#this has been in the back of my mind for too long

[incognit0slut]

i hope this is how to send a request cuz this is my first time requesting anything. but i wanted to ask if you could do a story of spencer x reader of when he comes back home from prison in season 12? i don't know if i want it to be girlfriend and boyfriend or if they're married i don't really know, sorry. but i don't really mind either way. hope you can write something like this, thank you :))) <333

tysm for trusting me with your first request and sorry this took so long, it's also kind of rushed and I'm not too confident with it but I hope you like it <3

Home is whenever I’m with you

Category: angst, hurt, comfort, gn reader ~1.7k words

He’s back. Your boyfriend is back. There's a tangle of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, especially after all that’s happened. You get to hug him, to kiss him, to feel the softness of his thick, beautiful hair under your fingers again.

But not now. His mother is missing. Those are the words Emily spoke to you over the phone after she called to let you know he’s released. It’s ironic, to hear such wonderful news just to be followed by something so disheartening. And the guilt creeps in, that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you had gone to visit his mom as planned, this nightmare could've been avoided.

“Do not blame yourself,” Emily adds, her voice is a lifeline in the chaos of emotions. It's as if she can read your thoughts, know exactly what you're feeling without you saying a word. “Just stay where you are, okay? I've got agents keeping an eye on your building. I'll keep you updated."

You're left with no choice but to accept. Your boyfriend may be back, but you still can’t see him.

And you get it. His mom comes first, always has, and always will. A child's love for their parents is unbreakable, and if you were in his shoes, you'd move heaven and earth to keep your parents safe. So, naturally, you do what any loving and supportive girlfriend would do—you wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Each passing second stretches into agonizing minutes, and those minutes drag on into long, uncertain hours. One skipped meal turns into two, and suddenly, you're lying in bed in the dead of night with an empty stomach. You know you should take care of yourself, but your mind is fixated on him.

What is he doing? Has he eaten anything? Is he taking breaks at all? Has he managed to get any sleep? And most importantly, has there been any news about his mom? 

Your mind is racing, flooded with countless unanswered questions. You try to find comfort in sleep, but every ring of your phone feels like a cruel interruption, each time hoping it's him—or at least a word from his friends. But it's always a disappointment, just meaningless notifications and distant messages from your friends about mundane plans.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, but your sleep is restless, it's as if your mind refuses to grant you a moment of respite. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, at two in the morning, you're jolted awake by the familiar sound of a new message on your phone.

His mom is safe.

A sigh of relief escapes you, almost audible in the silence. You type out a response to Emily with trembling hands.

That’s good to hear. Is he fine?

Not great, but he's managing.

That's all you need to hear. His mom is safe, and though he's not doing great, he's managing well enough. With a weight lifted off your shoulders, you finally allow yourself to relax. At least now you can drift back into sleep knowing that he's partially okay.

You wake up again later that night by a rapid knocking. At first, you try to brush it off as just noise from the neighbors, but as you slowly come to your senses, you realize it's coming from your apartment.

Half-worried and half-curious, you reluctantly peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, your mind racing with possibilities as you approach the door. When you glance through the peephole, you're met with a sight that instantly jolts you awake. Without a second thought, you fumble with the lock and swing the door open.

And there your boyfriend stands, but he's a far cry from the man you remember. His hair is wild and unkempt, and his eyes, usually bright and lively, are now dull and tired, shadowed by exhaustion. He's dressed in his usual suit and tie, a combination you've always admired for its professional and polished look. But today, his shirt is half-tucked, half-untucked, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck

“Spence, what are you—”

Before you can finish, he bursts through the door, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"I'm sorry," he breaks, his voice strained with emotion. "I—I wanted to come here as fast as I can—"

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You wrap your arms around his waist and take in a deep breath. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smells exactly as you remember—warm, familiar, like home. “It’s all good, honey, I don’t mind.” 

“It’s not alright. I should’ve answered your calls—”

“Spencer, it’s okay,” you interrupt gently, running your fingers soothingly down his back. “After all the time you’ve been away, a few more hours hardly matter.”

“Well, it should matter,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you like this.”

You hold him tighter, feeling his weight against you, his breath warm against your skin. “Shh,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He nods against your neck, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

“How’s your mom?”

He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with tired eyes. “She’s... she’s okay,” he replies. “We found her. She’s safe now.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you say, cupping his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates for a moment as if considering the question carefully. “I’m fine, just… tired.”

Your fingers traced the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “Let’s get you inside and comfortable, okay?”

He nods, and you usher him inside, relief flooding through you as you close the door behind you. Your fingers naturally intertwine with his as you guide him towards your bedroom.

“Do you want anything? Water, food?”

He shakes his head, falling into step with you. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “How have you been?”

"Well," you begin, your voice filled with warmth. "'I've been keeping busy while you're gone.”

You lead him to the edge of the bed, sitting him down while you stand between his legs, your eyes meeting his tired gaze. "Work has been... work," you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And I managed to put up the shelf I bought online. Look.”

You gesture towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner of the room and he follows your gaze. “You did that all by yourself?”

"Yeah, I did," you reply, your smile widening. "It wasn't easy without having you constantly nagging me how to do it, but I figured it out."

He nods, a hint of regret shadowing his features. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his cheek. "Don’t apologize.”

He leans into your touch, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. His eyes, wide and brown, look up at you, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy—sad, yet undeniably endearing, with an innocence that melts your heart. You brush a thumb gently across his cheek, noting the subtle change in his appearance.

“You grew out your facial hair.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he shifts under your gaze. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, his voice tinged with self-consciousness. 

You can't help but smile at his bashfulness. "I like it," you assure him. "It suits you."

“Really?”

“It’s growing on me.”

His expression softens at your words, a warmth spreading through his tired features. "Maybe I'll keep it.” 

You nod in agreement, a smile playing on your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He sighs contentedly as he leans into your chest, and you gently stroke his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"It's good to be back," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shirt.

"It's good having you back," you reply softly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.”

"Why would you think that?”

He hesitates for a moment. "After everything that happened... I wasn't sure if I'd make it back to you.”

You gently tilt his chin up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods, his vulnerability laid bare. "I was also afraid that I might lose you,” he adds. “I was afraid you’d get tired of waiting for me.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Everyone I care for always leaves, sooner or later. And I can’t bear the thought… the thought of not coming home without you in my life,” he admits, his voice trembling with emotion and you feel a lump form in your throat as you listen. "I feel… so different right now. I don’t feel like my usual self, and I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like this version of me.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, your gaze locked with his. "I would never think any less of you.”

He sniffs, and that's when you notice a tear escaping down his cheek. Your heart aches even more. “I might not be the same person you last saw me.”

You shake your head, brushing away his tears with your thumb. "It doesn't matter," you reply earnestly. “You're still the person I fell in love with, and nothing will ever change that.”

He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend how you could love him so unconditionally. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I see you," you reply. "Beyond the surface, beyond the changes, I see who you are—the kindness, the strength, the love that has always been a part of you. And that's something that remains unchanged, no matter what."

He exhales softly, his features softening as he absorbs your words. But you aren’t finished, not until he realizes how worthy of love he is.

“You’re still the man who loves silly magic tricks, you’re still the man who asks for jello every time we have dessert,” you tease, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He cracks a small smile at your playful words. “You’re still the man who loves books, who loves learning. You're still the man who loves helping other people.”

You lean closer, your breath mingling with his as your lips almost touch.

“And I’ll be the one to love every version of you,” you whisper. “The person you were, the person you are, and the person you're becoming.”

He grips your hips and pulls you closer. Without a word, you understand what he needs, what he's asking for, and you close the distance between you, your lips brushing against his.

You never truly understand the meaning of bittersweet until this very moment. His tears carry the saltiness of sorrow, but his lips offer a sweetness that lingers on your tongue. You feel the weight of his pain, the heaviness of his grief, yet you also sense a comforting warmth in the way his lips move gently against yours.

You can feel his uncertainty, and it’s clear that getting back into his old routine won't be easy after everything he's been through. But you’re here for him and you're willing to support him in any way you can.

Because he’s back. Your boyfriend is back. You can hardly believe you get to hug him, kiss him, and run your fingers through his thick, beautiful hair once more. You can’t believe you get to hold him again in your arms, and you hope to do so for a very long time.

[readychilledwine]

Pieces of You pt 4

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings- Mourning, loss of a partner, loss of a friend, loss of parent, babies and the complications that come with raising them, slight neglect, slight angst to wrap it up before Fluff and smut begin, same editing warning (friend is arc reading, Liz will catch any other mistakes when she rereads this with fresh eyes)

A/n - I promised they wouldn't be a part long. What you're all waiting for will happen in the next part. 🫣

✨️ Series Masterlist ✨️ Rhysand Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

This nanny was not you.

You had the left house, as promised, Monday morning. You hadn't taken a single dress Rhys had bought his Little Mor, a single one of her toys, you didn't even take the blanket he had paid for with her name stitched into soft buttery fabric.

He watched as Nyx fought the female he had hired. He would only latch to her for a few moments before wailing, piercing the now all too quiet home with his confusion and frustration. This nanny was not you, and Nyx clearly was not going to accept her.

He had hoped by the afternoon Nyx would have been hungry enough to just latch, to cave, but that was not the case. The young heir was crying again, frustrated and hungry as he slowly wore himself out into another unscheduled nap. Rhysand zoned out the noise, his mind now on you, on the second chance of love, devotion, happiness he allowed to walk out the door.

Nyx had taken to you. He was a momma’s boy the second he was about to show preference. But Morwenna, Morwenna was Rhysand's. His own breathing filled the void of silence that had fall over the house, and as he stared at his paperwork, tears began to fall, he just hoped your mind was on him, or at least Nyx, as well.

His mind went to his Little Mor, his sweet girl. Her eyes always lit up for him, shrieks of joy and excitement were common in Rhysand's office.

You sighed and sunk into the couch, Azriel beside you as you did. “Come home,” he had been begging for the past two hours for you to see reason, to forgive Rhysand. He had explained what happened at dinner, watching as you slowly fell apart all over again. “He didn't mean a single word. I can tell.”

Azriel swallowed before standing, “I will be back. Kiss my niece for me when she wakes up. I'll come back to sing her to sleep tonight.”

You shook your head, leaning back into the couch as you did. “It felt like he did, Azriel. It felt like he just-” you stopped yourself from crying, not willing to hurt over some male who so easily threw you away. “He said I needed to stop acting like Nyx's mom.” You watched Azriel's face fall. Watched as his sun-kissed tan skin paled. “Then tried to tell me I could not take Morwenna with me.”

Screaming. Screaming was all Azriel heard as he walked into the new Riverhouse. Rhys was pacing the floor, bouncing Nyx as the sun fell and Cassian stood there, eyes watering and wide in panic. He took a spot next to Cassian, sharing a look of concern with his brother. “He refuses to latch on to his nanny,” Cassian's voice cracked. “And Madja keeps trying to tell Rhysand it's just going to be an adjustment period, but Nyx is hungry.”

Azriel nodded, mind flashing back to the subtle looks of pain on your face as you so much as moved or held his Little Mor. “And he won't just suck up his pride and take him to y/n?”

Cassian sighed. “He said he can't do that after what he has done. That there is no fixing the hurt he caused.” Anger had leaked into Cassian's soft voice. “I do not get how she can do this to Nyx.”

“You would do it to if you mate ignored your bond.” The weight of those words hit Cassian's chest, screaming in his like an alarm. “What.”

“Y/n and Rhysand are mates,” Azriel went to Rhys, stroking Nyx's back. “Let me take him to her?”

Rhys shook his head, ignoring the tears falling at his son's frustration. “I just need him to adjust.”

“Starving is not adjusting, Rhysand. It is neglect.” The High Lord turned to Azriel, glaring hard. “I know what you said to her. Go there, apologize, and have her feed him at the very least. She loves him.”

As if it was a spell place to curse Rhysand, Nyx must have caught the faint scent of you lingering to Azriel's soft t shirt. The heir calmed significantly, reaching for the material. “Give me your shirt so I can lay him down and we can discuss this.”

Azriel obeyed, hoping just the scent of you would be enough to give him a small nap while Azriel convinced Rhysand to let him take Nyx to you. Just for the night.

Rhysand sighed, laying Nyx down with Azriel's shirt underneath him. He would have been lying if anyone asked him if he had savored that soft scent clinging to the shirt. He walked out of the room and hardly made it 5 steps before the wailing began again. Rhys pulled the bottle filled with the mixture Madja had made from his pocket world before going back in.

Nyx was inconsolable. He had spent the better portion of the morning crying, screaming, refusing to sleep.

Rhysand picked him up, praying to anyone who would listen and wishing on every star that Nyx would just take this bottle. As soon as he latched, Rhysand watched his flawless little face make a deeper scowl before pushing the bottle away. You were Nyx's sole thought. Your smell, your skin under his, your voice. The piercing wail had Azriel and Cassian running up the stairs as soon as they heard.

Rhysand knew Nyx didn't fully understand the noise about to come from his mouth. Nyx didn't know it expressed exactly what he wanted, nor what the sound would mean. He didn't know that it would make his father crawl back to you less than 12 hours after you had left. The heir released a strangled cry over and over again of one of the only sounds he knew to make, "Ma. Ma. Ma!”

"No," Rhysand choked down the tears that were getting ready to fall. "He's crying for y/n. He's crying for his mama.” Rhys didn't wait for them, he didn't even say goodbye, he winnowed into your living room. You were curled up on the couch, instantly awake by the sounds of Nyx's crying.

"Is he crying for Feyre?" Cassian went to take a tentative step forward, just for Rhysand to stand and move quickly out of the room.

Rhysand didn't even have to ask. He didn't have to beg. You took the heir instantly and pulled him to you, placing him in his favorite spot to eat.

His tears had triggered Morwenna, though, and soon her soft cries filled the air. Rhysand ran to her. He ran to his daughter and cradled her tight to his chest. Her bright eyes instantly looked up at him, a smile taking place of where a deep frown was. “Hi baby girl,” her giggle instantly changed his mood. He walked her to the living room, watching as she instantly because to smile and shriek at the sight of Nyx.

“Give him a little bit, baby,” you didn't even look up from the tiny illyrian, stroking his brow as he ate. “He is very hungry and mama needs him to eat.” Rhys sat across from you, holding Little Mor tight to him. “She's been making d noises all day. To me, to Azriel, to no one. Just “dah duh deh” all day.”

“She missed her daddy,” Rhys held her up, rocking her gently side to side, “didn't you Morwenna. You missed daddy? 13 hours apart is much too long, isn't it, my little darling.” You shook your head, fighting the smile as Wen giggled at Rhysand.

You felt your heart skip a best as he kissed her cheeks and then her tummy. Rhysand was a wonderful father, and watching him in this element, this area of self-doubt, he had made all feelings of anger melt away. He looked to you instantly, claws gently tapping on the fortress of your mind before you allowed him in. “Let me take us home?” Home, the word replayed in your mind before you nodded, holding a hand to him. Home sounded so good.

He winnowed you two back to the Riverhouse, making Wen giggle even more at the starlight that surrounded you four. You walked in and stopped dead in your tracks, eyes Azriel up and down. “Where are your clothes?”

Azriel looked shameless, muscled torso on display as he held Cassian in a headlock. “I'm choking out Cassian and your concern is my lack of a shirt?”

Cassian raised a hand to you, face slightly red. His eyes had a hint of guilt in them as he tapped Azriel's abs. “Y/n,” Cassian moved to guide you to the couch, smiling at a still latched Nyx and then moved Rhysand to be next you. “I want to apologize.” You knit your brows at him as he sat and Azriel glared.

“I made some unfair statements without consideration for you and Rhysand. I did not think about how my words would affect your relationship with each other, or how I cheapend the new mating bond you two share.”

Cassian looked raw. Like months of build up and emotion hit him. “We prepared you know? We knew she was going to die, we begged and prayed for a solution, and just when hope came it crashed like a tidal wave. Nesta and I won't even touch each other. The guilt-”

“You have nothing to be guilty for, Cass,” Rhys interrupted him. “I'm the one who had sex with her. I'm the one who-”

“It was an accident,” you spoke softly, pulling the focus to you. “Feyre's death was a tragic mistake and accident. You all did not know the extent of her shifting magic. You didn't know it temporarily changed her that deeply.”

Rhys seemed love drunk as he handed you Little Mor, kissing both babes before you walked away. He was silent until you left, eyes trailing your body. “Cassian, I love her.”

Rhys sobbed softly, hearing words from you many had whispered before felt so different. Like a soothing balm over a wound, slowly healing it. “Cassian, Nesta did not know that the outcome of her bargaining with a God would be a cruel trick. There's no guilt to be had. She gave everything back, made herself the Cauldron’s servant. She was too young to read those unspoken lines.” Nyx finally let go, deep asleep in your arms. “I'm going to go lay him down. There is nothing for me to forgive because you did not intentionally harm me, Cassian, but maybe you three should speak.”

“I know.”

“That doesn't mean I never loved Feyre. Nor that I've forgotten her.”

A second “I know” broke through Cassian's lips, his shoulders falling as it did. “I miss her.”

Rhys felt the tears welling, felt them falling before he could will them away. “I do too. Every fucking day I miss her. I miss her hair, her laugh, her voice. I miss her correcting me.” He watched Cassian fall more, mourning the sister he had lost openly for the first time.

