#i mean I know this was supposed to be on request

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request batboys learn of reader's fake death, she is on a mission and they find her.

Reader can be read as gn or whoever you see fit.

Dick

‘Is that you?’ Dick asks softly as he neared you.

‘No.’ You replied in hopes that he’d leave but you knew deep down that he wouldn’t, not if leaving meant leaving you behind also. Not the way you chose to erase yourself out of the picture for this stupid suicide mission.

Dick on the other hand was hellbent to not loose you again, the house you both built wasn’t a home if you weren’t in it to share it with him and Hayley, the poor dog was still fast sleeping on your side of the bed before Dick left for his nightly patrol; Hayley missed you very much and would whimper when she realises that your scent was slowly fading away.

It hurt Dick more then he liked to admit, and he tried to suppress it for as long as he could but he would often find himself trying to look for you in other people, other things but it always ended with him looking at the pictures of the two of you on the wall and feeling nothing but cold. Everything felt out of place without you but Dick would always try to act as though he was coping better then he was behind closed doors doors, clutching at the clothes you’ll never wear again as he silently sobs into the fabric.

Now here you were stood before him in what people would call as pure coincidence or luck because anyone would give anything to see their lost ones again, absolutely anything, even if it was by morally questionable means and Dick can understand the reason why that might be.

‘I- I wish I could tell you but I can’t.’ You replied, not wanting to put Dick in danger because of the dangerous people you’ve wronged.

‘Why not?’ Dick asked, worried that something had happened when he wasn’t nearby to help.

‘It doesn’t concern you.’ You told him as you tried to make distance but Dick was quick to close it. ‘It does concern me if it involves you.’ He says lowly, gently reaching out to hold your face to make sure this was real and not a dream and when you leaned into his touch, eyes closed shut Dick lets out a relieved sigh as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. ‘So please, don’t make me loose you again. let me help.’ He whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

Now you really couldn’t reject his help, he made it impossible just like how he made it impossible for you not to fall in love with him all over again.

Tim

Didn’t know what to expect from what he was seeing.

He had heard that there was someone of your stature going about town during the night but he wasn’t one to believe it until he’s seen it with his own eyes. So when he did catch of glimpse of you or someone pretending to be you, he didn’t know what to do, he was brought back to where he was when he found out about your supposed death; helpless and confused as to how such a thing could happen.

It wasn’t until your eyes met his did Tim feel his blood go cold from how dull and borderline dead your eyes looked when glaring right at him. There was a flash of familiarity but that was gone before Tim could blink, something was wrong, very wrong but he didn’t know what exactly.

You weren’t…well you.

Now Tim did have dreams about what he’d do if you were to be magically reanimated, brought back to life but those were dreams for a reason, a alternative reality that didn’t abide to realism or the more likeliest of outcomes; this was reality and reality wasn’t pretty and is often disappointing on most accounts.

So Tim stood there, frozen as you made a quick exit, much to the confusion of his siblings -Dick and Damian- who knew how hard your death had struck Tim, they didn’t need to be told how difficult it must’ve been to see your dead partner somehow alive again.

‘Are you okay?’ Dick asks.

‘Somethings wrong.’ Tim said. ‘Why would they feel the need to fake their own death and not tell me about it beforehand?’ He asks himself.

‘Only if someone powerful wanted you dead.’ Damian suggested. ‘What other reason is there besides that one?’

‘If that’s truly is the case,’ Tim began as he looked between Dick and Damian, ‘then why reappear after only a week? It’d be common sense to stay low for far longer until the smoke clears, unless...’

Dick then places a hand on Tim’s shoulder. ‘Looks like we’ve got work to do.’

Tim wasn’t certain what he would do if you ever did come back, but now it seems as though he did know; to save you from whatever has been nipping at your heels.

Jason

Wasn’t sure whether or not the sleepless nights had finally caught up to him ever since your passing, spending them staring at the door to your shared bedroom as though you’d magically walk through it with a smile, telling him that everything that had happened was just a nightmare before kissing him on the forehead and cuddling into his side to fall asleep.

However Jason had pinched his skin that many times to know well enough that was all a fallacy created by his own mind because he didn’t want you seeing the man he’d become from whether afterlife you resided in.

So when he spotted sow thing he believes looked a lot like your silhouette, his body followed after it, much like it did whenever things pertaining to you sparked that sense of familiarity within him, that sense of home and belonging. However this lack of subtly on his end didn’t end up well as he was soon enough laid flat out on his back as your masked face hovered over his.

‘Why were you following me?’ You asked through gritted teeth.

‘I thought you were dead.’ He replied In disbelief.

‘That was the plan until you ruined it.’ You grunted as you pulled him up to his feet, ‘you weren’t followed were you?’ You asked as your eyes shifted from shadow to shadow.

‘No, listen sweetheart-‘ Jason tried to speak but you sharply shushed him. ‘What’s going on, you can tell me.’ He now whispers and you sigh, finding it hard to exist within the same space as Jason without hugging him to death, but you couldn’t risk dragging him into your troubles.

‘I can’t.’ You tell him, knowing that there was a heartbroken expression behind that red helmet of his, ‘and even if I can all I would be allowed to say is that some bad people are after me.’ Jason’s shoulders tensed at this.

‘Why did you say anything earlier.’ He asked, he was holding back from exploding because had this been brought up earlier then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to be subjected to witnessing your ‘death.’ ‘I could’ve helped you out-‘

‘And risk you becoming their next target? Not thanks Jason I already lost you once I’m not doing it again.’ You tell him firmly but he wasn’t having it, not after what you put him through. ‘And I thought I lost you or has that not ever come to mind.’ He bites back with the sharpness of someone who was deeply hurt by the actions of someone who he loved more than life.

‘Jason.’ You tried to say but you knew him better then most, once his mind had been made up there was little chance to change it.

‘No. I’m going to help you get out of this mess, either you want me to or not, this is my war now.’ Jason tells you as he marched ahead. You sighed as you followed after him.

This was going to be a long night.

[doumadono]

hiiii Douma, I love your writing! I'll take a chance and submit a Sinful Sunday request (maybe my request will get some votes if I'm lucky ha!) - Boothill being seduced by Reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, smut, cunnilingus, missionary, creampie, fem!reader, fingering, metal fingers & cock

A/N: this request got the highest number of votes during the third Sinful Sunday poll. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY OTHER FANDOMS

The dimly lit bar was the kind of place where secrets thrived, and tonight, you were ready to add one more to its repertoire. You sauntered in, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on him — Boothill. 

His rugged features were softened by the dim lighting and the swirling smoke that lazily danced around him. 

You felt a pull, an irresistible urge to get closer. As you approached, your heart pounded, but you steadied yourself, exuding confidence. You slid onto the barstool next to him, your thigh brushing his ever so slightly.

He glanced your way, a curious glint in his eye. 

"Evening," you said, your voice smooth and inviting.

Boothill tipped his hat. "Evening, ma'am," he replied, his voice a low, gravelly timbre. There was a polite distance in his tone, but something in his eyes told you he was intrigued.

"You look like you could use some company," you continued, leaning in just a bit closer, letting your shoulder brush lightly against his.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Well, I reckon I ain't opposed to some pleasant conversation."

You smiled, your gaze locking with his. "What brings a man like you to a place like this?"

He chuckled softly. "Just passin' through, same as always. Got business here and there, people to see. And you, ma’am?"

"I'm here for the same reason," you replied, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Though I think I've found something far more interesting than what I was looking for."

Boothill's eyes narrowed slightly, a playful glint in them. "Is that right? And what might that be?"

You let your fingers trail lightly over the rim of your glass, your touch tantalizing. "Someone who stands out in a crowd. Someone unique."

His smile widened. "Well, ain't you a charmer? Not often someone calls me unique in a good way."

"I mean it," you said earnestly. "There's something about you, Boothill. Something... irresistible."

Boothill's eyes narrowed further, a spark of curiosity igniting in them. "How do you know my name, ma’am?" he asked, his voice tinted with suspicion.

You leaned in a bit closer, your lips curling into a mysterious smile. "Word travels fast around here," you replied, your voice smooth and confident. "A man like you tends to leave an impression wherever he goes."

Boothill raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "I suppose I can't argue with that. But it makes me wonder what else you might know about me."

You let your fingers graze his arm. "Just enough to be intrigued," you said, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "And eager to learn more." You moved your hand down back on his muscular thigh.

Boothill's breath hitched, his eyes darkening. "Well, well," he murmured, his hand covering yours, pressing it against his thigh. The cyborg chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You're quite somethin', you know that?" He said, his eyes sparkling. "Ain't often I meet someone who can keep me on my toes like this."

You smiled. "I can also be quite... diverting," you whispered, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on his leg.

Boothill's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. "Is that so?"

"Why don't we find somewhere more... private, and I'll show you?" you suggested, your voice dripping with promise.

He stood, pulling you up with him, his grip firm and possessive. "Lead the way," he growled, his eyes never leaving yours.

The night was just beginning, and you couldn't wait to see where it led.

The tension between you crackled, each step heightening the anticipation. 

You led him to your quarters, your heart racing with anticipation. As the door slided shut behind you, you wasted no time in pressing your body against his, your lips seeking his in a passionate kiss. 

He responded  eagerly, his tongue dancing with yours as your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. After the kiss, his keen eyes scanned the room before settling back on you. "Mighty cozy, darlin'."

You smiled, a slow, seductive curve of your lips. "Just the right kind of place for what I have in mind."

Boothill's eyes darkened with desire as he stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on your waist. "And what would that be, cutie?"

You reached up, sliding your hands around his neck, pulling him down until your lips were just a breath away from his. "Why don't you find out, cowboy?" you whispered seductively.

Boothill needed no further encouragement. He captured your lips with his, the kiss searing and demanding. 

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his long hair as you pressed yourself against him. 

His hands roamed your body, exploring the curves and planes with a desperate hunger. 

You shivered under his touch, your own hands tracing the hard lines of his cybernetic enhancements. The contrast between metal and flesh was intoxicating, a reminder of the unique being that was Boothill. 

A mischievous thought crossed your mind, and you decided to act on it.

Slowly, you turned around in his arms, your movements deliberate and seductive. As you shifted, your back pressed against his chest, your curves fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his body. You felt his arm tighten around your waist, a subtle acknowledgment of your actions.

Boothill’s breath hitched as you started to grind your ass against his crotch, your movements slow and teasing. The friction was tantalizing, a promise of the pleasure to come. You could feel the hardening length of him against you.

He groaned softly, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, guiding your movements. His lips found your nape, pressing a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. Each kiss sent shivers down your spine, the sensation electrifying.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

You smiled, your hips rolling against him in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “I like living dangerously,” you replied, your voice breathy with anticipation.

Boothill’s hand slid from your hip to your belly, pulling you even closer. His kisses became more urgent, more insistent, as he peppered your nape with affection. His lips traveled up to your ear, his tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin.

You moaned softly, your movements becoming more urgent as you ground your ass against his crotch.The feel of his lips on your neck, combined with the pressure of his hardening cock against your ass, drove you wild. You reached behind you, your hand tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want you,” you whispered, your voice a plea.

His response was immediate, his grip on you tightening. “You’ve got me,” he growled, his voice low and filled with promise. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer against him. 

You resumed your grinding, the sensation even more intense.

Boothill’s hand slid down between your legs, right under your dress, his fingers finding your pussy, unclothed and eager. “Look at you, sweetheart, such a naughty girl you are.” He teased you with slow, deliberate pets, his other hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. His lips returned to your nape, and he trailed your pulse point with the tip of his tongue.

The combination of his touch and his kisses drove you wild. You ground against him with renewed urgency, your body begging for release. 

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Boothill asked, and you found yourself nodding again in thoughtless compliance. His cold, metal fingers slid into the slick channel between your labia and began to push their way inside your tight, soaking cunt. Boothill’s cold, metal fingers moved with expert precision, driving you higher, pushing you closer to the edge. He took his time to finger your pussy. “You’re so fudgin’ wet,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I can feel how much you want this.” Boothill’s thumb found your clit, circling it with deliberate strokes that had you gasping. 

You were bucking your hips up against his cold, thrusting hand and squeezing your own nipples until the tingling was almost painful. 

With a final, precise flick of his thumb and a deep thrust of his fingers, he sent you over the edge. You shattered in his arms, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips. Your body convulsed, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as Boothill continued to guide you through your orgasm. Even as you came, you knew you would need to cum again soon.

His lips trailed soft, soothing kisses along your neck and shoulder, grounding you as you came back to yourself.

“There,” you pointed your head to another door on the side of the chamber.

Boothill's grin was wicked as he swept you into his arms, carrying you with ease to the adjoining room. He put you down next to the bed, and groaned into your mouth as you nibbled on his bottom lip, your fingers tracing a path down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. 

You deftly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His cock was already hard and sprung up after being freed, and you couldn’t resist giving it a teasing squeeze.

He unzipped your dress and let it fall to the floor, leaving you in your lacy bra. Boothill groaned appreciatively as he took in the sight of you, his hands cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric.

You moaned and arched your back, your hands reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. 

He took over, freeing your breasts and taking one in his mouth, sucking and licking your nipple until you're writhing with pleasure. He then laid you gently on the bed, his eyes devouring the sight of you sprawled out before him. "You're a sight to behold, sugar," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You reached up, tugging him down to you. 

With a growl, Boothill claimed your lips again, his hands working to divest you of your dress.

You reciprocated, eager to feel the chill of his metal body against yours. 

The cool metal of his enhancements contrasted sharply with the warmth of your flesh, heightening every touch, every caress.

Boothill's lips trailed down your neck, nipping and kissing. 

You arched into him, your hands clutching at his shoulders, urging him on. 

His mouth found your collarbone, then your breasts, lavishing attention on each peak until you were writhing beneath him.

"Boothill," you moaned, the sound of his name on your lips spurring him on.

He moved lower, his lips and hands mapping every inch of your body, worshiping you with a reverence that left you breathless. 

When he finally settled between your parted thighs, you gasped, your hands fisting in the sheets. "You're such a tease, Boothill," you managed to say, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He kissed and licked his way down your stomach until he reached your wet folds. He teased you with his tongue, licking and sucking your clit until you were crying out with pleasure. He looked up, his eyes blazing. "Only for you, darlin'." He quickly snaked out his tongue, swiping it at your pussy lips, making contact with your swollen clit, causing you to involuntarily jerk and shriek. Then he put his flexed tongue inside your tiny vagina, swirling around your opening, inhaling the scent of your drenched cunt and tasting your sweet nectar. His cold hands roamed over the soft skin of your thighs, your stomach and your breasts. 

Due to being overstimulated already, you cried out his name, your body arching off the bed as you found your second release, shuddering with the intensity of it.

Boothill crawled back up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "You taste like heaven, sugar," he murmured against your lips.

You smiled, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, your hands sliding down to grasp his metal cock, guiding him to where you wanted him most. "Then come join me in paradise."

The slit of your vulva was glistening with moisture from your arousal as he rubbed the head of  his metal cock against it.

He easily slid into you, a groan escaping his lips as he did. 

You squeezed his cock in your tiny cunt, your muscles working on the shaft of his dick, making him groan with every thrust he made.

Boothill kissed you and you wrapped your arms and legs around him. He marveled at seeing every feature of your beautiful body. Your pussy lips were swollen and glistening with your juices. Your clit was standing tall and brushing against his cock as he fucked you hard. He pounded into you, increasing his pace, growling like an animal. 

You responded to his forcefulness, rolling your hips to meet all of his thrusts. You clung to him, your bodies moving in perfect sync. Each thrust sent you spiraling higher, the pleasure almost too much to bear. "Boothill," you gasped, your nails raking down his metal back.

Boothill’s cock shone with your slick juices as it moved in and out of your needy hole.  "Darlin'," he growled, his pace quickening. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You smiled, your lips finding his ear. "Then die happy, cowboy."

With a final, powerful thrust, you both shattered, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. 

He exploded inside you, flooding your insides with his surprisingly warm, oleaginous seed. “Holy… Oh, yeah, take it, take it,” the cowboy growled lowly, spilling all of his cum deep within you.

You rested your weight on your elbows, looking directly between your parted legs. Your cheeks flushed harder as you saw a bit of his semen dripping out around his cock that still stuffed into your cunny that was convulsively clumping down on his iron shaft. “Fuck, oh God…. Oh God!” you whined, biting your lower lip and rolling your head back.

Boothill pulled out of you slowly, rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were nestled against his cold, metallic chest. "That was fudgin’ amazing, cutie," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You smiled, tracing lazy circles on his chest. "It certainly was, Boothill. And there's plenty more where that came from."

"Hey, sweetheart," Boothill murmured, his breath still heavy from your passionate encounter. "I realize I never caught your name. Mind sharing it with me?"

With a smirk, you cockily responded, "Maybe, if you're a good boy and earn the prize, I'll consider telling you."

