#but when have i shown restraint

[lost-in-fandoms]

Logan and Max have another talk, or 'does kissing count as free therapy?' Part 2 of whatever this was. I couldn't fall asleep last night because of how hard I kept thinking about these two. I blame @girlsdads for giving me the brainrot in the first place.

cw: the tiniest bit of implied sexual content

It's another bad race. Fucking 16th, only ahead of the two Saubers, and of the Haas and Alpine that had crashed each other out. There was no reason why his pit stop had to be 4.3 seconds, when Alex's had been 2.7, no reason why he had been fucked over by not one but two undercuts because of shitty strategy, no reason why Alex's side of the garage had to be celebrating 8th place while his was sullen and quiet.

Logan fears he's going to throw up when he steps in and James claps him on the shoulder, saying sorry, next time, as if Logan doesn't know his contract is on the line. Fucking. Next time?!

Logan feels like he's trying to swim with his hands tied behind his back, desperately trying to make it to shore. Nobody cares he's drowning.

He can barely look up during the debrief, feels like he's choking the whole time on the words nobody is saying. As soon as he's free, he escapes, fumbling for his phone as usual. Only this time, he doesn't call his mom.

Are you free?

Max has his motorhome this weekend, and Logan doesn't wait for an answer before heading over. If he doesn't answer, he'll just take a walk.

Yes come over

He's knocking on Max's door before he can rethink it, before all these feelings catch up on him and he decides he's going to break down alone instead. When Max opens his door, Logan immediately regrets it. He's wearing a black t-shirt, hair styled, looking ready to go out. Of course he's heading out, he has a win to celebrate. Unlike Logan. Who should have just gone home.

He opens his mouth, ready to apologize and turn around, when Max's hand closes on his shoulder, his mouth downturned with what would be worry, if it wasn't absurd for Max Verstappen to be worried about him.

"Come in," Max says, doesn't leave space for arguments when he pulls Logan inside, closing the door behind him.

For a long moment they just look at each other, as Logan's waves lap at his neck. He doesn't know why he's here anymore.

"Are you okay?" Max's hand is still on his shoulder. Logan feels like he'll keel over if he takes it back.

"I might be out of a seat."

It's not an answer to Max's question, it's not even what Logan meant to say, it's not something he should be telling to the competition, but really. Logan is barely Max's competition at all, and who wouldn't know that after this season's disaster? Nobody is counting on him to race next year.

He waits for Max to say something, even if it's just empty platitudes, but the other just squeezes his shoulder and nods, and suddenly it's much harder to hold back his tears.

"I just..." he breathes in, willing his voice to not crack, "I don't know what I am doing wrong."

It comes out more desperate than he meant it to, but he's just so tired and upset, and nobody is seeing him drown. Why is nobody paying attention?

"You have a shit car, get bad strategy calls, and have a teammate with years more of experience. You are not the one doing it wrong."

Max says it so matter of fact, as if he's the one driving the shit car, the one with the better teammate, the one having to fight through the back of the field with no success, and suddenly Logan is angry. He shrugs Max's hand away, fists clenching. What does Max know about being the second driver in a bad team? How dares he say he knows Logan's hunger?

"Fuck off," he spits, wrapping his arms around himself to hide the way his hands are trembling. He shouldn't have come.

"You have potential, you are not doing it wrong," Max says again, stubborn and bull-headed as always, jaw set and eyes clear. Logan's anger spikes again. Max Verstappen, the prodigy child, talking to him about wasted potential? This must be a joke. He scoffs, ready to turn around and leave, but Max grabs him again, gets a hold on his elbow and keeps him where he is.

"Why are you angry?" he asks. And yeah, this must be a joke, for sure. Why is Logan angry? Why is he angry?!

"You don't get to..." he starts, but Max interrupts him, squeezing his elbow.

"No. Why are you angry?"

"The team..."

Max takes a step closer, narrowing his eyes.

"Not the team, I do not care about the team. Why are you angry?"

As if there was a right answer to the question that Logan isn't getting! It's his own anger! And Max doesn't care about the team? Of course he doesn't, it's not his team fucking up! Why can't Logan be angry about the team?!

"Alex gets..."

"No. Why are you angry?" Max interrupts again, steadfast in a way that grates on Logan's nerves.

They're too close now, and for a second Logan entertains the idea of punching three times world Champion Max Verstappen. Anger burns in his chest, and suddenly, without knowing who closed the gap, they're kissing. It's not a nice kiss, all teeth and spit, and it almost feels the same as the punch he hasn't thrown, until Max moves his hand from his elbow to his waist, the other one coming up to cup the back of his neck, turning his head slightly. Gentling him.

His anger is back in his lungs, but it's no longer anger, it's back to salt water, and Logan is drowning again. He breaks the kiss, gasping, but Max doesn't let him go.

Logan doesn't remember the last time someone held him like this, like being here matters.

"Why are you angry?" Max asks again, breath soft against Logan's bitten lips. He smells vaguely like minty toothpaste.

"Because..." he hesitates, but at this point he might as feel say fuck it, and give it all. All his fleshy insides in Max's hands, bleeding on the floor between them. "Because I could do better, but I can't do it like this."

This time Max nods. "You could do better."

And Logan knows his parents and friends have said it before, have kept saying it for years. Knows his time in Formula 2 speaks for itself. But it's different, to have Max say it like that, so surely. It's a different kind of validation, and a different kind of heartbreak, because they both know his time to prove it is running out. It's hard to breathe again.

"It is good to be angry. It makes you want to take it," Max says, maybe mistaking the way his breathing has gone funny. But Logan doesn't feel angry anymore. He's tired, and scared, and lonely. He drops his head on Max's shoulder, who moves to card his fingers in his hair, bearing his weight with ease. Logan wishes anything would come easy to him instead.

"I don't know how to be angry," Logan confesses. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to disappoint Max, but he disappoints better than he lies anyway. What's one more person.

"That is of course still okay," Max says, instead of some sort of rebuke Logan is expecting. For a second, he thinks about the stories of Max's childhood, of angry men and steel hands. Max's fingers are gentle in his hair.

"What do you want right now?"

It's too big of a question. Logan wants his seat to be safe, he wants to end in the points, he wants a good car, he wants to not feel so distant from everyone else, he wants to go home. He wants someone to tell him it will be alright and mean it.

He shakes his head, forehead dragging against Max's t-shirt. Disappointing again.

Max holds his hair a little tighter, uses the grip to pull Logan up, to make him open his eyes.

"What do you need?"

And it's the same, but it is different, and Logan needs...he needs...

"You can take it. What you need." Max sounds so sure of it, Logan can almost believe it. Maybe Logan doesn't know how to take, doesn't know how to fix it, but here, now, he at least knows what he needs.

"I need to be better," he says, words bleeding out from his split-open chest. "I need to be good."

They both know what Logan means, because the thing with Max is, that it's always about racing, even when it isn't, and it is also always both at the same time.

Max nods, letting go of his hair, and Logan pushes him around, back against the door. Gentle, because he needs to be, but firm, because he wants this.

He eases himself to his knees, and feels Max's hand cup his cheek. His raspy voice isn't disappointed, or pitying, or even sad when he speaks, only fond. A little proud.

"Good boy."

[todayisafridaynight]

re: last anon i definitely think it comes from the uhhh whole threatened thingy. Since most of y3 is. Well. Uhm. Daigo Coma Hours we spend a lot of time w/ that guy in a threatened state. Hence the more “violent” interpretations bc. Well. his sillyguy’s in a coma. Though I’ve definitely seen Mine’s more… stressed (for lack of better words) state being misinterpreted as his natural state and I can see how that would lead to more frequent violent kirinmine takes etc. (Hopefully this is coherent I am soooooooooo tired rn)

for Last Anon

[valdotjpg]

getting really tired of coughing all the time and every day. quite frankly. to be honest

[homunculus-argument]

Once again randomly remembered this story about a couple who had a small parrot - pretty sure it was a budgie - who didn't talk but learned to communicate with people in its own way. Once it figured out that people always turn to check their phones when the notification sound comes on, it started making the text message notification sound to request human attention. The parrot also liked to follow people to the door whenever guests were leaving, and would use its wings to pantomime the motions of a person putting their coat on. A very clever, charming bird.

And every once in a while it just randomly hated some people. Not for any real reason, or even reason to suspect bad vibes, but by deciding "fuck this person in particular" for shits and giggles alone. And one time when the owners had invited a new friend to their home, the bird decided that it Did Not Like Her.

So in the middle of polite conversation, the bird - who was free to roam around the apartment at the time - hopped onto the living room coffee table, right in front of the unwanted guest. And in that moment, the owners put two and two together and understood that whatever mischief the bird had decided to do, it was now too late to stop it.

But instead of unleashing the absolute hell that even the tiniest displeased parrot could be capable of, the little budgie made its little "may I have your attention please" cell phone notification sound, and once the guest was focused on the bird, looked at her dead in the eye while doing the putting-my-coat-on wing motion.

The guest did not recognise the pantomime for what it was, but she was nonetheless delighted that the parrot would do a little wing-roll dance for her. And the host couple were at first too stunned and then too polite to tell her how impressive that gesture truly was. Their bird had shown both remarkable restraint and cleverness by using its entire vocabulary of human communication just to say

"I have an important announcement: I think you should leave."

[dunmeshistash]

Something I find amazing about Dungeon Meshi is how much "restraint" Ryoko Kui shows when telling this story. It's so clearly crafted to be the best story it can be.

By that I mean how she had SO MUCH world building for this story but still kept it as contained as it needed to be, it's a story about a few characters inside one dungeon, even if the world is expansive the story isn't. And even with the amount of characters she clearly loves so much she never got side tracked as I see so many other mangas get. The world is alive, other people exist fully with their own lives, but it stays true to the story that's being told in this universe.

I think it really shines through with how the world building relevant to the story is slowly shown to us in a non expository way, that's also something I see a lot, especially in movies, just stopping everything on it's tracks so they can info dump about the world to you, but in dungeon meshi its all so organic... magic is explained because some characters are ignorant, cultural differences are shown through cultural clashes, world history is implied through relevant conversation (monster facts are info-dumped to us but even that is in character) it's all really good and I don't think I could have gotten this into it if everything was just laid out in front of me right away.

This is all to say I'm glad we have the adventurer's bible and all this extra content that didn't fit into the story but I'm glad they weren't forced into it in detriment to the storytelling.

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf (I)

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 2,305

CW: angst? depression, religious imagery, not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | prologue | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my Original characters

Winterfell was a truly beautiful place, it spanned acres of land, and at its centre stood the gods woods. The gods woods were truly the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You were lucky that your rooms, in a tower touching the clouds, faced out onto the woods. Allowing the view to be one you woke up to day and night.

Though it was the only view you saw, as you rarely left your rooms, rarely ate, and said even fewer words and grew a cold exterior.

You at first were visited often by both Creagan and Sara. Though the visits and constant nickering had caused an outburst from you, anger you had never once felt or shown spilling through. You had demanded space. And Cregan had listened, Sara had not.

Sara tried everything in you to leave your room, but her attempts feel on deaf ears

Until today.

You often stood watching out of your window, though it had the spectacular view of looking out onto the gods woods, you could rarely see anyone between the endless trees.

That was until you saw him.

He stood kneeled before the heart tree, deep in thought and prayer. He seemed so peaceful, as if the woods were the one place he could find the peace and quiet he deserved.

A smile graced your face as a memory brushed your mind.

You had been at Winterfell less than a week before you had the chance to see the gods’ woods. Cregan had taken you there himself, he seemed like an egar puppy when you had asked to see it, standing up from his seat and instantly taking your hand, nearly running down the halls as you made your way to the entrance.

A calming breeze had hit your face as you entered the woods, the feeling of the hot springs between your feet, instantly warming your whole body. The woods were covered in a soft layer of snow, the floor almost entirely untouched as it seemed the only footsteps were that of your own and Cregan’s.

You walked for a time, walking through thick layers of untouched trees, before you finally reached the centre, and the heart tree stood in all its glory.

With red trees and white bark, it allowed the faces carved so naturally in it to appear so clearly, they seemed to watch your every move, and as Cregan knelt before the trees, you swear you saw there faces move and there mouths moving to answer whatever prays Cregan was saying.

It was a funny feeling, never before had you felt the presence of the gods, never in the sept or before a septon. But here, in a natural place, land untouched and no alters erected to honour said gods, you felt them. A calming presence but also the fear of complete superiority over you. They seemed to welcome you, enough so that you yourself moved forward and knelt before the tree. You did not pray as you felt no need to, and the gods did not demand it of you, they simply welcomed you and made you feel there warmth. You closed your eyes beside Cregan, basking in there presence, and when you opened your eyes, you came face to face with a smiling Cregan.

“It is beautiful is it not?” he asked

“Spectacular” you replied, “ I have never felt or seen anything like this…the gods woods at the red keep is a mockery to this”

He smiled softly “it is an experience that is hard to explain, is it not?”

You nodded, moving to stand, “do you spend much time here?”

“as much time as I can with my duties”

You nodded, “a shame, I feel as if I never want to leave”

He laughed softly “then perhaps you shouldn’t”

Looking back on it apart of you is glad the rest of your life will be spent here, with the gods woods as you view, and had the circumstances been better you were sure you would love Cregan by now, be happily married even.

Instead you haunted the halls, depressed and yet to marry. Speaking little to no words, eating little, and spending your days writing endless letters to your only surviving brother Aegon, and you sisters Baela and Rhaena. You missed them so dearly and yet you could not bare the thought of seeing them.

It had been months, they had moved on, there letters expressing happy lives, contenting in the life they now had. And you, you had simply stopped time and lived in and endless loop.

You dressed quickly and stormed out of your rooms. You didn’t know where you were going, but it seemed your feet had made up their mind as before you knew it you were striding into the gods woods, startling Cregan from his thoughts.

He said you name Softley, moving to stand “you’re here?” he asked in a question, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“i-“ you started, through your mind when blank, a trait not new to you, but this time you seemed scared to speak, the last time you had truly spoken your mind, was when you watched your mother burn and that only ended in screams. You did not speak one word for moons after that and only after did you speak sweet lies, painting the yourself to be the picture of love and loyalty, and now all you wanted was to speak the truth, to say the words breaking you from the inside out, and yet all you could say was “I’m sorry”.

“what?” he asked softly, “what are you sorry for?”

“for months I have ignored your and Saras efforts to help me, taking your kindness for granted and giving you nothing in return-“

“its okay” he interrupted kindly, “I only wanted to help you, I never expected anything in return”

“except to marry me” you replied, it was the truth, a clear point in the alliance struck between the north and your mother.

“I am in no rush to marry” he moved towards you, “you have been- we have been through so much, I am sure the lords of the north will understand waiting however long you need”

But that wasn’t the case, you both knew it. In fact just the other day Sara, in one of her efforts to annoy into speaking, had stated how the lords were in uproar of your lack of a union, House Bolton at the for front of the complaints.

