#words can be bitter if you do it right and damn does bitter taste sweet

[m1d-45]

And you, teddy anon (and midas ofc), never fail to come up with scenarios that my mind is all too happy to jump on. ❤️

Imagine then, after the Creator has finally been rescued and tended to, they finally wake up after sleeping for a very long time, they see that they’re in a painfully familiar, urban place. Upon realising that they’re not in, say, a hilichurl camp or are otherwise in the wilds, they panic and scramble to try and leave (they think that they’re still being hunted). Then in comes one of their characters (or they bump into them in a corridor or sth).

Off the top of my head, I see a few directions that this could go:

1. Creator tries to plead with the character to let them leave, or are otherwise trying to find an opportunity to escape. Due to their panicked state, they interpret their character’s gestures as hostile or are otherwise trying to trick them into lowering their guard. Maybe they were betrayed by someone (or that one in particular) during the hunt (I can see characters like Kaeya and Ayato doing this) and they’ve been very guarded against similar tactics since. Bonus points if they have the ability to teleport like the Traveler does.

2. Creator tries to defend themselves with their budding elemental power that they are just starting to learn to control.

3. Creator outright gives up. They shake their head, thinking themself foolish for ever believing that they could escape forever, that this was their just desserts for even trying to defy fate. They smile at their character and tell them that they win, and to go ahead and end them. More likely if said character had been extremely persistent in hunting them (e.g. Kaeya). Imagine then that they’re bracing themselves for the final blow, but then they feel warmth. They open their eyes in shock and realise that the character is hugging them close, whispering, “I’m sorry”, or “Forgive me” over and over again. Maybe the character even cries a little.

- cryo anon, whose brain can actually come up with fluff occasionally

oh my god cryo anon my dearly beloved

they’re kinda just merged together because i kinda went off so

you maybe waking up in the estate, sitting up on shaking arms. you don’t remember much, mostly just a blur; thoma shouting at you, a white kimono and a sharp, commanding voice. the details are a haze, and the room you’re in is unidentifiable. there’s a potted plant in a white and purple vase, a dark wood closet, the sheets soft- or maybe they’re not, and you’re simply used to dirt and scratchy sacks?

you don’t know. you have a headache. the door opens, and you delay so long in turning that the person has a chance to shout something down the hallway—does wonders for your migraine—before coming in. when you do look, you wish you hadn’t.

ayato is the last person you want to see on inazuma. you’d met him once before, banged up and hiding near inazuma city. he’d seen you, you thought, seen your blood, your dirty bandages and knotted hair, and you thought he’d known that you couldn’t be a threat.

you didn’t hear what he said, but you pull away from his hand when he reaches for you anyway. where are you? why are you here? your hands were wrapped, your aches had ceased, the room is cool and his eyes are warm-

“i mean no harm,” he says quietly, but all you can think of is the past, of the bustling streets behind him when he found you tucked in an alley, bruised and bleeding.

you don’t want to believe him. you don’t anyway.

if it weren’t for the fact that your legs were broken, you would have run away.

[sluttysnowangel666]

Weeping Waters - cregan stark x reader

this story was inspired by this post!! i suggest you follow the op they were kind enough to let me write a story inspired by it❤️ @weirdiingwoman

summary: whilst on a trip for a tourney to celebrate queen rhaenyra’s succession to the throne, lord stark brings his child hood friend to keep him company. however a blistering hot day sends the northerner’s searching for relief from the sun. when they come across a hidden spot on the beach, cregan agrees to stand guard and keep watch so the lady can swim.

cw: au, no dance of dragons or war just cregan and his lady being secretly in love, smut as always, cregan is a SIMP for his lady just down historically bad for her , loss of virginity, fingering, friends to lovers, beach sex

“Gods, when will it end?” You moan out, fanning yourself to no avail.

Cregan doesn’t acknowledge your relentless whining, only sighs in response. The heat was torture, that was for damn sure. He nearly begun to feel sick from the mix of the moist air and putrid smell of King’s Landing.

After living in Winterfell for so long, his nose had grown blind to the familiar scents of his home. But now, after being away for weeks to celebrate the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cregan had grown desperate to return to the smell of winter.

You groaned and whined and groaned some more, only adding to Cregan’s already heightened irritation.

“Cregannnn!” You whined, dragging your feet while your sweaty hands held up your dress so it wasn’t pummeled with whatever strange liquids manifested themselves on the ground.

“I don’t know what you wish me to do, my lady.” He responds, flatly, growing ever so annoyed with you. “Tis’ the last day of the tourney, and then we will be home shortly thereafter.”

“I am ill equipped for this place.” You say, looking at the long sleeves of your dress that were now damp with sweat.

You arrive to the tourney, walking through the red and black dragon decorated festival. Your arm is linked in Cregan’s as you both take the steps to the table of other high lords. Cregan had refused to participate in the tourney, but encouraged his men to. Today Cregan’s right hand man and your brother, Jon Manderly, would go up against the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Criston Cole. Your proximity with Cregan made those around you assume you were the Lady of Winterfell, and did not realize you were there representing House Manderly.

“Let’s hope our brother does not die today.” You mumble. Cregan smirks, but your words sting him slightly. Our brother. As if the three of you were siblings. He dared never admit it, but he was in love with you. In love with you how a Targaryen man was oft in love with their sister. He would give anything if it meant he could actually make you Lady of Winterfell. But he knew you did not love him the same, and although your father was desperate for Cregan to ask your hand he would never jeopardize the friendship he shared with you and your brother.

He glanced down at your lap, your hands folded properly between your thighs. Gods, what he wouldn’t give.

The day would be long, and your brother’s fight was the last joust of the day. Only then could you finally go home to your cold bliss. But until that time came, you all had to suffer the blazing fury of the sun.

You sipped on the sweet wine that had been brought to you by servants, twisting your features at the fruity taste. The flavor was that of one you were not used to, given the ale in the North was oft bitter and strong.

“This wine is disgusting.” You say to Cregan. He picks up his own cup, taking a quick swig before doing the same thing you did.

“I told you.” You laugh, pushing his strong arm.

“You weren’t jesting, my lady. That is a very unpleasant wine.”

“Well, maybe I have a surprise for you later.” She whispered.

Despite the heat, he shivered at her words and his stomach swirled with anticipation.

The day seemed to drag on. Although the morning had been hot, it was nothing compared to the sun at midday. None of the southerner’s seemed fazed, but you and Cregan were drenched head to toe in sweat. It looked as if you had both bathed, that was how wet your hair was. Your sweat had seeped through your dress in every crevice. It was so hot in fact, you and Cregan were both panting like overworked dogs and now suddenly that sweet wine was a delicious and cool reprieve from the heat.

“Cregan, please can we sneak out of here?” She asks.

“And go where?”

“I don’t care! Just somewhere cool. There’s got to be some sort of water near here that isn’t filled with gods know what.”

He knew he should’ve stayed, but you had that pleading look in your eye and gods was it hot. He was growing so delirious from the heat that he would do anything you asked of him.

You both mumbled a quiet excuse to the other lords at the table, saying you were off to pray or something. The lords gave you both confused looks, but you were already off.

You ran holding your dress in your hands so you didn’t trip over the skirts, and you giggled as Cregan was close behind, also giggling at your escapade. The breeze from your running felt cool against your wet skin.

Cregan grabbed your arm and you laughed as you lost your balance and fell. You both screamed and laughed as you tripped over each other, rolling on the grass.

“You’ve stained my dress!” You yelled, laughing.

“Why don’t you take it off then?” Cregan says. The words come out before he can stop them, and his hand flies to his mouth in shock at his own words. His cheeks grow even more red than they were before.

You laugh, giving his arm a push. “Cheeky today, aren’t we?”

You both stand, walking now past the gardens. “Do you know where you’re going?” You ask.

“My father brought me to King’s Landing when I was younger. I got lost and found this beach beyond the gardens.” Cregan says.

You both walk down the stairs to a stone building, making your way through the dark, abandoned halls to reach the other side.

The sand on the ground felt grainy and satisfying under your boots, and you quickly pulled them off to sink your toes in the sand. The area Cregan had brought you to was slightly secluded, but could easily be found by accident by someone wandering by.

“I’ll keep watch.” He says, turning to face the direction you came as you shuffle out of your dress.

“Keep watch.” You mumble, displeased he won’t be joining you. Cregan doesn’t hear you leave initially, but he hears your groans of relief when you step foot in the cold ocean.

“The water is so lovely!” You yell to him. He looks down, shaking his head. He wanted to join you so badly, to cool off in the ocean while he held you close to him. The sun was beating down on his brown hair, soaking his head with sweat. He began to grow frustrated with the heat, and the thoughts of you naked in the ocean weren’t helping to cool him off.

But he’d rather face the heat of a thousand burning suns before he let someone see you bare. You were his, and he’d allow himself to pass out from the heat before he moved from his spot. He told himself that, swore it in fact. You would not tempt him with your siren song into that ocean.

“Careful you don’t burn, my lady.” Cregan yells.

“What was that?” You call. “I didn’t hear you. Perhaps you should join me.”

He smirks, tapping his foot impatiently against the sand. He breathes in the salty smell of the ocean, such a sweet reprieve from the foulness that lingered even in the Red Keep.

“Cregan!” You yell jokingly angry. “Come in right now before you melt!”

He laughs, and you walk towards him from the shore. He doesn’t hear you over the sound of the waves crashing.

He jumps a bit when he feels your hand touch his shoulder. You tug on it to try and turn him around, but he stands firm.

“Cregan.” You whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Cregannnn.” You sing. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t move, so you walk around his body to face him. He closes his eyes, his heart racing with fear.

“My lady.” Cregan says with caution, eyes still closed.

“I-“ Your sentence is cut off by loud, rambunctious yelling.

Cregan’s eyes snap open, immediately grabbing you to drag you back to the water. His gaze avoids your body as much as possible, but he still can see your curves in his peripheral.

He walks in with you, ignoring his now wet clothes and pushing you until the water is at your waist.

“Sit.” He says, pushing your shoulders down so you’re on your knees, the water stopping at your collar bone. “Do not move.”

He walks back to shore just as the men reach the beach.

“My lords, this area is off limits.” Cregan says to the group of three men.

“Says who?” A short and stocky man drunkenly yells.

“Me.” Cregan says, his voice stern. One of the taller men peaks a glance around him, locking his eyes onto yours. Cregan notices and immediately shifts so the man is face to face with Cregan instead.

“Are you men of salt and sea?” Cregan asks them.

“No… We represent House Clegane; We’ll be facing some Northern cunt.” The tall guy spits on the ground and his minions laugh. The men continue to avert their gaze to you, with nasty smirks filling their faces.

“I see. Then, my lords, let me tell you as Warden of the North I suggest… No… command you turn and go back to the tourney.”

“And if we don’t?” The tall one speaks again, challenging Cregan.

“Then since you wish to stay so badly I will drown you in the ocean… and make you men of salt and sea.”

The men shuffle uncomfortably, looking to their tall leader. He avoids Cregan’s eyes, looking around and deciding if a fight is worth it. Your heart beats unusually fast in your chest, afraid of what fight may come.

You had never seen Cregan so… dominate and protective. He was like a wolf defending its pups. You had seen him assertive in the training yard, frustrated, angry… but this was different. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. He was ice normally, but right now he felt like fire… even from far away.

A shiver ran up your body, yet you felt… hot in your stomach. Your chest fluttered, and you were afraid at the beast in your vision right now. Yet, he was igniting his own kind of fire in you, a heat that burned between your legs. Your hands nervously clawed and gripped at your thighs. You licked the salty water off your lips, nearly drooling at Cregan.

The men finally backed down, turning and leaving the way they had came. Cregan turned and looked at you, shaking his head. He did that a lot.

The way he protected you was so hot. You wanted to make it up to him.

He walked to the shoreline, the remnants of waves splashing his boots. He didn’t take his eyes off yours once.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice gentle with you. You nodded.

“Cregan…” You said. “I need you in the most unimaginable way possible right now.”

“Fuck.” He whispered, too quiet for you to hear. Did he dare cross this line? If he did, there was surely no returning.

Right when he decided against it, not wanting to strain your life long friendship, you stood up.

All logic, at that moment ceased to exist,

and he immediately stripped off his clothes.

Before he could even fully undress, you pounced on him. You yanked him in the water with his small clothes still on and slammed your lips on his.

“Thank you for protecting me.” You whispered. He kissed you with even more force after that, no longer able to contain himself. He felt such a strong urge in him to protect you, love you, hold you, breed you. He was possessed by your beauty and grace, and found himself getting lost in your lusciously sweet lips.

He held you tight against him, his length poking into your thighs. You rubbed him through his small clothes, eliciting a groan from him. Although the water was cooling him off, he found himself sweating with nervousness.

“Make me yours.” You whisper. His fingers greedily dig into your hips as he kisses you more deeply, tongues and teeth clashing. He claims your mouth with his, fighting to prove himself strong enough for you.

He tried to hide it, but he was deeply afraid. Cregan had never been with a woman intimately, and he did not want to let down the girl he loved since he was a child.

“Marry me.” He whispers. “Give me your hand. Be the Lady of Winterfell.”

You pull away from him, staring at him to search his eyes for any sign of a jest. But all you see are his gray eyes, staring back at you with a mixture of lust and love and hope.

When he saw the look of shock in your eyes, he immediately regretted his words. He had pushed too far and turned you off. He was convinced you had gotten lost in the madness of lust, and were only now realizing the consequences of your actions.

“Are… Are you serious?” You ask.

He nods, sadly. He couldn’t back down, he needed to say he tried.

“But, I’m just a Manderly. You could marry a Targaryen or Hightower if you wanted… Why me?”

“Because I love you, endlessly.” He says, “All those moments, all those memories… You’ve made me who I am. I’m not me without you.” and it was true. Every glance he stole, every time you fought, hunted, played, argued… It all led him to here. He knew there was a purpose for you both. He always felt it in his soul, he just hadn’t known what it meant until now.

Now he knew it meant your fates were sealed long ago.

“Lady Stark,” You say, playing with Cregan’s chest. “rolls off the tongue quite nicely.”

He pulls you back onto his lips, a tear escaping his eye at the joy he felt. You were his, and you always would be.

Gods be damned, honor be damned. I want her now.

He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His hand supported your bottom as he carried you all the way back to the sand. You kissed his neck, cradling it between your hands.

Cregan set you down on his discarded clothes, flattening out the cloak so sand wouldn’t ruin your endeavor.

Cregan’s fingers smoothed over your cunt and you gasped. He pushed one inside and you found yourself gripping his bicep for support, the other hand resting on the back of his neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly. He inserts another, stretching you to prepare you as best as possible. You moan his name, begging for the rest of him.

“Please, please, take me.” You pleaded. He was hesitant, as badly as he wanted it.

He decided he would be angry with himself later. For now, for the first time in Westeros history, a Stark forgot about honor.

He pulled his fingers out, rubbing himself with the lingering wetness from your cunt. He pushed off the last of his small clothes and positioned his length against you.

You finally felt slightly nervous when his length touched you. Cregan was a big man of course, surely you should have known that would’ve applied to other parts.

And yet it had slipped your mind, so now here you were mentally unprepared and growing nervous at his size about to take your maidenhead.

“Were other women you’ve been with intimidated by your size?” You ask, a tremble in your voice.

“What?” He asks.

“What?” You repeat.

“I’ve never been with other women.” He shakes his head.

“What?” You say again, surprise in your voice this time.

“You will be my first.” He says. “Am I yours?”

You nod.

“Then I will take care of you.” He says. You press your shaky lips to his, and his hand gently holds your cheek to comfort you.

He slides into you, slowly, holding you close to him to keep you from wiggling. You whine into his lips, a small sob parting you.

“You’re okay.” He whispers. “I’ve got you. We will go easy, my girl.”

You nestle your face into his neck, holding on to him with a death grip.

He makes love to you slow at first, waiting for your tight cunt to adjust to him.

“Gods, please move.” You beg,

He immediately does as you command, fucking you with lust in his hips but love in his heart. You stare at him, admiring every feature on his face as he fucks you. His lips are parted, gasping softly, and his piercing gray eyes are focused only on your face. His wet brown locks fall beside his face, and you push it back with your fingers so they don’t hinder his vision. Your other hand leaves trails of red scratches down his chest, which only fuels on his hunger to make you writhe and wiggle more beneath him.

“Right there, Cregan. Oh, fuck, please. Please, my lord.” You moan. Cregan nearly melts at your lascivious begging.

He continues his harsh thrusts on your cunt, blood drips down his chest from the ferocity of your nails. He hardly even notices the burning pain, he’s too busy drowning in the heat between your legs.

You pull his lips onto yours, whining and moaning into his mouth as you hit your peak. Cregan groans as you tighten around him, and he plants his hand into the sand beside your head.

He wanted to pull out, he really did. But the way your cunt tightened around him, the way you pulled him into you so you could moan into his lips, the way your body trembled as you peaked… it was too much to handle. He spilled his seed into you, and by how much he spilled surely you would be pregnant with an heir if he did not get you moon tea on the morrow.

For now, he just wanted you. He wanted to wed you the moment you arrived back home. Your father would definitely be doing cartwheels when he heard the news, your brother would likely be happy as well.

There was time in their future for an heir, but all he could think about right now was how hard it was gonna be to restrain himself with you as his betrothed now.

“Our little secret?” You asked, referring to your engagement on the beach.

“Our little secret.” He said, pecking a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

You both rinsed off in the ocean, dressing back in your clothes and returning to the tourney just in time to see your brother win against House Clegane.

But unfortunately, he had celebrated too early following his win against House Clegane, because he had gotten too drunk and lost only an hour later to Criston Cole.

“50 gold dragons.” He drunkenly scoffed.

“Better than none, brother.” You said, trying to comfort his first place loss. You looked to Cregan for help, but he was lost in his own world thinking about the beach.

“Something trouble you, Cregan?” You ask.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” He says, discretely brushing his hand against yours.

You blush, and the three of you silently make your way back to the great hall inside the Red Keep for the final feast of the tourney.

“I offer my congratulations to the winners, including my sworn protector Criston Cole and the second place winner Jon Manderly. I also offer my thanks to all the lords and ladies who have travelled from as far as Dorne to Winterfell. This will be a tournament for the books.” Queen Rhaenyra announces, sitting beside her council members including Alicent, Rhaenys, her son Jacaerys, Criston Cole, and her husband Daemon. “I would also like to announce a new marriage betrothal, brought to me by Cregan Stark!”

You and your brother turn to Cregan, who avoids your eyes yet smirks. “Cregan Stark has announced he will wed Lady Manderly, sister of the second place winner Jon Manderly, to celebrate Winterfell’s second place victory!”

The hall erupts in noise as people flood around you with their congratulations. You look at your brother, whose jaw is hanging to the floor.

“I suppose this truly makes us brothers now, aye Cregan?” Your brother says when he finally speaks, his northern accent appearing thicker than usual.

“Aye.” Cregan nods.

Your brother’s shock dissipates, and he finally shares his joy with you. He punches your arms, just like when you had been younger.

“Ow, brother! You forget yourself!” You say, smacking his arms.

“Sorry, sister. This moment is so joyous. Father might have a heart attack when he hears.”

You give your brother a gentle, appreciative smile, grateful for his approval as he takes your hand in his.

“Lady Manderly and Lord Stark, while your marriage will not take place here we will celebrate in your absence. King’s Landing is forever indebted to the hospitality and strength continuously provided by the Starks.” The Queen says, raising her glass to you and Cregan.

Those around you celebrated and drank, relishing in the most joyous of occasions. Queen Rhaenyra successfully ascended the throne, the tournament had been historic, Winterfell had emerged near victorious, the Stark bloodline would soon carry on.