[estellan0vella]

No Pass, Just BITCH ❀ includes: Gojo, Sukuna ft Uraume, Toji & Ino (Requested)

Masterlist

You’re in the kitchen, the savory aroma of dinner filling the air as you move around, checking the oven and stirring the pot on the stove. It’s been a long day, but you’re almost done preparing a meal that you know Satoru will love. You smile to yourself, thinking about how he always appreciates your cooking.

Just as you’re about to finish up, you hear him call from the other room, his voice loud and clear, "Hey, bitch! When’s dinner ready?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you freeze. Did he really just call you that? Your heart sinks, and a wave of hurt washes over you. You’ve never heard him speak to you like that before. You try to brush it off, thinking maybe you misheard, but the sting lingers.

You turn off the stove and wipe your hands on a towel, your appetite suddenly gone. As you walk into the living room, you see Gojo lounging on the couch, a casual smile on his face as he scrolls through his phone.

"Did you just call me a bitch?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

He looks up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah, why? What’s the problem?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "That’s not okay, Satoru. It really hurt my feelings."

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, Gojo’s eyes widen, and he jumps up from the couch, his face filled with genuine concern. "Oh my god, babe, I’m so sorry. I was just messing with you! It was supposed to be a prank. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

You cross your arms, looking away as tears threaten to spill. "Well, it wasn’t funny."

He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup your face. "I’m really sorry. I thought it would be a harmless joke, but I see now that it wasn’t. Please forgive me?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the sincerity in his apology. Slowly, you nod, still feeling a bit shaken. "Just… don’t do it again, okay? Words like that aren’t a joke."

Gojo pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise, I won’t. I love you too much to ever hurt you again. Now, how about we finish making dinner together? I’ll even do the dishes."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean into his embrace. "Okay. But you’re on dish duty for the rest of the week."

He chuckles, rubbing your back soothingly. "Deal. And again, I’m really sorry."

You nod, feeling the tension slowly melt away. "Just make sure the food doesn’t burn while we’re in here."

Gojo grins, leading you back to the kitchen. "I’ll be your sous chef tonight. Let’s make this the best dinner ever."

"Asshole," You mutter under your breath and Gojo huffs out a laugh.

"Deserved,"

You’re in the kitchen, carefully chopping vegetables for dinner, when you hear Sukuna’s voice booming from outside the kitchen.

“Hey, bitch! When’s dinner ready?”

You freeze, the knife hovering mid-air. The insult stings, and you feel your face heat up with a mix of anger and hurt. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions, but the sharpness of his words makes it hard.

Before you can respond, Uraume whirls around from the sink, their usually calm expression twisted in disapproval. They cross their arms and fix Sukuna with a stern look.

“Lord Sukuna, that was completely uncalled for,” Uraume says, their voice sharp and reprimanding. “You can’t speak to them like that.”

Sukuna leans against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. He seems entirely unbothered by Uraume’s scolding.

“Oh, come on, Uraume. It’s just a joke,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “Lighten up a bit.”

Uraume’s eyes narrow, and they take a step closer to him. “A joke or not, it was disrespectful. You owe them an apology.”

You glance between the two of them, feeling a bit lost and still stung by Sukuna’s words. Sukuna’s smirk fades slightly as he looks at you, realizing the impact of his “joke.”

He sighs, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to you. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. It was just a prank, I didn’t mean to upset you.” His tone is softer now, more sincere.

You stare at him for a moment, the sincerity in his eyes making it hard to stay angry. Finally, you nod, accepting his apology. “Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

Sukuna grins and ruffles your hair playfully. “Promise. Now, how about that dinner?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. As you turn back to the vegetables, you hear Uraume give a small, satisfied huff.

“Thank you, Lord Sukuna,” Uraume says, their tone lighter before they glance at you with a small smirk. “And don’t forget, respect goes both ways. So go ahead”

"Dickhead," You say and Sukuna laughs, tossing his head back.

"Nicely done,"

You're in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and humming softly to yourself, enjoying the quiet moment of preparation. The evening sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over the countertops and filling the room with a cosy ambience.

Suddenly, Toji Fushiguro strides in, his presence as commanding as ever. Without so much as a greeting, he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Hey, bitch, when's dinner gonna be ready?" he asks, his tone casual but the words hitting you like a slap in the face.

Your hands freeze mid-chop, and you turn to glare at him, anger bubbling up inside you. "Excuse me?" you snap, your voice sharp. "What did you just call me?"

Toji's smirk widens, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "You heard me," he says, clearly unfazed by your reaction.

Without thinking, you grab the nearest spatula and hurl it in his direction. It whizzes past his head and clatters against the wall behind him. Toji bursts into laughter, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

"What the hell, Toji?" you shout, your face flushed with anger. "What's wrong with you?"

He raises his hands in a placating gesture, still chuckling. "Relax, it's just a prank," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it. I was just messing with you."

You stare at him, your heart still pounding with fury, but now mixed with a hint of confusion. "A prank?" you repeat, your voice laced with disbelief.

Toji nods, his laughter dying down as he walks over to you. "Yeah, just a prank," he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I didn't mean to piss you off. Just wanted to see your reaction."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Well, congratulations, you got one," you mutter, swatting his hand away.

Toji grins and pulls you into a quick hug. "Sorry, couldn't resist," he says, his voice softer now. "Dinner smells great, by the way."

You sigh, shaking your head but unable to suppress a small smile. "Just don't call me that again," you warn, pointing a finger at him.

"Promise," he replies, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Now, how can I help to make it up to you?"

You hand him a knife, the tension easing out of the room as you both get back to preparing dinner together, the earlier anger fading into the background.

You’re bustling around the kitchen, trying to get dinner ready after a long day. The scent of sizzling garlic and onions fills the air, mixing with the tangy aroma of tomatoes and herbs simmering in a pot. You’re focused, almost lost in the rhythmic chopping of vegetables when you hear the front door creak open.

Ino strides in, his usual confident swagger evident in every step. He tosses his bag onto the couch and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Without any preamble, he leans against the counter, crosses his arms, and smirks. “Hey, bitch, when’s dinner ready?”

The words hit you like a slap. Your jaw tightens, and you can feel a hot flush creeping up your neck. You turn to face him, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?” you snap, gripping the wooden spoon in your hand like a weapon. “What did you just call me?”

Ino’s smirk doesn’t falter. “You heard me. I asked when dinner’s ready.”

You see red. Without thinking, you grab the nearest object—a half-full glass of water—and hurl it at him. He dodges, but not quickly enough. The glass shatters against the wall, and water splashes across his shirt.

“Are you out of your mind?” you shout, furious. “How dare you talk to me like that!”

For a moment, the room is silent, the tension thick and suffocating. Then, Ino bursts into laughter, holding up his hands in surrender. “Wait, wait! It’s just a prank! Relax, okay?”

You glare at him, chest heaving, trying to process his words. “A prank?” you echo, incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, still chuckling. “I was just messing with you. I didn’t think you’d get so mad. Look, I’m sorry. It was supposed to be funny.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Slowly, the anger starts to ebb, replaced by a reluctant amusement. “You’re an idiot,” you mutter, shaking your head. “A complete idiot.”

Ino grins, wiping water off his face. “But I’m your idiot,” he says, stepping closer and pulling you into a hug. “Come on, let’s finish dinner together. I promise no more pranks. At least not today.”

You can’t help but smile, the warmth of his embrace melting the last of your anger. “Fine,” you say, leaning into him. “But you owe me. Big time.”

“Deal,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now, what’s next on the menu, chef? You hopefully"

"Kepp dreaming dickhead," You mutter. "I'm off the menu all week because you think you're a comedian"

"Huh?!"

Requested by @alixezae

[deathbxnny]

Ok but Boothill, Aventurine and Welt with a reader being controlled by Sunday ( him and his tuning gift? ) and being made to attack them (idk maybe then trying to snap reader out of it or something along them lines ) please!

Ooh! I really love this idea, Anon! Now I wasn't sure whether you wanted this to be romantic or platonic, so I made it romantic! Thank you for the request, and I hope you'll like this!<3

Content: Mind control, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of guns, injuries, Romantic relationship, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》WELT YANG

Welt knew this wouldn't end well when he saw you succumb to the Halovian man's tuning ability. He tried to stop it before it took over you and yet found himself reaching you way too late. It was as though the world slowed down, the wretched music playing through the battlefield falling deaf on his ears, once he realised that there was nothing he could do that wouldn't possibly hurt you.

His heart ached when he saw you mindlessly attack him, trying your best to end his life, one you swore to live at his side with forever. He was losing his cool, unable to control the anger and desperation that ran through him with every hit he deflected. And yet, he still couldn't find it in him to attack you back even once, as he called for you to finally wake up.

When he does get you back to reality, he won't let you dwell on what you've done for even a second. He may have some injuries, but that means nothing to him when he knows you're safe again in his arms.

》AVENTURINE

This wasn't a part of the plan. It was never supposed to happen. You were never even supposed to have come with him to this forsaken planet in the first place. And yet... had he perhaps let his own plans and ideals lead him to both of your ruins? Alot ran through his mind whilst he watched you attack him viciously, skillfully dodging every hit without even ever thinking about hurting you back. Not that he ever could.

He realises that he'd let you place your hands around your neck and squeeze the life out of him if it means to not lay a singular hand on him. His anger towards Sunday was burning through his soul, and yet he had to stay confident in hoping that his plans would simply come through one way or another. He could only pray to his long, forgotten God that it would.

However, that doesn't mean that he won't risk both of your life's, if he finds a way to save you from the Halovian man's control. Risk is something he lives for. It's the gamble that kept you alive for so long, and he trusts in your own trust for him to do the right thing. Being injured in the process doesn't mean anything to him, once he realises that he hit the jackpot and got you right back at his side.

》BOOTHILL

To say that Boothill never takes any chances on your safety would be an understatement. His temper rises when he sees your conscious slip away, and Sunday's tuning takes control of your mind. Now, he would never hurt you either, but that doesn't mean he won't manhandle you into a position that will stop you from moving and potentially hurt yourself, him or others, for that matter. He needs to get you out of the way immideatly, so he can get revenge on your behalf.

With that said, he is not afraid to pull the trigger on the evil chicken boy the second he can. He can look past alot of things, but certainly not someone messing with the last person he still had left. He's angry, beyond angry, in fact. He won't let Sunday get away with this and if it's the last thing he does.

Once he finally gets you back to reality, he'll try his best to comfort you whilst assuring you that he wasn't hurt in any way... even if he can't necessarily be hurt physically anyway.

Alrighttt... I finally was able to post SOMETHING after being tortured by life for so long lol... anyways, thank you again to the Anon for the great request and I hope you guys liked this!!<33

[cozage]

hello! Im kinda new to tumblr so i dont really know if im supposed to send requests here so sorry if im supposed to send it somewhere else, but for my request can it be fem! Reader x sanji? Hurt to comfort where he says something mean but then apologizes? And can you pull out the angsty bit a little, but make the ending fluffy? And for the format can it be like a mini fic? If you want you can add other characters but i mainly want sanji! Thats all! Sorry if my request didnt make sense as im new to tumblr😔. Thank youu!

A/N: Hi! You did everything perfectly!! Thank you for the request <3 it was so hard to make Sanji mean even accidentally 😭 I hope this is good! It’s also not edited so please forgive any grammatical errors!  Characters: fem reader x Sanji Cw: Sanji is an idiot and says mean things (and is a little sexist) Total word count: 900

Rude Comments

“I can do it, Sanji.” Your words came out quick and short. Your temper was rising, both at your task at hand and the blonde who was hovering behind you. He didn’t normally come with you on jobs for Franky, but he had been free today.

“It’ll be faster if I do it,” Sanji offered. He reached out for the wrench. 

“I can do it!” you snapped again. You pulled away from the task and glared at him. “Franky asked me to do this, so let me do it!”

“Well, it’s just…” Sanji eyed your clenched fist around the wrench and took a step back. “It’s not really a woman’s job to do this sort of thing, and-”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” you bellowed. “You think I’m not capable of doing this?”

Sanji threw his hands up in a plea. “No my love! It’s not that at all! It’s just…you’re not very good at this.”

It felt as though you had swallowed a stone. “Franky always asks me to do this.”

“And you’re being very helpful!” Sanji said quickly. “But he gives it to you because it’s not exactly a top priority task and…well, it’s really hard to mess up.” 

Sanji gave a weary look back to your workplace as if your handiwork spoke for itself. His pitied gaze and words made you suddenly want to be alone. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, dropping the wrench to the ground. “Fix it for me, then.”

“Of course, darling!” Sanji jumped at the wrench. You were fairly sure he was already starting to explain how he turned the bolt, but you walked out the door without listening further. 

You didn’t see Sanji for a while. That was fine with you, though. You retreated to the back of the ship and perched atop a barrel, staring out at the sea to think. Did Franky always give you useless tasks just to keep you busy? You frequently had to return to the same tasks again and again. What if Franky broke things just to have you fix them? 

The thought brought tears to your eyes. You had been so sure Franky enjoyed your company and valued your help. He had called you “super indispensable” more times than you could count. Was it all just a lie?

“Darling?” 

Sanji’s voice broke through your mental spiral and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“Yeah?” Your voice came out wobbly, but there was no point in hiding from Sanji. 

You turned to face him. You had been ready for him to fuss over you, but you found that he was covered in sweat and grease and plenty of other weird stains and smears. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge your puffy eyes at first. He looked too exhausted. 

“So, this is the part where I apologize,” he said softly. 

He strode over to you in three steps and swept your hair out of your face. His hands were covered in grime, and you could feel the oily substance stick to your face. The feeling made you jerk away from him, but he was already pulling out a clean cloth and wiping it away. 

“I’m sorry I said those things, my love. I know you are very capable of doing anything you put your mind to. Your persistence is one of my favorite things about you. I shouldn’t have tried to take that away from you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry I thought I could do something better than you just because of our genders.”

His words made your eyes swell. You had planned on still being mad at him after this. But seeing those crystal blue eyes and hearing his sweet words made you crumble all over again. 

“I forgive you.” You sniffed and wiped the tears from your eyes again. “Just don’t do it again.”

Sanji let out a laugh. “Oh, I will never be taking on a task Franky gives you again. You know how I said it was ‘hard to screw up’? It turns out that was wrong. I broke the whole pipe. Franky was pissed. He said he doesn’t let anyone touch that problem except you and him. Something about the pressure system needing a delicate hand, and only the two of you have the knack for it.”

It took a moment for his words to process, but you could feel your heart swelling. “Franky only lets me do that?”

Sanji nodded, guiding you towards the kitchen. “And a few other tasks. Says you’re the only one he trusts to do it right.” 

“I didn’t know that.” You had a vague feeling that you needed to cry for an entirely different reason now. 

He gave another laugh and sat you at the counter. “Well, you always excel at everything you do. It turns out I have a lot to make up for. What should we start with, chocolate cake or ice cream?”

[cameronspecial]

I was wondering if you could do dad drew based of this video https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6Z8HtbA6MA/?igsh=MXdsc2hwdzFxd2c3Ng== idk if you still take requests tho but I hope you do cause I love your dad drew series 🫶🏼🫶🏼💗💗

Baby Whisperer

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Feel Inadequate As A Father

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

A/N: I saw this reel before you requested it and it was so cute! Thank you for requesting it!

Masterlist

Sometimes it’s like babies speak a different language. This became even more clear to Drew when his baby girl began to speak. Drew remembers the first time he was able to understand Joy’s babble clearly. Her first word. Dada. However, since the milestone, not all words were coherent to the actor. 

Drew lies on the stomach on the floor in front of Joy. She sits upright with a pillow behind her to provide comfort. Her pudgy hands grip the blocks and she brings them to the box with different shape holes at the top. She plops the toy into the correct hole. “Yay,” Drew cheers, clapping in celebration. The unexcited reaction from the toddler tells the father it is time to move on from the activity. He sits up and brings her onto his lap. She stares up at him, wondering why he stopped their game. “Hmm, you are bored. Aren’t you?” he questions. “What do you want to do?” Silence falls over them. The look in her eyes shows the gears are turning in her mind. “Pack!” she exclaims with elation. Drew’s brows meet at a point, “Pack? What do you want to pack, Baby?” 

She repeats her words, “Pack!” “Do you want a backpack?” he tries. The confusion on her father’s face begins to frustrate her. “Pack. Pack,” she whines. Her tiny fist kneads at his shirt. 

The high-pitched cries of her daughter summons Y/N to the living room. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she inquires. Her footsteps carry her in front of her little family and she rests her hand at the bottom of her dad’s back. Her husband looks at her with matching distraught to their daughter. “She’s trying to tell me something and I can’t understand her.” Y/N nods, “Go on, Baby.” Joy calms her tears. “Pack.” Her voice is small, fearful her mother isn’t going to understand her. “Pack.” It takes the mother a second to process the information. “Ohhh, Snack Pack. You want pudding, Baby?” 

