the untouched bottles into your shoulder bag, you make your way to the more quiet, mellow staircase. finals had just ended; a reason for this raucous soiree, though you much rather spend the night and every night over the summer break locked up in your room, binging trash reality tv shows. you supposed you couldn’t expect everyone to be like you, to not want to spend their night trying to get around multiple people all standing in the same hot room, acting on impulsive desires and liquid courage.

you blew a raspberry and scanned the room once again, catching sight of your friend grinding on a man you hadn’t seen before, and you were sure she hadn’t either. certain you were going to have to keep an eye on her so she didn’t get into anything potentially dangerous, you leaned your head against the nearest wall and got comfortable. eventually, you’re joined by a couple who decided the steps behind you were as good as the privacy of a bedroom. you could hear the man whispering empty promises to his female companion. how he was serious about her and only her, with each one of her complaints shushed so he could continue his inebriated ramblings. after downing three shots and placing the empty bottles on the floor beside you, escape came in the form of the 6’3 hunk who happened to be in your poli-sci class. kaldur’ahm smiled warmly at you, taking note of the exhausted look on your face.

“are you enjoying yourself?” he asks anyway, standing in front of you so as to not block the staircase.

with a scoff, you look down at your perfectly manicured toes in a pair of heels you couldn’t help but think were being wasted on this event. it wasn’t as though you could ever look kaldur in the eyes anyway. kind soul that he was, he still managed to intimidate you with his build and height, and the only time you could appreciate his god-given looks were from afar when he wasn’t looking at you.

“i’d literally rather be anywhere else…” you drawl while fishing another nip of tequila out of your bag.

though you can’t see it, too busy avoiding his gaze, he feels bad. despite living in the very house, he could never really keep his friends from throwing insanely wild parties that always ran too long.

“would you like to join me upstairs? roy thinks it’s quieter there but i don’t think there’s a difference.”

a smile comes over your face, and without meaning to, you let your eyes flick up towards his. when he offers his hand you don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t take it until you catch sight of your friend, pressed up against the guy she was so ready to swear off not even an hour earlier. you open your mouth to argue that you should keep an eye on her only for her attention to shift for a moment towards you. the thumbs up she gives you is encouragement enough, and you keep yourself from rolling your eyes when you place your hand in kaldur’s.

he guides you through the bodies littered up the staircase and standing around the rooms none of the guests were allowed to go in. his skin is warm and surprisingly soft and you inwardly swoon when he squeezes your hand. you find that the once booming music becomes a low thump on the walls, matching the bass when he leads you into his room. still loud, but not enough to egg on the headache plaguing you. sure enough, roy greets you with one of his lopsided smirks while he busies himself with rolling a fat blunt. the involuntarily bashful smile you respond with reminds him of the reason why you’re really there and why kaldur had gone downstairs in the first place.

“hey pretty,” he greets with a quick once over of your figure. “you look like you been drinkin’.”

you shake your head and fiddle with your fingers, anxious under his gaze while he lights his blunt. “m-mm, i’m fine.”

“do you have to smoke in here?” kaldur griped as he approached the redhead.

“what, you gonna be mean to me in front of company?” roy shot back smoothly. “i’ll even let you take the first hit since you clearly need to relax.”

kaldur waves him off and bats away the hand that reaches towards his waist as he walks towards the couch on the other end of the room. you take the seat beside him and take out your phone to let your friend know where you are and to call when she’s ready to leave.

“be careful,” you hear roy warn. “kal gets pouty when he’s tired.”

“i’m not tired and i don’t get pouty,” he bites out much to your amusement.

“no? you weren’t just being fussy about wanting me to get ready for bed?”

fed up, kaldur simply sinks in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. while thinking about how adorable their dynamic was, you notice roy’s gaze lingering on you again. it was no secret that he was just as attractive as kaldur and when the fact began dawning on you is when you began reconsidering your presence in their bedroom.

