#sorry if it looks a little off i did coloring and half of the line art under anasthesia

[mooneln0ne]

due to Tumblr’s 10 image limit for me I have to split this.. Sorry

Au info - pt1 - pt2 - pt3

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , smuttish , pure unadulterated fluff

୨୧˚ an; thank you all for the patience 😭😭 so sorry i’ve been busy getting back into uni shit but omg!!! slowburn is peaking!!! also the tag list is officially closed because i have reached the max # of tags!!!

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Nanami’s morning routine doesn’t deviate from the norm. An alarm clock was built into his genetic code, and he rouses at half past six in the morning. Unfurling his long limbs from the confines of the couch—the suede thing was big, but Nanami was bigger. Joints popped under sheets of muscle and flesh when he gave a hearty stretch, and with that, he was ready to start his Sunday.

Fueled purely on motor memory, he filters through each step of the habitual customs he’s grown to associate with mornings. You’re still sleeping soundly in his bed, and the risk of waking you condemns Nanami to his downstairs bathroom rather than the personal en suite tailing off his bedroom. It doesn’t pose much of an inconvenience; Nanami was nothing if not prepared. The slender closet in his downstairs bathroom housed spare toiletries—handkerchiefs, tooth brushes, soaps and oils.

He brushes his teeth first, watching his reflection with tired eyes. Minty foam froths at the corners of his lips. Nanami collects the mess with his tongue before spitting into the porcelain bowl of the sink. He’s thorough, scrubbing every corner of his mouth, followed by a pass through with charcoal infused floss. Next, the man is dabbing a button of facial cleanser onto a small square of towel, wetting it under the faucet. Scouring his cheeks, then forehead, then nose. His hair is mussed from tossing in his sleep, and if not for the guest upstairs, Nanami would probably leave it as is. But you’re his guest, and for some reason that means something to him, so he slicks back the blonde frizz with wet hands. 

Another staple of Nanami’s morning routine: a good cup of coffee. The machine was expensive—Nanami tends to splurge when it comes to matters that mean most to him. He doesn’t mind spending a little extra on his suit wear, his beloved watches, and certainly not his coffee. Crafted from titanium and stainless steel, it sat heavily on the black marble countertop and whirred quietly as it compressed beans into the filter. 

Ingredients line the island at the center of his extravagant kitchen. Weekends were the only days in which Nanami had enough time to cook breakfast for himself, rather than grabbing a bagel or danish from the convenience store on his way to the office. It was a shame, really, because he enjoyed the gratification of cooking his own meals. And not to toot his own horn, but he was rather proud of his skills. 

He never cooks for two, though. 

Nanami peruses the ingredient assembly line, looking from the organic eggs, to the all purpose flour, to the carton of mixed berries. It would be rude of him not to consider your palate. Did you prefer a savory breakfast? Or perhaps you’d rather have something on the sweeter side like pancakes? He nibbled his lower lip in thought. 

A divine aroma saturates the entirety of downstairs. Nanami focuses on folding a second omellette, tucking the concoction of whipped egg, chopped bell peppers, caramelized onions, diced tomatoes, and grated sharp cheddar on itself with the delicacy of a surgeon. He’s knee deep in concentration, back turned towards his staircase so your presence goes entirely unnoticed. 

Hands clap together somewhere over his shoulder. He jerks with a startled gasp, the fork in his hand clattering to vinyl tiles. Nanami presses a palm to his racing chest, twisting to find your hands just inches away from his ear. What a little shit, you are. He doesn’t waste effort trying to stifle his grimace. “Was that necessary?”

You’re crouched down, retrieving the silverware off the floor. “Now we’re even.” 

“Even?”

“Yeah,” you hand him the fork, to which he blinks at the useless thing. It’s been dirtied by the floor, so Nanami instructs you to toss it in the sink and grab another from the utensil drawer at the end of his pointed finger. As you play fetch, you explain. “Do you know how scared shitless I was waking up in a strange bedroom? In strange clothes?” He’s watching you toy aimlessly with the abundance of extra material bunched up around the trussed waistband of your—his—sweatpants. Nanami’s clothes cloak you more than enough; cotton t-shirt hanging just below mid-thigh, and those damned oversized sweats rolled up in stupidly big cuffs at the ankles stopping over your socked feet. You must’ve adjusted them accordingly when you stepped out of bed. Something akin to apprehension pulled at your face. “We didn’t…”

Blonde brows scrunch as he attempts to decipher your blathering. When you beckon a hand between your chest and his, Nanami abruptly chokes on his saliva. “Are you out of your mind?” He’s quick to sputter, spinning back to face the sizzling pans and contain the tickle in his throat. A white bowl and whisk are gathered into strong arms—homemade blueberry pancake batter sloshes against the wiry bristles of Nanami’s whisk. He pours three more precise circles of batter onto the second frying pan, and the sweet paste fizzles against nonstick cookware. “You were intoxicated, Y/n. Couldn’t even remember your own address.” He paused. “A change of clothes seemed ideal in the moment. Something cozier.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Footsteps pad closer, and you appear beside him, resting your back against the counter. Your head lolls, cheek falling against your shoulder. He can feel your eyes gouging into the side of his face while he flips the pancake triplets. “You changed me?”

There’s a foreign tonality bleeding into your words, something almost playful, and he’s vexed. Are you teasing him? A trimmed thumb nail burrows into the silicone grip of a spatula. Or is that genuine curiosity? “I did,” Nanami gives you honesty, licking his lip as he does so. On it, he tastes a vague note of spearmint. “You needed some help.”

“God,” you touch a hand to your forehead and laugh, “that does sound like me.” There is no perturbation or embarrassment there, only relief, and he thanks God for your uncanny ability to bypass awkwardness in situations such as these. Had the roles been reversed and it was Nanami receiving word that a coworker of the opposite sex had dressed him in a period of inebriation, well, he’d probably send in a letter of resignation to the company the next day. “Sorry for being so difficult for you.”

He wags his head, dismissing the remorse. “Please, your apologies are far from necessary.”

“Oh I think they’re completely neces—”

“Aht.” A spatula stabs through the air stopping a few inches shy of your nose. There’s a sharpness that eclipses sepia eyes behind the crystalline shield of Nanami’s wire-framed glasses; a barbed glance that telepathically urges you to drop the argument before it begins. With that same spatula, he dives below fluffy circles of speckled cake and transports them from pan to plates, divvying up the pancakes into two even portions. “You took the medication I left for you, yes? They were beside the glass of water on the side table.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m feelin’ better already.”

“Good,” he nods with a subtle, tight-lipped grin. “That’s good. Though you should probably get some food down. Fill your stomach with something other than tylenol.” Nanami stops his ministrations, satisfied with the presentation of both plates of breakfast, and pitches you a simple question. “Coffee?”

You practically moan, “coffee sounds really fucking amazing right now.”

Coffee it is then. Nanami proposes that you go settle yourself in a seat, and that he’d handle the rest. Forfeiting another argument, you buckle and slip into a high stool at the breakfast bar that is associated along the island in the midst of the kitchen. Two twin mugs are poached from the highest shelf, crafted of gray ceramic with uneven, white polka dots. He owned a whole dining set donning those same frivolous dots; Nanami always had an absurd fascination with peculiar patterns, they were charming to the man. Perhaps his collection of ugly things were meaningful because of how violently they contrasted to his otherwise ordinary life. In both mugs, scalding coffee brimmed and emanated laces of smoke slithering up to the ceiling. Nanami didn’t bother asking you how you took your coffee—he just knew. Knew from stealing glances at you over the past year, watching you concoct a disastrous potion of lukewarm coffee poured from the communal pot that you so desperately despised, skim milk from the carton in the office floor’s minifridge, and a concerning amount of sugar packets that made him feel inclined to alert your doctor. Nanami does his best to match the ratio of coffee to milk to sugar, gives it a stir, and hopes it’s up to your eccentric taste buds. 

He sets your plate and mug down, sliding it across the counter’s surface to sit before you. Nanami chooses to stand where he is, leaning against the opposite end of the island. His foot, clad in a thick, black sock, taps quietly against the floor. “I wasn’t aware of your preferences so—”

“So you made…” You go quiet, prodding at the unusual combination of food on your plate: a vegetable-ridden omelette on one side and a few blueberry-encrusted flapjacks glazed in a modest squirt of maple syrup on the other. You hate it, he thinks shortly, but then a smile splits on your lips and Nanami fears he may have jumped the gun. “Eggs and pancakes?”

“You do like eggs and pancakes, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you respond, enthused. “It’s perfect.”

Nanami cringes. “I’d like it if you didn’t call me that outside of the workplace.”

“What? Sir?”

He hums. “Formalities remind me of work; I don’t like to think about work when I’m eating my breakfast.” He punctuates the request with a sip from his mug. Black, unsweetened coffee scathes his tongue with powerful calidity, but he’s well acquainted with its heat by now, and doesn’t wince.

“I’ll just stick to Nanami, then.”

“Actually, I—” Was it even worth mentioning? That he’d handed you the rights to use his first name last night? The tiny, bothersome devil on Nanami’s shoulder was whispering yes. “Kento will do.”

True, unadulterated glee beamed from your person, wafting a certain warmth across the counter to smack him in the face. “Holy shit, yeah that’s right! I remember now!” Using your fork as an arrow to point at the man, “last night, you told me that. You said I can call you Kennnn-Tooooo—”

“Okay, alright.” He’s jaded by your antics, swatting his hand in the air lazily. It’s too early in the morning to get serenaded by his own name. “Say it normally, or don’t say it at all.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so crazy to think that we’re on a first name basis now, y’know?” You ask before shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth, sighing blissfully at the taste. Gratefulness oozed into your gestures, materializing in the way you simpered up at him following each and every bite. Smiles so broad that Nanami wondered if they were out of politeness or if you really just enjoyed his cooking that much.

He can cheers to your observation. “If you would’ve told me five months ago that you’d be sitting across from me in my home—sharing breakfast with me, no less—I would have…” Laughed in your face? Had a conniption? A combination of the two? Nanami trails off into thought, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d have done.”

So hellbent on sticking to his judgment, Nanami rarely changed his mind about people post first impressions. First impressions were something he valued, both in himself and in others. A snap perception is made based upon the first bits of information he collects from a person, and it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that your initial communication was less than stellar. Since then, Nanami’s one-track mind had pinned associations onto you like a bulletin board, assigning your name with attributes like sleazy and trashy and (God, he felt the worst about this one) slutty. This entire time, it was Nanami’s stubbornness and penchant to be right that shielded him from the realization that you were none of those cancerous aspersions. 

You are you.

You are a diligent worker. You are never on time. Your favorite color is (f/c). You are easy to talk to, easy to approach. You like pistachio cheesecake and criminally sweet coffee. You are insecure about your presentation skills, though Nanami can’t understand why. You are determined. You are rarely shy about asking for something you need, a quality he appreciates in someone. You make him laugh. You can’t hold your liquor. With the way you’re drooling over your plate like a hungry puppy, it’s apparent that you like his cooking. And he likes you. 

He… what?

“Yeah, well,” you tilt your head, and the melodic chuckle that follows is enough to yank Nanami from his dazedness. Lifting your mug, you push it towards him in a sort of gesture. “Good thing the past doesn’t matter, huh? We were both lame in the past, but look at us now.” You retract the mug to your lips, taking a swig. “Future us is awesome. Are awesome? Is?”

You mumble to yourself, befuddled by grammar. Meanwhile, Nanami brews in thought. Your undying fearlessness of what’s to come in life always rendered him bewildered. 

“I’m jealous,” he admits, idly tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb. 

You perk up. “Of?”

“Your ability to embrace the future. It’s brave.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you sweatdrop, itching your cheek. “I wouldn’t call it bravery. Maybe security? I’m—yeah, I’m secure with the route I’ve taken in life.”

“You’re secure with white collar work?”

“I can’t see myself in any other profession,” you smile, flicking him a brow. “What about you?”

Honesty permitted, Nanami would describe his job as the bane of his misery. There used to be a point in his life in which he was sure that this was his ultimate goal: a senior executive position with an esteemed, high-profile company. Younger Nanami was content to endure years of early mornings and late nights with busy schedules jammed in between because it’d all be worth it when he finally tastes that sweet senior title. Except, now he’s tasted it. He’s licked it dry, and despite that, that feeling of fulfillment Nanami had been vying for his whole career remains frustratingly dormant. The notion that this will be his routine until retirement kills him.

He chews thoughtfully on a sliver of pancake before responding. “We touched on this a little over text.”

“You want to travel.”

You remembered. He hums. “I do.”

“And you want a family.”

“I do,” Nanami sighs longingly. 

You don’t make an effort to stifle a chuckle at his supposed foolishness. Shaking your head and cutting your eggs with the blunt side of a fork; “You talk about these things as if it’s all some sort of cushiony pipe dream. It’s really fucking hilarious all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Perplexed, Nanami pries for an expansion. 

And with all the seriousness in the world, you begin to count on your digits. “You are probably the most charming, most intelligent, most wealthy—”

“Y/n,” Nanami yawps at your conviction. When you jest, you do it in such an obvious way. He’s come to familiarize himself with the clever quirk of your mouth’s corner, or that playfully irritating glint in your smile-squinted eyes. But now, Nanami can’t find any evidence of joking in your stoney expression. You’re sincere when you say these things about him. It makes his heart pound so viciously that it vibrates his ear drums. 

“Most hard-working man I’ve ever met.” Unfazed by his apparent flusteredness, you finish with a nonchalant shrug. “Just funny, is all, that you of all people are stressing over these things when you have the ingredients to make your ambitions a reality.”

“Your compliments are… thanked…” The blonde ducks his head in an awkward, halfhearted bow, “but I can’t ever hope to truly begin my life when I don’t have the time granted to do so.” Nanami touches an index and middle finger to his temple, rubbing in soothing circles. It doesn’t do much to quell the oncoming migraine that this nightmarish topic never fails to cast upon him. “I’ve tried. Believe me when I say that I have worked my ass off trying to balance my job alongside nurturing a relationship. But I’ve come to realize how unfair of me that is—to ask a woman to bear with my neglect because I got held up at the office for the fifth night in a row. A relationship isn’t much of a relationship at all if both people still feel lonely.”

Unbeknownst to him, his tone had slipped away for a moment. He became bitter, recalling the lineup of failures that made up his dating history. Bitter and lonely. It’s been almost two years now that Nanami has abandoned the dating scene, if not for his sake than for the sake of his next girlfriend. Though, he can’t help but have moments of tenderness in which he thinks that maybe all of his occupational achievements would have been more gratifying if he had someone to share them with.

He clears his throat, lowering his voice back down when he apologizes for getting emotional. 

“Don’t say sorry.” You offer a reassuring grin. “I’m sorry for assuming shit about your life. That was uncool of me.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Nanami parrots, returning your grin with a sheepish one of his own, and tilts his head toward his shoulder. “I didn’t exactly mind the compliments.”

“Conceited bastard.”

He hides his simper well behind his mug. “I’d still like to know what makes you happy, if that offer is still on the table.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just would like to.” Nanami licks his lower lip, eyes grazing yours. “Do I need a more convoluted reason than that?”

Your face reads like a book. It tells him don’t be a smartass, so he yields to your unimpressed frown. “You’re not gonna like my answer. Working makes me happy.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him. “You are demonstrably proficient, Y/n. In my professional opinion, I have no doubts that you’ll be successful.” Nanami does his best to mirror your sincerity. 

“More successful than you?” You tease.

“Oh forget me, I give it five years before you’re replacing Gakuganji,” he laughs gently before pressing a finger to his lips, mimicking secrecy. “Let’s keep that between us, though.”

“The day you take orders from me is the day I can die happy.”

I wouldn’t mind that day.

“But to be honest, I think it cuts deeper than the success aspects. Ah, It’s kinda hard to put it into words…” You take a moment to string together an explanation while Nanami waits patiently. “I’m sort of a mess in my personal life. I fuck a lot of things up, I make bad judgement calls, I can get a little lazy sometimes—I just do shit wrong. Or at least, that’s what I feel like.”

Nanami hangs on every word.

“So, like, to come to work everyday and be organized and–and put on this presentation of competency,” your tongue clicks sweetly, “I need that. I need people to see me that way—I think that’s why it affected me so much when you… when you saw me…”

“At the party?” He clarifies.

You purr in agreement. “Yeah. That. I felt like, I don't know, like I shattered my whole ‘persona’ and you saw me. You really saw me.”

He can’t look away from you. The way you’re visibly shrinking, collapsing in on yourself like a wounded animal. Constricting your own torso with your arms in a self-soothing hug. Are you ashamed? 

When Nanami finally speaks, he keeps his voice calm. Soft and cottony. “Do you always have such degrading thoughts about yourself?”

“I wouldn’t call it degradation…”

“I would.” Brows furrow, and he leans further into the conversation with his elbows on the island’s surface. “You talk about yourself as if you’re two separate people.”

“Don’t you see it, too?” You ask him gravely, as though you’re hinging on Nanami’s opinion. Like his insubstantial assessment of you is the only thing that matters. “You won’t offend me, I swear.”

Unperturbed, he blinks. “Not at all.”

“Then you’re fucking blind,” you cluck. “Those glasses aren’t doing much for you.”

Nanami nips the inner seam of his cheek, unamused. Right now, he isn’t much in the mood for jokes. Not when he now understands the extent of the disdain that you have for yourself. It irks him that you can’t see how rare of a person you are. 

“My eyesight has no relevance, stop deflecting with humor.” “I’m not deflecting!”