Relief flashes over the girl's face and she nods vigorously. “Pack! Pack!” Both parents look at each other with understanding. “Okay, Baby. Let’s go get you some pudding,” Drew announces, dancing his way into the kitchen with his baby girl in his arms. 

The couple gets their daughter settled with her snack. She sits in her high chair and her father is in front of her, spoon-feeding her the dessert. The silicone tip of the rounded utensil follows the cover of the baby’s bottom lip to scoop the excess pudding into her mouth. As she chews the food, Drew puts the spoon down and smooths back her growing hair. “It’s so cute how satisfied she is with the pudding.” Y/N smiles at them, “It is. I think it might be her new favourite snack. I mean, did you see how angry she was getting when we couldn’t understand her.” Drew frowns, “Not we. When I couldn’t understand her. You swooped in and were a baby translator.”

“What’s wrong, Drew?” 

“I’m her father. I’m supposed to be able to help her and I didn’t even know what she was saying. I failed her.” 

Pain pangs through her heart and she places her palm on top of his hand. “You didn’t fail her. You may not understand her verbal expressions yet, but I know you can read her non-verbal ones just like one of your scripts.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could hear you guys from the other room, Drew. You guys were playing with the blocks and then you randomly asked her if she was bored. She didn’t cry or express it verbally. I know you saw that she wasn’t excited anymore so you switched tracks. A father who failed their daughter wouldn’t have noticed her boredom.”

Her words don’t fall on unlistening ears and he flips his hands so they hold onto each other. He gives her a small smile, leaning in for a kiss. “Thank you. I think you might be a Drew Whisperer too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[skzdust]

can i request academic rival! felix × afab reader ?? theyre super competitive ( enemies to lovers) and felix just has to fuck it into reader that he is BETTER

I LOVE this idea! And now I kind of want to turn it into something longer lol

Thanks for the request!!

---

You're Better

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You and Felix are rivals, but you've been placed on a project together. Felix proposes a challenge to see which of you gets to lead the project.

Pairing: Academic rival!Felix x afab reader

Includes: rivalry, penetrative sex, rivals with feelings, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex (please use condoms and pee after sex!)

Word count: 1.4k

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!! Thank you for reading!!

Requests are OPEN!

Masterlist

-----

The library study rooms were supposed to stay peaceful and quiet, and when you were working alone or with almost anyone else, they were.

But not with Felix.

“You’re impossible.” You scoffed. “You know, yours doesn’t make sense either.”

You knew the piece of the project he’d put together was brilliant, maybe better than yours, although you’d never admit it. But after he’d torn your piece to shreds, nitpicking every subpar word choice and questionable rhetorical decision, you had some anger towards him.

“It’s great, you know that.” He crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat, wearing a cocky grin. “Just because you’re not as good at this as I am doesn’t mean you have to be bitter.”

“I’m not being bitter. And you are not better than me at this, stop acting all superior.”

“I am better than you.” He laughed, a sound that sent butterflies though your whole body. “I’m gonna get you to admit it one day.”

“Never.” You said firmly.

It was quiet for a moment.

“I have a proposition.” Felix said abruptly.

“Oh?”

“If I can get you to admit I’m better by the time we leave this room, I get complete control over the project. And if you don’t, you get complete control over the project.”

You laughed. “Done.”

He leaned over the table to you. “You’re gonna regret that.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

His hand found yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “I bet I can.”

Your eyes stayed on the motion of his fingers, the sensation of his skin on yours electric. “And what methods do you plan to use?”

His hand stilled. “Can I kiss you?”

You almost fell out of your chair. “Kiss me? I mean, yes, absolutely, please, but you want to kiss me?” You babbled.

“I mean… I’d be lying if I said no.”

“That is the definition of ‘yes’.”

“Smart aleck.”

“Says you.”

In lieu of a response, Felix’s fingers laced with yours, and he pushed you into a kiss.

You hadn’t kissed many people, but you knew this was different. Felix kissed you like he hated you, pushing you, his teeth scraping at your lower lip. He pulled sounds out of you that were, quite frankly, embarrassing, but you didn’t care, lost in him. Your spark of animosity was transforming into a smoldering flame, and you were dry wood, ready to burn.

Except you were wet; you were very wet.

Felix abruptly pulled away from you, and you whined in confusion. “Where are you going?”

He stood up, pulling you up by your hand, and pushed you up against the wall. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He whispered in your ear before kissing you again, his body pressing against yours, still holding your hand.

You could feel him growing hard against your leg as he kissed you. His other hand captured your other hand, pinning it to the wall by your head.

“Fuck.” He panted as he pulled away. “This is a bad idea.”

“Yeah.” You whispered back. “But don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop.” His lips met yours again, and you moaned into his mouth. His hips pushed into you, and you got a little louder, fighting the urge to ask him—beg him, if need be—to fuck you.

His hands found their way down to your waist. “Can I touch you here?”

“Mhm.” You whimpered. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging so pretty.” His hands moved across your lower stomach and back under your shirt.

“God, Felix. Can you go lower?”

“Lower?” His hands cautiously found your hips. You involuntarily pushed into him, and he let out a low moan. “Fuck.”

“More.” You whispered, closing your eyes.

“More?” Felix’s fingers traced patterns on your thighs, and you let your legs open a bit, sliding down on the wall.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, barely audibly.

“You want me to fuck you?” Felix asked softly.

“Yeah.” You opened your eyes, looking into his. “If you’re… I don’t want to push you.”

“God, I’ve wanted to for… since I met you.” He whispered, and was that… affection in his eyes?

“Then do it.” You swallowed. “I really want you to do it.”

Your biggest rival fucking you in a library study room… it was objectively a very bad idea. But you didn’t care. You wanted him.

He looked at you intently. “Okay. I will. But let me know if you want me to stop, and I will, no questions asked.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He checked that the blinds to the room’s windows were shut and that the door was locked, and walked back over to you, still leaning against the wall.

“Okay, baby, take off your pants, and we’ll start.” His voice was low, dripping with desire.

You couldn’t get them off fast enough.

He let out a low whistle looking at you. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

Another thrill went through you. “I’m ready for you, Felix.”

He smirked. “I’ll fuck you if you admit I’m better.”

“Oh, that’s cheating. My pants are already off.”

“We didn’t discuss this when we made our deal, therefore, it’s fair game.”

“Dick.” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “You’re better.”

His smirk grew. “I’ll take it, for now.” He unzipped his own pants and pulled out his cock, already hard. You swallowed, eyes glued to it.

He spread your legs a little wider, lining up with your entrance. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” You breathed.

He slowly pushed into you. It felt like the breath was pushed from your lungs with each motion of his hips. The stretch was slightly painful, but the pleasure was enough that you didn’t even care.

Once he was fully inside you, Felix groaned. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. So good.” He pushed you a bit tighter against the wall and picked up your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

“Godddddd.” You drew out the sound, feeling him move inside you as you as he adjusted your position. “Fuck me, Felix.”

“Admit I’m better, like you mean it this time.”

“Fuck you.” You rolled your eyes.

Felix thrust into you harshly, and your eyes rolled back as you let out a noise. “Like I said, like you mean it.”

“You’re better,” You moaned, and he began to fuck you, slowly.

“More.”

“You’re the better student, you’re smarter than me, you’re gonna fuck me dumb, Felix.”

He picked up the pace as you spoke, so you kept talking, trying to provoke him into going faster and faster.

“You’re better, you’re better, you’re fucking all the thoughts out of my head, Felix, you feel so good inside me,” You panted. “Fuck, Felix, keep going.”

“That’s it, baby, I’m gonna do exactly that, I’m gonna fuck all the thoughts out of that pretty head.” He suddenly kissed you with the same harshness with which he fucked you. As he pulled away, he murmured against your lips, “I’d fuck the words outta your mouth, too, if you’ll let me.”

You moaned. “Fuck. Next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time.”

“Fuck, baby.” He whispered, fucking you faster. “Maybe I should fuck you against the window, make you scream that I’m better. Make sure everyone hears, everyone knows.”

“You have some kind of god complex.”

“Yep.”

He kept fucking you and you kept mumbling his praises so he’d keep going quickly, and it didn’t take long for you to know you were approaching your climax.

“Felix, I’m gonna come.” You panted.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come, too.”

You drew closer and closer to the cliff’s edge, and as he pushed up into you in a hard thrust, you fell over, your eyelids fluttering as you came.

And then you were full, you were so full, as Felix came, too, grunting as he kept himself to the hilt inside you.

A few moments later, he lowered your legs to the floor and gently pulled out. Your knees buckled almost immediately, and he caught you, helping you to one of the chairs in the room.

“God, Felix, that was… good.” You pushed your hair out of your flushed face, looking up at him.

“You admitted it.” He smiled, zipping up his pants. “That I’m better.”

“Was that all it meant to you?” You grinned, mostly joking.

“No.” He said softly.

“Oh.” You tilted your head.

He suddenly looked away. “Y/n… do you want to go on a date?”

“A date?” Your smile softened. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay.” He looked back at you. “But I still get to be in charge of the project.”

You sighed. “We did make a deal.”

[ghoulsbounty]

Could I possibly ask for a second part to What Happens Tonight, where maybe he gets a little more vulnerable with the reader and we see some of those walls being broken down? (But not fully, I still LOVE the angst of him not wanting to give himself fully to someone and how the reader struggles with it)

What Happens Tonight pt 2

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Ex-Vaultie!Reader (fem)

Summary: After the events during the radstorm, you confront the Ghoul about his true feelings.

Warnings: smut (18+), riding, a lot of grinding, fingering, the gloves stay ON, feeding Rad-X, mutual pining, emotionally stunted Cooper, slight soft!dom Cooper, miscommunication, angst.

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you for all the love received on WHT part one, and thank you anon for specifically requesting a part two. I had a lot of fun with this one and delved more into the smut but still tried to make sure Cooper kept his boundaries. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉 Read part one HERE 👈

It had been several weeks since you sought refuge in the vault, a period marked by the moment you surrendered yourself entirely to Cooper. The memory of that night left a persistent ache between your thighs, serving as a constant reminder of the intimacy you shared and the emptiness you now felt. Despite this, Cooper had not addressed the matter with you since then. Whenever you attempted to discuss what had come to be known as "the night of the radstorm," he would abruptly turn away, his body rigid and his gaze averted. The tension between you grew with each passing day, the unspoken words creating a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

By the time you both composed yourselves the next morning, the sinister weather had come and gone. While the storm had left a physical mess outside, the emotional turmoil between you had created an even greater one. An awkwardness had settled over your relationship, forming an invisible barrier that hadn't existed before. You longed for this tension to vanish as the storm had, but it persisted, clinging to your interactions like a second skin. This discomfort coloured every conversation, every glance, leaving you both trapped in a web of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

You supposed this was the consequence of crossing that boundary, daring to entertain the notion that you and the Ghoul could be more than mere traveling companions. Your relationship had always been one of convenience, a mutual arrangement for survival. But that night had altered everything—at least for you.

Constantly, you replayed the moments in your mind: the intimacy you shared in that confined space, the way his hands moved over your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. You wondered if you had misread the signals, if the heat of the moment had clouded your judgment. The way he touched you, the way he held you—it all felt so real, so genuine. Yet now, it seemed like a fleeting dream, dissipating in the harsh light of reality. Each touch, each whisper of that night lingered in your thoughts, making you question the line between reality and illusion, and leaving you to ponder whether the connection you felt was ever truly mutual.

But weren't you the one who assured him it would mean nothing? And yet, here you were, longing for him every night as you lay on your bedroll, the void he left behind more palpable than his presence ever was. You couldn't help but feel the emptiness, the way his absence seemed to echo within you.

You found yourself watching him when he wasn't looking, searching for any sign that he felt the same way, that he missed you too. But he remained closed off, his walls higher than ever. Each glance in his direction was met with an unyielding façade, leaving you to wonder if he had already moved on or if he, too, was silently grappling with the same confusion and longing that plagued your thoughts.

You tried to focus on the tasks at hand, to distract yourself with the daily challenges of survival. Yet, every silence between you, every avoided glance, only deepened the chasm that had formed. The tension was a constant reminder of what had changed, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

You found yourself wishing for another storm, another night where you could both let down your guards and be vulnerable with each other again. But you knew better than to rely on such whims. Reality rarely afforded such convenient opportunities. You had to face the growing divide head-on, even if it meant confronting the possibility that the connection you craved might never be rekindled.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the wasteland, you found yourself alone with Cooper once more. The silence between you was heavy, almost suffocating, and you knew that you couldn't go on like this. You needed to address the elephant in the room, to find some way to mend the rift that had formed.

"Cooper," you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk about what happened that night."

He stiffened at your words, his eyes flickering briefly to yours before he looked away. "There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his tone clipped and guarded.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "You know that's not true," you countered, looking down at him from where you stood. The warm glow from the crackling fire highlighted his features as he leaned back against the wall from his position on his bedroll.

Cooper's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, but he remained silent, staring into the flames as if searching for answers. You stepped closer, the soft crunch of your boots on the gritty floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

"That night," you continued, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest, "I said whatever happened wouldn't matter but... I was wrong. It meant something, and I need to know what it meant to you."

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his bald head before meeting your gaze. "You talk too much," he said in a biting tone, eyes downcast as he kicked his boot out in frustration.

"And you don't talk enough," you said defiantly, lightly kicking at his boot when he still refused to meet your gaze despite the scoff that escaped his lips. "You can't just ignore me, or pretend it didn't happen. If you regret it... well, I can handle it. I'm a big girl, Cooper."

"We'd be stupid not to regret it," he admitted, his hands occupied with reloading bullets into the bandolier on his lap. "Doesn't mean I didn't like it," he added quietly, almost to himself.

His words left you feeling conflicted. On one hand, you were relieved to hear that he had found pleasure with you, perhaps as much as you did with him. But the admission of regret lingered, casting a shadow over the memory. He wanted you to feel the same remorse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

"I don't regret it," you declared, your voice firm. "I wanted you then, and I still want you now. Whatever it is that's holding you back, that's between you and your own conscience. But here I am, with you, and I want you."

His eyes snapped to you then, dark and swirling with emotion as he glared up at you. "Have you been taking those pills?"

You looked at him, confused, searching your memory for what he meant until the Rad-X pills surfaced in your mind. You remembered taking one that night after he'd left them on the bed, then discarding them into the recesses of your bag and not thinking about them since.

"What do the pills have to do with anything?" you asked, still bewildered.

Cooper's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features as he averted his gaze once more. "Supposed to take 'em before exposure," he muttered, "but you were going wild, locking those thighs 'round me so damn hard. I might not seem like it, sweetheart, but I'm just a man," he added, his voice carrying both irritation and a hint of amusement. 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, recalling the intensity of the moment when you ground down on his cock as he attempted to pry you off him, moments before he relented and filled you with his hot load.

"If you've been taking them regularly," he continued, meeting your eyes with a meaningful glance, "you'd likely have developed a fair resistance by now."

Accepting the Rad-X felt like a symbolic gesture, a token of protection offered in the aftermath of that intimate moment, meant to erase any lingering traces of radiation from him. You appreciated his small attempt at aftercare, yet couldn't shake the feeling that it was tinged with regret for his own actions. Now, as he sat before you, finally meeting your gaze after what felt like an eternity, a realization dawned upon you: his offering wasn't just a momentary solution, but a precaution for the future. It hinted at a desire for something more.

Your heart swelled with the realization, a mixture of relief and hope before reality dawned on you. "I haven't been taking them," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "I didn't know that you wanted me to."

He rolled his eyes at the whine that cracked your voice, discarded his bandolier on the ground beside him before lifting his hand towards you with a curled finger in a beckoning gesture. Almost instinctively, you found yourself drawn towards him until you were standing above him, your legs positioned on either side of his as he gazed up at you. His gloved hands traced up the sides of your legs, pausing at your hips before firmly grasping them and tugging you down to your knees, so that you straddled him. A gasp escaped you, a blend of surprise and anticipation echoing in the air.

"Don't get it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against your ear as he pulled you closer. "I wanted to get you ready for me."

You shivered at his words, the intensity of his gaze boring into yours as you leant back to look at him. "Cooper, I—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding you. "You're still talking too much."

His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing for dominance over yours as he held you tight against him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for balance, feeling the rough fabric of his coat beneath your fingertips as he dragged your clothed cunt against the growing erection straining his dirty pinstripe pants. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your hips moving instinctively to grind against him, seeking more.

Cooper's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements, his kiss growing more demanding. You moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his insistent lips. Every drag of your body against his made you wetter, your desire pooling between your thighs and soaking through the fabric of your underwear.

With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped, your back arching as his hands worked to unclasp the garment and free your breasts. The cool air hit your skin briefly before his mouth was on you again, sucking and nipping at your sensitive flesh.