Once you longed for the days you and he would marry, though things between you then had turned sweet and shy, you craved the days he would marry you.

The first time you saw him you were in awe of him. He towered over you, his face cold and blank, but his eyes held a warmth to them. He welcomed you formally, though it lacked warmth. You both knew why you were there and yet all you could do was stare at him. Tracing the outline of his face with your eyes. Wondering how his hair might feel between your fingers.

You had smiled shyly at him as he walked you through the halls though neither of you spoke until you reached his solar.

“I have come on the behest of my mother, Queen Rhaenyra of house Targaryen” your proclaimed, stating your mothers name and title proudly.

“queen?” he had hummed.

“yes, King Viserys sadly passed in his sleep” you spoke with sadness lacing your voice, “my mother has requested me to remind you of your of your fathers Oath”

“the north remembers, princess, and there is no Stark who forgets his oath.” He looked at you quizzically then “though I must ask why you have been sent here, has the north caused mistrust with he crown?”

“no, my lord, it is quite the opposite” you had shook you head, “my uncle has usurped the iron throne, naming himself King Aegon II, I have only come to show the north the crown lies with the rightful heir, my mother”

He had nodded, “then I must ask if it is war you ask of us, princess”

“for know all I ask is your loyalty, we do not crave war, but if it comes to it we ask for the north support” you had remembered then that your mother had given you a script, she knew of your nerves, how you often stuttered, something that had never happened with Cregan, despite it being common even when you were only surrounded by family.

“you have my loyalty, but o shall need terms if it is war that is to come” you had nodded, kindly, agreeing.

Politics had never been an interest of yours, and yet the hours on hours you had spent talking treaties and alliances, not once did you wish to leave, in fact it seemed both of you had dragged it on for as long as you could, neither wanting to leave the others company.

You had accompanied each others every meal, even if no words were spoken, and only kind looks exchanged.

You had felt the warmth and welcoming feeling you lacked at first, and you had hoped that after your return to Dragonstone and the declaration of your betrothal with Cregan, the feeling would stay.

And despite a part of you wanting to feel cold and alone in the north, you had not once felt that way, and as Cregan looked at you now you realised that Winterfell had felt like home ever since you had first arrived, and the only coldness you raved was the one you felt in your heart, the one that you feared Cregan would melt.

 “that’s not true” you sad softly, replying to his statement on the lords agreeing with his decision to wait to marry. “it will be near to a year since my arrival soon enough, my brother even writes that we soon must wed” you moved towards him now, you bodies now only a breath away from each other “I…as much as I miss them, I must move on with life and we must marry” you spoke it sternly, why the realisation of you sisters being happy and content made you want to move on was unclear, you knew you would never stop mourning them, but you didn’t want to mourn what could have been with Cregan.

You had liked him so much at first, always blushing in his presence, even more so once Jace had noticed and pushed the two of you together, though you had both used him as a shield to your fancy of the other, making things turn even shyer between the two of you.

You had been happy with he match, and so had he, with shy smiles and longing in your gazes as the news was announced.

You wanted to marry him, not just for duty, and not just to sate your old self, but as Cregan smiled at you, gaze deep with care, you realised that perhaps the only happiness you would find would be with him.

He nodded, “sara spoke to you?” you nodded “ah, very well, but only if you are sure.

You smiled, reaching for his hand, “I need to marry you Cregan, it is my duty” you saw a slight drop in his smile at the word duty, so you continued, “as well as my desire”, his gaze grew heated, a heat you were a stranger too.

“very well, I will not deny my own…desire to marry you, princess, I have long admired you” he coughed awkwardly “it was me who asked your mother for your hand, after all”

You gasped slightly, “really? I had no idea.”

He laughed softly, “Of course, I had hoped my intentions were clear during our stay at Winterfell, I never left you alone”

“I never would have thought-“

“you have encompassed my every thought since I first laid eyes on you” he caressed your hand in his as his tone turned serious, “seeing you in pain these past months, has caused me agony, I am glad you wish to wed me soon, and I can only hope this is the start to the end of your tournament”

“I believe that marrying you is the only way I will be able to end it” you confided in him.

You had had nightmares non stop, your memories on repeat. Fire and blood, your house words and yet they were the very thing that brought you torment. The faces of your brothers, Jace and Luke lying dead at the bottom of the sea. Of Joffrey being torn to shreds, your mother burning. And of Viserys, sweet Viserys she dreamt of him to be alive, only to return home in anger at being abandoned by her and Aegon. The thought had filled her with dread. And fear for Aegon had the same dreams, and dreams like those were said to come true in your family. Your torment was of what had already happened, and the knowledge you could never change it, so the sudden need to pull yourself from the endless misery all from Cregan kneeling before the hearts tree confused you apart of you wondered if Cregan had been praying for your happiness for you torment to find a release, and the gods had answered.

You hoped they had, for you had no nightmares, only dreamless sleep after the day in the gods woods.

You had started to dine with Cregan for dinner, and Sara to break your fast.

Though your rooms were still the place you stuck to, Cregan’s and Saras demands for you to leave your chambers were answered, with walks and hours spent in the library or gods woods.

All as going well for you, until a letter from Aegon came.

Viserys was alive.

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[kaszuma]

Oxygen is all we need | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 5 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: you rarely see soshiro be breathless on the battlefield. And the one time you did, it was coerced by a sentient Numbers Weapon you had created.

warnings: NSFW explicit scenes with plot, mentions of sexual m/f activity, Fingering/handjob with Combat Suit on, Semi-public fingering/handjob, Hoshina being a little feral, slight description of gore for dissecting combat suits, mentions of injury for Hoshina, SPOILERS for Kn8 manga

wc: 7,719

–

note: Please tell me if I missed any warnings. There's kind of a lot. NSFW part was originally gonna be some soft lovemaking type of writing. But I figured I could save that for a future part. Went too feral on his Number 10 Combat Suit from reading the manga lmao. This is not proofread

–

Soshiro Hoshina, was an enigma.

He had always been that way to his peers. He was no different to you, now that you had been privy to see a small part of his life that people have yet to pry open.

Despite the laid-back persona he'd exemplify, you were always aware of the disciplined and hard working nature he hid beneath the surface of his jokes and smiles. And his everyday life only showed a fraction of this side of him that no one seems to pay attention to.

All except you of course, who had been keeping an eye on him well before the two of you started dating.

It started in the little actions he'd take. From the early hours of the morning, he'd wake up on the dot just to grab a cup of coffee before the day had turned busy. The privacy of his office had been made neat, filled with finished paperwork that he'd arranged the day before. Leaving room for him to swing his sword in the training rooms until the cool nights of the summer where even cicadas started sleeping early.

His comrades? Fast asleep in their bunks. Unaware that the Vice Captain was sweating. Recreating the battles he's faced in the wake of an emergency. Where Tachikawa's base had been left in his hands.

Every failure, every mistake, every mishaps he had allowed. He had made sure to embed the consequences deep into his body. Making a vow to never let anyone catch him off guard. Kaiju or humans included. And although it was a rare sight. Even you, his lover. Had not seen him work himself breathless.

Not once had you caught him wheezing to catch up. His hard work, hidden under people's watch.

His efforts were definitely there. But no one had been able to see his training first hand. Leaving people to chalk it up to simply talent, or the bloodline of his ancestry belonging to a family of generational Kaiju Slayers.

But his hard work, though hidden. Had not all been in vain. As he of all people knew deep down that he worked–no, strived to become better. To prove his existence in the field. And you, had strived to make it happen in the wake of Kaiju Number 10 readying itself to be weaponized upon your command.

It had been a few days since you and a team of technicians had decidedly worked on converting Kaiju no. 10 as a plausible weapon. A suit befitting for your lover to wear.

The first time you had seen its deformed body, trapped in a tank for containment. It had chilled you to the bone. When it briefly made eye contact with you. As if it knew something deep within your body that you hadn't known yet. Its one eye continuously staring at your form, in a strange admiration. Similar to how it looked to Soshiro.

Admiration was one thing. But said admiration coming from a potentially dangerous Kaiju was another. Such is the way of their line of work.

Surprisingly, anytime the tank had been registered open. You had not seen Kaiju no. 10 struggle at all in its restraints. Not at all bothered at the mere fact that its life was threatened to be converted into a weapon. The plates of armor, although mangled. Had not shown any signs of tension. And each incision you'd make was relaxed. The formation of the modified Combat Suit was simple. Unrestrained, even. To the point that it would obediently let you slice it as you wished. To shape and mold it to the combat suit you wished to make.

Hell, it even went as far as to talk you through it when you were removing the last bits of his shattered headpieces. Leaving the core and its surrounding muscle fibers intact. Beating, breathing like a heart. “So this is the one huh?” You heard it's gurgled laughter. As if you had not been cutting it open for hours by now.

Soshiro and a few soldiers were stationed right behind you. A team of other technicians and scientists assisting your movements to place the armor pieces together. The tension in the room was heavy, weapons readied in the case of an emergency. But like always, the Kaiju had all but stayed completely still. Obedient with a few laughs here and there for the hell of it.

“Even his woman is a weapons creator. I really did make the right decision to join forces with you, Swordsman.” Kaiju no. 10 had spoken. And you look over to Soshiro wearily at the way it had so easily figured out your relationship with him. It’s as if it read his mind, which both startled and irked your lover to no end.

“Shut yer’ trap. By the time she's done with you, you're as good as obedient to me.” You had seen the way Soshiro had glared at the dismembered monster. And the way his voice had lowered an octave. It made you momentarily forget that you were in a room full of people.

You purse your lips. Trying not to focus on his smooth voice. Not when you were potentially busy dealing with a Kaiju that had not been fully weaponized yet.

You had all but shook your head. No, get your mind out of the gutter.

“Stop provoking each other.” You spoke, pulling away at the last bit of veins connected to the hardened plating. "I'm trying to work here.”

You let out a sigh. Eventually taking the last muscle fiber and attaching the last bit of the Kaiju’s parts onto the mold of the suit. Its shape fully formed right besides its old carcass that had been readily discarded afterwards. The Combat Suit took ages to cut apart. With its armor far too hard to penetrate with just a scalpel alone. But somehow you and your team had managed. And all somehow went according to the blueprints you made.

The suit was the right size. The plating was sturdy, amplified with shields and wires that would support its structure. And the fact that it had an added limb for a tail. Its extension beautifully connected to the lower end of its spine that completed the look.

Number 10 had not made a single sound as it had likely died from being weaponized. Like the rest of the Kaiju before it. And you mentally pat yourself on the back for a job well done for making quick work of him.

Or at least..that's what was supposed to happen. “Wear me, swordsman. I want to fight something already.”

Huh?

“It's still speaking?” You had felt yourself be pulled back. Soshiro had wasted no time getting in front of you. Hand already on the hilt of his swords, as the weaponized Kaiju stared straight back at him. This time, instead of a mangle corpse, it had been a combat suit. Capable of speech and thought processing.

“Why is it still sentient?” He had glanced back at you. And you can see the faint traces of his still fresh bandages wrap around his lower neck, within the zipper of his jacket.

“I don't know.” You had spoken truthfully. “We've never had to weaponize a sentient Kaiju before.” You had replied. Weary of the tension in the room. Soshiro's back had all but blocked your view from the Combat Suit. And it laughed when the rest of the technicians also backed up. Cowering behind some of the soldiers who already had their guns raised. Pointed straight at the tank that held the completed weapon.

“Is it safe to use?” Soshiro asked.

“It should be. The rest of his core can't sync up to his body anymore, so I doubt he can kill anyone right now.” You explained. Not once had Soshiro looked away from the suit.

You had watched as Soshiro wearily stood straighter. This time, raising his hand so that the rest of the soldiers would lower their aimed weapons. And although they had been hesitant, they had done exactly that. With the weaponized Kaiju not reacting at all in fact.

“Well this isn't good..” He whispered. Skeptical about letting you get any closer to it as the Kaiju inside of it seemed ecstatic. Screaming praises towards you, excited that it might be worn soon. And Soshiro twitched, his smile irritated more than usual.

“It..probably needs a bit more time to adjust in the combat suit. For now, let me work on it alone.” You had suggested, seeing the skepticism of the other technicians who did not want anything to do with the suit who is very much still alive.

You had no doubt that no one wanted to work on the weapon, especially since it was still very sentient. Now in possession of solidified upgrades to strengthen its use in combat. If it was still able to formulate thoughts despite having been completely mangled as a weapon. Kaiju no. 10, now had the means to breach the combat suit's limitations. In the case it did lose control. And when you were working with an unidentified threat, there's a high chance it wouldn't hesitate to attack.

Meaning, if the higher ups wanted this weapon usable for Soshiro. Then you were the only one who'd be willing to work through the weapon’s new kinks and pieces. To stop it from getting wild and uncontrollable.

It had obediently let you work on it the first time. You were positive that it wouldn't be a problem now. Right?

“...Are you sure about this? I don't mind if it doesn't become usable ya’ know? It ain't worth risking your life like this.” He had briefly brushed a thumb to your cheek. Forgetting that there had been an audience of officers just behind them.

Though it seems Soshiro did not care much about that. More worried for your safety, in all of this.

“Calm down swordsman. I'm not interested in killing the woman who's bound to make me stronger. It'll keep things..Interesting.”

Soshiro had looked over to the tube that held the weaponized Kaiju in place. It didn't even register in your eyes when he had unsheathed one of his blades. Pointing the tip directly at the cross section on the combat suit's chest. Where the eye had been placed. “Keep talking and I'll slice you to ribbons ya’ little-”

But before he could threaten number 10, you had crossed your way over to lower his weapon. A gentle hand on his bandaged chest that had been healing for a few days now. “I will be just fine.”

“You heard him, he won't hurt me.”

“And ya’ sure about that?” He had a strained smile on his lips. Bordering frustration as he had not once moved his gaze from the suit.

“If he planned to, he would've attacked me way before I could dice him up to make armor out of him.” You had given him a small smile. Despite your own skepticism.

“I'll be fine..” You reassured him again. And silence took momentary peace in the room full of weary people. The others had not been convinced in the slightest.

Soshiro had a minute to take in your words. His hardened gaze softened momentarily as it met your pretty face. And as usual, you did not falter when you spoke confident sentences. Strong-willed and unafraid as you were. As self-confident as ever it seems, befitting for someone who worked closely on the defense force despite not being a soldier. You were troublesome indeed. But he had no doubt you'd be able to make something out of the living Kaiju he and Captain Ashiro worked so hard to kill.

He couldn't help but let out a sigh. Placing his blade back on his hip. “Fine. But, I'm staying here with you, so…”

“Get him ready, and I'll be the one to break him in for ya.”