“you don’t look too happy yourself.” he gets up and plops down on the other side of you. “what’s got you down, sugar?”

your lips twist as you recount your night up until then. somehow, you suppose under the influence of alcohol, you don’t seem to notice or care how close the two men have gotten. roy’s arm found its way on the back of the couch and kaldur was sitting close enough for his knees to be knocking against your own. the cannabis from roy and the sweet vanilla just barely filling your nose from kaldur give you a heady feeling, the mixture of their scents nearly as intoxicating as the liquor in your system. somehow it’s just as hot as it was downstairs and your heart is starting to thump erratically in your chest.

“your friend is an asshole-”

“don’t say that.” you chide just before emptying another bottle. “she just really likes this guy.”

“she abandoned you,” kaldur joins.

at the thought, your shoulders slump and your eyes get just a little glazed. with a maudlin mind, you can’t help but consider their words ringing true. did she really care about you? about the fact that you were extremely uncomfortable at parties? social butterfly that she was, couldn’t she have taken one of her other, far outgoing friends? you sniffle a little, overemotional and perhaps a lot more drunk than you thought you were. but they’re both there to place strong hands on your thighs in consolation; squeezing and rubbing maybe a little too close to your hips, you’re too far gone to care. perhaps part of you knew what they were up to, how sleazy they both really were. but to have been wanted by two very hot guys at the same time was a bit uplifting in the moment. you turn to roy first who moves your braids back over your shoulder.

“y’know, we can make you feel better.” he husks and caresses your cheek.

you can feel kaldur’s breath fanning against your ear now as he hums an agreement. it sends goosebumps down your arms and an insatiable fire up your spine. a soft, breathy moan slips past you, encouraging him to press his lips against your throat and draw out more of your saccharine sounds. the upturn of roy’s lips against the corner of your own is what makes you close your eyes in anticipation. your eyebrows are furrowed and your hand is clutching desperately to his shirt, he’s sure there’ll be strains and wrinkles on the fabric. but he thinks it’s all worth it to see you practically on the edge of tears for a single kiss. when he finally does kiss you, it’s a quick, soft peck that forces a whine to erupt from you.

kaldur rolls his eyes at the sight, “stop toying with her. give her what she wants.”

“nuh-uh,” he snickers. “not until she asks for it. tell me what you want, y/n.”

“w-want you to kiss me,” you gasp when he nips at your jawline teasingly. “plea-please, roy.”

“so well-mannered,” he hums sarcastically. “think you should be rewarded for that?”

you nod frantically, just as he wraps a hand around your throat. you watch him wet his lips, following the movement of his tongue before he starts to pull you closer. roy kisses you once, then again, and finally presses the fervent kiss you so richly deserve on your waiting lips. you moan approvingly as you lean into him. all the while, kaldur’s exploring hands dance towards the jewel between your thighs. unconsciously, you spread your legs further and further until he has his hand up your dress, palm pressed up against and cupping your heated center. your moans are muffled through roy’s mouth, as you buck your hips to feel something, anything.

“so needy…i’m willing to bet you haven’t been touched in so long.” kaldur husks, slipping a finger past your damp panties to rub your throbbing clit.

a choked mewl fills the room as delirium begins to seep into your brain. he lets you grind against his fingers, frenzied and fiending for release. roy pulls away from your lips in time for kaldur to slide two fingers into your sopping cunt. the both of them relish in the sounds they’re drawing out from you while they work on marking up your neck. your senses go into overload when another set of fingers begin rubbing on your clit again. between the tongues dancing on the skin of your neck, clashing with one another every so often, and the assault on your lower lips, you’re being driven crazy by the two men.

your climax arrives like a wave crashing against your body, incapacitating you and forcing your every thought to be nothing but fuzz and static. the party has long since flitted from your worries; it’s simply you and two people who want you more than anything in that moment. the garble of nonsense you spew makes roy chuckle as he plants hot kisses up your jaw. kaldur is still going with slower strokes despite the way you burst on his fingers.

“look at the mess you made,” he breaths and pulls his fingers into your view. they’re coated in your essence, though neither of them seem to mind when roy tugs his hand towards his mouth.

you watch with glossed eyes, filled with arousal as he licks kaldur’s fingers clean. the lewd act has you clenching your thighs together to sooth the returning ache between them, only garnering kaldur’s attention once again. with a hum, he cups your chin with the hand covered in a light sheen of saliva and turns you towards him.