Your hands fumbled with the lapels of his coat, desperate to feel more of him, to erase the barriers between your bodies. He helped you, shrugging out of the heavy garment and discarding it with a careless flick of his wrist. You were pleasantly surprised when he let you undo the buttons of his waistcoat, shrugging it off before he stopped your fingers at their decent on his shirt.

"It stays on," he told you gruffly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that urged you to accept his decision without a second thought. You nodded, your hands running over the fabric of his shirt and across his chest, down his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath the material, the scars that told stories of his past. He groaned at your touch, his hips grinding up against you as his hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, deftly undoing the button and zipper.

"Lift up," he commanded, and you complied, rising just enough for him to peel the garment down your legs, your underwear following shortly after. You were completely exposed to him now, the cool air of the room making you shiver as he gazed at you with a hunger that made your pulse race.

"What a sight," he said, his voice rough with need as he pulled you back down onto his lap, your bare cunt pressing against his clothed erection

You whimpered, the heat of him so close yet so far driving you crazy. "Please, Cooper," you whispered, rocking your hips against him. "I need you."

"I know," he replied with a wicked grin, his hands gripping your ass and guiding your movements, the friction of his pants against your clit making you see stars. "Been needing you for a long time now. Long before that night."

You nibbled on your lip, the waves of pleasure cresting within you almost overwhelming as you surrendered to the sensation of him beneath you. "What kept you so long?" you gasped, your hand instinctively caressing the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing the contours of the thick muscles there.

He chuckled, leaning into your touch, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on your face. "Just honing my patience," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You huffed in exasperation at his calm demeanour, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his pants. As you attempted to reach for him, your hand was swatted away, and you tried again, only to be met with the same resistance. "Hey, cut it out," you scolded him, a mix of frustration and desire evident in your tone.

"You'll get it, don't you doubt," he teased, his voice low and playful. With a swift movement, one gloved hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding their way into your wet heat. A gasp escaped your lips as he penetrated you, his touch igniting a fire within you. Another finger joined the first, and he expertly curled them upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you burying your face in the crook of his neck with a muffled cry. "Oh, there she is," he declared proudly, a smirk evident in his voice.

You mewled softly against his salty skin, your lips pressing eagerly against the muscle as he slid his leather-clad fingers in and out of you with a delicious rhythm. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help but rock your hips into his palm, seeking out the friction that made your nerves sing.

You trailed hot kisses along the skin of his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your lips, and then, unable to resist, you bared your teeth and bit down gently. His response was immediate—a deep, guttural groan—as he grabbed at your ass with his free hand, urging you on, encouraging you to ride his fingers with abandon.

Your mind swirled with the sensations of being wrapped around him once more, your movements growing increasingly erratic as you chased the elusive peak of pleasure. He smiled against your bare shoulder, his hand releasing it's hold on your behind to fumble inside your bag that rested beside him as he anticipated your impending climax.

Seconds later, he pushed you back slightly, holding a small brown bottle in his hand. You whined in protest as his fingers slowed to a taunting pace inside you, desperate to regain the momentum you had lost. Your hips bucked instinctively, urging him to quicken the pace once more.

He tapped your cheek lightly with two fingers from the hand that held the bottle, meeting your gaze with a serious expression. "One more move like that, and I'll take them out," he warned, his tone firm but tinged with amusement.

You frowned at the threat but nodded in compliance. Your eyes followed his movements as he deftly unscrewed the cap of the bottle with his teeth, retrieving one of the red pills with his fingers before setting the bottle aside. He held the pill out to you, his gaze fixated on your mouth as he spoke. "Let me see it."

You hesitated for a moment, then complied, slowly opening your mouth and extending your tongue for him. He delicately placed the pill on your tongue, prompting you to close your mouth with another tap on your cheek. As you did, he captured your lips in another passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he gently manipulated the pill inside your mouth. Finally, he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips as he watched you swallow the pill with a satisfied smile.

Your body vibrated at the intimacy, eyes blown as you felt his thick thumb begin to circle your clit, his earlier ministrations continuing as he fucked you hard with his fingers, bouncing you on the palm of his hand. His free hand slid back over the curve of your ass, squeezing firmly as he intensified his movements.

"C-Cooper, please," you began, your voice trembling with need as the heat between your legs intensified, the sound of your wetness filling the quiet room. You dug your nails into his shoulders, anchoring yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost," he murmured, pushing against the spongy spot inside you that had you hurtling towards the edge. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed into his palm, hot liquid streaming down your thighs as you screamed his name. He smirked, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he stroked you through your orgasm. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he rocked you against him, grounding you in the midst of your intense pleasure. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "That's it, let it all out."

When the last surge of your climax had left your body, you slumped against his chest, head nestled in the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. You kissed his neck, running your lips up his strong jaw until you met his cracked lips. He hummed into you, grabbing your wrist tightly when you began to trail it down to the bulge in his pants.

"Easy there," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost possessive, and he held you close. "What's the hurry, sweetheart?"

You regarded him with incredulity, your gaze searching his eyes for any sign of understanding as you boldly voiced your desire. "I took the pill," you stated firmly, your words weighted with intent. "I want you to fuck me."

He chuckled, his gaze briefly dropping before meeting yours once more. "Oh, I know you do," he said, withdrawing his fingers from your sopping core. A whimper escaped your lips as your walls clenched around nothing, longing for the sensation he had just provided. He brought his glistening gloved fingers to his lips, licking at them with a low groan of approval. Then, he pressed the tips of his digits against your parted lips, hooking them inside your lower teeth while holding his thumb beneath your chin.

"Let this be your lesson to take the fuckin' pills," he admonished, his voice carrying a mixture of gratification and warning.

His hands fell away, and you frowned at the sudden absence of his touch. He placed the previously discarded pill bottle in your palm, closing your fingers around it gently before guiding you off his lap and onto your bedroll beside him with a soft thud. Stretching his arms above him, he folded them behind his head, settling further back against the wall as he gazed out at the crackling fire.

"Until then," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of resignation, "we'll both be practicing a little patience."

[slight-gaming-addict]

i thrive for angst so, if youre comfortable enough could you do a character x gn!reader, catching reader in the act of sh?

preferably vil, riddle, idia, and rook

@rosesforo

ocean eyes

masterlist | request rules | ko-fi

characters catching you in the middle of self harm

characters: riddle rosehearts, vil schoenheit, idia shroud

warnings: ⚠️ contains acts of self harm ⚠️ PLEASE do not read this if it'll make you uncomfortable in ANY way i beg, angst, blood, crying, hurt/comfort

a/n: listen i'm sorry but i tried doing rook but i physically could not write about him for the life of me he reminds me too much of white dora and genuinely scares me a little but i hope you like the other parts<3

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔

You didn't mean for it to get this bad. You thought today was going to be different, better than the others, but you were wrong.

The weight in your chest just seemed to build as the day went on until you couldn't handle it. You didn't want to deal with anyone today and tried to keep mostly to yourself, but it proved difficult when you couldn't seem to shake off the people who kept coming up to you.

It's when you think no one's looking that you run off into the small clearing in the forest close by. However, you weren't aware of a certain redhead who witnessed you wandering off.

Riddle doesn't mean to follow you; he's just worried about you. He noticed you acting weird all day and wanted to make sure you were okay.

You told yourself it was just supposed to be a couple of cuts, just so you could feel something, but more and more cuts followed after the sting of the first few. You lost control, but before you could stop yourself, you heard the noise of someone coming up behind you.

You're quick to slide the sleeves of your shirt down your arms to cover them, flinching slightly at the feeling of the rough fabric brushing over your fresh wounds, before you see Riddle stop in front of you.

It wouldn't take a genius to figure out what you were doing here, but you're hoping that Riddle wouldn't see the signs. You can tell him you were out for a walk and wanted to get some fresh air. However, all the excuses leave your head when you see his focus turn to the drops of blood on the leaves in front of you, then to the razor you tried, but failed, to inconspicuously hide in your hand.

It's safe to say Riddle is definitely freaking out. He does his best to stay calm on the outside so as not to scare you, but on the inside, he's freaking out completely. He doesn't know why you'd do this, but he's not going to ask you about it. The rational thing in his mind is to walk up to you and gently remove the razor from your grip.

You let him take the razor from you, eyes trained on the ground in front of you as the sleeves of your shirt stick to your skin. He doesn't say anything as he helps you up from your position and takes you to get cleaned up.

He's gentle with the cleaning process, even if his hands are slightly shaking from the nerves in his body from fear of accidentally doing the wrong thing. He's able to clean the cuts as best he can before getting you an extra shirt and letting you rest.

Your movements seem purely robotic as Riddle helps you move around, probably immediately falling to the ground as soon as he lets go of you. The only things you hear are the faint echoes of Riddle saying that he's here for you and him not leaving your side.

𝑽𝒊𝒍 𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒏𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒕

Vil sees you rushing off between classes, hood up as if you wanted to go unnoticed, but he notices. He always notices you.

At first, he just figures you forgot something and are rushing to get it before your next class. However, class is just about to start, and he still doesn't see you.

There's a part of him that feels like he should just wait for you to show up, but there's a bigger part of him that feels like he should go look for you because something seems off. He's ahead in the class anyway and shouldn't suffer from missing a day.

He goes straight to your room, knocking on the door when he gets there, just to find it unlocked when he tries the knob. This confuses him. You always make sure to lock your door, being one for privacy and all. Vil walks into the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.

He doesn't see you anywhere in the room but hears rustling coming from the bathroom. The bathroom door is cracked open when he walks up to it. He makes sure to announce his presence to you first, but you don't seem to hear him when he pushes the door open.

His breath catches in his throat at the sight he finds when the door's all the way open. You are sitting on the edge of the bathtub, just staring down at your arms as blood drips from them and onto the floor.

Vil doesn't know how to feel. This is the last thing he thought he'd find when he opened the door, but now that he's seeing you, he feels his heart clench. He doesn't understand why you would want to do this to yourself, and he hates that you would ever feel that you needed to. How long have you felt this way? A million questions fly through his head at once, trying to figure out if there was a chance he could have helped you before if any signs were given to him.

You still haven't noticed him in the doorway, still in a trance staring at your arms. You start to bring the razor back to your arm, the sting you felt earlier leaving a numbness in its wake. When Vil sees this, he takes it as his chance to walk all the way into the bathroom and carefully grab your wrist, preventing you from doing anything else.

Your body jumps, staring up at Vil from your position, not expecting anyone to be here. There are tears gathering in his eyes as he reaches out his hand to place it on your cheek. The gentleness of his touch makes you completely break down into him.

Vil kneels down in front of you, letting you curl into his chest as you sob. He's able to take the razor out of your grasp and throw it into the tub behind you, letting you collapse onto his lap as he holds you.

He's aware of all the blood seeping into his uniform, but at this moment all he can think about is helping you. He only lets you stay in this position for less than a minute more, needing to clean up the still-bleeding wounds on your arms.

He apologizes, saying he needs to clean you up when he hears you whine after he moves you off of him. He lets you lie as close to him as you can as he washes off your arms in the tub, every once in a while whispering praises of how good you're being for him.

He makes a mental note to clean up the bathroom as he lays you down in your bed after he's done helping you, but for now, he just lets you hold him until you fall asleep with the warmth of his body wrapped around you.

𝑰𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝑺𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅

You told Idia that you were going to the bathroom 15 minutes ago. At first, he didn't realize how long it had been since you said something, being too absorbed in the game in front of him. But soon he notices that you've been there an awfully long time.

He pauses the game and walks over to gently knock on the bathroom door. He gets no immediate response, only hearing quiet shuffling behind the door when he presses his ear up to it.

After calling your name and knocking a few more times with no response, he checks the door handle and is surprised when the door opens; it isn't locked.

You don't expect the door to open, thinking you had locked it behind you when you walked into the bathroom, but you realize you didn't when you see Idia standing in the doorway. You think you turned around fast enough for him not to see what you were doing, but he already saw the streaks of red and drops of blood in the sink before you turned around.

It's the soft way he says your name and the gentle hand on your shoulder that cause you to break down and drop the razor you once clutched in your hand. You fall into his embrace, feeling his arms wrap around you as he lets you sob into his shoulder.

He carefully moves your body closer to the sink, your face remaining buried in his shoulder. Turning the faucet on and wetting a rag he grabs next to the sink, he carefully turns your arms around and starts to wipe the drying blood off. He apologizes, stopping briefly when he feels you wince, and starts again a few seconds later, gentler than he was previously.

He's able to get in touch with Ortho at this time, asking him to bring a couple of bandages to his room. He has to specify that everything's fine and to leave them outside the bathroom, making sure Ortho won't see you like this.

Once he has washed off both your arms and received the message from Ortho that the bandages are outside, he starts to walk with you toward the bathroom exit.

You don't stop clinging to him as he sits you down on his bed, kneeling in front of you to start wrapping the bandages carefully around your arms. He hopes he's doing it well enough, not having had to wrap anything up like this before.

He's tempted to ask Ortho to check if everything's wrapped up okay, but he knows you probably wouldn't feel comfortable with someone else here right now. So, he sets the excess wrappings aside for later and lays you down in his bed.

You grab him instantly, not letting him move far from you. He's careful not to lay on either of your arms as he hugs you close to his chest, letting you fall asleep in his arms.

buy me a coffee ♡

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Camping | Lee Know

-> Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

-> Request: No

-> Synopsis: You go camping with your boyfriend.

-> Warnings: None. No use of pronouns.

-> Word Count: 310

-> Requests: Open until 31st June

Lee Know Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.

“Jagi-ya,” you hear Minho trying to get your attention. Looking up from the bowl of ramen you’re eating, you look at your boyfriend. He gives you a cheeky smile and snaps a photo on his phone. You give him an unimpressed look before going back to your food that he had cooked over the campfire.   

What was supposed to be a weekend camping trip with your friends turned into one with your boyfriend after all your friends had backed out. Knowing you were disappointed because you were excited and looking forward to the trip, Minho took the weekend off so you could still go.   

“Do you want to go for a walk on the trail after we’ve cleaned up?” he asks as you finish eating.    

You smile and nod your head as you move to get the dishes cleaned. As you gather the empty bowls and dirty utensils, Minho joins you, his playful grin still lingering on his face. He begins to wash the dishes while you dry them. The chore you dread the most starts to feel surprisingly enjoyable with his company.  

Once the last dish is dried and put away, you both set off on the trail hand in hand. The air inside the woods is crisp and fragrant, carrying the scent of pine and earth. As you continue your journey, Minho's passion for the outdoors becomes evident. He points out various plants and birds, his knowledge of the wilderness impresses you. His knowledge of things is just one of the many qualities that you find attractive. 

In this moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and guided by Minho, you realize that it's not just his knowledge that draws you to him. It's his way of making you open your eyes to the beauty of the world. With every step, your bond with him and nature deepens. 

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[riki-riks-chick]

Chainsmoker┃L.HS

smoker!heeseung x reader

heeseung smokes cigarettes, but yn wants him to quit.

cw: arguments, cigarettes, smoking, addiction.

wdct: 748

this is a request to make a longer version of this req.

═════════════

Third Person POV~

"Heeseung.. Wake up, baby.." You shake his shoulder, trying to wake him as he groans. "What?.." He asks sleepily as you sigh. "We're supposed to go shopping today, and then we're going to lunch. Get up." He nods, sitting up. "Okay.."

The two of you spend the next hour getting ready before heading to the front door, but you stop, turning to Heeseung.

"Give me your lighter.." You sigh, holding your hand out as he sighs, giving you the lighter. "Baby.. Do I really have to?" He asks as you nod. "Yes, smoking is terrible for you and I hate it.. I'll carry your gum if you want, but at least try the patches.. You're not making any effort to quit.."

He sighs, pretty much ignoring you as you roll your eyes, grabbing your keys before stepping out the door, locking it behind Heeseung.

Throughout the day, Heeseung is in a bad mood. And you know it's because he wants to smoke, but you physically can't stand it. It's not only a very unhealthy habit, but it's annoying. The nicotine kisses, the brand new outfits that now smell like cigarette smoke. You're so over it to the point that you're considering Heeseung not moving in with you permanently. And that's not something you want because you love your boyfriend, but he can't seem to give it up.

"Heeseung, do you think this is cute?" You ask, holding up a cute cardigan as he nods. "Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes, hanging it back on the rack. "I get that you're pissed, but don't take it out on me. I'm only trying to help, Heeseung." You whisper yell as he scoffs. "Have you ever considered that I don't want your help?"

His tone is seething with anger, and it only makes you more upset. "Fine then.. Don't expect me to ever help you again. And you can move back to your apartment while you're at it."

Your tone is bitter, and he simply scoffs, turning to walk away. "Where are you going?" You question as he turns around, glaring at you. "Somewhere you aren't."

He then walks away as you sigh, running a frustrated hand through your hair. He's so stubborn sometimes. You've tried to get him to quit smoking multiple times before. You had even given up clubbing and drinking because he said, "I can't be the only one to give something up." 