–

It had been a few days since that incident occurred. After a few talks with command, you had been granted access to a private facility where the necessary tools and materials were given to you to fix Number 10's control over the weaponized suit. Having been quickly transferred to a private facility that no one but a select few had access to.

Surprisingly, Soshiro had done well on his promise. Leaving the Tachikawa base to stay with you on a daily basis in the case that Kaiju no. 10 would attack. Likely having already explained the situation to Captain Ashiro long before you had worked on adjusting the suit’s flaws.

Soshiro was usually a patient man. But being a Vice Captain of an entire division, you did not want to waste a second of his packed schedule when he was already so busy with his other responsibilities. So you wasted no time as you continued to limit the weapon's control over its armored body. Thoroughly eradicating its ability to disobey order from its wearer, but to no avail.

So far, all you had been able to do was to limit the monster's movements, down to a singular point which was its tail. The limb seems to have a mind of its own, and it did not bother to listen to any of you nor Soshiro's commands. Demanding that they let him battle a Kaiju to test out his new uses. And the moment Soshiro had declined. You weren't spared from Kaiju no. 10's complaining either. Constantly yapping in excitement for a battle that had yet to start.

Although it wasn't nearly as controlled as you liked, command had apparently dubbed the weaponized combat suit as usable enough for Soshiro to handle. And despite the dangers of its early prototypes, they were both given the permission to do a test run within the indoor training grounds provided near the labs.

Which is what leads you today, alone once more in an enforced room no less. Watching Soshiro step into the small pod, where wires had connected the Weaponized combat suit onto his body.

And from the control panel right next to it. You are able to grasp a few readings of his vitals. All seemed stable thus far.

“Are you sure about this? Wouldn't it be safer to have soldiers on standby for the simulation?” You had stood up from your chair. Brows scrunched the moment the combat suit had zipped closed around his body.

Your eyes had glanced over at the way his suit had all but molded to his form. The armor plating had fit distinctly to his chest. And his arms and legs had no trouble adjusting to the heavy heat of Kaiju no. 10's muscle fibers. The ones you had distinctly measured to fit his body. A combat suit made only for him in mind.

And he looked damn good in it. You thought.

“I’ll be fine sweetheart. I'm confident ya’ made it safe enough for me to wear it.” He had spoken through the standard respiratory mask he wore. And you could hear each audible breath he took in. Calm and steady unlike the buzz in your head that kept glancing down your lover's abdomen.

You had half a mind to look away. To not focus on the ridges of his plated hands. The hardened steel that covered his abs. And that damn tail on his back, that traced the ridges of his neck and spine.

Fuck.

Here he was, trusting his safety to the very core of your days worth of handiwork. And all you were thinking about is how you wished his hands were unbuttoning your blouse. And worse.

“Sure.” You stutter.

“Let's just hope it syncs up with your brain waves..” You had distracted yourself. Forcing your eyes to face the screen instead of his body. And you could see the way Soshiro had visibly slackened when he had noticed the way you had turned away from him. And this abruptness had made him frown a little. Thinking that the suit might've scared you to bits. A far cry to the actual thoughts swimming in your mind.

“Your woman here is quite talented in strengthening me. I see why you can't ignore her.” Kaiju no. 10 spoke to him. A chuckle sounding out from the small intercom he wore. Luckily you were too distracted to hear its comment.

“You show hesitation. If I had been the one in control, I'd show no restraint to your woman and take her as mine..” Soshiro had heard it's voice in his head. And flashes of their synced brain had shown him a brief future where you had pinned her under his arms. His clawed hands gripping at the plush of your thighs, and he'd carefully start to taste the droplets of slick that would caress the skin nearest your-

He shook his head.

“Quit yappin’ or I'll have you decommissioned before you can ever become useful to me.” He had stepped forward. The wires disconnecting from the skeletal structure of his armored back. And Soshiro could feel the weight of the weaponized combat suit completely engulf his body. That tail of his, which previously belonged to Kaiju no. 10. Was swinging around haphazardly, out of his control. Like it had been excited from being worn. After days of laying dormant in the table to be operated on.

But if Soshiro had to guess. It was likely this excitement had stemmed from the thoughts the Kaiju had dug up from the very back of his brain. Thoughts that he had kept for himself in the darkness of his room where no one would disturb him.

And a monster having access to that?

Shit.

He might not hear the end of it.

If only he hadn't put that image inside his head. Who would've thought that syncing his brain waves with a sentient combat suit would have him thinking sinful thoughts. In broad daylight too, where the suit could monitor every muscle and bone in his body. Each reaction recorded and documented for a report.

He had heard stories that this was a common side effect that the Weapon Numbers had. The non-sentient ones had at least some form of memory of their previous users. The difference was, number 10 was more talkative. Straightforward even. It had just been his luck that the monster somehow managed to resurface a few of his thoughts that he buried deep within the very corners of his brain.

And here he was, in a situation that made his body unbelievably breathless and hot. Alone and in front of you.

“Vital signs are okay..but your thermal readings are higher than normal.” You had spoken. Shaking away the tingling sensation you felt from seeing him in the Combat suit. More worried about his well being this time.

But Soshiro couldn't seem to look you in the eye. A strained smile seems to have overcome his features as he felt the heat travel from the pit of his stomach, all the way down to the valley between his legs.

Shit.

Now was not the right time for him to harden.

“Is everything alright?” You had walked up much closer to him. And you can see the telltale signs of breathlessness in him. Odd considering he had never been caught breathless like this. And the moment you had come closer in proximity, he took a singular step back.

Which didn't go unnoticed by you.

In actuality, he was lucky that your eyes had been focused on his face. His pants were loose, no different from the standard uniform all officers would wear. But if you looked hard enough, you might be able to see the signs of his printed heat. Carved on the fabric nearest his thighs.

“Just peachy.” He answers with a chuckle.

“He's just..a little noisy that's all.” He had cleared his throat. Feeling the familiar sensation of his erection start to throb. And another wave of uncontrollable thoughts had washed over his mind. Likely a result from No. 10 sharing its desires to him. No, rather than sharing its thoughts, it most likely resurfaced his feelings that he kept hidden from his lover.

It hadn't been that long since you had officially gotten together. Save one date or two during the rare occasion that they'd both be off-duty. But never had they been intimate in that way before. Hell, he didn't even know if you were a virgin or not.

He flinches. Suddenly feeling the shockwave of heat skim across his armored body, making him falter from his movements to back away. And he falls forward. A hand on your shoulder to steady himself before he could completely stumble.

“Soshiro!” He had heard you speak. The palm of your hand against his chest. But his mind was dazed. His name on your lips had made his pants feel awfully tight. And his ears had warmed slightly, removing the respiratory mask on his face so that he could breathe more evenly. “M’ fine..”

His tone had not been convincing. And you could feel the quick breaths he'd take to make up for the lack of oxygen that took up all the heat in his body.

Damn you, Kaiju no. 10. Soshiro could practically hear it chuckling.

“Stop lying..” You had spoken exasperatedly. “Is he talking to you right now?” You heard him give you a hum.

And such a curt reply makes you wonder. Finding it odd that Soshiro, who was normally talkative and easy-going, had all but quieted down. Your question remained unanswered as he was too busy hearing the words of the Weaponized suit in his head. Urging him forward which had left you clueless to the thoughts in his head. “Your hesitation is cowardly. Move. Or I will, swordsman.”

And he purses his lips at the thought. His head leaning against your shoulder. Hand abruptly moving to palm the small of your back to pull you much closer than before. And he gritted his teeth at Number 10's coercion. “Don't touch her.”

His growl had made you flinch. And you can see the way his fangs had showed up from the way his teeth had bared. The low baritone of his voice had been unlike him. Heavy and out of breath. But somehow the sound shot straight down your core. And it makes you gulp.

The reply had clearly not been for you. And such actions would provoke him enough to pull you closer. That and you had found it strange for him to be acting in such a way. You had assumed as much that Number 10 would be talking to him. Though exactly what they had conversed about you hadn't had a clue. Only going off in the little hints of emotions you’d find surrounding his body and face. But that had been impossible too.

Not when he had his nose buried on the crook of your neck where the scent of your subtle cologne had wafted thoroughly. Leaving a mark that made him want to do as Number 10 had desired. Or better yet, provoked him to do it.

“Soshiro..” you called softly. Running your hands through his dark hair starts to worry for both his physical and mental state. It was common knowledge that Weaponized Kaiju would put a strain on its user. And you did not want to risk his life for an early prototype that had yet to be perfected by you.

To your better judgment, you had led him to lean against the control panel. Gently letting his back hit the surface of the table. And you had slowly unwrapped yourself from him. Reaching to the keyboard which will let you issue a command to get him ejected from the Weaponized Kaiju.

But before you could reach to press a few buttons, he pulled you back. Strong hands wrapping at the softness of your waist. Gingerly pulling you back, closer to him in proximity to prevent your escape. Your spine was pressed up against his chest where you could feel the sturdiness of his suit against your shoulder. And your frown at your lover's unusual stubbornness. Not one to often find him resisting any actions you'd issue when it came to testing weaponized materials. “Soshiro, just hold still I need to-”

You flinched. Stopping your sentence midway.

The sudden feeling of his teeth sinking into the nape of your neck had overridden whatever words that wanted to leave your mouth. All but too focused on the feeling of his teeth taking a bite from the skin of your very neck.

Surprisingly, his bite had not been enough to draw blood. It was softer than you anticipated. One that oddly made you yelp in a pleased manner. And just as quickly as he marked the area, he moved to lick away at the reddened state your skin had been left in. Which you had not expected, placing a hefty hand over your lips to strangle any noises your throat attempted to make from his intimate actions.

“Soshiro, wait.” You had flinched again.

Feeling his lips trail kisses southward. Down from the nape, all the way over to the pulse point on your neck. He had hummed, giving your skin a few kitten licks. Before he immediately sank his teeth into your skin once more.

Leaving red marks that left you jolting against him. Your head leaning back to press closer against his shoulder. Likely to let his teeth sink deeper, if he wanted to. But Soshiro, even in this dazed state, remained disciplined. Rigid as he didn't let the bite intensify in fear of injuring you. His only intent was to leave ravishing red marks that proved to him that you were his. A warning to the Kaiju that threatened his place beside you.

“Mm..sorry dear. You're jus’ way too fuckin sweet.” He mumbled against your skin. His tail, which had previously been quiet, had now wrapped itself loosely against your leg. As if trying to pull you closer to Soshiro's body. The same sentiment seemed to have been shared between Kaiju No. 10 and Soshiro. And you wonder if this had been the result of their minds syncing up. The conversation they would have in their head remained a mystery to you as they worked in tandem to challenge each other further. And you had hesitantly tried to pull away despite not wanting to stop.

“We're still at work..” You had whispered out. Breathing heavily as he licked and sucked on your neck. Leaving purple marks on the wake of his careful lips. Even in this state he had been meticulous. Leaving careful bites that only ever felt ticklish and pleasant. And he pulled you closer, halting you from escaping.

He had not been rough at all in the way he had so easily painted your skin with his masterpieces. And although his grip was firm. All you needed was to push him away. To stop him from going further. But you hadn't moved a single inch away. Let alone stop him.

“I know..I just..” He breathes heavily against your jaw and ear. Taking your free hand to drag it behind you. Guiding your touch to trace the ridges of his abdomen. Reaching all the way down to the softness of his pants. And you feel the cold zipper of his clothes graze against your fingertips.

But more importantly. Something warmer had touched her fingertips. And you could feel the shape of his length under the confines of fabric. Painfully hard and tight from his size. And you feel your breath hitch the moment you had realized why exactly he had been heating up so abnormally since he wore the suit. The strangled sound of his groan had been muffled by his lips pressing thinly together. Biting back the soft sighs as he guides your warm palm to press harder against his crotch.

“Jus’ tell me to stop.” He whispered.

“Tell me you don't want this..” He breathlessly groaned. Suddenly finding relief that your hand had cupped the very place he had been craving friction from. The texture of his pants made him shiver as you had delicately traced the imprint of his hard-on. As if all but admiring the large warmth in your hand. And you realized that your body showed no signs of stopping. Giving into the inhibitions that that struggle through the restraints of your logic.

And although you couldn't face him right now, you spoke softly. Immediately in your reply. “I want this..”

Soshiro had taken a moment to glance at you. And he sees the redness of your cheeks bloom against your skin. Chest heaving just as much as he was when he had started thinking about the pleasure in his body. Number 10 had seemed to read both you and him so easily that he didn't need to hold you both in place just so something would happen. The work is already being done in place as you suddenly press yourself further into his erection.

Without warning, you start grinding your hands against him. Moving it up and down, feeling the way the fabric rolled against your palm and the traces or dampness. Ones that alluded to sticky mess he made underneath the fabric.

A hiss came from his mouth and Soshiro couldn't help but pull you closer by the hips. His enhanced hands, one that had been strengthened by the weaponized suit, would likely leave bruises on the handle of your hips. If he had been too caught up or careless in his actions.

So he faltered, moving his hand away from your body. Instead, deciding to prop itself up on the surface of the control panel they leaned on. The other hand, which had still made contact with your hips. Had caressed you hungrily upon your own touches. Holding back his urges to grab you too tightly lest he breaks your body from his strength alone. An idea likely from Kaiju no. 10 who had oddly quieted down from his actions. Whether it too can feel the effects you have on him was a mystery to him. One of which he had greedily just decided to ignore for the time being.

He'll save the lectures for later.

“Fuck-” He had sighed out. Feeling your fingers start palming him harder. Rubbing his crotch vigorously. Enough to cause him to squirm in place. His eyes had momentarily opened. Squinting around for any cameras or recording devices hidden in the training room. Luckily, there was conveniently none. Likely a result of keeping Weapons 10 a secret in the case they get infiltrated by a Kaiju.

Not that it was a problem for him. He'd wipe any footage he finds later. And everyone would be none the wiser to their endeavors.

His focus had solely fixated on the way your fingertips felt upon his crotch. His hips have grown desperate. Moving to grind against your hand to get more friction out of you. But to no avail, the fabric was in the way. And right now, his only thought was that this moment, although as pleasing to him as it did to you, had been the worst time for the both of you to start in.

He had it all planned out too.

He'd take you out on a date on his off-duty. Make you wear a pretty sundress that he could easily peel off. And focus on your pleasure for the rest of the night should he be allowed to do so.

But this had been too different from his plans. Far too risky and sudden for his liking. His pleasure had been amped, and he had felt the careful touches you'd do in order to please him. Touch and palm his dick until it was beyond the point of arousal. Make him spill an early load in the confines of a training room no less.

But he'll be damned if he doesn't please you too.

“Ngh..You too sweetheart..” He groaned. “Let me make you feel good too.” He whispered, trying to regain a sense of control when his crotch had surely been sticky and wet from all the precum that damped his own boxers.

