âĄSTFUâĄ
This was a request for someone but Tumblr deleted the draft that I had and it also deleted the persons request thingy so if u were the one that requested agedup Mike and Short reader hardcore smut PLS LEMME KNOW!! (i am very sad this happened, fuck u tumblrđ)
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Mean!Mike Wheeler x Short!fem reader
Nsfw- aged up Mike to 19 đ
Warnings: rough sex, degrading, slapping, choking, biting, p in v, pinning, porn w/ no plot, fluff at the end, height kink, a teeny bit of blood
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You and Mike always had nice, slow paced fuck sessions. All so nice and sweet, both of u peppering each other with kisses and hickeys and so on. But today? Oh today was far from slow and sweet.
Mike had both ur arms pinned above u in a tight stinging grip as he was pounding in and out of u. He was going so unbelievable fast, u didn't know how much more u could take of his huge cock if he kept going at this pace, u felt like he'd break u. You let him know he was going way too fast and hard but of course Mike didn't give two shits about how fast and hard he was abusing ur tight cunt. All he did was smirk and go harder.
You were a whining, whimpering and moaning mess, a bit too loud honestly and Mike, of course, had to take care of that. He took his free hand and wrapped it around ur neck with a firm tight grip as he leaned close to ur ear. "Listen up you lil bitch. You better shut the fuck up, if not, i ain't gonna stop abusing the shit out of ur dripping cunt." all you could do was nod, not being able to mutter out a single word as you're trying your hardest not to let out any loud noises and Mike knew this but yet he wanted a verbal response from u. "Hmm? What's that? C'mon now, use ur fucking words. I know u can." he said so in a mocking tone. You look away from Mike and try to mutter out "y-y-yes...Ma-aster" to which u succeeded, well, would've if it didn't come out as one loud moan.
Mike slaps ur right cheek making u whimper in pain, he then grabbes ur chin, lifting it up so u are looking at him straight in the eyes, not allowing u to move ur head. "Nuh uh uh, what did i say bout being loud princess? Guess I'll have to punish u for being a bad girl and not obeying one simple fucking rule. Ur such a dumb slut." He lets go of ur chin, leaning down to the crook of ur neck as he lightly traces his lips over ur sensitive spot making u shiver. Mike then bites down harshly on ur sensitive spot, a bit of blood trickles down as Mike bit really really hard, he then licks it off, making u moan and dig ur nails into his back. He starts to pick up his fast pace again, this time going harder than ever as he slammed into u.
U were very close to cumming as u felt a knot form at ur lower stomach "M-Mikey...i-im so c-close hngh~" - "M-me too, hold on a lil longer tho, dont u dare cum before me. u got that?" you nodded as Mike leaned away from u, towering over ur very small figure, u were always very short compared to Mike who was huge, and he loved this since he could pin you down with such ease and tower over u a lot which would make u submit and do anything he asked. Oh and not to mention that u have a huge height kink which made everything 100x way better, Mike also used that as an opportunity to tease you a lot which would make you all flustered and horny.
Mike then looked down at u with a devilish smirk as he kept going in and out of u at such an aggressive pace and force. "Fuck. U look so good under me baby. So small, weak and pathetic. All mine to use how i please, so pretty. Now cum for me." watching as u rolled ur eyes back and gripped tightly onto him, u both reach ur climaxes, letting out long moans and groans, breathing heavily as u both try to catch ur breathes.
Mike pulls out of u as his cum drips out of ur abused little cunt, he smiles, admiring what he did. He cups ur face and gives u a soft passionate kiss. "You did so good for me baby, so so good. Now try to rest, I'll get us both cleaned up. I love you" u smile softly at him "I love you too, Mike."
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A/N: Thank u sm for reading! If you didn't already know I do take requests! :D
I'll take any kind of request as long as it isn't anything gross or very weird like example, piss kink...