Now it's been a year and you haven't had an alcoholic beverage at all, but he's still smoking.

And you're not perfect, and you can't judge him for his addiction, but you're only trying to help.

You walk around for the next thirty minutes, trying to give Heeseung time to cool off before using his location to find him.

His location said that he was at the convenience store just a block away, so you walked there, taking your time. Soon enough, you found him outside the convenience store, a cigarette perched between his fingers as he took a slow drag. 

Once his eyes met yours, he exhaled, putting the cigarette out. You walked over to him, ignoring the strong and recognizable scent of cigarettes on him. "I'm sorry I spoke to you that way."

You apologize, not wanting him to stay mad over what you said. He doesn't seem to want your apology, though.

"I don't wanna talk right now." He speaks lowly, and you sigh, grabbing his hands in yours. "Please, Hee.. I didn't mean that.. I was just upset and I misspoke." You apologize again and Heeseung's gaze drops. "So you do wanna live with me?..." He asks as you nod. "Of course I do.. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, baby.."

You hug him and his wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back. "Sorry, I probably stink.." He pulls away, rubbing the back of his neck as you smile.

"It's fine.. I'll try to be less controlling.." He shakes his head. "No.. You were right.. It's a bad habit and I'm gonna quit.. I don't want you to resent me.." 

You smile, kissing his cheek. "I could never resent you.. Don't worry.. We'll help you quit together. Okay?" He nods, hugging you again.

"I'll try my hardest.."

═���═══════════

[manikas-whims]

how Rafayel from Love and Deepspace will react when he finds out you're on your period..

You walked past the gallery at the Mo Art Studio and headed towards the second floor where this famous artist of your era, Rafayel resided.

He greeted you in his usual cheerful tone and proceeded to dish out the entire plan for your day out with him.

You would've focused a little. Even made sure to cross check the places he mentioned for any signs of recent Wanderer activity as you are supposed to guard him after all.

But your mind was slightly preoccupied by the shallow numbness and weariness you felt in your limbs. And if the wetness you felt between your legs was an indication of what you suspected it to be, then that would be truly mortifying.

Not simply because you hadn't brought any emergency supplies but also because of the company you were in. You couldn't even begin to imagine Rafayel’s mocking reaction. Or the words he'd say if—

The snap of a finger right before your eyes drew you out from your train of thoughts, and you looked up to find the very topic of your concern, better known as Rafayel. He was staring at you, brows narrowed in confusion.

“You okay, Miss Bodyguard?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” You blurted out.

His eyes narrowed even more but then he simply shrugged his shoulders, and gave you the directions.

[moments later]

You returned to the living room with the grim realization that sure enough, your period had arrived. Two days earlier at that!

“Uh...Rafayel, do you..happen to know any general stores nearby?”

He blinked. “What are you up to?”

“None of your business.”

“Wow. Rude much.”

You felt the numbness in your belly slowly turning into a full on cramp. You did not have the strength to bicker with him right now.

“Ugh! Just tell me where it is!”

“Not until you tell me why.” And he went on and on, babbling about how you were the one wasting both of their time by dragging this conversation for so long.

You clenched your fists, bit your bottom lip and inhaled deeply. Oh to hell with decency. To hell with embarassment. To hell with whatever else they said about keeping personal matters to oneself. To hell with it all!

“Because I'm on my fucking period and need some napkins!”

There! You did it, anger momentarily helping you forget about the ache in your limbs.

He asked and as such, now he was informed. Only his reaction was nothing like you had expected.

There were no hints of teasing. Not even a sign of mirth dancing in his pretty eyes.

If anything, his ears were now burning bright red. And so were his cheeks and well..his entire face.

Rafayel put a hand to his mouth to cover up the blush coating his face but it was already too late for that.

He took a moment to compose himself. Then spoke. “Why didn't you tell me yesterday?”

“Because, as I said earlier, it's none of your business!” You yelled. “And I didn't have periods until I arrived here!”

“Okay okay calm down.” He waved a palm wildly in front of you which irritated you further, coaxing you into slapping his hand away.

But before you could do so, he pointed towards the array of furniture lying in his living room. “Go take a seat.”

You rolled your eyes. “And stain your fancy couch? No thank you.”

“Ouch! Did someone ever tell you that you become meaner when you're on your—”

“I’m not mean! You just rile me up!”

“Right okay.” He patted your back and guided you to the couch. “I don't care about the stains. Just sit.”

You stared at him even as you followed his request and sat down.

“What?” He asked.

You scrunched your nose and narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

His eye twitched upon hearing that. “Nonsense. I'm always nice.”

“No you aren't.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Right. Well, I've texted Thomas. He'll be here with your napkins and other necessities in no time.”

You frowned. “But there's no need. I can just go home if—”

“Nuh uh uh.” He wagged a finger in negation and shook his head. “You rest here for a while. Then I'll drop you off.”

He left before you could utter a word in protest.

And when he returned, he had a pair of clothes in his hands. Dark sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt.

“These should feel more comfortable. Go change.”

You wanted to protest but the dark pants did seem a far better option than the pink skirt you currently wore. Besides, if the skirt got a stain, it'll be hard to get rid-off, and might even ruin the fabric.

Huffing, you took the clothes– his clothes now that you realized– and went back to the bathroom.

Upon your return, you found him seated on the floor mat by the couch, peeling fruits and arranging them in a plate.

“Here.” He poked an apple with a fork and beckoned you to him.

You blinked. “Seriously who are you? And what did you do to the real Rafayel?”

He rolled his eyes. “Haha, very funny. Now come here and eat.”

You were still suspicious but sat down on the couch.

You tried taking the fork from his hand but he refused. “No. Open your mouth.”

You shook your head but decided to comply for once instead of bickering.

“See? That wasn't so hard.”

You chuckled. This reminded you of that one time he got admitted at a hospital, and you were the one who had to feed him.

You smiled as he fed you another apple.

“This is so unlike you.”

He pouted this time and looked directly into your eyes, frustration evident in his gaze. “Miss Bodyguard, you're always taking care of me. Entertaining all my whims. So just..for this once..let me return the favor.”

The earnest tone and his sparkling eyes made your cheeks slightly warmer. For a moment you stammered with your words. Then responded. “Alright then. I'm in your care.”

“Yeah yeah.” His demeanor changed immediately, and he was back to his usual teasing self as he winked you. “Just don't get used to it.”

Here's Rafayel’s version. HOPE YOU LIKED IT.

I'm not entirely confident about my portrayal of Raf but I hope it was alright and not too ooc.

Please let me know what you think. And if you'd like more such headcanons of Love and Deepspace boys.

» MASTERLIST «

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XVII

Everlasting Light

Elain Archeron threaded a pearl earring into her ear and then stepped back, looking at her reflection in the mirror. 

For the wedding, she decided to go dramatic and memorable. Her dress was pale pink and cream, form-fitting, with an ostentatious flower at the shoulder. The gown (it really was more of a gown, rather than just a dress) was satin and chiffon, with delicate silk inserts and appliqué flowers. 

She kept her hair simple, in a neat chignon, and wrapped a narrow satin ribbon around her head in lieu of a hat.

It was a dress worthy of a wedding. A dress worthy of a bride. 

Only it wasn’t her wedding. And she wasn’t the bride. 

And the dress was much too expensive and glamorous for a wedding guest. There was nothing subtle about it. But for once, Elain Archeron chose not to be demure, modest and shyly elegant. No. Today, she was going to arrive in style and overshadow the bride. Today, she was going to be outlandish. 

She supposed that that’s the danger one ran into when they invited their ex to their wedding. But that was not her problem, frankly. 

Piglet arrived in her bedroom and offered his male support by barking his approval. He was looking rather spiffy himself, dressed in a proper morning suit, with a waistcoat and a pale pearl tie, to match her dress. 

He was still getting used to his new leg prosthetic, and while he didn’t like it when he was first fitted with it, now, three weeks later, he refused to go outside without it.

Elain's Dress

-

“It’s all paid for,” the veterinarian told her when Elain took Piglet for his first fitting,

“Pardon?” She was perplexed. How would anyone know about her bringing Piglet here? She hadn’t even told her sisters about it. In case the procedure didn’t work, she preferred to keep it secret before she was sure that Piglet would accept it. He was acting awfully bitey at the fitting and gave her deathly side eyes, while refusing to look at her once it was done. 

The receptionist, who was handling the financials, looked at the monitor and read out loud, 

‘Looks like…let’s see here. A Mr. Azriel Night? Paid in full. It says here…oh, well, he is your partner, Miss Archeron,’ she laughed, ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘I’d prefer to pay for it myself,’ Elain argued tersely. At the mention of his name, she immediately felt the squeeze in her throat and a suffocating pressure in her chest, as she fought her tears. She was not going to burst in tears in front of this poor, well-meaning woman. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in public. 

The receptionist blushed and scrambled, muttering, ‘Miss Archeron, it would be difficult. We’d have to refund the purchase, and since Mr. Night hasn’t requested it…I’m sure I can contact him,’

Pursing her lips, Elain managed to remain visibly calm. She didn’t want to argue. Besides, Piglet was already growling at her and was about to start some shit right in the office, so she decided to handle this later, on the phone. 

She absolutely wasn’t going to take any charity or handouts from that man. Not at all. He didn’t deserve to know that he contributed to Piglet’s well-being in any manner. He didn’t. She wouldn’t allow him to. 

The problem was that it went even further than Azriel paying for the robotic prosthesis. That same week she also received a letter from Piglet’s regular vet, notifying her that Piglet’s longevity shots have been paid for in full. In perpetuity. As in, forever. That horrid, treacherous man dared to…Elain couldn’t believe it. Enraged, she rang Cassian. 

Before the man could say ‘hello’, she screamed into the phone,

‘Tell your brother to leave us alone! He is not to make attempts at helping my dog with anything. Piglet isn’t his responsibility. We don’t need him!’

‘What?’ Cassian asked dumbly. 

‘You heard me!’ She snapped at him. ‘I don’t need anything from him. Just my fee. I’m quite sure that he still owes me for setting him up.’

‘Yeah, he does,’ Cassian agreed, his tone sombre and defeated. ‘That he does.’

‘Exactly. Beyond my fee, I’m not interested in hearing anything from or about him. I hope you understand.’

‘I understand.’

‘Thanks. Bye!’

But before she could hang up, Cassian called after her and quickly asked, “and you? How are you?’’

She paused and he heard her swallow. She didn’t answer for a long time. He wasn’t even sure if she was still on the line when at last, he heard her say, ‘I’m brilliant.’

“You don’t need to say that to me,” he snapped at her. 

She scoffed, ‘I don’t owe you anything, Cass. So there is that. Tell him that I don’t need anything from him. That’s all I’m asking of you.’ 

He sighed heavily and told her, 

“Okay”.

-

It was a surprisingly nice day for early March. It was sunny and warm and wisteria began blooming all around Bloomsbury and Russell Square. 

Her father sent a car for her, so she wouldn’t have to take a taxi. At first, Elain didn’t want to bother, but after she decided on her dress, she changed her mind. Now, there was a Bentley waiting for her on the street. 

She hated that she almost greeted her father’s driver as ‘Dev’, but she stopped herself at the last moment. Piglet stopped to inspect the car, not recognising it and he also paused when he saw the new driver. He was going to give him paw, like he did with Dev, but this wasn’t Dev and Piglet waited for Elain to do something. 

“Lady Elain,” the driver greeted her as he opened the door and then looked at the pug and said, “and this is Piglet, I assume.”

“It is. Thank you,” she turned to the dog and helped him inside the vehicle. “We have a stop to make and pick up another individual.”

“Of course,” the driver said simply and then assisted her inside the car, and even picked up and loaded the train of her dress inside, arranging it on the floor, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She told him the address and they took off. 

Elain felt detached from herself, as if she was looking at her body from the outside. She was seemingly standing behind a glass and observing her life, but it wasn’t hers. Not really. Her life should’ve been completely different right now. She should’ve been with Azriel. Loved by him. Loving him. She should’ve been going to her own wedding. She should’ve been happy.

But she wasn’t. 

Elain wasn’t happy.

As they detoured through Marylebone towards Paddington, Elain was of mind to call the whole thing off. She didn’t need to go to the wedding. She could make an excuse. It was just her, and her family would be represented just fine by Nesta and Feyre. There was no need for her to torture herself or her dog with all of this. 

But, by the time she was ready to say something to the driver, they were pulling around Radnor Mews–unbearably charming and picturesque–and she spotted a tall, statuesque man standing on the corner, looking at his phone.

The Bentley pulled to the curb and the driver got out to open the door. 

“Hey gorgeous!” the man slid inside the cabin, taking up about as much space as Azriel normally would.

Goddamn it. Enough already. Enough with Azriel!

Elain squeezed her eyes tightly, before sighing and looking at her companion.

“Fen,” she breathed.

His dark, luminous eyes skimmed over her elaborate dress, the large flower on her shoulder, and then he reached and gently drew his finger from her cheek down to her collarbone.

“My god you are beautiful,” he gawked, shaking his head. “Are you okay to do this?”

She bit her lip and then nodded. If he noticed her reluctance, he didn’t show it, but only took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

Fenris Beem-Moon was Elain’s first…well, everything. Her first in many ways. Her first boyfriend. Her first major crush. He took her on her first date when they were 16 years old. The first time she got drunk was with Fen and he held her hair back while she puked miserably in a pub loo. He attempted to teach her to drive, to the detriment of his own life–and failed. He was her first man–the one who took her virginity, when they went to Brighton for a long weekend. Fen was the first (and only) man, so far, to consistently provide Elain with toe-curling orgasms.

They parted ways when both went to the university. Elain–to Bristol, while Fen went to Dartmouth in the US. Nowadays, she was a matchmaker to the wealthy and the titled, and he was managing a hedge fund.

“Hey Pugnatious the Great,” Fen rubbed Piglet’s back and the pug leaned against him in a friendly way. Elain chuckled at the moniker. Fenris was one of a select few whom Piglet actually liked, and not just tolerated. He and her pug didn’t have the soul-crushing adoration like Piglet had with Azriel, but,

Here she was. AGAIN. Thinking about Azriel.

She shook her head and scoffed at her own thoughts. She was pathetic. No other word for it. Pathetic. She hated herself for constantly thinking about that asshole. For being so weak and stupid that all her thoughts revolved around an unworthy man. 

Fen looked at her, sensing her distress and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. His lips pressed to her temple and he rubbed his thumb over her bare shoulder.

“How do you want to play this?” he asked at last, once Elain stilled beneath his arm and lay her head on his shoulder. “Are we making him jealous? Should I make him eat a bag of dicks?”

She snorted at that.

“Should I fuck him up for making you sad?” he continued.

“He is big,”

Bubbling his lips, Fen chuckled, “Not as big as me, elske.”

Then he laughed quietly, “you got a type, that’s for sure! You like a big man,” 

She sighed, but did not argue. She liked them big and strong.

Then, with a scowl, he added, “though not sure where your Eris fits in. At least the Douchebag is handsome. Not as handsome as me,”

“No,” she drawled, “of course not,”

“But he is handsome enough. Eris…fuck, babe, he is a ginger!”

Laughing at his antics, Elain pushed at his chest, saying, “you are an anti-gingerite!”

“One word, babe–ginger pubes!” he announced dramatically and Elain shuddered. 

“Eww, Fen, don’t be gross,”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one nosing into ginger pubes,” he reminded her. 

“It’s two words, by the way.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he cocked his brow. “Ginger pubes are ginger pubes. Is he hung at least?

She rolled her eyes and offered a shrug. 

“So, he could be bigger,” Fenris confirmed. 

Elain knew what he was doing–he was cheering her up, saying all kinds of nonsense, so she wouldn’t have to think of what she was about to face. And for that, she was grateful.

But as they drove towards the Royal Boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea, she knew that no amount of pep talks or cheering up could change the reality of what she was about to experience. 

Many had wondered as to why Elain and Fenris did not end up together? They seemed to have had everything in common–they were childhood friends, they were both wildly attractive, both came from wealthy, illustrious families, Fenris being the son of the head of the Beem banking dynasty and a Danish Countess. What’s more, they had a fine, loving, amicable relationship. However, Fenris had a secret, to which few were privy, but Elain knew. His sexual tastes ran exotic–he was a Dom and a co-owner of a BDSM club in Soho. He was their superstar performer, along with his submissive and real-life lover Kat. Fen and Kat were soulmates, and Elain was always envious of their relationship–the love, the trust, the adoration. She was less fanatical about the caning and the fisting on stage (which she’d watched when she visited the club), but she did not judge her best mate. What’s more, contrary to popular belief, Elain was a lot less uptight and uncomfortable with sex than most people assumed. Fenris had guaranteed that. Her only problem was that she kept ending up with sexually boring men. After Fen, only Azriel came close to being as spectacular, but,

Gah!

