#i was... making... a LOT of different possible things to respond to this... but settled on this

[flickering-nightfall]

I was wondering how the iterators interact? Are they actually interacting? Or is this a virtual simulation set up by the local group for socialization purposes?

Sometimes I just doodle things without worrying about context. But when it comes to CDSS, they are actually physically interacting! 

How they get there is a bit wild though.

(warning for reference to self harm in the lyrics of this snippet)

[kianely]

”YOU SEND ME RIGHT TO HEAVEN”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Fresh out of police academy, Leon heads back to his hometown to crash with his best friend before he has to move to Raccoon City. The only problem is, you’re there too — his best friend’s sibling. He has been harboring feelings for you for years, so being under the same roof as you rekindles some emotions he wasn’t able to bury. You were in a similar position.

iii. CONTENT — MDNI, 18+, mutual feelings + confessions, fluff, kissing, making out, brief mentions of masturbation, blowjob (Leon receiving), lube, fingering (reader receiving), penetrative sex, protection, consent checks, aftercare, you just graduated college (so around same age as him), banter, he’s like the boy next door, late night car ride, he’s kinda cliche and throws a rock at your window, no mention of parents, I tried to make this more dialogue heavy woo, in Grammarly I trust, let there be no typos

iv. WC — 8.6k

Leon drummed his fingers against the leather fabric of his steering wheel, humming along to the song playing in his car. He was excited, parked outside of his old high school’s friend house — which by extension, was your house too.

He was fresh out of police academy, a soon-to-be rookie at the Raccoon City Department. He packed some bags with enough of his belongings and drove back to his hometown, wanting to spend some time with his good and most trusted pal before he settled down in a new city and focused on his work.

He took his keys off the ignition, got off, and got his bags. His hands were full when he walked up to the front door, so he rang the doorbell with his elbow. For some reason, he felt a tad bit nervous. He’d seen your brother maybe over six months ago, but he hadn’t been inside the place in a while, maybe a few years.

When the door began to open, he was almost ready to say your brother’s name. Instead, he was greeted with a special someone he hadn’t expected to see. You.

Leon nearly dropped his bags. He hadn’t seen you in a couple of years because you decided to dorm at a university. Right. Yes. You must’ve graduated by now.

“Leon?”

God, your voice almost made his jaw slacken. He loved hearing his name come out of your lips.

He didn’t even get a chance to respond — managing to keep his ground when you stepped out to hug him. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been what, like two years already?”

“Woah — yeah, yeah…something like that. It’s really good to see you too.”

You made his heartbeat spike. Your arms around him, the way you leaned against him. Granted, he was standing somewhat stiffly because he was holding his bags. But…he couldn’t resist you — he let them drop onto the patio floor with a couple of thumps before he wrapped his arms around you. He tried to do so in the most platonic way possible, fearing he’d see the light if your brother happened to join the scene.

Leon had a thing for you. Always had. Always will.

He was too scared to do a damn thing about it, in his eyes, you were simply off limits. Like a forbidden fruit, a temptation that couldn’t be indulged in without some sacrifice.

He let his arms linger back to his sides when you pulled away, and he sucked in a breath.

“Come on in,” you flashed him that gleaming smile of yours as you reached for one of his bags to help him out. “My brother’s upstairs cleaning up his room. He said he’s setting up a bed for you…I think.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t let me take the couch. Said he wanted me to be his roommate, so it’ll be just like old times.”

Leon was hit with a wave of nostalgia as he took a look at the interior, it looked exactly like he remembered. Not much had changed, aside from the addition of some photos, a wall-mount TV instead of a TV stand, and other small details here and there.

“You’ve changed a lot. In a good way.” You spoke up.

“Have I?”

“Yeah, I mean, just look at you.”

He looked down at himself. Shirt. Jacket. Shoes. A similar style as before. And he knew his hair wasn’t any different. What were you getting at?

He then looked back at you.

Oh.

Your eyes were practically glued to his arms. Have you always blatantly checked him out like this? Suddenly, he felt a wave of heat wash over him. The worst part is, you seemed genuinely curious — not like you were ogling him, but as if asking: Wow? Where’d those guns come from?

“It was all the drills at the police academy.” He knew that you knew that, which led him to believe that the point of your observation was to subtly compliment him. “The amount of training was pretty brutal, but I’m ready for the job.”

“I’m sure you are. I heard you graduated at the top ten percent of your class, that’s pretty cool!” You were being genuine, he could hear it in your voice since it went to a slightly higher-pitched tone.

The playful nudge you gave his shoulder made the ends of his eyes crinkle, he loved it when you did that — it reminded him of how things were back then when he visited often, the way you’d nudge him or even ruffle his hair whenever you were happy or excited over his accomplishments. It made him feel seen.

“It was nothing,” he was humble, as usual. “It has just always been my dream.”

“I know…I’m really proud of you, Leon.”

The way you attached his name to the praise just made it sound all the more personal, the tips of his ears felt like they were burning. He bashfully rubbed the nape of his neck. “Uh thanks, I really appreciate that. It means a lot coming from you.”

Leon had always been a complete sweetheart with you. He was the epitome of ‘the boy next door’. He had fond memories of trying to muster up the courage to ask you to be his Valentine’s during high school — the two of you attended the same one and were a year off from one another, so he saw you around. Again though, he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with your brother…so he never asked.

He thought about driving over to your house and throwing a pebble at your window to get your attention, and he’d be holding a bouquet in his hands. Just a daydream, but a fun one to look back on nevertheless. He always gave you presents on your birthday and Christmas, nothing too grand so he wouldn’t get your brother suspicious, but just enough so he could see you light up as you unwrapped the gift.

“Are those your graduation photos?” He took notice of some polaroids splayed out on the coffee table, ones with you with a cap and gown.

“Yeah, feel free to look at them.”

Leon wished he could’ve watched you walk the stage. Yeah, he attended your high school one, but he would’ve liked to see the college one too. Maybe he’d ask if any of your family or friends took a video later. There was a goofy grin on his face the entire time he looked through them.

He was so absorbed that he didn’t even hear the footsteps down the stairs, nor the chuckle you let out before your brother playfully pulled him into a chokehold.

“Dude, really? How are you going to be part of the force like this?”

Leon swatted your brother away with a roll of eyes, all out of love of course — he easily maneuvered out of the half-assed chokehold. “Cut me some slack, I was a little distracted.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem. Don’t you have to be attentive and shit?”

That right there was your sign to leave — your brother was really close with Leon, and you wanted to give them time to catch up. After all, you’d probably be bumping into Leon a lot since he was going to be staying for a couple of days.

Leon hated the way his eyes trailed over to your form as you made your way upstairs. He’s supposed to be paying attention to your brother, so why were you clouding his thoughts? With a very small physical shake of head, he redirected his attention to your brother, nodding along as he listened in to his chit-chatter and caught up with everything that had happened in his hometown.

But in the back of his mind, he knew he was screwed.

You wanted to bury your face against your pillow and scream. How were you supposed to act now that your high school crush was here? Your brother’s best friend. The one you had always dreamed of dating. That was a long time ago. But even in college, you always longed to see him again — to grab lunch and coffee with him and then show him around your campus with your hand in his.

Leon popped into your head whenever you dipped your hand underneath your waistband to relieve your urges. Your stomach bubbled with craving when you felt pent up late at night, even if you tried to think of someone else, Leon was always in your mind whenever you came and muffled your noises into your pillow.

No amount of people you saw in college even came close to Leon.

He had gotten so much stronger. When he hugged you earlier…you could feel his bulging biceps and noticed how much broader his shoulders were. You were sure his pecs were in solid condition too, it made you want to bury your head between them. He had always been fit, but you knew damn well you’d see a six-pack if he took off his shirt.

So for his sweet self to be just a walking distance away was pretty overwhelming. You could handle a day, maybe even two, but as far as you know, he was going to be staying longer. Not as long as a week, but still enough to have you worrying.

It had been four hours since he arrived. You could faintly hear some laughter. That wasn’t a surprise though, your brother’s room was just across the hall from yours.

That's it. No more. You were going insane.

You got up and played some music, not too loud, just enough to drown the other sounds out. It was dark outside now, you opened up the window to let some of the breeze in to ventilate your room.

It was going just fine until you fast-forward to half an hour later.

A familiar set of knocks distracts you from your worries. Wait, never mind. The one behind the knocks was the cause of your worries.

You lowered the volume of your music a bit and took a very quick look in the mirror to make sure you looked okay before opening the door.

Leon leaned against your door frame, just casually — like he didn’t know just how pretty he looked right now. In his defense, you knew he probably didn’t. He had always been a little dense about all that.

“Hey.”

“...Hey.”

His awkwardness was a part of his charm.

“Does my brother need something or?”

“Oh, no. Uh, one of his coworkers called him and I felt a bit neglected, so here I am.”

Don’t you know it? If you had a penny for the amount of times your brother had paced around the entire house getting into a heated conversation over work gossip, you’d have enough to pay off your student debt.

“Trust me, those phone calls can last hours.” You walked back to sink into your bed with a contended grunt, making a hand gesture for him to come in.

Why would you do that? Being in a closed space with him wasn’t a good idea considering all the thoughts spinning in your head.

Leon had never really entered your room, at least not for over a couple of minutes. He didn’t know where to sit despite there being many surfaces: the window seat, your desk chair, the floor, the beanbag you had, your bed, no — out of the question.

“Don’t be so stiff,” you teased, finding the way he looked a bit out of place a little cute. “Sit anywhere you like.”

He laughed before heading over to the window seat. “Just don’t want to be intrusive.”

“You? As if.”

Leon took an in-depth look around — posters of shows and bands, little collections of trinkets, old textbooks, scattered papers on your desk, diplomas and awards plastered on your wall, stickers on the cover of your laptop, a corner with some of your hobbies, a counter with your personal products. It seemed so…you. So naturally, he liked it. It was cozy.

And God, it smelled like you too. It made him dizzy. In a way, it was comforting, like the scent he’d get whenever you passed by him or when the two of you briefly hugged. Though at the same time, his mind was also pulled toward a more inappropriate direction. He’d be able to drown in your scent if you let him bury his face against the crook of your neck so he could nip at your skin and make you a purring mess in his arms.

The idea of being so physically close to you to the point your fragrance and scent rubbed off on his clothes afterward? Now that had his blood rushing straight to the gutter.

You felt nervous, aware of his moving eyes — you were glad the attention wasn’t directly on you, you tried to continue casually scrolling on your phone despite the way your heart was hammering.

“Better than my brother’s room?”

“Mm, I don’t know about that.”

“Pftt, you’re just biased.”

He didn’t have a rebuttal for that, merely shrugging as his eyes continued their exploration. Eventually, he caught sight of something familiar sitting on top of your nightstand — a set of headphones he had gifted you. He always knew how much you loved music, so he had gotten that for you a long time ago.

“You still have those?”

“Hm?” You followed his gaze, and your lips tugged into a smile as you reached over to dangle them in the air for him to see more properly. “Duh! Actually…they stopped working a couple of months back, but they lasted me a pretty long time.”

With the ice broken, Leon felt more comfortable. He went over to sit down on your bed. He wasn’t questionably close to you, but he was manspreading so his knee nearly grazed against yours.

“Is there any use in keeping a pair of broken headphones around?”

“Uh, yes.” You said matter-of-factly as you now clutched them close to your chest, looking at them almost sentimentally. “I cherish everything that you’ve given me. These bad boys aren’t seeing a trash can anytime soon.”

Cute. Cute…Cute.

“You sure you aren’t just a hoarder?”

“Rude.”

“Just a question.”

“Yeah, a rude one.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Whatever.”

You were killing him. Leon felt his self-restraint diminish by the second. He could mess up so easily. He wanted to confess. To kiss you. Hold your hand. Plant his lips against your forehead. Rest his head against your lap and melt as you play with his hair.

He could do it, assuming you returned his feelings. He was moving to Raccoon City soon, it’s better to not have any regrets, right? He loves your brother, but at this point screw him. Leon has been pining for you for years.

He was incredibly tempted, hanging on a thin string. But he had to know one thing first. “So, are you dating anyone? There must’ve been plenty of candidates in college.”

“Nah, I dated here and there but…nothing lasted long. It’s weird, everyone was focused on something different, so nothing ever worked out.” Because none of them were him.

“What about you?”

“No one.” He replied.

Great, you were both single.

Silence. Again. This time with occasional fleeting eye contact. Leon twiddled his thumbs, his hands resting on his lap.

You purposely shifted closer to him, enough for your thigh to press up against his a little. Wow. He hadn’t expected to feel a jolt of electricity from that.

He looked over at you more clearly this time, his eyes searched yours.

You were losing your shit, drawn to his baby blue eyes. With your nearby lamp turned on, you could see the way his cheeks progressively turned rosy. Your eyes flickered to his lips. They looked soft, as if he put lip balm on consistently. Would they feel like a pillow?

He felt like he was burning, and he nervously tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You know, I’ve always found you cute.” You were the one to break the silence.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Your brother would kill me. Take it back.”

“My brother would kill you for something I said?” You scoffed. “You’re funny.”

“You know what I meant.”

You did.

But it hurt a little. Would Leon really hold back on his feelings all because of your brother? As far as you were concerned, your brother had never told you to not go after Leon. And if that was some sort of unspoken rule…then too bad.

Leon knew you had him wrapped around your finger, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Come on, Kennedy. You’re telling me you’ve never thought about this?”

“Well, yeah…But—“

“Just one kiss, please, Leon?”

You just had to say his name, didn’t you?

One kiss. Only one. Yeah, he could work with that. No hand holding or waist holding. Just a kiss, how bad could it be?

“Just one.” He agreed, his voice a whisper.

Leon leaned in, stopping just moments before his lips touched yours. He was nervous. If he was granted even a piece of heaven, surely he’d end up craving more. But he would deal with it. He caved.

His lips gently met yours. God, your lips felt plush. It was a simple one, ending as soon as it began. But of course, it wasn’t going to end there. The two of you were already in each other’s space. The short peck wasn’t enough.

“So, two?”

“Yeah.” You placed your hand on the side of his upper neck and caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“God…” Leon folded, leaning in once more with a suave and much longer kiss this time. His body pressed against yours a little, his body heat mixing with yours.

Just a few minutes passed, and the two of you were making out — slowly and sensually. Your tongues naturally clashed against one another, no rush or doubt, just instinct. Leon tasted good, like spearmint.

“I’ve always had a thing for you,” Leon murmured the confession out in between kisses. He didn’t want you to think he was kissing you just for the hell of it, or for mere physical attraction. You were important to him, the person who harbored his thoughts for the past years of his life.

Honestly, if you weren’t underneath him like this, you might’ve reacted more incredulously. But he was kissing you so intimately, you weren’t surprised. Even so, his sincerity was sweet.

“For how long?”

Another kiss — A pause.

“Since the day your brother introduced us.” Another one. “Six years now.”

You smiled into the kiss, and it prompted him to do so as well. But eventually, you leaned back to look at him. “For the record, I’ve always liked you too. You never made a move on me though, so I thought maybe you didn’t see me that way.”

“Please. I’ve always been crazy over you.”

“Good, that’s how I like my men. Now c’mere…”

With that, the two of you continued kissing. You could scream into your pillow later once you had the chance to process the fact the man of your dreams had just confessed to you. For now though…his taste was pretty damn distracting.

What drove Leon crazy was whenever he managed to hear some quiet noises escape from you: a discreet moan into his mouth, a gasp when he snaked his hand up and down your side, an exhale when he pulled away to kiss the corner of your lips and catch his breath. He hoped you didn’t feel the way he was beginning to get a little hard, not a full-blown boner, but…you got him riled up fairly easily.

Your fingers were threading through his hair, unintentionally ruffling it up. And you figured something out fairly soon — a gentle tug on his hair made him breathless. He liked it.

The music still softly playing in your room kept the sounds of your lips smacking and occasional chatter hidden, but eventually, your mind drifted to the reason why Leon had come into your room in the first place.

“Okay, okay.” You laughed quietly, pressing your palms flat against Leon’s chest and keeping him at a distance. “I think that’s enough…my brother’s probably done with his call by now. He probably just thinks you’re in the bathroom or something.”

Leon’s breathing was a bit heavy, his lips felt all tingly from the amount of time that they had been against yours. “I forgot about that…yeah, I should get going.”

He sat up, licking his lips as if to get more of your remaining taste. He was glad you guys had stopped there, otherwise, there’d be a bulge straining against his pants — which would be pretty damn awkward.

“You’re dangerous, y’know that?” Leon sounded amused. He stood up and went over to your mirror to fix his hair up and make himself look as if he had not just been kissing his best friend���s sibling.

“What are you gonna do about it? Handcuff me?”

“I’m not officially on the job…but I might just have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can talk to me about the law some other time.”

Two days had passed since then. Leon hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with you since your brother kept taking him out of the house to stroll around the town and reminisce on memories. Even amidst a trip down memory lane, Leon couldn’t get you off his mind. The kissing, the confession, there has to be more to the story the two of you have developed.

He couldn’t sleep all night, lying on the makeshift bed your brother had prepared for him. He tossed and turned, knowing you were just down the hallway was testing his self-restraint.

The good news? Your brother was a heavy sleeper. We’re talking…he wouldn’t wake up without many nearby alarms or without a bucket of water being poured onto him.

Leon shuffled out of his makeshift bed, threw some clothes on, grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, headed downstairs, and then made his way outside, cringing a little at the loud creak of the door. He was going to get some fresh air and go on a drive around the neighborhood, he needed to clear his head.

Walking towards his car, he looked up at the house and noticed that one room was still all lit up even in the dead of midnight. Yours. Maybe you couldn’t fall asleep either, thinking about what happened.

He shouldn’t be thinking about throwing a small pebble at your window, but he couldn’t help it. There was a lot unsaid between the two of you. So…he threw a pebble.

With a huff, you got out of your bed to investigate what had dragged your attention from your phone. It wasn’t rare for you to hear a noise outside, but to have such a distinct sound against your window? You just wanted to be safe.

Leon saw you brush your curtain to the side, looking around before peering at him.

He felt small for some reason and motioned for you to come over, he didn’t want to yell in the middle of the quiet neighborhood. Leon leaned against the side of his car as he waited for you.

His hands felt clammy.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” You asked. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah, I needed some fresh air. Wanna go for a drive around the neighborhood?”

“You don’t even need to ask…I can finally call shotgun.”

Leon snorted at that. He had a car during high school and would occasionally give you and your brother rides, but your brother always called shotgun (obviously, since they were best friends), so you were always stuck sitting in the back and listening in to their conversations.

“Yeah, yeah.” He unlocked his car before opening the passenger seat door for you. “In you go.”

“Thanks.”

You put your seatbelt on and then looked around his car as he got in and turned on the ignition, waiting for the car to warm up.

“So,” Leon began, looking over at you with a coy smile. “About the other night…”

God, you had been dying to talk about it. In all honesty, you were internally a little bit upset that your brother had been dragging Leon out of the house, even if that was reasonable considering their friendship. But you knew that what happened wasn’t just a one-time thing, it couldn’t be, and you wouldn’t let it.

“Yeah, uh—” You met his gaze. “ I know you’re worried because of my brother and everything but I really like you, Leon. He cares about you, and he trusts you. I don’t…I don’t think he’d be upset if we ended up together.”

“Are you sure? I really like you too, I just don’t want to ruin anything.”

“Are you kidding? He’d probably be hyped about you being his future brother-in-law.”

“Already thinking about marriage, huh?”

“I—no…shut up.”

With a roll of eyes and a grin, Leon turned his attention to reversing out of the driveway since the car was all ready to go. Yeah, he looked really damn attractive while doing that, you couldn’t resist from looking at his arms. There wasn’t anything interesting to look at outside the windows anyway, you had walked and driven by all these houses practically every day.

“So, what made you like me?”

Leon hummed in thought after you asked him that, he kept his eyes on the road, trying to find a way to sum it all up.

“Well, I remember meeting you for the first time. You were breathtaking and held yourself so well, and I was just kinda standing there not knowing what to say. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, and I remember thinking to myself: no one else has ever made me feel this way after a first impression, you must be the one. It was complicated though, I thought you were off limits, you know…that’s just friend code. And the more and more I came over, the more I fell for you. Everything about you. I just…I dunno. I like you.”

That was his short explanation, he could go ramble for hours about why he liked you, about all the little things you do and say that make him feel like a lovestruck fool.

“The feeling’s mutual…I’ve always wanted to be with you. Like, I can actually be myself and not have to force any conversation. It’s all so natural. I really missed you throughout college.”

Leon was smiling, pearly whites showing as he continued driving.

“We could’ve been high school sweethearts. Y’know…you’re the reason all my relationships failed.” You joked, though, it wasn’t far off from the truth.

“You’re seriously gonna blame me for that?”

“Yeah, you raised my standards way too much.”

“Not my fault.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“...”

Leon knew that he would never get the final word, not when it came to you. He gave you the win.

The two of you must’ve driven around for a little over half an hour before Leon parked back onto your driveway.

“Actually, there’s something else on my mind.” You told him, taking in a breath before voicing your thoughts. “You’re moving in what…like a week? So, what does that mean for us?”

If there was one thing Leon was certain about, it was that he wasn’t letting you go. No, he’d gone six long years just pining over you and not making any moves, he’d figure something out.

“We’ll make it work.”

“But you’re going to be busy. I know how important your career is to you, what if I distract you and screw something up.”

He loved that about you, you were so damn considerate.

“Not gonna happen.” He retorted, turning off his ignition before getting out of the car — going over to your side to open it for you.

He walked side by side with you to the front door, and you were still quietly yammering about how worried you were.

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he turned to face you, he cupped his hands around your face. The caring look in his eyes could cure millions. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

With that, he gently kissed you, making all your worries fade instantly. You smiled and then kissed him again, tugging on the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. When you pulled back, you laughed a little before asking:

“My room?”

“Yeah.”

The minute the two of you were inside your bedroom with the door locked, you took the initiative and pushed him onto your bed. God, you adored the way his eyes fixated on you, the way his hand reached out to squeeze your hips as you got settled on top of him and captured his lips into a kiss.

A familiar makeout session, just like last time. The two of you lost track of time. But it was different this time: more steamy, a little more fast-paced — especially with the way Leon was practically squeezing all your curves, unlike last time.

“Mm.” He moaned softly, relishing the taste of your lips. His hand slid down to your ass, kneading the flesh as his breathing grew heavier. He was hard, whimpering every single time he got any friction down there.

He let his lips trail down to your neck, squeezing you a little harder when he heard you gasp.

You just about melted, your hand instinctively going to the back of his head to keep him close — the way his teeth occasionally nipped the sensitive skin was heavenly, it made you shudder and tug on his hair.

Leon was careful to not bruise your skin, just wanting to make you feel good like you made him feel.

“Oh shit, wait.” You got off him for a second, taking a quick moment to turn on some of your music. Not so loud that it would disturb anyone, but just enough to cover up your noises. “Okay…all done.”

You then repositioned yourself again. It was getting hot in the room, your hands reached down to tug your shirt off, no use for it anymore.

Leon swallowed thickly, his eyes roaming across your torso and taking every single feature in. He couldn’t resist from letting his hand wander across your bare skin, watching as goosebumps formed from his mere touch.

“You’re…” He whispered out, looking back into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” You said in return, a grin forming on your face. You reached your hands underneath his shirt. “Can I take yours off?”

Leon nodded mindlessly, he’d let you do just about anything to him. He was getting hot under the collar. He helped you out as you took his shirt off.

You felt a tingle shoot straight down when you saw his body. Pretty. He was pretty. You pressed your hands against his pecs before sliding them down tortuously slow to his abs. Rock hard.

“You’re so muscular now,” you let your fingers trace the lines of his abs.

“Yeah.” Leon’s voice sounded a bit strained. “Police academy will do that to you.”

“I bet.” You leaned down to kiss his torso, littering kisses all over his chest, smiling against his skin whenever you caught onto the subtle incoherent mumbles of encouragement he was voicing out.

“You know what I think?”

“Hm?”

“I think…” you trailed off, your lips reaching his stomach and your hand brushing across the tent that had formed in his pants. “You need some attention down here.”

“Mm…I think you’re right. But uh, are you sure?”

Leon was a bit worried you felt pressured into this. Yeah, it would be great to go further than kissing, but he wanted you to be completely comfortable with it.

