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chiliyue-archived · 11 months

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cause i love to love, to love, to love you

↬ in which you have him all lovesick and smiles

includes; dazai, chūya, atsushi, fyodor

notes; i am gonna pretend i didn’t disappear for 2-3 months. this has been in my drafts for so long :( i tried to clean it up as much as i could but it’s really old jfjdks

DAZAI

dazai appears happy. present tense.

his typical inquiries for double suicides came to lessen to conscious degree, substituting in drinking sake together when the sun cowers, nothing but a string of nonsensical chatter proceeding each sip.

he was sticky like that: unannounced visits, impromptu phone calls, sudden changes in his schedule to accommodate yours. in any case, he isn’t one to shy from stooping as low as whining if it rewards him with your familiar face.

( his windpipes splinter before he could mutter it out loud, but the solitude that’s wedged deep in his bones for so long felt lighter when you were near. he questions how long such benevolence would last before becoming sullied by his hand… ).

…and yet all things considered, it hasn’t deterred him from courting you nonetheless. at times he can’t help but think he’s taken a bite of his own medicine when he’s the one skipping around like a helpless maiden.

and yet again in spite of it all, his brazenness remains perpetually untouched as ever. he entertains different approaches if only to coax out a new reaction from you and he’s not bashful in the slightest. so much so, he remains unruffled even under the scrutiny of your coworkers.

. . .

“ this is highly unprofessional.”

“ don’t be so mean, bella. don’t you know how much i missed you?”

your eyes flit down to the man currently using your lap as a headrest, the rest of his body stretching over the expanse of the couch. he was shameless, that much was certain, but his ability to remain unperturbed whilst in his lovey dovey state was impressive. you cocked a brow, sighing.

“ osamu.” his lips visually twitched at the call of his name; it’s a word warm on your tongue but leaves the hairs on his nape at your mercy anyway. " you saw me fifteen minutes ago—”

“ twenty.” he corrected, cheeky (and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled that number out his ass). “ but it was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”

he was unrepentant as ever, experimentally positioning his head to rest on the plush on your thighs. by muscle memory, he began to absently draw shapes wherever he could reach, a crude rendition of stars decorating over the bend of your knee.

he smiles innocently when you squint at him, the gleam in his eyes unwavering. “ only a couple more minutes and i would have been yours,” you mutter out, your voice not as sturdy as you hoped. “ at home.”

dazai almost turns pouty at that. almost. “ but my love, i’ve missed you like crazy. twenty minutes is too long, how can i possibly manage?” the words come out through a breathy exhale and you watch as his lashes kiss his cheeks when he flutters them closed. “ all i could think about is you. and now i have you right here.” he hopes his words carry as much truth as the way his heart does, scurrying away the cold that's mocked him for so long. “ can’t we just stay like this a little longer? pretty please?”

resigned to your fate, you could only clamor your palms over your features— if only to salvage your waning dignity from your coworkers.

unfortunate though… that in doing so you miss the blissful smile curling on his lips as he peeks at you from below. and atsushi notes(after throughly grimacing, not expecting him to be so blunt), it reaches his eyes too.

CHŪYA

" chūya-"

" you can't flirt with me. i have a partner."

terse, stubborn and slurred. if the groggy voice wasn’t enough to confirm your suspicions, the shit-face look belonging to your boyfriend did. he was drunk. wasted if you were to speak bluntly.

in truth, it really doesn’t come off as much of a surprise; his ability to hold his liquor was nothing to brag of (despite what he may profusely argue) and you’re half-convinced he’s already forgotten his own name.

still, you don’t loosen your grip on his sleeve even under the figurative holes he’s burned with his stare. “ chūya. i am your partner.”

“you—! wha-!” his voice erupts into a sudden warble, eyes akin to saucers. " you… you are??"

he takes what’s left of his thinning rationality to study you proper; the style of your hair, your clothing, the smell of perfume/cologne, the familiar quirk of your lips—

oh, he thinks as you push back the loose bangs veiling his face. he doesn’t make any attempts to move, feet stalled and eyes blinking, evidently stunned.

you decide to press on. “ do i look familiar now…?” the lilit of your voice grazes against his ear, plucking out a faint memory tucked somewhere in the crevice of his fuzzy head.

oh. he thinks twice, the stern look bruising his face thawing.

without realizing it, he squares his shoulders in any attempt to remedy his current disheveled appearance, slumped posture pulled taut in— what he hopes— was a more put together frame. conversely, he wobbles on his feet when you continue to eat away at the distance, the ghost of your touch pushing pinpricks into his skin.

“ you’re- you’re really all mine…?” he cringes as soon as it leaves his mouth, coming off eager and hopeful. something like a laugh escapes you and he can’t tell if that’s what made his stomach turn or the alcohol. perhaps both.

“ that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you. you’re so stubborn when you’re drunk.” you punctuate the words with a kiss to his cheek, now warm with revelation. chūya, exhausting the last bits of his energy, shrinks beneath it, a gloved hand clutching his reddened face defensively.

“ why haven’t i made you my spouse yet?” he remarks it so suddenly, you nearly choke on air. he can’t even comprehend what you say thereafter or register the look beginning to contort your features, nothing but liquid courage keeping him afloat.

but- well, if there’s anything the haze trotting his head and his thinning cognition could agree on, it’s that your ring finger appears a little too barren for his liking.

( but not for much longer, he hopes )

ATSUSHI

the sudden change in atsushi’s behavior was a notable observation within the ADA, many of whom watched as the weretiger became stupefied by a face belonging to you. it wasn’t long before concluding it was all the result of a crush; the culprit of which being atsushi himself who played his hand poorly at discretion.

the lovesick chatter would leave his mouth without much rationality, waxing of "[name] this" or "[name] that," and effectively becoming on the receiving end of his praises. it was almost a routine of sorts, occupied by stutters, belated responses and his fidgety footfalls. by the end of it, he fruitlessly attempts to steady his rabbiting heart— if only to stop his blush from staining beyond his cheeks.

even now as he silhouettes by the agency door, the rattle of rain is deafened by the rush of blood to his ears. he anxiously worries the handle of the umbrella in his palms, bouncing from one sole of his feet to the other. should he just ask you? maybe he should wait… now that he thinks about it would be more appropriate to just leav—

“ damn it.” he perks at your sound of displeasure, his heart spiking. “ so much for leaving in a hurry…” you stiffen, realizing you have nothing but a coat protect you from the weather. the flimsy jacket you hurriedly plucked from your wardrobe only added flavor to your disappointment.

atsushi doesn’t miss the opportunity; his feet carries him to you before the unpleasant voice lurking deep in his subconscious bullies him otherwise. “ we can share,” he gestures to his own, silently praying his voice was leveled. it wobbles anyway and by now his knuckles are sheen white as a product of his nerves.

with the organ jumping around in his chest, he almost doesn’t register your ‘thank you,’ only that his fingers were quickly undoing the straps of the umbrella before you could change your mind ( he impulsively bought it earlier that day— his previous pair worned out and far too tiny for two people. but when you thank him with a kind smile, hands slightly brushing with each step, he argues it was the best 800 yen he’s ever spent ).

… that said, a more appropriate question is how you managed to remain naive to all his pining for so long— he’s become despairingly obvious against his own good and yet he can’t find it in himself to change himself, a perpetual lovesick look copy and pasted whenever you entered his proximity.

the same can't be said to everyone else however and he wasn’t particularly pleased when he caught wind of the bets exchanged among his treacherous colleagues. he fears it's only a matter of time before one of them blabs their tongue to you. at this rate, perhaps one of them should.

. . .

" y'know atsushi," ranpo once said, offering his companion a gleaming simper. " you reallllyyy talk about [name] a lot."

"oh.”

his heart flutters, eyes slowly blinking.

" yeah,” he smiles. “ i guess i do.”

FYODOR

" you've been awfully quiet, my dear." fyodor’s voice was just loud enough over the sound of clashing cutlery, fixing you a gaze of genuine interest. " is the meal not to your liking?"

you feel your lips twist into a frown. for being attentive, he (for once) falsely saunters pass the source of your displeasure, failing to recognize the extent of your internal woes. " no- no-" you fidget with your fingers, ignoring the way your propped elbows skidded against the table. the behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by the former, who takes it upon himself to hook his index fingers with yours. “ there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask of you. a… request of sorts.”

“ what is it? i’ll have it shipped to you by the end of the week,” he offers generously though it quickly fades into a confused hum when you shake your head at the proposition.

" it isn’t something you can buy…” you drop your gaze from him to the scantly poked portions of cuisine on your plate. fearing he may misinterpret your words and assume it to be unattainable - perhaps gifting you something ludicrous as a piece of land - you amended quickly. " it’s not what you assume to be either.”

at that, he bums questioningly. “ then what displeases you, my darling?” he provides a faint squeeze to your hand, igniting something warm and paradoxical to his thin layer of frigid skin. “ what can i offer to rid you that frown?”

" just your company.”

" my company?"

" yes." perplexed, he cocks his head; an invitation. willing an inhale to your lungs, you took a moment to gather possession of your words. “ these days you've been rather occupied. i was hoping for perhaps… if we may spend some time together?"

fyodor appears vaguely surprised by that, something unfamiliar fortifying around him. requesting his time felt like a hefty expenditure just in itself and it wasn’t too far fetched to assume he’ll disregard it in favor of some plot embellishing deep within his brain. but a swift refusal never comes.

“ i see,” he finally says after a brief pause. his voice was so soft you wondered if it was meant for you to hear.

it's grows quiet before he speaks again, the fingers curled around your hand withdrawing but not before providing the tips a delicate squeeze. " i can arrange some time tomorrow for you,” he proffers. “ will that satisfy your request, myshka?"

hardly anything can catch fyodor off guard, but something had to be said in the way you brightened at the suggestion, a deep curve coasting over your lips. how pleasant you are.

" yes," you hastily replied, dipping your head slightly. " more than perfect. thank you."

the way your lineaments crossed into a smile was always enduring to observe — exasperated, but one he wouldn’t mind seeing tomorrow knowing he was the cause for such elation.

( idly, he wonders what he can do to see it again ).

A/N !

i’ve been meaning to post this for months but it’s so old & i never quite (and still kinda don’t) liked it :(( fyodor’s is bit ooc jfjdkskla

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ravcnism · 3 months

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STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.

# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans

# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda

Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.

“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”

“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”

“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”

“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”

Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.

Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.

“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”

“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”

“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”

“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”

Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.

The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”

“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”

“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.

The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.

“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”

He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”

Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”

“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”

“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”

Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”

He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”

He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.

“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”

Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”

“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.

Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”

Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”

“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”

Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.

“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”

“Dad.”

“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”

“Dad!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.

Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.

“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.

Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.

Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”

Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”

Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.

“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”

Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”

The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”

“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”

This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”

“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”

“Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”

“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”

“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.

Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”

The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”

“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”

“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”

“Is it?”

Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”

“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”

Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”

Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.

“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”

Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.

“—Infatuation.”

You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.

“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”

Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.

And he would prove her wrong tonight.

Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.

Besides, how bad could you be?

With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’

“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.

You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.

“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”

“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”

“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”

“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”

He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”

You grinned. “Cheers.”

Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”

Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”

You nodded. “Neither can I.”

“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”

“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”

It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”

“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”

“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”

“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”

“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”

“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.

“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”

The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.

“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”

Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”

“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”

It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”

Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.

Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:

“I'm saying you won because I let you.”

Kenji blinked.

And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.

But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.

Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.

Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.

“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”

Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.

“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.

He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.

You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”

Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”

You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.

Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”

There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.

Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”

He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”

Kenji blinked.

“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”

Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.

A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”

Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.

You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,

“I'll see you on the field.”

taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!

#kenji sato #ken sato x reader #x reader #ultraman rising #ken sato x male reader #kenji sato x male reader

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girlkisser13 · 2 months

Note

hiii!! could you please write an angry love confession with jason todd? i love your writing by the way. <33

a/n: hey girl! the way i literally had this idea in my drafts already??? anyways i hope you like it. <33

the streets of gotham were as unforgiving as ever, shadows lurking at every corner. you and jason maneuvered through the night with practiced ease, your senses on high alert. the two of you had been tracking a particularly dangerous gang for weeks, and tonight, you planned on ending their reign of terror.

"stay close, y/n," he whispered, his voice barely audible through their comms. "this gang isn't to be underestimated."

you rolled your eyes, your stubbornness shining through even in the heat of the mission. "i can handle myself, jason. i've done this before."

jason suppressed a sigh, knowing that arguing with you would only waste time. the two of you had been tracking this gang for weeks, and tonight was your best chance to bring them down.

as the both of you moved deeper into the abandoned warehouse, the sound of muffled voices reached your ears. jason signaled for you to stay back, but you ignored him, slipping ahead with your usual reckless abandon. you moved swiftly, taking down a thug silently and moving towards the main group without waiting for backup.

jason's heart raced as he watched you. he admired your bravery, but it was your lack of caution that terrified him. he followed you, keeping a close eye on your movements.

suddenly, chaos erupted. gunfire rang out, and you found yourself surrounded. you fought valiantly, but the odds were against you. jason sprang into action, his guns blazing as he fought his way to your side. but it was too late; a bullet grazed your side, and you cried out in pain.

"y/n!" jason shouted, his voice filled with panic. he took down the remaining thugs with brutal efficiency, his rage fueling his attacks. once the area was clear, he rushed to your side, his heart pounding in his chest.

"i'm fine," you gasped, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.

"like hell you are," he growled, scooping you up into his arms. "we're getting out of here."

ignoring your weak protests, he carried you to his motorcycle and secured you before speeding off towards his apartment. the ride was silent, the tension between the two of you palpable.

once inside his apartment, he laid you gently on the couch and hurried to retrieve his medical supplies. he returned to find you attempting to sit up, your face pale from the pain.

"stay still," he ordered, his voice rough with concern. he knelt beside you and began cleaning your wound with surprisingly gentle hands.

"you didn't have to carry me," you muttered, wincing as he applied antiseptic.

"yes, i did," he snapped, his frustration evident. "i can't leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can i?"

you winced in pain and said, "i mean, i'm fine so it's okay—"

"no, it's not okay. not when i feel like i'm going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking about you getting hurt." jason's voice rose, his anger boiling over. "you could have been killed, and for what? to prove you can handle yourself?"

your eyes softened slightly, your stubbornness giving way to a rare vulnerability. "i can't just stand by and do nothing, jason. i have to help."

jason's hands stilled, his expression torn between anger and something deeper. "i know," he said quietly. "but it kills me to see you hurt. you mean more to me than you realize."

you looked at him, your breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. "what are you saying?"

"i’m in love with you, y/n," he said, his voice breaking. "and it terrifies me because i can't protect you from everything. i can't lose you, y/n. not like this."

tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to touch his cheek. "i didn't know you felt that way," you whispered. "i love you too, jason. i just didn't want to be a burden."

he shook his head, his anger melting into a mix of relief and tenderness. "you're not a burden. you're everything to me. just... promise me you'll be more careful. for both our sakes."

you nodded, your tears spilling over as you pulled him into a gentle kiss. "i promise, jason."

as he held you close, your hearts beating in sync, he knew that despite the dangers of gotham, the two of you would face them together.

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cosmopretty · 23 days

Text

Forgotten Date

Caitlin Clark x Fem

Synopsis: After getting drafted Caitlin has been working so hard for Indiana Fever she seems to accidentally forget about you. Once she realizes she can’t help but want to make it up to you.