“It is unfortunate we cannot get drunk on this piss wine.” Cregan says, playing with his cup.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier I had a surprise for you, my betrothed?” You say, lifting your dress to reveal a little metallic flask tied to your leg. He looks at you, raising his eyebrow and smirking.

“Shall we retire for the night?” He asks.

You take his hand and the both of you slip out the door, in search of another place to “cool off.”

[bg-brainrot]

To Be Known (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: Astarion reads a book and wonders what it means to be known.

Tags: Astarion's POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3 but pre-Cazador, Astarion is Bad at Feelings,

A/N: Disclaimer up top: I'm not abandoning any of my other fic! Promise! Just trying to get over a tough month and get back into the swing of things :'D

Also, based on the quote: “To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is like being loved by God.” (disclaimer: I’m not religious, and I know this quote comes in a few different forms, but google told me about this version so I stuck to it.)

Word count: ~2.1k

“To be fully known and truly loved is as if you are loved by the gods,” Astarion reads aloud, to no one in particular.

A silence follows, wherein his mind repeats the words he’s just read, absorbing none of them. To be fully known and truly loved… The words don’t seem to stick. 

Finally deciding that the sentence isn’t worth his effort, he tosses the book onto his bedroll with a groan. “What rubbish.”

Outside of this author's haughty approach to prose, Astarion doesn’t particularly care to think too deeply about what it means to be loved– especially by any godsforsaken deities. 

He has only just come around to the idea of love, not that he’s said the word ‘love’ to you just yet. It felt too much, too heavy a word to carry considering all of the other burdens the two of you bore between you. But the idea of it? Well, he was warming up to it. And with every moment shared between you, he believes he may be warming up all the more.

But what does being known have to do with love? No, that concept has him pulling his brows together, getting up from his bedroll and putting distance between himself and the drivel that Gale had recommended to him.

That’s what I get for listening to the damned wizard’s tastes, he thinks, shaking his head slightly. Some philosophical prattle, just as verbose as he is.

But even as he stands, brushes himself off, shoves the book away to the furthest corner of his tent before he makes to leave, the question of being known never escapes him.

What does it even mean to be known? he wonders, now lost in thought as he emerges from his tent. How could anyone know me, after all I’ve been through… do I even know who I am anymore?

The idea hangs over him, trails him like a storm cloud as he begins stalking about the camp you’ve all set up in the outskirts of Rivington. He’s not sure where his feet are leading him other than away– away from the distasteful book, away from away from your knowing gaze, which would only pry his thoughts out of him.

Much to Astarion’s disappointment, the trail he takes doesn’t stop the winding path his thoughts have taken.

Have I ever been known? he wonders, vaguely registering the breeze in his hair and the distant sounds of running water as he travels further and further from camp.

Perhaps I was once upon a time, but I could hardly be expected to remember now, could I? The thought is bitter and unwelcome, though likely true. He brusquely swats a branch out of his way and continues into a bramble unrepentantly. Gods, how can he bring himself to care about something as trifling as nature when he’s quite busily lost in thought right now, thank-you-very-much.

Astarion releases a sigh as he finally fights his way into a copse of trees. Secluded, finally. 

Alone. 

With his thoughts.

Which won’t seem to quiet despite the soft chittering of small animals, nor the sickly sweet smell of flowers in the air.

Why are some pitiful poet’s ‘words of wisdom’ even bothering me? he thinks as he lowers himself onto the trunk of a fallen tree. What’s even the use in being known?

Astarion crosses his legs in front of him, watching with narrowed eyes as his boots press into the soft grass, crushing it easily. There is no use to being known, he decides as he presses harder with one foot and the grass is further flattened. To wish that is…

His foot twists down even more firmly.

Pathetic, Astarion thinks, lifting his boot back up to see his handiwork. The grass lies flat, thoroughly smashed by him. This world is simply about being the one who tramples, and not the one being trampled.

That thought oddly comforts him. He knows the push and pull of power well enough– this dynamic is second nature to him. Like an old, threadbare blanket, it wraps around his shoulders, providing no warmth, but plenty of familiar reassurance.

It’s moments later that the blanket is wrenched from him and he’s laid bare once more, under the startling sunlight of your attention.

“Astarion?”

Your voice pierces through his thoughts, and his instinctual answering emotions are new to him. Surprise. Elation. Relief.

The vampire had been utterly unprepared to hear your voice, convinced he’d found a spot away from you all. Convinced that you wouldn’t be here with your thoughtful gaze– not now, while he’s still busy sorting through a myriad of questions. But he still can’t deny the way he welcomes your presence. 

He suspects that your perceptive gaze can easily catch that, despite the way his shoulder’s tense and the way his head turns away, his ears still tilt back toward you, ready for your next words.

“Astarion, there you are,” you say. He hears the same emotions he feels in your voice. How odd it feels to be mirrored by you. He can’t deny enjoying that either. “What’s the matter? When I couldn’t find you around camp, I thought the worst might have happened."

The man scoffs, trying his best to sound unaffected by your sudden arrival, refusing to meet your inquiring gaze. “And what, pray tell, did you assume could have happened?”

“We’re practically at the Gate, Astarion. Anything could have happened. Need I remind you what happened to Dribbles?” you respond, voice tight with worry. 

Ah yes. The dead clown. “It will take more than a shapeshifter to take me out, darling,” he retorts, still refusing to turn toward you, now dutifully inspecting his nails.

You let out a small huff of disapproval. “And what about Cazador?”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Astarion replies, though the thought of being caught unawares by Cazador bristles at him. If he did get caught, it would be entirely Gale’s fault for lending him that book… He shakes his head of white curls and continues, “Besides, I barely got more than a few dozen yards away before you came chasing after me. I could hardly be in any real danger.”

When you sigh, he finally turns to face you. The expression you give him then isn’t frustration, nor anger– it’s an unusual mixture of worry and… joy? “I couldn’t help but chase. Would it be pathetic to say that I miss you when you’re gone for too long?” you respond.

He’s not sure he has an answer to that.

Especially when he feels pathetic for how light his undead heart feels at the statement.

Astarion drops his head, avoiding your gaze, and hoping you don’t catch the startled happiness on his face.

When it’s clear he doesn’t have a response for you, you change the subject as you close the distance between you, “So, what brought you out here?”

“Nothing,” he replies, too easily. You know it’s a lie. He knows that you know it.

“Nothing, eh?” you ask, finding a seat next to him on the fallen tree. “What about that nothing has you running into the woods?”

“I was not running,” he defends, with a click of his tongue. “I was taking a brisk stroll.”

“Fine then,” you relent, elbowing his arm gently. “What about it led to a ‘brisk stroll’?”

There’s no use hiding from them, is there? he thinks, leaning back on the trunk. “I’ll tell you,” he begins, staring out into a bush. “But only if you answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” you say, and he can feel your shrug on his arm.

“Who am I, really?”

You still. Astarion had expected no less. After all, it’s not an easy question to answer– even for him. He’s putting quite a lot of undue pressure onto you with the question, it’s selfish really… but he can’t help but want to be selfish around you.

So he lets the question settle into the silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is crisp in the muted sounds of the clearing. “Promise you won’t care for me any less after I answer you?”

Astarion snaps his head back at you, his mouth turning down in a frown. “Well that depends, my dear. What are you planning to say?”

“Promise?” you press.

As if he could care any less for you– he would have done so already if he could. “I promise,” he murmurs reluctantly. “Now, please, the suspense is really too much.”

“You are Astarion,” you start, reaching out for his hand. He cautiously places his in yours, unable to hide the twitch of a smile as your warm fingers lock with his. “You’re a beautiful, elven vampire, with silver hair, and red eyes. You’re talented, witty, and…”

Your voice trails off, and Astarion can’t help but wonder why you’d been so hesitant to answer. So far, he is loving this answer.

“And you’re an absolute arse at times.”

“Excuse me?” he gasps, moving to pull his hand out of yours.

You don’t release it, but you do continue, “You laugh at the misfortune of others, you steal, you lie, you cheat at games, you can be incredibly selfish.”

“Darling, are we certain you care about me after all this?” he grumbles, giving up on fighting your grip on him as your words wash over him. He knows all of this, of course, has been entirely unashamed of it all before… but it feels different when you say it. When you lay it out plainly before him.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, tugging on his hand gently. “Because all of that makes you you. And, personally, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He blinks at you, confused on how you arrived at this conclusion.

“You are so unabashedly you, love. And I adore that. I know it might not feel like it after all you’ve been through… but you are still yourself. No one has been able to take that from you.”

Now Astarion stares at your intertwined hands, wondering if he deserves such impassioned, absurd words said in his defense. His voice comes quietly when he asks his next questions, “And how do I know that’s who I have always been? Who I was meant to be?”

You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft, warm kiss before you continue, “Astarion, I don’t know what might have bothered you, but I want you to know that, no matter what it was, you’re amazing as the man you are. Whoever you were, whoever you think you were meant to be, you should be proud of who you are now. And… once we deal with Cazador, I hope you have the chance to rediscover that man.”

Astarion hadn’t meant this to be some kind of journey of self-discovery– really, he’d only been irked by the needless philosophy of the book Gale had lent him. But, hearing you say those words, it feels as if some weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Worry, he realizes. Of losing who he was, of course, but also of being utterly, desolately unknown. Naturally he needn’t have worried because here you are, ready and willing to understand him. To accept and care for him, even while knowing him, flaws and all.

Maybe being known wasn’t such a burden. Not if it were by you.

“Yes, well,” he begins, suddenly unsure what to say to your earnest words. “Thank you for that, I think. Though, really, I could have done without all of the barbs. It feels like I've been struck by psychic damage.” Astarion gives a dramatic head loll, averting his flustered face.

You laugh and squeeze his hand. “Well, it’s a good thing I have no clue how to deal psychic damage, but I’ll be sure to get Gale right over if you need a good jostle to the brain.”

Gale’s done enough of that, Astarion thinks. But he doesn’t say so to you. Instead, the man simply shakes his head. “I’m quite alright. Speaking of the rest of those fools, they’ve likely begun to burn the camp down without us. Shall we head back?”

While the trek to the clearing had been filled with spiraling thoughts and matters of the self, Astarion finds that the journey back is filled with far more soft touches and kisses– Not that he minds.

In fact, he thinks with a smile, as you both walk together, practically falling into each others’ arms. Maybe this was who I was meant to be all along.

That night, once he’s settled back into his tent for bed, Astarion reads the passage once more, “To be fully known and truly loved is as if you are loved by the gods.”

Astarion is certainly no closer to believing in the gods’ willingness or ability to love him, but he could hardly care. No, he suspects that he knows what a god’s love is– after all, if you truly love him, fangs, scars, and all… well, that may very well be divine.

[gyuriac]

PERDISTE !

content: What's done is done, and it needs to be left behind. So, after a gruesome breakup, why can't he get you off his mind? After many attempts to replace you, he's at a crossroads. He lost you, and that's got to hurt. cw: puke perchance? pairings: sae itoshi x gn!reader notes: my entry of the ORQUÍDEAS EVENT by @17020!! Thanks for letting me enter! (Been 4 months since i last wrote so apologies if it’s not that good)

“Are you not tired of yourself?”

Under the dim lights of his spacious apartment, SAE found himself loitering around the entrance of his abode. The silence was deafening, yet he didn't let it get to him. Why should he? He lived longer by himself than with you, he doesn’t need you.

He doesn’t need them he said but when a familiar ring tone blared from his phone, he darted across the room, hope bubbling in his chest.

Mayumi is calling…

When he read the Caller ID he clicked his tongue, letting it ring for a while before picking up.

“Sae! You picked up!” The way his name left her mouth left a bitter taste on his tongue—so disgustingly sweet, it sickens him.

Why is it her calling? Why can’t it be-

“Sae?”

She called for him once again and Sae was once reminded again that he was still in call

“What do you want?”

“Well,” she starts, shuffling could be heard from the other side of the phone. He figured she was doing something but honestly, he couldn’t care less.

“I was wondering if you can come to a party with me.” His eyebrows scrunched, clearly displeased by her offer. She knew that he was not one for parties, it was too chaotic for his liking.

“If it helps, Yukimiya will be there.” The red head raised his eyebrows in confusion, what does a lukewarm person have to do with him? Just as he was to dismiss the whole idea, she cuts him off.

“Rumors has it that they’ve been seen hanging out with him, but you didn’t hear it from me.” He pursed his lips.

“I’ll go.”

“Yay! I’ll send the deets to you right now!” Before he can take back his words, the line immediately went dead, leaving Sae alone with his thoughts.

In his anger, he slammed his phone on the table, his hand massaging his temples. Damn it! Just as he was about to convince himself he doesn’t need you or anyone in that matter, you come sneaking in once again. Damn it…

He hated parties. It’s too stuffy, doesn’t help when people get all over his face. Their stinky breath on full blast. Sae stared in disgust as someone puked meters away from him. He’s already regretting this already.

“You came!” A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his neck, causing him to stagger. He grunted before he held onto her waist, supporting her weight.

The woman in his arms started to giggle and talk about her night. She was clearly under the influence of alcohol. Sae watched how she talked loudly, words not registering in his mind but the way she started to talk about something made him remember you. It fouled his whole mood.

She’s outgoing and loud. You’re quiet and down to earth.

She’s a completely different person yet all of her reminded him of you.

Your constant reassurance, your gentle touches, your love.

In the corner of his eyes, he swore he caught a glimpse of a person, one that he knew all too well. He breaks away from her arms, her complaints falling on deaf ears.

He runs through the crowd, desperate to see your loving gaze once again.

Just as he was about to call your name one last time, he withdrew.

Sae only watched as you threw yourself on someone, smiling brighter than when he was with you.

He wanted to laugh, scream even. How could he be so stupid? He pushed you away. He was the one who broke it off first.

Yes, he’s tired.

Tired of letting you get whisked away from him forever.

© gyuriac . i'm begging you to not put my works in any a.i thingy and please don't plagiarize. I don't own anything but my edits and writing.

[helianskies]

4 for engport please!

chapter 69 is upon us! there is the tiniest hint of suggestive-ness in this bc it's port, so have a cookie anon and settle in! 🍪

Ignite

João is cold. He wakes up feeling like his toes have been bitten off, like the duvet is in fact made of snow, like the window has been left open all night. 

None of the above is true, of course. But it might as well be!

João is cold. He wakes up to the bitter chill of an English winter and, to his absolute dismay, his husband is not there in bed with him to greet him with the usual warmth he holds. 

It’s a mystery how he does it, to be honest. Arthur will be cold during the day, and usually has to fight João in order to get to hold his hand (because João naturally doesn’t like the cold!). But in the mornings, when they wake together, he is fire. He is so warm that João never wants to let him go, and Arthur actually has to fend him off so he can get out of bed and make breakfast and go to work and so on. 

That is why, when João finds himself alone that morning, it feels like betrayal. It is betrayal. And what is perhaps even worse is that he knows—he knows precisely where Arthur is, and precisely what Arthur is doing. And that only makes him all the more conflicted about his current predicament.

It takes him about ten minutes to work up the courage to get out of bed. He hurries to find his bed socks (they have a bunny design on them, courtesy of Arthur’s taste). He wraps himself up tightly in his bathrobe—it makes a small difference—and he reluctantly trudges down the stairs.

As expected, Arthur is in the living room. He is knitting away in his own merry world in his armchair, glasses hanging off the end of his nose, brow slightly creased as he focuses on the intricate work he is trying to complete. 

What he is knitting is a jumper. For João, actually. Apparently he was tired of João pinching them from his wardrobe, so he has insisted on making his husband a thick and cosy jumper of his own to keep him warm. It is a very sweet, very Arthur gesture. 

Right now, though, he needs warming up a bit faster than Arthur’s hands can work. Or, faster than they work with knitting needles, that is.

Arthur—rightly so—greets João with a smile and a soft, “Morning, sweetheart,” which might as well have been a trickle of warmed honey down his throat. But he needs more. It simply isn’t enough on its own, as loved as it makes him feel.

He greets him back of course, and approaches his husband in search of what he lacks. Only, as João stands in front of Arthur, lips slightly pursed and hands tucked up the fuzzy sleeves of his bathrobe, his husband’s eyes are once more glued to his knitting. The conflicted feeling returns.

“Arthur…?”

“Mmh? Everything okay?” the other asks as his needles flick and dip and turn. 

João takes a slow breath. “‘M cold,” he says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, the heating should be on,” Arthur tuts. He seems disappointed in himself, but still, his eyes are on the damn— “Do you want me to put the fire on? Would that help?”

He hasn’t the words. His mouth refuses to move, his tongue refuses to speak. Instead, impulse takes over. 

With a move that startles Arthur, João plucks away the knitting from the other’s grasp. He holds it tight. His face remains neutral when met by the other’s confusion. He then (because he is not a monster!) sets down Arthur’s hard work on the sofa, making sure the needles don’t slip, and proceeds to ignore his husband when he asks what he’s doing. Because words, frankly, aren’t needed. 

Taking a slow breath, João clambers up onto Arthur’s lap, straddling him and relishing silently at how the other’s face seemed to turn a bit more pink. But to finish him off, João pries the glasses from his face, puts them onto the side table, and says, “Maybe you could warm me up…?”

Arthur swallows. His hands fall onto João’s waist, and he looks up at his husband with a sort of incredulity, as if looking at a dream, an angel, an unspeakable treasure. 

(Well, João is, isn’t he?)

“Y-You want me to warm you?” Arthur repeats, cogs still turning away in his brain.

“Yes,” João replies. He brushes fingers through Arthur’s short bangs, and gives a gentle sigh. “Unless you… don’t think you can…”

“Oh, I— I can,” the blond affirms, however, much to João’s delight. “I can do that. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

João can’t help but smile at him with thanks and appreciation. “When you’re ready then, Kirkland.”

“He— Here?”

“Where else?”

“Bed?” Arthur suggests. 

“But I’m comfy!”

“But—”

“Arthurrr…”

“Joãooo…”

“Please?” the brunet pouts and prods and pleads. “Pretty please?”

He doesn’t necessarily intend for them to do anything too intense, bear in mind. A really good, long cuddle would honestly suffice. But there is something about teasing Arthur like this that certainly helps João warm in the meantime (in more ways than one) and it is hard to resist. He’s just so adorable when his cheeks start to change colour and he goes a bit awkward and then suddenly becomes overthrown by bravado and confidence in a bid to impress!

The truth is, though, Arthur will always impress Joao regardless. He’s the sweetest man alive. I mean, he’s knitting him a jumper, for crying out loud! A handmade jumper! It will be like wearing a hug and he can’t fucking wait, but— but for now, João needs his husband in his entirety. He needs his warmth, his love, his time, more than the knitting does.

So when Arthur gives in to his request, a relieved João thanks him and gives him a kiss. A full, hearty, grateful kiss. Arthur is the Sun to his Moon—the wind in his sails—his alma gêmea. He loves him. He loves him so much, it burns inside of him. And so he realises… that warmth he seeks is something he already has buried deep. João just needs Arthur to help him find it. He counts himself lucky he has Arthur to help him feel it.

[ ficlet collection on ao3! ] [ prompt list here! ]

[starwalker03]

You’re a bartender? Assign drinks to some of your favorite characters

ooooooooooooooof. wait.

because like. is this what I think they'd like? what I think "represents" them? what I think they'd order? there's too many options here and I have not been a bartender for long enough to know enough drinks.

My favourite characters? damn. I immediately forgot every blorbo I have lmao.