“Yeah, I want to make you feel good, if that’s okay with you.”

“It is.”

“Okay, let’s use the traffic light system, yeah?”

“Sounds good.”

Leon was breathing heavily, eyes already lidded as he watched you pull down his fly and his jeans.

Your mouth watered, you had thought about this so many times that it was almost embarrassing. You kissed along his bulge, right through the fabric. You could’ve sworn you felt it twitch a little too.

“You’re pretty excited, I haven’t even done much.”

“Oh come on, you already know you drive me insane.”

You laughed and then tugged his boxers down.

Leon hissed, his cock now exposed to your eyes. He thought about this so many times when he tugged one out, but he never imagined he would have felt a little bit self-conscious. Like, what if you thought it was ugly or something?

Quite the contrary. You adored everything about him,

“Light?”

“Green.”

You planted a kiss against his tip, a gesture that made him chuckle breathlessly.

“Seriously?”

“What? I can’t kiss it?”

“No no, you can.”

You continued placing kisses across the length of his cock, all the way down to his balls. Leon groaned, the tips of his ears started to flush. Never in his life did he think he’d get such treatment from you.

“Now you’re just being a tease.”

You could tell he was desperate by the tone of his voice. “There’s a thing called patience, maybe you should learn it.”

He was going to counter your words, but all that left his mouth was a pitiful gasp when you started licking him. The sound went straight to the spot between your legs, you really wanted to palm yourself.

“Better?”

“Yeah…that feels really good.” He placed his hand on the back of your head, practically petting you as you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock. He tilted his head back, jaw slackened as he took shaky and shallow breaths.

His stomach tightened up when you reached the tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive area before finally sucking him off.

“Oh — Jesus.” He’s so sensitive, not used to having such a pretty pair of lips wrapped around his cock. In an attempt to quiet himself down, he chewed on his bottom lip, but the poor guy couldn’t contain the muffled noises that spilled instead.

You were eager to please, using a hand to stroke the base of his cock and taking the rest into your mouth. The combination had him purring, his head spinning with pure want and affection for you.

His hips involuntarily bucked, catching you off guard as his tip hit the back of your throat. His free hand bunched up the fabric of your bedsheets, he couldn’t think straight, not when you were between his legs like this.

Leon hadn’t felt this way in a while, it was overwhelming. And he could feel his abdomen growing warm. Just a little over a minute and he was already close — this was much better than all his fantasies.

“Wait…I’m almost there.“ He settled his hands on your shoulders. He made the mistake of looking down, the way you were peering at him through your lashes would drive any man insane.

Leon feebly tried to push you away. It’s not because he doesn’t want you to continue, no, he’d say the safe word if that was the case. But the idea of his cum filling your mouth…well, it made him feel a little embarrassed.

You were relentless though, taking him so well in your mouth. You were drooling by now, but that did nothing to stop you, not when you were enamored by the way Leon’s thighs were shaking. You had never been so turned on.

The moment your hand fondled his balls though, he was a goner.

“I’m—” Leon couldn’t finish his sentence, hips bucking against you and stilling as he came in your mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he bit his lip harshly to not let out a window-shattering moan.

You swallowed it all, pulling away to catch your breath and lap at his cock to take any leftovers. Leon was panting at this point, trying to recover from the orgasm you had given him.

“You must have a pretty good diet.” You really had the audacity to say that when Leon was still completely fucked out, barely even registering what you were saying.

“Uh…what—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His cheeks were burning at what you implied: he tasted good.

Leon pawed at you, tugging you up so he could eagerly kiss you. It was sloppy and uncoordinated because of how dazed he was, but you couldn’t care less.

“You did so well,” he praised you, trying to make up for the way you rendered him speechless while sucking him off. “Better than I dreamed of.”

“Trying to flatter me, are you?”

“Oh, c’mon.” He scoffed.

He switched the positions, putting your back on the mattress and settling his hips between your thighs. He was more than ready to make you feel good too.

His hand traveled all over you, across your chest and hardened nipples, across the side of your ribs, squeezed your waist, went down to grab your ass, and then returned to your waistband, fingers tugging at your waistband.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

After you lifted your hips to help him take your pants and underwear off, you reached over to open the top drawer of your nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Leon was relieved you were prepared, because he certainly hadn’t packed any of that for his visit, he didn’t think this would happen.

“Here, let me…” He reached for the bottle.

He put some lube on his middle and index fingers before reaching his hand back between your legs, teasing your hole a bit before very slowly sinking them in. You inhaled sharply at the coldness of it, letting out that same breath in the form of a moan.

“Is this okay?” Leon asked you, eyes watching your facial reactions to make sure the motion of his fingers weren’t causing you any discomfort. He was a little insecure of them, his training had roughened them up a bit.

“Mhm. Keep going.”

He did just that, continuing to dip them in until you eased up and they fit inside nice and snug.

He looked back down, letting out a quiet ‘oh fuck’ when you started bucking your hips up to meet his touch. God, he was so horny even after his climax, his cock beginning to harden up again.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered, fingering you at a gentle pace, he swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth at the thought of being inside you.

“I can, I think we’re made for each other.”

The way you managed a smile while letting out the prettiest noises stirred up many emotions in him. He liked the vulnerability of this moment, just two people who liked each other being intimate and connecting.

“Well, I do too. Just…I dunno.” He fell silent, his gaze returning to your face and watching as it contorted into one of pleasure when he angled and curled his fingers just right.

“Right there?”

You nodded, reaching your hand down to hover it over the one he was using. “Yeah. Fuck…just like that.”

The wet sounds of his slick fingers sliding in and out of you were driving him insane, and a string of curse words left his lips. “You sound so good.”

Each flick of his wrist had you squirming around, your bed sheets wrinkling and getting all messed up. Some of the lube spilled down your thighs, you’d need to wash your sheets after this.

Leon kept going until you came, feeling his cock come fully to life at the way you moaned and spilled his name.

“Leon…” Your fingers dug into his forearms, feeling his muscles flex as he coaxed you through your orgasm. His eyes were glued to your face, biting his lip at the way your pretty eyes rolled back. He pulled his fingers out when your legs closed together in response to the overwhelming presence.

“Holy shit,” you sighed when you regained your senses, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

His lips tugged into a smile, he looked pretty proud of himself. “Felt good?”

“Better than good, but…”

“But?”

“I want more.”

“More as in…?”

Could he be more dense?

“I want you inside me.”

“Oh. Right.”

His cheeks turned red, well, redder than they already were. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Do you wanna be on top or?”

You gave it some thought, reaching over for the unopened condom — there was time for both, but to start, you wanted to ride him.

“I’ll be on top.”

With the repositions all done, you straddled his hips, tearing open the condom packet. Your heart was hammering like crazy, one of your dreams was about to come true. It wasn’t just about sexual pleasure, this was the man you had liked for literal years.

Leon noticed that you seemed to be pensive while putting the condom on him. His hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing about the flesh.

“What are you thinking about? Talk to me.”

His caring voice pulled you from your thoughts, you shook your head and smiled.

“Just about how long I’ve wanted this. You know, being with you. I’m really happy.”

God, he adored you. “Me too.”

You aligned yourself with his cock, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

You curled your fingers around the base of his cock to keep it stable before slowly sinking onto him. You felt the air escape from your lungs. Your jaw slackened and you let out a silent moan until you took all of him in.

“You’re going to be the death of me…” Leon gritted out. “Fuck, I didn’t think it would feel this good. You okay?”

You nodded, feeling full, the curve of your ass was against his balls. “Yeah, I think the foreplay really helped. I’m gonna start moving now.”

You put your hands against his chest and began riding him. Leon groaned in pleasure, his hands kneading your ass and helping you roll your hips. He felt bad that his fingers were digging into your skin but he couldn’t help it.

“Ah…Leon.”

Your mewls made his cock twitch inside you, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull.

He looked so pretty underneath you — his hair splayed out, a thin layer of sweat over his muscular torso, the baby blue part of his eyes almost covered now by his dilated pupils. So pretty.

Leon couldn’t take his eyes off you, not even if they threatened to shut from the way you were working him. No, they were all over you — watching the way your eyebrows were furrowed, the heave of your chest from your inconsistent breathing, how your eyes seemed glossy whenever they met his.

He reached his hand over to your chest, fingers gently pulling at one of your nipples. God, you rutted against him a bit faster at that, making him hiss and trash his head against your pillows. “Jesus…”

“Come on, say my name instead. I’m tired of hearing his.”

He laughed at that, wondering how you could even think of that at this moment. Because personally? He couldn’t come up with any banter, not with the way you were on top of him, turning a fantasy of his into a reality.

“Mm, just like that…it’s yours, all yours. I’m yours.”

Did he know how hot that was? You practically groaned just by hearing him say that. Leon thrust up to meet your hips, not missing the hiccup of your breath or the way your body almost gave out from the abrupt movement.

Honestly…having you underneath him didn’t sound all that bad right now. “Wanna switch?”

You paused your movements and nodded, happy that he asked — being on top was pretty tiring, and you knew he had the strength for it. You pulled yourself off his cock, you weren’t all that sure what he had in mind but you were eager nonetheless.

“Go for it.”

“Okay, just…” He gently maneuvered you to your back with ease. “There.”

“Show me that stamina of yours.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing you were referencing his training. “That’s going to be a little tough with you underneath me.”

He sat back on his knees and stroked himself, his eyes raking your form.

Watching him jerk himself off was hot, you could watch it all night…but, there’s always a next time. Right now? All you wanted was the intimacy of having him inside you again.

Leon bit his lip as he rubbed the head of his cock against your hole, he looked back up at you, he knew there was no way in hell he would last long. But he wasn’t embarrassed over it, he’d been waiting years, it was only natural.

Leon reached to hold one of your hands, keeping his other one on his cock to guide himself in. He took a deep breath, his stomach muscles clenching a little as he managed to get the tip in. “God…I’m definitely not gonna last in this position.”

“You’re not evenfully in yet.” You were breathless though, mind swirling at just the tip. You tried to steady your breathing and relax so he could fit without difficulty.

He laughed at that. “Yeah, yeah.”

A synchronous moan left both of you when he eventually bottomed out against you, taking a moment to get used to the feeling. He leaned down to kiss you, his hair dangling and brushing against your forehead in the process.

He hoisted your ankles over his shoulder and planted his hands beside your head, practically folding your knees to your chest. He didn’t miss the way he got hit with some of your usual fragrance, clearly, you had put some on either the back of your knees or your ankles…he wasn’t sure which one.

“Were you…anticipating this?”

“...What?” You sounded so fucked out and he wanted to laugh.

He chuckled. “Nothing.”

He chose to keep his newfound knowledge to himself for now. He kissed your somewhat sweaty forehead before starting a rhythm with his hips. Your walls were squeezing him, making him a panting mess against the shell of your ear.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling at it whenever one of his thrusts hit deeper than the others.

His hand found your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours. He sighed contentedly at the way you immediately squeezed his hand. He liked this, being close to you.

“Leon…” You moaned his name out, making a jolt of electricity shoot straight through all his nerves. His thrusts got faster, the sound of skin-to-skin contact intermingling with the light music playing in your room.

“Feeling good? Yeah, you’re taking it so well…I’m gonna be thinking about this for months.” He murmured the praise against your skin, kissing your ear before making his way down your neck.

Your reaction was immediate, clenching down on him and gasping, nails digging into his scalp. Hearing such praise come from Leon? God, it drove you insane.

Leon grunted, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your neck like a starved man. He could tell you were close, and he wanted to bring you over the edge of ecstasy — to coax an orgasm out of you before he spilled into his condom.

“I’m close…” you mumbled out, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave into the feeling, Leon was taking the lead, you didn’t have to worry about a single thing.

“I know,” he met your lips for a kiss, grunting and whimpering into your mouth with each snap of his hips. “Me too.”

He kept his pace the same, knowing it was getting you to approach your climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” his words were quiet, a little high pitched too, he could feel you holding his hand so tight that your fingers were leaving indents against the back of it.

“Please,” Leon pleaded. “Come on my cock…I need it.”

Your body started feeling tingly, your back arching and your hips trying to buck against him in pursuit of the feeling. You were right there.

“Leon! Leon…” Your head tipped back into your pillow. “I’m coming.”

He felt you squeeze him, your body trembling and twitching against him as he continued thrusting against you in your moment of bliss. But he didn’t last either, hips stuttering when he came inside the condom, feeling his cock get all warm from it.

“Oh…” Leon let out a guttural groan, followed by some whimpers of your name as he stilled inside you — slumping his body against yours, burying his head against your shoulder, and sloppily kissing the area.

The two of you stayed like that until you recomposed yourselves, your breathing pattern returning to normal. Leon mustered up the strength to prop himself back up, pulling out of you with a with a small whimper.

“Hey,” he whispered, a grin on his face as he kissed your cheek.

“Hey yourself.” You told him back, watching as he got up with a noise of complaint to take off the condom and throw it into the trash can.

“Come back here,” you laughed out, extending your arms for him.

“I am, I just didn’t wanna make a mess on your bed.” He came back over, laying down on his side and pulling you close.

“You already did, doofus.”

You turned to your side too. You could deal with the mess on your bedsheets later.

Leon held you close, slowly running his fingertips along your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed the top of your head and stayed like that for a few minutes. Just in each other's arms — letting your bodies calm down after the rush of pleasure and overwhelming emotion.

Leon’s body felt warm to the touch, he would make a really good blanket, a personal heater. You rubbed your hands across his shoulder blades, occasionally letting your nails scratch the skin lightly.

“How are you feeling?” Leon asked, reaching a hand to cup the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone.

“I feel really good,” you murmured, a lazy smile on your face, still feeling a rush of affection for him after the moment ended. “Everything about this feels perfect, I am a little sleepy though. You?”

“Same here.” He returned the sentiment, internally giddy about how everything had unfolded in the last few days. He couldn’t resist kissing you — just a sweet and simple one before pulling back.

“Need anything? A cup of water or something?”

Now that you think about it, your mouth feels kinda dry.

“Maybe a glass of water?”

“Mm,” Leon nodded. “Got it, I’ll be back.”

He kissed your forehead and then got up, putting on his boxers and pants (despite how uncomfortably sticky it felt) and quietly headed downstairs to grab two glasses of water and a small snack too — he knew his way around the house, so it was no big deal.

You wanted his body warmth again, rolling over to the side of the bed that he had been on to feel it once more.

Eventually, you heard the door creak open — revealing Leon, who had a sweet smile on his face as he shut it. He set down a bowl of fruit on your nightstand and then sat on your bed, handing you the glass of water you requested

“Miss me?” You asked, teasingly. You sat up.

“Oh yeah, big time.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He brought his cup of water to his lips, letting out a refreshed sigh after taking some gulps. You had him moaning and panting so much that he was sure his lips would get all chapped.

Leon gently coaxed your legs over his extended ones, caressing them.

“So…” Leon cleared his throat, “I never properly asked.”

“Asked what?”

He had a hopeful look in his eyes, a goofy grin on his face as he asked:

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

[permanentswaps]

Breaking Eric’s Trust Pt. 2

Read Part 1, written by vice versa swaps, here.

Will:

After the swap, we walked back through the parking lot and Bryce drove me back to my new home. My new body was much leaner than I was used to, making me feel a bit disoriented as I walked through the door. But I couldn't deny the appeal of Bryce’s youthful a physique – even if it was very different from the heavy muscles I'd worked for decades to build on my own body.

Entering Bryce’s room, I took in the surroundings and decided to try my hand at some sketches.

"Let’s see if this really improves my art skills," I thought to myself.

I quickly found myself engrossed in the creative process, a feeling I'd been craving to get back to. As the sketches took shape, I couldn't help but admire the dexterity of my new hands.

Distracted, I gently traced my fingertips along the veins of my opposite hand. Slowly I traced up my forearm and to my bicep, which I flexed. I then moved my hand over to my muscular chest and grazing my new sensitive nipples. I raised my arm to flex in the mirror and thought to myself “This body may not be as strong as mine, but it’s hot as fuck. Why would Bryce ever want to give this up.”

Hot and bothered, I retreated to the bathroom where I stepped into the hot shower. Felling the hot water falling across my back, I lowered my right hand to my cock while feeling my muscles with my left.

“I’m so fucking sexy. I’m so fucking sexy.” I growled to myself, before eventually cumming across the shower wall. As I came down from climax, I shook off the thought, reminding myself I’m only borrowing this body.

Just as I finished up in the bathroom, my phone rang – it was Eric, asking to hang out. When Eric arrived, I greeted him with a smile, trying to act casual.

"Hey, Eric! What's up, man?" I, now in Bryce's body, said, attempting to sound as natural as possible.

"Not much, man! Just figured I'd swing by and see what you're up to," Eric replied.

I chuckled, "Oh, not much. Wanna play some Call of Duty?"

The two of us settled into the gaming setup, controllers in hand. As we played, I couldn't help but marvel at the experience of hanging out with my son from a different perspective.

In the midst of the gaming session, I saw this as my opportunity to ask about things I wouldn’t normally know about.

"How are you feeling about going away to school?" I asked, trying to keep the question casual.

"A bit nervous, but I’m mostly excited and ready to get out of the house – date some hot girls. I am worried about my dad though; it's gonna be tough for him to be alone like this, I think," Eric replied.

I felt a twinge of sadness at Eric's response but turned my focus back to the game.

Changing the topic, Eric asked, "How about you, how are you feeling about the gap year?"

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'm not sure if it was the right choice, to be honest."

"Well, at least in a year, you'll still be off to college. Then, we’ll be able to hang all the time and you'll have your pick of all the guys there," Eric said with a playful grin.

I smirked to myself, "Yeah, that'll be great," before indulging in a brief fantasy about what it would be like to live Bryce’s life in college instead of just here at home.

Bryce

A week had passed since we visited the lab, and Mr. Sullivan and I had gotten surprisingly good at mimicking each other's mannerisms and habits. As we were packing up the car to move Eric up to campus, he casually asked, “Would it be alright if Bryce came with us to drop me off?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I responded, happy to not let Mr. Sullivan miss out on this big moment.

The three of us drove up to campus together, joking and listening to music the whole way. We grabbed a quick bite to eat before walking around the campus and bidding an emotional farewell. Mr. Sullivan, in my body, teared up a bit, to which Eric laughed and said, "Don't worry, dude. I'll FaceTime you all the time," before playfully punching his shoulder.

As we climbed back into the car to drive home, I realized this was the first time Mr. Sullivan and I had been alone together since the swap.

"How are you doing?" I asked, glancing at him.

"Alright, I guess. I'm just really going to miss him," Mr. Sullivan responded, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "The other night we were hanging out, and he told me he was worried about me, or you now, I guess. He thought I’d be lonely without him, and damn, I think he’s right."

"Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that. But at least you know he cares," I said, attempting to offer some consolation.

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed.

"And hey, you've still got me," I added playfully, reaching over to place my thick, callused hand on his thigh. I gripped the steering wheel with the other hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him. It was clear he was blushing, and I couldn't help but smirk.

We pull into the driveway and stumble into the house. I pinned him up against the wall in multiple spots, and we shredded our clothes as we went. I was enjoying the virility of this body – I was strong before, but never like this.

Tossing my former body onto the bed, I asked, “What do you want me to do to you.”

Looking up and biting his lip submissively, Mr. Sullivan asked, “You know the other day at the lab when I said, ‘you can do whatever you want with my body when you’re in it.’” I nodded. “I really meant anything,” he said.

After loosening him up with my fingers, I rolled on a condom and began to slide myself into my former body’s tight hole. It had been a while since I had taken anything this big, and I could feel the tightness around my new cock. Yet, something wasn’t cutting it.

After a few minutes of fucking, I growled “Daddy wants to feel all of you, I hope you like it raw,” growled before taking off the condom and sliding back in. The ecstasy was almost too much to handle and we climaxed together shortly thereafter.

The next morning, I woke up in bed, feeling the warmth of sunlight filtering through the blinds. Stretching and yawning, I rubbed my face, the rough texture of a beard grazing my palms. Glancing to the other side of the bed, I saw Mr. Sullivan in my body still peacefully asleep.

As great as last night was, a slight twinge of remorse tugged at my emotions. The idea of betraying Eric's trust weighed heavily on my conscience.

Deciding to focus on the present, I smiled softly before leaning over and gently kissing Mr. Sullivan on the cheek just like he had done at the swap labs before we had exchanged bodies. As Mr. Sullivan stirred awake, I greeted Mr. Sullivan with a warm smile.

"Good morning," I said, still getting used to a deeper voice. "Sleep well?"

Mr. Sullivan rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Yeah, surprisingly well. This body of yours is quite comfortable."

I chuckled, "Glad to hear it,” before diving back in to start round two.

A few months later

Over the course of the fall, Bryce (we’d begun to refer to each other using our former names) and I navigated the complexities of each other's. I was pretty successful in fighting my lonely streak, having met a lot of new friends at the gym and through my new local softball league.

Meanwhile Bryce was also working out like crazy and had flourished in his artistic pursuits, getting admitted to an art fellowship program that he could do for the rest of his gap year.

Hidden from prying eyes, our secret relationship also continued to thrive. Even though we didn’t tell Eric, he still clocked the positive change. A few weeks ago, during a Facetime call after a particularly enjoyable afternoon session with Bryce, he teased, "Wow, Dad, you're looking great. Honestly glowing... what … or who … have you been getting up to?" I laughed it off in the moment, but as time dragged on the weight of lying to Eric grew heavier on my conscience.

Finally, it was now the day before Thanksgiving break, meaning that Eric will be home tomorrow for the first time since we dropped him off. While Bryce had been up to visit him a couple of times, I still hadn’t seen him in person for months.

I invited Bryce over to the house, ready to figure out what to do. We laid together on the bed. I sat leaning against the headboard and some pillows and his head rested gently on my bare chest.  

"I gotta level with you, Bryce. I'm feeling really guilty,” I said, using my thick fingers to stroke Bryce’s torso through his halfway unbuttoned shirt. “I'm not sure I can keep up this lie to Eric much longer," I confessed.

Will, his expression thoughtful, suggested, "Well what if we just came clean to him now?"

"No, if we did that, I don't think he'd ever trust either of us ever again," I replied.

"We could swap back now," he proposed tentatively, a look of disappointment flickering across his face.

Pulling his lean body in closer to mine, I smirked. Nibbling on ear I said in a raspy whisper, "You wear that ass way better than I ever did, no way in hell am I going to make you give it up."

He looked at me, blushing, and I continued, "No, as much as it kills me, I think we need to end our relationship."

Will nodded, another look of disappointment flashing across his face before he replied, “Alright Will, if that’s what you really think is best.”

“But before we do, I need to feel my tight ass one last time,” I growled.

I got up and moved to his side before finishing unbuttoning his shirt. Then, gently running my hands from his torso around to his lower back, I motioned to take of his pants and briefs.

As I ate out his ass, I could feel my beard scratching against his smooth cheeks. Once he was loose, I got on my knees, raised his legs over my shoulders, and slid my raw cock into his tight hole.

After what feels like hours of fucking in every position imaginable, he’s finally riding on top.

Throwing his head back in ecstasy at me he moans to himself, “Oh fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. This body is so fucking hot.” Feeling himself up, he continues, “This is all mine. I deserve this. I am such a fucking hot hunk.”

I look up at him, a twinge of nostalgic regret washes over me. But as quickly as that feeling arrives, Bryce looks down at me and says, “Oh yeah, and it’s all thanks to you Will.” A naughty smirk crossing his face he continues, “Tell me how much you want me.”

Picking up the pace of my upward strokes I grunt, “Fuck yeah Bryce, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Fuck right I am, say my name again” he yells back.

“Unghhh Bryyyyceeeee,” I moan. “Take that dick, Bryce,” I grunt, grabbing his cock.

He leans over moaning, “Oh fuck yeah Daddy, I’m cumming” before kissing me and gently stroking my sensitive nipples.

That is enough to send me over the edge, coating his insides with my seed as we cum simultaneously.

Basking in the afterglow, I feel my meat still throbbing deep inside him.  “Well even if we can’t be together, I still hope we can do that every once in a while,” he said, continuing to feel up my sweaty, muscular torso.

Biting my lip, I reply, “I don’t see why not.”