After being the number one pick in the WNBA draft, Caitlin your girlfriend has been working harder than she ever has. College basketball was nothing like this league, it was a whole new level and it was exhausting for her and her new teammates. You moved with Caitlin to Indiana because she loved you and wanted you to be with her while she lives out her dreams.

But watching your girlfriend work her ass off all the time and come home exhausted was not a sight you liked to see.

All Caitlin did was work, in the gym on the court, off the court. The whole world was watching her, expecting her to change the WNBA. It was so much pressure on her and recently every time you woke up in the morning, she was never there, never home. She left you notes, texts, food but wasn’t around physically.

You missed her so much and it was crazy because you lived with her so you shouldn’t because you live together.

“Caitlin I’m still making dinner call me back when you can I love you” You say into the phone leaving her a voicemail, after she didn’t answer your first two calls.

Knowing her she was probably at practice or the gym, so you put your phone down and go back to cooking. Caitlin knew you were going to cook for the two of you, you told her this morning. It was supposed to be a cute little date for you both since you haven’t been spending much time together and you just wanted to cheer her up.

The dinner was her favorite kind of pasta with grilled chicken you cooked and seasoned yourself and garlic bread. You spent all morning at the grocery store looking for ingredients and all afternoon cooking.

You set up the table and lit some candles, putting a vase down with fresh flowers you picked up today.

You sat at the table, staring at the empty chair across from you, the food growing cold on the plates. The silence in the room felt heavy, pressing down on you as you pushed the fork around your untouched meal. Each passing minute made the ache in your chest deepen, the disappointment settling in like a dull, unshakeable weight.

You called her multiple times, eleven to be exact at different times. She knew about this, she agreed and she didn’t show up.

You sat alone at the table, the flickering candlelight making soft shadows around the room. The food that you had carefully prepared sat untouched, their warmth slowly fading as the minutes ticked by. With each passing moment, the silence in the room grew heavier, and the hope that your girlfriend might still walk through the door began to fade, leaving only the sting of disappointment in its place.

After more than enough time you get up leaving the untouched food in its place, not bothering to clean anything up.

Walking into the room you shared with Caitlin you couldn’t even stand there for more than a minute before grabbing your bag and leaving.

You step out of your apartment, the click of the door behind you echoing in the quiet hallway. The evening air hits your face as you walk down the stairs, each step heavier than the last. You’re not sure where you’re going, but staying inside wasn’t an option. Not tonight.

She bailed on dinner didn’t even bother to show up. No call, no text, nothing you waited for an hour for her after she wasn’t even home all day.

You find yourself outside, the city buzzing around you, people going about their lives. Couples pass by, holding hands, laughing. It stings more than you expected, all you wanted was her but she couldn’t be there.

You pull your jacket tighter, feeling the chill that isn’t just from the night. There’s a knot in your chest, a mix of frustration, sadness, and something else—something harder to name. You wonder if it’s worth it, if she’s worth it, or if you’re just clinging to something that’s slipping away.

But for now, you keep walking, hoping the movement will take you somewhere, anywhere that feels less empty.

Ending up at the park you sit down on the bench you body heavy with emotions from tonight.

The park is quiet, the kind of place you go when you need to think, to clear your head. Trees sway gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers in the dark. You wonder what went wrong this time—was she really that busy, or did she just forget you?

Only an hour after you sat down your phone started going off, texts from Caitlin saying how sorry she is and calls over and over.

Caitlin stepping in side your shared apartment her heart dropping to her stomach when she saw the dinner she forgot of. She called you over and over and you declined every call even though you did wish to hear her voice.

The one thing you forgot was that the two do you shared locations so when Caitlin showed up at the park walking towards you a frown on her lips.

She’s walking toward you, her pace quickening as she spots you. There’s an urgency in her steps, in the way she calls your name. You hear her, but instead of walking towards her you get up walking the opposite direction, crossing your arms.

But she was taller than you and faster so she reaches you, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching yours.

“Hey,” she says softly, trying to catch your attention. You can hear the apology in her voice, but it feels like it’s too late. You keep walking, and she falls into step beside you.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, her voice filled with guilt. “I didn’t mean to forget I just- I got caught up in the gym, and time slipped away. I know that’s not an excuse”

You look up at her for a moment your eyes filled with unshed tears. But you don’t say a word to her, just continuing to walk. Caitlin reaches out to you grabbing your arming turn you to face her, the two of you stand still staring at one another.

“Please,” she pleads, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable “Talk to me” she begs.

“I miss you Caitlin and we live together so I shouldn’t miss you— I just wanna be with you that’s why I came half way across America for you and your never here and when you are your tired and that’s not your fault but it hurts” You vent to her a tear drop falling down your cheek.

Her eyes look at you filled with guilt, her handing coming up to wipe the tear on your cheek. Her thumb caresses your cheek rubbing back and forth— she never realized how hard this was for you, not just her.

“I’m so sorry baby I love you so much and I will make time for you- I promise” She says to you her hand coming down from your cheek to grab your hand.

Her lips turn up to a small smile causing one to fall upon your face “I’m sorry let me make it up to you please” Caitlin asks her brown hair falling over her face as she looks down at you.

Your hand comes up hesitantly to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear. Your hand stays on her face before slowly pulling her closer to you “Okay make it up to me” you whisper before closing the gap between you both, your lips crashing into each other.

Caitlin pulls away first “Come on I have an idea” she says her hand coming to hold yours pulling you with her as she walks down the pathway out of the park.

“Where are we going?” You ask her laughing a bit she flashes you a small, playful smile, hoping it would help with the nervous flutter in your chest “You’ll see” she say, trying to sound lighthearted “Just trust me” you nod at her words following her.

The streets are quiet as you bothwalk, the sky fading into shades of pink and purple as the sun dips below the horizon. You steal a glance at her, catching the way her lips are set in a thoughtful line. You can tell she’s still upset, at what she did to you today for all she has done recently unknowingly.

After a few minutes, you turn a corner, and there it is, the little ice cream shop you both love, the one you haven’t visited in what feels like ages.

“ Ice cream?” she asks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she looks at you.

“Ice cream,” you confirm, grinning as you pull her towards the entrance “My treat. You can pick anything you want” she tells you pulling you inside the shop.

You both take your ice creams and find a spot by the window, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence as you start to eat. The cool, sweet taste melts on your tongue, and you savor the moment, the simple joy of being here with her, of seeing her smile again.

She looks up at you after a few bites, her eyes meeting yours with a warmth that you always found comfort in.

“Thank you” she says quietly, and you can hear the sincerity in her voice. Your brows furrowed confused on why she was thanking you in the first place.

“I needed this, and I need you your the reason I work so hard I want to make you proud- I want us to be happy” Caitlin says her hand dropping from her ice cream to grab your hand over the table.

As you sit there, sharing ice cream and quiet conversation, you feel the weight between you lifting, the bond you share growing stronger with each passing moment. You know that things aren’t perfect, that there’s still work to be done, but right now, in this moment, she made you happy. And that’s all that matters.

#caitlin clark x fem #caitlin clark #indiana fever #wbb x reader #wnba x reader #wnba basketball #caitlin clark smut #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark x y/n #Caitlin Clark x you #wbb smut #iowa wbb #wnba #wnba x you

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bellaxgiornata · 7 months

Text

The Devil at Your Window |4: One of the Good Ones|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.9k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Just a smidge of angst in this one! And I've already got a rough draft written for the next part, too! This story has been stuck in my head... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza

Your arm burned from the effort with which you were currently scrubbing your kitchen counter, working hard trying to remove a stubborn stain with the sponge in your hand. On the counter just behind you, your phone was playing music as you stress-cleaned. Truthfully you were too caught up in your thoughts as you'd been frantically jumping from one task to the next to have been paying much attention to what song was currently playing, though.

You'd already vigorously deep cleaned your bathroom, scrubbing your shower hard enough to make your fingers ache. Once you'd finished in there, you'd ended up in your bedroom, finally folding the laundry basket of clothes that had been sitting in the corner of your room all week. After that, you'd changed your bedsheets before bringing the dirty ones down to the laundry facility in your building to be washed. Upon returning to your apartment, you'd begun meticulously organizing your kitchen pantry before cleaning out the kitchen sink of dirty dishes. And then you'd landed on scrubbing your counters with every intention of cleaning off your stove top next.

You'd been cleaning like crazy after you'd come home from work tonight and finished dinner because you'd had a shitty day–though really it had been a shitty week. Everything had gone absolutely wrong at the office and you'd somehow managed to make a massive mistake on a big project the other day. Thankfully today you'd corrected the error, but your anxiety over the issue hadn't remotely disappeared. And of course, Eric, the most obnoxious and irritating co-worker at your workplace, had been at the top of his game of being an absolute asshole to you about the issue all week, too. You'd admittedly had far too many daydreams of throwing your coffee on him just to shut him up these past few days.

But as if that hadn't been enough, you'd found yourself becoming increasingly upset over the realization of your growing feelings for the Devil, who you hadn't actually seen since he'd appeared injured at your place just over a week ago. You were torn between believing his absence was either because he'd been recovering from his injury–which would also explain his absence in the news lately–or that he had zero interest in continuing whatever friendship you thought you'd both been developing. And because you'd gotten your period earlier today, you'd been hormonal all week. Which meant your brain had been telling you it was because of the latter reason.

But you didn't want to think about that. It was ridiculous to have a stupid crush on him. You didn't even know the man's name or what he looked like beneath the mask. You had no clue what he did for a living, if anything at all. And you'd only seen him three times now, it's not like you'd known him for months. It was quite likely he didn't feel the same despite the flirting he'd been doing.

So that was what your brain continued to tell you this week whenever you got upset about his lack of appearances on your fire escape. That those visits hadn’t meant anything to him. You were just another person in the city he protected. His first visit had been accidental after all. And the second time was just to return the scarf he'd borrowed. The last time he had appeared had been because you'd been a convenient safe place for him to briefly stop and recover at when he'd been hurt, nothing more.

Though trying to repeatedly rationalize that didn't make the ache in your chest disappear. It didn't stop you coming home every night from work hoping to have another surprise visit from the mysterious vigilante before you went to bed. And it certainly didn't stop you from shedding a few pathetic tears when he continued to remain absent each night.

You'd begun to miss him. It was impossible to deny that now. And you'd worried about how he was doing with his injury, wondering if he really was alright. Which only had you wondering more about what he was capable of if he could meditate like that because–

“It's a bit early for spring cleaning, isn't it?”

Your hand abruptly paused mid-aggressive scrub of the stain that had long since been cleaned at the sound of the familiar and unexpected voice cutting through your thoughts. Eyes growing wide, you spun on your bare feet to find the Devil standing on the other side of your kitchen counter with a grin on his lips beneath that black mask.

“It's only February,” he teased. “Spring is still another few weeks away. Maybe show your counter a little mercy before you wear a hole in it.”

Hand gripping the soapy sponge tighter, you felt your heart nearly fly up into your throat in excitement. Because he'd come back .

“You're here,” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he replied. He gestured a gloved hand back towards the window behind himself. “You left that unlocked, so I may have just invited myself inside since you didn't seem to respond to my knocking. I hope you don't mind.”

You shook your head quickly, still surprised to see he'd actually returned. It felt like someone had loosed a multitude of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him standing there so casually in your apartment once again. It was something you'd missed all week.

“No, that's alright,” you told him, shaking your head. “I don't mind.”

“You should really keep it locked though,” he stated. “Literally anyone could just climb in here. That's not exactly safe.”

Still trying to shake off the surprise of his visit as you took a step forward, turning off your music, a nervous laugh slipped out of you. “I think you're the only one crazy enough to climb all the way up that rickety fire escape,” you replied.

You turned, heading over towards your kitchen sink in the hopes of busying yourself with washing your hands so he wouldn't see the embarrassing grin steadily growing on your face.

“I think you might be surprised with what the criminals will do in this city,” he countered.

“Well that's…unsettling,” you muttered, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on the nearby kitchen towel. “With the way my week has been going though I suppose it would be my luck that someone probably would climb through my window. Someone other than you, I mean.”

You set the towel back on the hook near your sink, turning around only to find the Devil had stepped around the counter and into your kitchen. He was standing a few feet away, his head tilted curiously to the side. How the hell did he always manage to move so quietly?

“You're having a bad week?” he asked. “Is that why everything smells like lemon cleaner in here and why you were scrubbing your counter so hard you couldn’t hear me knocking on the window?”

Clasping your hands together in front of yourself, you fidgeted awkwardly with your fingers. Now that your hands weren't busy with an actual task you were feeling your anxious thoughts beginning to spiral again. Especially because it was only Thursday night and you still had to go into work tomorrow and deal with Eric and everyone else when all you desperately wanted to do was crawl into bed for the duration of the weekend and pretend this week never happened.

“What's wrong, angel?” the Devil asked softly.

You glanced up at the sound of the name he’d called you just before he left your apartment last time, watching as he took another step towards you. You sniffled lightly, trying to ignore the confusing and conflicting feelings arising inside of you at the nickname. The smile disappeared from his lips, his mouth instead pulling a bit downwards at the corners. Swallowing hard, you waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Nothing, things are good,” you lied. “I'm fine.”

The frown visibly deepened on his face before he took another step closer. “Someone who's fine doesn't generally deep clean their place on a random Thursday evening,” he pointed out. “And it seems like you've been on the verge of tears for a bit now. What's going on?”

You swallowed hard, wondering how he could’ve possibly known that when he’d only just entered your apartment. Yet another one of his mysterious little powers, you figured.

“Nothing,” you answered. “Really, I’m good. I just got into a random cleaning frenzy. It happens.”

The Devil’s head canted further to the side, his lips thinning along his face. He shook his head slowly, taking another cautious step towards you.

“You’re not fine,” he replied. “And for the record, I know when someone is lying, angel.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your chest and trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted nervously at that name again. Surely it was meant to be more of a joke than a term of endearment considering you always called him Devil.

“Another useful skill of yours?” you asked curiously. “Like your ability to heal?”

Briefly a smirk slid over his mouth, one you caught just before it disappeared. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously back at him.

“Something like that,” he answered. “So believe me when I say that I’m not buying the line that you’re okay. What happened?”

Eyes darting down, your nails began to pick at your sweatshirt nervously. The memory of your boss chewing you out at work the other day resurfaced in your mind, quickly followed by one of Eric’s heartless comments to you afterwards. The continual disappointment of an empty fire escape night after night before you went to bed also reared its head, tears starting to sting at your eyes at the memory of those lonely nights. Blinking rapidly, you tried to stop the tears from coming.

You did not want to cry in front of the Devil.

“Nothing,” you muttered, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all stupid in comparison to what you’re usually dealing with anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” he murmured, closing the remaining distance between you and gently grabbing your shoulders, lowering his masked face into your line of sight. “It’s not a competition.”

His light, reassuring touch only had the tears welling up faster in your eyes. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. With comfort and care. A touch that made you feel both safe and seen. And here he was doing it with such ease, like you deserved that sort of attention–and from him no less.

It suddenly became all too much. A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye as you gazed up at his face half-obscured by that mask, unable to blink it back before it made its way down your cheek. The Devil’s hands carefully began pulling you in towards himself barely a second later. Surprised at his response, your arms remained wrapped around yourself as his arms slowly encircled your shoulders.

He was hugging you. Comforting you.