Nightwing's gotta be first. He's complicated cause I'd imagine all the batkids are trained by batman to be weary of alcohol because it impedes brain function. He probably sticks to low percentage things in general. I'm pretty sure he's also canonically a sweet tooth? and if not I think he would be. So I don't think he's a beer guy. Probably when he was younger and that's just What You Do when you're that age and start drinking cause you think 'I'm a guy so i gotta drink beer'. once he's older I figure he's more of a mixer guy, like hard soda, cruisers, that kind of thing. still one drink per serve, not super strong, mostly sugar.

If he's in a situation where he's all for getting drunk and is comfortable doing so, I can see him as a cocktails guy. He strikes me as a jalapeno margarita type. I don't think he's big into shots or anything cause he's still got that ingrained discomfort, but y'know, sweet things that are two standard drinks and only about 100mLs all up.

Honourable mention to Wally West cause I can't think of one without the other right now.

Wally can't get drunk. So to him the most important thing here is taste. I think he's a sweet tooth type. french martini or one of those fruit tingle type situations. Maybe like, a frozen drink? I could see him liking pina coladas. If this is a getting drunk situation and he's trying to get drunk quick, I could see him being the type to order a long island iced tea, even though it's usually only made with a shot and a half in most bars and is a huge red flag. eventually someone would tell him he's wasting time and taste buds, cause long islands are served in a highball and honestly taste like crap.

Okay so Kaldur'ahm. Kaldur'Ahm and alcohol is a thought.

I feel like alcohol isn't a huge thing in Atlantis, like most beverages, cause they're in the water. I can't get into world building about dining and such in an underwater setting right now cause I'll be here for hours. But I think drinking isn't a big thing down there yknow? Then on top of that, Kaldur has a high tolerance to poisons (I think young justice just says jellyfish toxin? but I feel like poison in general makes sense for him) so alcohol takes a lot for him.

I feel like he discovers mead and really likes it. there's some really interesting things you can do with mead, especially with saltier palettes, that I think Kaldur, being Atlantean, would appreciate.

When out partying, though, I think he just does shots. cause if he's just drinking to get drunk then what's the point, y'know? just give him some vodka, preferably like three shots of the stuff in one go, and he's good.

man. Favourite characters. hmmmm.

Hiccup Haddock. So he's a viking, like. mead is already on the table. looking at modern drinks, though. going off of mead being something he probably canonically likes. we're looking at sweet but also bitterness from the aging process and a depth of flavour. I think he'd be into scotch, similar depth to flavour and palette, with a smoky edge to it that I think is very "viking core" or whatever. being a dragon rider and all he's probably used to smokiness in food/drink. I'd make him a good riff on an old-fashioned with scotch instead of bourbon, and maybe something with honey and orange bitters as well. that kinda flavour profile.

Leonardo, of mutant ninja turtle fame, is a thought.

I mean it depends on the iteration. I'm mostly familiar with 2012, 2007 and 2018 (stares at word doc of fic where I mix all three) and I feel like all three of them wouldn't be huge drinkers. but if they were to drink, I'd go with a warm cocktail, perhaps with a tea base. those are very fun. whiskey-honey-chamomile or something of the sort. or perhaps fruity teas with tequila or rum.

Merlin, of BBC's Merlin show, already is seen to be drinking ale in the show. I don't think he hates it. Ale of the time wouldn't have bee particularly great, but he seems to drink it without complaint for the most part.

beers and ales have come a long way and I think he could definitely find something he liked from amber or dark ales, perhaps even as far as guineas. If asked to make him a cocktail, though, I'd try for something bitter, possibly gin-based? in my experience some of those can be interestingly dry. or maybe a highball topped with cider? oooh maybe a moscow mule would be the vibe. sub the mint for rosemary and add a really dry ginger syrup in? or cut the lime juice with ginger juice or something like that.

I could keep thinking of blorbos but I'd be here all night.

[philipr05]

Cerise, Chapter One

Shit.. the paper is due in two hours.

I always do this; starting my assignments the literal hour or two before they’re due. Now once again, in true Y/N fashion, I’m starting my Junior English final project at 10:13 pm. On top of that I have a pile of math homework; missing assignments from the last two weeks.

I hear a soft knock on the door. I hate it when people disturb my concentration.

“What is it mom?”

She opened the door. “Why are you up so late? Don’t you have sleep to catch up on?”

“Yeah, ok, whatever mom. Please leave, I’m trying to work.”

“Ok, ok, I just brought you some cherries. Did you clean this damn room of yours yet? It’s been like this for the past three weeks..”

I hate when she questions the obvious. It’s obvious it's not clean, and it’s apparent that I don’t have the time to clean it. She's asked this every single day for the last three weeks. I can’t contain it. 

“No mom, I haven’t.” I feel the yell coming out. I scream. “Get out of my room! You stupid bastard get out of my room!”

“You stupid bastard,” she repeats, evidently mocking me. “Clean up this room before you talk to your mother like that.” She sets the bowl of cherries on the clothes drawer by the wall adjacent to my bed. She pulls the door handle on her way out but still leaves the door cracked open. That bitch.

I guess I was a little hungry though. I got up from the criss-crossed position I was in on my bed, and grabbed the bowl of cherries before laying back down- knees up with my head and neck against the wall. I set the bowl on my nightstand and propped my laptop open on top of my knees. The ideal study position.

I reach over the bowl for a cherry. I popped one in my mouth, and I was overcome with the slightly bitter but sweet taste of the fruit. I loved the way that cherries tasted- not too sweet, not too tart. I rolled the cherry around my mouth with my teeth before being sure to eat around the pit in the center. 

After eating the meat of the cherry, I put the seed in between my lips, ready to fire it out. It was a straight shot from my lips to the trash bin in the corner of my room. This time, I grabbed a handful of the stemless cherries- six in total- and put them all in my mouth. Probably a choking hazard, but an efficient way to eat cherries nonetheless.

I lined the cherry seeds up against the inside of my right cheek. All ready for launching to the trash bin. I counted each seed as I sent them flying across the room.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Except there was no sixth seed ready to launch.

Oh shit. I just swallowed a cherry seed. I’m extremely squeamish about swallowing things, but I was freaking out knowing that those things had cyanine in them.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I rushed out of my room, breaking the silence of our 800 square foot apartment. “Mom, I need some water.”

“I’m not doing anything for you after you talk to me that way, you can get it yourself, N/A.”

“Holy shit mom, just get me a damn glass of water, I’m choking on a cherry seed!” I can’t stand her sometimes. She gets me a glass of water, and I aptly chug it down.

After around five minutes of coughing and convincing myself that the seed was no longer in my esophagus,  I went back to my room and slammed the door behind me. The stupid door was still slightly cracked open, so I kicked it behind me with my right foot. I took my phone out of my pocket and did a quick Google search.

“Ok, let’s see,” I begin typing, “How many cherry seeds does it take to kill a 17 year old, 5 foot 6 inch male?” I hit enter, and clicked on the first link that popped up. I scrolled down to the halfway point of the article to get an answer. 3-4 pits of a Morello cherry; 7-9 pits of a black cherry. Ok, so I was in the safe. A cherry seed wasn’t going to take my life today.

But maybe it wasn’t a cherry seed that would make my heart stop.

She will be in my semester two French 4 class next week. Cerise, they would call her. The French word for a cherry, and in some ways, she would remind me of one.

She was also sweet. Not so tart. I often found myself trying to decipher her every interaction with me, as if I was eating around the seed that represented her true intentions. One too many thoughts about her, and I’d eat a bowlful. I was, in fact, addicted to her. The idea of her. But she could never know, nor could I ever hint at it. I liked her a lot, and I still do. But all I can do now is play a game of solitaire- playing around with my thoughts and evaluating my interactions with her. I’d often think about whether she liked me back or not. Of course that would be truly impossible. But I was caught in a delusion. An unhealthy delusion.

But what if I liked being in that delusion?

Sometimes I just needed to force myself to get her out of my mind. I’d even lose sleep or stop doing homework as my mind would be flooded by the idea of her. But it couldn’t happen today. I have a paper to speed run.

I popped another cherry in my mouth and got to work.

[tired-biscuit]

Point

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content [minors dni!!], established relationship, aged up, jealous!bakugou, degrading, unprotected sex.

Word count: 2.8k

---

BAKUGOU had never quite been a man prone to jealousy.

But god fucking damn it, as he watches the way you dance and twirl in your little party dress; your spine flushing further and further against the chest of the stupid phone charger of a man that he dares call one of his closest friends, it’s enough to make Katsuki outright fume with envy.

Staring at you like this, the bitter emotion he rarely experiences gives the ash blond a desire to tear his sly friend, who he’s known since his UA days, right to fucking shreds. With every smooth movement you make amongst the mass of sweat-coated bodies, he catches himself fantasizing about picking up those same shreds of his dumb, electric friend, chucking them all into a nice, tidy pile and setting them right on fire until they're gone, gone, gone.

Katsuki isn't entirely sure why he's feeling like this. Sure, it might be because of the lewd way your hips are swaying right against Kaminari’s goddamn crotch without stop, like they've been doing for the last three songs - yes he's counted each and every one, or perhaps how a kitty-like smirk graces your features when you see him glowering right at you across the room, but whatever the reason may be, it is enough to send him stomping towards you in quick, merciless strides that make him seem like he’s a determined soldier heading out to face the wrath of war instead of his tricksy girlfriend.

He can still taste the oaky, dry tang of the whiskey that he’s consumed in a singular swing of hand right on the flat of his tongue as he pushes past the crowd of hot, swaying bodies - vermilion eyes hard as stone. They fixate on you like you’re a little mouse he’s planning on cornering. Like you're a sad excuse for a girlfriend that he’s willing to crush into a pulp with that cruel fist of his.

What was supposed to be a fun night out is cut short by the way his hand firmly wraps around your waist as soon as he’s close enough that you can smell the sweet caramel that is his scent. It wraps around you now just like his body does; firm muscle and heavy bones surrounding you like a shield designed to protect. Or a cage meant to entrap; whichever you prefer.

Your boyfriend is in a mood - the discovery is made the moment you look up at him. He wears that frustrated, signature scowl on his face that you sometimes see whenever he loses at his silly PlayStation game: the one that makes him want to smash his controller right against the wall in a fit of rage.

Luckily for you, you’re used to his quirks by now, and thus know how to handle them even when they're angered. However, before your gloss-coated lips can even part properly to voice a witty retort, he tugs you off the dance floor with a prominent click of his jaw.

The muscle just underneath his sharp cheekbone flutters with irritation at the yelp you let out in response to the force he uses; disturbing the otherwise faux, shiver-inducing calm he portrays on the norm. It’s like a ripple in water: gone as quickly as it shows up.

Looking up at his side profile again, you wonder how such a hot-headed person can possibly wear an expression this icy, however he gives you no time to dwell on it much further. After all, the thought sizzles into nothing as soon as his hand moves from tug to shove.

Your tongue feels awfully hefty from the booze coursing your veins when you attempt to say his name, “Kat-”

“Keep walkin’,” is all he grits out with that gruff voice that makes your heart rage with absolute adoration as he places his palm right onto the small of your back. His touch makes your very insides squirm from delight. He’s rarely this affectionate in public.

“Katsuki, please,” you giggle out, attempting to stop in your tracks.

“I thought I’ve told ya to keep walkin’, y/n,” he grunts, pushing you forward again. He's clearly in no mood for your jokes.

That same calloused palm rests on the curve of your ass, now; thick fingers digging into your dress with evident possessiveness and urging you to do as he says as your aggravated boyfriend leads you out of the stuffy building. He promptly ignores Kaminari’s protests of a lost dance partner, and you wonder if it might just be because he doesn’t trust himself enough to not punch the honey right off of that sweet face of his.

Denki doesn’t seem to mind whatever he’s provoked, though. You catch his wink as he waves at you before his sniggering gradually fades away into the rhythmic, thundering beat of bass and melody that once again overtakes your sense of hearing with every step you take. You can still feel its buzz inside your very core; even as Bakugou tugs you out the heavy double door of the building with a firm nod to the bouncer.

By the time he waves for a cab, you’re clinging onto him like a little bimbo; shivering in your high heels and yearning for his body heat, despite that you’ve just spent the last three hours completely disregarding him by having fun with Kaminari instead.

Christ, just the memory of you nearly grinding against that dunce makes Bakugou want to blow up the entire building to fucking smithereens. He’s supposed to be a hero - a pro one, at that - and yet he can’t bring himself to care if the people inside that godforsaken club burned to fucking ash from how furious he is with you in that exact moment.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything when you whine his name into the cool evening air, testing and provoking his already thin line of patience. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be paying you any heed whatsoever when the cab arrives either. No, he just shoves you into the backseat; that big, rough hand of his landing to clutch your thigh as soon as he follows into the vehicle right after.

His grip is tenacious. He’s holding you so harshly that crescent markings of his nails are beginning to bite into the plush fat of your leg. You swear that you can feel sparks and heat emitting from the tips of his fingers whenever his thumb strokes the inside of your thigh. Swear that you can feel it burning your skin.

The fever you start to feel from somewhere deep inside you makes you want to rub your legs together. A small grunt leaves your lips at the barrier his hand provides, albeit it seems to land on deaf ears, because Katsuki doesn’t even acknowledge the sound of need. He just stares straight ahead; giving the driver directions that’ll lead you to your final destination with a voice so bland that it makes your brow quirk in fascination.

It seems that you’re spending the night at his place.

And it seems that your guesses were correct, because as soon as the cab pulls in front of his driveway; he’s tugging you out of the car without as much as a stiff goodbye to your driver. The way he holds your hand is greedy; scarred digits entwine with your own more delicate ones, making them burn with heat as you stumble along and attempt to catch step with him.

“Kat, baby,” you try again, “slow down, please. I can’t-”

“Quiet,” is all he says, the single word honed like the most parlous blade before he adds, “you danced in those fuckin’ heels just fine while dry humping Kaminari like a goddamn bitch in heat, so I'm assuming you can walk just as good with me, too.”

Oh.

The stern tone he uses with you is enough to clamp your lips shut like a good girl. Come to think of it, it’s the least you can do. If you look at the situation through his perspective, you’ve been nothing but naughty the entire night.

A naughty, misbehaving girl, indeed. One that's in need of a lesson.

And as soon as the door closes behind you and that dreadful click! of the lock resonates as it slips into place; he’s ready to teach it to you.

Actually, he's going to drill the lesson into you right here and right now, because it seems that he isn’t even patient enough to reach the bedroom.

You let out a girlish squeak of satisfaction at the feeling of his hands touching you literally everywhere. He’s cupping your cheeks harshly, squeezing them to the point where the touch makes your lips purse before his hot mouth latches upon them in laggard, needy kisses that make his teeth clash against your own and for your sugary saliva to mix with the hint of liquor you can taste on him.

He bites into your plump bottom lip: sucking on it and stroking it with his warm tongue as he tugs on your hair by pulling it at the roots harshly, making you whine from the throbbing, pulsating sensation to appear between your legs as soon as his incisor strikes home on your lip in a delicious pang of ache.

You’re wet as a whistle in a matter of seconds, the damp patch on your pretty panties growing more profound with each passing moment he spends spoiling you like this. He knows which places to touch to get you going; knows which spots to stroke to make you squirm and writhe and moan underneath him like the neediest little thing.

“Kat,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you try to slur out some sense of apology into the shaky sentence, “I-I'm sorry, baby. About Kami.”

“Stop sayin' that idiot's name,” he rasps out, his eyes blazing like a forge when he looks down at you, “‘cause if you don’t, Imma have to fuck my own right into that dumb, little brain of yours instead. I swear to god I will.”

"But Kam-" your lips part again to question what he means with it, but he shows you the answer before you can even fully finish asking for it.

His mouth is right next to your ear, his exhales warm and heavy to brush your earlobe as he turns you around and slams your front against the door in one swift movement of force. Both of your palms produce a smacking noise when they hit against the wood, making you wince as he uses his knee to push your legs apart.

“Fuckin’ slut,” he mumbles tiredly - the tone he’s using making you feel like a goddamn chore as he hikes up the hem of your dress up to your waist and slips his hand between your legs. His tongue clicks against his teeth in bitter disapproval when his rough finger pads trace the arousal that’s soaking the lace of your panties, “Are you drenched ‘cause of me, or ‘cause of that fuckin’ moron?”

He’s clearly upset from cursing this much. You know that he owns a foul tongue and a rich vocabulary when it comes to curses, but it still makes some twisted part of you that’s hidden deep, deep inside your heart writhe and grin in absolute delight. Like a satisfied little kitty that’s succeeded in getting the cream, you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

“Mm, ‘cause of you, Kat,” you purr softly, pushing your hips further against his hand with a cute, little wiggle, “always ‘cause of you, baby.”

He looses a sigh at your mischievous behaviour, but nonetheless complies to your silent plea by tugging your panties down your legs. Your entire body is aching to be filled up by him as soon as the lace hits the ground; to feel the rage that’s coursing his veins and to experience it becoming unleashed upon you in the form of rough, brutal slamming.

You just want him so bad. Need him just as bad, too.

And your wish might just become a reality, because now you can hear his belt buckle becoming undone right behind you as he curses again quietly under his breath.

It feels like torturous aeons as you wait for him to do something, and then bliss hits as soon as he presses the tip of his cock against your sticky, slick-glimmering slit; nudging your puffy lips apart like he’s trying to make you beg for it. You can hear him spit into his palm. Can hear the lewd squelching noise as he lubes up his dick with his own saliva.

Honestly, you just might give him a plea or two, because the tiny bit of friction that happens whenever he pushes against you makes you want to slam your head right into the door he’s pressing you against. All until you’d be able to taste the splinters on your tongue and feel his cock bullying your womb.

“Ka-Katsuki…!” You cry out, hips bucking, body temperature rising, “Lemme have it, plea-ah, fuck…!”

He doesn’t even let you finish as he rams himself right between your unstretched walls that are eager to accept him, despite the lack of foreplay. He hisses from how tight you are as you claw against the door, toes curling within your pretty high heels as you attempt to stabilize yourself.

The alcohol that’s riddling your blood numbs the pain by the smallest fraction, but you can still feel the burn of the stretch with every inch he pushes inside your sticky warmth, now. You’re outright trembling at the sensation of being so full; can practically feel his cock throbbing inside your belly.

“Holy fuck, you’re tight as shit,” he groans out, the sound like a low rumble of a waking beast, “it’s like you’re fightin’ me on it.”

“I-I’d never, Kat,” you mewl out, your voice hoarse from the sob that’s bubbling up your throat. He can see your nose scrunch up from equal amounts of pain and pleasure as you turn to look at him. Your eyes seem to have gone glossy from the upcoming tears as you murmur a meek, “I love you.”

“Yeah, baby?” His lips find the crook of your neck as he whispers, “You love me? Only me?”

“Yes…!” you say as you bend further for him now, pressing your ass against his abdomen with that perfect arch of spine. He can see your curves sway and jiggle with the motion; can see the gleam of sweat on your skin as you add, “I love you s’much, Kat. Only you.”

Your voice is nothing but a smooth whimper. It‘s messing with his head, making him unable to fully comprehend the way you’re nearly melting against him as he at long last bottoms out.

Katsuki looks down as soon as you jump a bit and he realizes he’s balls deep inside you. He can see your smooth, clean-shaven pussy wrapping around his achingly hot girth. It's nearly eating him up as it attempts to start milking him right from the start.

His rosy lips purse, rough palms caressing your cute booty as he spits on the spot you connect and pushes the skirt of your dress even higher, so that he can get a better view.

The sleek sheen of his drool is practically mesmerizing on your skin. It mixes with your excitement before it starts to drip onto the wooden floorboards. Drip, drip, drip - you're leaking from how turned on you are. The curl of his smile is hard to repress from how pleased he feels about it.

“Pretty,” he mumbles, seemingly in somewhat of a trance at the ring of milky slick to gather and spurt down his dick, “my pretty girl… Takin' my cock so well. Gonna fuck you, now. Gonna slam you so fuckin’ good, baby.”