[b00tyliciousbabe]

gingerbread

himbo bf x male reader

summary: spending time with your boyfriend and his family for the holidays. some fluff, lil angst, bad jokes (i apologise in advance), and minimal smut of course.

notes: merry chrysler! hope y’all pretty people are doing amazing. notoriously indecisive in true bootylicious fashion, i settled on one of my fave typa men - gentle giant himbos. think danny wheeler from baby daddy. now, i would never call my men dumb, but always be saying real stupid things. there’s a specific kind of wonder that you can see in their eyes…i’m whipped.

disclaimer: i also tried to keep it as open to as many tastes as possible, so a lot of who he is, you can do create yourself. but i had to make him a bit of a redhead, they too fine.

y’all better gass me because the way i wrote this 3 hours before the end of xmas day, enjoy babies <3

saved in his phone as gingerbread - he’s a ginger, and you get bred xx

you always loved spending time with your boyfriend’s family, almost as much as they loved you. his mother was the first to catch Y/N fever, mostly because you reminded her of herself and it was a relief to know that someone could handle her son’s antics . then it was his brothers, they loved how mellow you made him, as if all of his struggles melted away when you waltzed into his life. they felt like your guardians, wanting to protect you because they knew how much you meant to their baby brother. and his sisters…they’re lowkey your best friends. when you first met, y’all got on so well with one another bonding over fashion, pop culture, and weirdly philosophy.

his dad liked you as a person, believing you were a kind soul, but not the person for his son, because of how different you two were. they were a quiet luxury kinda family, which didn’t necessarily coincide with how connected you were with celebrities. this was until he saw how well you worked together. whilst working on a huge project for the family business, your boyfriend was stressed in the office. you walked in, ready to go on a date after he’d finished. ‘hey baby, you look hot, where you going?’ he’d forgotten, but you never held it against him. you loved to see the cogs turn in his head as he came to a realisation. ‘shit. it’s date night.’ he groaned head in hands. ‘I’m so sorry Y/N, work’s just been so busy, the clients wanted to move the order forward, the contractors needed more data on the financial markets, and…’ you sat down on his desk, holding his chin so you guys exchanged eye contact. ‘babe, it’s all good, i know it’s a really busy time for you.’ you stroked his face reassuringly, a sigh of relief emitted from his lips. ‘i ain’t leaving your side, we’re in this together,’ you said as you went in for a kiss. it was deep and sensual, and if you didn’t stop when you did, you would’ve left that room walking side to side. ‘so, what can i help with?’ you responded, looking at the documents on the desk. he stared up lovingly, ‘i don’t deserve you,’ he admitted ‘too good to me.’ which garnered a little chuckle from you. his dad saw how supportive you were, pulling an all-nighter for the benefit of your man. you were so tired that the two of you spooned on the couch in his office, and slept there. early the next morning, the two of you were met with a breakfast course on the coffee table and your respective starbucks orders. you kissed your bf goodbye, so he could work, and just as you were about to leave, his father stopped you. ‘good morning Y/N, did you enjoy the food?’ he questioned as you entered the elevator together. ‘it was lovely sir, thank you.’ you replied hesitantly. ‘the only thanks due is to you, i appreciate how you’re always there for my son.’ you smiled inside, longing to prove yourself to him. ‘I love him sir, he needs to know that any problem he has, automatically becomes our problem to solve together.’ he knew at that moment, you were the perfect fit.

one of the core memories of your relationship was the weekend in the alps. your boyfriend thought this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to have some alone time with you before the new year. with award season coming up, many celebrities needed to be styled, you legit had no time to see him, it was going to be amazing. you stayed in the chalet his parents owned, but neither of you knew that it’d be an entire sibling getaway. the two of you snuggled under the blankets, drinking hot chocolate, whilst listening to some quiet smooth jazz in the background. revelling in how cozy and warm it was, he was dozing off whilst cuddling and you decided to follow suit, but not before a quick kiss on your bf’s nose - he’s so cute. unfortunately, like most precious things, this didn’t last long. there was a huge clatter at the door, awakening you two. ‘what the fuck are you guys doing here?’ your man blasted at them. ‘oh hey lil bro,’ one of them said as the others made themselves feel at home. ‘we heard you lovebirds were here and wanted to see Y/N again, we missed him.’ they all waved at you. you blushed and immediately got up greet them all with hugs and squeals. ‘omds, i haven’t see you guys in ages, we have so much to catch up on.’ you blurted out in an excited frenzy. your love, on the other hand, didn’t share the same energy. whilst you had walked to his sisters, his brothers playfully punched your bf to cheer up. ‘you idiots, have the worst timing, he said as they got ready to get some wood for the chimney.

it was just you and the girls, as you gossiped about the drama that went down during fashion week as they ate up every word. you mostly had done a lot of listening to their relationship dramas and work lives, as you shared a couple giggles. you has made gingerbread men, as his sisters watched the master at work. ‘Y/N, these are delicious, how are you so good at everything?’ they praised which made you blush. the boys had returned, with your man wincing with pain as his brothers carried him in. ‘the dummy tripped on the snow’ they said snickering as you walked to help him. ‘how many times have i told you to be careful out there?’ you said, concerningly staring at the bruise on his hip. you touched it gently earning a wince from him as he pushed away your hand. ‘sorry babe.’ he stared dead in your eye and looked away, giving you the silent treatment. ‘what do you need?’ he continued airing. ‘i’m gonna get some bandages’ you said, unsure of what you did to hurt him emotionally.

‘the fuck is wrong with you?’ his sisters protested, thumping his head. ‘ow! what do you mean?’ ‘that boy loves you, so much so that he puts up with all of your shit and stupidity.’ they come to your defence. he looks to his brothers for help, but to no avail. ‘dude, I’ll be real, you fucked up.’ one says. ‘he was just trying to help’ another adds. like the youngest, he continues to deflect ‘well, if you guys hadn’t come, i wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and me and Y/N would have been happier. he finally admitted. ‘oh damn.’ their faces became gentler as they circled in on him. ‘I just never get to see him now, with work and everything, and i don’t want him to get used to not seeing me’ he started to get teary but hid it behind a scowl. ‘bro, you are meant to be with Y/N, i see it in your eyes every time he walks into a room, like he’s the only one there.’ your bf smiles at the mere thought of your face. ‘see, he ain’t even here and you’re cheesing so bad rn.’ they all laugh. ‘i don’t know how to tell him, he’s so good at communicating his feelings, i just, i just can’t do it the way he does.’ his heart begins to beat faster. ‘that’s the thing though, he knows you better than you know yourself.’ the eldest brother says ‘there’s nothing that he won’t be able to understand because the two of are so connected.’

you enter with the bandages and medical supplies. ‘here’s a chance to fix that’ his twin sister says as they leave and move to the other side of the mansion, locking the door behind them as they wave you bye for now. you sit beside him on the sofa, placing a hot compress on his bruise. ‘Y/N, we need to talk.’ you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine by being stand-offish ‘speak then.’ you say glaring into his eyes that made you melt every time but now. ‘i am so sorry for my rude behaviour, i know you were just tryna help my stubborn ass.’ you continued tending to his wounds, with an apathy rivalled only by the unconditional love you have for him. ‘whatever.’ you muttered. ‘aw, come on baby, don’t be like that.’ he grimaced. ‘like what,’ your voice growing in confidence ‘like someone who, as hard as they try, can never get their boyfriend to fully open up?’ you admitted. ‘you know that’s not the whole story.’ he looks down. ‘mkay’ you say, tired of arguin, he just needed to cool off. he takes a deep breath. ‘Y/N, you know i love you more than anything ’ your boyfriend boldly states, deepening your eye contact. ‘and you know i love you the same, but sometimes love is not enough,’ you struggle to get the words out, getting choked up as you hold his cheek for stability. he turns to kiss you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. he caresses your thigh, as your tongues dance for dominance in the warmth of your mouth. you pulled back. ‘here goes nothing, babe, I’m afraid, afraid of losing you.’ he admitted desperately. ‘we barely ever see each other and I’m scared that it has, um, like, maybe, um’ he failed to articulate his thoughts, angering him further. ‘calm down love, i hear what you’re saying. you’re worried about the possibility of us being comfortable with rarely seeing one another and what that means for us.’ you always knew how to soothe his heart. ‘exactly, you’re just so good at letting me know what we need to do to make this relationship work that I’m clueless at asking for help.’ he smiled earning a chuckle from you. ‘we’re in this together boo, you won’t ever lose me.’ as he sneers into another smooch. ‘fuck.’ he moaned into your mouth as a tent forms in his boxers. ‘your voice always gets me going.’ you looked down and immediately dropped to your knees.

you hadn’t sucked your boyfriend’s cock in what seemed like forever. you pulled his boxers to his ankles as his thick cock sprung up, throbbing in the cool air of the room. you grabbed his pole, gaslighting him into thinking you were going to start at the tip. instead you began to massage his beefy, low-hanging balls in your mouth. ‘Y/N, fuck, that’s where the spunk is stored, not where you drink it from’ he snickered, removing them from your mouth. ‘you’ve got to st-UGHHHH’ you deepthroated with ease, loving how his dumb, naive nature was still translated to your time in the sheets. ‘that’s it baby, good boy’ he praises, looking at the slobber that made his dick glisten. ‘shit.’ he cums without warning, giving you an impromptu facial. ‘sorry darling, i came as soon as i saw you slap my dick on your thick lips.’ your boyfriend helped you to clean up, pushing his hand all over your face and fingering your mouth with his nut.

you moved to undressing, as you straddled your man. ‘i know you wanna pound me into tomorrow, but you can’t,’ gesturing to his bruise. he whined and cooed. ‘however…’ you whispered into his ear, jerking him of with a mix of his cum and your spit ‘imma help my man out tonight.’ as you sank onto his schlong with ease. his hands immediately grabbed your globes, as he licked his lips salaciousy, enjoying your physique. ‘so fucking hot.’ your bf mumbled. you started bouncing on his cock as he slowly rutted in you from beneath, your hole was already sore.

it was gonna be a long night…

@gayaristocrat imma save your fantasy for dacre, that man is 90s fine fr

[cordyce]

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[toxicanonymity]

Silence can never be bought, only rented.

pt. 2 of 6, 2.5k | dbf!Joel x fem!reader | 18+

picks up after Pt 1 . Story Master List

Joel Miller List

“You’re right, it’s gettin’ hot." he starts unbuckling his belt and your heart skips a beat. As he pulls his tight jeans down over his bulge, his boxers start to come with them, revealing a small, circular scar, then a sliver of neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair. The glimpse makes your knees weak.

Thank you @dark-scape for the mini mood boards!

Warnings/notes: no-outbreak AU. Reader confident in string bikini, there may be more to joel than meets the eye. Legal age gap. Masturbation. cumshot. Kinda dom reader. i don't know all triggers, not used to detailed warnings in my usual fandoms sorry

NEXT: PART 3

Catch up on Part 1

-----

It's June in Texas.  You packed your swimsuit this weekend.  You don't know why Joel would wear a jacket in this weather anyway.  Hopefully he doesn't fuck your stepmother while he's breaking it off.  In the big scheme of things, one more time wouldn't make much of a difference. It's more about the fact that he's your property now.  

-

Back at your friend's place, you plug in your phone across the room while you settle in to watch another movie.  Her new sound system is badass, so you don't hear it when your phone rings, but she does. 

She’s a lot closer to it than you are, so you tell her she can send it to voicemail.  She leans over and looks at the screen. 

“Joel." Her eyes widen. "DILF Joel??”

You scrunch your face up.  “Gross, he's like 50.”   

“Okay, what does non-DILF Joel want?”  She rightfully uses finger quotes around "non." In the back of your mind, you always knew Joel was hot.  It turns out, you had no idea.  

You sigh,  “Probably just checking on me while my Dad is away.”  You're tempted to tell her–at least the part where Joel is fucking your stepmother–but for now, you don't.  You enjoy being the only one who knows and could ruin both of them.

“So why not answer?” 

“Guess I just don’t feel like talking.” 

She looks at you sympathetically.  She knows why you came home this weekend.  You needed a change of scenery after things got messy with a guy you were seeing.  “I get it,” she says.  “But I promise you’re gonna be over him before you know it.  Then on to the next,” she smiles.  

If only it were that easy.  You really don’t feel like going back and facing life.  Technically Chad is right, you never defined your relationship or agreed to be exclusive.  But you spent so much time together, and he said he loved you.  You know he’s a chode and not at all worth your tears.  You just hate feeling so powerless.  On the plus side, you've barely thought about Chad at all since the moment you first saw Joel's truck this weekend. 

Your phone dings.  Your friend looks at it.  

“Who leaves voicemail?” she asks. It dings again and her face gets serious.  "Oh, shit.  You should really call him. He said Trouble."

"That's just what he calls me."  You suppress a smirk at the nominal determinism. 

"Oh, yeah. Ugh. I hate that I'm gonna miss the HOG barbecue this year. " 

HOG. . . Hot Old Guy.  She really tickles herself pink with that.  Your dad and Joel cook out at Joel's pool every independence day with a couple of other friends, and you normally bring her.  

Your phone dings again.  She looks at the screen and side-eyes it. 

"What?" You ask 

"You should block Chad." 

You feel a rush of satisfaction followed by shame as you eagerly go over and look at the phone.  

Chad: miss u already. 

In a way, it’s the best possible message, but seeing the dumb way he writes, your shame is replaced by anger.  

"God what an asshole," you fume. You don't respond. 

-

You finish watching the movie, and eventually start catching up on Joel's texts. Come out and talk to me for one minute.  A pit forms in your stomach. He was here? Are you that predictable? 

When it's time to leave and you get to your car, there's a note.  It's the same one you left on Joel's truck, the one that said You're sick. There's a response scrawled under your writing: 

You have no idea.  

Your heart races as you look around the street.   How dare he? And why are your cheeks burning?

You start driving back to your apartment. It’s well under two hours away, it's still afternoon, and you don’t know what you'll do with the day when you get back.  Laundry, you guess.  You can hardly bear the thought of being back there alone with your thoughts. 

-

Instead of 35 South to San Antonio, you find yourself on Joel's street.  Joel is a successful contractor and has a nice house.  Comically high-security, too.  Today, the gate is already disarmed, so you don't have to put in the code or talk to him.   You park in his big wraparound driveway, grab your bag, and head around back.  The pool gate is disarmed, too. You enter the code to the pool house door.  

When you walk in, the air conditioning blasts on and it's freezing.  Kind of obnoxious in a state with a power grid crisis.  You throw your stuff down on the big couch, not bothering to go any further.  You strip down to your underwear, ass facing the window.  Then you put your swimsuit cover-up over your underwear.  Feigning modesty, you take your underwear out from under the cover-up and replace it with your two-piece. 

When you come out, Joel is sitting in a zero gravity lounge chair across the pool in front of the big glass windows of his house.   When you see him, your heart skips a beat, even though it’s no surprise.  It’s like when you’ve been thinking about someone so much they practically become a celebrity in your mind, even if they don’t deserve it.  

You bring your bag out to the deck and sit across the pool from him. He’s wearing the same tight, blue t-shirt and jeans. Now he has on Ray Bans and flip flops instead of boots.

You slather your sunscreen on as he watches.  He doesn't bother pretending not to watch.  You slip your hands inside the cups of your bikini top, lotioning up your breasts.  He adjusts himself, which sends a tingling rush to your core.  

-

Once your sunscreen is dry, you wade into the pool.  You walk around aimlessly, then swim over to his side, keeping your head above water.  When you get to the edge, you rest your forearms on the deck, then put your head down on the crook of your arm and float your legs behind you.  

“Come to give me my jacket?” he asks. 

“I don’t know how you’re wearing jeans, much less a jacket." You lift your head to look at him.

“You’re right, it’s gettin’ hot." he starts unbuckling his belt and your heart skips a beat.  

He stands up, and as he's pulling his tight jeans down over his bulge, his boxers start to come with them, revealing a small, circular scar, then a sliver of neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair.  The glimpse makes your knees weak.  He pulls the elastic waistband up and leaves the boxers on.  He sits down again and crosses his ankles.

You ask, “How’d it go?”

“Oh, about how you’d expect.”

“How long were you fucking her?”

“Does it matter?”

“You’re gonna tell me everything I ask.”

“Few months.  Look, Trouble, I’m human at best.  She came onto me.”

“Knew you’d say that.” 

“What if I could prove it?”

You don’t say anything.  He takes out his phone and scrolls for a while, then brings it to the edge of the pool.  You watch his heavy quads quake with each step but avert your eyes while he bends his knees.  You have no interest in seeing his balls or anyone else’s.  His boxers tighten around his muscular thighs as he sits down and lowers his feet into the pool right next to you.  

“There,” he says, handing you his phone.  You can barely see in the sunlight and don’t really care who initiated it anyway.

“Why don’t you just get a girlfriend?” you ask. 

“You wanna set me up?” he smiles.  “Got any single friends?”

“Why don’t you ask Sarah? She’s older than me.”

He grabs his chest like you shot him. Sweat is blotching his softwash t-shirt already.

You hand his phone back.  

"There's one inside for you," he says. "It's on the counter." He gestures through the window. 

"One what?"

"iPhone pro.  Since you can't seem to answer whatever piece of crap you're using." 

"What do I need an iphone pro for?" 

"They didn't have the regular one in blue." 

Your favorite color is a nice touch, but an iPhone isn't going to make this all go away.  

-

"How’s it goin’ with what’s his name?”

“Chad? It’s not.” You hate him for bringing up Chad. You harden your face, but it isn't convincing. 

Joel nods regretfully and there's a long moment of silence.  

“You’re better than him, Trouble."

You don't say anything. 

"Shit, you can have any guy you want.”  

You can't see his eyes behind his shades, but something in his voice tells you how hungrily he's looking at you.  

You still don't say anything. 

Joel stretches his leg and the top of his foot grazes your quad, then your inner thigh.  All your blood rushes to your loins.  You don't move.  He strokes your other inner thigh with the arch of his foot, getting a little higher with each pass.  A tent forms in his boxers and he adjusts himself again.  

“See what you do to guys?” The top of his foot brushes your crotch and you throb.  When he tries to slip a toe inside the fabric, you float out of reach. 

“You’re not a guy, you're a grown man.” 

"Exactly. And he's just a guy."

"A grown man and a pervert." A wave of anger hits you when you remember your stepmother. "And apparently you'll fuck anything."

If he's still listening, he ignores it.  

-

“God damn.  Look at you.”  He shamelessly palms himself over his boxers and suddenly his body is the only thing on your mind again:  The way his naked ass flexed while he looked at you.  The length of his cock slamming into her when he came.  And now it's right there for your taking.  Your core churns needily, slickening itself for what it desperately wants.  Too bad he doesn't deserve it. 

“Yeah. . . ” Your hands slowly reach behind your back to unfasten your top as you sink down into the water. "Look at me," you echo as you take the halter over your head. 

You lie back with your nipples above the water line, lazily floating and barely pushing yourself around in the water, watching him watch you.  

He takes a deep breath and his lips part.  He digs the heel of his palm into his boxers. You grip the deck with one hand.  You hover just far away enough that he can't touch you.  He picks up his phone, swipes it, puts it down. He exhales through pursed lips and adjusts himself again.

"Take it out," you tell him, then lean back,  jutting your tits into the air again.

 "Yes ma'am," he growls. 

He reaches into his boxers and holds his hard cock with the tip pointed toward you. 

"The whole thing." You nod at it.  

He pulls the fabric back. 

"Now take your hands away."

"God almighty," he groans as he complies. He sits back with his hands on the pool deck.  

Big mistake if your goal is to stay in control. This is going to take more restraint than you thought. 

"Take off your sunglasses," you demand. 

The sky is getting cloudy enough. He complies. 

It’s the only cock you’ve ever seen that actually makes you salivate. Thick, slightly tapered, circumcised, prominent tip.  Salt and pepper peeking out from the fabric and creeping up the base.  You recall for the hundredth time how he felt pressed up against you by your car the night before.

Your nipples harden and his cock bounces on its own.  He inhales deeply through his nose, his chest stretching his sweaty t-shirt. You wet your lips and he exhales loudly.  You approach his knees and rest your hands on his thighs, letting your nipples graze his shins. His phone buzzes and he ignores it. 

A bead of precum grows at the head of his cock.  He clenches his jaw.  

“Go ahead,” you tell him as you back away.  He gathers the precum with his thumb and begins to stroke himself slowly.  He’s proportional - His massive hand is a good fit.

“I’m gonna put this back on in two minutes,” you tell him, dangling your swimsuit top in your hand. 

He shakes his head slowly.  “Yeah, you would.” 

He looks down at himself then back up at you.  His eyes darken.  The vein on his hand makes you weak - his big, masculine hand wrapped around his thick cock. . . 

His breath becomes ragged, his eyelids get heavy. 

You disappear below the water, and when you resurface, you come to the edge of the pool between his legs.  You plant your hands just above his knees and inhale his musk from several inches away as you watch.  

“Thirsty?” he breathes. 

“Hell no.  Just wanna see what a sicko's cum looks like.” 

He smirks, then it fades. The dark, hungry look on his face makes you breathe heavier, throb harder, and twitch.

His ass clenches and he points the tip directly at your neck, then he groans as a hot, white rope meets your collarbone and the halter tie.  A few more ropes gurgle into his fist.  

“Gross,” you say.  But you ache for him so badly.  “You know, a gentleman always asks.” 

“I'm a sicko, remember?" He dips his hand in the pool, shakes it around, then wipes his hands on his boxers and puts his dick away. "Give me a minute." 

-

You dip your head under the halter tie of your bikini top to put it back on, but you let  it float, not covering your breasts. He pushes himself up and grabs his phone.  He looks at it and says under his breath, "gotcha, pendejo.”  Then tells you, "I've gotta make a call."  He pulls on his jeans but leaves them unbuckled.  Somehow, that’s even hotter than his pantsless look, but you’re miffed that he got dressed so quickly. 

You would've made him take off his shirt, but you love the way it stretches with every move he makes.  Half of it is dark with sweat now.  His back is a sight to behold as he walks over to the watertight, faux wicker box with the dry towels.  You squeeze your thighs together and clench around nothing.  

He pulls out two perfectly folded towels and you wonder out loud, "Are you fucking your maid, too?"

"Not this one," he says matter of factly.  He drops a towel on the deck near you, then goes into the house. 

-

He stands in his large window, spreads his feet as he does something on his phone, then looks at you as a water jet blasts into your thigh right at crotch level.  

How devious of him.  

You shift your hips slightly, just like he knew you would, and try to manage your best poker face as you let the jetstream carry you over the edge. You close your eyes before they roll back in your head.  Your core implodes and your whole body pulses as a much-needed orgasm is wrenched out of you.  Your mouth falls slack and you open your eyes in time to see him watching you with his phone to his ear.  He smirks as the jetstream fades, then walks away. 

-

You lay your head in the crook of your arm and let your bikini float near your breasts as you recover, with the occasional aftershock.  Then, you hear his truck start up and drive away.  Asshole.

[luvj4key]

you can come to me ──★ s. jaeyun

PAIRING: spiderman!jake x f!reader GENRE: established relationship, fluff, slight angst WORD COUNT: 1.2k WARNINGS: slightly suggestive (steamyish makeout), blood, injuries, cursing

SYNOPSIS: being spiderman's girlfriend isn't the easiest thing. you've seen your boyfriend go through a number of things - injuries included - but it's never easy. no matter what though, he knows that he can rely on you. you're his lifeline.

LUVJ4KEY'S NOTE: this was inspired by that one scene from amazing spiderman 1 (iykyk). i just had to. that's all i got to say. happy reading <3

“Please be safe Jake, I love you.”

This was the last message you sent Jake before he left to go fight the Lizard. This was almost 6 hours ago and you never got a reply back from him. You knew how dangerous Jake’s job can be. You knew the many risks to it. Jake made sure you knew before you started dating, shortly after finding out that he’s Spiderman. Long story short, you really didn’t mean to find out his identity nor did Jake even intend on telling you so soon. It all happened so fast. You got a phone call at 2 in the morning from a tipsy Jake. You were about to leave to go get him but you were stopped when he confessed two things to you: one, that he’s madly in love with you and two, that he’s the Spiderman. You remember feeling like time stopped from not one but two of the confessions. You proceeded to go pick him up from wherever he was and push the two confessions off to the side, leaving it as a future conversation for when he was sober. After a long - and awkward - conversation, you ended up confessing your feelings towards Jake and tried to think of ways to make your relationship with him work because you really really love this boy. You always have.