Somehow that managed to open the floodgates to your emotions, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks hot and wet in a continuous stream that you couldn't seem to control. Your hands gripped your sweatshirt tighter, unsure if you should hug him in return or not. Instead, you pressed your face into the thin fabric of his black shirt, attempting to hide how fast the tears were flowing from his sight.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were even crying at this point, either. Was it because of the shitty week you’d had? Because of the gentle touch and compassion coming from the masked vigilante, a touch that you hadn’t felt since you'd last been in a relationship? Was it because of the fact that him holding you like this only stirred up those confusing feelings further inside of you, making you wonder what this weird relationship with the Devil actually was? Or was it just because you were hormonal and on your period?

“I'm sorry,” you choked out.

“Don't apologize,” he replied instantly.

The smokey voice he always used had your fingers twisting tighter around your sweatshirt, your heart beating a little harder at the sound of it so soft beside your ear. You shifted, burying your face further against his chest. Though guilt quickly filled you as you cried. Because he shouldn't be comforting you, not for something so foolish. Not when there were people out there who actually needed him and all you'd had was a bad week, some out of control hormones, and a stupid crush.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “Is there something I can do to help?”

You shook your head, begging the tears to stop falling. This was embarrassing. You didn't want him to see you like this, let alone be comforting you.

“No,” you whispered.

You have better things to be doing with your time , you thought bitterly. I don't deserve the comfort.

Clenching your jaw, you took an abrupt step back from him. You raised an arm up, using the sleeve of your sweatshirt to aggressively wipe the dampness from your cheeks. Before you, the Devil stood with his arms still hovering in the air as if he was still holding you, seemingly confused about you withdrawing from his embrace so suddenly. There was a large wet spot from your tears soaking the front of his black shirt already.

“I'm sorry, that was embarrassing,” you muttered, still wiping at your eyes as the tears gradually slowed. “I know you don't want to be dealing with an emotional mess tonight. That's not what the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen does.”

“Who says it's not what I do?” he countered, his arms lowering back to his sides. “I'm here to help people who need it–and for the record,” he added, “crying does not make you an emotional mess. Trust me on that.”

“Well,” you began, sniffling a little, “my problems aren’t the type you can punch. And you can't exactly punch away my feelings. Or my hormones. So I think this is a little out of your usual wheelhouse.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, “but you've helped me plenty of times now. Is it wrong for me to want to return the favor?”

So that's why he was comforting you. A sort of quid pro quo. Tit for tat. An exchange of favors, not because he'd genuinely cared about what had happened to you this week and would have offered to help anyway, but because he felt like he owed you something in return. That's what he was saying, wasn’t it?

“I don't help you because I want anything in return,” you muttered, turning around and wiping the sleeve of your sweatshirt across your eyes once again. Afterwards, you reached up into a nearby cabinet and grabbed a clean glass from out of it. “I help you because I worry about you out there. And because I think you're one of the good ones.”

You closed the cabinet door before focusing on the faucet in front of you, filling the glass with cool water. Sniffling softly, you felt the tears beginning to slow to a stop as you tried to collect yourself. You’d cry about your misplaced feelings later when he wasn’t here. Right now you just wanted to enjoy his company and not scare him off with your tears. And maybe make sure he was doing alright himself tonight.

Once the glass was full, you turned off the faucet and inhaled a trembling breath, attempting to steel your resolve. You were not going to cry anymore tonight.

“For what it's worth,” the Devil said from behind you, “I think you're one of the good ones.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at his comment, your back still facing him. Now that sounded like a line.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “How many people would help a vigilante instead of turning him over to the police? And how many would just ignore him entirely? And here you are inviting me into your home multiple times now without question. Always offering whatever form of assistance you can when you certainly don't need to.”

Eyes dropping down to the full glass in your hands, you felt your heart flutter in your chest at his kind words. Clearing your throat, you tried to swallow the lump that had begun to form. “I think you vastly underestimate what you mean to the people in this city, Devil,” you whispered.

Gradually you turned back around, the glass of water clutched between both of your hands. His lips were once again pulled in a straight line across his face, his head faintly tilted to the side.

“You're a symbol of hope to many in Hell’s Kitchen,” you said softly, extending the glass out towards him. “A sign that there’s still good in the world. That there are still people who care about helping those in need.”

You could see the muscles working in his cheeks, the corner of his lips twitching faintly. You wondered what expression he was making beneath the mask right now. Was he not aware of what he meant to this city?

“Here,” you said, holding the glass out further towards him. “Drink it. I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

The Devil’s right hand flexed open and shut at his side for a moment, your eyes drawn to the movement. After a minute's hesitation you saw it raise, reaching out to carefully accept the glass of water from your own hand. He murmured a soft ‘thanks’ as he drew it up towards his lips. In silence you watched the bob of his throat as he drank almost half the glass immediately, a satisfied smile eventually landing on your face.

“You hungry?” you asked, stepping around him and heading over to your fridge. “I have spaghetti leftover from dinner tonight. Unfortunately no garlic bread,” you grumbled, opening the door of your fridge. “Because my week was apparently so bad that I even forgot to grab garlic bread at the store.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” he assured you.

Half bent in front of your fridge, you glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a flat look. “Are you planning to go home and eat something before you go to sleep tonight?” you asked him. “From the fridge you have apparently only stocked with beer, eggs, and sometimes orange juice?”

He hung his head in defeat, his gaze behind the mask appearing to drop to the floor. It looked like he was fighting back a grin on his face.

“Well…no,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Right,” you said, focus returning to the contents of your fridge. “So do you eat spaghetti? Because I have plenty.”

“If you’re that determined to feed me, yes,” he answered. “I do.”

Reaching into your fridge, you pulled out the container of leftovers that you’d put away earlier this evening before you’d begun meticulously stress cleaning. You closed the door, bringing the container over to your counter and setting it down before searching for a clean bowl and a fork.

“So how’s your rib doing?” you asked as you worked. “Did your doctor friend tell you it was broken? Have you somehow meditated it back to normal already with that useful ‘skill’ of yours?”

The Devil chuckled good-naturedly behind you as you began scooping some pasta into a bowl for him. Internally you thought it strange that he found that somehow funny, though that warmth of pleasure filled you at once again still being able to make him laugh.

“She's a nurse, not a doctor, and that's hard to say,” he answered. “I’d need an x-ray to know if I had actually broken it, and I can’t exactly go to a hospital because they’d surely call the authorities on me. But either way, it’s feeling better than that night I was last here. Not completely healed with my ‘skill,’ but the pain is…tolerable.”

You stopped mid-scoop of some pasta, your head turning over your shoulder towards him. Quirking a brow at him, you shot him a quizzical look.

“The pain is ‘tolerable’?” you asked him. “So you mean to tell me you’re still going around tonight scaling buildings and jumping off fire escapes with an injury that’s not even fully healed?”

The Devil shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, shooting you a charming smile. “Yeah,” he answered. “Something is almost always injured or hurting. But it's not like crime ever takes a night off. So usually neither do I.”

Sighing, you focused back on scooping pasta into the bowl for him. “I'm starting to worry about your sanity,” you half-joked. “You know, I've always wondered why you do what you do. I don't suppose you'd answer that truthfully, would you?”

Picking up the bowl, you stepped over towards your microwave and set it inside. Setting the timer to heat it up, you turned around and leant your back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him expectantly.

The Devil shook his head, a faint smile on his mouth. “No, not right now,” he answered. “But maybe someday I could answer that for you.”

Hugging your arms tighter around yourself, you tried to hide the thrill that shot through you at his answer. The prospect of him continuing to visit you was clearly layered in his response and you couldn't even begin to explain how that made you suddenly feel.

“Always so mysterious,” you muttered nervously, glancing down at your feet.

“Don't suppose you'd ever give me your name, would you?” he countered.

You grinned, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as the microwave hummed behind you. “I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours, Devil,” you replied.

“So mysterious ,” he teased back, grinning.

You tried to bite back the smile growing on your face, laughing softly. The grin only grew wider on his face and your cheeks began to heat at the sight. You could feel your heart beating a little faster as you watched him from across the kitchen, taking in the handsome shape of his mouth and feeling the nervous churning of your stomach beginning to increase at the comfortable silence that fell over you both.

Thankfully your microwave beeped a moment later, pulling you from the moment that surely would have only resulted in you further ogling him, wondering what he looked like beneath the mask. Turning around, you opened the microwave and removed the bowl of spaghetti. You set it back onto the counter, mixing it around with a fork to make sure the entire bowl had been thoroughly heated. Satisfied that it was warm, you picked up the bowl and carried it over to the Devil.

“You can have a seat at the table if you want,” you offered, holding the bowl out to him.

You gestured your other hand to the small circular table just outside of your kitchen. The Devil accepted the bowl of pasta from you, looking somewhat over his shoulder where you'd gestured.

“Thank you,” he replied.

You watched as he twirled a handful of noodles onto his fork immediately, bringing it up to his mouth before he'd even began to make his way towards your table. It was obvious he was hungry with the way he'd shoveled the bite into his mouth–just like when he'd devoured that burrito–and that satisfied smile returned to your face. Even if you'd messed up a lot of things this week, at least you'd managed to do something helpful for him. And that felt good.

You'd been about to turn around and put away the container of leftovers still sitting out on your counter when you saw him suddenly freeze, his entire body tensing. Your own body froze as you watched him chew the bite of food so slowly, your stomach sinking to the floor.

“What?” you asked cautiously, feeling self-conscious and on the verge of tears again. Had you actually somehow messed this up, too? “Is it…not good? I mean I know I'm not the best cook or anything, but I thought I was decent at making spaghetti sauce. It's not that complicated.”

The Devil swallowed the bite of spaghetti, his body still stiff as he stood there. His hand had tightened around the fork in the bowl as he remained silent, which only had your nerves growing. The feeling of being a failure once again this week was suddenly bearing down heavily on you. Was there nothing you could do right this week?

“Look, if it doesn't taste any good you don't need to eat it,” you told him, taking a step closer and reaching for the bowl. “Apparently I just can't manage anything this week. Just one of those weeks I gu–”

“This tastes exactly like the spaghetti my dad used to make,” the Devil whispered in disbelief.

Your hand hovered in the air reaching out for the bowl, your mouth hanging open at what he'd told you. That certainly hadn't been the reaction you'd expected.

“Wh–what?” you stammered out.

The Devil pointed at the bowl of pasta with the fork in his hand, something like amazement creeping into his voice as he focused on you. When he spoke again, you'd noticed that raspy, deep voice he always used had disappeared.

“The sauce,” he told you, his words gradually picking up speed as he spoke. “It tastes exactly like the spaghetti sauce my dad used to make when I was a kid. I–I haven't tasted anything quite so similar since he passed when I was young. The likeness is incredible.”

You could feel the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest at yet another little piece of the real man beneath the mask being revealed to you. Mouth opening and closing a few times, you quickly realized you didn't know how to respond. Was he going to run away on you now that he'd let another little personal detail slip? Especially considering it looked like he was also realizing what he'd just told you and was beginning to regret it.

“I'm–I'm sorry to hear about your father,” you managed out.

The Devil continued to stare at you over the bowl of spaghetti in his hands, his lips pressing together as his mouth began to twitch. It was as if he didn't quite know what to say himself, but the longer he remained quiet, his jaw grinding back and forth, the more fearful you became that he was going to bolt back out of your window for accidentally revealing more personal information about himself to you.

Slowly you held up your hands in front of yourself like one might do to a scared animal, hoping not to scare him further. The Devil didn't move, but his jaw visibly tensed at the gesture.

“Look, I'm not about to tell anyone that you come here sometimes,” you told him. “And I don't go digging around on the internet trying to find out who you really are with the vague information I have, mostly because I don't have that level of motivation, if I'm being honest.” You saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards at your comment and you cautiously lowered your hands back to your sides. “I just want to help. That's all,” you continued. “And personally I worry that if I scare you off, you'll end up out there starving and with kidney damage from constantly not drinking enough water while you're out parkouring around the city.”

“You're worried about my kidneys now?” he asked, amusement in his tone.

You shrugged lamely, shooting him a small smile. “If I say yes will you sit down and eat that spaghetti and drink some more water?” you questioned back. “Instead of jumping out of my window like a terrified cat?”

Something like an amused snort came from him as he turned, making his way towards your little kitchen table. You relaxed when you realized he wasn't going to disappear on you.

“For the record,” the Devil told you, voice muffled around a large bite of spaghetti that he'd shoveled into his mouth, “I am not a stray cat.”

“Of course not,” you agreed, picking up the glass of water he'd already finished and set onto the counter. You brought it over to your sink and began to refill it for him. “Because a cat would know better than to keep running around and making a broken rib worse. And I'm not sure how partial they are to spaghetti,” you joked.

At the bright sound of his laughter over the sound of the running faucet, you found yourself smiling. You'd certainly missed having him here, even if you knew you were going to miss him the moment he finished that bowl of spaghetti and jumped back over your fire escape. All you could really do was enjoy the next few minutes you had with him and hope that he returned another time.

Though deep down you sort of found yourself hoping he was more like a stray cat than he let on, because at the very least, maybe the prospect of food and water would tempt him to appear again at your window sooner rather than later.

And that thought was steadily giving you an idea.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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faeryarchives · 8 months

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in sickness and in health

knowing that being the only student aside from grim in such dormitory, it's hard to take care and clean the place while you are sick and grim is panicking in the corner crying and asking them if you were dying or something so it's time for your lover to do something! note: this has been in my drafts since last year so if there is a prompt similar to mine it is pure coincidence + this is pretty long

recent fics: when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace x reader) & don't lose me, not yet & its you, it always has been you

-‘๑’- tried to cook and clean for you but ends up in a disaster: everything was going well bc they got a list on what to do because they came prepared and ready to help! but it all became blurry but somehow them getting in the kitchen to cook made you rise from the grave (aka from bed) not risking fire hazard today 👋 picking up a broom? they know how to use one to clean of course but it ends up piling the dust near you causing you to cough some more because they keep colliding with grim who is trying to help 😔 they deserve an award for trying their best 👩🏻‍⚖️ while they weren't allowed in the kitchen, they try telling you of stories that happened while you were absent in attempt to help you get better until you fall asleep listening + leaving a kiss on your forehead before going back to their dorm to ask help or tips on what to cook for you to get better 🤍

— riddle roseheart, deuce spade, KALIM AL ASIM, rook hunt, lilia vanrouge

-‘๑’- scolds you for overworking yourself while taking care of everything: they are going to appear at your doorsteps in complete personal protective equipment with alcohol spray and a basket full of cooked food inside ... well maybe most of them would + expect some nagging from them like you shouldn't neglect yourself just to take care of others because that's not how it works love 🤬 ! even though they appear strict they are still soft when it comes to you asking them for something like giving them a hug (they would probably not do it though) or asking for seconds 🧚‍♀️ + reluctantly sings you a lullabye and after you fall asleep they would finally let down their tough persona + sit next to your bed holding your hand in theirs and caress your head, you are a tough cookie right? so go beat the sickness out of your system because they already miss your company

— jade leech, jamil viper, VIL SCHOENHEIT

-‘๑’- having a crisis: its either they never get sick or doesn't know how to take care of someone who is sick 😷 don't even joke about you dying because of your fever because it will just cause more panic please be easy on them 😭 but they will try to ask their close friends on what to do and they will do it very carefully (bonus if you were the one helping them) and they are actually good at it justtt very confused if they are doing it correctly + type to note down any changes in your fever whether it got better or worse 📝 they will shower you with things that would make you feel better - feeling cold? you can find yourselves being wrapped like a sushi with two thick blankets. feeling lonely? he knows he cannot be that near to you so he will shower you with plushies from who knows where! they won't leave until you are up and healthy again even if it means staying at ramshackle and even tending to grim