“Yes, you are. Now please, stop and let me talk for a moment,” Nanami shows you his palm, and you find your silence. “You are not two people, Y/n, you’re just one. Just you. Sure, you have your quirks and flaws—as does everyone else—but they are what makes you you. They make you nice to be around.”

“You think I’m nice to be around?”

“We meet nearly every weekend now, have you been under the impression that I hated your presence?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes. I assumed you were still hanging out with me because you felt like you owed me. Which you totally did, by the way.” You purse your lip together, stiff. “But, um, your debt has long been paid, especially with this delicious breakfast. So… y’know, if you don’t want to go out, you can just tell me.”

A breathy, humorous exhale huffs through Nanami’s nostrils. “I am a grown man. If I don’t want to do something, then I won’t do it. This,” he gestures between himself then you, “isn’t occurring out of pity or some strange form of charity. You’re here right now because I want you to be, okay?”

That little declaration pulls a coy smile from you, something Nanami introspectively overthinks. He tells himself that you’re blushing, just barely noticeable past your complexion. “Okay.” You whisper, the apples of your cheeks more pronounced than he’s ever seen them before.

Baring witness to a skittish Y/n was not on the docket for Nanami’s Sunday. He’s aware that this little discussion should stop. It was enroute to breaching something—something intimate and foreign and never to be acknowledged between you both. Unspoken chemistry that Nanami intended to let shrivel up and rot within his core because he doesn’t have the strength to snuff out the beacon of light you’ve shown in his life when he inevitably ruins yet another relationship.

But…

“I’ve had more fun in the past month than in my twenty-seven years of life. With you, I mean. So please don’t shun the side of you that exists outside of the office, because you have this spark that I haven’t seen in any of my associates in a long time. I’m… I would be upset if you let yourself turn into another copy-and-paste corporate zombie.”

There is an obvious shift in the kitchen air. It’s blossomed deep and heavy; Nanami feels like it’s become a struggle to keep himself from sinking into the floor. Your gaze is bolted to him, his to yours, in a quiet exchange of consciousness. Can you hear his thoughts? You look at him so intensely, he fears you might be able to hear how beautiful he thinks you look under the fluorescent light bulbs fixed into the ceiling.

You slip off your stool. Nanami watches your trek around the curve of the island. Onto his side.

It’s through feathery lashes that you look up at him.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The spine you have to ask such an audacious question. Visceral palpitations strike through the beating organ in his chest. His hand brushes the ledge of the countertop, then grips it for stability. “Yes.” So attractive, that he felt he could die right now. 

“Even after I vomited on your shoes?”

“I thought you didn’t remember last night?” Nanami goads.

“It’s coming back to me.”

You feign cheekiness. “Yeah,” he swallows, taking a shaky breath for himself. “Still beautiful.”

Beautiful, even with remnants of day-old eyeliner smudges below those doe eyes. Messy in the most enticing way. An urge swells within Nanami, to cradle your precious face and swipe the makeup off your flesh with his thumb. However, you moved first.

Reaching upwards, you pluck the pair of glasses off his nose. He lets you. Folded, they sit on the island.

Nanami gives a subtle shake of his head, tonguing the sharp corner of his lip. “What are you doing?” It comes out hushed, like he’s telling a secret.

“I don’t know,” you reply impishly. 

The following events can only be categorized as amorous. Ever so slowly, your hand touches. Pressing to his chest, feeling every valley and peak on its ascension to his collarbone. It peeks out from over top the collar of his raggedy, white tee shirt, and you feel him there. Offhandedly, he believes this may be the first time you’ve seen him outside of suitwear. Long, languid breaths keep him grounded, but Nanami can barely stand this torture. Though for you, he does. He lets you touch everything you want, biting his lip all the while. 

“What are you doing?” It comes again, more breathy than the last.

You don’t answer, far too enraptured by the panes of his neck. He feels you drag a fingertip down the trail of a vein. Resolve unravels, he’s slipping.

“Kento.”

If he looked into a mirror at this moment, would he even recognize himself? Nanami knows he’s a better man than this. It should take more than the pillowy drawl of his name to snap the wavering thread of self-discipline within him. 

Chest touches chest; he’s got you trapped against the kitchen island. The same island you both were sharing breakfast with five minutes ago. The same island, Nanami kisses you now.

Your face is sandwiched between two large hands. Nanami holds you to him, angling your neck back so he can grind his tongue deeper into your warm throat. There is no buildup, no preemptive apprehension that repels him from committing to bury himself in your mouth. He kisses you with no regrets, just desire and stifling yearning. 

Moans vibrate the slobbery mess. Nanami feels a bouquet of fingers latch onto his hip and pull—he rewards you, sucking sensually against the tip of your tongue. It’s fucking hot. He’s hot. And hard. Nanami’s sweating. He’s grabbing. He’s rubbing. He’s—-

Beep!

The kiss stops synchronously with twin gasps. You gawk up at him, wide-eyed at the sudden auditory intrusion. He’s looking right back down at you, panting. 

“It's the oven.”

“Oh.”

All the passion had seemingly drained, Nanami felt the altar in the atmosphere. With all the reluctance in the world, he pushes himself back to give you sizable space. Unsure of how this aftermath would play out. Awkwardly, he clears his throat, swabbing excess saliva from his chin with a palm. “I uhm—I was baking some bread.”

You nod, avoiding eye contact. “That’s cool.”

You look mortified, and that makes him feel mortified. “Y/n, I’m sorry for—”

“It’s fine.”

His heart sinks to his guts. “No, it’s not fine. Please, let me ap—”

“Kento,” you cut him off, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Like, at all, so stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

Nanami’s brows pinch together, and he gapes at that. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong either.” You don’t seem to believe him, what with the way you sway from left foot to right foot, hands twiddling restlessly. Cautious, he takes a step closer. “You look anxious. I’m by no means kicking you out, but I don’t want to keep you here if it makes you uncomfortable. Just say the word and I’ll call you a ride home.”

A sigh graces your kiss-swollen lips, and you bow graciously. “Please, that would be great, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Nanami says gently, moving to fish his phone out of the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms. “Of course.”

“I’ll go change out of your clothes—”

“Keep them on, I insist.” He’s quick to halt you. “And leave yours upstairs, I’ll run them through the washing machine. We can exchange them tomorrow.”

“I—okay, thank you.” You look so apologetic, it wounds him. “Thank you for everything. For taking me home last night, for breakfast, for–for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But you’re very welcome.”

Your taxi shows up a few minutes later. It’s hard to watch you go, especially when you left him on dubious terms. Were you upset by his kiss? Nanami hopes to God that’s not the case. Or maybe you were appalled? Fearful, even? 

Nanami needs to turn his brain off—this cancerous spiral of thinking would only send him into a dark pit of guilt, and he had a web meeting later in the evening. After washing the dishes leftover from the breakfast endeavor, he sits on the sofa with his head in his hands

You tasted like fucking maple syrup.

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[dilfstar]

omg dad Leon fucking you after you dump your boyfriend

YES YES YES THIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABT!1!1!1!1 ugh him comforting u.... telling U that u made the right decision while his dick is stretching u out <333 anon i love U 🩷

he pulled you onto his lap, hands cupping your cheeks as he wiped away the tears and snot from your face. placing comforting little kisses across your skin.

"shh, shh... daddy's here... i've got you, baby..." his lips moved from your cheeks to your jaw, up to your lips. he paused for a moment, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, breath ghosting over your mouth. "you're better off without him... wasn't good enough for you anyways."

he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, capturing them in a gentle kiss. his hands snuck down your body, resting on your hips, pushing you down on his hardening cock. a quiet groan escaped his throat, head falling back against the couch.

“‘m sorry baby… so sorry– fuck.” he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, hands digging into your skin as he rolled his hips up, pressing against you more. the feeling of your dad underneath you made the tears stop instantly. all memories of your icky ex flying out of your pretty little head.

he moved a hand down to your skirt, flipping it up to show off your panties. his expression instantly softened at the cute pair you picked out, the color matching your skin perfectly. “so pretty… all for me. all mine… better for you.”

he pulled the fabric to the side, almost whimpering at her pretty your cunt was. god, he couldn't wait to feel you. he lifted your hips for a second, pushing down his sweats enough to pull his cock out. he pumped it a few times, swiping the tip through your lips, collecting your wetness as he lined it up with your hole, shoving into you with a groan.

one of his hands snaked up to the back of your head, holding it while he bounced you. he stared down at where you two were connected, the sight making him impossibly harder inside of you. “yeah? you like that? do i fuck you better than he did? know i do… know i can make you feel better than he ever could.”

he moved you on his cock like some sex doll, smirking at the way your head fell forward onto his shoulder. the pretty sounds falling from your lips made his heart explode. he was the cause of them! him! he was the reason his little baby was forgetting about their ex. dad of the year!

your soft whimpers sent him over the edge, hot cum shooting up into you, painting your walls white. he pushed you back, panting as he looked in your eyes. “don't worry… you won't remember a single thing about him when i'm done with you…”

[trulyumai]

the beginning of the end - (I)

—Pairing: past! Messmer / Reader

synopsis: finally, the story could be told. the first glance Messmer took upon his wife.

warnings: family disputes, lots of fluff, Messmer on edge.

enjoy!

How did Messmer meet his wife?

Now, that’s a story laid in ashes; burned down along with the capital, surrounded in the ghosts of grace.

But somewhere— deep, deep down in the core of living, their story resides.

And it will be told today.

The festivals began with a loud bang. Quite literally, as catapults shot off arrows in the sky, with gold and white flowers adorning the tip. Flowers rained down upon the merriment of people.

Everyone was happy— for Queen Marika had chosen an heir.

Her eldest, Godwyn, perched himself upon the balcony, waving gracefully to the citizens below.

Behind him, his siblings lay in line.

Morgott, a silent but stoic man, always seen in the line of duty.

Mohg, who was a little out of sorts, but worthy nonetheless stood with his hands clasped behind his back, squinting upon the masses.

Then lay the half siblings. Of course there was Malenia, the most fearsome with a blade yet elegant. Beside her was Miquella— long hair flowed down upon his white robes and it was hard not to stare. There was something quite… mesmerizing about him, wasn’t there?

Radahn stood furthest in the back, for he was the widest— and biggest of the siblings.

And lastly there was Ranni, perched upon the side of the building with ease. She was always so far away— looking upon the sky with endearment.

But… there seems to be one missing, right?

Ah, yes.

The everliving flame. Messmer.

If it wasn’t for his mother’s obvious shame; the tall flame would have been up there too, basking in the light, the love. For what more could a man like him need?

Instead, he had trudged his way through the empty town. For all the residents lay upon the capital, screaming and cheering for his dear sibling. Godwyn the golden.

“Regrettable.” He growled. Mad his mother had brushed him away. Mad that he couldn’t stand in glory just like his own blood.

All because of some rumored curse. Bah.

His feet soon met with soft ground; flowers adorned the spaces in every which way, in every color and shade. It would have been a peaceful sight if the man’s hands hadn’t burned with utter contempt.

He hadn’t even realized he walked so far. And to the flower lands no less. Somewhere he was forbidden to cross, for his, “curse,” had put it at risk.

If only he had blonde hair. If only he hadn’t picked up the flames, this all could be so easy!

“E-excuse me, sir knight?” Whipping around, his hands instantly went to seize the neck of the one who interrupted him. Only to pause, just barely grazing his fingernails across their neck.

It was a… woman?

Squealing at the sudden action, she reeled back, dropping the basket of flowers and herbs with a clunk.

“I’m sorry— im so sorry!” Confusion etched around Messmers features, taking his hand back he stood tall, instantly towering over the poor girl.

He eyes her suspiciously. Sure, she looked harmless with those wet eyes, little frame and sunkissed face, but who was he to assume? Ranni looked innocent enough to, yet held the force of a moon between her palms.

“State thou’s purpose.” The girls lip wobbled, brushing her shaking hands off her dress she nodded.

“I— im a gatherer, sir knight. I collect uhm, herbs and florals for the town,” she blinked slowly at the red haired man and he did nothing butch watch on, analyzing each breath— each move she took.

“And why is your… stature so close to thys own?”

She let out a shaky smile, it ran across her face smoothly and perfect teeth shined back brightly at the man.

She was indeed lovely to look at.

“I— I thought you could use some company, or, perhaps a flower?”

Messmer squinted. “Flower?”

It only made the girl smile wider, as she looked around curiously for her basket of goodies.

“Yes! Of course, flowers help with everything.”

“Flowers help with nothing.” The flame scoffed, already itching to leave the girls presence.

Her expression had changed almost instantly and Messmer wanted to set himself ablaze. A torn look ran across her, mixed with confusion, sadness. Never before had such a man spoken to her so… loosely.

“W-well that’s not true,” she rebutted, already grabbing out a special plant for the man.

She felt the familiar texture and pulled the flower lightly, until both their eyes settled upon it.

It was a Erdleaf flower. It was so bright, shining on with golden purpose. The petals were held delicately upon the bud and the stem was being placed into the man’s hands before he could blink.

“You’re of royal descent. Gold shines through your blood like no other, so it’s perfect!” She beamed. Her hands had grazed his in the process, and gods, were they soft. So much smaller than his too.

“I don’t have anything in exchange,” he breathed out. Entranced by the order of petals and the way it sat upon his monstrous hands.

No one had spoken so softly to him before. Or even acknowledged his fealty to the golden order.

So for her to say it so easy; so casually. It made the man sag with newfound joy and comfortability.

“That’s okay, it’s a gift!” Her neck was starting to get sore from looking up upon the flame. Yet she stood there still, lovingly gazing from him to the flower perched upon his palms.

“Just take care of it for me, okay?” Already grabbing at the heavy basket, the lady began to back away waving goodbye to the royal knight warmly.

Messmer could do nothing but watch.

‘Say something you fool!’ He had thought, but it was too late, she was too far, her frame a mere dot in his vision.

Tingles erupted upon his body. He didn’t understand it. To feel so hot, yet cold at the same time.

Surely this isn’t.. adoration?

He shook his head, of course not. Such a thing has no place in a mind like his.

Finally gaining control over his senses, the man marched back.

And it was so silly, to see a man of his stature, cradling an erdleaf flower between his hands.

[seeingivy]

narc

actor!eren x reader

**part of my method acting series

--

When you open the cabinet and pull out the box of chamomile tea, there’s a note with Eren’s distinct handwriting scribbled across it. 

Boil the water for six minutes.  Add one teaspoon of the dried flowers.  Let it sit for five minutes and then strain them out.  I usually add half a teaspoon of honey to sweeten it up for you :) 

You can’t help but look up at the frame on the left – a picture of you, Marco, Maya, and Eren – with the godawful cake he got you guys last year. 

Happy New Year Birthday Anniversary 4 

It seemed that too many big things coincided on the first day of the year. Marco and Maya’s birthday, you and Eren’s anniversary, the start of the new year – so much so that Eren decided that they all deserved one big cake together. 

You rub at your tired eyes, lazily smiling at the post-it as you pull it off the top of the box, and stick it back onto the counter. It’s a quiet solace, seeing his handwriting every time you pull the box out and you can’t bring yourself to throw it away. 

You think it’s a little silly that at your very big age, Eren left you instructions on how to make tea. Sometimes it just makes you miss him more. 

You follow Eren’s quick instructions – his recent absence making you realize just how much it is that he does around the house – and open up your phone to see his location. 

He’s gone, still two thousand something miles away in California, at the hospital. You count the hours backwards, realizing that it’s probably midnight his time so he must be fast asleep and decide against calling him. 

You lean against the counter, your neck still slick from the cold sweat you woke up in, as you recount flashes of the dream you’ve been having for the past three nights. 

The dark freeway, a long white truck, and a blaring horn. 

The kettle clicks shut and you pour the water into the cup, watching the dried flowers seep a golden color to the liquid as you let it sit underneath the coaster. It must have been the pouring of the water, because you entirely miss the pitter patter of tiny footsteps – meaning, it catches you completely off guard when Marco’s wrapping his arm around your leg. 

“Can I have some?” 

You almost drop the kettle, your heart immediately racing from the shock of his presence, as you set it down, taking the few seconds to catch your breath. 

“Sorry. Did I scare you again, Mom?” he asks. 

You sigh, reaching down to lift him up onto the counter. 

“No, Marco. I was just distracted, honey, that’s all.” you respond. 

Marco gives you a distracted nod, messy brown hair and dull green eyes looking down at your cup, as he fiddles with his hands in his lap. Just like Eren. You reach forward, brushing through the tangles in his hair as you eye the clock. 

“What are you doing up?” 

“I thought you were Dad.” he responds.

You sigh, giving him a joking glare, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, little man.” 

Marco gives you a smile, as you reach for the closest cabinet, and pull out the plastic glasses to pour some milk into. You set it to warm on the kettle, as you pour the honey into your cup, and swirl the spoon around. 

“Do you know when he’ll be back? Dad?” Marco asks. 

You pause. 

No. You don’t. 

“It’ll be soon, I’m sure of it. He’s just waiting to make sure that Uncle Connie’s perfectly set up before he comes back.” 

That was a half lie. Though, you found that you had to do that often – lie about things that were too difficult to explain to the two of them. 

Things that were too complicated, and more often than not, things you just wanted to protect them from. 

That they were just too little to know about. 

Marco and Maya asked you how their namesake, the real Marco died. It was easier to tell them that it was just a car accident, not intentional in how it occurred. They asked you why Eren had a bunch of faded lines on his back when you went swimming in the pool; it was just simpler to tell them that it was a birthmark. 

They asked who Teddy’s real father was and told him that it was Sukuna. Though that one wasn’t entirely a lie. But you know what they were trying to ask. 