Also I do apologize if this isn't super hardcore smut like how the person requested, this is my first time doing anyting "very rough" and it's only my second fanfic but hopefully I'll get better over time and such! oh and i started writing this at 2am so, sorry if its short and poorly written, hopefully there arent any mistakes. (i proof read this twice but i sometimes miss lil things so idk) :(
Anywho, its 4am now, good night loves, hope u sleep v well. <3 đđ»đŒ
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Gawtin x fem Reader
Immortal reader (similar to dark souls 2) dresses up like ancient Egyptian. Gawtin journeys to this planet to find worthy prey only to find it dead but many alive counters reader killing one of the bosses dies gawtin thinks she was was unworthy only for her to emerge from the gate of fog and fights the boss once again to succeed. They Incounter each by the reader thinking gawtin is a boss. Reader to win in the end Gaston acknowledges her they became companions then soon dating mages (?)
(Ignore this if u donât wanna do itđ»)
Life Comes Back
Paring: Gawtin x GN!Reader
Summary: Day in. Day out. Life. Death. You've experience every death possible. This is a cursed life by the gods. As you've grown accustom to this unfortunate life, you are faced with a new opponent you've never seen before.
Word Count: 4382
Author Note: I didn't know if you wanted me use this ask or the other so I decided to go with the one that's anon just in case. Thank you for responding and clarifying. I was trying my best to decphier what you wanted from me. Thanks for the ask! I'm also working on others and 'The Monarch' at the same time. Bare with me!
P.s. We've hit 1K followers!!! Thank you all for this wonderful achievement. Don't worry, I'll get to working on those smutty Vic'tao and Uihoy drawings!
Masterlist
Ao3
A cycle. An unending cycle. Life. Death. Everything between. Youâve gone through it all, experience more than ever before. You donât know where you go nor do you remember what happens after your heart stops and the life fades from your eyes. Countless times, youâve searched out, attempting to find your mangled remains before. Yet, there was nothing to find in the end. Not even the blood that had been spilt. All gone from existence as you reappeared once more.
Countless years ago, you remember the world as lush, green, filled with joyous life. People thrived and celebrated, happy as can be. Well, until Famine hit and ruined all to be.
Cries of despair were all that you remembered as the last sounds of your people made. Temples to the gods were starting to tremble and collapse. The upkeep far too hard for them to sustain as the mighty people of Egypt fell. Though, it wasnât just them.
Every established colony or country fell like dominos. Just one after another before all that was left was you. The need for food or clean water was no longer desired. It felt as if your body became numb to all once you became alone on this planet you used to all home.
If you believed the loneness and never staying dead was bad, the creatures that crawled from the pits of the Duat. Monstrous, disgusting beings that killed everything in sight. Including others of their kind.
Like you, they where a never-ending cycle of kill and return. Every kill was never about food, not a single bite taken from the caresses. You donât count when they swallow you whole as consume you for nutrients truly. It was just a way to kill you, not even swiftly either.
Despite the uselessness of it, you learned how to craft weapons from the metal of deserted cities you once lived in. Armor decorated your body and protected the best it could from any acid, fire, or smacking blows the monsters threw at you. Every time you lost, was a time to learn, to adapt further in this new, endless life. To better your weaponry and armor to protect yourself from them.
As this life went on, you wondered if this was some sort of punishment from the gods above. Why you, out everyone that had lived upon this planet, were chosen to suffer? You had no clue or a beginning to understand their reason. This was life that only gave hardships and cruelty in the wake of your existence.
When will be the day you could join all the fallen in the Field of Reeds? A peaceful ending.
The armor that adorned your body was heavy, uncomfortable. Some ends jabbing into your side as you traverse the land. Years on end have helped you study, learned the pattern of these creatures that hunted. Where they migrated, where they hunted at each time of the year or day.
Nights, cliché enough, were the absolute worse. Night is where you had to stay awake, rarely needing sleep anyhow. No wonder why your city believed you to be a goddess walking among their people. Night terrified you.
Day was okay. The light seemed to scare off the majority of the monsters back to the cracks or holes they wormed their way out of. Some didnât seem affected by the change. Those were the blind ones. No eyes to spot their prey from miles away. Dangerous as they could be for sensing you, a tall structure or caves you or ancient people dug out helped. Anything too small for them to stick their grubby hands into and make you into a corpse. Not that you wouldnât just reappear back on this planet in a shimmer of glittering sparkles.