— sebek zigvolt, azul ashengrotto, IDIA SHROUD, malleus draconia

-‘๑’- gets sick with you: they know you are sick but they couldn't resist you asking for cuddles 🧍🏻‍♀️at first they would be like "no are you crazy, i don't want to get sick" but after the second one, they find themselves right next to you being the lucky plush toy for the day 🫂 will occasionally try to feed you and make you take your medicine and even alarming every 4 hours to drink but will ultimately result to the two of you falling asleep until grim wakes you up around night time realizing now TWO OF YOU are now sick 🤒 took the couple goals to the next level so expect them to be clingy because nothing is stopping them from cuddling you when he is also sick 🧍🏻‍♀️ it ends up with either trey, ruggie or jade nursing the two of you back to health 😭

— ace trappola, cater diamond, leona kingscholar, floyd leech

-‘๑’- does it perfectly: they had done it before and they will do it again 👯‍♀️ they are pretty used to taking care of someone because sometimes their family members would get sick and they are also the one taking care of them + read parenting 101 atp 🫂 being familiar in the field, they could even task grim in the way he would understand like taking note of your temp and check if it is time for your meds while your lover would go and cook meals suitable for your situation and i think they wouldn't really be so hard on you because being sick is normal and you are just human after all 🤍 instead they would focus on making you feel bettter and believe me you ARE SPOILED ROTTEN 🥺 they would probably tease you with things you can't eat but will give you just a tiny bit and will promise to give you everything when you are feeling better 😍 they are the type that will ask your classmates what they have done during your absence and collect your notes for you so just focus on healing 🫶

— epel felmier, silver, trey clover, ruggie bucchi, jack howl

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xxanaduwrites · 2 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

from the hive 🎙️🐝 : session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

🐝 main hive | sweet talkin’ | honey, are you comin’? 🍯

summary: based off the two parts listed above, spoken from honey’s pov. some never before seen bonus tidbits included to be extended upon in future residue parts ;)

warnings: smoking, talks of violence, arson, potential stalking, some cursing here and there. nothing too crazy.

word count: idek tbh, i oddly wrote it in my tumblr drafts to get me inspired before writing the main residue installments.

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

↻ ◁ || ▷

↺ ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။•

honey: “y’want some honey in your tea?”

danny: “sure, thanks.”

[ a clanking sounds of what must be a spoon is heard in the background of the recording ]

honey: “anytime, sweets.”

danny: “wait, i’ve seen this before.”

honey: “huh?”

danny: “this company. isn’t that — wait that’s your last name ain’t it?”

honey: “yeah, my pa’s a bee keeper. ma jars the honey with some top secret ingredient that’s got the town buzzin’. whole family business.”

danny: “ah, no wonder you got that nickname.”

honey: “yep, since the womb.”

danny: “interestin’. did benny know that when he met ya?”

honey: “hm…not that i know of. might of. if he didn’t, m’sure johnny must of told him.”

danny: “how’d you meet benny then?”

honey: “how’d i meet benny?”

danny: “yeah.”

honey: “well…you know, i was just mindin’ my own business. working a regular school day at the elementary school on phipps. i was teaching the third grade at the time and johnny’s girls just so happened to be in my class. the main office sent me a note in the middle of the day informing me that the girls would be picked up by their uncle benny. i didn’t think too much of it at the time, hey it wasn’t unusual for kids to be picked up by extended family members, y’know? but i guess i — i had this vision of what he’d be like. fucked up i know, but ya see, i knew johnny. not in the way one would expect. [ honey laughs ] johnny was — well he was mr. davis to me, respectfully so, just like any parent would be to one of my students. but he was also the mr. davis i knew from mass at st. caron’s on the corner of rose and dawn. he’d be walkin’ around in a suit and tie, the whole get up, solemn as he ushered pew to pew with the collections basket for the poor and during communion on sundays 12pm sharp.

danny: “interesting. so i suspect you saw johnny rather often then?”

honey: “oh yeah, every week. went with my ma and pa all the time and like clock work he was there. such a clean cut dignified family man. so it was no surprise for me to be taken aback by benny’s appearance when he pulled up at the school yard.”

danny: “did he bring his bike?”

honey: “hell no! had johnny’s car. ‘twas a real trip with his colors on and a cigarette propped between those pillowly lips of his.”

danny: [ laughs ] “i can imagine. when was this exactly?”

honey: “oh it had to be close to the end of june, right before the start of the summer of ‘65. school was just about ending. had a week left or so. oh yeah — yeah, i remember cause it was real hot out too — sweltering heat, like that sticky kind that can only be equated to bein’ stuck in a classroom with a half broken fan. aw it was the worst. i had on this baby pink tank of sorts with thick straps under this overall dress i decked out a while back. it was real cute. had all these flowers and things i embroidered on it.

danny: “right, the embroidery. heard a thing or two about bedazzled patches on the vandal jackets.”

honey: “‘course you did. the skill got me going with the boys. when sonny started riding with ‘em he let me bejewel the fringes of his jacket real pretty. always a good sport. but anyways — yeah so i had this cute little get up on and my hair was all up and out of my face, real messy for the 60s. kinda stuck out like a sore thumb at school, but what shits did i give?

danny: “none?”

honey: “damn right. so yeah, it was kind of funny when benny came strolling up to me, weaving through all the parents like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit one bit.”

danny: “what were your first impressions of him?”

honey: “i was impressed to say the least. only had my reservations for what — half a minute? yeah, i’d say a good thirty seconds before i was smiling up at him.”

danny: “did he scare you? scare any of the parents, other teachers?”

honey: “i wasn’t scared of him no…as for the others, sure. mrs. rubin was all this and that and the other thing ‘bout him after that, especially when it got more serious and he was waitin’ round the school. she didn’t appreciate the loitering, but he was harmless, as harmless as benny could be. though, i was more refreshed really to see somebody so interesting….so different from everybody else. it made me feel seen, y’know?”

danny: “so what happened next? when he got to you?”

honey: “he’s standin’ in front of me and i’m bein’ a good egg with both girls at my sides, small fingers wrapped around each hand, and i go ‘hi, you must be uncle benny. i’m miss. honey.’ and he takes a good minute to give me a once over, like introducing myself was the craziest thing i could of done. then that thick smokey voice of his went “honey, huh?” and my tummy rumbled up so much so i was sure the butterflies i stitched ripped right off and flew about my dress. [ honey laughs again ] i was kind of just like ‘yep, that’s me’ or whateva, and god i was so sure i fucked it all up.”

danny: “how come?”

honey: “anyone that knows benny knows he’s not a man of many words by any means, so at the time i took his silence as a sign of unimpression. i mean if you took a look at us two — and i mean a quick glance or somethin’, we definitely seemed like an odd pair. but if you really looked rather closely, takin’ the time to absorb every detail, i’d definitely say we were far more similar past the common eye. but, i’ll go into that later. [ honey pauses for a moment ] sorry did i answer the question?”

danny: “you did, you did.”

honey: “good, good….so where was i?”

danny: “you were talkin’ about introducing yourself to benny and him being unimpressed.”

honey: “right, so one of johnny’s girl starts gettin’ all antsy. wants to go. has herself practically all over benny in a beg. her sister — no. her sister doesn’t wanna. the little thing has her hand practically chain locked to mine. so i did what any teacher would do and sweet talked her into going.”

danny: “how’d you manage that?”

honey: “i reminded her that her pa was a good man. that his interests were just as important as her own. that was all it took really.”

danny: “did you still think that later on? still do? after everything?

honey: [ honey sighs and puts out a cigarette she’d been smoking throughout the session ] “i did and i still do. i know some people will say that johnny was no good, that his club only created chaos. really though, the johnny i knew was trying to keep the peace as my benny well — wasn’t. one wrong look in my direction and my man was jumping the fool in seconds flat. and if they got a hand on me, oh they’d have to have a death wish upon ‘em. benny would not stand for that. he’d make their life a livin’ hell for as long as they lived. johnny — no johnny wasn’t like that unless it was real bad. unless someone got real hurt, then he’d fight back.”

danny: “like the bar fire?”

honey: “exactly like the bar fire. sure, a part of me felt bad for the owner. that his establishment just went up in flames like that. but the other part of me was glad those fuckers couldn’t step foot in such a place no more. and on top of i was rather pissed off — still am — by the fact that the owner just let my benny get attacked like that. did nothing to stop it. boils my blood just thinking about it. just thinking about my sweet benny minding his business and gettin’ swarmed for just wearin’ his colors. colors that wouldn’t come off of him once i got my artsy hands on it. he was absolutely obsessin’ with the patches i made. especially the one that said “honey’s hubby” with a big ol’ heart. made my cheeks burn real bad when he’d kiss it before tossing it right back on.”

danny: “i remember seeing that.”

honey: “you do?!”

danny: “yeah, the times i rode with the guys. i caught ‘em doing it here and there. especially when he was ‘bout to mount his bike before a ride. figured it was some sort of good luck charm before i really took a good look at what the patch said. then i realized it was you.”

honey: “danny?”

danny: “what?”

honey: “you gotta stop or i’m gonna be gushin’ the whole rest of this interview without giving yuh the real stuff.”

danny: “alright, alright [ lyon laughs ] back to business. so, what happened after you got johnny’s girl to go with benny? when’d you see him again?”

honey: “funnily enough, ‘twas the very next day. saw him first in the mornin’ y’know at drop off. i figured he gave a ride to the girls again or somethin’ — but no. it was betty who did. she came right up to me that morning to say hello. the hell was i thinkin’? i mean benny had his whole bike on him. no shot in hell he’d bring the girls on it.”

danny: “sure.” [ sarcasm is apparent in lyon’s words ]

honey: “danny no! [ honey laughs ] benny was wild but not that wild. he’d never let anything happen to those girls.”

danny: “i know, i know. only jokin’. i’m assumin’ that’s what drew you to him though?”

honey: “it was definitely a solid factor.”

danny: “understandable. did you go talk to him, at drop off?”

honey: “no, no. I didn’t think too much of it at the time and i couldn’t go shoot the breeze with him anyways. the lot was packed with all these little ones. i had to roll call mine. it wasn’t until after lunch hour during recess that i did.”

danny: “he was still there then? never left?”

honey: “as far as i know, no. had a whole garden of cigarette buds circling his feet like he’d been there for hours.”

danny: “what’d you say when you approached him?”

honey: “said something about the girls not getting out for another few hours and then asked him if he was stalkin’ me off the bat. oh — he offered me a cigarette too, and i took it.”

danny: “ripped the bandage right off i see. how’d he take that?”

honey: “seemed amusin’ to him. he made one of those faces that had all his features turnin’ up real pretty. can never forget that. flat out told me he wasn’t which i found strangely adorable. then — i don’t really know how it happened, but he was changing the subject completely. y’know when you’re having a conversation and ya kind of just naturally switch topics easily, but it’s done so smoothy, like the segue isn’t rough or whatever?”

danny: “yeah, i know what y’mean. the previous topic is wedged in there somehow subtly, but it makes sense why you got there.”

honey: “exactly. but, benny. no — when benny was in the midst of a conversation and started going on about something else there was no ease there. yet, you’d be fooled to think so. that’s how he got us out of most arguments honestly. one minute i wouldn’t be too happy with him about somethin’. probably somethin’ stupid anyways. if not stupid, than definitely about him ridin’ with an injury. always got me nervous. but then of course the next he’d have me wrapped up in his embrace as if five minutes prior hadn’t happened. here, for instance though, i guess the transition kind of made sense? i mean i was goin’ on about my co-worker freaking out about him just parking ship near campus, blabbing about and he’s asking about what time i get out, and if i wanna go on a ride. now, i’m dumbfounded by this. cause what the hell does he want to do with me, y’know?”

danny: “so what did ya do? did ya go with him?”

honey: “what’a ya think, daniel?”

[ an unknown interruption cuts the session here, but lyon obtains all the information from honey he needs — for now, that is ;) ]

[ the tape ends ]

↻ ◁ || ▷

author’s note: hope ya liked this! i’m such a sucker for an interview writing style. daisy jones & the six is my favorite books ever if you can’t tell! <3

my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝🍯

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

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#miss honey x benny cross #from the hive 🎙️🐝#benny cross fanfiction #the bikeriders fanfiction #danny the bikeriders #mike faist fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #johnny davis #tom hardy #benny cross x reader

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watsittoyah · 1 year

Text

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, sex dreams, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, and slight blood play.

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 2- Bites & Fangs

The last time you had a depression episode, it was in the tenth grade when your old boyfriend, Peter Parker had dumped you for some girl named Gwen.

Well that was many years ago and now you were depressed because you were watching good burger in your ratty old polka dot robe.

But you were in denial, because every time Erica asked if you were depressed you just lied and said you were just working on something important.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out? It’s been two weeks.” Erica asks as you press play to Good Burger. “Yeah, I’m good. I got a pizza coming and I got some drafts to work on.” You half lie. There was a pizza coming.

“Tomorrow let’s go to the park and get some fresh air. You need it.” You ignore her and Milo cuddles up close to you. “Please make sure you clean your dishes. I’ll be back around midnight.” Erica calls out.

When she finally leaves you look down at Milo’s orange little face and you kiss his nose. “I think you’re the only boy I can trust, Milo. I’m sure you’d never leave me in a club bathroom with my panties at my ankles right?”

His blue eyes just seem to stare at you and you nod because you’ve entered your crazy cat lady era. “Don’t answer that. Let’s get you some food and I’ll…clean up.” You pause the movie and bring Milo into the kitchen with you.

You pour him a bit of dry food and mix it with some wet food. You place his food down and he look down at the food then back at you. You kneel down and scratch under his chin and he licks your fingers.

“Milo, don’t ever become one of those jerk cats that leads girl cats on. You keep being a good boy.” You comments after you stand up. You look at the kitchen and decide to start cleaning there.

You get some cleaning supplies and sigh heavy. It’s been two weeks since the club incident and you haven’t let yourself think about Miguel since. Sure he lives in the building but you have no clue which apartment. And yeah he lives in the same city as you but you don’t know which parts he goes to.

Sure you still dream about Miguel, you still dream about his touch, his smell…No. No you weren’t going to do this. You were not about to cry over him again.

You sniffle back the tears and wipe your face with the back of your hand. “Stupid good looking bastard. With your good looking hair and cute accent.” You toss some water into a bucket and Milo just stares at you.

“Milo, you might want to leave the kitchen it’s about to get crazy in here.” You tell him. He simply meows and licks your leg.

Maybe you’re about to be on your period. Or maybe you’re just hormonal but him doing that just made you break down and cry. “Come on Milo, stop. I need to mop up my tears.” You say through your cloudy vision….

••••

After two good cries and half a mental breakdown, you were happy with how the apartment looked. You hear the doorbell ring and you make sure Milo was still sleeping at your feet before you went to answer it.

You grab the money from off the counter and open the door to see a young girl with your food. “Medium cheese pizza with garlic knots?” She asks confirming your order. “You got it.” You hand her a twenty and tell her to keep the change. “Actually miss you’re five dollars short.” You give her a side eye and nod. “Let me go and grab you some more money then.” You prop the door open a bit so Milo can’t leave out and you place the food down on the counter.