“But when I'm with y/n, it hurts less. When I see y/n smile, I feel more whole again. When I hear her laugh, I feel like I'm alive again. When I see her with Nyx, when I see his smile when she's holding him or playing with them, I feel like Feyre is here, nudging me towards y/n.”

Azriel's voice came, soft and slow. “Feyre would want you to move on, Rhysand. She would have wanted you to find happiness. She would probably fight all of us for being this sad.”

The thought of that made Cassian genuinely smile. His eyes sparkling with fond memories of Feyre Cursebreaker stomping her feet when he'd beat her during a sparring match. “Her and Feyre both do this thing, maybe it's an artistic thing, where they look at things really close and back away slowly.”

Rhys started laughing immediately knowing what his brother meant. “Y/n did it with one of my outfits. She said I looked great as long as she stayed 5 feet away.”

Azriel put a hand on Cassian's shoulder. “This is a roundabout way of us telling you we support you, Rhysand. We support you and y/n.”

“Two mates,” Cassian said slowly. “Imagine having two mates, Az. Two females that you get to love unconditionally and annoy whenever you'd like.”

Rhys and Azriel shared a silent look, a soft, "Not yet” coming through to Rhysand's mind. “We will leave you and y/n alone to talk.”

“There won't be much talking,” Rhysand stood slowly. “I've always been better at expressing my emotions physically.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @chxosangxl @dreamlandreader

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @demonicbusiness @blushingfawnsposts @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @miadialila @golden-canyon @fxckmiup

@batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @awkardnerd @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @brieflyclassymortal @aspenger @nayaniasworld @nyxbranwenn

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT

tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding

wordcount. 6k

a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡

okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.

“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.”

“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.

Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”

“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?

Not that you’re going to go anywhere.

“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.

“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.

“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.

He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.

“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.

“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”

“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.

+

“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.

He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.

Something hits the floor with a loud thump.

Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.

You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.

Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.

He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”

+

His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.

You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.

Partly the illness. Mostly the age.

“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”

“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.

“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”

Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”

It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.

“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”

He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.

However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”

“I’m sick-”

“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”

You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”

Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.

“Okay,” you say.

It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.

+

The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.

“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”

“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”

Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”

You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.

“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.

“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”

After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”

Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”

“Yeah, I’m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”

“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”

Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”

You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”

It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.

It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.

Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.

Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.

If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.

“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.

“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.

“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”

“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.

+

Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.

Dead.

You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.

They’re dead.

You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.

The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.

“Y-yuuta nii?”

The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.

With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”

Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.

+

Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.

Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.

It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.

To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.

Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.

His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”

“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.

His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”

“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.

“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”

You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.

You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.

“I… did.”

He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”

There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”

The room feels cold.

“... Okay.”

+

“Let’s kiss?”

It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.

“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”

“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.

“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.

“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”

Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”

+

It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”

The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”

She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.

Soft. Small.

He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.

Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.

You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”

He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.

“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.

From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.

Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.

Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.

More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[euthymiya]

society of brilliance ft. veritas ratio

in which you come home and soothe veritas and his insecurities in a shared bath—which consists of you making a society just for the two of you. luckily, it’s more than enough to ease his troubled mind

contains: gender neutral reader ; non sexual nudity ; shared baths ; slight references to veritas character story iii ; reverse comfort ; veritas is not taking his lack of invitation to genius society lightly :( ; i invite you all to join my nous hate club

veritas doesn’t greet you when you come home. you’d be disappointed any other time, but the glow of light under the cracks through the bathroom door tells you precisely why he’s not there to greet you—you can’t help but be endeared.

so you pad into the bathroom, grinning softly as his head lifts from resting against the edge of the bathtub, eyes opening to glance over your figure.

they brighten a bit when they take in the view of you.

“no book?” you raise a brow, mildly shocked.

“is it hard to believe i’d like to relax without reading?” he closes his eyes again, relaxing once more as he listens to you shed your clothing.

“well, i suppose not,” you chuckle, “but you’re a bit…”

“go on,” he presses dryly, “finish your thought.”

“a bit uptight. i don’t know if you can relax without reading something or another.”

it’s cheeky, the way you bite your lip and suppress a grin, watching as he rolls his eyes (but he could never hope to hide the fondness in them, even if he tried). you reach over one the last of your clothes drop to the floor, hand cupping his cheek as he sighs and melts into your palm.

“well, i certainly won’t be relaxing now that your presence is here to disrupt my peace,” he quips, letting a smug grin of his own stretch over his cheeks as you huff.

“long day?” you murmur, tracing your thumb along his skin soothingly as he hums, pressing closer into your touch, “it must be if you couldn’t wait long enough to greet me.”

“my apologies darling,” he says quietly. you frown a little, tracing the darkening circles under his eyes as your thumb travels higher across his face. “i’m afraid my mind was a bit occupied.”

“oh veritas.”

it’s delicate, the way you say his name. fragile, like he’s one moment from sinking into the water from the weight of his mind, unable to resurface for a breath of air. veritas has been different since accepting the invitation from the ipc—a bit more defeated, perhaps. a lot more distracted.

you pull your hand away, much to his displeasure, waving it to gesture him forward in the tub as he looks at you with creases building in his forehead.

“but—”

“don’t argue for once, you difficult man,” you scold, “just do as i say.”

“how commanding,” comes his reply in a half-hearted scoff. he listens nonetheless, inching forward so you can sit yourself behind him, sinking into the warm water as you collect him in your arms and pull him to lean against your chest.

he relaxes instantly. more than he could before your arrival, like the presence of you makes breathing easier, more simple. in and out, inhale and exhale. his chest rises and falls under your hand, slow circles smoothing over the firm muscle as his head falls back against your shoulder.

veritas doesn’t let you hold him often—he prefers the weight of you in his arms, but sometimes it’s nice when you take on his weight, too. when his mind is heavy and loaded with the endless thoughts of his. and you like it too, the feeling of him pressing into you, the feeling of him settled into your hold as you keep him afloat.

you break the silence first, pressing a kiss into his head as you whisper, “care to enlighten me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“are you sure you can handle it? i have a rather advanced thought process,” he teases.

“i’d say your mind is regressed,” you snort, squeezing the rubber duck floating in the water a small distance away.

you can practically see his pout even if it’s not in your line of sight as he clicks his teeth and says in an offended tone, “being intelligent doesn’t mean i have to deny myself of a few simple joys.”

“aren’t i the only joy you need?” you bat your lashes, kissing the back of his neck as he chuckles.

“i suppose you are sufficient enough, yes.”

“just sufficient?” you gasp, biting his shoulder playfully as he shakes against you with soft laughter. “if you don’t love me, just say that.”

“there you go again,” he hums in amusement, shaking his head as he tilts his head and eyes you with an endeared glint in his eyes, “always so theatric over the most trivial of causes.”

“someone has to keep things interesting. your idea of fun is picking apart a student’s thesis.”

“i enable them to grow,” he corrects, thoroughly unimpressed as he purses his lips and gives you a dry look. “it’s a favor, really.”

“i don’t know what to do with you. too smart for your own good.”

he sighs, slumping against your figure as he quietly mumbles, “perhaps not smart enough.”

you frown, the edges of your mouth curling in an unhappy twist downwards as you process his words. veritas is undoubtedly brilliant—you’d never thought he’d question the fact. of course, he’s tried time and time again to catch the gaze of nous, and of course, you’ve always known there’s a lingering air of self deprecation at his lack of success.

but you never thought him to doubt himself—not of his capabilities, not of his brilliance. his brilliance is the most beautiful thing about him, you think. he’s so quick to understand things—like how to figure you out like it’s easy and simple. how to love you in ways you didn’t even know you want to be loved. how to read you before you understand your own mind.

he’s so bright, so willing to share his light so you can glow too, unwilling to see you as a mere dimness beside him.

you tighten your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you press sweet, feathery kisses to his skin.

“if you consider yourself not smart enough, i fear for what you think of my intelligence.”

“i think you’re brilliant,” he says instantly, “there’s no doubt.”

“then why doubt yourself?”

he’s silent. you know the answer, even if he doesn’t want to say it. because if not smart enough to be acknowledged by the aeon he’s dedicated his aspirations to, the aeon that stands to represent the very purpose of his existence, the aeon that signifies the embodiment of wisdom itself—how can he consider himself enough?

how can you consider him enough? he wants to ask, but the words never form on his tongue, caught in his throat in a lump he can’t even swallow down. it’s stuck, persistently lodged and silencing him as he lays limply in your arms.

“oh, veritas,” you say with so much gentleness, he sighs shakily at the sound of his name from your tongue. so sweet, so pleasant—like it’s dipped his honey from the comb. “you are far too capable for it to be a cause for question.”

“am i?” he chuckles dryly, lips tugging ruefully into a painful smile, “perhaps i’d have reached my goals then, wouldn’t i?”

“perhaps it’s not your intelligence that separates you from the genius society,” you murmur thoughtfully, combing wet fingers through his hair, scratching tenderly at his scalp as he shivers at your touch.

“then, pray tell, what would it be, darling?” he asks, indulging you.

“your compassion, maybe. you’re of the few geniuses that don’t forget what it means to be human. i don’t think a machine declared as the face of intelligence has the capacity to understand that.”

“you shouldn’t speak of the divine like that,” he snorts.

“nobody is as divine as me,” you reply with a giggle, earning a tender squeeze at your thigh as he smiles at you with a roll of his eyes.

“is that so?”

“you don’t agree?”

he turns, kissing the pout off of your lips as he whispers, “oh, i do. i certainly do—you’re of the most divinest of beings in all of the cosmos. a truly magnificent…piece of work.”

“i’ll ignore that last part just for today,” you say pointedly. you peck his lips again, and again, and when he settles deeper into your chest, relaxing against your body, you tighten your hold around him. “but i hereby declare you an honorary member of the society of brilliance—”

he cuts you off with a short. you whine, slapping his arm in protest as he stifles his laughs.

“and just how many members are in this society?”

“currently two,” you glare, “but it’s at risk of becoming one if you mock it any further. it’s a very serious organization.”

“sorry, sorry. it won’t happen again,” he poorly fights back a grin. (and he could never hope to successfully hide a smile around your presence, he’s sure such a feat is impossible. you write joy on his features as easy as pen on paper).

“it better not. this society is far more sophisticated than that child’s play of an organization…society for geniuses, was it?”

“genius society,” he correct, playing along.

“oh yes,” you nod, pretending to snap in recognition, “that’s the one. such an undignified group of individuals. a shame—they had potential. it’s a good thing we’re not like them.”

“a relief indeed,” he smiles.

it’s so raw, so real, so pure, he can’t help but twist in your arms and press his lips to you, hoping to physically share the joy of you evident in the curl of his mouth. the dimple in his cheek. the crinkles of his eyes.

you’ve written yourself into every part of him, so seamlessly intwined with his body and mind, it’s difficult to doubt himself. because to doubt himself is to doubt you, and veritas could never hope to doubt you. not when you’re so divine, so bright and beautiful, so precious.

a wonder to society.

he’s lucky to be acknowledged by such brilliance.

“you’re the most capable man i know,” you whisper against his lips. he hums in satisfaction as you peck them gently before adding, “i have very high standards, you know.”

“i’m relieved i’ve met them. my greatest achievement to date.”

“i’m glad you’re wise enough to realize as such.”

“is my spot in your exclusive society secured then?”

“hmm. i’ll think about it—you’re still on thin ice.”

if nous has 0 haters im dead. anyway. veritas, i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you. did i mention i love you

let my man into genius society!!!! he belongs there more than anyone else!!!!! actually tbh he’s too good for that group of ppl (i say this but ruan mei is my gf sorry queen ur the exception)

[luveline]

there’s this scene in the office where pam falls asleep on jim during a conference at work, he doesn’t move her at all and even stays until after the meeting is over just to let her sleep!!! do u think u could write something similar for our annoyingly sweet coworker! james?? love u

love u <3 —James may not like you, but he’s a good pillow. fem, 1k

“Today we’re gonna talk about workplace satisfaction.” 

James crosses his arms over his chest. The yawn he suppresses threatens to make his jaw crack, his eyes heavy not a minute into the presentation. 

“I know all about that,” Sirius says under his breath. 

Remus needles him in the arm with his elbow. It might’ve been the best dumb luck in the world to get to work with his best friends, but not even their joking can make this meeting less mind-numbing. He covers his mouth with his hand and settles in. 

“We sent around a survey this last week and we’ve had everyone’s responses. The results are anonymous, but we do want to touch on where we, as a company, are going wrong. Our first category was day to day working.” 

You yawn. James turns his head to watch you, and with the lights dimmed, he’s not sure you notice. You cover your mouth with both hands, your eyes failing to reopen for a few long, admittedly humorous seconds. He likes how your lashes look stuck together, and the way you rub your nose afterward. It’s cute. 

What’s not cute is your shaking knees. You press them together, but you’re sitting awkwardly, and they tremble at the strange position. James wonders what it is you’re upto that’s making you so tired lately. You seem down; he stapled his fingertip earlier in a crazy mishap of which he was at no fault and you didn’t even laugh. You took his hand and pulled out the staple. 

You’ve been acting super weird. 

“So about half of you expressed that you feel like you aren’t allowed the breaks that you need. While it’s encouraged you all take a ten minute break from your screens every other hour, you feel penalised when you do, and we want to change that. Do any of you guys have anything to say? This is the time to speak your thoughts.” 

Remus raises his hand. James loves him more than anyone in the world. “Whenever I try to take a break around lunchtime, you ask me if I can wait until lunch. I don’t think needing breaks from the screen should wait, or detract from my legal break time.” 

“What we’re trying to do is encourage you guys to make the most of your working time without hurting yourselves.” 

A great non answer. You make a soft sound and James turns with a smile, expecting to find you smothering a laugh, and instead seeing a great eyeful of your neck. Your head has fallen back, your back slouching under the weight of yourself as your leg begins to drift toward his. 

Poor girl, he thinks. 

“What about the kitchen tap?” someone asks. 

Your boss sighs. “What about it?” 

James leans down to be your height. He can imagine the neck ache, the stiffness, and so when he brings his arm up to touch the shoulder closest to his, it’s with sympathy, if not fondness. 

You make another soft sound like a snuffle and rest your face on his shoulder.

James looks away. Looks back, tracing the soft roundness of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips, pouting ever so slightly in your dozing. He’s thought often that you were awarded a face too sweet for who you are. What evil demon are you, to treat him like he’s stupid and to smile at him in your way? Sometimes he gets so mad at you for it that he thinks about grabbing you, and yanking your face to his, and then he feels so guilty for wanting to grab you at all that he leaves your mug where it is in the cupboard. It’s not nice to want to kiss you with any sort of force. 

It’s not nice wanting to kiss you at all, because it isn’t a joke, he really doesn’t like you sometimes. 

But what’s not to like about you now? 

Lately he feels this weird bridge forming between you, like you could be civil, or better. You rub your nose into his shoulder and he holds his breath, worried his moving chest will jolt you. Something must be really getting to you if you’re sleeping at work. He should ask if you’re alright, when you’re awake. 

He doesn’t think he can. 

“Alright, guys. Let’s talk about customer service.” 

You’re demure. James thinks it and bites his own tongue, hard and accidental, flinching at the sudden pain. You mumble against him and he quickly stills, his heart pounding. Fuck, he hates this. Why does he feel like this? He didn’t mean to jostle you. 

Your hand curls around his arm like you’re telling him to stay still. 

He should take a photo of you for blackmail purposes. If not blackmail, mild humiliation. He can email it to everyone before you wake up, zoom in on your nose pressed rough to his arms, your deep exhales warm on his shirt. 

James rubs your elbow for reasons he can’t understand.

The meeting is torturously long, inanely boring. You rouse when your coworkers clap politely at the end of the presentation, James’ hand now returned to his leg. He looks resolutely at the front of the room, your gaze a heat on his cheek, before you look down and rub your eyes. 

“Sorry, James,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.” 

That’s what’s best, right? You have these insane moments of togetherness and never, ever talk about them. 

“Did I miss much?” you ask. 

Pillow and minute keeper? James doesn’t think so. “Should’ve paid attention.” 

“Did he talk about the tap in the kitchen?” 

“If you were meant to know, you’d know, hm?” You yawn and blink to yourself all soft with sleep, and James debates giving in for longer than he’d care to admit. “He did talk about the tap,” he says. 

“Is he fixing it?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t hear him over your snoring, sorry.”

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦 - part four lando norris x  fem! streamer! reader (fluff) “. . . lando finds himself addicted to playing video games with this girl he cant get out of his head.”

(warning, tumblr posted this out of my drafts by accident. it's not completed. I will finish it soon)

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

this is pointless, he though tiredly as he turned to sleep on his other side only to feel frustrated answer boil in him soon enough. Lando's been restless for a good few hours now and he feels like he's losing his mind. The Japanese qualifying just ended and he still couldn't shut his eyes for the day.

He felt angry, and agitated. he didn't even know what drove him to pick up his phone and dial you. What was that going to solve, bothering you with his problems? Besides, it's a bad idea because it's 1am at yours. He'll just hang up and pray that sleep takes him.

his phone didn't stay on his nightstand for long because as soon as you called back he had practically smashed the green button and pressed the phone to his ear. Lando opened his mouth ready to throw complaints, only to stop short hearing you yawn, which he hated to admit too his heart rate down.

"It's one in the morning, Lan." You yawned, shuffling to find a comfortable position where you didn't have to hold your phone up. "I know— I'm sorry." the brit sighed, rubbing his eye, laying on his back and looking up at the celling. "I'm sorry I woke you up." his voice came off as soft, he was clearly sorry. You could hear how tired and exhausted he was from his voice too.