And just two days ago, Maya asked you if her Uncle Connie was going to die. You told her that he was just getting a checkup, but that was the farthest thing from the truth. 

Years after the fact, it seemed that the poison that Connie was putting into his body had finally caught up to him – with not only one, but two defective kidneys. And after three years on the waiting list, by some horrible twist of fate for someone else but luck for all of you, Connie was finally getting his transplant. 

That was almost three weeks ago. He’s still recovering from the surgery – having taken a whole week to wake up, another one to sit up, and now trying to walk the corridor at the ward he was in. 

You had to let Eren go. You knew that he was going to be apart from you and the kids at some point and figured that this was the best time to get over that fear of being away from him, in the soft little bubble you’ve created for yourself. 

You shake the thought from your head – of Connie sitting there, frail and alone the last time you talked to him, since visiting hours were well over – and pour the milk into the cup. You hand it over to Marco, placing the cup securely in his hands, as you try to quiet the thoughts racing through your mind. 

Five things you can see. Four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can feel. 

Eren had whispered it to you when you dropped him off at the airport, a quiet thing he did to manage his own stress. 

“What are you thinking about?” Marco asks. 

You sigh, turning over to him, and giving him a smile. 

“Five things I can see.” you respond. 

Marco was well aware of the habit. He tended to be a little more sensitive which was worrying at first – but Zeke said that it was just something that he got from Eren. That he acted exactly like he did when he was a kid. 

“I can see you. And me. The cups. And two lightbulbs.” Marco responds. 

You smile. 

“I can touch the floor with my feet. And the back of the counter with my back. The cup with my hands. And your cheek with my fingers.” you respond, reaching forward to poke at the softness of his cheek. 

Marco returns the favor, giggling under his breath as he reaches forward, tiny fingers squishing at your skin. He absentmindedly leans forward, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, before he continues. 

He was every bit as affectionate as Eren. 

“I can hear you. And me. And Maya sleeping.” 

“You can’t hear Maya sleeping from here, Marco.” 

“Yeah, I can. She’s all snotty at night.” 

“Honey, those are her allergies. She can’t control that.” you respond. 

If Marco acted like Eren did as a kid, then Maya was every bit a carbon copy of you. It was something that Falco and Colt parroted constantly – the biggest fans of all her little at home concerts, her fashion shows, and most of all, her singing. 

It seems that she got the seasonal allergies too. 

“I can smell your drink and my drink.” you respond, as you down the very last bit of your cup. 

Marco seems to follow suit, draining the last of the milk from the cup before he leans forward, short arms barely wrapping around your neck as you scoop him up into your arms. The time must have caught up to him, eyes quickly lidding shut, as you switch off the lights, and lead him back to his room. 

He whispers one last thing before you tuck him into bed. 

“I can feel you here with me.” 

It’s enough to put your mind at rest to go to sleep. 

--

The doorbell rings early the next morning – at seven on the dot – and sends Marco and Maya tumbling down the stairs, their little footsteps thundering as you open up the door to Lana, Sukuna, Teddy, and Grace.  

You turn your head over your shoulder, watching as Marco and Maya’s faces drop at the sight of them, and subsequently watch them drag themselves over to the dining table. 

“Is that anyway to say hello?” Sukuna asks, chest puffed up from the clear dismissal from the both of them – which albeit, is a rare occurrence.  

Sukuna marches straight through the doorway, Lana giving you a warning glance, as you watch him hunch over the chairs – his head hanging in between Marco and Maya’s – as he gives the two of them a little glare. 

“Angie. Are you not excited to see me?” 

Angie. Sukuna’s special nickname for Maya. 

“I thought you were Eren.” Maya responds. 

“I wish he was.” Gracie mumbles, earning her a glare from Sukuna. 

It worked out well enough. Eren was Gracie’s favorite, but Sukuna was Maya’s. Naturally it irritated the both of them well enough. 

You sigh, opening your arms up to the hug that Teddy’s offering you – which Grace piles on to – as you shoot her a warning glance. 

“Maya. You’re supposed to call him Dad.” you chide. 

“But you call him Eren.” she retorts back. 

“Yeah. Because he’s not my dad. He’s just Eren to me.” you respond. 

That earns you a laugh from Teddy, as he lets go and starts passing out the plates, with Lana helping you finish making the breakfast from the kitchen. 

“How are you holding up?” she asks. 

“Yeah, yeah. Same old. Did you talk to Connie at all today?” 

You watch as Lana frowns, which sends an immediate pang to your chest. 

Eren’s contingency plan on leaving you alone – since the three of you couldn’t possibly go with him – was making sure that you were taken care of. Which included him sending Lana and Sukuna over everyday for breakfast, just so you didn’t feel lonely. 

You guys tended to get fickle with how often you’d eat breakfast together – aiming for at least once a week – but you know Eren must have said something because they were here almost every other day. 

“Think he’s doing better.” Lana responds. 

You sigh. 

“Did you talk to Eren?” 

“Yeah.” 

Eren doesn’t seem like he’s fairing well either. But you figured as much – that it would be hard for him to see Connie in this condition, because the smallest voice in his head told him that it was all his fault. 

“I feel like he’s scared to let him go. He’s…he’s scared he’s going to die while he’s not looking.” you add. 

Lana nods. 

“He could have come back a week ago. Maryam was fine handling it but I just think he…but you know how he is with Connie. They’re like brothers.” 

You hum in response. Lana leans forward, resting her head against your shoulder, as you lean into the touch. 

“You’re better than me. I feel like I’d be ten different levels of crazy if Sukuna and Teddy weren’t telling me not to worry about him.” Lana responds. 

You shrug. 

“It’s fine for the most part. Marco and Maya keep me busy. Levi calls me everyday just to update me on his lawn mowing, which takes like four hours alone. It’s all fine, I just…keep having this really weird dream.” 

“Really?” she asks. 

“I don’t know. I don’t really remember the details. All I know is that…that I’m driving a car. There’s a honking sound and then a big truck that cuts me off and makes me crash. But for some reason, I feel like…I feel like I know the person driving the truck. Like they’re…they’re making fun of me or laughing or something.”

You watch as Lana squints her eyes at you, her touch suddenly stiff, as you give her a look. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. That is weird. But it’s just a dream.” Lana responds. 

“I mean, I know. But I just…I don’t get dreams. Let alone recurring ones. I feel like I know the person or…or something about it just feels really familiar that’s all. I wake up every night just thinking about it, trying to remember what it is that I saw.” 

Lana picks up the spoon, plating the last of the eggs into the dish, as she gives you a wary look over her shoulder. 

“Stress manifests in different ways. I think this Connie thing is just stressful. Being without Eren with the kids is stressful. I don’t think it means anything.” she adds. 

Lana leans forward, pressing a kiss against your cheek, before lifting the plates, gesturing for you to follow as you take them over to the table. You take your seat next to Sukuna – who’s clearly won over Maya in the past few minutes that you were gone – as you sit next to Grace. 

“I like the ribbon, Gracie.” 

“I’m glad you said that. I made one for you too.” 

Lana taught Gracie how to sow, meaning that every time she came over, she left a few more ribbons for your collection. You rarely wore them anymore, but it was nice to keep all the gifts Gracie made for you – pink lace, little charms in the fabric. 

There’s immediate chatter the second everyone’s hands start moving – Sukuna and Maya whispering under their breaths, Teddy, Lana, and Marco talking about the recent soccer game – and the only thing you can think about is how the chair next to you is empty. 

That Eren would have been here asking Teddy about when his spelling bee is so he could go. And that he’d cut Maya’s fruits into stars with Sukuna just because she likes them that way. 

“Do you miss Eren?” 

You lean forward, placing your hand on Grace’s shoulder, as you give her a smile. 

“Just a little, Gracie. But that’s normal.” you respond. 

“He’ll be back soon enough. And Falco and Gabi should be back next week, so…we’ll have more people at breakfast. We’ll have to start ordering chairs for how many of us there are.” 

You laugh. 

“That’s a good problem to have.” 

You can’t help but think that three blocks down, only a few years prior, Eren, Lana, and Teddy used to eat breakfast together every morning, because that’s all they had. And now you barely had enough seats to fill the table. 

You think about how it would kill you if Connie never came back to eat breakfast with you guys. 

“Y/N. Can you help me practice for the spelling bee tomorrow?” Teddy asks. 

You smile. 

“Of course, Teddy Bear.” 

Teddy curls his nose in disgust. 

“Y/N. Don’t call me that. It’s not cool.” he murmurs. 

The older Teddy gets, the more he seems to curl his nose at all of the sweet nicknames you all have for him. He barely lets Eren hug him anymore, instead trying to make weird over complicated handshakes – that Eren can obviously never remember. 

Your phone buzzes on the table to four texts from Eren. 

[eren]: connie made a very obscure pop culture reference today that honestly kind of freaked out his VERY old nurse

[eren]: it was giving ** erwin ** 

[eren]: the world is healing 

[eren]: i miss you! 

--

You appreciate the routine of things. That every night, you comb through Maya and Marco’s wet hair, that you all brush your teeth together, and that you all read a story together before you go to sleep. 

“I have a question.” 

You close the little book – an old version of Goodnight Moon that Jean and Mikasa gifted you when Marco and Maya were born – and slide it into the shelf. 

“Do share, Miss Maya.” you respond. 

That’s what Eren always calls her. Miss Maya. 

“How did you spend so much time away from Eren?” Maya asks.

“Maya.” you berate. 

“Sorry. Dad. How did you spend so much time away from Dad? Like before when you were little?” she asks. 

You pause. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s only been a few weeks and…and I miss him.” Maya mumbles, the tiniest crack in her voice. 

You can feel your chest ache as you lean forward, wrapping your arms around her little body as she leans up, her salty tears spilling straight onto your neck. 

“Oh, Maya.” you coo. 

“I know he’s gone for a good reason and I’m not mad at him. I’m sad about Uncle Connie too but I just wish he was here. And Uncle Connie was too.” she responds, voice muffled by how she’s burying her face into your shirt. 

It’s not even a few seconds before you hear another set of sniffling, only to find Marco getting out of his bed and clinging to your side too. 

You can’t help it – you can’t help that there’s warm tears in your eyes too as you rest your head against their freshly shampooed hair, and hold them tight. 

You sit there quietly for some time – Marco and Maya’s tears subsiding long before yours – but they make no inclination of letting go. You appreciate that. And it’s not long before they fall asleep, before you tuck them into their sheets, and wipe your own tears before going to bed.

The pictures of Connie on the wall feel like they’re mocking you. 

And like clockwork, it happens again. 

A cold sweat down your back – because the truck almost hits you, because you swear you can hear laughing, and a clicking sound that you can’t really place. You’re barely asleep for two hours. 

You make a mental note. That the clicking sound is new, but you still can’t really remember much besides that. Only that it’s really dark. 

When you make it down to the kitchen, you find Marco hunched over, with Maya on his back. You can’t help but laugh – only because this reminds you of Colt – and watch them for a second before interrupting. 

“Push higher.” 

“I’m trying to, you’re too heavy, Maya.” 

“I can’t reach the cups from here.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m trying. That’s easy to say from down there.” 

You flick the last of the lights open – the ones they can’t reach – as they both turn around, Maya nearly toppling off his back – as you put your hands on your hips. 

“You want my help?” 

“Please.” Maya groans. 

Maya rubs the sore spot on her back, giving you a quiet nod as Marco moves over, and you reach for the cups. The two of them drain their cups of milk the second you fill them – clearly overexerted from the rhythmic gymnastics they were attempting a few minutes ago – as you nurse the cup of chamomile in your hand. 

“You know, this is way better when Eren makes it.” Maya states. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Dad.” 

“It’s too bitter when you do it.” 

You shake your head at Maya, reaching forward to pinch her cheek before responding. 

“My apologies, Miss Maya. I’ll call him tomorrow and ask him what he puts in yours. Knowing him, he does something different for each of us to make sure that we like it.” you respond. 

So quick to accommodate, an endless amount of space in his mind to remember everything – Maya wears ribbons on Thursdays, she doesn’t like the purple ones. Marco likes to read Goodnight Moon in the winter, not the summer, because the bunny reminds him of snow. 

The light in the doorway flicks on, accompanied by a very tired looking Eren, who gives you a very weak smile through the dim light.

“I put honey in Maya’s because she thinks it’s bitter, sweetheart. Only half a teaspoon, because then she gets kind of antsy.” Eren mumbles. 

You turn to your left and watch as Maya and Marco both try to tumble off the counter, excited giggles as they run over to Eren, clinging on to the fabric of his shirt as they basically scream in his ear. 

You can feel warm tears burning in the back of your eyes as Eren leans down, arms wrapped around the two of them, as he seems to breathe a sigh of relief – nestling his head in between the two of theirs. 

You’re almost positive that he missed them more than they missed him.

Which was saying something. 

“Hi M&M.” Eren mumbles. 

Their favorite candy. For obvious reasons. 

“You too, sweetheart. Come here.” Maya adds, extending out one of her hands to you. 

You swallow down the burning feeling in your throat, taking one last look up to dry your tears, before crouching down on the ground with them, Eren’s hand being the one that wraps around you first. 

“Maya. It’s Mommy. Not sweetheart.” Eren chides. 

You can’t help but laugh – remembering that it was only a few months ago that Maya realized that your name wasn’t actually sweetheart, that it was just a nickname that Eren used for you – as you lean your temple against his. 

“Okay, it’s really late. Dad’s going to tuck you into bed, okay?” you respond. 

Marco and Maya give you an affirmative nod, as Eren scoops both of them up into an arm each – something you’re too weak to do at this point – as you watch them all trail down the hallway. 

“Did you miss me?” Eren asks. 

“So much. We even cried about it earlier!” Marco responds. 

Eren immediately frowns as he kicks his shoes off at the door, quietly padding into the darkness of their room. Lana’s phone call was very brief – only warning him about the weird dreams you were having – but he didn’t realize that they were feeling it too. 

Eren sets them both down, reaching for Maya first as he tucks the sheets in around her. 

“Buddy, what do you mean by that? You cried about it earlier?” Eren asks, glancing over his shoulder. 

“We all miss you so much we cried. Even sweetheart.” Maya responds. 

Eren doesn’t take the time to correct her. He reaches down, pressing a kiss to Maya’s forehead, before brushing through the flyaways around her head. 

“She did?” 

“Mhm. Longer than me and Marco too. I heard Auntie Lana say it’s because she’s having weird dreams about Marco. You know, the other Marco. The one who died.” 

Eren nods. It’s the only reason that he was able to bring himself home and leave Connie. Only because he didn’t realize how fast time had passed. 

“I know the one.” 

“She’s okay though. She told me herself.” Maya adds. 

Eren sighs. 

“I know she is.” 

Eren switches over to Marco’s side which makes his chest pang a little bit more – the seeping ache of being gone for so long, to be at his side – making his throat burn. 

“Everything good, Marco?” 

It’s at that second that Marco jumps out of his sheets, little arms wrapped around his neck, as Eren sinks against his shoulder. 

“Is Uncle Connie okay?” 

Eren smiles. 

“He went home last night, Marco. He’s going to be just fine.” Eren responds. 

Marco gives him a nod, before lying back down against the sheets. 

“I heard Uncle Sukuna say that Mommy was just scared that he was going to die. He’s not going to die, right?” 

Eren makes a mental note to call Lana and Sukuna tomorrow and ask them to refrain from gossiping until they get home.  

“He’s not going to die, Marco. He’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Connie really missed you both.” 

Marco gives him a nod, Eren pressing one last lingering kiss to his forehead, before padding out of the room and flicking the light shut. Eren shuffles back out to the kitchen, noting the open packet of ramen on the counter, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your frame. 

He’d deal with them in the morning. You first. 

Eren can’t help but nestle into the crook in your shoulder – and noting that you immediately flinch at the feeling. 

“Sorry. I meant to shave before I got back. I know it tickles.” Eren whispers. 

You laugh. 

“S’okay. I’ll help you tomorrow, Eren.” you mumble. 

Eren leans down, breathing in the sweet smell of your shampoo and soap mixed in, as he leans his cheek against yours. 

Eren ranked all the moments in his head. Sweet memories that felt like lightbulbs to him – the way they stuck out in his memory – but he always had his favorites. 

Watching Maya play the piano. Teaching Marco how to take polaroids of you and Maya. Marco meeting Armin and Maya telling Jean his haircut sucked. 

And his personal favorite was letting his beard grow out just to the point where it annoyed you – just so you’d offer to shave it for him. Attentive fingers, eyes focused and without fail, a sweet kiss and a hug at the end for his clean shaven face. 

It was one of the things that was always promised. That you’d complain, that he’d pretend to hate it when you shaved his beard, and that you’d kiss him afterwards. That you’d taste like toothpaste because you just brushed your teeth and then go to sleep next to him after the fact. 

Eren can’t help but squeeze harder. 

“You know, you’ll cut off my circulation any second now.” 

“Any reason you didn’t come running at me?” Eren asks. 

“The little speedsters beat me to it. They missed you a lot, you know?” you respond. 

Eren laughs. 

“Not as much as you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Eren shrugs. It takes you three seconds to clock it, before you roll your eyes. 

Of course they told him that you cried earlier. 

“Who was the narc?” 

“There was no narc. I just know how to read you really well.” Eren responds

“Eren.” 

“A gentleman never tells.” 

“I know they both told you. I just want to know who did it first.” you clarify. 

Eren smiles. 

“Marco, of course.” 

You laugh. 

“He’s really living up to the name. The only narc bigger than him was the other Marco.” 

