#side pull device

[chubphoe-linkclick]

these frames of Qian Jan crying after learning that he murdered his unborn child is gold-

wow that sounds so fucked up of me BUT WE ALL AGREE, RIGHT?

[becomingeidolons]

did you guys know about fedex flight 705 i just found out about fedex flight 705

[nochepsicodelica]

"Turn off your phone, ma. Give me all your attention," Toji murmurs, behind you. His hand dips into the messily unbuttoned portion of your shirt and paws at your chest, while he kisses up the side of your neck. Soft and slow, wet little pecks to demonstrate how much he needs you and craves your focus on him after not seeing you for hours.

"Sorry, bear. People from work are being annoying," you explain, after sending another message to the group chat you have with your colleagues.

"When are they not? Dumbasses can't get shit done without you, but that's not your problem, right now," he says, undoing more of the buttons on your shirt. "You're not there, and you won't be there until the day after tomorrow, so turn off your phone and let those idiots figure it out on their own for once. They depend on you way too much, doll."

Toji hums, disapprovingly, when you start typing out another response. "If you don't turn it off, I will," he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You're off work. You're home with me. Get out of that work mindset, now."

You send the last message and give your phone to Toji.

"Good girl," he praises, taking the device out of your hand and turning it off. He puts it in his bedside drawer so that you can't get it until later. "Let me take care of you, baby. Lie down and just shut your brain off, for me," he instructs.

You do as he says and slowly make your way farther onto the bed, laying your tired head down on the pillow with a heavy sigh. "I'm exhausted," you puff out, folding your arms above your head and shutting your eyes. You could easily doze off like this.

"I know," Toji says, his voice low with the validation. He goes on to undo the last couple buttons of your shirt, and pulls the halves apart, exposing your torso. He leans down to press a kiss to your tummy, his gaze pinned to your face. He loves that soft smile that forms on your lips as he keeps going.

"Barely saw you today," he murmurs, against your soft skin. "Don't you know, that it's not just you missing me when I go to work? I miss you when you're gone, too." His knuckles graze the bare skin of your tummy, causing goosebumps to spread all over the area.

"You shouldn't overdo it with the help, ma. You gotta think about yourself, too. Would they do the same shit for you if you asked them to? Or would they all of a sudden have plans, or a dentist appointment that was scheduled six months ago?"

You sigh, frustrated, because one of those excuses was used on you just a few days ago. "I know..." you groan with all the exhaustion you feel in your body. "You're right, though. I'm not at work, anymore. I'm home, now, with you, and you're taking me out of the work mindset," you say, delivering his words back to him in a manner that lets him know that you believe it. That you trust that he'll bring you peace of mind after a day that lacked so much of it.

"Damn right. Just let me be good to you. You don't have to say anything else, right now. It's me and you."

He unbuttons your pants and pulls down the zipper. His fingers hook around the waistband and lower it.

"Lift your hips for me, baby," Toji requests, smoothly pulling down the waistband so that you can fully relax on the bed, again, after. The coolness of the room reaches your skin, eliciting more little pebbles on your skin, as he continues to roll down the material until your legs are entirely bared. He tosses the article aside and goes back to touching you with all the delicacy he can muster. His hands wrap around your calves, smoothly maneuvering around so that they end up on your shins, caressing the expanse in soothing motions.

You feel his lips on your knee, a couple kisses pressed to the area before he switches to the other one. His kisses trail higher up, following along the path of your thigh, then he switches off, again, giving your other thigh the same treatment. You keep your eyes shut all the while, feeling everything you receive from Toji in a heightened sense. You've entrusted him with your body. How he chooses to take care of it is entirely up to him for the moment.

His hands warm your outer thighs as he progresses towards your hips, then your lower abdomen. You can feel yourself growing more and more tired with every caress and every featherlight kiss brushed over your skin. It's all so soothing and you feel so safe. You feel like he's lifting a weight off your entire body, allowing you to release all the tension you feel, and clear your mind of what's stressing you out, even if it's only temporary.

"Sleeepy princess," Toji murmurs to himself when he peeks up and sees your chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He places a couple more kisses on your tummy, nearing the bottom of your bra, before pulling away, with the intention of letting you rest.

"Wait... don't stop. Please," you mumble, tiredly. "You haven't kissed here..." you run your hand over the upper part of your chest. "...or here," you say, dragging it towards your neck.

"My bad, little lady," he says, with a soft chuckle. "Thought you were asleep, already." His hands land on your waist and mold around it, proceeding with calming up and down motions.

"It feels nice," you mumble. "Like I'm resting in a room full of clouds," you elaborate, with a comfortable sigh. "You're doing a really good job. I feel much more at ease. Thank you, baby."

"Don't worry about it, ma," Toji responds, quietly.

It feels good to hear those words from you. The roughness of his warm hands on your body doesn't bother you, neither does the feeling of his scar against your skin. They do the complete opposite for you. His hands reach for you and cradle you whenever they want to and you never deny or reject him. He's never felt the need to ask for permission to hold you, because you always receive him in such a warm and loving manner. It feels good to know that he is capable of making you feel better in this way.

Toji moves higher up your body, his palms planted on either side of you to maintain balance. He leans down to continue his rounds of kisses, now on your chest. Your hands go to the back of his head and gently bring him closer. It's an invitation for him to rest his body on yours, and he gladly accepts.

"You just love getting crushed by me, don't you?" He teases, as he positions himself so that both of you can be comfortable in this sudden arrangement.

"Mhm. The heated weighted blanket, human teddy bear combination can never go wrong," you respond. "Do you not like lying down on me?"

"Those words did not leave my mouth, did they?" He asks, placing a kiss on your collarbone.

"Are you thinking it?"

"No," he replies, the single word serving as a good enough response to end your doubts.

"Okay," you hum, quieting down after.

He smears some gentle kisses onto your neck, pressing the tip of his nose into the area where he smells your perfume strongly. He sighs, contentedly, at the familiarity and presses a few more kisses onto the space below it, before merely resting against you. It's as if he indulged in so much of your warmth and presence, that he managed to soothe himself while he was helping you wind down. He's in some sort of daze—like you unknowingly put a spell on him that just threw him into a state of serenity. He feels like he could just shut his eyes and get the best sleep in your embrace.

"Love you, bear," you murmur, slowly rubbing his back.

"Mm," he hums, another soft, relaxed sigh leaving his chest. "Love you, ma."

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The forest was silent. Too silent. Xavier felt it in his bones before the emergency signal even reached his com-device. His muscles tensed, lowering his sword as the vibration against his wrist sent ice through his veins.

He abandoned the trail immediately, feet pounding against the earth as he raced back to the location informed about the injured hunters. His knuckles whitened as they dug into the skin of his palm until it almost bled. Despite never doubting your abilities for a moment, he was consumed by a desperate wish that he had been there to prevent this from happening.

When he finally reached the hospital, the fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows across his face. The sight of you, broken and bloodied on the stretcher, caused something to fracture inside him. He stood paralyzed in the doorway, watching as medics rushed around your unconscious form, their voices fading to white noise.

“Hunter down, multiple lacerations, possible internal bleeding...”

One step. Two. He was beside your bed now, his hand hovering inches from yours, afraid that his touch might somehow hurt you more. A nurse tried to usher him away, but the look in his eyes made her step back. He was trying so hard to pull himself together, but the facade was crumbling.

“I’m staying,” he said simply, the words leaving no room for argument.

Days passed in a sterile blur. Xavier didn’t move from the uncomfortable chair beside your bed. He didn’t eat. There was a day when he slept like he was dead, with your hand clutched tight in his to feel your pulse. He’d just watched your chest rise and fall, as if his vigilance alone could keep you tethered to this world.

When your squad members came to visit, they brought news—the mission area had been mysteriously cleared out. No Wanderers remained. Not one. The cleanup had been thorough, leaving no traces behind. Nobody had seen who did it.

One of your colleagues shifted uncomfortably under Xavier’s gaze. “Strangest thing. Like they vanished overnight. Even the nest we couldn’t breach was empty.”

Xavier simply nodded, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm.

When the doctor suggested he get some rest, Xavier simply shook his head, eyes never leaving your face. He wouldn’t leave your side until he was completely assured that you were going to be okay.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised, the words meant only for you despite your unconscious state. “I’ll always be here.”

Only when you stirred slightly, days later, did something change in his expression—a softening around the eyes, the faintest tremor in his steady hands. He leaned forward, close enough that only you could hear the whisper.

“I will always find you. Always.”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The operating room doors burst open as another trauma case rolled in. Zayne was mid-consultation when his pager buzzed with the emergency code. Standard procedure—until he glimpsed your face beneath the oxygen mask. Despite his professional exterior, panic was building inside him like a storm, threatening to break through his carefully maintained composure.

His clipboard clattered to the floor. “Get Doctor Dean,” he ordered sharply, already moving toward the gurney. “I know this patient.”

“Sir, protocol states—” the resident began.

“Get. Doctor. Dean.” His voice cut like a scalpel. The young doctor scrambled away as Zayne reached for your hand, his practiced fingers automatically finding your pulse.

“BP dropping, multiple trauma, suspected hemorrhage,” the paramedic rattled off. “Combat injury, ambush scenario.”

Zayne’s mind raced. As a former combat medic who’d seen countless injuries, he’d treated soldiers under artillery fire, but this—this was different. This was personal. Seeing your blood soaking through the bandages twisted his insides in ways combat never had.

“Doctor Zayne, you need to step back,” Doctor Dean said firmly, already moving to intercept him. “You know protocol.”

“I’m her physician,” Zayne countered, his voice tight as he tried to get closer.

Doctor Dean blocked his path. “Your emotions will compromise your judgment. We’ve got her.”

Zayne’s fists clenched at his sides as they wheeled you toward the operating room. Every instinct screamed at him to follow, to take control, to fix you himself. Instead, he was forced to watch through the observation window, a spectator to your fight for survival, his mind a whirlwind of unbridled fear.

Hours passed like years. His colleagues offered coffee, suggested he rest. He didn’t respond. His eyes never left the monitors displaying your vital signs, gripping the observation window’s edge so tightly his knuckles turned white.

In your recovery room, Zayne sat perfectly still, your hand clasped between both of his. His thumbs pressed against your wrist, monitoring your pulse as if the machines couldn’t be trusted. Others who passed by the room hardly recognized the distinguished cardiac surgeon in the haggard man who refused to leave your side.

Yvonne entered to adjust your IV, giving Zayne a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Doctor Zayne, you should get some rest.”

“I’ll sleep when she wakes up,” he replied without looking up, his professional demeanor completely abandoned.

When your eyelids finally fluttered open, his composure cracked just enough for you to see the storm that had been raging beneath.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered hoarsely, “ever scare me like that again.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The gallery was packed for Rafayel’s showcase, champagne flowing as critics and collectors mingled among his latest masterpieces. Thomas beamed at the turnout, already calculating the evening’s profits.

Then Rafayel’s phone rang.

The transformation was instant. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by an expression Thomas had never seen before—horror and fear combined. All thoughts of the gallery, the collectors, his artwork—everything disappeared in an instant.

The champagne flute shattered on the marble floor. Rafayel was already moving, shoving through the crowd without a word of explanation.

“Rafayel! Where are you—the collector from Rome is waiting to meet you!” Thomas called after him, but Rafayel was already gone, racing down the steps two at a time, car keys in hand.

The sports car’s tires screeched against the asphalt as he tore through traffic lights, honking frantically at slower vehicles, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. When another driver cut him off, Rafayel slammed his fist against the horn, a string of curses falling from his lips. His hands shook violently on the steering wheel, heart racing faster than the car.

“Move!” he screamed, swerving dangerously into the next lane. “Get out of my way!”

The hospital parking lot wasn’t meant for the kind of turn he attempted. The car scraped against a concrete pillar, but Rafayel didn’t spare it a second glance as he abandoned it half in a disabled spot, keys still in the ignition..

At the reception desk, his hands trembled so violently he could barely hold your ID card. “Where is she?” he demanded, voice cracking. “Please, I need to see her now.”

When they finally led him to your room, Rafayel froze in the doorway. Tubes and wires connected you to machines that beeped rhythmically, monitoring the life still flickering within you. Your skin was ashen, eyes closed, chest barely rising with each shallow breath.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, approaching slowly as if afraid you might shatter. He sank into the chair beside your bed, taking your limp hand between his. “Cutie, please. Can you hear me?”

A nurse offered him a blanket as night fell, but Rafayel shook his head. Hours passed. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. There would be no painting, no eating, no sleeping—nothing until you were stable.

When his phone rang—Thomas, undoubtedly—he silenced it without looking.

As dawn broke, a doctor found him still awake, your hand pressed to his lips, whispering promises only you could hear.

“She’s stabilizing,” the doctor said gently. “But recovery will take time.”

Rafayel simply nodded, eyes never leaving your face. “Time is all I have to give.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The notification from Mephisto came during a crucial meeting with the N109 Zone’s security council. The mechanical crow landed urgently on his shoulder, displaying the screen that showed what had just happened. Usually, Mephisto watched over your missions, keeping Sylus informed, but this time—something had gone terribly wrong.

He stopped speaking so abruptly that everyone at the table turned to stare. The blood drained from his face as the footage streamed directly to his personal display—you, surrounded and overwhelmed, fighting until you couldn’t anymore.

“Boss?” one of them ventured. “Should we continue with—”

“Meeting adjourned,” Sylus declared, already on his feet. “Indefinitely.”

No further explanation. No delegation of responsibilities. The council exchanged bewildered glances as the leader strode from the room, his coat billowing behind him, a storm of fury and fear brewing beneath his composed exterior.

Minutes later, the distinctive roar of his motorcycle echoed through the compound as he tore toward Linkon City, weaving through traffic at speeds that turned the world around him into a blur. The only clear thought in his mind was reaching you.

When he arrived at the emergency ward you were in, no one dared question why this person with an imposing, dangerous aura was storming through their halls.

The doctor who approached him looked nervous when Sylus started to ask questions, not bothering to mention who he was. “Mister, she’s lost a significant amount of blood. We’ve managed to stabilize her, but—”

“Show me,” Sylus commanded.

Your room was silent save for the mechanical beeping of monitors. Sylus stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of you lying motionless, bandages covering much of your visible skin, an oxygen mask obscuring half your face.

Without a word, he pulled a chair to your bedside and sat, taking your hand in his.

“I need the names,” he said to the empty room, calling either Luke or Kieran. “Everyone involved. Every detail. Now.” Whether it was Wanderers or some shady people who did this, he would eliminate them all, leaving no traces behind.

As night fell, he remained at your side, one hand holding yours while the other tapped commands into his device, as he kept tapping his feet from either impatience or anxiousness. He wouldn’t let himself breathe peacefully until he knew you were okay.

Only when you stirred slightly, a small sound of pain escaping your lips, did his facade crack. He leaned forward, brushing hair from your forehead with such gentleness.

“Rest,” he murmured. “I’ll handle everything else.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Caleb’s comm device blared the emergency alert in his office—a sound it was programmed to make for only one person’s vitals. The color drained from his face as he stared at the readout, the severity of your condition displayed in harsh red numbers.

Nothing else mattered. Not Skyhaven, not his duties, not anything except reaching you.

The hangar technicians scrambled as he approached, his expression sending them into immediate action. “Prepare my craft for immediate departure,” he ordered, already climbing into the cockpit.

“Sir, the preflight checks—”

“Now!” The word echoed through the hangar, silencing all objections.

The journey that should have taken hours was compressed into a white-knuckled descent that violated at least six safety protocols. As the craft touched down on the hospital’s landing pad, security personnel rushed forward, only to stop short when they recognized the Colonel’s insignia.

“Where is she?” he demanded of the first orderly he encountered inside, frantically searching for you.

His uniform opened doors that would have remained closed to others. When he reached the ICU, the attending physician intercepted him, datapad in hand.

“Colonel, she’s sustained significant trauma. We’ve induced a coma to manage the—”

“Take me to her.” It wasn’t a request.

The sight of you connected to life support sent a visible tremor through his body. This was worse than any nightmare he’d ever imagined.

“I should have been there,” he whispered, sinking into the chair beside you. His fingers brushed against yours, then curled around your hand. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

His mind was already calculating retribution. Whoever had done this—be it Wanderers or other enemies—they will pay for this.

Days passed. Nurses came and went. Messages from Skyhaven accumulated, unanswered. Caleb remained unmoved, his thumb tracing circles on your palm as if trying to coax you back to consciousness through touch alone. 

“Colonel, you should rest,” she suggested gently.

“I’m fine,” he responded, voice hoarse from disuse.

When you finally began to stir days later, Caleb was there, his face the first thing you saw as consciousness returned. Relief washed over his features as he pressed his forehead to your hand, shoulders shaking with silent relief.

“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your knuckles. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Behind his smile, the knowledge that those responsible had already answered for their actions. But that was a conversation for another day. For now, you were awake, and nothing else mattered.

Another draft out. Also based on this request.

[rafesangelita]

♡ dilf!rafe loves to make his pretty bunny squirm..

warnings: use of the name ‘daddy’ (scroll if that’s not your thing), vibrator + overstimulation, fingering, pussy slapping, oral (f. receiving), crying, dumbification (?), multiple orgasms, reader is restrained, praise, soft aftercare, fluff

“no more, no more, no more— r-rafe!” you squealed, your eyes screwing shut as the man between your legs turned up the setting of the pink vibrator currently pressed against your poor, overstimulated clit. “shhh, you could keep going..” he reassured you, using his free hand to stroke your soft skin. the searing pleasure alone made you cry out, the overwhelming feeling building up in the pit of your tummy. moving your hips away from the buzzing device was deemed useless as your restraints kept you in place, your wrists and ankles sore from all of the tension.

rafe watched the way your body trembled beneath him, your eyes basically sparkling up at him as tear drops rollled down your cheeks. “tell daddy what’s going on in that empty fuckin’ head of yours.” he cupped your face, squeezing your cheeks together as you whimpered. he knew you didn’t have a single thought, your ability to think or speak a coherent sentence had since been long gone. “i asked you a question.” his voice reverberated in your ears, your eyebrows pinching together as you struggled to answer him. “w-want your fingers, please!” you sobbed, feeling empty despite having came four times already.

switching off the bunny vibrator, rafe shushed you as you gasped in relief, your chest rising and falling as you fought to catch a full breath. “you’re so pretty like this,” he cupped your tits, rolling the sensitive buds between his fingers, “i love watching you turn into a desperate, brainless slut.” trailing a hand down between your legs, rafe ran a single digit up your folds, his jaw clenching as he felt just how soaked you were. watching your face carefully, rafe waited until he saw your eyelashes flutter closed before delivering a harsh smack to your cunt, a choked sob sounding out from you at the painful yet pleasurable sensation.

you didn’t have time to register what he had done before you felt his head dip between your thighs, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses along your skin. feeling his gentle ministrations allowed you to relax for the first time in an hour, your neck craning as you looked down and met rafe’s dark gaze. watching as he brought his hand up, you melted when you felt the delicious stretch of his digits, your eyes screwing shut once he curled them and hit that soft spot inside of you. clenching around the welcomed intrusion that was his fingers, rafe pressed a kiss to your folds before his tongue delved in between.

he groaned at the taste of you. “you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” rafe contined circling your clit, his cock straining painfully against the material of his pants, “just give me one more, babygirl.” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his mouth so you couldn’t even attempt to move away from him. “oh, god..” you whimpered, wishing you could reach down and hold onto rafe’s hand while he made you lose yourself once again. you felt pure unadulterated pleasure lick your insides, the jolting euphoric feeling shooting through your body as your heart started beating in your ears.

for rafe nothing was more gratifying than seeing the way you writhed underneath him, your glossy lips pulled tightly between your teeth as you moaned. holding you with a death grip, it wasn’t until he heard you mutter a ‘gentle, please..’ before he let go and rubbed soothing circles into your side. you looked absolutely spent. with your eyes shutting in and out of consciousness and your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, rafe decided to give you one more kiss before undoing your restraints, your limbs falling like dead weight.

taking a seat against the headboard, rafe pulled you between his legs where he started leaving gentle kisses to your wrists, the raw skin already feeling better with his lips there. “hurts..” you whispered, burying your face in his chest as he hummed. “i know,” rafe spoke quietly, “you took it so good, ‘pretty, you know what that calls for?” he pulled your fluffy robe from where it sat on a nearby chair before covering you with it. “your credit card?” rafe laughed, thumbing your chin before pecking your lips.

[beanlot]

ellie, who uses a vibrator on you for the first time, and just can’t get e-fucking-nough.

wc: 2.2k (smut + light fluff)

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

“the fuck is that?” you hum from the crook of her neck after having examined the small toy, and it rests in her palm, her voice a little shaky from nerves. “okay.. so.. uh.. this little guy, helps stimulate certain areas..”

“this little guy?” you repeat her words with a playful smirk, pupils dilated with adoration when you look at her, resplendent enough that she can see her flustered expression reflecting back at her when she maintained that eye contact.

“yeah, this little guy..” she has a teasing smile to her, which only amplifies the pooling anticipation in your stomach.

“turn it on. turn it on.” you eagerly whisper against her neck, your lips still numb from your previous make-out, tingling from her savoured taste. after a few seconds of tampering with the remote, you hear a silent whirring. “alright.. says here that this is the lightest level. ‘n then..” she mumbles, and the whirring intensifies into a jarring buzz.

“i see..” you mumble as you watch the toy convulsing in her palm, and you touch it, your fingertips shivering intensely upon the metallic. “damn.”

but whilst your eyes are inspecting it, her eyes are plastered onto you, eyes brimming with desire. lust. hunger. you don’t notice it, you just feel her seductive breath on your cheek; her inviting whisper following shortly after.

“let me.. please?”

you slowly turn your head to look at her, noting her low lids and desperately parted lips that beg for your acceptance. you don’t answer, admiring her features as it fuels the fluttering in your chest and the cudgelling of your heartbeat against your ribs.

you want it. you want her so bad.

“it’ll feel good, baby.. i’ll try..” her whisper is a plead, delicate kisses peppering your jawline so seductively as she guides the device to your chest. your breath is unregulated, shaky with her intuitive touches.

you sigh, when she grazes it over your clothed nipple, the vibration a pleasure on your breast. “it tickles.” you breathily laugh, your stomach shuddering along with the device.

“tickles?” she laughs against your lips, smooching at the corner of them amorously. her elbow propping herself up, and you watch as she grazes it repeatedly over your nipple; watching as the fabric starts raising slightly when it hardens.

the vibrations start teasingly streamlining down to your underwear, wetness so evident when your clothed slit engulfs the metal.

“gonna put it on your clit, my love..” she whispers, as if she’s asking for your permission, your guidance.

her breath ghosts your cheek as her gaze focuses on your thighs - the heaven between them. the way your dripping cunt swallows it, blissful sensations on your swollen and clothed clit when she applies pressure.

“oh..” you whisper shakily, your hips instinctively and subtly rutting into it. because you want more.

