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that-sarcastic-writer · 10 months

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After Hours

DI!SingleDad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You really shouldn't fuck your student's dad. You shouldn't. No matter how hot you think he is. You shouldn't. Right?

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), choking, hair pulling, creampie, soft!dom leon, praising, Leon has a mouth on him, the s stands for slut, parent teacher dynamic, foul language

WC: 8.2k I am so sorry

A/N: guess who just watched death island and guess who wants to fuck di Leon. Yes, this whore. The things that man does to me. Man definitely gave me girl dad vibes in di so I wrote it lol enjoy the Leon filth

Note: this story was inspired by @konigbabe own dad!leon x teacher fic. Hers is definitely way better than mine and definitely recommend checking it out! (Sorry for not mentioning before it was extremely late last night🙃)

Universe Masterlist

You've been teaching second graders for a very long time, and you've never been more in awe and intrigued by a child at the same time. When you met this little girl you knew she would grow on you. But you didn't think she would be so complicated too.

"Mhm, and she said— Izzy?" You were standing in your designated area during recess duty, talking to the other second grade teacher when one of your students, Isabella, was dragged to your side along with an older boy by another teacher.

The boy had a scraped up arm, and Izzy was holding her hands together in front of herself and staring at the ground as the teacher held her by her shirt. You stared in confusion for a second before you looked at the teacher.

"Ms. Miller, what's going on? Why are you dragging Izzy and who is this boy?" You asked, head tilted with confusion.

"Is this Isabella Kennedy? She wouldn't answer when I asked her." The older lady asked, shooting the brunette girl a nasty look. You frowned, but nodded slowly, replying with a short yes. She continued. "She pushed one of my kids and he's bleeding. You need to take her to the Principal's office and call her parents right now."

Your eyes widened in shock and your mouth fell open, baffled. You blinked a couple times in disbelief as you looked at Izzy. This girl was a sweetheart, quiet, but kind, she would never hurt another student.

"Izzy, come baby, we're gonna go sit in my classroom while I call your daddy, mkay?" You shot Ms. Miller a glare that made her let go of Izzy, and you quietly extended your hand to the girl. She took it, quietly following you.

Maybe today was the day you would finally meet Isabella Kennedy's father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took five phone calls, three emails, and a good three hours before anyone came for Izzy. It was well past the end of the school day. You had been sitting outside the Principal's office with Izzy for about an hour when a man, tall, close to six feet tall, with a leather jacket and brown hair that fell over his eyes walked down the hall. He had the same intense blue eyes as Izzy. He had a pretty annoyed look on his face too.

Leon Kennedy.

"Izzy." He called out when he saw her, his low baritone filling the otherwise quiet hall. The little girl lifted her head, blue eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of her dad.

She instantly got up from her chair and ran to him. He picked her up without hesitation and a frown plastered on his face when she hid her face on his neck with guilt.

"I'm sorry daddy."

"Oh, what's wrong? Why are you sorry?" He asked, rubbing her back soothingly, but before she could bust out into tears, you stepped in.

"Hi. Hey, uhm. I'm Isabella's teacher. Are you Mr. Kennedy?" You felt stupid for asking, he made you feel even more so when he narrowed his eyes at you with this 'seriously?' look in his eyes.

"Yeah. What's going on? I saw you left me a million voicemails. Is Izzy alright?" He asked, understandably concerned, instinctively checking his daughter for any injuries or marks.

"Yes she's alright but uhm.. Something happened earlier and I think it'd be good if we spoke in private before you speak with the principal." You bit your lip, watching as his face scrunched up with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"What— y'know what, alright. Just make it quick please." He sighed, saying something to Izzy that you couldn't quite hear before he set her down on her feet.

"I'm gonna go talk to your daddy for a minute okay? You can go finish that drawing, yeah?" You said to the little girl with a smile. She rubbed her eye but nodded regardless.

You led Leon to your classroom. You sat on your desk as he sat on the chair you had left for him in case he did show up. He leaned back, arms folded over his chest and legs spread. That man hadn't even said a word yet and you were already sweating. He was full of self assurance and confidence, like he didn't need to say a word for his presence to be the center of attention. And it made you nervous.

"So uhm, I called you because Isabella got into some trouble today during recess." You started, leaning your elbows on your desk. His face never changed. He had the same stoic expression.

Seriously?

"Okay."

"She pushed a fourth grader on the playground, and the kid scraped up his arm." You finished, hoping that would get some kind of reaction. It did. But not the one you were expecting.

"Oh. Wow, okay." There was a tiny curve on the corner of his lips. You could swear it looked like a smile. "Is she in trouble or something?"

"Uhm, yes, of course she's in trouble. Our anti-bullying policy is very strict here Mr. Kennedy. She could get suspended for this."

He rolled his eyes. The motherfucker rolled his eyes.

"That's not bullying. The kid probably deserved it." He scoffed softly, leaning further back into the chair. He had his eyebrows furrowed, and he was staring you down, pale blue eyes making you want to crawl into your own skin. "Izzy isn't the type to just hurt someone. She's a good kid. Did you even ask why she did it?

"Well uhm.. Yes, she said the fourth grade boy was bothering her and her friend, he shoved her friend so Izzy, uh, shoved him back, much harder." You cleared your throat, knowing your answer wasn't any better. You didn't want Izzy to get in trouble, but you had to do your job.

"Are you serious?" He had this blank expression on his face, and when you nodded, he gave you a laugh that was this mixture between pride and irritation. "This is ridiculous. A nine year-old boy bullies my seven year-old daughter and her friend, but my daughter is the one that gets in trouble for standing up for herself?"

You stared at him, lips parted as you tried to come up with an answer. You ran your tongue over your dry lips, no answer actually coming out. He scoffed.

"Was that all then? This conversation could've been a phone call." He sat up, seemingly getting ready to stand up. You shook your head.

"No, Mr. Kennedy. There's something else I wanted to discuss with you."

"It's just Leon, please. I'm not that old." He chuckled, leaning back into the seat.

Your eyes fell to his chest, slightly exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt. Your words were lost for a second as you imagined what it would be like to see under that shirt, to feel— No. That's inappropriate. Focus.

"Uhm, I understand you must be busy with your job, Izzy talks about it all the time but I think she would benefit from more involvement from a parent in her academics and activities." You started, leaning forward on your arms.

"Meaning what? I'm involved plenty."

"I'm sorry but, I've had your daughter for a semester and a half, and this is the first time I've met you. We've had two parent-teachers conferences so far. I never saw you there. She performed at the winter concert, I don't recall seeing you there either." You explained with a small frown, remembering all the times you had to cheer her up because she was upset about her dad not being there for a school event. "All I'm saying is that if your job doesn't allow it, maybe Izzy's mom can—"

"No, not an option. It's just me." He cut you off quickly, sitting up quickly as his shoulders tensed.

You weren't a behavior analyst, but knew that tone. That defensiveness and resentment at the same time, you had seen it time and time again from single parents. It explained a lot.

"Then she really needs you. You're the only support she has. So be there for your daughter."

"I am. It's just that my job—"

"With all due respect, your job is not more important than your daughter. Listen, the spring concert is in two weeks. She's performing there with a few other girls. I just ask that you be there for her. Trust me it will do her good. And knowing her dad is there for her will stop her from acting out like this again."

Leon bit his lip in thought, you could see the gears turning in his head, the way he tapped his index finger on his bicep in thought, but he ultimately sighed.

"An elementary school concert, is that really necessary? Can't I just take you to dinner instead and we can call it even?" He said it so smoothly you didn't realize his flirtation at first. It took a second for your brain to register he was flirting with you and the tiny smirk on his face made heat rush to your face in an instant.

"Mr. Kennedy, that is not appropriate." You tried hiding your embarrassment behind a soft laugh, but the way you avoided his eyes said enough.

"I told you, it's Leon." He corrected you again, grin still on his face, "Alright fine, I'll see what I can do. Can I take Izzy home now?"

"Yes. I'll email you the RSVP." You finally met his eyes with a small smile of your own as you waved your hand, signaling that he could leave. He nodded, standing up, but before he left you added, "And please look at your emails this time."

He flashed you a small smile, "Sure Miss."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Aw Izzy, you look so pretty. Did your daddy help you get ready?" You asked the little girl, her hair neatly pulled back into a bun, glitter scattered on her hair and blue sparkly eyeshadow matched the shades of blue in her outfit. She looked like a princess.

"Nooo. Daddy doesn't know how to do makeup. Aunt Claire did." She said excitedly and smiled with glee.

Huh, that must be the woman that sometimes picked her up. For the longest time you thought it was her mom. But not after Leon had told you about her mom not being in the picture. Still, you thought maybe you'd get more out of her than her dad.

"Oh she did a really good job!" You smiled at her as you stood with her, waiting for her turn to perform. "Is your daddy coming?"

"Yes. He said he would." Good.

"And your mommy? Is she coming too?" You squinted an eye, knowing you probably shouldn't push your luck, but kids usually never lied, and you wanted to know for sure.

"Oh, I don't have a mommy. Just daddy and Aunt Claire. Oh and Uncle Chris. But he's not around much." She said it so blankly it reminded you of her dad.

It made your heart sink, to think her mom had abandoned her. Which you had the feeling was the case based on the defensive and almost resentful way Leon spoke about it when you met. But somehow it didn't seem to bother Izzy.

"Well I'm sure your daddy will love to see you perform tonight. It's almost your turn, go find the other girls, I'll be right here."

She gave you an eager nod and a smile as she ran to her friends, their names getting introduced by the principal a minute later. You stayed in a corner mostly out of sight, but enough where you could see the stage. At one point, you looked towards the far end of the gym, at the top of the stairs. You saw a familiar leather jacket, the man leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest as he watched the stage. You couldn't really see from your distance, but you had a feeling he was smiling. But you were definitely smiling when his eyes found yours.

"Oh my God you did so good! I can't believe you learned that in a few months!" You said to Izzy, her tiny hand in yours as you walked her through the gym to find Leon.

As you walked out to the hallway, you caught a couple moms whispering not so quietly about the unknown man in a leather jacket that was standing by himself and it almost made you laugh.

"Hey, is Isabella's dad here? I see she's still attached to your hip." Your friend, Emily walked your way, eyeing the little girl, then you. You raised an eyebrow at her, knowing she just wanted to see who was the mysterious hot single dad she kept hearing about.

"Mmmm, yeah he's here. He's—" You looked around for a bit, quickly spotting him by himself. You smiled to yourself when your eyes met. "Izzy, your daddy is over there, go. I'll be there in a sec."

She nodded and ran to her dad. She jumped as soon as she was in front of him and he lifted her in his arms in a heartbeat. You heard her giggles as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he sat her on his hip, hugging her.

"He's hot. Like really hot." Emily spoke, making you look at her. Your eyes widened and you snorted quietly. "What? He is. He totally gives biker vibes. I wonder if he has a motorcycle. You should ask him to take you on a ride sometime."

"Emily." You scolded her with a laugh.

"I'm serious! You should go out with him. Or I will."

"I'm leaving now, I don't not want to get written up for sexual harassment of a parent. Goodbye Ms. Robinson." You laughed, waving your hand at her dismissively as you walked towards Leon and Izzy. So you could say goodbye to Izzy. Or so you told yourself.

"Miss! Look what my daddy gave me." Izzy showed you a beautiful white carnation.

You smiled in awe, both at the flower but also at the sweet gesture. Leon definitely didn't seem the type to give gifts. Maybe you were wrong.

"Oh wow, that's such a pretty flower! It's almost as pretty as you Izzy. But you're prettier." You giggled with the little girl, who nuzzled further into Leon's chest in a fit of giggles. He thought you weren't looking, but you definitely caught the tiny smile on his face.

"But you're prettier, Miss! At school we call her Miss Pretty. Cause she's really pretty all the time, right daddy? You were saying that Miss looked really pretty the other day." Izzy lifted her head to look at her dad with her big blue eyes.

His own eyes grew a bit and a dust of pink covered his otherwise pale face.

"Isabella." Leon said her name sternly, but the girl just giggled even more. He rolled his eyes and looked at you, a tiny grin on his lips and that same air of confidence that never seemed to falter, even if he was embarrassed. "Okay, say bye to your friends so we can go home. And say bye to Miss Pretty."

Now it was your turn to be fluttered.

"Okay. Bye Miss, I'll see you on Monday!" Izzy hugged your waist as soon as Leon put her on her feet. You smiled, crouching down to embrace her properly.

"I'll see you on Monday Izzy." You smiled, watching as she took off to find her friends. You stood up slowly, eyes meeting with Leon's. "I'm glad you came. She was really happy."

"Mhmm, I'm glad I came too." His eyes lingered on you.

God, you were pretty. He took in the way your hair was done differently, maybe for the occasion. Your makeup was different too, nothing too glamorous, but some shimmer on your eyelids and a lipstick that matched. And your dress, it suited you perfectly. But he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't prefer to see it on his floor instead.

"And thank you for talking your way out of her suspension. She's a good kid, I wouldn't want something like that on her file."

"Of course. I adore Izzy, and I've seen first hand she's a sweet kid. Off the record, I didn't want her to get suspended for standing up for herself. You taught her well." You smiled, trying to ignore the blood rushing to your face.

"Yeah well, I try."

"But I hope this isn't a one time thing though. It'd be good for Izzy if you came around more often." You bit your lip softly, feeling his deep gaze burn into your skin. He nodded, leaning ever so slightly closer. Nothing any prying eyes would notice, but you definitely did.

"I'll be around, but in the meantime," He bit his lip, eyes darting around for a second before he leaned down to your ear for a split second, saying, "Dinner is still on the table."

"Mr—"

"I swear to God if you call me Mr. Kennedy one more time."

You leaned back, a smile threatening to pull around your lips. And you nodded, digging into your purse for a second before you pulled out a piece of paper and shoved it into his palm.

"I'll be seeing you around, Leon."

He watched you as you walked with a smile on your face. He furrowed his eyebrows curiously but it quickly turned into a grin when he saw what you had written on the post-it note.

Juat say when. I actually answer my phone. —Miss

"Fuck me." He sighed quietly to himself, shaking his head as he shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and rubbed a hand over his freshly trimmed jaw before calling Izzy. "Izzy, c'mon."

"You, you evil child are in so much trouble," he chuckled, taking his daughter's hand in his, "You can't be telling daddy's secrets like that, bee. You're gonna get me in trouble."

"But she's really pretty! And nice. And she makes really good brownies. I like her a lot." She giggled, looking up at Leon with a smile that reminded him that not everything in this world was pain and misery. "You should take her on a date!"

"I asked if she wanted to, actually."

"Oh my God really? Did she say yes?"

Leon looked at his little girl with narrowed eyes and smiled, "Since when are you so nosy? Hmph."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't think Leon would be the chivalrous type to come pick you at your door for your date. But there he was, leaning on his Jeep Wrangler as he waited for you to come down. And when you did, fuck, it made him want to take you right then and there.

"Woah… You look.." He blew out a small breath and his lips curved up. You nodded, biting your lip softly.

"Thank you. You look good too."

"So uh, is Italian alright? I know a really good place downtown."

The food was great, amazing even, but this, oh this was better than any fancy restaurant. Leon pressed your back against the door, his own body pressing you further into it, preventing from moving. Not that you wanted to. He had one of your wrists pinned above your head as he kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth to savor the faint wine you had earlier. He used his other hand to hoist you up around his waist, a moan slipping past your throat when his belt brushed against your clothed clit.

You swore you never had sex on the first date. But for Leon you would be the biggest whore if that’s what he wanted.

“Mmm Leon,” You panted softly, he hummed as he moved his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. “Izzy. Is she—”

“Not here. She’s at my friend’s for the night.” He answered in between kisses.

“You have a friend that watches your kid while you get laid? Aren’t you lucky?”

“Can we not talk about my babysitting arraignments right now?" He muttered out in between kisses, his breath hot against your skin.

A soft giggle fell past your lips and you nodded, grabbing the back of his head to kiss his lips again. A satisfied hum rumbled in his throat as he moved his lips with yours, keeping one hand on your ass and the other found the back of your neck as he moved you off the door. He was walking, somewhere, you assumed his bedroom. He parted from your lips to half watch where he was going and you took that opportunity to drag your lips along his jaw. You could tell he hadn't shaved in a few days, but you liked the tingle it gave.

Leon let out a breathy hum at the feeling of your lips roaming freely along his skin. He bit his lips softly as he fumbled with the doorknob, he eventually got it open. He didn't bother closing it and his feet took him straight to his bed.

He grabbed the back of your head and pressed another hard kiss to your lips before your back hit his bed. Soft duvets pooled around you as he laid you down, pulling your bottom lip with him as he moved back.

"Fuck, I knew you'd look so pretty on my bed." He breathed out as he watched you, hair pooling around your head, and makeup already a mess.

You gave him a shy smile as you sat up on your elbows. His eyes stayed on you as he sunk his weight on one knee, a knee he placed right in between your thighs. And his eyes never left you as he slowly undid the buttons of his navy blue dress shirt. His leather jacket was long gone by the time you had stepped foot inside his apartment.

You watched him with big eyes as he shrugged off the piece of clothing, leaving his muscular chest of full display. And fuck, if he looked huge under layers of clothing, he looked massive now. Your eyes took him all in, an arrangement of scars covered his otherwise pale skin. Scars and all, he was still the most attractive man you had ever met.

"You look so pretty when you look at me like that." He chuckled softly, his fingers coming up under your chin to make you look up at him, clearly noticing the way you were staring at him, with those eyes and your lips parted.

"You think I'm pretty? Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?" You responded without thinking, the words coming out with a breath.

A smile formed on his lips and he shook his head, watching with amusement as your shaky hands touched his belt. You ran your tongue over your lips as you unbuckled his belt with shaky hands. Leon watched you carefully, his breath picking up when your fingers itched closer to his cock as it strained against his boxer briefs. But when you sat up fully, about to move your knees he grabbed your hands, making you stop. Your eyes shot up to his face with alarm, afraid you had made him uncomfortable.

"Next time baby," He said with restraint. It wasn't that he didn't want to feel your mouth around him. He'd kill for that. But he could be selfish another time. "Lemme take care of you tonight, yeah?"

You breathed out shakily, the panic leaving you as soon as the words left his mouth, and a pool of arousal replaced your uneasiness. You nodded.

"Yeah, okay."

He gave you a smile that made you ache and he gestured to you to lie down.

"Lay down for me." He coaxed with a voice so smooth it almost made you whine. He eased a hand up your bare thighs as you did as he told you.

Your back touched his soft covers again as you took in a sharp breath. You closed your eyes in anticipation as you heard him move around for a second. You gasped when you felt him drag you to the end of the bed by your ankle. You lifted your head and fuck, you could've come right there and there at the sight of Leon, on his knees, with his head between your legs.

"Leon.." You whined almost desperately, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable.

A soft smirk tugged at his lips at the whine of his name and he lifted his head to look at you with feign innocence.

"What's that pretty girl?" He sneaked a hand under your dress, his thumb barely grazing your clit through your panties. You twitched, a sharp gasp leaving your lips.

"Please." A weak plea was all you could say.