And you did make it work because here you are, 1 year into your relationship. It took some work - and tears - but you made it. You constantly reassured him that you would be there for him every step of the way. He’s not losing you that easily. You had to promise him that you would be extra careful - as did he. 

Despite all the precautions, it doesn’t stop you from constantly worrying about him. This is your boyfriend’s life you’re talking about here - he’s constantly putting his life at risk for other people’s safety. So when he doesn’t respond to your text, of course you were worried. You knew what he was going up against.

You couldn’t sleep because of the constant fear and worry you were feeling. You didn’t feel good about this at all. Normally you wouldn’t think too much about it but this time was different. Every so often, you tossed and turned in bed up until you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to distract yourself. Getting out of bed, you walked over to your desk and settled down to work on a couple of assignments -  you might as well since you’re awake.

Moments pass until you suddenly hear some light taps on your window. Immediately glancing over your shoulder, your eyes meet Jake’s. He gave you a tired smile, it was evident that he was in pain. Your heart dropped and you felt tears form in your eyes as you thought of what could’ve possibly happened to him and dashed over to the window, letting Jake in. “Hi beautiful,” he breathed out, “You look very nice tonight.” despite him being in pain, he tried to reassure you.

“Jake,” was all you could say as he struggled to climb in. Groaning as he barely makes it through the window, he collapsed onto the ground, holding his side. “Jake,” you panicked, “What hurts? Show me please” you blabbed out. Nothing was in your head but Jake and his health.

You helped him slide out of the top part of his suit, revealing a large claw-like scratch on his side. He was losing a lot of blood. “Oh shit,” you said under your breath.

“He got me good.” Jake managed to let out, still trying to brighten the mood.

“Hold on,” you said before taking off to go grab the first-aid kit. Once you got back, you caught Jake closing his eyes, “Jake please keep your eyes open for me,” you begged. 

“I’m sorry baby, I’m just so tired.”

“I know my love but hang in there for me please. I can’t lose you” you said as you scrambled to get everything together.

You didn’t even notice you were crying until you felt Jake’s warm hand on your cheek. He wiped away your tears causing you to avert your gaze to him. He smiled at you, “Hey, I’m okay I promise. It’s just a scratch.”

“It’s not just a scratch Jake, you’re losing a lot of blood.”

“I know. But you’re not losing me that easily.” he hissed in pain as you cleaned around his wound.

“I’m sorry.” you winced along with him. A silence filled the air as you concentrated on dressing his wound. Jake couldn’t help but stare at you. He loved you - so so much. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. Of course, it wasn’t his intention to tell you that he was Spiderman. He knew that your life is now at risk. But at the same time, he thought it played out perfectly. He knew that he would tell you eventually. He trusts you with his whole life. You had to know about this part of his life.  

Out of instinct, he reached up to play with a strand of your hair that fell in front of your face. It was something he did out of habit. He noticed you slightly relaxing, “I’m so in love with you…”

You shook your head, “Of course you gotta say that right now.”

“I have to,” he laughed, “It’s a given thing.” you scoff, turning your attention back to finishing up dressing his wound. Once again, your attention was turned back to Jake when he gently grabbed your chin, pulling you in closer to the point your noses were almost ouching. His gaze fell to your lips for a brief second before going back to your eyes.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” you whispered, feeling your heartbeat speed up.

“I know…but we both know you like it.” was the last thing he said before pulling you in for a kiss. It didn’t take long for the kiss to intensify. It was just you and him in this moment. Nothing else. You moved your hand up to cup Jake’s face while his fingers buried itself into your hair - feeling the desperation in his touch. You pulled away from each other to catch your breaths.

Suddenly remembering the situation, you were the first to snap out of it, “Okay buddy, let’s get you to bed yeah? You’re literally on the floor wounded right now. Now’s not the time to be in the mood.” you laughed as you helped him off the floor.

“Well, that was fun.”

“Yeah…” you blushed, “Here, let’s get you changed and into bed.” walking over to your dresser, you pulled out a drawer that was exclusively for Jake’s clothes - since you never know when he would need it. You gave him his fresh clothes and got into bed as he changed. 

Shortly after he joined you in bed, immediately pulling you into his arms. You ran your fingers through his hair to which he quickly relaxed into, “You scared me Jake… so bad.”

“I know baby I’m sorry, I had nowhere to go.”

“No… I’m happy you came to me. I like knowing that I can take care of you.” you gently ran through fingers on his face.

“You’re all I have Y/n. I’m serious. I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t. I’m with you forever. I promise.”

“And I promise to always protect you. I won’t let anyone or anything take you away from me.” 

You were his rock and he is yours. 

©luvj4key, all work is written by me. do not copy or repost

[pahtoosh]

mind reader

[image ID: a distraught Sebastian Stan looking at a sheet of paper. the paper has three sections. the first has three boxes labeled "yes", "no", and the last one with ellipses. the second one has three boxes labeled "please", "hugs", and "kisses". the last section has scribbles. the first section is in black and white and uses a mature font, while the second section is colorful and uses a playful font. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~1000 words

warnings: crowded mall. reader goes nonverbal. fluff

a/n: this was requested by @valetim09 ! thank you so much for your patience <3 I also want to add that everyone has a different experience with going nonverbal. this story is a reflection of my own. if anyone has a different experience and would like to share, I'd love to listen so I can write something different next time!

pairing: mafia!daddy!bucky x gn!little!reader

summary: Bucky takes you to the mall and you go nonverbal.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

“Just one more store okay? You’re doing so good for me, bubba.” Bucky praised. 

You took a deep breath, a difficult feat while your Daddy had you speed walking across the mall. He led you to a store full of bath and shower products. The storefront was brightly decorated for the holiday season, twinkle lights dangled behind animal statues posing with bottles of soap. This display would normally have you tugging on Bucky’s sleeve, begging to take a look, but today it was just another addition to your overstimulation. 

“Okay we just need to grab washcloths, lotion, and the bubble bath set for your little friend.” He squinted at the list.

“Sweetheart, which scent did you want to get for them? We’ve got bubblegum and blueberry written down but they’re also crossed out.”

He looked to you for a response but figured you might be distracted by the display shelf in front of you. 

“It’s okay, we’ll just get both. Let’s keep moving.” He darted back and forth between aisles, trying to gather everything as quickly as possible. Your daddy was so distracted, he didn’t notice how overwhelmed you were getting. All the different, potent scents in the store were no help. For the moment, the only thing you could do was hold onto Bucky’s sleeve with one hand and use your other to cover your nose. 

It took Bucky a while to find the items. By the time you finished checking out and walked back into the mall, it had gotten significantly more crowded. Ever the strategist, your daddy held all the shopping bags in his vibranium arm so he could wrap his other arm around you and move both of your bodies as one to a faster exit. 

He let out a relieved exhale once entering the parking lot. “Oh man, that crowd was crazy, wasn’t it?” Bucky loosened his grip so he could look at you. You were clearly listening, but didn’t respond. 

He looked at you curiously. “What happened to my little chatterbug?”

You simply tugged his shirt and pointed to the car. 

“Okay, we’ll go home, baby. I know that’s what you’ve been wanting.” Bucky looked both ways before stepping off the sidewalk and walking to the car with you. 

He helped you buckle into your seat and placed the shopping bags in the trunk before sitting in the driver’s seat. Some days Bucky would have a chauffeur so that he could sit in the backseat with you, but today was not one of those days. 

After making sure it was safe to go, he wasted no time before pulling out of the lot and driving home. Bucky wanted to ask you if something was wrong, but he knew you’d be more comfortable discussing it at home. He settled for softly playing your favorite music and glancing at you in the rear view mirror once in a while. 

When you reached the house, one of Bucky’s employees put away the shopping bags as he led you upstairs. 

“You doin’ okay, baby?” He asked, holding your hand as you two walked towards your room. 

You shook your head. 

“Can you use your big kid words and tell Daddy what’s going on?”

You shook your head again. He helped you sit on your bed while he stood in front of you. 

“Okay then,” Bucky said, placing a hand on his chin. He looked at you carefully, as if he could tell what you were thinking if he just looked hard enough.

“Are you feeling extra tiny today?”

You shrugged, still looking up at Bucky unblinkingly. 

“Did something happen at the mall?”

You shrugged again. 

“Let’s try something new, sweetheart.” He went to your desk and picked up a crayon and a sheet of paper. “Can Daddy use these?”

You nodded. 

Bucky crouched down at your desk while he wrote on the paper. As with everything he did, he looked completely focused. His concentration face was a familiar sight when paired with the large oak desk in his office, but it looked a little silly and out of place with your bright, plastic table. The only seats available were a few floor cushions. He settled for sitting on the floor as to not mess up your cushions with his “outside pants”. You craned your neck trying to see what your daddy was up to. You could just barely make out a few letters before he was finished. He drew a few more lines, then handed you the sheet of paper with a hard book underneath and a new crayon. 

“Daddy made some ‘buttons’ for you, okay. You press this one to say yes, this one for no, and this one for I’m not sure. This spot is for you to make your own buttons. And this spot is if you want to write more. Does this help?”

You pointed at the “yes” button. 

His eyes lit up, then he complimented you for being such a fast learner. 

“Can you tell Daddy why you aren’t speaking right now?”

“Mall. Too much,” you wrote. 

“You got overwhelmed at the mall, bubba? And now talking is too much?”

“Yes.”

He let the crease in his brow deepen before taking a breath and relaxing his features. “I know we were supposed to have dinner with Natty and your little friends today, but how about we push those plans to another day? We’ll have a quiet night with just us. See if we can calm this baby down.”

You gave him a small smile. “Yes.” Then you created a new button. “Please.”

Bucky chuckled. “Even when you’re not speaking you’re still the smartest, most polite baby in the entire world. Can I give you some kisses?”

“Yes.”

He peppered your face with kisses until you were giggling and smiling so hard it hurt. You took things easy for the rest of the night, just watching tv, eating the dinner Bucky made, and listening to him read a book. You kept the button sheet that Bucky made in a special folder in case something like this happened again. After you added two new buttons labeled “cuddles” and “kisses” of course.

[discordantwritings]

Captain’s Orders (Buggy x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, angst, Buggy is bad at feelings, canon typical violence, oral, PiV sex, creampie

WC: 8.4k

Summary: Getting a job as the chronicler of the Buggy pirates was the best, then worst, then best thing that ever happened to you.

Notes: The second I realized I hadn’t done a solo buggy fic I wrote this I’m so sorry buggy

No one tells you how hard it is to keep a job on a pirate ship. Unless you manage to land with a big name captain the chances your job sinks to the bottom of the sea is pretty high. Which is what happened to your last three jobs- you were so tired of ending up on a dingy paddling away from a lost battle that you had no say in. You were a chronicler after all- not exactly a fighting pirate.

Despite being a non-essential crew member a chronicler was a sought after person. Every pirate thinks they are going to be the one to find the One Piece so, naturally, every pirate needs to have someone to log their journey to becoming king of the pirates. It was a little tiring, hearing the same story over and over again, writing the same few chapters only to end up waterlogged and searching for a new ship at the end.

But you needed to eat and you could only afford to live at this tavern for so long. You’d posted your services on the local board, listing your name and where you were staying in hopes of drawing in a pirate captain. One that hopefully won’t be going under in less than a month. And if you were really lucky- one that wasn’t so painfully textbook.

Really you should have known the gods were going to get you for wishing that.

When the clowns first walk into the tavern you wonder if you missed some signage that a carnival was coming into town. But when a distinctly dressed blue haired pirate captain walks in behind them- you put it all together. The Buggy Pirates were docked here. Their chronicler probably had their hands full but at least it wasn’t the same boring-

You notice when the barkeep points Buggy the Clown in your direction. The two of you make eye contact across the room and you quickly run through your memory to try and figure out what you could have possibly done to be hunted down by a big name pirate. As his heavy boots thud against the wooden floors you can’t think of a single time you’ve even brushed shoulders with any clowns let alone pirate ones. As Buggy looms over your table you frantically try and think of a way out of whatever sorry situation you’ve accidentally gotten yourself into only for that hurried train of thought to be abruptly derailed.

“You the chronicler who has that ad posted?”

It takes you probably too long to respond with a squeaky- “Yes?”

“Great!” The clown takes the chair next to you and sits down, quickly putting his feet up on the table. “Do you have examples of a resume or whatever?”

“You don’t already have a chronicler?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying more stupid things.

“Nope.” He shrugs and you see the rest of his crew settle in around the tavern.

“Oh. Well-“ You reach off to your side and take out a leather bound journal that has some of your work plastered in it. “Here’s some snippets.”

As you hand it over to Buggy you feel as his sea green eyes rake over you for a few moments before he finally takes the book. He flips to the first page, looks at it for maybe all of two seconds before snapping it shut. “How would you write about me?”

Then why did he even- “Well I think- see people sometimes assume a chronicler only writes down the basic facts are events but I think a real chronicler tells a story that the average person didn’t get to see or hear about. For example a lot of people heard about the Straw Hats taking you out at Orange Town-“

He sits up a bit, gaze hardening but you quickly continue. “But- I think there’s a different story there! They fought the fishmen so soon after your encounter with them and it’s no secret that the Arlong Crew was pushing their luck in the East Blue. So the story there should really be about how you used your genius to let the Straw Hats go and sent the Arlong Crew after them- letting your opponents fight it out and weaken each other.”

There’s a long pause where you feel the clown practically searing holes into your skin with his gaze until he finally breaks into a smile that rivals the one painted on his face. “That’s exactly it! You get it! People just need to hear the right side of the story! Start writing that down. That'll be your first entry as our chronicler.”

That is probably the most presumptuous way you’ve ever been offered a job but you certainly were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Great!”

It’s only after Buggy then orders a round of drinks in celebration and the cheering begins that you realize something.

“I don’t have to wear a clown costume do I?”

You didn’t have to wear a clown costume but already in the few weeks you’ve been a member of the Buggy Pirates your wardrobe had gotten more colorful. A sequin scarf here- a bright blue shirt there- these things just landed in your bunk and it did help you fit in. You minded it less than you thought you would, being in a crew that actually put thought into how they looked was a pleasant change.

You tied a striped sash around your waist over your pants as you prepared to have your nightly debriefing with your new captain. During the day you flitted about the ship, taking notes on everything that happens. Every night though Buggy always wanted a check in. From letting him know what happened while he was doing other duties, to telling you some previous journeys that he and his crew had been, to embellishing the stories of the day.

It was nice having a captain who actually cared about what you were writing. Most had just left you to your own devices and didn’t much care for your craft beyond the fact it made them look good. But Buggy actually wants to listen to your words and he provides some actual good feedback (admittedly in a sea of crazy unbelievable ideas, but the point still stands).

Journals and pens tucked under your arms you navigate to the captain’s quarters, finally feeling comfortable navigating the large ship after walking this route twice a day. It’s not that long before you’re knocking on the large door and hear Buggy’s voice, muffled through the wood.

“C’mon in.”

You push through the door and see Buggy behind his desk, face laying sideways on a pile of paper. You take a seat across from him.

“You alright?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Being a captain is not all fun and games my dearest chronicler.” He pushes back on the desk, flopping back in his large seat and swinging his feet up on the desk, knocking over the papers in the process. “Responsibility is a heavy burden to bear.”

You look over the mounds of untouched paper work that have been sitting there since you first arrived. “Seems like it.”

“But now you are here to save me. Tell me my story weaver- what is the tale of the day.” When he looks at you you know you have his undivided attention. There was something so fulfilling about capturing his attention, something you’ve learned is so finicky and flighty. But for you? He’s never been distracted.

“Well, it’s been a pretty standard day.” You go into every detail that matters- what acts were practiced, who's flirting with who, what crew member Richie managed to bite a finger off of- that kind of stuff.

“You know- we should have a whole section where we track body parts Richie has eaten and see how many full people can be put together with the parts.” Buggy adds as you finish up your recap and you huff a laugh as you write that down.

“I think we’ll have a lot of spare fingers.” You point out.

“Good point. Full bodies and hands.” Slightly more sensible… kind of.

“Got it. I’ll start logging and asking around for people who have lost limbs to Richie.” You make the note and you see out of the edges of your vision as Buggy’s legs come off the desk and he leans over, getting a bit closer to you.

“Y’know I’ve told you many stories already- what about you?” His head settles in his hands, perched up by his elbows.

“What do you mean what about me?” You tilt your head, genuinely confused.

“Your stories! You said you were the chronicler for a few ships before mine, you must have had some adventures out on the great wide East Blue.”

“Ah, well… no.” You admit a bit awkwardly.

“No?” Buggy raises his eyebrows, clearly looking for more.

“I was just a chronicler. I didn't really do anything on the previous ships I worked on. Hell, you’re the first captain who actually wants to hear about what I’m writing. For everyone else it was just an ego trip to have someone writing for them…” Your pen slips into your journal as a placeholder as you close it and pull it close to your lap.

“That’s…” Buggy frowns. “What losers! Most pirates won’t know talent if it slaps them in the face.”

You try to bite back your smile but it’s pretty ineffective. “You’re very kind captain.”

“You’re going to have to learn to take some compliments because with my crew? We are going all the way to the top and your stories of our journeys are going to be known across all four seas!” As he talked he stood up, wildly gesturing as he talked about his grand plan.

When other captains of yours had talked about getting the One Piece it had always annoyed you for some reason. The hunt for fame and money was… well it was cliche. But there was something about the earnestness that Buggy talked with- the grand scale he always thought on that made you believe it.

“Well, I guess I will have to work on that.” You say as you look up at him.

“Yes. Captain’s orders.” He hops up to sit on his desk just adjacent to you. His right foot lightly knocks against the side of your left calf.

“Then I’ll have to do it.” You smile wide, his energy was infectious.

“But seriously, not a single story? There has to be one fun thing you can tell me.”

“I guess… there was this one time-“

You break into a small, stupid story but Buggy hangs on your every word. The second you’re done he shares a similar experience and you go back and forth like this for hours, journal where you were supposed to write these things down long forgotten. Somewhere along the way you both ended up sitting on the floor, leaned up against the desk and legs side by side as you both gesture wildly through your stories. You don’t know how long this goes on, but when you feel yourself fighting to open your eyes after you blink you think it might be way late.

“I should get to bed.” You nudge Buggy’s shoulder with your own, working up the strength to stand up.

“Oh yeah it’s like-“ His hand detaches and he grabs something off his desk before bringing it down to his face. “Oh shit- 3 already?”

“Wow-“ You look at the clock he grabbed and sure enough, 3:21 am. “Yeah I really need to get to bed. You too, captain.”

You get up with a grunt of effort and once you’re standing you turn around and offer up your hand to help Buggy up. There’s an awkward pause as he looks up at you and he must be just as tired as you are with how long it takes for him to clasp his hand in yours and pull himself up.

“See you tomorrow night captain.” You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking out the door.

You’re not sure why you feel a low buzz in your body, nerves up from some unknown source. It’s not a gnawing anxiety… something else you can’t place. No matter what the second your head hits the pillow you’re out like a light, body getting ready for another long day.

The Buggy Clowns were weirdly affectionate. Not all of them, mind you, you don’t think you’ll ever get Cabaji to even smile at you, but the camaraderie they have is intimate. Most of the time not in a sexual way (though you’d be remiss to ignore the raunchier performers in the circus), but in friendliness and touchiness. Never before have you been on such an affectionate crew.

Every time you put more than 10 seconds into your appearance you got hoots and hollers from most of the crew members. When you grab lunch in the mess people fight over who gets to sit with you and be documented. Even Richie has a soft side- you’ve managed to pet him without adding a body part to the now running list.

It’s been a few months now and they still fight over you at meals- a quirk you would have thought would die out long ago. Everyone is eager to tell you about their day and try and loop you into spending the rest of the day with them. Today the tightrope walkers win out- or at least they think so. Secretly you’ve made a schedule for when you follow each group and no one has caught onto your pattern yet. But it makes it easy for you and makes it so no one is favored.

But when they cheer and lean into you, arms wrapped around your shoulders you still feel like shrinking away in embarrassment. It’s not bad- you can’t deny the little ego boost it gives you- but there’s something that always makes your face burn. But all that is nothing compared to Buggy.

You quickly figure out that, like all crew attitudes, it trickles down from the top.

Of course Buggy isn’t going around hugging crew members (when he’s sober) and he does lose his temper often, but there’s also a softness to him. He’s got nicknames for everyone, and everyone gets their time in the spotlight. He personally reviews all the circus acts and when someone wants to do something new it’s rare he says no.

Everyone in the crew is a misfit, but because of that, no one is. A group of people who have never felt respected or wanted before suddenly find themselves belonging- it makes sense why everyone was surprisingly warm. But you still have a hard time handling it, especially when it comes to Buggy.

It’s the damn nicknames.

Story weaver, dearest chronicler, writing star. And the worst part? It’s always his.

My story weaver.

My star.

Never in a tone that makes you feel owned or degraded- quite the opposite really. You’re treasured, respected, seen. It’s been too long since you felt that way and the reblooming of those emotions was… uncomfortable.

But you don’t think you’d ever want it to stop.

“My lovely chronicler-“ It’s Buggy who suddenly throws you out of your thoughts with affection and a hand on your shoulder. “I have to cancel our meeting tonight.”

“What? Why?” You want to kick yourself for sounding even slightly hurt.

“Not your fault- turns out I’m a few days behind on planning out supply orders for when we dock tomorrow.” By a few days you know he means he hasn’t thought about supplies since they last docked.

“Oh, well, do you need help?” The second you finish your sentence you feel a light elbow in your side from one of the tightrope walkers but before you can turn to look at him your attention is grabbed by a clap from Buggy.

“Great! See you tonight!” He says, already walking away.

You turn to the source of the elbow. “What was that for?”

“I’m sorry, you totally just got suckered into doing all his paper work.” He says apologetically.

“Yeah, he’s done this with just about every crew member. You’re the only one who doesn’t know his trick.” Another one explains.

“Well, he is the captain, he could just make one of us do it.” You say, still very confused about this whole situation.

“Yeah, but then he has to admit that he messed up and needs someone else to do his work. This way he is just, I don’t know, reveling in his crew’s generosity.” Yeah, that sounds like him.

“I’m not going to get any sleep tonight am I.”

“Nope.” You get a few reassuring pats on the back as you slump onto the table.

“Captain?” Later in the day you knock on his door and come in at his usual ‘come in’.

You walk in and see papers everywhere. There’s no organization, no sense that he’s actually began to work on anything, just papers on almost every flat surface you can see. You don’t think half of these are relevant to what needs to be done.

“My darling most beloved star.” Buggy calls from behind his desk. He’s laying it on thick so you don’t run away.

“Did one of your bombs explode in here?” You carefully walk over to his desk, hopping over random papers on your way.

“Yes?” It’s obvious he’s lying.

“Well… I guess we have our work cut out for us.” You make it across from him and start looking at papers, trying to find some sense.

“Yes. I trust you implicitly- now I’m just going to go-“ He stands up and you glare at him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” You’re a little annoyed, but there’s no real malice in your words. Despite that, Buggy still shrinks back.

“But you’ve got this.” He says, confidence quickly draining from his voice.

“It would go a lot faster if we work together. Come on. We will start by organizing. Figure out what actually needs to be done for tomorrow and go from there.” You gesture to the mess on his desk before you get to work on the papers discarded on the floor.

“But-“

“No.” You cut him off without even looking at him- you know he’s using his puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” He grumbles and you hear the shift of papers that tells you he’s at least pretending to do something.

It takes you hours to get everything sorted but after that the actual work doesn’t take that long. You have a pretty good knowledge of what supplies everyone needs and the average use of those supplies in a day- you write it all down typically. All in all you’re done and dusted just before midnight, an accomplishment really.

Buggy is moping at his desk, the reward of a job well done isn’t really enough for him after he actually had to put in some effort. You’ve set up a schedule for him too- something he’ll probably ignore but you’re pretty hopeful.

“That’s it right?” His voice is partially muffled by his face being smooshed down into the wood of his desk.

“Yes, we are all done for the night.” You reply, straightening out the last stack of files on his desk.

“Yay.” His voice is flat and devoid of all joy.

“You’re pretty childish for a captain, you know that?” You take a seat across the desk, not quite ready to leave.

“That’s part of my charm darling.” He lifts his face so his chin is resting on the desk.