“oh?” she repeats, eyebrows arching momentarily. she experiments, fingertips guiding the device - circling, tapping and grazing your clit.

it’s when she pulls the dampened fabric to the side, holding the vibrator down onto your hood that you seem rather eager. “wait. keep it-keep it there.” you sigh, thighs twitching. you feel your core tightening, clit pulsing with it's own lustrous heartbeat, and your hips subconsciously rolling into it. “keep it-there..”

“feels good, baby?” her lips subtly turn upwards into something you could only describe as a snarky smirk, tongue resting between her teeth.

you’re focused, ankles quivering and your abdomen tensing repeatedly from the ecstasy. you hear her mumble again through the concentration, her irises narrowed at your body’s reaction. “shaking so much, holy shit.”

your breathing is a little jagged, and you’re clutching at her wrist, making sure she doesn’t move or mettle up that teasing courage of hers to deny you what you so desperately want need. “just don’t move it..” you gasp, your back arching into the vibrations.

you scan her features through the haze; pretty verdant eyes tainted with desire, the fruitful shape of her lips, and that fucking scar slicing her eyebrow. she's wearing that stupid black shirt you like so much, and has that stupid hairstyle you love. “you’re so hot..” you whisper faintly, impulse that reflects your innate need to finish spilling out. “i’m gonna-fuck. i’m gonna ride your fucking face after this..”

“yeah?” she arches her eyebrows, voice a pitch higher, as if she’s challenging you. mocking you, even.

“uh huh.. gonna-i’m gonna-“ you try to think of what to say, but nothing other than your whimpering blither seeping from your helpless lips. and so she interrupts you,

“gonna what, baby?” she whispers, and you know for sure now - she's definitely mocking you. you look down to her hand between your thighs; watching the tendons that manifest her slender wrist start to twitch, those admirable veins framing her knuckles.

your impending orgasm is obvious by how tremulous your body reacts, her fingers amping up the vibrations as she presses it deeper onto your clitoral hood.

"oh, that's it. just let go, feel it.." she whispers, her free hand slithering down to your tremoring hip, measuring up the clenching and troubled muscles within them. her mouth is watering, she doesn't realise it until she swallows back her saliva.

she wants nothing more than to suck at your clit, coat you with her, slurp up your taste so disgustingly that you wouldn't be able to look at her the same tomorrow.

her free hand glides towards your slit, your thick juices coating her slim fingers so seductively. you hear her hum, a low and guttural moan, as you feel one of them slew inside your hole. it contracts so welcomingly around her finger, and it's so easy for her to slide another in.

"m sorry, baby.. i should've asked.." she whispers when she hears your troubled whine, but its not troubled in the sense you don't want it, it's troubled in the sense that you've never understood how fucking good it feels to be stuffed with her fingers.

so you shake your head with difficulty, trying to notion to her that it's fine, she can do as she pleases.

so she teasingly twines them upwards, feeling the harsh vibrations of the toy on your clit internally against your walls. "you feel that?" she asks softly, her voice silk.

"more.. just-just a little more.." you exhale unstably, so desperate to feel her against your most sensitive nerves, so guiding and patient with her. she takes your words, absorbs them with gratitude.

"more, my love.. i got you.." she's also unsteady with her breath, and just like your desperation, she's desperate to impress.

you feel her curl further against your spongy and quivering walls, eyes rolling back as she gradually fucks you with her fingers. "like that, pretty girl?"

"uh huh.. uh-like that.. like-oh fuck, ellie, baby-"

she can tell you're gonna come by how choked up your breaths are, and how rigid your body feels under her hands. "nice and easy, nice and easy.." she whispers, and you suddenly feel her wet tongue on your stomach, streamlining up to your abdomen and leaving a trail.

you can hear your own thighs walloping against her hand, your cunt squelching with every appreciative pump of her fingers. and ellie does what ellie does best, she talks you through it.

"thas' it, feel what i'm doing to you. just relax.."

"you whining for me?”

and it's suddenly too much, your eyes rolling back and head digging further into the fleecy pillow. "please please please please-" you're begging, pleading like a whore for it. you feel her tongue lick selfishly at your sternum, your shirt riding up and the air whipping against your piping hot skin.

when you look down to watch her tongue start relentlessly flicking at your nipple, her eyes dreamily shut, the sneezelike sensation in your core possesses everything in your body.

you're coming so aggressively, back arching into her as she keeps the vibrator on your messy folds - only this time, grazing it directly over your overstimulated clit, her fingers still urging you to your overbrimming limit.

you're whining like a mess, how she likes it.

she’s trying to hold you down, or at least stabilise you when you come, her fingers seeping out of your cunt and clutching at your shaking hips.

"i know it feels good, i know.." she murmurs against your skin, goosebumps littering your chest and arms. her fingers are glossed with your cum, thumb tracing patterns into your waist.

you’re trembling so much that she keeps losing grip.

she decreases the vibrations drastically to aid your oversensitivity, but keeps the device buried against your clit; your underwear slowly going back over your drenched slit as she lets go.

you’re confused at first, shuffling around uncomfortably when you feel your underwear soak up your cum, your clit still getting ambushed from the low vibrations.

but she’s not one to disappoint, stripping off her sweatpants and her bare thighs smoothing against yours as she situates her bare and drooling cunt against you.

your thigh is hoisted against her clothed abdomen, and you can feel the dips of her lanky muscle contract slightly. she’s worked herself up.

“ride my face in a minute, baby— i just.. i need this..” she sighs urgently, feeling the wetness of your underwear; she’s thirsty for it, dehydrated for it.

her clit is purple and erect, subtly grinding against your underwear, the vibrations humming through the fabric and stimulating her so divinely. the tone in her arms and the impulsive rolling of her hips, her stomach rubbing against your bare and piping hot thigh.

fuck, you like her using you like this. so selfish, self-serving.

you’re starting to uncontrollably tremor again, her movements forcing the vibrator against your overwhelmed clit. “i’ll be quick, pretty—i’ll be quick-“ she gasps, delectable lips parted.

her rutting hips are becoming sloppier, the bed frame starting to rock against the wall and creak.

“ellie—ellie, please- please hurry, it’s too much..” you whine, because the overstimulation is too shattering for you to orgasm again. but you’re trying to cherish the high of watching her face scrunch from abundant pleasure and yearning, the prize of hearing her guttural whimpers.

and it’s all so worth it, the torture of sensory overload, when her thighs start quivering against yours. her fingers clenching your thigh so frantically, her frenzied state erupting as she orgasms.

“mmph-holy shit-‘mm baby—“ she gasps, lips parted erotically against your knee, the adrenaline forcing her fingers to twitch around your thighs.

she’s still rutting against you, bathing through the last remaining ripples of her orgasm, before she takes note of your raw state. her fingers are delicate, sliding your swamped underwear down your legs and turning the vibrator off. it’s submerged in your cum, sweat and enjoyment.

“are you okay? was that too much?” she asks softly, hands gently squeezing your kneecaps in reassurance. she’s not sure why, but now that her impulsive drive to finish on your vibrating pussy is satisfied and fulfilled, she has some worried aftertaste on her tongue.

worried that she pushed your boundaries, or didn’t consider your feelings.

“no, you idiot. that was-“ you sigh, covering your dazed eyes with your arm. “that was so fucking hot.”

you hear her relieved laugh, and it’s silent for a few seconds. nothing but the sound of the light drizzles of rain outside, the balance of your relaxed and seduced breaths.

“still wanna ride my face, ma’am?” you hear her ask, not ignoring the tinge of hope in her tone. and so you laugh, looking up at her. she has a hue of mauve under her eyes, bags bags that demonstrate her careless sleep schedule.

but she’s stunning. and she makes those eyebags annoyingly sexy.

“i always wanna ride your face..” you mumble, unable to resist the spirited smile that tugs your lips upwards when you see the rosiness in her face bloom. she’s excited, she’s a loser for it.

“but.. maybe.. in the shower.. i’m like—“ you mumble, sluggishly sitting up, discomfort when you look down and see thick strings of your arousal between your thighs. “i’m hot, and sweaty, and gross.”

you look at her, and you’re strangely flustered by how she maintains eye contact. it’s out of character, even for ellie, but she’s jumped through the hurdles of being awkward with you.

all of the timidity and shyness has been bleached; she looks at you with such intimate love. “okay.. fine by me, ma’am..” she nods, lazily blinking through her infatuation.

and for the first time, it’s you that can’t uphold the eye contact. your eyes darting anywhere but hers - her collarbone, freckled cheeks fanned by her lashes, those admirable hands that are still resting on your knees.

they trace tender and doting patterns into your shins, nails that tickle and gently scratch your skin.

and when you look back up, she’s still gazing, nailing that romantic and worshipping gaze straight through you.

fuck, stop looking at me like that, williams.

“i love you..” you whisper, hands resting on her shoulders, before gliding up to cup her cheeks. her skin is also piping hot. “you’re so good to me.”

she looks calm on the outside, but on the inside, it’s absolute fucking havoc. her heartbeat hammering against her chest, eyes softening, and her hands reluctantly hovering above yours.

her palms rest on your wrists, and she slowly tilts her head to kiss your fingers, unblinking eyes that are still staring at you. her whisper is faint, anticipatory, and vanilla.

“i love you more, pretty..”

[cosmoszyn]

the other half (of an airpod) | caleb.

✩ synopsis: you distractedly leave the other half of your airpod on the kitchen counter while you watch porn in your room, prompting your roommate's curiosity.

✩ pairing: roommate!caleb x afab!reader / wc: 7.9k

✩ cw: porn watching, pet names (pip, baby, honey), masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, caleb’s pull out game is WEAK, and he kinda invades ur privacy idk, emotional sex, porn with plot, caleb doesnt shut the fuck up during sex, eventual romance

✩ crossposted in my ao3

✩ a/n: a day late to caleb's bday lol :p

It was a normal evening.

It was supposed to be a normal evening.

You were just doing the same things you routinely do whenever your work busted your ass–a regimen that consists of your vibrator on one hand, and your phone on the other. And of course, one airpod in and the other one out, just in case your roommate, Caleb, calls you from the living room. 

Unfortunately, you needed to fall back into that routine tonight. Again. For the fifth time this week. And so, immediately after coming home, with both airpods in your ears, you make your bed with one hand gripping on your phone in your dimly lit room, scrolling through dozens of videos at a porn website–trying and failing to find one that fits whatever sexual fantasy you are up tonight.

Roleplay? Not really.

BDSM? Eh, maybe for another day.

Voyeurism? Feels a little boring tonight.

Distractedly and way too grossly absorbed in your mission, you make your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water while you’re already on the seventh page of the website.

“Preparin’ for bed this early?” Your roommate calls out to you in the living room, albeit muffled by the earbuds. You pull one airpod from your ear and place them unsuspectingly on the counter as you pour yourself a glass.

 “Hmm? What was that?” You ask while fixated on the device.

Caleb repeats the question, glancing at you from the sofa, “You’re sleepin’ early. Tired?”

“Oh, yeah. Sleepy as hell,” you murmur, returning to your room with one hand on your phone that’s on the ninth page of the website, a glass full of water, and one airpod forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Alright, g’night,” Caleb says with a wave of his hand, watching you disappear from his peripheral vision.

And it was supposed to be a normal evening.

Because as you were burying yourself atop the blankets, tapping on the perfect ‘amateur sex and creampied by new boyfriend!’ video you found at the start of the tenth page to indulge yourself with, Caleb waltzes his way through the kitchen and sees the other half of your airpod sitting invitingly on the countertop. 

You pull a small vibrator from underneath your pillow, clicking it open to the lowest setting. The couple in the video begins shakily, both their upper faces out of the frame, lenses focusing on their unhurried kissing. With a gulp, you lightly press the toy against your clothed crotch, hovering over your clit.

Curiously, Caleb picks up the airpod on the counter.

The video pauses, but you ignore the warning sign, tapping the other half of your airpod to play it again. The man in the video glides his fingers over the skin of his partner, hands grazing over her perky nipples, eliciting a whine from her, and down, down, and down to her covered and sopping cunt. He drags his fingertips lazily over the cute baby blue panties, collecting the dampness from her slit. Your breath hitches, pulling your underwear to the side as you press the vibrator closer to your clit with one hand and the other grabbing the hem of your shirt, biting onto it.

Caleb presses the airpod against his ear.

Another pause, but you tap the other half again exasperatedly.

Caleb could barely make out the noises. He thought it was just the usual white noise for sleeping that you would play in the background. After all, the sound of air conditioning from the video in the first seconds could be classified as that. But as soon as the noises from the AC were overshadowed by the slow and heavy breathing then to small kisses to the most obscene and downright filthy moans, he freezes.

The woman is begging through high-pitched whines. Pleading that her partner pushes his fucking fingers in her, instead of teasing her like she wasn’t his girlfriend. The man lowly chuckles in her ear, slipping his hands into her panties, lips hovering across her cheek.

“Hm? Girlfriend? Since when?”

“N-Not fair! I already–ah! Asked you ‘ta be m-mine!”

“Really? My sweetheart asked?”

“Mmm! Mmhmm!”

“But why should I touch you here? You filthy girl. Letting yourself be touched by your friend. You’d let anyone touch you, huh? That’s how needy you are, hm? D’you need my fingers? Where do you need it? Use your big girl words, baby.”

Caleb’s cheeks flush and heat rushes everywhere in his body.

It was supposed to be a normal evening.

Until it wasn’t.

Without another second to waste, he pads through the small space of your apartment.

You pull your panties down to your thighs, spreading your legs atop your mattress, pressing the vibrator harder to your clit. With a shaky exhale, you let go of your phone on your breasts, grabbing another longer vibrator underneath your pillow. You press the longer one into your entrance, tapping on the power thrice–to its maximum setting, and slowly push into your wet cunt. You bite back a moan, saliva collecting on the hem of your shirt. The woman in the video moans louder as her partner pushes another finger in her vagina, the other hand deliberately circling around her clit.

“Oh my good girl likes when I rub it here and fuck my fingers into her huh?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the longer vibrator hits the hilt.

A knock to the door.

“Hey uh pip?”

Fuck.

Your eyes fly open as you spit out your shirt, hands frozen in your crotch. “Y-Yeah, Caleb? What’s up?” You say shakily, in between breaths.

“You left your other airpod out in the kitchen, you need it?” 

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

“No! Uh– fuck– Just leave it by the shelf near the door!” You yell out, helplessly ignoring the relentless vibrating of the toy inside you and unable to pull it away from your clit.

Shit, did you lock the door?

“Are you sure? It might be important–”

“I’m fucking sure, Caleb! Don’t listen to my shit!” You choke, fingers trembling over your toys settled in your pussy while the video continues to play in the background.

“Oh baby she’s clenching for me, you close? Hmm?”

“Just put it on the shelf!” You repeat, finding the strength to pull the toys out–to no avail.

“I’ll just come in, okay? I’ll give you your airpod–”

“Don’t you fucking dare–!”

Caleb swings the door open.

“Hi,” you gulp.

“P-Please don’t stop, please! Put it back in!”

He sees you breathing heavily with one airpod in your ear, moonlight filtering through your sheer curtains, and beads of sweat trickling down your temple. 

“Hey,” Caleb replies, darting his eyes on your body.

Fully engulfed under the sheets.

“Just leave my airpod by the dresser,” you exhale, eyes glazing over the shadows of his taut muscles behind his shirt.

“Okay,” he breathes out, his gaze never leaving your figure and feet planted to the floor as if he didn’t hear what you asked him to do. “You seem to be panting heavily. You okay?” He asks, words rolling off his tongue slowly. You swallow thickly, “Of course, yeah. J-Just a little hot. I think my AC’s acting up,” you grit.

“Really?” Caleb raises his hand to the direction of the wind, “Seems fine to me.”

“She’s begging so prettily for me, aren’t ‘cha? You want me to put it back in?”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, eyes unreadable. There was no movement underneath the sheets, your lips are slightly parted, and a half lidded look on your irises. 

“Caleb,” you call out.

He takes a step forward, “Yes?”

He can feel his bulge hardening as he waits expectantly for your words.

“Ngh- ugh- thank you! Thank you! Fuck that feels good!” 

“The other half of the airpod. Leave it by the dresser,” you say casually like you don’t have a woman moaning in your ear and a vibrator shoved up your clenching pussy.

Caleb huffs, eyes lingering at the earbud “Right.”

“Don’t put it in,” you warn, noticing the way he watches the earbud like a hawk. “Why not?” Caleb asks. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Just don’t or else I’ll get mad.”

“Feels good, baby? Right here feels good?”

Caleb fiddles with the airpods between his fingers, signalling the on and off of the video. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting patiently for your roommate to leave you alone.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I–”

“Fine,” he relents, placing the lone device on your dresser. You expect him to leave. 

“Where’s your phone?” He asks, shifting his weight to his other foot.

“Caleb.”

He throws his arms in the air, “Just askin’ geez.”

Perspiration continues to trickle down the sides of your face with an evident blush on your cheeks.

“Why don’t we take your sheets off? You’re sweatin’ like crazy,” he murmurs, stalking over your trembling figure.

“No, Caleb! Stop right there!” You beg.

“Oh my good girl came a lot, didn’t she? Hm? She came a lot, didn’t she?”

Oh fuck.

“What? I’ll just help you out, ‘s all,” he shrugs, fixated on your blushing skin, lips slightly parted, and glazed eyes staring at his biceps.

You must think he’s dumb enough not to hear the low vibrations of your toy from underneath the piles of sheets.

“Y-You–fuck–you can help me by leaving and locking the door on your way out,” you huff. He blinks at you as he stands beside your bed, his shadow looming over you. “No need to be hostile,” he says, reaching to the end of the blanket. “I’m sure you’re just having trouble sleeping, right? I’ll just lay beside you like we always do when we were kids,” he continued, gently pulling the sheet away from your iron grip.

“Please fuck me next, god please.”

You gulp. “Caleb, stop,” you beg, eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

He tilts his head in curiosity, “Why? I’ll just lay beside you, I promise.”

“Aren’t ‘cha greedy, your pussy’s just swallowin’ me up and clenchin’ hard.”

Caleb tugs the duvet from you as you protest, “It’s embarrassing, I’m a grown woman already–!”

He drags the sheets away from you, exposing your figure. 

There you are in your full glory–a smaller vibrator and phone tossed to your side as it continues to show two people fucking like bunnies and panties down to your thighs. Your legs are quivering with every rhythmic vibration from the shoved toy in your pussy, clit swollen, and lips drenched.

“Caleb!” You hiss, both from the cold air and embarrassment, scrambling to pull out the toys away from your crotch. “You assho–!”

“Oh baby. Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

You freeze in your tracks, slowly darting your gaze to your childhood friend standing across your bed, his pupils blown out and lips slightly parted. You swear you could almost see him stick out his tongue and pant like a dog in heat. At this point, you can barely feel any pleasure from the toy in your cunt, just pure torture and discomfort.

“Ugh! F-Fuck! Hah… You feel so fuckin’ good!”

“C-Caleb?” You whisper, hands itching to grab the blanket and pull out your vibrator from your legs. Your voice cuts Caleb out from his daze. 

“Oh baby,” he repeats in a pout, kneeling to your mattress, prompting you to pull yourself away from him, “What are you doing? What are you doin’ with this– this… atrocious thing?” He asks, peering into your crotch. “And what are you doin’ watching this disgusting thing?” He continues, stealing a glimpse of your phone before shutting it close, zipping the sultry moans in your ear.

“You could’ve just asked me to help you, baby. Right? You should know that,” he rambles, fingers hovering closer.

“Don’t–!”

“Shh, shhh it’s okay. It’s okay. Caleb’s got you,” he yaps, as if his brain is shut and dead, eyes on laser focus and preying on your poor clenching pussy. 

“Caleb!” You call out, shaking him out from a trance. Caleb shakes his head, turning to you, “Yes?” He asks, as if he isn’t settling between your legs. “Leave, please,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes. He frowns and he does his stupid head tilt thing that he always seems to do to get what he wants from you. 

“Why?” He demands.

“I-It’s weird! And god I just want some time alone and you’re here looking at my pathetic state–it’s not even hot and sexy!” You complain, pulling the blanket to your lap. He raises a brow at you but you dart your gaze elsewhere, fixating on the crinkles of your sheets underneath your palms. 

“Hey,” he begins.

You don’t budge.

“Hey.”

Caleb takes your chin between his fingers and gently pulls it forward, urging you to look at him. “Who said you look pathetic and ‘not hot and sexy’? Hm?” He murmurs, inching closer to you. “I’m more appalled you didn’t come to me for help.”

“We’re friends, Caleb. Friends don’t ask you to help you get an orgasm!” You retort with furrowed brows and a scowl.

“I do.”

“What–?”

You could only stare at him owlishly and your mouth agape. 

“You know I’d do anythin’ you ask me to, baby,” he coos, “This one isn’t any different.”

“Oh god, no. This would make things weirder between us and I don’t want that. Not in a million years, Caleb. No way…” The words slowly die in your throat as he only peers into your personal space earnestly, his breath fanning your cheeks. 

“Things have never been normal for us, ever. And I’ve had enough with holdin’ back. So you can either let me help you or we remain tiptoeing around each other forever,” he whispers, thumb caressing your cheek.

You swallow thickly, weighing your options. You glance from Caleb’s eyes to his lips, heart thumping against your chest wildly. The incessant vibrating between your crotch turned into agony minutes ago and there seems to be no other way around the situation. With a soft sigh and a bite inside your cheek, you slowly peel the blanket away from you, exposing your shaking legs.

Caleb merely spares a glance on your vulnerable crotch, removing the lone airpod in your ear. “You trust me to take care of you?” He asks in a low voice. You shy away from his intense stare, nodding. 

“I need your big girl words, baby,” he muttered, grabbing your chin again, turning you to him, “Do you trust me to take care of you?”

You slowly blink at him, drowning in the cosmos of his eyes and studying every freckle, mole, and blemish on his skin. With bated breath, you say, “Yes, Caleb. Please… Please take care of me.”

“Then we won’t need this,” he declares, pulling himself away from you and wasting no time to pull out the vibrator from your vagina. “Careful!” You hiss from the soreness, clawing into your sheets. 

Your roommate chuckles, “I’m sorry, baby. We had to get it out of the way.”

But before you could glare at him, his palms reached for your cheeks, cradling your face with adoration that you were sure you could melt from. “Let me take care of you, okay?” He mumbled, leaning his forehead on yours, pupils dilated and boring into yours. You were floored at the sudden drop of atmosphere within the room, but you were not one to complain. Not when you have the man you’ve thought of when watching all those porn for the past months is within your reach.

“And for me to take care of you, you’ll let me do anything, right?” He asks. You could barely muster a reply with the way you forgot to breathe in the close proximity of your supposed roommate.

“Caleb…”

He mentions your name back, the tip of his nose grazing against yours, “Hmm?” He steals a glimpse of your lips before looking back at your irises.

“Can you just kiss me?” You exhale. 

