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forcemeanakin · 11 months

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𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 ('𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗱) - 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮

•WARNINGS: Semi-smut. Age gap !!! Infidelity kink !!! (you’ve been warned, so if you do not agree pls leave because I’ll delete any hateful comments about this). Dirty talk, teasing in a public space, voyeurism, make out session. Mentions of an unhappy relationship/divorce/troubled marriage.

Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x female!reader.

Series Summary: Luke takes you home for Life’s Day. On the edge of giving up on you two, Skywalker manages to light up a fire inside of you again. Problem is… wrong Skywalker.

Part Two Summary: After your little moment with Mr. Skywalker last night, you’re determined to persuade your father-in-law into fucking you. Right on the dinner table with everyone else around. Including your boyfriend.

Word count: 3.5K.

Link to Part One

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.

I’m super excited to announce that I’m very motivated to continue the journey of this pairing, so I’ll be turning FYBD into a series! :) but please be patient! I don’t usually deliver short fics, that’s why it takes me so long to post ! (also look at me trying to polish my themes, omg who am I?)

NEXT PART WILL BE PUBLISHED ON SATURDAY !!!! <3 Consider this as a Part 2.1. If you wanna be tag on it, leave me a comment below :)

“Alright, everyone gather at the table! Dinner 's ready!” Padmé yelled, placing the last set of plates while Leia dropped the center piece.

“Sugar, you look like a million bucks.” Luke complimented your outfit while you finished up accessorizing, hiding your eye roll by clipping your earrings.

Last night, you eventually made it to bed with him, feeling uneasy the rest of the night. You gave Luke your back, refusing to cuddle or respond to his arms wrapped around your waist. Tossing and turning, every time you shut down you dreamed about Anakin and his lustful orbs. And, unlike someone with common sense, you didn’t feel guilt from your forbidden target. No, it riled you up even more.

Being spooned by your boyfriend while thinking about his dad.

The naughtiness of it was a thrill you didn’t want to stop chasing.

“Is that dress new?” From the moment you woke up to this very instant, Luke hadn’t stopped apologizing and drowning you in compliments and demonstrations of affection.

Yet you still hadn’t responded to him with the same tenderness, prolonging your fight. The reality was that you had already forgotten all about the “slut” bomb, but staying angry at him somehow justified daydreaming about fucking Anakin.

“Thank you.” You replied coldly, checking yourself one last time in the mirror, turning around to make sure the back side wasn’t wrinkled.

You had chosen the tight, long, black dress even before making it your personal mission to seduce your boyfriend’s dad. You were now thanking Y/n from the past for packing something so flattering and form fitting to this particular event. It’s not like you were out of place, everyone was dressing up as well.

“Guys! I’m not calling you again!” Padmé rushed.

“Y/n I don’t want us to keep fighting… Not this weekend, please?” Luke caught your attention by trapping your hands inside his palms. “I’ll do better. Be more adventurous for you…” He murmured, caressing your arms with tenderness. Arching an eyebrow at your cleavage, “Maybe make it up to you tonight?”

Disappointment settled in your chest at the prospect of not spending the night with Anakin.

“Sure.” You faked a smile. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” He kissed your cheek, missing your horrorized face. “Now, after you, m’lady.” He exaggerated a bow for you to walk in front of him.

You snorted, “You’re such a dork.”

Luke escorted you to the table, pulling your chair to sit right in the middle of him and the empty head of the table. Right in front of you was Padmé, with a gorgeous light blue gown and beside her was Leia, who was trying to sit down Han at the other head of the table.

“I don’t want to sit right in front of your dad!” He whispered-yelled, being harshly pushed by his girlfriend to sit his ass down. To be such a tiny person, she sure was strong.

“Try to bond!” She whispered back, fanning herself so the sweat wouldn’t ruin her makeup.

“I'll get food poisoning” He huffed, crossing his arms in a childish manner. “And he’ll puke in my face.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, accepting Padmé’s offering of a glass of wine while observing Han’s pout.

“Easy for you to laugh, newbie.” He scoffed with his usual feistiness. “Could you please do something despicable so he hates you instead of me?”

Oh, you sure had done something to scare him off.

After he practically ran away from you at full speed, you hadn’t seen him all day. Leia and Han adopted you the whole morning, taking you to pick up some stuff for dinner and showing you around the area. Luke joined in at lunch time, after dealing with a way-too-long call from his friend Din. And even when you came back to the house, Anakin was secluded in his little cave, his personal workshop, in the back of the house and hadn’t showed up at all.

“Y/n, love that dress, you’ll have to lend it to me.” Leia complimented mid sip.

“Manners, Leia.” Padmé scolded her, head moving in disapproval as she set her napkin on her lap.

“You can borrow it whenever you want.” You winked at the short girl, earning a heartfelt smile.

“It’s perfect for my funeral.” Han dramatically threw himself on the backrest.

“Han, I can’t think of something I could do that would make him dislike me more than you.” You joked, cracking a breadstick.

Yes, you could.

“Maybe you could kick R2. At least that’s what Han did.” Luke snorted, Han’s head snapping to send daggers to the blonde.

“I didn’t kick R2!” Han raised his voice while wincing.

“Yeah, you did.” Leia murmured under her breath.

“I accidentally fell on him! How was I supposed to know that he was behind me?” Han freaked out, dramatizing the scenery. “Oh, who am I trying to convince? You already made up your mind about it.” He dismissed the potential debate, shooting the rest of his beer.

“Han, you’re overreacting, he doesn’t hate you.” Padmé reassured him with a soft smile. “That much.” She said under her breath.

“How bad could dad actually be?” Luke rolled his eyes, picking one of the entreés to stuff into his mouth in one bite.

You googled him while you were supposed to be showering: the “Hero with No Fear” had enough battles, manslaughtering and war crimes under his belt for Han’s panic to have grounds, your deep investigation showed.

“Ha! You haven’t endured his bullying for two years.” Han crossed his foot over his knee.

“And counting.” The voice that had you clenching around nothing boomed through the air, his figure appearing just when Han was about to eat a piece of breadstick, immediately choking. “Good, now I don’t have to do it myself…” Anakin muttered under his breath.

Anakin’s eyes widened when he distinguished that the seat reserved for him was right by your side. His usual seat was always at the head of the table, but having you at arm's reach was exceptionally dangerous after the occurrences of last night. It felt like all his hard work of avoiding you all day was just thrown into the trash with a single sweep. He convinced himself that he had to push through dinner, eating faster than usual and quickly returning to his workshop and wait until everybody left the dining room, so he could safely seek refuge in his bedroom.

Nonetheless, faith had a different path for him. One of painful blue balls and heavy sweating.

Why did you have to wear that dress? Was it indeed appropriate for a family dinner or was it just him thinking too much of it with the head inside his pants?

And why were you smirking at him like he was the meal you were about to devour?

“Anakin, good, you’re here. Let’s say grace so we can properly start eating.” Padmé announced, glaring at her son that was currently on his third appetizer.

Padmé thanked the Maker for having the whole family here, making special emphasis on being grateful for you this year, the new member of the family. You popped an eye open, and voilá, Anakin was staring at you while her wife praised you to the rest of the table. Separating your palms from praying position, you dropped one on top of his, careful not to make a single noise. You drew random figures inside his palms with your nail, biting your lip as you checked him out. If his handsome face wasn’t enough already, he was wearing a full suit, black tie on top of a white buttoned up.

Perfect to rip apart.

“And please bless this delicious meal that it’s about to feed us… Amen.” Right before she could pronunciate that final word, Anakin had slapped your hand away. “Alright, let’s dig in! Ani, honey, could you do the honors and carve the turkey?”

Whatever that would keep him away from temptation.

Getting up, Anakin picked up the utensils, turning the turkey around to cut into it. Doing the proper round, he asked every single person their meat preferences before making the incision, starting with his wife. Anakin quickly ruled that him with knives and using his strength to lash a large piece of meat wasn’t the best evasive mechanism when he spotted you drooling over his flexed bicep.

“Dad, I want a leg.” Leia requested, passing up her plate to him.

“Sure, darling.” Anakin propped the leg on her plate carefully. “Good choice.”

“I want one too, please.” Han put his plate up in his direction.

Anakin glared and huffed, but eventually dumped the requested piece on Han’s dish. “Fucking child…”

Giving up, Han dropped on his chair, violently biting the leg. After Luke picked white meat, Anakin had no other choice but to pay attention to you.

“Y/n-” He cleared his throat, ignoring your subtle attempt to press your cleavage against the table so your tits would pop into his vision. “How do you like your meat?”

Anakin regretted that question the second he formulated it. Although, he was appreciative that the brawl between the twins deprived everyone else from your answer.

You offered your plate to him, wide doe eyes as your foot grazed his shin. “I like my meat tender.” Your velvety voice sent an electric wave directly to his groin.

The rest of the dinner was no better.

Playing footsie, curling your hair with your finger, glancing at him longer than necessary, more lascivious than necessary. There was this particular moment that still had his mind-blown: You, leaned over to Luke to whisper something in his ear, gaining a laugh from him in complicity and sealing the adorable scene with a quick peck, all while your sandal made its way up to an escalating boner inside Anakin’s underpants.

“Pass the salt, please.” Anakin requested out loud, clearing his throat, seeking a distraction.

But you were fast as a bolt.

“There you go, sir.” Flashbacks from your face all flustered calling him that kicked in, the salt shaker falling from his hand at his nervousness and the contact of your hand.

“Y/n, question.” Leia broke through the madness of noises.

“Of course, shoot.” Anakin was amazed at your ability to smile like nothing was happening underneath the table, like you weren’t trying to touch his thigh underneath the table cloth with the hand that wasn’t supporting your chin.

“What’s your major? I think I haven’t asked you that yet.” Leia swallowed a spoonful of sweet potato casserole.

“I’m a psych major.” You drank a bit of your wine.

“Oh, that solves the mystery. You’re dating Luke as an experiment, aren’t you?” Leia mocked, earning a kick from her brother. “Auch, laser brain!”

“Leia!” Padmé scolded her.

“My God, have you been psychoanalyzing us this whole time?” Han stopped chewing his biscuit as he stared deep into your soul. “How bad is it?” He was dead serious.

“Oh my- No! No! I haven’t, I promise.” You totally had.

“Could you please prescribe something to mom so she relaxes once in a while?” Leia begged. “Or give her a session, whatever works.”

“Bet you are thrilled to hear Y/n is a psychologist, huh, sir? Know how much you love shrinks, Mr. Skywalker.” Han’s sarcasm revealed -in a very obvious way- how much Anakin did not like your profession.

“Still better than being a smuggler.” Anakin bit down on a piece of meat with venom directly right at Han.

“Oh, dad!” Luke exclaimed. “You should do dad!”

You grinned at the way Anakin almost spit his drink.

“I’m so open to that, sir.” You turned to meet the former Jedi’s face and smirked with mischief at Anakin’s knuckles turning white on his grip on the chair.

“Do you do the little shrink couch thing?” Han wondered with his mouth full.

“I mean, if the patient wants to lay down while I do all the work, that’s fine by me.” You laughed innocently, batting your eyelashes to Anakin the second everyone got distracted trying to guess what you would diagnosed Han with.

Sensing Anakin’s heavy breathing, you did the whole charade of dropping your fork onto the floor, obliged to pick it up. As much as Anakin tried to nervously hide the bulge in his pants, you confirmed that your little game was in fact working. You sat back on your chair with a victorious snicker.

“Oh, c’mon dad! Let Y/n work her magic on you! You bottle so much stuff, it’s good to let them out.” Leia reasoned, completely missing the panicked face of the woman that gave birth to her.

“Suddenly, I’m full.” Anakin announced, cleaning the sauce off the edges of his mouth and tossed the napkin to his plate, getting ready to leave.

“You can’t go, we haven’t had dessert yet.” Padmé frowned, signaling with a harsh glare to sit back down.

“Why don’t Luke and I take care of that?” You stood up, picking up the empty plates around.

“Oh, no, sweetie, you’re a guest-”

“No problem at all! Please let me take care of you.” The fact that you said that while collecting Anakin’s plate was a true coincidence.

“Only if you let Han and I wash the dishes!” Leia negotiated, following her mother’s welcoming values.

“Shut up, I bet they were going to do it anyway.” Han grunted with gritted teeth.

“We’ll be back with dessert.” You declared, dividing the tower of plates and walking to the kitchen with your boyfriend.