Darling.

That was a new one.

“It’s not your best feature but I guess it is a part of your whole deal.” You admit, still trying to shake off the weird stirring of emotions from the new pet name.

He perks up instantly, sitting up in his chair. “What’s my best feature?”

“Hm?”

“You said it’s not my best feature, which implies you know my best feature. What is it?” His smile is wide, matching his face paint.

“Ah-“ Well. You know exactly what his best feature is but you hesitate to say. It’s not what a pirate captain typically wants to hear but… well he’s anything but typical.

“I think your best feature is that you care. Genuinely. You yell and stomp around at the crew but you always make sure all of our needs are met. To some people finding the One Piece is just the thing pirates do but you care with every fiber of your being. When you want to do something, really want to do it, you throw yourself into it for better or for worse. Your risks end up paying off more often than not and I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

There’s an awkward pause where Buggy’s smile drops a bit and he stares at you and you think that you’ve fucked up. He is still a pirate captain with an ego and not telling him that his strength or intellect was his best feature was a dumb mistake. But then he coughs, a fake awkward cough and you’re not sure what’s going on.

“Oh that’s- yeah- I mean what am I if not the best captain to work for in all of the seas.” The smile returns to his face but there’s something you can’t place and you feel like you’ve misstepped.

“It’s late- I should go-“ You stand up and quickly head to the door but Buggy’s voice stops you right before you exit.

“Hey-“ You turn and look at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There’s more hovering in the space between you but none of it can be put into words.

You leave.

Even if the Buggy pirates were worlds different from any other crew you had worked with they still party like every other pirate crew after a victory. Just a little more explosive. Literally.

You had never seen fireworks before so you were laying down on an upper deck while the loud party raged a few decks down, reveling in the bright and colorful explosions that shattered across the sky. You know Buggy made them all himself, he was surprisingly talented in pyrotechnics. It was overwhelming to your senses in the way that Buggy often was-

You’ve found yourself thinking more and more about him recently. You don’t want to think about what that means so you just shove those things down and focus on the shimmering colors dancing around the sky.

Until, of course, your captain finds you.

“My star! We are all missing our chronicler at the party!” His head peaks up over the ladder as he calls to you but you wave a dismissive hand.

“I’m just enjoying the fireworks, I’ll be down later.” You say, perched up on your elbows.

Buggy pulls himself all the way up the ladder before walking over and taking a seat next to you. “I’m glad someone is enjoying all my hard work.”

“I’d never seen fireworks before tonight.” You admit, laying back down fully.

“Really? Well I’m glad I could introduce you.” He lays down as well, only a few inches separating you two as you both lay flat on your backs.

“It’s- I mean I have no idea how you do it. It’s seriously magic.” You turn your head to look at him, admiring the profile of his face under the multicolored lights of the fireworks.

“It’s all chemicals and patience. I know, surprising that I have that.” He looks at you, a sly smile on his face.

“There really is nothing our fearless captain can’t do when he puts his mind to it.” You half joke, nudging his arm with your elbow. “But really- how do you get all those different colors?”

“Well-“

As the different fireworks explode in the sky he tells you the different chemicals he used to get the respective colors and effects. Somewhere in the explanations and pointing he’s right next to you, arms and thighs pressed together. You can’t help but lean into his warmth against the cool wind of the sea.

“I guess there will have to be a chapter on fireworks in your chronicle.” You say after the fireworks slowly die out, all of them used up by now.

“You can just slide that chapter in when things get too boring. Wake readers up with an explosion!” His hand gestures over both of your bodies.

“I’m not sure there will be any time where your story will be too boring. I’m pretty sure just by being a clown pirate you’re always interesting.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Buggy turn his face towards yours. In turn you move your face as well, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face.

He’s really quite beautiful in the moonlight.

“Do you really think that?” He asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear him over the low drone of the party below.

“Of course.” You answer automatically.

“I uh-“ You see a panic set over his face and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. He sits up and you sit up in turn, confusion on your face.

“I should get back down to the party. It’s been-“ He stands up and practically trips over his own feet. “Nice.”

You watch him quickly descend the ladder and you’re suddenly very aware of how cold it is out on the deck at night.

You’re not sure what you did, but you messed something up.

You stop having your nightly meetings. It’s once a week now and he blames it on the recent partnership with Alvida and her crew but you know there’s something else. You got too comfortable with your captain and distance had to be created. You were disrespectful and you needed to learn your place.

You weren’t his anymore.

Chronicler, sure. Star, sometimes. You almost despised when he used your actual name. The burning feeling of being discarded weighs in your chest every time you see him.

It was only after how painful and hard you took the slightest bit of rejection that you realized you might have feelings for your captain. Stupid inappropriate feelings. You hadn’t put the label on it before, pushing any feelings down into the pit of your gut but with how quickly they turned sour you couldn’t help but feel them rise up and burn your throat.

Stupid how you realize these things too late.

Because now there’s a new crew, a new partnership, and plenty of shiny new objects for Buggy to be enamored with. None of them you.

You still did your job through- dutifully chronicling each day. Your emotions will pass and this job is still far and away the best you’ve ever landed. You won’t throw it away over a stupid unrequited crush.

It’ll pass.

Someday.

But today isn’t that day as a pang rings through your chest as you see Buggy loop an arm around Alvida’s shoulder and pull her in close. You know there’s nothing going on between the two of them (you’re fairly confident Alvida doesn’t swing that way) but seeing him pay attention to someone else the way he paid attention to you-

You sounded like a child didn’t you.

You were just about to excuse yourself from the area when Buggy spots you and calls you over with a quick shout of your title. Taking a deep breath you steel yourself and put on a smile before walking over.

“Yes captain?” You say, overly formal as you hold your journal close.

“I was thinking maybe you could do a few weeks with the Alvida pirates, you know, get a better look at their side of things! Wrap them into the story of the Genius Jester!” He gestured grandly with his free hand.

“Oh, well, if that’s okay with captain Alvida…” You look towards the dark haired woman who shrugs.

“I’ve never had a chronicler before so I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing what it’s all about.”

“Great! Our perfect partnership continues!” Buggy looks at you. “How’s a month sound?”

A month. He wants to get rid of you for a whole month. You swallow down your emotions. “When have I ever not followed my captain’s orders?”

“You are a loyal crew member. And it’s not like you aren’t going to see all of your crew mates! It’s just shifting focus for a bit.” It’s true, both crews frequently overlap ships but you know you’re going to be glued to that gaudy pink ship (not that the ship you were currently on wasn’t gaudy, just a different kind).

“Fine by me captain.” You say, making your voice as cheerful as possible.

“Great.”

“Good.”

There’s a long pause where the two of you are just standing there, Alvida casting glances to both of you.

“Well if that’s all I’ll go pack some of my things for my stay.” You say, already taking a step backwards.

“Yes, good idea! Always taking initiative!” He waves goodbye and you turn around as fast as possible, walking at a brisk pace when you really want to run.

Working with Alvida wasn’t bad at all. You checked in with her once a week and she was pretty receptive to your work, provided you added in a lot of extra pages about how beautiful she was. At first it was annoying, but once you got used to it she was surprisingly nice to you.

You were two weeks into your month with her and she was already asking you about how to hire her own chronicler. It was rewarding to know that you’ve done a good enough job so far that she would seek out someone like you. You were working hard, trying to shift your focus from your emotions into something more productive.

It didn’t work.

Every day you found yourself looking around the decks hoping to catch a glimpse of your captain visiting. He was never there.

You saw plenty of your other crew mates- both crews frequented both ships as you sailed together. It was nice having that familiarity, but the reminder that you were specifically sent away while they got to go back to their ship every night stung.

“Ah, chronicler.” Alvida’s voice shook you out of your thoughts, having zoned out while recording what the meals were for the day in the kitchen.

“Hello Alvida, was there something you needed?” Your finger slipped into your journal as a placeholder as you turned your attention to her.

“Yes. I just finished discussing some business with Buggy and your good work came up.” You couldn’t help but puff up a bit- You did want him to know you were still exceeding at your job. “And then he made me an offer that I’d like to extend to you. He said if I wanted you full time I had his permission, so. Would you like to be my chronicler?”

There’s a full 30 seconds that you have to take to process the words that were said to you and come up with a response that doesn’t sound like your heart just got shattered into a million pieces.

“Oh wow, that’s quite the offer I- uh-“ Your mind is struggling to work under the weight of your emotions and Alvida catches on that you’re overwhelmed.

“It’s a big change so you can take some time to think about it. Just come to me when you have your answer.” She gives you a curt nod before heading off, leaving you with your spiraling thoughts.

You manage to hold back your tears until you’re at you bunk, burying your face in your pillow to catch your flow of tears. There was something so painful about being shipped off to someone else, being so unwanted he couldn’t stand to work with you anymore. You’re not even sure what you did wrong which might be the most frustrating part.

If you could lead this all back to one action you took maybe you could make it better- maybe you could go back.

But you didn’t.

You know when you’re not wanted.

Later that day you knock on Alvida’s door and accept her offer. All your stuff is already on her ship so you don’t ever have to step foot on Buggy’s ship ever again.

It’s easier that way.

A month has gone by of officially being the chronicler of the Alvida pirates. It’s… fine. Painfully fine. Perfectly average.

You stop wearing bright colors, swapped out for the pinks and reds that cover the ship. You still keep your old clothes, tucked away in a box that also has the journal you used to chronicle your time the the Buggy pirates. The sequins and stripes keep it safe and far away from you, letting you pull back at the last second before you obsessively repour over the pages to find where you went wrong.

You were getting better.

You stopped crying every night, you stopped longing looking over the bow at Buggy’s ship, you stopped searching for him whenever your old crew came over.

The lingering feelings will pass soon, and you eagerly count down the days until your heart patches itself up and moves on.

It was easy to ignore your emotions during a storm. All your energy focused on locking up your stuff and going where you were needed- you were a chronicler but all hands on deck meant all hands.

It was a nasty storm- lighting and high waves bashing against the hull repeatedly and ruthlessly. You were down below deck, sent on your own to grab emergency medical supplies from deep storage, two crew members had already broken bones and there were probably going to be countless other injuries before the storm let up. Boxes shoved in your arms you were making your way back up to the medical bay when you heard it- the sound you never want to hear below deck.

The sound of wood breaking.

You hear the hit of a strong wave before the groaning of wood and then that dreaded sound. You only have a second to process it before you hear the flood of seawater rushing in. Dropping the boxes you quickly jump to the ladder, scrambling up as you hear water flooding in behind you.

You make it up the ladder and halfway to the next one before the next wave hits. Your world jolts under you and you’re flung to the floor and the back of your head hits the deck- hard.

Your vision swims as you feel sea water rushing over your body and you push yourself up, ignoring the nausea overwhelming your senses. You crawl to the ladder, water threatening to grab and pull you under. Grasping the rung of the ladder you try to pull yourself up before your realize just how hurt you must be.

The pain, the blurry vision, you barely have control over your body. There’s no way you can pull yourself up the ladder. The sea was going to take you and you didn’t have the senses about you to swim. It was over.

You hang your head, watching the water swell up around your body as you wonder if all your works will go missing to the sea. Maybe there will be nothing left of you. Or maybe someone will find your journal- just dry enough that the words haven’t dissolved and run together. Maybe someone will remember you.

Somewhere in the distance someone shouts your name.

You’re confident it’s your addled mind playing tricks on you until it’s louder and right above you- loud and frantic. You look upwards and see Buggy, rain soaked and panicked.

Now you’re really confident you’re seeing things.

“Grab my hand!” He lays down on the deck above you and extends his hand and everything becomes real painfully fast.

“Get out of here! The water- You can’t-“ You yell out, head throbbing.

“I said grab my hand! Captain’s orders!” He shouts and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so serious.

Gathering up all the strength in your body you pull yourself up a few rungs until you can reach out and grab his hand, quickly being violently pulled up the rest of the way.

“Can you walk?” He asks, yanking you up to your feet. You fall into his body, answering his question for him. “Alright.”

Suddenly one of his arms is under your knees and the other is around your shoulders and you’re being carried, your vision obscured by Buggy’s clothes. It’s better that way, you think hazily, to see him and not your death waiting to swallow you up. Maybe it’s a trick your mind is playing and you’re down in that lower deck, knocked out and drowning. But as you curl up against him and your thoughts fade to nothingness it’s a trick you’re willing to accept.

If your last thoughts are of him it’s not a bad way to go.

You wake up with a start- jolting up in bed before realizing how much that sudden action hurts. Your hand flies to the back of your head and you realize it’s been bandaged up.

“Hey- take it easy.” Eyes flicking up you see Buggy standing up from a chair in the corner of your room.

Your room- back on Buggy’s ship.

“You really should lay back down.” He’s a few steps closer now and in the dimmed light of the room you can finally get a good look at him.

He looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes, he probably hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his normal face paint is missing. He’s down to just his vest and pants, normal bright accessories missing.

The memories of the ship sinking come rushing back to you and a panic sets into your chest. “Wait what happened- the ship- the crew-“

“Hey, hey, it’s alright calm down.” He sits down on the bed and takes one of your hands in his. “Alvida’s ship sank, but we managed to get everyone out and on here before she went down.”

Your breathing evens out and you relax a bit. “Good.”

“We were calling everyone to get on board here right when you had left to go grab supplies- you were missing so I came and got you.” He explains, putting the remaining pieces together for you.

“You-“

“Just wanted to make sure you woke up alright so now I-“ He drops your hand and stands up. “Will go.”

He gets to the door before your words stop him.

“You shouldn’t have done that. It was- you could have easily died. You can’t swim and you didn’t even-“ You screw your eyes shut, brain still putting itself back together from the hard hit.

“Captain’s duties.” He explains shortly, hand still on the doorknob and not looking at you.

“Yeah but, you’re not my captain. You made it painfully clear you did not want to be my captain.” You swing your feet off the bed, glaring holes into his back as weeks of repressed emotions come leaking out the broken and battered seams.

“It’s not like that-“ He says, forehead meeting the wood of your door.

“Then what is it like then? Because I’m just confused and hurt! I don’t understand!” Your hands fist in the sheets of your bed as tears well up in your eyes.

“Please don’t-“ He turns around and you see the hurt in his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

“Then tell me what I did wrong!” You shout, hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Nothing. You did nothing wrong.” He wrings his hands and looks down at the floor. “You’re too- you’re too good for me.”

The words ring in the dim space and confusion comes over your already frazzled mind. “What?”

“You- okay.” He takes a deep breath and shift from foot to foot. “You have this grand idea of who I am. You think I’m smart and caring and a good captain and that’s just not true. I’m not any of those things. I’m just a huge faker. I was never meant to be a captain- I just keep doing it because I have to.”

You look over his anxious form and finally see what he’s been hiding under all those flashy clothes and bright face paint. He was truly and painfully insecure.

You go to stand up, slipping off the bed to try and land on your feet but your vision blurs and you slip and you’re sure you’re going to crack your head on the floor again. But before you can land your being held, Buggy’s hands having quickly detached and grabbed you. The rest of his body runs over only seconds later, connecting his hands back and placing you delicately back on your bed.

You’re sitting up again, Buggy anxiously standing next to the bed as he looks over your body, checking to make sure you’re okay. This time you reach out, taking Buggy’s hand despite the fact you can see him wanting to run away again.

“Buggy, you’re really stupid sometimes.” You see his face shift into pure confusion and you elaborate. “I don’t think those things because of all the acts you put on- I think those things because that’s what I really think after spending so much time with you. I know who you are, don’t think I don’t.”

Buggy practically collapses, sitting next to you on the bed. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” You grip harder on his hand, pulling yourself closer to him.

“Because I don’t want to disappoint you.” He admits, his voice cracking under his emotions.

“You- all this time- Buggy, look at me.” You pull at his hand, urging him to follow your directive.

He does and you see all the emotions you’ve been feeling swirling in his eyes. “I care about you. And I don’t care if you think you’ll disappoint me! I just want you.”

You feel something break as you stare into each others eyes and in a flash he’s on you- lips pressing harshly against yours. He’s messy and harsh and frantic as he overwhelms you and you let him. Your freehand tangles in his hair and holds his head close. Neither of you break the kiss until you absolutely need to, pulling away gasping for air as spit still connects the two of you.

“Do you mean it?” He whispers, forehead pressed against yours.

“Did it feel like I meant it?” You grin, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know… I might have to check again.” You see a smile creep back onto his face and you pull him in again.

He kisses you like a man starved, eagerly throwing himself into you. He nips at your lips, pulling playfully as he slides on top of you, your body sliding down into the bed in turn. You can’t tell if his hands are attached to his body or not as you feel them wandering your skin, pushing up under the hem of your shirt and grabbing onto your waist. You whine into his mouth and he pulls away quickly.

“Did I- sorry is this too fast we can-“ You shut him up by pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“I want more.” You say against his lips and he nods so furiously you think his head might fall off.

His lips trail down, kissing where your jaw and throat meet. As he does so you feel a deft hand undo the fastenings on your pants and sliding into them, plunging past the hem of your underwear and to your folds. Your hips buck up as his fingers ghost over you and you hear him chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You lightly hit his back, unable to stop smiling.

“I’m not, I’m not.” He claims, but you know otherwise. It’s hard to be mad at him though when his fingers pry open your folds and he sucks in a breath when he finally dips in. “Fuck you’re wet.”

“All for-“ You’re cut off by your own moan as two fingers press into you. “All for you.”

His motions still for a second before he’s biting into your neck as his fingers sink all the way into you. “Can’t just say that stuff. Fuck you don’t know what you do to me.”

You feel him grind up against your leg and that sends a thrill through you and you push further. “Missed you so much- thought about you every day-“

“My lovely star-“ He breathes into your skin, fingers pumping in and out of you.

“That- I missed that. Missed you calling me yours.” You admit through moans as his fingers stretched you out.

All of a sudden his fingers are pulling out and you whine as he sits up. In a flash hands are tugging your shirt up and off your body while he shimmies down your bed. Once your shirt is discarded he can pull down your pants, hands smoothing over your thighs. He takes a few moments to just look at you and your face heats up.

“See you still need to learn how to take a compliment.” He jokes as he lays back down, pushing apart your thighs so he can settle between them.

“This is not the same.” You try and argue, your hand drifting to his bright blue hair as he kisses up the inside of your thighs.

“Whatever you say.” You want to argue further but all coherent thoughts leave your brain when you feel his breath on your folds.

You feel his fingers spread you apart before he dives in, tongue eagerly lapping up your slick. Your hand fists in his hair as he pushes his tongue into you, the thick muscle a welcome sensation. When his tongue leaves you, you whine but it quickly dissolves into a moan as he wraps his lips around your clit.

“Fuck- Buggy- Just like that!” You buck your hips up into his mouth and you feel his fingers slip back into you.

He listens, repeating the motion and adding a third finger inside you. His other hand comes around to the back of your leg, hiking it up over his shoulder so he can have better access. His tongue swirls between your clit and thrusting in with his fingers. As your orgasm builds up you pull tighter at his hair in warning and you feel him groan into your folds. The vibration against your clit edges you ever closer so you pull again, not missing the way his hips jerk up against the bed as you do.

He sucks on your clit as his fingers curl inside you and the dam breaks, orgasm washing over you. Buggy slowly pulls his fingers out of you but you still feel his tongue on you, lapping up your slick as you come down.

You gently pull on his hair, urging him to come closer to you. He gets the message, sliding up your body until he’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your juices.

“Can I repay the favor?” You ask, your hands sliding down his body until he shakes his head.

“Baby- if I even see you on your knees in front of me I’m going to blow my load before I can get inside you.” His confession makes your skin run hot as you surge up to him, kissing him deeply.

“Then get inside me.” You say when you finally pull away, your own taste lingering in your mouth.

“Oh, who’s the captain now?” He grins as he slides off the bed to quickly take off his vest and pants.

You can’t help but stare at his cock, long and curved and you need it inside you now. He sees you staring at it’s the ego boost he needs as he crawls back in bed, slotting his hips between your thighs. His hand guides his tip to rub against your clit and you whine impatiently. He chuckles but lines himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing in.

“You’re so- warm- tight- fuck-“ Buggy thrusts into you despite himself, every inch of him inside you all at once and you practically scream his name.

“Can’t help myself baby you feel-“ His body covers yours as he mouths at your collarbone and throat and whatever skin he can find. “So much better than I thought.”

“You thought about me?” You manage out, breathless.

“Every damn day and night I-“ His thrusts are erratic but you can’t bring yourself to care when he’s still making you feel so good. “Sometimes, after you left our meetings I’d- I’d touch myself the second you left I couldn’t stop imagining you on my desk I- fuck-“

Knowing he thought about you like that did things to you and you drag your nails down his back and hook your legs around his waist, unable to verbalize through your moans. You can tell he’s close already, the throb of his cock and the way his filthy words are getting increasingly slurred. You’re close too, and you reach up and grab Buggy’s hand, urging it down to your sensitive bud. He takes the direction well, his thumb rubbing right circles that make you see stars.

“Where- I’m so close-“ He chokes out and as he goes to pull out you clench your legs tighter, trapping him inside you.

“Fill me up, please Buggy.” You whine and that’s it for him.

You feel hot ropes of cum fill you up as he groans into your neck. He manages to still work your clit so it’s only a few moments after him that you’re orgasming again, milking every drop of cum out of him. Breathless, he collapses on top of you, softening cock still in you.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight as though letting him go means he’d drift away from you again. He nuzzled into your neck and must sense that somethings up.

“‘m not gonna be that stupid again.” He says, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Not gonna let you go.”

“I’m your chronicler again?” You ask, voice weak with emotions.

“Until the end of time.” He promises, and you trust him completely.

[oddshroom]

𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

Notes: Gojo Satoru truly is a menace not just to you but to Shoko and Geto, infinity is really a curse for others but a blessing for him.

A/N: Reader hates Gojo’s guts

Themes: Fluff, Crack, Love/Hate friendship dynamic, little to no angst, frenemies to lovers

Word(s): 2,037

Character(s): 11,267

By far Gojo Satoru had been the most insufferable person you had ever met in your entire life – and that wasn't even a stretch considering his personality as well.

It only been a few months since you were introduced to the second year students of Tokyo Jujutsu High, Shoko Ieiri had helped a lot when it came to settling in the girl’s dorms. She came off as a casual and nonchalant person, much different from the two idiots where one was more sufferable then the other. The sufferable one Geto Suguru had been more respectable however the down-side had been that he would go along with Gojo’s idea and even add his own mix into it. Lastly Gojo Satoru, the most intolerable person you’ve ever met. He either was always over your shoulder or doing whatever he wanted. His abilities really did make him the most egotistical person to exist.

You never knew what he might do next – but somehow something always happened whenever he was near you. You weren’t sure whether to thank him for it, curse him out, or try and punch the shit out of him.

Currently you had been walking on the sidewalk side by side with Shoko discussing the next mission as well as the possibility of how Gojo could manage to screw you all over. “What if he tries to eat the curse”, Shoko said trying to be shocked while rubbing her chin, staring off into space as if she really was thinking about him eating a curse of all things.

You let out a soft laugh, “I doubt he’d actually try to eat the curse, if anything he might take it on a walk” You paused and put on a serious face, “hm, although I do consider these option something he might do”.

Shoko giggled a bit and patted your arm in comfort, “That’s true, there are many ways a person might do something like that though”. She gave a thoughtful look before turning towards you again. “Yeah, that person most definitely being him”, You added playfully.

Shoko rolled her eyes with a fond smile at you, “Geto might even encourage it”. “No doubt”, responding back before catching a glimpse of both Geto and Gojo kicking a vending machine.

“Oh god” you said under your breath. Both of them were too engrossed in their fight with a vending to notice you and Shoko. “Someday Yaga Sensei might put them on house arrest”, Shoko said amusingly at the scene in front of her. It was quite an odd sight – Geto had just lost his money to a vending machine and Gojo was just laughing at him, making fun of him as he tried to catch his breath while holding his head in pain. ‘That guy is really something else’, you thought, shaking your head slightly before turning back to Shoko.