Caleb smiles, one that reaches his eyes, turning them into small squints. Without hesitation, his lips touch yours, barely brushing each other. Until he grabs the back of your head and locks his mouth into yours, eliciting a moan from you. He feels like he might actually ascend into heaven. He dreamt of this moment for as long as he can remember, always daydreaming and losing himself on the thought of how your whimpers would sound like. How your lips felt like. And now that Caleb is here and you’re here with him, he feels like he might actually be in the clouds.

His cheeks are burning as he continues to devour your lips, his heart beating against his ribcage. Your trembling fingers tangle into his hair, pushing him impossibly closer to you. He feels the wet patch from your panties on your thighs, making him groan against your mouth, lapping up the mixed spit. 

His hands roam across your chest, cupping your breasts over your shirt. Sighs and moans passed between your meeting lips, fingernails digging into the skin of his nape. With a gentle squeeze, he moves forward between your legs, making you lean back into the headboard. He massages your boobs, thumbs grazing over your perky nipples underneath the thin fabric of your shirt. “Oh baby they’re stiff,” he murmurs against your mouth. Caleb reaches from underneath, his hot fingertips trailing your skin until he finds your nipples. He pinches the buds, making you yelp in surprise. He grins, luring your tongue into his mouth and quickly clamping his lips around it, sucking on it. 

You can feel yourself getting warmer and weaker by the second, your grip loosening and slacking onto your sides as Caleb continues to guzzle your saliva down his throat. With feeble hands, you push away your roommate from completely swallowing you.

“Oh– ugh, enough, please,” you groan, tilting your head back as you shakily prop yourself up. Caleb merely smirks at your request, hands gripping into your hips, “Enough?” He mocks, “We just started.”

You look up at him with a frail scowl and he snickers, pulling away. “Don’t look at me like that, I’ll fulfill my promise, I swear,” he says, tugging his shirt and sweatpants off.

It takes everything in your system to not blatantly ogle at the shadows of his muscles–and you still fail. Admiring every dip and curve of his body, you bite the inside of your cheek, noticing the dog tag around his neck settling just above his massive pecs. He chuckles at your insistent gawking, “Come on, your turn.” 

You couldn’t even process what he just said, too caught up in drooling over his body that was carved by the gods that you didn’t even notice that he stripped you down bare. Your clothes are strewn across the room but you didn’t care, not when Caleb smashes his mouth against yours again. 

“Fuck I can’t look at you,” he murmurs and you feel your heart sink to your stomach.

What does he mean by that? Did he find you horrifying to look at? What he said was true though, after taking off every fabric from your skin, he went ahead and kissed you again without sparing you a glance.

“I might just fucking cum alone from seeing your body.”

Oh.

Oh.

“You stupid loser,” you grumble, biting his bottom lip. “What did I do?” Caleb suddenly asks, scrambling away to look at you with those large doe eyes that you hate (because you fall for it everytime).

“I thought you fucking hated me for a second back there,” you huff, gaze trailing down to the large tent in his boxers, “Telling me how you can’t look at me.”

Caleb shoots you an apologetic grin, his clammy hands reaching for your thighs and rubbing the skin up and down. “Silly girl,” he mumbles, hovering his lips against yours again, “I can’t look at you because you’ll see how pathetic I am when I cum in my fucking pants.”

You giggle and a sigh escapes your lips when Caleb’s meets yours again, feeling his smile with every glide of his tongue. Caleb never knew kissing you would feel this good, and he swears he can get off from just doing this alone with you for the entire night. But he has a mission to fulfill and he refuses to leave you hanging.

With profound determination, he palms your crotch gently, collecting the wetness in his hand. “Oh I just know you’ll feel good. My god,” he says.

“We’re not even halfway through this and you’re already clicking your heels together in excitement,” you joke and his chest bubbles up in laughter. 

“Can you blame me, baby? I’ve dreamt of this moment since forever,” he replies, inserting his tongue back into your mouth again. His index finger gently caresses over your slit, making you catch your breathing in your throat. You can only concentrate on one thing, and with so much going on–his finger slowly rubbing over your entrance, his tongue dancing with yours, and his other hand reaching over and massaging your breasts, you were far too gone. To the point where you actively have to think about breathing before your lungs could collapse.

All your efforts to will yourself to suspire was thrown out the window when Caleb’s middle finger grazed over your clit. You choke into his mouth, pulling away from him. 

“She’s sensitive, isn’t she?” Caleb coos as you throw your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musky perfume. He rubs the nub with his fingertips in circular motions, making your legs tremble heavily. Caleb plants open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, tongue slowly gliding the curvature of your skin. His lips latch onto every inch of your skin, noticing the way your breathing hitches with every suck on your body.

And down, down, down, he effortlessly runs his tongue on every crevice of your figure until he comes face-to-face with your boobs. He could cry at the sight alone.

“Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable,” he mumbles, staring at the mounds in your chest, fingers still rubbing your clit in circular motion like it’s his second nature. “You are unbelievably beautiful,” he grits, burying his face right between your breasts. You gasp, feeling him slowly lick long stripes between your nipples like he’s carving a path to them. 

As soon as his lips catch your left nipple, he groans and you choke a breath. 

“Hah– Caleb–”

“Hmm? You like it?” He mumbles in between your breasts.

You can’t even reply even if you wanted to, your hand flying to his neck and gripping onto it like your life depended on him. He continues to abuse your swollen clit, collecting your wetness from your entrance. “You’re shaking so much. That’s what you get for using a toy instead of calling for me,” he reprimands.

“Don’t scold me now, Caleb–ah!”

He pinches your nub and bites your nipple gently, earning a yelp from you and nails dig into his skin harder. “‘M sorry, baby. I just wanted to remind you, ‘s all,” he mumbles, focusing on your labored breaths. He spits out the swollen nipple, a trail of his saliva connecting to his chin as he leans forward to your other breast.

“Won’t scold you anymore, promise,” he continues, pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb and sucking on your right boob.

“O-oh shit! You– I can’t–!” You press your legs together, only for Caleb to pull it apart effortlessly with his one hand, pinning your left leg to the mattress. “I know baby, I know,” he coos, almost whining as he forces himself to remove his mouth from your addictive breasts, propping himself up. You fall your hands to your sides in naught. “It feels too good, right? Right?” He breathed lightly, eyes trailing down your body. He stares at your boobs, jiggling to the way you writhe under his touch, and the mixture of sweat and his saliva trickling down between the valley. He could feel his dick harden at the sight alone, urging him to swallow thickly and turn to your face instead.

Which was a mistake.

The moment he does, he is met with your gaping, trembling lips with drool slipping out on the side and half-lidded eyes staring up at him. You catch him peering at you and mindlessly, you outstretch your arms to him, making grabby hands.

“Oh how can I deny you? My sweet sweet baby,” he babbles, removing his hand from your thigh and interlocking his fingers with yours. Without warning, he inserts his ring finger to your entrance with his thumb still hovering over your clit, drawing a choked breath from you. 

“Baby you’re so warm, I can feel you so much,” he muses, “It makes me feel… things.”

You furrow your brows at him but before you can ask him, what the hell is he talking about, he yanks his finger out of you and settles it onto your hip, the other one still laced around yours, and lays on his stomach–face to face with your crotch. He watches your slick run down your folds albeit hypnotized. 

Glossy and looks inviting, it’s like it was his first time seeing pussy. But it’s yours. That changes everything, because he doesn’t count all the other ones he had before you. Simply ‘cause it’s not yours. Caleb sticks his tongue out and exhales heavily, feeling all the lust clouding his mind.  

“I’m going to fuck my tongue into you,” Caleb declares casually.

“Huh? Wha–!”

You couldn’t even cry out if you wanted to, not when he rams his tongue into your entrance without any other explanation. He whimpers, dazed and watery eyes flickering up at yours, gripping onto your hips like his lifeline. Caleb drags himself into the cold mattress, desperate for any relief in his boxers as he wraps his lips around your cunt, tongue flicking up to your clit. Your fingers grab a fistful of his hair, unknowingly planting him further into your pussy. 

“F-fuck,” you whine, throwing your head back, feeling him lay his tongue flat against your slit, slurping up all your sweet sweet juices. 

“I love how you taste, so so fuckin’ delicious,” he yaps, feeling the vibrations of his words in your vagina. Caleb buries tongue further into you, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit, “I could stay here forever, you’d let me do that right?” He asks, licking a long sloppy stripe into your entrance. You gnaw your bottom lip, wheezing from the way he was eating you out like you were his last meal. “Right? Right?” He huffs, swallowing and slurping at the same time like he was crazed. 

You open your mouth to answer but he wouldn’t even let you do that as he kitten licks and sucks your clit rhythmically. “Caleb, wait!” You choke, pulling his hair harder.

“Baby, you’d let me eat you all night, right?” He repeats, looking up at you with fawn written in his features. You blink at him, huffing and puffing, “I-I can’t–” 

“Wrong answer baby,” he grunts before diving back into you, cramming his wet muscle into you again. “Y-you didn’t even let me fuckin– hah! Finish my goddamn– hng sentence!” You exclaim, thrashing your hips into his greedy mouth, feeling the tip of his nose rub against your swollen nub again. Your legs shake profusely beside him, growing weaker with each second that Caleb fucks his tongue into you. 

“Don’t– mwa!-- need– mwa!-- to!” He replies in between messy kisses, exploring your cunt feverishly. 

“Oh f-fuuuck, feels good. Sho sho good,” you whine, pressing your head into the pillow in embarrassment. Caleb continues to eat you out like all his love for you could only be translated into your pussy, smearing his freckled face with all your juices while lapping every single liquid that you excrete. “I know baby, I know,” he mumbles and he feels your cunt sporadically twitch in his mouth. 

“Baby I think she’s close. Are you close, baby?” He heaved and you could only shake your head, “I-I dun’ know!”

He chuckles against your clit and that does it.

You’re spasming, gush of liquid rippling out of your pussy and straight into Caleb’s throat, guzzling them down like they’re sacred and all so holy. Your legs shake intensely from the onslaught of his tongue, seeing the kaleidoscopic colors and light behind your eyes as you muffle your screams into the cushion while you dig your nails into his scalp and knuckles. 

“F-fuh–! Caleb! E-enough!” You plead, jaw widely ajar as Caleb laps up your slobbering mess of a cunt. “Mmh, not yet. Please,” he begs back, rubbing circles in your hips. With a choked breath and all the remaining strength in your body, you pull his head away from your sensitive pussy. 

You exhale in short breaths as you memorize the sight from across you–your childhood friend kneeling between your legs with the dim light kissing his flushed skin. A slippery trail of your arousal drips down his chin, glistening under the moonlight. You mindlessly follow the movement of his chest, admiring his muscles and down to his crotch, noticing the wet patch on his boxers.

“I love how you taste,” Caleb declares in between pants, tongue licking a stripe on his lips. He seems spellbound, fixated on your half-lidded eyes and hair sprawled across the pillows. His heartbeat thumps wildly against his chest, wanting to pinch himself to realize that all of this is real. That he just ate you out ferociously, the same way he dreams about it every single night.

“I love you.”

“Huh?” 

You slip your fingers away from his grasp and detach his grip from your hip. He frowns at your actions, “I said I love you,” he declares. You ignore his words and the heavy scowl he’s sending in your direction, noticing the water forming in his eyes. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to crush you with his weight, his heavy bulge protruding against your stomach.

You burrow your nose into his scalp, fingers threading through his hair, “You sure about that? Or are you just saying that to have sex with me?” You mumble.

You can feel the glare Caleb is forming against your skin but you refuse to let him prop himself up.

“What do you mean? I don’t care if I don’t fuck you, I’m in love with you,” he grumbles, resisting the urge to bite the curve of your neck in annoyance. You hum in response, massaging your fingertips into his scalp, having him slowly melt into your touch. He was glad you were caressing him in all the right places, feeling all his irritation slip away momentarily.

“Well you’re in luck,” you murmur. He furrows his brows and you let him pull himself up, the palm of his hand beside you.

“What?” He asks questioningly, his dogtag dangling close to your breasts. You send him a soft smile, “I feel the same way, perchance.”

Caleb stares at you incredulously, “Perchance?”

You giggle, “I… I love you too, Caleb.”

Blink.

Once.

Twice.

Tears form in his eyes. 

“What…?” He gags.

“You don’t like it?” You raise a brow at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Before you can even register the salty liquid rolling down his face, he mangles himself into your limbs, burying into your skin. 

“C-Caleb?”

You were replied with muted sniffles and pecks of kisses in your neck. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again. He nods, wrapping his biceps around your shoulders and gripping you tight. “I-I just don’t think this will happen,” he admits.

“Why not?” You trace your name into his back followed by small hearts and his name. He just shrugs in response and you feel your collarbones turning damp because of his tears. You lowly chuckle, fingertips creeping up to his nape.

“Hmm.. So does that mean we won’t fuck anymore?” You ask, lips curving up in an amused smile. 

Caleb’s ears perk up, propping himself up with his elbow, “You’d let me do that?”

It was your turn to shrug, “That’s why you were here in the first place right?”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He pulls himself up between snivels and peels his boxers away. And the sight alone can bring you to your knees.

“Oh.” You inhale shakily, “You’re big.”

Caleb glances down to the direction of your eyes, “I guess it’s above average,” he says as-a-matter-of-factly. And you hate him for it. Because what does he mean that after all this time, after all the years of being roommates with him, this is what he’s hiding from you?! 

Your train of thought gets cut off as he strokes your cheek with the palm of his hand, hovering above you carefully. “Just so you know, I do this out of love for you,” he mentions, staring into your blown out pupils. 

“I know, I do too,” you reply, bringing a hand to his jaw. You steal a glimpse of his lips and he smiled, “Guess we’re even.”

Before you can even ask what he means, Caleb leans into you, locking his mouth against yours. Caleb feels like he could kiss you for eternity and still be insatiable, especially when he finally had a taste of you–hearing your soft whimpers and your attempts to muffle your sounds by swallowing them all as his tongue glides over your soft lips. Caleb sighs contentedly between your locked mouths, sucking on your bottom lip. You whine helplessly, slightly fluttering your eyelids only to be met with his pupils, staring right back at you while you kiss each other delicately. He slowly pulls away, breathlessly peering into your features–memorizing each mole, freckle, and scar.

You hated having him not in your mouth, however. So you close the distance between you two, tangling your legs around his hips and feeling his impossibly hard bulge into your stomach, meeting Caleb’s lips once more. 

Caleb pushes his thumb against your chin, shoving his tongue down your throat.

“Hah… Ca… Caleb,” you whine, cupping both his cheeks with the palms of your hand. He hums mindlessly, too engrossed with the way you taste.

“I think we should fuck.”

The gears in Caleb’s brain begin to churn. His eyes fly wide open, meeting your squinted gaze and grin. 

“Y-You think?” He mutters. 

You nod. 

He glances down and nods the same, gulping. Caleb takes his leaking tip, aligning himself against your slobbering entrance before huffing.

“Is this your first time?” You ask curiously and he shakes his head with shame written all over his features, “Unfortunately not.” 

“Then it’s okay, it’s not my first time either.”

He whips his head to your direction faster than the speed of light. Caleb gazes down at you with his purple puppy dog eyes and lips jutting out in dejection. “What do you mean it’s not your first time? You’ve had other people before me?” He seethes, jealousy bubbling up his chest and red eyes welling up, urging you to roll your eyes playfully, “I’m not your first time either, baby. We’re even.”

He didn’t even hear what you said. His clouded brain could only register the pet name you just called him and it bogged him how you could be oh so perfect.

“Okay,” he says casually, forgetting what the conversation was about.

Caleb returns to his mission, dragging the head of his cock to your entrance. You gulp, steadying your breathing as you feel him slowly collecting your liquid between your legs. And the second that his tip sinks into your cunt, he shivers. He could feel the tears forming back in his eyes again. He focuses on your crotch, drooling at the glistening and dripping cunt, With a shaky breath, “I-I’ll push myself in.”

Fat tears roll down Caleb’s cheeks as he eases his impossibly hard cock into your warm cunt. 

“O-oh, fuck,” he whines, creases forming between his eyebrows. He can’t even look at you and he’s glad that you’re suppressing all sounds from your throat. Because he’s sure the moment you let out the slightest moan, he’d cum without even burying himself halfway yet.

“Baby, you’re so warm inside,” he cries, choking back a groan. His eyes find the ceiling, praying to all the gods above of a miracle of letting him last for more than a minute inside you. “Caleb, baby, please push yourself in,” you beg.

And that’s all it took to thrust himself to the hilt.

“S-shit! Caleb!” 

“God. F-fuck,” he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His grip on your hips tightens as the salty liquid runs down his cheeks, breathing unstable, and focused on your warm and snug cunt. He darts his gaze to the inky sky behind the sheer curtains in your room, silently praying to the gods to let him last at least a minute. 

Unfortunately, fate doesn’t seem to be on his side tonight. Because the moment he ends his prayer, he decides to gawk at you beneath him. Which ends up being his second mistake for the night. Your tear-glazed eyes bore into his with that half-lidded look that feels like he’s magnetized to you all over again, your swollen lips quivering at the biiig stretch he has in your tight and slick pussy.

Heat rushes to his cheeks and words coiled at his throat, “D-Don’t look at me like that,” he pleads, hips frozen in place. 

You pout, “Look like what?” You whisper, tears welling up in your eyes, light touches traveling down his back, turning to lightning shivers in his body.

He shudders, screwing his eyes shut.

“Caleb,” you call out, right hand reaching to his jaw. “Move. Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Caleb removes his hands from your hips and instead presses firmly onto your thighs, pushing it open. 

“Open up for me more, baby. Come on,” he encourages, sprawling your legs out in a wide v shape. With his hands migrating to your ankles, he’s gawking straight between your legs. 

“Caleb–fuuck– You’re so slow–!” Caleb cuts you off with a harsh thrust, making your body jolt against the mattress, “I-I’m sorry but you gotta-hck! Understand how your pussy feels too good for me!” He retorts, bucking sloppily into you. You choke on your saliva as his sharp hips pivot, his cock burying deeper into your gummy walls, jerking into you back and forth like he’s lost all control. 

“Caleeeb, fuck right– ah!” You bite down your lip, his dick vigorously pummelling in and out of you, grip tightening around your ankles. “Ngh, babyyy,” you whimper, gasping at the immense pace he’s starting, fucking you mercilessly with eyes rolled to the back of his head. He presses his hands into the back of your thighs, pushing you forward in the meanest mating press, your legs hanging in the air above his shoulders.

“Oh shit Caleb! You’re shoo deep,” you moan, salty liquid finally running down your cheeks. Caleb notices, tilting his head forward and licks the tears away as if he wasn’t sobbing in pleasure himself. 

“Atta girl, atta girl,” he cries, pistoning into you deeper until you were certain your bodies would be carved into the mattress. “Feels good? This feels good, baby?” He asks, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You couldn’t even give him an answer even if you wanted to. He pulls himself out and shoves all of his dick into you, your cunt continuing to clamp around him like he deserves to stay there forever.

“There you go,” he babbles, ramming into you as he nibbles into your skin, “There you go baby. Keep taking it like a good girl.” His praises send shivers down your spine, heat enveloping your bodies. Caleb chokes, plunging into you one last time before burying himself into you carefully. “I’m so proud of you,” he mumbles, grinding his hips against yours. “You make me so so proud.”

“Ngh Caleb, why’d you stop?”  You mewl, tangling your fingers into his hair, pulling him up to meet his eyes. You were met with your roommate sniveling and in his most pathetic state–all because of your pussy. “I never felt this way,” he blubbers. 

“Me too, honey,” you admit, scratching his scalp lightly. “Feels too good baby,” he whines, rutting into you like an animal in heat. Before you can even reply to his yammering, he leans forward, capturing your lips.

His tongue tangles against yours, moaning and writhing into your touch. With a guzzle of your saliva down his throat, he pulls away. You gaze into his blown out irises, electricity jolting between the distance. With a heavy exhale, Caleb slowly pulls out of your cunt, never breaking eye contact and drives into you. 

“Hngh! Hah– Caleb!”

“Oh baby, there we go. You like that?” He groans, pummelling into you unhurriedly, your melodic moans echoing in the steamy air. 

“You like that?” plap! “I know you like that, baby.” plap! “Right? Just–!” plap! “Nice and gentle and slow,” He continues to plunge into you forward with shallow and slow thrusts.

“Just take it like a good girl baby, you’re doin’ such a good job for me. There we go, there we go,” he continues as you only gaze up at him with fat tears both rolling down your cheeks, a soft smile grazing your features as his dick hits your sweet spot. “Let me pick up the pace okay? I’ll pick up the pace now,” he blabbers.

Your pussy clamps down on his dick greedily, sucking him impossibly deeper as his words turn into a string of cries and whimpers. “I know baby, I know. It’s okay,” he yaps, continuing to smother you with his kisses and propelling you forward into the mattress with his thrusts.

You don’t even understand half of what he’s saying, too absorbed with the feeling of his cock satisfying you more than any vibrator you own. Everything was just perfect–from his bruising touch, his whines above you, his tears dripping into your cheeks, mixing with yours. You wrap your arms around his tensed shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Your feverish strokes catches him off guard, eliciting a choked whimper from him, “Oh baby, I’m so fucking dizzy. I think my brain’s fucking empty.” 

If you think you were going insane, Caleb feels like he’s about to die and explode with the way he pounds into you, exerting more strength into fucking you than he’s ever before. He’s delightfully delirious, crying and out of his mind, still unsure if this was real. He can feel the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix, short pants of “Ah! Ah!” escaping your lips whenever he does.

“Baby, baby,” he calls out, eyes wide open and scrambling to look into yours, “I–fuck– n-not gonna last. Need y-you to–hah– cum,” he manages to say in between pants. You nod profusely, embracing him closer until the tip of his nose grazes against yours.

Caleb removes one iron grip from your thighs, his hands snaking between your bodies. He flicks his finger between your folds, exploring your swollen clit, making you arch your back in pleasure with a scream. His pace is frantic now, his mouth agape with drool and tears trickling down your skin. He was not kidding when he said he’s going braindead. Your limbs are going limp under his weight, rocking your hips forward to bring yourself the one thing that you crave for the whole evening.

“Caleb, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum!” You exclaim, lashes fluttering as you stare up at him with salty tears continuously dribbling down your face. He gulps, “Come on, cum for me. Cum for me,” he hums, fingers rubbing in circular motion against your nub. 

You swear you could get lost in the cosmos of his eyes, drawing pure passion in his irises. And before you could notice the way his gaze softens, his thumb presses harder into your sensitive clit, urging you to gush out a week’s worth of pent-up frustration. You’re shivering in his embrace, wailing his name and thrashing as your climax rushes into you, pussy squelching and clenching around him.

“Oh fuck baby don’t squeeze, don’t squeeze!” He retreats his hand from your clit to your jaw, cradling it softly in contrast to his harsh thrusts.

How can you control your firm grip around him when he wouldn’t even let up with his unforgiving pace? 

“Shit! Baby I won’t be able to pull out, I-I’m sorry–! I–hck!” 

Your hardened nipples brush against Caleb’s pecs as you squirm underneath him, vision blurring with tears and ecstasy as you cup his face with your hands, fondling his damp cheeks. He purses his lips, nuzzling into your touch, mouth parted as low moans and groans fall from his lips.