And before you can even reply, Katsuki starts to pound.

Your moans sound broken from how fast he gets harsher, sloppier - angrier. How his pace is so agonizingly slow, but he still manages to reach deep inside you with it as his hand finds your hip. So deep, in fact, that he’s kissing your cervix and branding your fucking soul with his name. Owning that soft, gushy spot within you that makes you want to lose your mind whenever he abuses it.

“Ka-Katsu... Mmph...!”

“Hah... That's it, baby. Show me how much you love me.”

And as he begins to unleash that fury of jealousy upon you; fucking you like a wild animal in heat and making you cry out his name and cream on his dick with such intensity that it makes your legs weak and your knees buck from exhaustion, you realize one thing:

He wants to prove a point.

And he won't stop until you accept it.

[meownotgood]

cherry waves / hayakawa aki

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you, and there's nowhere he tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him.

cherry waves - deftones

all my love to @kentoangel for giving me the inspiration to make this fic!!!! ilysmmmmm!!!!!!!!!! 💗

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, cunnilingus, tender sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, smoking, established relationship, lots and lots of i love you's, soft dom aki

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you. 

He tells you every single day. Before he goes to work, he leaves a note on the fridge: There's cash on the coffee table if you want to go out and treat yourself. Have a good day baby. I love you. :) His handwriting is neat, sleek, and formal, like him personified with pen, but when he gets to the I love you, the letters seem to become a bit messier. He scribbles them nervously, as if he feels a little embarrassed about writing it, about seeing the words on the paper, tangible and real. Regardless, you pluck the note off the fridge and keep it in your drawer, alongside the hundreds of others he's written for you. 

With his voice, he asserts it even more. When he manages to get a break at work, he steps aside to call you for as long as he can, even if it's only for a few minutes. He tells you he loves you before he hangs up the phone, says how much he misses you while admiring the polaroid of you in his wallet. I think about you every second that I'm here. I can't wait to come home to you. 

He'll profess his love in the late hours of the night, limbs tangled with yours under the sheets, while he holds you close to his chest. He litters your forehead with the lightest, most delicate of kisses, as though you're made of porcelain beneath his lips. The words are uttered drowsily, like they're heavy in his throat, and he whispers them over and over again, as if his fondness is spilling over, uncontained. You're already fast asleep in his arms by now, so his I love you's fade into the darkness, but perhaps you'll end up hearing them in your dreams. 

It slips off of his tongue again when he shares lunch with you. He takes an orange from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, peels it, pulls the pieces clean apart. There's an odd number of slices. He gives you the extra one. The citrus tastes sweet on his tongue, just as sweet as what falls from his lips. God, I love you so much, you know that? It catches you a bit off guard when he says it out of no-where, but before you can ask him where his sudden remark came from, he's shutting you up with a kiss that tastes sugar-coated. 

He's just lucky to have you. Lucky and oh-so grateful to share both his life and his love. This quiet scene, shared between only the two of you: it's simple, but he's never felt more alive. Aki is finally able to live how he's always wanted, enjoying the most mundane of moments with the one he genuinely loves, who loves him just as much. 

If he is the moon — cold, monochrome, and stormy — then you're definitely the sun, shining like rays of daybreak light and eternally warm like a summer's heatwave. In a world of devils, of heartache and the bitter taste of blood, you would be his idea of an angel. 

He's still not sure if he even deserves this, nor does he understand how someone like him got so damn fortunate. And it's cheesy, but he wouldn't trade this life for any other, or for anything in the universe. He just wishes he got the chance to meet you, to cherish you and this life, so, so much sooner. 

All he can do now is make the most of it, tell you he's in love with you in as many sentences as he can possibly fit it into, kiss you until his lips are bruising, promise you, I'll stay with you, for as long as this world will allow. Cross my heart and hope to die, my love. 

There's nowhere else he belongs but here. His arms belong wrapped around you, his lips belong on yours, he longs to be as intertwined with you as possible. There's nothing he wants to say more than your name and infinite chants of I love you, I love you, I love you. 

And there's nowhere Aki tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him. The phrase is whispered in your ear, warm and true, the slightest bit shaky. "You're beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I'm so in love with you." He says the words softly, but in your chest, they feel like the intense blaze and explosion of a sky filled with fireworks. 

A vinyl spins and spins in the humble record player, and the speakers play a song. The low music resounds in harmony with the soft pitter-patter of rain. Droplets blanket the tin roof above and then tap gently against the window. Silk curtains are pulled slightly ajar, and blurry, fluorescent lights from the city shine through fogged up glass, illuminating the dim room. 

His clothes and yours lie in a heap on the floor. He slipped off his oxfords at the door, shed his suit jacket over the couch. You loosened his tie and tossed it aside, popped each button on his dress shirt, unfastened his belt and his zipper to pull down his slacks. You reached into his hair and tugged on his hairtie until it came free from the topknot and the dark strands fell around his face. 

He pulled your pants down and off of your legs, then hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. He kissed you through the fabric, grinning when your legs shivered, before taking them off, leaving you in only the shirt you were wearing.  

The album playing is one Aki picked out. The music itself is a bit grungy, maybe even a little out-of-style, but it's one of your favorite bands, and since it's your favorite, it became his too. He plays the cassette you gave him in the car when he drives, listens to the record on loop when you're gone because it always reminds him of you. 

Strands of his hair tickle your face when he places a tender kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, your jaw, and finally your lips, where he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger to drag you in closer. He doesn't want to pull away, and so he lingers for far longer than necessary, kissing you softly, effortlessly. 

Your arms wrap around him, and you hold the back of his head with one hand, trail your fingers down his back with the other, and trace the scars that are littered between his shoulder blades. His hands find your thighs and he grips them carefully, slowly spreading them apart. 

He pulls away to pepper your neck with kisses and playful nibbles of his teeth, his lips unable to stay off of you. His fingers trail up, under your shirt, and on your chest, below your ribcage, his fingertips trace shapes onto your skin. It tingles when he draws circles, hearts, spells out the letters of his name with a feather-light touch, wishing he could engrave them in. If he could, he'd cover every last inch of you with his own being, until there's unmistakable proof that he was there, that he's in love with you. For now, the hickeys he's leaving on your nape will have to do. 

"So gorgeous," He mutters against your skin, words muffled, breath hot. "God, I just adore you." His voice is deep, quiet, as smooth as the velvet sheets and as familiar as the guitar riff you've long since memorized in this song.

When Aki leans back, there's a faint grin on his face, and the kindest look in his eyes. Just looking into them makes you feel like you're drowning in warmth. It's hard to recall when you first met him, it feels like forever ago. His gaze was so cold and frigid then, but now, it's taken on a much softer hue. 

Aki dotes on the fact that you're wearing nothing but his own shirt. It's one of his old t-shirts that you dug out from his dresser, and it's a baggy fit, but it looks beautiful on you, he thinks. His palms glide under it, caressing your bare skin. From this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, arms sprawled out with hands upturned, you look absolutely darling, like a dose of fathomable heaven. 

Your senses are filled with the smell of his sheets, his clothing, and his laundry detergent. His cigarettes, his room, just the smell of him, it makes your head spin, and you melt into the comfort and familiarity of it all. You reach up to tuck his messy hair behind his ears, fiddling with the piercings on his lobes as his hands travel down. The glint in his earrings capture the hazy glow of the city lights. 

His hands reach your hips and he holds them tight, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on your skin. He lifts them, aligns you, takes a deep breath. His heart pounds with anticipation, but he looks to you, asks if you're ready first, and only when you nod does he continue. With a hard swallow that makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat, then a fragile gasp and whine, he steadily presses inside you. 

You're so wet from the hours Aki spent teasing you before this, and so messy from the countless times you've came already for him. The inside of your thighs are shiny and glistening, covered with the love bites and pretty bruises he left there. 

It's on nights like these where Aki not only tells you how much he loves you, but shows you. He pleasures you all night long, until you've cum over and over again for him. Until morning light starts to seep through the blinds, and you're too tired to continue, falling asleep in his arms after the waves of pleasure subside. 

Earlier, he made you cum on his fingers, one hand holding his cigarette, the other nestled between your legs. He takes a drag in from the cig, tilting his head to exhale the smoke away from you, all while his middle finger runs up and down your pussy. He gets it wet with your slick before slowly pressing it inside, all the way to the knuckle. He drags it in and out, in and out, and when you buck your hips to meet his hand, he adds another. 

His ring finger stretches you out deliciously, and once it's all the way in, you can feel the cool metal of his promise ring pressed up against your entrance. 

It rests on the base of his finger: a modest, silver band. You wear a similar one, but yours is adorned with a bright, glittering diamond. He saved all his paychecks for months, surprising you with the matching set on your anniversary. Since then, he never takes it off, his promise to be yours anchored to him wherever he goes. 

He'll replace them someday; he's going to ask you to marry him in the future, and he's already convinced himself of it. He hopes you'll take his last name. There's no-one in the world he trusts more with the Hayakawa surname than you, and no-one else he'd rather pass it on to. Giving you that piece of himself would be a blessing. 

Aki's hands are so large and so pretty, big enough to eclipse your own when he holds them, or to cup your entire face with his palm like it's what he was meant to do. And his fingers are perfect; they're so long and slender, and they feel so good as he fucks you with them. You gasp when he curls them upwards, and his lips can't help but form a smile around his cigarette. 

You're always so receptive to his touch. You still giggle every time he kisses the back of your hand or the tip of your nose. Your heart still pounds when he embraces you, when his eyes lock with yours for too long. You fall apart for him every time, just as easily as the first. 

He finds it endearing, and he can't help but want to please you more and more, give you all of his affection. He stamps his cigarette out into the ashtray resting on the nightstand, abandoning it to put his full attention on you, whispering the most divine words into your ear. 

Listen to how wet you are. It feels good, right? Tell me it feels good.

He pumps his fingers in and out to a careful, tender rhythm. He makes sure to press them in enough so that each time, you feel the cold edges of his ring. 

Oh, baby, are you close? Don't hold back, I want you to cum for me. 

Aki can feel you tightening around his fingers. He notices your breathing picking up and your body starting to tense. He drags his fingers out and brings them to your clit, where he rubs tight circles, just how you like, in the way that always brings you to the edge for him time and time again. 

That's it. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart. You make me want you so bad. 

Your thighs are sore, and your whole body is trembling, but Aki holds you close while you come down. You can go one more time for me, can't you, baby? Of course, when he asks you that, the answer is always going to be yes. 

He's dying to taste you, and so he makes you cum again, on his tongue this time. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your stomach, your hips, your thighs, onto every bone, mole, and soft spot his lips can find. Raise your hips a little for me, He instructs, sliding his arms under your thighs when you do so, There you go. Can you spread your legs a bit more for me too? 

He laps up the mess, presses his tongue in, fucks you with it. The rich flavor of his cigarettes still lingers in the back of his throat, and your sweet taste combined with it makes him feel delirious. 

He buries his face between your legs, his nose nudging at your clit, and he groans into your cunt when you run your fingers through his hair and pull him in. He kisses your clit with soft lips, licks it with the flat length of his tongue, takes it into his mouth and sucks on it hard. You're so pretty, he mumbles, but you hardly hear it. Your legs wrap around his head, and he doesn't stop until you're cumming for him again. 

Making you cum, listening to your pretty moans, watching you fall apart to his touch, it gets him so hard. His dick aches, throbs ceaselessly in his briefs, leaks out where it rests thick and heavy against his thigh. His mind goes foggy with lust, and he can feel the pure and utter want for you burning in his veins, settling in the cavity of his chest.

There's something about you that always makes him want more, makes him crave you, and causes him to desire everything you're willing to let him have. It's insatiable. He wants to be inside you so bad he can hardly stand it, but honestly, he could get off on just this alone. 

He could do this all night, surely. He always puts your pleasure above his own, and he would worship your body forever, make each curve and dip into his form of a prayer, if you'd only let him. He'll make you cum as many times as you can take, and as many times as you want. Whatever you want him to do, he'll do it for you. However much you want him to give, he'll give you even more. At your request, he'd give you every last part of himself. 

But on nights like this, even when your eyelids are heavy and threatening to shut, you need more of him. You want to be closer, so even when you're spent, you always end up begging him please, Please, Aki. I want you to fuck me. He wants it just as badly, if not more, and when you ask him like that, how can he resist? He'll always give you exactly what you ask for. 

His cock is thick and so fucking pretty, a perfect stretch when he fills you up. Aki takes his time, eases into you slowly, and you savor every single inch of him. The sight of his dick pressing inside you is damn near intoxicating, and he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze away if he tried. His pupils are blown, eyes glazed over, and his lips are slightly parted, quivering. 

When he's finally all the way in, you can feel his dick in your stomach, and he groans, pulling you in even closer by your waist. He hasn't even moved yet, and his head is already spinning. He waited so long for this, ended up teasing himself just as much as he teased you, and you're so tight around his cock, the feeling might consume him. He doesn't think he'll be able to last long, but he'll try. 

"Oh, fu-uck, baby-" Aki's voice cracks into a moan as he starts to fuck you, echoing a wet sound when he rolls his hips out, then presses back in deeply. He mumbles, "You feel so amazing, I love you. God, I love you." 

Before you can tell him you love him too, his lips come crashing onto yours. He kisses you slowly, at first, but he can't help himself from wanting to indulge in you further. Your lips feel like all he could ever need as they mesh with his. Then, he's kissing you deeply, breathlessly, like he can't get enough. He sucks on your tongue, sighing when he thrusts into you. He buries his cock in deeper just to feel you moan more into his mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, holding it back, keeping it out of his face. 

Honestly, the feeling itself isn't what turns you on the most. It's knowing that he is the one fucking you, Aki's dick is inside you. Aki, whose cold exterior you broke past, whose heartache you managed to cure. Aki, who deserves so much more than what the world has given him, who is nothing like what people say about him. 

Aki, who keeps his arm linked with yours while he makes dinner, trying out new recipes to find which one you like the best. Who wipes the tears from under your eyes with his thumbs, who gives you his jacket when it's cold outside, who still blushes when your knee bumps his in public, who makes you feel completely and utterly safe with him. Aki, who kisses you just like this, like the world is going to end. 

The way Aki loves is intense, but tender. It's exhilarating, but sincere. It never fails to take your breath away, yet still feels like a home you can return to. The kind of love that grounds you, but not without allowing you to fall for him more and more. The kind of love that's purposeful in everything, because in every possible instance, you're the one he wants, and the one he needs. You, and only you. 

When he draws away from you, his lips are ghosting on yours, and he whispers it again, "I love you," voice just barely audible over the music and the downpour. He pulls back further, reaches a hand into his messy hair to brush it out of his face, then cups your cheek. You lean into his warmth, his touch. You can feel the outline of his ring, and he has a stupid grin on his face when he mumbles, "Look at you. So beautiful, and you're all mine. How did I get so lucky?" It's true, but really, he's all yours — so hopelessly addicted to you. 

Aki makes love to you softly, almost lazily. It's sweet and passionate, and gives you a chance to enjoy the atmosphere and every little detail of it all. Aki's cheeks are flushed, his eyelashes flutter, and his chest heaves with every ragged breath he takes in. His moans are loud and needy, each roll of his hips deliberate, never too hard, because he knows how to make you cum without the need to be rough. 

Every time he shoves his cock in, it sends blood rushing to his head, and with each drag out, he whines from the pressure. He's sweating, and he grabs your shirt to hastily tug it up. Not enough to take it off, just enough to expose your chest to him. 

The storm is picking up now, and the rain has grown to a loud, universal drum as it pours from the sky. The record player is still going, vinyl spinning idly as it plays the next song on the album. Aki fucks you through it, nearly to the rhythm, but he isn't paying attention to the music. He's just focused on you. The ambience is drowned out by the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and Aki's voice in your ear. 

"So good," Aki slurs, and one of his hands grips your waist, while the other finds yours to hold it tightly, your fingers interlaced with his. "You take my cock so well." 

"Aki… I..." You stammer out, unable to say much more than that. 

"Yeah?" Aki stops completely, giving you a second to breathe. He leans in a little closer, studies your face, and quietly asks, "What is it, baby? What do you want?" 

"Want you deeper, I want you to fuck me more, please-"

"Shit," Aki sighs, clearly losing his composure for a second. He already had an idea of what you were going to ask for, but he still absolutely loves when you beg for him. He exhales a shaky breath, "Okay, baby, okay." 

Aki's pace quickens a little, and he presses his body closer to yours, desperate to get himself even deeper inside. He's gasping, finding it difficult to breathe as he fucks into you harder, with less of his deliberate movements, and more of his own desperation. He's losing control, little by little, with each thrust and each noise he pulls out of you. You wrap your arms around him, and it's like he's falling into you. 

All it took was that little bit of extra speed, shoving his cock in deeper, harder, and your heavenly moans and cries into his ear for him to be just barely hanging onto the edge. You feel good, way too good. Too perfect, and he's too vulnerable, linked inseparably with you. 

"Oh my God, I c-can't, you feel so- fuck, fucking amazing," He stammers, barely able to get the words out, moaning after every unsteady thrust into you as he begins to lose his rhythm. His high-pitched whines are a perfect contrast to the deep vibrato of his voice. "I can't, baby, I'm so close, I'm gonna cum-" 

He's trying so much to hold out, but he's so needy, and it's made evident by his moans and the love-drunk expression on his face when he leans back to look at you. His eyebrows are knitted, his lips are parted, and he's flushed red, all the way to the tips of his ears. Despite how badly he wants it, he thinks he might be able to keep going for a little while longer, but when you start begging for him to let go, to cum for you, he's done for. 

He gives you a couple more desperate thrusts before he pulls out, panting hard, and his dick throbs in his hand as he jerks it. He whines your name as his cum spills out all over your pussy, your stomach, and your thighs. All over his own trembling fingers and down his knuckles, making his hand sticky and messy. 

Aki takes a moment to catch his breath. Strands of hair stick to his forehead from his sweat and he does his best to brush them away. He glides two fingers through the mess on your stomach, then collects what drips down your thighs, before bringing them to your mouth. You open before he has to tell you to, and he smears his cum all over your tongue. You suck on his slender fingers and twirl your tongue around his whole hand, licking up every last drop. 

"That's it," Aki praises, exhaling a shaky sigh, "Such a good girl for me. You made me feel so fucking good, baby." 

You hum around his fingers in response. 

He's close to collapsing, his whole body covered in a blanket of exhaustion, but his focus is on you. He's still so damn hard, already dribbling pre-cum out all over your soft stomach. And he's still so eager to please you, still so desperate to have you. Watching you take his fingers just reignited that feeling. 

Aki takes his fingers out, and they're wet with your own saliva when he grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks. He swallows, and the way his normally resolute voice wavers implies that he's the slightest bit nervous when he admits, "I still need you." 

"I need you too. Please."

The tip of his dick is sensitive, to the point where just pressing it to your entrance makes him whine and briefly falter. He strokes up the length, trying to get himself used to the stimulation, swiping his palm over the tip to smear the shaft with his pre-cum. He doesn't want to make you wait for too long, so he brings it back to your pussy, dragging it over, getting it messy with your slick and his cum before he slowly eases back in. 

"Oh, God," Aki's head falls, and you wrap your legs around his back, tangling your fingers in his hair. You run them through close to the scalp, gently holding the back of his head, and he stammers, "S-So… It's so…"

It's so sloppy, so wet. So overwhelming, and all too much. His cock slides in and out with ease, and he fucks into you as much as he can possibly handle without falling apart at the seams. Your thighs are soaked, his dick is unbelievably messy, and the wet sound echoed each time he shoves himself in is so damn loud. 