You opened up your mouth to continue your conversation with Shoko but the moment you opened your mouth you heard an explosion sound. Your jaw dropped, you looked ahead and saw Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru standing a good distance away. Their faces were completely red in embarrassment, they couldn’t help but stare back at the two of you who had just watched the whole event. “What the hell”, you whispered under your breath. “They just blew up the vending machine that had the good snacks”, Shoko watched in disbelief. Her mouth was agape. “Why didn’t they just leave the stupid machine alone”, she asked herself. “I mean, I know that those idiots don’t care that much about money but…” She trailed off.

You shrugged slightly, not knowing why they blew up the vending machine.

“N/n~”, a high pitch voice sang out. “Look what I found~”, watching as the white haired walked closer to you until his face was right beside yours and you could smell his cologne.

“Ow”, you exclaimed as you jerked away. You rubbed your nose and looked up to see Shoko still staring dumbfounded. “What?”, you asked, giving her a confused look.

She blinked a couple times then looked away, “Sorry, I was just surprised”. “That vending machine took my money”, Geto said as he sulked his way over. Shoko chuckled slightly. “Then maybe you should have thought twice about blowing up a vending machine”. You shook your head slowly in disbelief, “you two are seriously unbelievable”, you commented. “But N/n Shoko don’t be mad at us”, whined Gojo while poking you. “Firstly, quit calling me N/n and two quit poking me”, you said annoyed at his antics.

“Ah come on N/n~”, Gojo pouted. “Let’s not fight. Please~”, he begged. He turned towards Shoko who seemed almost amused at this situation. “Please Shoko, please”, he repeated, putting a hand over his heart. “Tell N/n to not be mad”, he continued.

Shoko smiled, “Poke his eyes out” you conceded looking back at her. You just stared back at her blankly. “You guys are so childish”, she stated plainly. You started walking forwards when someone tapped you on your shoulder. Turning to see, all three of you looked at Geto who’s clothes were burned as he ate the snack that he wanted. “You couldn’t get me one”, Gojo said looking at his best friend exasperated. “You laughed at me”, Geto responded quickly. You watch how Gojo’s figure deflates. “And now look”, he said as he pointed at himself. “See”, he added pointing at his stomach which growled. “Now you owe me”, he finished looking directly at you.

He stuck out his tongue as if to say you were the one who owed him one. You narrowed your eyes, “Why do I owe you?!”, you yelled as you punched his shoulder, well tried since his infinity prevented you from even getting close to him. “Put that barrier of yours down”, you irked . “If you keep that up, I will kick you when you put it down you ass”. “Not funny, you jerk!”, he snapped back, glaring back at you with is cerulean blue eyes with a frown. “I am hungry!” He pointed to his belly.

“Cry about it”, you scoffed

Geto and Shoko could only find the situation hilarious in front of them, both laughing softly at the exchange. This wasn’t the first time they had seen both you and Gojo arguing and bickering in such situations. They had done it since the day they met.

As they continued to watch the pair bicker, Geto heard a notification from his phone. Shoko watched over his shoulder to see the notification. It was a message from their teacher, “No class tomorrow. There was a slight mishap during the last mission that I have to take care of”. Shoko read it aloud. “A small mishap, huh…”, she smirked. “That means we can all hangout in one dorm”. Shoko looked up noticing that you heard the entire thing as a prominent bump was formed on the top of Gojo’s snow colored hair.

“So that means...”, he trailed off, a smirk forming on his face after realising what she meant. “Yes, we can spend the night together at one dorm room”. “Sounds like a plan”, You replied back confidently. “Great! Let’s go then”, Geto said enthusiastically grinning.

The four of you started heading home once more. The sky gradually darkened as the sun began to set behind the horizon. The atmosphere around you became colder. It was starting to get chilly and the temperature had dropped considerably. After all the events of today, most of you were pretty tired out.

Yet that didn’t stop any of the four from setting up the room, preparing the snacks and setting up blankets for sleeping. Once everything was done the group decided to settle in for the evening. Shoko sat to the left you as Gojo sat to the right of you, Geto had been on Gojo’s right in terms of placement. You all look at the TV screen with anticipation of every single movie you had watched.

You yawned, “We’ve watched all the movies today”, you stated quietly.

“Oh really? How many did we watch?”, Shoko asked curiously.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Not that many, just three movies”.

“Three movies”, she repeated. “You sure?”, she asked. You nodded your head in confirmation. She glanced at the clock. “It’s 1:56 am already?”, she asked. “Is it that late”, You wondered.

She grinned, “Yeah, the sun went down a long time ago”. You sighed, glancing at the two to your right you realize they probably knocked out a while ago. Geto had been turned away from Gojo snoring away, his hair had come undone and was all over his face. Gojo had been sleeping on his back with his right leg over Geto, his hair was a disheveled mess. His round sunglasses discarded, feeling shift you notice Shoko laying down to sleep. Following her actions you also layer down, you peaked towards your right. Gojo is really nice to admire when he’s asleep and not talking.

When you first met him, he reminded you of Jack Frost how could you not. Of course that made him offended but you couldn’t have been bothered back then. He was an annoying little asshole who bothered you to no end. Except your own thought made you think otherwise, thinking he was cute- pretty even. A lot of girls your age would fawn over him on the streets, how could they not?

A smile suddenly formed on your lips as you realized just how silly you must sound. But it was true, he is kind of cute. Now that you think about it though, it doesn’t make any sense why he bothers you so much. He annoys you more than he annoys anyone else. Teases you, always wanting to get a reaction out of you. You enjoy messing with him but you actually feel quite happy when you see him or when you finally catch him red handed. Why?

He was right next to you, inches away.

Your breath hitched and you felt your cheeks warm, realizing you had been staring at him. “N/n..?”, a voice mumbled sleepily. You looked up to meet hazy blue eyes, his hair had been covering parts of his face. You gulped, “Gojo, go back to sleep”, you answered hastily as you averted your gaze.

“Eh?”, You heard him whine. Before you knew it you heard him moving beside you. You looked over hesitantly, his expression was completely blank. “Don’t move”, he said blankly before his arm came wrapping around your waist pulling you closer to him. The heat radiating from his body seeped into your cold skin. Your face felt hotter by the minute, not daring to look back at him again. Both bodies had been faced towards each other, his head in the crevice of your neck. He pulled you completely against him and wrapped you in his arms. You felt the warmth from his body radiating into your chest, sending chills through your body. You could feel the tip of his nose brushing against your neck making you shiver slightly. He nuzzled you further. Slowly, you wrapped your arm around him. As your faces brushed each other you couldn’t help but lean into him, the material of his shirt pressing against your hand . Feeling yourself getting lost in his soft, deep voice whispering in your ear; “Good night”.

The two of you slept peacefully in each other’s arms.

You woke up slowly, feeling a pair of arms encircle your torso. You opened your eyes to discover that you were still lying in Gojo’s arms, you were curled up facing him with your head resting on his chest. A shadow glanced over the both of you, looking at the ceiling which was replaced by two figures towering over you. “He’s so annoying”, Geto mimicked smugly. Shoko giving you an eye, indicating you need to talk about where you stand with Gojo.

“We’re just la-“, Suddenly they both tumbled onto the ground, looking slightly shocked before snickering at the fact Gojo had turned on his infinity with only you touching him and no one else. The other two decided to leave not before mentioning to take you out on a date later.

[orkbutch]

So, I'm not really in the weeds of Transgender Discourse on the internet (I have a life and also care about my mental health) but I've seen something discussed here about trans masculinity and I wanna talk about it.

I'm very masculine. I'm butch, I'm trans masc, I've always wanted to be masculine and I feel most comfortable when I'm presenting as such. Without much effort or any intention on my part I am read as a cis man day to day. Because I don't present more fem, in queer spaces I am read and recieved as a man, maybe trans, probably into other men. People do not even consider if I'm a butch lesbian unless there's Significant context indicating it. Because of this I'm viewed through 'Man Lens'; It feels a different if I say 'bitch', if I talk about my attraction to women. I don't get smiled at, people put physical distance between me and them as much as possible.

This is familiar for a lot of trans masculine people and trans men that aren't androgynous/fem leaning in their style, and it is an upsetting change to happen. It makes us feel judged or misunderstood to suddenly be causing this wariness in others; it feels prejudiced. I've seen people putting words to this like transmisandry. This is something they want to lessen in their communities, so they don't have to experience this anymore.

Now, here's my opinion part: That's not going to happen. You cannot tackle the "problem" of people responding to your masculinity with wariness. They aren't controlling the wariness, they can't. More importantly, their wariness toward masculinity and what registers in their brain as "man-like" is well founded. It's based in lifetimes of experiences and trauma that has told them men can be very unsafe to be around, and that is true. Most men are cis, and cis men are the most threatening thing in this world to non-cis men. They are usually* socially privileged above others, more likely to inflict violence, more likely to abuse and murder others, are typically physically more powerful than others. Everyone thats not a cis man DEEPLY internalises a very rational wariness of men, and masculine presentation as an extension. Especially men that are strangers. (*This is of course different when we consider intersections of race, colonialism, classism, ect. But globally this generalisation is still pretty accurate.)

Honestly, I don't think this wariness towards masculine presentation is something thats useful or realistic to challenge. Like many internalised processes it's probably a good idea to examine it and consider its usefulness, but I think it'd be easy to conclude that it is a useful wariness for people to have. Women have lots of reasons to be wary around men, including the unique threats of transmisogyny. Queer and gender deviant men have lots of reasons to be wary around men. This is The Reality of patriarchy.

Personally, the place I've come to with how women and queer people react to my masculinity (which is not entirely negative btw, the wariness is just one aspect) is that... I understand their wariness. I have it too, toward those my brain assumes are cis men. I cannot control how they feel or what they think about me. I can only be respectful to others and to myself and live my life. I flag my butchness where I can, I make my gender clear to those it matters to, and the rest I accept as largely beyond my influence. All of us have to do this in some places in our lives.

Even though my masculinity makes other queers wary, I have lots of friends! I've had no real trouble dating or finding intimacy. Initial wariness is just that. Once you understand each other, break the barrier, its usually settled. For anyone who finds my masculinity so offputting that we can't break the barrier, I'm glad neither of us put each other through that discomfort. I understand where a fear like that comes from. I will still hold community with them because that's what solidarity entails.

Anyway thats my ramble about masculinity in queer community, good bye until another. who knows how long

[magicfootballstuff]

Strictly Unprofessional - part 8 (alexia putellas x reader)

Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.

Part 8/9

Previous parts here.

———

You arrive early for your lunch with Alexia, hoping to settle your nerves and calm your racing heart before she arrives, but the plan backfires because she’s already here too.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, unsure if you’re supposed to pretend that the last couple of days haven’t happened and greet her with a hug as you would have done before.

“Hi,” Alexia responds. 

No hug. Okay, that’s fine.

You take a seat opposite Alexia and immediately start perusing the lunch options, using the menu card almost as a physical barrier between you and Alexia.

It’s the exact opposite of your hangout at her apartment the other night. While that, with the privacy and intimacy of being in Alexia’s own home, allowed things to get too intense too fast, meeting in a public place like this makes it feel a little impersonal, like you’re about to discuss a business transaction and not the confusing mess of feelings you have for her.

“Thanks again for yesterday,” you say, anything to fill the uncomfortable silence. “My dad had the best time.”

“It was nothing,” Alexia shrugs it off. “It was nice to meet him. I’m glad he had fun.”

You fall into silence again. You barely slept last night, overthinking this conversation and all the possible directions it could go into, but now that you’re here in front of Alexia, all preparation about what you wanted to say to her flies out of the window. You’ve forgotten everything you wanted to say to her, your mind blank and your tongue heavy in your mouth.

You’re saved by the waiter, a welcome distraction that gives you a moment to compose yourself as he takes your food order.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” Alexia eventually says, when the waiter has left you both alone again. “About asking you if you wanted to kiss me. We’ve got history and I got carried away thinking there was still something between us.”

“You didn’t get carried away,” you tell her, thinking back to the other night and the obvious chemistry that fizzled in the air between you. “I feel it too. And you don’t need to apologise, I was the one who overstepped by suggesting I could photograph you in your home.”

“I enjoyed it,” Alexia admits. “Hanging out with you, eating dinner in front of the television, even the photoshoot. But spending time together outside of work brought up old feelings that I thought I’d done a pretty good job of squashing.”

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” you interject. “You didn’t recognise me, which is fine, we’ve talked about that. We both agreed that it was a one time thing and it’s in the past. But then your sister is telling me…”

“Don’t listen to anything that Alba says,” Alexia interrupts to warn you. “She likes to interfere.”

“She said you were hung up on me after Ibiza,” you explain to Alexia. “Her words, not mine.”

“I liked you,” Alexia admits. “A lot. I wasn’t looking for anything in Ibiza but you surprised me. If we’d met in Barcelona I like to think things could have been different.”

Alexia’s words take you by surprise. All this time, since you started your new job with the football club, you thought that Alexia was trying to put everything that happened in Ibiza behind you both. You thought that the feelings for Alexia that have been growing within you were completely one-sided - it was only two days ago in Alexia’s apartment that you even dared to imagine what might happen in the unlikely event that Alexia reciprocated.

“You mean you wanted more?” you ask, confused.

“I probably would’ve wanted to try,” Alexia answers with a nod.

“Then why didn’t you? We knew we were both going back to Barcelona. We’ve been living literally ten minutes from each other all these years.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Alexia asks, her eyes filled with sadness.

“Remember what?”

“I did try. You’re the one who didn’t want more.”

———

five years ago

You wake up in a good mood.

Despite the combination of a little too much alcohol and not quite enough sleep, you feel relaxed. And as you drift further into consciousness, you realise that probably has something to do with the person next to you.

Alexia is sprawled on her stomach, the sheets pooled around her hips exposing the skin of her tattooed back. Her hair is splayed messily across the pillow, her mouth half open as she sleeps, and her arm is draped loosely across your bare stomach.

Oh. Yeah. That’s why you’re in a good mood.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you reach for it slowly, careful not to disturb Alexia. You have a few messages from your friends, some drunk ones from last night after you left with Alexia, and a couple this morning checking in. You send one back to let them know that you’re okay and that you’ll join them at the hotel later, then set your phone face down.

Alexia sleeps on.

As you lie there, you don’t really know what the rules are. You’ve been in a relationship for the last three years, you don’t remember what you’re supposed to do the morning after a meaningless hookup. Redressing and sneaking out while Alexia sleeps seems a little cold, but you really need to get back to your own hotel and staying here for pillow talk with a girl you’re probably never going to see again feels unnecessary.

In the end, you’re saved from making the decision by a sudden hammering on the hotel room door.

Alexia startles awake at the noise and you watch as she takes a few seconds to return to her surroundings. There’s a sleepy frown on her face as she pushes herself up onto one elbow and runs the fingers of her other hand through her tousled hair, then she smiles blearily as she sees you.

“Morning,” you murmur.

“Hi.”

The hammering on the door returns, louder than before, and is followed by a voice yelling, “Alexia!”

“Shit, that’s my sister,” Alexia says, pushing the sheets away and slipping out of bed.

You watch as she pulls on some underwear and tugs a t-shirt over her head, then answers the door.

“What?” Alexia demands.

Alba peers through the open door, past Alexia to where you���re still sprawled in the bed, the crumpled sheets hiding your nudity. A smirk on her face, Alba turns back to Alexia and says, “I came to ask if you want to come to breakfast but clearly you’re still busy.”

You sit up, the sheets still wrapped around you, and start to look for your clothes in the pile of things on the floor beside the bed. It’s time you left Alexia with her sister and returned to your own friends.

“You woke us up,” Alexia tells Alba. “Let me shower, then we’ll get breakfast.”

“See you downstairs then,” Alba replies. Her attention turns to you again, and she gives you a little wave as she smirks and says, “Nice to see you again.”

Alexia closes the door, then sits down on the end of the bed with a groan.

“Sorry about her,” she apologises. “How are you this morning? Do you want to join us for breakfast?”

“I shouldn’t,” you reply, getting out of bed and pulling your underwear up your legs, then hunting around for your bra.

“You’re more than welcome to join,” Alexia says. “Alba won’t mind.”

“I need to get back to my hotel. My friends are waiting for me.”

You locate the rest of your clothes and start to redress, your back to Alexia as you pull on last night’s clothes and try and make yourself look somewhat presentable for the walk back to your own hotel.

“Maybe we could hang out again?” Alexia suggests. “Or I could get your number?”

You feel your stomach sink. Alexia is nice, she’s attractive, you’ve had fun together, and she’s definitely helped to fill that void in your chest since your relationship ended. But your mind is still busy, your heart still broken, and you don’t think this can be anything more than a holiday fling.

“Look, Alexia…” you start, turning around to look at her.

You watch her face fall as she realises what you’re about to say.

“This has been fun,” you tell her. “I didn’t expect anything like this to happen, and I had the best time with you yesterday. But I also just broke up with someone. I don’t want to lead you on or let you believe this could be anything more than what it is.”

“I understand,” Alexia replies, her expression impossible to read.

You feel a little guilty, though you’re not sure why. You swore that you weren’t going to sleep with anyone while you were here, the breakup still fresh, but it doesn’t mean that last night wasn’t fun, or that you weren’t allowed to indulge. And there was never a promise of anything more than what it was, so you can’t be blamed for leading Alexia on. But you never considered the possibility that Alexia might want to see you again, which makes it a bit of a surprise.

“Sorry,” you feel compelled to apologise. “I’m just not looking for anything more than this right now.”

“I get it. You don’t have to explain.”

You collect the rest of your things together, then turn back to Alexia, still sitting on the edge of the bed. It feels cold to leave without a goodbye kiss after you explored every inch of each other’s bodies last night. But kissing her again would contradict the excuses you’ve just given her.

“I had fun,” you tell her, in lieu of anything else. “It was good to meet you. I really mean that.”

“Yeah, you too,” Alexia agrees, though her voice lacks the enthusiasm needed to make her words sound genuine.

You leave without another word, painfully aware that you’ve outstayed your welcome, and you make your way out of the hotel, past Alexia’s sister in the lobby without making eye contact, with a slightly bitter taste in your mouth as you make the decision to put everything that happened last night behind you.

———

present day

“Oh my god, I’m the asshole?” you ask, as memories of your morning after all come flooding back. 

“I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘asshole’ but yeah, you were the one who turned down anything more. Not that I blame you for that - you had your reasons and you were right, it didn’t need to be anything more than a vacation hookup.”

“So, what?” you ask Alexia, trying to fill in the rest of the blanks. “You asked me out, I said no, and you wiped me from your memory?”

“I moved on,” Alexia explains. “I dated other people. I got on with my life. I’ll admit it, I forgot about you. You were just an anecdote, somebody I met on holiday and had one amazing night with. I didn’t have anything to remember you by, just your first name and the way you made me feel. I never expected to see you again so when you showed up in my life again, it didn’t click that it was you until I started feeling that spark again and remembered when I felt like that before.”

You nod as you process Alexia’s words, and it all starts to make sense. You, rather naively perhaps, thought that there were only two options, that Alexia would have remembered you this entire time, or that she forgot about you the second you left her hotel room in Ibiza, but it’s more nuanced than that. You should have known that from your own experience - you told Alexia that you weren’t interested in anything after Ibiza, but it must have only been a matter of days after returning from your vacation that you googled footballers called Alexia and learned exactly who the girl you hooked up with really was.

“So what happens now?” you ask Alexia.

“What do you mean?” she frowns at you.

“Alba said…” you start.

“Don’t listen to anything my sister says,” Alexia cuts you off. 

“Okay then, Mapi said…”

“What’s Mapi got to do with this?” Alexia interrupts again.

“Mapi interrogated me and I ended up telling her about what happened between us,” you explain. You roll your eyes as you remember Mapi’s teasing yesterday, and continue, “She found it hilarious and called me an idiot but she also said I should be honest with you about how I feel.”

Alexia’s golden eyes soften slightly and she asks, “How do you feel?”

Your heart starts to race in your chest. This is it, the moment you’ve waited for. You could have confessed your feelings for Alexia at Camp Nou yesterday, or at her apartment the night before, or at any other point since Alexia came back into your life at the start of the current football season. But you always found an excuse not to say anything.

Now, Alexia looks at you across the table as she waits for you to answer her question. Whereas before, you’ve avoided telling her how you feel by choosing to say nothing, to avoid telling her now would mean having to tell an outright lie.

It’s time for the truth.

“I like you, Alexia,” you confess, your heart pounding and your hands trembling as you tell her how you really feel. “I like you a ridiculous amount. I thought I could be professional and not let our past get in the way of our jobs but the more time I spend with you, the more I realise that I’m falling for you. Sometimes I think about what could have been if things had been different and we hadn’t wasted the last five years not knowing each other. If there’s a chance of something happening between us, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“The other night,” Alexia says. “You ran away. Again.”

“I was scared. The way I feel when I’m with you, I haven’t felt like that in a long time. And you have to understand, this is my dream job. I’ve spent years worrying that I’d never be able to make it as a full-time photographer. I didn’t want to risk messing that up by trying to date somebody I work with.”

“What, and now you do?” Alexia raises her eyebrows at you.

“I think you might be worth it,” you tell her. “And I know I’ll regret it if I don’t at least try.”

Alexia’s face twists into a frown, and she says, “I don’t think you know what you want. You ran away in Ibiza, you ran away the other night. How do I know you’re not going to run away again when it gets tough?”

“You don’t,” you say, this admission maybe taking even more bravery than telling Alexia that you like her. “I was overwhelmed by how much I wanted to kiss you and knew I needed a clear head to be certain it’s what I wanted. I should’ve asked you for time instead of just running away. I messed up, I’ll admit it. And I can’t promise you I’m not going to mess up again. But I want to try to be better, and the first step is admitting how I feel about you. I want to be with you. I want you to give me a chance to prove I’m serious about you.”

This is it. Everything is out on the table now, including your heart. It’s up to Alexia to decide what she wants to do with it.

“What changed?” Alexia asks. “Two days ago you didn’t want to take a risk and now you do?”

“I don’t know. I guess I decided you’re a risk worth taking. Plus, everybody I spoke to at the game yesterday seems to think we should be together. Mapi, your sister … you know, even my dad thinks you’d be the perfect daughter-in-law.”

Though the comment is based in truth, it’s supposed to be a joke that pulls a laugh from Alexia. Instead, she stares and arches an eyebrow.

“So you’ve changed your mind because I impressed your dad?”

You let out a groan and say, “You’re not making this easy for me, Alexia.”

“You’re not making this easy for yourself,” Alexia corrects you.

You take a deep breath, then confess, “I want to be with you because I like you. You’re the best part of my day and you’ll continue to be the best part of my day whether you declare your love for me or tell me to fuck off.”

“Are those the only two options?” Alexia asks, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

“Not if you can suggest a third.”

“Take me out,” Alexia challenges you. “Prove that you want to be with me. Show me that you’re not going to run away.”

“Like a date?”

“Yes, a date,” Alexia confirms with a nod. “But some rules - firstly I don’t sleep with people on the first date.”

You open your mouth to make a comment about what happened in Ibiza. But quickly shut it again when you remember you’re supposed to be on your best behaviour to prove to Alexia you’re serious about wanting to be with her.

“Number two, there’s a clean slate for both of us,” Alexia continues. “Neither of us is the same person we were five years ago.”

“Agreed.”

“And finally, you’re paying for everything. You owe me that much.”

“Doesn’t that kind of contradict number two?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Alexia warns you, though a smile is just threatening to tug at the corners of her lips as she adds, “If you’re lucky enough to get a second date, I might pay for that.”

You grin, because while there’s still a long way to go and there’s no guarantee that things will work out with Alexia, the fact that she’s willing to give this a chance is more than you could have hoped for when you started working for Barcelona six months ago.

“Deal.”

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 9

this has been a long time coming but it's finally here! have some simping over lockwood's hands to make up for the wait (there's more next chapter too 😉)

Word count: 5k words

Warnings: swearing, Steph (HUGE WARNING, I HATE HER IN THIS BUT IT'S NECESSARY FOR THE CONTINUATION OF THE SERIES, SHE MADE ME WANT TO THROW UP), a lot of simping over lockwood's hands (also he's wearing a ring), innuendos ig? references to not so sfw times, vague references to body image issues and related things, I think that's it?

family photos and a gingerbread house competition (part 1)

series master list

(couldn't pick between these two so I put them both, you're welcome, also thinking about it they both match the vibes that lockwood has in this part)

“Remind me why we're doing this?”

“Because it's a tradition, Anthony. I would have thought this would be right up your street!”