“Caleb,” you call out, ignoring the slow burn in your crotch from the overstimulation. He looks straight into you, fingers trembling against you, “I love you.”

His cock twitches at your words. 

“I-I’m sorry!” He exclaims, while mercilessly pinning you in the mating press. 

Caleb pumps you full of his dick with his eyes boring into you and within a second, he climaxes, hard. Stripes of his cum shooting up your womb, his body growing limp as you feel the ribbons of hot release that splatters deep into your cunt. 

You were sure he wasn’t sorry at all.

Caleb sucks through his teeth sharply, gyrating into you one last time before forcing himself to slide out of you. He notices the slobbering mess of his cum spilling out of your pussy mixed with your wetness in between you, eliciting a snarky smirk in his face.

“Stop fuckin’ staring you perv,” you huff, making him turn to you. He gives you a dopey smile and kisses your tear-stained cheeks. One kiss turns into two, then into four, then it turns into him full on smothering you with sloppy open mouthed kisses all over your face.

“Caleb! Stop!” You exclaim between giggles, feeling his shit-eating grin across your skin. “How can you still have the energy for this?!” You demand, flailing underneath him which deemed futile. 

“Well– mwa! I just had– mwa! The most mindblowing– mwa! Toe-curling– mwa! Sex I’ve ever had– mwa! With– mwa! The girl I love– mwa! Because she left her airpod on the kitchen counter.”

“Hey! You were the one who barged in here and pulled my sheets away like a fucking maniac! If it were any other person I would’ve called the cops,” you grumble, flicking his nose exasperatingly. He plops down into you in response, crushing you with his weight and knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Well–heh… I got curious to what you were listenin’... Sorry,” he replied without any remorse. You audibly gasp, smacking his back, “So that’s why my video gets paused every damn second!” 

He only chuckles in response as you hurl your palms into his back in embarrassment, “What! Can you blame me for being curious? At least we got around to what we wanted anyway,” he argued, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You groan and roll your eyes at his words, featherlight touches reaching into his sweaty back. And with a soft exhale between your tangled limbs, you murmur into his ear, “You’re right. Thank you, my sweet boy.”

Let’s just say sparks of electricity shoot up his system again.

a/n: first time writing smut and i'm SPENT i fought for my life writing for this thing! didn't expect this to reach almost 8k words lmao. anywayz, likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <3

🏷 : @browneyedgirl22 @mcdepressed290

[slutla]

THRU THE PHONE ! | MARK GRAYSON X FEM READER

warnings: 18+, nsfw, masturbation (m), perv! mark (?), he jerks off 2 ur voice basically but is sweet abt it lol. brat reader (?), reader doesn’t know about what he’s doing, voice kink ? cuz he likes ur voice (?) phone sex but its one sided lowk. usage of baby & angel as pet names. fluff.

summary: you miss your boyfriend in the quiet moments. he misses you too, but with a restlessness that says your absence lingers a little heavier on his chest.

an: minors, ageless & blank blogs dni. mark is so adorbs need him bad asf + short drabble + this isnt proofread and some parts r meant to be italicized n aren’t cuz im 2 lazy

“I miss you.”

You roll your eyes, though the words send a dull ache through your chest. Turning onto your side, the white bedsheets rustle softly beneath you, cool against your skin. The dim glow of your phone screen casts faint shadows across the room. You bring the device closer to your ear, pressing it against your cheek. You let out a loud sigh, making sure he hears it.

It’s nighttime, and the wind howls through the window. The air isn’t cold, just restless. You’re nestled in your cozy bed, wrapped in warmth, as the soft light from your phone screen and the moon illuminate your room. You miss him. A lot.

“It’s not fair,” you huff, the agitation clear in your voice. “He has a bunch of different superheroes he can call on, so why does it always have to be you, Mark?”

Mark listens carefully to your tone, gently sitting up in his own bed as the discomfort settles in. All he longs for is to be in your room, wrapped around you in the warmth of your bed, holding you close. His back rests against the headboard, the cool wood pressing into him as his long legs stretch out across the bed, sprawling comfortably yet aimlessly, the blankets slightly tangled around his feet.

“You know how Cecil can be, baby,” he says softly, bringing the phone closer to his ear. He falls quiet for a moment, his voice gentle when he continues, “I promise, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll only be here for a week, and then you’ll have me all to yourself.”

You pout, your glossy bottom lip quivering. “I really miss you, you know?”

Your voice is soft, a little tired, and so, so sweet, it curls around his ribs and settles into his chest. So fucking sweet, he thinks, breath hitching. Every syllable is a lullaby, every sigh a prayer.

And you—God, you’re perfect. Every strand of hair, every flutter of your lashes, every little thing that makes you, you is something sacred to him. At least in his eyes, you’ve always been something unreal, something he could never stop wanting.

“I know, baby. I know,” he breathes, voice low, almost shaky.

His actions are nothing short of shameful, downright lewd, but how could he help it? You’re just intoxicating, too intoxicating, slipping under his skin like warm sugar, making a mess of him without even trying.

Rigid and pulsing, limp and trembling in his grip—there’s a rawness to him that clings to the air, your voice echoing through his haze. Sweat beads on his skin, and need coils in his chest; he’s caught in the pull of you. here he is, undone and aching—stroking his leaking slit with a shaky hand, your presence burning behind his half-shut eyes.

“I love you, angel,” he murmurs, voice thick and slow, tracing lazy circles over his flushed, sensitive tip. It’s a fleeting softness tangled in the mess of him, a thread of devotion he clings to amidst the haze. The moment drips with want—his fingers slick and unsteady, chasing you in every shuddering motion.

Without thinking, you murmur back, “You can’t ‘I love you’ your way out of this, silly,” tugging the covers tighter around you, a shield against the quiet. Your voice dances with a teasing lilt, light but edged with promise—“I’m going to hold you accountable when you get back.” The words hang playful yet firm, a thread of anticipation stitching through the warmth curling inside you.

He lets out a chuckle, low and breathy, dripping with a charm that hums through the air.

It’s almost laughable how effortlessly you unravel him—his hands sliding up and down his length, slick with wet, squelching sounds that fill the space. He’s half-startled you haven’t caught on yet, a flicker of surprise in his haze, but deep down he figures it’s better this way. Right now, tangled in this mess of want, isn’t the moment for you to know.

The tension winds tight in his gut, a slow, burning sensation ready to snap. His grip tightens as your voice drapes over him—soft, electric, setting every nerve alight. Every word you sigh into the receiver is a spark, stoking the heat pooling low in his stomach.

And then a ragged groan spills from his lips as he tips over the edge, pleasure crashing over him in waves, hot and messy against his hand. His body trembles, muscles slackening as he sinks back against the headboard, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

A lazy grin tugs at his lips, still dazed, still drunk off you.

“Trust me, doll,” he murmurs, voice thick. “I’m counting on it.”

[prosypepper]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[sacredsorceress]

Mocha / Bob Reynolds

PAIRING: bob reynolds x cafe owner!reader SUMMARY: yelena decides to make it her mission to set up bob with her close friend. WORD COUNT: 2.6k A/N: not beta read, and named mocha after my favorite coffee! I am also realising I struggle with meet cutes so next fic is probably an established relationship whew. hope you enjoy!! WARNINGS: just insecurities, a beef mention of bob's drug-fueled past and fluff

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・bob masterlist・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Get dressed, Bob.”

Yelena tossed a pair of jeans and a sweater into Bob’s lap before placing her hands on her hip.

Confusion twisted his face.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Bob asked.

Truly there wouldn’t be anything wrong with what Bob was wearing if he hadn’t already been wearing it for three days straight.

In the months since… the incident… as they all now referred to it, Bob had made significant progress. He had stayed sober, gained a healthy amount of weight back, and worked on his mental health to a degree that even John had to admit that he was impressed by it. However, all this progress had been made inside the Avengers Tower.

Not that Yelena didn’t enjoying being around Bob, but she’d like to wonder where he was for once instead of being able to turn her head and see him curled up in his book nook every single time, without fail. At times she wondered if his skin had merged with the fabric of the seat.

“You are not going out like that.” She said matter-of-factly. “And you are starting to smell.”

Bob placed his book to the side and pulled himself up to look at Yelena.

“Going… out?” He asked.

“Yes, we are going out.” She said with a huff. “I cannot watch you sit on this floor all day again. So get dressed… and do not forget the deodorant.”

Yelena left without another word, leaving Bob to his own devices. Lifting up his arm and taking a sniff, he cringed and shuffled towards the bathroom toting the clothes Yelena had given him in hand.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Where are we going?"

Bob stumbled after Yelena as she effortlessly weaved her way through the busy Manhattan street. It was 5:30 pm and it seemed that all of New York were leaving their offices, on a mission to get home which, to Bob's understanding, seemed to all be in the opposite direction from where he was heading. With rushed apologies and too many elbows in his ribs for his liking, Bob had begun to miss the comfort of the tower.

"For coffee." Yelena replied without looking at him.

"Coffee?" He asked, glancing at sun setting between high rises. "Isn't it.. isn't it a little late?"

"Never too late for coffee, Bob." She said, rounding a corner. "Besides, it is quieter at night."

Bob bumped into Yelena's back as she slowed her pace.

"Here!"

Yelena opened her arms towards the café in front of her. A warm glow poured out through its windows and onto the sidewalk as if it wanted to sneak up their ankles and pull them through the doors. Through the glass, Bob could catch a few people doing work on their laptops or catching up with friends, lounging on the couches or curled up in the booths alike. What truly caught his eye, though, were the filled bookcases that covered every square inch of the walls.

Yelena, observing his fascination, smiled.

"I knew you'd like it." She said, grabbing his arm. "Now come."

In an almost cartoonish fashion, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans reached Bob's nose the second he stepped inside and carried him to the counter.

The barista's face lit up at the sight of them and Bob felt himself grow warm under her gaze. Her smile, warm and inviting- not like the polite ones Bob often got thrown by underpaid workers to evade the scrutiny of their boss- made him brush his tussled hair from his face.

"Lena!" You laughed, leaning against the counter. "Fancy seeing you here. Want your usual?"

Lena? Bob thought. Did she know you?

Bob glanced from Yelena to you.

"D-do you guys know each other?" He laughed awkwardly.

The blonde raised her eyebrow.

"Are you surprised that I have friends, Bob?" Yelena asked pointedly.

"N- no!" Bob said, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "I was just wondering-"

Then you piped in: "Oh are you Bob?" You asked, your gaze falling on him. "I've heard so much about you. It's so nice to meet you!"

God, he thought, it's hot in here.

You were pretty and kind- the first confirmed by his eyesight and accompanying heart rate and the second, by your friendship with Yelena.

If there was one thing that Bob was not used to, it was receiving warm attention from strangers. With a past riddled with crime and self-seclusion, he couldn't remember the last time someone had actually been happy to meet him. Even his current team had been mildly annoyed by his presence the first time they met.

But you had heard about him. That couldn't be good, right?

Bob pulled at the neck of his sweater and smiled.

"That's me." He answered timidly. "I'm sorry, Yelena's never mentioned you-"

Waving her hand in his face to cut him off, Yelena turned towards you.

"I'll have my usual." She said before turning to Bob. "What do you want?"

Suddenly it occurred to Bob that they were at a coffee shop. Hyper-aware of your gaze, Bob shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself from nervously fiddling with them.

"Oh I- I've never had coffee." He said.

He said it in the most innocent way in the world, so much so that you couldn't even find it in yourself to make fun of him for it. If anything, you wished you had super speed to be able to fly out the doors, get ingredients for whatever Bob did like to drink, and whip it up in seconds so you'd never have to see him disappointed.

Yelena however, did not share the same sentiment.

"You are embarrassing me." She whispered.

Seeing the shame in his eyes, you cut in.

"I can surprise you if you want?" You offered. "I'll just come bring it to your table when it's done."

Pretty and kind.

"Y-yeah," He smiled. "That sounds nice."

With their orders sorted, Yelena wrapped her hand around Bob's arm and pulled him to a nearby table. Nestled in an alcove between bookshelves, Bob settled into his chair and glanced around him.

"This place is nice." He observed, peeking over the side of the bookshelf to catch a glimpse of you at the counter.

Yelena, following his eye-line, smiled.

"Good." She said, crossing her legs. "Because we will be staying here until you ask her out."

And there it is: why Yelena actually asked him to come out.

He should've known by her attitude- how she demanded he get dressed, how she weaved through passerbys without a second glance, how she stopped him from fumbling over himself in front of you... she was on a mission.

Bob would have been lying if he said he wasn't attracted to you. In the past, he had barely experienced attraction- his attention consumed more by illicit substances and how to get them rather than the affection of a woman. But he knew by the warmth that creeped up his neck and onto his cheeks and the way his heart seemingly flipped in his chest when you spoke to him that you had him.

However, that didn't mean that he could have you.

"Yeah- Wait." Bob said, tearing his eyes from you to look at Yelena. "W-what. I'm not- I can't... I don't know her."

"No," she said, folding her hands. "But I do. You two will make cute couple."

She said it as if it were simple. As if she could flip a switch and make him the perfect boyfriend.

"But-"

As if on cue, you strode over to the table with a tray in hand.

"One flat white for Lena," You said gifting the mug into her waiting hands. "And for Bob, a mocha: decaffeinated. I figured you might want to be able to sleep tonight."

You said the last part with a wink as you gently placed the mug down in front of him.

The warm drink sat in an orange mug with a foam heart on top and although he was sure you did them for everybody, Bob's insides felt like mush all the same. He couldn't remember the last time he had something that didn't come from a drive-thru window.

"And I know you didn't ask," you said, placing down another plate. "but I also brought over a chocolate donut to go with the coffee. I thought you might like it."

If Bob didn't know any better, he would have thought you were nervous because once the tray was free of any beverage, you tucked it behind your back and shifted on your feet as if you were finding any excuse to stay.

"Oh this looks really good," Bob groaned.

Careful to not burn himself, Bob gingerly brought the mug to his lips. The drink, filled with notes of chocolate that overpowered any bitterness of coffee while maintaining the taste, warmed him to his core. Feeling the temperature of the drink spread throughout his body, Bob sank into his seat and moaned.

A real, actual moan in front of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

It was only once he opened his eyes that he realized they had ever been closed in the first place.

"I think he likes it." Yelena chuckled.

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, he cleared his throat.

"S-sorry." He apologized, "it's really good."

The weight of your gaze bared heavily on him as he avoided your eyes, too afraid to feel the judgement they no doubt held at his reaction.

Instead you smiled.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Bob." You assured him. "That's the best compliment I've ever received."

A silence hung in the air then as the three of you stood at an impasse. The radio flicked between songs as it did, leaving the rhythmic clicking of a keyboard across the room the only escape from becoming intimately familiar with each other's breathing.

Yelena glanced between the two of you. She rolled her eyes and kicked Bob underneath the table.

"Ow!" Bob yelped. "What was that-"

"Didn't you have a question you wanted to ask her, Bob?"

Fuck, now you were really looking at him.

You were like the sun. As tempted as he was to stare at you, his eyes darted anywhere but your face as if it would hurt him just to look.

"Uh, um yeah..." Bob said nervously, "I wanted to... I was going to ask..."

You eagerly leaned forward.

"Yeah, Bob?"

Bob could listen to you say his name forever. A once held insecurity, dissipated like cotton candy in water.

He cleared his throat.

"Uh- what kind of milk did you use?" Bob said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Because I'm uh... lactose intolerant."

The end of the sentence dragged on awkwardly and although he was internally beating himself up for embarrassing himself in front of you, he was clouded by how much more humiliating it would have been to ask you out in front of Yelena.

Any hope you had in you that he would ask you something more personal faded as you physically deflated.

"Oh uh, oat."

Yelena thought she could kill him. She really could.

"Well uh," You said. "Enjoy."

And with that, you were gone.

The second you were out of earshot, Yelena leaned over the table.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I- I don't know!" Bob whisper-shouted back. "It just came out-"

"That you are lactose intolerant?" She argued. "You are suppose to ask her out and instead, you tell her you have tummy problems!"

Bob slammed his face into the table and groaned.

"You put me on the spot-"

"Because she was looking at you with the heart eyes!"

That picked Bob's head up.

"N-no. You're just saying that." He argued. "She doesn't like me"

Yelena rolled her eyes and jammed her pointer finger into the table.

"Listen to me, Bob." She said. "I know my friend. She likes you, okay? So we will sit here until you ask her out."

"But-"

"No buts!" She shouted, flicking her hand. "You will ask her. Now, I will enjoy my coffee before it gets cold."

And that's how Bob and Yelena ended up sitting in the coffee shop until close.

It wasn't that he didn't try, because he did. After a hype up session with Yelena he would stroll up to the counter with the intention of asking you on a date, but the second you smiled at him, he psyched himself out and just ordered another coffee instead.

As minutes turned to hours and the patrons began to file out of the cafe, you, Bob and Yelena were the only ones left- unless you counted the elephant in the room.

"Hey so," You said saddling up to the table. "I'm gonna start closing up. Don't worry about the bill or anything, I put it on Yelena's tab. Just head out when you're ready."

You hesitated.

"Oh, and it was nice to meet you, Bob."

Yet, as you turned to leave, you felt a clammy hand wrap around your wrist, holding you back.

Your eyes trailed from the hand up to Bob's face where his cheeks had been painted red. As if his lips had been sewn shut, he said nothing, but instead longingly gazed up at you, taken aback by your features so close.

"Oh for God's sake." Yelena said slamming her hand on the table.

Bob yanked his hand from your touch as you your attentions ricocheted towards Yelena.

"Lena-"

"I cannot keep watching this." She said, gesturing towards Bob. Her eyebrows had knitted together and a sigh escaped her lips. "Y/n, will you go on a date with Bob? Please? I cannot do the puppy dog eyes any longer."

If there was ever a moment Bob wanted to crawl into his own skin and let the Void consume him, it was right then.

Yelena meant well, he knows she does, but no matter how much she thought she knew her friend, what Yelena was not aware of was the clinical aversion that women seemed to have to him. The most Bob would be lucky enough to receive was a platonic fondness, never the affections of a woman so pretty and kind and warm and-

"I'd love to."

Pulling himself out of his own self-pity, Bob's mouth flew open.

"Y-yeah?"

You smiled at him.

"Yeah," You said with a laugh. "I thought you'd never ask."

Were you sure you didn't put caffeine in his coffee? Because Bob felt the sudden urge to throw himself out of his seat and run around the coffee shop.

Instead, he settled on handing you his phone to let you type your number in and allowing Yelena to usher him out of the coffee shop- him longingly looking over his shoulder at you until he physically couldn't anymore.

With a renewed pep in his step, Bob pulled out his phone and smiled.

Bob: Hi, this is Bob :)

Bob: From the coffee shop.

Bob: Yelena's friend.

Bob: I'm not really lactose intolerant, you're just really pretty. :)

And although Yelena couldn't see what he was typing on his phone, seeing the content smile that painted his face was more than enough for one to reach across her own- rolling her eyes fondly at the idea of her two friends in love and a mission, accomplished.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[thecreelhouse]

stuck

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. MDNI

WC: 4.6k+

Includes: no plot all filth, unrealistic “stuck” porn trope, friends to horny idiots, dirty talk, pet names/name calling, unprotected PiV sex, oral (f receiving), briefest mention of monsterfucking, brief anal play, a smidge of humiliation kink with a healthy side of a praise kink, d/s dynamic, etc.

A/N: Literally got this idea from a certain filthy piece of DBD fanart that I can’t find, but if you know the one I’m talking about, please lmk so I can properly credit for the inspo!! Is this ridiculous? Yes. Was this originally for Halloween? Also yes. We hate rules here (and deadlines). Hope y’all enjoy it <3 (dividers from @/saradika-graphics)

Everyone told Steve he was insane to venture back into the Upside Down, but he couldn’t leave you there alone. 

He felt sick for even leaving you behind at all. Quite honestly, no one felt good about evacuating without you, but it was smarter to go home, gear up, grab another working walkie, before wandering back into hell to find you.

See, among the chaos of trying to help Eddie, trying to keep Max alive, he worried about you and your unusual absence from the group, but you were strong enough to handle nearly anything— that much, he was confident on. You had fought side by side with him over the years, protecting everyone in the group, and one another; through demodogs, a shit summer job gone awry, and anything in between, you could hold your own with a bravery he wished he didn’t need to front at times.

That didn’t quell his anxiety one bit, though. When and where you had disappeared to, he wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t until your voice broke through over the airwaves, when Steve, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were on the lake, that he felt relief you were at least alive. Your voice was tinny through the static.

“Guys?”

The only reason a signal existed at all was because the group floated just above the gate at the bottom of the lake— they just didn’t know it yet.

Steve had just thrown his sweater off, ready to dive in, when the sound of your voice made his eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, give me the—“ He rocked the tiny boat a little too much for anyone’s comfort as he fell to his knees, grabbing the walkie from the floor. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Hi to you too, Harrington.”

Robin yanked the device from Steve’s grip, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Long fuckin’ story, but—“ Your voice cut out, static filling the dead air for a few seconds. “And that’s—“ Cut off again. “Upside Down, but I- I don’t know where I am, exactly. Why didn’t any of y’all tell me how bad this place sucks?”

Steve laughed to himself, unaware his eyes became glassy, hearing the familiar attitude and sailor’s mouth you carried; the other three noticed just how relieved and emotional he was right away. He grabbed the walkie back from Robin with shaky hands.

“We’re gonna come find you, we think we found a gate,” He rushed out. “Are you safe at least?”

“For now, but these—“ Signal cutting out, Steve hit the walkie a few times, as if that’d fix the disconnect between literal dimensions. “— Th- they’re everywhere. I don’t know where to hi— oh, shit—“ Your end fell dead again, leaving the four on edge, waiting for you to speak. White noise droned on for less than a minute; you weren’t coming back. 

Wasting not a second longer, Steve dove into the dark, chilled waters of the lake. He found the gate they suspected of, and broke the surface to alert his friends. As he relayed the information, rushed and panicked, wanting to find you as soon as possible, something tugged on his leg. Only startling the group at first, Steve was caught off guard, pulled under, back down to the bottom. He kicked, struggled, lungs burning as he fought off the urge to gasp for a breath he couldn’t dare to take.

It was all a blur, being dragged through the gate and tossed around like a rag doll; the bats diving towards him, finding an oar to defend himself with among the Upside Down’s mirrored decay of the lake, only to be bombarded by the gnarly creatures. They tore at his flesh as he was being strangled to death; brain growing fuzzy as he put up a good fight, he began to accept this fate. He wasn’t sure when his friends came through the gate, but one by one they retaliated against the bats, leaving just the one still strangling Steve.

“Get fucked!”

Unexpectedly, you appeared, slamming an ax— one you always left in your trunk, just in case— down onto one of its wings, chopping through completely, yet it still tried to flee as Steve bit down on its tail. Stunned, you all watched as Steve swung it around, slamming it down into the ground before violently ripping its spine out, fueled by pure rage.