The hand that had hesitated in gripping your hip had slid forward to your stomach. His fingers tracing down the crumpled blouse that had tucked into the standardized pencil skirt that you had worn. And time and time again, it had not failed to grab his attention in each waking moment you decided to wear the damn thing.

The way it had hugged your figure, where he'd sneak a glance at the curves of your stomach and hips. His thoughts couldn't help but darken, admiring the way you had always managed to capture his attention. Unwarranted and without warning.

He didn't hesitate to pull your skirt up. Trailing the fabric directly above your navel until it revealed the pretty underwear you wore. And his textured fingertips traced his name on the waistband of the fabric. Playing with the mere shudders you'd make upon his touches. Your hands, which had busied themselves by touching Soshiro’s crotch, had stilled for a moment. Giving him a stellar opportunity to make up for lost time. It was his turn now.

“Keep yer legs open for me sweetheart..” He had whispered out. Immediately running his hand through the valley of your clothed core. Feeling the dampness of the underwear, stain his coarse fingertips with your slick. Your inner thighs which had quivered against his light touches had glistened as a few droplets slipped past his fingers which made the skin of your thighs all the more tantalizing to watch.

He'd like to admire it more if he were being honest. He could tell number 10 had been all the same as his tail trailed up further onto your thighs. Gripping the skin to keep you in place. But right now, it wasn't the ideal setting for such a thing. Had this been a perfect world, he'd have taken you somewhere more comfortable. More private to please you. But right now, the suit isn't responding to any of his commands. And the best way to shut him and his damn urges up was to do this as quickly as possible. He'll have to make up for this at a later date. For now, all they needed was each other's touches.

“Soshiro..wait, I've never-” You threw your head back. Pausing when the hand that had moved to palm your cunt had suddenly invaded your space. His fingers had slipped past your waistband to quickly pinch at the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance. Your clit throbbing to meet his touches as you clenched against nothing in particular. Leaving Soshiro's own pulsating erection shuddering from your lack of touches. Far too distracted to continue your previous movements. Pinching your tender clit had made Soshiro groan in response. Feeling just how wet you had gotten for him despite only touching you just now.

“This your first time?” He whispered. Kissing you squarely on the shoulders. Trying his best to calm your nerves at the new feeling he was giving you. His hand was far too occupied at touching the quivering spot between your legs. And he starts rubbing circles with his fingers. Pressing down on the nub of your clit which made you moan and buck your hips in response.

“Shh..S’okay. Let me take care of ya.” He breathed next to your ear. “I won't enter ya..just focus on the pleasure.” He sighed out. His fingers were already making quick work of your entrance which had not wasted any more time than he should have. Weary that anyone could walk in and see them doing other things that didn't involve number 10's prototype testing.

Immediately, he didn't hesitate to run his hands through your fleshy lips. Mixing the liquids of your slick to help satisfy the itch your heat had felt. And the noises you made when you spoke his name had all but proved to encourage his touches further. Stretching your cunt wide open to make way for his fingers.

And you had all but yelped the moment his movements had made quick and distinct touches to your cunt. Your entrance trying its damndest to swallow his fingers whole that had so easily helped build up the euphoric high your core desperately chased after. But to no avail, his fingers teased. Slipping past the entrance just to help you fit his fingers in much easier. Testing out whether you can take the stretch of his fingers or not.

Despite the strain on his pants, his hand had expertly rubbed and felt your fleshy entrance. Squeezing the slick out of you as it had completely dampened his fingers and the underwear that had threatened to slip past your thighs.

The shaky moans you'd let out was followed up by a finger slowly prodding at your cunt's entrance and without warning his coarse gloved hands had invaded you without struggle. His finger easily made it past the slippery exterior he worked so hard to prep. All for this moment. “Nghh..Soshi..ro..feels good.”

“I know sweetheart. You're close right?” His own shaky breaths had replied back. His fingers suddenly pistoning in and out of your sopping wet core. Invading and reaching spots no one, not even you had reached before. And your head throws back against him. Hand immediately palming his clothed dick to encourage him further. The unfamiliar feeling of a string coiling around the pit of your stomach had formed. And it threatened to spill out from your cunt like a glass cup that had been too full.

“Mmm..let me touch you too.” You had managed to let out between sighs. Your legs are shivering at this point. And you feel your underwear slip down to pool against your ankles. No longer struggling to keep itself up against your inner thighs. Revealing the lewd scene of his fingers penetrating your cunt. You hadn't even realized he added a finger until he started moving it in a scissoring motion. And you had half a mind to give up on your endeavors to match his euphoria.

But you have always been quite a stubborn person. Even when you had carefully tiptoed around each other. You had been bold in your endeavors. And you were bolder now, more than ever.

“Shit- hold on a second..mmm..” Soshiro had felt the way your hand had reached to unzip his pants. And your palm had gradually encased his dick with the warmth of your fingers. Massaging his erection directly to feel the ridges and veins it naturally had. The tip of it was a raging red that dripped pearlescent drops of his precum. Bubbling at the slit to land on the floor below them.

And Soshiro couldn't help but groan. Imagining that it had been your cunt that had engulfed his dick in languid motions.

Number 10 didn't need to coerce him this time. Getting lost on the feeling as he bucked his hips to meet the sensations you dished out. But despite this, he did not falter in his actions at all. Completely enamored that he could touch you and feel you all at the same time. Driving his mind into a short circuit the minute his fingers managed to reach deeper into your cunt. Finding the hardened button of your g-spot that only makes your vision blurry.

“uh…ahh..I'm close. Soshiro..I'm close..” You had closed your eyes, your movements beginning to turn sloppy as you tried to keep up with his pace. And your shaky moaning had increased in volume since then.

Soshiro could feel the telltale signs of your release. Feeling your cunt squeeze onto his fingers which had been knuckle deep into you at this point. And he too lets out a shaky moan when he feels his semen drip down more steadily from his dick. Leaving the liquid dripping between your fingers and soft palms. “Me too..”

“Just..keep your voice down dear.” He spoke slowly. Burying his face unto the crook of your neck before bucking his hips wildly into your hand. Letting him control the pace in which you had massaged his dick. And he began seeing stars. Your moans had been crystal clear while his fingers stretched you open. Grinding up against your cunt whilst his thumb pressed deeply against your clit to further push you on the edge.

And without warning, you had arched your back to scream.

Soshiro hadn't realized this as you both came. The release for both of you had been so intense that he had forgotten all about Kaiju no. 10 who was still silent but active within his suit. Silently snarling and listening in on the intensity your pleasure had dictated the scene. Number 10 had not been perfected as a weapon, So it still had somewhat of a mind of its own. Able to control just a part of its tail upon being worked on for days on end.

And surprisingly, he made himself rather useful when its weaponized tail wrapped around the jaw of her mouth. Muffling your pleasured screams before you'd be found out by any passing officers outside of the training room.

Your body convulsed at the feeling.

The euphoria traveling in shockwaves as your ivory essence had pooled between your thighs and his hand. Coating it with the liquid that you had not thought you'd be able to reach without Soshiro's expertise. Luckily, his dick was much the same.

Shooting out thick semen that had stained the skin of your calf to create a messy picturesque sequence that he's sure would be number 10’s leverage for the next time they try to test him as a prototype. And that had been all Soshiro needed to know for a sigh to escape his lips. His weird suit sure had its ups and downs he supposes. But if this were to happen again, he'd rather keep you as far away from him when he's wearing this suit for the next time around.

“Sorry..” You had heard Soshiro breathe out. And you watch him in the corner of your eyes. As hair clung against the sweaty sheen of your cheek. The tail that had muffled your mouth slowly retracted upon Soshiro's command. And you could've sworn you heard a faint laughter from within the Number 10. As if he too had been satisfied by such an event.

“What for?” You had smiled. Glancing at the way your lover had breathed heavily. Taking in the steady breathes he needed after the passionate event you had both experienced. And his face had gingerly lifted up from your shoulder. A baffled look crossing his features.

“I didn't mean to attack you like that..I-” He paused. Feeling the way the Combat suit had finally cooled down. Signaling that it had been shut down. Likely because it had not been fitted for a better power source yet. So it turned off on its own before Number 10 could even make another snide comment, one of which Soshiro was sure he'd be doing just about now. Had he the actual power capacity to do so.

And he grits his teeth upon the suit slowly opening up to reveal the compression shirt he wore underneath it. Finally his control had been mostly back. With Number 10 no longer plaguing his thought process.

“Damn this Kaiju..” He whispered. Removing his fingers from your core. And you flinch upon the loss of his warmth.

“It's fine.” You shook your head.

“Was it the Kaiju giving you ideas? or was it all you?” You had asked. Suddenly it was strange that the researcher in you would surface after just touching each other so lewdly earlier. But you couldn't help but wonder. He had acted strangely upon putting on Number 10. You'd only assume they had a spoken agreement earlier when Soshiro had looked protective almost, in the way he had held you.

“Most of it..yeah..” Soshiro had admitted. Awkwardly looking away knowing that he might've crossed boundaries with you. He'd be remiss if you didn't get a little bit angry at the sudden attack. And he wouldn't blame you if you had not wanted to be anywhere near him ever again.

But you surprised him once more when you moved to kiss him on the lips. Unchanged in the way you felt when you had consented to his advances. It was partly your logic that encouraged him. It was partly your fault too for not stopping him when he asked. Now you both were held responsible in submitting a fake report that would inevitably be submitted to command. And such a kiss that spoke those very sentiments leaves him breathless, trying to catch oxygen before it could leave him panting for another.

“Good. I'd be pissed off if you told me you didn't want me at all.”

“Did’ya really think I didn't want you?” He sighed. “I just..wanted you to feel special. Unlike how I treated you before..”

And you couldn't help but smile. Knowing how hard Soshiro had likely been working a lot harder to make time for you despite the nature of their work. And that fact alone, has been enough for your cheeks to flame. His efforts have been enough for you for some time now. Unbeknownst to his better judgement.

“It's fine..just make it up to me another time.” You had spoken softly. Wrapping your arms around his neck. And he in turn hugged you just as tightly back.

“I will. I promise you I will, sweetheart.” He spoke. Leaning back in to capture your lips despite the slight fatigue the suit has done to his body. The heaviness didn't matter much to him anymore. And damn the suit if he had to beat into submission on a later date. Number 10 may have had a grip on him this time, but next time around he won't be the one dictating his desires.

He'd do it himself. Properly and in a much better setting, where he wouldn't be panting like a puppy in heat.

His breathlessness had been a rare sight indeed. But Oxygen was all he needed to kiss you breathless too.

[shima-draws]

I’m still so mentally ill over the whole Luffy refusing to eat unless it’s Sanji’s food thing. Like. We KNOW how fucking feral over food Luffy is. He loves food and loves eating so much that he steals it off other people’s plates and out of their hands and is so impatient when it comes to meals that he’ll literally try and sneak into the kitchen to mooch before it’s ready. Or he’ll try to break into the refrigerator. I know Sanji mentioned putting a lock on it at some point bc Luffy literally wiped it clean. He will not hesitate to eat other people’s portions or literally an entire meal meant for a whole ship of people! He’s unbelievably selfish when it comes to food and that’s just SUCH a central part of his character that it’s become almost endearing. Even in Totto Land Luffy didn’t think for a second before devouring everything in sight, including an entire fucking HOUSE, regardless of the consequences or the people it might affect. Homie did not care!! He’s food driven first and foremost!!!

Until Sanji leaves him. Until he decides that eating—something that he loves and brings him comfort—isn’t WORTH it unless it’s Sanji’s food he’s eating. It’s been shown that Luffy has zero self restraint when it comes to food so the fact that he was SURROUNDED by food on all sides on a food themed island and utterly refused to partake in any of that? Even though he hates being hungry and will always make eating a priority over pretty much anything else?? The amount of willpower it must have taken for him to sit there and purposefully let himself starve, for SANJI. Even when food was offered to him conveniently (in the form of syrup rain) he stubbornly rejected that. Because it wasn’t Sanji’s food. Because it wasn’t Sanji who made it, who always puts so much thought and care into the food he makes, who always indulges Luffy and prepares extra because he knows how much Luffy eats and how much he loves to eat. Luffy literally took one of the most defining traits he has and tossed it out the window. For Sanji. I’m going to fucking blow up

[linopls]

kinktober day seven

virginity chan x fem!reader summary: you decide to fully trust your sweet boyfriend. warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (fem receiving), protected sex, losing virginity 0.8k words

“are you sure?”

“yes, i am so sure.”

chan has been eating you out for the past hour. you’ve finished about three or four times, you’ve lost count. but oral is as far as you’ve ever gone with each other. 

chan wasn’t a virgin, how could he be? he was smart, charming, attractive, and a really good kisser. you however were a virgin, not necessarily saving yourself for marriage, just the right person. and you were goddamn sure that it was chan.

chan wipes his mouth with his arm and crawls back up to be face to face with you. he places a soft and sweet kiss to your lips before reaching over to his nightstand. he pulls out a condom from the drawer and looks back to you. 

“y/n, are you sure?”

“chan,” you sigh. “i pinky promise i am a thousand percent sure. i need you to fuck me so badly.”

chan’s jaw could have fallen off his face at the speed it fell open. he adjusts himself on his knees between your spread legs. he pulls his sweats down just enough to free his thick cock from the restraints. your mouth waters at the sight, red and leaking. 

“my eyes are up here, baby,” chan laughs.

“i’m sorry,” you say softly as blush creeps over your cheeks. 

chan lines himself up with your entrance, his tip brushing over your clit causes you to moan out.

“sensitive now, hm?” chan smirks and you cover your face with your hands.

“no, no, no.” chan takes your hands in his own and rubs soothing circles with his thumbs. “don’t hide your pretty face. i’m gonna move now, m’kay?”

you nod and chan slowly pushes himself inside you. the stretch burning with pleasure you’ve never felt before. chan groans as he bottoms himself out.

“okay, love?” he asks, kissing your forehead.

you nod. “give me a second.”

“take all the time you need,” chan smiles and kisses your forehead again. he slowly moves his hand down to your clit and rubs small circles on the sensitive bud. your body involuntarily moves up to his touch.

“move, please,” you whisper.

chan nods and slowly slides himself out and back in. you both moan out in pleasure. he keeps working on your clit as he finds a steady pace. the feeling of his thick cock against your velvet walls has your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“faster, please,” you moan.