"What? Want my mouth on you? Want me to finger you open? Make you come all over my tongue?" He spoke with arrogance, with that same arrogance he always fucking wore. And you hated just how much it turned you on.

"Yes! Yes! Yes, just please, touch me." You were so pathetic but you didn't care.

"Oh trust me baby, I'm gonna do so much more than just touch you. You think you can handle me?" He tugged down your panties with such ease and so casually you didn't even realize he did, you were more focused on his question.

"I… Yes I— Of course I can handle you."

Leon chuckled at how fast you responded to his question and he bit his bottom lip as he scrunched up your dress up to your hips with his free hand, his eyes lingering on your cunt for a second before he met your gaze again.

"Tap me twice if it's too much, yeah? A sweet elementary teacher like yourself might not be used to.. Well, me."

You scrunched up your face a bit at his comment, shooting him a glare that made him chuckle.

"I won't break Leon."

A malicious smirk fell on his lips, "That's the point."

He didn't give you time to reply with another witty remark when he decided he was done talking. He sunk his head between your thighs and his tongue dragged along your clit without a warning. You jolted with a shudder, a loud gasp leaving your lips when you felt his mouth on your already sensitive clit.

"Oh my—" Your mouth fell open, your eyes slightly fluttering as he circled his tongue over your clit. "Oooh fuck."

Your head fell back against the mattress as he continued to work you with his tongue. He drew circles around your clit before he moved down to your wet entrance then back up to your clit. Over and over until you were writhing on the bed.

"Shit— Leon—!" The sound that left your mouth was pathetic, a mixture between a cry and a whimper when he slipped two of his long fingers into you.

He groaned against you, lapping at your pussy as he slid his fingers in and out with ease. And you couldn't help the way you were grinding back against his face. It had been a long fucking time since a guy had even bothered to eat you out, let alone like this. He didn't mind it, but the way you kept sliding up the bed every time he curled up his fingers against that one spot was annoying him. With his free hand he grabbed your hip with a tight grip and slid your body back down, holding you against his face. And he held you there, with his fingers deep inside your pussy, his mouth lapping at your clit and both of your legs thrown over his shoulders. You had nowhere to go and he was more than pleased about that.

"Fuck fuck— Shit Leon please—" You eyes were rolled into the back of your head, head thrown back as you writhed against his face. "Please— I'm so close please, please don't stop."

Fuck, you sounded so pretty when you pleaded to him like that. He could feel his cock strain harder against his pants just at the sound. He hummed, closing his lips around your clit and suckled. You didn't mean to, but your hand fell to the back of his hair and you pulled. And my God you pulled hard.

Leon growled at the feeling of your fingers tangling and tugging at his hair. The vibrations made you whine and you did it again. But this time he pulled back enough to speak.

"Pull my hair one more time, I swear to God." He grunted the words. But he wasn't angry. God, he wasn't angry in the slightest. But he knew he only had so much self control left in his body.

You didn't reply, you simply loosened your grip on his honey brown strands, but you kept your hand on the back of his head and his lips found your clit again. And you did your best to not latch on to his hair again, but fuck it was so hard when his fingers hit so deep and his tongue felt so good. You were so fucking close, you couldn't help it.

"Mhmm yeah that's it, I know you wanna come. Yeah, you wanna come don't you sweet girl?" He grunted, spitting on your clit as he scissored you open, the palm of his hand rutting against your clit. "I know you do, c'mon, come for me."

When you felt his tongue on your clit again you couldn't help it. Your mouth fell wide open as your heels dug into his shoulders. Your eyes were squeezed shut as your mind went blank and you couldn't help yourself, your fingers dug so deep into his hair as you held his face against you he actually grunted in pain.

But he didn't stop, he lapped at your juices as you convulsed under him, the lewd sound of his palm against your wet cunt shooting straight to his cock.

He didn't stop sucking at your clit until you were twitching with aftershock and you were weakly pulling his head back by the ends of his hair. Only then his fingers left you and he was pulling back. He watched you through narrowed eyes as you panted, your hands now on your face as you tried to come back down to earth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he rose his feet.

He fumbled with his pants as he climbed on the bed and before you even realized it, he grabbed you, hands under your armpits to drag you up the bed. You stammered at the sudden manhandling.

"Leon—" He didn't even let you finish before he was flipping you on your stomach, his bare back pressing you down on the mattress.

"What did I say about pulling my hair, hm?" He breathed out into your ear, harshly tugging down his boxer briefs enough to pull out his cock.

"I— I'm sorry—" You gasped as he not to gently unzipped your dress and pulled it over your head.

He didn't let you sit up though. With a large hand in between your shoulders, he sat up enough to sit back on his knees, his cock in his hand as he pumped himself a few times.

"No you're not." He sighed out, eyes closing for a split second as he dragged his cock between your wet folds. He heard you whine against his pillows, but you made no effort to move from where he held you. "Move that pretty little ass of yours up here. Need you to stay down though."

With a soft whimper, you stuck your ass up in the air, meeting his hips. His eyes fell on your ass, lips slightly parted he slowly sank himself into you. He watched as his cock disappeared inside your tight walls until only a little bit of him was left. But he didn't want to push you too hard, you couldn't fit all of him.

Leon sat still for what felt like years, but in reality it was merely a minute or so. His eyes were closed as he dragged a hand up and down your back, easing you until he knew he could move. It took you some time to adjust to his size, your eyes were squeezed shut as you fists clenched his sheets. But it wasn't long before you were begging him to fuck you.

"Leon— Please. Need you to fuck me, please." You muttered into the sheets as you turned your head to the side so that your cheek was pressed into the mattress.

"Mhmmm, 'course you do." Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

He dragged his cock out slowly, slow enough for you to feel every inch of him, until you were nothing but pathetic noises. He was almost all the way out when he slammed in again, making your body slide up the mattress. He did the same again, and again, fucking your body into the mattress like no one you had ever been with before. This man was going to be the death of you. Your student's dad. There were so many things wrong with what you were doing, but fuck, you couldn't list a single one of those things that could ever top this.

You were brought back to this reality by the feeling of his lips dragging up your bare spine. You felt a cold shudder run through your whole body as he leaned over you, his bare back pressed against yours and his hips rutting against your ass, so much so you could feel the rough material of his pants brush against your ass and the sound of his belt rattling with each snap of his hips. But that only made it better. To think he was so eager to fuck you he couldn't be bothered to take his pants off. That idea alone made you see white.

With your mind on a different planet entirely, you didn't realize the grip he had on your hair. Until you felt him pull your head back by your hair. His fingers were tangled to the root as he pressed his lips to your ear.

"You like how that feels, hm?" You had a feeling his question was rhetorical, that you weren't supposed to enjoy the forcefulness of his actions, because he was clearly punishing you for what you did earlier. But you would be lying if you said it didn't make you even wetter. He definitely felt the way you clenched around him and he laughed. "Oh? So you do huh? Pretty Miss Teacher likes it when I'm rough with her?"

You were nodding against his grip, as best as you could anyway, a soft cry being a pretty good sign that you did, indeed liked it. You should be ashamed of how much you wanted this man to ruin you, to use you as he pleased. But the way he was buried deep inside your cunt felt way too good to feel any shame.

"Yes! Yes, please be rough with me." You managed to choke out. You heard the groan that rumbled in his chest at your words.

Leon was flipping you on your back and slamming back into you before you even had time to protest. You instantly wrapped your legs around his torso as he resumed his pace, only that this time, his hips snapped much harshly with each thrust he gave you. His lips found your neck as one of his hands rested on the column of your neck, he didn't squeeze or touch your throat, he simply held you down as he fucked you into the mattress.

His fingers twitched, the urge to wrap them around your throat making his cock throb, but he otherwise decided against it, not wanting to push you too hard on your first night together. So to avoid giving in to his urges he itched to move his hand beside your head instead. You felt his hand leave your neck and something deep within your core didn't want him to, so your hand flew to catch his wrist.

"Choke me." You blurted out, so heated that you didn't even think of how embarrassed you normally would be to ask such a thing.

Leon lifted his head enough to look at your face, his lips parted as he panted softly, strands of his hair falling over his eyes but he could see you clearly. He heard you loud and clear, too.

"Shit baby," He groaned out, lips crashing against yours in a messy kiss before he returned his hand to your neck, but this time, he actually wrapped his fingers around your throat. "You're gonna be the fucking death of me. Such a pretty thing, sweet to everyone, with those pretty dresses of yours and that beautiful smile of yours. And you're asking me to choke you. Fuck."

He squeezed ever so slightly, just enough to make you feel a bit dizzy, but in the best way possible. You were so close, you could feel the burning ache in the pit of your stomach, and with the way his cock hit your most sensitive spot with every thrust, you knew you wouldn't last long.

"Ah— Shit— Leon—" Your sounds were choked out, barely audible, but he heard the way you were begging, the way you said his name, it drove him fucking insane. "I wanna—"

"Mhmm, I know baby. You wanna come all over my cock, hm? Yeah you do," He dug his teeth into his already red lip as he sneaked his free hand in between your bodies and began rubbing harsh circles around your clit, making your hips jerk. "Yeah that's it— Fuck, atta girl. Lemme feel you fall apart for me."

He didn't even have to tell you, you were seeing white the second his thumb touched your clit. You dug your nails into his skin, surely leaving a few marks to find in the morning. But he couldn't care less. He couldn't help but moan at the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock. He held you down to the mattress as he drilled into you, his own release not too far now.

"Yeah— yeah that's it. Good girl. You're such a good girl." He dragged through pants, his fingers squeezing your throat tightly. "Fuck— Fuck I'm gonna— Shit."

He was about to pull himself out, so as to not finish inside you, but you held him tight, legs securely wrapped around his torso. He looked you through half lidded eyes as you nodded at him.

"Please." You couldn't say much, with his hand on your throat and all, but he understood what you meant and the idea of you letting him come inside you made him lose the little control he still had left.

"Oh fuck— fuck that's a good girl— Ah—" His head fell to your neck as he cradled your head with the hand not your neck and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fell still, holding you down on his cock as he came with a throaty moan. "Mhmmm. Just like that. Take it just like that."

His hand slowly released your throat, and you gasped softly as your head spun with adrenaline. Your eyes fluttered shut as you held him, arms lazily thrown over his shoulders as your fingers lightly threaded his hair. You felt his breath hot on your neck as he panted. Your own breathing was as hard and fast as his for a minute or so. But he didn't mind holding until you both calmed down. It was a while before you felt him move, probably when he got tired of holding his weight. He left a kiss on your jaw before he moved to lay on his back beside you.

Leon turned his head to look at you and he couldn't help but smile to himself, face glistening with sweat, makeup absolutely ruined and hair tousled and pooled around your head. And even like that you were still the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"I wasn't too rough on you, was I?" He asked quietly, knowing he sometimes could be a bot too much.

You turned your head to look at him, and you found those pale blue eyes staring at you with concern, you gave him a tired smile.

"Of course not. I… I liked it. I don't think anyone's ever made me come like that before." You admitted with a dry laugh. His eyebrows shot up a bit with surprise, but that surprise quickly turned into pride.

"Well, I do like to be the exception."

"Oh shut up." You playfully smacked his arm and he chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile, but your expression fell a bit when you thought he probably would want you to go home. That's usually how that was, right? I mean he had a daughter, he probably didn't want his daughter's teacher— who he had just fucked senseless, to stay the night. Right? Probably not. You sighed softly as you moved your hair away from your face and sat up. You missed the confused look Leon gave you.

"You leaving or something?" He asked with furrowed eyebrows as he sat up, watching the way you were reaching over the edge of the bed to grab your dress from the floor. But you quickly sat back to look at him, also confused.

"I mean… I'm supposed to, right?"

Leon scrunched up his face with confusion and slightly tilted his head, "You're supposed to?"

"Well. Uh… Yeah. I mean, Izzy—" He cut you off right then and there.

"Hey no, it isn't like that. I don't… I don't do that." You frowned at him, confused by what he meant. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, getting the strands out of his face. "I wasn't going to fuck you then ask you to leave. I'm not like that. It's late, and I drove you. Izzy isn't coming home tonight. You can stay. If you want of course, if not I can drive you home, I just—"

Now it was your turn to cut him off. He gasped in surprise when you crashed your lips against his. His lips curved up into a smile as he held your face. He kissed you much softly now.

"I wouldn't mind staying." You finally said, smiling against his lips.

"I wouldn't mind either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren't exactly sure when, but you had fallen asleep, with Leon's arms wrapped around you as he held you to his chest. But rays of sunlight were hitting your face now as they slipped through the open curtains he probably forgot to close the night prior. You scrunched up your nose, squinting your eyes as you pressed your face further into the pillow. But it was too late now, you were awake and there was no way to fall back asleep. As much as you would love to just cuddle up to Leon and sleep some more. Speaking of, as you peeled your eyes open you saw him, still sleeping peacefully next to you.

He laid on his stomach, the covers pooled around his waist as his face was buried deep into his pillow. His honey brown hair was tousled from sleep and from your doing the night prior, and loose strands hung over the side of his face. God, he looked absolutely gorgeous. You really should've felt guilty for sleeping with one of your classroom parents. But when you woke up to a sight like that? You regretted nothing.

You debated on staying in bed with him, at least until he woke up and decided to take you home, but you really needed a bathroom. So you carefully maneuvered your way out of his bed, dressed yourself in the first thing you found— his dress shirt from last night and tip toed out of his bedroom. You felt so weird walking around his house without his permission, but he hadn't exactly given you a tour last night. So you ventured until you found a bathroom. By the time you were done Leon still hadn't left his bedroom so you decided to find his kitchen for a glass of water at least. You looked around on your way to the kitchen. He wasn't much of a decorator. It was definitely the apartment of a single man. But as soon as you walked to the kitchen you saw countless drawings and pictures hanging from the fridge.

Your heart warmed as you walked to see the drawings up close. There were definitely Izzy's. You smiled to yourself at the photo you saw next to one of the drawings, one of Leon, a few years younger, holding a baby in a hospital blanket. All of the other photos you saw were similar. It was only Leon and Isabella in all of them. Not a single one of Izzy's mom.

Did she never want to be a part of her life? Was she truly never around?

"You tried to run away last night, and when I wake up you're gone, too? Was I that bad?" You jumped at the sound of Leon's voice in the kitchen.

You cursed loudly, holding a hand to your rapidly beating heart as you glared at him, making him laugh.

"Asshole. I wanted to use the bathroom, and you were still asleep." You shrugged your shoulders, eyeing him carefully. Still no shirt, but he was wearing a pair of plaid pajamas pants now. He had his phone in his hand and was scratching the back of his head, attempting to smooth down his bedhead.

"You look pretty with my shirt. Looks better on you actually." He hummed as he padded through the kitchen to stand in front of you.

He stood in front of you, watching you intently for a few seconds before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

You giggled against his lips, happily kissing him. You threw your arms over his shoulders and he rested his hands on your hips.

"Mmm, you hungry?" He asked, brushing his nose against yours and his lips were curled up into a grin. You nodded, biting your bottom lip. "Me too."

You gasped when he hoisted you up on the kitchen island. You gripped his shoulders as you watched him with wide eyes. But he said nothing as he nudged your legs open with his knee and stood in between them.

"What? I said I was hungry." He smirked as he captured your lips with his own one more time before he dropped to his knees in front of you.

Without taking his eyes off from you, he threw one of your ankles over his shoulder and pressed his lips to the inside of your knee. Slowly, his lips itched closer and closer to your already dripping core. You held your breath with anticipation as he nibbled on your inner thigh. His lips were so close to where you needed him the most. His head got lost between your thighs and your hand instinctively fell on the back of his hair. His breath fanned hot against your clit and—

You jumped, your ass nearly slipping right off the counter, but Leon steadied you with a quick sturdy hand on your thigh. He was also startled by the sound of his phone ringing next to you. He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

You took a deep breath, inhaling sharply as you looked beside you at his phone screen.

"It says Claire."

Leon shot up to his feet in a split second when you said that and he was answering the call almost frantically.

"Hey. What's up? Everything alright?" He said into the phone, still standing between your parted legs. You frowned softly with concern, your hand resting on his chest as he listened to the woman on the line. "Shit, really?"

He said nothing for a few seconds, just humming and nodding to himself before he pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out an exasperated sigh.

"No, you're okay, thanks for calling, Claire. Just give her some cereal, play her a Disney movie or something while I get there." He finally spoke, finally looking at you. And his blue eyes looked apologetic. "Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen. Yeah. See you soon."

Leon placed his phone on the counter beside you and sighed. You looked up at him, eyes big with worry.

"It's Izzy. I left her at my friend’s and apparently she woke up fuzzy. She's been crying all morning asking for me, so, gotta go pick her up." He explained, the corner of his lip curving up into an apologetic smile. You exhaled softly, the anxiety leaving your chest.

You gave him a smile and pressed a kiss to his lips, "I get it. Don't worry. I'll get dressed so you can pick her up. I'm sorry I kept you from picking her up last night."

"Oh, no sweetheart, don't say that. Last night was incredible. She just gets… Clingy I suppose." He sighed as he helped you down from the counter.

"You're her only parent. It's normal. I should know." You gave him a smile as you started to head to his bedroom to get your clothes, but he grabbed your wrist, tugging you to his chest before you could.

"Hey, I still owe you breakfast. Can I take you out again sometime?"

The smile on your face was so wide you probably wouldn't be able to hide it even if you tried.

"Yeah, I'll be around."