Blood dripped from his mouth while he glanced up at you, rage and fear fading as relief flooded every inch of his heart. Despite your ragged appearance— covered in grime, soot, and blood— he was just happy to see you alive; a sight for sore eyes.

“I fuckin’ hate those things.” You wanted to run and hug him, but restrained yourself at the sight of his wounds. Taking in the sight of all four friends, you sighed, “Y’all okay?”

Another screech in the sky tore everyone’s attention away, “C’mon!” Where everyone ran off to the rocks, you made the mistake of running off in the opposite direction. The group of bats split off, heading towards both you and the others; when you looked over your shoulder, you watched Steve do the same, panic fueling you both to run for your lives.

You sprinted off towards the woods, hoping you’d find each other again soon, and alive.

Steve climbed back through the gate in Eddie’s trailer, and had searched for what felt like hours; he was losing hope of finding you by the minute. He knows you; you wouldn’t give up without a fight. You had to be alive, but dread was still building within him.

At least he caught a signal over the walkies.

“What do you mean you’re stuck?”

Your voice warbles through the speaker of Steve’s walkie, barely coherent through the sharp static. 

“Okay, okay, where are you?”

“The— g—“ Feedback rips through your words, shrill and sharp. “I’m tr—“

“You’re cutting out—“

“Gate! I’m—“ A drone of white noise floods the speaker, and you’re gone.

“Shit. Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!” He hits the device with his free hand, slams the buttons and messes with the knobs and antenna— if only he actually paid attention when Dustin tried showing him how to work this fucking thing.

He did hear you say ‘gate’ at least, but which one? You clearly weren’t at the one he just entered, and the one at the lake had closed up by now. 

This would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Steve’s exhausted, searching high and low for you, at every possible spot that crosses his mind. It had to have been another hour since he last heard from you, and he’s running out of ideas of where you could be.

“Checked around town,” He begins murmuring to himself, listing and eliminating options out loud. “No luck there… but— shit, didn’t check the library…” Could a gate even open in there? Anywhere was possible, right? And if that was the case, he’d have to tear through every room of every building, circle each structure, check any cars, houses, sheds, backyards, parks, the woods—

Christ, at this rate, he’ll never find you—

“Oof!” Steve loses his footing, tumbling over something in the stretch of woods he was combing through. Colliding with the ground, he groans on impact.

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolls over quickly, sitting up to find he had tripped over you.

“Oh, thank fuck.” He scrambles to his feet, brushing debris off his body as he finally glances your way.

When you said you were stuck, Steve didn’t picture the sight before him now; you, halfway through a gate found in a tree trunk, unable to move because it began to close up around your waist. Your upper half is on the other side, but your bottom half is still stuck in the Upside Down.

“Oh…. You’re… wow, okay.” He snickers, “Yeah. You’re stuck, alright.”

Steve’s muffled cackling echoes through the slimy gate. You huff and roll your eyes; not like he can see.

“Just help me out of here, would ya’?!”

“Okay, okay… Jesus.” He drops to his knees, still towering over you— well, your back half, at least. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just fucking annoying. Maybe try, I dunno, pulling at the edges of it, or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how these things work—“

“Steve!”

“Okay, right, yeah, sorry.” He bites his bottom lip, stifling more laughter. It’s certainly an… awkward position, leaning over you from behind, but it’s the only way he can pull at the edges with both hands at once. He gives the gate’s edge a tug, but it’s stone solid. He tries again, this time with a grunt that has your mind wandering elsewhere. “Yeah, this is, uh… that’s not gonna work.”

“Oh my god, I’m stuck here forever,” You groan, kicking your feet. “I’m gonna die here.”

“Calm down, drama queen. Gimme a second, I’ll try again.” Steve keeps himself balanced on one knee, while the other leg plants a steady foot into the ground. Again, he attempts to pry open the gate, hoping to free you; his foot slips, causing him to rub against your backside.

Okay, ‘rub’ is a generous term— more like roughly falling against your ass, then whining over the pressure on his bulge.

“Steve, what the fuck?” You crane your neck, only able to see where the tree bark opens up into the gate, snug around your waist. “Did you just—“

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! M- my foot slipped!”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Look, it’s not exactly the easiest to move around you without touching you right now,” He argues. “You really think I’m trying to make a move on you in a situation like this?!”

“Well, I can’t see shit, Harrington. I don’t know what the hell’s going on back there.”

Ignoring you, Steve murmurs, more to himself but loud enough for you to still hear, “The hell are you wearing these tiny shorts for, anyway?” He tugs at the hem around your thigh, elastic snapping back against your skin. You bite back whatever pathetic noise threatens to escape your lips.

“It was warm out earlier!”

“It’s March—“

“And unreasonably warm for March, y- you jerk.”

“That why you’re shivering?”

“Considering the sun set, uh, yeah?”

You grumble, annoyed how wet this easily has made you. You need out, and Steve needs out, too, and the two of you need to just forget about all of this.

“Okay, just—“ You can’t think straight, mind clouded with dirty thoughts— how embarrassing. “Push me through.”

“You… want me to push you… how?”

“With your hands, St—“

“I know with my h— I meant, like, where?”

You can’t see the way he licks his lips, staring at your ass, but you sure can hear the strangled moan he miserably tries to hide in his throat. 

“Wherever works— I don’t know, I’ve never been stuck between dimensions before!”

He shudders a breath before calling through the gate, “I’m gonna— if I touch anything I shouldn’t, I swear to god I’m not trying to—“

“Okay, yeah, I get it, Steve— just push me out of here!”

“Christ, you’re fucking bossy…”

His hands grip the plush of your hips, first, hoping he can grip hard enough and push this way— it’s useless; his hands lose grip, sliding up your body. His knuckles run into the tree, and he’s grateful for that barrier; who knows how far his hands could’ve slipped. He yelps and recoils away. “Sorry!”

“Dude, I don’t care, just do whatever works.” You sound exhausted, and who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? You had to have been here at least an hour, and even if it doesn’t hurt, it can’t be very comfortable. 

Steve shakes his nerves off, hands reaching for the back of your thighs; his fingers splay apart, pushing as hard as he can, and you finally begin to budge. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Until you cry out for him to stop. “Shit, that fuckin’ hurts— It’s— ow, fuck! My hips—”

He immediately backs off, hands releasing pressure, but still resting gently on your thighs. It’s automatic, the way his thumbs rub slow circles into your exposed skin to try comforting you; the shorts you’re wearing are not helping either of you. It was warm out earlier, like you said, but did you have to wear these now?

Goosebumps prickle up under his fingers, and it’s hard to miss the way you clench your thighs together. 

“You, uh…” Steve gulps, fingers gently kneading at the meat of your thighs. “You okay over there?”

“Uh-huh,” Your answer isn’t very convincing, with a trembling voice. “Everything okay back there? W- with you, I mean.”

“Sure, yeah, it’s… I’m good.” He feels like such a pervert, fantasizing about taking you right here, like this. It’s wrong when you’re trapped like this. “Honey, I- I don’t know what else to do.”

The pet name twists at a coil deep within you, building up a pressure of some kind. 

“This is gonna sound fucked up, but just— push my ass— Steve, that better not be you laughing!”

He can’t hold back his immature giggling, but he’d rather this than moan.

“You sure? I don’t want you to get mad or anything.” He tries to settle down, focus on getting you unstuck. “Tell me to stop if it hurts again, alright?”

You imagine hearing those words of sweet consent in a different circumstance, biting back a whimper. “Ye- yeah, I will.”

Steve slides his hands up to the curve of your ass, unable to restrain himself before digging his fingers into your soft, plushy body. “Gonna count down, sweetheart, okay?”

This time a whimper does beat you to the punch before you can actually reply. He squeezes a little harder.

“Three… two… one—“ Steve shoves his hands against you, pushing as hard as he can. Again, your hips shove up against the tree trunk, and you cry out from the pinch. He pulls you back an inch, wincing with guilt. “M’sorry, I—“

“Again,” You boldly call back to him.

“… You sure?”

“Just do it, please,” His hands are so warm, touch so soft; you wish the fabric of your shorts would just disappear. There’s an extra whine to your voice, “Don’t hold back, I can take it.”

“Oh, fuck…” He mumbles, sucking in a sharp breath. “Go— I’m gonna try again, ready?” He hears a faint noise of consent, shoving himself into you; this time, his hips rut into you, too. You still can’t get through the gate, but you’re not sure that’s either of your concern at this moment. His bulge, rock-hard now, brushes up against your ass, and you both moan out. This is bad.

The way you push back against him isn’t helping much, either.

Both of you still, falling silent while trying to steady your breaths. Are you really about to do this here? Now?

Steve makes the decision for you both, muttering, “I can’t fuckin’ take it anymore.” He’s purposefully grinding against you, head lolling back with a groan as you push into him in return. From either end, both of you are shuddering out sinful noises. “Always wanted to kiss you first, but—“

“As soon as you rescue me, y’can kiss me all ya’ want.”

“Shit, princess, never took you for the damsel in distress type.” He tugs your shorts down, choking on air when he discovers you’re completely nude underneath. “Jesus, did you think at all about your outfit today?”

“Uh, considering I don’t have a bra on… no.”

“You don’t have a—“ Steve comically pouts that part of you is through the other side of the gate; he’s grateful you can’t see the pathetic expression. “What, did you just roll outta bed and stroll down here?”

“Steve, the longer we talk about the logistics of my outfit, the dryer I’m becoming.”

“Good thing I can help with that.”

“Okay, that was goofy to s— oh…” His thumbs spread your folds apart; despite your failed quip, you’re soaked as sin. 

“So fuckin’ pretty…” He leans down, kissing the swell of your ass, trailing his lips down your backside until he’s level with your heat. There’s no warning, just his tongue gliding along your folds, lapping up your arousal. A feral sounding groan vibrates through your core as he loses himself tasting you. It’s not rushed— not on purpose, at least— but any restraint is long gone now.

“Oh m’god,” You shudder while his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it softly. His arms wrap around your thighs from behind, hooking you in place. You twitch back, like you’re desperate to grind on his face, but worried to freak him out.

Steve’s far from freaked out; in fact, he’s delving his tongue deeper, nearly incoherent when he mirrors your earlier words, “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

That’s all the permission you need, rolling your body back as far as the gate allows, trembling as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. If only you could see the glistening mess on his pretty features. “Steve…”

He angles his nose against your clit just right, making you squeal into the empty forest around you. His tongue laps away, eventually tapering to fuck into you with it.

“Fuck, more, ple- please,” You pant, grateful Steve’s holding you upright, or you’d go limp against the tree. “Please— god!”

He slides a finger into you, curling it just right as he kisses and sucks back to your clit. He’s rougher this time when he suckles on the sensitive bud, rolling your eyes back and tensing your body up. You chant his name in whimpers, like a desperate prayer, only urging him to finger fuck you harder.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re gripping me so hard.” He groans into you, adding another finger. “Taste so good, I could be here all night—“

An orgasm startles you, going 0 to 100 without warning; lewd noises floating back through the gate toward Steve only challenge him to keep going.

“S- Steve, ha- hang on—“

“You want me to stop?” He slows his pace, but you ram yourself back into his hand and lips.

“No! Please, god, no—“

“Then what is it?” His tongue flits out, teasing around your sensitive nub.

“M- move your fingers up, back where you had it— ohhhmyfuckinggod—“

“C’mon, come for me, y’can do it again,” he coaxes, spitting onto your folds while relentlessly ruining you with his thick, long fingers. Your legs tremble wildly. “I can tell you’re close, angel. Make a mess, come for me again—“

This time, you cry out, praying whatever woods you found yourself in was deep enough, away from the public. Your hips twitch and convulse, while you flutter around his digits, soaking his face while he continues to delve deeper, as if that’s even possible.

The pumping pace of his fingers never relents, despite how overstimulated you feel already.

“St- Steve…”

“Got one more in ya’?” You feel his hot breath fanning over your folds again. It’s not long before he’s flicking his tongue back out, teasing your clit while adding another finger. “Christ… yeah… yeah, angel, that’s it…” He laps at the nectar dribbling from your centre, grunting as his free hand pulls you by your thigh, guiding you to bounce against his face. The fingers buried in you curl just right, earning a broken, breathy noise from the other side; he hits the right spot, and under a minute in, you’re gushing against his pretty face.

You can hear how drenched he is when he speaks, licking his lips between his words, “That was… oh, fuck, that… that was so… can we do that every day?”

Winded, you manage to laugh weakly, “If you can figure out how to get me un-stuck, I’ll let you do that as much as you fuckin’ want.”

You’d kill to see his face right now, dripping with your release, but until then you’ll just need to use your imagination.

“…. Can we—“

“Please.”

The head of his cock slides along your folds, teasing as it runs over your sensitive clit. You jolt back, and he grips you by the hip, holding you in place with one hand.

“Be patient for me, angel. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he slides in, taking his time, paying attention to your gasps. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh, ju- just go slow.”

Like earlier, when Steve tried pushing you through the gate, he soothes you with his touch, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin. He sinks a bit further, feeling you clench around him with anticipation. “Angel, gotta relax to let me in…”

“I- I know, m’trying, you’re just— you’re so… so…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I have you. You’re okay…” He slides deeper, hips almost flush against your backside. “Just relax… that’s it, that’s my girl.”

The praise elicits a pornographic moan out of you, only triggering his cock to twitch against your walls.

“God, wish I could see your face right now,” his mumbling fades into a gravelly groan, sinking deep into you. 

“Y’can if you fuck me when we’re outta here,” you strain out, taking him to the hilt. His cock twitches again, making you both shudder.

“I dunno, what if we can’t get you out, sweetheart?” The tides turn with his tone. He pulls out slowly, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. You twitch and clench around nothing, making him smirk. “What if you’re stuck here forever?” Slamming back into you, your walls clamp down on him, tighter than before. “Oh, what, you like that idea?”

“Steve…”

“You wanna be left here? Where anyone can walk by, use you however they want?” He draws back, snapping his hips back into your ass, relishing in the way you cry out. “Anyone can find you in the woods over there, use that pretty mouth of yours…” Gripping your hips, he pulls back slowly, thrusting in with everything he’s got. It’s becoming a torturous pattern, but he can tell you’re enjoying it with the way you’re soaking his cock. 

“Oh my— fuck…” You gasp from the other side, throwing yourself back into him as far as the gate allows you. He grunts as you meet his thrusts.

“You’d be up for grabs over here too, y’know…” Hands trailing back to your ass, he spreads your cheeks, spitting lewdly on your pretty, puckered hole. “But maybe you’re not that much of a freak—“ You don’t hold back the sinful sound building in your throat over his unfinished concept. “Oh. Oh. You’d like gettin’ fucked by some monsters too, huh? That’s so fuckin’ gross, babe.”

“That ain’t even the half of it,” you manage to reveal through panting and whimpering.

His mind races over the possibilities, slamming into you a little faster.

Steve circles the tight entrance with the pad of his thumb, throbbing deep inside you as he tests the waters, sinking in just a bit. You squirm and whine, relaxing as he continues on, eventually making it past his knuckle— which, wouldn’t be too much, but with the size of his hands, you feel so full off that alone.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, I don’t think I’ll l- last long,” he murmurs while he pistons his hips into you, growing sloppier by the minute. 

“S’okay… m’not…” You can’t grasp onto the words you need, not when he’s fucking you absolutely brainless between dimensions. “God, Steve, you’re so deep.”

His thumb slips out of you, leaving you emptier than before, making desperate, pathetic mewls and cries. Ignoring you, his hand slides underneath, pressing down onto the peak of your mound. “Where do you feel me? Here?”

“N- no, deeper…”

Steve splays his hand wide, fingers blanketing over your skin; he inches his touch up, just where your belly and pelvis begin to meet. The further he stretches his touch, the more he leans over you, kissing along any bare skin on your back he can reach.

“Here?”

You shake your head, but he can’t see. Your lapse in verbal response earns a smack on your ass, causing you to cry out into the expanse of the woods. 

“Where, babe? Tell me.”

“Up,” whimpering, you push back into him. Hand gliding up to your belly button, he stops.

“Here?”

Eyes rolling back, you let out a broken sob, “Yes!”

Steve pushes down on your belly, just enough for the pressure to meet his thrusts.

“You’re takin’ me like a slut… sound like one, too.” He grunts while bucking wildly into you. His hand disappears, only to join the other in grabbing you by the thighs, nearly lifting your lower half off the ground against him.

The sound is absolutely what you’d expect from two, hopelessly horny idiots, fucking in a circumstance like this one right here. Skin on skin slapping roughly, echoing out into the woods of the Upside Down, in time with his near-feral grunts and throaty groans. On your side, in your world, you can only imagine how close to an injured animal you might sound like, or someone in actual distress, unable to cover your mouth as you hold yourself up while he fucks into you relentlessly.

“M’pretty close, angel,” Steve pants through the gate, hips stuttering while he still gives his all, thrusting mercilessly into you. “Where—  where can I—“

“‘Side…” You groan out, lost in a lust-driven delirium.

Attitude softening, he manages to ask, “In— you mean inside?”

“Uh-huh, wanna be full,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. “Make me yours—“

“Oh, fuck,” Steve’s hips freeze over your words, finally reaching his high. One final cry tears out of you as your fourth and final orgasm trembles through your body, rolling into his. The delicious squeeze and fluttering around him helps milk his release, doing just as you asked, filling you up with his spend. 

Involuntarily, his entire lower half twitches violently into you, and finally, finally, the gate gives, allowing him to tumble through to the other side, shoving you out first. He lands on top of you, rolling over onto the forest floor while you both groan. The woods are quiet, aside from occasional crickets and your loud, ragged breaths, weaving through the branches above.

Though the two of you are ready to fully collapse, the squelching sound of the gate constricting catches your attention; the damn thing closes completely.

Steve chuckles weakly, while you push past any shame that might still linger, shyly smiling over at him.

“Hey…” You attempt to greet him, now that you’re face to face— which, speaking of, his features are still glistening from sweat and your multiple releases. 

“Hi,” he breathes, eyes trailing over your figure, landing and pausing on your exposed core, dripping a lewd mixture of fluids. “Fuck…” He leans forward, but stops himself, mumbling, “If we weren’t in the woods, I’d, uh, help clean you up, but…”

Your eyes widen, taking in his words; neither of you are in a state to fuck around any further, but you make a mental note of the suggestion for the future. “I’m— I’ll remember that.”

Surging towards him with an ounce of renewed energy, you capture his lips in a long-awaited kiss. He makes the cutest noise of surprise, melding against you. Pausing, he murmurs against your lips, “Sorry we couldn’t do that first.” It’s a wild shift in his demeanor post-sex, from a dominant, feral wreck, to this soft, precious person before you.

“We can make up for it though.”

“After a super long fuckin’ nap.” Then he cringes, “And the— y’know, the whole—“ He waves his hand around, rolling his eyes, “the Vecna thing.”

“Right. Yeah. Priorities.” You’re looking forward to all of this coming to an end. All you want is to curl up in bed with Steve, and sleep a whole day away, but that’ll have to wait. 

As clarity brings you back down to earth, you realize you’re still naked from the waist down… which means— 

“Um… Steve?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“… Where’s my shorts?”

[sweetlovepascal]

die for you

pairings reader x joel miller

summary abby wants you dead instead.

tags spoilers for those who haven’t watched s2 e2, reader insert, sad, depressive, just pure sadness. mentions of death, because you will die. joel crying and begging. ellie crying too. established relationship. swearing, all that.

masterlist

the world had already fallen apart, but this day was supposed to be ordinary.

joel had gone with dina, and you were paired with ellie and jesse. a patrol like any other. except today, the cold was unforgiving and you can’t help but feel that something bad might happen.

winter had buried the abandoned buildings under thick layers of snow, turning streets into treacherous paths. frost clung to your eyelashes, burning against exposed skin. visibility was near zero, and the biting winds made it impossible to push forward.

“we need to find shelter!” jesse shouted. he pointed ahead a building as they helped him open the shutter doors urging the horses inside. you shoved past the threshold without a second thought, fingers clumsily reaching for your walkie-talkie. you roughly tore of your balaclava, ripping it free in frustration.

you breath came in sharp, steam rising in the air as you held your cold fingers to the radio.

“joel? dina? come in”

static.

you tightened your grip. “joel. dina. do you copy?”

nothing. just silence.

ellie stepped inside, shaking the frost from her coat. she glanced at your stiff posture, the way your fingers gripped the device like it might give you the answer you needed.

“any luck?” ellie asked, rubbing her hands together for warmth, and then her gaze drifted—eyes scanning the dimly lit space. marijuanas. ellie huffed a small, amused breath despite the tension.

“no.” you swallowed hard. your head was pounding.

“well… at least someone had the right idea. can’t imagine getting high in a place like this. too depressing.” you barely reacted, lost in the silence of the radio.

jesse entered behind her, his boots leaving damp streaks on the frozen floor. “what?” he asked, pulling off his gloves. the static in the radio felt heavier than the snow pressing in around you.

jesse shook her head. “they’re probably just out of range. we need to stay put. let’s wait for the storm to pass.” but you couldn’t sit still, not with joel and dina somewhere out there.

you turned to look at ellie, reading your thoughts before you could say them aloud. “i’m coming with you,” ellie said. jesse exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“fine, i’ll cover the east side” he said, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on. “if you don’t hear from me, i’m probably dead or freezing my ass off.”

the wind howled around you and ellie, cutting through your layers like knives. snow blurred the world beyond a few feet. footsteps vanished the moment they were made. as the cold pressed in around you, a terrible thought crept into your mind.

“we need to keep moving,” ellie said, her voice tight. “we won’t last long out here.” you nodded, that’s when you saw it—a shape emerging from the storm, just barely visible through the swirling snow. a cabin in the mountain. you hesitated.

“what are the odds it’s safe?” you stared at the cabin, a creeping dread curling in your stomach. “low. but better than freezing to death.” ellie shifted slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“someone’s here.” the tension in the cabin thickened as you and ellie remained pressed against the wall, weapons drawn.

another noise. footsteps. not yours nor ellie’s.

a loud, sharp gunshot echoed. your breath hitched. ellie’s gaze snapped to yours, wide and panicked. then a voice. a familiar voice, shouted in pain from the room across you.

joel.

ellie surged forward, bursting through the door without hesitation. you barely had a chance to stop her but ellie was already inside, gun raised, fury burning in her eyes.

one of them whirled around at the sudden intrusion, attacking into ellie before she could react. the force sent her crashing to the ground with a hard grunt, her revolver skidding across the wooden floor as another pair of hands pinned her down.

ellie groaned, struggling. “joel!” “fucking get off me!” abby just stood there watching paying the intruder no mind.

you sucked in a sharp breath, ducking behind just in time before anyone could spot you.

your eyes landed on him. he laid on the wooden floor. his breath uneven, his face twisted in pain as blood seeped through his pants. you felt you stomach twist as you caught sight of his busted knee.

through the haze of pain, his gaze lifted locking onto ellie. his lips parted slightly, a hoarse, breathless sound escaping him, barely loud enough to hear.