While Luke threw away the leftovers, you came back to scoop up the rest of the plates with the side dishes and so. You surveyed everyone about their dessert preferences, until you reached a spot next to Anakin.

“Padmé, back me up here! Wouldn’t it be cool if we save money on rent and live in the Falcon?” Han upped his voice to match Leia’s.

“I'm not living on a ship that’s falling apart, Han!”

“It would be an adventure every day!”

Sliding by Anakin’s side to hoist up the gravy bowl, you briefly grazed his shoulder with your chest, excusing the lame contact by your need to stretch for the dish. While you were leaned over him, the low-cut of your dress exposed to his delight, you turned your head and asked him:

“Would you like dessert, sir?” No one would figure that your question had any double meaning, but Anakin knew the filthy desires your eyes hid.

“Not for me, thanks.” He smiled curtly, doing a superhuman effort not to fall into the teasing of your playful peaks behind the tight fabric.

“Are you sure, Mr. Skywalker? The pie’s so soft and warm, very creamy. Baked it myself.” Anakin visibly shuddered, inhaling sharply as he closed his eyes while gripping the armrest.

You grinned, thanking your hair for covering your expressions to the rest of the family so you could bite your lip lecherously.

“On a diet.” He spat, playing with his fork to avoid the magnetic pull of your wanting eyes. And if you hadn’t taken the hint, he rubbed his eye with his left hand, showing off the gold band in his ring finger.

“Please, it’s cheat day.” You curved your lips into a smirk, feeling clever at the pun. “Just a taste? Bet you’ll love it.” That tortuous glint in your eyes. It had him, it had him good.

“He’s always playing hard to get, Y/n. Bring him a piece!” Padmé interrupted the moment, smiling at you and Anakin, unaware of the tension she had just cut off.

“I see that.” You finally left the table, not without grazing his back with your swaying hips.

“You know what? I’ll help you with these.” Anakin barked, standing up and picking the few dishes left.

“Oh-” You stiffened at his huge figure walking towards you. You were not prepared for him to bite into the trap. “Not necessary, sir. I’ll come back for the rest.”

“Let me. It’s the least I can do.” Standing in front of you, he raised his eyebrows to hurry you.

Nervously, you made your way to the small aisle before the kitchen, feeling the powerful pounding of your heart. His presence hung heavy behind you and suddenly the bravery you had flagged during supper had magically disappeared, the only trail it left were your jelly legs. Mere feet from the kitchen door, you felt a pull from your waist, your back stamping against the wall.

“Is this funny to you?” Anakin glared at you, pressing your torso enough to threaten your ability to breathe. “Trying to break up a marriage, being the homewrecker of your boyfriend’s family? While he’s at the table?”

You tried to escape, fighting against him for your release. But if the enlarging of his nostrils was any sign, you were not going anywhere anytime soon. It was time to summon that feistiness back.

“You can’t mess up something that’s already broken.” You snapped, squinting your eyes. “Why are you really here Anakin? To tell me off?” You cocked an eyebrow, glancing down at him. “You don’t seem rather convincing.”

Being between a rock and a hard place had a whole other meaning when you were sandwiched between the wall… and Anakin’s crotch.

“Stop it.” He demanded, seeing the way you put aside the dishes on a nearby table to play with the lapels of his suit.

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” You grazed your lips against his chin, enjoying the quivering that came from it. “Why do you fight it, Anakin? And don’t pull up your lame excuse of a marriage, when we both know that’s not the reason.”

Anakin pushed you by your throat, your head hardly banging against the wallpaper. He overlooked your whining, taking advantage of your dizziness to get his point through.

“Forget me, Y/n. All about me. All that happened.” He warned in a deeper voice. “For my sake. For yours.”

“Tell me you don’t want me, Anakin, and I’ll stop, hell, I’ll fucking leave.” You murmured with a fire in your eyes letting him know that you weren’t joking around. “Just say the words and I’ll be out of your face.”

Disappointment settled in Anakin’s chest at the prospect of not seeing you anymore.

So he stayed silent, waiting for the duel inside his head to end and speak the winner’s name: lust or reason. Luke’s voice calling for his girlfriend helped the struggle come to a conclusion.

“You haven’t answered the question.” You reminded him, to his disdain. “I want you, Anakin, you-”

“Forget me, Y/n. It may be too late for me, but there may be salvation for Luke and you.” He advised, pushing the plates back to you, stepping back.

“Y/n! I need help over here!” Luke again.

“Alright. Loud and clear, sir.” You spat, brushing past Anakin while he still stared at the floor.

Marching down to where the voice was calling you, you encountered Luke elbow deep into the water.

“Hey, you brought the rest of the-”

“Did you mean it? When you said you wanted to be more spontaneous?” Your breathing was irregular from the adrenaline rush.

“What?” Luke frowned, drying up his forearms with the hand towel.

“Kiss me, Luke. Kiss me now.” You demanded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing against him.

“It’s everything okay? Why-”

“Luke! Please.” You purred on his ear, peppering smooches along his cheek. “Kiss me, please.”

Once Luke caught up with your level of neediness, he delivered the antidote for your hornyness. Hands fixed on your hips, Luke’s lips found yours and played along at the dangerous pace you set. The makeout session quickly escalated: out of nowhere you were roughly jammed against the counter top, manly hands sliding to your back side to squeeze some of the fat. You reciprocated Luke’s attention by playing with his hair as you sucked his bottom lip. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as kissing Anakin; because even when you and Luke were almost sucking each other’s face off, he was still too gentle for you.

But thrill didn’t take long to appear through the door.

Anakin’s stroll to the kitchen ceased at the door frame, when he spotted the heated embrace you two were entangled in. Thankfully, the only person he could see was you and barely because of Luke’s back. So your visual connection was only possible because you managed to angle your boyfriend so you could see Anakin above his shoulder.

Luke moaned when you hugged him tighter, kissed him harder.

“Y/n.” He moaned, unaware that your sudden passion was boosted at the sight of his dad’s heaving chest.”You’re so hot, sugar.”

“I want you.” You whimpered, staring dead into Anakin’s eyes. “I need you.” Your naked leg escaped the slit from your dress, surrounding Luke’s hip. “Just do it. Give it to me.”

Whatever sweet nothing Luke murmured into your ear flew right under your radar as you delighted yourself with the view of Anakin’s hurting frown. The image was ripped away from you when Luke physically circled your attention back to you.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n. You’re too much for me.” Thanking him, you came back to kissing, the only escape route you had at hand to evade his love bombarding.

However, Luke’s cringy dirty talk was the second most disappointing thing to happen in that kitchen, just after Anakin leaving.

taglist : @darthgloris @ingrid69ers @shulipp @bookishnights03 @anakinswh0re419 @fuckmyskywalker@dxviiin

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last-starry-sky · 6 months

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too sweet pt 3 - innocent!reader x graves

(original idea inspired by this post by the lovely @shotmrmiller - part 1 here - part 2 here)

NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: (slut shaming, a lil bit of body horror-ish stuff, pov switches, lots of pet names (as per usual lol), dub-con if you squint (reader is a bit drunk so ymmv), fingering, look me in the eyes and tell me graves isn’t the type of guy to pack heat 24/7, i’m really leaning into how much of a virgin reader is so buckle in, no hard smut (again, sorry lmao))

You were standing around the kitchen island with your mother. It was your usual morning ritual, but this morning was different somehow. You just couldn’t place it. Things seemed . . . weird. Off. Just a little to the left of normal. Like how the sun felt a too bright, blasting in the front windows like a floodlight, far too bright for the early morning.

You squinted at the bleached out white walls and shiny tile floor as your mom was cradled your face in her hands. They were cold. Your cheeks were cold. You shuddered in her grasp, peeling her off you as you stepped back. Your foot hit the leg of a stool behind you. You plopped down, falling right into the cushioned seat.

“How was it sweetie? You have fun?” she said picking up her coffee cup with a smile so wide you wondered if it was hurting her.

Her voice is unbearably high-pitched and sweet; like cold syrup pouring in your ear. It took you a moment to realize you had heard those words before, that this was not a dream.

It's a memory.

Oh yeah, you realized, this was the morning after you went on your first date. You felt the stupid smile you had walked in with return to your face. Your first date with Phil.

The thought of him warmed your brain. His hand in yours as he led you to the front door. How he’d let you doze off in his car on the way home. How warm and protected you felt laying against him by the bonfire. The memory was comforting, creating a mix of pleasant feelings in your chest.

“Yeah mom,” you replied automatically, “had a lot of fun.” It was the exact answer you had given her that morning.

Her hands clenched around her steaming coffee cup, knuckles white.

“Tell. me. how. it. went.” She said punctuating every word, smile gone taught; practically carved into her cheeks.

Weird, a rouge blip of a thought came to your mind. Those were the right words . . . but her voice, the way she said them. It was far too terse. This was not how you remem-

“Really good,” you responded on queue, still dreamy and automatic. It was like you were on a track, all of the lines already set and all you had to do was say them as they came, no matter the parts of your conscious brain screamed at you that something was wrong. You have to stop. You have to stop now.

“That’s good!” she said flipping back into her overly-happy demeanor so fast it gave you whiplash. “He seems like such a nice man. Your dad just wouldn’t stop talking about him after you left!”

That was . . . normal. You still felt weird, squirming in your seat and looking at your hands just to look at anything but her. Maybe if you kept going everything would go back to norm-

“He is nice,” you said before you could stop yourself. “So nice. I’m glad you both like him, too. We want-”

She interrupted you.

"Oh, but I don’t, honey.”

“What?” you gasped off script, cracking away whatever part of the memory had it’s tenuous hold on you. This isn’t how this went. You remember this morning. You remember what she said. You know-

“You heard me. Whore,” she said, smile dripping off her face. Her words were like a black hole. Void of emotion and sucking you in with a terror like oblivion as the unreal brightness of the room turned dimmer and dimmer behind her.

Your mouth fell open. You tried to do something, anything: turn around, backpedal, run, but you couldn’t. Of course you couldn’t. You never can run away in a dream. You were forced to watch your mother’s face swirl off into the cheery kitchen around her as her voice turned acrid and shrill.

“Don’t play dumb with me you little slut.” Her eyes falling inward into black pits that shone back at you. Mirrors into your own guilty soul. “I know what you do when you’re alone in your room. I can hear you. And now, even that’s not enough? Look at you. I spent all that time, raising you right, taking you to church, putting the fear of God in you, and still you ended up like this. What would your father think if he saw you now? Letting a stranger touch his daughter, in public no less!”

“Mom!” you managed to gasp out, cheeks burning. How did she know? How did she find out?

“Don’t mother me!” her squaking, multitudinous voice called out, echoing around the little kitchen as a pit twisted deeper and deeper in your gut.

“You think you’re still my little girl? Look at where you’ve done. What you’re planning to do.” You felt like God himself was there shaming you. The cup shattered in her hand, spraying blue ceramic in slow motion. “I sure hope you enjoy your night with him because you’ve made your own bed now.”

The truck sways, bouncing up and down and then left to right, waking you suddenly from your soft, childlike sleep. You hear Phil mumble a quiet ‘sonofabitch’ above you as he corrected the truck with his left hand while squeezing your waist protectively with his right. You’re still right where you’re supposed to be: cuddled safely into his chest.

You crack open your eyes a slit. The cab is dark, interrupted only by the irregular pass of streetlights that flooded the cab suddenly with light only to plunge it back into inky, silent dark a second later.

You can feel his bicep flex, tensing to hold you close, behind your head. When he’s got the truck back safely in his lane, his muscles in his arm relax. He sighs into your hair and you feel his hand move back down to your thigh, the rough skin of his fingers slowly stroked at the exposed skin south of your skirt. You sigh softly, shivering at his touch, burying your face in his shirt as you stretch yourself in his lap.

His hand stops when you move, turning to look down at you. It lays there, warm and strong, on your thigh.

“I wake y’up, sweets?” he asked, his breath rustling your hair.

You squirmed in his lap as you shook your head, stretching your neck and wiping at your eyes. His hand tensed on your leg.

“What happened back there?” you asked sleepily. The alcohol had made your tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth. You could still taste strawberries when you swallowed.

“Ah. Oh that? Just a . . . just a log in the road,” he said with a pause and a shrug.