"Babydoll, I'm-" Aki mumbles, but he's unable to finish his sentence, breaking into a string of pathetic whimpers. He feverishly gives your neck open-mouthed kisses as a way to shut himself up. 

The overstimulation is already starting to get to him. His legs are weak and shaky, threatening to buckle under the weight of each thrust into you. His dick is so goddamn sensitive that he can hardly handle this, and yet, he can't stop. The only thing running through his brain, through every nerve in his body is that he needs you, he needs this. He grabs your face with his hand and you hook your arms around his neck to pull him in, your lips clumsily connecting with his. 

Aki moans into your mouth as he kisses you, and mutters an I love you that slurs off of his tongue when yours swirls around his. The taste of himself on your mouth has him reeling, and he can't stop himself from rutting his hips into you hard. When he pulls away, there's drool dripping down his chin, and he wipes it hastily with the back of his hand. 

With his head in such a blur, he ends up telling you every little thought that enters into his mind. "Feels so g-good… So warm… Really w-wet, ah-" 

God, you just love him when he's like this. So fucked out and drunk on you he can hardly speak, his head so cloudy all he can think about is how you're making him feel. It's a side of him only you get to see; he's cold and serious with everyone else, but he's got a soft spot for you. The truth is, even when it seems like he's the one in control, you're the one who's held all the power over him from the start. You always have. 

You can leave hickeys on his neck that all his co-workers will see, scratch up his back with your fingernails until they leave red streaks across his skin, touch him anywhere and everywhere you please because he's yours to touch. Play with his pretty cock all you want, until he's pleading with you to let him cum, to give him more because he needs it. You can stuff his own tie in his mouth to keep him quiet, wrap your hands around his throat while you ride him. And he'll love every second of it, pure devotion reflected in the gaze he can't seem to keep off of you.  

He'll let you do anything you want to him, and he'll give you anything you ask for. Especially when he's this overwhelmed, drowning in his own pleasure. And if there's anything you want right now, it's to watch him lose his mind for you. 

So when you tell him to fuck you deeper, harder, pleading, Don't you dare stop, not even for a second, he'll do just that. When you tell him to kiss you, bite you, he does, placing hurried pecks over every inch of your face, leaving impressions of his teeth on your neck and shoulders. And when you tell him to keep talking to you, praise you, I want to hear your voice, his words are incoherent and breathless, but he stammers them all the same, and without a second thought. 

"Love you… I… A-Ah, it's-" Aki manages, trying to form something complete, but failing every time. His breaths are quickened and his chest is heaving when he begs, "Please," although he's not sure what he's even begging for. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and beads of sweat drip down his forehead. It's too much, but he needs you so badly he can't quit. He's desperate to feel you cum on his cock. 

Your legs are still wrapped around him, secured at the ankles. You glide your hands up his chest, then to where his collarbones jut out. Over his shoulders, up to his jawline, then down again to squeeze his arms. He's pretty, so pretty, the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

He can feel you tightening around him, and can tell your moans are picking up as he fucks you. His thrusts are shallow; he needs the friction, but also longs to stay deep inside you. He's dizzy, seeing stars, and even though he's so overwhelmed that he's not sure if he can handle cumming again, a familiar knot starts forming in his gut. He chokes out, "C-Close." 

"Me too," You reply, "Want you to cum for me, fill me up, please, Aki-" 

There's no way, absolutely no way he can resist that. Between you begging for him and the way you say his name, he's done for. He'll always give you just what you want. 

The tension snaps, and Aki grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him, fucking you through his orgasm, filling you with his cum. He cums so hard, so loud, so desperately, his muscles tightening, his dick throbbing in your stomach, all while he whines your name and a mix of disjointed, endless I love you's. 

His thrusts become messy, unrelenting, and he doesn't stop, not when it sounds like he can hardly breathe, or when his whole body is trembling. Before he collapses onto you, he wedges a hand between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. The feeling is one of utter euphoria, and it's enough to bring you to the edge. You slur his name over and over again as you finish, saying it in ways that make his heart flutter and swell in his chest. 

He slows when you're finally spent, his voice in your ear hoarse, but gentle, words spoken under his breath. "That's it, cum on me, baby. Just like that... Oh my God...."

The record has long since stopped by now, and the rain still falls, but nowhere near as hard as before. It creates an air of silence, and you're suddenly aware of your own heart in your ears, and Aki's heavy breaths, his swallows and meager gasps for air. His weight pins you to the mattress, and he pulls out incredibly slow, wrapping his arms around you to hold you even closer to himself. He smells of sex and sweat, of lingering smoke and a cozy familiarity. 

"You okay?" He asks, finally managing to catch his breath, whispering into the shell of your ear. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay." 

"I love you so much. More than I could ever find a way to express," Aki sighs, taking your hand into his own, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me." 

You give a little half-hearted chuckle, and then you reply, "I love you too. So much." 

Aki pushes himself up a little to meet your gaze. His cheeks are covered in a rosy blush, and when your free hand comes to cup his cheek, he holds it there, his fingers tenderly rubbing circles into your knuckles, brushing over the curve of your ring. 

He smiles, softly, warm enough to melt fresh snow, and the bridge of his nose crinkles ever-so slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he asks, "You tired, baby?" 

You nod, eyelids heavy, your whole body weak and weary. Aki leans in, and you can feel his smile against your lips when he kisses you. He holds it, keeping his lips on yours for far longer than he needs to, like he always does. When he pulls back, he whispers, "Let's get you ready for bed." 

Aki gives you as much time as you need to rest, and when you're ready, he tugs your shirt over your head and carries you to the bathroom. He showers with you, lets you lean on him while he washes your hair, and kisses every inch of your skin while you both relax under the hot water. He dries you off, helps you get dressed, kisses the tip of your nose, asks if you're hungry. You say that you're not, but he offers to make you something anyways, and for his cooking, you can't refuse. 

When the two of you finally sink back into bed, Aki holds you close. His shape fits to yours perfectly, like two halves of the same whole. You can feel the metronome of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. His hand grabs yours, absentmindedly, like the way magnets are pulled together, destined to find one another. 

"I have the day off tomorrow, what would you like to do, baby?" He asks as he plays with your hair, twirling strands around his fingers. 

"Mmm…" You feign thinking, but really, you're just trying to fight off your ever-growing sleepiness. "Can we go shopping?" 

"We can go wherever you'd like. You wanna go out to eat, too? We haven't in a while." 

It's because your cooking is so good, You think, but you answer with a nod so light you're hardly sure if he even noticed. He places a kiss on the crown of your head and replies, "Alright, we'll go somewhere nice." 

In your head, you imagine how the day with him tomorrow will go. Aki will slip out of bed to make breakfast as silently as possible, careful to avoid stepping on the spots that make the floor creak. You'll wake up to the smell of coffee brewing, to breakfast in bed. Aki will take you to the stores he knows you love, the ones that have the clothes you always say you feel the best in. He'll take you out to the restaurant you never ask for, because you know it's too expensive, but he secretly knows it's your favorite. And of course, he'll pay for everything. 

You begin to fall asleep as the scenes play out in your mind, melting into the lull of his soft breathing and the warmth of his arms. 

Aki's voice is drowsy when he asks, "You still awake?" 

There's no response, so he pulls you closer, holds you safely, presses your head to his heart, and tells you one last, I love you. 

And when he drifts off as well, he'll love you still, wholeheartedly. Even in his dreams, then until he breathes his last, and when he does, he's sure he'll continue to love you in the lifetime after this one. 

I'll love you as much as my heart can take. Cross my heart and hope to die. 

[martyrsex]

Jason x Reader

A/N: Fantasies part three!! Yey! This is not a long chapter. It's just to clean the mess I did in the last one, honestly. There's nothing else to add in the story, so probably it's the last chapter, but who knows? I don't!

summary: Jason and reader needs roy's help to understand each other's feelings better. Jay ends up listening to something out of context, and it leads to reader being done of this.

Fantasies - chapter three.

Roy Harper wasn't as oblivious as his friends believed. Actually, he probably understands better the situation than both of them. Yesterday, when he came back home, Jason was locked inside his room and so was she. Roy eated alone, cleaned the dishes alone, and planned the next mission alone. It wasn't unusual for her to be a little reclusive - being the only girl in the house sometimes made her feel overwhelmed, as she told him once - but Jason? Odd.

So, when he saw Jason sitting in the kitchen this morning, an untouched cup of coffee in the middle of his hands, Roy knew his buddy fucked something up. The red marks on Jason's shoulders didn't escape his sharp eyes; and the lack of her stunning presence exposed that something was off.

"Where's my girl?" Roy developed an habit of calling her his girl, but it was a mere sweet name. Just like he called Jay my jaybird. Arsenal cares deeply for his friends; and seeing both of them this down - or seeing the lack of a presence - makes him sad. He knows, though, that Jason is slightly jealous - honestly, so fucking jealous - at the proximity he has with the woman.

What his stupid best buddy doesn't realize, is the reason she tends to talk more with Roy than with him.

She's not madly in love with me, you ass. That's why.

He almost said that so many times to Jason, when he noticed his stare on them having fun, joking and hugging each other. She would go to his room for movie nights, and more than once, when Jason tried to participate, she shutted down; sometimes not saying a word the whole night. Jason never talked with Roy about this; and he doesn't need to. Roy knows Jason like the palm of his hands; he can read his friend's emotions like it's an actual book.

So Arsenal doesn't feel surprised when Jason furrows at the nickname leaving his lips, nor when he states harshly;

"Your girl, Roy, is in her room." He gets up, leaving the coffee on the table, and when Harper realizes his boy is leaving the kitchen, he is interfering in the only way he knows how to - teasing.

"Interesting marks in your arms, dude. Was you patrolling?" Jason tenses at the statement, cursing himself for forgetting to put a shirt with long sleeves.

"I'm not in the mood, Roy."

"It seems like you was yesterday." At that, Jason finally looks at him. And damn, the guy was bad.

"You know, Roy, sometimes your girl is right. You really should learn the time to shut up."

Roy can't help the low chuckle that leaves his lips when Jason says the nickname again. Damn, was he that oblivious? He expected more for someone trained by the big bat.

"What did you do? Thought you knew how to treat a lady, Jaybird."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with her!" Jason is mad; he knows. But it's like this - after he releases his bitter feelings, the sadness crawls his throat and he opens up. Again, Roy Harper knows his friends.

"Sure, Jason. So why isn't she here, and why you have those scratches? I'm not a kid, dude, I can recognize love marks when I see them."

Jason sighs, shoving his anger aside, because Roy is right and he is being an ass. He sits on the chair again, staring at the coffee he tried to do like she does, and failed miserably, because her coffee is fucking great and his sucks. And that's a pattern in a lot of other things.

Roy joins him, stealing his cup and sipping at the now cold liquid.

"This tastes like shit."

"I know."

The stare at each other, and for a moment, none knew what to say. She was inside her room since last night, and Jason had to fight against himself to not open her door and beg her to forgive him, for some reason he can't figure it out.

"What happened when I was out, Jason?" Roy decides to be direct, so they can get somewhere.

"I fucked up, I guess."

"Yeah, I can see that. Why?"

"We... damn, I wanted this for so long. And I thought she wanted too, and-"

"So you guys fucked?" Jason rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, wasn't you who said it was obvious?" Roy drinks the shitty coffee again;

"So, dude, what's wrong? You got what you wanted. You should be, like, glad." His words were extremely calculated to make Jason spill it out, because it's noticeable the guy needs help to figure out his feelings.

"She cried after." Well. That was unexpected. She wouldn't cry easily, especially in front of them. Roy suddenly feels protective.

"The fuck you did, Jason?"

"Damn it, I don't know! I said already. I thought she was enjoying it, but after she started to cry, and left me." He was so stressed. Feeling guilty for something he didn't even knows what is.

"I'm afraid I hurt her. Maybe I was to rough."

"Are you sure that's the problem?" Roy knows Jason cares deeply for her, and his friend would never risk her safety for his trivial pleasures.

"Not really, Roy. You know I'm careful with this kind of thing, and honestly, I doubt she wouldn't say anything if that was the case."

Roy tilts his head, agreeing. She was just as good of a fighter as them - maybe even better - and she'd never shut herself down about this. But Roy knows she shuts down all the time about her feelings. Specially her feelings towards Jay. Jason knows that too; and that's what scares him the most. That maybe she carries feelings like his. That maybe this could have been something more, and he ruined.

"Well, you should talk to her about this. I can do that if you want."

"I know you will even if I asked you not to."

"Smart boy. But, now, the most important question: Was it good?"

"You're worthless, Roy Harper." He can't help the little smile in his face.

•••

She cried till her eyes felt like exploding. So when someone knocked on her door - and by the stupid sequence of it, she knew it was Roy - relief was the only thing running through her veins. Someone to talk to; something to fill her mind.

"Come in, Roy." She cleans fastly the corner of her swollen eyes, trying to fake a better state than what it actually was.

Closing the door behind him, he states, "I don't know who looks worst. You, or Jaybird." This calls her attention.

"Is he... Is he mad at me?" Roy sits on her bed, stroking her messy hair gently.

"Mad at you? The dude is almost jumping off a bridge. He's mad at himself."

The tears felt like surging again; and she swallowed hard to control her emotions. "Why would he be mad at himself, Roy? He did nothing wrong."

God, his friends were so dumb. He just want to scream, you guys love each other, for God's sake! But honestly, he's not sure if they would believe him. Because they are, again, fucking dumb.

"Was he rough with you?" Her eyes wide.

"No! He thinks that's the reason? I'm so stupid. I'm so, so fucking stupid. He must think... I hate him!"

"Now you're just being dramatic, and you know this."

A little smile crawls her red face. "Okay, maybe I am overthinking. But it's just... You know my feelings, Roy. I started to cry because I know he only wants me for my body, and I love him, and it hurts so much."

Jaybird will forgive him for this. He will have to. Roy hates to break his friend trust, but seriously, they need an exterior brain working on this.

"He loves you too, dummy. If you hadn't left so soon, he would have told you."

"How do you know?"

"Just talked with him." She can't control her sobs; this time - from happiness.

•••

Jason is in the corridor when he hears whimpers. He knows Roy is in her room, probably talking about how much he messed up. Her sweet voice breaking in sobs of pain is almost unbearable to him.

He stays there, trying to listen to anything that they say, completely aware he's being an idiot, because this is her privacy, and he doesn't have the right to do this.

And then, his heart is shoved out his chest.

...I hate him!

Jason leaves. Without listening to the rest, because he doesn't want to start crying in the middle of this stupid corridor. That's it. He got what he wanted. But at what price?

The next three days, she tried to approach him. She was that nice - even unable to forgive him, she kept trying to make Jason feel better. He didn't deserve this. So Jason refused. He walked away, wanting to respect her feelings. He convinced himself she had the right of hating him.

He convinced himself he didn't deserve her stunning presence, because taking the blame for this is better than the hope that, somehow, this is a misunderstood.

So why does his heart screams otherwise?

•••

Three days. He doesn't look at her face for three fucking days.

She did a cup of coffee for him, the way she knows he likes it, and he left it on the table, not even touching. She tried to talk to him, tried to stare shamelessly until he said something, and he returned none of her attempts.

Roy sweared he wasn't mad at her, so why isn't he talking to her? Why is he pretending she's not there? She's so fucking done of the silence treatment.

She'll break it. Without advice, she just enters in his room like a hurricane; but when they lock eyes, she has nothing in her mind.

He was changing clothes. His sweat pants dangerously low in his hips, his shirt in his hand. Hair wet from shower.

"Do you know door exist for a reason, don't you?" His voice. That teasing tone; a bit hesitant, but it's there.

"I- Ahm, I'm sorry." He puts his shirt again in the closet.

"Close the door." Unexpected. Adrenaline pulses in her body while she follows his request. Jason gets closer to her, staring in her eyes.

"Why are you ignoring me, Jay?"

"I heard you and Roy talking in your room. I... because of what you said, I thought you didn't wanted my presence."

She furrows. This doesn't make any sense. She literally said she loved him, and... oh.

"What exactly did you heard, Jason?" She feels the corner of her mouth moving up. They were so, so stupid.

"You said you hated me." His voice trembles, and she can't help the big smile in her face. He seems confused by her unsettling reaction, and she is fast in the explanation.

"Haven't Batman given you the lesson about not believing in things out of context, Jay?"

"I guess 'I hate him' is a pretty complete phrase."

She takes his hand, bringing it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. He shivers at her touch; at how much he misses it.

"Jason. You're the second dumbest person I know. And second because, I am, without doubts, the first place."

She guides him till his bed, crossing fingers, making him seat.

"I love you." His head, low between his shoulders, rise so fast he almost felt dizzy. "What?"

She leans closer to him, whispering in his ear; "I love you, Jason Todd. I do it for a while."

"So why did you left-"

"Because I thought you only desired my body. Roy had to tell me the truth." He tilts his head to the side, mouth mere inches from hers. He looks at her pretty lips, and he wants to kiss it again and again. The whole night. And then wake up at her side, the way it should have been since the beginning, and kiss it again.

"I love you, too."

"I know. I finally know."

He kisses her, uncaring about Roy being in the apartment. The sucker knew till the beginning. Now, they'll do it the right way. She'll stay here, with him, and sleep tangled in his sheets, as he fantasized with a million times.

And tomorrow, Jason will thanks Roy for being such a reckless ass in that mission, which leaded to that stupid joke. Stupid because she's way more than that.

He didn't lost the one he wants to be loved by. He breaks the kiss to smile, and stares at her in disbelief.

[randomimaginesforrandompeople]

Little tease | Riven smut

Summary: You tease Riven during training, he shows you what happens to little teases.

A/N: I do not own the gif but I thought it would fit! This is just smut, but we need more Riven smut out there. It’s a little filthier than I have written so far so I hope it isn’t too bad. 

WARNING: SMUT read at your own discretion, Daddy kink (because come on, Riven totally has one) teasing, dirty talk (a little degrading),  little rough but nothing too crazy.

Taglist: @novawrts @americaswritings @voidmalfoy @reader101k @teaandcoke @glowingatdawn @fandomwalflower @blahhhhhhhaaa @artsyle @criesinlies​ @orphan-with-a-stutter​

If you want to be added/removed from my taglist please let me know!

You had never had an attraction to someone like this, you couldn’t explain what it was. Riven just made you feel some type of way. He could give you one look  and set your body on fire, it didn’t help that he was the worlds biggest flirt and liked to show off. Luckily for you, the feeling was mutual and Riven focused his attention on you.

Riven and you had been together for a while now, you knew all his quirks and habits, and you also knew what really got him going. You were in a mood, there was a training scheduled and you did not want to go. You wanted to spend your day in bed with Riven. So to say you were a little annoyed was an understatement. The only good thing about this training was that the second year specialists were assisting, so you did get to see your boyfriend, just not in the situation you had hoped for. 

The training was in full swing and you were getting frustrated, sexually. Riven was looking way too hot for a normal training day. All sweaty, flexing his muscles and being in charge? Yeah that definitely got you going. You huffed in annoyance, you knew that training would at least be another hour. 

Silva asked Riven to demonstrate a new move and asked for a volunteer, you had never been this eager to help out, you wanted to get pinned against the floor by Riven and you were getting more desperate with the minute. Luckily Silva chose you, Riven raised his eyebrow, you never volunteered to help demonstrate. You were one of the types that liked to learn quietly to themselves. You got in position and launched at Riven, he blocked your attack and pinned you to the floor in one swift move. Silva explained the mechanics of the move as Riven was still pinning you down, you decided to tease him a little and whispered ‘’Sorry babe, needed an excuse to be underneath you again’’ He gulped and you grinned, liking the effect you had on him. The two of you rose and you knew exactly how to make this training more fun.