“ellie…”

“joel! joe—” ellie shouted, thrashing harder, pure desperation in her voice. her words cut off with a sharp gasp as one of them pressed her harder into the floor, tightening their hold.

joel tensed, his breathing ragged, his hands curling into fists despite his weakness. he tried to push himself forward. but his ruined knee buckled, sending fresh agony through him. his jaw clenched, his face twisting in pain, and his voice came out strained, almost broken.

“get your goddamn hands off her.”

joel now wondered where you are. he wanted to ask ellie but couldn’t risk your life. he just hoped that you are somewhere far from the cabin and far away from jackson as the place is currently being attacked.

“tourniquet his knee."

a scream ripped from his throat, raw and broken. you clenched your teeth trying not to cry. "stop!" she shouted, thrashing violently. her face slowly turning red.

joel was breathing hard now, short and sharp gasps escaping him as his head dropped back.

without hesitation, you moved fast as your gun lifted and aimed.

the shot rang out. blood splattered against the wooden walls.

one of the men dropped as chaos erupted.

joel’s eyes snapped to you the moment the shots rang out.

ellie scrambled to her feet, using the distraction to break free, throwing her elbow into the second man's face before scrambling for her revolver.

you had shot 5 out of 8.

you asked ellie is she was okay but just as you took your next step, you felt it. a cold metal pressing against your temple. your breath hitched.

“drop them” one of the guys ordered. your fingers tightened around your gun still warm in your hands.

“you…" abby muttered, almost breathless. she lunged, grabbing her rifle, yanking it into position and pointing it straight at joel.

"abby.."

"drop them," she snarled, the barrel pressed close, just inches from his head. joel barely flinched, his jaw clenched tight. ellie froze beside you, her breath sharp, her revolver still aimed.

slowly, carefully, you exhaled through your nose, lowering your arms. your guns slipping from your fingers, clattering onto the bloodstained floor. the moment they hit the ground, one of abby’s people, a woman, tackled ellie to the ground once more.

a slow, humorless laugh escaped her lips. "funny how the world works," she murmured, shaking her head.

"i thought i'd be tracking you two down forever, and here you two are walking straight into my hands." her fingers flexed against the rifle, gripping it tighter, and then her expression shifted.

her gaze flicked to joel, then back to you.

“i heard a rumor,” she murmured, almost conversational, like she was testing the words on her tongue.

“that when joel killed my father…you were there.”

ellie froze beneath the girl pinning her down, her wild glare flicking between you and abby. joel couldn't speak.

abby took a slow step forward. “you were there,” she repeated, her voice lower now, heavier, her anger burning just beneath the surface.

“you watched it happen. didn’t you?”

“you let him do it,” she hissed.

“you let him take everything from me.” “you were supposed to be family,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

"abby, please i—"you barely blinked. family. the word felt wrong coming from her.

“shut the fuck up! we were together in this world, surviving it,” she continued, her fingers flexing against the trigger now pointed to you.

“i trusted you.” her gaze locked onto yours, fury burning just beneath the surface. “and then joel took everything from me. and you— you just let it happen.” her voice broke slightly at the edges, but she swallowed it down, replacing it with something cold.

this wasn’t just revenge.

this wasn’t just about joel anymore.

this was about you now.

“i could just put a bullet in your head right now,” “but that would be too easy,” she continued. “too quick. too clean.” her fingers flexed against the trigger, but she didn’t pull it. not yet. she let out a slow breath, shaking her head as if thinking what to do with you.

“you’re gonna die painfully slow.”

joel’s breath hitched. abby’s gaze flicked to him, watching the way his jaw tightened, watching the way his panic had settled deep into his bones.

she was enjoying this.

she was feeding off his fear. and that meant you mean a whole lot of something to him.

“she doesn’t belong in this,” joel pleaded, his voice growing more desperate, thick with something heavier than pain.

“you came for me right? fine. fine. take me. just— just please let them go.” joel swallowed hard, his breath stuttering as he tried to force himself forward, as if he could shield you from abby’s aim.

“she ain’t done nothing to you,” he continued, words rushed now, his voice cracking in places, and for the first time you saw it. tears. threatening to spill, but he fought against them, his jaw tightening, his breath coming out in desperate bursts.

“just let her go,” he whispered. “please.”

“oh, joel, that’s exactly why I won’t.” his face twisted, horror settling deep in his bones.

it wasn’t supposed to end the way that it is ending. it was just supposed to be a normal patrol day. you and joel sleeping together at the end of the day in each other’s embrace, joel whispering sweet nothings into yours and yours into his.

that’s how your days went with him for the past five years since the three of you settled into jackson.

pain swallowed you whole. your body was wrecked, bruised, battered, broken.

you lay on the cold wooden floor, chest rising and falling in strained, shallow gasps. blood dripped from your mouth, staining the worn boards beneath you, pooling along the edges of your ruined body.

your swollen eyes found him. joel. his eyes locked onto yours. you saw everything. rage. fear. desperation. and worse, guilt. with a last blow from abby, the golf club broke in half. leaving abby to punch you.

you didn’t scream, you couldn’t feel any pain at this point.

“stop," joel rasped, his voice raw, strained, begging. "please—just stop." he tried to move, tried to push himself forward but his ruined knee buckled. his face twisted, his hands twitching weakly against the wooden floor, as if he could somehow reach you.

he couldn’t. he was trapped. forced to watch.

ellie was screaming raw, desperate cries, her voice breaking as she thrashed beneath, tears spilling from her eyes. you meant a lot to her.

"stop!" she sobbed. "just fucking stop!"

but abby wasn’t listening, reaching the broken golf club. she kneeled over you, hands ready to pierce through your neck. joel let out a sharp, strangled breath.

"don't," he rasped, his voice cracking, breaking, falling apart in the space between you. abby exhaled softly.

"say hello to my dad for me," abby raised her hands and paused.

“i’m sorry.” she murmured quietly. your vision swam, clouding at the edges, fading to black. “for everything.”

you try to speak, to force out a word, a plea, anything, but your throat tightens, the world tipping.

"you don’t have to do this! please!" joel's voice shakes, a mix of fear and disbelief. his eyes bloodshot.

then a sharp, sickening crack as the metal connects with your throat. the darkness creeps in, slow at first, then all at once.

you heard joel screaming your name, the sound breaking apart like glass.

"no—no—no—" ellie screamed, fighting, struggling, kicking but she was pinned, she was helpless, she was drowning in the horror of it all.

memories started flashing before your eyes.

joel.

no, this is the joel only you knew.

the joel who looked at you with eyes that softened when you caught him staring. the joel whose laughter was rare but beautiful.

your vision flickers. you see him under the soft jackson light, his hand absentmindedly tracing patterns over your knuckles as you sit beside him on the porch.

you remember the way his calloused fingers felt, rough from years of hardship, yet somehow the gentlest touch you’d ever known.

“never thought i'd have this,” he had murmured once, voice barely above a whisper. you’d turned to him, resting your head against his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

he had always, always found a way to make you feel like you mattered.

and ellie. she had teased, nudged, given you knowing looks when Joel would brush a stray hair from your face or linger a little too long when saying goodbye.

now, you try to reach for him, desperation lacing the last flicker of strength in your limbs. your fingers twitch, stretching toward the fading memory of him. he’s sat there in front of you, looking at you like he always did like he sees you in a way no one else ever has, but you can see the pain in his eyes as he shouts your name begging you to get up.

your body fails you. the weight of it all pulls you down, down, down. your hand drops. joel’s image flickers and both joel and ellie’s voice fades. then nothing.

abby steps back, her expression unreadable, and the two men with her exchange glances. one gestures, impatient, and she nods.

they leave.

but the silence that follows is louder than any scream.

joel groans. a broken, ragged sound as he forces himself forward.

he crawled towards you.

blood pools around his knee, staining the ground beneath him, but he drags himself closer, hands trembling, breath shallow. every inch forward is agony, but still, he moves.

ellie scrambles beside him, desperation pushing her forward, hands shaking violently as she reaches for you.

joel's hand finds yours, trembling, bloodied fingers curling around yours in desperation. he grips tightly, waiting, pleading in silence. “just squeeze,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “just once. please.”

ellie chokes on a sob, her hands pressed against your chest, searching for something—anything—to hold onto. joel’s grip tightens around your lifeless hand, desperation threading through his veins like fire. his breath trembles, uneven, as he waits for any sign that you’re still here.

but there’s nothing.

no squeeze. just silence. “come on,” he whispers, voice hoarse, barely more than a breath.

“baby please...”

nothing.

ellie lets out a strangled cry but joel barely hears her.

because suddenly, he is not here—not kneeling in blood, not gripping your lifeless hand.

he is somewhere else. years ago.

sarah. his little girl.

she used to hold his hand so tight, like she was afraid he’d slip away like she’d never let go.

and then one day she did.

the last time he held her hand, she hadn’t squeezed back either.

the memory crushes him, knocks the air from his lungs, rips through him with a force so brutal it’s unbearable. the same pain. the same silence. the same unbearable emptiness.

“no,” he chokes out, shaking his head violently, his grip tightening like that alone can pull you back. “not again. not you. please—don’t do this to me. don’t—”

joel cradles you in his arms, holding you like you’re made of glass. his breaths are uneven, sharp, as he presses his forehead against yours.

"you’re okay," he whispers, but his voice cracks, betraying him.

his grip tightens around you, like he can somehow anchor you here. like he can change what’s already happened.

the reality settles in. the weight of it crushes his chest. a shuddering breath escapes his lips and then, the tears come once more.

slow at first, like he’s fighting them. like he’s trying to hold himself together for just another second. but it’s useless.

a broken sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes as he clutches you closer, as if the sheer force of his grief could undo the impossible.

ellie lets out another choked cry, her fingers trembling as she reaches for you, her own tears slipping down her face.

he leans down and presses a gentle kiss against your forehead.

he is drowning in his guilt, in the unbearable weight of what he has done.

he brought you into this chaos. into his life of violence and consequence. he made you part of his story.

"this is my fault," he chokes out, "i brought you into my mess. i—i should've kept you out of it."

"why did it have to be you? why, why wasn’t it me instead?"

"i should've protected you but i just sat there and watched them taking away the most important person in my life."

he lost you.

and there’s no coming back from that.

“you made everything better,” he murmurs, his tears slip onto your skin. “even when the world was hell, you—you made it brighter.”

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” he brokenly sang.

"you make me happy... when skies are grey...you'll never know dear...how much i— love you... please don't take... my sunshine away..." he continued as he sang your favorite song. the one that he always sings before you close your eyes and sleep beside him because you couldn't sleep without him doing so.

but this time, you'll be sleeping forever.

a/n i'm sorry. made this 7am in the morning because girly woke up and chose violence. might make an alternate version of this where u live and have a happily ever after w joel. comment if u want to be tagged!

[inkedells]

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than your sick love. He doesn’t think you love in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

Logan closes them. “I’m tired,” He says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Ezra Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas, with a kind of slippery urgency that tells you he's trying to shut you up more than he's trying to satiate his own desire.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.” 

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean, play with me?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it. 

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

 You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are. So you keep taking it, until Logan can no longer successfully suppress his moans and his hips are jerking out of rhythm.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling this identical need. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion, and it does. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you, filling you extraordinarily with only a few inches.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again. 

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

He groans as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster as you swap his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back to let you swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.

[kleptokure]

Chaotic Crushes ᰔᩚ

Burning Spice & Golden Cheese, Mystic Flour & Dark Cacao, Shadow Milk & Pure Vanilla x GN!Reader (separate pairs)

❯❯❯❯

Burning Spice Cookie & Golden Cheese Cookie

The day was moving along as it tends to. There were no duties that called for your aid, and you could rest as much as you liked. While that did sound nice, you decided to log into a game you play quite frequently: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

Hopping onto your device, you found you had little to do. Nothing much besides the daily activities until the next update comes out. Before the inevitable of logging off, you wanted to play around with your favorite pair of counterparts: Burning Spice Cookie and Golden Cheese Cookie. It wouldn't hurt to have a bit more fun.

You located the two and dragged them to an open area in your kingdom. They did not share an interaction, but you liked to pretend the both of them were annoyed with the other's presence. While they were your favored, you enjoyed bringing about their forced bonding. It's not like they can deny the player.

Random dialogue appeared above their heads, which was nothing out of the usual. In spite of that, there was a chat bubble that made you look twice.

"I do not see what you gain from this!"

Golden Cheese Cookie held the stance of staring into your screen, as if she truly was speaking to you. Of course, that would be nonsense since this is a game. And yet your next actions include clicking on Golden Cheese repeatedly. You search for that same sentence, but nothing alike appears.

Her Radiance then returns to a normal pose, which settles you a bit. Still, maybe you should have taken up on that nap earlier.

To return yourself to peace, you drag the beast back to the side of the ancient. They behave as coded. Somehow, you retain that sense of unease. It seems you can't let that mishap slide by. You were right to do so because another so-called accident appeared.

"Your badgering has grown boring over time!"

Your eyes hovered over the chat from Burning Spice Cookie. The pose of looking your way was taken by him as well. You begin to think, was there an update you missed? You are positive you would have known at least something of it. The cookies cannot simply act how they please all of a sudden.

You are growing both anxious and amused. The factor of mirth was less, though. With that said, you decided to log off for a moment. Cookie Run: Kingdom did not appeal to you like it tends to.

But it seems the game was persistent in having your attention. You were unable to pull out of the tab at all. It was stuck on your screen, with the music playing in the background as always.

Irritated, you scrutinized your screen. There were no pop-ups that were notifying of a bad connection, and all movement progressed with zero delay. Your eyes felt the need to trail back to Golden Cheese and Burning Spice, only to find the pair with their eyes staring at you. This time, they took up no other actions. Just a long, hard stare your way.

You were beginning to freak out. The situation was not looking upwards due to the fact of your screen zooming in by its own commands. All you could see was the two of them.

You confirmed it yourself; your game was broken in some way. It was hard to know how. As much as you wanted to ponder over the circumstances, you were gifted no time to. Your screen became a blinding white, and you backed away from it. Whatever was happening, it was intentional.

You wait for an event, yet your eyes catch nothing amiss. Your screen was black, meaning the entire game decided to shut off. Oh well. That was preferable anyway. Now you feel silly for being afraid. But then your ears catch an unexpected noise.

Inspecting, you witness hands extending out of your display. To reiterate, hands are coming out of your screen. The sight may be in front of you, but you pinch yourself in hopes of this being a terrible nightmare. Much to your dismay, you experienced the pain.

Running out of your room was a smarter choice, yet you backed into a corner. Fear engulfed you, and you were too afraid to watch. You relied entirely on your hearing, which brought a loud laugh that echoed off the walls. Silence followed after, sending off a false sense of security.

Footsteps were loud against your floor. Before you could grasp onto the noise, hands grasped around you. You were lifted off of the floor and carried by a muscular subject.

Now opening your eyes, there was much to indulge in. You were unaware of what to concentrate on. The strong aroma of spice nearby did not assist your focus. Even so, you believe you know what predicament you have fallen in. Is that truly who you think it is?

"How dare you place your hands on my treasure? Release them at once!" With a voice so divine and a presence that shines like gold, Golden Cheese Cookie stood in your room. Hovered, to be exact. Her wings defied what was humanly possible.

Holding you was the person she shouted at. The scent that stems from them left you with one guess.

"Hah! You dare tell me what to do? They shall be for my appeasement," the booming voice of Burning Spice Cookie states. You could feel the muscle in his arms, which were wrapped around your side. It seems he came into your world just as brawny as he was spoken to be in his own dimension.

For the slightest second, you squirmed to readjust your position. Your small movement caught the gaze of the two. Their eyes burned into your skin like you did something wrong.

For reasons unknown to you, Burning Spice Cookie released his grip around your figure. You took the chance of backing away from them, their sights not leaving you for a moment.

Golden Cheese inched closer to you, and Burning Spice behaved the same. She sent him a harsh stare; he returned it. Another argument would arise soon. That is the last act you would want executed, so you spoke up for once, ridding yourself of your shell-shocked behavior.

"Hey," you said, your tone not exactly still. Once again, you had their attention, which included their unsettling stare. Your next words did not follow after since you were unsure of what to say. Calm down? It would be hypocritical to demand an attitude you don’t even own right now. You chose to question instead.

"How... How are you both here right now?" Even now, you are not certain of the way they arrived. Could they merely just jump out of the game at any time? If so, why could they not appear in their cookie form? Circumstances would be much simpler then.

You did take note of their somewhat kind bearing towards you. Golden Cheese Cookie deemed you her treasure, and Burning Spice Cookie regarded you as his form of appeasement. You do not recall doing much for them in the game. How could they view you so highly?

Then you remember the starting signs of this entire situation. They stared at you from within the game, which means they can see you, which means they could see you this whole time. The idea does not settle well. Perhaps they could hear you coo over them at random intervals as well.

Now that you believe you have a few facts understood, you wait for a reasonable response from one of them.

"Right! Excuse my rude entry, darling. I have desired to see you for quite some time now, you know..." Golden Cheese Cookie sounds displeased for a matter you were unable to control. By some means, you feel guilty.

"You," Burning Spice started off. His tone startled you a bit. "You are far from boring. I have ached to find my way to you." He stepped closer, a grin spread on his face. "I have you now." You gulped at his last claim. You are sure he means that.

"Shall I inflict my radiance upon your stupidity once more?" Golden Cheese Cookie did not take a liking to his declaration over you. If her weapon came along, there would surely be a brawl. You are starting to see a pattern for the reasonings of their quarrels.

"How about we all sit down?" You suggested before Burning Spice could respond to the threat Golden Cheese sent. You made a trail towards your bed and sat down. Thankfully, they followed in your steps. You were glad your bed did not collapse under their weight.

Their compliance is surprising. They manage to tower over you, and the power that accompanies them is greater than yours. It is an odd feeling to have both of the mighty beings seemingly under your command. It is not a bad feeling, though.

Golden Cheese Cookie put her wings to rest. She made herself a seat right to your side. Her wing snuck around your shoulder.

Burning Spice Cookie spared no time for her attempts at flattery. He took a seat next to your other side, pressing his own skin to yours. Her wing was moved aside, replaced by his head smushing to your cheek. It is obvious he was curious about your nature.

It would appear these cookies know nothing of personal space, yet in reality, they do. The both of them simply deem it unnecessary when it comes to you.

"So, um, why are the both of you here?" Since your last question was ignored, you brought up another. You received their claims of wanting to meet you, but why? Was remaining inside the borders of their game not satisfying enough?

"Subjected to the unworthy matters of such a monotonous game," he huffed, like the memory pained him. "But then there was you. Your presence was a constant—yet your arrival excited me all the same." A chuckle brewed within him. "I craved the thrill you give."

His statement was strangely flirtatious, all spoken in a proper manner as well. It could cause your stomach to flutter. His fiery eyes, paired with his long lashes... Burning Spice Cookie was a sight to behold in his human form, and that was a plain fact.

You turned away from him, giving a hum in response. He was bored and stuck in a game. His motive was understandable, as anyone would go crazy under that situation.

Golden Cheese Cookie released a sigh intertwined with annoyance. It was clear she did not care a bit about Burning Spice's reason. Clearing her throat, she brought the attention to herself.

"Well, how could I not want to meet the one responsible for all my prosperity?" Her eyes sparkled while they fixed upon yours. She appeared even more divine than she did in the game.

"I only wished to thank you face-to-face." Her hand snuck into yours, attaching your palms together in a tight grasp. "You've provided me with an abundance of gold, yet my most prized possession is right here," she declared.

It is getting really hot in here now. You were bound to end up flushed between the two of them, but their words caused circumstances to grow poor. You would not want to mistake anything, but how else would one take their statements? The way they look at you with such admiration? You believe you'll faint.

"It's no big deal, really," you assured. Your eyes averted from hers since you found her stare overbearing.

Burning Spice Cookie was nowhere near fond of the sight of you and that woman, who he believes would be better off elsewhere.

Snatching away your attention from the greedy queen, Burning Spice placed his hand upon your lower back, pushing you closer to him. While you wanted to look anywhere but at a pair of eyes, he focused your gaze on his own.

"Appeasement," he titled you, "amuse me."

An odd choice of a nickname, but you find it fitting when it comes from him. Focusing on his request, you find yourself lost. How could you amuse a beast of destruction? There is no way you would challenge him in combat, so you think of a choice you would be capable of.

"Nonsense! They do not have to appeal to the likes of you," Golden Cheese Cookie sneered. She could be correct, yet you acted in the interest of the man anyway.

Shifting upwards, you pulled yourself to press a kiss to the cheek of the beast. The second after, you felt sick with apprehension. Was that the best option in mind? There must have been an alternative to please his constant need for entertainment.

In spite of your assumptions, Burning Spice Cookie was delighted. Within his mind, he presumes he will never find himself bored with you present.

To express his gratification, he releases the sound of boisterous laughter. Once again, he tightens his arms around you, which could be concluded as his form of a hug.

"Yes...! That's the rush I crave! Appeasement, amuse me again." Maybe introducing him to your small way of amusement was a bad choice. He is as greedy as his counterpart.

Speaking of his counterpart, her radiance is far from pleased. You dared to press your lips to the skin of that brute? Oh, you must have felt pressured, she claims. Fear not, as your queen is nowhere far.

She pulls you from the arms of her enemy. Commencing her wings to flight, Golden Cheese Cookie carries you in her own hold, which she deems where you will be far more content.

"You vermin! I will—" The scolding that approached the man came to a pause. The mouth Golden Cheese has was sealed due to your abrupt action. She received your soft kiss to her cheek, causing her anger to diminish into dust.

For a gesture so small, Golden Cheese Cookie feels the urge to request an abundance more of your affection. She presumes you would not hesitate if she asked. You were so giving when it came to her gold; would you provide a different source the same way if inquired?

She will question you later, preferably at a distance away from the beast. For now, you are returned to your feet and given your freedom.

The two are surprisingly silent. Still, you can catch them eyeing you, and their stares speak for them. It seems to be a matter you will have to learn to get used to, as it is not looking to be going away.

You hope they can attempt to coexist since you are positive they plan to stay awhile. Or they will refuse, and persistent fights will arrive. Regardless, a kiss could potentially help, based on the behavior they exuded moments prior.

While you're here, things will be under control. You'll have to be the one to assist with their questions. They will have a lot to ask about your world and a lot to ask about you. Nonetheless, they will be fine. But will you?

Mystic Flour Cookie & Dark Cacao Cookie

Late at night, you were awake in your bed. At an hour like this, it would be best to go to bed, but your sleep schedule was already ruffled. You saw no reason in attempting to fix it now. Besides, there were significant issues that required your aid. Those issues may be within a game, but they remain problems all the same.

While you do love Cookie Run: Kingdom, you were growing tired of logging in to repeat the same actions. In all honesty, you were missing a few days of resources that you could claim. The whole of your motivation was left to your guild. You did not want to get kicked for inactivity.

You were amidst your dark room, the lone source of light acting as the screen displaying the game. Your eyes exhibited boredom as you waited for each of the nine battles to end. The 2x button seemed like it was failing to help.