Telling Jean when Mikasa was upset at him. Telling Connie that Sasha forgot his birthday. 

You feel Eren lift off of you, two hands firm on your shoulder, as he drags you closer to him. It’s warm hands that cup your face and it’s only then that you notice that his green eyes are rimmed with red and that he looks tired. 

“I missed you too, you know?” Eren whispers. 

You smile. 

“I know.” 

“You can just ask Maryam. I even cried about it.” 

You snort, the tiniest wave of embarrassment peeling off of you, as you lean forward, wrapping your hands around his face. 

“Really?” 

“You already know that I’m already of the opinion that I’ve spent far too much of my life without you. That includes two weeks in California, Y/N.” Eren responds, voice soft. 

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“How’s Connie?” you ask. 

Eren smiles. 

“He brought a framed picture of all of us from our wedding to the hospital room. He’s been fine this entire time.” 

You snort. 

“Typical.” 

Eren laughs. 

“He told the nurse you were his sister when she asked about the picture. So much so that they were ready to add you to his health documents and start screening you for blood diseases or some shit because he thought you were actually related.” 

You both laugh. And you relish in the fact that Connie was still there, underneath his beaten body. 

“Teddy is coming tomorrow for spelling bee practice. Gracie gave me two new ribbons – pink and purple with lace – and Maya wasn’t even excited to see Sukuna yesterday.” you state. 

Eren’s eyes light up. 

“Really?” 

“Hold your horses, Eren. It took her two seconds before she was happy to see him again.” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Well, Gracie’s coming tomorrow, so he can kiss my ass. And Falco too in a few days and you know I’m obviously his favorite.” Eren asks. 

You shake your head at him. Always trying to one up Sukuna – something that was natural, since they were both so good with kids. 

“You know, I didn’t even realize how big our family got before our eyes.” you whisper. 

Eren smiles, before leaning forward, and closing the space between the two of you. He tastes like the remnants of the cookie – dusted sugar and coffee – hanging on his lips. 

“Sometimes I forget I used to dream about this entire thing. Being away kind of reminded me of that.”  Eren whispers. 

“This entire thing?” 

“You and me, the most. But also friends that live a few streets away. Teddy feeling like he has cousins and…and having kids.” 

You smile. 

“You know your kids adore you, right? 

Eren smiles. 

“They just have a recency bias. They love you way more than me.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I don’t make their milk right.” 

Eren pinches your cheek. 

“And I don’t do Maya’s hair the way she likes it or make Marco’s bed properly. Same thing.” 

You smile.. 

“They love us both. We’re both very lucky to have two healthy kids and a family that’s…that’s mostly healthy, that’s all together.” 

Eren pauses, a light glisten in his eyes. You can tell that he doesn’t feel that. 

“Eren?” 

“Tell me about this dream of yours.” he mumbles. 

You groan. 

“Lana?” 

“Technically Maya mentioned it too.” Eren adds. 

You smile. 

“It’s just a weird dream that I’ve been having. S’always dark and I’m driving. There’s a horn and clicking and I just wake up feeling all frazzled. I think I was just worrying about Connie too much.” you respond. 

Eren shrugs. 

“Maybe.” 

“You don’t sound very convinced.” you state.

Eren sighs, scooching over as he leans towards the bowl of simmering noodles, straining them into the bowl that you have placed at the side. You can’t help but lean against his arm, Eren absentmindedly placing a kiss in your hair, as you watch the steam. 

“Did you know that Maryam drove me to the hospital everyday to see Connie?” 

You snort. 

“Do you have no concern for your life? You are a father now, you know?” 

You’re half convinced that Maryam hypnotized someone to get her license at the DMV. Or that she somehow became legally blind the few minutes that she sat behind the wheel. 

“I mean, I do. But I just couldn’t bring myself to drive.” 

You pause. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I would just sit in the chair and get all…all anxious just sitting there. I couldn’t even put the key in the engine.” 

You lean forward, rubbing your hands up and down his biceps. 

“Any reason why?” you ask. 

Eren signs, before leaning forward, with his eyes focused on the calendar. 

“You know, you always forget to change the calendar.” 

“I don’t really look at it.” you state. 

Eren leans forward, switching the page from last month to the current one, which is when you notice it. 

That it’s June. That it’s been June for a few days now and that you didn’t even keep track of the numbers. 

“When did your dream start?” Eren asks. 

You get it now. 

“Four days ago.” you state, throat dry. 

Eren gives you a halfhearted smile, as he counts backwards, all the way to June 11th. 

The day that Marco died. And you didn’t even realize. That you went about your business that day – taking Maya to piano, dropping off Teddy at school – and you didn’t even think about it. 

“Oh my god, Eren.” you mumble. 

“That’s when I couldn’t drive. I…I didn’t necessarily remember, but…but it just felt wrong.” 

“I forgot.” you whisper. 

“So did I.” Eren responds. 

You feel the tears burn out of your sockets as you realize – realize that Marco’s death anniversary passed and you forgot, that you were already in the early hours of his birthday and you didn’t remember – and that time was passing so fast you can’t even remember what he looks like anymore. 

You can’t help but lean forward, wracking quiet tears into Eren’s shoulder, as you realize the dream. The clicking sounds were camera flashes, the car cuts you off and you crash, and you feel like you know them, because the paparazzi always seem familiar to you. 

You were dreaming about Marco dying. From Marco’s perspective. And Eren can’t get in the car, because he’s petrified it’s going to happen to him. 

The thought crosses your mind that Eren rushed back so fast – so fast because he was worried about you. 

Not because of the dream, but because of that day. Because when Lana told him that Marco died – she didn’t specify his name. And his first thought was you – he thought you were the one who died. 

He was always reminded of it, that feeling, whenever the day came around. The fear of you dying. You wonder if it crossed his mind a few days ago. 

Eren lets go, shuffling behind you to rummaging through the fridge. 

“Anything close to cake?” 

“There should be a cookie or two. Maybe at the top.” you mumble. 

Eren slams the door shut behind you, as you reach for the drawer on the left, pulling out the colored flame candles from Grace’s surprise birthday, as Eren joins you at your side, plating the cookie in the center. 

You jam the wax candle into the center, Eren quick with the matches at your side as you watch the flame light up purple, and the two of you lean closer to the warmth. 

It was the one tradition that you and Eren afforded yourself. That every year on Marco’s birthday, you made a wish for him. And after the fact, you wouldn’t reminisce on it at all – not unless it was happy. 

It’s what he would have wanted. 

“You first, Eren.” 

Eren sighs. 

“I wish you were still here with us. But I hope you’re happy wherever you are, Marco.” 

Eren’s wish is the same every year. 

You smile, leaning your head against Eren’s shoulder. 

“I know you told us you’d haunt us if we ever apart, but I didn’t realize that applied to domestic travel, Marco.” 

Eren gives you a teary laugh. 

“I hope you’re resting easy, wherever you are. Come visit me in my dreams the good way. Keep all the bad stuff away.” you mumble.

You and Eren give each other a look, before lightly blowing out the candles together, and wrapping yourselves in each other’s embrace. 

You remember shreds of a very vague dream the next morning. 

It’s your wedding day. But somehow Marco and Maya are there, giggling as they pass the two of you rings. 

And the other Marco’s standing there too, smiling and giving his approval.

--

an: ah yes. method acting in the lords month august 2024. had to make it angsty for obvious reasons. we all know who I am at my core. also why did this make me cry I miss this fic so much

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @chericos @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori i @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

[wynnyfryd]

Eddie

He gets it now. Goddamn does he get it.

Eddie straightens his spine and looks out over the landscape, everything lush and brilliant green; Appalachian hills after morning rain. Eddie is seven again and running through long, dewy grasses behind his grandmother’s house, his fingertips dancing over rich emerald blades. The colors blur together and splinter like facets of fine jewels. He’s hearing all these cosmic sounds: whale calls, bird song. Choirs of elves and men and beasts, and beneath it all the low thrum of deep space.

He takes a deep breath and the universe breathes with him, particles of old stardust filling up his lungs. Rejoicing with him.

Exhale. Om.

Everything is beautiful; everything is one.

And then there’s Steve. Radiant as the rising sun, his smile splays dawn across Eddie’s horizon — casts out the lingering dark, bathes him in pure and holy light.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie utters in abject awe. His lips are numb. “This shit is wild.”

——

Steve

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Emerson,” Steve answers, always polite where parents are concerned. “This is Steve Harrington.”

“Oh, hi Steve, sweetheart! How are you?”

Steve bites back the sigh he’s desperate to let out. Bake a woman brownies one time and she’s fucking obsessed with you. He doesn’t have time for this. “Oh, I’m great, thank you. Is Gareth around?”

“Sure! Let me go grab him for you.”

There’s white noise over the line, muffled sounds of movement, thudding footsteps down the stairs, and then Gareth finally answers, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, you little jackass. What the fuck did you make my boyfriend take?”

“First of all, I didn’t make him take anything. He was practically begging. And secondly, mushroom tea.”

“Oh, goddammit; goddamn you, man.”

Gareth cackles down the line, doesn’t even have the decency to pretend he’s sorry about it. “Has he started dirty talking to his guitar yet?”

“For the last, like, twenty minutes, yeah.”

“Oh, good.”

“How is that good?”

“Means the trip’s almost over. Give it half an hour; he’s gonna doze off and wake up craving mac and cheese like a motherfucker.”

From the bedroom, Steve hears Eddie mumble-singing some unbelievably horny sentiments to his instrument. “I hate you so much.”

“Mom wants more brownies, by the way.”

“So. Much.”

[skunaskitten]

Yakuza Husband ch1

Paring: sukuna x female reader

Contains: blood. flirting, threats, near death experience

Au: sukuna yukuza boss

Summary: After work you walked to you apartment but half way to your home you found a man injured. You decided to bring him home to stitch him up but what you did not realize of who he is.

  It was a long day at work but you enjoyed it. Working at an animal shelter as a vet tech you love seeing the animals. You were happy that some of the animals in your care had gotten adopted today and sent to loving homes. You hoped to see them again old and happy.

 When getting off the train and walking back to your apartment it was a  quiet walk but something in the air felt off. As you neared your home there was a dog that caught your eye standing in the front of an alleyway. 

 "Hey there pup you alright?" You got closer to the dog but it went down the alleyway. A grunt left you but it was your duty to save it and bring it with you to get checked tomorrow when you go in. You followed it seeing it standing sniffing a figure sitting on the ground leaning up against the wall. 

 You froze and your body went stiff just as the dog ran past you back out the alley way. "Hey wait, don't go." You turned to watch the dog leave then hearing a cough coming from the person made you snap your attention back to the figure.

 By the shape and size you could see the person is a male.

 "Are you alright sir?" 

You took out your phone shining the  light on him and gasped seeing the red liquid covering his hand and all over his black shirt that looked wet and stained darker. Seeing the rip across the front of the shirt where it was more blood around the hand covering his stomach.

 You crouched down to his level seeing a broken phone next to him. "I am going to call for help."

 As you opened your phone to call for help his hand wrapped around your wrist stopping you. 

"Don't call. Just. Leave."

 His voice sounds deep and hoarse. "Do you have family or someone I can call?"

 He lifted his face to look at you. As you caught a glimpse of the right side of his face. Burised and eye swollen with a busted lip. You couldn't just leave him here. He watched you open up your backpack pulling out a sweater and placing it over his stomach. 

 "Here keep this against the wound. I am going to bring you to my place. Do you think you can walk?"

 He grunted, saying "just leave me."

You sighed and took his bloody hand not caring if you got blood on yourself. He is in need and wounded just like animals you could not walk away from a person in his condition. 

 You tried to pull him to you to get him up all he did was gave a deep chuckle. It sent chills through you as he tried to step up, almost falling over letting out a groan of pain. He looked like he had enough strength to walk but you still stayed by his side under his heavy arm for support. Even if it did very little and it was all him doing the work.

 It was a long slow walk to your home but when you made it inside he saw that he was safe inside he just wanted to collapse. You felt him growing weak as you panic and quickly brought him to the couch pushing him down onto it. He let out a loud groan of pain.

"Sorry. Stay here. Don't move."

 You ran into the bathroom grabbing all the medical supplies you needed and came back out to the living room placing the supplies on a coffee table. As you displayed the stuff you needed you leaned over him getting a good look at his face. Seeing the black lined tattoos along his jaw leading up to eyes under his real ones giving the same color and the messy dirt stained pastel pink hair.

 His one open dark red eye looking straight through your soul. You gulped and tried to ignore it as you reached shaky hands to unbutton his shirt.

 "I need to take this off." You grabbed the shirt opening it up as he laid his head to the side. "Hey I need you to stay awake."

 "Just hurry up, and do it." He snapped at you.

 You ignored him but when you opened his shirt you saw the colored tattoos covering his entire chest. You noticed black sharp lines across his pecs. Around those lines were blue and purple flames with wine colored demonic looking fingers. Ten of them on each slab of muscle. Your eyes trailed across his chest to his shoulders noticing more ink being hidden under the sleeves of his shirt.

 When your eyes trailed down you saw the open wound across his stomach right above his navel. Your mind went into emergency mode and started to assemble the cotton pad to clean up the area of his skin. 

 After everything was clean the wound seemed like it was not to deep where you needed to take him to the hospital. You ran into the kitchen to wash the blood off your hands and grabbed a ice pack from the freezer to bring it over to him.

 "Here this will help with your face. What is your name?"

 You asked as you carefully placed the ice pack against his face making him rest on it. He kept his eyes closed saying "sukuna."

 His voice sounded worse, more drained and groggy. You had to do this fast so he can rest. You gave a slight smile to his name. It's different and interesting. "My name is y/n."

 You went back to the supplies and started to thread the needle then came back to his wound. "This might hurt." 

"I can, take it."

 When you punctured his skin he grunted and nuzzled his face into the ice pack. It was a quick 15 minute stitch up but it felt longer. You gave one last clean up to his wound, putting antibiotics and a patch to cover it up.

 You smiled saying ,"there it should be good for now. Just not moving for a while you will break it."

 He didn't answer then you looked to see he was already asleep. It was best to let him rest and check on him in the morning. After cleaning up the mess, you went through the hall way storage closet and pulled out a blanket to put over him. 

 You stared at his face a bit longer seeing how strange it was for him to look so peaceful sleeping with blood on his face. And why the color of his hair being pink? 

 After seeing the tattoos across his chest you wanted to see the rest of them. Already having the feeling he is a man who likes to get into trouble. 

 You felt your stomach ache and hearing it rumble it was past your dinner time since you usually eat when you get home but he had to be taken care of first. You made a quick ramen bowl and checked on sukuna every minute just to make sure he is still alive.

 When you went to bed you made sure to lock your door in case something happens since he is still a stranger. You had already informed your boss that you couldn't make it due to a family emergency. So this gives you time to look after sukuna.

 In the morning you got up getting dressed and quietly opened your door peaking your head out to hear anything. There was no movement so  you stepped out carefully and walked out to the living still seeing him asleep.

 You walked over to his sleeping form then pressed the back of your hand to his forehead checking the temperature. He felt warmer than he did last night.

 Looking at the ice pack that is fully melted you pulled it out from under his head then softly ran your thumb over the bruising on his face. You had also noticed the black piercings on his ears.

 You took a deep breath and caught a smell of the blood that still stained his clothes. He didn't smell the best right now. You wanted to almost take off the shirt but it was going to be difficult, it would be best to start by replacing the bandage again since either absorbed most of the blood.

 As you pulled off the blanket and started with the bandage from his stomach he jolted awake and grabbed your wrist with a harsh squeeze. You yelp from being startled but then he let you go placing his hand over his stomach with a growl and a grunt from pain. 

 "Damn it sukuna it's just me. Don't break your stitching."

 You put a hand down on his chest and pushed him back down. He looked at you with still tired drained eyes, it looked like he wanted to talk back but he was still not fully recovered. 

Sukuna kept his eyes on you changing the bandage then saw you grabbing at his shirt. 

"I want to take your shirt off, it's full of your blood and dirt. It's starting to stink."

 He groaned and let you take it off him with the help of him moving his body to make it easier for you to take it off. As you peeled off his shirt you could see more tattoos covering his arms. You couldn't help but to look at the artwork of beautiful colors and line work. Whoever did his tattoos did an amazing job.

 His left arm was full of plant life. Cherry blossom trees that crept up his bicep around his forearm were red spider lilies and under them was a lotus. The other arm had an eastern dragon around the bicep and a tiger on the forearm. On both wrists he had black bands and black circles on the edge of his shoulders. 

Your eyes gazed away and looked at his pants then back at him. "I uhh need to take off your pants too."

 He gave you a weak smile and said "if you wanted my cock you could have just ask. It might help with my pain."

 A blush filled your cheeks and you began to stutter. "No, that is not what I wanted. I need your pants off. They are dirty." He chuckle slightly and laid his head back as you went to unbuckle the front. Your hands were shaking after he made you all flustered and embarrassed but he lifted his hips to help you slide off his pants easier. 

 Sukuna quickly went back to sleep to get more rest. He was still feeling groggy. You put the blanket over him then went to get some cereal and hid in your room to give him some peace. When you came back out hours later you walked over to see sukuna with his eyes open. You gave him a smile and said "hey you awake now. How are you feeling?"

 He said "I am feeling hungry and drained." You nodded asking "how hungry?" 

"Hungry enough to eat you." He chuckled then started coughing. 

You blushed and started to find words to respond to but then you stepped back hitting the table with the back of your knee. You stumbled a little and sukuna was quick to sit up and grab your wrist holding you from falling. 

You made eye contact with him then pulled your wrist away saying "thank you I will go find you food."