She was thinking about him again. 

But it was curious, now that she thought about it, that Azriel basically fisted her that one time–their only real intimate time. What did it say about her? What did it say about her because she loved it?

“We can’t make him jealous,” she told Fenris quietly, hiding her face in his chest. He stroked the back of her neck, holding her close. “He is literally marrying someone else.”

“Maybe he is delirious,” Fen offered. “Like a brain inflammation,”

“Oh, is that what it is?” she huffed a sceptical sigh. 

“I mean it’s a fairly reasonable explanation as to why he’d be marrying someone else when he had you and, as you told me, he said that he loved you.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and murmured,

“Or, maybe, he never loved me at all.”

-

Azriel Night adjusted his cufflinks and then glanced at his watch.

10:53 am.

The guests were milling about in the airy Cadogan Suite of the Old Chelsea Town Hall, enjoying cocktails and admiring the Victorian architecture of the pale grey and blue walls and the impressive marble and granite fireplace. It wasn’t exactly a huge gathering, only about twenty guests, and most of them were family anyway. And that suited him just fine. 

Old Chelsea Town Hall, London

He already felt like shit, hot and tense, his dark navy suit seemingly too tight and stifling around the shoulders. He readjusted the sleeves about thirty times and still he couldn’t get comfortable. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t need any more people witnessing the shitshow that was about to take place. 

Plopping heavily on a chair he buried his head in his hands. He was alone in the antechamber of the reception room, his eyes darting towards the door every five seconds.

“You alright?” he heard Cassian’s voice, but didn’t answer.

Was he alright? Sure didn’t feel like it.

“She’ll come,” Cassian assured him. “She will. She texted Nes earlier,”

“Even if she does show up,” Azriel interrupted him, “it won’t change anything.”

Cassian sighed and didn’t argue. Probably not. Azriel had fucked up and Cassian didn’t think that Elain was going to suddenly forgive him just like that. Or should. Or would. 

Besides, he was tasked with telling Azriel one other nugget of shit,

“Sooo…I just wanted you to know,” he began saying slowly, “that she would be coming with,”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Azriel snarled angrily and jumped to his feet. “Who is that? Who is with her?”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I was saying,” Cassian muttered, but before he could continue, he was stopped by the look on Azirel’s face.

The look of adoration and utter amazement. Anger too, but mostly Az looked both flabbergasted and smitten. Cassian followed his brother’s gaze and immediately whistled under his breath. 

Elain Archeron glided into the room, dressed in a spectacular satin gown, which accentuated her round curves and stunned with its haute couture details. Cassian wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but he could tell when a woman looked good. And Elain looked spectacular! This dress–pale blush pink–was decorated with bold, but delicate flowers at the bottom and on her shoulder, and he guessed that every embellishment was handmade. If ever there was a princess, Elain was most certainly one today. 

And like a true princess, she arrived exactly on time. 

And just like that, all eyes were on her. 

But she did not react. Nothing outwardly but a blase, relaxed appearance. 

What’s more, Elain was draped over one beast of a man–absolutely huge, at least 6”6–so handsome, he could only be called ‘breathtaking’. Cassian was staunchly straight and liked pussy more than he liked just about anything else, but fuck it–he’d give this bloke a go if the opportunity presented itself. The man had a perfect, unblemished, ridiculously symmetrical face, with a jaw that could cut glass, dark, almost black eyes and a leonine head of gorgeous golden hair. His form fit his face–muscular, toned, firm, but compact in a way professional athletes were. 

And speaking of professional athletes–the one next to him, his own brother, was just about vibrating with dark, pent up energy. 

“We are not brawling,” Cassian cautioned him sternly.

“Who the fuck is he?” Azriel hissed. 

“Whoever he is,” Cassian said, “he can take you,”

“Pfff,” Azriel snorted, but it wasn’t a confident snort. He realised that the blond god would make a worthy opponent if push came to shove. 

“You need to calm down,” Cassian warned. 

“If that cocksucker is fucking my wom-,”

“She is not your woman,” Cassian reminded him. 

“Fuck you, Cass.”

“Whatever.”

Meanwhile, Piglet weaved between the man’s legs and sat down at his side, while the man bent and rubbed the pug’s neck, and then fished something out of his pocket and gave it to Piglet to chew. 

“The fuck he is giving him treats!” Azriel seethed, while Cassian shook his head and said, 

“Why are you acting like some overprotective boyfriend? You left her,”

“And why is he touching her like that?” Azriel completely ignored Cassian’s words, as he watched the disgustingly good looking bloke, on whose arm Elain was literally hanging, turn and cup Elain’s face in his massive hand, his fingers on her cheek and then kiss the top of her head, right on the satin band that held her hair in place.

KISS HER HEAD!!!

“Little Piggy, you are so handsome!!” Azriel heard Feyre’s excited screeching and then, to his surprise, she greeted the blond guy, “Fen, long time no see! How are you?!”

She reached up and he kissed her cheek, but before he answered, she prattled forth, “I didn’t know you were coming today. Are you two back together?”

Back together???

“It would be so good if you got back together,” she continued, smiling breathlessly.

Elain pursed her lips and snapped, “Fey!”

“What, what?!” Feyre began to backtrack. “I am just saying.”

The man, Fen, had an amused smirk playing on his lips, his fingers still stroking Elain’s bare shoulders. 

“It’s good to see you, Feyre,” he said simply. 

“But you are,” Feyre started again, but then Elain’s attention, along with her head, turned to Azriel.

-

Unable to wait any longer, Azriel got up and walked across the room, noticing how Elain had tensed the moment he stepped out of the antechamber and made his way towards her. 

She looked indescribably beautiful today. A little sad. A little nervous, though she covered it up pretty well. But overwhelmingly, she was simply stunning. That dress…Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of it, because she looked both bridal and regal, a queen, but also a timid virgin. Where did you even get a dress like that? And how do you come to a decision which says ‘yeah, I am going to throw this on today. To a wedding. Which isn’t my own.’ He figured that it was a very Elain thing to do–to march to the beat of her own drum, wearing what she liked–but still. This was ballsy. 

The blond bloke still had his hand on her though. It was a proprietary hold–his long fingers holding her by the back of the neck. Like a lover. Like she belonged to him.

Azriel barely managed to hold back an animalistic snarl. Barely managed to hold back and not lunge at the guy and break his fingers, thus removing them from Elain’s bare flesh. 

“You came,” he said instead, balling his hands behind his back. He was almost on top of them, standing so close that he could feel the warmth of Elains body and smell her sweet, delicious jasmine perfume. He didn’t bother with any kind of preamble. He didn’t have it in him to engage in small talk or act decently. He wanted to rip the man’s arms right off and then press her to her knees on the floor and fuck her brutally on the guy’s bleeding corpse.

Elain turned to face him–her expression placid, and almost disinterested. As if he was interrupting something and she needed to give him her time and attention.

She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned fully to him. The blond man’s hand did not leave her neck. Azriel gritted his teeth. 

“Of course,” she nodded easily, a bland smirk on her lips. “I always attend these weddings–if the clients that I set up invite me, I gladly accept. Tell me, Azriel, where is Gwyn?”

He ignored her question and asked instead, “And who is your date?”

The man’s hand remained on her neck. 

“Fenris Beem-Moon,” the bloke said and extended his other hand to Azriel. 

Elain’s expression was inscrutable. She watched Azriel shake Fenris’s hand with a pained expression though he managed to contain himself. But Elain knew him well–could read all his micro expressions like an open book. She was well aware of the fact that Azriel was fuming inside, but pretended to pretend like he didn’t care. It didn’t help matters that Fenris intended on making Azriel jealous, by stroking her throat with his knuckles, before wrapping his fingers over the back of her neck. 

“And you are her date?” Azriel asked, his voice hollow.

Fen didn’t confirm or deny, but only said ‘El needed a plus one and here I am’. 

“And here you are,” Azriel echoed.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but that was cut short by a loud screeching roar that came out of Piglet once he beheld Azriel in his sight. The big brown bug eyes blinked and Piglet sized Azriel up, and determined that the proximity to Elain was too much for him to allow. With an enraged bark, he bounced on the floor, flying out of Feyre’s arms. 

It was all happening in slow motion. Everyone turned and attempted to catch him, but he deployed his full parkour moves and galloped towards Azriel with angry, hateful barks. 

Azriel didn’t know how to react, but Piglet solved the dilemma for him, when he lunged at him and sunk his sharp little teeth into Azriel’s hand.

“Awww, fuck!” Azriel cried, not knowing how to avoid the attack. Because Piglet was definitely attacking. Once he drew blood from Azriel’s palm, he latched onto his leg, biting him painfully, making him bleed yet again and Azriel noticed  blood stains on his trouser leg. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, “stop it! Awww! Fuck! Stop biting me!”

Piglet didn’t let up for a second. He jumped and bit and scratched, pushing Azriel back and away from Elain. He raged and slashed, with claws and teeth, and yes, he could’ve been picked up and thrown aside, but Azriel couldn’t do that.

And then Piglet went for the jugular. Or rather, for Azriel’s groin, latching on to his thigh and attempting to reach the most sensitive area. The only thing that helped Azriel in that moment was the fact that he was tall, and Piglet miscalculated the jump, and instead of biting his dick, he bit his thigh. It was like wrestling that cannibalistic rabbit from ‘Monty Python’--Azriel tried to pull the pug off his leg, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he anticipated. Obviously he could've been rough with the pug and hurt him, but Azriel wasn’t going to go there. Piglet wiggled, snarled and growled angrily, while he searched for more flesh to bite, looking for reactions that caused the most pain and discomfort to Azriel, and when seeing it, biting harder. 

It was Elain, at last, who jumped on the dog and tried to wrestle him away. He wouldn’t budge though, no matter how she tried to pry him off or ordered him to stop. 

“Piglet, Piglet,” she pleaded, afraid to stick her finger in his mouth to loosen his hold. “Stop. Stop.”

Cassian stepped in, trying to hold the dog off, only to receive a scratch from the angry little paw. Feyre tried as well, waving cheese and bread in her hands–who even knows how she got those–but Piglet didn’t care. Fenris pulled on the pug, grabbing him around the body, but they just heard the cloth rip and Azriel winced in pain.

Finally, Elain snapped, “Piglet! Stop right now. You are hurting daddy. Stop. You love daddy,” she reminded him, but he roared at her in response. “I don’t care. You don’t bite. Even if your feelings are hurt and he left you,” she added ruthlessly. “You are better than that.”

She gently tugged him and he finally released Azriel’s leg and trouser. Piglet was panting, glaring at Azriel with hate and resentment. 

“Pink,” Azriel began saying, but Piglet snarled at him, baring his teeth and at that point, Fenris grabbed him from Elain’s arms and held him tightly to his chest. At that, something broke inside of Azriel, who watched his best mate in the arms of another man. Now, Fenris had both the dog and Azriel’s woman as his own.

Elain, bless her weak and stupid heart, muttered, “My god, Azriel. You are bleeding! Your suit…”

Azriel was bleeding. From his hand and his thigh and his ankle. His trousers were pretty much ruined. 

Rhysand, who was observing the drama and the raging pug attack, sauntered towards their little group, hands in his pockets, and gave Azriel a once over, shaking his head like a disappointed father. 

“I will make a call to get you new trousers,” he offered. “Who made your suit?”

“Dege and Skinner,” Azriel answered. 

That announcement received a smirk of approval from his billionaire lord cousin and if there was anyone who could get a new pair of trousers delivered in a matter of hours, it would be Rhysand. 

“You need to have this cleaned,” Elain piped, looking at the pooling blood that dripped from his hand. 

“Can you help me?” Azriel asked firmly, taking her by the hand before she could say anything. He tugged her behind him, while Fenris frowned and mouthed ‘I’ll be right here’. Piglet was going nuts again, unhappy that Elain was with Azriel–barking and screaming and snapping and huffing. Fenris cradled him in his arms, rocking him, murmuring to him, as he shielded him from seeing how Azriel pulled Elain with him. Feyre was attempting to calm Piglet down with cheese and bread. Cassian, meanwhile, went to fetch an attendant to clean up the mess on the floor. Nesta was sitting at the table, drinking vodka on the rocks with extra olives, and shaking her head. 

The bridal party was still not here. Probably for the best. 

-

Azriel half dragged Elain into the antechamber reserved for the bridal guests, but seeing as it was empty right now, he closed the door and walked to the adjoining powder room. Elain stood in the middle of the room, looking a little lost and more than apprehensive.

“I can ask Cassian to,” she began saying, but Azriel shook his head stubbornly and ordered, “come here, Elain. Now.”

She picked up her skirt and wet her lower lip nervously, before walking to the powder room.

He had his suit jacket off, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt rolled up to the elbows–his veined tattooed arms and the network of scars were all on full display and Elain swallowed loudly, still consumed by the need to be touched by those hands and be held within those arms. The white material of the shirt stretched nicely around his massive shoulders and the bulging biceps, and she needed to force herself to look somewhere else, because this was torturous–the close proximity, the scent of him, the sudden realisation that he was next to once again. She had tried to forget how it felt to be near him, tried for almost two months now, but just like that, it all flew out the window. All of her good intentions, because once again, she was next to him and he made her head swim.

Trying to find something to do with her hands, she grabbed a towel and ran it under some cool water. Piglet’s gotten carried away–there was a deep cut from the claws on Azriel’s left arm, and a whole slew of bites on his right.

“I should sue you,” he told her, without humour. “That little fucker needs to be muzzled.”

Elain bristled at his words, but didn’t say anything and only wiped the blood off his left arm. He winced and muttered, “you can’t bring a wild animal to social outings.”

“He is not a wild animal!” she snapped at him. 

He showed her both of his arms and said, “he absolutely is.”

“He was upset with you!” she defended the dog. “Also, he is a pug. I think you’ll survive.”

He looked her up and down, scrubbing his hands and blotting them with paper towels.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” he scowled. “If he wasn’t a pug, I’d beat his arse.”

Azriel dipped his arms under the faucet once more and then wrapped them with the remaining towels.

“Do I need a rabies shot?” he asked, pressing the towels to his forearms to stem the flow of blood. “This place looks like a murder scene now,” he shook his head.

“No, you don’t need a rabies shot,” she rolled her eyes, and he snorted at her, muttering ‘always with the attitude,”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I am going to go,” she turned on her heels, annoyed at his attitude, but before she could get away, he clamped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make her stop. Then he spun her around, so she was facing him. 

His expression was closed off and very stony, as he assessed her gown and her general appearance. 

Elain couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny and squirmed on her toes. 

“What do you want?” she asked nervously. “Your arms will heal.”

Azriel didn’t bother answering, and instead, his hands landed on her shoulders and he drew his thumbs over her protruding collar bones. He looked unamused and said,

“You are too thin. Are you not eating?”

Elain glanced up at him in confusion. 

His tone was…concerned. As if he cared about her. Which made little sense. 

His thumbs kept brushing over her chest, her neck, and then he leaned in and smelled her hair, pressing his cheek to her satin ribbon for a moment. 

“I am fine,” she said abruptly. “I am eating.”

“You are lying,”

“I am not. Besides, it’s none of your business,” she reminded him. “You are a client. I don’t report my eating habits to my clients. Soon to be an ex-client too.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I guess I’ve gone through some hard times lately.”

“Did you now?” his hand tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her even closer.

“I have.”

“Didn’t stop you from finding yourself another man in a month or so,” he commented coldly.

She tried to throw his hand off, but it was no use. He gripped her tightly and then pressed on her shoulder, digging his strong fingers into her flesh.

“Did you fuck him?” he snapped, his expression tight, his amber eyes glowing with a violent, unhinged need.

Elain started and dropped her hand from his arm.

“What?” she whispered.

“Did you fuck him?” he repeated dryly. “Are you fucking him?”

She bristled at his tone and stepped back, but he caught her wrist in his fingers and pulled her closer. His scarred hand cupped her cheek and he brushed his thumb over her throat, staring at her unblinking.

“Why are you asking me this?” she demanded, feeling her skin warm up under his scrutiny. “It’s none of your business!” 

He raised his brow and glowered at her, tension coming off him in waves. His thumb pressed deeper into her neck, pushing on the vein. She wondered if she’d have a bruise after this. 

“None of my business?” he challenged menacingly, that dark, deep voice of his sounding threatening. 

Elain attempted to step back away from him yet again. She was reminded of the wild, untamed beast that lived under his skin. The beast hid well enough, but she knew it was always there, raging to get out and smash through everything in its path. This was a boy who grew up on the rougher streets of Tower Hamlets and then in Lewisham and while he managed to exercise extreme self-control most of the time, right now wasn’t one of those times.

He jerked her back towards him and hissed, 

“Don’t act like you are scared of me!”

She swallowed and whispered, “Maybe I am scared of you right now.”