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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bluemoonhoon · 4 months

Text

stupid in love | for valentine’s day

‧₊˚♡𓂃 enhypen hyung line x fem reader fluff works established relationship, non idol!au, just silly cheesy love.

heeseung ₊˚⊹♡ book a flight to paris only one way

having pancakes at 3am was something that was becoming a weekly tradition between heeseung and you. and while he was always the one who was craving them, he was awful when it came to flipping them around, so, just like every other week, he was sitting in the kitchen island watching how you flipped the pancakes and put them on a plate, he wanted to help you but the insane amount of times he almost broke something there had him in observing duty. and he didn´t mind it one bit (he did mind washing the dishes after but he wouldn´t tell you that), he got to see you (even if it was your back) in his sweatshirt, with your hair up and glasses in the warm light of the decorative lamps, and his thoughts always came back to how he was incredibly lucky to have you in his life, someone so perfect to him, someone who loved him as much as he loved you, he wanted you to give you everything you could wish for, he just didn´t know where to start. "should we go to france on our anniversary love?" he asked almost in a whisper "huh? its still months away?" you answered without looking at him too concentrated in the pan in front of you. "its always better to think ahead of time, we can ask for vacation days at work" he said simply "for how long?" you asked him turning off the stove and making your way in front of him "we´ll know that when we get there" he smiled mischievously while grabbing a pancake with his fork and blowing you a kiss.

jongseong ₊˚⊹♡ paper rings are good for now

neither you nor jay had a lot of experience when it came to taking care of little people, sure, he was the designated mom friend dealing with twenty-something year old men, not with kids whose safety relied solely on him. but as scared as he was he would not show you that, if he panics, you panic. so, here he was, "babysitting" his nephews as a favor, and it was low-key a lot easier than he thought. maybe it was because you were a perfectionist and had created a timetable with activities you could do to avoid boredom and tantrums. and now he is sitting in a chair that was clearly too small for him working in a table that was not created for someone his size on some origami pieces with his niece and nephew while you explained how to do a paper boat. and even if he wasn´t paying attention to his boat, he was paying attention to you, not you explaining, just you. looking at you was his favorite thing to do in the world, he could do it for hours and never get tired of it, so he didn't even realize the moment the kids were done with their boats. only seeing how they ran to the couch in front of the tv to do movie night and how you went to the kitchen to make some popcorn, but he was still sitting in that uncomfortable little chair folding a little strip of paper getting up after some minutes joining you at the kitchen "here you go" he said while putting his arm around your shoulders showing you a pink paper ring "what is this for?" you asked looking up at him smiling. "ill give you the real thing soon" he said while kissing your temple.

jaeyun ₊˚⊹♡ let’s get matching tattoos

in the years you´ve been dating jake there were some things you ended up learning of him: how his voice gets higher when he sees a dog, or how he becomes a social butterfly while drunk. how he was an early sleeper and he wouldn't stay up until midnight because "he needs his beauty sleep" and also how he never drinks caffeine after 7pm because he gets hyperactive. so you can imagine your shocked face when you walk home just to see jake pouring himself what you assume is his second cup of coffee and he explains to you how it was because he couldn't find hot chocolate and was craving a warm drink. and while you didn´t make a big deal out of it because it was still ´early´ and he wasn´t getting all excited, the clock reached 0:30 and instead of cuddling and listening to his light snores all warmed up wrapped in the blankets, you were listening to jake insane late night thoughts and questions. "ynie, what do you think happens when poison expires? does it become more poisonous? how would that work" he asked while looking at the ceiling "I don't know jake, just go to sleep" you said avoiding his questions "but how does sleeping work, if our body shuts down why do we dream and why do we remember it? would you like to see your dreams when you are awake?" he continued "sure" you answered him hoping for him to finally fall asleep. "should we get matching tattoos?" he asked "yes" you said without registering his words thanks to your sleepy mind "great!" he said hugging you and lulling you into sleep "go to sleep babe" you said quietly "good night darling" he said hugging you tighter and putting his head on top of yours.

sunghoon ₊˚⊹♡ what’d you think about sharing our last name?

with sunghoons extremely busy schedule, he learned to find happiness in moments of simple nothing, he found joy in the little things of life, in its monotony. he loves picking you up from work after he got out of his office, he loves holding your hand while walking on your way home after going grocery shopping, he loves seeing both of your toothbrushes on the bathroom counter, he loves your weekly going out for dinner dates, and most importantly, he loves you. he loves keeping a routine, and he loves that you were part of that routine, he absolutely adores knowing that every single plan in his life includes you. he could not fathom the thought of not having you in his life; he tried to not think of it because it would make him spiral, and because you would always erase his insecurities. he knows that he would do whatever was in his power to have you in his life for as long as possible because he was happy simply being yours. he blinked looking for you only to find you cuddling him in the living room. he didn´t remember why his thoughts went that way when he was supposed to watch a drama with you since both of you had the day off. he wasn´t sure if you saw him spacing out since you were leaning on his shoulder way too invested in the tv. and he loved that. doing nothing with you, even if he was not paying attention, just sharing his space with you made sunghoon feel overjoyed "angel, do you think yn park sounds nice? well I could also be sunghoon yln. or maybe we can also merge them you know park-yln or yln-park" he ranted still looking at nothing in front of him but holding you closer. making you raise your head off his shoulder, pause the tv and look at him surprised "what are you talking about?"

#enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #sim jaeyun #lee heeseung #park sunghoon #park jongseong #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bluemoonhoonworks

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writingforatwistedworld · 6 months

Note

oooo ok ok ok

so what bout a platonic deuce, epel, and lilia with a gn reader that kinda talks out loud to themselves when they play?

like they say how much they want to be this character's brother, or how they bet this character would be a good parental figure, etc. or even when another character says/does something they don't like they kinda just, voice their opinion on it?

just their reaction to reader talking out loud/voicing their thoughts lmao srry if this doesn't make sense

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, violence, description of violence, obsessive themes, religion, war (if you squint)

Deuce Spade/Epel Felmier/Lilia Vanrouge-Player voicing their thoughts whilst playing (PLATONIC!)

Deuce is a calm guy, they said. Deuce is a chill guy, they said

Well whoever they are haven't seen him when you are around, behind the screen or not

This guy is just happy that you confide in him enough that you voice your thoughts to him

Don't mention that you are just on venting-you-thoughts mode when you play… Like seriously, don't.

He is always more than happy to listen whenever you are talking.

Could be about how much you like his newest card design but could also be about what you want for dinner. Idk? I would recommend something light like banana muffins with blueberries. It's very tasty. Trust me.

If you could see through the coding he would be like “Oh really.” and “You don't say.” or “What? Really?”

What I am trying to say is that he is probably more engaged in this “conversation than most would be

If some poor NPC “interrupts” (aka not heating what he is hearing and starting to talk) he will show them how fragile the ordinary human nose is. In other words, fist meet face. Nose make crack. NPC is screaming.

But on another note, should you voice wishing to be a family member of his, say for example his sibling, he would be over the moon

He is in lalaland, imagining how he and his younger siblings would enjoy their free time together. Heck, probably taking care of some chicks

Oh, and what if you were his older sibling? Like, wow, you would be such a cool role model! You probably wouldn't be a thug like him so that makes you even… cooler (?) in his eyes

Dude over here is having such a great time imagining being your sibling he is low-key looking like he ascended

But then he starts to imagine the darker sides of life

Like how his younger sibling could be bullied in school whilst he is stuck on this island

Or even worse if you are the older one of you two, you might start dating!

I don't know if it is funny or sad that he is feeling a sensation of loss over a sibling he never had

Like bro, chill. Don't beat up that student that looks similar to the imaginary partner you just made up in your mind. They can't be held accountable for your min-OH NO DON… Didn't he want to stop with this?

Epel is literally frothing at his mouth when he hears your innermost thoughts

Now now, I know this is creepy (like wtf get yourself together man) but I promise he is totally normal (who am I kidding he looks like he has rabies) and is also a totally chill guy (is it obvious that I am lying?)

Religious indoctrination or whatnot

Imagine, you are already isolated in a village filled with religious zealots, always hearing how great that person (you) is

And then they spill everything on their mind to you

Give him a day or two and he will be back to normal… if we ignore that poor student in the corner

Like man, you noted one single time how much you liked this NPCs design and the next thing he knows he is seeing red

It's kinda like seeing your favorite family member favoring that one annoying cousin who is related to you over five corners

Has a notebook and writes everything he deems important down… which is a lot to be fair (but let the guy have his weird hobby, ok?)

But then you mention how you wish you were a family member of his and oh my god I think he is this close to breaking the fourth wall for real this time

This hits home to him

Remember how I told you about his village's eight lines higher than this one? Yeah.

There had been others his age but they were little to none and his village is in the middle of nowhere so…

But we also know how much he loves his grandma so it is a given that he would cherish you as well

Also, his god saying that they would want to be related to him. Ugh. He is honored so much that it is disgusting

But I could see this isolation and certain closeness you only get with a sibling also being not so good for you

What if you like the other villagers your age more than him? What if his girly appearance drives you away from him? (Bro u probably more dangerous with those looks than without them bc no one expects you to be able to throw hands but go on)

This leads to more and more self-doubts until he more or less bursts and just turns into someone no one wants to be around because of how aggressive he is

Thank god for the fourth wall or else you wouldn't see him like his old, not-so-destructive self anymore

Lilia is… something

His interest in you isn't purely romantic. It started out as something more like him holding onto something so he wouldn't go mad during “those days” *add fire noises and screaming in the background*

So it's more of a “I BETTER BELIEVE IN SOMETHING OR ELSE I MIGHT LOOSE MY MIND” than “Omg I am such a good follower te-he” situation

Little to no one has had access to the Overseer's thoughts and he is just randomly hearing them whilst thinking about what to make for dinner

Like Epel, he is pretty intense when it comes to you. Difference is that Epels “interest” in you stems from a place of… let's say religious views and Lilias from “those days” *fire noises and screaming in the background intensifies*

But unlike the guy who more or less shares his height and is a cotton candy version of himself concerning their hair he doesn't write down your thoughts

Oh no

This guy listens to it like he is hearing the world's greatest opera singer perform live in front of him

Thank goodness no one other than the other Diasomnia students mention your ramblings or else there would be heads flying

What? Can't a guy hope to have some special link to his deity? God, you all are so cold. Can't you even try to see his perspective? (I am joking please don't do what he does your reaction is totally valid)

But then you once mentioned how much you want to be part of his little family and whoops- there went his sanity

What if he had adopted you and Silver at the same time?

Wouldn't that be the cutest?

Sebek is almost screaming when he suddenly hears *ahem* LILIA-SAMA cooing at nothing out of nowhere

You two would be so cute growing up together and he would be the one honored to be this close to some kind of reincarnation of his God

But- but what if he was the only one knowing who you truly were? The other Faes (Malleus and Sebek being the exceptions) can't hear you so what if… what if you were also seen as some sort of weird outsider like Silver?

Don't get him wrong, the Faes have never shown hostility to his son but there was always that certain distance, Sebek and his family being one of the few accepting the young silver-haired knight as he was

Suddenly Lilia feels a certain kind of rage bubbling up to the surface like he hadn't felt in a long time

Silver… uh… you better hide that meatclea- *coughcough* I mean, legendary sword from your father

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musubi-sama · 1 month

Text

Game of Chicken

Satoru invited you to a club to see his favorite band play. But you have a boyfriend, so surely you can win this game of chicken?

CW: afab!reader x gojo satoru, modern au no curses, outdoor sex, piv, cunnilingus, DP if you squint.

AN: Shoutout to @/bunny584 and @/pseudowho for helping with two key elements! You two are amazing and I look up to you! And guess the name of the song and band I used.