You go into your wallet and pull out the money you need and go to give it to her. “Here you go.” You hand it to her and she gives an extra big smile. “Tip?” I know fucking we-

“You have a good night.” You tell her. Just as you’re about to close the door. Milo runs between your legs and out the door. “Milo!” You shout after him as you run down the hall.

You almost have him but a door opens and he runs inside. “Milo!” You yell as you start to run inside of the apartment. But something screams stop and you obey that voice in your head.

When you look up your heart was pounding because it was just your luck that it was his apartment. You take several steps back as you see him go back into his apartment. If Milo wasn’t inside you’d be flying back to the apartment and locking yourself inside.

You hear his little meow and you don’t look up because you know those hazel eyes are looking down at you. “Thank you.” You mutter as Miguel hands Milo back to you. “You can’t go running into strangers apartments, Milo. What if they would’ve hurt you? That’s it you’re grounded. No cartoons for a week.” You scold him as you hear Miguel chuckle.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? I’m sure the little guy didn’t mean it.” You raise a sculpted brow at him and turn without saying a word. “Amo-”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Tommie! Do you understand, Mr. O’Hara? Tommie. Not Amor, not mi corazón. None of those nicknames. You don’t get that privilege after what you fucking did.” You snap at him, causing Miguel to flinch.

“I’m sorry. But I can explain.” You roll your eyes at him and you march to your apartment with Milo tucked in your arms.

You go to slam the door but Miguel stops it and you go to snap at him but he raises his hands to show he means no harm. Instead of arguing, you tell him to close the door before Milo gets out again.

He does what he’s told and you place Milo down on the floor in front of you. He jumps down and he circles Miguel. “Hola niño pequeño. How are you?” Miguel says as he scoops Milo up in his arms.

“Milo isn’t friendly. He loves to scratch, especially at peoples eyes.” You tell Miguel. Milo, the little traitor licks Miguel’s nose and stands on his shoulder.

You narrow your eyes at the cute little monster. “You sleep on the couch tonight.” He gives a cute meow and Miguel picks him up and rubs his belly as Milo goes to lick his fingers. “Your mom is mad at me, do you think you can help me out?”

“First things first, you talking to my roommate kitten isn’t going to get you off of the hook, Mr. O’Hara. He is in the apartment, you can leave.”

You turn away from him and get your pizza and garlic knots. “That smells good, are you and Milo going to eat that?” Miguel asks as he leans against the wall and holds Milo close. You see him from the corner of your eye and you keep the scowl on your face.

“You get one small tiny slice, a glass of tap water and a crumb of my garlic knots. After that you take your crack back to your place.” You say as you motion him to follow you into the kitchen.

He places Milo down and he watches you as you grab two plates from the cabinets. “We wash our hands in this apartment, Mr. O’Hara.” You announce to him. “Yes, Ma’am.” Miguel stands up and as you wash your hands, you pass the soap to him. He takes it, as his fingers brush against yours. Those fingers that have touched you. Those fingers that have been on your mind, those fingers that you’ve been tempted to taste.

You clear your throat and you give him a slice. “I’m sorry about leaving like that. I was an ass and if I were you I wouldn’t talk to me ever again either.”

“So I shouldn’t talk to you? Got it.” You say stubbornly. He sighs and you feel a bit bad for making this difficult for him. But he deserved it…a little. “Am-Tommie. If it helps, I’ve been miserable for not talking to you.”

“You have my number, Miguel you could’ve texted me.”

“The phone works both ways, Tommie.” He says as he accepts the pizza from you. You turn away from him because deep down, you’re actually happy that he’s here. In fact this has been the happiest you’ve been in past two weeks.

You grab a pitcher of ice tea and grab two glasses. “Would you like some ice?” You ask as you place the glasses down on the counter. “I thought you were giving me tap water.” He says with a smirk playing across his lips.

“I can give you tap water if that’s what you want, Miguel.” You grab the glass but he gets a hold of your wrist and he gives you a look that says he’s sorry. “Yes, I’ll have ice.” He says as he uses his thumb to rub your inner wrist.

You stand there longer than necessary and just look into his eyes. Why does this all feel so familiar? You go to speak but the glass knocks out of your hand and you expect to hear a crash. But it never comes because Miguel had caught it effortlessly.

He placed the glass on the counter and you gently take your wrist back. “How many would you like?” You ask as you open the freezer door and try to crack the ice cube tray.

You turn and he was right there. “Here let me.” He takes the tray from you and he cracks it. He takes a small piece and he brings it to your lips. It’s an action you’ve done since you were a child.

Whenever you cracked some ice, you would take the smaller pieces and you’d chew on it. You take it from him and he turns away from you, placing ice in both of the glasses.

“How did he…” You whisper as you suck the ice. You walk over and you pour the ice tea in both of the glasses. You two sit down on the stools and as you eat you pass him the chili pepper flakes. “Gracias, mi amor.”

“You’re welcome.” You say as he shakes some flakes onto his pizza. You take a big bite and you hear Miguel cough from the flakes. “Are you sure you’re part Latino? Can’t even handle pepper flakes.” You tease as you reach over and bite his slice. “Hey, that’s mine.” He says with a laugh.

“Well consider me getting my pouring your tea fee.” You joke. “Then what do I get for cracking the ice for you?” He asks as he leans in close to you. “What do you want?” You ask as you take a sip of your tea.

“I think you know what I want, Tommie.” His eyes travels over your body and you feel warm all over and secretly happy you’re not wearing your ratty robe. “Oh I don’t think that’s equal value, Miguel.” He licks his fingers and you can’t help but think of something else you could be sucking.

“I don’t know, that ice was pretty hard to crack. Maybe I can crack something else for you though.” Miguel says as he places a heavy hand on your bare thigh. He squeezes it and you suck your bottom lip.

“Mmm, don’t go sucking that bottom lip, amor.” You release your lip and pout. “Then what should I do with it?” You ask as you open your legs and feel his thumb rubbing your inner thigh. “Let me suck it for you. You know I do love sucking your lips, mostly these.” His hand travels up your thigh and you let out a moan.

Miguel leans in to kiss you but you jump back. “No, no, no. Not like this. We’re staring over and we’re going to start over as friends.” You close your legs and scoot your chair back from him.

“As friends. Good.” Miguel says as he keeps eyeing you like a hungry dog. “Yes, friends. So how was your day?” You ask as you bounce your leg. “It was miserable in the beginning, all because I mistreated my friend.”

“Oh! Well I hope you groveled and got on your knees to get her forgiveness.” You say as you continue to bounce your leg. “I don’t mind groveling. But I do know she loves when I’m on my knees.” The swallow you made was definitely loud enough for Miguel to hear.

You look at him and Miguel was no longer touching his food, instead he was standing up and letting his chair scrape across the floor. “If you want to be friends, then that’s fine. But I don’t want to be friends. I want you, and I’ll never leave the way I did, Tommie. Now I don’t know about you but I’ve been thinking about the taste of your pussy for the past two weeks and to know the only thing stopping me is your consent and those shorts is making me a bit crazy. So do I have your consent? If no then I’ll unders-”

“Miguel shut up and fuck me.” When you give him the green light he pounces and he lets his chair fall on the floor as he pulls you in.

He lifts you up and he pins you against the refrigerator. He kisses your lips and your hands work on getting his shirt off. “Mmm, Tommie where is your bedroom?” He asks as he sucks your bottom lip. “Down….the hall.” He cups your ass under your shorts and starts walking out of the kitchen. You manage to get his shirt off and you toss it. As you walk pass you grab your glass of ice and Miguel kisses your lips again, twirling his tongue with yours. You suck it and you grab the wall. “That way.” You tell him.

He kicks your door open and then kicks it shut once he’s inside. Miguel places you down on your feet and he looks down at you. “Eres tan hermosa.” He goes to kiss you but you press your fingers against his lips. “I need you to take off these jeans, and take off these boxers.” You tell him as you take a piece of ice into your mouth.

He doesn’t say a word, he simply just does what you’ve asked of him and he stood there like a chiseled stoned god. You press your hand against his taught stomach and he sits down on your bed causing it to creak.

You lower yourself onto your knees and press his thighs apart. He leans down and he kisses you, sucking and biting at your bottom lip as he reaches under your t shirt, massaging your right breast.

You break the kiss first and you grab another piece of ice. “You know, if I would've known you were just down the hall from me, I would’ve invited you over sooner. And we could’ve done this." You press the ice cube against the head of his dick and you watch Miguel’s eyes flutter closed.

“I’ll…remember that when I need a cup of sugar, mi corazón.” He lets out a soft moan and you grip him in your hand. God he was huge, how was this going to fit in your mouth? Let alone inside of you?

You needed at least two hands to hold him properly. So you popped the ice into your mouth, took him in both of your hand and you rolled the ice with your tongue over the tip.

You let the head and the ice past your lips and you suck slowly so you can get use to the size. “Una chica tan buena para mí. My good girl.” You look up at him and see his eyes full of lust. You then suck a bit faster, letting the ice melt away and Miguel lets out a whimper.

You decide to take him in your throat and you feel the tickle in your throat. The gag reflex. But you push past it and Miguel runs his fingers through your hair. “Mine, all fucking mine.” He says as he caresses your face.

You slowly start to bob your head up and down which causes pre to leak from Miguel. You taste it and he shutters. “Amor, amor you don’t have to do…th…that.” You were sucking and using your tongue at the same time which was starting to cause your throat to get tighter.

You don’t answer him, you just keep going. Keep sucking. You see he’s breathing heavy and he tries to move you off but you pin his arms down. Which was ridiculous because you knew he was the stronger one.

Then again maybe he’s weak around you.

He whines about how good your throat feels on the tip and he keeps still so he doesn’t hurt you. You look up into his eyes and you see the lust and want. You try to deep throat him but you feel yourself about to choke. “S…stop. Stop Tommie. Don’t hurt yourself.” Miguel moves you back and you have drool down your chin.

“But I want more, I want you to fuck my throat.” You say staring down at his hard thick dick. “I know, but baby next time. We have all the time in the world. Come here.” He helps you off of your knees and he sits you on his lap.

You spread your legs and his dick was pressed against the front of your shorts. “You feel that?” He presses it up harder against you and you let your head fall back and moan. “Yes, I do.”

“You want this inside of this little pussy don’t you?” You nod, looking into his ruby eyes. “I don’t think you do, amor. I think it’s too big for you to handle.”

You pout and caress his cheek. “I want you, I want you inside of me. I want you to fuck me till I can’t stand. Miguel please.” You beg as you flick your tongue out against his puffy bottom lip.

“Esa boca tuya...it’s gonna get you in trouble.” He says as he sucks your tongue. You moan and flick your tongue against his teeth. “I think my mouth is worth the trouble.” You say to him. You feel his hands grip your thighs and that’s when you hear your shorts rip. You don’t even both to look down, you can feel that he has it positioned right against you.

He slaps the head against the head of your clit and you let out a moan. “Relax for me, Tommie. I want this to feel good. Let me help you feel good.” You nod and as he slides his dick in you, your mouth forms a big O and you grip his forearms.

He hisses and moans how tight you are against your neck. He thrusts in slowly and you rest your body against him. He picks up his pace a little and turns your head so that he can kiss you.

“Does this hurt? Please let me know if I’m hurting you.” You shake your head. “Issgood.” You moan out as you take his hand and bring it to your clit. He rubs it slowly as he thrust in a bit faster.

“God I could fuck you for hours, mi princesa.” He continues to rub your clit as he grips your waist with the other hand. You were in heaven right now, getting your pussy filled while inhaling this man scent. You were in such lust, your legs were aching.

His thrusts start to get animalistic and you can feel his teeth starting to scrape gently across your brown skin.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and you moan out the first thing that comes to mind. “Do it…I want you to.” Miguel’s breathing starts to become heavy and his grip on you feels as if it’s going to leave bruises.

“Whatever you want, amor. I’ll do it. Whatever you want.” His voice sounds harsh and his starts to rub you slower as he thrusts faster, which makes your body start to shake. “Bite me…please bite me.” You moan out as your eyes roll back from him fucking you like a rag doll.

He lets go of your waist and he grips your shoulder. You feel the sharp pain for only a second and you feel not just his fang like teeth biting down on your shoulder, but you feel him coming deep inside of you. You groan out a few words in gibberish and you come hard.

You feel him let go and your body feels weak against him. He leans his head against your back as you feel warm liquid roll down your breasts. When you finally feel some strength enter your body you see four bite marks on your shoulder.

Before you can open your mouth, Miguel licks it clean and he slides out of you. You wince and he places you on the bed. From his body language you can tell he was going to bolt.

And you were right he stands up abruptly and he was about to leave but you grab his hand. “Stop. Don’t you dare leave me again.” You say in a command you didn’t know you could muster.

“It’ll be wise for you to let go, amor.” Miguel says in a strange tone. “I’ll let go when I know your aren’t going to leave me…” His shoulders were tense and you stand up trying to look Miguel in the eyes. But he turned his face.

“Miguel look at me.” You say to him. He looks away and this time you reach up and grab a hold of his face. “Look at me, please.” Your voice cracks and he looks down at you.

He had the same face you saw back from the club only this time he looked vulnerable. Your grip on him loosens and you give a gentle smile. “You are so pretty.” You tell him.

He bursts out laugh and you see his four fangs in the moonlight. His laugh was contagious because your started laughing as well. “You, are so odd, amor.” Miguel says as he wipes the corner of his eyes.

“Well I’m sorry I had to say the first thing that came to mind and you look pretty.” Miguel rolls his eyes. “I’m a man, I’m not meant to be pretty.”

You place your hands on your hips. “Well to me you are pretty, Miguel O’Hara.” You smile at him and you take a step forward. Carefully because you don’t know if he still might leave.

“May I?” You ask as you reach up. You can see the hesitation in his face and you reach back. “You don’t have t-” He takes your hands and places them on his face. He slowly opens his mouth and he shows you his teeth. You don’t say a word. Instead you rub your fingers against his four fangs. They feel sharp and they should scare you, but oddly enough you like them.

“Does that mean I’m going to turn into a vampire?” You finally ask. He gets a hold of your hands and he kisses each finger. “No mi corazón, you won’t turn into a vampire, because I am not one.”

“Then what are you?”

“Oh I’m something much worse than that.” You furrow your brows trying to get an answer out of him but he isn’t budging. “Does it hurt? Your fangs?” He shakes his head. “Are you hurt? I didn’t mean to bite you that hard. I was kind of lost in the moment.”

You feel your face get hot as you shake your head. “No, it…felt good.” He crouched down and and study’s your face. “Are you hurt down there?” He asks. You look down at your feet and shake your head again. “No, that felt good too. Could we?”

Miguel laughs again and holds a hand over his stomach. “Of course you’d want to have sex again. And I want to but right now, I’m…a little too excited in another sense. And you look tired.”

“No I’m not.” You yawn and you hate that your body betrayed you. “Come, come. Let’s get you into bed.” He leads you to your bed and helps you in.

“But I have more questions.” You tell him. “I know you do, and I’ll have answers for you in the morning.” He leans down and kisses your forehead and before he leans back you grab his arm. “Miguel…I forgive you.” You tell him.

He gives you a warm smile. “Thank you.” He says as he searches your eyes. “W…will you be there when I wake up?” You ask, not wanting him to leave. Because maybe this is a dream and if it is, you didn’t want to wake up.