He patted your thigh once before reaching up to take the wheel with both hands. He let out a soft groan as he canted his hips, shuffling your body on top of him as he readjusted himself in his seat. His eyes were focused straight down the road. It made you sad to lose his touch but you understood. Out the windshield you could see the road he was driving you down, if only what was illuminated by the headlights. Pine trees thickly lined both sides of the unfamiliar two lane road, interrupted only by the odd set of mailboxes that signaled a line of houses down hidden dirt roads. Everything was dark green and black. No stars. No moon. You didn’t know he lived so far out in the country, but then again, you had never been brave enough to ask.

“You okay?” you asked quietly, still not quite woken up. You wrapped your arm around his ribs, relaxing into him, stealing his warmth.

“Yeah,” he said moving his left hand, letting it drip down the steering wheel until it just barely hung off the bottom. “Musta been a raccoon or somethin’ in the road. Got distracted.”

He let go of the steering wheel, bringing his hand to grip your thigh where his other hand had been just a few minutes ago, right on the hem of your skirt. His thumb swiped back and forth, gently tracing from the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh to the top of your leg. The motion sent tingles racing to your core. You moved your leg a fraction of an inch to relieve the pressure but had to bite back a moan. Oh no, you thought tipping your head against his chest. You could feel how wet you still were.

“Saw it too late ‘n had to swerve,” he added as an afterthought. You wondered if he had taken his eyes off the road to watch you now; if he could see you with your eyes closed, lip caught in your teeth, blissed out and squirming against his leg.

He spread his fingers, pressing his warm palm flat to your leg, as he brushed up under your dress. You let your head loll back against his bicep behind you, unable to to keep your next moan from escaping.

“Now I got you distractin’ me,” he said with a hiss into your hair, sliding his hand up further. His fingers brushed at the edge of your panties. You squirmed under him as he danced ever so close to where you wanted him. Needed him.

“Phil,” you sighed.

You were just about to crack, to grab his hand with your own and make him touch you, when he stopped, resuming his absent stroking.

“Hold on jus’ a little bit longer, darlin’,” he said with a squeeze to your upper thigh. “Last turn’s comin’ up.”

He slowed down fractionally, taking a wide left turn that swayed the whole truck, the driver’s side wheels falling down into the slope of the ditch before pulling back onto the road. You bounced in his lap as the truck transitioned from the rough, but still somewhat maintained, concrete country road, to dirt and gravel. The trees lined the narrow road even closer than before, choking out the light from the increasingly rare streetlights.

He took his free hand out from your dress, nudged in between your legs and his pants and adjusted himself. He closed his eyes for but a moment and groaned as he palmed his cock. It made you blush, you weren’t exactly used to men acting like this around you, but it also made you wickedly excited. He was like this because of you. You had made this strong, older man, a soldier, race you home on a dark rainy road just so he could get his hands on you.

He put his hand chastely on your waist for a moment, flexing his fingers into your skin. It was as if he was weighing his choices. When you sighed into his touch he let out a held in groan. His choice was made. He skimmed his hand down your body to the press of your legs. When he got to the edge of your dress, he slid his hand under, bunching it against his sleeve as he sought out his prize.

It was the tip of his middle finger that first grazed your pussy. It made you jump, his touch punching out a gasp even through the cloth of your panties. He kept going, pushing his whole hand to palm at your warm, aching core. He ground the bottom of his palm against you, fingers stroked at your weeping hole, earning a pitiful whine into his chest. The brute, indirect pressure was making your legs shake.

You grabbed at his arm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. His eyes stayed stubbornly on the road. “Phil . . . please,” you begged. “Please-”

He cut you off by twisting his hand, curling his fingers under the waistband of your underwear to stroke at your silken folds in a single, fluid motion. You clenched, nails digging into his arm as you squeaked out a silent Ah as your eyes flew shut.

The truck slowed to a crawl, headlights swaying back and forth, illuminating the same frame of unfamiliar road and dark, foreboding trees, as he concentrated on slipping his fingers through your untouched pussy. His ability to drive completely shot. You were lost too in the overload of new sensations. Your wetness covered his fingers, dulling the rough texture of his skin. He used his strength to press almost too hard as he made a circuit through your labia, up to your clit, finally swirling down and around your hole. You’d never had someone else touch you there, and even your own “experiments”, alone and frustrated in your bed, hadn’t yielded very much pleasure. But this, the tingling, shooting pleasure coiling tight in your core that had you open-mouth panting. This could be something.

He took his remaining hand off the steering wheel to wrap both his arms around you, leaving his whole body flexed on to the brake like a vice. He pressed his face into your hair as he rolled his hips against you with a moan.

“Fuck, baby,” he said with a flick of his fingers across your clit that made you flinch. He was completely blissed out - his voice rough and heady. The combination made you shiver against him. “Fuck. We can’t-” he said tipping your jaw up, forcing you to face him again as a blush crept over your cheeks, “-can’t do this here.” He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your lips before pulling back, his nose sliding against yours. “Open your mouth for me now, babydoll,” he said taking his hand away from your pussy to peel your bottom lip open with his thumb, your own slick painting your jaw.

Somehow, someway, he did manage to pull his brain out of his cock and drive that last stretch of road to his house. As much as he had wanted to throw his plans to the wind and just fuck you in the truck he reminded himself that this was your first time. He needed to make it good for you.

No high school specials tonight. That wouldn’t make you stay.

He let himself indulge in one more sleepy, dazed kiss before he mechanically went through the motions to shut off the car. Slide the clutch into park, unbuckle, radio off, lights off, turn the key in the ignition. He had to move you off his lap to get out first before he could scoop you back up into his arms to bring you inside. When he leaned in to pull you out he saw his jacket crumpled into the corner of the passenger seat. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, almost ready to fall asleep again. A corner of your bright purse stuck out. It was tangled inside his jacket, almost completely hidden. He hugged you tight to his chest as you shivered from the misting rain. Your phone was probably in there too.

Shame, he thought as he slammed the door shut with his free hand, you’ll probably be looking for that in the morning.

He didn’t set you down until he got to the front door, not that you protested. Your useless heels would have sunk into the mud of the lawn anyway. It was still cold night despite the weather clearing. He liked feeling of you shivering against his side in the dark as he unlocked his front door. It wasn’t longer than a moment before he had the deadbolt and door unlocked, shooing you inside ahead of him.

You ambled in, tipsy and disoriented, in the dark, heels clacking in an unsteady gait across the wood floor. He listened with amusement as you made your way around his unfamiliar home with only the sparse outside light to guide you. Sometimes he forgot how dark it could get out here in the country.

He stopped at the dinner table, taking his time, unloading his usual carry: wallet from his left pocket, phone from his right. Each made a light clink against his keys as he tossed them onto the table. He reached around his back and unclipped his holster from inside his slacks. His clip followed shortly. They both made a weighty thunk on the table. He rubbed at the sore spot the grip had worn into his back, suppressing a groan. It didn’t help that his holster had slid to the middle of his back, making him adjust the way he sat the whole drive home with you wriggling in his lap.

Once his watch was off his wrist and his shoes kicked behind him, he walked silently back to the door and locked the deadbolt. The sharp CLACK of the metal had always been comforting, but now, it was exciting. A sign that everything was ready. That you were safe now. Finally. he thought with a sly smile creeping across his face. Locked inside his home (could be yours too, in a heartbeat, if you asked). With no one around for miles to bother you. Right were you were always meant to be, darling.

The only safer place you could be is wrapped in his arms, and he planned to remedy that problem as soon as he found you.

It didn’t take much of a hunt to find you. You’d made a light thump as you found the end of the couch with your hip in the living room and had decided it was as good a place as any to lean against. He had to give you credit, you had hauled yourself up onto the arm of the sofa all by yourself. It was almost cute to watch you struggle to keep your balance as you reached down for your ankle straps, little frustrated noises falling from your lips.

He was quiet in his socks. He could tell you hadn’t heard him when you jumped as his hand touched your knee. He laughed at it as he slid up your thigh boldly.

“Phil . . .” you said grabbing his belt, looking up with pleading eyes.

“Need help, baby?” he teased, trailing his hand back down to hook under your knee. You let out a gasp, crumpling his shirt at his waist as your fingers clamped suddenly together. He held your hips with his other hand, hiking your leg up to his hip, allowing him to smoothly slot himself in between your legs.

This was going so fucking well.

It took a little bit of fiddling in the dark, but he managed to unclasp your left heel, letting it fall with a loud THUNK against the floor. It didn’t help that there was not another sound in the house beside your rasping breaths. You were such a cute little thing like this: holding on for dear life, whining into his chest, barely able to breathe already. He smoothed his hand up your leg until it met his other hand at your waist. He couldn’t help but give you a little squeeze. You yelped, head shooting up out of his chest to lay your pleading eyes on him.

He pressed his advantage immediately. He chuckled and leaned down to peck a gentle, toying kiss on your lips. His hand was already moving down to your remaining shoe as he pulled away, a small, disappointed oh falling from your lips. This time, he wouldn’t let you hide. He moved his hand from your waist to the small of your back, rough fingers catching on the smooth, clingy fabric of your dress. You were red cheeked and panting, a small ah all the noise you could make, when he pressed you forward, forcing you flush against his front. Only an inch of needy, heated space separated his cock from your barely-clothed pussy and, good fucking God, did he need it.

Need it. Need it. Fucking need-ed-it.

Your ankle in his hand, he deftly popped your hip open. He tilted forward that last, cloying centimeter to feel you. His eyes fell shut as he pressed to you with a groan. You were so warm. He could feel it through his pants. You let out a shamefully high-pitched whine in return. He felt his trapped cock jump in his pants. He was throbbing and, fuck, so were you. He couldn’t feel it yet, but he knew you were wet. How could you not be? All that excitement in the car had to have your pussy working overtime.

Your second heel fell to the floor.

“Phil . . .” you whined in the silence that followed, pawing at his sides and back. His dress shirt made soft swishing noises under your nails. It was almost like music.

He chanced looking down at you. Fuck did you look gorgeous. Your skin shimmered in the dark with sweat. The first thing that caught his eye was your breasts pushed against his ribs, that little silver cross hidden safely away, swallowed entirely by your chest. Your eyes were huge, with pupils blown wide and glassy with tears as you looked up at him. You were chewing on your bottom lip again, the irritation making it all the more red and kissable. The more blissed out and needy he made you, the more irresistible you became.

A perfect, vicious circle. A positive feedback loop.

He let go of your ankle to place his hand on your cheek. You were beyond flush, more like burning. When he felt you fold your leg around his hip of your own volition he couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He rutted forward into you. It was a rough pleasure that did almost nothing for both of you, but it was something. A tease in this slow, slow dance he had been leading you on, a preview of what was to come, maybe even a reward for holding on this long, for doing so so well.

“Doin’ okay, sweets?” he asked, petting your burning cheek with his thumb.

You nodded with a bat of your lashes. You straightened your back suddenly to make yourself taller when you saw him leaning down to kiss you. You were still so excited, enthusiastic.

Trusting.

He let all the chains come off. Long gone were the quick, chaste pecks at your front door. The ones that drew you into him. A delicate summer moth hypnotized by a porch light, never to escape. Even the “real” kisses he’d had with you outside the restaurant and in the truck were blown away. He held your jaw open with an iron grip while he forced his tongue in your mouth. He was sloppy, aggressive, taking what he wanted. He would only momentarily break away to nip at your open, panting lips, before diving back in. It amazed him how submissive you were. You weren’t fighting him in any way, just let him control everything while you let out an occasional moan or whine. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to figure out why that was.

You’d never been kissed like this before. How could you have an opinion on how you liked it when you’d never- Fuck, he forgot. How could he forget? You’d never done anything before. He’s got a little virgin in his hands, whining and squirming, practically begging for it.

Hmm, he thought. Could he really . . . could he make you beg for it?

He squeezed the side of your thigh as he rolled another thrust against you, groaning against your lips. You yelped at the pain of his fingers biting into your skin, but it dissolved into another high-pitched whine. Fuck, could listen to that all night. Your legs tightened around his waist, keeping him close.

“Phil,” you sighed as he rolled his hands up your thighs, dragging your dress up with it. “Phil please.”

Oh fuck, he thought. She’s really going to do it.

“Please what, darlin’?” he asked hoarsely, resting his forehead against yours, watching you squirm as he tried to pull your dress out from under you.

“Please . . .” you trailed off shyly, trying to make him stop by pawing at his hands. Not that you could.

“Gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he said voice drawn gruff and dry.