WC: 5.1k | Link to AO3 if you prefer

~~~

Trying to quell the shivers of excitement and nerves, you focus on the road ahead of you. Glancing momentarily at the digital nav on your console, you change lanes in preparation to take the next exit. As you exit the freeway, you see another message arrive from Satoru.

>> Text me when you’ve parked and I’ll come down

You hadn’t planned on going out tonight, especially not planning to drive into the city and meet up with a new friend to go see a band at a local club. But when he sent you a text in the afternoon gauging your plans and interest, you all too eagerly responded yes.

Before you left for the evening, you sent off a message to your boyfriend:

<< going to Murasaki tonight, don’t wait up <3

An otherwise unremarkable drive, you spent the 30-minute trip with your music uncharacteristically low and your hands uncharacteristically fidgety on your steering wheel.

You’re just going to see a band with a friend. A friend, that you told your ridiculously tall, tanned, and handsome boyfriend about. A friend, whom your boyfriend assured you he is not worried about - you or him.

But each flick of the passing streetlights dances over your ticking hands gliding over the steering wheel. Light catches on the demure set of silver-shining rings your boyfriend bought you recently. They match a pair he wears on his right hand, while yours are thinner and more feminine for your left hand. The hands you hold when you’re sitting at home or walking around town.

Reaching Satoru’s building, you slip into the open visitor parking spot in the underground lot. Hopping out of your car, taking a deep breath to attempt to quell your nerves and quiet your hands, you send off a quick message:

<< hheree!

Damn your shaky hands! Again, sending off messages too quickly before you think.

A moment later after arriving in the cavernous, brutalist lobby, a shock of white hair attached to a tall, lanky body pops out of the elevator. Satoru is sporting a black and pink color block shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, distressed designer denim sitting perfectly on his hips and a sleek leather belt.

“Hey. Hi. C’mon up. How was the drive?” he says as you approach the elevator.

“The directions on the app sent me half-way around the city just to avoid the local roads,” you respond exasperated as you step into the elevator. The button for floor 41 is illuminated.

Satoru stands directly across from you and in a moment, you get a whiff of his sweet scent of vanilla and cherry. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and the lengths of necklace decorating your plunging neckline as you ride up the quiet elevator. It’s not like you’ve never spent time in a penthouse, in fact your boyfriend lives in one not too fa-.

Your thoughts are cut off as the elevator dings and opens up to a sprawling, blue and silver post-modern penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city. Satoru’s hand is resting in the space of your lower back, heat radiating into you but not quite making contact.

“Do you want a drink? We don’t need to leave just yet,” Satoru slips past you to the well-appointed bar area of his sprawling kitchen. A chill is left in the space where his hand sat, and it slides up your spine.

“Dirty martini, gin, if you have it would be lovely,” you take a seat at the oversized kitchen island seating. A drink will calm your nerves.

You’ve known Satoru for about a month, having met while in line for the deli counter during lunch. You both ordered sandwiches, then walked over to the drink cooler and tried to reach for the same can of seltzer, and somehow ended up next to each other at the register. After deciding to grab a seat and eat together, you exchange contact information and meet up for lunch weekly.

Knowing exactly what he was doing, Satoru carefully followed you around the deli creating “accidental” run-ins with you just so that he could sit down with you over lunch. A known playboy in the city, he was thinking only with his dick and with a goal in mind when he ran into you. And if tonight went well, you would be another notch in his bed post. And, if he played his cards right, a recurring one.

Satoru spent his entire life being gifted with everything. He owned the building you were standing in; his entire life was crafted for him specifically. Satoru only chose two things - his best friends and his sexual partners.

Satoru flashes a quick raised eyebrow at the request but quickly moves to grab the ingredients and set to mixing, “How many olives?”

“Hmm, four, please!”

You take in the view of the city from your perch. Even though it’s dark outside, you can still get a decent view as the lights are dimmed in the rest of the suite.

“Your drink,” Satoru slides the chilled and dangerously filled martini glass sitting atop a coaster across the shiny marble countertop towards you, not spilling a drop. He sits an old fashioned with four Luxardo cherries on a cocktail skewer in front of himself.

Satoru lifts his glass to yours, “kanpai!” as you gently bump your glasses together, still not spilling a drop. You take a quick sip and hum in satisfaction as the savory bite coats your tongue. You take a second, much larger sip before setting down your glass and picking up the skewer of olives.

“So,” you bite one olive off the stick, “who are we going to see tonight?”

The game of chicken has officially begun. You lay your first trap, shiny and red lips sliding around the piked olives.

“My best friend is the bassist in Jujutsu Kaisen and they’re playing a secret show tonight downtown.” Satoru follows your tease with a nip of the cherry from his own glass.

“Is this how you impress all your girls? With secret shows of mega stars?” another olive bitten.

“It’s not always girls,” he gives you a wink as he leans over the island, resting his head on his arm propped up by his elbow. The last two olives slip off the skewer because you need something to do with your agape mouth.

Winner of the game: whoever breaks second. You were going to win. You had to. You have a boyfriend, but you sure planned to enjoy the harmless chase. If you can chill out enough to enjoy it. The gin is really helping, though.

Stepping out of the building, Satoru leads you over to a luxury black car waiting for you and a driver holding the door open.

“This is too much, I thought you said we were just going to a bar to see a band?” you said incredulously, looking back at Satoru.

“We are. Ichiji is my personal valet. After you,” he waves you into the car and you slide in across the supple leather seats.

Satoru doesn’t think twice about how this looks. To him, this is standard operating procedure. He’d never considered any other way to get around the city. And of course, he asked Ichiji to use the sportier model today.

You take in the sights of the city as you take the quick 10-minute trip across downtown into the industrial district. Ichiji pulls up to a brightly lit club with a few throngs of people milling about.

Satoru leads you to the door, flashes something on his phone to the bouncer, and you’re both waved in. Sliding across the room to a pair of seats on the side of the club and a great view of the stage. Satoru slips away to grab you both drinks from the bar, returning after a few moments.

“My favorite shot to start the night, Red Headed Sluts,” he passes the shooter to you and you both take it in a single swallow. A small dribble leaks from the corner of your mouth. Satoru reaches over to wipe it off with his thumb, proceeding to lick it off while maintaining eye contact. You blush and immediately turn your head, trying not to look at Satoru after that.

Damn, lost that round. Focus, dammit.

Satoru slipped away again to return the shot glasses to the bar and get more drinks; this time a beer for you.

Checking the time, it’s almost time for the band to go on. The crowd has quickly started to fill in and you are developing a nice buzz, your head starting to feel a bit cloudy and suggestible.

The band comes out to roars from the crowd and you join in. Satoru stands behind you, one hand again hovering at your lower back. As they start their set, you get caught up in the music and fail to notice your date disappearing occasionally to keep your drink filled.

Each time he returns, his arms slowly reach up your body to rest on your shoulders. You’re in control, put your hands on his to make sure they don’t drift any further.

Then they encircle your shoulders, and you’re standing. Swaying your hips with the beat, lipstick marks on your glass appear with increasing regularity as you try to distract yourself. You’re playing against a master.

And slowly, Satoru’s arms reach down across your chest. By some definitions you have lost. But by the imaginary rules in your head, you move the goalposts. All is not lost. Other than your brain, in the moment. The band starts up a ballad, powerful chords racing through your veins, melodic lyrics and a stunning harmony between the lead singer and the bassist.

Satoru’s best friend, Suguru Geto, bassist of the band. His thick black hair, half pulled up into a bun, stretching down to his mid back, and bangs framing his face. Tall, broad and you can see the edges of tattoos extending across the edges of his shoulders into his bare chest. He has thick eyeliner, dark eyes, and a pair of sharkbites and large plug ear piercings to decorate his fierce face.

You’re going to lose the battle if you aren’t careful. Satoru, well-practiced in this game of cat and mouse knows that you are a timid mouse he needs to delicately trap if he wants to win.

An hour into the set, you are feeling incredibly buzzed, teetering on drunk. As the last song before the break starts, Satoru is now in front of you, standing between your legs and his arms are on your hips. His piercing blue eyes gazing down at you. There’s a slight smirk in his mouth as he slowly leans down. One hand traced its way up your side to pinch your chin and guide your lips to his.

Just before your mouths connect, you open your mouth to protest this moment. You have a boyfriend, what are you doing? This isn’t right, you’re already breaking so many rules. You need to stop, put distance between the two of you and keep it platonic.

But the song ends, music stops, the lights come up, and the band walks off stage for a short break. The crowds shift and move toward the bar, the door, and the bathrooms. You stand up abruptly, chest heaving, and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Some water on your face and a refresh of your makeup should help you calm down and fix this.

Standing at the sink, you take in yourself. You can do this, you can win.

Satoru grabs your drink to take a sip and finish it off. His pocket buzzing, he sees a text message from Suguru.

>> If you don’t fuck her tonight, I swear to god

Satoru chuckles and tips the beer bottle towards the now empty stage. The intended goal tonight was to do as much, at this point he just needed to convince you that you wanted this as much as he does.

You return after a long wait for the bathroom and with another drink. You’ve managed to calm yourself and you sit back down next to Satoru.

“Feeling better?” Satoru asks you as he places a hand leaning on your shoulder, just close enough to not touch your earlobe.

You shiver, unable to look him in the eye for more than a millisecond. “Y-yeah. I should probably drink some water,” you trail off. Satoru, already planning for that request, hands you a cup of water from the counter next to you. You take a long sip and the cold drink switches your nerves for cold shivers.

The lights flicker, indicating that the band is about to return to the stage. You join the crowd in cheering, focusing on the band and not the building desire burning between your legs. You’re here to see a band, and you have a boyfriend, one who satisfies you in ways you’d never even dreamed of. But there was something so enticing about what was standing right here, arms resting across your shoulders.

Hands drifting down from around your décolletage to brush the glittering peak of your breasts.

You arch your back slightly at the sensation, breath heavy with lust. Looking up and trying to focus on the concert, the bassist is singing into the mic, but his eyes are trained on you. Surely, he’s just scanning the crowd or looking for his friend, right?

But I'm only dancing / She turns me on But don't get me wrong / I'm only dancing

Your heart skips another beat, and you blush, tilting your head back and finishing off the drink.

Accepting that you’ve lost, you swallow your nerves and lean into the touch Satoru is giving you. Tilting your head back, you reach up to meet Satoru’s waiting lips. You take control and push your tongue into his mouth, taking your pleasure from him. Letting the alcohol suppress your inhibitions as you place your hands on Satoru’s while they continue to squeeze and massage your tits.

You pull away from the kiss. High from the adrenaline after jumping off the cliff.

“I need to tell you…” you trail off.

Satoru slides around to return between your seated legs.

“I don’t care, just don’t tell me about him.” Throbbing between your legs now taking over for all rational thought.

Satoru immediately leans down to leave a trail of increasingly stronger kisses along your neck. You stretch to give him better access. Your hands slip around the back of his head, scratching and pulling the nape of his neck and along his undercut. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you moan into his ear and bite down on his earlobe as you pull back.

“Let’s-let’s get going, back to my place,” Satoru doesn’t wait for a response as he grabs your hand and pulls you off the barstool and head out the door. As you leave, you noticed the bassist still has his eyes trained on you.

You stand outside while Satoru gives Ijichi a call to come around with the car, only waiting a few minutes. Those minutes are filled with very handsy kissing until you hear a cough, signaling Ijichi’s arrival and gesture to get into the car.

Satoru slides in the car first and pulls you onto his lap straddling him. You look back towards the driver’s seat but before you can protest, you’re cut off.

“You didn’t have a problem when we were back there in the club. You even seemed to want to be seen by Suguru,” he taunts and gives your ass a hard slap.

Even in the darkness of the car, with the passing streetlights, he could see your blush.

“C’mon baby, let’s just have fun, okay? Don’t think too hard about it. Besides, it was hot seeing you show off for Sugu back there,” Satoru grinds up into you and you can feel his erection straining against his jeans.

Satoru is enjoying the chase tonight. Trying out new tricks, using old ones that have gathered dust. You’re fun to chase. Are you as much fun to capture?

You spend the rest of the, mercifully short, ride back to his penthouse slowly winding your hips across his crotch, hands resting on his chest as you tease and show off your form. Finding little relief on your own tortured arousal.

Once you arrive at Satoru’s building, the two of you stumble out of the car and into the elevator. Before the doors close, Satoru pushes you up against the back wall and slots his muscular thigh between your legs. You can’t help yourself but grind on his leg as his hands pull down the front of your shirt and exposing your lacy bra. He reaches in and pinches your nipples; you keen at the touch, sucking in a sharp inhale of air.

“Are you even going to make it to my floor?” he teases you, pushing his leg harder against your throbbing, clothed cunt.

All you can do in response is moan obscenely. At this point every drop of inhibition is gone and you push back on his chest causing him to step back from you. You use this moment to drop to your knees and begin to unhook his belt.

“No,” you exhale as you begin to palm his straining erection almost painfully pressing against the seams of his pants. You unbutton his pants as he starts to run his hands through your hair, but the elevator arrives at his floor, and you hear a soft ‘ding’ when the doors open.

Disappointed, you stand up quickly and shuffle into Satoru’s suite, adjusting yourself back into your shirt, kicking your shoes off at the door and dropping your purse. You check your phone and see a message from your boyfriend:

>>> have fun ;)

You immediately stuff the phone in your dropped purse in a panic. But as soon as you bend down, you feel a pair of hands around your ass and a clothed erection pressed up against you.

“You’re making it too easy, baby,” Satoru croons into your ear and you roll yourself up to standing holding contact.

“Are you complaining?” your pussy pulses as he continues to grab your ass with one hand and snakes the other around your abdomen and pulls you in tighter. Satoru leans in to take a nip at your neck before releasing you and walking over to the door for the veranda.

You follow in his wake, eager to see the view of the city from here. The chill of the midsummer night washes over you, but just as quickly, Satoru approaches you at the railing and engulfs your body with his.

He doesn’t waste any time sliding his hands up your shirt, unclasping your bra, and removing both in one fell swoop. Satoru drops your items on the edge of the balcony before spinning you around and kneeling before you to remove your shorts.

Oh, he looks stunning from this angle. Subservient but dominating in power. Another trick he hasn’t played in a while.

You rest the back of your forearms against the balcony, spreading your legs slightly once your shorts are off. Head buried in the ozone of lust and anticipation.

You slip one leg over Satoru’s shoulder as he leans up to whisper a touch of his nose to your clothed cunt as he inhales your sweet scent of arousal.

He palms his restrained cock as his free hand rubs over your needy bud, eliciting a whiny moan from you. Seeing how soaked your little, useless, thong is, he hooks his finger onto the scrap of fabric and pulls it aside.

You use your heel to push Satoru closer to you and he eagerly obliges. Placing his hands on each thigh, he spreads your legs more to gain easier access to your dripping pussy.

Satoru licks a long stripe up your cunt, gathering your copious arousal on his tongue. Coming back again, he takes his middle finger and teases your hole eagerly clenching around nothing. Focusing his tongue on your aching nib, he adds a second finger and you let out another strained whine. He slowly slides his fingers in and out, twisting his hand and curling the tips to drag against that spongy spot deep inside you. You buck at the pace of his ministrations, moans getting louder with each thrust.

The pressure is building in your core, your heel is digging in even more to Satoru’s back. He moans into you, the vibrations traveling up your spine through the ends of your hair.

“C’mon baby, give it to me,” Satoru moans into you. His fingers speeding up, one arm reaching around your waist, tongue pushing directly and lips sucking on your pulsing clit.

The sensations reach a fever pitch, and you scream out as your orgasm takes you. Your hips jut wildly, your hands grip the railing of the veranda, and you throw your head back as the electric shock runs through your body.

Once you have regained some semblance of control over your body again, you slide your leg off Satoru’s shoulder. Satoru pulls his fingers out and sits back on his heels once your leg releases him. Licking his fingers clean with a moan, savoring your taste.

Satoru stands up and cages you in against the railing, urgently crashing his lips on yours, sharing your taste covering his tongue, lips, and chin. You eagerly accept, moaning into him as you lightly bite his invading tongue.

“How about we move this somewhere more comfortable?” Satoru grabs your hand and leads you back inside.

He brings you down the hall to his bedroom, dim lighting accentuating his aethereal features. You fall back into the plush bedding while the bed dips with a shirtless Satoru sitting behind you, legs on either side of your body.

Rolling over and sitting on your knees, you gently push Satoru’s chest allowing him to fall backwards. Nimble hands slide their way back down his abdomen, following the dips and peaks. What luck of the genetic lottery did he win to have such divine musculature.

You quickly finish the job you started in the elevator and remove his pants. Running your hand over his twitching erection restrained by his tight black boxer briefs, you give a few squeezes before you quickly rid him of the final layer.

All ten inches of his veiny cock spring free and slap against his abdomen. Your nerves suddenly come crashing back. But this time, it’s over how you’ll be able to take all of Satoru in you. You look up and see a shit eating grin on Satoru, arms resting behind his head.

You’re not the first person to gawk over his size. Aside from the obvious prizes for winning this game, the stunned moments his dates share compete for this reward.

You grasp the base of his cock and start to slowly stroke up to the tip, gathering his leaking precum as you slide your hand back down. After several strokes, you slide your hips over his and line up your wet cunt with his angry red tip.

Satoru places his hands on your hips to guide you as you slowly sink down. All the teasing, the anticipation, the yearning has built to this moment.

“There you go, doll. Take it easy,” he chuckles as you gasp. Feeling full and it’s only barely halfway in, you let out a shakey moan. Bottoming out, you hold still for a moment before slowly rocking your hips back and forth. Savoring the fullness and depth he’s reached inside of you.

Locking eyes, you throw your head back, hair flying back in a splash as you pick up speed, taking control of your pleasure. You’ll deal with the consequences in the morning, the fun of chasing and capturing this apex specimen has you enthralled.

Sliding your hands up your body, giving in to the rhythm, you pinch your nipples and let your full tits fall and shake.

In an instant, a blink, and your world flips around and suddenly your chest is in the plush bed, a hand under your abdomen hiking you up. Pace never faltering, Satoru’s heavy balls now slapping against your ass as you’re pulled up onto your hands and knees.

“I loved the view, but something tells me you like this better,” he pulls back and finds that one angle that gets that scream from you.

You reach up to the headboard for leverage as you push back against Satoru. You can feel the coil winding again, deep in your stomach. A hand finds its way to your peaked nipples and with one, two, three pinches your orgasm washes over you again. You lose your grip on the headboard, crashing into the pillows while Satoru slows to feel your warm gummy walls pulse around him.

Not wanting to spill just yet, he waits until you’ve regained some control before reaching his thumb towards your little unused hole.

You feel a sudden wetness drip onto your ass as Satoru’s thumb presses the spit into you. Gasping at the intrusion, you just moan “more, please, god.”

With a smirk, Satoru slowly slides his thumb in and out, half speed to his hips. Using his other hand, he grips your plump ass and then pulls back for a loud slap. Not impressed with the sound of the first, he reels back for a second. This time, leaving a lovely red mark. Secretly hoping it is still visible when you go home in the morning to whomever is waiting for you.

“Baby, can I give you a mess?” Satoru asks, not a drop of fatigue in his voice, only lust.

Your mouth answers, again, before you can even think of a response, “please.”

Satoru pulls his thumb and cock out of you, precum and your slick leaving a sticky trail connecting the two of you as you roll over to your back.

Satoru is kneeling as if to propose and offering you pearls instead across your pussy.

As he finishes, you reach down to spread the sticky mess on your sensitive and hairline trigger clit. Utterly debauched, you cum with a yelp and arch your back at your own touch.

Satoru collapses on the bed next to you, taking your wet hand into his. You moan and clench your thighs as he cleans off your hands, taking each finger in turn, slowly rolling the digit around in his mouth and across his tongue.

“I should wash up,” you croak out, trying to avoid eye contact while your one-night stand seemingly fucks you again with his ocean blue eyes.

Satoru gives your fingers one final lick and slides out of bed. He disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the shower turn on. After a minute, he pops out of the door “shower’s this way, doll.”

Somehow you manage to wash up, in spite of an extra pair of hands and a sneaky pair of lips following after every clean patch of skin.

Falling asleep is easy, the warm afterglow of a couple orgasms and a spicy shower let you both drift off into the morning.

Rolling over, you’re awakened by vibrations coming from the headboard. You reach up and find Satoru’s phone ringing.

“Hey, fix it,” you grumble as you push the phone into Satoru’s chest. He removes his arm from under your head as he blinks several times attempting to read the caller ID.

“Yo,” his voice gravelly and clipped. “Mhmm, yeah sure no problem.” He hangs up and puts the phone back on the shelf.

Satoru reaches his arm across you and pulls you into the crook of his neck, kissing the top of your head.

“Hi,” you mumble as you stretch your leg across his.

“Breakfast? I’m in the mood for pancakes,” a rogue hand makes its way down your back onto the swell of your ass.

“And some ibuprofen?” your free hand finds its way through his abs. You can’t believe how someone who just woke up doesn’t have morning breath nor the musty musk of a just-awoken body.

“How about a hair of the dog that bit you?” he winks as he gets out of bed and puts on a pair of lounge pants, letting them hang low.

You walk around the corner, hearing an unexpected voice coming from the kitchen. Clad in nothing but a button-down shirt you pulled from Satoru’s closet, you decide to make the best of it and ignore any shame for being the one-night stand the morning after.

“Hey handsome, pancakes smell good,“ you stop short as you round the corner and see who Satoru is talking to.

“Hey baby, sounds like you had a good night,” Suguru turns away from Satoru to face you as you approach the kitchen. He gives you a slow elevator stare. “Looks it, too.”

“I-I did. And you sounded amazing last night, I loved the new song,” you excitedly bounce over to Suguru a kiss on the cheek and join him at the kitchen island.

“Hey Satoru, you should be more careful where you put your guests’ clothes. These-“ Suguru places a shirt and bra on the table, “were laying on the sidewalk this morning. And considering I bought them for my girlfriend, I know they came from your veranda.”

Satoru’s jaw hits the floor as he attempts to work out what is unfolding in front of him. Suguru never mentioned he had a girlfriend, and you didn’t mention a boyfriend. Wait, then why did he send that text message last night?

“I’m sorry but what is happening?” Satoru points his spatula at you, catching you in the middle of a messy kiss with Suguru.

“When I found out my lovely girlfriend ran into you, we decided to see how long it would take before you tried to get into her pants,” you’re pulled closer to Suguru.

“It was my idea, once Sugu filled me in on your sordid history.”

Satoru rolls his eyes at the implications.