“feel good, baby?” chan asks, picking up his pace. sweat forms on his forehead and his veins pop out of his neck. the sight of the man in front of you and the feeling of him inside you have you seeing stars. 

you nod. “feels so good. i love you.”

chan chuckles. “i love you too, darling. wanna try something for me?”

you nod and chan slowly moves one of your legs so that your ankle rests on his muscular shoulders. he leans in slightly, like he was going to kiss, but stops when you moan out loudly in pleasure. he then slowly pushes his cock til his tip brushes against that spongy spot you could never find with your fingers. 

you feel euphoric, and it must be obviously shown on your face and there’s a challenging smirk plastered on chan’s. he slowly slides himself back out, even through the rubber you can feel every veiny inch of him. he keeps one of his arms wrapped around your leg and moves his other hand to rub circles on your aching bud. 

he begins to fuck into you faster, you can feel him bringing you to the edge for the fifth time tonight. you’re back is arching off of the bed and your hands are clawing at the sheets. you’re whimpering and moaning and can feel tears forming in your eyes.

“shit, baby. you feel so good,” chan moans, throwing his head back.

“faster,” you whimper out and chan eagerly complies.

he starts to thrust into faster and you feel dizzy. you can hear the sound of your headboard banging against the wall, you know your neighbors will complain but you could care less. the only thing you care about in this moment is making chan feel as good as you. you clench tighter around him and you swear you see his eyes pop out of his head.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum, y/n,” he groans.

“me too, keep going, please,” you beg.

chan keeps his same pace and turns to place soft kisses on your calf that rests over his shoulder. you can feel the tears starting to spill over and run down your face. the pleasure is overwhelming and you’re pleading and begging for chan to make you finish.

“channie, i’m cumming,” you whine, back arching completely off the bed and eyes rolling back into your head.

chan groans and releases into the rubber with a loud guttural moan. the feeling of him throbbing inside you drives you wild. chan gradually slows down his pace and releases your leg off his shoulder. he leans down to envelop your lips in a deep kiss. he pulls away and connects his forehead to yours.

“i love you, baby. thank you for trusting me,” he whispers.

“i love you too. you’re amazing,” you giggle. 

soft channie hours

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli 

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier 

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella @lakoya @compersian @seung-mine 

[spiderg0th]

Established or mutual pining with Hobie Brown 🥺 maybe he's teasing the reader who is also a spider person (maybe include a kiss fake out or a chin tilt, something cutesy that gets the reader flustered). Maybe they're working together to capture an anomaly, and the reader is playfully annoyed?

(Hope that made sense!🥺)

can i kiss you?

hobie brown x spider person! reader

desc you visit his world for the first time.

wc 925

warning contains small spoilers from atsv (though it takes place before the events of the movie) and a mention of an injury.

Squinting as your eyes adjusted to the flashing array of colors from the portal, you removed the hand that shielded your face as an entire new world came into view. Taking a moment to take in your surroundings, you stood in awe at the vast landscape before you: large buildings featuring colorful billboards dominated the landscape. Everything flickered and changed shape every couple of seconds—it was unlike anything you had ever seen before. That was saying something because despite your short time in the Spider Society, none of the other worlds you had visited came anywhere close to this.

“Impressed?” Hobie questioned smugly, and even though you couldn’t see his facial expression due to his mask covering it, you knew that he was probably smirking.

“You were right, it’s certainly something.” You responded, pressing a few buttons on your watch, letting headquarters know that you both had safely traveled to Earth-138. An anomaly of Kingpin from another dimension had shown up in Hobie’s, so naturally, Miguel paired you together to handle it. Not only did you work well together, but Miguel trusted you to make sure that Hobie would get the job in a timely manner.

“I know exactly where it is. Just grab on so we don’t have to waste anymore time.” He spoke before bending over slightly so his lanky frame was closer to the ground.

“You’re joking right?” You asked incredulously, attempting to hide the uneasiness from your voice. If you were being completely honest with yourself, being piggybacked around by your crush sounded more than pleasant, but you didn’t want to give him any indication of your feelings. Besides, wouldn’t “fraternizing” like this be breaking some sort of Spider Society rules? Relationships between two spider people from different dimensions didn’t exactly sound like something Miguel would be in favor of. Then again, you rarely agreed with his policies anyway.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked again, turning to look at you over his shoulder. “You scared or something?”

“What? No?!” You said agitatedly before reluctantly wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Alright, hang on.” You knew from spending so much time with him that Hobie’s style of swinging around was more erratic than most, but you weren’t expecting it to be this wild. It was taking every amount of restraint within you to not let a scream rip from your throat. It was bad enough that you were sure he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

“Hold on, hold on.” He stopped on the top of a nearby building and you set yourself back on the ground.

“Are we here already? The watch says he’s much farther from here.” You state, looking around at the bustling streets below.

“No. You’re almost strangling me with your arms. We’ll get there soon.” Not even giving you a moment to protest, he places your left arm around his shoulder and his right around your waist. Securing a web on another skyscraper, you were off. Although this position was far more comfortable, it was also more embarrassing. Even though you were thankful he couldn’t see your expression beneath your mask, you still felt the need to hide your face in his neck. When you eventually reached the location where Kingpin was, you couldn’t deny the disappointment you felt when his arm slipped away and he set you on the ground.

Setting yourself down next to him on the ledge, you let out a sigh of relief because Kingpin was finally caught. He would have to settle for being tied together with webbing for now, as Miguel and Jessica weren’t there to physically take him back to the Spider Society Headquarters. He put up one heck of a fight, but it wasn’t something neither of you couldn’t handle. That didn’t mean you escaped the battle unscathed though. You caught Hobie examining your features when you slipped your mask off your face. If you weren’t so tired you would actually be embarrassed at the attention.

“Wait, look at me.” He said quietly, tucking a finger under your chin so he could look at your face more closely. He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning your cheek.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He didn’t have a hint of sarcasm in his voice, which was kind of alarming to you. “It’s just a cut… gonna look sick once it’s healed.” You felt disappointed again, he was just looking at an injury on your face, nothing special. Assuming that he was done, you attempted to move your head back forward but his voice stopped you.

“Can I kiss you?” That’s not what you were expecting at all. Not thinking much, you immediately nodded your head and you could’ve sworn that you saw him smile before he leaned in. Unfortunately for you both, your watches decided to go off when your lips were only about a few centimeters away from each other.

“We’re here.” Hobie rolled his eyes as you stood to your feet. “Send the location of Fisk and meet us there.” As usual, Miguel had terrible timing. Before you could utter a word to Hobie, he swung to a building below and turned back to face you.

“You coming down here or do you need me to come back up there and grab you again?” He shouted jokingly.

“Shut up!”

While the day didn’t end up going exactly how you wanted it to, you were happy because one thing was certain: Hobie liked you back, and that was all that mattered.

[artethyst]

~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister!Reader x OC

Little Ezekiel was not like his cousins.

Nyx, older only by two years, was cheerful and outgoing, curious like his mother and with an unbridled fearlessness just like his father.

Baby Thena, the youngest of the three, who had only just began to walk- toddle, already had the will of both her mother and father.

Cassian’s mischievous grin with Nesta’s piercing gaze.

Ezekiel, however, was just like Azriel.

He was very shy, in fact, he preferred to hide behind his mother’s legs and cling onto the shimmering skirts that pooled over them than chase after his cousins.

Rest his curly mop of raven hair against his father’s neck who was more than happy to scoop him up and carry him around, protective over the innocent child who had yet to be tainted by Prythian’s cruelties.

It was no secret Azriel preferred it that way, Rhysand and Cassian often teasing his parental axiety and overbearing behaviour, reminding him his son was an Illyrian after all.

Just as Illyrian as he had once been- delicate wings folded against his little back but with unblemished hands and love in his heart.

Azriel would keep it that way.

His Mate knew it was because of the innate fear of the Mother snatching his happiness away- as though he had never deserved it.

Ezekiel was a little miracle.

Not only were Fae children rare, the dangerous birth had put his mother in a coma, and him confined to the Healer’s for the first month of his wavering life.

It was the worst time of Azriel’s centuries long existence.

If he had been protective before, he was a hundred times worse now

When the other children played, Ezekiel was happy to curl up in another adult’s lap, to which many of them had no qualms, as Ezekiel was just the “cutest” according to Mor- a tiny version of his father that the Inner Circle could squeeze and smother with kisses.

Feyre often scolded Nyx for dragging the poor boy around, but Ezekiel held no grudges, a small blush on his face as his cousin tugged him along ranting on about whatever a child of his age had to rant about.

But now it was time for him to leave the nest.

The one his parents has so throughly wound.

“Ezekiel,” his mother bent down to his eye level, twinkling hazel eyes wide and scared. “Mama will be back soon okay?”

The little boy’s lip wobbled and tiny fists came to rub at his eyes which quickly filled with tears. His silent sobs broke her heart, Madja had always said he was an easy baby, like his father.

And even now- when he cried, he tried to hide it.

It worried her- that he would never throw a tantrum or openly seek comfort- but hide it as though he was ashamed to feel.

He choked back little cries as his mother had to force away her own.

She hated to think her little boy felt the need to internalise his feelings- especially from her.

Azriel had assured her it was okay- that he had been that way too, even when his own mother had shown him nothing but love.

“You’ll have lots of fun my Little Shadow,” she pressed a deep kiss to his wet cheek, gently brushing away his tears, trying not only to convince him but herself. “Nyx will be with you-“

“Yepppp! Come on ‘Zekiellllll!” His cousin’s voice sang in anticipation, not understanding why the boy was so reluctant to play with toys and read funny picture books all day.

Ezekiel continued to cry and so his mother picked him up, cradling him against her chest as he sobbed without restraint.

Unusual for such a well-behaved child such as he.

“D-Don’t leave me mama!” He wept. “I-I pwomise I’ll be good p-pwease don’t give me away!”

Her heart broke as he trembled and her free hand came to stroke at his curls, the way she had done to comfort her own husband many a time.

“I would never give you away my darling, and you have not been bad,” she smoothed his raven locks, “you are a big boy now, just like Nyx. You are old enough go and play with all other children-“

“I not a big boy I-I still a baby!” He cried and that was when his father appeared, face just as torn as his mother’s.

The boy did not giggle as he usually did when his father’s shadows came to tickle against his cheek, his cries coming out in small hiccups as she looked to Azriel in pure misery.

He wordlessly plucked the child from her arms, his own chest tightening at the sound of his only child’s pained cries- crying under the belief he was being abandoned.

Azriel had vowed his child would never feel the way he had, unloved and nothing but a burden the Mother was so cruel to burden the equally dismal world with.

His Mate had changed that outlook.

And now his greatest treasure- a part of them both, homage to their fiery passion and proof the Shadowsinger was indeed capable of love.

Ezekiel continued to cry as Azriel’s shadows were equally as unsettled, trying their best to cheer up the little boy who quivered so violently, he might have fallen from his father’s arms had the older male’s grip been so secure.

He would rather suffer burns across his entire flesh- take Truthteller to his heart than have his son feel unwanted.

“You know that your mother and I love you- more than anything. More than the sky above.”

Ezekiel sniffed, his little head nodding pathetically as best it could smushed into Azriel’s chest.

“You are our little star Ezekiel. You are the most precious thing to us- in all of Prythian. We would never let anything or anyone harm you, you never have to be afraid of the world as long as I am here.”

Feyre stood in the distance- letting her brother-in-law share the moment with his son, knowing just how heartbroken Rhys was at the same situation.

The difference was, Nyx hardly gave him a second glance- sprinting into the unfamiliar building with a new sense of reverence and promise of adventure.

“D-Daddy stay?” The boy became hopeful as Azriel shook his head, running a hand lovingly through his son’s inherited locks- a sense of pride and indescribable love overwhelming him at the sight.

Before he could come up with some semblance of comfort, Feyre saved the day. Pressing a wet kiss to her nephew’s cheek with an infectious smile on her warm face.

It wasn’t that she thought her own sister incapable, she just knew the poor woman was just as worried as Azriel.

Their forced smiles and glossy eyes hardly convincible even to a child.

“Hmmm, a little shadow told me that Uncle Cass has a surprise back home waiting for his best Spy…”

The boy paused, his little face red and besmirched with tears but an undeniable curiosity to his eye.

“Spies don’t cry Zekie!” Nyx chimed in as his mother sent him a gentle look of reprimand. “Come onnnnn, the faster we get home, the faster we get the suprise!”

“You like painting, don’t you Ezekiel?” Feyre continued, distracting the boy enough for him to perk up in curiosity, loosening his little balled fisted grip on his father’s leathers. “Would you like me to show you the art room?”

Azriel- albeit reluctantly, lowered his son to the ground, gently encouraging him towards Feyre who happily received his little hand in hers.

The Shadowsinger took his Mate into his arms as replacement, the loss of his son weighing heavy even on his own marred heart.

The boy had never once been out of their sight for so long.

And as Feyre guided him into the Nursery, her sister mouthing a watery ‘thank you’ as a tear cascaded down her cheek, Azriel couldn’t help but let one of his own slip as Ezekiel passed through the doors and out of his sight.

Hesitant in his little steps, but with his cousin there to help him along.

Just as Rhysand had done for his father.

[theemporium]

Can I request a smut Berry daiquiri with eddie munson and steve harrington.

With the prompt: “i’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head.”

Thank you!!😍😘

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

6. “I am going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head.” 

.

In your defence, you didn’t think a bit of harmless flirting would piss them off this much.

You hadn’t even flirted back, if you were being completely honest. The man was just a shameless customer who seemed more interested in chatting you up rather than picking up whatever movie he had entered Family Video for. It was sloppy work, something that would hardly woo you. 

If anything, you thought it was funny.

But the boys didn’t seem to hold the same sentiment. 

Steve stood behind the counter, the clock ticking closer to the end of his shift and his patience ticking closer to being nonexistent as he watched the customer shamelessly check you out when you turned around to grab a movie for him. Eddie was no better, sitting on the counter and watching the whole interaction with his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened into a glare.

The man had eventually realised he wasn’t getting lucky, grabbing whatever movie he had shown up for and bringing it to the counter. He was lucky that Steve had enough self-restraint to not smack him over the head with it. Or reach over the counter to do something stupid. Like try to fight him.

But their bad mood was clear as the three of you piled into Eddie’s van, you stuck between both boys as the three of you silently drove to Steve’s house. Honestly, you assumed they were upset. And you did feel bad, your apology ready and on the tip of your tongue as the three of you climbed out and headed into the house. 

You hadn’t expected them to be jealous. 

And you hadn’t expected them to be absolutely relentless in reminding you just who you belong to.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Eddie mused, something dark and promising in his voice as he ran his fingers through your hair, pushing your hair away from your face as you gasped and choked with every thrust. “Tell us what he said. Tell us what made you giggle and bat your eyelashes like a lil’ attention whore.”

“I–” You whined as you nuzzled your face into his hand, the air leaving your lungs with Steve’s relentless pace behind you. You could barely remember your name at the moment, let alone whatever the fuck the man had said to you in the store. “Fuck.”

“Hm, that doesn’t seem right, does it, Steve?” Eddie commented with a mocking pout, his words patronising and mean and, fuck, if it didn’t make you squeeze around Steve’s dick deep inside you. “Pretty sure he said more than that.” 