“I’ll stay the night. Now give me a second.” You let him go and he looks around the room. He finds his boxers and you watch as he puts them on. He leaves the room for about ten minutes and when he comes back. He hands you a glass of water and he crawls under the covers and lays beside you.

“Is this better?” He asks as you take a sip of water and place the glass on your nightstand. You nod and curl up close to him. You place your hand against his bare chest and maybe it’s the trick of the light or maybe you’re just tired. But you see a ring on your finger as you look at your hand.

You blink and the ring was no longer there. “Night, Miguel.” You whisper as your body relaxes. “Good night, mi amor.” Miguel says as he pulls you close to his body.

The last thing you think of is if this is a dream, you just didn’t want to wake up…

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#miguel o'hara #watsittoyah #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #Tommie Valentine #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara x tommie valentine #oscar issac smut #oscar issac hernandez estrada #along came a spider 2099 #along came a spider #miguel o'hara x black reader

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nyxvuxoa-writes · 3 months

Text

𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰𝘮 𝘙𝘺𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦

Tom Ryder x Fem!Reader

◢ Genre: Headcanons — Suitable For Adults Only

◢ Warnings: 18+ Only please! Mentions of sex, smut, and relationship with F!reader. Also includes mentions of jealousy, narcissism, and famous relationships.

◢ A/N: I am back, doing some warm-up writing. I still have everything in my drafts, and currently have some free time to try and get caught up. Keep an eye out for new content. Gif was made by me, please credit me if you use it. Likes are enjoyed. Reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

Dating a celebrity is never easy. Especially Tom, who right now is one of the most famous action stars in the world.

It'd be a lie to say that it hasn't gone to his head.

The man is narcissistic and not at the same time.

He's got an ego for days.

But he's not the type to gaslight you, at least not all the time.

He's capable of emotions, and yet he won't hesitate to try and cover up a murder with the help of his agent.

He's a man of morally gray standing. He's neither good nor evil, but will put himself first and foremost when his career is on the line.

When you and Tom started dating, it was unexpected.

No one expected it to happen. But he knew what he wanted and he went for it.

There was even a sticky note in his house about asking you out.

That note he didn't forget.

You aren't a celebrity like he is, so this forced you into the spotlight.

The tabloids ran with it, either making you look good or bad. It didn't matter to them.

What mattered was that Tom was dating someone new, and someone who wasn't a co-star.

It's strange being in the spotlight. Maybe a part of you hates it. Maybe a part of you likes it.

But you aren't dating Tom for his money or his fame, not like some people claim to.

You are probably the most down-to-earth person he's dated.

You don't ask him for things, or money. Which caused him to spoil you slightly.

He clings to you, keeping you close when he goes out.

He likes to show you off, even if people are criticizing him for who he's with.

His agent isn't a fan of you and tells him that he should be with someone else who is famous because it will help him.

There has been a time or two that she had almost convinced him to do it.

But when someone was said, it never turned out like he expected.

The arguments are heavy, mostly because that is when his ego comes to blows with you.

When you approach him to fix it, not wanting to fight, he tends to cave to the feelings you show him.

He starts to feel like you understand him past the fame and who he is as a person.

You've come to learn how to deal with his weird quirks, like the sticky notes.

More often than not, you are reminding him about things and trying to keep them cleaned up.

But some of the notes he leaves are utterly ridiculous and you tend to leave those up because they make you laugh.

Then you started to find notes about his feelings for you. Things he wanted to remember to say for later.

When he realized you saw them, all he could do was give you this boyishly charming smile.

Maybe the notes are a good thing.

It becomes a small form of communication between you two.

You have learned to deal with the parties, the drinking, and the drugs.

It may or may not be your scene. But somehow he manages to bring you out of your shell.

You have a good time with him. Letting loose. You always go home together.

The sex is amazing. Hot and heavy, a lot of heavy petting, moaning, and groaning.

He's vocal. Often telling you how he loves your body and how you feel wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck babe. You feel so good."

"You're going to make me cum babe if you keep doing that."

The man has his moments of being vanilla.

But when he gets kinky, he can get weird about it in a good way.

He's always willing to try something new.

But when you get submissive and worship him, he goes crazy.

The guy has a praise kink for days.

When you lean into his ear and start telling him about how you adore him, adore his cock, how good he feels, then he starts to go crazy mentally.

"Say it again babe. Louder."

"I'm gonna make you scream my name."

It makes it hard for him to keep his hands off you.

When he's gone, he thrives off the images and videos you send him.

Phone sex can be a regular when he can't get to you.

But there are times when he would take you wherever he's going.

The man won't hesitate to take you back to his trailer to have his way with you.

You'll make him late to set a time or two, but he doesn't care. He can get away with it for the most part.

He doesn't like other guys touching what is his. Ever.

He's going to make it known to his "friends" that you are off-limits.

He doesn't want them hitting on you.

This will bring out that small bit of insecurity that lingers in his mind.

He'll get jealous if he thinks the wrong thing, or see something that can be taken out of context.

If you two were to break up, Tom wouldn't handle it well.

You'd make him emotional, and the idea of seeing you with another man would frustrate him.

He'd try and get you back because of how you treated him and understood him.

This time, he'd be calling you while laying in the bathtub almost crying.

He might try and date someone else after, but chances are they aren't going to compare to you.

ATJ Taglist: @voxmortuus @earth-elemental18

Some of my tag list people aren't working anymore. If you want to be added for ATJ stuff let me know, and I can update my list.

#Tom Ryder x reader #tom ryder x f!reader #tom ryder x you #tom ryder smut #tom ryder fanfiction #tom ryder imagine #tom ryder #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson fanfic #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #the fall guy #the fall guy fic #nyxvuxoa writes

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alcoholfreenayeon · 2 months

Note

hi! i noticed you don’t have anything for seulgi yet 🥹 can i request for a seulgi gf hc? Pleeeeaaaaasse?

Seulgi Girlfriend HC

A/N: Yes ofc you can and there is a Seulgi draft but it’s angsty🌚-anyway, ahem, hope you like this anon.

SFW HCs

She’s your sweet bear, always gives you a vibe and is never too tired for you.

She absolutely loves the teddy bears you gift her. She asked for one of each type of bear.

You love taking care of her, she can be so clumsy like the one time she tried to decorate her pancake but it just ended up as a tower of whipped cream.

She can’t help but smile as soon as she hears your voice.

She likes to bury her head in your shoulder or neck a lot especially when she’s really happy or embarrassed.

She likes it when you take photos of her.

Irene and Joy really teased her a lot about you when she first introduced you to them.

Whenever you visit a shop and see anything bear themed, you send her a picture of it especially when she’s away on tour or work.

Once while she was away, you were doing cleaning and you ended up finding a whole bunch of sketches of you that she did secretly.

She always brings you so many little gifts and souvenirs.

NSFW HCs

When you both first started dating she was always quite shy initially when things got heated between you both.

She leaves quite a lot of scratches on you.

The heavy and excited breaths and sighs she does when you take the lead drive you completely crazy.

In Seulgi’s own words, “there’s nothing she’d prefer to eat over you”.

Wendy once had the bad luck of walking into the dorm only to find you in between Seulgi’s legs. It was a few seconds of pure chaos as she screamed in shock. Seulgi kicked you off accidentally in a panic and you, already feeling a bit suffocated from how hard she was squeezing your head with her thighs, nearly passed out when you fell to the floor from embarrassment, shock and surprise.

It was awkward and embarrassing but eventually the three of you apologized to each other and made up. But whenever you are alone with Wendy you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed.

The others sensed this tension and Joy always pesters the three of you, asking what happened which just brings back a memory the three of you try to forget.

Whenever you make Seulgi cum hard, you like how she quivers hard and if you try hard enough you can make her cum once again by the time her first orgasm ends.

She likes to ride your thigh.

You’ve been trying to convince her to do some roleplaying and shes finally agreed. Now you both just have to decide what kind of scenario you’d like to do.

#ask me anything #answered asks #anon ask #kpop gg #seulgi #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop headcanons #reader x idol #red velvet seulgi #kang seulgi #Seulgi fluff #Seulgi smut #red velvet headcanons #red velvet x reader

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sakuraryomen01 · 2 years

Text

His Unhinged Mind.. /Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Reader/ [Trigger Warning]

#warnings: crazy! gojo . yandere themes . dub/non-consented sex . Stockholm syndrome . kidnapping . emotional and narcissistic manipulation . tied up . ex-gojo x female reader . gojo being toxic . mentions of stalking . soft-to-rough fucking . "a good dicking-down" as punishment . gas lighting . mentions use of medication and drugs/alcohol as a way to cope with anxiety . cliffhanger ending! [OLD DRAFT]

#reader: female reader

#plot: gojo, your ex-fiance, comes to 'collect' you from your appointment with the family therapist and takes you to his home..

#words: 3.186k

#a/n: I was really on the fence about posting this, but I was wanting to write something dark lol. make sure to read the next authors note at the end!! ^^

. . .

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!

You sat in that office, waiting for hours for your therapist to show up. Family was asking for you to go to these appointments after what happened with your fiance: just to make sure you were in a good place.

Everything that happened with him was like water down the drain for you. You didn't care anymore, he was gone. He couldn't find you after you had moved countries, getting an apartment and working a medium-waged job until you were positive that you were safe.

But that feeling of being watched never left you: feeling like there was someone watching you every moment of the day.

A set of eyes watching your every move twenty-four seven, all the time— constantly. You never could shake that feeling, and today your anxiety about it was only worse. The therapist, Naoya Zenin, wasn't answering your calls or texts as you sat and waited in his office.

It was nerve-wrecking, so you got up and left.

Opening the door only to bump into a large chest. You apologized, trying to quickly slide by but the person standing in front of you wouldn't move. Looking up at them, you started to speak when a rag was placed over your mouth and the smell of chloroform filled your nose.

You yelped, trying to not breath in the chemicals until the stranger pulled you into a hug and held the cloth to your face. The strength was familiar, though you couldn't pin where it was from as you slowly fell limb and fainted.

Nothing but black filled your sight as your mind went blank.

It wasn't until a while later that you woke up and you soon realized that you were strewn across a bed— wrists bound at the posts and ankles done with the same at the bottom. Your sight was fuzzy, but you could make out the small room you were trapped in.

You didn't recognize the small space: cold, grey walls with only one window that seemed to let light pour into the room.

There was a table on the opposite side of the room, with a chair to join it and a bookcase that was filled with books (obviously). You didn't know who brought you here, but you were scared.

Terrified, even..

That's when the door that was armed to the teeth with locks clicked and you saw it swing open. The cold steel door creaked open as a very familiar silhouette appeared and made your eyes wide with fear.

It was him. The man you left before your wedding..

Gojo fucking Satoru. Your ex-fiance.

"Oh, good morning, baby," His sweet voice cooed as he strutted into the room with a smile on his face.

Gojo didn't bother closing the door as he pulled himself up an extra chair and sat in it. Making the back face you as he sat in it backwards, spreading his legs and letting them rock from side to side as he resting his head on folded forearms. Your frozen body couldn't react: How in the hell did he find you?

You cleaned everything. Wiped all the data from your last phone, made sure to block him on social media before destroying it and purchasing a new one.

You even made sure that your passport and bank account had no connection with him. There was no possible way for him to know that you moved to the States. So, why and how was he here?

"Such a cute face, sweetie!" Gojo's smile was as bright as you met him during your first date. "I'm so happy I get to see it everyday from now on."

"How.." You started, trying to sit up only to be stopped by your binds. Looking from the ropes to Gojo, you sighed and stared at him in confusion.

"Satoru, how?"

The angel-faced male didn't respond, but instead stayed silent until you asked again. Only then did his smile leave and he looked over his sunglasses at you.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, his baby blue eyes shined in the light pouring through the window. "I followed you all the way here."

..You sick, sick man..

"What the fuck?" Your voice was laced anger as you tugged on your restraints again. "You did what?"

"Well, actually, I followed your mother.." Gojo said, ignoring your annoyance. "Such a sweetheart, forgetting to delete her Facebook account was the first thing she did wrong. The second thing was accidentally letting me in the house to 'collect' my things when I was really just copying your new address and phone number."

"You crazy bastard.." You muttered, feeling your heart beat thump in your ears as blood pumped through your body.

Gojo's smile returned at your words, balling up his fist as he rested his cheek against it. "I'm not the crazy one. You are, sweetie."

Scoffing, you sat up and rested against your shoulders. Glaring at your former husband and best friend— seeing that sheer amusement that was on his face when he was in a smug and happy mood. You wanted to slap him so bad, curse at him and spit in his face.

Even if your heart screamed differently..

"I'm not the one that left at the altar on my wedding day," Gojo said, scooting the chair he sat closer to your bed. "I'm not the one that used medication like sleeping pills to forget the day."

You know that feeling of helplessness? That sad and twisted feeling? It was starting to set in, feeling the walls of that small room close in and crush your lungs. Unable to breath as you started to panic.

Satoru, on the other hand, was smiling and explaining how he found you.

"After I managed to get your new location, I simply bought a ticket that next day and got here. Finding your new apartment and job— getting myself one too, of course— and just staking out the joint was easy too."

You pulled at the ropes weakly, pulling with all your might as you began to tear up. It was like the last year was playing through your mind all over again..

"After that, I found your therapist's office," Gojo piped, bringing you back to Earth. "I remember booking Naoya as a family therapist— sucks I had to knock him out in the janitors closet of that fancy office he has now."

You tensed, hearing those words. So that's what happened.. Gojo got to him before I showed up..

Gojo giggled, watching you turn to look up at him and smiled.

"Don't worry, he's just sleeping."

He stood up from the chair he once sat in and took two steps before resting his bottom on the mattress next to you. His angel blue eyes sparkled with glee as he looked down at your horrified face. Reaching up, you could feel the warmth his hand graced your cheek once he began to palm them gently.

Pressing his thumb against your chin and lips as if to prod them to move. To smile again. Anything.

"Sweetie, I don't know why you look so upset," Gojo cooed, letting his hand slide down your side and rub affectionate circles with his thumb against your hip.

"You're finally home again! It's been how long now since you decided to 'leave me', as you put it?"

"..A year and a half."

Gojo gave a surprised laugh, getting more comfortable in his seat and smiling widely. He's too proud of himself.

"See? I think you've had plenty of time to think about ditching me," Gojo said, crossing his legs and resting his elbow against his knee to prop his cheek against it.

"That hurt me for a while, watching you pack and get your things to leave. But I realized quickly that you were joking! You'd never leave me, after everything we've been through, right?"

You could feel your tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. Shifting in your spot as Gojo climbed up and pressed his hands on either side of your head, smiling down at you with that handsome grin you've loved for years.

"Your anxiety attacks... those sad episodes... we've been through it all. And knowing you're going away would've been so terrible to me if I knew differently."

You could smell that minty shampoo he used all the time, knowing he'd never change it. Even the glow of his skin was like it always was, despite the obvious eye bags underneath his eyes.

"You can't leave me," Gojo said, his voice lowering as he began to lower himself. His face getting closer and closer to yours as he continued to speak.

"I'm too important to you, Y/n. Even if your brain doesn't want to believe it, your heart still does. I know it does, seeing as you let me take you back home."

Feeling something grip your wrist, you looked up and saw Gojo's large hand firmly gripping your forearm. His fingers just barely grazing the ropes that confined you to the bed, feeling a sudden sense of unease wash over you.

"Do you know how long I've waited to bring you back?"