“Yeah. Now, I tipped the deck in my favor by setting up the private show last night. I knew you couldn’t resist the tempatation.”

“What am I, some common manwhore?” Satoru cries as he puts a hand on his hip and returns to the griddle.

“Yes” both you and Suguru respond in unison.

“But a manwhore with a really nice ass,” you add.

Satoru just sighs and serves up three plates.

#jen の stories #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #jjk au #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen smut

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sweetfushi · 2 months

Text

EMBODIMENT OF A DREAM.

→ RECEIPT. having survived a near-death experience, you and nanami decide to fulfil his wish. settling down in malaysia has brought peace of mind to the both of you. → WORD COUNT. 0.8K. → TAGS. kento nanami x female!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, mentions of scars and burns, established relationship, nostalgia, a lot of just nanami reflecting on his life and being so utterly in love with you.

Nanami looked at peace. It wasn’t an unfamiliar expression he had: eased shoulders; a smooth brow, and a soft breathing. You had witnessed him like this before, the day of your wedding, the week of your honeymoon - practically every other day by your side. But as the sun shined on his toned figure, his expansive back, you found yourself holding your breath at his vulnerability. Moments like these were ones you valued most because you were the sole person who had access to them.

“You’re adorable,” Nanami mumbles, eyes fluttering to remain open as he observes you. Your wandering eyes lock with his at the sound of his low voice and you smile. “Good morning, husband,” you let out a breathy laugh, pushing his hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. He inhales deeply and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into bed with him.

You yelp at the sudden manoeuvre, giggling when Nanami buries his face in your neck and exhales. You can feel the small smile forming on his lips as you wrap your arms around him and pull him into you, throwing a leg over his waist. “Good morning, wife,” he murmurs, smiling harder at your content sigh and the sensation of your nails running across his scalp.

“I ordered us a breakfast buffet so you better not let the food get cold,” you warn, trailing your hands down to run your nails up and down his back. “The coffee smells really good. I wanna head down to the market to see what blends there are,” you continue. “Sounds like something you’d be interested in, no?”

Nanami only nods, evidently still tired. You pout and smack his shoulder, causing him to chuckle under his breath. “You’re so violent,” he groans, gazing up at you. “We can head out after food, and food will be had after I get up.”

You pause momentarily. “Which will happen when, exactly?”

He kisses your neck and shuffles out of bed, grabbing his glasses. He gets to his feet. “You’re awfully demanding, my love.” He shakes his head in mock frustration, throwing a towel over his shoulder and heading into the bathroom.

After a prompt fifteen minutes, he emerges looking and smelling fresh, dressed in a white t-shirt and dark brown slacks. He fiddles with his watch as he strolls downstairs and finds you laying the food out on the kitchen island. Your robe falls down your shoulder as you do, igniting a warmth in his stomach.

He feels an inexplicable sense of serenity with you as a core part of his life. He’d only ever imagined retiring with a wall-length bookshelf alongside a view of the beach - only the sound of the waves and the turning of pages to accompany him. In the two years that he had moved to Kuantan with you following your marriage, he remained in contact with his former colleagues and friends (a word he never would have anticipated to call them).

Even now, he finds himself admiring you, as though a distant figure watching the target of his affection with no true intention, simply to settle in your calming aura.

“You weren’t kidding about the coffee. It smells divine,” he says, approaching you and helping you pull things out of the delivery bags. His eyes light up slightly at the sight of the latest newspaper resting beside his designated plate of food, glancing at you with an appreciative sparkle in his eye.

“Oh, but you have to try the French toast. My mouth was watering just touching the lid of the box.” You open said box up to reveal a still hot platter of French toast smothered in butter, syrup and fruit.

Nanami watches as your eyes roll back in sheer delight, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you sit down opposite him and serve yourself a portion of the toast. He watches, his heart skipping a beat, as the sun beams behind you, lighting the right side of your face as you enjoy your meal. You paid no mind to his entranced state, too engrossed in a rant of your plans and consuming half the food you ordered.

He, however, found his grip on the newspaper slipping as he watched the way you pinned your hair up, cracked a window open, and took a sip of water before continuing your ranting. It was hard to believe that you could continue to call him the source of your happiness, the receiver of your love and attention, when he had suffered the way he did. The left side of his body functions as a stark reminder of his abandoned life, his skin scorched a deep red, his nerves almost inactive in the area. Yet you continue to caress him, press kisses to his scars, and rid him of the guilt entrenched in him. He didn’t know if there was truly a sufficient way to reciprocate this tenderness.

Above all, he continues to cherish the blessing you embody - a blessing of comfort, repose and beauty. A blessing he hopes to protect and appreciate so long as your names are destined for each other.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

#jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk fic #jjk drabble #jjk fluff #jjk angst #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami angst #kento nanami jjk #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami angst

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i-am-vita · 5 months

Text

At the bathhouse

A Shanks x FemReaderOc Oneshot

👉 My Masterlist

Fic based on my OPLA older guysxfemreader headcanons here and certain scene from this FanaticSnail's fic.

Because when Shanks makes a sexy cameo at a bathhouse, I need to write a oneshot of Shanks getting sexy at a bathhouse.

If I said I didn't intended for this to go as NSFW as it got... I would be lying. Of course I wrote a fic with Shanks at a bathhouse with all the intention for things going NSFW. You can thank @fanaticsnail for the idea and the moodboard. Thank you so much, gurl, you inspire me so much!!!! Everybody go give her some well deserved love.

Moodboard by FanaticSnail 💞

Summary: You found yourself separated from your crew after a plan going sideways. Stranded in this little island with a bathhouse and no signal of your captain through your phone, there's exactly one person that you can always count to pick you up.

Warnings: NSFW, sex in a public setting, voyeurism, some unconsensual voyeurism due to public setting. Somehow, I managed to not use the word fuck. Is it progress?

Expect: That ex-turned-bestie that always appear out of air when you need him. Lovers to Friends to Friends with Benefits. Shanks gets affectionate and handsy with you being a cool pirate thief. Brief Mihawk cameo because I'm trash and need to make him suffer. Use of You not Y/N. Bad english, consistent time tenses not detected.

11-ish years ago...

If there was one person in all the Blues that you can always count to somehow be exactly where and when you needed him was Shanks.

On the rare occasions in your young adult life since you parted ways that you found yourself in a bad place, be it literally or metaphorically, he'd be at enough short distance to pick you up, also literally or metaphorically.

Like right now when you are stranded in this whatever-island after the worst job in your pirate history.

Not that you have failed. The intel you were acquiring now in your captain's hands, unlike you that had to ditch some last minute inconveniences and resorted to your only-emergency escape plan for the first time which consisted in telling your team to get the hell out of there with the catch while you took the roll of bait, found your own way out of the Marine Base and back to your crew on your own... eventually.

You didn't know it yet but this would be the job that finally gets you your current wanted poster thanks to the one knife with rose carvings that you left behind at the scene and the fact nobody was able to catch a glimpse of you, them naming you The Ghost Rose from now on.

Hence your current predicament. Having taken the first fishing boat you found that would take you to the next neighboring island and so on until you found yourself in this little rock, almost empty except for a bathhouse and some B&B's. One of those little hot spring resorts only known by enough people to keep them going.

Perfect to lay low for a few days until you could send a message to your Captain… or it would be if the damn Portable Den Den Mushi just connected your calls.

"Damn, not again." You mutter after the fifth attempt to call your crew.

You were currently in the personal room you purchased for your stay. The architecture and interior design of the building inspired by those of Wano with its minimalist wooden interiors, sliding doors and low furniture for sitting on the floor where you lay comfortably in a light bath robe while considering your options.

There was still the possibility of calling Shanks even if the odds of him being close enough to pick you up were low, he'd probably be better equipped than you to contact Captain Erik.

The ringing tone of the call finally connecting made you sigh in relief.

"Hello?" Came the familiar voice of Benn Beckman through the shell. Because there was no way that he would allow Shanks near their own Portable Den Den Mushi after THE incident from six years ago.

"Beck! You have no idea how great it is to hear your voice right now." You answered to the Redhead Pirate's First Mate.

"Little Rose! Please, tell me you’re coming back at last so I can finally retire." How the man managed to sound so defeated at his age was a mystery to anyone who wasn’t aware of Shanks' antics. Beckman had been asking you to come back since you left to sail with the Phantom Pirates arguing how much more manageable his captain was when you were around.

"Hold on there, old man. You still have plenty of time to become the grumpy grandpa." It had become an ongoing joke between you two to mock him for being the oldest and “designated dad” of the crew. Beck didn't have time to answer when you heard a little commotion on the line and the telling sound of the phone changing hands.

"Sweetheart!!!" Shanks's excited shout was so loud you could swear it reverberated in your own walls.

"Hey, dear."

Even after you had officially ended your romantic relationship years ago, it was impossible to stop the man from calling you lover pet names so you had go on with it too.

"Where's the fight, love? I'll be there in a heartbeat." You could hear several male grunts and indefinite clothing background sounds.

"Is it a bad time? I just need you to pass a message to my cap' so they know I'm fine and on the low. My Portable Den Den doesn't connect."

"More like a bath time!"

"Hey, didn't they say the mushies didn't connect with the outside?"

"You on your own? Say no more! Where are you, babe?"

"Shanks, there's no need..."

"Nonsense. Coordinates, now." You had forgotten how much you liked when your ex lover got all commanding. He was so carefree and easygoing most of the time.

"Aye, sir." You answered with a sultry voice you know always drove him crazy. "It's this little rock with a bathhouse and hot springs..." You explained and started giving him the numbers when you felt the air getting all heavy, almost electrified, with a powerful haki seeking your presence.

Oh...

You took the shell out of your ear and calmly put your Portable Den Den Mushi away before a powerful kick sent the delicate woody and paper wall away revealing the figure of one of the most infamous pirate captains in all the Blues, almost naked save for a small towel at his hips, disheveled red hair and his signature straw hat hanging from his neck at his back.

"Sweetheart!!!" Came the man’s thunderous shout for the second time. His arms outstretched, offering warmth and anticipation, eager to envelop you in an affectionate hug.

"I am not paying for that..." You said pointing to the destroyed wall.

Yep. That was Shanks, always coming out from wherever whenever you needed him, no matter the odds.

Five minutes later, you found yourself sitting on Shanks lap in the spring waters. He had picked you up in his arms and hasn't let you down since then. Like a kid with his favorite transitional object. But you couldn't deny that his affectionate embrace was contagious. You had missed him dearly too.

You two haven't seen each other in almost two years, since you broke up with Kuro to the everlasting joy of the redhead who had hated the guts of the young Black Cat's Captain, knowing from the beginning that the psycho could never deserve you. Shanks was still delighted in the fact it had been him who snitched the identity of the pirate captain to the Marines after his little stunt with you. Nobody messes with his friends, he thought while embracing your almost naked form over him.

It had been even more years since he had felt your skin against his and it was getting him giddy.

The rest of the crew was scattered around in different states of contentment but no one as deeply relaxed as Beck who laid floating with a towel over his eyes, completely zone out with the knowledge that he wouldn't be babysitting his captain as long as you were there. He was always in his best behavior around you; you’ve been a really big positive influence in the past, helping him mature into the man he was now and making the First Mate’s life a little more manageable. Until it was party time and Beck had to be the “designated babysitter” of his captain to prevent him from making some extravagance.

Poor man almost never got a proper break during vacation.

"So, rosie, you said you're on the low." Said Yassop perched belly up on a rock, an arm and leg in the hot water. "What've you been up to?"

"Yeah, must've been a big score. We've been dodging battleships for three days before docking here." Added Beck from his floating spot.

That made you feel better. If the Marine was still searching the waters, it means they hadn't caught the Angel of Music, Phantom Pirate’s ship.

You started telling them how things had gone a little sideways with your last infiltration and you had to resort to the only-emergency plan so your crew could get away with the intel.

Shanks smiled even more widely, proud of your abilities to get away from an entire Marine Base all by your own and without being seen. Such a long shot from the spoiled little socialite that had run away with him all those years ago.

He knew the moment he saw you standing up to a bunch of assholes at that bar that you were a wild card, a diamond in the rough wasting away in a privileged life. And when months later, Captain Erik, a seasoned and mysterious pirate captain, infamous for dealing with the most valuable information and treasures of all the Blues, the main intel dealer of Gold Roger himself, saw the same potential in you, Shanks knew he had to let you go to bloom, even if it was away from him.

And bloomed you had, not just in abilities but in beauty. Shanks could swear you got even more gorgeous every time he sees you.

"Ah, that's my girl." He murmured against your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of flowers and berries you favored, unlike the elegant roses everybody relates to you, and still make his mouth water. Your hand entangled in his red locks with your fingernails caressing his scalp while you tell your tale wasn’t helping… or was helping too much.

"So that's why you needed to send the message to..." Roux almost choked on his turkey piece when he caught his captain's stare, the only warning before he buried his face in your neck.

"Yeah, the lady at the desk said the mushis didn't receive or send signals from outside the island. Only the big tower at the beach can make outside calls..." Commented Beck in blissful ignorance that you didn't get because Shanks had started to leave a trail of kisses on your neck.

He draw his hand from your shoulder down your back, removing the towel that covered your torso, following a delicate pattern with his fingers over your skin to your side while his lips found a certain spot behind your ear that made you arch your back, almost revealing your full bosom out of the blurring water if not for his other hand wandering from your thigh to your belly and up to your chest. His big palm and long fingers enough to cover and fondle a breast.

The crew started making a hasty exit from that part of the springs.

Yassop rolled to the other side of his rock and dropped into the water with a soft splash. Meanwhile the rest of the men walked or swam away through the rocks that formed a natural barrier to the other side of the springs. Roux managed to catch Beck by his foot and started pulling him across the surface of the water. The First Mate lifted the edge of the towel on his face to give his crewmate a questioning gaze but a female moan uttering Shanks’ name was enough to make him cover his face again and let himself be dragged away, letting his captain be re-acquainted with his not-so-former lover.

“Sha… Shanks… they…”

“Gonne, babe, you know they know better.”

Oh, yeah, all of them did. When it came to their captain, all the crew knew that when he got frisky with a woman it was everybody else who had to get another room, not him. Shanks became an immovable being just living the moment. Something you learned too some weeks after meeting him and decided that you in fact wanted to be more with him. You had to get rid of your inhibitions very early in your relationship.

“So… did you hide a blade under your towel or are you that happy to see me?”

“Ecstatic, love. Let me show you how much.”

When Yassop had roll over his rock to get away from the image of his captain starting to frolic with his old flame (not that the sniper blame him, he knew what it was like to decide to separate from a love to fulfill a dream of your own), he didn’t expected to find himself face to face with Dracule Mihawk drilling him with his yellow gaze for splashing him in his escape.

“Why am I not surprised that it was you, noisy lowlifes, the ones behind all this scandal?” The swordsman voiced in his bored tone while removing some plugs from his ears at seeing the Redhead's Crew appearing literally from among the rocks.

He had just arrived this morning, seeking some relaxing time after 3 days of receiving calls from some lowly Marine Captain for him to go and get some thieves that had infiltrated his office and steal who knows what. Their only clue being a brief description of a ship getting away into the fog and a forgotten knife with rose carvings from some mysterious figure. The knife was new, but that ship and the fog? He had told him to just forget about his stolen goods. The Phantom Pirates were untraceable and he was in no mood to go hunting ghosts.

Mihawk’s gaze passed over the men currently occupying HIS space, finding the absence of a certain red hair individual.

“Isn’t your captain among you? It sure was his haki I felt ten minutes ago. I could use some exercise.” He said standing up and looking over the rocks.

“No, wait!”

“You don’t want to…”

Upon looking beyond, the warlord came across the image of the redhead captain in a passionate embrace with the most exquisite woman his eyes had ever seen. At that moment, Shanks took the exotic beauty by her small waist to get her out of the water and tenderly laid her onto the surface of the nearest rock with the perfect shape to support her body like an offering. Her long dark hair barely obscured the view of her glorious body. His hungry eyes traveled over golden tanned skin, from her long shapely legs to wide hips and full breasts.

Mihawk had never considered that he had a type until that same moment.

He was about to seek the face of the woman of his dreams, when she moved one of her legs expertly, using her foot to get rid of the flimsy towel around Redhead’s hips, getting Mihawk abruptly out of his reverie with an image he was certainly NOT desiring to live in his head and a strong need for a brain bleach to clean it from what he just unwilling witnessed.

He turned around hastily to find himself with the stare of the entire Redhead’s Crew going from judgemental to “told you so” looks that got immediately diverted by the death glare of their captain’s rival who decided to take his leave and left the duel for another day… or several months.

Half an hour later, you laid over Shanks’ wide chest, both of you floating in the warm water in postorgasmic bliss.

It had been years since you had felt this safe and sound in the arms of a lover. The level of trust and affection Shanks inspired on you never having an equal even if those feelings came from friendship and respect instead of romantic love. Your young broken heart was still too tender at that time to let yourself fall for the redhead when you met. A blessing in disguise since you’re fully aware now that Shanks isn’t someone who would settle with just one lover for a long amount of time and you both have different life goals.

“Where were you headed before all the turmoil we caused?”

“East Blue. I found this little village months ago. It’s a good place to hide and I promised I’d go back soon.” Explained Shanks remembering a certain little kid that was surely counting the days until the arrival of the Red Force. “What ‘bout you? Where’s your meeting point with old Cap’ Erik?”

“If all else failed, Oykot Kingdom.”

Shanks' grin intensified upon hearing that.

That evening, Benn Beckman walked to the tower at the beach to borrow their Den Den Mushi and made a call to a certain Shostakovich Eriksson and left the message of his assistant being safe and sound and that she will reunite with him in the agreed location but to don’t count on them arriving very soon.

The Redhead’s First Mate had all the intention of taking his sweet time enjoying this unexpected vacation.

#one piece live action #one piece #opla #opla headcanons #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #opla x reader #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

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preciouslandmermaid · 4 months

Text

of songbirds, swords, and spice

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tags: slow burn, friends-to-lovers, trauma, eventual smut, angst, humor, canon-typical violence, found family, polyamory, falling in love, POV multiple, reader-insert, action/adventure, past abuse, eventual romance, touch starved, PTSD, mentions of slavery/forced labor, battle couple, devil fruit user reader, hurt/comfort, mulit-chapter fic (other tags to be added)

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️ Masterpost

summary: You've performed at Le Cupidon Doré, your "grandmother" Estella's business, for the past four years. Every full moon, you step onto stage and enchant the patrons and collect their hard earned berry. Tonight is no different. It isn't.

Until you realize another devil-fruit eater is in the crowd. Fate, as you've learned, has a bad habit of mucking things up just when you were starting to get comfortable.

You closed your eyes as Kinari brushed makeup across your face in delicate, teasing strokes that threatened to illicit an ill-timed sneeze. Backstage was a mess of feathers, and perfumes, and cluttered vanity tables, shining bulbs of light to illuminate every stroke, every line, every dust of color. The other performers moved like fish swimming through the iridescent streams of fabric. The chaotic, yet organized energy was familiar. Almost comforting. Everyone gets like this before a show, your lips twisted wryly, it’s as if we don’t do this night after night! There were a few amateurs backstage, but Estella wouldn’t let them perform because the full moon show was reserved for the best of the best.

“You’re too kind, Kinari.” You reached for the earplugs on your vanity and pass them to her. “Don’t forget to wear these tonight.”

“I won’t,” she replied, sing-song and light. She selected two outfits from the rack and held them aloft for you.

“Whoo-hoo! Look at this place!” Luffy threw his arms into the air, “it’s got a buffet!”

There’s nothing Zoro could say to stop his captain from barreling toward the buffet and heaping food onto his plate. He glanced around the finely decorated establishment. Nightingale Island wasn’t much to look at, but the locals talked highly of ‘Le Cupidon Doré’. When Luffy heard ‘all you can eat’, well – there wasn’t much argument to be had about where the crew was going next since they were officially resupplied.

“Tacky,” Nami said, pointing her fork at the smiling cherubs decorating the pillars, “and probably not real gold.”

Zoro rested his elbow on the back of booth and ordered a drink. The booze was cheap here and that’s decent enough for him.

“It’s no Baratie, but it has its charms…” Sanji said.

His blue eyes scanned the guests and staff. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in gold and white and wore elaborate headpieces that ranged from spokes covering half their heads to intricate swooping designs that appeared like twisted halos. Their cheeks shone with glitter. They bobbed and weaved, a practiced ease and gracefulness to their movements that reminded Zoro of sword fighting.

The tables created a half-moon around the circular stage. But two rows of chairs clustered next to the stage were without tables and labeled ‘VIP’. They were completely packed and he doubted even Luffy could fit between the bodies.

“Your drink, sir.” The waiter dropped his head low and Zoro noticed something inside the waiter’s ear. Why are they wearing earplugs? He frowned, brought his glass to his lips, and abruptly stood.

Luffy dropped his stacked plate onto the table and its’ weight upset their drinks. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta check something.”

He circuited the dining room, dodging Usopp carrying his full-plate, and confirmed his suspicions. All the waiters are wearing earplugs. Weird. Why would a place that caters to nightly performances have staff wearing earplugs? The establishment wasn’t large so it’s easy to find their table again.

Luffy tore into a drumstick and looked up at Zoro. “Find anything cool?” He asked, chewing.

“Something’s weird,” he said, “all the waiters are wearing earplugs.”

Luffy shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe this place gets really crazy!” His dark eyes brightened.

But Zoro wasn’t mollified by Luffy’s response. Their luck fluctuated from bad, to shitty, to worse with a few good days peppered in. They were on a winning streak with the grand line map in their possession and a functioning ship, but how long would that last?

“Maybe all the singers suck and we wasted berry by paying the door fee,” said Nami and Zoro tilted his chin in consideration.

“Aw, come on!” Usopp wiped grease from his mouth. “Look at this place. It’s packed. There’s no way the show is bad. It’ll be fun.”