You whined, your head dropping to Eddie’s thigh as you nosed the bulge in his boxers. 

Eddie only grinned in delight at the sight of you already so needy and fucked out for them. 

“Oh, look at her,” Steve groaned as he crowded over you, his cock deep inside you and his body covering yours as he lightly squeezed your cheeks to turn your head towards him. “I am going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head. Maybe then you’ll have enough room to beg for Eddie’s cock, hm?” 

You could only whimper in response, already halfway there and so ready for both their cocks.

.

[yandere-sins]

Underneath the Christmas Tree

You and König got into a fight when you realized what time of the year it was. He tries to make it up to you.

Characters: Yandere!König x Reader Fandom: Call of Duty Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Violence, Building Stockholm Syndrom, Mentions of being tied up/ropes

a/n: Late as can be, but my little present to you guys! I hope that everyone got to eat yummy food and experience joy regardless of celebrations last year ♥ (Translations to the German words are below!)

"Mein Herz... are you awake?"

Sometimes, you wondered how a man of his stature could make so little noise. You were never able to notice him until he had already crept up to you. It had always been this way. You felt like you had only just closed your eyes, barely dozing off, when he startled you with his presence next to you. After all the screaming and crying, you had managed to scare him off, but it felt like only minutes had passed since he left.

The rope around your wrist tightened as you stirred, startled by his voice and the touch of his palm at your cheek, his thumb caressing you gently as you were torn out of your sleep. You felt groggy and tired, but almost instantly, the irritation with him returned to your mind, mixing with the pain as the rope cut into your skin.

However, even with your eyes wide open, your mind needed a moment to focus, the room having turned darker than it was a few minutes ago. Had it really been minutes? Or hours? Did you fall asleep for the whole day, exhausted from your outburst?

You cursed under your breath, your mouth dry like sand. More pain shot through your arms as you tried to move, your expression twisting when König's chest suddenly hovered over you, his gloved fingers dancing all over your hands and arms, too anxious to touch but too scared to keep you in pain.

"Here, let me," he mumbled, concentrating on the knot he made. Even he had to focus when undoing his own work, his methods too skilled for even his own good. But the relief, as your arms sacked to the mattress of his bed, was almost too good; your body lulled back into relaxing now that the strain subsided. Your eyes were already closing when he spoke up, alerting you to the danger you were in.

"Better?" König asked, almost sounding smug about it like he expected to hear praise from you for doing the right thing. It would have almost shown his compassion had it not been him who put you into the restraint in the first place.

"Guess," you contered, and you two fell into silence as you stared at each other. The fabric covering his face made his eyes all the more piercing in the moonlight shining in through the window. He was the first to avoid his eyes—a meaningless victory with a man who went from Colonel to shy schoolboy at the sight of your face on the regular.

"I thought about what you said, and I think you're right."

"The bit about Christmas? Ugh..."

Pulling your arms to your chest, you felt the heaviness that had settled into your muscles, which had been a few hours long enough to make them stiff as boards. You examined your bruised and swollen, at times bloody, wrists as good as you could in the moonlight, but feeling the wet smears on your fingers and the burn of pain when you inspected them, you eventually resigned to sitting up and resting them in your lap.

It wasn't long before König reached out to have a look at your wrists as well, gently turning them over a few times to take note of all the damage he had done to you, every fiber of your being blaming him and refusing to take even an ounce of it despite the fact you were the one fighting against the ropes that he put you in. Everything was his fault, and you had no problem telling him that at every chance you got.

"Yeah... about your family and traditions."

This was new.

Usually, König would try to change the subject as best as he could when it became uncomfortable for him—and all your complaints and demands, reasonable as they were, were uncomfortable. König always found ways to try and tell you how much better this situation was without really confirming or denying your feelings, even though his attempts at convincing you otherwise were fruitless. So, hearing him talk about what he desperately tried to avoid... was new. Progress.

"So you'll let me go?"

Silence. Wringing his hands in his lap after releasing yours, König stared at the floor beneath his feet, sitting on the edge of the bed like a scolded puppy. "No..." he mumbled, and you felt the surprise turn back into anger, your body finding the strength to straighten up and get ready to argue again.

"But!" he intercepted, noticing the changes in you and holding up a finger to silence you before you could explode at him again. "Schatz, hear me out before you say something, bitte!"

"Go on then..."

It was hard to keep your composure when what you really would have liked to attempt was to tear his head off in any way possible. Somewhere under the obvious shirt he was wearing, there must have been a head you could either curse at or try to break the neck off. However, you refrained, a small part of you still hoping to find a peaceful solution that would let you escape unscathed. You were at a physical disadvantage, and hurting his feelings had never been a very wise choice either. For someone who quickly became overwhelmed and shy around you, König was an expert at kidnapping and stringing you up, knocking you out, and putting his hands where they didn't belong. Even if he seemed to regret his outbursts afterward.

"I can't let you go, I just... It's not possible. It's not safe. I hope you can understand that I can't do it."

Opening your mouth was all that was needed to have König scramble, his words tumbling over each other as he tried to form his thoughts into a sentence. One that would soothe you. One that would put him into good graces with you. Sometimes you wondered if he forgot how to be the scary guy that kidnapped you. Who stood still and menacing by your side, watching you sleep without an ounce of shame or manners. But then again, you were glad that bruises and self-inflicted wounds were all you had to suffer from. Even if he tried to be gentle, you knew his hands could cause more harm than good to you. The thought of what all they could ruin was more terrifying than being kidnapped was.

"But- I- Well, I thought we- I'm your family now, so... About today— Scheiße... Christmas, I can give you that."

"Christmas?" Cocking your eyebrow, you watched him nervously crush his thumb in his palm, unable to maintain eye contact with you even though König kept glancing at you from the corners of his eyes.

"It's been a while for me, so it's probably not much. But I... I want to show you I care—about you! About us. I didn't consider that these holidays would mean so much to you, and I'm sorry."

König got up before you could think of a reply. He barely turned towards you, his body tense, hands curled into fists. Nervous. You knew all the telltale signs of his anxiety, considering there was nothing better to do in his apartment than to study him when he was around and you two weren't fighting. But this time, as secretive as he was, it made you almost curious as to why.

"If you want to, you can come to the living room. I'd be happy if you did."

With that, he left the bedroom, leaving you behind with the door wide open. You knew the layout of his small apartment, but you were contained in this room most of the time without the chance of walking through this door without König. Apprehensive, you got out of bed, feeling the cold floor underneath your feet, causing you to tense. Your soles tingled, almost burning from the cold, and you hesitated. It felt wrong to walk around freely, even though it was what you desired most. Freedom.

You had to cross the hallway to get to the living room, passing by the bath and entrance door. This all felt unreal. Like König was going to stand behind you any second now, asking where you were going and dragging you back to his bed, chaining you up and leaving you there to scream and cry. But he wasn't. You could hear him moving around in the living room—probably pacing—wondering if you were going to come.

There was much to consider. Did you need to use the toilet? Take a shower? Was the front door unlocked?

Your brain was screaming Idiot! at you for even thinking you could make a run for it. But you'd never give up the fight, you swore yourself. Even when you knew he'd easily catch up to you, knock you out, and tie you up, dragging you back to the apartment. You still reached for the door handle, pushing it down and giving it a firm tug!

...

The sturdy lock held on tight to the door, and you wondered what you were expecting.

Your hand fell to your side, and you took a step back. The disappointment and frustration were mere zaps going through your body, not even enough to sway you. What did you expect? That König would leave it open? After all that he did to you?

When you looked up at the living room door, your eyes met his, sparks of hurt hiding in the shadows over his face, disappearing the second König turned away, returning to the living room and leaving you alone again. As if he couldn't bear to watch a second more of your betrayal. There was no need to speak about what happened, about the feelings going through both of you. Neither of you talked about the taboo that the front door upheld—you, the prisoner, and he, your kidnapper and stalker. A love leading to nothing but suffering and destruction. He left the scene after making sure you were safe. That was all that mattered, even if your attempt to leave cut deep into his heart.

A quiet, surrendering sigh escaped you before you turned towards the living room once more. The bath was still an option. You could have gone there, locked the door, taken a shower, and hid from your captor until he couldn't bear it anymore and removed the door that separated you two. But fighting him this morning had worn you down, so provoking and refusing something seemingly harmless like an invitation to the living room seemed silly even to you. Certainly, it would have hurt König, and you liked that idea, but what about yourself? Could you have lived with what hurting him would have meant for you?

Deep inside yourself, you realize you were just trying to justify your curiosity. Escaping would always be your number one priority, but at the same time, you couldn't help being curious about what he had prepared. Being locked in the same room day in and day out was so boring, and even if it was a setup for disappointment, it was still better than pouting by yourself in the bath, trying to fight him for no other reason than spite and hurting both of you in the process.

But you didn't tell yourself that. You told yourself it was an order from him, and you didn't want to be punished for disobeying. That was enough to justify your actions to yourself rather than admit that you were curious about something he did. You led yourself along the wall, hesitant but complacent with König's wishes—at least for now. Just for today.

Warm lights enveloped you the moment you stepped into the doorframe. Christmas lights - green, yellow, red - twinkled from a string of lights pinned to the ceiling, while the old (although decorated with fake greenery) lamp added a cozy, warm glow. The table was decorated with a table runner, candles, little pine cones, and a big wreath with burning candles, plates and cutlery set like you'd see in a restaurant.

Most surprisingly, however, was the Christmas tree set up next to the couch. Given it was barely the size from the floor to your hips. But König had perched the tree on a little stool and hung it with baubles and little figure ornaments like a nutcracker and Santa Claus' hat. It was nowhere near tidy or uniform like you knew from home, with different colors mixing and not always going well with each other. It seemed like it had been hastily put together with whatever he could grab. But in its odd way, it was an endearing sight to behold.

Underneath it, wrapped presents in various shapes piled, their wrapping paper glistening in the lights. Some were easy to figure out, like books. But others had a generic box shape that wasn't very precise on what the present would be. Honestly, you were astounded, barely able to say anything with your mouth open in surprise. König never had a lot of decoration around his home, and standing in an all-out Christmas wonderland was almost uncomfortable after getting used to white walls and unintentional minimalism.

On the other hand, König looked so out of place, like a black hole in the middle of a Christmas market. He stopped pacing—moving, entirely so—the moment your presence came into view. There was a moment of awkward silence between you two, his hands tensing and relaxing, ever so often curling into fists as he waited for you to say something.

"So, do you like-?"

"Wow, that's-"

More awkward silence followed as you both started and stopped your sentences. But eventually, it was König who broke it, stepping aside and inviting you in with a slight wave of his hand. "I hope you like it. I didn't have much time, so it's messy. Probably not how you'd do it, but next year, we can do it how you want to. We could go shopping or—"

Cutting himself off, he seemed to be biting his own tongue. There was no guarantee that you'd have a next year. That you'd go out with him to buy decorations or you two would be close enough to celebrate like this again. Nothing was truly certain in this weird relationship you had.

But he tried. He really did.

And it almost made you cry.

"I... uhm," you quickly turned away when you heard your own voice shake, wiping at your eyes and praying that this strange feeling of happiness that overcame you would pass, returning your anger and defiance to you instead. "It's... alright. It's fine."

That was a lie. It was not fine; not alright. It was wrong. Downright awful and manipulative. You should have been hating on it, cursing him out for trying to take advantage of your longing to make himself look better. It was cruel and heartless, and you liked the feeling of normalcy so much that you wished it would stay forever. At that moment, you wished he was your boyfriend that you loved, and you were just a couple celebrating the holidays. A moment of normalcy was worth more than your defiance. And it made you hate the person you felt yourself becoming in that stupid Christmas room.

König's shoulders lost some of their tension, his equivalent of a smile. This time, when he waved you closer, focusing on the tree he had put up, he seemed excited. "Komm!" he said, and you felt your heart leap with the same excitement that swung in his voice, his happiness contagious. Saying "it's fine" seemed to have been enough for him, König being ever so undemanding when it came to your affection.

König knelt next to the tree, still just as tall as it despite being brought down a notch, patting the couch beside him. You tiptoed your way around the man, half expecting him to jump up and attack you as you passed by his back, but he didn't. Taking a seat, you curiously stretched your neck to see what he was doing. After briefly combing through the presents, König picked out one wrapped in green, glittery paper, handing it to you before sitting down on the floor at your feet, watching you expectantly.

You could feel the book's hardcover without seeing it, glancing at König briefly before unwrapping it. Forthcame the cover of the last book you had been reading before your life went downhill. It wasn't the same copy, still smelling new, and its spine wasn't broken from being read in awkward positions. For a moment, it felt unreal that he would know how much you had longed to learn how it ended, thinking about it a lot in the most boring of afternoons. But then it reminded you of how he tore you out of your life and destroyed it with his actions. How was this a small compensation for all the bad things?

But you'd still read it.

Pressing it to your chest, you swallowed back the tears, giving a fake yet confident nod of approval. Your body language was good enough for König, even if he noticed the hints of tears in your eyes, and he handed you the next present with an encouraging hum. You went through many more wrapped presents like this—more books, movies, sweets, a back warmer and a teddy bear, and so many more things you enjoyed. You eventually ended up on the ground next to König, your knees touching while you were occupied with opening and awing at all your presents.

It was just you two, and the apartment was quiet but peaceful, unlike the constant screaming and pain that usually resided in it. The bitter truth was that despite being unusual, things could almost look normal.

So when he slipped his hand over yours, and you didn't flinch away, the silence felt more awkward than it felt right. It was like two lovers exchanging a moment of gentle togetherness in a world that was so cruel to them—a world you weren't in voluntarily but a world that König wanted this way. You couldn't bear it. Bear the thought of this being acceptable.

So you pulled away, hugging the teddy bear in your lap and looking at the pile of gifts. "I've got nothing for you," you commiserated, politeness being the only thing you could procure to avoid destroying the peace you two had for once.

"I've got all I need," König replied gently, and you forced yourself to look back at him. His gaze was soft, lights sparkling in his eyes as they moved from you to his hand, reaching out to you once more. He was getting greedy, pushing your boundaries for just one more touch. "Just you and me, right here. Under the Christmas tree. I'll not ask for more than that from you."

It would have been the perfect moment to rebuke him, to hurt him and stab the figurative knife into his heart by telling him you didn't feel this way. It would have been enough to tell him how you felt truthfully that you still hated him. But for some reason, you remained silent, allowing him this moment of disillusionment that you two were finally warming up to each other.

It was simply too painful to admit to yourself that you were.

"Are you hungry?"

König snapped out of it faster than you. Unusual as he could be quite stuck in his lovey-dovey ways. "I got us takeout; just have to reheat it. I hope you like Christmas food because I got us everything."