His expression darkened even further, but also seemed pensive–he was waging an internal battle in his own head.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he pressed, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck, his eyes wild and hungry. “You know I’ll do anything for you,”

She swallowed hard, feeling unbearably hot in her dress, shaky and angry.

“You are getting married!” she snarled at him. “I am here. For your wedding!”

That seemed to deflate him a bit and he sighed, muttering, “So I am”.

“So what do you want from me?!” she exclaimed, trying and failing to extricate herself from his hold. He didn’t let go.

Instead, he told her firmly, “answer the question!”

“I don’t see how that’s you busi-,”

He didn’t let her finish and snarled, “Another man’s dick in my woman’s cunt is my business. Do you understand that? So answer the fucking question, Elain. Did he fuck you? Did you give him what is mine?”

She stared at him in shock, appalled by his questions and the level of vitriol that he was spewing at her. How dare he?!!? He was the one who left her! He was the one who took off with another woman and now he had the audacity to act like a jealous boyfriend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

“Yes,” she snapped. “No.”

“What the fuck kind of answer is ‘yes and no’?”

He squeezed her cheek and made her look at him. “Tell me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it, but right now, she didn’t even care. She didn’t care that she was weeping, because she was…she was so tired. Just so tired of the endless heartache. Of not being loved. Of being left again and again and again. 

She hung her head low and whispered, “yes, I slept with him”.

Azriel sucked in a breath, his normally tanned face draining of colour and becoming noticeably paler. 

“Why?” he asked dumbly, staring at her. 

“Why did you leave me?” she asked instead, wiping her face, looking up at him.

He dropped her hand, but when she thought that he’d push her away, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed her face between his hands and stared at her. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked after a long pause.

She was sniffling and whimpering, locked into his gaze, and unable to shake off his grip on her head. 

“Because I am tired.”

“Of what?” he asked gently.

“Of everything. Of you. I am tired of you. And I am tired of not being loved. I am tired of always being everyone’s second choice.”

“You aren’t though,” he argued. “Not mine.”

“You are marrying another woman!” she cried out loudly, seething and angry. “You told me all this…shit! This nonsense! About how much you liked me,” at that, he cocked his head to the side, listening to her. She continued sniping at him angrily, “And you lied to me. The entire time, I was falling in love with you and you…you,” she was panting, breathless and enraged. “You told me you wanted me. You said that I was your one and only. And then you…you…just walked away and left me!”

Azriel’s expression was empty and his gaze stony when he stepped back away from her and crossed his arms on his chest.

“You are stubborn, ungrateful, obstinate, and arrogant,” he told her plainly, his eyes scorching her, as he stared her down. Her mouth opened to a shocked O. She couldn’t even respond to him, to his horrible words, the insults.

“You are,” he continued. “For months I’ve begged for scraps of your attention. I’ve done everything in my power to be gentle with you, be kind, and love you. I cleaned your house, cooked for you, washed your dishes, cared for your dog–all the while you held me at arm’s length. I courted you like a fucking knight or some shit. I respected your wishes and I treated you with kid gloves. I planned your birthday, I showered you with gifts and attention, I decorated your house when you asked me.

“Whenever you needed me, I was there. Any time, any day. So I ask you–what was not enough, Elain??” he pressed. “I need to know. Why was I not enough for you?”

She was sobbing, her thin shoulders shaking, while he waited for her to respond and listened to the pug going crazy behind closed doors, and shouting coming from the guests. Resolutely, he walked to the double doors and locked them. They were not going to be disturbed.

“I..I…never,” she tried to speak, but couldn’t. 

He was watching her with an alarmingly detached coldness. 

“You never?” he repeated. “That’s right, Elain. You never. You never came to me and told me that you loved me. Not until it was too late. You rejected my affection,”

“That’s not true!” she screamed. “I never did that.”

“I asked you to marry me the first time we met,” he reminded her.

She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, “I didn’t take that seriously! You were joking,”

“Was I?” he asked grimly.

“We’d just met!” she exclaimed defensively. “You came to me to find a wife!”

“And yet, I wanted you.”

“I didn’t know!” she babbled. “How was I supposed to have known? I didn’t,”

“You did. I asked you every time I saw you,” he insisted. “You just didn’t want to hear it. You took my words in jest, but don’t pretend that it wasn’t there.”

“That's not fair!” she even stomped her foot petulantly. “You aren’t being fair!”

“Life isn’t fucking fair, Elain. I shoved my hand in your cunt and you came all over my first on your birthday,”

She blushed furiously at that, at his vulgarity.

“Yet, the next fucking day, on Christmas Eve, you threw a fit when you saw a silly little thing on my phone. Oh, I had you in my contacts under ‘Mrs. Night’. The horror. The insult!” he mocked, clutching at his chest. “You started a whole fight with me over that one thing. Which, by the way, came about as a result of your snooping,”

She wiped her tears, but didn’t say anything back. It was true. She had overreacted back then. 

“I’d offered you everything,” he recalled. “My name. My devotion. My love. All you needed to do was to accept that you were mine. That you belonged to me. That you were made for me,”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she argued, raising her chin at him defiantly. She was angry with him, and just as angry with herself. 

In one frightening, devastating move–so quick that her eyes didn’t even register what she was seeing–he was on her. He grabbed her by the throat and she gasped in terror, waiting for him to squeeze, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, his jowls working overtime. She trembled next to him, swallowing hard against his huge palm.

He said nothing, just held her by the neck, his eyes so dark, they seemed black. Gone was the warm golden brown of them. Gone was his normally jovial, unbothered attitude. He was always intense, but right now, he was menacing. 

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it, Elain?” he sneered at last. His face was close to hers, and she couldn’t help but smell the familiar scent of his skin, of his Tom Ford cologne, and notice the smattering of dark freckles on his tanned cheeks. He really should use sunblock when he played. Even in Britain. Even under its weak, blurry sun.

“What is?” she finally managed to whisper. Her throat felt restricted against his palm and she swallowed again. Involuntarily, her hands squeezed his wrist and his eyes tracked the movement. 

“Stop”. He barked at her.

“Sto-op what?”

“Stop acting like you are afraid of me!” he hissed.

“I am. I am afraid of you,” she confessed. “You are not like this…”

“And how am I?” he wondered, while making no move to release her. 

“You…you,” she mumbled, blinking at him. “You are nice. You…you are good to me.”

“I was,” he confirmed. “Why should I be good to you now?”

“Why are you putting this on me?” she shouted. “What did I do??”

He sighed and reflected, his tone thoughtful, almost bored.

“What you did…It’s what you didn't do,”

“Which is?!” 

“If only you understood that you belong to me, beautiful, everything would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have needed to take all these…drastic measures,”

“Drastic measures?” she gasped. Marrying someone else was a little more than a ‘drastic measure’. 

“If you only acknowledged one simple fact–that you were mine, that you belong to me and with me. If you would have simply submitted to me and accepted the inevitable then things would’ve been different.”

Elain bristled and lifted her chin again, ignoring his hold on her.

“You are sounding psychotic,” she told him simply.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But I am telling you how it is.”

She pursed her lips and then managed to push at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He didn’t budge, though now his hold on her throat loosened even more. 

“And yet, all of this love and devotion didn’t stop you from going after another woman,” she rebuked him bitterly. All this ‘you belong to me’ bullshit didn’t stop you from bouncing as soon as you saw an opportunity.”

He let go of her then and walked away, circling the room, his brown knitted, his look tense.

Elain rubbed her throat and winced. He tracked the movement and then stopped his pacing and asked sharply, “are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, Azriel,” she snapped. “You’ve been grabbing at my throat like a caveman since I showed up. I will be bruised, I reckon. Guess I'll consider it your parting gift, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “don’t be dramatic.”

“You are such an arsehole,” she groaned and then turned around and headed for the doors. “Where the hell is your bride? When is this shitshow going to start? Why did you invite us for 11 am, when it’s almost noon and we are nowhere near getting this done.”

“How many times did you fuck him?” he asked instead. 

“Ohmygod, are you back to that?!” she cried, exasperated. “Why do you care?”

“I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine,” “It’s not yours!”

“I beg to differ. So? You are not leaving this fucking room until you tell me,” he warned her.

She sighed and collapsed on a chair–thank god that it was here, because otherwise, she’d just lay on the floor. He was scaring her and exhausting her all at once, and this was promising to be the worst day of her life.

“It’s not what you think it is,” she began and he sighed an annoyed sigh. 

“Great start, Elain,”

She was wringing her fingers, looking down at the floor.

“It’s not new…Fen, that is. We’ve known each other for many years. He isn’t my boyfriend,”

Azriel stared at her, looking for any sign of a lie. 

“I am sure there is more to this,” he prompted patiently.

“I lost my virginity to him,” she told him softly “We dated when we were younger. He is a good man.”

Azriel licked his lips and thought.

“So you brought him here to make me jealous?” he pondered.

“No,” she argued defensively. “I did not want to come alone. And why would you care anyway?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said sternly. “We’ll discuss all of this later.”

Elain sighed. What was there to discuss exactly?

“Can we go back to the guests?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and said ‘no’. 

“When is Gwyn arriving?” Elain pressed. “I don’t want to be here with you when she arrives.”

He bubbled his lips and muttered, “soon. Soon enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but she didn’t ask. He was already acting strange. She didn’t want to push him further. She understood that there was some internal conflict related to her that he was fighting, but also, it was his wedding day and he was bound to be jittery.

What she didn’t expect were his next words.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, flexing his fingers at his sides. 

“What? No!”

“I said I want to kiss you,” he repeated, coming closer. 

Elain’s  breathing turned fast and jerky, and he could see her pulse through her pale skin. 

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “You are marrying someone else. What are you doing?!” her hands pressed to her chest in a futile attempt to keep him at bay.

He stood over her and then stooped and pressed his hands over the back of the chair, caging her in. 

“You will still deny me?” he questioned, raising his brow at her.

“I am not,” she muttered desperately. “But…but,” she licked her lips, “you aren’t available,”

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and leaned closer, his breath fanning over her face, his hands still squeezing the back of the chair. “I want you to submit to me and kiss me.”

She blinked at him, her expression confused and panicked. 

“Kiss me like you love me,” he urged. 

“I…what…” she kept mumbling, looking around for a way to escape, and knowing there wasn't any. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” he said calmly, though his ‘calm’ was somehow terrifying. “And I asked nicely.”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she reached up and timidly touched the back of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was.

“Then I will be forced to take it,” he shrugged. “And you might not like it.”

Elain did not doubt him. Azriel was the type to take what he wanted from her. He always tittered on the edge of consent and force, and it seemed to her that ‘consent’ was more of a modern trapping to him rather than an obligation. This was the same man who made himself comfortable in her house, then in her bed, who’d basically moved into her home without her inviting him, who’d put her on his lap or slapped her ass whenever he felt like it. He didn’t hesitate to tell her what to do and where they’d be going, and took the reins whether she asked him or not. 

“Elain,” he said sternly. “I am waiting.”

She pressed her thighs together under her long skirt, overwhelmed by his closeness and his demand. He watched her carefully, studying her reactions, the muscles under his shirt flexing and rolling beneath the material.

“Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed slowly and warmly, leaning even closer to her. “Give it to me.”

Somehow Elain knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this and frankly, this was on him. He was the one getting married. She wasn’t his moral police–if he wanted to be unfaithful to Gwyn it was up to him. He was a player, after all, and she supposed that this is what it looked like in real time. She was just too stupid to realise before that he wouldn’t have been faithful to her either. 

She pulled her head to her and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. 

It was angry.

Azriel pulled back away from her quickly and she thought that it was over. She exhaled a ragged breath.

He looked at her, head cocked, and then suddenly kissed her nose lightly. It was gentle. Playful.

Then his hand shot up and he pressed his thumb to her mouth, running it slowly over her lower lip, feeling it up, reminding her with his touch of how she used to kiss his fingers and his scarred hands. How she called them beautiful.

Without warning, he pushed his thumb between her lips, deeper than she even expected and she sucked on it nervously, her tongue wrapping around the digit. He smiled, watching her.

“Good girl,” he praised, rubbing his thumb against her tongue. “This isn’t very difficult, is it?”

She couldn't answer, her mouth being fully occupied, as she sucked and licked him, but it felt normal. It felt normal to offer him pleasure. Familiar even. She liked pleasing him. Always have. 

She nodded. No, it wasn’t difficult.

With his thumb still inside her mouth, he leaned in and kissed her. 

She paused, but he pushed his finger over her tongue, urging her to continue, while his warm, full lips languidly sucked on her own. He smelled good and tasted the way she remembered, and the way she loved. The kiss was hungry and possessive, and he kissed the way she loved being kissed. She forgot everything for a few blissful moments, when her fingers slipped from his neck and squeezed his obscenely firm biceps, luxuriating in the solid mass of his body. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured into her mouth. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access, and he fell into the kiss with rabid determination, eliciting a breathless whine from her full lips. His tongue met hers, overtaking it at once, and unbothered by the presence of his finger. He licked on her slowly, but thoroughly, bruising her lips with how hard he sucked and tugged on them and not feeling the littlest bit of shame. 

“Gorgeous,” he repeated, “but fucking stupid.”

Elain gasped and pulled back, her eyes opening up. She pushed his thumb out forcefully with her tongue and panted, looking at him.

He straightened and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why am I stupid?” she challenged. 

“I don’t know,” she crossed his arms and propped himself against the wall. “You are posh. Probably makes you naive. To a stupid degree.”

“I am not naive,” she argued.

“No, you really are. Like you don’t see anything that’s in front of your eyes.”

“And what’s in front of my eyes?” 

Azriel rubbed his chin and instead of answering, he suddenly said,

“Do you know how difficult it is to find someone who looks like you in porn?”

Elain was pretty sure that it was a rhetorical question, even if she didn’t understand it.

What, she mouthed, utterly confused by this new, odd revelation. Her lips were still tingling from his kiss. She was hot. She hoped someone had some deodorant. 

“Took me weeks of scrolling on PornHub,” he continued, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to himself. “I tried and I tried to find something suitable. But how do you search for a posh bird on PornHub, who looks like you and would get all her holes filled?”

“Azriel…” she murmured, blushing violently. “Don’t say things like that…”

“I mean, I watched a lot of porn to finally land on a girl who resembled you. My dick was chafed,”

“Azriel!”

“After all that, all I could come up with was one scene. One. I jacked off to that scene for weeks. She did look like you–not in your fancy fucking way–but she had the same pink tits and the shape of the body was similar. Your big long hair. 

“She was a lot more submissive than you,” he added. “But that could be worked on, right?”

“I think you are rambling,” she rose from her chair and smoothed down her gown. “And I think I am done with you.”

“Oh no, Elain,” he smiled a cruel smile. “You aren’t done with me. Because I am not done with you.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged and headed for the door.

Then she overheard his sneer,

“Still stupid. Even now.”

She turned around swiftly and shouted, “What the hell?! Stop calling me stupid! I am not!”

“You are,” he said flatly. “You are. Because you never realised that all of it was a lie.”

[estellan0vella]

What Goes Up, Must Come Down ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna & Toji (REQUESTED) Masterlist

You lean in for a goodbye kiss, expecting a quick peck. Instead, Gojo Satoru pulls you in, kissing you deeply and passionately. You finally pull away, breathless. "See you later," you murmur, heading out the door.

As soon as you're gone, Gojo looks down and realizes he's in trouble. "Oh no," he mutters, staring at the obvious bulge in his pants. He has a meeting with the higher-ups in ten minutes, and he can’t show up like this.

He paces around the room, chanting, "Icebergs, taxes, Yaga in a tutu, Gakuganji in panties." Nothing works. He tries doing some jumping jacks, but that only makes things worse.

Desperate, he grabs a cushion from the couch and places it strategically over his lap, attempting to meditate the problem away. "Breathe in, breathe out," he tells himself.

But his mind keeps drifting back to the electrifying kiss you shared just moments ago, and his body responds accordingly. Gojo curses under his breath, realizing he's running out of time.

With a last-ditch effort, he splashes cold water on his face, hoping the shock will jolt him back to reality. It helps a little, but not enough. Gojo considers canceling the meeting altogether, but that would only raise suspicions.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the problem subsides. He quickly grabs his coat and heads out the door, hoping no one notices his flushed face or the slight disarray of his clothes.

You’re not sure why you decided to kiss Suguru so fervently this morning, but the moment your lips touch his, something ignites. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. When you finally pull away, his pupils are dilated, breath coming in short gasps.

“Wow,” he mutters, clearly affected. You glance down and see the prominent bulge in his pants. He shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, I might need a moment.”

You chuckle, feeling a bit proud of the effect you have on him. “I didn’t think I’d get you this worked up.”

He gives you a lopsided grin, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “Well, you did. Now what?”

You look around and spot a nearby chair. “Sit down, relax for a bit. I’m sure it’ll pass.”