“was that not enough?” he inquires, gazing deep into your eyes and you can’t find it in you to look away. “do you want more, angel?”

all you can do is nod before leaning up for a kiss. his lips are soft and sweet and make you feel like you’re floating in the air. while kaldur’s tongue delves into your mouth, roy is helping shift you on the couch. you let them move your body as though you were nothing but their plaything, and soon enough you’re seated in kaldur’s lap with your back pressed against his broad chest and your legs spread. with your head twisted to continue locking lips with him, you don’t notice roy kneel on the floor in front of you until his hands come in contact with your thighs again.

simultaneously, kaldur’s hands flit from your waist up to your chest. tugging the straps of your dress down and allowing it to pool at your waist, he cups both your braless mounds and begins to massage them. your panties are removed next, abandoned somewhere behind roy. both you and kaldur pull away to watch roy press hot, open mouth kisses on his way up to your pearl. his hair tickles the skin near your knee but that’s soon forgotten when his lips come in contact with your labia. your mouth falls open with a sharp gasp, and for a moment roy considers drawing this out. but just the sight of you, in his boyfriend’s arms, pretty, and waiting and so very patient, he doesn’t think he could deny you of what you want any longer.

his tongue laps vigorously at your clit, only moving down to fuck your hole every so often. he groans at the taste of you, determined to make you cum again so he could share the taste with kaldur. your mind struggles to focus between the pair’s actions, only to allow pleasure to take over and blanket your senses. while roy indulges in your soaking cunt, kaldur pulls your head back so take your lips into his own.

you moan into his mouth with each of roy’s actions but kaldur doesn’t mind. he swallows your lewd noises, snaking his tongue past your teeth and seeking out your own pink muscle. calloused fingers tweak and twist your nipples before one hand begins to slide downwards. with your ankles locked behind roy’s head, the ginger struggled to feast the way he intended to. that was the case until kaldur spread your pussy lips for him, giving him full access to every part of you.

when your second climax approached, roy didn’t bother slowing down. he nipped and sucked on your clit relentlessly, watching with gleaming eyes as you were overcome with an earth shattering orgasm. you shook and thrashed in kaldur’s arms, whining as roy continued to abuse your overstimulated parts.

only when he needed to breath did roy come up from between your thighs. reaching up past you, he cupped the back of kaldur’s head and pulled him down. you watched hazily as the two met for a sloppy kiss. the taste of you on roy’s tongue found its way onto kaldur’s taste buds. he groaned, deep and low before delving his tongue into roy’s mouth.

“taste so good,” kaldur mumbled before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“think you’re ready for more?” roy inquired as he gets up and rids himself of the white marina he’s wearing. you nod dazedly much to his disappointment. “use your words, pretty.”

“yes, wan’ more.” you blurt, “please gimme more.”

kaldur leans into your ear, lips brushing against the cartilage. “get on your hands and knees, angel.”

you do as he says without hesitation. before long you find yourself looking up at an equally naked kaldur while roy, who also stripped himself of the rest of his clothes, inspected your backside. a wad of spit fell from his mouth onto your swollen sex and his hand followed to spread his saliva. just as a moan fell from your mouth, you felt something prod against your bottom lip. looking up, you noticed kaldur easing his girth into your mouth. quickly, you began to suckle on his tip before he continued pushing into your mouth. he filled every crevice, pushing past your uvula and hitting the back of your throat.

“you can take us both, can’t you?” he asks, so soft you can’t bring yourself to do anything but hum an agreement.

as if on cue, roy’s thick mushroom head eased it’s way into your cunt. he parted your gummy walls, suppressing the noises building up in the back of his throat. your walls were quivering and warm and sucked him in like you wanted him to stay inside you forever.

“fuck…” he grunted, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. “f-fuck baby you’re so tigh-tight.”

incapable of replying, all you could do was let your eyes roll back and take both men. ecstasy enveloped all three of you, encouraging you to chase the high you all desperately craved.

so when roy’s hips began to stutter and his movements slowed down, you took it upon yourself to fuck him back. it only proved to help when kaldur found purchase on your braids and began thrusting into your mouth. the recoil from his movements were strong enough to help you send your backside into roy’s hips.