At the commencement of the final battle, you glanced at your team, which included Dark Cacao Cookie, along with his opposite, Mystic Flour Cookie. You are aware there is dialogue between him and his son at the start of a shared battle, so you tend to pay the text bubbles no mind.

This time around, you took a glimpse of what they conversed about. To your surprise, it seemed like you were included in his conversation.

"Why must you be so distant at times?"

You do not believe you read that correctly, but a quick read over proves you wrong. What does he mean by that? Was he talking to Dark Choco Cookie? It could apply to him, but such can be said for you as well. You have failed to log in for a few days now.

It must be something you are unaware of. You would rather not bother your mind with what appears to be a bug. Then again, you still played out a practice guild battle to investigate your worries. You eyed your team, and there popped another sentence, but not from the cookie anticipated.

"I have longed for the sight of you once more."

Now, it was Mystic Flour Cookie who acted bugged. Seriously, what was up with your game? You do not pay much attention to your battles; that much is true, yet you believe you would have taken note of their dialogue by now.

Aiming to make sense of the situation, you check the game's update log. You scroll, your eyes trailing over each bar of text to find what could settle your worries. There was nothing to be seen, and you were left clueless.

Thinking over what happened, you conclude this was nothing to fret about. It could very well be a mistake that the developers released by accident. After all, it is just a cookie game. They are all coded to act how they do. It would be silly to think they're sentient.

Before you went to bed, you took the two cookies who had startled you: Mystic Flour and Dark Cacao. You drag them to interact with random objects placed in your kingdom. It made you feel the slightest bit better.

"To even think you guys were real... Maybe I'm missing too much sleep," you spoke to your screen. You did not expect an answer in return.

"I am real."

What? Okay, now you realize the state of your affairs. That could not possibly be programmed into Dark Cacao Cookie's chat. Your game is absolutely hacked, or bugged, or something. It has to be something.

"I'll show you if I must."

Those next words send you into a panic. When did this become a horror game? How does she plan to display an impossible act? It was impossible for her to become existent, right?

If it were true, then you would like to prevent it. The timing was much too far into the night for events like this to be happening. With a quick mind, you conjure up a reaction.

"Wait! Wait, how about... no?" You tried to let your response down softly as to not offend whatever sentience was before you. It would be breathtaking to witness a humanized cookie, but the dark in your room made you think otherwise.

Your rejection was not taken as lightly as you wished, though. They were not as quick with sending out responses compared to before. In fact, your entire screen went black, most likely due to the power of them. This was all appearing far too genuine to entertain the thought of this being a dream.

Using your nimble wit, the best choice of action was to flee. Where? Your closet. Although when you take place behind the closed door, you realize that a different location would have been better.

It was too late. Your brain had played tricks on you by now, making you believe whatever was out for you took place in your room. As might be expected, you soon realized that was stupid. Your subconscious was scared, and you knew it.

What was there to be afraid of? You said it was simply a cookie game. There is not anything out for you. Your mind was eased, and you stepped out of your hiding place.

It goes without saying, there was nothing within your space. No monster, no cookies, nothing. A sigh you were unaware of holding escaped from your mouth. Then the sigh was not the only sound inside of your room.

The next thing you knew, there was a loud tumble audible, and you jumped out of surprise. After that, there came your returning fear. It may have been dark, but you could notice the outlines of two people, who were beginning to stand up.

Before anything else, you turn on your side lamp. You were scared, yes, but you would also like to see the face of what would end you. With a spring of light, you look forward.

In front of your eyes, you could observe recognizable faces. It did not take long for you to understand what happened.

"Your resolution irks me to no end. There is no reason for you to be here," spoke the pale lady, her voice firm in tone.

"Yet again, you stand in my way. I will cut you down once more if necessary," the man folded his arms. The hostility in the air was thick. You are well aware of the past between the two of them. It looks to be that they shared a matching goal: reaching you.

"Holy..." You breathed out in shock. Despite the rapid amount of blinks you took, the pair remained ahead of you. This is far from imaginary. You have Dark Cacao Cookie and Mystic Flour Cookie amidst your room.

Your singular word attracted the gaze of them both. Unlike them, you were unable to vocalize your feelings. It was obvious you were shocked. It was no problem in their opinion. As nice as your voice sounds, they came here to lay their eyes upon you in person.

Her footsteps were agile; it did not appear as if she even moved. In the next second, Mystic Flour stood before you. You leaned back, yet she leaned in. Her eyes opened, revealing the darkened stare she owned.

Even with features that would seem disturbing, Mystic Flour Cookie appeared ethereal. It was captivating to witness her from a distance, whereas the shortened proximity taps at your nerves. You pray any of your prior words had not insulted her.

Her hand crept to your cheek. "It is you," she whispered, her touch gentle when in contact with your skin. Your mouth was dry, yet you evoked your response in due time.

"...Are you real?" Your voice was quiet as you asked for confirmation. You felt as if you were getting swallowed in her unwavering gaze, but you kept still. Her hand was cold at the time she cupped your cheek.

Dark Cacao Cookie stepped forward, disliking the view he saw. "She should not be here." His hand fell onto her shoulder, increasing the space between you and her.

Mystic Flour Cookie's face twitched, and she brushed the hand of the man off of her shoulder. It did not take much to notice their hatred for one another. You would rather there arise another topic since it seemed like the two would argue at any moment.

"Dark Cacao Coo—or, just Dark Cacao, how are you..." Your sentence had not come to finish, as you cut yourself off at the sight of the lord stepping closer. It was to no one's surprise that he towered over you. His hand dropped its secure grip on your shoulder. They both come off as touchy, you believe.

"I have managed to achieve my true strength. I am able to protect my kingdom with ease and fight for my subjects. My sword has grown sharper—because of you." His stare was resolute as he looked your way. You felt your ego inflate due to his words. How nice it felt to experience a lord expressing gratitude for you, albeit he originates from a game.

"I did that? I mean, yeah, I did that! It was easy, really. You were very deserving of it." It was like all of your previous anxiety had diminished. Since you were aware they held you in high regard, you would play along. It brought no harm to.

You catch sight of Dark Cacao's bashful face. It looks like your words went to fluster him. He will have to get accustomed to it. Knowing how much power you hold, you plan to use it to your advantage.

In the corner of your eye, Mystic Flour Cookie gives the impression she is brooding. Perhaps your small praise of her rival left her upset. It would not be fair to pick and choose when you are certain they both worked hard to reach you. Breaking out of a game sounds like no easy work.

Shifting her way, your hands find their way to hold her own, bringing her near your person. This gains her attention, and her eerie stare is placed onto you once again.

"Mystic Flour," you started off in a murmur, "I think you did what you had to do. In the end, you are worthy of the care I give you." You were close enough to whisper in her ear, pulling away to send her a quick smile. With her skin complexion, you could see the red tint on her face with ease. She is as adorable as her foe.

You spoke in a mighty tone, keeping the god title they placed you in. It would only be right. It was clear they were in need of some sort of tribute. They may be tall and powerful, but their need of affection remains. As their "god," you were more than happy to give what they sought from you.

Mystic Flour Cookie shut her eyes and returned a nod of her own appreciation. Her hands tightened around yours, yet you had to free one palm from hers to clasp another.

Dark Cacao Cookie appeared bothered at the statement you gave to her, but his complaints were unheard. It was as if his exasperation reduced to dust when you held his hand.

"Now, let's stop the sulking." Your request fell on deaf ears. Mystic Flour cannot tolerate that man, even for you. The same can be said for Dark Cacao. There is a limit to what he can do in favor of you.

"Hey, uh, when will you guys return to your world?" You eyed both of them, believing you could guess their answers.

"I plan to stay by your side," he replied. You feel uneasy when Mystic Flour Cookie does not send her response. With that given, you are sure they own an identical answer. Would it be possible to change their minds? From your memory, they were keen with resolution and set with apathy. It may take a bit to send them off, if it's even attainable.

For now, you will have to deal with the two of them. They are silent enough, but their animosity is constant. Will you be able to deal with the tension?

Shadow Milk Cookie & Pure Vanilla Cookie

It was early morning, and in your bed you lay, wide awake and eager for the upcoming day. There were no events to attend in person. Instead, there was an update coming to the game you adored: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

You wanted to prepare for the arriving cookie, so you made sure to gather all of the resources that were within your reach.

All of the codes available were input, and you claimed your rewards from such. Heading to your guild's alliance, you battled the highest difficulty you could manage. The rewards for a high tier were not ones to be passed up.

Finished with that, you moved onto the daily acts you could do. Collecting your train goods, sending off the balloon, and fulfilling wishes. Everything was almost complete, but you had the arena to finish up with. Tallying time was around the corner, so you wanted your tier to experience growth before then.

As always, you clicked on battle after battle, watching as your collection of trophies rose next to your tier. Down the path, you faced a few problems with Pure Vanilla Cookie dying off. He was insufficient compared to other teams, so you wanted to fix the problem.

Seeking out his beascuit stats, you aimed to modify a few things. Before you clicked on the icon, you received a piece of dialogue from the healer.

"Could you spare me a minute or two?"

Huh. Although that sounded sweet, you were focused more on the creation of the text. Somehow, you cannot dwell on the memory you first heard that. Was it added on a later date?

Having fixated on Pure Vanilla Cookie during a certain period, you feel as if you would recall his question, yet you fail to. It must be your blurry memory. It seems like a reasonable conclusion.

You wanted to view those words anew to remember them the next time around, just to ensure no unnecessary confusion. Even so, after you tapped the character a few times, you could not find the message you were in search of. It disappeared, like it never existed. Strange, but you chose to let the topic go.

While you believe you clicked on Pure Vanilla Cookie's beascuit, you ended up on another cookie's stats: Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simply an accident, so you undo your mistake and return to Pure Vanilla's screen. Over again, you click on his beascuit, but then the same mishap occurs. How are you ending up on Shadow Milk instead? Your game is awfully glitchy today.

Then, out of nowhere, you are on the screen of the blue jester. His cookie floats to the left, seemingly innocent of the reoccurring disturbances. Another inconvenience arrives, and you are stuck on his screen. You are unable to click on the next cookie. None of the arrows work, and the exit button has denied you.

You would go to assume you need to reset, but the fact that everything else is fine leaves you curious. You are allowed to click on his cookie, beascuit, toppings, and skill. All is well, except the exit source. At some point, you just started to spam it. That's when you hear your next problem.

"Hey! Didja forget? I'M the star of the show!"

That marks the second time you are presented with unseen dialogue, both of which feel like you are being spoken to directly. You do not have a known cause for this, but you hope a shutdown of the game could aid your tiny predicament.

But of course, luck was not on your side. You were not presented with the chance of closing the game. The display of Shadow Milk Cookie persisted. It would be weird to blame a fictional character, but you want to point fingers at him anyway.

Looking around, you check for a bad internet connection. Nope, nothing. When your eyes trail back to the screen, you do notice another fact. Shadow Milk Cookie is gone. He is not on your screen, even though you are on his page. What could possibly be wrong with your game? A cookie cannot just up and walk away.

Then, one feature worked. You could move onto the page of the next cookie in your team, like you had been wanting to earlier. Now, Pure Vanilla Cookie is displayed. You could have returned to a normal routine, yet you did not. The last few moments were not to be dismissed.

All of a sudden, there was audible giggling behind you, which echoed in your room. There was no one else but you that resided here, so you were obtaining genuine fear.

Glancing at your screen, there was yet another interference. Pure Vanilla vanished in the same manner Shadow Milk did. Have your cookies just decided to leave you? You always thought you cared for them well, but perhaps not.

You felt no need to stay within the bounds of your room for much longer, so you got up and headed to your door. You are not sure one would believe your situation if you were to tell them, but you hold no care for that. Getting a breath of fresh air was your main goal.

Every goal is accompanied by its obstacles, except you forgot about that part. You did not anticipate the arrival of your new guests, which left them with an opportunity to sneak up on you.

Stopped in your tracks, you stumbled upon your locked door. Not from the inside, but from the outside. Your urgency increased with each rattle of the knob until a voice was heard behind you.

"Awwwh, where are you going? The fun just started!" There poofed a blue man in front of your way of escape. While you wished to be courageous, you were startled by his appearance and shrieked, stumbling over your balance and falling. Fear not, as there was an awaiting grasp at your back.

"Shadow Milk Cookie, must you behave such a way? You are scaring them," spoke the soft voice near, their arms steady around your body. Hearing that name confirmed what you initially thought to be insane. The character became real, and he was right ahead of you with a grin across his face.

Peering upwards, you spotted the opposite of the jester. He turned your way with a kind smile adorning his face.

"My light..." Pure Vanilla Cookie tugged you closer, his voice warm like a candle. His embrace felt safe, yet you were still alarmed by the situation.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes at the sappy man. The beast wanted nothing more than to have you near him, but he begrudgingly listened to Pure Vanilla. His goal was not to scare you, although it would be humorous to.

You slipped from the grip of the blonde man, who was saddened but allowed you as you wished. Your expression seemed tense, and he did not want to frighten you. Their attention was on you and you alone.

Thinking too hard gave you a headache. You do not think you could comprehend what occurred before you. "I don't—I can't understand what just happened." They both recognized your concern, but Pure Vanilla Cookie was the one who expressed his sympathy.

"There is nothing to fear—" The compassionate man was pushed to the side, overshadowed by his parallel.

"Whatever could you mean? The star of the show has graced you with his presence!" Shadow Milk Cookie was able to fly, which was an entirely different matter for you to gawk at. He hovered to your side and wrapped his arms around your neck, his touch smooth but cold. You felt his hair curl to your cheek, as if it possessed its own mind.

Your eyes stared into his. Seeing him in the game was fine, yet his features became more prominent when humanized. Observing the eyes in his hair truly left you bothered. "Why?" Your question was legitimate. What made them determined to visit you? They seem nice enough, so you are glad you did them no wrong.

"I needed to see you SO BAD! I mean, any good host would spend time with their number one fan." He deemed you his number one fan? Really? You are not sure if you felt flattery.

Your hand was pulled in the direction of Pure Vanilla Cookie, diverting your heed to him instead. Shadow Milk Cookie gave no approval to this, his expression salty and hateful. It was obvious he believed the attendance of Pure Vanilla was unnecessary.

"My friend, you have given me your faith throughout my journey. I could not have done it without you." His eyes unveiled the pretty case of heterochromia he has. The way he stared at you made you feel all nice. You were unknowing of exactly what you provided for him, but you received his gratitude all the same.

"Blah, blah, blah. They only did what was coded. I’m sure they had my best interest at heart," Shadow Milk Cookie excused, reclaiming your personal space as his own with the pull of his arms. You did not confirm nor deny the statement given by Shadow Milk. Slight irritation exuded from the usually calm man.

"...What do the two of you want from me?" Now that they reached you, you wondered what their plans were. If it is anything simple, you can see yourself offering.

"I only desired to see you, my light." Pure Vanilla Cookie was so upfront with the admiration he held for you, it was almost overwhelming to hear. He was nearly a stranger admitting this. "I wished to illuminate you with the same warmth you gave me."

Despite how strong he may come off, you appreciate his thanks. Your hand lowered to hold his. Your action surprised him, but your next movement shocked him.

You planted a kiss on the back of his hand, returning his faltered smile with your own. It was the least you could do for such heavy devotion. You found yourself respecting him as well. Pure Vanilla sent out shy chuckles, clearly pleased by what you conducted. Would it be selfish to ask for another? He ponders.

Watching from the sidelines, Shadow Milk Cookie is furious. How does that stupid, blind gnat receive a kiss from you? He believes your kindness needs to learn some limits, which should stop right at the edges of that foolish man.

You were aware of the jealousy oozing off of Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simple to catch on to his emotions after a few minutes. You would not want anything broken in your room due to a fight, so it would be best to share your affection. It was planned to be passed anyway.

Before you could reciprocate the same behavior for Shadow Milk Cookie, the man scooped you up in his arms effortlessly. Inspecting his face, you notice a scowl taking place on his lips. For someone who was so playful a second ago, he held such resentment within him.

"Not everything can be solved with friendship, Silly Vanilly," he mocked, sarcasm in his tone. You believe the only reason he fails to attack his rival is because of you. At any other rate, there would be holes in the wall.

To lessen his loathing, you were quick to bring his hand to your lips. You send him a kiss, similar to the way you gave Pure Vanilla. The piece of affection seemed to shut his temper up immediately, and he clung to you further.

"Ha ha! I knew ya loved me more!" That seemed to be baseless evidence, but you repaid his hug with a smile anyway. It went without effort to get acquainted with his silliness when in person. You can foresee the new fun he will bring with his antics.

Pure Vanilla Cookie could not say he was pleased with what he saw, but he went without speaking about it. You behaved the way you do because of your benevolence, and he wanted to respect that. He would live up to his nickname if he were to compete for your time.

Managing the two of them for a bit does not seem difficult. Surely, if they could come here, they could go back. They will return to the game at some point, but you can hang out with them right now. Hopefully, their competitive demeanors will be rid of. You can only anticipate how you will handle them until then.

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu), a yummy 5.8k words that I did not expect to get this long lol

note. I only have a rough outline of what's going to be included with the others parts after the names of the kids lol. I'll probably write leona's as usual after this but I can't promise I'll release one more part after his this month, the rest will probably come next month considering I'm bombarded sadge. paper defense, then final exams next month save me

also hello! my unnofficial: I'll try to post more

late edit: comment if you want to get tagged <3

riddle

when you slid a foot over the portal to heartslabyul there’s some sort of a strange–inexplicable air that surrounds it. usually the dimension is light to be in, unlike the tingling feelings of being in octavinelle or the eeriness of ignihyde. all dormitories had their own particular sensation that weighs on you depending on where you were.

you squinted, deciding to shrug it off. there was no way you had a sixth sense for feeling in the literal air!

barely a foot in though, was something you could only explain as an army of card… soldiers trudging from the other end of the sidewalk to the next. dumbly, you stopped right in front the shimmering portal that settles into a smooth sheen of silver behind you as they just kept coming.

they seemed to be looking for something–or whatever but you don’t really want to know what so you slowly inched to the side, hoping to sneak past them even if you had to go into one of the confusing mazes (which was a struggle considering you’re trying not to laugh as one of them trips).

must be ace’s wretchedness rubbing off of you.

the real question was, where in the seven were your resident idiots? you’d already sent a text over for your impromptu visit to the chat consisting of you three and figured they had seen it like they usually do then waited for you with feigned begrudging-ness that does not fit well with them showing up in the first place. 

you fish for your sad excuse for a phone in your pocket, cater’s words not yours. you’re more busy trying to merge your backside as you shuffle and pull up the chat to notice the ever nearing edge of the hedge wall that makes you stand out in comparison to the lighter shade of green brushing against your uniform.

not deuce: you guys ever notice the card soldiers infestation near ur mirror portal…?

not ace: you nedea to RNR RUN RN!!

not yuu: what???

there’s not much time to ponder about the cryptic, seemingly panicked expression of deuce’s message as you looked up from your phone, feeling a slight chill crawl up to your spine like you attracted some sort of unwarranted trouble that is also unwanted.

disclaimer: you (uu) did

“over here!” an unfamiliar voice yells, freezing you in your tracks just when you were about to make the sneak of the century. without a moment’s hesitation you darted deeper into the maze and shoved your device within the confines of your pockets as you held in a mortified scream at the sudden mob upon your tail as you ran.

WHY WAS THERE SO MANY? you yelled in your mind. number one rule in horror games don’t look back. don’t look back. don’t look back–

oh sevens you’re looking back.

the decision immediately fills you with regret when you spot the diabolical amount of card soldiers trailing after you like you just slaughtered their queen in front of whatever kingdom they came from! was this someone’s unique magic? there was no way riddle would let this sort of thing go rampant on his dorm!

you almost keel over in shock when the pointy end of a heart on the end of a pole sticks right on the patch of grass you just barely managed to trudge across with increasingly heavier steps. maybe you should actually take jack’s offer to join track and field–your stamina is horrible–you’re gonna get stabbed.

goodbye world. you thought warmly with a chorus of pants.

a deeper voice bellowed from the crowd from your behind. “three of hearts! are you thin-headed? do not harm the majesty!” the steps behind you stop almost abruptly, and you don’t stop running even as the voices fade. idiots for choosing to chastise their idiotic comrade but you’re not complaining as long as you get away from this horrid situation.

your majesty what now?

you don’t know how far you ran by sticking to all left turns until you flop down on the entrance of the maze, the archway barely offering you any relief as you took deep breaths and fought the urge to lay down on the grass and hope it camouflages your grey uniform.

that won’t work but you’re coping at this point.

not deuce: HELLO  I ALMOST GOT SKEWERED BY LITERAL CARDS?

not yuu: that’s a humiliating way to go down from

not ace: don’t be insensitive ace! are you ok?!

not deuce: NO? WHAT IS GOING ON

not yuu: riddle got dethroned and i'm not even happy

not yuu: it's the absolute WORST AT THE DORM!

not yuu: you better turn back rn and get away from ‘labyul coz it’s getting run by a kid

not deuce: BACK INTO THAT DEATH MOB? no thanks

not ace: yuu brace up, cater texted that the new boss is on his way to you

not yuu: F for yuu

not ace: F

not deuce: F u

what you expect to be the final boss of your life, you guess from the approaching pairs of footsteps nearing your defeated form sprawled across the flecks of grass and still heaving comes in a surprising form of softness, and youth.

“mada.” 

the blueness of the sky is shadowed by a tiny little head peering over your head. you’re startled by the tuff of red hair, and familiar pair of eyes which was strange, considering you have never seen this kid in your life. this was the new queen of heartlsabyul? you thought incredulously, since when were kids allowed in nrc…?

the thought was a breeding ground to raise the most evil person on the planet, considering the equally as evil people in night raven.

out of habit from the familiar chubby, round face you blurted: “riddle?”

the child blinked before they shook your head. “I am not papa.” their lips twitched into a small smile directed to you. if taken a closure look, this child’s resemblance with riddle really is uncanny. from the hair, even to a small golden crown sitting primly on the middle of their head. “mada, I am glad I found you. I have not seen papa yet.”

was this season 5 of stranger things?

they straightened. attention straying from you as you glanced to the other pairs of legs, whom you put a face to quickly. trey and cater both cast you a look of exasperation and pity.

then done like a true riddle–their face does a complete 360 and curls into anger as they stared off inside the maze. “all of you!” the tiny child rages with a concerning… change of color around their cute face, fingers pointed accusingly. how can a child be so horrifyingly scary?

the two third years do not mirror your confusion as you sat up, following the kid’s gaze to the archway where a myriad of thundering footsteps almost have you scampering away if not for them laying a small hand on your shoulder and somehow managing to ground you to stay still.

whose kid is this? you looked to cater who shakes his head uselessly

then to trey who wore a resigned smile.

the child’s brow twitches when the card soldiers lined up obediently. “I thought I had made it clear you not hurt mada.” they seethed, voice tilting in clear threat and a I demand you! sort of way. the card solider, three of hearts who had scared the living soul out of you trembled less subtle compared to the other guards.

of course this child had to get more terrifying by being observant, they caught the shiver of one soldier and narrowed their eyes. “ah, found the culprit. three of–”

trey shuffles forward with an awkward laugh that belies his usual laid back with–on his face is a twinge of concern as he raises his palms in a placating gesture. he steps forward three more times, sliding between the child and the line of soldiers but keeping the distance warily. “hey, kid. maybe we can discuss this with some tarts, and some tea?” he tries. children love sweets, right?

they keep their head level despite the astounding height difference. “I told you, uncle trey! being called ‘kid’ is disorderly! It's alice!” still, despite the brief protest their eyes sparkled with interest at the notion, even if they seemed a bit embarrassed to admit it. “i’m not supposed to eat sweets on mondays.” 