"No it's ok," you shook your head. "Tell me what's wrong." Lando sighed, staying silent for a few minutes, trying to search through his thoughts. Why was he feeling this way?

"I saw the race." You hum after a few moments, snuggling into your bedsheets as your phone rested on the pillow somewhere beside you. "That overtake on Hamilton was amazing, in turn one." Your little chuckle made lando's heart skip a beat as he rested his hands behind his head, staring up at the celling.

"I was watching on the tv and my roomate thought I was crazy. Maybe I was being a bit too loud. Maybe I wanted my voice to reach you so you could go faster." You joked giggling. Lando found himself smiling at the thought, imagining you jumping and cheering for him.

"How would I go any faster?" Lando chuckled, feeling his muscles relax and his eyes close.

"I don't know? You're Lando Norris. You drive super fast cars." You tease making lando laugh at your refence to his twitter bio. How you do it, he'll never understand. The call has only been on for 13 minutes and you've already made him feel better and lighter.

"Yeah," he nodded agreeing, feeling his smile widen. Yeah, he definitely felt much better now that you're here, even if you're not physically present.

It was as if you were mending him with magic. Not witch stitches or with bandages, or glue. No need for needle and thread, or having to change gauze or having to put layers of glue. You made lando feel as if he was glowing.

"What's your favorite movie?" He asked out of nowhere. You took a second or two before giving your answer. "I think I'll pick . . . la la land." you hummed as you shifted to sleep on your other side, l

[notjustjavierpena]

Late Night Feelings

A/N: Hey people, my first fic in a while. Hubby will be back soon but be patient.

Summary: Lucien enjoys phone sex with you… his ex who is in a relationship.

Pairing: Lucien Flores x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, infidelity 

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55842253

Late Night Feelings

It is like clockwork by now. Lucien has made a ritual out of it and set up a routine for himself. He waits with his phone lying next to him on the couch, a box of tissues nearby, and a beer bottle, half-drunk, on the coffee table in his living room. He is already hard and aching in his underwear from the anticipation and knowledge of what will come, already without his usual slacks on and with his shirt unbuttoned to expose his beating chest. 

You should have called him by now, so why haven’t you? He impatiently shifts a little on the spot. To distract himself, he takes another sip of his beer and drums his fingers on his thigh to not think about the iron grip you have around his balls. 

You have had him in the palm of your hand like this for almost two months now. You call once a week, every Wednesday after your boyfriend has gone to bed, and then you beg him to talk you through it and remind you of how he used to fuck you when you were together. The first time around, you had said that he was the only one who knew your pussy well enough to do it and his ego soared above the clouds. 

Lucien knows it is wrong but the forbidden nature of what you are doing makes him have the best jerk-off sessions of his life. He doesn’t care about your motives, can’t be bothered to even ask because it is none of his business and he gets to come. People suck and fuck, it is in their nature, so he has no intention of playing the detective.

He adjusts himself in his briefs as an excuse to touch himself, hissing bitterly as time goes by without you, and he cannot keep himself from palming his cock through the straining fabric. He lets his head fall backward on the back of the couch, a groan slipping past his lips as he starts touching himself on top of his underwear. Steadily, a patch of his precome forms on the front because you are dancing naked and sexy behind his lids in his mind. 

The phone ringing nearly has him coming from the surprise because he has worked himself to the edge without even holding his dick in his fist. He swears under his breath, removing his hand to frantically search for his phone on the sofa only to find that it has slipped into the space between the two cushions. 

He answers with annoyance, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Got held up,” you don’t apologize. He notices your ragged breathing almost immediately, can almost feel it against his ear and through the receiver. You are panting a little, probably flustered, cute, and wet from having been denied him like he has been denied you.

“Started without me?” He asks with a shit-eating grin, clenched fist lying along his side despite wanting to finish the handjob he was imagining you giving him.

“Not exactly,” you say without elaborating and the water in your shower turns on in the background. It is different from your usual pattern. Usually, you use the toy that you keep in bathroom drawers next to your hairdryer. 

Lucien narrows his eyes in suspicion. When you refrain from answering a second too long, his eyes widen when he figures it out.

“You little whore,” he smiles into the phone after the initial shock settles. In his underwear, his cock moves involuntarily at the thought of how used and desperate your pussy must be now, “You’re freshly fucked, aren’t you?”

“Stop,” you whimper with shame at his crude words.

“So how was he? And why do you even need me?” He pushes your patience, gives in to temptation, and lifts his hips to shove his briefs down over his thighs. His cock springs free and stands in the air in its touch-starved state, the head reddened from having been edged once.

You are silent for a moment but then sigh in defeat, sounding annoyed but it can only be with yourself from the words that leave your mouth and stroke Lucien’s ego dangerously, “He was fine but he can’t make me come.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says triumphantly, squeezing around the base of his excited cock. He gets comfortable on the couch, scooting towards the edge a little, “So tell me what you need, baby. Are you getting out the toy?”

“No, I need to clean up,” you tell him. He groans when he realizes you are probably naked on the other end of the line, most likely dripping with your boyfriend’s come - you always liked getting creampied when you were with him - and feeling horny out of your mind because your boyfriend has left you unsatisfied. He’d never do you dirty like that; clit throbbing with the need to get its sweet release, blood rushing through your lower body until it aches and has you squeezing your thighs together. 

“Tell me what you’re doing,” he orders to find out exactly how far you are in your session, not wanting to start without you in case he comes too soon. He hears you stand in the tub to detach the shower head from the wall. 

“Using the shower head,” you say simply and he spots a bead of precome running down the side of his dick, “It’s quick and easy.”

“So you have that in common,” he smiles at the scoff you let out, hearing the sound of water hitting the bottom of the tub while you move to lie down on your back. He dares a few strokes to his cock, his heartbeat all over his body, “You make it so difficult to wait. Need to hear you.”

“Gimme a moment,” you reply and there’s more shuffling, “There’s actually a lot at risk taking my phone with me in he— mhm…”

Lucien nearly loses his mind at your soft moan. He squeezes his cock again, wanting to tell it to calm down like he would a happy and excited dog. He breathes your name slowly. 

“Talk me through it,” he demands as he touches himself carefully, “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

“I’ve turned on— oh god, the jet stream,” you sigh in satisfaction, giggling a little like all his snark is forgiven now that pleasure starts flowing through you, “It’s so good, I wish you could feel it.”

Lucien swears under his breath, moving his hand languidly up and down his cock until his pelvis starts moving involuntarily. How he misses being inside of you, feeling you giggle like that when he gets you in the mood. He had never imagined that it would be hearing you use the shower head to come that would make him all nostalgic. 

“You are so fucking adorable when you get your clit played with,” he muses with a slightly breathless voice. 

“And I still smile when I come,” you say and he tenses up when the image flashes in his head. It doesn’t help when you moan a little louder, “It’s really intense.”

“How the hell are you doing that?” He groans. He strokes a little faster, trying not to get lost in the relief that it brings to finally get himself off in case he doesn’t concentrate properly.

“It’s just moving the stream up and down on my clit,” you explain, breathing heavily into the receiver, “The water feels warm and— oh, Luce.”

“And?” He almost gasps for breath by now, heart slamming against his ribs. 

“And then I just hold it steady when I’m just about to—“ you are interrupted by a sudden loud moan and he knows that you have moved the stream to your center, letting the water pound down on your clit until you cannot help lifting your hips towards more. 

He cannot help himself; his imagination goes wild. It wasn’t supposed to happen so quickly and he almost wants to mourn that it’s almost over. He speaks filth as his cock throbs from teetering on the edge together with you.

“Is the orgasm I’m giving you gonna make that little pussy cry?” He asks with a mocking tone, a moan slipping from his lips as pleasure starts to build at the bottom of his spine. He can see your pussy in his head, spasming with each excited jump of your clit, “You gonna spill his come all over the bathtub?”

“I’m giving me this orgasm,” you correct him during your climbing cries, panting into the phone and he starts going faster on his dick to meet you there. Fuck, he loves coming alongside you. 

“Bullshit. Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he barks out and follows it up with a desperate swear, reaching up to focus on the head so he doesn’t have to move his hand a lot. He closes his eyes and he can see you, brows furrowed and eyes rolling back as if you are possessed by pleasure. 

“You’re the best I’ve ever had,” you don’t even hesitate to respond. He can hear that you have started to hold your breath, gasping for air every few seconds, and he knows you’ll come even if you didn’t announce it like you always do for him.

“I’m gonna—“ you gasp again and he knows you’re concentrating on getting there. Another gasp and he knows you are quivering, “Gonna come. Fuck, Luce, I’m gonna come. Gonnacomegonnacomegonnacome, I— ah!”

He remembers what your face is like when you peak - that dirty little smile that turns into furrowed brows - and the image of the last time he had you on your back with him pops into his head. He can’t contain himself anymore, hearing you sob through the water cascading down on your swollen clit, knowing your thighs are tense, and your cunt is pushing out the last evidence of another - more unworthy - man. His balls draw up, his dick throbs and then he grunts a fuuuck as come shoots from the tip of his dick. He strokes himself through it, timing it with each spurt of white from his cock until he has milked himself dry and he grows so sensitive that he has to stop.

“All I have to do is ask you, isn’t it? Then you’d leave him,” he taunts you as you both come down from your orgasm, breathing softly against each other’s ears through the receiver. You usually hold a hand over your mound as you relish in aftershocks, sometimes daring to touch your overstimulated clit to see if it’s all over. 

“Luce,” you drag out his name with a breathy moan and he knows you are doing exactly what he imagined. There’s a hint of annoyance in your tone because how dare he remind you of such a true fact? 

“What?” He challenges, pulling a few tissues out of the box on his coffee table. He has the phone neatly tucked between his shoulder and head as he wipes himself down and tries not to hiss at the sensitivity, “Don’t deny it.”

“Fuck you,” you say bitterly, “I’m hanging up the phone now.”

“You want it so badly,” he continues to taunt. He throws the crumpled tissues onto the coffee table (he’ll clean it up later), “Why don’t you break up with your little boyfriend and then come over so I can get you fucking pregnant?”

“Lucien,” you say his name sharply, “Stop it. I can’t do that.”

“I would stop if that’s what you really want,” he replies, amused. He loves shocking you. 

You fume quietly on the other end, “I’ll call you next week.”

He doesn’t manage to answer with some other bratty remark as the line disconnects. However, he isn’t worried because he knows you will… and he knows he is right.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

PAINTED WORSHIP Nanami x Prim Princess!Reader

Minors and ageless blogs don't fucking interact

Pairing: Nanami Kento x PrimPrincess!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1491

Warnings: Slightly jealous!Nanami, Posessive!Nanami, plus size reader, female bodied reader, Marks left, no protection (wrap up kids), Food used as an aphrodaisiac (ice-cream)

Summary: When Gojo gets a little peek down your top, Nanami can't stop hiimself from marking whats his.

A/N: What the hell happened?? I sat down to write this thinking it'd be a cute little blurb net thing i know we're at a thousand plus words??? Anyway i wrote this while cooking okra. such an unsexy scenario please keep in mind when you read lol ok byeeee

sort of pt1 here

Pretty prim princess of the Jujutsu world. No one expects you to leave long scratches down the length of your boyfriend’s back every night. No one expects you to be face down-ass up, shoved into the mattress; Nanami Kento pounding into you from behind. No one expects that you get slapped on your ass every time because he loves watching it jiggle.

Nanami is so careful not to leave visible marks on you. He too has a reputation to maintain after all. The hand print on your bum, the little hickeys that litter your chest – these are meant for his eyes only. It’s unfortunate that Gojo got a little peek though; when you bent over to take a look at what he was trying to show you at his desk, and he turned his head, only to be met by the perfect view down your top. The swell of your décolletage tantalizingly close and the gentle bruises all over your skin standing out in a harsh contrast. 

“I have to go!” He said standing up suddenly. “I—”

Gojo sprinted to the loo, almost crashing into an amused Nanami, leaving a befuddled you wondering what happened.

“Wha–” you started straightening up. 

“I think we better get you some turtlenecks” Nanami said stepping close to you and pulling your neckline higher. You looked down and your eyes widened. 

“Do you think he saw?” you whispered into his chest. 

“Lucky bastard… I have half a mind to gouge out his six eyes” He lays a hand on your chest. As if trying to make sure your top would never again leave your skin and presses a reserved kiss into your hair. “You’re mine. For my eyes only…” 

It was a wonder how Nanami made it through the day when all he could think about was how he needed to leave fresh marks on you tonight. Marks that would not be tainted by some other eyes: only for him. 

His arms encircled you, the minute you stepped into your shared apartment, lips planted on your neck he sucked at your skin. Your knees buckled and Nanami held you up, knowing it was coming. 

“Min-min…” You started in a feeble attempt to placate your lover but a low growl stopped you from continuing. His tongue bullied your neck, and his hands shifted your focus to your breasts which he squeezed fingers searching for your hardening nipples under the fabric of your blouse. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and moan. Thankful that you were still supported by his arms. You could feel Nanami grinding against your back. The bulge that grew in his pants made you wet just thinking about it. 

“Min-min…” you tried again. 

Nanami sank his teeth into the spot he’d been worshipping in response making you yelp with the shock. “Nanami! What the fuck!?” 

He released you and you turned to look at him. His pupils were blown and his lips were red “We need to eat, but I’m not done with you… ” Saying this Nanami squeezed your ass and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you to collect yourself. 

Dinner was quick. You always meal planned during the weekend so everything was ready for Nanami to pop into the oven for a quick broil. Nanami finished dinner by serving you a helping of your favourite ice-cream which you both took to the couch to enjoy but once he was done, he climbed over you in a swift movement. “I’m hungry.” 

“What… We just ate Min-min, were the portions not en—” 

You were cut off by his ravenous mouth on yours. Licking at the ice-cream you were still eating. He sucked on your lower lip as if in answer to your unfinished question. His hands came up once again to knead at your breast. 

A low moan escaped you and you felt your bowl being taken from your hands and set aside while Nanami kissed you over and over. His lips slid down from your mouth to his last conquest and he lapped at it gently hearing you hiss at his touch. The indents his teeth had left on your skin stood out against his tongue, and for a moment Nanami felt guilty. But the feeling was quashed with a simple roll of your hips that begged him for more. 

“Kento… need you…”

Nanami grabbed hold of your ass lifting you onto his lap steadying you with one hand he retrieved the ice cream bowl with the other and handed it to you. 

“Feed me.” 

You took the spoon, ready to let him have some from you but he shook his head. 

“Off you.” 

Your cheeks burned but you slowly dripped a drop of the cold desert onto your chest, right between your breasts. Nanami enthusiastically licked. 

“More. Please…” a gravelly plea.

You dripped it – this time down your breast, it rolled down your skin ending at your erect nipple. Nanami licked again, a stripe up your breast cleaning off the sticky sweetness. His tongue returned and flicked at your nipple and you shuddered. 

He reached a hand under your skirt and rubbed at your mound over your panties. “Come on beautiful, keep it coming.” 

You continued dripping ice cream down your body, cold streaks matching the red welts you left down Nanami’s back. And Nanami ate you like a starved man. He sucked and licked and bit, painting a masterpiece in shades of purple. His mouth never once left you, drawing prayer after prayer from your lips. His hands made quick work of your clothing, tearing off what you wore, and only then did he pause to take a good look at his masterpiece. 

You were a garden in springtime, flowers blooming across your skin. He palmed at the fat bulge in his slacks and you took the opportunity to lick the spoon in your hand of the little ice-cream left on it, trailing your tongue along the metal while never once taking your eyes off Nanami. With a snarl he was on you again, discarding the bowl and lifting you up in his arms to carry you to your bed. He dropped you onto the sheets and yanked down his trousers and boxers in a swift movement. Then he pulled you toward him and sheathed his cock in your dripping pussy. 

The initial stretch was always a little painful but tonight you were too aroused to notice the burn, you ripped Nanami’s shirt off, scattering buttons everywhere, his hands found home in your hair and pulled it out of the messy bun, gently holding your small head against his chest as his cock pounded into you. 

“Fuck— no wonder Gojo had to excuse himself. You have no fuckin’ idea do ya.” You could only whine. Body jerking with each thrust. You latched your mouth against his chest feeling his nipple and kissed and licked at it. Desperation pooled in your lower abdomen and Nanami thankfully kept pace. 

  “You have no clue what you do to people. How fucking alluring you are. Like a witch who’s cast a spell on anyone who gets a look at her…” your lover continued. 

“Min-min-n-n-n!” 

“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” His breaths were now ragged, his hips sped up thrusting harder. Two thick fingers were slipped between your folds rubbing firm circles at your clit. “I’m close too baby. Whadya say we come together huh?”  He didn’t falter. Fingers, cock, mouth all running you like a well oiled machine. 

You felt your climax just at the surface, ready to explode and managed to whisper a, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, Ken– so close—” Your arms held his shoulders for support and you bit down on skin, muffling the long keening cry that found its way out of you as you came onto his cock and fingers. 

Nanami followed just after, hips coming to a juddering stop. He emptied his load in you dragging his cock out slowly, letting his release drip down to your ass. You fell back onto the bed exhausted, splaying your arms out for Nanami to come to you. Instead he lifted himself off the bed and took out his phone. You heard the click of a camera shutter and lifted your head. Nanami crawled up beside you showing you the picture. It was a shot of your dripping pussy, angled in a way that one could see the littered hickeys going up your torso. 