He balled the stretchy fabric of your dress in his fists and pulled. It resisted, pulling ever so slowly from where it was trapped under you. The sound itself was delicious tension. More music to his ears. It was a long, soft noise as the knit stretched to it's limit in the quiet of the room. You tried to turn your head away, to hide your pants and whines, but he prevented it by shoving his face into your neck. He kissed and nipped at your neck until, without fanfare, your skirt popped out from under you.

You slammed a hand to his chest before he could make another move. This time, he obeyed you.

“Phil!” you plead, red faced from embarrassment, “Can we . . . can we not- um can we go . . . ” You caught your breath for another couple moments, wiggling your knees on either side of his waist, before turning to him. “Can we do this in your bed . . . please?”

He hauled you up by your thighs, throwing you up onto his chest without another word. You scrambled to throw your arms around his neck as he backed away from the couch.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered into the side of your head.

#mw2 #graves/reader #graves x reader #cod fanfic #starry writes #call of duty #cod mw2 #here i am once again blue-balling my audience by delaying the smut for another chapter :)#sorry this took a fucking month i was outta my groove #also. just lookit me using dividers and shit like a real author #don't mind me just editing my headers reeeeall quick

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doberbutts · 3 months

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I have to ask like. When you harass someone, what is it you're looking to do/accomplish?

Are you just hurting them because you can? That makes you an asshole.

Are you trying to resolve a conflict? If it's making you follow that person around the internet goading them into responding, then *you* are *causing* the conflict at that moment.

Has that person truly hurt you? If there's not authority or staff to report them to (or rules stating that you even *can*) then the best thing for you to do is to block them.

I've been there. Dogblr fucking turned on me over 2 sentences said as a tongue-in-cheek reply to someone in the doberman tags. People who I thought were my friends, people I'd happily interacted with prior, sending me death threats and telling me to kill myself and spreading all sorts of terrible lies and rumors about me for MONTHS. Because, to them, I spoke out of turn. They blatantly admitted to wanting me gone and stated they were happy when they thought they'd chased me off for the week or so that I password protected my blog to make the harassment stop. There were posts by people I'd had extensive conversations with just days prior, stating that they had never actually liked me and were celebrating that I was "gone".

Most of them have not apologized. Most claim that they did nothing wrong, or that I somehow deserved it. I have a few dogblr friends who still reblog from these people even knowing that this happened to me. One of them fucking recently reblogged one of my posts on their newly made blog because I'd long since blocked their other blogs.

Unfortunately sometimes that's how conflicts resolve. Where people are unspeakably cruel to you and nothing ever happens to them. You tell your friends about it and they say "oh yeah I've seen this behavior from them and they suck" and yet don't stop interacting with those people.

I'm not saying it doesn't suck. It does. It hurts.

And I'm sure if any of them were to read this they'd go "lmao it was years ago get over it" as if I'm the one in the wrong for being upset about the betrayal and harassment I received at their hands.

But naming and shaming would accomplish close to nothing. I already know I'm not going to get an apology from these folks and honestly I don't think I'd accept one at this point even if they did (even if they still SHOULD). I *have* had a few apologies trickle in over the years, and have discussed at length why I'm not particularly willing to trust again, and so far that has been accepted. But not from those who were the worst about it, who still to my knowledge act like they're fucking paragons of compassion and empathy.

And certainly continuing to follow them around the internet harassing them into admitting wrong-doing would accomplish pretty much next to nothing.

Sometimes when someone hurts you, the only thing you can do is block their access to you to do it again.

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sn0wjam · 6 months

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RYUGA AND GINGA ROLESWAP

Ryuga

Bey is now Storm L-Drago

All except the facebolt is swapped with Storm Pegasus so his new special move is called Draco Meteor I guess lmao

I swear someone on twitter mentioned that but I can’t find the reply

He’s like the metal fury version with a bit of metal fusion mixed in

He’s always bickering with Kyoya lol

“Pay your fucking repair tabs.”

“Later.”

OK SOO LORE STUFF

Umm so basically Dark Nebula is now the Nebula Organization

Their mission is to protect the forbidden bey, Lightning Pegasus, and prevent it from getting in the wrong hands

Unfortunately Hagane Ryusei, who now has Doji’s role, has other plans <3

He and Ginga steals the bey

Doji, who allegedly dies in this event, tells Ryuga he needs defeat Ginga and get it back

Ryuga is more pissed that the guy he lost to shit talked him than the fact that his GUARDIAN is DYING

So he’s like “You don’t even need to tell me!!”

And Doji is like ugh of course. And he launches Storm L-Drago to him before dying

And so his adventure begins!!

Before metal fusion, he didn’t really understand the point of having close allies(he means friends but he refuses to use that word) and didn’t bother to make any

And so over the course of the fusion and masters he learns to open up more and let people into his life

I like to think that after the defeat of Ginga, everyones celebrating and hes like damn.. This is nice. And he has a sincere little smile

And then Kyoya and Madoka are like “OH MY GOD???? HE’S FUCKING SMILING???? GUYS ARE WE SURE THE DARK POWER IS GONE….. ARE WE SURE IT DIDN’T SOMEHOW TRANSFER TO HIM??!@$@#$&@^#*&@!#@^??”

Hagane Ginga

I still feel a little iffy about his outfit colors but this’ll do for now…

Yes, I like Kid Icarus

And Fire Emblem

Anyways

So yeah his bey is Lightning Pegasus, this universe’s forbidden left-spinning bey

Ginga now is like metal fusion Ryuga, just louder and energetic

Post metal fusion he’s still a loud asshole but hey no more dark power

Like I said earlier, he stands on his toes at all times so his feet look like horse legs

Bro his calves are RIPPED

I didn’t think about that part until after I drew him tho so you can’t really tell lol

I don’t feel like adding that detail rn…

He is also very particular about his wing scarf

If you get them dirty he WILL kill you

I think that when he was a kid he was lonely and didn’t have friends

So similar to the song kirai kirai jigahidai (https://youtu.be/0c9958OoTL8?si=OlwGSQeuU6NBRjhB), he uses being strong at beyblading to try to get friends

But oh no he’s strong and being an ass about it so he doesn’t make friends

He makes up for it by being loud on top of that so everyone’s attention is on him

He wants to keep getting super stronger! So Ryusei (Sorry Ryusei) manipulates him to use him as a tool to harness the dark power

Post metal fusion, he regrets what he’s done

Still an asshole

But anyways, like the song again, he forgets his own self outside of beyblading

So he’s like fuck. People hate me for being an ass, how am I gonna make connections when I don’t have any other personality trait?

So then he’s going places just chilling and fucking around in hopes to find himself again

And then ta dahh he dies in metal fury and says to Ryuga like “Do you think we’d have been friends in a different universe?”

Corny but whatever you get the idea

Initially I wasn’t planning on having him die, but also omfg figuring out his outfit colors took away 10 years of my life so this is what he gets…

#metal fight beyblade #hagane ginga #gingka hagane #ginga hagane #ryuga #role swap au

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kitorin · 1 year

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boyfriend headcanons ! itoshi rin

contents. how you met, how you got to know each other, when he realized he liked you, how you started dating, dates, all fluff

warning. rin backstory spoilers, i can't write kiss scenes either, written with all lowercase intended, it's word vomit bc school has screwed me up mentally and i can't think properly atp lmao

a/n. reo, rensuke and yoichi ver coming soon, was supposed to be all four of them but tumblr didn't save some stuff so i lost motivation and i probably wrote too much for rin anyways

how you met

you were invited to hang out with a group of friends, but ended up hating it since you were basically invisible, since everyone else were talking about a common interest you didn't have

you ended up walking away, finding somewhere actually interesting, and found a muji store (minimalist retailer that sells a lot of household items and more), and had your own fun, looking through stationary, skin care, nice clothes, and more.

you were having a great time until you heard someone from the hangout looking for you and calling

rin who notices your panic right next to him, questions what's wrong (not necessarily out of concern, honestly probably because he may have found it slightly irritating)

after you explain your situation briefly, he nods and finds you somewhere to hide, and goes to deal with your friend

he's got perfect control over his facial expressions, he'd easily lie and even if your friend was persistent, he'd still scare him away

"haven't seen them in here, they left a while ago and you better stop yelling,"

"are you sure-?"

"yes. now piss off and stop disturbing everyone here,"

once he's sure your friend's gone, he goes back to where he instructed you to hide, giving you the clear

"i hope that lukewarm asshole wasn't your ex."

you're slightly amused at the word 'lukewarm' it wasn't a typical description you'd hear often. "nope, i'd never date him. thank you so much though. i really appreciate it, please let me do a favor for you"

before he can object, you grab a sample pen, scrawling your number on his hand, "send me a text and i'll do my best to help you with anything okay?" you send him a smile as his eyes widen in shock, "bye kind stranger, have a great day," and before he could respond, you were gone, rushing out the store out of embarrassment for not being able to slip away from your friend uncaught.

how he got to know you

[unknown number] : i really don't need a favor you know?

i hated that idiot anyways, loud and annoying

[you] : don't careeee, i want to make it up to you somehow, please?

i'm y/n, you?

[unknown number] : rin, itoshi rin

after he gave in to your offer, you ended up tutoring him, he didn't care about grades but his high school had a rule of requiring a certain standard of grades to compete in tournaments

turns out he wasn't even a bad student, he's diligent and consistent, he only needed a little bit of guidance and advice, with math being the exception

in between sessions, during breaks and outside of your tuition you'd talk a lot, considering how rin has no friends ("neither do you, your toxic ass friends shouldn't count" he replies when you realize it) and you're patient enough to deal with his personality

even after he has his grades up you still hangout with each other, watching horror movies, playing horror games, reading horror novels / comics (you introduced him to junji ito), and he'd even teach you some soccer when you visit his training. he also tries out all your hobbies and favourite things to do and eat

you two spend so much time together, simply because one has no other friends and the other has no healthy friendships

how he knew he liked you

BRO WAS IN DENIAL. FOR. SO. FUCKING. LONG.

he thought he had a health problem or fever when he felt his face getting hot, or that odd sensation in his stomach, or his heart relentlessly pounding against his chest

he tries to research it, doesn't believe it when he sees all those love related posts, so he literally goes to a doctor

his doctor probably almost instantly realized, and had to deal with rin's denial

"you experience these 'symptoms' with a certain someone, don't you?" the doctor doesn't even bother with noting down anything, he's 100% sure and knows it's perfectly in character for rin to do something like this

"that's not possible- that doesn't make se-," he pauses, and recalls that he only felt that way when it came to you, "... yes," he's sort of bashful, slightly embarrassed but quickly composes himself again. 'i apologise for doubting you, please continue,"

"no worries," with a grin, his doctor prepared leave and meet his next patient, "i diagnose you with love sickness,"

when i tell you, this man fucking asked him what meds to take and what to do as self treatment

his poor doctor mentally face palmed himself, sat himself back down and had a (long) talk with this emotionally repressed boy

rin still insists it's something medically wrong, but he's soon shoo-ed out of the office, while hastily being told to make sure he's honest with his feelings, otherwise it never goes right

back at home, he's lying in bed, revising what his doctor said

"rin you need to learn how to acknowledge your emotions. i understand they're confusing and i'm not a therapist, but you can't keep denying it. it's just as unhealthy to neglect your emotions as it is to ignore an injury,"

...

denial huh?

he thinks of you and his heart once again can't calm down, his face burns and his stomach is doing somersaults. he buries his face in his palm, groaning. he hated anything unfamiliar, anything that he couldn't navigate with confidence, or fully comprehend.

"do you really despise it? or do you refuse to acknowledge your feelings because you've never experienced something like this,"

his doctor's advice comes back to him, and he thinks.

if he truly loathed how you made him feel, why is he still hanging out with you, why is he still investing his time into you, why do you make him so damn happy?

he passed out eventually completely lost in thought

how you ended up dating

some time passes and you finally have the courage to confess to him only to receive a cold "i don't feel the same way," a complete lie

accepting his emotions was one thing, accepting a relationship is another. he could immediately feel regret clawing at his stomach, he wanted to tell you. badly, how much he likes you, your patience, intelligence, your kindness, literally everything

yet nothing comes out. only his stoic and stupid facade's character

you walk away after mumbling out an apology for making things awkward, and rin's left there standing, finger nails digging crescents of frustration into his palm

he's overwhelmed with his thoughts, some insisting for him to give up and accept that he fucked up, others demanding him to move and fix things

what would be worse than losing you, anyways?

and that last thought was the final push, he's basically sprinting towards you, soon his arms are wrapped around you, releasing a gasp of surprise from you.