 Sukuna looked over at you watching you walk around the kitchen making what seemed to be a sandwich. He wondered if you knew who he really was. What were your plans with him?

 When he saw you turn around with a plate he looked away. You made your way over to him and set a plate with the sandwich on it and handed it to him. "Here let me know if you need anything else and also brought you some tea that might help with the aches." He looked at the food and drink then back to you.

 "Eat some of it. And take a drink."

You raised an eyebrow then looked at him confused saying "what?"

 "You heard me sweetheart eat, drink."

You picked up the sandwich taking a bite looking at him still confused, after swallowing the bite you took a drink of the tea then looked at him. He sat up more and took the food and started to eat it. You just gave him another weird look and left him to eat alone. So many questions ran through your head.

 Hearing your phone notification go off you looked at it to see your friend wondering if you are alright. You texted her 'yes I am fine just something happened and now I have to figure out what to do with him.' You messed up by saying the word to him and she quickly texted back. 'Oh you are seeing a guy. Who is he? What does he look like?'

 'Pretty handsome. Pink hair. Tattoos covering his arms chest and possibly the back. I found him in a alleyway with a stab wound. I had to fix him up but he said to not call anyone.'

 She answered back right away. 'What do you mean?! You found him and just brought him home with a stab wound. Red flag girl! And he has tattoos telling you not to call anyone. You know what they say about Japanese men with tattoos right. Yukuza!'

 You scoffed at the idea and told her you were going to check backup on him and you will talk to her later. When you went back out to the living room you saw him sitting up fully on the couch with the empty plate and glass. "Do you want more?"

 "No this should be good for now but I feel my energy back again for the most part."

Hearing his deep voice your eyes roamed over his body again then quickly looked away when you saw his eyes staring at you. You walked over taking the dishes from him then walked towards the kitchen but stopped curious to say something to him.

 "Hey sukuna are you in the yukuza? My friend just stated it because I mentioned your tattoos and how I found you. I think it's crazy though. I don't think I would ever come across one. Your tattoos are lovely though." You let out a little giggle.

 But then you felt the air in the room stir into something dangerous then you heard him darkly chuckle and a click sound coming from behind you. When you turned to look at him you dropped the dishes hearing them break and shatter across the floor.

 Sukuna was standing up and had his back to you while looking at a black gun in his hand with a golden design through the side of it but you couldn't make out what it was. Your whole world froze and your heart stopped. His back was cover in a full art piece. A four arms demon with four eyes and pink hair. It was supposed to be resentation of himself crawling out of a mouth to a shrine with ox skulls on his lower back.

 He turned around walking to you, opening up his gun looking at the bullets and slipped the clip back into it. 

"You know one thing I hate about the people around me, little woman. Is that you can never let your guard down because you can not trust anyone. It's a shame that even the sweetest of things need to die."

 You gulped freezing in place and began to tear up as he walked up straight to you. So much fear in your body makes you stay still only because you feel if you run he might shoot. He pressed the tip of the gun to your neck. Your eyes closed, a tear ran down your cheek waiting for him to take your life. Is this what you get from the world for helping someone? 

A whimper escaped you as he chuckled and leaned in closer, pressing his lips to your ear. "No words for me, kitten."

 "Your stitches are bleeding."

 He raised an eyebrow and took a look down to his stomach. You took a look at him and made your chance to run but he was too fast and smart as he grabbed your arm pulling you. In the process you stepped on the shards of glass letting out a cry of pain. 

 "Where you think you are going little things."

 He pulled you with him and pushed you onto the couch holding the gun up to you. You looked into his eyes as tears filled you, making your vision blurry and whimpers escaping you. "Will it hurt?"

 Sukuna tiltled his head saying "the bullet? Only of I shoot in a spot that does not kill you fast."

 You started to breathe hard with tears rolling down your cheeks. Staring into his eyes waiting for it to happen when he would be the last thing you see. His hand gripped onto your shoulder holding you down with the gun pressing under your jaw. You couldn't hold back any more and started to sob and cry louder. "S sukuna...." Feeling the cold metal tip of the gun against your skin you tried to plead with him.

 He stared at you but his heart started to feel heavy, memories flashed before him. A woman on her knees before him with his hand around her throat and gun to her head. She pleaded to him crying and sobbing but he just pulled the trigger doing what he was told. Then hearing a baby cry. Remembering the little baby boy she had, he was left motherless. 

 Sukuna let go of your shoulder asking "do you have a child or pregnant?" 

You shook your head still crying.

"Do you have a family?"

You shook your head. Still stuttering as you talked.

"I have… no one. I am alone… my parents both died. No lover.."

 He pulled the gun away from your face and moved away. As soon as you felt him release you took that chance to crawl away from him seeing the blood from your foot staining the couch. But he still hovered around you then brought the gun up again to you saying "where is your phone? Bring it to me."

 You did what you were told but you limped off the couch and walked slowly in pain to your room with him following you. He saw the phone on your bed and quickly took it holding it in his free hand. 

 You couldn't take it any more as you just got down on the floor and crawled back against the wall of your room. He watched as you cradled your legs turning yourself into a ball crying from fear trying to hide from him. 

 Sukuna let out a sigh. "Where the hell is your first aid kit?" 

You didn't answer as you started to shake. So he asked again more stern tone to his voice.

"Where the fuck is your first aid kit? I am not asking again."

 "In the bathroom."

You mumbled and heard him leave the room for a moment but you didn't bother moving from your position not wanting to get shot.

 He walked into the bathroom and the first this he saw was his clothes. With a brush and hydrogen peroxide to remove the blood stains. You really went through all this trouble to bring him here into your home. A complete stranger and fixed him up. Made sure he was well, fed him and washed his pants. 

 He took the pants and put them on and slipped his gun in the back of them along with your phone into the pocket then found the kit. Sukuna came back to see you still in the same spot shaking but stopped crying for now.

When he crouched down in front of you and went to brush his fingers across your ankle you froze up and started to cry again. You looked at his lip quivering and tried to move away from him. 

 "Please don't hurt me. I won't tell anyone. Please just leave."

 He gripped your leg and ran his hand up your calf and pulled your leg to him with your wounded foot. You whimpered in fear and tried to pull away. Thinking the worst.

 "Dont please! I rather be dead."

 He stopped and looked at you realizing why you were freaking out. 

 "Would you stop your fucking crying. I am not going to assault you if that is what you are implying. Let me look at your foot."

 You covered your face trying to calm yourself as you let him take your leg extending it out. You hear the shuffling of the kit and feeling him move with your foot on his lap. But you didn't dare to move a muscle until he went to pull a piece of glass out. You let out a yelp and placed your hands flat on the floor.

 "Quit being a child."

 He continued to pull out the glass he could see then he poured on the rubbing alcohol across the wounds. You whimpered and tried to pull your foot away but he grabbed it, yanking it back. "Damn it, stop squirming!"

 "It hurts and you are doing it wrong! Why are they even bothering with me?! Just leave me alone!"

 Sukuna laid him head back and growled then looked back at you.

 "A favor for a favor. You helped me so I am helping you. Besides, by my code you did save my life. So I am in your debt."

 He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and closed his eyes.

"I am sorry. For threatening you. And scaring you. It's just hard for me to trust anyone. You probably know who I am now."

 You just chewed on your inner cheek not wanting to talk as you suck in a breath trying to calm yourself but knowing he has a loaded weapon made you all the nervous to even say a word to him.

 The both of you heard your phone chime. Sukuna reached behind him and pulled out your phone seeing the text in the lock screen 'is he hot?'

" Who is this little kitten?"

 "My friend from work." He handed you over the phone saying "unlock it."

 You then gave your phone back and he texted your friend back 'yes he is really hot don't worry he is taking care of me.' He texted her making it sound like it was you.

 He closed it then stuck it back into his pocket hearing more notifications go off as you questioned what he did. But he ignored you and went back to tormenting your foot. After he cleaned the wound he wrapped a bandage around your foot and dropped your leg onto the floor. 

 "There its done."

You looked at the wrapping and said "thank you. So you are in the yukuza."

 You rubbed your hand over your cheeks wiping what dry tears that remained as he hummed.

 "Yes I am. I promise to not make any threats to you again. Like I said I am in your debt. Until my part is filled you will no longer see me again. But for now I need to stay here for a few days until I am fully healed and the ones who did this,stop looking for me."

 "You want me to keep you here after you just did all that! No. I am sorry but no you need to leave."

Sukuna groaned and bowed his head as a sign of thanks to you saying "I am sorry,  truly. I need to stay here. Just so you know I never say sorry to anyone."

You made eye contact with him debating if you should let him stay and if you were even safe.

"I can tell you are debating. You have my word. I won't hurt you." 

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh saying "fine I will let you stay. But its my home so my rules." He confirmed with a nod of his head and got up holding out his hand to you as you took it and got up onto your feet with us help.

You thanked him for finding your strength again but you still worried what he can do to you when the guard is down. Without another word you walked away from him with a limp as he followed behind you and watched you head to a hall closet pulling out another blanket.

"Here so you can be more comfortable. And I will figure out what to do with clothes for you later. I am going to bed."

He watched you walk away back into your room, slamming the door closed as he stood there holding the blanket. He never let anyone walk away from him like that, not without him having the last word in. But he will let you relax for the night. He needs his rest too.

what is going to happen between them?!

thank you so much for reading the first chapter! And i am so in love with the picture i can not stop gawking at sukuna.

ch1 Chapter 2

[joelmillerlover123]

Workin On Me | JOEL MILLER X READER

You and Joel meet at a bar and he instantly notices you. Your little dress and games are wrokin on him.

One shot! Inspired by Workin On Me By Riley Green.

No/Pre outbreak AU! Fem!Reader. Age gap (Reader is 23 and Joel is like 35/40 ish idk) HEAVY flirting. Cowboy!Joel (sorta). It’s cute this is cute.

Work count ~ 750 ish.

𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁 𐚁

(those r supposed to be cowboy hats but they don’t rlly look like cowboy hats. its fine.)

Joel saw you as soon as you stepped into the bar. You were wearing white cowboy boots, a little red sundress with spaghetti straps that tied into bows on your shoulders and big gold bangles that jingled when you walked. Gosh, you were gorgeous.

Joel tried his best not to look too obviously but you were making it real hard with your gorgeous smile and long hair trailing behind you. You were there with a group of friends, he guessed. Y’all all looked awful friendly, laughing and singing to the songs, line dancing when a good song came on. He hoped that meant you wouldn't notice him, but you did. Of course you did.

You noticed him as soon as you stepped in the bar. Gosh, he was just your type. Big and broad, nursing a beer. Of course it was a Corona, a lime sticking out of the lip. What you would do to get a beer out of him. You were a Michelob girl yourself but you would drink Corona for him. You would drink any kinda beer for him. You immediately alerted your friends that the hottest man you’ve ever seen was at the bar.

“The old man?” Your friend asked, wrinkling her nose. You just laughed. You’d always like an older man. Maybe it was a thing. Maybe he was just your type.

You tried to ignore him looking at you, mentally high fiving yourself for wearing this dress.

Eventually, though, with a shot or two in you, you had the confidence to ‘bump’ into him when ordering your next drink.

Your shoulder touched his, slightly harder than you meant it to but clearly enough because he just smirked as he sipped his beer again.

“What?” You smiled at him and played dumb. “Sorry about that,” Your voice lowered slightly so that only he could hear.

Your voice shot through him like a lightning bolt, he hid his nerves with a smirk and another sip from his bottle.

“Corona?” You ask, hoping to strike up a conversation about beer, a topic you knew plenty about.

“Ol’ reliable,” He replied, lifting the bottle.

You took his response as the invite to sit down while you waited for the drink you just ordered, facing him.

“What’re you drinkin’?” He asked, smiling a lazy, half-lidded smirk.

You practically shivered from the excitement of talking to this hot man. Sure, you’ve talked to your fair share of barflies but this was no barfly. This was a man.

“Usually Michelob, but tonight,” You look over your shoulder at your friends who are dancing, “Tequila.”

“Tequila?” His eyebrows shoot up, chuckling a bit. “How old are you?”

“I’m 23,” You say, confidently. He couldn’t have been more than what.. 35? Maybe 40?

He laughs again, looking at her head on, “You’re a little young to be chattin up an old man like me.”

“Well, maybe I like older men,” You pull out your best seductive voice which sounds a lot less cool in your tequila-buzzed ears and more awkward than you meant it to. No matter, Joel’s cheeks blush a deep red anyways. You smirk. Hook, line, and sinker.

He looks at you now, really looks at you. Not a half-lidded lazy grin. No, his eyes are anything but lazy, sweeping over your dress. He can’t help but wonder how many guys have looked at you in that dress. Surely you picked it on purpose. And to top it all off, his favorite color was red.

“Yeah?” He said, his voice deeper than before, “A little thing like you likin an older man?”

“What? You think boys my age can take care of me?” You laugh as nonchalantly as possible, and then shake your head.

“Oh, I see. You want a real man,” Joel’s eyes sweep over you again. What is it with him and this red dress? He can’t help but wonder what it’ll look like on his bedroom floor.

“Somethin like that,” You reply, smiling. The bartender comes and hands you the drink you forgot you ordered and you smile politely at him and turn back to Joel. You decide to go in for the kill. Now or never. “So, am I gonna have to take this shot and ask you to leave with me or are you gonna take me to yours?”

Whatever this little game you were playin with him was, he liked it, and it was working.

“Come on,” He said, putting down some cash for his drinks and hers, “Let’s get outta here.”

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝!!

order 82 | one-shot | Jade | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: Initially it was going to be headcanons but this works fine too.

You were in your own world. You happily kicked your feet and quietly giggled as you read your little book. No one else was around to judge you for it! You never liked to admit it but those awfully corny romance shojou mangas are just too good. Call it a guilty pleasure.

You stared intensely at every line and every word on every page. Their relationship is perfect. The book must’ve casted a spell on you because you can’t stop reading.

“I’m sorry, did you hit your head, love?” Aoi asked with deep concern.

“You… what are you doing?!” Dia shook her head in annoyance. Dia tried to slip away only for Aoi to block her with his arm.

“Before that, I need to ask why you want to see him so badly. You won’t even look me in the eye and you’re running away… to see him?” He has tears in his eyes as he said that.

Without you realizing, a shadow loomed over you. The new presence was dangerous yet you kept on reading each page. It wasn’t until you felt a large hand on your shoulder. You froze, you didn’t even scream or move, you just froze in fear of who it was behind you.

“What’s this ya got here?” It was Floyd— the worst person ever! Out of all people that caught you reading corny romance manga— it was him?!

“Floyd, so why are you here out of all places?” You went to the most empty spot you could find which was the forest near the botanical gardens. No one ever goes there even for educational purposes.

Floyd brushed off the question and pointed to the book in your hand. “You came here to read comics? I thought you’d read history books or 18th century novels or something.” He smiled politely.

You shyly close it and slide it under your leg. You tried to think of something to distract from the fact you were caught red handed.

“You’re an eel right? You don’t belong in a forest.” You scoffed while crossing your arms. With that attitude, Floyd knew he caught you doing something that was supposed to be a secret.

“You’re so rude… Don’t discriminate against me because I’m from the ocean. I just wanted to play…” He sniffled and frowned. He kneeled down in front of you to make proper eye contact with you.

You shook your head, “Okay but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be helping out at Mostro?”

“My whole life doesn’t revolve around that place. It was too boring and empty so I went searching elsewhere.”

You half heartedly smiled at him as he grinned back at you. But he began asking questions again. You sighed, grabbing your bag and standing up quickly. You gave a small careless excuse and apology before leaving with haste.

I guess I’ll just have to read another time.

Floyd stood up to chase after you but looked down underneath where you were sitting. You must’ve been rushing to get away if you forgot your book. Not thinking much of it, he let you go but picked up your book for a quick read.

—

Floyd sat down on his bed, taking off his school blazer. Jade walked in and smiled at his brother. “You finally came back.”

Floyd shrugged, “I wasn’t gone for that long.” It seemed he was still bored, maybe even more bored than before he left. Jade took off his hat and placed it on his desk, though he noticed he may have placed it on top of something else.

He picked up the colorful manga and looked at the front then back. “Is this yours?” Floyd looked over and shook his head.

“Nope, that’s Shrimpy’s. I found them reading that book but they ran away. That book is nothing like I’ve ever seen!”

“Did you steal this from them?”

“Actually no, when they ran away they left it there. I was gonna give it back to them tomorrow.”

Jade turned to the backside of the book and read the summary out loud. “Dia is an over achieving honor student, top of her class her first year of high school. But she pushes away anyone who attempts to get too close, making her a loner. Her life takes a turn when her old childhood best friend, who had moved away nine years ago, moves back into town. Aoi attempts to reach out and reconnect with Dia only for her to refuse. And the pursuit continues.”

Floyd laughs and lays down on his back, staring over at Jade. “I never would’ve guess MC would’ve read this sort of literature…”

“That’s what I’m sayin! They were really into it too.” He laughed.

Jade flipped back to the front, with an intrigued look. “Floyd, do you mind if I give this a read?”

“I don’t care. Actually, how about you give it back to them tomorrow?” He flipped on his side. Jade gave his brother a stare, though he was staring in the other direction, he could sense his twin’s displeasure. “You’re the one who touched it last!”

—

You had been a mess all day. Everyone could tell just by the way you stared at the floor with a melancholy expression that you were not okay. Despite nearly everyone asking, “What happened?” “Are you alright?” “Cheer up!”

You could feel no better.

After all, you were left on a major cliffhanger. Then again maybe it was your fault since you lost the book. You swear you had put it back in your bag!