“huh.” cater mumbled before the thin line of his lips rose into a familiar grin. “as in, rule 102 of the queen?” he queries with a nervous slide of his fingers through his hair. he’s not so obvious to directly state that he’s tiptoeing around… alice but a bit of months knowing him, you can tell.

alice nods along. they no longer look as bothered as before, the card soldiers all slump their tense shoulders a little when alice shifts their piercing gaze from the three of hearts before settling onto cater, who they offer a brief nod of agreement before returning back to trey.

well, a kid is a kid. 

“but i can eat sweets on tuesdays.” they added hastily. like they don’t want the notion of trey’s treats slipping from their fingers but that would be strange, if the look of confusion you three share with each other you would have thought trey had initially baked for alice based off the tone of wistfulness in their tone.

trey smiles at them. “tomorrow it is.” reassured by their sheepish innocence he stops in front of them and grasps their shoulders, turning them away from the stiff soldiers. alice spares a brief glance at them. “what about these rule breakers?”

you stood up fully. “uh, don’t worry, they didn’t do anything wrong. i ran for too long.” you supplied in defense. if anything , a resemblance to riddle of all people meant that they could have the head offing in their blood. you did not want to stick around to find out, neither did cater.

alice considers you for a moment with a small sparkle in their eyes, with a wave of the small wand that maternalized in their hand, the soldiers fade into glittering spots of gold. only then do they let trey lead them back to the main pathway towards the dormitory of heartslabyul.

you fall into step behind cater who probably sees the question in your eyes so he lowers his voice discreetly, glancing at the back of trey who keeps the child’s bay attention so they don’t notice you two slowing down a little. nonetheless, still walking.

“that was little alice’s unique magic.” he says to you with a shrug, sighing after a glance at the former’s small, regal form. “pretty overpowered… kind of like my split card but less cute, and more dangerous.”

he winked, you frowned.

in front of you two, alice seems tame in comparison to the subtle bribing of trey questioning about their favorite sweets as you all finally reached the nearing entrance of the main dormitory

“where’s riddle?” you questioned.

he pursed his lips, navigating though the fountain in front of the dorm. “last i know, he went out early to campus cause of a meeting with his club for the upcoming NRC tour festival…” 

oh, right. I have not found papa. alice’s voice echoes in your mind, so you echo the question that appears in your mind right after the memory. “alice called riddle ‘papa’ which i’m pretty sure is a term for a parent…” you trailed off. riddle seemed to be the least likely person to have a secret love child of some sorts, he seemed like he had most of his life planned out.

if riddle bent over backwards for his rules then he wouldn’t stray from the path he had set.

there’s a flash of interest in cater’s eyes, it was already there before, just dwindled. you watch it spark to life. akin to lighting some sort of fire within the guy, a gossipmonger at heart as he leaned in eagerly just as you both trudged up the stairs to the front doors who opened politely, and closed behind you as you walked in the main hall of heartslabyul.

“they look, and act like riddle!” he chuckles. “imagine our shock when alice popped up straight out of nowhere with an army at their beck and call.” cater clutched onto his arms, and shivered. you leaned away when he reaches his arms out to you in a teasing manner.

he adds. not at all offended by the way you scrunch your face at his ‘affections’. “they seem to listen to you though. like someone.”

you only regard him with an impassive raise of your brows. “i don't think so. riddle doesn’t listen to anyone. much less me.” befuddled by the mere idea, you scoffed. in all your magic-less glory, the best thing you might have achieved here in this other dimension was having the ability to wake leona kingscholar up from one of his power naps.

cater doesn’t seem to agree. only sighing at you from what it seems to be an of course. “only you can be so oblivious to the chaos you leave behind.” he says in response, making an exaggerated show of peering behind your shoulder and widening his eyes in feigned shock.

you humor him as you turned your head. the scene of the main entrance of the dormitory was the only answer to your eyes as you both walked into the living room–where little alice sits alone. you caught a glimpse of trey’s dark hair as he disappeared into the kitchen, most likely going off to make her a treat.

vaguely unsure if the male had heard him, cater calls out a “make us some too!”

“not my fault the students here are so… unstable.” you remarked with a roll of your eyes. remembering the overblots to be the most plausible reference to the chaos cater was talking about as you begrudgingly sat down on the couch and reeled in any other remarks for the child in the room.

who was now shuffling closer to your seated frame even if they thought they were being subtle in the movement.

what was two seats in the space between you and alice eventually became none at all, as they settled beside you and peered up with innocent eyes.

you tilted your head at them, alice copies the movement.

then to the other side.

they mirror the lull of your head.

“besides those.” cater cleared his throat after a bewildered glance at the child. “what’s more impressive is that you’re still here, yuu-yuu. night raven is like… a pack of wolves trying to run you off crying, and you? you’re a very weird sheep.”

still a bit enraptured on this child, you replied without your stare wavering from the roundness of alice’s cheek as you reached up to pinch it. to yours, and cater’s surprise. their previous cute ferociousness is not present at all as they leaned against the warmth as though instinctive. “i didn’t do anything.”

you don’t entertain the accusing look in cater’s eyes.

“if that was you not trying to beast tame the school then i don’t know what’ll happen if you put in the effort.”

you both lapse into silence as cater–who seemed to sense the finality of the conversation lets it slip fully and instead, busies himself with the entertainments his phone provided. you redirect your full attention onto the elusive red-headed alice.

“so,” you started. “how did you end up here? must be a great feat if you were able to go past the barriers.”

alice curls their fingers within the fabric of your blazer, inspecting it as they reply softly. “i’m not sure, mada. i was just sleeping, and woke up in a garden. the hedgehogs showed me the way after i offered them a caterpillar.” they do not mention a bleary moment in their sleep where they curiously wondered how you and riddle came to be as they drifted off. “as pertaining by rule 210… if you are lost in a maze, give the hedgehogs an offering and they shall show you the way.”

you can’t help but let your mind drift over to riddle, who echoes the rules to be followed when mentioned.

your lips twitch into a smile, much to the delight of alice. “strange indeed. must have been scary.”

their eyes squinted. “i’m not scared.”

you chuckled and pinched their cheek. they pout.

“where are you from?” you ask instead, wanting to know more about the.. figurative alice from nowhere. 

alice looks at you strangely.

“from the queendom of roses…” could they simply be a relative of riddle’s? you thought mindlessly. drawing your fingers through the surprising soft red locks who seemingly part eagerly for your touch. “with my mada, and my papa. sometimes my uncles visit.”

unsure of how to reply, you merely nod along. parting their hair by half and twisting it into a braid. “you called me mada.” you hummed.

“because you are my mada.”

she says like it’s the only thing that makes sense in her small world, not relinquishing her grip on your blazer but instead tugging at the wrists to expose the small slither of skin and hold onto it. clingy. you thought, deciding not to question it.

… was this your freaking kid?

the smell of strawberries wafts over the space of the living room alongside the ticking of the oven–momentarily taking both alice, and cater’s attention. the latter stretches before standing to stride over to the source of the smell, no doubt requesting trey to change the taste once more.

alice’s eyes, like yours slid to your own. a bit shy in their demeanor as they clutched onto the skin of your wrist. “can i eat some of uncle’s tarts?” they queried under your breath, only meant for you alone. you felt a bit confused but nodded nonetheless. 

their lips twitched into an eager smile before it settles into a more controlled look of impassiveness.

that was adorable. you thought, unable to resist leaning down to scoop them into your arms as you stood. alice makes a sound of brief surprise before their arms loop around your neck. they sat pliantly still as you walked over to follow cater inside the kitchen, catching a glimpse of your scent that they sought for, so alice nuzzles their face into the warm pulse on your neck.

trey glances up from the animated retelling of cater about the crazy day. “new responsibility?” he wore a humored smile, apron long discarded and folded over the handle of the oven for the meantime.

if riddle saw this, he would not believe it no matter how intelligent he was. trey deduced.

he gestures to the tray set on the counter. “there’s frosted strawberries, blueberry cornmeal, and the good old mont blanc since i got left over ingredients from the last unbirthday party.” 

alice feels the shift of your head as you glanced down at them, they don’t remove their head from the crevice of your neck for a moment and meets your eyes with a raise of their own. “frosted strawberries, please.”

“good choice, little alice.” cater comments.

“careful, it’s hot.” trey chided gently as he watched you pick up one of them, drawing it near alice’s waiting hunger as they tilted their head up from your shoulder. they took a small bite at the corners of the tart, smiling at the taste and only wider when you wiped remnants of crumbs around the edges of their mouth.

alice chews, and swallows before they spoke again. their eyes gleaming with admiration as they stared at trey. “it’s always the yummiest when it’s fresh out the oven.” they recited.

trey blinks.

“you’re a bright one.” he remarked, ruffling their hair when he drew near. “don’t tell anyone about the wicked secret ‘round the kitchen, all right?”

they nodded vigorously. “thank you, uncle..” they spewed politely, but evidently genuine.

cater munches from the other end of the counter. “we gotta protect alice,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling as he pointed his phone to you, tapping to snap a picture of the scene despite your warning stare. “too nice for the vultures we call students here.” 

“you might be right.” trey shook his head, and you nodded mutely. more absorbed into letting them take bite by bite into the tart until it was about finished halfway. only then do you lay it back on the tray. how much sweets was ideal for a child to take anyway? regardless of you deeming it as enough, alice stays quiet and does not complain.

if they wanted more, you wouldn’t know.

“later.” you promised, leaning back when you were satisfied with their prim appearance. a pat of their hair to smooth down trey’s earlier disruption.

“later..” alice echoed. 

a resident third year enters the kitchen. only to pause in their tracks and back away.

“domesticity is really the enemy of the students here.” cater sniffed, earning a chuckle from trey who found the comment funny. “imagine being happy, being broody and emotional are the real requirements to get admitted.”

cater finishes his snack with a pleased hum, and a grateful nod to trey. “by the way i messaged adeuce, sent them to stall dorm leader from going back as long as the dorm was… kind of in a wre–predicament.” he cleared his throat, casting a brief glance at alice to spot if they had taken offence to his almost uttered word.

“so now they’re en-route?” trey guessed, transferring the leftover tarts to a glass bowl. leaving the tray in the sink to wash for later. cater nods in response, typing on his phone with one hand. likely in cahoots with the two right now. “told them the coast was clear! no more trampling soldiers scampering around.”

trey eyed him. “what about the–”

just then, whatever trey was going to comment in rebuttal of cater’s easy reassurance was promptly interrupted by new individuals peeking inside. ace, and deuce poked their heads from the corner. as if trying to ascertain the danger level of whatever may be inside.

ace rougly nudges deuce when he spots you with a child in arms. for two people insisting on their unique, varying selfs. they mirror each other’s look of bewilderment as though their brain cells crackled and connected into a singular one. “what the seven?” ace mouthed.

you all do not notice the look of familiarity on alice’s face.

nor the brightening when riddle strides in with a petulant huff,

if riddle thought strangely, or disapproved of the two’s behavior then he wouldn’t have had the chance to comment on it before he was leveling trey with a sharp, inquisitive stare. “i would like a very good explanation as to why my hedges have been mangled to the ground.” his eye twitches with the effort of containing irritation. “three hours i’ve been gone. three! and when i enter heartslabyul the first thing i see is devastation upon my gardens!”

perhaps emotionally, riddle cried out in the last sentence.

even though such an expression should have frightened a child to some degree, alice relaxes in your arms but their face clouds in shame at his voice.

riddle whirls back to the other two lingering by the doorway who both flinches imperceptibly–cater tries to intercept with a nervous chuckle but is only met with a steely don’t even start! “ace, and deuce have me running around the school. saying something about yuu getting kidnapped by those.. vermin excuses of… students from octavinelle!" riddle seethed, breathing still a bit labored as favor of his statement about running around.

“dorm leader!” ace stood straight stiffly.

oh, did he just come from a frantic search in octavinelle?

“i even had to threaten collaring azul who i thought was lying about yuu.” with a deep intake of air, riddle breathes out and pinches the bridge of his nose, collecting his temper. much to the chagrin of deuce.

“we apologize.” deuce added sadly.

cater feigns ignorance by looking away but it’s trey’s look that has him adding to the defense of the two, rather than using the opportunity to scamper away with his head in tact. “ahem… we had these two keep you busy. so don’t be too harsh on them, riddle. us upperclassmen will take responsibility.”

a nod of agreement from trey gets riddle quiet.

the former tilts his chin to you. “yuu is fine, they’re right here.”

like he hadn’t even noticed before (he really didn’t), riddle’s head snaps to you immediately. his eyes would have been stuck to you, prodding for a valid explanation to your ignorance to his angry calls but instead, settles on the bundle in your arms.

“who…” a blink. “why in the world do you have a child! they are not welcome on school grounds! especially this time in the school year–.” riddle sputtered, instinctively sauntering over to take a closer look at alice who only stared without an inch of fear.

“papa.” they mumbled, voice measured but still echoing in the now quiet kitchen.

ace leapt up to your side. “that’s not right!” he gasped, squinting dangerously at riddle. any traces of earlier mortification gave way to whatever emotion he’s got on his face. “how could you sully yuu! they’re not a babysitter for your kid!” 

“what?” riddle seethed, head flicking from ace, to you, then to alice.

despite a look of great reluctance, deuce nods from the doorway still. mumbling to himself. “dorm… dorm leader has a child…”

you vaguely remember trey offering the dazed guy a glass of water.

“unconfirmed earlier, confirmed now.” cater adds unhelpfully to the blazing fire of riddle’s rising anger.

riddle’s teeth grind together, jaw clenching as his fingers tightened into a fist. it was more of one his attempts at calming down rather than preparation for a physical alteration. “I did no such–!”

“don’t be mad at mada.” alice reaches for him, tugging at his blazer which surprisingly, quells the reddening of his face. now, he just looks a bit confused.

alice turns their head slightly. “mada, you can calm down papa.”

deuce paused before dropping to the ground.

“AH! he’s dead. this is why you don’t betray us by keeping secrets, yuu!” 

“uh oh… trey help me with deuce… wait, should we just leave him? i mean, he’ll be just fine here, right?”

“... just take the other arm, cater.”

all the way back to the living room, riddle’s face remained tinged with warmth. alice, while reluctant to part with your embrace, seemed wholly pleased to stay by the other red-heads' side. insisting you sit next to him when you moved to sit by your two friends.

you obliged them despite riddle’s interest with the carpet.

the couch dipped at the weight of another. even so, the non-verbal conversation between alice, and riddle continued. the former pressed their lips together thinly, seemingly assessing the… youthfulness of the latter. they aren’t so used to this kind of look from him.

cater flinched, and look away from the flash of his phone. he elbows a dazed deuce.

“so,” ace cleared his throat, blinking his still wide eyes. “who the heck is this kid?!”

“language.” riddle chided sharply. though softened from its usual end even he isn’t so sure why it is from the mere presence of alice alone. 

“rule 13, always present yourself with appropriate language.”

“always present yourself with appropriate language.” alice repeated.

riddle squinted at a relaxed alice, who tilts their head as if to ask ‘what?’.

“genetics is crazy. what’s next, the kid beheads us too?” ace points between the two. 

alice shrugged. “only if you break the rules.”

“i do not have a child!” riddle protested.

“i am your child.” replied alice.

“apparently this one’s our kid.” you agreed begrudgingly.

riddle stares at you with a mixture of disbelief, and confusion.

darting between you and the kid like they're gonna start collating him in all his glory! sure, alice had red hair like him but quite a lot of people in the island have it too besides his relatives. the idea of… of him and you is just so out of this world that he can't wrap his head around it.

you? you who he hadn't paid attention to when you arrived at the ceremony? the very first person in that event that broke the rules? you, the very fading into the background student whom he believed to be a bad influence to his students ace, and deuce? 

you he had almost hurt beyond repair at the bursting of his control so tightly held in his hands?

the brief skip of his heart when your eyes meet over the head of alice is enough to send blood rushing to his head, coloring it with his signature red whose warmth doesn't feel like the usual simmering anger he struggles to keep submerged. if anything, this feeling is practically leaping out the water and baring his face to everyone. 

riddle does not look away. managing a look of what he tries to name as conviction but easily crumbles to fluster.

then the idea wasn't so bad considering this young child has proved to be raised dutifully, correctly without any worries of what he used to be burdened with as a child.

it gives way to curiosity. 

despite his incredulously, riddle queries. “the gardens.” he starts with a measured narrow to his eyes, not too intense to possibly upset this.. future child of his whose eyes are strikingly familiar enough to halt the normal circulation of his heart once more for half a second. “were you responsible for the destruction of some hedges I've come across?”

alice shrinks into themselves. “i'm sorry papa.” they pursed their lips, voice genuine by the lower tilt. “i thought i could use my card soldiers to look for you, and mada. you told me about this place called heartslabyul before?”

“i have?” riddle blinks. the idea isn't too bizarre, it's only natural to think back on such things.

they nodded. “yes, papa. you talk about it a lot on our friday’s. about how it looked, how you were as it's dorm leader…” alice peeks a glance at you. “and your parties with mada.”

“unbirthday parties.” trey corrects. “sometimes birthday parties if it really is someone's birthday.”

ace perks up. “let me tell you then! from first hand experience!” he blanched. like opening light about his own struggles in heartlsabyul magically meant the truth to riddle’s own kid. “labyul is really strict on rules. you know on my first day, I ate a tart and—”

deuce stirred slightly.

at riddle’s glare, ace visibly wilts to which cater snaps a picture with snickers. “I mean… the tart was really good, made by riddle and all…” he sweatdropped.

“you shouldn't eat a tart that is not made by you.” alice replied thoughtfully. riddle can't resist a light smile at her words, feeling a sense of accomplishment as he nodded along. his hand hovers for a moment before it pats down on their hair. “that's right. I must have taught you well.”

you absentmindedly patted their head, taking turns with riddle to do so while  expertly avoiding his gaze. “you said friday though, why?”

“on friday’s we don’t go out.” alice says.

“that isn’t a rule by the queen of hearts.” riddle points out.

“you made that rule papa.” they replied innocently. “in our home, so we get to spend time together as a family.”

silence reigns.

“wow.” you cough. sparing riddle an approving glance. that… sounded nice… domestic, and nice. you supposed even as an adult riddle would still have some sort of grip on rules, considering he grew up with them, it helped him live.

and now rules he shaped helped him live with alice, and you apparently. 

tick.

tock.

tick.

tock.

alice peers down at the watch they pull out from under their little adorable coat, oblivious to the stunned silence they left behind. hesitantly, they place a hand on your knee, legs swinging as they rest the other on riddle’s. “mada.” they smiled, this time widely. “papa. I gotta go.”

“what?” riddle's eyes widened. “you haven't finished your tart yet.”

“it's okay. I already ate a tart earlier, papa.”

“you can eat another, just this time. if you want.” he insisted, strangely worried.

cater raises his hand. “can I?”

riddle disagrees immediately. “no.”

muttering something about favoritism, cater looked away with a long sigh.

riddle's eyes lingered on the roundness of alice's face. from the shape, to the more detailed parts of their features. eyes, your eyes. the lushness of their hair, the soft curve of their lips tilted with innocence sends an unexpected grip in his heart, like it's heart stopping.

gosh. his heart just stopped. would he really have his own alice? his eyes darted to you. with you?

alice huffed lightly, skin glimmering lightly as their shade slowly grew transculent and faded with each blink of your eyes. “I can always eat papa's tarts. they're so delicious.” 

“don't use too much magic.” riddle scolded with a crease in his brows.

you add. “don't anger riddle too much.”

“please eat his tarts.” ace encouraged.

trey shot him a look. “don't teach alice bad things.” he sighed, glancing at said child with a smile. “I'll teach you how to make your own tarts, ask uh… future me?”

cater, not wanting to be outdone quickly perked up. “as a future magicam star, I'll make you one too. little alice!” he added, self assured of his future fame.

when it all settles, all that remains is a space between you and riddle that feels too little than vast. and a remainder of your future.

“atleast we know what name we'll choose.” you can't resist but tease. riddle does not blow up like you would have thought from your remark, only sparing you a look of feigned annoyance with warming ears that doesn't support the idea of his irritation.

he resigns to a small nod. “I am assured they are taught well.”

ace glances between you, and riddle. “I miss alice already. riddle seemed a lot more lenient with them around. you think they got embarrassing stories from the future?” he comments off-handedly, leaning back against the couch and blowing on the fringe over his forehead. “when are you guys gonna make an alice? please make one now.”

cater whistles out of there.

trey shakes his head.

deuce–still passed out is thankfully considered by trey, who dragged his limp body with a nod of goodluck to ace.

you waved at ace. F indeed.

wait! don't leave me, upperclassman! ace cried in his mind, feeling the panic splinter his state of mind.

“ACE!” riddle gritted his teeth. “i'll hand down my sentence, the verdict comes afterwards–”

ace paled.

“off with your head–!”

trivia

alice’s name is very much inspired by alice from the one and only: “alice in wonderland”.

their unique magic is called: under my decree which is simply being able to summon card soldiers, and command them at their will! (in this case, after being sent to a maze and finding their way out thanks to the hedgehog. alice was able to discern that this was heartlsabyul, and figured they might be able to find their parents here, hence, why they used their magic.)

alice is written to be a well-behaved 8 year old.

the watch is a nod to my previous commissioned work who also dealt with the concept of time travelling and related to going back (ha, ha).

alice woke up by the sound of a clock ticking, and knew that hearing it again meant that their time was up.

the entire thing happened due to alice helping untangle a fae who happened to get stuck in their gardens at the backyard while they were looking for a hedgehog that had not yet eaten (spoiler: hedgehog was hiding in a small crack under the tree) the same fae visited them at night whilst sleeping and granted them a dream of whatever they wanted to wish. alice, feeling swayed by the magic despite being not aware made a wish to fulfill it.

boom! baby rosehearts in your faces!

alice woke up and immediately said young riddle was funnily shy to yuu. much to the confusion of actual current riddle!

their favorite tart is: anything with strawberries, like riddle.

rule 13, and rule 102 are entirely fictional and made up by me… for plot purposes…

not deuce = is actually yuu

not yuu = is actually ace

not ace = is actually deuce

deuce been sleeping for the entire time lol.

ace got roped into fixing the gardens with the collar on  #thatswhatyouget

riddle invites you to study for the nearing quiz season the following day.