"ri-?"

"i lied," rin blurts, internally screaming at himself to just say it, "i lied, i know i shouldn't have and i'm sorry. but i like you too much, i can't express or understand my feelings, i don't know anything about relationships or love either, and i wanted to hide how i felt so i wouldn't get hurt,"

"rin-," he doesn't let you finish, ignoring your whisper.

"but i don't care, i like you so much that i'm willing to risk hurting myself, anything's worth it if i can be with you, spend time with you, and love you. if it's for you i'd overcome all my fears of love. i can't afford love, but if it's for you i don't care anymore,"

"you're perfect, you always have been," he concludes his speech, almost breathless from how rushed it was. scarlet was dusted all over his face, teal eyes wide open.

that fact rin, someone who's never been good at communication, went this far to express how he feels for you, warms your heart even more.

"rin?"

"yes?"

"may i kiss you?"

somehow, he blushes even more, and as he nods your lips press together.

dates + other headcanons

MOVIE NIGHTS !! not at cinemas though since he prefers the comfort and privacy of his room, and doesn't like how loud or dirty cinemas can get

doesn't want to force you into anything too scary, but he secretly enjoys it when you end up clinging onto him

since he struggles with articulating his emotions, he likes using playlists and songs to (die for you - weeknd, shinunoga iiwa - fujii kaze, love, maybe - melomance, sweet - cigarettes after sex, COME INSIDE OF MY HEART - IV SPADES SUITS HIM SO WELL)

he's not a fan of pda, yet he wants to show you off to everyone he knows

if you genuinely like soccer and have an interest in it (obviously doesn't want to force you to watch 90 minutes of a sport you don't like) he'd watch his favourite games with you, even books tickets for the both of you if there are any good teams competing nearby

also takes great interest in your sports !! reads a lot about them so he can discuss them with you, and if you also compete in sports he puts together a training routine for you and asks to go to the gym together (say yes dumbass)

SURFINGGGG !! since he grew up in kamakura, he loves the beach and went to swim and surf a lot as a kid and would love to do it again with you, even if he hasn't done it in ten years (same rin, same). same with hiking too (kamakura's also famous for it as well)

visits the store with you where he always bought ice blocks with sae, the same lady who worked there when sae and rin still got around is still there, congratulates him for getting a partner, is proud of him

he's a great listener too, he prefers it over speaking a lot and you can talk to him about anything, whether you're talking shit about someone (he'd join in and start swearing) and or you're hyperfixating on your interests

whenever he gets a question related to his love life he takes a moment to blush when he thinks of you, pauses to compose himself (keeps you a secret for your privacy from the media), then says with a straight face that soccer is a priority, but everyone knows he's lying

©kouyun : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

#itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin blue lock #fluff #headcanons #blue lock headcanons #blue lock

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chishiyasleftnut · 7 months

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This was written at 3am when I couldn’t sleep because an idea popped into my head and decided to stay. At first, I wanted it to be a bullet point hc type of post, but then the midnight zoomies took over and this is the result. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Due to the subject matter, this is less smutty than my normal fics. However, it does jump straight into the action, so warning for that lmao.

Safeword

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warnings: Smut, choking, use of safeword. Pairings: Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: In the heat of the moment, Chishiya accidentally pushes past fem!reader’s comfort zone, prompting a needed talk on consent and boundaries.

1058 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“God, I love you,” Chishiya half whispered, half groaned into your ear as he continuously fucked into you from behind, making your knees weak and your vision blurry.

This was far from the first time you had sex. Ever since you locked eyes with him in a hectic hearts game that you both somehow managed to survive months ago, you had become quite depending on each other. Of course, this dependency had little to do with actual love and more to do with carnal desire.

That little fact didn’t stop Chishiya from telling you how much he loved you each time he fucked you. You had started to wonder if he had a weird kink for emotions sparked by his clear lack of them in every other setting, but that was something you decided he had to take up with a therapist, not you. Besides, you were kinda into it.

“You take me so good, you know?” he grunted, not giving your cunt a chance to relax. “Taking all of me so well.”

“Mmm, you fuck me so good, ‘Shiya,” you mumbled in a way that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but Chishiya. By now he had learned to understand the weird mumbles you let out when he hit the right spot.

One thing took another, and in a state of pussy drunk he had never reached before, Chishiya decided that right now was the perfect chance to try something new. You liked hair pulling and spanking, so he thought choking was only another obvious kink of yours. And he would be terribly wrong.

With his hand snaked around your throat, he, to his surprise, felt you completely stiffen up underneath him.

“Umbrella!” you yelled out, causing Chishiya to immediately release your throat and stop his thrusting.

For the first time Chishiya, who always seemed to have a plan, was at a loss for words, unsure how to approach this. So, instead of doing anything he just froze, looking down at you in shock that a simple action like choking made you use your agreed on safeword.

“Get off me,” you asked quietly.

Chishiya immediately complied, pulling out of you and scooting backwards on the bed, as far away from you as the bed allowed him. Silence filled the room as you sat down on your butt with your legs pulled up to your chest.

Finally, with a croaky and confused voice, Chishiya broke the silence.

“You good?”

The question seemed insane to you. Obviously, you weren’t good, but you weren’t in a state of mind to verbally respond. Instead, you simply shook your head, keeping your eyes on the mattress.

“What… what do you need me to do?” he asked carefully, completely dumbfounded in this situation.

Sure, Chishiya knew of safewords - that’s why he had agreed to establish one with you - but he had never been in a situation where it was actually used. Was he supposed to hug you? God, that would be terribly awkward, but sure he would do it. Maybe you wanted space and nothing to do with him? Weirdly enough, that seemed even worse to him, but once more he would do it.

“Can you stay with me?” you asked weakly.

Chishiya nodded and made an attempt to move closer to you.

“No. Stay where you are, just… sit with me.”

“Ah. Gotcha,” he replied, making sure not to move any closer.

Uncomfortable silence ensued for what felt like ages. Although you had been seeing each other sexually for months now, feelings weren’t something you actively discussed. Despite that, Chishiya obviously never wanted to make you uncomfortable, but he was completely clueless as to how to remedy the situation and comfort you.

“Do you want some water?” he asked, grasping for straws.

To his surprise, you nodded, prompting him to immediately stand up to fill a nearby glass with water from the bathroom. When he came back you had changed position, instead climbed under the covers. He handed you the cold glass of water and awkwardly watched as you drank the entire thing before putting down the glass with a light thud on the bedside table.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, standing completely still, and waiting for you to tell him what to do.

You shrugged, leaving the room in silence once again. Finally, you spoke up.

“Can you cuddle me?”

It was an easy enough request, he thought. He therefore went back into bed with you, climbing under the covers and pulling you in close to him. He wasn’t much of a cuddler, but he couldn’t deny that laying still like this was quite calming. He was slowly getting why people liked it, even if he would never admit that aloud - or worse: actually initiate it himself.

“So,” he said after a while, his gaze focused on the ceiling. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Mh,” you nodded. “I don’t like choking.”

“I figured as much.”

“Sorry.”

Your apology perplexed him.

“You have nothing to apologise. I’m the one who should say sorry.”

You shrugged before moving closer to him, letting his natural scent fill your nose and calm your thoughts.

“Still… I kinda ruined the mood.”

“Nonsense. I was the one getting ahead of myself,” he said firmly, finally looking down at you. Despite the uncomfortable situation, you had started to look more at ease.

To his delight, you huffed air out of your nose, indicating you were at least calm enough to find humour in the situation.

“It’s fine. Shit happens,” you told him. “Just… no more choking, okay?”

“Got it. I will leave your throat alone,” he promised, sounding earnest. He had definitely learned his leason. “Is any other obvious thing off bounds?”

“I don’t think so,” you began carefully. “But maybe let’s agree to discuss new things before we get hot and heavy.”

“I’ll remember that.”

To your surprise, Chishiya didn’t seem the least bit mad that this was the end of your intimacy today. What surprised you even more, was how willing the otherwise stoic man was to let you rest in his arms without anything sexual going on at the same time. Perhaps this would become a regular part of aftercare. You could only hope, as neither of you would be the first person to suggest doing anything more than fucking.

#aib chishiya #chishiya smut #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya #aib #alice in borderland #chishiya x you #smut #alice in borderland chishiya #chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya shuntaro #alice in borderland smut

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tornoleander · 2 months

Note

I'm in the middle of reading wytyaa cuz I saw you mention it at some point and it sounded cool

Anyway, if wytyaa Jay and bbnb Jay ever met, and you somehow got them to traumadump on eachother, both of them would think "First Master, this guy went through hell. Compared to him I had it easy." Meanwhile neithed had it easy and both went through hell.

Might be wrong cuz I haven't finished wytyaa yet but I'm gonna go back to reading now byeeeeee

Oh I’m going to rant for a while because I love talking about and comparing these Fics.

YES, I can absolutely see both them sitting there and invalidate their own experiences. (Unless one of them gets a very important lesson about comparing Trauma)

Art under cut

Trauma dumping though? Currently I doubt wytyaa Jay would. And while bbnb Jay seems willingly to talk to his therapist there’s not a chance 16 year old him from an alternate universe will learn the extent of the shit I had to read through.

The have similar canon complaint story line, to an extent. Both fix my many issues with Cannon and add so much more. Both deal in forced labor extreme physical abuse blood wounds broken bones Starvation With emotional abuse from Nadakhan’s and the crew. But everything beyond that is where things drastically differ

Biggest difference being Explicit vs Mature

Wytyaa being vaguely 16+ and won’t go past implying anything sexual. So a lot is left to interpretation, which is usually easier to handle.

While Bbnb has be 18+ Does not shy away from anything….. no matter how much you wish it would most popular ninjago dead dove for a reason.

Wytyaa Jay is drugged out for the 2 months he has to deal with the withdrawal and wiped memories coming back to him. This scrambles the order you learn about what he went through. Vengestone sorta poisons him, the power suppression is painful and causes long term damage.

In the end Neither Jay is given a moment to feel safe and comfortable over months they are always in extreme danger this is the sort of damage that turns ptsd into C-ptsd✨

Like you said, neither had it easy they both went through hell.

But while comparing trauma is ultimately unhelpful experiences effect people differently both Jays are very traumatized I can tell you one of these was A LOT harder to get through as a reader. VERY much not the same reader experience.

Here’s are the fics with the obligatory READ THE TAGS and warnings at the top of each chapter. They are there for your safety when r themes of sa can be helpful and hurtful to some. Know what you can handle..

When you think your all alone by @mondothebombo

Bending but never breaking by @writing-hat

Both authors are awesome and have read each other Fics lmao.

Never posted this but a long while ago when both fics left off on angst for a long time I messaged them the same thing and got these replies.

The Audacity of hat to blame mondo lol.

If any of you like these fics follow me cause I have a lot of art coming. Also if you have any asks don’t be shy! I could rant for so much longer.

#oli asks #bbnb #bending but never breaking #when you think you're all alone #wytyaa #tw sa implied #only Vauge and brief here but still #ninjago angst #hat tag #mondo tag #hehe hi #I know we’re moot but I’m still just a fan lol #oli art

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maltesejjong · 4 months

Text

What’s up hoes, I’m back at it again lmao. Here’s a little lixie Drabble I wrote last year🫶🏽

Tbh this one kinda hurt. Not in a “why did I write this way” but in a “how dare I portray sunshine this way” and honestly I’m not proud of it. But I was going through a shit period of time and was really hurt and needed to make that hurt known. People always assume I’m some happy go lucky person who never gets mad or wronged and I needed my pain portrayed through some sunshine’s. Please don’t hate me for this

On the Other Side

Warnings: MINORS DNI. Pwop, cream pie, unprotected sex (oh god don’t do that y’all), fingering, piv, cheating (also don’t do THAT guys stay faithful please please please), i think I got everything? Lmk if I missed smt

Summary: Chan is absolutely smitten with his princess. Little does he know that his business trips leave opportunities for his heart to be crushed… by his best friend.

tags: @linoalwaysknows ty for being so enthusiastic about my post “What’s Rwally Going On” and, of course, credit where credit is due, thank you so so much to @lixiesfreckless who started off posting one shots on instagram (insta is @/lixiesfreckles_) and was a massive inspiration both for me as a writer and for this specific piece, which was inspired by “Deep”, which is on her insta hall go check it out!!!

Wc: 1792

Requests are open as always ^^

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

"Relax, baby. Just let go."