Suguru nods, taking a seat and trying to focus on anything but his current predicament. You watch him, amused, as he fidgets, crossing and uncrossing his legs.

“You know,” you say teasingly, “you could think about something unsexy. Like… taxes.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Taxes? Really?”

“Hey, it works for some people.”

Suguru sighs, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll give it a try, but no promises.”

You sit across from him, trying not to laugh as he closes his eyes, clearly attempting to will his arousal away. After a few minutes, he opens one eye and looks at you. “Any luck?”

“Not really. Thinking about you makes it worse.”

You smile sweetly. “Sorry, not sorry.”

He groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Only if you’re lucky,”

Nanami is composed, always so composed. But when you kiss him like that, really kiss him, you see his carefully maintained facade slip just a bit.

“Darling,” he starts, voice steady but with an undercurrent of strain. “I need a minute.”

You glance down, and sure enough, there’s the telltale bulge. You suppress a giggle, earning a mildly reproachful look from him.

“Sorry, Ken,” you say, trying to sound sincere but failing miserably. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

He sighs, adjusting his tie in a futile attempt to regain composure. “I suppose it’s a pleasant sort of trouble.”

“Maybe think about your schedule for the day?”

Nanami shakes his head. “I’d rather not associate this feeling with work, thank you.”

You laugh softly. “Fair point. How about something mundane? Grocery shopping?”

He hums thoughtfully, closing his eyes. “That could work.”

You watch as he takes a few deep breaths, his expression gradually relaxing. After a few minutes, he opens his eyes, looking more composed.

“Better?” you ask.

He nods, standing and adjusting his suit once more. “Yes, much. Thank you.”

You lean in for a quick peck, and he chuckles. “Careful now, or we’ll be right back where we started.”

You grin. “Would that be so bad?”

Nanami shakes his head with a smile. “No, but I do have to go. I’ll see you later.”

You pull Choso in for a long, steamy kiss, your lips melding perfectly with his. As you step back, you notice his dazed expression and chuckle.

"See you soon," you whisper, leaving him standing there, flustered. Choso blinks, trying to process what just happened. He looks down, realizing his body's reaction to the kiss, and groans.

He quickly finds a secluded corner, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths. As he waits for his arousal to subside, Mahito walks by, giving him a knowing grin.

"Having a bit of trouble there, Choso?" Mahito teases.

Choso glares at him, crossing his arms. "Mind your own business," he snaps, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

Mahito chuckles, unfazed by Choso's irritation. "Just offering my assistance."

Choso rolls his eyes. "I don't need your help with anything."

Mahito shrugs, still wearing that irritating smirk. "Suit yourself. But if you ever want some pointers on how to handle these situations, you know where to find me."

Choso grits his teeth, resisting the urge to lash out at his brother. Instead, he focuses on his breathing, willing his body to calm down. After what feels like an eternity, his arousal finally begins to subside.

"Better?" Mahito asks, still grinning.

Choso nods curtly, pushing himself off the wall. "Much."

Mahito chuckles, patting him on the shoulder as he walks away. "Just remember, Choso, there's no shame in enjoying yourself."

"Piss off,"

Your lips crash into Sukuna’s with a fervor that surprises even you. His reaction is immediate, his grip on your waist tightening as he deepens the kiss. When you finally pull away, there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes, but then you notice his predicament.

“Leaving already?” Sukuna teases, his voice a low growl. “I thought we were just getting started.”

You glance down and see the obvious bulge in his pants. You smirk, feeling a bit smug. “Looks like you’ll need a moment.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You think you can just walk away after that?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re not exactly in a position to chase me right now.”

Sukuna chuckles, the sound dark and rich. “Perhaps not, but you’ll pay for this later.”

You grin, unphased by his threat. “I’ll be waiting.”

He shifts, clearly trying to will his arousal away. You watch him with a mixture of amusement and admiration. It’s rare to see Sukuna at a disadvantage, even a small one.

“Need some help?” you offer teasingly.

He gives you a look that could melt steel. “Unless you’re offering more than just words, I’ll handle it.”

You laugh, stepping back. “Alright, tough guy. I’ll leave you to it.”

He grumbles something under his breath, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. After a few moments, he opens them again, more composed.

“Better?” you ask innocently.

Sukuna smirks. “For now. But I’ll remember this.”

You wink. “I’m counting on it.”

Toji is used to being in control, but your goodbye kiss throws him off balance. He grins at you, trying to play it cool, but you can see the slight tension in his posture.

"See you later, Toji," you say sweetly.

He gives you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, sure. Just... give me a sec."

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. "Why? Something wrong?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

You laugh and pat his cheek. "You love it."

As you walk away, Toji watches you with a mix of amusement and desire. He can't help but admire your confidence and the way you always manage to keep him on his toes. But as you disappear from view, he's left alone with his thoughts, and a certain physical reaction he can't quite control.

Toji leans against the nearest wall, running a hand through his hair. "Damn," he mutters to himself, cursing his body's betrayal. He's not used to feeling this flustered, especially not over something as simple as a goodbye kiss.

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. It's not easy, with your lingering presence still fresh in his mind. Toji closes his eyes, willing his body to cooperate. After a few moments, he manages to calm down, the tension easing from his muscles.

"Alright, Fushiguro," he says to himself, straightening up. "Get it together."

With a newfound resolve, Toji pushes himself away from the wall and heads off to face whatever challenges await him. But as he walks, he can't shake the memory of your lips against his, and the way you always manage to leave him wanting more.

[thedisc0spider]

angst request: spencer and reader confessed their feeling for each other a while back, but decided to stay friends as to not ruin anything between them/at work. they both try to move on. so when a smosh holiday party happens they both bring people they're dating. and jealousy and angst ensues......

Selfish

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Summary: literally the request

Warnings: angstttt, cursing, fem!reader, arguing, suggestive comment at the end, jealousy

Genre: angst with a hint of fluff at the end

Point of view: 1st person (I usually write second person but I really wanted an internal monologue moment)

A/n: so this request was literally perfect? You are so lovely, anon. 🤎

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Of course, I want to be with him, but it’s just not plausible. I mean, think about it, if we broke up that would affect everyone around us as well. It would just be selfish.

This all started a few months ago, I did what I had to do for the sake of not only Spencer and I, but our co-workers too.

Me and Spencer were having a movie night, nothing out of the ordinary, except this time Spencer was feeling more bold than usual. Maybe it was the wine or the dim lighting, but at one point in the night we were looking at each other and he kissed me. It felt real and it felt right, but something in me said otherwise.

“Spencer, we can’t.” I said, pulling away.

“Yes, we can.” He leaned in again.

I stopped him by putting my hand on his chest. “No, Spencer. I’m serious. We work together, this could potentially ruin everything.” I shook my head.

I know I have a tendency to overthink, but it really did feel selfish.

“But I want to risk that for you, (y/n). It’s worth it to me. You are worth the risk.”

He looked at me with this glimmer in his eyes, one that he always had when he saw me. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but I wish I did.

“I just… I don’t want to lose this. And I don’t want to, you know, make it awkward for everyone else if it didn’t work out.”

“But, I….” He looked at the ground for a moment.

We sat there for what felt like forever.

“So, what are you saying?” He spoke in almost a whisper, as if he was trying not to cry.

“Im saying I cant be with you… in that way.”

“In what way?”

“Romantically, Spencer.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He swallowed hard. I felt so bad, but what was I supposed to do?

“Im so sorry, Spencer. I really want to, but-“

“Then why can’t we? We both want it, (y/n/n). Why are you saying this?” He stood from the couch and I could tell he was truly hurt. I stood with him.

“Because we can’t, okay!”

“But you’re the only person I want, (y/n).”

“Spence, don’t be like this. Can’t we just be friends?”

Another long moment of silence.

“Well… I don’t want to lose you, so… yeah, I guess so. If that’s the only way.”

I grabbed his hand. He looked at me.

“We aren’t gonna let this night mess anything up, right? We care about each other too much for that.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you at work.”

After that night, everything was okay between us. We remained friends and didn’t let it ruin us.

Actually, I met someone else. We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks casually but I’ve decided to bring him to the office holiday party. His name is Derek and he really is a sweetheart.

Tonight I’m wearing a tight dark-red dress that’s ends just above my knees. As we enter the room, I’m met with blue and frosty decorations.

Courtney and Shayne are chatting near a table that holds snacks and drinks, so I guide Derek in that direction.

“Hey, Court! Hi, Shayne!” I hug them both.

“(Y/n)! Who’s this?” She nods towards the man beside me.

“Oh! This is Derek, the guy I’ve been seeing.” He shakes both of their hands.

“Nice to meet you guys.” He smiles.

“You’re dating (y/n)? Good luck.” Shayne teases, I roll my eyes.

“Don’t listen to him.”

Courtney looks over my shoulder and smiles. “Oh, look, Spencer’s here!” They wave him over, “Spencer! Come here!”

I feel breathing get just a little harder when I see a woman walking with him, holding his hand. She was one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. I do my best to smile. Why the hell am I jealous? This was my idea.

“Hey, guys! This is Paris.”

Fuck, even her name.

“It’s really nice to meet you all, Spencey never shuts up about you guys.”

Spencey? Before I can realize it I let out an almost unnoticeable exhale of a laugh. Spencer shoots me a warning look. I swallow. By this point Shayne and Courtney have already greeted the pair and left, leaving the four of us alone.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Paris. I’m (y/n).” I give her a polite smile, she immediately gasps and wraps me in a hug. “Oh!” I laugh, lightly hugging her back.

“You’re the famous (y/n)? It’s so great to meet you!” She lets me out of her arms.

Fuck, and she’s adorably sweet. I guess I really have no reason not to like her.

“You too!” I awkwardly nod.

“I’m Derek, by the way.” He adds, shaking the hands of the pair.

“Spencer.”

There’s a small pause. Me and Spencer look at each other for a second.

“So, um- how did you two meet?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Paris goes on and on about their first meeting, they were both at a bar about a week ago and this was only their third date.

“Well, we should probably go mingle, it was really nice to meet you, Paris. Spencer, always a pleasure.” He nods towards me before Derek and I walk away.

We both grab a drink.

“So what was that about?”

I furrow my brows. “What was what about?”

“You and that guy? I don’t know, there was just weird tension. Do you guys not get along?”

“No, we’re really good friends actually.” I laugh.

I watch as Spencer stands there with his arm around her waist. My stomach turns.

“Oh…” he look back at Spencer. “So you guys hooked up?”

“What?” I say, a little too loud. “No! No, not at all… well, I mean, we kissed, but-“

“Oh, so he’s definitely still in love with you.”

I look around, confused.

“What?”

“Babe, come on, don’t play dumb. The way he looks at you… it’s like me and that chick weren’t even in the room.”

I scoff, shaking my head.

“That’s not true, Derek.”

He rolls his eyes, “look, we both knew this wasn’t actually going anywhere. I think you’re really cool but we were both just having fun.”

I sigh, nodding.

“It’s obvious there’s something between you two, I don’t want to get involved with that.”

“I understand.”

We hug and Derek decides to leave.

I’m walking through the office, trying to find someone alone or at least a small group. The last thing I want is a big crowd.

As I pass the games pod, I see spencer at his desk. Alone.

“You know this is a party, right?” I say, sitting on the couch.

Spencer whips his head back. “Oh, yeah I was just… I don’t know.” He shakes his head.

“Where’s Paris?”

He scoffs.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t know what this game is but I’m done playing.”

“What are you talking about?”

He narrows his eyes. “You were a bitch to her.”

“Sorry, what?” I stand, crossing my arms over my chest.

He meets my gaze by standing himself.

“She was super nice to you, (y/n) and you brushed her off.”

I stand there at a loss for words for a moment, looking anywhere but in his eyes. He was right, I wasn’t very nice to her. Shit.

“Im sorry.” I finally look at him. “You’re right, I was jealous.”

He sighs, running his hands down his face. “This was your idea, (y/n)! You don’t get to be jealous.”

I’ve never seen him this mad before. The glimmer in his eye is gone and suddenly I miss it. I screwed up.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

I look up at him. The way he’s glaring at me is something I never thought I’d ever see from him. It hurt.

“You’re so confusing. One day you just want to be friends and the next you’re all bitchy about the fact that I’m trying to move on! You wanted this-“

“Well, maybe I fucked up!” I shrug, dropping my arms as I sit back on the couch. My head is in my hands and I’m crying. Why am I crying? This is so embarrassing.

“(Y/n) I didn’t mean…” he sighs, sitting next to me. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

He gently rubs my back as to comfort me, but it only makes he break down more. Spencer brings me into his chest.

After a few minutes I pull myself together, sitting up.

“This is pathetic, I’m sorry.” I laugh.

“No, it’s not.”

“Honestly… I thought it would be selfish for us to be together, but I think this is worse. Either way someone gets hurt.”

He runs a hand through my hair, twirling it in his fingers, giving me and sympathetic look.

“Yeah, you’re right. I ended it with Paris. I feel bad for doing it at a party but-“

“Wait what? Why would you do that?” I turn towards him, furrowing my brows.

“There was no future there… she took it surprisingly well, though.”

“Thats good. Derek left too.” I laugh.

“Oh, that sucks. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

I shrug, “no, it’s fine.”

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

He looks at the ground, elbows resting on his knees. “What now?”

That’s a good question. Where do we go from here? Maybe it is best for us to be together, but I’m not sure if the offer still stands.

“Well… I guess it’s up to you.” I shrug, “but if you’ll still have me… maybe we can try that kiss again?”

He looks over at me, sitting up. “Really?”

I nod. Spencer places his hand on my cheek, gently pulling me in. As our lips meet, I let it happen this time. Again, it feels right except, this time there’s no undertones of uncertainty. By the time we pull away, the glimmer in his eye has resurfaced.

I smile.

“How was that?” He whispers.

“Perfect.”

He pulls me into his embrace, tightly hugging me like he’s never going to let go. I sigh into his chest. This feels right.

“So, what do say we go back to my place, Spencey.” I tease, smirking.

Spencer lets out a loud laugh, “Shut up.”

[blackredblue1998]

Yesterday I was about to go to sleep when a thought came to my mind and I was literally like: WAIT A DAMN MINUTE!!

🗣️ Hear me out: I'm not by any means a Tamsand shipper (because let's be honest, ratsand doesn't deserve a good booty clapping by Tam EVER!), but what the actual frickin fuck was riceman doing in Spring on the night of Calanmai?? And even more interesting: what was he doing so damn close to the cave Tamlin was supposed to bring the Maid to consummate the ritual?! And don't come up with the excuse "He was just spying🫣 for Amarantha!" NO. Hell to the no, no, no!! If Amarantha wanted to know who Tamlin was dicking🍆 down on the ritual, she could have sent anyone else who wasn't suspicious and known by the other fairies. Instead, she just decided to send the "most powerful High Lord" or whatever to do the job?? Nah, I'm not falling for this bullshit.

If I remember right, rickrolled even says something like “Because all the monsters are free and I can wander wherever I want.” But why, WHY, did he went to see Tamlin doing the Rite if rhysman himself was supposed to be doing the ritual too?!?! Amarantha gave him this one night; he could have gone anywhere in Prytian, even back to H3wn City or Illyr1a (since he kept vel4ris hidden), but he went to Spring just to look? Just to see👀 it? Just for science? Okaaay…… I'll pretend I believe that 😂😂

Other questions came to mind, and this is more about failed world building⚔️: did rhinestone bat complete his own Calanmai to make the magic in Night stronger? Did m0r or small bitch amr3n (being his second and third on command) do it? Assriel or cAss? Keir? So many questions!! 

Second question: being High queen, was Amarantha also requested to do the ritual? If the answer is “yes”, did Amarantha complete the Rite with risksand? (That's horrible even if I hate his character!!).

Another one: if Amarantha was so furious👿 to see ribbonsand dancing with feyrug, why would she let him out from UTM to fuck whoever he wanted exactly on the night of Calanmai?! We know he was allowed to leave to terrorize other Courts and even to kill innocents just for fun (that head on Tamlin's garden and those poor little children on the Winter Court❄️, and don't you dare to waste your saliva or in this case, your fingers to tap “it wasn't him, it was another daemati!!” because we know damn well there wasn't another daemati working for Amarantha, that was just a retcon sarah decided to put out here to redeem rhycardo ass after all the shit he did), so why, WHY THE HELL SHE LET HIM GO and enjoy a night of pleasures with other women?? Or better: other man, since he went straight to eye what Tamlin was about to do. Did she let him go so he could do it? She didn't allow the other High Lords to leave so did she let them at least choose someone to ding their dongs🔞 and revive the magic of their lands or just risesand was allowed to perform it??

That's a lot to think about, started with rustysand and his weird interest in what Tamlin was doing and ended up here, questioning the world building or could I say world lacking??, of acotar. I also used every word I could remember to rename dicksand so at least admit I was very creative on that one 🤭🤭. Btw, I should be sleeping, so here I go, bye!!