Heaving his body forward, he got back on his knees but hesitated for a moment before standing up. You didn't look at him or say anything, tensing when you heard his breath next to your ear. His actions made you want to fight him again, every fiber of your being rejecting him and his ideas of love. But not on that day. Maybe you didn't want to ruin it, no matter how disgusted you were with him and yourself.

The kiss that fell on top of your head lingered for seconds too long. It was as if he was trying to get on your nerves, though more realistically, he was merely basking in the opportunities you granted him. His lips felt gross despite your hair and his mask being in the way. Yet you let him.

"Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz," he uttered into the kiss before finally pulling away, standing up and heading straight for the kitchen. Soon, the room was filled with the smells of a roast in the oven and sides cooking on the stove while you remained where you were, sitting there like an unopened present waiting for him to return.

Your face burned as your heart swelled with affection for the man you hated the most. The man who gave you what you wanted despite having to scramble to pull off a Christmas like no other. Who loved you unconditionally. Loved you so much despite all the bad things you said to him. Who would move the world to make you happy, even though he refused to do it under normal circumstances. The only person you had left who cared so much about you, stalking you to the point of knowing the kinds of books you liked, movies, treats, and your favorite things, presenting them all to you for just a moment by your side in return.

You were disgusted and appalled by everything and yourself. But without realizing it, you started to question your feelings for König as you hid your face in the soft, plush body of his gift.

And what more could he ask for as a present than you—in doubt and foolishly falling in love with the idea of him in your head—underneath his Christmas tree?

Mein Herz - My heart Schatz - Treasure (Equivalent to nicknames like Dear/Darling/Love) Bitte - Please Scheiße - Shit Komm - Come (in this context like “Come here”) Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz - Merry Christmas, my Love

[bekmadethis]

You know how the TMNT “don’t even use their weapons” in the 87 run?

You’ve got to acknowledge the control and restraint it takes for Leo and Raph to raise weapons frequently shown to be capable of slicing through metal like butter and manage to avoid making the villains of the week bleed in scuffles.

There’s always an argument to be had over how deadly the 1987 marshmallows actually are. It doesn’t help their case that when it comes up in any cross-dimensional episodes that work their way into a run that they’re played off as a bunch of lazy goofballs.

In the very first episode of 1987 TMNT Raphael attacks a foot soldier (and this stab looks directed under the rib cage, for the heart, that is a death blow) resulting in a metallic sound, to which he responds “Clang? Did you say clang?” and Leo lands a would-be fatal abdominal blow to a foot soldier to confirm they’re fighting robots. That other guy could have had hidden armour, Leo doesn’t know he’s fighting a robot yet, but would have outright killed this guy to gain the information. Mike and Donnie only leap into actual offensive attack mode after they realise there’s no risk of taking a life, which tells me they know they’re absolutely capable of it and were hesitating to engage.

I’m just not convinced they couldn’t hold their own in the 2012 world the way they were depicted, or are as incompetent as they’re so often painted. They’re naive and silly, it’s soft and fun and then Donatello murders an exact sentient clone of himself with his personality and memories (REAL). I just think there’s more to them than their cream-puff legacy.

[musicalslugs]

Grace and the Lords in Black: an analysis.

Okay, so, this may be obvious; although I haven’t seen anyone mention this as of yet. The link between Grace Chastity and the Lords in Black is clear, I mean we’ve all agreed that she seems to be like that, and Dirty Dudes must Die highlights her “corruption” plainly.

That being said! I think there may be more.

Firstly, the Lords in Black mention/talk to Grace first, before Peter and Stephanie (the arguable proper protagonists of this story).

Sure, Blinky’s motif is obvious, it’s of eyes, of watching and of observation. But to speak to Grace first, even if it seems (on the surface level) that it’s just to flex their omniscience and make her uncomfortable, is a little strange. Especially since they then speak mostly (only) to Steph for the rest of the song [The Summoning].

Secondly, because if that were all this wouldn’t be a very good analysis, we have her (Grace) and Nibbly being echoes of eachother.

“Swallow” and “devour” are synonymous. Both fit into Nibbly’s motif of consumption. Now, Grace could’ve said anything. Absorb, harness, control etc. I think the wording here is particular. Not exactly the same, but clearly within the same ball park.

What is exactly the same though, is Grace Chastity and Wiggly.

This may seem a bit out of left field at first, but hear me out.

In The Summoning, it is said that “Wiggly wants his Wrath”, Wrath is a vice, a sin. It may not be the exact opposite of Chastity, however Chastity is to do with restraint, whereas Wrath is very much, not so. Moreover, Wrath can be defined as ‘a great anger that expresses itself in a desire to punish someone’. Now… who else could be described as wrathful? Obviously Max. And Grace. I mean, her song is called Dirty Dudes must Die. As well as being a direct reflection of Max, it implies that she wants to harm someone. Punish someone though? Well, yes. Grace says “This is the consequence of what you’ve done!” - she must believe that death is a worthy punishment for their actions (being ‘pervs’). Thus, Wrath.

Lastly, and this is where the exactly comes in, Grace and Wiggly both say the same things. (Again, of course, I could write another analysis on how Grace and Max reflect each other beautifully by also saying the same/extremely similar things) The difference between Grace saying similar things to Max, is that she and Wiggly aren’t similar. It’s the same.

Example A) Stephy / Stephie.

Upon rewatching Nerdy Prudes Must Die and listening to the album on repeat, I noticed that no one bar these two call Stephanie: Stephie. I know Grace calls Ruth, Ruthy and Peter, Petey- so her calling Stephanie, Stephie, makes sense linguistically. That doesn’t take from the fact that Wiggly is the only other ‘person’ to use that particular moniker.

Example B) “bloody bits”

A particularly strange phrase that these two say. However, not really. The point of this analysis is to point out the links between the Lords in Black and Grace Chastity, specifically Wiggly and Grace. By pointing out the parallels in their idiolects, I have come to the conclusion that they are not only linked but INCREDIBLY similar.

Both are characters that use cutesy, almost childish language (“mommy spot” / “belly-well”) to disguise the violence, the wrath that lays beneath the surface. Wiggly (as shown in Black Friday) uses it as a facade. Throughout Black Friday and throughout The Summoning, he expresses himself as non-threatening (“We’re all pally-wals.” etc) before eventually showing what’s beneath the surface (“..deck the fucking halls!” / “We don’t give a shit about your phone!”). Both times are as abrupt as each other, showing that Wiggly has a fairly short temper. Grace doesn’t necessarily have a short temper, instead she has periods of ‘sin’, when stressed: Dirty Girl, calling “God a son of a B-Word”, smoking (after), having sex with Max, the scene of her ordering hot water etc etc. The visage, her carefully constructed facade, slips. Wether it’s because deep down she doesn’t believe in God (possibly shown in her “are you religious?” conversation with Shapiro), or that due to her upbringing she’s being confined, restrained, controlled, and this is when her ‘true self’ begins to peer through the cracks.

Either way, these are two characters who use similar themes (one of childishness, the other of purity/innocence (which can also be linked to childishness)) to cover their violence, their real selves.

Uhhh- anyway, watch Nerdy Prudes must Die on Youtube- it gave me brain worms.

[kingkat12]

affair (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), dub-con, Roman using his powers for bad shit, angst, cheating, toxic relationship, justice for Peter omg

summary: when your ex-boyfriend shows up at your door, how are you supposed to push him away?

word count: 5,136

"No, please!-- We need to talk!" 

Roman forced a foot in my door to make sure I wouldn't close it on him. He was wet from the rain, his usually styled hair sticking to his forehead as he panted, desperately pleading for me to hear him out. "I made a huge mistake," he breathed, regret glossing over his green eyes. "Could you please just hear me out?"

This was definitely not the most ideal situation to be in-- my boyfriend, Peter, had just left my apartment to go home and get ready for his early shift, so I had gotten ready for bed. And I certainly wouldn't be dressed in my pyjamas and slippers had I known that my ex would show up at my door looking beyond frantic. My mind raced with uncertainty, filled with endless questions and doubt; what was he doing here? Was he drunk? Why was he doing this now, after two months of being broken up? "You-- You need to go," I didn't have the time or energy to deal with the mess Roman always dragged back into my life, especially now that I was finally happy with someone else.

Worst of all, I knew for a fact that Roman had someone else too. I knew he was seeing some woman with long, blonde hair whom I refused to stalk for my own good, so why on earth was he here? The question lingered in my mind, but I had to remind myself about the one thing I had the answer to at the moment; I needed to close the door on him now. 

Upon hearing my words of rejection and feeling the door press up on his foot in an attempt to force him out, Roman wedged his arm between the door. "Let me explain," he pleaded, chest heaving. "I just ran seventeen blocks in the fucking rain to see you, could you at least spare me a minute?"

As if that was enough of a justification to show up out of the blue? "No one asked you to do that. I certainly did not," To say that I was pissed off was an understatement, but Roman's pleading eyes were making me sick with guilt. He looked like a lost puppy of sorts, and it was certainly not helping my restraint. The hand I had on my doorknob felt like it was starting to lose blood because of how hard I was holding on-- I couldn't let him in. I shouldn't let him in. 

"I know," Roman eventually said, moving his wet hair out of his eyes. "I know you don't want to see me, but I just... I needed to see you."

"... I think you should go back to your girlfriend," I started to push at his shoe with my slipper, preparing to slam the door in his face. "You shouldn't be here."

It didn't take long for Roman to figure out what I was doing, and it became apparent that he wasn't going to go down without a fight. It didn't take much strength for him to grab the door, forcing it wide open, staring down at me with a damning look of desperation I hadn't seen in any man before. "Just a minute," he breathed. "Please let me say my piece. If I don't, I swear I'll die."

I didn't enjoy this one bit-- coming to my doorstep, threatening to die if I didn't comply? I had forgotten how manipulative he could be. Being with Peter had shown me that Roman's behavior in our relationship had been beyond toxic, and I could see it clearer than ever as he stood before me now. "You're not going to fucking die," I grumbled, feeling myself grow annoyed with how he was throwing himself back into my life, completely uninvited. "Roman, it's almost midnight, maybe this manic behaviour of yours will go away with a good night of sleep?"

Frustrated, Roman tapped his fingers against the door. "Now you're just making it hard, as always,"

"And you're being crazy, as always," I mumbled, shifting my weight from foot to foot, a sense of restlessness taking over my stance. "Could you please leave? We did this back-and-forth thing months ago, I'm not interested in doing it all over again."

In true Roman fashion, standing face to face with rejection, he didn't know what to say or do. I could recognize his patterns now that we weren't together, and it was so damn typical of him to attempt to distract me from what was making me mad; "I remember those," he said, nodding toward my slippers. "Good to see you've kept them."

I knew he was distracting me, so why did it work? Sighing, I shrugged; "They were expensive... Wasn't going to throw them away just because you picked them out,"

Letting go of the door, knowing he had tranquilized the danger of getting it slammed in his face, Roman leaned against the frame in a James Dean-esque fashion. He let out a dragged-out breath, eyes rounding out; "I've missed you,"

His words snapped me out of my daze, and I immediately pulled away from the door with a groan. "Ugh, Roman, you need to go!" I turned my back to him, walking further into my apartment, my instincts telling me to get as far away as possible. "I'm finally happy with Peter, and you have no right to show up at my door just because you're bored!--" My trail of words came to a halt as I suddenly heard my door close; I knew I was fucked in an instant. My heart trembled at the recognition of the sound of the lock turning, realizing I was in for a long night. Fuck. I turned around, holding my breath, watching as he took wary steps towards me. 

"One minute," Roman said, voice low and unsteady. "That's all I ask." 

"No!" I took a few steps back, not daring to get too close. "You can't be here! This is completely inappropriate, Roman, I have a boyfriend! And I know you have a girlfriend too, along with a huge fucking drinking problem!" 

Roman sighed, a silent declaration of his frustration. "I'm not drunk," he said, gaze falling to the floor. "I just... I've come to realize that I can't live like this anymore. I want to be with you."

I clenched my fists tightly in a futile attempt to quell my agitation, but my hands continued to shake. "That's too bad," I said, a sinking feeling taking hold and clinging to me. "I'm not doing this with you again. I'm not getting up in the middle of the night to look for you, wondering whether you're either dead or drunk in some alley. Not when I have Peter."

Exhaustion drugged Roman's movements, every movement slow, every breath. It was clear that the mention of Peter was an unpleasant reminder that we were over; his shoulders slumped, the weight of guilt settling upon them. "I haven't had a drink since the day you left me," he said, his sincere eyes finding mine. "I want to be good for you... I want you. Every second of every day." 

At this point, I had taken so many steps back that I had hit the wall. It was getting a little harder to breathe, and I ended up hyperventilating-- I couldn't do this. I could still feel Peter on my shirt. Everything about this was wrong. "You need to stop," I breathed, stepping away from the wall and wandering further into my living room as I grew restless. "Please stop. Don't do this to me."

To my dismay, Roman only followed; "I'll leave her," he pleaded. "I'll leave her if you tell me to, I'll do whatever you want! I should've fought for us, I should've done so many things that I didn't do... It keeps me up at night that I let you go. I can't sleep, I can't function, I need you to know how this pains me!"

"No, I don't need to know that!" My steps came to a halt, and I pivoted on the heel of my slipper to face him. "You put me through hell, and now think you can just show up like this! Don't you think I have enough emotional baggage from you? You think I don't have enough or something, so you come here to unload some more? What the fuck am I to you, a loading dock?!"

Roman let out a harsh sigh; "Is that a serious question?" he asked, brows weaving together in frustration. "You are everything. I see that now!"

I was already exhausted from the day I had just had, and I barely had any energy left to fight with Roman. This was what we did-- we fought, we fucked, then we made up. However, this time was completely different, and it was throwing me off my course; we couldn't fuck and make up this time. But it was clear that he hadn't shown up to fight, so what on earth was this?

"Well, it's too damn late!" I groaned loudly, hiding my face in the palm of my hands. This was way too overwhelming. When the love of your life shows up at your door telling you everything you've ever wanted to hear, you want to rejoice-- not cry? My eyes burned with the tears that begged to be set free, distorting my vision as I lifted my face from my hands, unveiling that I was swimming in tears. "Do you not see what you do to me?" I breathed, sniffling. "Did you come here to drive me to tears? Do you have no remorse, Roman?"

Roman's lips parted, the worried look on his face revealing everything, his concern written all over. In the quiet moments that followed, the only sound was the echoing resonance of regret filling the space between us with its haunting presence. Our unsaid words were scattered in the air, and it felt like I was suffocating from every apology he could muster up. 

"Let me be happy," I begged, swallowing hard. "Leave now and let me forget. I'm happy with Peter... Please."

It was clear that Roman was debating whether or not to comply. His conscience was gnawing at him-- I knew him well enough to be able to spot the signs. I hated how familiar he was, how it felt like we hadn't been apart at all, like it was yesterday that he had made me feel things I never knew I could feel. The feeling of pure bliss had been like a drug that Roman constantly pumped into me, making me a complete and utter junkie. It had resulted in me falling for him despite how beyond bad he was for me. 