Nanami smirked into the shell of your ear. “An artist should always sign their work.”

The next day at Jujutsu High, Gojo noticed two things. One, you were wearing a brand new turtle-neck blouse. And two, later while talking to Nanami, he spotted a large dark mark at the base of his neck – unmistakable teeth marks in a perfect O. 

“Damn Nanamin, never took you to be experimental with flavours!” He teased. “Always thought you were a vanilla man.” 

The End

A/N: THIS WAS SO CRAZY TO WRITE OMG. A massive thank you to @erebus-et-eigengrau who sat and brainstormed this with me in the notes of pt 1.

Hearts and Reblogs are much appreciated and comments will get you KISSIE

[melrodrigo]

music nerds

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jenna stumbles upon a tiny vinyl shop, and thinks the employee is mighty cute.

A/n: here it is nerds, my first jenna fic. Was in a silly goofy mood, I miss my babygirl so.

It started at the vinyl shop. You, rearranging the different records into the correct sections, stood humming absentmindedly to the tune of the song playing.

“How’s my favorite employee of the month doing?” Your coworker (and best friend) Harry pipes up, leaning on the shelves opposite you.

“You can stop calling me that, we both know the only reason I got crowned this month was because you missed six days and I had to cover for your ass.” You mumble, slightly annoyed. It had been a long day, with customers shuffling in and out without ever buying anything. It didn’t help that the only customers Harry attended to were girls he thought were cute.

He nudges you a little, trying to prompt you away from rearranging the vinyls.

When you don’t answer, he huffs a little and then makes his way to the back—no doubt about to take a nap—where he’ll stay until closing time.

You sigh softly, shaking your head.

Even though you loved Harry to shreds, you hated being his coworker. He could be trusted with nothing.

You move over to the next section, swaying a little to the tune, losing yourself in the music.

You’re aware of the jingle of the bell that indicates someone has entered as you shuffle through the records.

They could take care of themselves for just a few minutes, you reckon.

Soft footsteps sound from behind you, and the sound of someone putting a stop to the music makes you frown. Then, there’s a tiny scratching noise before the melody of I am Controlled By Your Love by Helene Smith sounds through the tiny store.

You can’t help the tiny smile that envelops your face; and the surprise that echos through your mind. You’d just found out about this song, while scrolling through a playlist someone had made for your celebrity crush, Jenna Ortega.

Apparently she liked the song, if you remembered correctly from watching one of her interviews passingly.

“Great choice.” You tell whoever put it on, still not turning to face them.

“Thanks, I’m surprised this place has it. I’ve been looking for weeks.” A girl answers, and it sounds vaguely familiar.

“Well, we sure do. One of the best vinyl stores in the country if I do say so myself.” You smile, finally finishing tampering with the discs and turn to your customer.

It takes everything in you to not gasp out loud—standing in front of you was the Jenna Ortega.

You feel your hands grip the shelves just a little tighter, and you prayed to god that Jenna didn’t see the blush very quickly climbing up your neck.

“One of the best, huh?” She smiles, and you swear you could feel your heart physically melt.

She looks, if not better, exactly like in the pictures. It’s surreal, this person you see almost everyday on your phone, standing in front of you.

She’s wearing a black turtleneck sweater and some baggy jeans. There are sunglasses blocking her eyes, maybe to try to avert attention, but you could tell in an instant who she was.

You think she knows too, by the way she’s smirking a little.

“Yeah, and there are a ton of artists just like the one you just put on, at the back corner over there.” You point with shaky fingers, cursing yourself for looking so stupid.

She nods and disappears further into the store, and you breathe out in relief.

Holy shit! Jenna Ortega!

You place a hand over your heart, reminding yourself to be normal and check if you’re still breathing.

“Uh-I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it. Where did you say?” She pops her head out from one of the shelves, cocking her head to the side.

You grab your bearings, determined to not make a fool of yourself.

You were an employee. Just an employee helping out a confused customer.

“It’s hard to find, believe me I know.” You smile reassuringly, sauntering over to where she was standing.

“Here, just follow me.” You say, weaving through the maze that was this tiny vinyl store.

She bumps into you a few times, saying a soft sorry as she does. You placate her worries with soft it’s okays everytime she does.

“Ahah! Right here. My pride and joy.” You beam, getting used to having her so close and relaxing.

“What would you recommend?” She muses, flicking through the artists.

“Well, I’m a Beatles girl myself,” You tell her, looking over the records, “but I am a sucker for The Mamas & The Papas.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, and you hold your hands up in defeat.

“I know, I know! I’m a mainstream whore.” You say before you can stop yourself, something definitely inappropriate to say to a customer.

Jenna lets out a little giggle, fast like she can’t help herself.

You take the opportunity to keep talking, since she seems interested in the music over here.

“But, there is another artist somewhere here, I think you’ll like.” You wink, then mentally face palm yourself.

You turn back to the records in order to hide your expression, finally finding the guy you were looking for.

“Frank Zappa.” You explain as you hand it over to her. “An instrumental.”

She looks at it thoughtfully, inspecting the album art; then looks up at you and smiles. Her brown eyes make you want to cry and scream, but you keep your composure.

“You have nice eyes.” She murmurs, eyes flickering over your face. Then, just as fast, she turns away and walks back the way you came.

“What just happened.” You breathe once she’s out of earshot, carefully walking back to the cashier.

She’s waiting, texting someone on her phone.

When you slide up behind the counter, all flirty smiles, she tilts her head.

“Took you long enough.” She teases, scrunching her nose in embarrassment unconsciously.

You stutter endlessly, trying and failing to come up with an excuse. It all comes out in one jumbled poor excuse of a sentence that you try to cover up with a cough.

You slide her things over and scan them, not daring to look at her probably smug face.

“That’s all.” You say, somewhat bashfully, stealing a glance back at her.

Her eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place, but something you can certainly feel. Warmth envelops you whole, your knees turning into jelly.

You put her stuff into a plastic bag, hand them over, and bite back the hitch of breath when your hand grazes hers.

She bites her lip thoughtfully, shifting on her feet. The bag is in her hands now, she’s free to leave.

But still, she stands there, looking like she’s thinking very hard about something.

You try and prompt her out of her thoughts, murmur a quiet, “Anything else?” and watches as she takes out her phone and pushes it to your side of the desk.

“Yeah. Your number.” She squeaks, blushing a faint pink. She clears her throat and says it again, in a tone deeper than before.

It takes absolutely everything in you to keep your mouth shut. It desperately desperately wants to drop, not quite computing what is really happening.

You take it before she can change her mind, quickly jamming in your number and taking a quick photo for the profile.

She beams as you hand it back to her, not bothering to stop the cheeky satisfied smile that wants to take over her lips.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” She asks, and you nod adamantly, forgetting all pretense of chill.

“Right. Uh huh. Super!” You call out as she makes her way out the door, shaking her head at your dorkiness.

“Holy shit!” You yell this time, breathing out a huge sigh of relief you didn’t even know you were holding.

You’re rooted to the spot, afraid that if you move you’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.

“Wha-What happened?” Harry comes tumbling out the back door, plastic baseball bat in hand.

You lock eyes with him and let yourself fall down into the nearest chair, all wild eyes.

“I just got Jenna Ortega’s number!” You tell him, letting your hands run through your hair, happy and stressed.

His eyes narrow, then he shoots you a lopsided smirk.

“Sure you did.” He says, letting the baseball bat fall beside him, guard down.

“No Harry, she really came in here! And asked me for my number!” You yell, exasperated.

You can tell he doesn’t really believe you, but all it takes is one good look at your face, all white and red at the same time, and he’s widening his eyes comically wide.

“No fucking way.” He gushes, sliding over to sit beside you. He practically preens over you, all questioning eyes.

“Well what did you do?” He pushes, waiting for you to elaborate.

You tell him the whole story, slightly reveling in his reactions. He never fails to make you laugh at his comments.

“So…what now?” Harry asks after a minute, raising his eyebrows.

You sigh. “I don’t know, I guess I’m gonna have to wait for her to call me. Who knows how long that’s gonna take.”

“Well, you better be ready for her when she does. Oh my god we so need to do a makeover.” He rambles, turning on his phone to look at hairdressers nearby. You lean back into your chair, overwhelmed.

For now, you’re worry-less. Jenna Ortega just asked for your number, and you think you couldn’t be luckier. The only thing to do now was wait, and so you do.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

-

Ask to be added to my Leon taglist!

[ghostofhyuck]

AN: Hey, hahaha it's my first time writing a suggestive, detailed make-out session so don't judge me lmao.

01:47 AM

"Hey beautiful," Mark grins as soon as the door closed.

Coming home to see you sitting on the couch, waiting for him despite the late night gives him energy even though he spent the whole day practicing for their concert. To add to that, he's also working on his solo too.

"Hey love," you giggled as you approached him. His arms automatically spread just so you could embrace him with ease. As soon as you crashed onto him, his arms wrapped around you tightly. He breathes onto your hair, smelling the vanilla-scent of your shampoo. Mark smiles fondly as he gives it a sweet peck.

"How's your practice?" you asked, looking up to him.

"Tiring, the kids' never ran out of energy! But it was a fun practice, hopefully we stay healthy until the tour ends," Mark explains.

"Is that so? Do you want to sleep now? I know you have a schedule tomorrow," you said with a concerned tone.

Mark thought about it for moment, but this is only one of the nights where he goes home to you. Especially when you're still awake. He often catches you sleeping when he arrives, and could only savor a few hours in the morning because he has to leave early too.

"I'm good, I just miss you baby," he confessed.

You smiled at him, brushing his hair fondly. "You miss me?"

"So so fucking much," he said. His voice deeper than before.

You only let out a small laugh when you felt his lips crashing onto yours. Mark can taste the peach lip balm of yours. Never mind that you already did your nightly lip care routine, all he wants is you.

You kissed him back, reciprocating the longing that you had to taste your lover's lips. Your arms draping around his shoulders so that you could pull him closer. While Mark's hands trailed down on your thighs, tapping it gently so that you could jumped onto him. His arms gripping your ass firmly as he carries you all the way to the couch.

Mark lays you down gently. He breaks away from the kiss making you whine quietly.

You saw how his eyes darkened, hands brushing away the stray hair that covered your face. Gently, he cups your left cheek. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this."

"Mark ---" and before you knew, his lips are on yours once again. It's sweet, intoxicating, probably something inside him grew a craving for you.

You couldn't help but to drown into the heat. Feeling things warming up as you can feel your lover's hands trailing around your body. You moaned as his tongue enters your mouth, savoring your taste more.

Mark's lips trailed down on your jaw, leaving trails of kisses on your neck, throat --- until he reached your shoulder, a part where you're sensitive the most. You could only inhale sharply as you can your lover bites your skin, sucking it, and leaving marks on it.

"M-mark," you couldn't help but to call out his name, your hands loosing its grip on his shoulders as you fall more into the pleasure. You could only close your eyes as you feel everything heating up more.

"Baby," Mark called out once again, he kisses you once again, much sloppy this time.

But your eyes widen when you felt Mark's hands trailing down your waist, tugging the waistband of your pajamas. Eyes wide, you lightly pushed Mark away from you.

"Wait, shit I'm sorry baby," Mark apologized immediately, realizing what he has done.

"No, no, it's okay," you answered back. "Things got heated up too."

"No, it's not okay, I crossed your boundaries."

You only smiled at your boyfriend. "Mark you didn't, I pushed you away and you got the signal, you stopped immediately."

Mark became quiet for a while. Guilt eating him up.

Despite the many times you two made out, you two never had sex because both of you decided to do it after marriage. It sound old-school but Mark respected that decision of yours when you first open it up.

Mark knows where his boundaries are and he never done things that would make you uncomfortable. He's satisfied with what you two had. There were only a few times he almost crossed the line but once you told him to stop, he immediately does, and that's one of the reason why you love Mark so much.

"I'm really, really, sorry baby," Mark said once again.

"One more sorry from you and you're ban from my kisses," you taunted.

"Okay, I'll stop," Mark said, even raising both of his hand as a sign of defeat.

You smiled once again, cupping his cheeks and planting a quick kiss on his lips.

"I think we should sleep now," you told him. Thinking that things might go far if you two start another make-out session.

Mark only chuckles as he steals a kiss from you, "yeah we should just sleep."

Your boyfriend gets up from the couch first, and before you could move, Mark swings his arms around your legs and waist, carrying you bridal-style.

"Mark! I can walk you know?" you said to him, punching his shoulder lightly.

"Just practicing," Mark said.

You raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

And before he answers, he kisses you once again. "For our wedding night."

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family: Family Portrait

I finally got around to reading the SxF light novel, Family Portrait...and I mean "finally" because it's literally been sitting in my shelf since it was first released in English back in December of last year! I was distracted by Code White and the SxF video game which came out around the same time, but even long after that, I was having trouble getting motivated to read it. For some reason, experiencing SxF in novel format instead of in anime/manga just didn't appeal to me, plus the fact that it's not written by Endo himself (these weird preferences of mine are also why I'm not into reading fanfics either). Don't get me wrong, in general I love reading stories in prose form too, but for a series like SxF that already has such an established visual identity, it doesn't feel as "authentic" to me if that makes any sense. But I did want to read it eventually, since it is an official part of SxF media and Endo did the illustrations and does acknowledge the book (he wrote a nice afterword at the end). So I finally sat down and read it in sections over the course of this week! I'll share my brief thoughts on each of the contained stories:

Novel Mission 1

Since this was the first story in the book, it took me a while to get used to experiencing the world of SxF in novel form. There were some things I felt would have been better conveyed in anime/manga, for example, one of the very first gags about Yor misinterpreting Anya's nature class as some sort of hardcore outdoor survival trip. As I was reading that part I was like "I get the joke, but it would have been funnier if I actually saw these images and the characters' expressions with Endo's comedic illustrations." It was also a bit jarring to hear the characters thoughts and feelings from third-person narration, but I got used to it. As for the story itself, it was Damianya focused, something I'm not particularly into, but I don't mind it either. I liked the rare, soft Damian moments, and the thing with the squirrel eating Anya's peanut trail was funny. I also liked the scene at the beginning where Loid and Yor feed Bond together while Anya watches.

Novel Mission 2

Oddly, this was my favorite of the stories! Of all the characters, I think the author nailed Yuri's unhinged thoughts the best - as I was reading, I couldn't help but hear every cringe thought in his voice, which is a good sign of how well the author gets the character! I actually chuckled at a few parts too, both from his insane Yor-obsessed and anti-Loid musings, as well as from his banter with Anya. The police interrogation scene was great and would be even better if it ever gets animated! I also found it interesting that this story has the first instance where we find out what Yuri thinks about Bond (that he's fat and useless - rude!) Also his first time hearing about Franky apparently...makes we wonder if Endo will make him feel the same way if these things ever come up in the manga.

Novel Mission 3

I liked this story a lot too! I think it worked the best in novel format out of all of them, probably because it was more focused on drama and emotions than comedy. It's ironic that the two official SxF stories that feature the deeper side of Franky's character - this one and the omake chapter from volume 13 - are both not even part of the main canon! Alessa would have definitely accepted Franky's job as an informant, but he felt that someone like her should only be surrounded by "beautiful things." The poor man really needs to see that inner beauty matters too, and he has that! I also think he should have swallowed his pride and told Loid the real reason why he wanted the disguise...not that it would have changed the outcome. Poor Franky.

Novel Mission 4

This was a cute Forger-focused story, but like the first one, I felt it had parts that would have been more effective in anime/manga form, for example, "hair monster" Yor and whatever hideous painting Felix ended up making! But despite that, it was still funny and cute. Though I do think the author went a tad overboard with Yor's flustered antics...they just kept going and going, lol. Also, like the movie, we have another scenario of Loid getting flung into the air by Yor but landing gracefully on his feet (though this instance was much tamer since she wasn't drunk and only pushed him instead of hit him). Again, maybe I would have appreciated the humor in this story better if I saw it in anime/manga with Endo's hilarious designs and expressions, but for what it was, it was enjoyable enough.

Short Novel

This extra short story would be perfect as a reintroduction story for a future anime season...maybe one day!

-----

Overall, the Family Portrait novel is a nice addition to the Spy x Family universe. Even though I feel the humor in the series is most effective in illustrated form, it's still nice to have more stories in the canon, especially ones that show new sides to the characters, like the Franky and Yuri stories. Like the movie, it's debatable if this novel should be considered true canon or not, but personally, I don't find anything in it that contradicts canon, at least not yet. So yeah, definitely check out the novel if you haven't already! 😁

[ceruark]

i love you, it’s ruining my life

synopsis: the love of your life is engaged, and you foolishly show up to the celebration. notes: gn! reader x sunday. arranged marriage (not to you, sorry). angst. cw: light smut words: 1,273 inspiration: fortnight by taylor swift got me in a chokehold… a/n: oh to have sunday longing for you…

You shouldn't be here.

There's a number of things that sentence could mean. You shouldn't be here, attending the engagement party thrown for the head of the Oak Family. Here, in Golden Hour's finest ballroom, dressed in the outfit he loves to take off of you. Here, hidden away in one of the private rooms. Here, in Sunday's arms, fingers tangled in his hair while he steals kisses from your lips, drinking you in like he's just spent an eternity in the desert. Devouring you, because he knows it’s the last time he can.