“Well it is, but I don't see why we have to be stood next to Steph and Linda.”

“That's just Mum's positioning. She says it looks best that way and nobody argues with her.”

Anthony hummed, looking around at the family members gathered in the living room. The fire had been set up a few minutes ago, Ben stacking up the kindling like building blocks and setting some larger pieces of wood around them, striking a match and closing the door. Most people were already ready for the family photo, and Anthony and Y/n were sat on their loveseat while they waited for Steph and Linda to come downstairs. 

Predictably, the two of them were still in their bedrooms fussing about the fact they had to do this, but Emma was taking full advantage of the fact that nobody could leave and had forced them into joining them. 

"I don't know why they're so upset, really,” Anthony mused, trailing his fingertips over Y/n's shoulder. The way they were sat with her curled into his side made it a slightly awkward angle, but he could put aside the pain in his own shoulder if it meant he was closer to her. “I think that you look adorable in that jumper.” Y/n frowned, scrunching her nose up and glaring up at him. 

“Adorable? I look like I've been shoved into a charity shop and been pulled out backwards through the racks!”

“The dancing reindeer really take the cake, if I'm being honest.”

“Stop it. They look deranged.”

“They look happy, darling.” He paused, taking in the wide eyes and toothy grins of the reindeer that decorated the matching red jumpers that the whole family were wearing.  “And possibly like they've seen too many deaths. But they're smiling, and they've got... what is that, chocolate bars?”

“I think it's beer, Ant. The deranged reindeer are drinking beer while they're being wrapped up in a net of Christmas lights.”

"Christmas lights... that actually light up," he grinned, pressing the button on her jumper to demonstrate his point. Y/n sighed, trying to look cross with him, but the small smile on her face gave her away. 

“You're such a ridiculous idiot sometimes,” she said quietly, gazing fondly at him. The lights on her jumper were still flashing, decorating her face in different colours. 

“Yeah, but I'm your ridiculous idiot.” She snorted, then kissed him gently on the lips. If they hadn't been in the presence of most of her family members, Anthony would have held her there for hours. 

As it was, however, she reluctantly pulled away a few seconds later, smiling widely when he automatically chased her mouth. 

“Alright, love birds, stop making the rest of us feel so single and lonely,” Will called out, attempting to sound annoyed. Anthony knew that the man couldn't be happier about his little sister getting a boyfriend, and that he was easily settling in to his newfound role of teasing them about their relationship. 

“Shove off, Will,” Y/n rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her brother, and he responded by sneakily giving her the middle finger. 

“Right,” Emma declared, looking around the room at everyone gathered. “Where's Linda? And Steph?”

"I think they're still upstairs, Mum," John replied, not looking up from the sofa as he sat on top of Sam and whacked him around the head with a pillow. Sam looked like he was being slightly suffocated under his brother's weight, but nobody seemed to take much notice. The two of them fought like that a lot, and Anthony supposed that everyone was used to it now which was why nobody intervened. 

“John, stop killing your brother for five minutes and go and find them. Tell them they need to come down right away or I'm dragging them. And putting flour in their hair.” John went to complain, but at the glare that was sent his way he quickly shut his mouth and headed out the room, not before delivering one last hit to Sam's head for good measure. 

Within three minutes John was back, Linda and Steph in tow as they grumbled about the jumpers they had been forced into. 

“This is disgusting. And we're all wearing the same ones? Really, Emma? It's bad enough that you made your own sister wear this... monstrosity, but forcing it on all of us? Unbelievable.” Anthony barely hid his scowl as Linda talked down on her sister, and if he didn't think Emma could defend herself he would have leapt to do it himself. 

“You can take it off the moment we're done here, alright? But this is my house, Linda, and you're playing by my rules. It's not like you can go anywhere, so you might as well shut it and take the damn photo with us.”

Linda opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a few moments, before deciding against responding and moving to where her sister had pointed for her to stand. 

“Thank you,” Emma sighed, finishing setting up the camera. “Right, everyone get into position please, no squabbling!”

Anthony smiled as Y/n huffed and stood up, stretching out her limbs after being curled up in his lap for the past however many minutes, and within the next five minutes (that felt much longer than that) all family members present were in the places that Y/n’s mother had assigned to them, and she was clicking the button on the camera to take the photo. She rushed to take her own place next to Ben as the timer started counting down, plastering on a wide smile a second before the flash went. 

“Can we go now?” Steph whined from where she stood to Anthony’s left. She’d had to squeeze in to fit in the picture, and the sheer amount of perfume she had on was making Anthony suffocate slightly.

“Uh, hang on. Let me check that it’s a good photo. Ugh, Tom, honey, you’re meant to be smiling, not staring at the camera like you want to kill it. Let’s try again. Sam, don’t be making stupid faces this time, alright?”

“Yes, Mum,” Sam said, stifling a laugh when Will poked him in the side. Nana Jean ruffled Tom’s hair, much to Emma’s chagrin (it had taken her ages to get it somewhat neat), but the action gained a smile in response. 

They tried again, the flash going off a second time, and when Emma gave the all-clear Linda and Steph immediately moved to take off their jumpers. “Hideous things,” Linda muttered, clearly not in the holiday spirit. 

“You two had better not go anywhere,” Nana Jean said, pointing a crooked finger at them when they went to leave. “We’re building gingerbread houses next and if nothing else it’ll be a competition where you can attempt to destroy everyone else, so get your asses in the kitchen!” Anthony had been pleasantly surprised at how much energy the 80-year-old woman had, especially since her knees were basically completely ruined, and he had found himself engaged in lively conversation with her on more than one occasion. She wasn’t entirely fond of Y/n’s choice of work, but from what Anthony could tell that was more to do with the fact that she was very fond of her granddaughter, and would rather not receive a letter in the mail telling her that Y/n was dead. 

“We’ll go together, right?” Y/n asked, looking up at him while everyone was getting into pairs. He was just about to answer when Nana Jean appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her in surprise (she was quite a small woman), confusion all over his face. 

“I’m taking this one, you can go with your Gramps. I’ve never won with him, not once. This’ll be my year, I can feel it! And your lover boy is going to help me!”

“Good luck, Nana. I don’t think Anthony can cook toast, let alone gingerbread.” Y/n was smirking, crossing her arms as she let triumph seep into her expression despite not having started the competition yet. 

“Oh really? You also didn’t think I’d be any good at snowball fights. You’d be surprised what I can do with my hands, darling.” He immediately blushed at the look on Y/n’s face, and steadfastly refused to look at either her or Nana Jean. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, shaking his head and hoping the situation would end so he could go and bury himself in blankets and hibernate for years. He felt someone nudge his side and his cheeks got hotter still when he saw Nana Jean smiling up at him with a cheeky look on her face. 

“I’m sure Y/n/n knows all about what your hands can do, love.”

“Nana!” Y/n cried, exasperation in her voice. “You can’t say that!”

“Well I don’t think I’m wrong! You’ve been together eight months now; I married your Gramps in less time! Come on, Anthony!” She cheerfully turned and headed out the living room, dragging Anthony behind her and leaving Y/n to stand staring incredulously after them.

~~~

Y/n still hadn’t fully recovered from Anthony’s comment (and then Nana Jean’s addition) about his hands, and she was meant to be making gingerbread. 

Her Gramps had settled at the dining table with tracing paper, a pencil and far too many rulers, while she was measuring out the ingredients and mixing them together in a large bowl. He’d been an architect before he retired, helping draw up the plans for the Fittes Building and providing sketches for housing that had helped when people were on the streets at the beginning of the Problem because their houses were unsafe. Y/n had listened to him talking about his job a thousand times, but she still didn’t know what the purpose of all the different rulers were. 

“Gramps, you know you don’t have to get that technical about it, right?”

“Oh yes I do! I’m not letting Jeanie win this year, oh no! She thinks I’ve lost my touch with architecture, but I was doing badly deliberately because I knew, one year, she’d get fed up and go with someone else! She has no idea what’s coming!” Her Gramps chuckled, shaking his head and clutching his side as he thought about how deceptive he had been. Y/n smiled, remembering all the previous years where Nana Jean had become so exasperated at his apparent incapability that she’d given up all hope of winning with him. It had had no impact on their marriage, and the two of them were just as in love as they had been when they first got married, but Nana Jean also had a healthy love of winning things, and gingerbread was one of her specialties. 

“Focus, love, you’re tipping the mix out the bowl,” her Gramps said, nudging her in the arm. Y/n looked down to see the mess that she’d made over the table, and cursed softly under her breath. “What were you thinking about to make you zone out like that?” She flushed, and cast a quick glance over to where Anthony was stood at the island in the kitchen carrying out the same job as her. Without thinking, her gaze drifted down to where his hands were mixing the ingredients together in the bowl, and when her Gramps coughed she snapped her focus back to him and realised that she hadn’t actually given him an answer. Damn her Nana for saying what she said about Anthony’s hands and putting thoughts into her head! 

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to ignore the weird look he was giving her and the heat that was now permanently in her cheeks. 

“That’s alright, love. Just scoop it back up, like this, there we are. That’s looking pretty good I’d say. Go ahead and add the next bits now, and I’ll finish drawing up these stencils.”

~~~

“What do I need to do now?” Anthony asked, holding his hands just above the bowl. Nana Jean looked over from where she had finished cutting up the last of the stencils and smiled. 

“Ah, you’ve added in the butter mixture, good lad. Looks perfect to me, so let’s get it rolled out and we can start cutting. We need to make sure we get to the oven before Richard and Y/n do, because then we’ll have a head start on the decorating.”

“Alright.”

“You might want to wash your hands first though, what with all that mix on there. Make sure you get as much as you can in the bowl before you go and scrub ‘em.” Anthony nodded, starting to push off all the gingerbread mix that had clung to his fingers while he’d been bringing the ingredients together. He heard laughter from across the room and immediately recognised it as Y/n’s, which was strange because he didn’t think that he’d heard her laugh so unapologetically since coming here. Normally it was forced, or real but contained, and although they hadn’t got along before this entire situation had happened she had still laughed like she was currently (normally when he fell over from tripping on his coat). She was gorgeous when she smiled widely, and even more so when she laughed, and Anthony paused in his actions as he watched her be properly happy around her family for one of the first times this holiday. 

He knew that she got on well with her Gramps, despite his reservations about her job and some of the comments he made about her being ‘too much to handle sometimes’, but clearly they could forget about that when they were baking together, without the pressure of Steph and Linda watching their every move. 

No, Anthony had that pleasure, and Steph’s eyes hadn’t left his face for the past thirty minutes. 

He felt the weight of her gaze now, and after sending a small wave to Y/n when she looked over and saw him (she’d stuck her middle finger up in response, but had immediately blown him a kiss when he acted hurt) he sighed and turned to Steph. “Can I help you?” He asked, resuming his previous actions of taking the gingerbread mixture off of his hands and depositing it into the bowl. 

“I think you can,” she answered, plastering on a sickly sweet smile and slowly walking over to stand on his left. She stopped barely a hair’s breadth away from his arm, and the perfume she had on was swarming his senses and making him want to gag. It was just as cloying as her smile. “See, I’ve been thinking a lot recently,” Steph started, and Anthony bit back his retort of ‘careful, don’t strain yourself too much’ and tried not to flinch when her hand came in contact with his shoulder. “I think that we haven’t really had a chance to… get to know one another. Properly. And I really would like to… get to know you, Anthony.” Her fingers danced down his arm, and he couldn’t help the grimace that came across his face at her tone. He stepped away a little, trying to not knock Nana Jean while still putting some distance between Stephanie and her wandering hands (that had since moved to his chest). 

“I’m not sure I follow,” he frowned, turning and moving to the sink. He’d gotten as much of the sticky gingerbread mixture off of his hands as possible, and now all that was left was to douse them in water. Steph followed him, gripping his arm tightly and restricting his movement. He was too good of an agent to panic - panicking in his line of work meant almost-certain death - but he could feel unease creeping up his spine and a chill working its way into his bones like miasma. 

“Why don’t we take a minute? Out in the hallway?” He really didn’t like the way she’d said that, all low and what seemed like an attempt at seduction (he couldn’t tell because it was so bad, but from the look in her eyes he could make a guess), and he shook his head. 

“I’ve got to stay here, help out Jean. Shouldn’t you be making your own gingerbread?”

“Oh, that thing? No, we never win so what’s the point? I’d much rather spend some time with you… alone.” Anthony finished washing his hands, trying to ignore how Steph’s grip on his arm had somehow grown stronger in the last minute, and turned back to the island. His eyes scanned the kitchen and dining room, desperately searching for someone that would see he’d been accosted and would come to his rescue, but everybody was busy making gingerbread houses. 

“A minute and a minute only. No more than that,” he said, giving in. Steph’s smile turned smug, and she dragged him out of the kitchen, at which point Nana Jean did look up, sending him a questioning look. Anthony mouthed ‘sorry, back in a moment’ just in time before the kitchen door shut in his face. He sighed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw in preparation for whatever the hell Steph wanted. “Right,” he started, opening his eyes again and looking around for her. “What’s so urgent that you needed to-” He was cut off by Steph practically lunging at him, grabbing his face and pushing her lips onto his. It took him roughly a second to figure out what was happening, and he quickly got over his initial shock and shoved her off. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, looking at Steph with disgust. 

“Oh come on! I know for a fact that you and Y/n aren’t actually together, so what does it matter? Besides,” she continued, sidling up to him again when he took a step back, “I know that deep down you want this, Anthony.” He frowned, both at her words and at how she was still coming towards him, and the previous chill that had settled on him was now a raging storm. He kept it contained, not wanting to cause too much of a scene when anyone could hear what was happening on the other side of the door (that was now blocked by Steph), but the anger was evident when he spoke. 

“I’m not sure where you got those ideas from, Stephanie, or why you think that I will ever want you when Y/n is in my life, but you need to stop.” She tried to contain her shock at his rough tone, but the way her eyes widened gave her away. 

“Wha-”

“Let me finish. First of all, why do you think we’re not actually together? Are you so disbelieving of the fact that Y/n is a genuinely incredible person and could absolutely get anyone she wanted? Because I consider myself lucky that she even tolerates my presence half the time, let alone wants to date me. Second, even if we weren’t together, it would matter to me. I’m not the sort of person who switches loyalties that easily, and I will always, always, put my relationship with Y/n before any kind of attempted civilities with you. As it happens, she is my girlfriend, and quite honestly the fact that you think I’ll ever leave her for you is laughable.” He was being mean, he knew, but he was too done with Steph’s behaviour to worry about being nice and charming now. He’d pieced together the last of the puzzle that had been bothering him since he first got here too, connecting the dots between Linda and Steph’s comments and Y/n’s subsequently strange behaviour since arriving here. “So no, I do not want this. What I want is for you to stop bullying her, and belittling her, and making her feel like shit all the damn time, because she doesn’t deserve it,” he seethed, jabbing his finger in her face. “She doesn’t deserve any of it at all. All the comments about how much she’s eating, or her body shape, or giving her a gym membership as a Christmas present, or telling her she’s not pretty enough because she doesn’t look like you, or because she wears the same dress two years in a row, all of that needs to stop. Because you make her act like an entirely different person when you’re around and that is not alright. Because Y/n is ten times the person that you will ever be, Steph, because she isn’t a bully. She’s genuine, and kind, and loving, and the most beautiful girl in the entire universe, and she doesn’t deserve a single iota of the hate that you give her.”

Steph was quiet for a minute, processing everything he’d just ranted about. “I overheard you,” she finally said, not looking at him. “That first night when Y/n stormed off upstairs in some stupid tantrum-”

“She stormed off upstairs because you were being a bitch.”

“Right,” Steph didn’t looked too bothered, but she at least had the grace to flinch at his icy tone. “Well after you went up, I followed, because yeah, you’re right, I am very disbelieving that someone as good-looking as you would ever go for someone as ugly as her when you know you could do at least twenty times better, and I thought there was something weird about it! And there was a very large period of time when I couldn’t hear anything, which was really annoying because my legs were getting tired from-”

“Steph, hurry it up.” He had barely any patience remaining now, and her voice had gone all whiny and irritating.

“Oh, yeah. Well, then I heard you two talking about how it was really hard pretending to like each other or something, and you were arguing and saying that you were pretending to date.” Anthony froze for a moment, but rapidly recovered and eased himself into his normal ‘customer service’ persona, plastering on a pitiful smile. Before he could say anything though, Steph was moving towards the kitchen door, one hand on the handle. “It’s been quite fun, really, watching you fake a relationship to everyone. I’ve been trying to work out when the best time to bring it up was ever since Christmas Day after you had a go at me. So, either you tell them all, or I do. You’ve got nowhere to hide now, and I am going to enjoy watching this whole thing collapse on Y/n. I’ll give you until after the competition’s been judged; I wouldn’t want to ruin the festivities.” Her smile was even more sickening than it had been when she’d first started this conversation back in the other room, and after she disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door behind her, Anthony let out a shaky breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. 

He needed to talk to Y/n before the end of the competition, and figure out how the hell they were going to deal with Steph. 

~~~

She couldn’t stop staring at his hands. 

Since coming back in from whatever hallway conversation he’d had with Steph, Anthony had gone right back to helping Nana Jean with a smile on his face, despite the wary glances he kept throwing towards Y/n’s cousin. She hadn’t seen the two of them step out, but she had noticed that Anthony was gone, because she’d gone to look at his hands again and he wasn’t there. 

Her Gramps was helping her cut out the shapes they would need for their gingerbread house, and she’d been doing just fine until out of the corner of her eye she’d seen Anthony slip back on the ring he always wore. 

He had taken it off earlier when Nana Jean told him he needed to mix the ingredients with his hands, not wanting to get the metal coated in gingerbread mix, but now that his hands were clean again he was adjusting it back on his finger. 

Why couldn’t she stop staring at his hands?

She’d nearly cut a piece of gingerbread entirely wrong just now because she had been too focused on how the metal band looked against his slender fingers while he rolled out the gingerbread, and her Gramps had scolded her by chucking a bit of flour at her face. 

“Pay attention, love, you’re very distracted today. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, uh- yeah… yes. Everything is… is fine.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off of his ring, which meant she didn’t see either her Gramps’ concerned look or Anthony’s bemused one until Will was calling across the kitchen. 

“Keep it in your pants, Squeak! You can take your Lover Boy to bed after the gingerbread competition!” Y/n flushed as her gaze snapped up to meet Anthony’s, finally noticing that she’d been caught blatantly checking out his hands. 

“Alright, Will,” her mother scolded, although there was a hint of amusement behind it that made Y/n want the ground to swallow her up. Anthony just raised his eyebrows at her, smirk on his face, and she didn’t have it in her to fight back, instead turning back to the gingerbread in front of her and cutting out the last of the shapes. 

~~~

“Hey,” Anthony said, finally getting a chance to talk to Y/n. Pretty much everybody either had their gingerbread shapes in the ovens, or they were waiting for a space to free up, so he had been excused by Nana Jean for a while. 

“Oh, hi!” She hadn’t seen him walk over, but the second she realised he was there she reached up and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. He felt himself blush, despite it being over faster than most of their kisses, and she let out a snort. “Really? All I did was give you a peck on the lips, Ant.”

A wave of confidence came over him, and although the heat stayed on his cheeks he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Well I wasn’t doing much with my hands but I still had you blushing, didn’t I darling?” Y/n had no answer to that (not that it had really been a question; he’d seen her staring earlier and he was almost certain her thoughts had drifted somewhere other than something innocent), and before he pulled back Anthony pressed a lingering kiss just by her ear. 

“You- y- you can’t just say that, Ant! Jesus!” He laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her into his chest while she hid her face in his neck. He hummed, happy, until he caught a glimpse of Steph out of the corner of his eye. 

“Darling?”

“What?” she replied, although it was somewhat muffled since her head was still buried in his christmas jumper. 

“We need to talk about something really quickly, do you want to step out?” Y/n lifted her head, frown crossing her features. Anthony wanted to press kisses to it until it disappeared, but the conversation he’d had with Stephanie was at the front of his mind. 

“Okay… is everything alright?” she asked as he led her out of the kitchen by the hand. He didn’t say anything until they were in the library, safely away from all other family members. “Ant, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Steph talked to me earlier.”

“Right… how was it?”

“Awful. She kissed me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Darling, it’s fine, it was less than a second and I shoved her off and-“

“What? Oh! Oh, no, I’m not angry with you, Ant. I’m pissed at her for kissing my fucking boyfriend!”

“Ah. Okay. Well that’s not actually the thing I wanted to talk about.”

“There’s more?!”

“She knows. That we’re not… that we weren’t… that we were faking it. She doesn’t know that we stopped doing that and started actually dating, because she walked away before I could tell her that, but she’s known since the first night and she’s been waiting ever since. She gave me an ultimatum, and said that either we fess up or she does, right after the competition has been judged. Seemed far too happy about watching you suffer, to be honest. I think she might need to see a doctor.” Y/n stared at him, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she shut it completely. 

“So, Steph knows. Steph has known basically the entire time. And Steph has done nothing?”

“Yes. She said something about wanting to ‘watch the whole thing collapse on you’ and that she would ‘enjoy it’ or something?”

“That bitch. Well what are we gonna do then? Because whatever happens it sounds like my family is finding out about this whole… thing,” she flapped her hands between them before sighing and pressing them to her face. “I was right. This is a shitshow.”

“Hey, hey. Worst case scenario is Steph tells everyone, yes? But then we can just tell them the truth. Will knows, and he’ll back us up, right? And I’m fairly certain that Nana Jean knows but I’m not sure how, she just kept making these little comments while we were baking earlier and winking at me and I just - it just feels like she knows.” 

“Nana Jean’s just like that, I suppose. It would make sense if she knew. Okay. You’re right. We can do this. We’ll just wait until Steph tells everyone, and then tell the truth.” Y/n paused for a moment, looking down at the floor while she chewed her lip. “I don’t think I can tell the truth,” she said, and when she brought her gaze back up her eyes were shining with the tears that were threatening to fall. Anthony stepped closer, framing her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“You don’t need to tell the whole truth. Not if you don’t want to. Just the bit about us being in a proper relationship now if you like, and I can do that if you need me to. But whatever you choose, darling, I’ll be with you. I will be right by your side, Y/n, always.”

“Thank you, Anthony.”

“Anytime, my darling. Anytime at all.”

He hoped she knew just how much he meant it. 

part 10

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters

desperately hoping this is everyone, but as always just let me know if you want to be added/removed (or if I forgot you) and I'll do that as soon as I can! <3

[frenchfrywrites]

CODE y69

MINORS DNI

Warnings: amab gn top dom(ish) living human reader, trans man bottom zombie Vil Schoenheit, monster(fucker) au, monsterfucking, medical play, roleplay, breeding kink, lots of drool, vil goes nonverbal, slight dumbification

Words used for Vil: pussy, cunt, tits, hole, clit. Mention of him having a period and getting pregnant

The sound of the door to Vil's bedroom opening softly tears his attention away from his vanity.

"Ah, sorry," he stares through the mirror at his door, where the doctor– he gathers from the white coat and stethoscope– he arranged a house visit with stands awkwardly in the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?" You ask, setting down your bag of medical devices and instruments on Vil’s bed.

"No," he’s quick to answer, capping the tube of lipstick he'd been applying and standing to greet you. Both of you size one another up as Vil sluggishly crosses the room. You’re handsome in the long white lab coat, undoubtedly so, and if he had the blood to do so, Vil thinks he might feel flushed. The mild anxiety he typically finds himself having when he’s among the living settles in, and he feels the urge to preen and reapply his makeup.  

The two of you exchange introductions, and Vil notes that your hand feels so nice and warm when it shakes his, before you ask him to make himself comfortable on his bed. Vil sits himself down as gracefully as possible as you open your bag “I almost thought I had the wrong patient,” you offer him a bashful smile, applying hand sanitizer to your hands, then tugging on some gloves. “You looked so alive,” and your admission earns you a soft laugh from Vil. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles quietly. After his untimely demise Vil's tried his best to cover his dead skin, the chunks of missing flesh, and his vacant eyes. He appreciates his efforts being recognized. 

“Alright, let’s just jump right in, yeah?!” you give him a wide smile, “can you tell me your first and last name? And your date of birth?” Vil tells you the information easily. “And when did you become undead?”

“A couple of months ago,” he hopes you don’t pry much more than that. It’s not something he likes to dwell on.