The lights flashed, signaling the start of the show, and Zoro leaned into the cushions. He hoped Nami was right. He hoped this was a terrible show and that was why the waiters wore earplugs. Maybe he could rip pieces of the tablecloth and stuff his ears too.

An elderly woman rolled her wheelchair onto the stage.

“Tonight is the full moon,” she said, her voice as clear and bright as icicles, “and as our regulars know, we have a special performer on nights such as these.” The crowd muttered in agreement and clapped. Luffy joined them, hollering alongside the eager guests, although Zoro couldn’t understand why he bothered. This show wasn’t going to be anymore special because it was performed on the full moon.

Sanji sat up straighter. “Should we try to get closer? I’d hate to miss anything.”

“We’re not getting closer.” Zoro scowled.

He replied, “I wasn’t talking to you.” Sanji looked longingly at Nami. “Did you want to get closer?”

Nami gave him a thin smile. “I’m good.”

“Listen closely and open your hearts,” the elderly woman said, “and enjoy!”

Her wheelchair edged backward into the darkness and a shower of white petals fell onto the stage. A chrous of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ rose above the din of clinking plates and silverware. A woman stepped onto the stage and Zoro refilled his sake. He didn’t get why this was such a big deal. It’s stupid, he thought, scowling, all this excitement for one woman? He glanced at the stage. The performer was wearing a long, flowing dark blue robe and skirt. The details on the flowing sleeves, robe, and skirt depicted a semi-translucent white stag alongside large pale lilies, petals, and clouds of mist.

“She’s beautiful,” Sanji mutters.

The sleeves billowed and moved like the rolling ocean waves as the performer gripped the microphone. Zoro looked away, uninterested.

You closed your eyes, preparing yourself, before the first lines of the song spilled like honey from your lips. No music accompanied your voice. There was no need for it. You opened your eyes to the dazed and captivated crowd. The VIP section was practically falling out of their seats and onto their knees before you.

You sang a beautiful and entrancing melody, a song of soft and gorgeous serenity. The lyrics weren’t as important as the rhythm and intention. A fast-paced, intense song often inspired anger or excitement. A slower, dreamier song like this one lulled the crowd into complicity and adoration. You spent nine years perfecting your craft and the last four running this business alongside Estella. You knew what worked and what didn’t.

“Sanji!” someone yelled from a table, “you’re gonna drool on my plate.”

Another devil-fruit eater. You squinted toward the table, though it was hard to see due to the spotlight blanketing everywhere, except for the VIP section, in shadow. For whatever reason your voice didn’t affect other devil-fruit eaters like yourself. Luckily, it didn’t matter for tonight. The boy in the straw hat was safe. Only the VIP section was targeted by Estella’s staff to have their pockets checked and liberate them of extra berry.

“Hey, wait a minute--” straw hat leapt to his feet. “What’re you guys doing?” The waiter holding a man’s wallet froze. Shit. He’s noticed. You stepped from the stage and your flowing robes dragged behind you like silk water. The spotlight followed you as you approached the dining table.

Your gaze slid over their astonished faces. A tangerine haired woman dropped her fork onto her plate. A well-dressed blonde man had one hand pressed to his chest – as if you struck him in the heart.

“Wow…” a lean man with a chestnut bandanna rested his chin in his hands. “You’re incredible.”

“Usopp?” Straw hat waved his hand in front of the man’s face. “Blink, Usopp! Blink!”

A moss-haired swordsman held the rim of his sake cup against his lips, but wasn’t drinking, like he’s frozen in time.

The front doors burst, “show’s over!” A pirate wearing an outfit of scarlet and dark crimson stood in the doorway with his pistols drawn. “The bloody bandits are here for their due.”

masterpost // > > next chapter

#one piece fanfiction #reader insert #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #zoro x sanji #zoro x sanji x reader #zoro x sanji x you #sanji x zoro #sanji x zoro x reader #opla fanfic #one piece live action fanfic

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bethanythebogwitch · 29 days

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Australian Pokemon - single stages

Another set of Fakemon for my Goorda region, based on a combination of Australia and Aotearoa/New Zealand. Previous posts: non-natives, regional standards, creepy lines, regional variants, birds, early-game standards, misc 2, misc 1, variant starters, starters

Wakaremai, the Transport Pokemon, water/dragon type. They have been used since ancient times as transportation, carrying humans between islands with the canoes growing from their backs. Some scientists believe ancient Goordan people created the species, but are not sure how. SOme legends say that people were first brought to Goorda on the back of a gigantic Wakaremai. While massive, Wakaremai are gentle giants who feed exclusively on plankton and are easily tamed by humans. Since the invention of motorboats, Wakaremai have become more common in the wild.

Wakaremai is a combination basking shark and waka, Maori canoes. I based the design on this reconstruction waka. It fills the same niche as Lapras in being a transport focused water type and Lapras are either not native to Goorda or where never used for transport. Real life basking sharks are plankton-eating gentle giants just like Wakaremai. The story of Wakaremai bringing people to Goorda is based on Maori stories of how they first came to Aotearoa on canoes. I did make two boat sharks in the same region, but Wakaremai is a gentle giant and defensively oriented while Davalossam (in a previous post) is very hostile and offensively oriented. Wakaremai's name comes from "waka" and "reremai", the Maori word for basking shark.

Mimicrag, the Thin Pokemon, fairy/rock type. Their bodies are paper-thin, making them incredibly flexible, but they are so light that the wind will blow them away. They live inside cracks in rocks and only emerge on windless days. Mimicrag are intelligent and mischievous Pokemon that have been known to prank hikers, but they seem to mean no harm. Legends say that the Mimicrag taught the first humans in Goorda how to survive in their new homes.

Mimicrag is based on the mimi, mythical creatures from north Australia who had to live in cracks in rocks because their bodies were so thin wind could kill them. They were believed to have inhabited Australia before humanity and taught humans how to hunt and make rock art. Depictions of the mimi are found in a lot of petroglyphs, which inspired the rock typing. Mimicrag would be a very fast and lightweight, but defensively poor Pokemon, the opposite of most rock types. The name comes from "mimi" and "crag".

Windipet, the Carpet Shark Pokemon, flying type. These airborne Pokemon normally dwell high in the sky and eat clouds, but they occasionally come low enough to encounter humans. They are strong enough to carry a human, but need training as their normal flying style would quickly send the rider falling. Windipet are know to be playful and will spend hours playing with each other when they meet.

Windipet is a flying carpet that is a carpet shark. Specifically, it's a tasseled wobbegong and a tasseled carpet. Them living in the atmosphere and rarely coming down is a reference to atmospheric beasts, cryptids that allegedly live their entire lives in the sky. Windipet comes from "windy" and "carpet" and I tried to mimic the word wobbegong.

Didgeridoodlebug, the Noisy Pokemon, bug/normal type. It has eight horn-like organs on its back that it can move air through to create a very loud noise. Smaller, stick-like organs coating its back are banged together to make more noises. During mating season, Didgeridoodlebug create cacophonous symphonies to attract mates, much to the dismay of any nearby humans trying to sleep.

Didgeridoodlebug is based on two Australian musical instruments and Thopha saccata, a species of Australian cicada that is a contender for the loudest insect in the world. Much like real cicadas, their songs can be very frustrating for humans. The musical instruments are the didgeridoo and clapsticks, both of which are used by Aboriginal peoples. I made it part normal type both because we don't have a bug/normal yet and to give it STAB on moves like hyper voice and uproar. Its name comes from "didgeridoo" and "doodlebug". Cicadas aren't doodlebugs, but I just couldn't pass up on that pun.

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spruzu · 21 days

Text

THROWING SOME SONIC HEADCANONS ON U

Sonic

-He always has a bruise or scratch on him somewhere even if he hasnt fought eggman in a few days. there. is. always. one.

-He's also COVERED in scars. Theyre either covered up by his fur/quills or theyve faded over the years.

-When sonic showers he uses a bottle that can be used for shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, mascara, ketchup, pepsi and a microwave.

-Sonic only really likes physical touch like hugging when he's seriously injured or in pain (example A. sonic prime and frontiers). Also he doesnt mind it when he's doing it to someone else.

-Sonic paces when he's worried, thinking or waiting for something. (Shadow does this too just less)

-Sonic fidgets in his sleep a LOT. He'll falls asleep on his back and wake up with his legs half off the bed and the duvet on the floor.

-Sonic cant cook so he gets tails to make him dinner (he knows how to make chilli dogs tho dw)

-Sonic used to hum tails to sleep when there was a storm

-This ties in with the one before it. SONIC IS A FANTASTIC SINGER. This man is angelic. Also no one can tell me Rouge can't sing coz she defo can.

-Sonic has a draw of all the stuff from his past adventures (chips bracelet, this upgrades from sa2, etc.)

-He smells like man deodorant (Lynx)

Shadow

-He takes notes on how to be a ''real mobian'' since he was brought up on the ARK he doesnt really know how to fit in so he'll stalk sonic and take in how he acts.

-Shadow and Rouge have ''girl nights'' where they stay up, do face masks, eat pizza and watch movies. Just a sleepover pretty much. (Omega is sometimes involved to)

-Shadow sleeps like a vampire

-Shadow and sonic spar often (3-4 days a week)

-And if sonic doesnt show up to the sparing session he'll go find him and make sure he's ok that they are still sparing

-His bedroom is lit up by lamps, no big light at all just lamps and the window.

-He's INSANELY good at cooking and baking. Gordon ramsey ahh hedgehog

-Can speak every language fluetly, this includes few ones that are dead (this is smt gerald gave him when he was in the 'creation' sage oin the ARK)

-He smells fucking fantastic 24/7. Lavendar, rlly nice perfume (probably Rouge's), deodarant, anything! This man smells great.

Knuckles

-He has a really low spice tolerance, one SPECK of spice and this dude is like sonic in tmosth.

-He gets bothered by Rouge trying to steal the master emerald at least once a week.

-Works out everyday, maxes out the machines and just goes at it like it's at the lowest setting.

-Sometimes he'll ask if sonic wants to spar for the fun of it if he's not on Angel island.

-FEMINIST! (He loves women)

-Denise he loves rouge but will just get flustered if she makes on single flirtation towards him.

-Has tubs of frosting and a spoon at nearly all times (WHAT IF HE GETS HUNGRY ITS A GOOD SNACK)

Tails

-Tails puts on cooking videos for background noise when he making/designing a new invention.

-Tails info dumps about planes and nerdy stuff to sonic and sonic just pretend s like he knows what tails is going on about because he knows it makes tails happy.

-Tails uses his tails for pillows sometimes.

-Getes his little hair ruffled by everyone (mainly sonic)

-Likes making gifts for people as a way to say thank you

Amy

-Amy plays dress up with cream.

-Herself and her room smells like roses/flowers in general.

-Loves watching mean girls with rouge.

-Doesnt look it but is STRONNGGGG. Your telling me that she would swing a punch and wouldnt send someone FLYING?? SHE CARRIES THAT MASSIVE HAMMER FOR VRYING OUT LOUD!!!

-Crystals.

Rouge

-LOVES to gossip

-Ayesha Erotica listener

-Does shadows makeup sometimes (Omega watches)

-Has a perfume collection that she lets shadow use to

-Has the most BEAUTIFUL dresses in her wardrobe for different occasions

-Loves to wear rings

there u go, have fun with those.

#sonic #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #knuckles #knuckles the echidna #tails #tails the fox #miles tails prower #sonic headcanon #sonic the hedgehog headcanons #headcanons #sth fandom #sonic fandom

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applcrumbl · 10 months

Text

Moonlit Man.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron X F!Reader Warnings: Sex allusions, Strong Language, Suggestive content, Word Count: 2.5K Author's Note: This took on an entirely different direction than it was supposed to, but that's life. Went very poetic with this one, take it or leave it.

Summary: A hookup-only relationship that becomes more.

The golden shine of his back in the soft glow of the balcony lighting outside. He came late and left early - though she never minded. They simply enjoyed their time together, every few nights, sometimes a week, never more than a month.

His breathing was shallow, his back defined. Comforter hanging low on his hips, it was a surprise he wasn’t freezing. The large bay window had all 3 glass panes wide open, the sound of the beach whistling through the breeze that blew gently into the room. The wind carried away the smell of sex from mere hours before.

She never slept afterwards, she couldn’t. Not when she knew he’d expect her gone in the morning. So she would wait until he snored soundly, before slipping into her shoes and sliding out the back door. Sleek. Silent.

He only slept when she was there. He couldn’t otherwise. Not when her soft heartbeat didn’t provide rhythm for him to focus on. So he would shut his eyes tight and knock himself out before she had the chance to be gone.

She never really wanted to leave. And he never really wanted her to go. How they’d found themselves in this familiar routine, neither knew. Like clockwork, and neither questioned. A fear of it ceasing altogether if it were mentioned.

There was no talking, other than the small introductory necessity beforehand, or the sexy profession of need during. Just sex. They knew each other’s names and mobile numbers. She knew he lived at Tannyhill, and he knew that she was a local. They were just sex, some light banter, and a guaranteed ride home at the end of a drunken night.

That was all.

Until it wasn’t. He’d looked her up. Breaking their unspoken arrangement. He searched instagram, he asked his friends, he’d almost near hired a private investigator when his seach turn up nothing. Her name like a needle in a haystack. Like an earring back in a freshly dug bed of soil. As if she never existed.

She did of course. It was so easy to block someone on social media. So easy to stay on a certain side of the island where one is reluctant to step foot. So easy to know where best to go on the odd occasion that one does. So easy to stay an elusive part of Rafe Cameron’s life, and carry no consequence for his action. How she liked it. No strings attached.

But despite a lack of strings, people can find other ways to be entwined. Feelings can be caught, and laughs shared. Snippets of memories, and drunken honesty. Over their short period of time together, they’d grown to enjoy the company. In ways that werent just late nights. Him sleeping first, and her slipping out.

This night were no different, and as his breath gently tickled her neck, she crept from his king sized bed as she’d done countless times before. Her underwear slid over her legs, dress over her head. She carried her shoes and jacket down the stairs of the large home. Quiet so as not to wake any of it’s other inhabitants.

The rest of her clothes were briskly added once she reached the front landing. The same path each time. Left step, right step, dodge the creaky floorboard, and out the old servants' quarter's door. It was in the house's original design to be the quietest area, so that the Plantation’s staff could once enter and exit without disruption to their masters. Perfect for her need.

She opens it, careful to dodge the miscellaneous boxes strewn about. Evidently where the family’s random items were collected. She knew that the baseball bat must’ve been Rafe's and that the dolls would have belonged to a pair of sisters she’d only heard traces of. But, as much as she’d happily let Rafe tell her all, she knew it was best to keep their paths clear and uncrossing.

“The front door is closer, you know.”

She jumps at the surprising voice, turning quickly to be met by her moonlit man. Hand clutching pearls, she steadys herself.

“Thought you were sleeping.” She states.

“I was” Rafe replies, rubbing the back of his neck, still shining with the lightest layer of sweat.

She pauses for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Oh, then I’m sorry to wake you.”

They look at eachother. Him directly at her eyes. Her at his shoulder, avoiding his direct gaze. They spoke sometimes, but not often, and never afterwards.

“You forgot your earrings.”

“Oh,” She breathes, “Thanks.”

She hold her hands out, expectant for the boy to place the studded pearls in her grasp. He doesn’t. “I left them upstairs.” He apologises, opening his fingers to show her his empty palms.

She just nods, “I’ll get them next time.”

There would be a next time, after all, there always was.

He clears his throat, “Sorry.”

A smile without teeth, and a curt nod. These were the most words they’d uttered to one another at a single time. At least not for those moaned, or whispered under bedsheets.

She turns to leave through the open doorway. Eager to be home before the cold took over too much. Laden in nothing but the thin jacket, shoe and satin dress she wore out the night before.

“You never answered my question.”

He catches her on the doorstep.

“Servants' quarter's door is the quietest place in the house.” She explains, “Slave owners liked not to be disturbed early in the morning.”

“Are you calling me a slave owner?”

“No!” she apologised, “I just meant it’s the quietest way out of the house.”

Typically, an air of confidence surrounded her. Conviction in uncertainty. She could pretend to be someone she was not, especially to those who knew no different. Her insecurity slips out. The strong bravado once built, comes tumbling down.

He enjoyed this side of her. Sweet, clumsy. He seldom saw it.

“Is that why I never hear you leave?”

“I wait until you’re sleeping.”

“Why don’t you just stay?”

The question throws her for a loop. Caught off guard, she can only stutter and answer.

“I have things to do?”

It comes out as more of a question than an answer.

“At 3am?”

She just nods, jacket pulled even tighter around her shivering body. She wants nothing more than to leave as usual.

“Why don’t you exist outside of my bedroom?”

It’s bold. It’s new. It’s nothing she ever expected to hear him say. It’s unlike anything Rafe Cameron has ever asked. It scared her. Shocked her into silence.

Any normal person would find words at that moment. Even something as simple as ‘I don’t know’. Yet, she stood, mouth agape, no sound coming out.

“I’d like it if you did.” He follows.

An admittance. A moment of pluckiness. An opportunity to spark a new light in their relationship. Testing the waters of whether or not they could be more. Whether he could have her full address. Whether she could stay over for the night.

But, her confidence is out of the window, and he needs his ego bruised a bit.

She just turns and walks away instead. Silent, except for her feet crunching the gravel path. Leaving Rafe alone at the servant's quarter’s door, which he never even knew existed. She runs from Tannyhill Plantation, and away from the man who she simply saw for sex.

Regret fills them both but for different reasons. She wishes she spoke to him. She wishes she stayed, she wished her confidence did too. She wishes that he kept sleeping and that she hadn’t forgotten her earrings. He wishes he’d offered to take her home. He wishes he’d just let her leave so that he’d know she’d come back. He wishes he’d never asked her for more than that.

He goes back to his bedroom, and she to hers. Pulling covers up tight around her shoulders, she nods off securely in her own bed. Rafe tossed and turns as the warmth leaves the spot next to him. His bed grew colder as hers grew warmer.

The next time they spoke was a mere week later. Both tired of their hand, and longing for the other. Rafe was the first to fold.

Wednesday, March 11th at 09:58pm.

RAFE Can we ignore what I said? I think I was still a bit high.

Wednesday, March 11th at 10:04pm.

Y/N That makes sense. Okay. RAFE I need you. Y/N Me too. RAFE I’ll pick you up? Y/N I’ll meet you at yours. RAFE Okay.

Message read at 10:12pm.

A round trip of Kildare Island will take you an hour and a half at most, and although he didn’t know much about her, he knew she drove. No matter where she stayed on this small island, she would have been with him after 45 minutes. And he’d known from past times that she always pulled into the driveway after 22. So when the clock struck 11pm, that is when Rafe began to worry.

He worried that she’d chosen to walk. He worried that she’d gotten into a car crash and died. But, most of all, he worried that she’d changed her mind. That she wasn’t coming. He text her again.

Wednesday, March 11th at 11:16pm.

RAFE You on your way?

The speech bubble that popped up soothed him. She was alive. The fact that it came and went a few times put him on edge. What was she going to say?

Y/N No. RAFE What do u mean?

He tries to call her. The number rings once before sounding the dial tone. She clicks the decline button, hands running over her thighs.

RAFE Answer your phone. RAFE Please RAFE Have I done something? Are you in trouble? Y/N I’m fine. Why would I be in trouble? RAFE Why aren’t you coming?

Wednesday, March 11th at 11:22pm.

Y/N We’re getting too attached. RAFE We’re not. RAFE I promise.

Wednesday, March 11th at 11:29pm.

Y/N We are. And that’s okay, It’s just not what I want. Y/N It’s not what either of us want, really RAFE We’re literally not geytung attached RAFE getting*

Wednesday, March 11th at 11:38pm.

Y/N Rafe, u searched me up. You asked around for me.

He draws his cigarette. A sharp breath in and a gentle one out. Contemplating his next message. Unable to deny his actions, but embarrassed by the reason behind them.

Y/N You’re literally still wake at 1AM waiting for me to come around.

Y/N

Waiting on your fucking porch for me Y/N And I know for fact that you have other numbers in your phone that you can call instead.

His eyes snap up. Scanning the darkness for a set of headlights. How else would she know he was here?

RAFE Where are you parked? Y/N Wdym? RAFE You know i’m on my porch, which means you’re here. Where are you? Y/N Lucky guess. RAFE Don’t believe you. Y/N You should. Y/N I’m at home. Y/N I just know what you’re doing right now because we’re getting too close. RAFE Is it really such a bad thing RAFE That i want to see you RAFE That i like you?

Wednesday, March 11th at 11:45pm.

Y/N You like my pussy RAFE Well yes RAFE But I want to know you Y/N

The speech bubble appears again before it leaves. It doesn’t show up for the rest of the evening. Or the following day. Or the next week. Month. Three Months.

Her life goes back to normal. His does too, only emptier. Her friends see her more, his see him less. She tries to forget about Rafe Cameron, and what it felt like to be beneath his sheets. He is plagued with thoughts of the girl who didn’t want him back. The first of her kind.

Kildare’s annual bonfire was the one chance he had of seeing her again. It was how they’d met the year previous. The first night of many stolen kisses and rumpled bedsheets.

Rafe had considered that the fact he’d never seen her, or that none of his friends had heard of her, might be because she was a pogue. He’d never thought to ask, and ultimately he’d started not to care. But it was underlying in his mind as he sipped a beer next to the bonfire. Using its flame to illuminate the face of every girl gone past. None of which her's.

He’d tried texting her. Called once or twice whilst drunk. But never got an answer. And he’d never admit it, but he missed her. Missed her almost as much as he did his own mother. A casual hook-up held the same weight in his heart as an absent parent. The one who got away.

Except, she never really got away. Because, she was never his in the first place. He can’t lose something he never had. He can’t have something that never wanted to be his. Rafe bullied himself into the ground for screwing up the opportunity.

She did the same for a while. Thinking, and thinking about what might have been. She’d dream of white dresses, and bearing children. She’d wonder what he was doing, who he was seeing. If he’d gotten over her. She’d convinced herself he had. She’d convinced herself he didn’t care for her anymore. She’d convinced herself that he wouldn’t even be at this stupid bonfire this year, and that the fact that she was going was stupid in itself.

But she’d do anything to at least see him again. Even if it were just the back of his shoulders, glistening in the low light of outside his bedroom window.

Maybe if she got the chance again, she’d stay. Maybe if he got the chance again, he’d keep her with him.

She sat at the bonfire. Eyes hurting from the smoke that blew her way. Unbeknownst that the very man she’d come for was exactly adjacent. Hidden by the burning embers, and floating orange ribbons. The fire died slowly as she pulled her phone out. Biting the bullet and sending the text.

Thursday, June 25th at 11:57pm.

Y/N Are you here?

An answer comes quickly.

RAFE Yes. Are you? Y/N I wouldnt have said ‘here’ if I wasn’t

He missed her quick wit. She missed his dumb questions.

RAFE Where? Y/N Meet me by the big rock? Y/N They’re away to put the fire out.

He rises quickly, avoidant of the poured water buckets that smother the once-roaring flames. It sizzles and hisses with the drastic change in temperature, but he can barely hear it over the thundering of his own heart. Rafe practically sprints to the rock, the phone still in hand.

She follows, catching a glimpse of him for the first time in so long. He has his back turned, it feels strangely poetic. The light of flame is replaced by that of the moon, and she watches Rafe in a familiar state. Broad shoulders outlined by blue shimmer.

The open horizon of the beach feels like Rafe’s bedroom window. He takes a seat, back still turned to her. His phone in hand as he begins to draft a text. No doubt asking where she is. She fights every urge to make as she normally would, and slip away. But, they both fight their vices.

Rafe's eyes stay firmly open, as he turns to the sound of her footsteps. Hers close tight as she sits next to him, head resting on his shoulder.