They've wedded him off to an established actor from the Iris Family. Their face isn't plastered on billboards as much as Robin's is, but you've certainly noticed their increased presence in the media in the past few years. You've only met them once, at the entrance of the ballroom, hanging off of Sunday's arm and thanking you for coming. They seem nice enough.

The image of their smiling face flashes in your mind, and you shove at Sunday's chest weakly, more of a test to see how strong his will is than an actual signal for him to stop. In response, he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer. His lips trail kisses down your cheek and jaw and settle at your neck. A slight gasp leaves you as he tugs your collar lower and sucks at the exposed skin. You grip at his hair and pull, unsure if you’re still testing his resolve or trying to find your own.

The Family had started their search for Sunday's partner two years ago. As was customary for the heads of families, potential suitors were carefully screened and selected based on the image the specific family head had to keep up. All of their selections for him had been the same: distinguished, elegant, and influential in one way or another. Any of them would have been perfect as his other half in the eyes of the public.

Only one of them resembles you in some way, and they're out in the ballroom, likely wondering where their fiance has disappeared to.

Sunday tugs at your top and looks up at you in silent question. You nod at him, and your resolve slips through your fingers in the same moment the piece of clothing slips through his. He moves his hands up to grasp your waist, and presses a kiss to your stomach before moving his face up to your chest. You move a hand away from his hair and use it to muffle a gasp when he bites down on the area, sucking the skin into his mouth. He presses a tender kiss to it after.

The Family had never considered you, or even looked your way. How could they? You were a Bloodhound, and not a noteworthy one at that. You were rough around the edges, too used to defending yourself against drunk patrons with a temper. Having grown up around hot-headed and boisterous individuals, you let your true self shine through unapologetically— the very thing that had drawn Sunday to you.

Lively, brutish, undignified. You're a fool for having ever believed you'd be his one and only.

He shifts his head slightly, and you jolt when you feel his tongue trail over your nipple. He lifts one of his ungloved hands up to the other side of your chest. You bite down on the back of your hand to muffle a moan when he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, still sucking at the other one.

Sunday hadn't told you he'd gotten engaged; you had to find out through the news six months later like everyone else had. He'd taken you on twenty-six dates during your period of blissful ignorance. At the time, you idly wondered why the places he'd taken you to were so secluded and hidden from the public eye— more than usual, at least.

You were making small talk with Siobhan at Dreamjolt Holstery when you got the notification of the engagement on your phone. The betrayal stung; you knew it was coming, but you felt blindsided by the fact that he hadn't told you himself, as soon as he found out.

You got blackout drunk that night, and you hadn't spoken to Sunday since then, not until tonight. You didn't open any of his texts, threw the handwritten letters he sent you in a drawer, and avoided the places he and his sister frequented like the plague.

And when you stood at the ballroom entrance, greeting the happy couple, he spoke your name in that reverent tone he reserved for Xipe.

And when he caught you alone in a hallway and pulled you into one of the private rooms, you didn't stop him. You couldn't. You didn't want to.

You can't stop him, his devout love, your name rolling off his tongue in fervent prayer. You don't want to.

You shouldn't be here.

Shame crawls down your spine, and you shove at his chest, hard this time. He looks up at you, face twisted in confusion and desperation.

"Did I hurt you, angel?" He whispers, his lips and breath tickling your skin.

"You're going to hurt me." Your voice is hoarse, barely audible. "You're going to hurt them. They're kind. They don't deserve this."

He stares at you, and you turn away to study the intricate wallpaper, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. You move your hands down to gather your top and put it back into place.

Sunday catches you by the wrists, pulling himself up to meet your line of vision. He presses his lips against yours. It's everything and nothing all at once: tender and starved, lingering and fleeting. He barely parts, and you can feel the movement of his lips against yours when speaks.

"Please," he begs. "If I can't have you in the future, at least let me have you tonight."

Your heart aches. Tears prick at your eyes. "We shouldn’t be doing this."

"Please." He moves away, raising the back of your hand to his lips. "I need you."

"Sunday." Your voice catches on the last syllable of his name, and the first few tears slip out before you can stop them. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

A lifetime and silence and stillness passes between you before he finally pulls away. His fingertips graze your skin as he helps you put your top back on. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp as you comb through the tangles in his hair.

He reaches for his gloves, but pauses, hands hovering in the air for a moment. He ends up settling them on your cheeks, pulling you in for one more kiss. This one is soft and uncertain, just like the first was.

"I'm sorry."

You grit your teeth and blink against the tears. "It's not your fault." You pause, then add, "I'm happy for you."

The pain that flashes in his eyes has you regretting the words. He sighs and releases you, finally moving out of your way. You push yourself off the wall, keeping your eyes forward as you head for the door. Your hand lands on the knob, and you stop when you hear him call for you again.

He speaks so softly you almost miss it. "I love you."

It's the first time he's ever said it.

A choked sob escapes your throat, and you throw the door open, rushing out without glancing back.

In the vacant hallways, the joyous sounds of laughter and jazz reverberate off the walls. Tears roll down your face.

You shouldn't be here.

[aniniyah]

a/n: yeah this is very indulgent LMFAO, this is all for my people who get really clingy because the feelings are just too much to handle ^^

warnings: tooth rooting fluff :3 not proofread just wrote this in 15 minutes ^^

It wasn't like you were cold but you were afraid of being downright clingy, because you were. You understand it was a turn-off to certain people, especially in early months of a relationship. But Gojo wasn't certain people, he knew you were hiding it who you truly are and he can't help the feeling of his heart breaking at the thought of someone making you act this way.

So Gojo would amp up his clinginess. Every time he comes home, you're immediately in his arms, whispering a soft "I miss you, baby" in your ear as he nuzzles his cheek on your neck. Doesn't matter if he just came home from a long overseas mission, a normal day teaching his students, or even quick walk to the grocery store. He would always tell you how much he missed you even if he was a second away from you, hoping at some point you'd do the same too.

Even the PDA was amped up too, his hand would always seem to find yours when you're walking side by side. Visiting the first years real quick would always result in the loudest whine Gojo has ever produced out of his mouth, his arm never leaving your waist as he tightens his hold around your body and forcing you to come back to his side.

The first year students would outwardly cringe seeing an almost 30 year old man not being able to handle his girlfriend leaving but Gojo never cared for anyone's opinion, proving to you that he will always love you.

In a few months, his hard work was rewarded. He slowly began to receive occasional text messages ranging from "I miss you," "Been thinking about you" whenever you had a small break in your day to "Come home, babe." with that damn puppy eyes emoji that makes Gojo melt. He even abandoned a mission he was on that kept him away for three days when he first received those messages, fuck the higher ups, his girl always comes first.

Now, you weren't afraid to show this clingy side of you and he absolutely loves it. The teary, puppy eyes you give him in the mornings when he has to get ready for work The many unexpected calls just because you had a stressful day and you needed to hear his voice for just five minutes. And when he is home, you would always jump into his arms and give him all the loving words he always wanted to hear.

Gojo loves it all, loves you because he understood that this is your way to show that he is the only occupant in your heart and that will never ever change. So what if he has to deal with spams of text messages of you whining for him to come home quick because you felt lonely, or the excessive tugging of his wrist to get him back to cuddling you even if he has to pee?

If this is how you are in this relationship, he wouldn't mind experiencing it for the rest of your lives.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty Five

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I AM SO FUCKING SORRY IT TOOK ME ALMOST TWO MONTHS TO UPDATE. I love you all for sticking with us through this terrible lull. But I promise(well hope to) not go so long in between updates again. Hopefully, it was well worth the wait.

Also, please let me know if the tags didn't work. Tumblr has been a pain in my ass with them lately and with how many of you wanted to be tagged, I want to make sure I didn't miss any!

FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.

We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.

🪽🔮

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @teenblues @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @krisslee18 @xxkittenkissesxx @happi-goth @embracethereaper42 @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @bloody-delusion-expert @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @a1ex-ba1ex @sideeyenoah @emzandthevoid @badomensls @bellaboo967 @waake-mee-up @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave

READER

I hummed along to the tune that played on the speakers, swaying my hips, as I moved around the room helping Matt set up the equipment. 

“You don’t have to help, Y/N. You should sit and relax,” Matt said while I handed him a specific cord he was looking for to hook up to one of the speakers. 

I shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve always been a workhorse so the idea of sitting on my ass while you all are working doesn’t feel right.” 

He smiled. “Have I mentioned that you and Noah are perfect for each other?” 

“Once or twice,” I shrugged with a hint of a smirk. 

There was a faraway look in Matt’s eyes, one I’ve recognized all too well; loneliness. 

“Hey,” I nudged him with an elbow. “Everything alright?”

He let out a long breath before adjusting his hat, keeping his eyes cast down at his laptop, the program he uses for mixing the songs up on the screen.

“Promise not to tell the guys? I don’t need them giving me shit for it,” he said. 

Immediately I nodded and crossed my heart so he continued. “I see what all of you guys  have and sometimes, a part of me wonders if I’ll ever get anything even close to it.” 

I frowned. “Matt, you will! I don’t want to sound cliche, but that person for you is out there. They’ll show up when you stop looking. Neither Noah nor I were looking for a relationship, and look where we are now. It wasn’t an easy or short road by any means but we got here.” 

“It might be too late for me,” he grumbled under his breath before clicking away at his computer. Just as my lips moved to say something, Noah’s voice came through the speakers in the room. 

“Angel, I love you.” 

My cheeks burned as I glanced over at him with a wide smile to which he shrugged. 

“I had to test if the microphones worked,” he said. 

“Right,” I giggled while walking over to the area of the room that was set up for band rehearsals. 

Bad Omens were going on tour in two weeks, the first one since they rebranded themselves with this new era. Everyone was nervous because they wanted to make sure everything went perfectly. Part of me felt sad and guilty that I wasn’t able to go on the first set of shows because Hollow Souls had media planned. 

That may be why I kept trying to help out any way I could with the rehearsals; to show Noah and everyone else that I supported them. 

However, I did plan on meeting Noah for the last three shows, which seemed to ease the sadness on his face. We’d only ever gone a few days without seeing each other since we got together, so now that we were about to go without seeing each other for nearly two weeks, my heart hurt. 

Cheesy, but it was true. 

Noah’s hands immediately found my hips and brought me close to him, my hands resting on his chest.

“What’s wrong with Matt?” He nodded behind me. 

I played with the strings of his Hereditary sweatshirt. We just watched the movie with Jolly and Astrid last night, and my brain was still swirling with the ending. 

“I think he’s starting to feel a little alone. He sees us, Jolly and Astrid, Jesse and Maxine, and starts to feel like he missed his time,” I said under my breath so others wouldn’t hear. 

The corner of Noah’s mouth pulled down on a line as he kept his eyes on Matt. 

“Maybe the tour will help clear his mind,” he said with a sad sigh. 

“Oh, about that,” I pulled the string of his hoodie again to pull his attention to me. “Are you still upset that I'm stealing Lana from you guys?” 

He chuckled before squeezing my hips. “No, angel. Hollow Souls need her more than Bad Omens do. Plus, she found a replacement for her so Bryan doesn’t have to do most of the photography. I think it’s Lana’s cousin.” 

“Good because Malcolm felt like shit. But we don’t have a full-time photographer and want to get these promo shots out as soon as possible. Lana accepted before she knew about your tour-.” 

Noah hushed my ramblings with a gentle kiss to my lips, one that we both smiled into. 

“Y/N, it’s alright,” he muttered against my lips.

Staring up into those almond eyes I loved so much, I eventually nodded and patted his chest. 

“Okay.” 

Linking our fingers together, Noah led me to the other end of the room where Davis was working on filling up the boxes of merch. 

“I want to show you the new look we have planned for our stage outfits,” Noah said. 

My eyes widened, almost forgetting that the guys talked about changing a lot with this new era. He showed me the pants, tank top, button-up shirt, and jacket; all black. But what kept my attention was at the top of the table, Bad Omens symbols calling to me. 

“Ski mask?” I questioned. 

Noah smirked while putting it on, those eyes darkening when I sucked in a breath. 

“What does the mask represent?” I now asked. 

“My vision,” he said while adjusting it. 

“Ah, yes the vision,” I emphasized while rolling my eyes playfully. 

Noah pointed to his head. “It’s all in my brain.” 

“You have a lot going on in there,” I chuckled but kept a careful eye on the mask, assessing it while feeling the burn ignite within. 

“When you don’t occupy over 95% of it,” Noah shrugged but then narrowed his eyes. “Is the mask doing it for you, angel?” 

Davis tossed down one of the shirts he was folding and began walking away, muttering something under his breath. 

“Can’t they wait until I’m out of the room?” 

I licked my lips, doing my best to appear not turned on by the image of Noah in the mask. 

“Maybe. But I still think you’re missing one thing,” I said with a low voice.

Somehow I could tell he raised a brow. “Yeah?” 

Slinking up closer to him, I raked my nails down the exposed skin of his neck while whispering over his lips. 

“Those grillz I found hiding in your bathroom drawer,” I nibbled on his bottom lip before walking past him, purposely putting a little sway in my hips knowing he was watching. 

For the next few hours, I watched them rehearse the new setlist they created for the tour. I stood next to Matt in his makeshift sound desk, every so often watching what he was doing, and when they started to rehearse The Death of Peace of Mind, I couldn’t help but smirk when I thought back to the memory of hearing the song for the first time. 

Noah must have been as well because as he moved in place with the microphone held tight in his grasp, his eyes met mine before winking. 

“I miss the way you say my name. The way you bend, the way you break. Your makeup running down your face. The way you fuck, the way you taste,” his angelic voice sang. 

“Woo!” I yelled while holding up a finger. 

Suddenly a warm hue crept over my face when I realized I had said that out loud and slunk farther down in the chair next to Matt. 

“Woo?” He asked with a teasing grin. 

“I don’t know,” I shrugged while playing with a piece of lint on my sweatpants. “It just works. Every time I listen to the song, I always add the woo.” 

Noah, whose own smirk was wide and prideful, leaned against the mic stand; they had stopped playing with my embarrassing outburst. 

“I like it, it’s cute,” he admitted. 

“Maybe you should do it on tour,” Folio suggested to Noah with a wiggle of his brows. 

Groaning, I gathered up my things before walking up to Noah and kissing him. 

“I have to go. I have my appointment with Dr. Poulos. I’ll call you after.” 

“Don’t forget about this weekend, angel,” Noah pointed a finger. 

I nodded with a pout. “Right, our super secret date that I don’t get any hints for.” 

When Noah bid me goodbye with a gentle pat on my ass, Jolly’s voice stopped me before I could leave. 

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“Hm?” I adjusted the strap of my bag. 

He scratched at the large bun of hair on top of his head. “Is your therapist seeing new patients?” 

“Are you interested in therapy?” I asked with a raised brow.

“No,” Jolly shook his head with a sigh. “For Astrid. The last couple of weeks, she’s not been herself. I think with the upcoming anniversary of her father's death, she’s taking it hard but won’t talk to me about it.”

My heart sank for one of my best friends. We just hung out last night and I hadn’t noticed anything was wrong with her. 

“Shit, I had no idea.” 

Jolly set down his guitar. “She hides it very well. I only know bits and pieces about what happened to her father but I think she had someone else to talk about it with, it would help her.” 

“Definitely,” I nodded. “I’ll grab a card from Dr. Poulos and put in a good word.” 

Jolly placed a kiss on the side of my head. “Thank you.”

NOAH

The songs of birds danced around us as I held tightly on Y/N’s hands, the waves crashing at the pier below us and she clutched something tightly in her chest. 

“You didn’t have to buy this for me, you know?”

Even though she tried to chastise me for spending my money on her, I knew from the smile on her face that she was happy to have a new wolf stuffed animal; one that mirrored the one I gave her back on our tour together. 

The one Trey threw out of the window of their tour bus. 

We spent our entire afternoon at the California Wolf Center, seeing different packs of wolves up close and learning about them. The smile that Y/N had on her face as she bent low in front of the fence to say hello to one of the wolves a few feet away from her made my heart flutter wildly in my chest. 

If I didn’t already know that I loved her, I’d probably tell her for the first time at that moment. 

After a long drive back into the city, we decided to walk onto the pier for some ice cream. 

“I want to take care of you, angel,” I squeezed her hand as I led her towards a bench on the white sand. 

We both sat and watched the waves for a few minutes while Y/N read her book. I had my arm wrapped around her, smelling the hint of vanilla in her hair and the floral scent of her perfume as it clung to her skin, and glanced over to the bench across from us. It was an older couple, the man reading a book to his wife, and I cocked my head to the left, something about them oddly familiar. 

“Angel,” I rubbed her shoulder. 

She hummed, not taking her eyes off the book she was reading. I glanced at the title when she pulled it out of her bag. 

The Dare by Harley Laroux. 

When I asked what it was about, Y/N’s face turned crimson before waving me off and muttered something about how I wouldn’t like it. But when I read a few sentences over her shoulder, I could see why she blushed. 

Something about the girl being bent over the guy’s lap in a movie room and getting spanked repeatedly. 

“Y/N,” I said her name this time, pulling her attention away from the book and up to me. “Haven’t we seen them before?” 

She followed my gaze over to the older couple and pursed her lips, trying to think if we had. 

“We have! In South Carolina. You joined me at that cafe when I went to order all of us coffee that day on tour. They were walking ahead of us.”