You went back to the tree after realizing it was gone, but it wasn’t there.

Maybe Floyd took it… You thought with a scowl on your face.

“Damn, what did the floor do to you?” Ace laughed, but he didn’t have a smile.

“You’ve been glaring at the ground for almost the entire lunch.” Deuce said in concern.

Epel pressed a cold drink against your cheek.

“Ah, thank you.” You thanked out of obligation. You took it into your hands but didn’t move to open it.

“Ya better be. Now, are ya finally ready to tell us why yer all glum like a plum.”

The three of them sat besides you. You raised your head and glanced at the three of them. Though you only smiled at Epel’s words. “Glum like a plum? What does that even mean..?” You looked at your drink and he had even gotten you something plum flavored.

Epel held back his words only because he knew you were upset.

There’s no way you could tell them why you were so depressed. “I’m really sad because I was reading this really good manga but I was left on a cliffhanger because I stupidly lost the book and cannot find it”— They’d most likely get mad for worrying them that much over something so minor.

Deuce took the drink from your hands and opened it up for you, handing it back. “Drink something. Maybe it’ll make you feel better?”

You thanked him and took a sip, still wondering if Floyd stole it. That thought was killing you. At that point it was all you could think about. The cliffhanger wasn’t your biggest concern. FLOYD HAS THE BOOK? What if he destroys it? Or maybe he read it and now your image as a sophisticated, mature student is ruined in his eyes?! Or what if he tells other people and your reputation is ruined?

Before you knew it, you had found yourself stomping into Mostro Lounge. Though it was surprisingly empty. There was only one person as far as you saw. You got closer and it turned out to be Jade Leech. Not quite the one you needed to see.

Nonetheless you approached him with a slightly nervous smile. “Hello Jade, do you happen to know where Floyd is?”

He gave you an unreadable stare, “Why are you here? Today is a maintenance day for Mostro Lounge.”

“Is that so…? Well pardon the intrusion but I must know where Floyd is.”

As expected of the Vice Housewarden of Octavinelle, he accommodated your needs. In fact he offered to escort you there.

God bless him! He walked beside you, having a small conversation, just idle chit chat.

“How come you need to see Floyd so badly?”

“It’s just… something’s between us and I think he took something he wasn’t supposed to. Which is why I must go see him!”

You sped up and walked ahead of him. Which was the moment Jade chose to strike. His hand grabbed your wrist and swung you backwards into the wall. It was all very fast, you nearly hit your head.

You blinked as Jade stared down at you. You wanted to ask him what he’s doing but the words just wouldn’t come out.

“I’m sorry. Did you hit your head, love?”

What? Did he just… You must’ve misheard him. But that look on his face. He never looked at you that way before…

“No I didn’t…” You said under your breath. You realized how close he was when he got closer.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you, speak up.” He took his hand that was holding to wrist and moved it to you chin.

“I didn’t hit my head thankfully! Will you take me to Floyd now please?!” You began to slip to the side slowly, trying to get away.

Your heart jumped out of your chest, your eyes widened and you looked to the side to where Jade slammed his hand. You felt the wall shake. You looked back at him slowly but only one word inside your head.

Kaebedon!!

“Before that, I need to ask why you want to see Floyd so badly. You won’t even look me in the eye and you’re running away… to see him?” Jade has that same smile and hint of mischief in his voice. as always.

“I believe he has something that belongs to me so I was going to ask him if it’s whereabouts…!” Your voice strained trying to keep composure.

“Oh my, did he trouble you? I deeply apologize on his behalf. But I think I have what you’re looking for.”

You softened your gaze and mouth opening to explain himself. But soon he reached into his coat with his other hand that was not against the wall.

“Deep into the Heart by Nana F. Hopefully this is what you’ve been searching for.”

You stared blankly at the book, your hands reached out and snatched it from his grasp, which he let you do. You really didn’t have any words for him, mostly out of confusion and intimidation.

“Floyd told me that you left it behind when you ran away from him. He brought it back with him to our dorm after reading it through himself. The premise piqued my interest so I also read it. Hopefully it all makes sense now.”

You understood what he was doing when he did all of that. He was just teasing you. He smiled as he stepped away from you. “Also, Floyd stormed out 30 minutes ago. I’m sure he’s found somebody to amuse himself with by now.”

Now you were just embarrassed, you held the book up to your face to avoid eye contact. You were concerned about Jade and Floyd knowing your taste in literature. The unpredictable nature of the two intimidated you. Surely they wouldn’t tell anyone…

“Thank you Jade. I’m going to head back now.” You turned around and lowered the book.

“Allow me to escort you—“ he cut himself off as you sprinted away.

“No thank you!”

“No running in the lounge!”

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 28

[Prev] [Next]

Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn.  Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen.  When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation.  One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed.  “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine.  “It happens, darling.  It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door.  He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you.  He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor.  When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper.  You squinted.  “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments.  He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five.  “Sorry, sorry.”  He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down.  “These are genetic predictions.  It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl.  Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.”  He moved his finger from one scribble to another.  “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us.  However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes.  Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair.  At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait.  I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right?  I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair.  If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind.  If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be.  But again, this is all approximations.  So then I started thinking about more technical stuff.  I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both.  Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss.  Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall.  Just an interesting thought.  Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter.  “Law, slow down!  Breathe!”  Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly.  “Sorry.  I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek.  “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table.  “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted.  “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered.  “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back.  “Nope, I came straight home.  I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose.  He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic.  One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied.  “It’s hard to stand up.  Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand.  I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him.  You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed.  The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned.  “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly.  The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion.  “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes.  “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive.  And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off.  It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted.  “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong.  I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out.  I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench.  “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject.  You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you.  You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead.  You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly.  “I mean it.  You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours.  Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso.  The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do.  After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips.  “Hey, so how’s the studying been?  For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks.  “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure.  I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared.  It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases.  The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before.  Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time.  Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field.  The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face.  “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family.  I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.  

“No, I do, when performing treatments.  When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained.  He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled.  You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it.  His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head.  “Alright.  Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored.  The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about.  You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face.  You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date.  As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career.  Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field.  You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.  

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers.  The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled.  Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading.  Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor.  You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month.  He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery.  What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day?  Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up.  Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home.  The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump.  The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.  “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good.  I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen.  You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you.  “You could say that.”  You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated.  He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away.  “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged.  “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate.  And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks.  “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything.  I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable.  I’m not expecting anything in return.  And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes.  “I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are.  Always.  Even the changes that come with having a child.  You’re always going to be beautiful to me.  I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be.  The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones.  He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries.  Likewise, you never removed your glass ring.  Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile.  Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks.  “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college.  I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability.  “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up.  A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles.  It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes.  “Can you help me sit down?”

[anasanthology]

Two’s A Company, Three’s A Crowd, Four… is Just Perfect

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI (I don’t care who reads just if your account age is set to under 18 don’t interact please), praise kink, breeding kink, very light choking, lowkey Soft Dom!Ethan Winters, possibly super light degradation but not really, overall pretty tame, fem-specific gendered terms. Not proofread.

Notes: MY FIRST FIC BE NICE!!! Honestly, I can’t tell if this is bad or not 👀 This took me days to finish because I lost energy like half way through 😭 Sorry if it’s a little ooc, I tried to not do that but it might be 🫣 ANYWAYS, hope you like it 😁 if you have any comments JUST SAY THEM they will be appreciated 💕 hope you like, lovelies ☺️

3.6k words | Ethan Winters x AFAB!Reader

You stand on the porch of a small townhouse. Feeling the cool air blow around you, you try to make yourself smaller in your coat. It was freezing outside, but gas was expensive so you walked. The sweet burn of prolonged cold nipped at your fingertips and exposed ankles. The distant cries of a young child getting louder, accompanied by heavy fevered footsteps. The door swings open and a man pokes his head out giving you a weak tired smile.

“Are you the babysitter?”

“Yes.”

That was 9 months ago, and you wouldn’t have even imagined that would have led to this.

***

“What?” Your eyes widened. ‘What did she just say?’

“I asked if you could give me a little sister. My friend has a little sister and she said that her daddy helped her mommy build her in her tummy.” Rose kept on coloring with her crayons as she talked, “Mommy’s not here, but daddy could help you,” She smiled at you then looked towards her father, “right daddy?” Ethan’s body visibly tenses at the question and he lets out an awkward laugh.

“I don’t think it works like that Rosie.”

“Why not?”

“Cause…” he swallows thickly, “cause it has to be a mommy and daddy, and she’s not a mommy.” Rose crosses her arms and puffs out her cheeks.

“That’s dumb!” She throws her crayons onto the paper and pouts.

“How ‘bout we go to bed, Rose.” You suggest.

“‘M not tired!”

“If you lay down now I’ll have time to read you that book you like, I’ll even do the funny voices.” Rose’s entire demeanor changes.

“Really? Like it when you do the fish, it’s silly.” She giggles.

“It is silly, now let’s go!” You grab Rose’s hand and lead her to her room to put her to bed. “Long ago, a young girl went with her mother to pick berries for her father who was hard at work…” You read to her making sure to do the voices extra dramatic, you always added in new voice lines to make it a little more entertaining and she loved it everytime.

***

“She’s asleep.” You walk into the kitchen finding Ethan pouring a glass of wine.

“She loves it when you read to her. Thought it was gonna be a lot harder to get her to bed since she missed her nap today.” Ethan huffed with amusement. “I can never get her down that easily, she always says I’m doing the voices wrong and that you do it better.”

“Does she really?” You walk up to the counter he’s standing by.

“Every time.” He laughs then holds his glass to you, “you want some?”

“Maybe a glass, I don’t wanna stumble home.”

“I’ve told you that I could pay for your gas to and from here, it’s not that big of an expense and it’s getting cold out.” That was Ethan, always worried about everyone else even when it inconvenienced him.

“No,” you just shake your head, “I don’t mind it. Plus, I get more steps in.”

“If your legs get cut off from frostbite you won’t get any steps in.” He starts pouring you a glass, he had already taken one out for you before you even came into the room.

“God, Ethan!” Your eyes widened and you laughed, “you’re so morbid!”

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” he slides you your glass, “and if you can’t babysit anymore I don’t think Rose will ever sleep again.” You take a sip of your drink and slosh the wine around your glass.

“Guess I’ll have to start searching for wheelchair ramps then!”

“Okay, smarty pants.” Ethan rolls his eyes.

“Or you could get her that sister, bet a new baby in the house will tire her out.” You nudge his shoulder and giggle. Ethan’s body tightens up next to you.

“Oh I… yeah that could work.” He laughs nervously and looks away as a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I’m sorry for that by the way, she… Rose has been asking for a sister since I started socializing her at that parent support group place.” You notice his embarrassment and lean in.

“Oh don’t worry, Ethan. She’s just a kid, she didn’t know what she was saying. Bet though if you bring it up in like ten years she’ll be totally embarrassed!” Ethan lets out a soft laugh but is still visibly tense.

“Yeah, probably…” he chews his lip and sucks in a breath.

“You ever thought about it?”

“W-what?” He seemed to just about jump out of his skin.

“Have you ever thought about having another kid?” You give him an amused look.

“Oh. Uh… sometimes.” Color fills his cheeks and he looks away. It was a lie. He thought about it constantly. All Ethan wanted was more kids. He just understood how much he already struggled raising Rosemary alone, and didn’t want her or another kid to suffer from his irresponsibility. 

“What did you think I meant?” You giggled and leaned in a little further, now starting to enter his space. Maybe it was the wine that emboldened you, or maybe that was just your excuse.

“I uh…” he huffed out a laugh, “I thought you meant kids with you specifically.” Immediately after saying that he realized what had just left his mouth. Wine always seemed to make him unable to shut up.

“Oh.” Your face heated up not expecting him to be so straightforward. “Well, have you?” You ask in a quieter voice.

“No! I…” he exhales and looks over at you, you guys just look at each other in silence for what feels like forever. “Yes.” His voice was so quiet if you hadn’t been laser focused on him you would’ve missed it.

“Really?” You whispered back. You didn’t sound angry or even surprised, just hopeful. He nodded.

“Have you thought about it?”

“Yes.” You answered immediately, what did you have to hide now? He wanted it too.

“You have?” Ethan looks at you completely shocked. After the words left his mouth he expected you to yell at him, slap him even, for being a creep—rightfully so, in his opinion—and then quit on the spot, not agree.

“I have.” You bite your lip and look into your glass, heat starts climbing to your face. The fact that you had thought about that… Ethan could feel his cock start to kick at his thighs.

“And what are we gonna do about that?” His voice came out a lot shakier than he intended. Sounding more like he was genuinely curious rather than confident and flirty like he intended. It didn’t matter though, hearing those words come from him made your breath hitch.

“Well…” you bite your lip thinking for a minute. ‘Oh what the hell.’ Grabbing his shirt you pull him closer and press your lips to his. It wasn’t really a hot passionate kiss, more just a ‘I really hope you don’t fire me’ kiss, well at least it wasn’t at first. Ethan’s body relaxes after a few seconds, his hands come to your waist to pull you against him. The tip of his tongue peeking from between his lips to lick a hot stripe across your bottom lip. Suddenly you’re jumping up to sit on the kitchen counter and parting your thighs so he can slot himself between them. You let your hands wander behind his back and grab at his shirt as his start to rub at your sides. One of them runs up your body to press against your neck. Your body straightens and you break the kiss with a pant.

“You like that?” He pulls back a little further so he can look from your eyes to your kiss-swollen lips. Swallowing thickly as you try to respond to his words, yet nothing seems to come out. “Hmm?” He squeezes your throat lightly and you whine. Slick pools into the gusset of your panties. You try and push your thighs together to ease the ache between your legs, only leaving you wanting and squirmy as your knees push against the sides of his hips. 

“Mmh, yeah you do.” He squeezes your neck again softly and you continue to unsuccessfully try to clench your thighs together searching for friction. Noticing this, he lets his other hand fall to your thigh so that he can pull you closer to him. Not quite close enough to feel him where you need it.

“I do, I like it.” You nod your head as you talk quietly, your eyes glazing over with want.

“Yeah?” The hand on your thigh climbs up to rest on where your thigh meets your hip and he lets his thumb run along the crotch seam of your pants. “Pretty girl.” He presses his thumb in and watches your face, seeing the way your eyelashes flutter and how your lips part slightly as you gasp. You look down to where his thumb rubs at your cunt. The fabric separating him from actually touching you providing a much needed friction on your clit.

“Ethan…” your voice nothing but a whiny whisper.

“Hmm? What sweetheart?” The hand on your throat coming up to your jaw, his thumb swiping across your lower lip making you shiver. “You want something?” He keeps eye contact and keeps rubbing his thumb around your lips. Letting his finger dip into your mouth slightly, going in and out, back and forth, slowly, never letting it move in far enough. He rubs your saliva across your lips on every hot drag out of your mouth. Your lip starts to quiver and you move your head forward a little, trying to take his thumb deeper into your mouth.

“Mmm, yes.” He bites his lip and breathes out heavily. You wrap your tongue around his thumb and start licking tentative stripes up his finger, getting more confident as his jaw slacks.

“Keep going,” he whispers, “just like that.” You let your lips close around his finger so you can start sucking around his thumb. “Oh, good girl. Doing so good for me.” His head tilts back a little before he catches himself so he can keep watching the way your lips move when you suck him in. You pull your lips off him with a pop and a string of spit connects his thumb to your lips.

“Ethan, I want more.” You take your arms from his body and put your hands on the counter, leaning back.

“You want more, what?” He raises his brows at you.

“I want more of you, want more touching.” You lean in, biting your wet lips and smiling softly.

“No.” He lets his hands move to sit over yours, pressing them softly into the counter as he leans in to you even further than you did him. “I was telling you to ask for more.” His voice is firm but gentle, and any doubt he had in the beginning was gone. It made you wet. You couldn’t help but squirm a little at what was happening, or the implication of what it could mean for later.

“Oh okay…” you swallow, “Ethan, I want more, please?” Your voice comes out whiny and shaky. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” He starts unbuttoning and unzipping your pants before helping you to stand. He stands back to watch you as you start pulling your jeans down. Ethan watches you bend forward, the way your hands slide down your legs. You're making sure to pull them off slowly and completely so you don’t look like an idiot struggling out of your pant legs. You push them to the side and look up at him as you stand. Finally really paying attention to him rather than what he’s doing. Seeing you look at him like that, he palms himself over his jeans. You stand all the way up and pull your shirt over your head. Tossing it aside before putting your hands behind your back. Biting your lip as you look from his face down to the hand that teases his cock through his pants.

“Turn around and bend over, baby.” He looks you up and down like you’re a toy and keeps touching himself.

“M’kay.” You turn around like he asks and bend yourself forward till you can feel the cold surface against your cheek.

“Good girl.” His hand roams up the back of one of your thighs all the way up to rub your lower back. You arch for him, picking your head up and putting your arm over each other in front of you. He breathes out heavily and steps forward pressing himself against your hip.

“Oh look at you. You wanna be touched don’t you, baby?” You nod your hand and bury your face in your arms. “Yeah you do.” Ethan leans in pressing his front to your back and hooks his finger under the band of your underwear. He pulls it back a little and lets it slap back against your skin softly with a smile. His hand moves down to cup your sex, the feeling making you whine. “You’re so wet. Did I do this, Hmm? You’re wet for me?” He whispers right against your neck and you nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, ‘m wet for you.” He starts carding his fingers through your slit over your underwear, soaking them even more.