As the sun fell, the ground trembled and groaned as it released the most dangerous of the monsters possible. With an exhausted, dead groan, you shimmed your way out of the hole and exposed yourself to the darkening sky.
Glittering sparkles, like the ones you create after you die, began to reveal themselves in the blackening sky. Khonsuâs moon, just a small sliver of the silver sphere. The time when the god is his high of power. You grinned lowly and stretched out your aching muscles. It had been some time since youâve last been wiped off the planet for a short time.
Every time you were âreincarnatedâ, your body would feel like new, rejuvenated after a gruesome death. The pain that occurred every death was just annoying at this point. Yeah, it hurt. Once again, you have grown numb to this life and the suffering all it brought to you.
Dents and long scratches marred your armor. Your older skin has bright, fresh scars that will be gone the next time you reappear. You pulled on the straps of the gauntlet on your left arm for it to be firm against your skin. One wrong move can have you gone.
As the monsters all over the planet clawed and fought their way to the overworld, you prepared yourself for another night of fighting. The years have molded you to adapt to every situation possible. To every monster known to you and the gods. The quakes the earth bellowed begin to quiet and relax until all was calm. A false sense of security any rookie would fall into.
For your time alive, you believed you have seen everything. Everything humanly and monster-like possible. But the gods were cruel to you.
Either youâve grown rusty from the lack of deaths these past few weeks, or the feeling in your stomach caught you off guard. An ambush had you trapped in the city you once lived with your family and friends.
Creatures that had big, consuming eyes stared at you. Their gnarly, inhuman arms that doubled the amount of limbs that you had carried their mishappened bodies. This type of monster hunted in packs, rare and unfortunate for you in your state.
The slight change in the air had you rolling forward. Talons, ready to sever you from the land of the living swiped at the spot you once were. You were back on your feet and facing the monster while you unsheathed your sword to defend yourself. A creature youâve come to call the Nurok circled around you. A move you knew. The Nurok tried to push you in the direction it just came, towards the others to jump you.
Years of experience aided you. Instead, you bullied it back towards a building on the verge of collapse. The attachment you felt to your decrepit city has long faded away from your heart. You armor protected you from the harsh attacks of the Nurok as you drove it back, back, back. All the way until itâs rump met the unstable wall. Carefully, you crouched down and grabbed the biggest rock you could fit into the palm of your hand. With all of your might, you chucked the stone at a spot that held of the majority of the wall.
Like a dam releasing water, the stone wall fell on top of the Nurok and effectively burying till it died. But, the battle wasnât won.
Snarls and howls from its pack members were cried into the night as four other Nurok purposely lost their high ground advantage. Your face twice with a battle cry and charged at them, fed up with the beginning of the night.
Your sword, sharp and expertly sharpened whistled in the air. Each step pounded against the pathways that once filled with life and bustling people. People you loved and cared for.
Shin guards protected you in a slide underneath a Nurok and shoved your blade into where you believed to be its heart. The noise it gave would be heard for miles, drawing other monsters to the battle. You had to scramble out of the way before the thing came down upon you. The blade now coated in a sticky, black substance that reeked of rotting death. Youâre numb to it.
A Nurok charged at you with its eight spidery legs that were angled at an unsettling way. You barely had time to throw up your sword to deflect it maw of razor sharp teeth and long tusks ready to gorge into you feeble body. Its black tusks clashed into the metal of your blade and pushed. Your muscles strained against its strength. The balls of your shoes slid over the stone pathway, effectively overpowering your human body.
From previous fights, your body screamed from lack of rest and constant work. It pushed you, straight towards whatâs left of their pack. As a fight and survivor, you werenât about to let them win this easily. You release a yell from the pits of your chest and rolled backwards.
Itâs full weight was against your sword. At the change of force, the monster barreled over you and into one of its packmate. Both of them smashed into another building. Years of wear and tear with the force of two thunderous creatures brought the stone down upon them. Three down, two more to go.