#applcrumbl #writing #rafe cameron #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

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Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel.

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames.

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach.

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill.

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell.

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!”

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool.

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone.

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts.

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.”

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer.

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind.

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though?

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement.

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone.

It wasn’t always that way.

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank.

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America.

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose.

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him.

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked.

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018.

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface.

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves.

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away.

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.”

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?”

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled.

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table.

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?”

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face.

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.”

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?”

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching.

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door.

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead.

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown.

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering.

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head.

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.”

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony.

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot.

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed.

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex.

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight.

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him.

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility.

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late.

��Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants.

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling.

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?”

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers.

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal.

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him.

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin.

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.”

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it.

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle.

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.”

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?”

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject.

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had.

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him.

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly.

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk.

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes.

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.”

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?”

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.”

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.”

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room.

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet.

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form.

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.”

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.”

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up.

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room.

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today.

My place.

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place.

Not permanently, anyway.

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit.

It can’t become a habit.

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear.

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him.

This weekend he felt powerless.

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery.

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side.

The answer to his prayers.

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself.

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined.

But mostly, it was a relief.

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears.

Even if he can probably never tell you again.

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up.

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear.

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV.

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?”

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.”

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?”

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.”

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease.

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you.

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?”

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with.

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV.

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots.

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break.

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.”

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.”

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?”

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.”

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip.

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace.

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies.

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat.

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock.

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse.

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet.

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips.

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you.

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek.

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you.

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod.

This is stupid.

You both know it.

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him.

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side.

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much.

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts.

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver.

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself.

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak.

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice.

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy.

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze.

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper.

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself.

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge.

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you.

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips.

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking.

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed.

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows.

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs.

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest.

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.”

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs.

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him.

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?”

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation.

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?”

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison.

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.”

That makes up his mind.

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.”

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.”

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp.

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion.

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them.

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer.

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin.

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement.

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?”

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud.

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child.

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements.

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?”

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.”

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation.

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place.

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it.

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest.

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around.

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask.

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone.

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free.

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses.

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him.

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying.

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing?

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face.

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks.

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be.

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.”

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?”

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him.

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate.

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud.

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace.

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable.

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms.

Then it’s quiet.

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really.

“This is good,” you say eventually.

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.”

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside.

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges.

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue.

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past.

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face.

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his.

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?”

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?”

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]

#designated person #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales angst #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal

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anonymouschishiyaimaginesandmore · 1 year

Text

The hard kind of Games

Minors, do not read! Contains mentions of smutty behavior!

MASTERLIST (up-to-date)

This is Part 1 !!Here!! is Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters or original stories, only the plot of this fanfic. Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters and original storyline belong to Haro Aso, who made the Manga the Series is based on.

Trigger Warning: Explicit Smut, Toxic Behavior, Drug Use, Gory, Written Madness, Complicated Consensual/Not-Consensual Behavior Summery: Chishiya x female OC that I gave a Name for this Story

A few days after the next stage started, Chishiya was already on his way to a game.

The blimps flying around got fewer and fewer and no one knew what would happen if the last one fell. Will happen. At some point. Chishiya strived to know.

As he entered the games arena, a huge club with different rooms, his attention was immediately on the number of participants. There were already around 60 players and the game hasn’t started yet.

Chishiya asked himself what kind of game would need so many attendees. No matter what it was, he felt that the answer would come soon, whatever he liked it or not. His attention turned to the growing crowd.

So many faces. The blond man scanned the room, looking at first for familiar faces, from the beach or from his time in the real world and then for signals the other participants were sending out. Micro expressions, a nervous tick, or hidden weapons. The people around him seemed to be either on the edge, alarmed or unconcerned. No one really wanted to be here. Playing live and death games. Chishiya did, tho.

Slow steps led him into the next room, locating where everything and everyone was standing and looking out for any hidden clue or hints that could possibly lead to a win. While the one he stepped in first was the entry to all the other rooms, looking like some fancy hotel lobby, this one delivered a different message -> Welcome to pleasure and lust island <- Red velvet chairs were scattered throughout the whole room and a pompous throne at the end with lines of gold and framed by silky curtain.

This was a room for low human activities. Nothing he wanted to participate in when the danger of dying was all too present. The few people in this room had hijacked the bar already and were drinking like they wouldn’t need each of their braincells to get out alive. Whatever, Chishiya thought, stepping into the next room, they all look like dying anyway.

The next rooms interior design was more like the clubs he was used to in the real world. Colorful neon lights everywhere with loud thuds booming from wall to wall, trying to outdo eachother and followed by single syllable music blasted by speakers. Lasers in all kinds of shapes and forms flew around, reflecting on the mirrors left and right, but none of this awakened in him the desire to dance and surrender to the approaching end, like the people around him did.

In this room of around 20 people, Chishiya’s observant eyes catched a familiar sight. The one of a girl he has seen on the beach, walking around from time to time and aside from that, keeping to herself.

The ex-beach member wouldn’t have thought that from all the survivors of the big ten of hearts game, it would be her who made it this far. He has played a few games where this girl participated in and while she made it to the end, it wasn’t like she played any big part or stood out in any way. At least not to him and Chishiya had an eye for interesting people.

She could have been a no one if Chishiya hasn’t seen her lurking around the hotels entrance sometimes. However, after following her around for a while, he had to come to the conclusion that she was, after all, just a boring no one, who tried to understand what happened to the live she once knew and how to adapt to this one.

His lips turned into an innocent smile, while his feet made fast work to approach her and in less than 10 minutes, he had her wrapped in his web and made her his partner in crime in case the game was about forming teams. Everything was possible and Chishiya was ready for whatever the game masters now came up with, no matter.

The girl introduced herself as Ivy, what Chishiya instantly knew was a lie by the long pause she took before answering him and her body language as she said the name, but the girl did good not to trust him from the get-go and tell him her whole life story, in case he planned to trick her and use her as decoy to get out of a deadly situation.

Chishiya didn’t miss the side eye she gave him and how Ivy never let him out of her sight while he was close.

Good girl, the dyed blond thought, smirking as she glanced sheepishly at him before parting to take a look at the other side of the slowly packing room. You are doing good not to trust me.

Chishiya was sure that his reputation had long made its way to her before she even left the beaches not very secure walls, and it was surely not a good one. After all he was known to use people for his advantage and this girl wouldn’t be different.

However, Ivy wasn’t long gone before wiggling her way thru the crowd back to him, telling him to follow her with a worried expression and twitching fingers grabbing the hem of her plain shirt tightly.

Chishiya did, making his way to where she came from, with Ivy in front of him leading the way, before both of them came to a halt in front of high glass doors that led to a different room with varnish and leather hanging from a huge X.

There was a small group that mostly blocked his view of what everyone was staring at, but Ivy grabbed Chishiya’s hand announced and pulled him further, using her small posture to wriggle around the noisy bodies that pressed her from side to side.

When Chishiya’s brown orbs finally got to see what visibly shocked everyone, he let out a long hmm, grabbing his new partner and pulling her back to the spot he stood before.

Ivy tried to protest, but Chishiya gave her no time. Soon, panic would start to break out and people would accuse eachother to be part of the closed rooms gruesome scene.

The bodies, the blood. A massacre. Cut off limbs and ripped out throats everywhere with shattered bottles and glass covering the red soaked carpet but nonetheless, what preoccupied Chishiya’s turning wheels the most, were the written letters on the otherwise completely clean surface that just didn’t want to swing open anymore.

Room clear. Next will follow.

Panic came as Chishiya predicted and people tried to leave the games venue, but the entrance was blocked, and the only way out was an elevator who’s cubic was at least 4 levels above and therefor unreachable.

That didn’t stop everyone tho. In the next 2 hours 4 people died thru stupid and imperfect tries to climb the elevator shaft, falling to their demise eventually.

“Idiots” Chishiya exclaimed taking a quick look down into the dark nothing, where another player just disappeared “If the doors don’t open, it means the game has started and there is no leaving until its cleared.”

Ivy’s own mindless tries stopped as soon as the second locked room was discovered, around 4 hours since Chishiya’s arrival and again, bodies, blood and people’s guts everywhere. To top things off, no sign of how things had happened.

For Chishiya’s watchful eyes, it was clear the people had killed eachother. The fact that most of the cut open corpses still carried glass shards or knives was indication enough, however no matter how long he starred thru the transparent glass, no lettering or hidden notes on the wall indicated the cause of death.

From then on people lost their shit entirely. Some tried to take over the situation as it always happened with people trying to bring good old law and order into a life and death situation. One man who identified himself as a police officer demanded everyone to split as far away apart as possible, so every single participant could be searched thru for bloodstains and weapons and what not, but his reasonable demands only put him on the wrong side of the spotlight and soon he found himself stabbed by two others that were convinced that he had killed everyone. After all, why else who he demands for people to give up guns and weapons if he wasn’t planning to kill more, right?

Chishiya couldn’t agree less with this logic, but the man died anyway trading his spotlight with the murderers. As more and more people started to accuse eachother, even Ivy standing next to him, following the stupid bickering all too overburdened with the situation, spoke up, protesting against the idea to chain every person scattered in different rooms and to some furniture, until it was clear who did what, but Chishiya stopped her mid-sentence, leaving the way too overcrowded room for a less occupied one and telling her to follow him.

“If you start giving ideas or keep objecting to others, they will get you on their radar and if things don’t turn out as expected you might die like the police guy” the blond man explained, his head gesturing towards the lifeless body of their past fellow player, while walking into the adjoined room with stuffed animals and rainbow shaped couches.

“So, what should I do? Stand around and do nothing while people die?” Ivy asked slightly enraged. Chishiya’s unmoved expression told her his exact answer without muttering a single word “Of course” a bitter smile creeping on her face and Chishiya straitened his shoulders for the impact that would leave him unharmed as always “That’s what you always do” the girl took a step back from her teammate, putting some much needed space between herself and the psychopathic blond “Letting people die around you until you find the answer and then just leaving the game with everyone dying behind” a normal person would now get angry by the hurtful accusations but Chishiya only smirked knowing what the girl was going to say next. They always did. Pointing fingers and call him heartless and what not and yeah maybe he was, but at least he was alive, unlike some of the more caring idiots that lost theirs due to lightning themselves on fire just to keep others warm “That’s awful. Only a monster would do such things and still feel nothing” Chishiya scoffed. His eyes traveled across the overly cutesy furniture “Then why did you agree to team up with me? A Monster. Kind of stupid don’t you think?”

Ivy shook her head as if she was trying to push and throw away the bad thoughts that implicated she might has made a deal with the devil “I don’t know” she confessed honest “Maybe I thought all the others told me some bullshit of just how selfish you really are or perhaps I thought that because I know you from the beach, it would be smarter to trust you then anyone else” this fact should have indeed told her otherwise. After all the beach has never been the promised Utopia Hatter had loved to paint it and no one, not even naïve young Ivy could have overlooked all the terrible things that happened on its terrain “Trusting anyone is always a bad choice” Chishiya stated and Ivy nodded slowly agreeing and looking the man in front of her up and down “Maybe” she said, turning to the side and Chishiya knew she would leave soon, not that he would stop her “But I would rather trust the wrong people and die then to life such a pathetic empty life as you” and with that she left.

Chishiya chuckled, looking after her as her small posture made its way into another room. She would come back, he knew, eventually. It was easy to say such things but when it comes to the desperate will to live, people would always throw someone else to the round just to be the last one standing. Ivy wouldn’t be different. No one ever was, no matter how high and mighty they liked to talk.

Chishiya went to search each room for signs again, discovering Ivy doing the same, tho he didn’t trust her perception and planned to go thru the rooms she already had searched again. No way he would put his life in the hands of someone who barely made it out of past games.

However, he needed her busy or she would lose her cool and flip her shit like all the other participants. That better not happen, the blond ex doctor thought. Not in case I still need you.

Tho he kept his eyes on her, just in case she was the dealer of the game and was planning to get rid of him or tempt other players to do so. After all, Chishiya didn’t saw Miras place in all the games either and here he was, fooled like everyone else.

When she did approach him after some time, carrying a bottle of some soda that she handed over like a good Samaritan, Ivy had nothing to share, beside some Latin words at the entrance that led to all the clubs’ rooms and just as Chishiya decided to take a look himself, the doors of the next room closed and didn’t open no matter how hard people pushed.

How stupid, Chishiya thought. People have already tried throwing chairs and other stuff in their fruitless attempts to open the doors, but apparently, they were made with great precautions, because not even after someone fired a gun aiming at the glass, did it break, or even showed so much as a crack. Instead, it not only bounced off, but also hit another player in the chest after grazing Ivy’s shoulder, who stood too close to the scene and killed the poor fool that just so happened to walk by, instantly.

Curtains fell over the door and for 30 minutes no one saw anything. No information’s of what was happening inside. Then, the curtains lifted, revealing yet another room full of dead players and people scattered around, sinking down on chairs like a bag of potatoes or bundled over in an embryo position, rocking back and forth.

3 Rooms gone, Chishiya counted, seven to go, including the one he was in right now. Chishiya’s eyes shifted towards his teammate, who swallowed hard. Her hand reached for his, but retracted before it could get to it, reminding herself of what kind of person he was and that there was no comfort to expect from him.

“We could be next” she whispered and Chishiya nodded, eyes scanning over the dead bodies he could see.

A lot of participants grabbed the next bottle and drunk themselves into delirium and to be honest, Chishiya could understand them.

This was supposed to be a game and a game always had a goal to win, but this one was more like the king of spades one. There were to specific rules, no instruction on how to play or what to do to clear it. No time limit either and no one knew who their opponent even was. The blimps huge cards showed the King of hearts, but no face has been shown yet. No one even knew if there was a human being behind this game. Chishiya still thought there had to be someone who pulled the strings.

The way he saw it, every 2 hours a room closed, no matter how many people were inside. Why those rooms? He couldn’t tell. There seemed to be no real reason so far and for now he just took it as a random generated choice until he knew more.

Another 3 rooms closed and Chishiya saw Ivy less and less often. Other players would have thought that she was breeding out some wicked plan or was the one behind all of this, but Chishiya knew human beings good enough.

Desperation was catching up on his teammate, making her pace around, blindly searching for any clues to make it out alive. He kept in mind to look for her every 2 hours so if his room was the unlucky one locking itself, he had her at least with him in case he needed her.

2 more rooms closed up and opened their curtains and the players grew less and less. Without no real rest, it was hard to stay calm all the time. Adrenlin pumping thru veins while eyes shifted nervously from person to person, looking for the one who pushed the buttons. Everyone, beside Chishiya, who always kept his cool no matter what.