“Mmm, which part? Was it when I squeezed that little throat, or maybe…” Ethan leans in further so you can feel his lips ghost over your neck, “or maybe it was when I said I fantasized about knocking you up?” You could feel your pussy gush into your panties as you moan at his words.

“Oh? Which one?” The smirk in his voice is audible.

“I… both.” Your breath is shaky and your face heats up at having to admit that.

“Both? Well I guess we’ll have to do both then. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Your lips push together hard and you press back against his hand, still sliding lazily against your slit. His hand moves up and he hooks his fingers under the band of your underwear again, but this time he starts pulling them down. Strings of slick connect you to your panties as he pulls them away.

“Look at you, so needy.” His fingers return to your slit and you arch back more. “Aww, you’re getting me all messy, baby. You know, I bet I could slip right into this needy little cunt without any preparation. You’d take it all wouldn’t you?” His fingers move to toy with your clit making you gasp.

“Mhm.” Your voice is muffled but he can still hear how whiny your tone is.

“But I’m not that mean, even though I know you’d like it. I’ll get you ready, baby, wanna hear that pretty voice while I fuck you with my fingers.” He moves his hand to line up one of his fingers and push it inside. “Oh god, so tight. Gonna stretch you out, baby.” He starts slowly dragging his finger in and out of your gummy walls. “You think you can take a little more?” Without even waiting to hear an answer he pushes another finger up into you.

“Etha-“ you whimper and bite your lip, moving backwards and forwards a little to meet his fingers when they push in. He flips his fingers over inside you and starts curling them against that spot inside you making you see stars.

“Pretty girl, you don’t know how many times I’ve thought about doing this. Bending you over the counter and filling you up while you whine and beg. Ask for it, baby. Ask me to fill you up.” He starts curling his fingers harder against your walls, pushing them against you the whole time he drags out. He stands up straight but keeps himself pressed against your hip.

“Please, Ethan. Fill me up, please.” Your voice is high and whiny. He throws his head back with a moan and starts rubbing himself against you.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah you sound so good like that. So so good.” Ethan’s voice is breathy and his other hand starts to toy with his belt, undoing it and pulling it through his belt loops to toss on the floor with a clatter. His fingers start to undo his jeans and he tries to pull them down quickly. “Shit.” He pulls his fingers out of you and you whine at the loss of stimulation. “Be patient, baby.” You look back at him as he pulls his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh. When you see his cock spring free you bite your lip and moan. Unable to look away from his leaking pink tip, your thighs clench together and your toes curl in your shoes. Ethan starts teasing the vein going up his length while he watches your face. Your mouth opens in a silent moan at the sight. “You like this, sweet girl? Seeing me touch myself while looking at you all bent over and desperate?”

“Yes, Ethan. Fuck, please, I need it.” You throw your head down onto your arms, unable to watch him any longer afraid you might cum just from seeing him.

“Of course.” He steps forward and starts rubbing his hard cock through your slit.

“Ethan, pl-“ you gasp and throw your head back when he suddenly pushes in about half way. He pulls back and pushes in slowly, going further with each stroke. Ethan’s hands grip the edge of the counter and his head falls forward. He stares intently where you two connect and lets out a quiet moan. The thought of his cock leaking pre-cum into your aching hole makes you clench around him.

“Shit. Oh fuck!” Ethan lets out a strained moan and his hand slides up your back and around your throat. The feeling of his hands on you makes you push back. He grins and squeezes the sides of your throat making you clench around him again. “Oh you do like that don’chu,” he leans forward so he’s pressed against your back and pushes all the way in, his tip touching your cervix, “gonna fill up this little hole while I squeeze your throat. You want that? Want me to cream your cunt while you get choked?” Your eyes roll back and you grind up against him at his words.

“Ethan, mmm please. Oh f…” your eyes start to water and your tongue goes limp in your mouth, “wanna be full.”

“Yeah oh, sweet girl.” He talks softly and starts fucking up into you again making sure to grind his tip right against your cervix. “I’m gonna fill you till it takes, baby.” You’re completely speechless, just moaning and whining completely at his mercy. He pulls you up against him and knocks your legs apart with his foot. His other hand coming up to slip a couple fingers passed your lips, which you immediately start sucking and licking on. “There you go, being such a good girl for me.” Ethan kisses the top of your head tenderly. You make a noise and he immediately takes his fingers out of your mouth to grip your face. “Hmm? What, sweetheart?”

“Wanna be a good girl. Jus’ for you.” The hand on your throat goes down so he can rub and toy with your clit. You moan and squirm against him at the stimulation. “You gonna cum, baby? Yeah, cum right on my cock, make a mess.” Your eyes roll back and fat tears roll down your cheeks to drop onto your chest.

“Ethan I-Ethan, mmm.” You start mumbling incoherently and he finally pushes you over. He slows his movements on you clit but keeps up his pace fucking you through your orgasm.

“Good girl, feel’ so good when you cum.” He pushes you back down on the table abruptly and puts his hands on your back keeping you there. “Take it.”

“Ethan, ‘m so sensitive, please.”

“I said take it.” You couldn’t help but just moan at the way he was talking to you. Ethan was always so sweet, you couldn’t have even imagined he could speak like that. “Oh you like that? You want me to get rough with you? Hmm?” He starts fucking into you harder, his tip bullying into your cervix. Your body just goes limp against the counter and he laughs softly. “Gonna cream this needy cunt. You want that? I know you do, baby, I can feel it.” One of his hands tangles up into your hair and pulls tentatively.

“Ethan.” You couldn’t say anything else, you couldn’t even think.

“Gonna knock you up, pretty girl. I’ll fuck you as much as it takes, till I get to see you all swollen with my child.” His voice starts getting shaky and high. He was watching the way your slick would string between you two everytime he pulled back. Suddenly his moans started to turn into whimpers and you could hear him suck air through his teeth. “Oh fuck…” Ethan throws his head back and pushes all the way into you, pressing his tip right against your cervix. Hot thick stripes of cum painted your walls. “There you go, good girl.” His head tilts back and he closes his eyes. He lets go of your hair and starts running his fingers along your back gently. All that could be heard was the heavy breaths that filled the air. He pulls out and you whine at the empty feeling. “You did so good.” He pulls you straight up against him and holds you. You can feel his cum start to drip and run down your thighs. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“Feel good.” Your voice was quiet and weak.

“Yeah? I'm glad, pretty girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He kisses your shoulder softly.

“Mmh, m’kay.” You close your eyes and lay your head against him.

“Let’s go.” He picks you up and starts carrying you to the bathroom to clean you off. “Think you’re gonna have to come around more often with a little one on the way.”

***

You were so glad you took this job.

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 8 bar | words: 747

did i use two tiktok sounds in this one? yes. yes, i did. am i sorry or ashamed? not in the slightest

enjoy <33

“We’re going out tonight,” Barty said without any preamble.

“Hello to you too, Bartemius,” Regulus replied with an eye roll. “Should I congratulate you on this decision or pity you?” His friend laughed at that.

“No, you didn’t get it. We are going out tonight,” the other guy said, emphasizing the word ‘we’. Regulus stiffened at the statement.

“Fuck off, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, going back to painting his nails.

“Yes, you are! You’ve been moping ever since that Max guy...

“Matty.”

“Same shit, anyways—he left you for some chick! C’mon, Reggie, it’ll be fun; maybe you’ll even get lucky and get some." Barty continued, catching his attention at the last part. Yeah, maybe a rebound with some stranger would make him feel better.

“What should I wear?” There was a loud ‘woohoo’ from the other end of the line, and then Barty started talking about outfits Regulus should put on.

***

An hour later, they both stood at the entrance to the pub called Thirteen Needles, waiting for Evan and Pandora. It didn’t look like a stereotypical British pub with its unmatched chairs and sofas and some colorful lamps thrown around the place. All in all, it was a nice place.

When the dark-skinned siblings showed up, they only managed to smoke half a cigarette each.

“Looking good, Reggie,” Pandora said as Evan approached Barty and started kissing him eagerly. Regulus looked down at his clothes; he wore a black DIY sleeveless crop top with Marina’s Electra Heart cover, tight black pants, and low Docs. Yeah, he looked good.

In response, he just smiled at the blonde girl, making a gesture to come in.

All four of them sat at a table with high chairs, not far from the bar. After their second round of tequila shots, Pandora leaned closer to him. “The bartender is looking at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world,” she whispered in his ear. Immediately, he turned around to see the man she was talking about, and he was met with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. The guy noticed him looking and smiled the brightest smile, at which Regulus spit his drink a little. The bartender had the audacity to chuckle at that.

Regulus turned back to his friends, thinking about the rebound he had considered earlier. He ended his drink in one big gulp, putting the glass back down with a thud.

“Anyone wants anything? No? Good” Regulus said this quickly, jumping from his stool and heading straight for the bar.

When he got there, the Pretty Eyes Guy was busy with another customer, and Regulus had time to look at him properly.

The Guy looked like some Latino god with his tanned skin, well-built arms covered in patchwork tattoos, messy hair, and gold accessories—glasses, earrings, and a single signet on his left hand’s middle finger. He had nice hands, Regulus thought.

When it was his turn to order, The Guy’s eyes sparkled with joy.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Oh god, he had such a nice, deep voice.

“Um, one long island, please.” His voice, on the other hand, sounded like he just had a stroke.

“On it” The Guy winked and started preparing his order. Throughout the whole thing, Regulus's eyes continued to follow his movements. At some point, the guy smirked and said, “If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m going to catch a cold,” and it was Regulus turn to chuckle.

“Oh, nice one…”

“James” The Guy, James, filled in, stealing a glimpse.

“Nice one, James,” Regulus said softly.

When James finished preparing his drink and Reg took out his phone to pay for it, the bartender shook his head. “On the house. Enjoy…”

“Regulus”

“Oh. Oh, I like that." James smiled that bright smile again, and Regulus only winked in response.

He went to order three more times, only flirting innocently. He found the courage to speak his mind when he got there for the fifth time.

“So, listen, James. Would-“

“I’m off at one and live just down the street,” the bartender interrupted, tilting his head and smirking at him. “My roommate is out all night, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar,” he added, lowering his voice.

And Regulus, well, he just laughed at James. How can someone be so good-looking and talk so badly?

Either way, as Barty said, he got really lucky and actually got some.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Hiii, how about writing some fluff about Poe teaching reader who’s a new pilot for the resistance some of his tips on flying? The rest is up to you. I’m missing Poe as well :,)))

Baby Wings

Poe Dameron x Reader

TW/CW: Nothing!

A/N: I might consider writing this on my tablet because lord help me, typing these out on a tiny phone screen is not good for my hands! 😩

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

You couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering inside of your belly as Poe Dameron--the Poe Dameron--leaned into your cockpit to point out the controls of your new X-Wing.

You had just been appointed to his squadron as a fledgling pilot. You had originally been a smuggler that the Resistance hired routinely, and apparently, a flight maneuver you performed in a dogfight with a few weequay pirates got Poe's attention.

If you could fly like that in an old hunk of clunk freighter, how would you do in something designed for finer maneuvers, for dogfights?

How good would your skills be against the First Order?

Your senses were currently buzzing as everything Poe invaded the cramped space. The smell of oxidized metal, or smoke and ozone from patching up hull breaches and walls to the base; the smell of sweat and cheap juice he'd downed before spotting you in the hangar and rushing over to offer his "expertise".

He wasn't looking at you, he was practically laying on you, actually; as he supported his weight on the console with one hand and pointing out the dials, buttons, levers and latches you'd need to memorize to control your new fighter.

His face had thin rivulets of sweat trickling down his gloriously almost-olive skin, his dark raven curls falling around his face, clumped with excess sweat. His suit was soaked too, the orange having dark stains from the moisture his body was sweating out thanks to the damned heat of this Force-forsaken planet.

But honestly, you sent a silent prayer to whomever was listening for the heat, because you hoped--like some foolish schoolgirl with a crush on a galaxy-famous athlete--that Poe would get sick of the heat and tear off the top half of his suit to cool his heated skin.

You were so absorbed in staring at him, that you had almost entirely forgot to listen to him. You only realized your brain lapsed when he turned his head to smile that trademark grin of his, wrapping up his last sentence.

"...and then that's the yoke, obviously. Don't need to tell you that. Got it?"

"Wh--oh! Y-yep! Got it, commander..." You cough awkwardly, four fingers fiddling pointlessly with the controls.

"Kay, theeeeen..." He smirked at you from the corner of his eyes as he turned back to your control panel. "...repeat everything I just told you. Y'know... So I know my impeccable lessons stuck."

"I, uh--well, uh. This is the..." You began to blubber out, trying to find something you did know and give a quick, half-assed explanation on what it did.

Poe barked out a hearty belly laugh, "Don't even bother, darlin'... If you were paying attention... You'd know that I squeaked in a line about me being the former Emperor of Kashyyyk. And, as handsome as I am, unfortunately, I feel ike the wookies might have an issue with me wanting to claim the throne. ...If they even got one."

Your face flushed with color and you buried your face into your hands, "Stars, I am so sorry. I-I really was trying to pay attention, I just..."

"Got lost in all this--" He leaned back to gesture to his messy, sweaty form. "--primal, god-like, drop-dead gorgeous attractiveness?"

From the bottom of his ladder, you could hear BB-8 tweet out a response that called Poe out. You swore you could make out "nerf-herder" and "Hutt's armpit" in-between his refuting whistles and beeps.

Poe leaned back on the ladder and frowned at his round companion, "Hey, you little womp-rat! I will have you know a lot of people find me handsome!"

BB-8 once again doubted that claim, your abilities once again picking out few choice words such as; "drunkards", "a blind quarren" and "brain-dead jawa".

You need to laugh at their bickering overpowered your embarrassed, darkened cheeks and you titter and snort at what little you could pick ou.

Poe looked at you with a playful scowl, "What're you giggling about?"

You cover your mouth and point down at BB, who tweeted as he spun in a circle.

Poe looked between you and BB, his jaw going slack as his amber eyes looked to the both of you in disbelief.

He finally looked back at you for a final time, pointing at you.

"You," He pointed down at BB-8. "Can understand him?"

You rub the back of your neck. "W-well sort of... I spent a lot of my childhood working in a droid repair shop, and--"

Poe clapped, whooping happily, "Oh, I knew I liked you! Finally, somebody else who can hear what this little metal butterball is shouting at me! You'd be surprised at how many people don't understand droids!"

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "...Sometimes I think they're the lucky ones."

BB-8 twittered and shrieked a response, beeping rapidly in an irritated manner, making Poe laugh once again.

Finally, he leaned into the cockpit once more, winking at you.

"C'mon, darlin'... let's go over this again so the info soaks up into that pretty little brain o' yours. And if you do a good enough job on the pop quiz... maybe we can hit the local cantina!"

[joohanisms]

lizzie walk with me for a sec i have a (silly) idea,,,, imagine ~getting frisky~ with jooyeon and he realises you're wearing panties with pokémon on them and he suddenly stops like :O these are so cute omg is that sylveon and then proceeds to spend the next minute or so trying to name them all and you're just laying there like 😭 okay but can you eat me out already tf ahsjsjdjs (instead he makes you turn over so he can see the pokémon on your ass smh)

- 🍯

LMAOOOOOOOOOO THAT'S SO HIM I'M GOING TO PASS OUT

jooyeon + pokémon underwear 💭💫

cw: what it says on the tin tbh, bratty joo towards the end, reader is hot and pissed (enphasis on pissed), mention of oral sex (f receiving), very brief mention of gagging, i actually don't know shit about pokémon so i'm sorry if i got anything wrong!

"jooyeon. come on."

so, let's recap. everything was doing fine – you and jooyeon had been lazing around on your couch as an excuse of a date. both of you have been so tired lately, with work and studies and practice and life in general, that when date night rolled around you texted him something in the lines of "you want to come over and watch a movie with me so bad. you want to come over and watch–". jooyeon was so relieved you wouldn't make him get ready to take you out. of course, if you wanted to have a proper date night he would; but he's thanking the heavens you don't. so he shows up at your door with barely only himself – no flowers, no chocolates, no snack you could share.

you COULD eat him whole, though. the loose band shirt and the sweatpants made him look delectable. and since you weren't going to leave the house anyway, it was pretty clear where this date was going to end up – only after you finished stuffing yourselves with take out, though. when the dishes were empty on your coffee table, it didn't take too long for him to lazily kiss you, pressing you into the couch in the most delicious way.

things came and went, and soon you had a pretty boy straddling you in your bed. jooyeon's hands had been caressing your thighs for the past ten minutes when he finally decided to pull your shorts down.

and that's when things derailed.

you see, you had gotten pokémon underwear at some point in your life as a gag gift. since they were, well, not the sexiest thing you own by a far shot, they were always reserved for days when you didn't plan to leave the house or days that required comfy underwear – the colorful patterns of the many little guys on the cotton fabric made it really easy to hide period stains, after all – and today was meant to be spent in the couch, watching tv with your lovely boyfriend. you did fail to account for the fact that said boyfriend is a pokémon afficcionado.

with your shorts down to your knees, he gasped the loudest you've ever heard him gasp during sex.

"are those pokémon?" he's cute, you'll give him that.

"oh? yeah, i got those panties as a gift a couple years ago. from my friends. no one that would ever take them off of me would give me pokémon lingerie." you joked, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to bring him in for a kiss. to your surprise, he didn't budge.

jooyeon only got half the hint; briefly lifting off of you, he took your shorts off and threw them across the room – a habit, you came to realize over the course of your relationship – but then completely ignored the wet patch in your crotch.