Back on your feet, you faced off the last two Nurok that have yet to fallen. Sweat stuck to you like a skin second, armor feeling gross hugging to your body. Both uncomfortable feelings were snatched from within and shoved into the depths of your mind. Thoughts like could distract you, catch you off guard and kill you. Not that death was permanent when it came to you.
Your sword was still slick with black blood of the first Nurok. It had ran down the length of the metal coated your hands and hilt. You struggled to hold onto the leather bound hilt as you watched the two Nurok closely. Your chest heaving with deep breaths, beads of sweat falling down your face to pool around the collar of your shirt.
These things had no collective thought between them as they stomped after you. The only truly color you could spot in the low light of Khonsuâs moon was their red, distinctive eyes. Their spider like legs stabbed into the ground as they stole space between you and them.
You didnât give them chance to attack first. Instead, you rushed them like a barreling bull. Like the goddess your people once thought you as, you dodged to one side only to feel tusks ram into the armor that protected your back. A surprise gasp tore at your throat. You were thrown into the air and crashed back down onto a stone pathway.
All the air that once filled your aching lungs was forced out. The best in the moment you could do was lie on the ground before your instincts snapped alive. You rolled out of the way of a sharpened foot and switched to a short sword. It cut clean through the Nurokâs leg, weakening it.
That wasnât gone win you this battle though. You were back on your feet, ignoring the way your armor dug into your fleshy body more than usual. Your hands shook with adrenaline as you stared down the creatures. Then, you sprinted at it once more, ready for the battle to be over and done with.
A move that would cost you this life.
Despite the aching muscles in your leg, you leaped up into the air and held the sword far above your head. In a ready to strike position to defeat the second to last Nurok, you had unfortunately left yourself open for an easy attack. A lesson you would learn once you were reincarnated.
In slow motion, you watched as the Nurok reared up with a screech that could cause your ears to bleed. With its two front, shorter limbs, it stabs them through the air and piercing through the weakened armor near your belly. The usual pain that exploded from the unfortunate loss didnât faze you much. You still fought like a cat backed into a corner, heaving your sword into its neck before everything went completely dark.
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From her stance on top of a structure ready to collapse from the slightest movement, she observed the fight through the dark. Her mask aided her as she took note of the way this smaller earthling fought. Coordinated but not. As if it was self-taught without a proper teacher to guide them on the way to surviving a harsh, dangerous life.
Why she was here? Like many of her kind: to hunt and gather trophies. Her hunt sisters have spread about the planet to collect what they deemed worthy. She, on the other hand, has stopped to watch this event unfold before her.
The itch of the hunt boiled underneath her thick, scaly hide. A dark green which aided her in the forest but this was a desert. Dry and desolate. That she thought of.
Not this humanoid figure that fought viciously. If only she had gotten to it first. Its skull would be a fine addition to her collection back on her home planet. Now, unable to aid it to survive, all the hidden being could do was watch and wait. Patience was something she was first instructed to learn about. If you could not wait for your prey, you werenât destined to be a hunter. Thatâs where younglings were divided.
Once the battle grew to a close, she saw something that would ruin everything. It did the first thing you werenât supposed to. This solidified that it was self-taught by this last action.
These insect-like creatures took the open chance that this humanoid figure willingly gave. Two red tipped tusks were shoved through the metal of its armor. All it gave was a shortened, airily groan⊠like it was an inconvenience. With one last blow, the smaller being rammed its blade into the neck of its opponent.
Disappointment filled her chest as it fell limp on the tusks. Dead. A skull she could not retrieve. It was not hers for the taking. Her mandibles clicked against one another.
She began to stand and take her leave when glimmering night that lit up the street captured her attention. Bright, sparkling lights burst from her former prey and fell to the ground. She looked back towards the tusks only to find the armor left. Not a body nor blood.
Uncertainty filtered into her neon green blood. The being tensed up and unsheathed a blade, purple eyes scanning the area around her. Had the creature actually die or somehow have an ability to teleport? Once youâve explored the universe a few times and seen many, many different aliens, anything was possible. Her mandibles chittered.