The feeling grew, looking up at your former lover and seeing that sudden darkness washed over his face. Eyes were wide and boring right into yours, a grin that hasn't broken still written across his face as he gave your wrist a squeeze.

"Months," He finally answered himself, blinking quickly as tears began to form. "I've been waiting so long after I found you, wanting to just steal you away and hold you forever again, but I couldn't. You were too obvious to take away from the outside world."

A chill was sent down your spine, trying to ignore that crawling feeling inside your gut. Desperate to leave and go back home, to where you were safe from him.

Gojo had always been controlling.. manipulative.. scary.

He was so sweet and kind, but always could have a switch flipped if he was triggered. There were times that his possessive nature got so bad that he was restrained at home from following you around to work and your additional work classes. That was actually a week or two before the wedding, when you should've noticed the signs..

"I missed you so much, Y/n.." Gojo's voice lowered just as his head did, his eyes glued to your lips.

That fluttering in your heart made you sick. Hating the fact you still found Gojo attractive even now. It was so hard to resist him, even after the shit that's happened between you both and the dark route Gojo has taken. Feeling that curl in your tummy as Gojo's pink lips pressed against your neck and cheek, warming your skin up as if it wasn't before, and making your body react almost immediately.

"I miss your smell, your looks, your clothes and smile.." Gojo's sickeningly sweet tone made your heart skip beats. His tongue runs over your collarbone as his teeth graze it, working his fingers down your arm and towards your front.

"There was so much that I wanted to do to you, but you were off being an adventurous little kitten. But, I finally managed to take you away and you're staying this time! I'm not taking any chances of you leaving or escaping me! Then again... you wouldn't want to escape.."

Gojo's large palm kneaded your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple and kissing down your neck. Managing to open up your clothes and sighed, a smile on his pale face.

"Waa.. I miss these cute tits of yours, baby..~" Gojo bent his head down, kissing one of your erect nipples as you let out a pained whine.

You shouldn't be feeling so good.. You didn't want this..

"Mmn.. God, you still taste amazing up here," Gojo cooed, licking around your rosy nipples and suckling gently. The feeling of his soft tongue against you made you mewl quietly; you shouldn't be feeling this good.

Not from him. Not because of him.

"Haa.. Can't wait to fuck you," He mewled, his cheeks becoming rosy as he sat up on his knees. "It's the least I can do, seeing as you're all defenseless on the bed. Maybe this is why you ran away? To be bound and tied up for me? Oh~ you're so kinky, Y/n.."

In moments, Gojo was taking off your shirt, pants, and your undergarments. Leaving you exposed underneath him and cold. This was so wrong, so embarrassing, so crazy..

So why were you hot and bothered..?

"Oo~ Someone's been getting off to this, huh?" Gojo cooed, his hand dipping to your heat and running a fingertip up your slick opening.

It made you shiver and mewl, biting your lip immediately as if a wave of love and affection was given to you from two years ago. You shouldn't feel so good over a few touches, no matter how sensitive your slick clit was. How it throbbed and twitched under Gojo's fingers while he cooed.

"Aww, it looks like your pussy misses me, hun~!" He smiled, biting his bottom lip and creating a dent.

His fingers traced around your small opening, pushing his fingers inside so suddenly it burned. Your breath hitched in a quiet coo, your cunt squeezing and twitching around Gojo's fingers as they moved faster and faster. His own pants and sighs are audible as you got closer and closer to an unwanted orgasm.

"C'mon, let that orgasm out, baby," Gojo's tone is so weak it sounded like a plea, curling his fingers and rubbing your sensitive walls. Scissoring his fingers and rubbing your clit with his thumb. "So cute. Cum on my fingers, Y/n. Please."

"A-Agh.. nngh!" You cried, your back arching when you didn't want it, cunt squelching in unison with your wanton moans and whimpers, creaming on your ex's long fingers.

With a sigh, your eyes closed tight, your body relaxed as Gojo's fingers were pulled from your soft warmth. His cock already throbbing in his pants, his pink lips shiny as he drooled at the sight of your undone figure.

Why did you need to leave? He had given you a whole life and yet you left on your wedding day!

"God, seeing you like this just reminds me of our first time together," Satoru had started undoing his belt, the clicking of the buckle alerting you and making you look up towards him. "It was so hot and sexy, I swear I never thought that an ass could bounce that much on someone's cock."

"S-Sato.." Your cheeks burned as your ex continued to rant about your first with him, your eyes locked on Gojo's hardening front with a small whimper. "Please, don't do it.. I.."

"Shh, sweetheart," Gojo cooed, lifting your chin up and kissing you sweetly like his used to when he comforted you. The feeling of his plush and warm lips against your own made your pussy squeeze around the air. your eyes lidded as Gojo continued to lick and trace your hips with his fingers.

"I'll make you feel better, ok? So stop the tears and enjoy my dick like you used to."

Gojo's hips bucked against yours, his dripping cock head spilling some of his seed onto your navel. The usual sticky substance is warm and relaxing against your skin. Nerves under the small puddle of it relaxing as your hips were raised up to graze Gojo's cock against your opening. The twitching and pearled up tip rubbing against the flaps of your pussy, nudging as Gojo started to push.

It slipped without a second thought, pushing into your warm walls and practically gushing inside the stretching hole. The man that owned the needy shaft left out a weak whine, holding onto your hips with a gentle squeeze.

"God baby," He mumbled, his eyes fogging as the pleasure he was getting consumed him fully. Looking down at your shaky figure for a response as he snapped his hips and shoved it into you vigorously. "Feels so good, like always!"

You cry at this, clit grinding against Gojo's pubic bone as your toes begin to curl from the force of his thrusts. It was so good having him inside you, feeling the curve of his cock knock your g-spot perfectly and making you melt under his touch despite how much you wanted to kick him and push him away.

It was like a twisted torture you were enduring.

You wanted to run and hide, but stay and get pleasured by Gojo constantly. To feel those soft hugs and kiss his pretty white lashes each morning before he woke up and whine about how you missed his lips. Bickering back and forth about which store to go to or what things to buy when you got there.

All the soft and fluffy stuff that your soul and heart craved from Gojo's touch. Feeling him pressing you into the bed sweetly like he hadn't kidnapped you. Like he was making love to you, groping at your chest with his large hands and pinching your nipples.

Nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as he picked up his pace, grunting and moaning into your ear while he pleasured himself with your hole.

Sick and twisted, that's the kind of love you felt inside.

"S-Sato, gonna-!!" You cried, arching your back into the restraints and pulling your legs up to fold against you, tugging at the ropes binding them to the bed. "Gonna come! Nghh!"

With a whine your pussy constricted around your kidnapper's cock, shuddering as your orgasm hit you again, almost like a punch in the gut but full of euphoric feelings. Gojo let out an excited mewl, his eyes entranced with your orgasming pussy. Rolling his hips roughly against your swollen pearl, watching it shiver under his touch as he continued to abuse your stretched hole.

"Yeah, baby!" He purred, tracing his thumb over your navel and down to rest above your clit. "C'mon, keep comin' for me. Go on!"

You couldn't hear him over your whines and the rapid beating of your heart, Gojo's words falling on deaf ears as he continued to thrust until he came. The hot and sticky ropes of his come painting your walls and the lips of your pussy.

He let out a sigh at the sight, running his finger up to collect a little of the semen he had spilt.

"Look at that," Gojo cooed, leaning forward and pressing his come covered finger to his lips. "You made me bust so hard inside, it made me a little tired."

Whimpering, your eyes were blurred and hazy, weakly locked with his. Watching as he slipped his digit into his mouth and licked up the messy substance, feeling his lips press against yours after he swallowed it. After a few moments of kissing and cleaning up your disheveled body, Gojo stands and fixes his pants, his glasses returning to their spot on the bridge of his nose.

"Now, my little dove, why don't we try this relationship over?"

a/n: this was a really old draft i decided to touch up and continue recently since I haven't been posting much. i liked how toxic it turned out since i've been feeling a certain way recently lollll anyways, i hope you enjoyed this and hope to get the next chapter of Valentino posted soon! ^^

a/n pt2: There has been a serious lack of posting as I've once again been unable to get the creative juices flowing. I hope I can get back to doing some drabbles and another chapter of Valentino soon.

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chaoscharme · 8 months

Text

Self Care Activities that Actually Help

My list of practical, achievable and useful self care tips that will actually improve your mood instead of enabling you to wallow.

Reply to your correspondence

Often if we feel low or our motivation is down, we find it tricky to respond to messages and calls from others. This allows unopened messages to pile up which creates stress and even panic. Instead of trying to ignore this problem, set a timer for 15 minutes. Then give yourself those 15 minutes to respond to as many of those messages as possible, starting with the most urgent messages first. If you cannot complete all the messages, take a minute to reevaluate. Can you give yourself another 15 minutes to finish the task today? If not, that’s fine. Assign the task for tomorrow, and repeat the process when you feel refreshed. If you are not able to give a thorough response to all of your contacts, I recommend drafting a universal message to send, stating that you are currently occupied and you hope to offer them a more appropriate message over the coming days. You can tailor this message to suit your needs and circumstances, and it reduces the amount of pressure on you to offer explanations for your absences.

Wash your clothes

Take the clothes you are wearing off. All of them. Strip your bed. Gather up any towels or tea cloths you can find. Wash them all. I cannot overstate the benefit of living in a clean environment, and wearing clean clothes. Even if you can’t wash everything, wash the essentials, and make sure you are wearing fresh clothes from head to toe. You can swap pyjamas out for more pyjamas, what you wear doesn’t matter. Just make sure they’re clean.

Water

Drink a pint of water with nothing added, no fruit, no cordial, nothing. Just drink a pint of water in one sitting. You are almost definitely dehydrated, just like everyone else. Hydration provides mental clarity, energy, and even relives stress. It reduces pains and aches in the body. It helps quell nausea and heartburn. Water is the quickest and easiest way to reduce physical pain or discomfort throughout the day. By keeping hydrated, you’re improving your quality of life almost instantly.

Stretch in bed or on the sofa

The last thing most of us want to do when we feel low or unmotivated is going for a run, or working out at the gym. Instead of pushing yourself to get a serious or intense workout in, try some stretches you can do from the comfort of your bed or sofa. Stretches will help relieve tension in the body and can increase your energy throughout the day. You don’t have to do anything crazy, just a couple of simple, effective stretches will do the trick.

Eat a “healthy” carb

People so often try to avoid eating carbs as they think carbohydrates are inherently unhealthy. This is simply not the case. While carbohydrates are often used in the production of unhealthy treats such as cakes, cookies and pies, they are not fundamentally bad for you. Carbs are our main source of energy, and if you’re feeling low energy is exactly what you need. Try eating a healthier alternative to those instant sugar rush carbs, such as rice, wholemeal pastas or breads, potatoes or oats. You can add other ingredients to these meals, such as berries to oats or some veg to pasta, to make a more filling meal. Everyone eats differently, but we all need carbohydrates in our diet to provide energy and nutrition, alongside other food groups. Creating a balanced diet is much more important than eating “healthy” all the time. Respect your body by fuelling it appropriately and regularly.

Clean yourself as best you can

Have a shower. Take your makeup off. Brush your hair. Clip your nails. Put deodorant on. Brush your teeth. Wash your hands. You might not have the energy for a full “everything shower” but you can probably do one of the things listed above to make yourself feel better about yourself and your hygiene. Don’t berate yourself if you’ve gone a while without practicing any of these for a while, life can be pretty difficult. Just accept your current situation and try to better it as best you can with the energy you now have.

Please reach out to a trusted person or a qualified professional if you feel you need extra support for any reason. You are not alone and you do not need to suffer in silence. Support is there.

Mwah, Chaoscharme

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alchemistc · 9 months

Text

an: I was cleaning out my drafts and ran into this nearly-finished piece of two disasters having their first kiss. Enjoy.

the way you feel when you kiss him for the first time like fire within your bones like your soul has returned to the water like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again

Here’s the thing. So. Like.

He’s kissing Eddie Munson, tongue and everything, hands digging into his crazy fucking hair, face twisted sideways because they’d been sitting there next to each other, close enough that their hips were touching, and Eddie was gesturing with both hands thrown wide, so that every once in a while his hand smacked Steve’s chest on accident and he murmured a quick apology before going back to his story, and Steve fucking loved listening to him rant and rave about whatever he had a bug up his ass about on any given day, he loved it so much and it seemed like the thing to do when you loved something about someone so much it made your chest tight and your head a little fuzzy.

Steve twists his head and slots his tongue over Eddie’s lips and Eddie makes a noise that Steve feels down to his fucking toes and he nips, just a bit, swallows up Eddie’s gasp and curls his fingers around his neck and licks into his mouth.

First kisses are usually either tentative or chaotic, and this one is sloppy as all get out but it’s not – it’s good. It’s so fucking good Steve thinks he could happily fucking die right this second and he wouldn’t even be mad about it. Eddie’s teeth slide along Steve’s lower lip when he sucks said lower lip into his mouth and Steve hums and blows a breath out through his nose and fleetingly imagines their entire lives expanding out before them – tables that for another day when he’s done more than make out with Eddie in the woods behind his house.

Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”

It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone.

“What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?”

And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you that way that Eddie looks at him and.

“Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?”

“Whoops?”

Eddie’s on his feet then, his limbs akimbo as he throws his arms out, gesturing vaguely in Steve’s direction, looking at Steve like he’s grown like, three extra heads. Which. Okay so maybe he could have done better at like, explaining what the fuck he was doing but Eddie was so fucking hot when he got really in the zone with some rant or other and Steve’s been like, waiting for him.

“You can’t just go around kissing people, man!”

“I thought you were gay!” Steve says, like that explains a damn fucking thing, and Eddie whirls on him, wild eyed, like Steve’s just shouted some tightly kept secret to the world and… yeah. Alright. Fair.

“I thought you were the straightest fucking dude in America, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Oh,” Steve says, because that, yeah. That tracks. Okay. So. Yeah, he can work with this.

He runs a jittery hand through his air, glances up at Eddie through a few strands that cut loose from the hairspray. “Yeah uh, so I guess like, no? Chicks are like, great but then here you are being so fucking adorable I wanna like, put you in my fucking pocket to keep you safe and like, take you out on a date and, I don’t know, suck your cock or something. Which is.”

He’s rambling now, doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Okay so like I guess I didn’t really think about the ramifications of this before I fucking went for it but I have been thinking about your lips on my lips for way longer than I have been acknowledging to myself and you weren’t fucking doing anything about it and I just thought I could. Do something about it. So um…no. Not. Not straight.”

Steve imagines, for a moment, Hawkins High jocks fading out of the shadows to beat the shit out of him, bible thumping mothers intent on letting him know his sins will destroy the country and land him straight in hell, his own father telling him he won’t have a fag for a son. Feels really fucking shitty about it for about thirty seconds and then remembers he’s saved the world at least four times and internally tells them all to go fuck themselves.

“Hey, is there a word for that? Liking both? Do you – fuck, is there like, a handbook? Do you even know? Did – but then you’re – I mean I definitely for sure got the feeling you and Robin have more in common than just being really great at saving the world, also you for sure kissed me back and – holy shit Robin’s gonna be pissed you found out before she did.”

Eddie stares at him in abject horror for about thirty seconds, but it’s not – it’s not judgy, at least, it’s more like Steve looks at Robin when she word vomits. “Jesus H Christ did you just speed run gay panic?” Which – Robin has explained that before and if Eddie knows about it then he probably also is not…not gay.