He saw people fighting against eachother, trying to push others out of the places they had taken right next to the doors. Everyone hoped that, in case the room closed, they only had to be fast enough, sliding thru the small gap away from the source of fire but that was just another stupid idea. Then more and more players disappeared towards the entrance, only to not be seen ever again.

Chishiya knew where they went. His fellow players got so frightened by the unknown that they rather chose to throw away all hope and take the death they knew. All hope. Chishiya titled his head, standing at one of the red velvet rooms walls.

He read something about hope somewhere since he joined this game but the more he tried to remember it, the harder the thought seemed to fight his grasp.

Strange, the self-called genius proclaimed to himself, slowly realizing that more and more of his thoughts seemed to slip away.

Before Chishiya had the chance to really think about it, he spotted Ivy’s face in the crowed fighting thru the mass in his direction. Her face was red, and she seemed to breath heavily. That got him alarmed immediately and he gave up his leaning statue position to walk slow steps towards her direction.

When she finally reached him, she had a hard time breathing. Her hair was sticking to her sweating cheeks as she looked at him, mouth forming words he couldn’t hear.

“What?” he screamed at her, a hand reaching out to hold her in place as Chishiya leaned his head closer to understand her better.

“We have to get out of here” she said and Chishiya looked at her confused, her lips formed the word “Now” as her voice was swallowed by the crowed.

He didn’t have time to comprehend the meaning of them as Ivy suddenly leaned forward, pressing the same mumbling lips on his, kissing him furiously. Wait, what?

Chishiya was taken aback and for a moment, too long for his own liking, he let her proceed. The blond reached for Ivy’s face with both his hands, trying to push her away from him, but instead he found himself, pulling her closer, kissing her back, his tongue devouring the inside of her mouth eagerly.

Now that was unexpected, he thought.

Her hands left her own sides and reached for his chest, scraping over his black shirt and greedy going lower until he felt them slipping under the fabric, touching, and seizing the sensitive skin down to his V Line and the careful trimmed hair. Her small fingers tugged at the hem of his pants, all impatient and Chishiya’s head screamed to push her away. To grab said hands and pull them off him.

This was no place for this kind of act. Besides, there was nothing on said girl that excited him, even the slightest, to start this kind of play with her. Not at the beach and most definitely not in this kind of venue, but he didn’t stop her.

Chishiya made no move to fight her. Said nothing to put her back in her place or let her know that she was indeed the last person he would consider getting intimate with.

Right here, right now? He thought, as he felt fingers opening the knots of his black joggers’ cords, finding the opening instantly and slipping past his underwear down right to his manhood.

Chishiya gasped at the unexpected feeling of her grabbing him, but he didn’t have much time to think about it as she already started moving her fingers around him, pumping him steady while surrounded by a crowd of strangers and kissing him as if they knew eachother for a long time.

He moaned into her mouth. His right hand grabbing one of her arms and nails dug deep into the soft fat of her skin, but he didn’t stop her movements. Didn’t rip her hand out of the boxers confinement and made to fuss as her thumb rubbed impatiently over the tip of his growing member, spreading the beads of precum and wetting his cock while stroking him to her liking.

“What…what are you…doing?” he asked between kisses and other sounds that escaped his mouth way too quickly and grunting as her hold on him tightened, massaging him ambitiously and, how he had to agree, nicely and with good knowledge. That was one thing he could give her.

“The Air” Ivy answered equally breathing hard and feeling the prominent thick vein under her pads pulsing and pumping more and more blood into the rising tent, but Chishiya didn’t understand “The Vents” she said this time, taking his hand into hers and squeezing absurdly painful, while the other made to attempts to stop her actions on him.

Ivy looked into dark orbs and his brain told him that there was something wrong with the way her eyes starred at him. They seemed glazed, brighter than their usual color and her pupils were strangely dilated. More and more sweat was forming on her cheeks and forehead, running down to her jaw and dripping away. The sight somehow electrified Chishiya and he felt himself arousing at the thought where else she was possibly dripping.

“I need you” husky words whispered towards him “Now” pressing her lips on his anew and opening her mouth to allow Chishiya a tour he hasn’t asked for. “I don’t understand” Chishiya mumbled in between his own grunts, sounding stupid and horny in his own ears. He felt like the air was sucked out of his lungs by Ivy and his brain was no help at all. For some reason his body wasn’t moving the way it was told and he was alarmingly unbothered by that fact.

Chishiya felt a pull that got him out of his worrying thoughts, as Ivy dragged him towards the Bar. As they reached it, he was surprised but not aversed as he watched her lifting her skirt and taking of her panties in a hurry, throwing them somewhere he didn’t see, because his eyes were locked on her clothed cunt, awaiting the possible view he could get. She then set down on a stool and pulled him by his shirt towards her, spreading her legs so he could fit right into the space between them with obvious want and Chishiya gasped mentally.

She wasn’t going to do what he thought she would, would she? WOULD SHE?

Chishiya had a hard time, literally, following his own thoughts, but everything in him screamed that this was wrong. Something was happening, but he couldn’t follow the leads to find the bigger picture. His brain was too much in a daze to concentrate properly on anything else than his urge to fuck Ivy right then and there. To be inside of her and finally feeling the luring heat of her warm walls around him, flexing and hopefully not letting go until he came with all his balls could offer.

And he didn’t have the strength to fight this urge either, as he felt her work on his pants again, pushing them down just enough for his erect member to come free and smack against his stomack. When did he get hard? How did this happen? Chishiya wasn’t the kind of guy who oh so easily got excited by some girl in tight clothes, less if the circumstances didn’t fit his demands like right now.

They were in a game. He could die every minute and Ivy too, but his body didn’t seem to care, pumping blood in his lower region with an impressive speed.

“Can’t…stop” the girl whispered, pulling him flush against herself and harshly planting sloppy open-mouthed kisses one after the other. Her Skirt rode up with every grind Chishiya made against her sex, revealing more and more skin but not offering him one glance at what his cock desired the most now.

“Me neither” Chishiya hissed when the red leaking tip of his length poked the plum flesh of her inner thighs, leaving small droplets of milky white pre-cum and smearing it around as his hips rocked back and forth on a desperate search for friction of any kind “What are you doing with me?” the sultry spoken words were born rather out of confusion from the dyed blond man then out of lust. He positioned himself between her thighs as this was an everyday thing. Fucking her in a Club surrounded by people.

For some unknown but worrisome reason, Chishiya couldn’t care less. He sighed deliciously smiling in the most handsome way Ivy has ever seen someone do in her presence, as Chishiya got the tiniest peak of what could await him. After rocking desperately into nothing, struggling to keep his posture for much longer, his dick found the soaking wet place of her cunt, gliding up and down along her folds and spreading the incredible mess Ivy had created onto him, coating every millimeter of his penis for what was to come. It felt like heaven and Chishiya trembled at the thought of how good her pussy could feel, if what he had gotten yet was already so fueling, it left him gasping for air. Literally.

His hands pushed her skirt up entirely, sparking another smile to his face and revealing the lustful cunt that he craved now more than staying alive. As he reached with one hand for her face guiding it to his mouth, Ivy sobbed, tears spilling at the edges of every eyelid, running down her flushed cheeks and onto his hands while she whimpered his answer “I don’t know, Chishiya.” The other one went to her waist, holding her in position, so she couldn’t back away once he started, and he did. With one swift move, no preparation, no getting used to his size, just one move and he was fully inside her.

Ivy yelped in pain, and he liked it. He liked the way she screamed when he was so deep inside her, he could feel her pulse around his cock, beating at the sound of her heartbeat. It turned him on even more then her body ever could “Chishiya stop” Ivy whispered as he pulled all back, but her body betrayed her words. Legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place and making sure he too couldn’t leave. His tip fell out of her weeping cunt, dropping heavily a few centimeters and arranging a wet squelching sound as her entrance closed and opened again like a living breathing being.

“I can’t” Chishiya panted, titling his hips upwards so his dick raised back to the hole he oh so desired, plunging all in for a second time and listening vulgar at every brutal scream he coaxed out of her body, only to repeat his actions again and again in an agonizing slow way. Ivy’s eyes were shut with force. More and more tears formed around the lids, running down her face and poisoning the ex-doctors mind with thoughts of how hard her tears would spill if he had gone for her throat instead of her pussy. Just as the salty liquid was about to run down her cheeks, he liked them away.

Disgusting, Chishiya thought, but his inside felt turned on by the taste, giving Ivy a few sadistic ruthless trusts “You look so fucking good…mhmm…so damn good, I want to eat you up” words that could very much be interpreted as thrilling dirty talk, were instead said with a morbid and animalistic want to really bite into her flesh and chew on what he could rip out. It was bizarre and Chishiya felt a small part of him was deeply appalled at his own thought, but the more prominent part, the one that had the upper hand right now, making him fuck a girl he didn’t give the minimum of courtesy and treat her to a drink before screwing her lascivious on a chair and seriously contemplating about how tasty Ivy would be if only he could get a tiny bit of her between his teeth. Just the thought alone was so savory it made his mouth water at the sight of her shoulder. His pelvis smacked against her clit, thrilled her body and transported her closer and closer to the euphoria Chishiya’s actions promised.

The blond himself couldn’t be less and more overjoyed at the same time as possible. His body and mind, usually in sync, were now competing against each other. Pushing him towards the joyous extasy his lower abdomen was craving so much but also wishing for nothing more than that it stops. The want to do absurd things he had never even thought about, less felt kinky on, flooded his brain, swearing up and down that he would feel stimulation of his life if he just gave in and plunge his teeth into Ivy’s poor neck. Aching him to try just one bite. It couldn’t hurt right?

Well fucking yes, it will god damn it hurt like hell for the tormented girl and Chishiya knew it. He knew it like he knew the laws of physics and still. His mind swore again and again how tender she would taste. Just a little. One will be okay right? One bite. Just one.

While Chishiya was against everything happening right now, the display of sexual activities in public was at the top of his list, his body seemed to enjoy every second of it. Even craved it. He felt his right hand moving to her chest massaging one breast, pinching, and squeezing her abused nipple nonstop and way harsher then needed. He couldn’t stop tho. He rolled the small, hardened bud between thumb and index finger, pulling unnecessary at it and what should have brought Ivy pleasure only rose more sobbed pleads and repeating “Chishiya it hurts.”

Ivy was a mess. His bodyweight almost crushed her as he leaned further onto her, bending her back over the cushioned seat. The harsh way he trusted into her, screwing a girl raw for the first time in his life without any kind of protection fucking her so forcefully it obviously pained her audibly. All of that should make him stop. He wasn’t the kind of man for such acts. Wasn’t into forcing himself on anyone. He got no pleasure into seeing people hurt or scream in pain, but then again, Chishiya couldn’t tell a time he was more aroused then right now.

He should be ashamed. This was so not him right not. Not his usual self. The blond could tell the same about Ivy, tho he didn’t know her that well. It was like someone else had taken her body hostage. Someone who didn’t minded getting her brain fucked hard, even enjoyed it and Ivy couldn’t stop it from happening. Not that Chishiya would let her go. Ever.

It hurt so much, the way he was pounding into her and still, she pulled him closer, kissed him deeper, pressed her heels into his back, so he couldn’t get away, wouldn’t get away from fucking her.

Pained whines, one after the other, escaped her mouth, tho as Ivy opened her lips, it wasn’t Stop that came out of it, but the Word “Harder” and Chishiya complied.

He put one hand on the bar to support himself as he leaned further onto his very new teammate, trusting at a higher speed. This felt so wrong.

Ivy threw her head into her neck screaming louder, no moans, just painful screams and he knew, he just knew she didn’t enjoy the way he fucked her. His brain was telling him, the signs were all there. The tears, the screams, the way her fists clenched so hard into his outstretched arm, her knuckles turned completely white. Her inside was practically milking him with the way it was non-stop clenching and pulling him back, begging for more.

The signs were all there, but his body didn’t care and hers didn’t either. “I want you so much” Chishiya whispered, leaning forward and sloppy kissing the shoulder he eyed for so long after grabbing her shirts string and pulling it down the whole length of her arm. She tastes salty, what was only logic after all the liquid her body was sweating out like it was mid-summer heat, however the aroma didn’t rapture his doing. He kissed up and down along every little part of her shoulder, running his tongue along her neck and slurping like he could suck her blood out of her body, if only he could kiss her harder.

However, Chishiya’s intrusive thoughts won over his aversion to pain someone who hasn’t done anything against him nor was standing in his way of survival. He was surprised how brutal he was as he bit the soft part of her shoulder way too hard. Teeth tearing into skin, then flesh, drawing unnecessary blood that he licked and sipped away eagerly, only to dig deeper until he was sure, his whites had grazed a bone and he finally stopped. He gulped the liquid down his throat taking a good look down at the visible mark he created and realizing with definitely not enough shock that he could make out every single one of his teeth perfectly aligned and molded into Ivy forever “I want to ruin you”, he made his nonsense of thoughts space, watching in horror how Ivy laughed at his statement seemingly happy, but sobs broke every single one of her small fits as she pulled him down again, tasting her own flavor on his lips.

“I don’t want to die” she whispered before laughing maniacally again and kissing him so feverously he stopped his hips for a moment, falling completely into the act and forgetting for a moment how wrong this was, until they parted, and she mumbled so quiet against his lips, he almost didn’t hear it “Please don’t kill me Chishiya.”

He heard her, he really did, but the blond man somehow couldn’t care. The bite. He licked a long stripe over the wound, his tongue circling over it, stopping her healing process and drawing further spilling blood. It must have hurt a lot, he thought, because it was bleeding like crazy. He licked the blood away again, kissing the spot, as his eyes wander around. That’s when he caught sight of his surroundings and the sudden view mixed with the meaning of what he saw, shook him to his bones.

People have lost their minds. Everyone was fucking insanely, screwing eachother over broken furniture and it was not in a good way. Some were going at it, punching each other while their bodies smacked loudly against one another. One couple was moving in the same position he and Ivy did, just that the guy was purposely ramming a broken piece of glass into the woman’s throat, not stopping while she cackled maniacally and kissed him wildly, aggressively ripping out parts of his tongue and chewing on it like it was the most delicious thing she ever had.

His eyes moved further along to a guy behind the bar right in front of him. He had a girl down on her knees with her arms loosely hanging around her body, while he trusted into her mouth grunting and growling, holding her in place by the tight grip on her jaw. She was dead. Chishiya knew it by the way her hands swayed back and forth with the man’s movement but he didn’t seem to mind it. Parts of Chishiya even believed he enjoyed it as much as the blond man reveled in the sight.

It weirdly reminded him of a doll. That was crazy. The people around him were killing each other while screwing violently. Everyone was crazy. And to his own shock, Chishiya had to come to the conclusion that he also had gone crazy with his acts and the fact he felt no real remorse beside that tiny shrilling part of his brain that begged him again and again, to please stop his actions. They had already gone so far. Please, his brain pleased with him, but Chishiya was unable to follow, no matter how much he wanted, and he did want to, as he looked down on Ivy, bleeding from her shoulder, screaming while he couldn’t stop himself pounding her harder and harder.

Realization hit him. He was going to kill her.

Chishiya already felt the urge for his hand to grab her throat. As soon as he couldn’t suppress that anymore, he would probably squeeze her so hard, choking her, while still not stopping from filling her cunt with his cock again and again. Maybe, he thought, as his eyes went to the people around him again, maybe he would still be going after he killed her.

Chishiya didn’t feel his release coming. No urge for it. Just an animalistic necessary to fuck her as hard as he could. His eyes went up and landed on the ceiling and then again, realization, as his eyes made out the vent in the corner.

That’s what Ivy tried to tell him. Something was pumped thru the vents into the room, making everyone go crazy on each other. In his head he was going thru all existing gas-like drugs that could cause such a behavior. His body moving meanwhile on autopilot.

He felt bad. The way he was hurting her... It wasn’t on purpose, but they were still his hands grabbing her right leg, pulling it over his shoulder so he could get a better angle and going deeper and harder, while angling her further and kneading her breast while she trashed in front of him, but still pulled him closer, calling out and begging him to stop with the same voice that told him to not do it. His fingers pulling her hair back with so much force he was sure her neck should have snapped. Nails digged so hard into the tender skin of her exposed tights, it started bleeding and still, he didn’t stop it. Couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter what. He dug harder, caused her so much discomfort, Ivy had a hard time breathing between all the sobs and screams.

Chishiya glimpsed at her chest and the way it was raising in distress. It turned him on and made him want to puke at the same time. How long until she broke under him?

If he kept bending her over that stool the way he did, it wouldn’t be long until he would snap her spine in half. That would be terrible. She wouldn’t die right away but it would rather make her unable to move. Chishiya decided he couldn’t wait any longer, he had to do something, or he would be soon humping a dead corpse.

His mind was reaching for the last thought he had. A part of him remembered that he had discovered something, just before the effect of the drug apparently kicked in and Ivy had found him.

Ivy. He would kill her after screwing her and he didn’t even know her real name. What would have happened if she hadn’t found him? Would someone else already stabbed her to death while impaling her small body on his cock?

Or would she be the one on top, scratching the poor guy’s eyes out while rutting her hips back and forth? Was she going to plug his out? Chishiya imagined her tiny fingers plunging into his eye sockets, ripping every eyeball out separately. Goosebumps formed on his body but the thought of watching her doing this turned him disgustingly on. Chishiya pushed those thoughts away. They were distracting and not helpful at all.

His mind grabbed and reached for the aha moment. What was it again? Something…Somewhere…fucking…shit. Chishiya had to come to the conclusion that his mind was unable to think about anything else then its carnal desire to pump this female body under him with his cock, watching her switch between screams and cries for more and begging him to please not stop, while trashing around helplessly.

Instead, Chishiya ripped his eyes away from this sight. His stomachs insides were circling around, and it didn’t help to constantly remind himself of his upcoming doom if he wasn’t able to come up with something as a plan to restrain himself in any way possible.

His gaze went over the rapidly decreasing number of survivors. Less than 7 people were still standing, at least somehow. 2 pairs were going at eachother in the corner of Chishiya’s eyes. At the other side, two females were murderously making out with a guy. One blew him while the other was chewing on his jaw, ripping parts of skin and flesh out and eating him alive, while all the man was doing nothing else then lying there and smiling in a disturbing bloody way. His lips, at least the parts that were still there, widened as he catched sight of Chishiya looking at him, waving him over and inviting to also have a snack.

No thanks, the blond thought, cannibalism has never been one of his kinks.

Instead, something else catched his attention. A door behind the threesome couple and Chishiya went thru his head where it could be leading. His mind was slow while his hips picked up their pace. And then it hit him. The thought he had before all of this started.

Hope. Chishiya’s face contorted bitterly at the obvious fact. This game was meant for people to lose all hope and kill eachother. The less they fought against the drug and with that against the urge to kill, the less they would have to endure pain and agony at watching people die by their own hands. A true heart game.

He remembered that Ivy had told him that the only note-like thing she found were Latin words at the entrance and at one of Chishiya’s rounds thru the games venue he had seen them. His mind recalled the words, pressing them to the surface with want -> Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate <-

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” Chishiya mumbled the words translated. A sentence that according to Dante was written over the gate that led to hell.

Chishiya pressed his forehead against Ivy’s sweaty one, laughing relieved but also a tad nervous. This was the hint he had been searching for and he overlooked it the whole time. If the phrase was written over the door frame that led to all the clubs, it meant that the clubs were meant to be hell and thus, to escape hells influence, one must get out of it.

The lobby. The only save space, because it was the room before the words welcomed every participant into hell, but how was he supposed to get there now that the room has closed itself up.

Chishiya’s clouded brain reminded him of the couple of 3 murderous players, but he didn’t want to think about them, pushing it aside. However, something in his mind was bugging him to go over it again and as Chishiya finally gave in and looked at the still overly disturbing view his eyes widen at the door behind them. It wasn’t supposed to be there.

It was none of the glass-like ones that led one room to the other and back and Chishiya couldn’t remember seeing it somewhere else. However. There was one of the heavy velvet curtains right next to it, so maybe he hasn’t seen it because it was hidden all the time?

Whatever it was, since there was no other way out, this door had to be the one leading to some, hopefully, safe space away from this literal hell. An idea came to his mind.

Chishiya straightened his posture as good as he could. He reached for the nearest glass, grabbing it and fighting the urge to slay Ivy with it. Instead, he pulled it at himself, crashing at his head so hard it broke and shattered in countless pieces.

The sudden impact made his body stop its movement, tumbling a few steps back.

Ah yes, pain, he thought, trying to control his breathing. He saw changes in the corner of his eyes and when he looked up, his brown orbs catched Ivy sitting up. The right side of her shirt was hanging loosely. Apparently, he had ripped it without realizing it. Her body was shaking with sobs while she looked at him questioning why he had stopped what she probably craved just as much as he did.

3 fast steps, that’s all it took him to get to her, putting his hands around her throat.

There was pressure from his squeezing, but he wasn’t choking her yet. The shock in her eyes was painful. She knew he was going to kill her now, she likely concluded this by herself, but seeing him going at her that way must be a different thing. He leaned his forehead against hers. Her helpless whimper only broken by a soft-spoken Word “Chishiya.”

He kissed her hard, no love, no caring, just lips on lips. Ivy’s mouth opened and his tongue pressed against hers in a lewd and sinful way that he would have enjoyed if his next thought wasn’t to bite it off “Run” Chishiya whispered what catched her attention “Run away from me.”

He grabbed a sharp piece of the glass he had shattered at his head and stabbed himself into his torso “The door” he hissed uncomfortable. His head gestured in the direction of the 3 now almost lifeless bodies. Ivy followed his gaze, landing on the same spot and somehow, she seemed to understand quicker than the blond man himself. Chishiya pressed the sharp piece deeper, eliciting another stinging wave of pain.

It hurt and it bled instantly but he would be okay. After all, the ex-doctor knew exactly were to puncture without harming any vital organs. He groaned and in one swift move threw Ivy off the stool “Run” he screamed again, turning the glass in its wound to increase the pain.

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