In a bright light, noks away from the former winners, a body formed from nowhere. Like a force unlike any other, it reappeared without a scratch and ready for this to end.
Dâyeka.
Of all of her years as a hunter, mother, and explorer, Gawtin has never come across something like this. Like a newly blooded, she could only stand in bewilderment as this thing rushed them again. As if it didnât just come back from the dead like Dhiâki-de. This got her heart thundering through her ears as she wished for that fight to end so she could start her own.
.
In a birth of glimmering light, you appeared further down the street. In this new body, the old aches and pain were wiped away. All you were left with was the tone muscles you were glad to keep. Everything else, including armor and clothing had been abandoned, stuck to the creatureâs face. The Nurok wildly shook its head to get rid of the offending article. All while the other stared at its pack member in confusion.
You used the opening to your advantage. Quiet, calm, you stalked up to them and swiped the first, longer sword from the ground while moving. Before either of them had a chance to notice you, you sheathed the sword in the side of one. The Nurok without the clothing on its face gave a screeching cry, alert its friend to the trouble.
With a grunt, you twisted the blade and shoved it further in to cause as much damage as possible. The thing gave one last croak before falling at your feet, gone like a light. You pulled the blade once more from it and stared down the last Nurok.
Out of all your time upon these grounds, youâve never seen emotion from any monster. Either it was an illusion or trick of the eye, you believed to see a flash of fear within the blacks of its eyes. A snarl crossed over you face as pounced again for the last time. You struck and left the creature unable to think. One swing after another, cutting at its skin like meat.
The Nurok bellowed out a roar that rumbled the ground before lowering its head. A move you read within a second while the next you twisted out of the way. You shoved your sword once last time into the creature and watched as its guts spilled onto the ground. A heavy smell of death wafting up into the air, one youâre quite use to.
After it fell to its finally resting place, you marched over to its head and retrieved your shorter sword and weapons. The armor was, unfortunately, unusable. You would need to start over⊠again.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, your senses lighting up to another contender. The adrenaline that still filled your body rushed back in full force as you swiftly scanned the surrounding area. Yet, your search came up empty. Not another, living soul in sight. You couldnât just shake off the feeling though.
Naked like the day you were born, you lugged your battered weapons to the smithery close by. Something stopped you though.
In a low shimmer of blue light, a humanoid figure revealed itself to the darkness of night. A monster youâve never seen before. Itâs body similar to yours in shape but its face covered by a mask of metal. Expressionless and cold. The main difference you first notice was the dark, possibly green that colored its skin.
Tonight has been dreadful, killed again. Now, with a new opponent stepping into the ring, you were irritated and grouchy. With either sword in your hands, you stared down the monster. And just stared, observed the soft rise and fall of its shoulders.
Then, it took a step forward. You reacted swiftly, like lightning. Your toes dug into the light dirt that coated the stone street as you launched yourself forward. It was your hardened instincts that drove you for survival. After the events today, you were on guard, ready to lash out on the dime at any movement.
That you did.
This thing wasnât like anything youâve met before. It raised its aforearm and blocked the downward lash you preformed and kicked out a leg at the same time. For the second time this day, the air was shoved from your lungs as you smashed into a structure behind you. Ringing in your ear began. You dropped down onto the ground in heap of pain and broken bones.
Blowing painfully through your nose, you rose back to your feet and gripped only one sword this time. The other lost during the flight over here. The monster looked like it hadnât moved an inch from its spot. You huffed an amused chuckle with a smirk gracing your face.
Despite the pain this thing caused you in once kick, you marched back over to it. The creature morphed its stance to a fighting position. You stopped where you were and cocked your head for a moment before doing the same. This thing had intelligence. It was acting different compared to anything youâve face before.
You felt the unfamiliar, cold, trickling feeling of fear run a path down your spine. The sword you welded trembled slightly, not from the adrenaline this time. Now, you had to think of strategies you hoped it didnât know of. You had to plan this thoroughly. And survive.