You clench your fists, desperately fighting the sounds struggling to escape. "Fe- Felix," you stutter out. "I- I'm...ah, Lixie!"

"Shhh. Calm down, angel. It's alright."

But it's not. And you both know it.

This can't be happening. Not again. It's becoming more and more frequent. You tried. You really did.

But..

"Felix," you try again. "I can't-"

"Just try, baby. Please? Just a minute longer."

He never asks for much, always making sure you're taken care of in every possible way first. And it isn't just the sex.

If you're up late, somehow he'll know, like intuition, and he'll be calling and texting relentlessly, telling you to go to sleep. When you're feeling sick, he arrives on your doorstep with drunken noodles and fried tofu, just happening by.

When you're lonely, well, he's only one call away.

And, of course, you're usually all alone these days...

"Fuck!" You exclaim, jarred out of your thoughts as he abruptly twists his fingers, hitting your sweet spot in a way that's almost cruel.

But it isn't. It never is.

You force your mind to wander, to recall song lyrics and recipes, anything to distract yourself from the feeling of Felix's fingers sliding out of you, then back in. Again and again.

"We shouldn't... we shouldn't be doing this," Felix pants, looking at you through ashy blond hair.

"But we are," you reply through gritted teeth as his digits stretch you out more than usual.

How did we get here? You think to yourself, your legs shaking so hard, you're positive that his fingers alone will leave you unable to walk. His tiny hands with his tiny fingers that work magic on you.

You bite your lip, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you can salvage, knowing your neighbors are still home. Every last inch of you begs to release, to be as loud as you can, to become as undone and fucked up as you possibly can.

But no.

You can't let that happen.

Besides, you know from experience how long Felix can last. You tell yourself that there's no rush.

Yet the thrill of being caught makes everything so much more intense. So much more rushed. So much more fun.

Almost so much more worth it.

"Y/n," he hisses desperately, "shhh. You need to..."

You can't help it. Whatever noise you're apparently making, you have no control over. When you re together, this boy does things to you that you can't even begin to comprehend.

He doesn't deserve this, you tell yourself. And, I guess, neither do I. It shouldn't be like this.

You bite back a whimper as he pushes his fingers deeper. "Felix," you pant, "hurry up, I can't..."

Nevermind the familiar fear lurking over your shoulder.

You know that he doesn't want to rush any more than you do, a fact that he confirms by slowly pulling his fingers out and languidly cleaning them off, the look in his eyes as his gaze locks into yours driving you insane.

He raises his eyebrows, questioning. You press your lips together as tight as you can to keep from begging and keep your response to a firm nod.

He takes his time, kissing his way down your neck, all the way to the inside of your thigh, then back up again. Your body reacts on its own, your back arching as his lips travel up your stomach.

You're so consumed by the feeling that you don't even notice him line up and slide into you. Something that you've found goes smoother if you're distracted.

The second you realize that he's in, your mind races about, trying to grab onto something to keep your mind busy. Kittens. Math. Random Korean and Spanish vocabulary. Anything to keep from yelling as loud as you can as his hips continuously bump gently into yours.

It's a stolen moment. Yet another to add to the ever-growing list. Another thing that should, in theory, weigh on your conscience.

But it doesn't. How can it, when you're digging your fingers into Felix's platinum locks, feeling him groan against your lips. How can you think of the consequences when he's making that sound, bordering on a whimper, your name escaping his clenched teeth?

Exactly. You can't.

Your fingers leave his hair, trailing down his biceps, making him shiver. Your nails press into his skin as hard as you can, desperate for some purchase.

"Y/n. You need to relax, baby." Felix knows that you're going to that place in your mind where you start overthinking, panicking, and, as you've been prone to in the past, hyperventilate. "Hey." Не stops and cups your chin in his hand. "Breathe, okay? I won't-"

"No!" You blurt. "I'm- I'm fine, I just..."

"Y/n."

"Felix," you say firmly. "If you don't keep going, I swear to God, I will make you. I'll be fine, okay?"

He swallows and nods.

"Just.... Slower for now, yeah?"

He obliges, and you take comfort in the fact that, eventually, you aren't the only one making so much noise.

You shouldn't be.... The twisted mess of it all, the backwards guilt that claws your stomach, how messy this situation is.... It's all chased away by Felix whimpering your name, the way his voice pitches, contrasting starkly with his deep Australian tone. Ironic, but running circles in your mind around the whole thing is what helps you calm down and stay quiet. Well, mostly quiet, anyways....

"Oh, God," you moan quietly. Your voice pushes him further, and he increases his pace, his hips hitting yours harder. "Lixie.... Oh, fuck."

"You're doing great, angel. Just a little...." His voice is strained, and you chance a glance at his face.

Hair falling in his eyes, which are dark and seem slightly unfocused, but you know better. He's sweaty, panting slightly, his lips dark pink, flushed from feverishly pressing them to your skin.

Why does this time feel so much longer than every other time? There's a sense of foreboding in the air, and you don't like it.

You feel him shudder a little and force yourself to focus.

"Y/n, you need to relax, kitten." The pet name, the way his gravelly Australian accent drags over the word, makes you whine and clench painfully, causing him to gasp. "Y/n," he gets out, clearly fighting to hold on, "I- I won't last unless you relax."

"I'm... trying..."

It's no use, though. You're too uptight, and everything that usually calms you just turns you on even more until Felix can't take your reactions anymore. In no time at all, you've both ridden out three separate highs, and made way more of a mess than the short span of time warranted.

"Felix." You both know you should be wrapping up, but you can tell that he still isn't done quite yet.

"I... I need a little bit more time- uh! Oh god. Y/n - I can't..."

"What can I do?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, lips pressed together tightly.

Stimulation, you think, that's what will help. Just thinking about what's going on down there makes your stomach squirm pleasurably, sending you clenching tighter and tighter

Felix groans.

"That's it, Lix," you say in a sultry tone, knowing that the only physical thing you can do for him is happening automatically. Vocalization always gets him. "Come on baby," you say breathlessly, "give it all to me."

"I'm doing-"

"Shhh." You cut him off with a kiss. "Just let it all go," you coax, dragging a nail down his chest. "Don't hold back."

A shudder runs through his body, and you watch with satisfaction as he moans loudly, his head tipping back.

Almost there.

You lean forward and press your lips to his throat, feeling it vibrate as another strangled moan escapes him. "Come on, Lix. And here I was, thinking I'm the naughty one." What is wrong with me? You think. Getting turned on by calling myself naughty? Your walls somehow manage to clench even tighter in response.

"You are," he gasps. "Y/n- I'm gonna- nngh!"

He practically bends backwards, his body shaking hard before he falls heavily forward, clinging to you like you're his lifeline, and you know that he's done.

"Better?" You ask quietly.

"Perfect," he whispers, pulling you into his chest.

You let the warmth of his body comfort you, despite the pain gently pulsing in your body. His breath in your skin distracts you from the worry spiraling throughout your mind.

You drift off at some point, listening to his rhythmic breathing, savoring how impossibly right it all feels.

You wake up an hour later to your phone ringing.

You answer without bothering to check the caller ID.

"Hey, pretty girl."

You freeze.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Maybe," you say, trying to suppress your rising panic. You feel thankful that the voice on the other end of the phone is on the other side of the world.

"Oh. Sorry about that." His accent makes the "o" in sorry sound like it does in sore.

"Oh. Um... you're fine," you lie.

"Everything alrigh', baby?"

You fumble with the blankets, trying to escape from the overheated confines and wiggle out of Felix's embrace, careful not to wake him.

"Yeah. I'm just not feeling the greatest." True enough. You feel sick with anxiety and guilt. But not for the right reasons.

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel." You practically cringe, the word feeling foreign unless it's coming from Felix's mouth. "I'll let you get back to sleep then, love."

"Oh. Okay, then."

If he thinks there's something off in your voice, he doesn't say anything. In fact, he probably just attributes it to you apparently being tired. You check the caller ID, praying that this is some sort of fever dream. Of course not. Your screen says

💙🐺Channie🐺💙

You close your eyes as he says "I love you, y/n."

A sour taste pervades your mouth and crushes you with guilt, the betrayal weighing on you, but not the betrayal to him, as your finger hovers over the red "end call" button. You hesitate slightly before telling him "Love you, too."

Staring at your back screen, you think, But I don't.

Not really.

#stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #bang chan smut #felix smut #felix x reader #bang chan x reader

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jack-kellys · 1 year

Text

notes from december performance post-previews that i somehow just wrote up last night in august 2023 whattt how did that happennn:

the way jack replies to “you’re seeing stars alright” feels way more in response to crutchie’s attitude- and when he talks abt his dad getting stomped on it’s not just a context reveal. it’s jack telling crutchie he’s self-aware, he understands his shit place in the world and his desire to change it. just that it’s nice to dream. ow

“time for dreaming’s done” isn’t said with a smile. btw. if u even care

jack stealing finch’s mirror gets me every time

katherine looks back at jack at his “im crushed!” with a little smile

i get that the only reason buttons helps with a lot of the tricks is because he’s the DC but that doesn’t make it any less sweet… he’s always with splasher lmao

jack is quite uncomfortable with the nuns, he doesn’t look at any of them

never ever over spalsher’s little head tilt after his big flip

oscar grabs race’s collar on “i guess he didn’t take care of me!”

morris goes to hit crutchie again after pushing him to the ground before jack stops him

love when race bounces on his toes when he thinks he says something funny

morris blows his cig smoke into davey’s face when he’s grabbing him the extra paper

henry imitates les with finch as his davey, hobbling up to weasel down on his knees

jack rolls his eyes after telling davey “it’s just business” after shaking les’s hand. like can u believe this guy lmao

“mine taught me not to starve” looking at davey like ‘wtf is wrong with you’ LMAO. like jack’s irked with davey actually judging for something so ingrained into jack’s life fr

“HEY!! who was that guy >:(!”

medda checks on jack’s hair and he giggles mid sentence :) like “mooom in front of my friends??”

kaths look of Disgust when jack goes “i admire smart girls” is soooo done. she’s finished w this mf

katherine stays on the set as it shifts into WWK’s scene, staring at jack’s drawing, totally absorbed. i just think it’s fun how when davey sees jack’s backdrop he’s stunned in the same way kath is at her portrait. anyway

jack goes toward finch during the “our union is hereby formed to watch each other’s backs” after leaving ike and finch sweeeeerves away from him. finch only comes on board when davey does actually

when jack’s on the wagon with the “what if the delanceys come out swinging” etc he does a small laugh when the newsies all yell their response like he’s surprised !!

katherine is positioned right above the world’s door as if she’s. inside. ofc initially we read it as her just observing from above but it’s her literal building too.

“specs, you take queens.” “thank you!”

buttons gives kath a friendly wave and race offers his water cup when katherine comes into jacobi’s. walks right past the water even as race keeps his hand out lmfao

tommy lifts elmer into his arms after kath says they’d make front page

“this is not some little vaudeville im reviewing” felt more significant

“give those kids and me the brand new century and watch what happens” is a Plea.

welliguessitdependsonhowyoulookatitifyoulookandseebrooklynthenthey’rewithushaha! then race guns toward davey to yell at him

davey is not afraid to yell when his nerves get shot —> when the scabs boutta get they shit rocked

“them? or them.” OSCAR WAVES LMFAOOO

piggyback for les from racer

fight time

-morris has it OUT for racer in the pre-cop half. literally think he gets smacked with the bat TWICE. he’s on the ground, watches splasher get smacked from the ground, and BOLTS UP and races over to him shoving past morris. insane

-jack only swings on the rope to make a clear path for davey and les actually bc that action is the only reason they get to that half of the stage

-finch and romeo teammates for LIFE. they fought like the whole thing together fr. only pair that stuck out to me for the whole length of it (and then of course they watch crutchie get taken from the audience ough)

-nah jack Is a good fighter thru this it’s just the seize the day moment w the delanceys that he’s shit at btw

-davey doesn’t fight literally at all the whole time :/ c’mon. uncanonizing this in my mind

-SPECS KICKS ASS !! he’s got a bat and everything!! fuck yeah!!

shut up jack wipes at his eye during santa fe at “guy can catch a break”

^guy who lets out a sigh of relief when the post card is still in his pocket. fuck off

act twooo

kath goes to racer abt where jack might’ve gone and he’s abt to answer before albert pipes up

race flicking davey’s hat to the side>

^also they keep chatting thru tap sequences i love it

kath holding davey’s hand while they talk in the corner during table movement

crutchie holds his side when he sings…

^the only part crutchie gets teary at is when he starts talking abt the boys/family :,)

“and a little something extra, just on account of im gonna miss you so-” sounds like medda broke off bc her voice got watery 🥲

“every newsie—who could walk—was out there selling papes” OW the rephrasing of that line

as soon as jack turns his backdrop around to show the strike painting davey walks away soooo fast to turn away

WWH reprise is such an argument. “WE’RE ALREADY WINNING!!” yell davey yell!!