“bein’ so good.” kaldur grunted over you only to pull himself out of your mouth. “but i need you to look at me, angel.”

while he slapped himself against your lips, you managed to drag your eyes back up at him. the pleased hum he let out only sent you further into an oblivion you didn’t want to find your way out of. the simple thought of being able to satisfy both men seemed to take you to rapture and beyond.

with kaldur in your throat, all that told of your orgasm was the garbled noises you made around him and the way you clasped around roy. he groaned as you gushed around him, soaking the both of your thighs and the couch underneath you.

“already?” he snarked, pulling out as kaldur’s movements slowed. “what d’ya think kal — should we give y/n a break?”

“not yet; not until i get to be inside them.”

sea green eyes bore into your’s, making the depth of your abdomen twist with need. the hand that held your braids slid down to caress your face and ran a thumb over your bottom lip.

“you’ll let me do that, won’t you angel?”

an eager nod soon has you trapped between two large bodies, incapable of remembering what exactly led up to this. with kaldur below you, holding your legs open, he pushed into you until he was bottoming out. roy, who stood before you, took a step closer and placed his tip against kaldur’s shaft. the red headed man slowly worked himself into you.

“w-wait, i can’t–” you squealed once it dawned on you what roy was attempting, and proceeded, to do. “s’too much!”

“‘course you can, baby.” he grinned down at you. “y’said you could.”

the stretch came with a slight burn since your body had never experienced any of this before. your innocence was what previously kept you from indulging in desire, and what now allowed you to welcome it all the same.

you could barely breath as they lay inside you, granting you the chance to get used to the feeling. surprisingly, disregarding all the patience he possessed, kaldur was the first to move. with an unrelenting grip on your thick thighs, he thrust upwards, eliciting a groan from roy and a gasp from you. roy was quickly following suit, he and kaldur both eager to please you and one another.

you were soon reduced to a mess of nonsensical noises and high pitched whines. every touch sent a wave of heat through your body; it was too much and not enough all at once. sweet release came and left and came again, but it did not stop both men from fucking you like they were possessed. in that moment you were nothing but an object to them; a hole for them to use that happened to have a pretty face. and you were treated as such.

you had past the point of fucked dumb, incapable of doing anything but wailing from the growing intensity of every orgasm that followed. tears danced down your cheeks and attempting to form the simplest thought was fruitless. all that remained in your mind was the everlasting feeling of lust and gratification.

trapped in hedonism, both your companions increased their relentless pace. each of them were far too occupied chasing their own highs to worry about you. roy, who had wrapped a hand around your neck, kept his eyes closed as he approached release. meanwhile, kaldur nipped and sucked on your neck while thrusting into you from below. his grunts and deep groans reverberated against your skin, eventually filling your head along with roy’s guttural sounds.

“taking us so well,” kaldur praised in your ear. “ we should keep you around, huh? you want that angel?”

after receiving nothing but whines and moans in response, kaldur canted his hips and ground himself up into you. you shrieked in ecstasy, gushing around both men for the nth time. the only difference however was the feeling of roy pulsing against both you and kaldur.

the latter shifted his attention to the red head, “make them ours roy. cum in–”

your protests cut him off and came in the form of incomprehensible babbles that made it all the more easier to ignore. leaking from his tip, roy thrust inside once more and emptied his load inside you. kaldur was prompted to do the same, biting down on the nape of your neck as he finished off with one final stroke.

even when they pulled out, you still felt filled to the brim. the cum slowly seeping out of you was testament to that feeling. the two men who had just finished rearranging your insides stood over you, looking down at their work. their sexual magnum opus lay on their couch, breathing heavily and still attempting to come down from several orgasms.

kaldur took it upon himself to get you cleaned up and into some fresh clothes while roy returned to smoking his blunt.

“should we drive them home?” he inquired, watching kaldur gently wipe the tears off your face. “or were you serious about keeping them around?”

“have you ever known me to joke about anything, roy?”

chuckling, roy took one final drag from his blunt and proceeded to join them in bed after putting it out. you soon find yourself pressed between their bodies once more. this time it’s in an embrace that warms your aching muscles as you surrender to lethargy.

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