Suddenly the light clicked on and I nodded when that day crept into my mind. I’d been so nervous to be alone with Y/N at the time but being so close to her in line and having her scent engulf me for the first time told me that she would sink herself deep inside of me. 

“What are the odds,” I muttered with a smile. 

“He’s reading a book to her,” Y/N mused. 

I dragged my fingers up and down her arm while gazing down at her. “Do you think he’s reading her a dirty book like the one you’re reading?” 

She smacked my chest causing an uproar of laughter from me.

“Are you going to get me some ice cream or what?” She raised a brow with a playful smile. 

I brushed a kiss along her forehead. “What kind?” 

Y/N tapped her chin in mock thought. “I’ll take a fudgsicle, please.”                                                                                                         

With a sweet kiss on her lips, I let her by herself with the wolf stuffed animal and book and walked over to the concession stand, noticing a long line already. 

It was a cool autumn day and everyone wanted to spend the last few hours of daylight outside. I, however, needed to waste another hour until we were able to head back to my house. As the line moved up slowly, I glanced down at my phone to read the last text conversation in the group chat with my roommates. 

Michael: Where are we supposed to stay tonight? 

Jesse: I’m staying at Maxine’s and Jolly’s staying with Astrid. 

Michael: Oh way to rub it in. I guess I’ll bunk with Malcolm and Chase. 

Me: Salem misses you 😂

Michael: I swear, if that cat bites my feet again in the middle of the night, I’m going to drop him off with you guys. 

Jolly: Everything is set up, Noah. We’ll be out of the house in an hour. 

Jesse: I don’t want to know what you have planned tonight but all I ask is please don’t touch my strawberries. They’re from Matt’s garden. 

I laughed while stuffing my phone back into the pocket of my gray sweatshirt and moved forward in line. My hood was up and pulled low over the brim of my hat, making it hard for anyone to recognize me. We’d been fortunate enough all day not to be bothered by fans but now seeing how busy the pier was, I wanted to be extra careful. Y/N and I had yet to make our relationship public and we were hoping to keep it as quiet as long as we could since we were becoming very private people. 

As the line shifted again, I noticed the older gentleman was now standing in front of me. With a quick glance back over to the seating on the beach, I saw Y/N still reading her book then realized the older woman was by herself, only to realize that her husband was standing in front of me, muttering something about the prices under his breath. 

 “That will be $5.95,” the younger woman smiled. 

“My lord, how times have changed. What do we expect in this economy?” He said.

I stifled a laugh behind my hand as I rubbed at my jaw. “You’re not kidding.” 

The older man patted the pockets of his tan jacket and then his pants. “I seem to have forgotten my wallet. Here, let this young man go ahead, I think my wife has my wallet.”

While reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet and waved to the worker behind the booth. 

“I’ll get it. Can you add a fudgesicle and vanilla cone, please?” I asked with a smile. 

As the worker went to work about getting my ice cream, the older man turned to look up at me; literally. 

“Oh, my. You’re a tall fella, you must have eaten your vegetables when you were a kid,” the man adjusted his glasses. 

“I’m a fan of tomatoes,” I shrugged with a laugh. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he nodded towards the concessions where the worker handed him his two vanilla cones. 

“It’s not a problem,” I smiled at the worker after dropping a twenty on the counter, telling her to keep the change.

“You’ve got a name, son?” The older man asked as we both began walking back towards the beach. 

“Noah,” I answered after a lick of my ice cream. 

The burst of vanilla bean pleasured my taste buds and exploded in my mouth. It reminded me of something I’d like to try later.

“Well, I’ll be,” he chuckled. “That’s my name although I had it a lot longer than you, but-.” 

He waved me off but then pointed to the exposed tattoos on my fingers. “So what do you do, Noah? You have those tattoos all over and a cool haircut. Let me guess. The arts?”

I nodded with a grin. “Yes, sir. You hit the nail right on the head! How about you?”

“Ah, what can I say? I know a thing or two about predicting things. And I’ve worked quite a few different jobs in my lifetime. Restored an old house and made an art studio for my sweetheart, even got myself in the paper. But now, the two of us are here on vacation.”

We came to a stop right where the sand and concrete met and Noah smiled while pointing over to the bench I first noticed them. 

“That’s my Allie over there. Do you have a sweetheart, young Noah?” 

“I do,” I grinned. “She’s sitting right over there, the one with the book and wolf stuffed animal.” 

Old Noah’s tired eyes drifted over to where Y/N was sitting, the wind blowing through her hair, and the sight of her looking so at peace made my heart swell. 

“You know,” I shifted on my feet. “We’ve actually seen you and your wife before. It was a few years ago at a coffee shop in South Carolina. It’s a little place called Palmieri.” 

Old Noah’s eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be. What a small world. There’s no way I’d remember a name like that.” 

I licked at the chocolate ice cream that ran down my hand from Y/N’s fudgesicle and shrugged. “It’s a place that means a lot to me.” 

“How funny is that?” Old Noah’s chuckle shook his whole small frame before giving me a wink. “If I learned anything over my lifetime, Noah. It’s that fate will always prevail.”

I couldn’t help but make a face at that, only because I was becoming such a private person so it shocked me that this older man could understand parts of my life without giving much away. All of the odds and chances were starting to feel very Twilight Zone. It made me feel vulnerable and shocked that things from the universe were real. Everyone had been saying it ever since I walked off the bus on the first day of the tour and shook her hand for the first time. 

Y/N was my soulmate and I was hers.

Old Noah must have caught the look on my face and patted my shoulder. “Don’t go too far in your head, son. It could be hard to get out of.”

“Yeah,” I muttered under my breath. 

“Well, all I’ll say is hold your sweetheart close, Noah. A woman like that is hard to come by. I promise, if the two of you treat each other right, you will live the best life together.” 

I nodded with a smile. “Thank you, sir.” 

Old Noah took a few slow steps before glancing back toward me. “Thank you for being so kind, Noah. You don’t see that much anymore. Have a great rest of your day.” 

“You too.” 

I made sure to watch as he made it back to his wife, slowly sitting down next to her and handing her the ice cream cone. There was something in the way she smiled at him; almost as if she was trying to remember something. 

Then, I glanced over to Y/N, who still had her face buried in her book with a deep crimson hue covering her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Whatever she was reading in that book had her flustered in ways that made her pull at the collar of her shirt and shift in her spot on the bench. My eyes cast downward to her wrist, the metal chain catching the setting sun and I peeked down at my own. A sudden flash of a hospital bed appeared in my mind but was gone just as quickly. 

Shaking it off, I reached Y/N and handed her the fudgesicle. 

“Thank you, mochi,” she beamed at me after setting her book down. 

We ate in silence for a few moments until I noticed a strand of hair falling into her face, nearly into the ice cream, so I brushed it away and tucked it behind her ear. 

“Your hair. It was going to get sticky.” 

She left a kiss on my cheek, the butterflies in my stomach having a whirlwind of a time. 

“You’re always taking care of me, Noah. Are you going to get ice cream out of my hair even when we’re old and gray?” Y/N asked. 

I pressed a cold kiss to her forehead. “That’s the plan.” 

Old and gray. 

“How do you think I’d look old and gray?” I wondered after finishing off my ice cream cone. 

“Oh, handsome as ever and wearing a black cardigan. I bet you’ll still have the Levi cut,” she mockingly teased, resting her head on my shoulder. 

The sounds of the waves crashing ashore and laughter from the families and variety of couples brought a weird sense of calm to my ever-racing mind and heart. I did my best to heed Old Noah’s advice to not get so far in my own mind and right now, with Y/N by my side, it made it easier. The last couple of years hadn’t been easy for either of us, especially the times we almost lost each other due to our own fucked up style of communicating. But because of therapy, we were learning and growing. 

When I watched a couple, no younger than us, splash each other in the water, I was reminded of a time, long ago, when Y/N and I did the same. 

"If you were a bird, what bird would you be?" She asked when she came to a stop in front of me. 

"Well," I ran a hand over my chin to show I was thinking deeply about this question. "According to the fanbase, they see me as a duck so I guess that."

"I love that! Oh, you know what would be funny?" She grinned. 

I shrugged. "No, but I have a feeling you'll tell me." 

"When you scream to Dethrone, you should be funny by saying this is dethrone you quacks, instead of fucks. It'd be a way of showing the fans you read everything online," she deadpanned before falling into a fit of giggles and looking up to the darkening skies above her. 

Seeing how much that small joke made her laugh made me make a mental note to say that next tour. 

"What about you? What bird would you be?" 

"A crow," she answered so fast, almost as if she thought about this question in depth before. "They’re mysterious, they’re misunderstood and always take care of the ones they love.”

I hummed with her answer. "I can see that. You'd make a lovely crow." 

She bumped her shoulder with me as the waves crashed harder around us. "You'd make a pretty cool duck. And we'd be bird friends." 

"Well," I glided my hands through the water. "If you're a bird, then I'm a bird."

“Angel,” I asked, pulling her attention away from her book. 

“Hm?” 

“If we were birds, would we be bird lovers? Because last time, we were bird friends,” I said. 

The corners of Y/N's lips curled up in a smile as if the memory was replaying in her mind like a movie. 

“We’d be the best bird lovers,” she breathed with a kiss on my lips. 

Wrapping my arm around her, we let the silence fall between us again, truly enjoying this moment together. Ever since we both released new albums, our work schedule had been packed with constant media or preparing for the upcoming tour. This was a rare weekend where we all had off so neither of us was in a rush to leave. 

Well, until I got a text from Jolly letting me know that the house was empty. 

“I think there’s a fireworks show tonight at the pier,” Y/N said while looking at her phone. 

Fireworks at the pier. 

“Noah! Stop!” Y/N giggled while wrapping her arms around my neck.

“What?” I stopped spinning. “Let you go?”

She shrieked as I nearly dropped her. “No, you idiot! Don’t let me go!”

As if I had just been slapped in the face, I sat up straighter when everything clicked into the constantly moving puzzle pieces inside my mind. 

“It’ll all connect, everything!” I muttered while chewing on my bottom lip. 

“Conjuring magic there?” 

Y/N’s giggles snapped my head towards hers as I did myself to calm my thoughts so she could understand. 

“Remember at breakfast when Jolly and I were telling you our future plans for Bad Omens?” 

She nodded, a pretty confused look on her face. “Yes?” 

“The comics, the music videos, all of it. It’ll connect,” I rambled on my idea when she still looked at me confused. 

“So, the covers would be what ifs?” Y/N asked after a moment.

I snapped my finger with an eager nod. “Yes, exactly!” 

There was still hesitation on her face as she turned to face me head-on, fingers meddling with the chain around her wrist. 

“Just Pretend? Don’t you think it kind of gives away the elusiveness of everything? Of us?” Y/N wondered. 

“Not at all, angel. Let me explain,” I linked our fingers together and then went about spending the next couple of minutes explaining my grand idea. 

READER

Oh. My. Gods. 

I came to a halt in the middle of Noah’s living room, all of my breath stolen by the bright and colorful sight in front of me. On every living room and kitchen surface were bouquets; of different sizes, colors, and kinds. On the mantle of the fireplace was a large purple bouquet of Violets. On the end table next to the couch was one of blue orchids. Spread out along the kitchen island were three large vases of pale pink peonies. Besides the flowers, candles were lit and spread out throughout the open space. 

Words felt foreign on my lips as I looked at all the other array of flowers, feeling the tears well up in the corners of my eyes and my throat burned when I tried not to let out a sob. 

“Noah,” I choked while turning to look at him. “What is all of this?” 

He was leaning against the front door with an apprehensive look on his face. Immediately, I could tell he was nervous with how tense his shoulders were. 

“We never spent Valentine’s Day together,” Noah stood up straighter and cleared his throat when it cracked. 

“But it’s March,” you giggled. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. But I wanted to give this to you. I’m trying to make up for our lost time together.” 

I walked over to the bouquets of Violets on the mantel and breathed in the sweet scent. “Do each of these have a significance?” 

This seemed to break Noah out of his nervous stupor because he took off his hood, shaking his hair before coming over to me. 

“I’m glad you asked, angel,” he smiled. “The orchids and peonies represent love and admiration in Asia. The violets, also known as the Sumire, represent life and sincerity. Its small size and delicate nature represent deep affection for someone. These flowers are very important in Japan.” 

You hummed while plucking one out of the face and twirling it between your fingers. 

“Can you guess which ones are my favorite?” 

When Noah shook his head, I plucked another one from the vase this time tucking it behind his ear. 

“The violets because my affection for you runs deep. But I think you already knew that,” you pecked his lips. 

Noah gave me a bashful smile while casting his eyes down at our feet, a crimson hue coloring his face. So I cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at me, and I could feel the nervousness almost burn my palm. 

“Mochi,” you breathed. “You’re more nervous now than when you showed me my art studio.”

He rubbed at his cheek before motioning to the flowers around us. “I’ve never done this before. Dates and being romantic. I guess I want everything to be perfect. You deserve it.” 

I brought the flower that was held between my fingers up to his nose, brushing it over the freckles there which in turn, made Noah scrunch up his nose with a quiet chuckle.

The sight of him like this, bashful and giggling, made me weak in the knees so I kept myself up by grasping at the pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“Noah, it’s just me. You don’t have to do all of this or be nervous. You know I’d be perfectly fine with a simple rose stem.” 

“It’s not just you, angel. It’s all of you, everything I do now is for you. I want to make you happy,” he said while locking his hands behind my neck. 

“You do make me happy, mochi,” you professed while playing with the flower behind his ear. 

“I know,” he nodded assuringly. “But I-I didn’t have a chance to express how much I love you and want to take care of you. You mean so much to me and whatever I can do to prove that to you, I will.” 

His smile was slanted slightly and his cheeks were still flushed as he twirled a piece of hair around his lock fingers before locking them behind my neck again; keeping me in place. 

Not that I minded. I had no reason to leave. 

“I know. I love you for it,” I kissed those lips that always tasted light and sweet, like honey. All I could taste now was how unbitter it all was. 

There was no goodbye. 

All him, all sweet. 

“You’re adorable like this, mochi. Bashful every time we kiss.” 

He playfully rolled his eyes before capturing my lips again. “Laugh it up you little brat. I need your lips like I need oxygen.” 

Little brat. 

Those two words made an inferno burn deep within my core and I let out a soft moan. Titling up my chin with slight defiance at him, I gave him a teasing wink. 

“Why don’t I show you how much of a little brat I can be?” 

My breath fanned over his lips, a tease to his words, then when something dark flashed across his eyes I knew that I had less than three seconds to create some distance between us. My laughter echoed through the space of Noah’s house as his loud footsteps chased after me. I ran from his living room, through the kitchen, and into his bedroom with his tall presence hot on my ass. 

I wanted him on me in more ways than one. 

Once inside his bedroom, I stayed on one side of the bed while Noah stood on the other, both of our chests rising and falling trying to catch our breath. His hair had become disheveled in our chase and it was falling into his face, him not making a move to brush it back. Those dark eyes stared me down through the even darker tendrils and my stomach flipped when Noah cocked his head to the side. 

“I’m waiting,” he held out his hands to the side. 

I raised a brow. “For what?” 

“For you to show me how bratty you can be,” the speed at which his tongue snapped out to wet his lips was astonishing. 

A devious smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth before I made quick work of stripping out of my clothes, letting them pool at my feet. I stood in front of Noah in nothing but a pair of crimson panties. 

“Angel,” Noah’s voice rumbled deep in his chest. 

“What?” I shrugged, innocently. 

These were his favorite pair of panties. He always raved at how they stood out against my skin tone. 

“I can smell you from here,” his nostrils flared. 

“You cannot,” I scoffed while placing my hands on my hips, purposely cocking my left hip out. 

Noah didn’t say anything, instead, he hooked a finger and beckoned me over to him. I shook my head with a wicked gleam in my eyes. 

“I’m actually kind of tired,” I stretched my arms wide, faking a yawn. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

As I stepped around the bed, Noah’s quick reflexes met me halfway causing me to scream and I jumped up on the bed to get away from him. I made it two steps on top of his bed until his strong arms wrapped around me from behind, tackling me to the bed. 

“Angel,” Noah grunted while thrusting his hips into mine. “You’re such a tease.” 

I bit back a moan. “I’m not doing anything.” 

“Really?” His long finger grazed over the lacey material of my panties, teasing my clit. 

This time I was unable to hold back the moan especially when his finger slipped underneath my panties to now gather my arousal to my clit. Noah’s teeth grazed over my collarbone, tasting me and humming in approval. 

Until some noise from his computer went off and made him groan before climbing off the bed. 

“What is that?” I asked while resting up on my elbows. 

Noah clicked on his mouse a few times. “Orie wants me to get in a game with him.” 

Suddenly, a thought came to mind and I tip-toed over to Noah, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind. 

“Play a game with him,” I breathed against the shell of his ear. 

He turned his head to glance at me over his shoulder, holding my hands against his chest. “Y/N, I can tell him no. It’s fine.” 

I shook my head with a wink. “Play a game with him, Noah. Make sure the camera is off and strip down.”

His cheeks turned a deep shade of red, almost mirroring the color of my panties before I urged him to follow my orders with a swift pat on his ass. While he accepted the game invite from Orie, Noah stripped out of his clothes and sat in his computer chair. 

“Don’t forget the headset and these,” I said while rummaging around the box underneath his bed before tossing one of the objects over at him. 

I had a box of almost the same things underneath my own bed back at home.

Noah caught what I threw him mid-air, the golden lenses catching the light from the LED lights in the room.