^jack makes the most fuming, boiling angry face after “y’know why a snake starts to rattle 😌?”

davey initiates the spit shake when jack offers his hand

kath is Mortified watching snyder expose jack’s refuge history AND SHES SO MAD when pulitzer gets between her and jack omfg

“be glad you’re alive, kid” is spoken and cruel asf but wbk

morris’s laugh kills me everytime it’s so fucked in the head. goddamn

jack doesn’t let davey touch him when he enters the rally like he doesn’t want davey to look like he knew abt the betrayal beforehand….

scope runs RIGHT up to jack after spot pushes him and goes to yell at him LMAO… lucky has to drag her away

“is that really what it’s like in there? rats everywhere, and vermin?” is taken as judgement and not concern and jack fuckin jumps on it LMAO

the actual motion of disgust jack makes at “you just double crossed us to your father- your… father.” dead every time he literally flinches

“i just didn’t tell you everything!!” is said at the opposite side of the stage as jack and looking down and away. idk why she’s the only katherine that has ever played this line as guilty but i’m always so glad for it

“i’m not stupid.” “no-” “i know girls like you… don’t wind up with guys.. like me.” heathers voice: i will never shut up abooout this

jack seems very afraid of the word love?? during kath’s entire piece of STBI he stays away from her… and she def thinks she’s fucked up for a sec fr

wah this song is so tender :( they hold each other very softly

“hey! um… it’s good to have ya back.”

clarice’s spot also has a moment with race beside just letting the kids into the cellar together..<3 ik lillie’s has more tho

there is something so personal abt davey jacobs saying “bleeeed ‘eeeem” while looking dead into jack’s eyes

davey’s reckless hug once jack’s made the deal with pulitzer… every timeeee

FINCH CRUTCHIE HUG!! first to get to him and holds him the longest before race and jack come along :)

“new york’s got us. and we’ a family.” is said as such a statement of fact like crutchie just ends any argument right there. he just knows jack so fucking well.

#literally watched the brawl like 5 times at .75 speed LMFOAOO #i care abt it so much . cannot believe i haven’t done a fight fic yet it’s cruel #newsies #newsies uk #uksies #analysis #but mostly for the sillies #fizz freaks #i miss my analysis posts ok i was on such a high in london #rizz.analysis

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burstanddecay · 2 years

Text

In the low lamplight (Matt Murdock x f!reader) (18+)

Summary: As your shitty day comes to a peak in his kitchen, Matt is determined to coax you into accepting something other than your self-deprecating thoughts.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (afab) f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Content warning: 18+ content. Reader cursus like a sailor. Daddy issues (the actual kind, not the sexual ones), childhood trauma (emotional, not physical), emotional hurt/comfort, teasing, thigh riding, orgasm (both parties), Matt using the words ‘good girl’ because he can. Word count: 4.9K

Author’s note: Baby’s first explicit fic, so I am absolutely terrified of posting this. This also happens to come from a personal place: I started this when I was very angry at the world, lmao. The only difference is that I do not have a Matt to make me forget my problems. This is un-beta’d. Also on AO3

With a clatter, the contents splatter everywhere as the cast iron pan hits the floor at your feet.

“God fucking damnit. Fuck. FUCK.”

You cradle your burned hand, kicking the pan to the side as you turned to the sink, letting the lukewarm water run over your palm as your elbows rested on the edge of the counter, head hung low between your shoulders. You didn’t register the door opening, or Matt walking across the apartment in the blink of an eye until the door falls shut and he comes to a halt just outside the kitchen area.

“What happened?” he asks, careful not to step in any of the food. A feat in and of itself: you’re pretty sure the sauce is spread all over the cabinets and floor. It wouldn’t surprise you if some of it was smeared on the back of Matt’s leather sofa, either.

“Wet towel,” you murmur, turning the tap off and wiping your hands on said towel, not offering any further explanation.

“Hmm,” he hums, stepping closer. “You okay?”

“Fuckin’ peachy.”

He shows you a half smile, the rest of his facial expression hidden behind his crimson glasses. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s the truth,” he muses.

“What do you want me to fucking say, Matt?” you snap, wetting a dishcloth and dropping to your knees, scooping the spilled dinner into the pan at your side. “Everything is turning to fucking shit and I wasn’t paying attention. I grabbed the pan with dinner, the one thing I was sure I wouldn’t fuck up, and I picked it up with a wet towel and burned my hand. Hence dinner being spread across the floor of your apartment, and not on a plate, like I meant for it to be.”

He doesn’t reply, merely cocking his head to the side ever so slightly as he was facing you.

You bristle against his unfocussed stare, against the knowledge that he was searching for your heartbeat, listening to other tells of your body that could tell him what was wrong.

“Can you not.”

He doesn’t reply, but instead pulls at his pantlegs and crouches down to get to eyelevel.

“I know it can’t be just the dinner, sweetheart.”

Your jaw tenses, the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth as you bite down hard on the side of your cheek, several emotions fighting each other for fist place. You fish the last chunks of tomato and bell pepper off the floor, wiping your hands on the dishtowel and lean back on your heels.

“What happened today?”

You look up at him, at the soft expression on his face, before quickly looking away, ignoring the tears stinging behind your eyes.

He doesn’t push, knowing it would only fuel the anger and frustration coursing through your veins. Instead, he stays put, not moving towards you but not away either, hands loosely dangling between his knees.

“My dad,” you eventually say, looking up at the ceiling in a final attempt to blink the tears away. “Every time I think we take a step forwards… He just... He ends up stabbing me in the back regardless. And mom says he loves me, and that he just doesn’t know how to say it,” a bitter laugh slips past your lips, your cheeks wet with tears that had started to steadily trickle down. “He never learned how to say it, how to express it. Or anything, for that matter.”

You take a shaky breath, looking over at Matt, who merely gave a small smile in return to encourage you to continue.

“I thought it would be better when I moved, and it is, for the most part. But then there’s still days where I am back to seventeen years old and being ignored for a month straight because I did something to displease him.”

You finick with your hands, pulling at the already raw skin of your cuticles, the sight blurry through your tears. It made you feel small, insignificant, sitting here on the kitchen floor of your boyfriends apartment, surrounded by a mess you made. It wasn’t like Matt doesn’t have enough to worry about: you know he does. Along with his late night activities as Daredevil, the firm had been busy after taking a big case that garnered them much deserved attention.

Yet here you were, with the comparatively small issue that was the feeling that your father didn’t love you. It felt so insignificant, so trivial compared to the problems you knew graced Matt’s life on a daily basis.

“I can hear you thinking,” he says softly, reaching out to brush some hair out of your face. “Not the good kind, either.”

You snort. “I happen to be very good at that, to be fair.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean you deserve it, though.”

“Don’t deserve what?” you ask, pawing at your face to wipe away the excess tears.

“Whatever it is that you’re telling yourself.”

A laugh bubbles up as you push your hair out of your face and reached for the dishcloth. “It’s true, though.”

He stays quiet, and you can feel him observing you as you wipe away at the stains across the kitchen cabinets and floor. It wasn’t observing in the literal sense: he had explained that he really couldn’t see you beyond a very vague silhouette, but that he rather listened to someone’s heartbeat and breathing pattern to get a sense of what they weren’t telling him.

“I want to meet him,” he eventually says, catching you completely off guard.

“What?” you frown, pausing mid-wipe.

“I want to meet your father.”

“Trust me, you don’t,” you scoff. “He’d be a complete ass. That man wouldn’t know how to be friendly if his life depended on it.”

“I want to meet the person that makes you feel this way about yourself,” Matt replies, giving a little shrug. “For undisclosed and unrelated reasons, I will be out of town tomorrow.”

You sit back on your heels again, an amused smile ghosting across your face.

“Are you now.”

“No.” The word is accompanied by a wide grin. “Made you smile, though.”

You huff out a soft laugh, a small smile on your face as you scoot over a little, focussing on cleaning the remaining stains, ignoring the small pang of hurt still blossoming in your chest.

“In all seriousness,” he continues. “I know how much it hurts you, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve any of it. Not whatever it was this time, or the things you experienced as a child. None of it.”

“I shouldn’t complain, really,” you say, the words bitter in your mouth as you put more pressure behind your scrubbing. “I still have both my parents. They were supportive enough.”

Matt sighs softly, scrubbing a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew.

Satisfied with lack of sauce spread across the kitchen, you reach for the pan and get up, tossing the remains in the trash and placing the pan itself on the counter to deal with later. Turning on the tap, you carefully scrub your hands with soap until they’re sauce free, shaking the majority of the water off before reaching for the dry towel hanging off the handle of the oven door.

“I can make us a grilled cheese,” you say as move over to the fridge, looking for more ingredients that could be pulled together into a semi-edible dinner. “I think you have a canned soup in your pantry, or I can run to the bodega to grab one. There’s some leek and left over bell pepper, so I could make an omelette—”

You’re cut off as you feel a pair of arms snaking around your waist, Matt’s hot breath ghosting across your neck as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Stop.”

You squirm against his hold, trying to break free out of his grasp.

“I’m not going to let go, sweetheart.”

“I am trying to make you dinner, Matthew.”

“It can wait.”

The warm prick of tears stings behind your eyes again and you try to squirm your way out of Matt’s grip, but he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t say a word as your breath hitches in your throat, merely guiding you a step back and closing the refrigerator.

You hadn’t noticed until now, but stuck to the door with a tiny magnet was a photo of you.

It was the final straw.

Your face crumples and you are unable to stop the sob wracking through your chest at the sight of it. It was stupid: there wasn’t a single piece of art, decorative pillow or vase of flowers to be found in his entire apartment, but there was a picture you stuck the door of your blind boyfriend’s fridge. A picture he couldn’t even see, but it was there, nonetheless.

He lets go, his hands running up and down your arms as you bury your face in your hands, crying harder than you’ve done in years, barely aware that he was spinning you around and pulling you to his chest, leaning back into the countertop as he did. His hands are gentle as one cradles the back of your head and the other is rubbing light circles on your back, not saying a word as your head rests against his chest, staining his shirt with both tears and left over sauce you were undoubtedly transferring, something you tell him in between hiccupping breaths.

A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I can get a new one. That’s something we can easily fix.”

Knowing it was something that would have led to anger in a different situation, with different people, the tears seem to be never ending, chest aching with ancient scars that feel like they’ve been torn wide open.

Through the tears, Matt is unmoving, taking the thing in calm grace as if it were merely the tide coming in, and not a tsunami crashing across a village. It felt like the latter: the anger and hurt towards your relationship with your father was something laid in waiting, waiting to strike when you least expected it. It was always the smallest things that triggered it out its hiding spot, something that shouldn’t matter but that he managed to blow up into something that he would inevitably spin into a narrative that would place the blame on you.

It was something that made you sad; the kind of sad where it ends up festering into self destructive anger. It was anger at the way it was now, and anger at the fact it had always been like that: the one person that was supposed to be there with unconditional love was the one that put terms and conditions on it.

But it wasn’t Matt’s fault. It wasn’t, yet you had exploded into his face, sending the shrapnel of your anger flying into his unsuspected stature.

“I’m sorry I’m a mess,” you eventually say when the tears have stopped flowing as harshly, letting go of him and setting a step back. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

You laugh wetly in reply.

“I’m serious,” he says. “Don’t be. I’m a mess, too. Foggy is a mess. Karen is a mess. We’re all messes in our own accord, sweetheart. The reasons might be different, but none of us are always doing okay. And that’s fine. That happens. Doesn’t make you a bad person, it just makes you human.”

You hadn’t noticed he had taken his glasses off until you looked up at his face, meeting unfocussed brown eyes instead of his glasses. You knew he meant every word of it: he had told you about his own struggles. He had told you how dark the world had seemed to him, how he had only seen the pain and hurt in his life and no longer the good surrounding him. How he had isolated himself and locked every single person that saw the good him in out, until there was nothing but darkness and anger surrounding him.