It was your personal mission to get a rise out of Riven. You took every oppurtunity to practice with him. Pressing your body against him, whispering things to him whenever you had the chance and making other innuendos. You could see that it was getting to him, he got a little snappy towards the other first years and looked increasingly more frustrated.

Riven had no idea what had gotten into you, but it had him going crazy. The way you moved made it more difficult to focus, especially when you kept touching him and giving him sly looks. It was killing him, Silva had asked him to help because of his improvement and he didn’t want to mess up. But god did you make it hard, pun intended. You were drinking from your water bottle when Riven stalked over to you ‘’What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’’ he hissed at you. You smiled innocently ‘’I have no idea what you’re talking about’’ Riven looked at you, clearly irritated ‘’Knock. it. off’’ He walked away, huffing loudly. You had definitely gotten to him.

You were sparring with Dane when you called Riven over, you were going in for the final move. ‘’Riv, can I try this move on you? Dane was asking about it’’ You smiled sweetly, he already knew it was a trap but he couldn’t say no to you with all the others around you, so he nodded. He launched at you and this time you had him quickly to the ground. You were sitting on top of him and stretched out your whole body over his to ‘lock him down’ you leaned down and whispered innocently ‘’Am I doing it right daddy?’’ He could feel himself twitch in his pants, you had really done it now. You slowly got off of him, brushing past his growing problem. Riven was pissed to say the least, you were actually kind of nervous when you saw the bitter expression on his face. But training was finally over and before you could do anything, Riven had grabbed your arm and dragged you off of the training fields. 

‘‘You fucking tease’‘ You were barely in his room when he had pinned you against the wall. ‘‘Trying to distract and tempt me the entire training session’‘ He smirked, his pupils full blown and dark ‘’Want me to show you what I do to a needy little tease?’’ He forced your legs open with his thigh and roughly pushed it against your heat. You let out a small noise at the contact, making him grin bigger. ‘’Not so bold now huh?’’ He pushed his thigh closer against you, making you moan. He chuckled ‘’You’re so fucking desperate’’ You tried to move against his thigh, needing any sort of friction but he held you still, breath ghosting over your neck but not doing anything. You let out a whine, you were indeed desperate and needed him to do anything ‘’Come on baby, use your words’’ You had difficulty making up a coherent sentence, especially when his lips started to lightly touch your neck before pulling away from you completely. The loss of contact made you whimper ‘’I-I need you to fucking touch me, please’’ Riven cupped your cheek ‘’Please what?’’ ‘’Please daddy’’

That was it, he was on you in a second. Attacking your mouth with his own. His hands were groping your ass, your legs around his waist and your hands in his hair as you moaned into the kiss. He carried you over to the bed and roughly dropped you. He wasted no time, taking of his shirt and your sports bra before getting on top of you again. Kissing you once again, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could feel his growing errection being pushed into you, you were soaked at this point. He bit on your lip before assaulting your neck, he was marking you. Normally you’d mind because people were going to see but you were so lost in all of it that you didn’t care at that moment. Your hands were in his hair as you moaned, you wrapped your legs around him again to push him closer into you, earning a groan from him. You loved it when he made his little noises, and you’d do anything to hear them over and over. 

He was leaving marks all over your body taking his sweet time, way too long in your opinion. You loved his mouth on you but you needed something else more. You started grinding against him making him chuckle ‘’God you really are desperate today huh?’’ He leaned in closer to you ‘’Does baby need to be filled?’’ You nodded. He grinned while he looked at you, you already fucked out and he had barely touched you. ‘’Do you deserve it?’’ Your eyes widened ‘’Cause only good girls get filled up’’ His thumb traced over your lip ‘’Please’’ you croaked ‘’I need you so bad’’ He pulled you into a surprisingly sweet kiss ‘’Alright baby, you get off this time, but don’t pull that stunt on me again’’ you nodded, you’d do anything at this point. 

Suddenly he tore down your leggings. He whistled when he saw your panties, they were red and lacy just as he liked. ‘’You planned this all along huh? my naughty little girl’’ He nudged your legs open and touched you over your underwear, they were completely soaked and you knew it. The little friction was appreciated but it was not nearly enough ‘’Riven... please’’ He pressed a little harder ‘’Tell me what you want’’ He pushed your underwear to the side and raked his finger over your slit making you gasp ‘’I want you to fuck me daddy’’ He grinned ‘’Anything for you baby’’ He plunged two fingers into your heat and kept a rapid pace making you throw your head back and moan loudly. You didn’t even care who heard anymore. He pulled away from you after a few minutes and licked his fingers clean ‘’You taste so fucking good’’ You whined at the loss of contact but saw that he was removing his pants and boxers and licked your lips when you saw his already leaking dick. He pumped it a few times before getting back to you.

He pushed your legs apart even more and took your legs and rested them over his shoulders giving him an interesting angle. He pushed at you all at once drawing out a long moan from the both of you. He didn’t give you any time to adjust before slowly pulling out and pushing back in again. He groaned ‘’You’re so tight, I love being inside of you’’ his hips snapped deliciously into you and you let out a few breathy moans when he started picking up his pace. It didn’t take long before you felt the familiair coil burning inside your stomach. Riven noticed too ‘’Come for me babygirl’’ He thrusted a few more times and you came undone, seeing stars. Your orgasm washed over you and that was all it took for Riven to snap as well, coming inside of you. 

The two of you were breathing heavily next to each other. ‘’That was mindblowing’’ you rested your head on his chest and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer ‘’Damn right it was, but please don’t ever tease me again during training’’ you giggled ‘’Well I might have to if you fuck me this good afterwards’’ Riven laughed he pulled you in for a slow kiss making you melt  ‘’I can fuck you good anytime babe’’

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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[lebenspurpur]

AN: Helloo, wrote this because I spent today suffering through my post-drunk-vandalism hangover. Guess it's deserved but still, it sucks. After eating chicken broth my dad made, unsalted if I may add, for an hour straight I am now ready to be creative. I really don't know what this is.

Have the link to my Larry playlist while we're at it:

Pairing: Larry Johnson x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol

Wordcount: 1744 words

🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓🔪🏁🕷🤍🧷💀⛓

Larry looks really, really stupid right now. Stupid and sick.

His tall form slumped over in defeat, big blanket wrapped around him but not too tight, otherwise he'd feel too hot, too feverish, he still needs some air. There are tissues scattered across the couch as well. Fucking hell.

Usually, this would disgust you but it's Larry, you think you've seen worse.

Small sniffles come from where he's laying, whenever he clears his throat hoarse croaking leaves his mouth and he cringes every time he hears it. He can feel your judging gaze on his body, hear your arched eyebrow without even lifting his head.

His radio is blaring some kind of metal music, you don't recognize the band. Technically, the music is useless since the TV in front of Larry's bed is playing an old horror movie, bloody screams only adding to the grimy ambiance in the room.

"I-", you start but Larry lifts his hand before you can even consider continuing.

On any other occasion, you would've noticed the rings adorning his slender fingers, the metal accessories leaving a trail of dark smudge on his hands. Damn, did he have some nice hands.

Thankfully today wasn't a normal occasion. The metalhead in front of you had worse problems than you drooling over his fingers right now, one of them being the sickness he caught.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so.'", he croaks out while he finally lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. He looks immensely tired. You can sense his annoyance at this sickness, this hellish treatment he's in and can't seem to escape.

You take a deep breath in and drop your bag next to his opened front door.

"Alright. I won't."

You close the door quietly and deposit your jacket as well as boots next to it.

His mom always screams at Larry to finally get something for visitor's shoes and bags but he never does. Too busy, too lazy, he figures his visitors get it. Who even visits him, anyway?

The floor is, as usual, covered in stuff he hasn't cleaned yet. Unfinished drawings, sketchbooks, take-out cartons, empty booze bottles, you keep wondering how he manages to create that kind of mess in a timespan of not even two days.

You tiptoe over them, careful as to not to step into something. Earlier experiences have taught you to never mistake one of these seemingly empty cartons as really empty. Just last week you stepped into a fucking pizza the man in front of you didn't finish.

You sigh as you sit down next to him and Larry tiredly raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, I know you don't want to move but Jesus, we really need to get you to bed.", you then state, voice comforting yet firm. You use the moment to stare into his eyes, adore the brown, thick, deepness of them.

Larry groans loudly, voice breaking from how raw his throat is. His head falls back and he closes his eyes, a pained expression on his features.

"Don't wanna.", he grumbles quietly and you involuntarily crack a smile. Larry always managed to do that, even in the most unbelievable moments.

"I'll join you if you do."

One of his eyes slowly creaks open, observing your face to look for any kind of sarcasm or irony. As soon as he doesn't find any, the other eye opens as well and he leans forward again, blanket clutched tightly in his fists.

"Alright."

You grin at his quiet answer, hand reaching over to pull him with you. He obliges, warm, slightly clammy hand tightly grabbing yours. He follows you through the messy room, his blanket leaving a trail of destruction behind the two of you.

You kick open the door leading to his bedroom. Immediately, the familiar images of various album covers greet you. The air in his room is colder and less damp and you hear him take a deep breath.

Turning around, you mention for him to wait while you walk over, grabbing the blanket on his bed. You shake it a bit, readjust the sheets as well the pillow, all while Larry's eyes never leave your back.

"There you go, sweets.", you add as you finish, quickly turning around to see Larry standing the same way you've left him. Tired, slumped, and emotional. The need to hug him starts boiling inside of you but you try and hold yourself back. First, you have to make sure he gets into bed.

Larry slowly stumbles past you. During the last few baby steps, he drops the blanket around his shoulder, faceplanting right into the freshly made sheets. He's not even wearing a shirt and you huff at his stubbornness.

Larry's back looks strong like this, muscles contracting beneath his skin as he tries to get more comfortable. Your eyes glide over his spine, his wide shoulders, the small bumps where his ribs encase his organs. His olive skin is sweaty and long, brown hairs cling to it.

You cringe at that, knowing the feeling all too well.

Softly placing a hand on his back, you move closer, forehead scrunched together.

"Larry, darling."

He grunts into his pillow, a muffled questioning sound.

"I got a hair tie here. Mind lifting your head real quick?"

Larry obliges and lifts his head quickly, taking a deep breath while he does so.

Your fingers find his scalp and start collecting all the strands, securing them afterward with the tie around your wrist.

The man beneath you hums in appreciation as the cold air hits his neck, sweaty skin finally being able to breathe. You kiss the small space beneath his neck real quick, a short sign of comfort before you stand up again, hands leaving his skin.

Larry whines the second you do so, all while quickly turning around, sending you a pleading look.

"You said you'd stay.", the whiny tone only makes his voice sound more hoarse and you can't help the small grin from appearing on your features.

"In a second, sweetie. You need some water and medicine first, alright?"

He whines again but the thought of something fresh and cold going down his throat is enough to soften the pleading look in his eye. You blow him a kiss and then quickly walk into the kitchen, which is right across from the brunette's room.

It's surprisingly clean but what did you expect? Larry never uses his kitchen unless he has to. Which isn't all too often.

Grabbing a water bottle and placing it on the counter, you keep searching for the small broth packets you'd bought exactly for this kind of scenario. You find them in the fridge, the only thing in this room that Larry actually uses.

Chuckling you get some water cooking, all while pouring the powder into one of the giant cups Sal has gifted Larry a while ago. According to the masked man, everything tastes better if it's being eaten out of a cup and so, everyone has their own sets of cups, a premium gift from Sal Fisher.

Soon, everything's done and you maneuver your way back into Larry's room. Said man is awaiting you, eyes still opened as he watches you creep towards his bed, hands full with water, soup, and medicine.

First, you feed him the medicine. Normally he'd do this himself but you know that he'll just ignore the bitter juice unless you force it down his throat. Stubborn motherfucker.

Larry's sitting up now, back propped up against one of the many big pillows he has. You hand him the broth and he inhales it in less than two minutes, apparently, this is the first thing he's eaten today. Shaking your head at the thought, you tug a few strands of hair out of his face, smiling at your lover's appetite.

Finally, after gulping down half of the water bottle, the brunette leans back and smiles, for the first time this evening.

"Thank you.", he croaks out and you touch his arm as an appreciative gesture, "Does that mean you're allowed to join me now?"

You're about to nod as you notice the faint traces of eyeliner on his skin.

"Did you take off your makeup when you got home?", you ask, throwing a teasing smile his way.

Larry clears his throat, embarrassed that you caught him. A faint blush raises on his cheeks and you feel your heart swell at the sight.

"I might have forgotten about it.", he answers, gaze slowly meeting yours again, "But please, let's just do this later, dude. I am so fucking tired."

Huffing, you roll your eyes at his answer but you nod anyway. He'd be fine with the makeup for a few more hours. You just have to remember taking it off tomorrow.

"You're lucky I love you."

Larry grins at that, the usual wide, blinding grin, that makes your stomach tingle with fuzzy feelings inside of it. His fingers find your arm and he tenderly pulls you down to join him. Soon, your head is placed on his chest, and his arms cradle your shoulders, pulling you into his body.

You can hear his relaxed breathing as he finally settles down, nuzzling his face into your hair.

His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile into it. It doesn't matter how often you've done it, laying on his nude chest always makes you flustered.

Larry's fingers start to draw stuff on your back, the feeling more than a delight for you. Humming, you snuggle closer and the metalhead next to you smiles.

His eyes already start to close slowly, lack of sleep finally catching up to him. The quiet sound of the ongoing movie in his living room, as well as the metal music, make for a great background sound and you both listen intently.

You notice the way his heart beats, slow and steady, beneath the tanned skin. Unknowingly, you start to synchronize your breaths with his. In and out. In. And out.

Soon, your eyes close as well. Damn it, you don't want to fall asleep. Though, you suppose it doesn't matter as the man next to you pulls you closer, his breath warm against your ear. He wouldn't let you leave anyway.

The thought makes you feel giddy, excited, in love. Smiling widely, you try to press yourself closer into him, and soon, you too, fall asleep, enveloped by the arms of the boy you love most. Your favorite boy.

[jodiie-leighanne]

Sin and Sinuous

Gentle gusts filter through the open bow windows, bringing lustre to the stone keep castle. Pleasing to the eye, strolling the halls you could smell the past it held. Feel the presence of the afterlife.

Hair pinned, curled and sprayed to perfection. Searching for freshly squeezed orange juice with a dash of something bitter to quench my nerve driven thirst. Silk pearl gown, wrapped at the waist. Nothing on underneath except lace matching undergarments.

Tapping of my bare feet on the cobbles was all that sounded, except the gasp that fled my lips as I was whisked backwards into a room by a firm hold on my neck. Spine flat to a torso.

"Boo" the figure whispered as their lips grazed my ear. Pecking it lightly. Spinning around to face them when my eyes met his hollowed havens.

"What the hell are you doing? The ceremony is in an hour", hissing at his foolish way, this is only bound to bring bad luck.

"I know, I just wanted to see you", Pouting as he moved forward forcing me back, trapped against wood and the bare skin of his chest. Nothing but a pair of pressed slacks separating us. Watching tentatively as a hand raised from the left letting two fingers tug open my robe. Groaning inside his mouth as the material unravelled revealing my lingerie.

"You shouldn't- we shouldn't" Barely a whisper as the callous palms smoothed around my stomach to hold my waist. He just stared with soft seductive hues. Those damned silvers almost blank from colour yet they told a story, you could read him page by page with a single glance.

Neck arched to meet me head on, lips so close I could taste the mint. "Please, just one last time before it's official"

How could I ever say no? Nodding in consent he wastes no time. Capturing my mouth with his, it's bitterly sweet. We turned from tame to wild in moments, my right thigh secured at his hip. Lips never parted as I unclasped his belt, dragging in a rush to get it out the loops.

"Are you ready for me? I'm afraid we have no time for foreplay darling", He mumbled against my lips.

Raising a brow pushing down his slacks, thumbs tucked into the band of his Calvin's to tug them too. Sneaking a peak at his hardened length, prickled in pre cum. Licking my lips I grasped it at the shaft earning a tsk from the man.

Using my free hand to remove one of his from my body, travelling together past my navel. Tucking into my knickers grazing my clit with a moan as he sucked in a breath. Eyes meeting, droopy with lust. Pulling back to let him venture alone. I smirk ,"Does that answer your question?"

He runs an index up and down my dripping folds, murmuring a 'fuck' as he inches his lower body toward me. Instinctively I buck forward, underwear shifted to the side as I move his swollen tip back and forth over my opening to lubricate. Perked up on the tips of my toes to better align ourselves. Slowly, slipping him into me. The quiet room became breathless and heavy.

Teeth clamped my collar bone as we sync with one another. He knew my body as if it was his own. Every inch was his, no one could make me feel this way.

"That's it baby, open for me", He uttered as my walls accommodated his powerful intrusion. Dampening the sparse white hairs at the base.

"Fuck" I sighed, as I gripped his shoulder carefully not to leave a mark.

He didn't care if he left any, the flesh bruising under his touch. Peppered kisses melting into my neck.

"You know I love you right?"

"And I you, more than words can claim" I truly did. He is my paradise, I would happily be stranded on forever.

That brings us to the present merely hours after our forbidden entanglement, here we are.

Whispers from relatives dabbing their eyes swollen with tears, as I take steps closer holding his gaze. Dress flowing elegantly adding to the Autumn theme to fit the current season, Forest green not traditional but I was never a stickler for the rules. Pearls of his smile glisten, creased corners of his eyes. Groomsmen at his side, slapping his back as his stance remains dominant faltering with the softening exterior. His features fit a fictional character, no real beginning could be as beautiful. Chiselled to perfection, strands of silver hanging over his colourless hues.

Blush creeps up my skin as I reminisce more about our days together in the beginning when it was sweet and light. Deemed a holiday fling that held much promise, late night swims in the ocean with only moonlight as our guide. Talks of plans and a future, hasty? Sure. Did we mind? Not at all. It was perfect until it wasn't, until the cracks grew in our foundation.

Our gaze tears apart as I make my way to stand beside the other bridesmaids, reminding myself once again, he chose another.

"Just tell me why" , I pleaded as his thrusts quickened, knowing are time was almost up.

"I can't baby, let us just have this moment", Resting my cheek on his chest as he now lifted my other leg to bring us impossibly closer. Heat rising in my abdomen as my emotions iced.

"I don't want it to end", Meaning both the relationship we held in secret and the intimacy.

He was all I had. Knowing as soon as my high hits, this is over. We agreed it would be best for everyone. Tears hitting his flesh as I bit back a sob. Clinging on to this, to us.

"Shh baby, it's ok. The only thing that should cry right now is your pussy", That sentence pushed me over the edge, quaking in his arms as he faltered with me. Still inside me, seeds released without care. "When I'm up there, know I wish it was you"

"Why can't it be?" He huffed as if I had no rights to question him. Allowing himself to slip out of me, beginning to re-dress.

"Because it has to be like this ok? It's for us", Chuckling at the poor excuse "How is marrying her for us?"

"You wouldn't understand", the tension in his jaw obvious as his sights narrowed.

"Prick. You absolute prick", I spat, seething in anger.

"Don't say that. You don't mean it baby", Delicately gripping my cheeks in his palms as I shakily tied my gown in a knot. "I'll see you out there" Then he kissed me. His version of goodbye.

Awakened from my thoughts as the sounds of clapping echoes the marquee, watching him and the blushing bride seal their love with a kiss. That was supposed to be me, my fucking moment. My damn kiss, it was not meant to be stolen or carelessly my rightful title of wife was given away. To the airy flawless honey blonde, beyond gleeful with pride that she was forever his.

Begrudgingly I clapped along slowly.

With the reception in full swing I observe from the side lines, chugging back a rich glass of red. As the newlyweds danced, in their own universe. They couldn't even see us through the mist of matrimony. Drink after drink appears in my grip thank god for magic, ensuring no flute is left empty.