“I haven’t worn glasses in months, Y/N. Why would I need them now?” He questioned with a slight slant on his lips while twirling the gold round glasses between his fingers. 

Rolling my eyes, I stuffed the box back underneath his bed. 

“Wait,” he pointed a finger. “How long has that been under there? And why were my old glasses in there?” 

“Noah, please,” I semi-wined while running a hand through my hair. “Can you just-?” 

With a wave of a hand to the glasses, he eventually understood why I wanted him to put them on. 

“A little role play?” He teased while putting them on. 

I sucked in a breath at the vision of him in front of me. I’d seen streams and pictures of him wearing these glasses with his long hair and I thought he was breathtaking in them. 

Now with his short Levi haircut and all of his tattoos on full display for me, Noah somehow managed to be even more gorgeous. 

With the headset on, he fell onto the computer chair and spoke into the microphone. “Hey, Orie. Yeah, I got a little bit to play a round.” 

Once I slipped out of my panties and tossed them on Noah’s pillow, I held the black rose sex toy in one hand and when I reached the corner of the bedroom where Noah had his computer set up, I froze in place. His cock was thick, almost standing straight up with how he was sitting and I bit my lip when I watched precum ooze out of the slit. 

I noticed he was already in some game with Orie, his fingers working fast on the keys and mouse, so I pressed a finger to my lips. 

“Be quiet now, Noah. We don’t need to let Orie know what we’re doing,” I whispered while straddling him on his chair so he was able to see the computer monitor. 

“Y/N,” Noah warned. 

Ignoring him, I ripped open the condom and slowly rolled it over his cock which made him let out a low noise from his chest. 

“Shh,” I hushed while clamping a hand over his mouth. “Not so loud.” 

My stomach burned with arousal, igniting a part of me I never knew existed. My sex life had improved with Noah and I was able to find out new kinks. What we were about to do, sex with someone possibly hearing was new. I knew that Noah wouldn’t let Orie hear anything but even the thought of him hearing something turned me on. 

“Is that Y/N?” Orie’s voice sounded from Noah’s headset. 

I winked as Noah’s eyes darted from the computer monitor to me. “She’s yelling at Salem. We have him here tonight and I guess he’s being too loud or something.” 

“Wow,” I mouthed, proud of how well he came up with that lie. 

With his hands preoccupied, I adjusted myself over his cock and locked eyes with him as I sunk deep on to him. My groan caught in my throat at the fullness of Noah’s cock in my pussy. It felt fresh and new every time. 

I cringed a little from the pain due to my endometriosis but as soon as I started moving up and down, the pain began to subside. Noah’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he tried his best to keep his attention on his computer while I rode him, slow at first. 

“Angel,” he let out quietly through gritted teeth. 

Ignoring him, I flipped on the black rose, the vibrations sounding loud in the quiet room and when I touched my clit with it I wasn’t able to keep that moan quiet. 

“Fuck,” I dragged out while leaning my head back. 

“What’s that?” Orie’s voice asked through Noah’s headset again. 

“It's so good,” my body writhed against Noah’s. 

He quickly said goodbye to Orie before exiting the game and ripping off the headset. My squeals bounced off the walls when one of Noah’s hands snaked around my throat, using his thumb to hold my chin straight. 

“Such a fucking brat,” he hissed when I rolled my hips over his cock. “What if he heard you? No one is allowed to hear those pretty little moans. Just me.” 

I whined when he pulled the rose away from my clit, immediately missing the friction. 

“I didn’t-,” I was unable to finish my words because Noah wrapped his other arm around my back to pull me closer to his chest, the head of his cock hitting that spot. 

He bit down on my breast, right above my nipple, and I cried out in pleasure. 

“I should punish you,” he rasped, voice gone with lust, and began pulling his cock out. 

“No, no. I’m sorry,” I shook my head and desperately tried to stop him. 

Noah raised a brow while tightening his grip around my throat and pushed his cock in deeper. “You’re sorry?”

I did my best to nod in his grasp. “Y-yes. Please, I need you to move again.” 

He hummed and buried his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in. His pace didn’t increase, instead, it was even slower than before. It was as if he wasn’t even moving and I let out a groan of frustration. 

“Do you know how long I wanted to fuck you in this chair, Y/N?” 

Noah flicked his tongue over my nipple. “I’ve sat in this chair and thought of you so many times. My hand wrapped around my cock and pictures of you up on my screen.” 

My stomach flipped at his words, the image he painted beautifully on the canvas of my mind. 

“Were you wearing these glasses?” I motioned to them with a raise of my brows. 

“This doing it for you, angel? My glasses?” He chuckled before moving over to the other nipple, mimicking the same actions as before with his tongue. 

Every one of my senses was burned alive. It was like this every time Noah and I were connected; our souls becoming one. 

My nails scraped along his scalp as I pulled on his hair, yanking his head back so he could gaze up at me, our pace always in sync. 

“You could wear a mask and it would still do it for me,” I moaned while rolling my hips against him. 

“I can make that happen,” he promised before crashing his lips to mine in a hungry kiss. 

It was one of pure adrenaline, his tongue fighting mine for dominance and his teeth sunk deep into my bottom lip. I shook in his embrace when I felt the vibrations of the black rose against my clit again. 

“No-Noah,” I cried in ecstasy when the familiar heat spread to my core. 

“Good girl,” he praised in between devouring my mouth. “Say my name again.” 

“Noah,” I sang when my orgasm was on the crest, begging me to let go. 

His cock was fucking into me with absolutley no remorse. The chair beneath us was creaking and I was sure we’d break it at any given moment. My breasts were pressed tightly against his chest and the sharp metal of his chain digging into my skin added more blissful pain. My body was pulled tight with tension, knowing any moment I would snap. 

“You know what to do, angel,” Noah spoke huskily as his cock twitched inside of me when he smacked my ass. “Don’t make me fucking ask.” 

Locking eyes with him, I cried out my orgasm as my body writhed in his tight grasp, and Noah created some space between us to glance down where our bodies connected. It was wet, more than usual, and his eyes snapped away from the soaked condom and lap. 

“Angel,” his voice was deep, dropping an octave. “Did you just squirt?” 

I couldn’t speak; my orgasm took every single ounce of energy out of me. Instead, I nodded while resting my forehead against his chest and smacked away the vibrator that was still held against my clit. The aftershocks were too much and I was afraid of crumbling in his embrace. 

“So,” Noah grunted with a thrust. 

“Fucking.” 

Thrust. 

“Hot.” He growled out his release, spilling into the condom, and held me tighter against him. 

Gentle fingers grazed up and down my spine, as we both came down from our highs and I hummed in delight when Noah’s lips pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“I don’t think I could ever sit in this chair again without thinking of you,” he mused with a light chuckle. 

Sitting up straighter, I tapped his cheek. He was still wearing those glasses and it made my pussy clench over his slightly limp cock. 

“I wonder what else we can fuck on in your house to make you think of me,” I joked before climbing off of him. 

Noah’s fingers gripped tighter into the flesh of my hips to keep me in place and he winked. “Let’s find out.” 

The next morning, I woke to gentle kisses down my spine and I smiled in my sleep haze. 

“Mm, good morning,” I grumbled into the pillow as I tucked it deep under my chin. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Noah’s gruff and sleep-filled voice made my stomach twinge but then I internally groaned when the pain from last night started to creep back into my bones. 

“I’m still sore after last night,” I sighed while turning over in bed to face him. He was freshly showered, with water droplets clinging to his hair, and wore clean clothes. 

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked while brushing away the mess of hair from my face. 

I shook my head with a lazy smile. “Not at all. I wanted all of that.” 

To reassure Noah, I kissed his lips tenderly; my essence still lingered. 

“Hungry?” He asked after pulling away. 

“Starved! Someone kept me up all night,” I exaggerated while sitting up in bed, clutching the sheet to my naked body. “I’m going to shower quickly.” 

 Ten minutes later, I stepped into the kitchen just in time to see Noah. I could see the blood rushing to his soft and full cheeks, as he continued talking with the guys who had gotten home. The mortification of knowledge was evident.

Jolly, Michael, and Jesse. 

“What’s going on?” I asked while stuffing my hands in my hoodie pocket. 

Taking a closer look at Jolly, a bright red material that was hanging loosely on his shoulder caught my attention and I stifled my gasp behind my hand. 

“Why was your swimsuit top hanging from the ceiling fan?” He questioned. 

My eyes darted to Noah. “I thought you said you cleaned up!” 

“I might have missed a few things,” he held up his hands in defense. 

I ran inside, giggles bouncing off the walls, as Noah chased me and nearly slipped on the kitchen floor due to his wet feet. 

“We can’t fuck in the Jacuzzi, Noah! The guys use it too,” I stood on the other side of the large kitchen island with my hands on my hips. 

Noah wore a wicked smirk. “They won’t know, angel.” 

I untied my swimsuit top and threw it up in the air, catching it on the ceiling fan in the kitchen. 

“If you catch me, you can fuck me where ever you want.” 

Michael came down the stairs with a troubled look in his eyes. “Why is there a folder on the computer in the studio labeled Y/N private?” 

“Oi vey,” I pinched my eyes shut while Noah rubbed my back. 

“You didn’t open it did you?” He asked. 

“No,” Michael shook his head but then his shoulders dropped. “Do I even want to know?”

“Louder! Say it louder, angel!” 

Noah grunted as he thrusted his cock into my pussy with such force, I screamed into the microphone. 

“Noah! Don’t stop. Please!” 

“Who do you belong to?” He demanded to know, sinking his teeth deep into my shoulder. 

“YOU!” I cried out with my orgasm. 

Jolly sighed while falling onto the couch and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. 

“Everything alright?” I questioned while sitting next to him. 

He gave a half shrug. “Last night was rough for Astrid. She kept waking up with nightmares.” 

My heart dropped, knowing that her father's death was bothering her more than she would admit to anyone; even Jolly. 

“Has she talked with Dr. Poulos?” 

“No,” he ran his hands over his long thighs. “She told me she’ll reach out when she’s ready.” 

I patted his shoulder. “I’ll stop by Fika today and chat with her. I’m sure she’d like that.” 

Jolly smiled. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

The sound of rummaging around the fridge and a loud gasp made me turn my attention towards Jesse, who was holding up an empty crate. 

“My strawberries!” He exasperated while running a hand through his curls. “These were from Matt’s garden. Did you guys have to eat all of them?” 

Noah and I shared a look. “Sorry, man. They were delicious.” 

“Noah,” I breathed while pulling on my bindings. 

The cool granite beneath my warm skin brought shills to my body. I was laid spread out wide for him on the kitchen counter, blindfolded, and hands tied up above my head. 

I couldn’t see him but felt when he bit into the fruit, its juices spilling over my clit, then his warm tongue was there to clean it up. 

“Fucking divine,” Noah groaned. 

Jesse tossed the empty container in the trash before grumbling something under his breath while sitting on the couch opposite Jolly and I. Noah was finishing breakfast. When Jolly shifted in his spot next to me, my heart leaped in my throat when I saw what he had in his hand. 

“The mask, huh?” He smirked. “Didn’t think you’d be into the yellow one.” 

“NOAH SEBASTIAN!” I bellowed. “Did you just stuff the mask in the cushion hoping no one would find it?” 

He didn’t respond, simply humming along to the tune in his head. 

Michael began cleaning up the scattered mess on the coffee table when something fell out of the small black bag in his hand. 

A set of shiny grillz. 

“So good,” I murmured while running my hands through Noah’s hair as I lay on the coffee table. 

His dark almond eyes looked up at me as he continued the onslaught on my pussy with his tongue. The richness of his eyes stood out against the stark contrast of the yellow mask he wore. When he grazed his teeth over my clit, I hissed in slight pain. 

“Shit, mochi!” 

“Sorry, angel,” he whipped at his mouth, the shiny grillz on his teeth catching the light overhead. 

The slight pain turned to arousal at the sight of him and I pushed his head back towards my clit. “Don’t fucking stop.”

“Are those,” Jolly leaned closer to Michael. “Are those your show grillz?” 

“Fuck, they still look wet!” Michael dropped them to the table. 

I groaned while sinking further into the couch, hiding my face behind my hands. 

“Alright,” Noah sighed while setting down the spatula and I noticed his ears were beet red. “You guys are embarrassing Y/N! So I missed a few things, sue me.” 

“I’d like to,” Jesse grumbled while crossing his arms. “Ate all my strawberries.” 

“It’s alright,” I reassured them with a smile. “I’m sorry about the mess.” 

Micahel stomped up the stairs. “I need to take a shower to scrub out the images of you and Y/N fucking all over the house.” 

Standing up from the couch, I walked over to Noah and laid a soft kiss on his warm cheeks. “I think after breakfast we should head to the farmers market. Buy Jesse some replacement strawberries.” 

“Might as well invite Matt,” Noah suggested. 

I shook my phone in my hand. “Already on it.” 

As I helped Noah set up the table with the breakfast spread he cooked, neither of us heard the conversation between Jolly and Jesse; who were watching us with a smile. 

“You do know that when she moves in, it’s going to be like this all the time right?” Jesse chuckled. 

“Yeah, but look how happy Noah is. He deserves this,” Jolly said. 

NOAH

I bounced on the soles of my feet with excitement as I waited in the lobby, hoping to find that familiar face in the crowd of people. Y/N was joining me on the road for the last week of the tour and after being away from her for two weeks, my soul was yearning to feel complete again. This was the longest we’d gone without seeing each other and all of our Facetime calls paled in comparison to actually seeing her beautiful face. 

Throughout the crowd, a spot of aquamarine hair rushed past, only to stop when she recognized it was me. 

“Hey, Bryan said you were handing out the key cards?” The woman adjusted the camera bag over her shoulder while gripping her suitcase with her free hand. 

Our photographer fill-in for Lana. 

She tried to give me a small smile but knowing what she’d gone through the last two weeks, outside of work, I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt for what I was about to do. It’d been a plan of mine and the guy's since the other day, hoping it would fix the issue that had been plaguing her. 

“Yeah,” I pulled out a familiar keycard, one I had just handed to Matt moments ago, and gave it to her. “We’re thinking of dinner and karaoke tonight if you’re interested.” 

She tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “Y/N’s coming, right?” 

I couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread to my lips. “Yeah, she should be here any minute.” 

“Cool, count me in. No offense but I’m sick of all the testosterone,” she giggled before giving me a wave and heading over to the elevators. 

“If this plan doesn’t work, I’m going to lock them up in a closet to resolve whatever they have going on,” I muttered under my breath. 

“Talking to yourself, mochi?” 

Swirling on my heels, I gazed down at Y/N who was smiling and wearing the communal gray Chief sweater. 

“Hi, angel,” I quickly wrapped my arms around her and breathed in her familiar scent. 

Y/N buried her face in my chest and her hands dug at the back of my shirt. “I’ve missed you.” 

Tilting her chin up, I left a deep kiss on her lips, not caring if anyone around us saw. 

“I missed you too,” I brushed my nose along hers, and with my arm wrapped around her, I began leading her toward the elevators. 

“You dyed your hair?” I asked as we stopped in front of the closed doors. 

She wrapped her arms around my midsection and squeezed. “My roots were coming in and I needed it to look fresh for the photos. But speaking of hair colors. The girl you were talking to, was that-?” 

I nodded with a sigh. “Yep. They’re still not talking though.” 

As we stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed behind us, I held onto Y/N’s suitcase as she looked up at me, still wrapped in my free arm. 

“Did you do what I suggested?” Y/N asked. 

“Yep, they’re sharing a room right now. So if we hear yelling they’re most likely working things out,” I said while stepping off the elevator and heading towards the hotel room. 

“YOU’RE INSUFFERABLE!” 

“REALLY? LAST TIME I CHECKED, YOU LOVED IT WHEN MY LIPS WERE ON YOURS!” 

Y/N came to a stop in front of our door and pointed to the room next to ours. “I’m guessing that’s Matt’s room?” 

“Yep,” I popped the ‘P’ as the door clicked open. 

Once we were inside, I let Y/N get settled with unpacking her things as I lounged on the bed to watch with a loving gaze. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that after everything we’d gone through to get to this point, Y/N still wanted me. 

I fucked up; a lot.

I made mistakes but those mistakes didn’t make me. 

I fought with myself, with her, with others, to finally get here. To finally have Y/N as mine and secretly in that moment, I vowed to continue to prove to her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me. 

A buzzing on the bed pulled my gaze away from Y/N’s beauty and saw her phone lit up with a message. 

“Can you check it for me?” She asked before stepping into the bathroom. 

Mom: Y/N, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the last week. Call me. I have something important to talk to you about. You can’t be busy with this job of yours so call me back. 

“It’s your mom,” I informed with furrowed brows. “She’s been trying to get in touch with you?”

Y/N sighed while plopping down on the bed next to me. “Yeah. It’s probably she got a new job or met some new guy that she's going to get bored with after a week. It’s nothing important.” 

I’d known Y/N for years now and I also knew when she was keeping something from me. 

I brushed away the hair that fell loose from her bun. “Is there something else going on? You know you can talk to me, angel.” 

Her eyes shone as she gazed up at me, laying a soft kiss on my palm. “I know, mochi. I know. I just don’t feel like getting lectured right now. I’m finally here with you, I don’t want her to ruin it.” 

“Alright,” I eventually nodded, and for the time being ignored the way her face fell when she deleted the text message from her mom. 

Y/N motioned to the wall opposite of us, where Matt’s room was. 