“I don’t think I’m strictly gay!” Steve says, his voice a little higher than he’d like but Eddie is pacing now, which. Not conducive to more kissing, and it’s literally all Steve wants to be doing right now. “It might not even be dudes in general, I haven’t gotten any further than you!”

“What the fuck, Harrington?” And pacing be damned, Steve hops up and cages Eddie in again, leans forward for a kiss because he’s not, like, saying no, he’s just confused because he didn’t think Steve was into it and kissing will definitely help him figure it out. Only he rolls his head back, away from Steve’s, shoulders and neck rolling back. The rest of him stays, though, and Steve slots his hands on Eddie’s narrow waist and stares at him.

“I’m like, super into you, Eddie, and unless I’m suddenly really fucking bad at reading signals you’re also into me.”

Eddie leans forward, rolls his forehead against Steve’s. It’s nice. Not as nice as the kissing had been but…yeah, he’s cool with this. Eddie huffs out a breath of laughter, a self-deprecating little chortle that Steve recognizes and wants to dash away. “I’ve been trying really hard not to throw those signals. Just. Just so you know.”

“You’re really bad at it,” Steve tells him, fingers digging a bit into his side now, his left hand sliding towards Eddie’s back, and he doesn’t really think about it when he exerts a bit of force to drag Eddie a little closer. “To be like, fully clear here. I’m not… I haven’t been misreading, correct?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, those wide dark eyes holding Steve’s. “This is insane. People don’t just wake up one day and go ‘hey I’m actually totally attracted to my own gender and I have literally zero bad feelings about that’ – people kill themselves about it.”

“Nearly died enough times to know I don’t care for it,” Steve tells him, and he really, really wants to fucking kiss him again but probably Eddie needs a second. “Listen, do you like me or not, because if not I am seriously overstepping right now and I don’t actually want to make this weird.”

“This is so fucking weird, man,” Eddie says but then he’s curling his fingers into the end of Steve’s shirt and fisting it there before Steve has a chance to draw back and respect his boundaries, like he’s holding himself back from more but not quite ready to let go. Steve follows his lead. “Did Robin say something?”

“Robin has been literally zero help,” Steve admits, because she really has been fucking useless and cagey and completely unwilling to give him any idea if this whole thing is reciprocated or just a fully fucking unrequited crush. “I am actually pretty emotionally intelligent, so I figured…” God he’s giving Steve that look. Again. “Vibes were there.”

“Vibes.” Eddie says, like he wants to bash his brains in. “You… you just threw all caution to the wind on fucking vibes.”

“Vibes are a thing!”

Eddie curls the hand not already fisting in Steve’s shirt around his waist, his long fingers catching at the stripe of skin exposed by the pull of his shirt. Every thought in Steve’s head feels like it’s centered right there, where he can feel Eddie’s rings warm against his skin.

Steve is like, 97.3 percent certain at this point that he hasn’t just ruined a decently important friendship, and he really, really does want to return to that zenith of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, so he rolls his head again, nosing at Eddie’s cheek, reaching for his jaw.

Eddie shoves him back – slowly, regretfully almost.

“Give me a fucking second, Harrington.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

Even as Eddie goes back to pacing Steve feels good about this. Eddie Munson is probably a lot more accepting of things than most of the assholes in Hawkins but he has yet to tell Steve to go fuck himself and he seems more…overwhelmed than anything else. Surprised. He had just admitted he thought Steve didn’t go for that thing. Had he thought about it, beyond a passing ‘Steve the Hair Harrington digs the ladies’?

Jesus. He’s so fucking embarrassing. Even in his own goddamn brain.

Eddie whirls on him, opens his mouth. Shuts it and takes a few pointed steps further away from Steve. Steve very much hates that, but – time. Space. He can manage that. He takes the opportunity to enjoy the pull of Eddie’s jeans over his ass.

Holy shit, Steve thinks to himself as he ogles the other man, holy shit he’s so very much not straight and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to give Eddie his fucking second.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Eddie says, and it’s probably aimed at Steve even though he still hasn’t actually turned back to look at him again. “You fully understand that what you just did screams absolute lunatic, right?”

“The – which part, exactly?”

“Steve, what if I wasn’t gay?”

It’s – kind of a sad question, if he’s being honest, because he’s suspected he likes dudes for maybe two weeks, even if it’s been nagging at him for literal months now, but he’s been that shitty kid who called people queer like it was the dirtiest word in the book, and he’s well aware at this point how fucking scary it is for anyone who is the least bit not ‘normal’ by societies standards. Especially if it’s actually true.

“I mean, I assume you’d probably give me a lot of shit and I would spend a good month too mortified to look at you before you let me off the hook?” But that question gets a little closer to the heart of it, the one thing Steve’s still a little worried about. “But…you are?”

“How the fuck did you even know?”

“The vibes!” He wiggles his fingers at that, widens his eyes like that will help Eddie understand. “And, you know. The general feeling every time you look at me like you’re half a second from eating me alive.”

“I do not!” Eddie says, a little scandalized, a little like he’s been caught out.

“You totally do. You have…very expressive eyes.” This is new. Just balls to the wall flaying honesty, right off the bat, no hiding behind a slick smile and a clever little wink. What even is flirting, Steve thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I fully thought you were gonna bend me over a table at Gary’s party last weekend.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie says, only he’s still not denying it, and he’s turning those same round shining eyes on Steve and – yeah. That is not a platonic fucking look. “I’m gonna take, like, three steps towards you right now. Can you. Not fucking attack me when I get there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.” Robin and Nancy once ganged up on him to tell him he was basically a golden retriever in human form, and he feels every inch one as Eddie takes long, measured steps towards him. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so fucking hard his ass would be wiggling.

“Full disclosure,” Eddie tells him at a step and a half in. “I was actually thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off until your soul left your body, at Gary’s party, last weekend.” Steve bites his lip, doesn’t say a word, ignores the heat thrumming in his veins. “Don’t you dare kiss me right now, Harrington,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that is very fucking interesting and Steve would like to explore more.

“Yep. Hands and lips to myself. Gotcha.”

“I also had a massive panic attack about it like five minutes later because you’re the best person I know and I will be fully, absolutely destroyed if I lose you, so. Before I set myself adrift here, are you sure you have a single fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into?”

“See, that’s the thing!” Steve points, just as Eddie takes another step, so his finger ends up right in Eddie’s face and he’s eyeing it like he might just pop it into his mouth. In for a penny… “You got really mad at me when you thought I was avoiding you, and I very much, totally was because I have like, two age appropriate friends and figuring out one of them might be the love of my life threw me for a fucking loop.” Too soon, way too fucking soon, he was supposed to like, at least get Eddie in his bed before he admitted that. “So. I’ve already had that crisis and I know I lied and told you it was nothing but that’s. What that was.”

The look shifts. Eddie’s eyes were already wide, so his expression doesn’t change all that much, but his eyes get a little glassy and the dimple in his cheek twitches.

“Whoops,” Steve repeats and Eddie gathers up the hand Steve still has between them, guiding the arm down towards Steve’s side, lacing their fingers up together as he gets close enough Steve can feel his breath on his cheek.

“You’re an actual lunatic,” Eddie tells him, but he’s leaning in close, now, curling a hand around Steve’s neck. “Whoops, he says,” and Eddie shakes his head fondly, close enough that the tip of his nose swipes across Steve’s with the movement. “How long?”

“We’re still not kissing, right?” Steve asks, just to clarify, and Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “Yep. Still good with that. Sure. How long what?”

“Don’t play dumb, princess.”

“I mean – are you asking about me? Are you asking about me knowing about you? Are you asking about attraction, or feelings, or…”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and Steve supposes he walked himself into that. He’s still – Steve could count individual lashes dashed across Eddie’s eyelids, he’s so close.

“Yeah. Alright. Me? Been trying to sort it out for a while, I think, since Vecna. For sure? Two weeks ago, when you made me come watch your campaign finale, or whatever.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with interest, and Steve can see him searching for a specific moment, but it hadn’t been a specific moment, it had been an amalgamation of the last seven months of his life, and watching Eddie in his element, threading together a sweeping close to a tale he’s been working on for a full year, seeing the kids delighted faces, thinking about all the shit they’d been through and all the terrible things they’ve seen, it had all clicked into place. “You? I didn’t know, know. Just. Robin’s always saying there are signs, if you look for them. I hoped. I was looking for them.”

Had to talk himself into and out of reading into signs multiple times, honestly.

“I had some very confusing boners before I understood them, so I can’t really pinpoint that one, but a while,” and Eddie’s lips curl up, which is nice. It’s one of his favorite things to do, making Eddie smile like that. “The… I liked you from the start, is the thing, so there isn’t just a single moment but… you remember that night we got up on the roof of the van and got way too fucking high?”

“You couldn’t find the Big Dipper,” Eddie recalls fondly.

“Yeah, well, you were right there next to me, being all freakishly smart about constellations and looking at me and when you told me about your mom I wanted to just – tear the whole fucking world apart for you. So.”

“So,” Eddie says, and his voice has gone whisper soft and his breath is fanning across Steve’s face and his eyes are big and brown and soft at the edges.

“We’re still doing the no kissing part, right?”

Eddie hums. Tilts his head to the side just a bit, and his nose stripes across Steve’s cheek. “I could probably be persuaded otherwise.”

It’s – he’s –

“If I admit the panic might be coming on now, will you change your mind?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. I’m very chill about this.”

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is so fucking soft, and his fingers are skittering up the side of Steve’s arm.

“Freaking out a little bit. Don’t – you can stay here, though.”

“I’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“While we’re here, you could – I mean I know I said I clocked you pretty easily but if you wanted, I would definitely be okay hearing about – how. How that happened.”

Eddie’s eyes flit up, hold Steve’s. ��You lying about anxiety to get me to tell you my dirty secrets?”

“I’m not that smart,” Steve tells him, and Eddie’s smile tilts up at the corners.

#steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve is a chaotic bisexual #that's just a fact.

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nqify · 2 years

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how about french kissing/sloppy/messy makeout hcs? i imagine quaritch would be all for claiming dominance through this lazy, languid energy

like, he'll take his time in kissing u, but he'll do in in the most spit and tongue-heavy way lmao. maybe lots of grabbing and snarling too?? 🤭🥹

BABY UR REQUESTS ARE SO FUCKING GOOD!!! THEY ARE IN MY DRAFTS AS WE SPEAK!! I think this gotta be my favourite one’!!

kissing headcanons. — miles quaritch ☆

pairings. na’vi!miles quaritch. fem!reader

content warnings. just making out. dirty talk. daddy kink. spit play. .

note. i loved writing this omg. I just know miles loves making out. Like who wouldn’t???

miles most definitely loves kissing you. it’s literally the next best thing after sex. his loves to feel you, be close to you, being connected to you. HE LOVES IT ALL!!

he’s so messy when he kisses, spit, salvia everything!! this man cannot keep himself clean. he just loves tasting you!!

let’s just say miles comes home from a tough day at work and just needs to kiss his baby. he is trying to find you, looking around everywhere.

“give daddy a kiss” and ofc u did!!!! just a lil peck and u pull away. HE IS WHINING!! “uh uh baby, I know u can do better then that”

now all of a sudden ur making out. he’d have u straggling him, your thighs spread apart and your hands wrapped around his neck.

headcanon miles to moan in your mouth while y’all are kissing. Like hear me out!! this man is getting so much pleasure while kissing you he just has to let out noise. So when you guys are rlly getting into it he’s all like, “mmm baby”, “a-ah shit”. Ur pussy is going crazy rn.

bc u likes making noise so much he will dirty talk to u while y’all making out. He’s a certified dirty talker OFC HE WILL. He’s exploring your mouth, tongue licking the sides of ur walls, lazily fighting for dominance. He’d pull away, looking into your eyes, “mama, ur gonna let me taste ur pussy next right?” he’s grinning. you rolls your eyes and lean in back to kiss him.

This MF just has to say smth. y’all literally just making out, thinking no sex is gonna be involved but oh no!!!! “fuck baby, u taste so good, gimme some more” like girl, u have to fuck him now?? or he’d be like, “ur so pretty when u let me do this mmm, u like when I kiss u like this baby???” yes I do!!!!!

lowkey loves it when ur on top of him while u guys make out. He gets more access to ur body and can control it more!! He’s gripping ur thighs, nails digging into you or he’d be grabbing your waist, making you grind down on his dick, “feel that baby?? yeah?? u feel this dick huh?” yes u do MFFFFF

fingering with def get involved if ur on top. His hands are wondering to ur panties, he slides them to the side and slowly rubs ur aching clit. ur whining girl. grinding on his hand and everything. HE LOVES IT! now YOUR letting out small whimpers while y’all kiss.

little noises like, “a-ahhh” or “f-fuck mmm” GIRL HE LOVES THAT. his fingers are now deep in ur pussy!! ur literally riding his hand at this point. You’d pull away from miles’ lips to get some air but this fucker don’t like that. “Uh uh baby, u gotta keep kissing daddy” and ur like fine!!!

or when ur riding him, bouncing up and down on his cock, crying out for him. he would take the time out of his day just to kiss you. Like ur getting into it, but no this fucker needs to kiss you. He’d grab your hair and pull you down to him, kissing you so gently. “ur so cute mama, letting me kiss u like this”

like when he’s pussy drunk he needs to kiss you. “baby pls, gimme a kiss, need it bad” and ofc now u gonna kiss him. The kiss is sloppy and messy. Spit is EVERYWHERE!!

speaking of spit, if miles is ever angry at you or punishing you he will spit in ur mouth before kissing you. “open ur mouth up for me ma” UR MOUTH IS HANGING OPEN. He spits in ur mouth and goes in for a kiss. He’s getting sloppy with it omg,

this is where it ties in that he’s a messy kisser. cuz this mf is. he has to have some spit involved. Seeing the spit string the connected y’all together while u guys pull away from eachother GETS HIM GOING. he loves seeing you all messy for him. Like just from kissing you??? one ticket to getting ur brainsFUCKED!!

He goes crazy when you guys kiss in missionary. He feels so connected to you, so close!! He’d have ur thighs pressed against your chest, looking down at u with a lustful intent. he’d awe at ur beauty!!! Ur hair messy, lips puffy and ur face distorted into pleasure. This dude wants to kiss u now!!!! he’d lean down, whispering into ur ear, “ur gonna let daddy kiss you right?? u wanna make him feel good mm?” Ur nodding ur head.

his lips connect ur yours, he’s kissing you with this lazy, languid energy. and ur loving it. the kiss is so deep and so soft. He can’t stop kissing you.

you’d be nearing your release and this fucker is still kissing you, “m-miles mmmm, need to mmmm c-cum mmm” you’d say in between kisses. now this mf does not pull away, his thrusts just become faster. y’all are both moaning and whining into each others mouth. MILES IS GOING CRAZY!!!

dude loves to kiss you while ur cumming. He just gets to hear ur pretty moans up close and personal. Like ur just whimpering into his mouth, shaking underneath him!! he’s like poor baby!!!

he’d eventually pull away but you would whine in response. “awe baby, u want another kiss??” yes U DO!!! “cmon mama, beg for it” GIRL WHAT!!!! “p-please daddy!! gimme kiss pls!!!” he can’t say no to u omg.

again, requests are close mls!!

#miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch x reader #colonel miles quaritch #miles quaritch #na’vi quaritch #na’vi smut #na’vi #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar smut #jake sully smut #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you

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