It launched itself at you, faster than you could blink. A gasp tore at your throat as you rolled to the side to dodge the incoming attack. The second afterwards, you threw up the sword and blocked a deadly slash from three pronged weapons in either hands of it. The power behind its force was enough to rival the Nurokâs you just took down.
The ground aided in a sturdy backbone to keep yourself up as this figure attempted to kill you. This was nothing new. Just go through the motions.
And win.
One of your legs kicked out swift into the side of its knee. A harsh hiss sounded from its mask as the creature was forced to kneel down. A new opening revealed to you. One, you took. You lashed out with your blade without remorse. It was able to twist its body enough to only receive a glancing blow on the dark skin of its lower side.
Bright, glowing, green goo dribbled from the freshly opened wound. Your eyes widened at the sight. There wasnât a single creature from the Duat that has ever bled this color before. What was this thing?!
Its own weapon came for you. Despite the size of it, it didnât move like any monster youâve seen before. This creature was better, faster, stronger than what youâre used to. You barely moved enough to only have one of the prongs jab into your side. The pain was nothing but a minor inconvenience. You unsheathed a small dagger in time to ram it into the figureâs arm.
A hiss and rapid clicks is all you got before its hand wrapped around your throat. You were lifted clean off of the ground and held before its eyeless gaze. The grasp tightened before you had a chance to even know what was happening.
This wasnât the last time you would fail.
Like before, you appeared in a shimmering of bright glitter. Unfortunate for you, your weapons laid at the monsters feet. Deep down, you had a feeling it would not let you even get a chance to grab them. You cracked your neck and fell into a stance to entice the thing to walk away from them on the ground. Anything to let you get your weapons back. To make this a fair fight.
But⊠it kicked at the swordâs hilt and pushed it towards you. The weapon slid to a stop at your feet. Your eyes darted between the sword and the monster. This was a game you didnât know how to win or play properly. You had infinite lives to survive but how long will this dance go on?
Time and time again, till Khonsuâs moon was chased away by Raâs sun, you were killed more times youâve ever fallen in a week alone. This last round, after you reappeared like any other time, you collapsed to your knees and looked up tiredly at your opponent. You could not die nor win against it. This would be an unending battle like your own life.
The figure walked up to you, feet entering your vision to stop in front of you. Defeated, you raised your tired head to gaze into the void of where its eyes should be. You were ready for it to bring down its own weapon to kill you all over again.
A green hand, a green that matched the jungle youâve been too, entered your sight. The palm turned upright, its weapon gone. An offering.
After everything youâve endured during this night alone, you just stared at the hand. A tired, exhausted look in your eyes. The creature curled its fingers in a âcome hereâ motion. Defeated, you placed your hand in its and was yanked to your feet. The blazing warmth of its scaly skin released its hold.
With both of its hands, it reached up to cup the mask it wore. Something you finally noticed in the morning light. That wasnât it face but just a metal mask that adorn its face.
Two tubes were from the side of its mask, hissing like Nurok. Carefully, it pulled the metal away to reveal⊠something you werenât expecting. From all the monsters that roam the overworld during the night, this thing wasnât the ugliest. The purple of its eyes struck you hard. A color you havenât seen for years.
You mouthed âwowâ, attention captured by the beauty this figure held in such small orbs. Out of everything on this planet, this was the first time a monster stopped. Was this a sort of truce?
The longer the two of you stood there, you began to become nervous. This was different than anything youâve ever experienced. A monster stopping to reveal its true face to you. Was this a horrible dream of peace for just a moment?
Now that it was day, the level of threat has gone down significantly. Yet, the blind, trickier critters now come out to prey upon you and each other. Then you realized, the monster hadnât gone back down to the Duat. What was this thing? You didnât know how to feel about this thing in front of you.
Then, it moved its arm. You reacted back jumping back and getting into a defensive position. Your heart thundered in your ears as you watched as it pulled something from a pocket. Calmly, it held out its palm with the item towards you. Timidly, you reached out and swiped it.