Turning out of the tent, the chill of winters to come slapped my cheeks. Scurrying to find shelter under an oak tree, reaching under my skirt to retrieve a pack of cigarettes I smuggled in, along with my wand secured to a garter belt. Using the tip to light the end of my smoke, instantly inhaling the toxicity, taste differs little from my day to day life. Snap of a twig startled me as i leant fully with my spine biting at the bark. Choosing to brush it off with an idea of who was lurking, my head tilted to the sky filling the natural air with smog. Gasping as a iced palm threaded its fingers around my throat holding me in place, the owner of this brutal action stepped into view, arm extended as the twinkles above highlighted him in godly manner. Bending at the elbow he closed in on me, nose nudging at my chin pecking open mouthed kisses along the line, travelling to the pulse point nibbling gently. Just that one movement made my cigarette fall to the dirt.

"You-you shouldn't be out here, anyone could see you" I huffed, placing a trembling hand on his wrist attempting to pull him off me. Lids closed, it's a dream, this isn't real. He is married, he is not mine.

A warm breath blew on my lips as the drew to my lower was trapped in my teeth, gnawing desperately. .

"You look breath-taking in that dress, I picked well didn't I?" His raspy voice made my thighs rub. The things he stirs inside me.

I whispered back, "So does your wife" Feeling his digits flex around my neck tighter.

"Don't worry about her, I'm here for you"

"You c-cant be, leave." Soft lips peppered the corner of my lips, distracting me. He was good at that. Making me forget and live in the moment, we've said our farewells. Why does he have to keep taunting me?

"Well I am, you know I can't stay away"

“You have to"

His head shook no. As the ring cladded right hand came to hold my chin an ardent kiss pressed on my lips, which didn't reciprocate.

"No, I don't", one more kiss. "and I won't"

Squirming under him, thrashing back and fourth to free myself, "You- you said it was done after earlier, th-that this was over", an invisible object lodged in my throat as I grabbed it scratching for relief. "You promised" ,the last words almost inaudible..

"Well.." He spoke, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I changed my mind, phi" lips meeting my cheek. "My Ophelia"

With that he scanned me, smirking in triumph and my flustered appearance. Walking away back to the party.

In that moment I knew it was just the beginning for him and I, boy was I right. This isn't me, I'm no homewrecker. For him, I turned into something I didn't recognise.

Whipping out my wand from the garter adorning my thigh. I silenced the area. Breaking down to the ground, holding myself tight.

Wondering how the fuck I got here, how could I have let this happen.

She won. She won. She won. I lost, I always lose.

His wife didn't deserve what we did in the alcoves. Just when you think it couldn't get worse, it does.

Most would say this affair was jealousy driven partly, Yes it is. It's also driven by a deep love for him, I can't help but feel like he should be by my side. Rising from the ground I look at my mascara smudged face smiling through the pain.

Hearing the cheers and obnoxious whistles, fixing my face I strode towards the hustle.

Seeing two lines either side of a path leading to a black Cadillac, 'Just Married' sprayed on the windows in white. Taking my place on the bride's side, sending a gentle simper to the adorable red headed flower girl handing out confetti cones. Flashes of cameras began infiltrating my vision as white paper flew into the air. The couple turned to wave goodbye to their guests, I felt a set of eyes all over me,Biting my cheek as I joined the waving watching them step into the car beyond elation. That's when he flitted his sights around meeting mine, subtly winking as he ducked his head, shutting the door.

My brother-in-law; Draco Malfoy, will be my downfall.

Months upon gruelling months I spent in their presence as husband and wife, subjected to the lustful whispers, longing kisses and embraces. All of it I had to witness, talks with my sister who is my best friend believe it or not, about the latest romantic gesture or how his cock felt as it rammed into her over a balcony. Yes, perhaps fucking her beloved in the dark undected is not the most sisterly thing to do. Resentment is what I felt she had everything, got everything her heart desired. No matter the price it took, mother and father forked out for her countless times. She got the high end fashions, expensive cars never needing to work a day in her life.

Me? I grinded daily for everything I had for the car that broke down to dust if pushed over sixty miles an hour, my sibling generously made sure I dressed the part but that was for status not for anything else.

Knowing why he didnt marry me hurt so much more than watching their relationship flourish as they celebrated buying a home, took numerous trips together. Despite my best efforts, he got to me. Creeping down the hall to my room, tampering with the plumbing system so i had to use the shower in their ensuite railing me up the glass doors. The time he offered to take me to an interview, pulling to the side road to bend me over a bonnet I got that. Filthy degrading sex, she got the gentle type. I was just his dirty little secret. She was his picture perfect wife. Lake is gorgeous, pristine and intelligent, most importantly she is pureblood.

Our parents have been married for thirty years; they have two daughters and a son. I am the youngest at twenty two the others around between four and seven years my seniors. During the time of my conception mother was aware of her love's infidelities resulting in pay back with a muggle man. The result of that was me, Ophelia Jones the half blood disgrace.

I was not meant to find out this was the reason he didn't continue with me. Eavesdropping on a meeting I shouldn't have was how I came to know. Lucuis Malfoy, Draco's father had come to learn about the secret meant to be between family and demanded his heir pick another suitor. Which he did, just a little too close to home for my liking.

We could not bear to be apart, it was the only way to keep each other whilst not having one another. Tragic right? Usually I can shake off most announcements as a solemn observation from my seat at the dining table.

Dinner had been mostly silent, The Malfoys had stepped out to the hall to have a private discussion. Excusing myself, I crept out the door, following the distant whispered voices.

“Why can't we tell them?” The whispers became hushed shouts of frustration.

“Darling, now is just not the right time”

“You keep saying that as if you don't truly want us to have a child draco”

A child? I mean I knew it was going to happen one day. Prickles of tears threaten my eyes, begging to spill to allow myself to sink into the pain I feel. A niece or a nephew is a damn blessing in any other circumstance.

“Lay baby, you know that's all i want is a family with you”, He told me that too.

“Start fucking showing it then” She shrieks, Lake is not one to take shit lightly, the short fuse if you will.

“Lake dont walk away from me”

“Fuck yourself Malfoy”

Dipping back behind the wall as angered steps of my sister march up the stairs, once the slam of her door echoes I move to sight. See a fury filled blonde, pulling fists through his hair. Mumbled curses spilling from his lips.

No chance to stop the heart touching rage I mutter,“When were you going to tell me?”

Spinning round startled the edges closer, toe to toe. Breathing out “Phi, you wasn't meant to hear that”

Scoffing in response as i spit “Of course”

“Come on, you know it's what I have to do” Have to do, not want. Is that going to be his answer to every damn situation?

“It's what you have to do? She deserves better than this we both deserve better than you” Face reddening with each hurtful word i speak. Lunging to slam my back into a wall, lungs restricted and heaving.

“You are mine and I'm yours remember?”

“The fuck you are” Dracos guard soften, using that i push my palms into his broad chest, creating space. “Its time i realised that and move on this” Frantically pointing between us “is fucking unhealthy”

Lifting a brow he chuckles repeating his former action, i'm trapped against the wall, “Move on? You are mine” Growling possessively.

“No, I am not” Snarling his lips part to retort, preparing myself until his hold disappears from me, i choke a gasp as a dark chuckle emits the empty vast corridor. Dracos sprawled on his side hues deadly as he pushes himself up on steady feet, laughing at the harsh footing making its way back to us.

“Been a while hasn't it Malfoy?” Muscles that were strained relaxing at his voice.

“Not long enough Riv, what are you here for now hmm money?”

“Funny? You want to talk about morals whilst you're boning both my sisters” My big brother River, he has a certain way with words i must say. Draco launched towards the solid frame of a man just speaking the truth, He couldn't stand the truth. He enjoyed living in delusion filled fantasies that he was doing no wrong.

Fists flew along with specs of blood, River climbed on top of his rival, throwing punch after punch. “I warned you last time this fucking stops” He barked, Draco winced in reposnse flailing around to gain the upper hand. “Stay away from them”

Calling out to River he froze all actions, leaning down to Malfoys bloodied form, “Now listen to me, pretty boy, I won't let you break them both. Understand?” The boy beneath him nodded, earning a patronising slap, Riv chuckled deep, squeezing the blondes crimsons cheeks between his thumb and forefinger placing a harsh kiss on Dracos lips.

Rising to his feet he made his way to me, engulfing me in a warm hug. “Well thats not the welcome home i excepted, lets go talk shall we”

[kythed]

“almost funny”

synopsis: suna rintarou thinks you’re out of his league, and you think he’s out of yours.

tagged: general dumbassery, fwb-to-lovers, some profanity, sexual references but nothing explicit.

commitment level: 5.6k words.

It’s almost funny, really. It’s funny how what started out as a purely physical transaction has now transformed into a one way ticket to Simpville with the name Suna Rintarou stamped on it in big red letters. Suna runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he stares down at your sleeping form, curled up in his SF Giants tee that fits you like an oversized nightgown. He loves how you look there, wearing his clothes, bed head resting on his pillows. It’s almost embarrassing how much he loves it. How much he might love you. 

He doesn’t really remember when he started seeing you as more than a good fuck. Maybe it was that time you told him he looked pretty with your lipgloss smeared across his mouth. 

“That’s a nice shade on you,” you’d laughed as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “You should wear it more often.” 

Then, before he could respond, you’d yanked him back in by the collar, licking into his mouth, deep and dirty. He shivers now even just thinking about it, recalling the taste of that lipgloss. Strawberry lemonade, the sort that comes in little bottles at the dollar store. However “pretty” he might’ve looked in that moment, he’s sure you looked a hundred times better. You always do, and you don’t even have to try. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even in your worst moments. 

Or maybe it was the time you remembered his birthday when no one else did. January 25th; all his friends had taken off on their ski trips or tropical vacations, but you showed up to his apartment toting a cupcake and a single candle, belting a loud, out of tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ until he shut you up with an impulsive kiss on the lips. You’d been surprised, but not so surprised you couldn’t kiss him back. Suna’s pretty sure most friends-with-benefits don’t do that sort of thing. They don’t sit across from each other at the kitchen table, splitting a vanilla cupcake and laughing over matching frosting mustaches. They don’t hug each other goodbye after two hours of scrolling through YouTube and nothing else, content to linger in that air of tentative familiarity and pseudo-friendship. 

Whatever the reason, whenever it happened, all Suna knows now is you’re more than just a fuck buddy. He doesn’t even want to associate the term with you — it feels disrespectful. He wishes he could just stop pretending. Stop pretending he doesn’t want you to be his. 

“Hey.” 

Suna grins at your low, throaty morning voice. It’s cute. 

“Hey,” he responds, reaching forward to flick your shoulder. “You slept in.” 

“Did I?” You blink the sleep from your eyes and squint at Suna’s bedside clock. 9:06. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.” 

You fly out of bed, wiggling into your jeans and tossing your hair into a careless ponytail before frantically scanning the room. “Have you seen my sweater anywhere?”

Suna exhales through his nose before getting up and walking over to his closet. “I hung it up last night so it wouldn’t be wrinkled.”

You freeze in your tracks, slowly turning with a teasing grin plastered on your face. “Oh? How considerate of you.”

Suna shrugs, avoiding your gaze. He feels a flush rise to cheeks and desperately hopes it doesn’t show. “Just being polite.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a little crush on me,” you crow before taking the sweater from the hanger and slipping it over your head. 

“You wish,” he snorts, but all he can think is you’re absolutely right. 

You ignore him and begin shoveling all your things into your purse: a compact mirror, lipstick, house keys. You glance at the clock again. “I’m gonna be so late to this lecture. Damn. Maybe I can text Aiko and ask her to record the first part for me.”

Suna raises an eyebrow. He remembers your friend Aiko from a party last year, before you and he began your… arrangement. She’s outgoing, friendly, and probably the flakiest person he’s ever met. “She’s not gonna do that. Just let me drive.”

“No, it’s fine,” you automatically brush him off, heading into the bathroom to splash your face with lukewarm water. “You probably have your own shit to take care of.”

Yeah, you, he thinks, but instead he says, “Not really. Plus, you’ll probably miss the whole thing if you try to bike to campus. Let me take you in the car. I’ll strap the bike onto the back.” 

You give him a look. “Are you sure, Rin?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he says, throwing on a shirt. “Outside in five, and I’ll have you there by 9:30, easy.” 

After a few more weak protestations, you finally agree, and as he drives you to your university, he lets himself pretend you’re his girlfriend sitting there in the passenger seat. He turns on your favorite artist’s Spotify mix on the aux and smiles to himself when you hum along, watching the city fly past out the window. What he wouldn’t give for that reality, one where he can love you without all these restrictions, these tricky boundaries between friends and lovers. When you jump out of the car, calling a cheeky “I’ll text you!” over your shoulder, he pretends it’s an affectionate “I’ll see you for dinner tonight!” instead. He pretends that instead of rushing to get away from him and into the lecture hall, you kiss him on the forehead and squeeze his shoulder, reluctant to leave.

“Fuck me,” Suna says angrily before slamming his palm into the horn, scaring a few freshman walking to class. “And fuck you too!” 

He’s not sure who “you” is. Maybe the universe. 

No, Suna Rintarou doesn’t know why or how it happened, but he’s in too deep now. And he’s pretty damn sure you’ll never feel the same way. 

+

You slide into your seat beside Aiko just as the guest lecturer pulls up his power point, breathing out a sigh of relief. Aiko shoots you a grin, waggling her eyebrows. Suna? she mouths, and you roll your eyes, nodding nonetheless. Aiko can hardly wait until after the lecture to start pestering you about it. 

“So,” she says as you leave the auditorium together. “Did you tell him yet?” 

“Tell him what?” You dig in your bag for your water bottle, groaning when you remember leaving it on the edge of Suna’s sink last night. 

“Tell him that you’re in loooooove,” Aiko sings, nudging your shoulder. 

You scoff. “Okay, first of all, I don’t love him.”

“But you like him,” Aiko persists, and you hold up a finger. 

“And second of all, even if I did, I would never tell him.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes before realizing you hadn’t taken your makeup off and thus probably have awful raccoon eye bags. “He’s so out of my league it’s not even funny. It’s kind of pathetic for me to think he’d ever like me back.” 

Aiko scoffs. “If anything, you’re out of his league. You could pull any guy you wanted to. And when I say any, I mean any. Like, I bet you could even get Jake Gyllenhaal.” 

You laugh. “Why specifically Jake Gyllenhaal?”

Aiko shrugs. “Dunno. Just the first hot guy that came to mind. But forget him. My point is, Suna Rintarou is definitely yours for the taking. All you have to do is —”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt. “All I have to do is confess.” 

“Exactly,” says Aiko. Before she can open her mouth again, you cut in. 

“Okay, but listen, Aiko,” you say. “Suna’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let himself get attached. He fully admitted to me when we first hooked up that he’d never had a girlfriend. And that’s obviously not from lack of female interest. It’s because he doesn’t want one.”

“Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t found the right person yet.” Aiko starts heading towards the campus coffee shop, and you follow her. 

“Sure,” you say, getting in line. The cafe is crowded with students getting in their daily caffeination, inhaling sugary lattes and bitter espressos just to stay awake through their next class. Ah… college. “Or maybe he just. Doesn’t. Want. One.” 

Aiko keeps arguing all the way up until you reach the cash register, where you realize you haven’t even decided on what to order yet. 

“Hey there,” says the cashier, smiling sunnily. “What can I get for ya?” 

You blink. He’s attractive. Very attractive, actually. Bleach blonde, a crooked grin that screams trouble in the best sort of way. Miya, says the little name plate pinned to his shirt. “I, uhh…”

“Take your time,” he says leaning forward like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Between you and me, we have an excellent mocha latte. Not too sweet, y’know?”

You find your manners. “Oh, um, yeah. That sounds great, actually.” 

“One mocha latte, then?” he asks, picking up a cup, and you nod. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of serving today?” 

When you tell him your name, he smiles to himself and scrawls it on the cup. “Pretty.”

You flush and pay, hands shaking a little when you slide your card down the side of the machine. The cashier notices and shoots you a knowing look. Five minutes later, when you pick up your drink from the other side of the counter, you see not only your name written on the lid, but a phone number, too, along with a tiny winking face. 

“What’d I tell you?” exclaims Aiko shrily when you leave the shop. “Any. Guy. Period.” 

You shake your head in exasperation, but you can’t help but throw a final glance over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of the cute cashier one more time. Maybe Aiko does have a point. 

+

That weekend, Suna’s stretched out on his couch, dangling his feet over the armrest and staring up at the ceiling. It’s one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, and usually he’d be enjoying his alone time. Not today, though. Today there’s something — someone — on his mind, and that someone is spelled y-o-u. His phone pings, and he snatches it up with embarrassing speed, groaning when he sees it’s just Atsumu. 

“Bastard,” he mutters, not even bothering to open the message. Probably just asking for the O-chem lab answers. 

Suna rolls over onto his stomach, pulling up your contact name. What he really wants to do is see you, but how is he supposed to do that without sounding weirdly desperate? Hey, he types out. Wanna come over and watch a movie? He pauses for a moment before adding, Pizza’s on me. 

He buries his face in his hands and deletes the text. That makes it sound like he’s asking you out. Well, that’s what he does want to do, but you can’t know that. He’s fairly certain if you knew how he felt about you, you’d freak out. Girls don’t like to be tied down, he reminds himself. Suna groans again, grabbing two fistfuls of hair in irritation. 

“Why are women so complicated?” he says aloud, letting the words echo in his empty apartment. He takes a couple seconds to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and unlock his phone again, this time settling on a simple Come over. Short, sweet, and to the point. Well, not exactly. That makes it sound like all he wants to do is sleep together, when he’d really rather just… talk. Spend time with you. 

“Oh, God,” he mutters. “I’m so done for.” 

It takes what seems like forever for you to arrive, breathless from biking, hair slightly mussed. Suna grins, biting his lip. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. Even if all he can get is the sex, then he’s sure as hell going to appreciate it. You smell like lavender laundry detergent, he notices when you press yourself into him, fumbling to close the door behind you without breaking the kiss. 

“Well, hello there,” you laugh when he finally breaks away and draws in a shaking breath. “Somebody’s eager.”

Suna rolls his eyes. “As if. You just took so long to get here.” 

You cock an eyebrow. “You texted me like half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and you’re half an hour too late.”

You snort and hurl a pillow from the sofa at him. He catches it and smiles, taking your wrist and drawing you in for another messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Sorry that I don’t have the power of teleportation,” you quip, laughing when he pulls you into the bedroom. Suna resolves to take his time with you today, undressing you carefully, trailing his lips down your sternum and collarbones, grinning to himself whenever you gasp. He almost catches himself saying “I love you” at one point as you cling to him, mumbling his name, but he placates himself with kissing you extra hard at the end instead, pulling you into his chest and falling back into the pillows. 

Usually, you’d take a few minutes to lay in silence, tracing shapes in his skin, and he’d lean back with closed eyes, imagining what it would be like to be loved by you. Slow early morning kisses, skin on skin, whispering and giggling and everything cheesy he used to hate but now wishes he could experience with you. Today, though, you peel yourself off of him and grab your phone as soon as it buzzes, fingers flying in response to whoever had texted you.

“New boy toy?” he jokes, almost choking when you don’t immediately say no. Oh, shit. “You’re kidding.”

“Just a guy I met the other day,” you say casually. Suna stares, slack jawed. “Works at the coffee shop near the quad.” 

“Coffee shop?” He furrows his brow. Doesn’t he know someone who works there? He internally scowls, digging into the back of his brain. Aran? Osamu? 

“Mm,” you say, suppressing a smile as the nameless suitor sends another text. “His name’s Atsumu Miya.”