I remembered it all too well. The binge drinking that would go on for days, which often had him disappearing off of the face of the earth. His wandering green eyes used to leave me with such crippling anxiety, I would spend hours crying with a lingering feeling of nausea in my throat. He used to make me so, so sick in every possible way, and my body remembered it better than I did. 

However, I could also sense that something had changed. Here he was; standing in my living room, drenched in rain, clinging onto his last slivers of hope, and I knew I was in for a good run of Roman-mania. 

Of course he would come back to claim what he thought was his. Of course he'd be arrogant enough to believe it would be okay, that I would take him back, and that it would be completely alright for him to come towards me with rushed steps, kissing me with desperation that I had never felt from him before.

Our bodies were pressed together heatedly, Roman's hands on my waist keeping me in place. I could taste our shared nervous breaths, feel the thud of my heart against his, and it was all too much-- I pushed him off of me, tears pooling in my eyes as they streaked down my cheeks. "No!" I cried, my words getting choked. I couldn't believe what he had just done; my heart was actively breaking at the thought of Peter, the loveliest boyfriend I had ever had. I couldn't do this to him. "Roman, you can't just!--"

I hated the warmth that spread in my chest as Roman pulled me back in, sparks igniting in the pool of my stomach as his impossibly perfect lips moved against mine once more. I balled my fist, landing a firm hit against his chest, fighting the ecstasy that always followed any kiss from Roman. But his grip around me was impossibly tight, not letting me budge. You'd think he'd been starved for months with the way he was kissing me with hunger unmatched any other moment I'd ever shared with him, completely taking my breath away. Like this, I could almost believe that I had been on his mind in every waking moment, ravaging through his veins like a burning ache-- I couldn't lie and say that he hadn't been on my mind either.

No one could match Roman; not even my sweet, sweet Peter. I hated it with every fiber of my being. 

The only thing I hated more, was that I never wanted him to stop. 

"No," I cried against his lips, my fingers gripping his wet shirt, bunching it up, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away once more. Was it maybe that he sensed how much I wanted this too that made him allow himself to continue?

Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating my apartment with a flash as my tears rolled down, mixing in with our kiss. No matter how wrong I knew this was, it felt like my soul was slowly leaving my body and giving itself to him once more; I knew I was dealing with a force outside of anything I could ever control. The love I had for Roman was all-consuming, crushing, devastating-- I could barely bring myself to fight him. "Stop," I breathed in between kisses. "Don't, Roman--"

My breath hitched as I realized my back was now pressed against the wall, and Roman pulled away barely an inch; I could feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath my nose, his fingers now moving through my hair as we breathed each other in. "Leave him," he whispered against my lips. "Let's try again."

My heart had become like melted wax in my chest, making it painful to breathe. "We'll crash and burn all over again," I breathed, feeling the salty traces of my tears on my lips. "We'll kill each other, you know this."

"Let me die by your hand, then," Roman connected our foreheads, closing his eyes. Like this, I could almost believe him, I really could-- he had actually missed me, hadn't he? "A death by you would be a death worth dying."

I felt my lower lip quiver in a sob; I wanted him more than anything in the world, and I had an inkling that he knew it better than I did. I couldn't allow myself to feel all the feelings I had bottled up in our time apart, knowing it would break me and lead me right back into his arms. 

But Roman was insistent-- "I love you," He whispered it as though it was a secret he had been keeping for a thousand years. I could barely accept that this was real; the words I had wanted from him our whole relationship were being spilled out like a consolation for my pain. 

I knew there was no reason for me to fight anymore; Roman knew me too well. He knew that this was all I had ever dreamed to hear, and he knew exactly how to use it against me. Unsure whether he was telling the truth or not, the emotions I had let fester deep within came rushing through the floodgates, making it impossible to do anything but feel; the love I had for him, the feelings that had never left me, the burning sensation of need and hope coursing through my veins. 

So, I didn't fight him when he kissed me once more. I didn't fight the arm he snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I didn't fight the rush I got from finally being reunited with him in this way; I had wanted his back mouth against mine since the second we were over. 

My conscience gnawed at me as Roman pressed himself up against me, but my guilt didn't hinder me from letting my fingers run through his wet hair, giving in to the engulfing infatuation I had with him. As his hungry kisses moved down my jawline and to my neck, I dared to inhale a shaky breath; I was getting dizzy from the rush of feeling him close to me like this, grabbing my waist, running his hands up my body as though he had no self-control at all. 

The inner corners of my brows turned up, giving in to the crushing feeling of relief and sadness, closing my eyes as I held him tightly against me. There was so much I wanted to say, to do, but I couldn't bring myself to push him away-- not when it felt this good. Not when his hands dipped beneath my shirt, grazing at my bare skin, drinking me in as though I was water. It didn't take long for Roman to get my shirt off of me, and I could taste our shared breath along with the thud of our combined heartbeat as it got tossed to the floor.

Roman's fingers pressed themselves into my skin, getting reacquainted after our time apart. I hadn't realized that I was tracing my hands up and down his arms, mindlessly relishing in the familiarity; I had missed him dearly, and I couldn't bring myself to lie about it any longer. My hands went back up into his hair as he kissed down my chest, my breaths getting short and choppy as I allowed myself to bask in the feeling of his lips against my body. 

"We shouldn't," I tried, the memory of my boyfriend lingering in the back of my mind.

Roman hummed against my skin, now kneeling before me. He grasped at my hips as he pressed a wet kiss against my lower abdomen, making my breath hitch. "Push me away, then," he murmured, his wet tongue tracing where he had just kissed me; it was impossible not to shiver. 

He knew he had control. He knew, that bastard knew so well-- I couldn't push him away. I was never able to do it before, so how was I supposed to do it now? I felt my tears dry up, the familiar ache between my legs pooling, threatening to run over. As if by instinct, my hips rose from the walls, begging for him to finally do something. 

Roman's grip on my hips tightened, pushing me back in place. Something about the growing smirk on his face had me questioning everything; what was I doing? Was this just a ploy for him to get laid? A big, dark part of me didn't care at this point. The fingers I had in his hair loosened as he hooked his fingers in my pyjama pants, dragging them down with a satisfied look on his face. Roman wasted no time, humming as he leaned forward to press a keening kiss against my dampening underwear.

My breath hitched, my back arching off the wall in a knee-jerk reaction-- I had missed this more than I should've. There was no passion like this with Peter, although he was sweet and considerate. But Roman was so all-taking, so consuming, I couldn't do anything other than let him do whatever he wanted to do to me. He pulled my underwear to the side, laving his tongue against me as I whimpered, tasting me. Roman's big hands grabbed my leg, forcing it over his shoulder, pushing himself closer to my sex with an aching need. 

"Roman," I tried, my guilt mixing in with the pleasure. "Don't--" All other words suddenly fled my mind as his lips sealed around my clit, sucking at me in a way that had me crying out in shock, my vision nearly turning black.

Just as I thought I would faint from the flood of emotions, Roman came back up after taking his time, breath heavy against my lips. "Still want me to go?"

My eyes glossed over, meeting his. Thunder and lightning struck outside again, lighting up my living room, and allowing me to see the traces of my slick around his mouth. Something about it was just too scandalous-- I couldn't believe any of this was happening. But we'd gone too far to go back now; "No," I breathed, slinging my arms around his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. 

As I tasted myself on his lips, Roman picked me up, and my legs automatically wrapped around him as they always had. He didn't need to watch where he was going as he knew my apartment almost as well as I did, walking away from the wall and laying me down on the couch with ease. 

It was hard to focus on the true nature of what was going on when it felt so damn good. Everything happened in a blur; I couldn't recall how or when Roman had lost his shirt, when my underwear got pulled off and discarded, or how I had allowed this to happen. Roman's cock pressed into me slowly, still trying to be sincere despite the complexion of our encounter. With every thrust, my chest arched up against his, back curving as I whimpered at the stretch. 

My hands rested on Roman's neck as he kissed me once more, stealing my breath with every roll of his hips. The part of me that was outraged with the both of us withered away as I continued to moan beneath him, coming out in broken cries. I couldn't focus on the infidelity I was committing when he was inside of me like this, his hands wrapped around me, moving me against him. 

"Fuck, I've missed this," Roman breathed against my neck, letting out a laboured sigh of satisfaction. "All of you... All of this..."

Everything about this was dizzying; maybe this was my mind playing tricks on me, maybe this was all some dirty dream? But I could feel myself clinging to him, wet and dripping-- there was no way this wasn't real. "Rome," I cried, the old nickname slipping past my lips. 

I could feel him give in to a shiver, ears perking up. "That's sweet," Roman kissed my cheek, driving his cock further into me as I whimpered, no longer used to his length like before. Even as he whispered my name, needing me, I briefly thought of how less intimidating he was at this moment-- this was the part of Roman that would show up in my dreams, caress my cheeks as I cried, and fall asleep on top of my chest after a long day, clinging to me. I had spent so much time resenting him, that it was weird to see him so... human. Desperate.

I let out a short gasp as I suddenly realized I was almost folded in half, my legs creasing at his arms. One thing hadn't changed; Roman would always take his liberties with me, no matter the circumstances. It somehow bothered me that I was being fucked with the same amount of love as before; did he have no guilt? No thoughts of his girlfriend at home?

Fuck-- Peter!

As I remembered my boyfriend, I felt my anxiety rise. My hand shot up to Roman's chest, lips parted, ready to protest and push him away-- but as I met his eyes, the green of his irises practically engulfed my being, and not a sound would come out of my mouth. "Shh, it's okay," Roman said, voice calm, reading my panic. "It's just me... It's okay."

Something about his voice was so calming, soothing, that a certain sense of relief washed over me-- I could recall several similar instances. This had happened before; it was almost as though a greater power controlled me every time I looked into his eyes for too long. 

The hand I had on his chest went up into his hair, pulling him forward to capture his lips in a kiss. I was caught off guard as Roman pulled out only till the tip of him remained, letting out a soft gasp against him as he pushed back into me to the hilt. I felt him hum against the kiss, sighing in satisfaction. "There you go," he said, words softer than ever. "Just relax, enjoy... Let me take care of you, just like I used to."

Despite how hard my guilt was eating at me, I still felt ridiculously calm, unable to do anything else than comply. I could only moan, shivering with pleasure at the feeling of being driven forward against the couch with every thrust. 

I wrapped my arms around Roman, kissing his broad shoulders, giving in to the pleasure. I had missed this, I had missed him... All my feelings started to ball up, crying out against his shoulder at the realization of what was about to happen. "Rome, I- I can't--"

"Gonna?" His question came out along with a grunt and another snap of his hips, repeatedly pushing himself into me. 

I couldn't hold it-- I really, really couldn't. Something about the nature of our get-together mixed in with my climax, and I let my head fall back down against the couch as I cried out. It was so hard, so intense, that I had forgotten to breathe; I hadn't had an orgasm like that since the day we broke up. 

I knew I was screwed. I knew it.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

As everything started to dawn on me, my breathing got heavier-- what had we done? I pulled myself closer to Roman on the bed, completely spent, seeking comfort from the person who had dragged me into this mess in the first place. 

Eventually, Roman broke the silence; "We should do porn," he mumbled, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

What? I looked up to glare at him; "Fuck you,"

"You just did," Roman smirked, glancing back at me with a rather proud expression on his face. "But I'm serious. We're damn hot."

I groaned; this was not what I needed to hear right now-- not after we had just finished round three. Roman reached out for me with his free hand, pulling me even closer, lazily running his fingers through my hair. I embraced him as I sniffled, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I was so tired, feeling my sore legs ache as I realized that up close, Roman's hair smelled like cigarettes as well. He might've quit drinking, but quitting cigarettes was a no-go in his book.

"We're horrible people," I mumbled, my words muffled up against his skin, taking in his presence. There were many times I had dreamed about us being reunited, but never that it would end up with me cheating on Peter.

Roman shrugged, turning to press a kiss against my temple. "I told you, I'm leaving her. We're fine," 

Nothing about this felt fine. I propped myself up on my elbow, watching him as he laid comfortably in my bed, almost done with his cigarette. Even after convincing me to commit such a heinous act against my boyfriend, he looked like an angel. Fucking Lucifer. "... Don't do it. Don't leave her."

"What?" Confused, Roman's green eyes rounded out. "Why not?"

I sighed, shaking my head. The decision I had made for myself was hard to air out, and I knew that protests would ensue; "I'm not leaving Peter,"

But despite my predictions, Roman got quiet. His wide, empty eyes stared right back at me, lips parted as though he was ready to speak. "... You're kidding me?" he finally said, the hurt in his face mixing in with a smidge of anger. "After this, you're going to stay with him?"

"He's good for me!" I tried, sitting up properly. "Roman, please, just-- I don't know what came over me, but this was a mistake... We're not good for each other, you know this!--"

"You're kidding me?" Roman repeated, clearly in a state of shock. 

This whole ordeal was making me feel like the second worst person in the world, with the first place going to Roman. I buried my face in my hands, realizing that I was trembling. "Please don't make this harder than it already is," I pleaded, inhaling a shaky breath. "You had no right to show up here... I was fine just the way I was, and I'm going to go back to that."

I heard Roman shift, sitting up as well. His long, slender fingers wrapped around my wrists, prying my hands away from my face. His green eyes burned into me, the fire intent on destroying whatever it could catch, and I knew I had to look away before it was too late. "I'm leaving her," he said, intertwining his fingers with mine. "I love you. I'm leaving her."

It took a lot of willpower to shake my head, rejecting his words. "Don't," 

"I will,"

"No, Roman, I don't want you to!--"

My words came to a halt as Roman leaned forward, capturing my lips in a rushed, desperate kiss. I did my best not to cry again, having previously burst into tears in the middle of round two-- I couldn't do this. This wasn't good for me. Peter was good for me.

I felt Roman's hands leave mine, and before I knew it, his fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me to look at him. His eyes searched mine, looking to find some shred of doubt to hang onto. "Do you love him?" I barely had time to open my mouth to speak before he cut me off; "You wouldn't have done this if you did."

My tears came back, pressing up on my eyes with a burning fire, begging to be set free. "Please, just... Please just go,"

Roman let out a sigh, leaning forward to press his lips against my forehead. "Call me when you change your mind,"

"I won't,"

"You will," Roman's hand slid out of my hair, caressing my cheek with his thumb, his green eyes finding mine once more. And just as I was about to look away, I felt that familiar calm wash over me as the colour green took over my vision, the numbing of my thoughts ensuing; there was no way I could fight it. I didn't stand a chance. 

Roman's lips quirked into a shameless smirk; "You will,"

a/n: (should I do a pt.2? hihi)