A pocket knife. Small, durable, and extremely sharp. You looked back up at the monster and dipped my head in appreciation. With itâs strange face, it lifted its mandibles into a smile and returned the gesture. Then, it turned and began to tapping at the gauntlet on its arm. Strangely enough, some bright and glowing red appeared. You gasped!
Magic!
As if your world couldnât turn more upside down, something revealed itself hovering in the sky. By the gods! With the graceful leap of a cat, the monster jumped into an opening of this thing. One last look at you and it was gone.
And you thought you had seen it all.
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squall
bo sinclair x afab!reader
rating: explicit
word count:Â 5.1k
A thunderstorm rolls through Ambrose. Bo has a nightmare.
Bo POV. He sucks on some titties and is nasty about it. He really doesnât deserve it, but he gets laid. Confusing weird dynamics.Â
Crossposted on AO3 here.
Canon-typical violence and references to childhood trauma.Â
Mommy and daddy kink. Stockholm syndrome. Reader isnât here with Bo by choice. Religious imagery and symbolism but make it filthy. Shitty nasty AWFUL thoughts about women from soggy loser man. Misogynistic language and behavior. Dubious consent that actually shifts into enthusiastic consent (this is the first fic where I can kinda comfortably say that the reader might be having a little fun). However, heâs still the worst and this is still weird.
Bo Sinclair as an individual is a trigger warning. He is THE trigger warning!! He is EVERY single trigger warning!!Â
this was born from an unhinged late night convo w/my partner in slime and sanitarium roommate, @raccoonspookyâ. this fic has breached containment and is now coming 2 a tumblr dash near u! scary stuff!
squall (noun)
1. a sudden violent wind often with rain or snow
2. a short-lived commotion
The office window is mangled.
Boâs eyes dance over the spiderweb of splintered glass. Vincentâs frozen in place, hands anxiously clenched around the baseball bat. This is his fault for once, and he doesnât know what to do.
Thatâs how Bo gets here, standing in his fatherâs office, staring down at jagged pieces of broken glass. Heâll clean it up. He has to. Vincent doesnât know how. Heâs picking up the baseball when his father appears in the doorway. Thatâs the beginning and end of every story in this house, isnât it?
Heâs explaining himself, sputtering out a string of wordsâhis father isnât listening. He never does. If he did, maybe things would be different. Maybe the world wouldnât taste like copper and vomit. But he doesnât exist in maybeâs, does he? He exists here, and here is all there is.
âTryinâ to blame this shit on your brother.â His father looms over him. âLook at me. Your mamaâs soft on you. But you canât pull that shit with me.â
âCâmon.â Salvation, his mother appearing over his fatherâs shoulder. Sheâs shaking her head, her forehead creasing in exhaustion. âEnough of that.â
She steps over to Bo, her heels crunching on the glass. Reaching down, she cups his face in her hands. Heâs blubbering out the same excuses from before. She doesnât listen either, but her hands are soft. So is her voice.
âNo more cryinâ, okay?â She sighs, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. He should bite her, heâs done it beforeâhe wants to do it again, now, because she isnât listening. But he doesnât. âThatâs baby stuff. Youâre too old for that.â
He nods.
âYou go pick all that up, now.â When she smiles at him, it doesnât reach her eyes. âNo broom. Use your hands.â
Ambrose blooms white under two jittered flashes of lightning. Thunder crashes overhead, sheets of water spilling over the eaves of the house.
Standing on the porch, Bo chews on the inside of his mouth.
A broken window. Heâs not entirely sure if that ever really happened. Heâd remember something like that, wouldnât he? Lord knows, he remembers everything else.
He turns his hands over, squinting at his palms. The skin holds memories. He canât see any scars there, but itâs hard to see in the dark. The porch light isnât working. Come to think of it, none of the lights are. He hadnât noticed before. Itâs muscle memory now, finding his way downstairs in the dark. Heâd been tugging his clothes on before he even realized that he was awake.Â
He looks out at the rain, taking a drag from his cigarette.
Down the hill, his mother sleeps under the watchful eye of rows of devoted mourners. Sheâs developed quite the collection over the years. Itâs what she always wanted. Sheâs something, sheâs the main event.Â
Whereâs your father, boy?