It was on days like this, where everything accumulated into a giant mess that left you unable to see the good in your life that Matt would take your hand and let you know you were more than that, that the good was still there but hidden behind everything else.

His hand cupped your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile, laying your hand over his, feeling tired but also lighter than before. “I know. I love you, too. Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

A silence falls between you, nothing but the busy street below and the low hum of the fridge audible in the apartment.

“Let me cook dinner,” he eventually says, his hand moving down to your hip and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

“I love you, but you’re absolutely useless in the kitchen, Matt,” you laugh, amused at his offer. “You’re not cooking us dinner.”

“Are you implying that a blind person can’t cook?” he mocks, one eyebrow quirked and a wide smile on his face.

“No. I am implying that you specifically would burn water. You keep losing the recipe for making ice cubes.”

His mouth falls open. “That is so mean and you know it's not true.”

You grin in reply, beelining across the kitchen in an attempt to get away from him as he stalks after you. You run into the bedroom, trying to close the sliding doors before he can make it in, but he is far faster than you, one arm pulling you into his chest before you’re able to dive onto the bed to roll over it.

“Didn’t think so, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear, closing the door behind him, his hand snaking up to your chin as he stood behind you, not quite pressed against your back but so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You grin breathlessly as his thumb brushes over your lips, the other fingers bracing your jaw. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

“Gonna show you just how capable I am of taking care of you,” he replies calmly, breath hot in your neck. “Don’t need sight for that.”

Your breathing falters ever so slightly at his tone, desire coiling hotly in your lower belly as he guides your forward until your knees brush the side of his bed.

“Say the word and I will stop. We will sit on the couch, order take out and you can watch a movie. Nothing happens right now without your okay. Understood?”

His hand feels as if it’s searing a hole through your shirt with the way it spans across your ribs, the other still holding onto your jaw. There was nothing possessive about it: if anything, it was gentle, warm, caring.

You nod, a soft huff of disapproval whispered across your ear.

“Words, please, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” you whisper in return.

“Do you want this?”

“Please,” you reply, unable to keep the whiny edge out of your voice. “Yes. Please.”

You can feel him grinning as he presses hot kisses to the side of your neck, brushing your hair to the side.

“Good girl.”

You try to supress the shiver rolling through your body at those words. He didn’t use them often: his preferred term was sweetheart, using it more often than your actual name. Rarely there was baby, usually reserved for late nights, dim lighting and lazy kisses. Even less often than that there was the occasional darling, when you accompanied him to professional events.

But the words good girl only made their appearance when he had one goal in mind.

Getting you off and asking nothing in return.

He guides you forward, onto the bed until you’re sat back on your heels between Matt’s thighs, his chest pressed against your back.

In a torturously slow pace, the hand that had been resting on your jaw crawled it’s way down, his fingers leaving a scorching hot trail as they travelled down your throat, skimming across your collarbone, grazing the side of your breast and down your ribs until both his hands were resting at your waist.

You lean your head back onto his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your body as you practically melt into him.

“There you go,” he murmurs, voice rumbling lowly through his chest. “There’s my girl. It’s all about you right now. Whatever you want.”

“Don’t have to do that,” you reply, eyes closed and revelling in the intimacy of the moment. “’s a two way street.”

“Not tonight.”

Not a quite a command, but as close as he would get to it.

You think on it for a moment, absentmindedly running your nails up and down his thighs until he shivers behind you. You laugh, the sound bright and warm, a stark contrast to how you’d been feeling ten minutes ago.

“You sure about that?” you ask, shifting positions to look at him with a grin, well aware of the fact that he has to actively stop himself from rolling his hips against you to bring the slightest relief to the hardness straining against the zipper of his slacks.

“I’m starting to doubt it,” he smiles. “But yes. Let me just think about something horrible for a second—”

“Matthew!” you scold in faux horror, slapping his chest, something that is met with a wide grin.

“Kidding, kidding.”

“I think I just want to make you come in your pants,” you deadpan, pushing against his chest until he gets the memo, scooting back until he’s sat against the headboard. “Or just get you so hard and worked up that you can’t think straight and then just leave.”

He grins widely, hands resting on your hips as you move to sit on his lap. “I love it when you get cocky. It’s very sexy.”

You don’t reply, instead choosing to focus on untying his tie. You know you could just easily pull it over his head, discarding of it that way, but you revel in the micro expressions flashing across his face as your fingers brush against the base of his throat as you work the knot loose.

“Should tie you up with it,” you softly say, gliding your hands down the silk fabric before moving to unbutton his shirt, touch feather light as you elicit another shiver from him. “Would that be okay?”

You can see his breath hitching in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily as he swallows.

Leaning forward, your hands pressed against his bare chest, you ask again in a soft whisper against his ear.

“Would that be okay, Matthew?”

“Yes.”

The word is barely a whisper, a confession almost disappearing into nothing.

��Next time,” you promise him, gently pressing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Had other ideas for now.”

He smiles in return, fingers digging into your hips as you scoot a little higher onto his lap, biting back a whine as you revel in the wave of pleasure crashing over you at the friction the combination of Matt’s thighs and your jeans provide.

“Ah,” he breathes, smile widening into something soft, as if he’d been waiting for it.

“There we are.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, no real bite behind the words.

“You gonna ride my thigh, sweetheart? Think you can make yourself come that way?”

His fingers are ghosting across your top of your jeans, as gentle as the expression on his face, not making any decisions before you make them.

“I know you can,” he continues. “Seen you do it before.”

You flush in a wave embarrassment, ducking your head and biting your lip as you avoid looking up at him.

“Hey, hey, no,” he tells you sternly, guiding your head back up with a finger hooked under your chin. “None of that. Not here. Not with me.”

You pause as he drops his hand, taking a moment to take in the man sitting beneath you. The neon sign outside cast a reddish-pink light across his features, the sight familiar and comforting as he shows you a crooked smile.

“Love you,” you mutter softly, the feeling all encompassing.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me. Show me how you feel, sweetheart. I want you to ride my thighs until you come so hard you’re left a quivering mess. I want you to tie me up and ride me until you see stars. I want you to take whatever makes you feel good, without expecting anything in return. Whatever that looks like, I can take it.”

“Jesus, Matt,” you breathe, heat crawling up your spine at his blunt confession.

“Language, sweetheart,” he retorts, the grin on his face devastating.

You don’t bother thinking of a witty reply, but rather pull your shirt over your head before crashing your lips into his, knocking teeth together in your hurry to devour him whole. His hands are everywhere: across your back, on your hips, in your hair: you can’t keep track as you tug at his open shirt, urging him to sit forward as you push it past his shoulders. He quickly tossed it off the bed before his hands are finding their way back onto your body, his shifting causing more friction that leaves you moaning into his mouth.

He grins into the kiss at the sound, his hand spanning between your shoulder blades as he presses you chest to chest, getting you as close as he could in this position.

“There you go,” he breathes, his other hand at the nape of your neck, mouth leaving wet kisses on the side. You grind into him shamelessly at this point, his hard cock now definitely straining against his zipper, providing more of that friction you were desperately chasing. It wasn’t enough: you desperately wanted him as close as you could get him.

Your hand snakes into his hair, pulling his head back as he lets out a low hiss, the other digging crescent moons into his shoulder as your fingernails claw into his skin, kissing his neck with a sense of urgency as his low moan shifts into a chuckle.

“Gonna actually come in my pants if you keep this up, sweetheart,” he confesses, the words almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to make you feel bad.

“Aren’t you lucky that I want to finish with you inside,” you whisper with a grin, pressing a kiss just below his ear, something that earns you yet another shiver as your hands move to unzip his pants before moving off his lap, handing him a condom from the nightstand as you shimmy your way out of your jeans, leaving you in a mismatched pair of underwear consisting of cotton panties and a bra that didn’t match in colour.

The chilly air of the apartment in late autumn crashed over you, making you shiver, something Matt took note of as he pulls you back against his body, his hand snaking down, fingers brushing against the soaked fabric of your panties.

“There you are,” he whispers, the featherlight touch almost unbearable as he slowly drags his fingers up until they brush past your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You bite back a moan, breath hitching in your throat as you do, all cockiness from a mere moment ago forgotten. Though you could easily crawl on top and take what you wanted that way, all you wanted in this moment was Matt. His fingers, his cock inside you: all of him, everywhere.

You don’t say any of it, instead a soft please is whispered and he knows, he understands, unclasping your bra and pulling your panties down before pulling you into his lap, positioning himself and letting you take the lead as you slowly sink down onto him, working your way through the stretch. You can see him biting back a moan, screwing his eyes shut: he didn’t want to make you feel like you had to hurry, not after the incident during your first time together. The pair of you had underestimated the situation and tears had sprung to your eyes when you were too eager, the worry in his voice still ringing through at times when he thought he had made the same mistake.

He hisses lowly as you slide home, giving you both a second to adjust, his hands steading you at your waist.

“I’m afraid this isn’t going to last long,” he confesses as you slowly start grinding down onto him. “Wasn’t kidding about the pants.”

His hand makes it way down, sending you jolting as he brushes against your clit, easing into a steady rhythm that leaves you gasping as you continue your own rhythm.

“Feel so good, baby,” he murmurs, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses running across your neck and shoulders, his words only adding fuel to the fire. “You’re doing so well, taking me so well, darling,” he continues, using every pet name available in the book.

It works: it drives you insane, making you grind down harder as you chase after your release that is so close you could taste it, but just out of reach.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for it, clawing helplessly at his shoulders. “Need you, Matt, I’m so close. Please.”

“Shit,” he hisses, your words sending him bucking up into you, hitting deeper than before, his fingers stuttering as he rests his forehead against your shoulder. You knew it was taking every grain of willpower for him to not come on the spot, but you couldn’t help the whine that escaped.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he apologises through gritted teeth, picking up with renewed enthusiasm, his mouth hot on your neck. “Fuck, baby—”

It was the raw tone of his voice that sent you over the edge, arching back as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, barely aware that Matt was right after you, keeping you upright on his lap.

“You’re stunning,” he grinned, looking up at you with a devastating smile as you caught your breath.

You laugh silently, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face with a grin that matches his.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Murdock.”

You slide off him, feeling a little empty but satisfied as you lean over to kiss him.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly. “For everything you do.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he says, rolling off the bed and padding towards the bathroom.

You hesitate for a second, curiosity blooming in your chest as you recall earlier, getting up after him.

“Matt?”

“Hm?” he asks, wetting a washcloth and handing it over to you.

“Why is there a picture of me on your fridge?”

“Ah. Yeah. About that. Didn’t think it would make you cry,” he confessed. “I figured it’d be nice, to have something that represented you in here. For when you’re not yourself,” he shrugs, as if that would somehow clarify the situation, cleaning himself before tossing the condom into the trash and stepping into a pair of grey jogging pants, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You follow his example and make your way into his living room as you pull one of his discarded hoodies over your head, frowning a little as you watch him rummage through a drawer.

“Matt.”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Matt, you cannot see the picture.”

He paused, snorting softly. “I’m aware.”

“Then why?” you ask, feeling a little exasperated. “I could just leave a shirt here, or even some perfume. Something that you know, is actually for your benefit.”

He considers it briefly, a heavy frown present on his face as he searches for the right answer.

“I… it’s not for me,” he eventually slowly says. “I know of your presence here. I can smell the remnants of your perfume, even when you’re gone. But nothing tells other people that visit here those things, because there wasn’t any visual aid to help voice that. I want people to know that you are in my life, and you’re important. I want to show someone what you look like when they ask. That I’m proud of you.”

You bite your lip, looking at your boyfriend who was standing in his living room, the perfect image of comfort in his grey sweats, giving you the recognition you were absolutely starved for as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I love you, and I’m so proud of you,” he emphasises, as if he can sense how much you need to hear those words. “No conditions.”

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, unable to fully express the way those words fill the cracks in your heart.

He smiles softly.

“Any time, sweetheart. Any time. Now, Thai or pizza?” he asks, holding up a set of flyers from local takeout spots.

“Thai,” you scoff as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve seen enough red sauce for the day.”

“Right. Yeah. Nearly forgot about that.”

“Liar,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the kitchen with a squint. “I can see a spot I missed from here; I know you can smell it.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad!” he exclaims, hands in the air in self-defence. “I figured I’d clean it when you weren’t looking.”

You snort, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as you pass him on your way to the kitchen. “Thank you for your attempt at sparing my feelings. I clean, you order and set the table. Deal?”

“Deal.”

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