“Do you think they’ll hook up?” 

I snorted a laugh. “What’s with you setting up our friends?” 

She shrugged. “I just want him to be happy. I want our friends to have what we have.” 

“So you’re saying you’re happy?” I rested my forehead against hers, breathing in the familiar scent of her peach body wash. 

“I am very happy,” she breathed before kissing my lips. “What about you?” 

“Very,” a kiss to her lips. 

“Very.” 

Another kiss. 

“Happy.” 

Another kiss. 

When her giggles filled the room, my heart stuttered in my chest. “I love you, Y/N.” 

She twirled a strand of my hair around her finger. “I love you too, Noah.” 

I laid there with her in my arms for a long time, the never-ending silence becoming a bit of comfort to us. We could lay next to each other for hours, not saying a word to each other, but we both knew how much we loved each other. 

“Oh before I forget,” Y/N removed herself from my tight grasp, and her voice carried from the bathroom. “I brought some facemasks. I thought we could stay in and relax. I know you have a long day of rehearsals and the show tomorrow.” 

Facemasks. 

Hotel room. 

Suddenly there was a vice grip around my throat, caging in the oxygen I was desperate to take back. Its large claws dug into my jugular, making the room tilt on its axis. I couldn’t center on my breathing, I couldn’t focus on anything in front of me. 

“I didn’t bring any nail polish this time,” Y/N’s giggle barely broke through the haze. “And I can’t braid your hair.”

Nearly stumbling over the suitcases on the ground, I rushed past Y/N just as she stepped out of the bathroom and let the door to the hotel room slam behind me. The air in the hallway of the hotel was thicker, nearly making it impossible to catch my breath. The tight grip around my lungs and heart would not let up. 

"I know what I feel. It’s not you, it’s me, Noah."

I shook my head furiously when the past began to creep in.

"No. Fuck, angel! Stop! The future hasn't even happened yet. Please, don't-what do you need to happen?"

Y/N’s bottom lip trembled as a broken sob clawed its way through her throat. "I-I think we need to remain friends right now. I can't-I can't get lost in you, Noah. It's so fucking easy to. I think we need space."

How she looked that night, moments before leaving me, continued to haunt me. 

"I-I don't fucking want that, Y/N. I just want you!” My voice bellowed.

"Noah, please understand where I'm coming from," she begged.

"Angel-I. Please, just-," I eventually sighed in defeat.

Her broken eyes shined with her tears. "I'm going to head out."

I dug my palms into my eyes as I stood in the middle of the hallway, trying to stop letting my mind fall back into the past. All it took was two fucking words and I was back to that shell of a man I used to be. 

Face masks.

I immediately flooded to where I was before all this. I felt like a scolded child with aging wounds.

Embarrassing. 

Why did I just do that? Why did I leave the room for air? When the air I needed was back in the room? The emotional hurricane was in full force today. On the surface, it’s joking and light, but then it wants to pull me into the vortex. With each jibe, I feel the winds clipping wings of my own. I can’t allow it. 

I refused. 

I won’t circle the fucking drain. I began to feel my body relax and my voice flowed out calmly, instead of me being pulled in. 

I decided I needed to inhale the air I could never survive without.

“Keaton,” I cried softly while rubbing at the ache in my chest. “I need you, man. Please tell me everything will be alright.” 

With the feeling of someone holding me upright, a soft breeze blew through my hair in the middle of the hotel hallway. A door down the hall opened, catching my attention immediately was a man wearing an all too familiar band t-shirt. 

Too Close To Touch.

Along with the soft touch encasing me, I let out a quiet hum as a haunting flow of lyrics poured out of me. 

“If you still want to sing, fill in the blanks we need. You can do it through me while you're gone.”

Then as quickly as those arms wrapped around me, they were gone and I felt alone in the hallway. But not before a soft voice whispered in my ear. 

It’s okay.

Knocking on the hotel room door, realizing I didn’t have my key, I saw Y/N’s dark eyes staring daggers into me. All that inner rage inside those beautiful eyes made the guilt for walking away from her eat away at me even further; I deserved it. 

When the frustration builds and I think I might explode, I have to remember to take a deep breath. So many times I’ve wanted to say things, or say anything. It was a long process with learning how to deal with it. 

Her nostrils flared as I gently walked past her into the hotel room. Y/N needed to hear my explanation. I was ready to move forward. Reaching for a life I so badly yearned for with her. Here she was, in front of me. She was mine and she loved me. 

Say something, you idiot!

“Angel-.” I began. 

“What the fuck was that?” She whipped her head back at the door.

Oh shit, she’s mad.

The voice in my head didn’t sound like mine. Instead, it sounded like an old friend. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. It’s just when you mentioned face masks and braids, my mind went back to a place, a darker place,” my hands shook as I stuffed them in my sweater pocket. 

The anger in Y/N’s eyes vanished when it clicked for her what moment I was talking about. 

“Mochi,” her voice wavered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to go back to that night. I know how hard it was for you, for both of us. I just thought we could recreate that night, the positives, and make up for the negatives.” 

I linked our hands together to pull her into my chest, laying a chaste kiss on her lips. 

“I’m ready to create many positive memories with you, angel.” 

“Good,” she gave a small nod. “But next time something like this bothers you, please talk to me. Because you can't just run from sadness when it gets too hard to stay.” 

“Really?” I snorted. “You’re using my lyrics on me?” 

“Did it work?”

I wanted to kiss that hopeful smile off her face. 

Instead, I winked and then pressed my hips into her, my cock brushing along her pussy. “You tell me.”

“You know,” her fingers danced through my hair. “I do miss a few things about that night.”

I cocked a brow. “Yeah?” 

Y/N stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips across mine. “I missed how I rode your cock while pulling on your braids.”

I shook my hair in her face. “You can still pull, angel.” 

With one quick scoop, I had her in the air for a few moments before her body fluttered to the bed like the angel she was; her giggles bouncing off the walls. I was on her in a flash, attacking her lips with mine. Ravishing them like a man starved, wanting to lick up every last drop of the meal put out in front of him. Her tongue always molded perfectly with mine and Y/N hummed in delight when she tasted me. 

“Shit, mochi,” she moaned while arching her neck back as I attacked the sweet spot between her shoulder and neck. 

My cock twitched underneath my sweats and I rutted into her thigh. “Angel, I missed you.” 

She reciprocated the feelings by kissing me again and slipping her hands underneath my sweater to drag her nails down the tattoos on my stomach. I shivered under the touch, loving the feeling of the burn her nails left behind, and I stripped her of her clothes, me following suit—all the while our lips never left each other. 

Her skin on mine felt like the wings of an angel; soft and almost incandescent. 

Her lips were like honey, sweet and sticky with gloss. 

The arousal that I gathered with my fingers and sucked clean had a lingering tangy taste, something I found myself wanting more of. 

A scent and taste that was distinctively Y/N. 

“I love you,” I vowed in between kisses while I pumped my fingers in and out of her, using my other hand to lock her hands above her head.

“I love you,” she keened when my knuckle brushed over that spot. 

The last time we shared a hotel bed, it ended with two broken souls, desperate to be molded back together. They spent months yearning to find each other again and now that they were connected again, we both refused to let something so minuscule as face masks ruin it. 

READER

“Noah, stop!” I giggled when his lips brushed along the shell of my ear.

“Please, angel,” his gruff voice begged as his arms wrapped around me from behind. 

I turned in his embrace, linking my fingers behind his neck, and marveled at those almond eyes I adored so much. 

“No, Folio and Michelle are going to be here any minute,” I reminded him. 

Noah adjusted the glasses on his nose with a pout. He woke up this morning with irritated eyes and not wanting to make it worse with contacts, he opted to wear his glasses. 

Not that I minded, it reminded me of the time in his computer chair. 

The tour ended a few days ago and now that all of us were back home, we decided to meet up at the local aquarium so Folio could finally introduce us to his girlfriend. But Noah, however, had other plans; ones that involved us sneaking into the backseat of his SUV so he could fuck my throat. 

Tempting. 

“He’s been talking about introducing us to Michelle for two months now, are we sure today is the day?” Noah asked. 

I shrugged while pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I think so. Look how nervous he looks!” 

Both of us gazed over to the other end of the lobby of the aquarium where Folio stood alone, hands shaking at his sides. We could practically see his heart jumping out of his chest due to his nerves. 

“He’s never been this nervous before,” Noah murmured. 

“Can you blame him? Look what she’s about to walk into,” I waved a hand at our large group. 

Chase and Malcolm were looking at the large tank in the lobby that housed a variety of fish. Chase had his hand on Malcolm's lower back as he whispered something in his ear. 

Jolly and Astrid stood a few feet away from us, a small smile pulling at her lips when he braided her long white hair for her. 

Jesse and Maxxine stood with Davis, Michael, and Matt, conversing about something we couldn’t hear. But I watched with careful eyes as Matt’s gaze kept darting back to one certain area in the lobby; where a blue-haired girl was currently talking with Bryan. 

Most likely about cameras.

When Matt’s eyes locked with mine, I motioned with a finger over to the girl but he rolled his eyes playfully before going back to talking with Michael.

Nicholas had sauntered up to Folio, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

There were a lot of us in our group but we were family. All of us. 

“Folio! How did you and Michelle meet?” Davis questioned when all of us met in the middle of the lobby. 

“At the Harley shop,” he chuckled, his earring shaking with the rumble of his body. “She wore her Motley Crue shirt and these cheetah flare suede pants. Her lips were red as fuck, I’ll remember those lips anywhere.”

All of us could hear the dreamy tone in his voice when he spoke about her and how the first thing that caught his attention was how she stood up to the man behind the counter who almost refused her service because he thought she didn’t know anything about bikes. 

“I thought she was going to kick this guy's ass until I stepped in. We hit it off right away and she asked if I wanted to visit this Mexican ice cream shop around the block,” Folio smiled. 

Just then someone walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around him, and I could see all the nerves slip out of his fingers. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips with a kiss. 

Michelle smiled, showcasing off those red lips. “Hi, cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon? Really?” Matt teased when Folio’s cheeks turned a deep crimson. 

“Everyone, this is Michelle. My girlfriend,” he said with a proud smile. 

While all the introductions happened, I gave her a big welcoming hug, I left Noah with a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Where are you going?” He pouted while reaching for my hips again. 

I giggled and playfully smacked his hands away. “I’m going to talk to Matt quickly.” 

Immediately Noah understood and dismissed me with a gentle pat on my ass. I found Matt standing a few feet away from the group of girls, his own dreamy smile on his face as he watched her carefully. 

“Hey,” I tipped the rim of his hat. “It’s rude to stare.” 

“Like you’re the one to talk,” he playfully shoved me. “With all the staring you and Noah did before you got together.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Very funny, Dierkes. I just came over to see how things are going with a certain fairy?” 

Suddenly as if she heard me speak of her, that familiar airy laughter reached Matt, who clutched at his heart. 

“I’m so fucked,” he admitted with a slight lift of his lips. 

[r0-boat]

Yessssss I lOvE your headcanons about the 2 unreleased kings 😋 must be because I love dark headcanons.... (and that in Abbadon is something couldn't miss out 😈)

But can you do some moreeee? 🥺 Like about the headcanons about interactions between kings perhaps (seven kings---!!!!) Or maybe between kings and MC pls 😚 I kinda crave for some dark contents right now (cus when I first play WHB, I already expect this 👀)

Only if you're fine with this request, and jusst ignore it if you don't okie 😘

Oh my God interactions with the Kings hshshs

I mostly just have really stupid headcanons about those guys interacting but I got some dark ones

Dark!whb King headcanons

speculation for asmodeus and belphegor(I'm writing these two before they come out)

Cw: yandere, murder, drugging/drugs, death, cannibalism, sexual slavery mentions of being sold off, most of this shit is just talking about a black market shcsdgj. This shit is dark dead dove do not eat

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything I write This is purely for fantasy written by adults for adults only!

Links to little asks about people's questions

Question one about Satan's desires

Question two on Mammon

Satan

I don't think we talk about Satan's depression as much as we should have. What I feel like you would think himself as a wrathful monster unable to control his wrath, sometimes he would have depressive episodes where his personality is a completely 180. He's just as angry at himself as he is at everyone else.

The first time you've witnessed this depressive episode is when he accidentally struck you and made you bleed. His whole body starts shaking as he began to break down He tore apart his room and started crying and took weeks for him to calm down.

The reason why his subordinates are okay with him taking out his anger and physically hurting them is because if he doesn't have an outlet he'll take out it on himself.

Satan is dependent on you for his emotional needs. He loves you, and he needs you; please do not leave him.

Satan is definitely holding back a lot of his dark thoughts because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back these darker desires. Normally he tells you everything, but he doesn't want to scare you. He wants you to like him.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a budding yandere, He already stalks you. Trying to keep his obsessive thoughts underneath a layer of hatred. That hatred mixing into more obsession. Of course he wants you to love him, but he also wants to be hated by you just as much as he is loved because it gets him on your mind. And that's really all he wants. It doesn't matter if he makes you hate him. As long as you're thinking about him he is okay with that.

Because of his abuse as a child from angels I would not doubt he wouldn't know how to normally show affection.

He has killed another devil for you. And he will gladly do it again. He sends the heads of lower rank devils that you dare show a smile too under the name "You're admirer" isn't he so romantic.

Leviathan only tolerates the kings being around you because chilling one of them or they're subordinates would start a war. So to have you he must use sneakier tactics.

Beelzebub

He has a fantasy where he roofies you at a bar and takes you home with him. Whenever you go to the bathroom thinking that Your drink is safe with him, He stares blankly into the glass, thoughts swirling with mental images of your nice loopy giggly self being laid on his bed.

Angels taste like chicken, humans taste like beef, demons taste like pork. Humans so far is his favorite. Humanoid meat especially humans are delicacy and highly illegal in the Tartaros black market. A delicacy He has been recently craving.

If he ever dies he wants his last meal to be you after he fucks you of course.

Levi gives the bodies of the devils he has killed too Beel to eat.

Beel definitely does drugs He's mostly immune now... He hates that Adderall doesn't affect him the same as the others.

Mammon

Tartaros is home to the rich and the very powerful. They hold grandiose special parties where the wealthy gather. Of course Mammon attends these parties. These demons see you as a pretty little exotic pet unknowing that Mammon is the pet and you are the master. And these same demons frequently talk about how they would buy you at any price, talking about your body as if you are a piece of meat and a prize to be bought and sold. Sadly you are not for sale.

As the demon of greed flaunting is his specialty And he has definitely thought about telling you up and all his gold and jewels to bring you to one of these parties to show you off. As a message saying 'This is something you cannot have.

Mammon knows of the Tartaros Black market and he turns a blind eye, but he will gladly do something if you tell him to. Or if belphie gets off his ass and strong arms him.

Giving him a little more because getting asked for it: Mammon doesn't do shit about the black market because He owns part of it and he practically created it. This man runs his kingdom like a mafia and he is a mob boss. Shady dealings to other kingdoms smuggling goods anything for More money and greater goods.

Lucifer

Has purchased a human corpse from the same black market for scientific purposes he swears up and down.

He slowly corrupting himself He beats himself up over it but at the same time he kind of likes it.

"hey can I cut you open and look at your organs? No? Oh okay..."

Lucifer because of his past as an angel suddenly gets urges to kill you. They have gone down over time since his transformation as a devil but he really shouldn't be getting this hard over thoughts of putting his hands around your neck.

Makes aphrodisiacs as a paid commission for asmodeus. And asks you to test the drugs.

If you ever die he wants to keep your beautiful eyes.

Your blood is a beautiful drug like sweet wine. He's obsessed with the taste

Belphegor

Belphegor and his superpower of a kingdom are the only reason why the Kings actually give a damn about their laws. Nifleheim is a strong powerhouse and a great enemy to those who don't want to make one of them.

However, Belphegor isn't all justice and the law and order in fact far from that. He is the law whatever he wants he can bypass it and everyone will turn a blind eye. If you were ever sold by Mammon to the highest bidder Belphegor would be your buyer.

Grand spectacles of public executions are very popular thing in Nifleheim(Belphie Danganronpa fan)

The real horror is that belphie invest in cryptocurrency and has an NFT/j

Belphie is also completely dependent on you and he will make you stay any way necessary.

Belphie only hasn't cracked down on the others harder as he should is because he doesn't give a fuck what happens in other kingdoms if it is in his own.

Belphie thinks Asmodeus is a disgusting freak. Leviathan is an amateur to him. Satan and belphie would get along pretty well I think they would be FPS partners.

Asmodeus

All of hell's most heinous devils come here because the laws are so lax. You're wondering why this kingdom hasn't fall to complete anarchy... Apparently getting you addicted on sex and then withholding it as a punishment is surprisingly very effective.

Asmodeus would love to have you but hasn't invite you yet because... Well if your kingdom is filled with half trained rabid dogs and you throw a nice fine steak inside.... Yeahhh.

Asmodeus is actually a pretty nice dude, He's very calm, polite and chivalrous. Which makes you wonder how much of that is a mask. Something you'll never know.

Asmodeus has a harem I think that goes without saying. And he talks greatly about adding you to that harem and how you would be his favorite~

It's no secret that I think humans are a very sexualized being in hell. Asmodeus is one of the demons with a huge human kink. Humans in his eyes are still primal animals which is part of their biggest appeal to him.

Asmodeus thinks belphie has a stick up his ass and he needs to loosen the fuck up