"they're so cute! they even have a snorlax!" tracing his fingers over the character, he brought his face closer to your clothed cunt, and you could feel yourself gush with anticipation. you kicked your legs a little, stretching the shorts still at your knees, hoping he'd get the hint and spread your legs as far as they could go.

which brings you to the present moment.

"those panties are actually so cool. they have an incredible variety of pokémon. they don't repeat at all." you know. you've owned this pair of underwear for at least two years now. and you're starting to get impatient.

"yeah. lift off for a second, please?" you're spreading your legs yourself. clearly, jooyeon needs a little encouragement.

he gasps again, and you smile to yourself. he's finally realizing you've leaked through your panties since he walked into your apartment a few hours earlier.

"is that a sylveon?"

fuck. maybe he didn't realize shit, after all.

"babe, those are so cute. why did you hide this from me?" he's looking so intently at your cunt – well, at the pokémon covering it.

"they're my granny panties. take them off, please." you grip his long hair, bring his face closer. you really want to believe he's teasing you. unfortunately, you know your boyfriend. he's just being a nerd.

jooyeon pauses. drags his eyes up your still clothed torso, stops when he reaches your face. moves slightly, holds your waist underneath your shirt. he's finally going to touch you, he's finally going to put his mouth on you, he's finally–

he manhandles you, lands you on your stomach. stretches the fabric of your panties a little, and whispers "oh my god, pigeotto."

you're so done with him.

usually, you're all for his nerdy moments. you think he's the most lovable man on earth; he gets excited over the smallest things, he cried when he finally got a shiny holographic card of his favorite pokémon. you fall in love all over again everytime he talks and talks and talks about things he loves. but today, in this situation, you're close to wrapping your hands around his neck and squeezing.

you kick your legs against his back, in a childish move. "jooyeon!"

"yeah?" you feel his warm hand on your asscheek, and you unvoluntarily leak some more.

"i love you so much, infinitely. i love your nerdy moments. but if you don't eat me out in the next ten seconds, i'm kicking you out." you try to twist your body around to glare at him as you spoke, but a hand presses against your back, trapping you against the mattress. jooyeon chuckles.

"someone's bossy."

"jooyeon, i'm not joking. i'll give you the damn panties if you want if you take them off of me right now. if you don't, i'll take them off myself and gag you with them." your voice is a little muffled against the comforter, but you know jooyeon heard you, judging by how there's more weight pressing on your back and how his giggle is right beside your ear.

"would that be so bad? i might even keep naming pokémon, then. don't threaten me with a good time."

"you're ridiculous." your hand snakes around, feeling for his hair. eventually, you tug on the strands, earning a high pitched groan. "if you want me to gag you with my underwear so bad, you could've asked. i'll shove the damn pokémon down your throat, even."

"not the pokémon!" his whine is playful, but he shifts enough to make room to, fucking finally, spread your legs. the weight holding you down disappears as your ass is lifted into the air, propping you up on your knees.

"so shoving things down your throat is fine? the problem is the pokémon?" you're free to twist your torso slightly, and you catch his eyes just as he pulls the underwear off of you. the damned pokémons don't fly across the room, as your clothes usually are; they're shoved into jooyeon's pocket. you eye him unamusedly.

"what? you said you'd give me the underwear if i took it off." his grin makes you want to jump him. you're not sure if it's sexual or if you just want to punch him. "don't worry, baby. i'll make you feel good."

his thumb glides across your slit and your knees nearly buckle at the sudden but very fleeting relief.

jooyeon chuckles, gives your ass a slap and finally, fucking finally, attaches his mouth to your clit.

[passionateseadruid]

Snake King’s Bride 2

The Meeting

Say hello to my intersex Imp Styx. As I'm sure many of you know the evenly stripe horns are indicative of male Imps and the thin strips white are Female. And also my hellhound Pluto. Also Vagqie is 5'4 and when lucifer met her they were about the same height; but also keep in mind that he was wearing heals (that's canon, like it's in the episode). Finally, I can't believe that he has a nose

When you woke up you were still in the old wedding dress and heals. The veil had fallen from your head, you had slid it back on and flipped the veil back over your face. Whatever brought you here isn't going to get to have you so easily.

You wandered around to the halls of the place you fell into. They were red with gold columns lining every few feet. The walls were lined with apples and the columns were accentuated with what appeared to be snakes coiling around them. "Whoever designed this place needs to be fired."

On the other side of the palace, in the thrown room, Lucifer was panicking. 

"Okay! Everything's going to be fine!"

A little Imp wants in. They were taller than most Imps and had big horns that curled inward towards each other like a heart. Their hair was slip down the middle. White on the left to match the male Imp horn that was slightly bigger than the one on the right; which was female in origin with black hair that was almost tinted dark blue from some angles.

"Styx! Did you get everything set up?" Lucifer asked panic evident on his face.

"Yes sire!" They saluted him. They stood at about 4'11 and wore black leather pants, a short burgundy corset, and a white shirt with long sleeve frilly.

"Good! good."

"Sire. It might be a good idea to take off your ring as to not scare or confuse the young miss."

"Oh! Yeah, I guess." He slid off the ring that had matched Lilith's. The first time he'd taken it off in seven years. "Can I really do this Styx?" 

"Well it is up to you, but if you want you could let her go."

"But then I'd be alone again."

"I suppose so Sire."

Lucifer looked down at his ring again and materialized a black box to slip the circlet if gold into. "I can do this, somehow I know it."

You hadn't gotten very far in your expedition of the strange new place you'd found yourself in. You found a library though which was good. Always good to have a place to hide. Eventually a small fluffy creature resembling a bull dog. She had grey fur and wore a loose black dress that went down to her knees, with a red wine colored bodice. She was only 4 and a half feet tall.

"Good evening my lady." She curtsies and you awkwardly due the same. "Please my lady. Don't feel the need to bow at me. Please follow me to the thrown room."

"Thrown room?"

She sighed. "Yes. Where the king is." She looked back at you and saw you planted firmly in place. "Come on!" she motions for you to follow.

"What's going on? Where am I? Who are you? What was with the spooky fiery rift in space back in the store?"

"Are you serious right now? You sold yourself to the king of hell. Don't play dumb and pretend like you have no idea what's going on. And what's with the wedding dress? Do you actually think the king would choose some lowly human like you?"

"I'm sorry I seem to have misheard you. I thought you said the king of hell."

"I did."

"...hell? ...as in-"

"Lucifer yes." She cut you off.

"There has to be a mistake! I didn't sell my soul to him! I shouldn't be here!"

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

'Maybe I can convince him to let me go. He can take Regan or Kaitlyn, I don't care!'

"Head inside." The bulldog ordered.

"May I please have your name."

"Pluto."

"I hope you have a good day Pluto." 

You walked into the room. 

"Darling!" A short man ran up to you and pulled you into his embrace. You struggled as best you could but his grip was firm and unrelenting. "Sorry, to tight?" He lessens his grip and you shirk away.

"Please don't touch me. We don't know each other."

"Oh of course! My apologies. Lucifer Morningstar, your new husband~" 

"What? No... um I think there's been some mistake. I don't belong here."

"Of course you do! You're going to be my bride! That little bug wouldn't have dressed you up like this if you weren't the one intended to be my new wife!"

"But I didn't exactly want that to happen."

"Well you're here now so you might as well make the most of it!" He cheered coming closer to you.

"Wouldn't you rather have someone who wants to be with you? I'm sure there's plenty of goth girls or satanists who would kill to get this opportunity."

"Ugh. You know you humans are really ignorant. Him and I aren't the same. Neither are I and Beelzebub."

"Okay...?"

"That's not important right now." He came even closer and you back into the door. He grabbed the bottom of your veil and you snatched his wrist.

"Doll..." He sounded serious. "Show me your face."

"No thank you."

"Sorry Doll but that wasn't a request." He yanked out of your grip and took your veil off with him. "There! That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You backed up as close to the wall as you could and actually got a look at him. He was about 5'4 and had platinum blond hair. His eyes seemed to glow piss yellow while his pupils were blood red. He wore a white suit with a pink and white stripped vest underneath. His books were black as were his hands though you weren't sure if those were gloves or his actual hand color. 'but he's so pale.'

"Hm? Take a picture it'll last longer~" You rolled your eyes. "You know darling if you're so interested in my hands I can give you a demonstration of what they can do~" Your face heated at his words, and the face that he brought one of his hand up to his mouth in a V shape and licked his lips.

"Why me?"

"Because you put on my ring!"

"But I didn't know what I was doing! Why not choose someone who knows what they're agreeing to?"

"I want you Doll. You're beautiful and my heart is calling out to you. The moment I saw you for the first time in that store i knew I needed you. Come on! We have a Wedding to plan! I'm thinking next month."

"Next Month?!"

"I know it's far off but We'll need to give our guests time to prepare gifts and of course we'll need time to send out the invitations."

"Well I was thinking of more of an August wedding. But eleven months is basically a year and I'm sure it'll still be warm in hell in September so... maybe we should make it a year from now?" Your voice grew meeker as you spoke. "It would also give us a year to get to know each other."

"If I make it a year from now will you be willing to marry me?" He asked excitedly.

"Um maybe?"

"Good enough for me! Come on then! you're probably tired and you'll want to get out of this old thing."

He takes your hand and leads you through the palace.

"Mr. Morningstar?"

"Call me Lucifer! You'll be a Morningstar soon! I suppose I'll have to talk to heaven about turning you immortal. Charlie had begged me for siblings when she was younger, so I'm glad to finally be able to fulfil that."

"Lucifer, I think that we should stay in separate rooms."

"What? But why?" He whined.

"We just met." 'and your the devil.' "And I'm rather traditional." 'No I'm not but you don't need to know that.'

"Alright if that's what you wish Darling."

"And one more thing. Wouldn't it be so romantic if our first kiss was the one we shared on our wedding day?"

"Ooooohh! Like the ones in those romance novels that are so popular on earth!" She squeaked. 

"Yeah... like those."

"Well here we are! It's the best guest room in the place! I'll have Styx put on some new warm sheets on the bed and I'll get you some clothes. You probably want to go take a bath."

"Um I'm good I'll shower in the morning."

"Nonsense Doll. Unless this is a backhanded way to invite me to join you~"

"I'll go take a shower ON MY OWN!" You said running out of the bedroom.

"What am I going to do?

After your shower you cracked the door and looked down to find a pile of clothes and no Lucifer in sight. You changed into them and found the shirt tight on you and the thong given to you a bit too revealing for your taste. "What am I going to do? I can't walk out there and show everyone everything."

"Yeah, I'd prefer this all saved for my eyes only." Lucifer's voice called from behind you.

"Ah! What are you doing in here?"

"Just admiring the view." he slowly gazed up and down at you tracing the curves of your body.

"May I please have something that actually fits me?" You rolled your eyes and your arms came up to cover your chest.

"Fine..." He huffed annoyed. "But I think the size of my old shirt looks cute on you." He snapped his fingers and the shirt grew so long it basically became a night gown. 

"Is this really okay to do to your clothes?"

"It's an old shirt I don't wear anymore."

"This thong better not have belonged to your kid."

"No! no. nonononono! It was uh, my ex-wife's."

"Oh. That's a bit weird isn't it?"

"I'll take you out shopping for clothes tomorrow, but for tonight you can either use those or go commando. I know which option I'd rather see~"

"Goodnight Lucifer!" You pushed him out of the room.

"Goodnight Darling!"

'What am I going to do?' You thought.

[whatitshouldvebeen]

as someone who has self harm scars i was curious. what do you think johnny would think if he saw his s/o (or victim) had some? also i love ur writing so much <3 hope ur staying hydrated and getting enough sleep !!

First tysm for loving my writing!! I have the type of ADHD where I forget to drink anything so unfortunately not but I do get decent sleep ty for asking ❤️ I hope you enjoy the fic and remember, Johnny is not a licensed therapist so please don't follow his suggestions 😂

Scars of the Past

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x reader

Warnings: self-harm, blood, local insane man is certain he can make a girl feel better via knifeplay, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 1,670

Maybe Johnny was stupid for hitting the same place twice after already having picked up a girl, but he had to see if you were still around. You, the girl who checked everyone into the nightclub. The girl he’d been following home for the last week. When you'd taken his hand to stamp it, he honed in on your wrists right away. Scars, and plenty of them.

You were accustomed to getting looks and were used to it by now, so all you did was smile at him and usher him inside. He left a few hours later with a drunk girl on his arm and that was that, or so you thought.

So when the club closed around twelve, you were surprised to see the same tall, dark, and handsome man from last night push himself off the brick wall and approach you.

"Hello, little miss," he drawled as he stopped in front of you while you put on your jacket.

"Oh, hey," you replied, not fully engaged.

"I'm Johnny. What's your name?" he asked.

You glanced up at him and shared your name as you finished fastening your coat.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he remarked.

"Thanks. Listen, I gotta get home now—" you began, but he interrupted by taking your hand, drawing your attention back to him.

"I couldn't help but notice your scars," he said, pushing your sleeve back to inspect the faded white lines. Your gaze shifted to his, noticing a large scar over his eye that you hadn't seen before.

"I doubt you did that to yourself," you responded with a half-smile.

"My ma did it," he said, catching you off guard.

"I'm sorry," you said softly.

He brushed it off. "It’s fine. But I'm curious, why'd you do this to yourself?" he asked, genuine interest in his eyes.

You looked into Johnny's dark gaze, surprised to find understanding rather than judgment. "My childhood wasn't the greatest," you explained with a shrug.

"Don't most people hide their scars?" he inquired.

"I don't care what people think. I'm in a better place now," you replied, trying to reassure both him and yourself.

“Are you?” He asked, running his thumb over your scars. You didn't know that he'd seen you through your bathroom window, curled up on the floor of your shower, sobbing. You didn't know he'd seen why you called out three days ago, because you couldn't bear to drag yourself out of bed.

Feeling uncomfortable, you pulled your wrist away. "Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, attempting to brush past him, but he blocked your path.

You then felt something that made all the color drain from your face. A knife, pressed against your abdomen.

“Nah, I think you'll be coming home with me tonight,” he hissed low in your ear.

–

He drove you to a hotel, and checked into a room, always keeping the knife at the small of your back.

“I'd take you home to mama, but she gets funny,” he said, gesturing to his scar.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked as he opened the hotel room door, pushing you inside before him.

“Tell me your favorite part about cutting,” he demanded, locking the door behind you.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

“You heard me,” he replied, removing his shirt and revealing numerous scars that crisscrossed his pale skin.

"Did you do that to yourself?" you asked, taken aback by the sight.

“I asked you a question first, missy,” he retorted with a cocky grin.

You sighed, sitting down shakily on the bed. “I just like to be reminded that I'm alive, okay? Shit hurts too much,” you mumbled.

“Well, you're certainly alive, darlin’. A whole club of people pretending to be happy, then there's you,” he remarked, stepping closer with a predatory gleam in his eye. “I can see you better ‘n all them. I see through the walls you built. You're not okay, but you could be,” he said, then turned his Bowie knife around, holding the handle towards you.

"What the hell?" you whispered, feeling a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Cut me. Tell me if it makes you feel alive the same way it does when you cut yourself,” he instructed, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

You took the knife, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn't move, he just stood and watched you with a gleam in his eye.

You stood, holding the knife so tightly your fingers hurt. You could've slit his throat, or tried to anyway. Why did he kidnap you just to hand you a knife? Did he have a death wish?

Adrenaline made your heart pound in your ears. He wasn't moving… he must be serious. You raised the knife, took a deep breath, then sliced it across his chest.

“Ooh,” he winced, hissing through his teeth, “got me good. Must be all the practice,” he said with a laugh. All you could do was stare as crimson cascaded down his torso.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, the knife still limply held in your hand.

“Same thing as you,” he responded simply, running his hand over his abdomen and bringing his fingers to his lips, staining them red.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked anxiously.

“Why you askin’ me that, you're the one with the knife!” He laughed.

You looked down at the bloodied knife in your hand and realized something. In this instance, you look guilty. If you were to try anything, he could very easily claim you assaulted him.

“Guess you're in a pickle, lil’ missy. Let me help you outta it.” He stepped forward, leaning toward you. “But before I do, tell me how it felt.”

You took a deep breath, watching as the blood continued to seep from his wound he wasn’t bothering to stifle.

“It felt the same as when I cut myself, I guess,” you admitted. “I felt alive.”

“Knew it.” Johnny grinned. “In that case, I have a proposition for ya.”

He set one bloodied knuckle under your chin, angling your eyes to meet his. “There's someone who's stumbled onto my property, you see. Trespassin’. I could use some help teachin’ them a lesson. Might help you feel the same way you did cutting me.”

“I don't know, I'm not a bad person,” you said, your heart still pounding like mad.

“You aren't, but you felt that thrill, didn't ya? The world ain't black and white sweetheart.” He shrugs, moving to the bathroom and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around his abdomen. “Far as I see it, trespassers need to be punished. Come with me. If you do, I'll let you go without a fuss. But I can promise you that you'll be back.”

“And if I don't?” You asked hesitantly.

“Well then, either you escape and I tell the cops you cut me open… or I kill you before you get the chance,” he said matter-of-factly, his demeanor chillingly calm.

You held up the knife, pointing it toward him, a futile attempt to assert some control over the situation.

“If you try it, I know how to survive, darlin’, and it only makes you look more guilty,” he said confidently, approaching you and allowing the knife to dimple his stomach when he reached you.

“Come with me,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours, which was still gripping the knife.

You continued to hold on, but deep down, you knew you stood no chance against this man. So, you let go.

“There ya go,” he said, his face lighting up. “Oh darlin’, we're gonna have so much fun.”