Suna’s heart nearly falls right out of his chest and cracks at his feet. “No.”

You look up, raising an eyebrow. “No?”

“Not him,” Suna says, forgetting himself, forgetting the nature of your relationship. 

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of who I can and cannot be interested in,” you say bitingly. 

Suna sits up. “I’m not. It’s just, Atsumu… he’s not your type.” 

“You know him?”

“Yeah,” Suna says, thinking back on his days observing the Miya twins’ antics. “He’s not your kind of guy, trust me.”

“Pray tell then,” you say. Oh, fuck. You’re irritated. “Who exactly is my kind of guy?” 

Me, he thinks. I’m your kind of guy. “I don’t know. Just trust me though, okay? Atsumu… he’s difficult.” 

“Thanks, Suna,” you say, tone tinged with sarcasm. Suna cringes. You only ever call him by his surname when you’re upset with him. “But I think I can go out with whoever I want to go out with.” 

“Fine.” The word tumbles out more harshly than he’d meant it to. 

You stare at him in disbelief. “What, are you mad at me or something?” 

Suna exhales heavily. “No, I’m not mad. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I just wanted to give you a little guidance. As your friend.” 

“As my friend?” you repeat. “My friend?”

Now it’s Suna's turn to be confused. “Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, Suna,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, pulling your clothes on. “You tell me.” 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” he says, watching as you struggle to pull your shorts back on. He knows what he wants to say. No, we’re not friends. We should be together. Isn’t it obvious? 

You huff, grabbing your bag and the water bottle you’d left behind the other day. “You know, I don’t really know either. Forget I ever said anything. I guess I just thought…” 

You trail off and shake your head, heading towards the door. Suna scrambles out of bed to follow you, pulling on his pants as he hops down the hall on one leg. “What’s that?” 

“I said forget it,” you call over your shoulder, trying to slam the door, but Suna catches your wrist. As you stare up at him, he thinks he sees your lip quivering, eyes shining with half-formed tears. “Let me go.” 

“I’m serious,” Suna says. “What did you think?” 

You draw in a deep breath, and for a second, Suna thinks you’re about to say the words he’s always wanted you to say. Then you look away. “Let. Me. Go.” 

Slowly, Suna releases you from his grasp, and you stumble backwards, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

“Don’t call me.”

“Wait, no —”

“Don’t call me, Suna!” you say loudly, before turning on your heel and speed walking down the stairs. 

Oh. Oh. Suna stares in shock at the place you were just standing on his doorstep. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

When he heads back inside, head empty but for the single thought, I’ve just lost the best thing that ever happened to me, he glances at his phone on the counter. In an instant, he’s opening up his messages, pulling up Atsumu’s. 

Met a cute girl LOL. Gonna bring her to that party on Friday. 

Then, in a separate bubble — Btw: chem answers? 

+

“And then he called me his friend,” you say angrily, handing Aiko the box of Oreos. The two of you are sprawled on the floor of her dorm room. “Just like we were two bros who got together to play XBox every once in a while, instead of two people who had literally just banged.” 

Aiko takes a cookie before handing them back to you. “Asshole.”

“I mean, I know technically we were ‘friends with benefits,’” you say, stuffing an Oreo in your mouth. “But I guess I thought we could be something more. I thought there was no way he could kiss me like that, look at me like that without feeling something. Guess I was wrong.” 

“Screw him,” Aiko says. “You’ve got boys lined up around the block, and he thinks he can treat you like rubbish? Absolute bullshit.”

“I don’t have boys ‘lined up around the block,’” you remind her, smiling regardless. “Just one.”

“And that one is hella cute!” Aiko says. “You’re way too cool to pine over some guy who thinks you’ll just answer his every beck and call without even committing to a relationship.” 

You sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… ack. I don’t know. Am I jumping to conclusions? He seemed like he wanted to talk to me more, but I kind of stormed off without saying anything.” 

“Seems like he was pretty clear,” Aiko says with a shrug. “Your call, though. If I were you, I’d forget about him. Plus, you have Atsumu now. That’s a promising route.” 

You smile down at the Oreos, thinking about the cheery bottle blonde. “Yeah… he invited me to a party this coming Friday.” 

Aiko gives you a look and nudges your knee with her own. “You’d better wear that black dress.”

“You think?” you laugh, momentarily forgetting about Suna. 

“Oh, definitely. Gotta look your best on the first date.” 

“Right, and then after that I can just dress like a bum,” you joke. You purse your lips. “Rin might be there. Apparently he and Atsumu are pretty close.” 

“Even better,” insists Aiko. “Make him suffer a little bit. He won’t like seeing you all dolled up on Atsumu Miya’s arm.” 

“I’m not gonna try to make him jealous, Aiko,” you say, and Aiko shakes her head.

“No, I just think he needs to understand what he lost,” she says. “You don’t even have to pay attention to him at all, though. You should try and get to know Atsumu a little better.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, before reaching down for another cookie. “Oh. We’re out.”

“Gas station run?”

“Gas station run.” 

+

When Friday rolls around, you’ve successfully managed to avoid thinking about Suna the entire day. You have a calculus exam in the morning, and then a club meeting in the afternoon, and by the time you get done with everything it’s already time to get ready to leave for the party. It’s across town at someone’s loft apartment, so Atsumu offers to give you a ride, rolling up in a shiny Lexus, a sharp contrast from Suna’s old Chevy. 

“Hey,” he says, getting out to open the door for you. “You look great.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say. “Although, I might prefer the work uniform.”

“Oh, please,” Atsumu says with a grin. “That apron does nothing to flatter my figure.” 

“Mhm.” The ride there is a slightly awkward one, but that’s normal, you tell yourself. You’ve gotten so used to the easy, teasing camaraderie you and Suna have that you’re rusty in regards to flirting. Atsumu has a different sense of humor, too, nothing like the dry sarcasm Suna’s such an expert in. You shake your head. Stop thinking about him. 

Even sitting next to a new guy, you can’t help but run last weekend’s drama over in your head. The past few months have been a jumble of mixed signals, and last Saturday was no different. How he tenderly brushed your hair from your face as he hovered over you, how he pulled you into his arms afterwards … how he seemed almost jealous when you mentioned Atsumu. Was it really jealousy? Exactly how much does Suna Rintarou care for you? You roll the numbers inside your head, trying to quantify the soft touches and lingering stares. He’s not easy to read; trying to understand Suna is like trying to decipher Greek without ever taking a single class. 

Even trying to get a measure on how much you care for him is difficult. You definitely like him as more than a friend. The only reason you agreed to the whole friends-with-benefits thing in the first place was because of a little crush that grew, that fed on that intimacy… but you’re not so sure now. 

“Here we are,” says Atsumu, jolting you from your contemplation as he pulls up alongside the curb. When you climb out of the car, he takes you by the hand, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart trips over itself, and you smile back. “Let’s do this.” 

+

Suna doesn’t show up to the party. He spends most of Friday busying himself at home, paying off a couple electricity bills, cleaning out the fridge. He even does a load of laundry. That’s how bored he is. By the time the clock strikes eight, he feels as though he’s Swiffered every single kitchen tile, folded every shirt, and wiped down every counter in the entire apartment, all to avoid stewing over you and him and all the ways he keeps messing up. But after doing everything on his to-do list and watching a movie and cooking his own dinner (unheard of!) he finds himself pacing around the living room, biting at his nails and thinking about you. More specifically, you and Atsumu. He hopes you’re not wearing that little dress you wore to the club with him a couple months ago. Not that you don’t look great in it — you do, and that’s the issue. The better you look, the more likely Suna will never get a chance to be with you again. 

To be fair, he’s not entirely sure how much of a chance he’s ever had with you. You’re incredible, plain and simple. Gorgeous, intelligent, the best player two on every video game he’s ever played with you. You’re not especially adept at the games themselves; no, there’s just something about you. There’s always just been something about you he can’t seem to find anywhere else. 

“Damn it,” Suna grunts aloud, flopping down on the couch. It’s nearing half past eleven now. He wonders what you’re doing. Dancing to some shitty music in some crowded living room. Sipping a can of cheap liquor. Letting Atsumu touch your waist, his hand dipping lower and lower until — 

Suna buries his face in the couch cushion. He’s usually not one to let his imagination run away with him, but tonight seems to be one of many recent exceptions. If only there was a way to know where he stands with you, or at least where you stand with Atsumu…

Well, there is a way, actually. Almost of its own accord, his hand inches towards his phone, sliding it open and somehow finding its way into his Snapchat. Fingers shaking, Suna clicks on Osamu’s story. It’s dimly lit, a mass of bodies, loud, drunk guys and scantily clad girls. The music is too loud, even through the phone. Suna squints at the screen — there’s Aran, even Kita’s there, quietly sitting in the corner, but no sight of — Suna’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Because there you are, and you’re not alone. You’re sitting on Atsumu’s lap, but he can’t see your expression because Atsumu is kissing you sloppily, and — oh, God — it looks like you’re kissing him back. 

And you’re wearing the fucking dress. 

“Damn,” Osamu says in the background. “Looks like he’s getting some tonight.”

Suna throws his phone across the room like it’s a grenade, staring down at his empty hands in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Not to him. Not to you. 

For the first time, Suna Rintarou thinks he understands what it really means to want someone. Not in a sexual way, but in the deepest sense of the word. Want. He wants you, and he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted anyone or anything quite so much in his life. 

All of a sudden, before his brain even has a chance to catch up, Suna finds himself shrugging on a jacket and snatching his keys from the table, dashing out the door like he’s being chased. If he leaves now, he thinks, starting the car and nearly slamming the door on his foot, he can get to the party before you leave. And then, well, then he’s not quite sure what he’ll do, but he’ll do something. 

Again, though, it seems as if the universe might be against him, because there’s an accident on the highway and it takes twice as long to get across town as it should. Suna cusses loudly over the incessant honking and chews on the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. When the traffic lets up and he finally pulls up to the apartment complex, parallel parking in a spot that’s probably illegal, he races up the stairs and into the loft, grabbing the first partygoer he sees. The poor kid’s plastered beyond belief and stares at Suna like he’s an extraterrestrial, eyes glassy.

“You see a girl leave here? ‘Bout this tall, probably left with some douchey looking blonde dude?” 

The kid blinks, hard and slow, before nodding. “Yeah, man, you just missed her. That your chick or somethin’? Because she was sucking face with —” 

Suna spins on his heel before the kid gets a chance to finish his sentence. He’s lucky Suna doesn’t deck him the head, he’s so irritated. 

“Sucking face,” he mumbles, climbing back into the car. He has the route to your house memorized (although he’s not sure how), and he’s pretty sure he breaks about twenty traffic laws trying to get there, so it takes significantly less time to arrive, but to Suna, it feels like an eternity. How did he ever sleep soundly at night knowing other guys had a shot at you before this? He doesn’t know, and he hopes he never has to worry about it again. Not after tonight. 

He gets there just as Atsumu’s pulling out of the driveway. Suna flashes him a mental middle finger and resolves to kick his ass later. No time for that right now. You’re still standing on the front porch, and when Suna stumbles out of the car, you turn towards him, mouth agape. 

“Rin? What are you—”

“Give me a chance.” He’s breathless, eyes wide and hair whipping around his face in the cool breeze. His heartbeat pounds in his ears like it’s about to burst blood vessels.

“Huh?”

“Give me a chance,” he repeats, reaching forward to take your hand. Your palm is cold against his. “I can do so much better, I promise.” 

You furrow your brows. “What in the world are you talking about, Rin?”

The dam breaks. The dam breaks, and everything — the longing, the frustration, everything — comes pouring out in a waterfall of rushing words he doesn’t even have time to think over before they splash at your feet.

“I can do so much better than Atsumu. He doesn’t know you. I know you, and I, well, I’ve liked you since forever, okay? I know your favorite color and your birthday and which Chinese place you like to get takeout from on Saturday nights.” Suna clears his throat. “I know that you like to be hugged from behind and that you hate it when people see you cry. I know so many things about you, and I want to know more.” 

“Rin—”

He holds up a hand. “Just listen. I know we’re just fuck buddies, or friends with benefits, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but I want to change that. You mean so much more to me than the sex. God, even if we never slept together again, I would still love you.” 

You stare at him. “Love?”

Suna swallows hard. “Yeah, fuck it. Love. I love you. Whatever that means to you, it means to me. I love your stupid jokes and your stupid laugh. To be honest, I’m so in love it feels like I’ll never love anyone else.”

He stops to take a deep breath and a shaky laugh. “Pathetic, right? I know it is. I can’t help it. I’m well aware that Atsumu is way more charming and outgoing, and I was probably wrong when I said he wasn’t your type… but I just need to know if I have even the smallest chance of winning you over.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another one. You’re gazing at him, head cocked, and the seconds tick by. He still has your hand in his, growing warmer via body heat. Suna feels himself grow increasingly nervous at your expression, curious and almost apathetic — until a wide smile breaks across your face. You laugh, and he thinks it must be the best sound he’s ever heard. 

“You weren’t wrong.”

“What?”

“He’s not my type,” you say. “We didn’t click.” 

“But — I saw, uh — Osamu’s story,” Suna stammers. “Sucking face.”

“Sucking face?” You squint in confusion before chuckling again. “Ah. Yeah, I kissed him. It was part of some stupid game. He’s kind of bad at it.” 

“Atsumu’s a bad kisser?” 

“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. “I wouldn’t say bad. It’s just… you’re better.” 

Suna’s silent for a second, letting the words ricochet around his brain. He’s better. He’s a better kisser. It was just a game. You’re not into Atsumu. “So… does that mean…?” 

“I love you, too.” You smile, and it’s not like your usual cocky grin. It’s sweet and almost… shy. 

“You love me, too?” Suna repeats in utter shock. He hadn’t expected to get this far.

“That’s what I just said,” you say. “What are you, a parrot? Speaking of which, though, I think that whole speech was the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” 

Suna doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step closer and pulls you in for a hug. A real hug, not like the hesitant embrace you’d given him on his birthday, or the side hug he gave you after running into you at the grocery market a few weeks ago. No, this is a true, bona fide hug, and he translates everything he’s ever wanted to tell you but couldn’t into his arms wrapping around your waist. 

“So… wanna come in and watch a movie?” 

+

A little while later, Suna’s stretched out on your mattress with you between his legs, chin resting on the top of your head. You’ve changed out of your dress and wiped the makeup from your face, and Suna catches you yawning in the corner of his eye. There’s a trashy romcom droning on your laptop at the foot of the bed. To any outside onlooker, the scene is mundane, just a typical couple enjoying each other’s company. To Suna, though, this is paradise. 

It’s almost funny. It’s funny how, a week ago, Suna was a boy pining for a girl he thought he had no chance with. He looked at you and saw something unattainable, someone who would only ever want him temporarily. (And, unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way.) He experienced an overwhelming amount of want, heart knotting in on itself and twisting and turning until it pushed him over the edge, forcing him to confront his own desires. His own inadequacies. 

It’s funny how love is what everyone longs for, but it’s also the hardest reward to earn. It’s the most uncomfortable, heart-wrenching, nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing pathway to happiness Suna’s ever seen. But still… he’d do it all over again if he had to. The months of headaches, the overthinking. It’s worth it. You’re worth it. 

Oh, well. What can he say? Suna leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your temples, and you tilt your head up to smile at him. Love’s a funny thing. 

Fortunately, Suna’s always down for a good joke.

[thatlongspringnight]

Unspeakable Horrors (Ch. 2) : Cthoseok vs. Trader Joe’s

Pairing: Hoseok x The Concept of Trader Joe’s 

Genre: Comedic Horror, absurdist, whatever you’d call “welcome to nightvale”

Rated: T for teen, because of some horror themes, and descriptions of gore

Summary: 🐙Cthoseok vs. the World🐙 Hobi is ready to see the wonders of the world, starting with the travels and trade of Trader Joe.

Word Count: 658

Warning: Cthulhu, eldritch horrors, mentions of violence!!

Previous Drabble: 1

Tagging: @miscelunaaa @minttangerines @doneimnida (Thank you guys for giving me this idea, BANNER MAKING, and encouraging my mischief hehehehe) also tagging @starlostjimin @xjoonchildx @hobivore @sunshinerainbowsbts @dntaewithluv @reliablemitten@wwilloww​ @illneverrecover @blueversaillesdreams​ @augustbutwinter​ @vyduan​  just because i think you’ll giggle

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

“But there was once a Trader Joe?” Hoseok asks, for perhaps the fifth time; staring up at the sign. “He is no more? Was he punished for his hubris? Damned for eternity to the realm of silence?”

“Unfortunately he did not have his tongue cut out, eyes gouged before being pushed into the pit of darkness and into the realm of silence.” Your clarification makes Hoseok sigh, shaking his head in disappointment.

“He was disemboweled by wolves then?” The man – ugh – being of eternal damnation looks distraught. “That is a shame.”

“No, he succumbed to a natural death.” 

“Oh dear, his family must be so disappointed.” Hoseok clicks his tongue. “Yet his wares remain in this store even though he died in such a…dishonorable way?”

“Mostly, they have a tendency to change up their offerings….often.” You narrow your eyes. Trader Joe’s has always been nothing but a place of disappointment to you, luring you in with products just to steal them away again. 

“Mmm preying on humanity’s insatiable need for stability,” the man giggles. “Snatching the goodness away at the worst moment, Trader Joe was truly a visionary.”  

“Perhaps you’re right,” you acquiesce, grabbing a shopping cart from the stand. “Are you absolutely sure I cannot interest you in the blood of the innocent? I don’t want you to get a stomach ache–”

“Come human; they are speaking of a sale, mozzarella balls. I can feel their quiverings of disbelief at such a choice.” And he’s all but skipping inside. “I wish to see these offerings.” 

“Master Hoseok –” You have hardly time to follow him in, unable to comprehend that this is what your life has come to. 

In the Trader Joe’s. Traitor Joe’s is more correct, considering how you have been betrayed by your God. How could this ancient harbinger of the end of days make you stand here while he tries to decide what flavor of ice cream pop he wants? 

“Have you ever had this – this substance called ‘boba’?” he asks, holding up a particular box. “I do enjoy the coffee milk tea – it is sweet AND bitter, a perfect paradox”

“Yes Master,” you deadpan. “They’re chewy.”

“Ah like the flesh of the creatures of the deep,” he observes – the lights flickering as he opens the box, intent on tasting his prize now. 

“Ah, sir – you can’t, you have to pay –” But the gaze of Hoseok freezes the man with a stare, head cocking in confusion.

“I have already paid.” He’s cheerful, even as black liquid begins to leak from the ceiling, cosmic goo, dripping down the other man’s face. “Through millennia of suffering, of being chained in the depths while you puny humans played house up above. Now you ask me for more? Perhaps I should pay for these with your soul? Oh! How would your soul taste with this boba I wonder?” The man does not speak, too busy standing frozen, eyes glazed over as Hoseok smiles. 

“Master,” you sigh, watching as one of his tentacles slips to snatch another box. “If you aren’t going to eat him, then release him from his prison of eternal nightmares. I have noodles at home you can eat before you have dessert.” 

“Oh!” And the moment is broken, sound resuming in the store as Hoseok grins. “That sounds lovely.” You wonder if your freezer can even fit the half dozen boxes of frozen treats he is carrying out via his tentacles. 

Where are they coming from anyway? Your attempts to gaze at his back are met with static in your brain, and. A headache coming on. 

“Trader Joe was a brilliant man.” Hoseok is pleased as he sits in your car. “One day I should like to exhume his body, and feast upon his bones in thanks, and to chain his soul to mine in eternal torment and delight.”

“I’ll have to Google where he’s buried once we’re home.”

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

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Drabble three Teaser: Hoseok dance Number