“Great! Do you remember the last physical you had when you were alive?” you ask carefully, rummaging around in your bag.

Vil doesn’t remember much from before his death. He has people he knows- or knew- tell him things about himself, but most of what they tell him feels blurry and out of reach.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you say when he hasn’t responded in a while. He hums- and it sounds a bit too close to the sluggish groan he’s heard from older zombies for his liking- and anxiously flattens the wrinkles on his skirt. 

“This will be a bit different from an exam that an alive person might experience, but that’s why you called me in the first place,” you ramble as you put on a pair of gloves. 

“I’m going to skip over taking your blood pressure and checking your heart, for obvious reasons,” you tell him, standing next to where he’s seated. Suddenly, you press yourself into Vil’s personal space, 

“Can I touch you Mr. Schoenheit?” and logically Vil knows his heart has stopped beating for a long time, but he feels like it flutters in his chest all the same.

“Yes,” he consents, trying his best to not sound breathless. You take his head in your hands, feeling around his skull. 

“You have lovely hair Mr. Schoenheit,” it’s an offhand comment, but it makes Vil feel like he’s on cloud nine. 

“Thank you,” he practically whispers as you gently touch the back of his neck. 

“Good,” you step back and Vil tries not to follow your touch, “looking great! I’m going to ask you to make some facial expressions with me now, so I can see how your muscles are working.”

Vil nods, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Could you frown for me?” he does as he’s told, “then smile? Then puff your cheeks?” distantly, Vil remembers that people have told him he was in movies when he was alive; a memory of acting exercises comes back to him faintly as he moves his face through various expressions.

“Hm, I can see that the muscles on the right side of your face are still quite stiff,” Vil’s face falls at the news, “hey, it’s alright!” you caress his right cheek gently, massaging the muscle by his jaw gently. Even though your hand is gloved, Vil can still feel the heat radiating off your flesh all the same. He feels hungry. “Anyone who is not specifically looking for it would not notice, I promise,” you reassure. “Now can you open your mouth for me?” 

Vil drops his jaw and it cracks a bit, leaving his mouth open just a bit wider than a living being would be capable of. That’s not true, he corrects himself, knowing that the naga can open their mouths nearly twice as more as he can. 

“Oh Mr. Schoenheit what lovely teeth you have!” you joke, and despite himself, Vil laughs. “Seriously, you have a full set! Many of my clients would dream of having your mouth,” you muse, running your fingers along his teeth. The urge to wrap his lips around your fingers and suck is overwhelming, but somehow Vil finds it in himself to resist it. He thinks you must be a little stupid, even if you are a doctor, for putting your fingers in a flesh-eaters mouth. Slipping your fingers from his mouth you reach into your bag and grab a wooden depressor. 

With your free hand you grab a small flashlight from your breast pocket, and press the wooden stick against his tongue. 

“Say ahhh,” you instruct. The noise that comes out of Vil is closer to that of a moan, but you don’t comment on that. You press the depressor further back and he gags. With a look of surprise you pull away from him, removing the depressor from his mouth as you do. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” you ask curiously. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. 

“It wasn’t so bad,” he confesses. Your eyes widen just a fraction, but Vil takes note of it. Turning back to your bag you take out an otoscope, “We’re going to check your eyes and ears next, you haven’t noticed any vision or hearing loss, have you?” Vil shakes his head, thankful that so much of his body continues to function.

“Can you look at…” you trail off, glancing behind you at his wall, “the calendar back there for me?” He looks at it as you flash the light into his eyes. “Ah, are you wearing contacts?” you ask after a moment. Vil hesitates to answer, but eventually nods, “I’m sorry Mr. Schoenheit, but I need you to take those out.”

With a sigh Vil makes quick work of removing the colored contacts- or as quick as he can be with the body he inhabits now. Trying his best not to pout he lets you take a good look at his glossed over, foggy eyes. 

“You’ve got very pretty eyes Mr. Schoenheit,” you say as you pull away, “pretty and they're doing everything that eyes should be doing!” Vil huffs, 

“Flattery will get you everywhere doctor.” You manuver Vil's head so you can look into his ear, brushing his hair back to get a better look and further exposing his expression. 

“I’m already alone in your room with you Mr. Schoenheit,” you whisper, moving to look at the other ear, “how much more will flattery get me?” you muse. Vil is so glad his body can no longer blush, because he thinks he’d be as red as a tomato if he were living. 

“Ah,” he goes to say something but before he can come up with anything, you’re moving onto the next thing. Feeling a little dumbstruck he watches you take off the stethoscope around your neck, and put it on. 

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs now, is that alright?” Vil nods, so you continue. “Would you please lift your shirt a bit?” With slightly shaking hands (the excitement of having you so close is having an apparent effect on him) he lifts his blouse for you. Sliding your hand under the fabric, you press the cold metal to his chest, and Vil gasps. 

“Sorry,” you whisper in his ear, not sounding very apologetic. “Can you take a deep breath for me?” Vil does his best, trying to sound relaxed and calm, even when he feels the opposite. “Sounds good!” and within a blink of an eye you’re gone. 

After stuffing away your stethoscope you turn to Vil, “right, so next we’re going to- oh,” you stop mid sentence, staring at his chest. Vil looks down, trying to see what you could be looking at, only to find that his nipples are hard. Shame washes over him, and he tries his best to cover himself, but you stop him, sitting next to him on the bed.

“It’s okay! I’m sorry I had such an unprofessional reaction, it’s just I don’t see that often with my patients,” you rub his shoulder comfortingly and Vil slowly drops his arms. 

“Can I take a look?” You ask after a moment. Vil tucks his hair behind his ear, nodding slowly. Your hand falls from Vil’s shoulder to the hem of his shirt. As you tug it upwards you expose more of his skin. 

There are small patches of decay, some skin that’s been stitched back together, and on his left side some of his ribs are exposed. With your other hand you thumb over one of his nipples, and Vil lets out a soft gasp. He feels so good having you touch him that any insecurity he’d normally have about the rotting, peeling flesh previously covered by his shirt is flung out the window.

“Did that hurt?” and Vil feels tingly all over at the quiet rumbling sound of your voice.

“No doctor,” he breathes, his breath hitching when you rub your thumb over it again. 

“Feels good, Mr. Schoenheit?” you check, not giving Vil any relief as you continue to rub circles around his nipple.  

Not trusting his voice, Vil nods, blinking slowly as waves of pleasure work their way through his body. 

And as quickly as it started, it’s over. You pull back, and much to Vil’s humiliation, he can’t help but lean forward and try to chase your touch. 

“Ah,” he makes a soft noise as his brain catches up. Part of him wishes to beg for more, but his pride stops him.

“Are you having other reactions, Mr. Schoenheit?” you ask softly. Vil rubs his legs together as he focuses,

“Yes doctor,” he answers honestly. Your smile widens at that,

“Amazing,” you praise, “can I see?” Vil lets out a low groan at that. Instead of using his words, Vil takes the hem of his skirt, and lifts it so you can see his soaked panties. Vil can’t help but grin when your warm touch returns to his chilled body as you gently run your fingers from his clit to his hole. 

“Such a responsive, functional body,” you hum in his ear, and Vil clumsily jerks his hips into your touch, clutching desperately at his skirt. 

“May I take a closer look Mr. Schoenheit?” 

“Yes please, doctor,” Vil moans, his words slurring together. You slide off the bed, and between Vil’s decayed thighs. Your hands tug at the top of his panties, and with some combined effort, the two of you manage to take them off him. 

“Oh look at you,” you coo, using two gloved fingers to peel apart his pussy lips. The heat from your body, even with a layer of gloves between the two of you, feels scalding against his frigid skin. It makes him want to melt into you. He clutches tightly at the fabric of his skirt, putting all his energy there so he doesn’t reach out to touch you. 

"Ah," Vil gasps softly when your finger begins to slowly rub circles onto his clit. 

“I bet that feels good, doesn’t it,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to care, and instead nods dumbly. Looking up at him, you take note of how Vil’s eyes go in and out of focus as he watches you play with his cunt.

It takes a while for him to notice, but Vil eventually sees the hard to ignore tent in your pants. Within the moment that he notices your hard-on, you slip a finger inside of him, and he jerks violently, letting out a long, guttural moan. 

“I want to see if the muscles here are working correctly,” you explain, though you doubt he’s even listening to you.

Vil opens up nicely around your fingers, producing more than enough slick to accommodate the intrusions. His clit took a while to get erect, but it now stands proudly, twitching and aching for attention. While fucking him slowly with two fingers, you use your thumb to play with it. This draws a groan from out of Vil. You doubt he’d appreciate being told so, but it’s the kind of groan that’s classic of his zombie kind. 

“Unnngh,” he moans, “g’nna uhmm,” and there’s just enough consonants and vowels for you to put together what he’s trying to say. You pull back, refusing him of the orgasm that was so steadily approaching. 

“Wuh?” he blinks slowly, and you watch as his pussy attempts to clench around nothing. “Huh, please,” Vil groans breathlessly when he finally processes that you’re no longer touching him. 

“It looks like your ability to self lubricate is working perfectly. I wonder though, Mr. Schoenheit, do you still get your period?” you ask, removing your white coat and gloves.

“No, doctor,” Vil replies after a moment, entranced with watching you undress. 

“Then I suppose the only way we’d be able to tell if you’re able to get pregnant or not is by having me fuck your womb full of cum,” Vil nods along, though he questions your logic. He’ll agree with whatever you say if it means you’ll fuck him. 

You reach into your bag, and after a moment of rustling around, pull out a vial of lube.

Laying back, he spreads his legs wider, making room for you to join him on the bed. He makes a pretty picture, with his skirt bunched around his hips, and his shirt pulled up to show off his tits. You tell him as much,

“You look so good,” you praise, and Vil preens, smiling and spreading his legs wider. You make yourself comfortable between his thighs, massaging his stiff muscles gently. Fumbling a bit, you open the lube, and lather your cock. Vil doesn’t mind the slight lull in action, instead focusing his energy on reaching up and linking his arms around your neck to pull you close. 

He moans when he feels the tip of your cock press against his hole. Vil feels like he’s never been more alive as he feels your tip press into him. He knocks his head back against his pillow, arching his back as you slowly push yourself into him. 

“There we go,” you coo, rubbing his hips and thighs lovingly when you’re balls deep inside of him. “How’re you feeling Mr. Schoenheit? Any pain? Any discomfort?” you check in, because Vil looks fucked dumb already. 

“Guh-” he groans, then mumbles to himself. You wait patiently, and finally he forms a coherent sentence, “good, you feel- good,” he whines, his mascaraed lashes squeezing shut. His words divulge into mumbles and groans as he tries to tell you about how deep your cock is inside of him, and how hot you feel.

Slowly, you start to move your hips, fucking him nice and deep to make sure he’s properly adjusted to the intrusion before you take it up a notch. Vil practically melts into the bed beneath him, weakly holding onto you, his pussy clenching and twitching around you every so often. 

“You feel so good,” you tell him softly, “ah, so tight,” you groan. Vil keens, and then instead of using his words- which he seems to have lost already- he tries his best to work his hips back against yours. You let out a breathless laugh, “faster already?” and Vil nods, letting out a pathetic whine.

“I’ve got you darling,” you coo, easily picking up the pace. He lets out a pleased moan, settling back down and returning to laying like a corpse under you. 

“Just- ah- lay back and let me fuck you baby, you don’t ngh have to think at all, let me do all the work, sweet thing,” he nods dumbly at your instructions. 

“Shit,” you breathe, fucking him so hard that his tits bounce with each thrust. Your hand fumbles around for a second before coming in contact with Vil’s clit. When you begin to rub at it as you fuck him, Vil cries out, his mouth falling open with a loud click, and his clouded eyes rolling into his skull. He clenches like a vice around you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he may have cum.

Drool begins to pool from his mouth as you play with his clit, and he lets out weak groans when you thrust him particularly hard or deep. 

“I’m close,” you strain, because god you think you could get off just from looking at him, and the way he’s fluttering and clenching around you only gets you closer and closer to climax. Vil babbles something incomprehensible, drool continuing to fall from his mouth, puddling on the pillow and sheets beneath him, and thoroughly slicking his chin. 

One of his hands falls from where it’s been wrapped around your neck, and rubs at his belly. Your hips stutter as you catch his drift, 

“Fuck, yeah, ‘m gonna cum inside you Vil, gonna get you pregnant, gonna fill your womb, ungh, you want that?” he nods, his clit twitching under your fingers. 

“Cum with me- Vil- c’mon baby,” you feel like you’re teetering on a cliff edge, just moments away from coming face to face with your orgasm. 

He falls first, his groan of your name getting stifled as he slaps an arm over his mouth, squirting on your cock as you fuck him through it. You cum not long after, keeping your promise and snapping your hips flush against his as you pump him full of your cum. 

You stay seated inside Vil until he weakly pinches your skin with his other hand, a nonverbal cue that your fingers on his clit and your cock inside him are making him sore with overstimulation. Pulling out you take a second to watch your cum ooze out of his pussy. If he hadn’t communicated that he was sore, you wouldn’t hesitate to get your head between his thighs and clean him up with your mouth. 

Instead you flop down next to him, and take his cold body into your warm embrace. Vil removes his arm from covering his messy mouth, and snaps his jaw back into place. His eyes go unfocused as he looks at you next to him, and moving on instinct, he goes for your neck. His teeth just barely graze your skin before he realizes what he’s doing and resists the urge to devour you. Instead, Vil kisses your neck as an apology before pulling back.

Now that there's a bit of space between the two of you, you can get a good look at him. Vil looks properly fucked, his lipstick smudged, his mouth slick and sticky with drool, his mascara running slightly, his hair all out of place.

You can’t help but lean in and give him a loving kiss. Vil kisses back weakly, humming a tad mournfully against your lips. You think he’s probably still upset about nearly letting his monstrous inclinations take over. Through the kiss you try to convey that you trust him and love him. When you pull back there's a comfortable silence between the two of you for a brief second.

“Next time, I want to be the doctor,” Vil finally speaks, his voice rough and fried. You laugh, nuzzling into him, and pulling the comforter over the two of you. 

“Ooh I like that, can you be all fascinated and awed with my living body?” you prompt, causing Vil to crack a smile. 

“I think I could, at the very least, act like I would be “fascinated and awed”” he mimics you playfully. You laugh loudly, kissing him between giggles. 

“Whatever you say, Dr. Shoenheit,” you tease, kissing him again before he can get the last word in.

[ceilidho]

Do you have any advice on doing a character study for a character before writing them? Stuff like how they’d act/respond 👁👄👁

haha it's quite tricky, I won't lie! it's definitely one of the things I struggle with the most (writing really well-rounded and defined characters). Here are a couple things that I do, but keep in mind that I'm reeaaalllyyyy not an expert on this. I'm still learning so much about characterization every day.

If you're writing fanfiction, watch or read the source material as much as possible, until you can almost hear the way the character sounds in your head. Take time to understand things like their accent and how they speak (do they talk a lot or very little? do they use slang or enunciate everything? do they speak quickly or slowly?). Here, you just want to concentrate on the cadence of their speech / their speech patterns. If they speak plainly or use lots of proverbs or turns of phrases, that sort of thing. If you have that down, you've honestly done half the work. Even I often reread my work and go "fuck, all of these people SOUND the same even though they're saying different things".

This is harder if you're not writing fanfiction and have to create your own universe, but regardless of whether you're writing for an existing IP or your own 'verse, I think understanding your character's cultural and religious background is so crucial to developing them. It's a big part of the lens through which they see the world, whether consciously (if they're a very religious character for example, or raised in a specific country) or subconsciously (for example, I grew up catholic so I relate to the world through that lens, even though I'm not a religious person - it just heavily informed me in my childhood years). For this Bear story, I had to do a bit of research around Baptist theology because I knew Bear would be a religious character (whether or not he's struggling with that religion) and it would heavily inform how he sees the world around him. I listened to some sermons, talked to someone with a Baptist background, and also thought about how that background with tie into his desire to have a family).

Pick like 3-5 words that you think best describe your character and just write them down somewhere. I've never been very successful when I make huge character sheets for my characters or try to write a super detailed background for them, so I try to give myself a bit of grace and be brief about it. You can always expand on it going forward. Like for someone like Bear, I might pick: family-oriented, religious (Christian), gruff, and scrupulous. You can also do this in the reverse way and try to think of what they're not (same example with Bear, I might go: conniving, hedonistic, flighty, and optimistic LMAO). This is a nice way to put like, boundaries around your character.

In the framework of your story, try to pick a trajectory for your character, or a goal. At least have one, but you could have a couple. If they're directionless, that works too! But they should want something or aspire to be something. This counts even if they think that thing they want is beyond them or unattainable - it's still a want/goal pushing them forward. This can also be an unconscious goal by the way -> like a very hedonistic character that likes to party who's slowly getting worn down from that life and doesn't even realize they want to settle down, or vice versa! Someone who feels trapped in their mundane life but thinks that's what's expected of them. The character doesn't have to know they want this goal.

Fatal flaws. This is a big one. What is something that might get in the way of them achieving their goal or might influence how they get it? Easiest way to think of this is just looking at the 7 deadly sins (soooo corny, but it's a good place to start). Characters are never perfect, so give them a reason to struggle.

And honestly lastly? Trial and error, baby. Take your vaguely defined character and figure out what you want them to achieve (whether or not they get it is beside the point), and then work out how they might go about achieving that. If they'd run full throttle towards it because they think they deserve it or whether they'd fight it every step of the way because they either don't think they want it or don't think they deserve it.

I'm sorry if this is very messy!! It also totally depends on you as a writer. When I try to make "character background sheets", it gives me anxiety and I end up not following through with my writing versus when I try to keep it brief and just dive into the writing and slowly change things and edit as I write. But maybe a sheet works best for you!

[luimagines]

HELLO HELLO !!!!!!!! can i request a continuation of the boys non confession angst where in the part 2 they go to their world and have to deal w their feels about not confessing before reader left? ty ty!!!!

Well yes I can! :D

Let's make it worse before it gets any better :)

Masterlist

Part one will correspond to the first half which you can read right here!

Part one will include Sky, Wind and Four.

Content under the cut!

Sky

He's been kicking himself ever since he returned.

The goodbyes between the rest of the group was less than lackluster. No one else had it in them to give long fanciful speeches about their time together or to drag out the moment longer than necessary.

He kinda wished they did though. It would have made the pain of the currently reality a little less real. He would have been able to play it off as a short time thing or get a little more closure.

Sky pulls on the rope to help set up a wall to a new house they're building on the surface. He's had to learn fast about a lot of thing it takes to survive.

Sure the surface is a lot safer than it used to be. The destruction of Demise, the sealing of the darkness, the victory over the monsters made it so there was little left to fear for the rest of his life. But he still needed to eat and there was still the weather to look out for.

Life of Skyloft was a lot easier. He was more than happy to admit that.

But something tells him that it would all be worth it.

There would be people here after him. There would be an entire kingdom and peace and adventure and love.

You love your home and your people and your friends.

It all starts with him.

So he has to make sure he gets it as perfect as physically possible. Sky has never been more afraid of failure than when that thought crosses his mind.

The older ones start to question if he's going to settle down and start a family and be the head of the tender village- but he can't bring himself to think of that kind of future.

Not when he wanted you so badly to be a part of it.

However, that would be rude. To hold onto the idea of you when you were never given a chance to respond to him was a crime onto itself. Sky knows that he's more in love with the idea of you or what you both could have been than with you as a person, even if he loves the memory of you still.

He curses himself for being a hopeless romantic. It would be easier if he could bring himself to move on. To mourn you and the life that would never be.

Zelda and Groose are worried about him. They try to get him to be excited about everything that's been developing around them- and he smiles and laughs and waves them away. He doesn't want to let them know.

But it aches. He knows you would have loved to see it too.

Sky kicks himself once more.

How can you love someone that hasn't come into existence yet? You might as well be dead.

He cuts his finger on the rope and drops the wall.

Sky flinches and goes to pick it up once more. Maybe if he held on tighter-

Wind

Getting back home after everything was strange. It felt like some unforgettable dream. It felt real but also not. He knows that he didn't have that scar before he left through the portal- but he also knows that maybe things would have been a little more different. Right?

His sister and grandma welcomed him with open arms and a homecooked meal. Tetra and the pirates and let him sail for a few week again and the island treated him as if he hadn't gone missing at all.

Then again, he supposes that they are quite used to him disappearing for weeks or months on end at this point.

He knows that the others were real, though. They all left little nick nacks. Either from when they visited prior or given right before he went through the portal. He has a little keep sake from everyone.

Except you.

Did he dream you up? He couldn't have. He wasn't that crazy?

Did he dream all of them up?

Everything goes back to normal a little too easily. When he came from his first adventure, there was no normal for months. Every day was spent keeping close to the house and trying to keep an eye on the sky and his sister at the same time.

Wind finds himself frowning constantly these days.

He can't stop thinking about you. He wants to know if you've found something cool today, or if you've gotten a new scratch. He wants to go exploring again. He wants to hold your hand as you both go through dungeons.

He wants to make you food and try your own. He wants to make bracelets with you again and play in tall enough grass where you both could hide in. He wants to take you out on his boat and show you all the little things his keep discovering in his world.

He misses you.

Even if the others saw him as a little brother, you were his equal. You trusted him to look after you just as much as you were looking after him.

Wind thought that he would have been a better at this. He knew that he would miss everyone, but he was going to be fine. He grew up. He learned from them. He got stronger. Faster. More durable. Everyone gave him something to hold dear to his heart.

Yet... if could choose one person to see again, he would pick you in a heart beat. Hands down. No questions.

He sniffles. He didn't know loving someone could hurt so much. Would it have better or worse if you knew?

It doesn't matter. He blew his one chance to find out.

Did you miss him too?

Four

Four got back to work as if nothing had happened.

After he cried his heart out by the side of the portal, the others went in as well. He's not sure about the order they all went through. He thinks that he was somewhere in the middle.

He was dropped off right outside his home. It was late. Just before dawn.

He opened the door and went right to bed. His pillows was soaked with tears when he woke up- but he felt strangely empty.

Four tried to go back to his usual routine. Word of his arrival was quick to spread and soon the commissions were rolling in faster than he could keep up with. He had to put a hold on them once more so that the customers wouldn't be waiting for long periods of time.

It was therapeutic almost, getting back into his craft. It's mind numbing to an extant. He doesn't have to think much outside of what he needs to do to bend the metal to his will. If he was being honest with himself, these were some of his greatest projects yet.

Somehow though, each project traces back to you.

How you would have reacted to this? Would you have liked this color? you mentioned that this leather was the most comfortable in your hand. Would be proud of this one? Would have used something like this? You weren't a fighter. Would it have been light enough for you to use?

Four slaps himself each tie he catches himself curving a project to fir something that you would have liked or used.

It's not as mind numbing as he would have thought.

He gives his latest project to the customer and receives the other half of his pay. He's wrapped it in a white clothe and tied it with a small red ribbon. It looks like the one you would have had on your bag.

They take it without a second thought- shattering his little flashback.

Four waits until they're out of his shop before he groans loud enough to shake the whole building and promptly slams his forehead against the front desk.

"Tough customer?"

Four winces at the voice but refuses to look up. "...Something like that..."

"Got the job done?" Zelda pokes the top of his head.

"...Yes."

"At what cost?"

Four feels bad about lying to her. He hasn't told her a thing about you. Knowing Zelda, she would pity him. And the last thing he wants is her pity. Even if she is his best friend. "Everything."

"Well that's a bit dramatic, Link." Zelda smile, albeit it's a small one. She's noticed that he's been off and she knows that he's hiding it from her. She can't figure out what went wrong though. Zelda sighs and brushes his hair away from the counter top so that it's draped over his back. "Rupee for your thoughts?"

Four bites his lip. It's been months now but he still can't bring himself to say anything specific. "....I miss them..."

"You were of the same spirit." She says gently. "It was a whole group of heroes who no doubt went through similar things that you did. I'm sure it was the most you've been understood...As much as I try..."

Another wince. He hasn't really thought about the rest of the group all that much. "I know Zelda. I appreciate you. You know I do."

Zelda sighs. "I came to see if you would be willing to have lunch with me."

Four finally lifts his head up, eyes tinged with a red ring around them. Maybe some time with Zelda would do him some good. He needs to get out his own head for once. "...I'd like that Zelda..."

Part 2