Heâs all over the state, mama. Remember that lipstick on his collar? He canât keep his hands to himself.
Doc Sinclair is scattered down the back roads, his jaw shattered to pieces on the stoop. Heâs out thereâa man meant to be forgotten; teeth ground up, sifted in with the gravel. All those years of medical school sure added up to a lot, didnât it?Â
Anatomy, physiology, vivisection. Fingers in the garbage disposal, stabbed onto the end of fishhooks. All but one.
Victorâs ring finger went into a retention pond. The flesh was molted and black by that point, rotting away in Boâs glove compartment. He held onto that one for a while. Youâll never forget a smell like that, not in the last sweltering days of the summer. It was the principle of the thing, really.
Thatâs respect, Pa. Thatâs memorial.Â
The sky flashes pale, electric purple. Heâd remember breaking the office window. Heâs sure of it.
Separate tombs, scattered graves. After all, Bo never promised that theyâd be buried together. You have to ask for what you want. Nobody will do anything for you if you keep your mouth closed.
Bo looks out into the dark, past the pelting deluge of rain. If ever there was a night for ghosts, itâs this one. He imagines his father making his way up to the church. Piecing together his limbs, eager to make room in her coffin. Honor thy father and mother, in all their rot and mildew.Â
He puts the cigarette out on the wall, flicking the butt onto the stoop.
Lightning creases the sky. In the pulsing after-image, he narrows his eyes. Somewhere, at the end of the road, he can almost make out the shadowy edges of a silhouette. Another flash and itâs gone. Rain lashes his skin as he hurries down the stairs. Standing in the driveway, he peers down at the empty expanse of road. Nothing there. Just his eyes playing tricks on him.
He tenses up when he hears his name, twisting his head toward the noise. The door is open and youâre standing on the stoop, arms wrapped around yourself. How long have you been watching him? You call out to him again. The road is empty.
When he stomps back up the steps, you hurry to the side of the doorway, watching him with wide eyes.
âPowerâs out.â You murmur.
âNo shit.â His mouth feels gummy. âLock that door.â
Youâre quick to follow him into the kitchen, fluttering anxiously at his side. The room is bathed in flickering yellow light as you light candles, peering at him over your shoulder. The worry on your face sends a fresh wave of irritation washing through him. Youâre always underfoot, at his heels like a fucking dog.
He tries the tap. Nothing happens. He huffs out an exasperated sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face.
âPower shoulda kicked on by now.â He curses under his breath, crouching down to fish in the cupboard under the sink. Grabbing a gallon jug of water, he unscrews the cap and raises it to his lips. âGeneratorâs fuckinâ busted.â
Tipping his head back, he gulps down a mouthful of water. Satiated, he shoves the jug back under the sink, getting to his feet.
"You can't go out in the rain like that!" You exclaim, your eyebrows knit together in concern. "You're gonna get sick."
"The fuck do you care, woman?â He grunts at you, scowling. Rainwater trickles off his forehead and hits the linoleum. âAlways up in my goddamn business.â
âYouâre dripping everywhere.â You state.
âAm I?â He sneers.
âHold on.â Turning on your heel, you disappear out the door.
A resounding crash of thunder rumbles above and the window rattles on its hinges. Rain batters at the glass, obscuring his view outside.
He canât shake the feeling that somethingâs out past all that gloom, lurching towards the church. Itâs scratching under his skin, biting into his blood. He turns his hands over. No scars, no broken window. Thatâs the truth. Thereâs nothing out there anywayânothing living at least. But what about everything else? He worries with his ring. The metal feels heavier tonight.
Dreams are just thatâdreams. You told him that once, standing here in this kitchen. Heâd like to believe that tonight. Youâre a liar, but youâre a pretty one. Â
On the third day, Christ rose from the dead. A hell of a lot more time than that has already passed. If it was going to happen, it wouldâve already.
The sound of the kitchen door swinging open disrupts his train of thought. He welcomes the interruption, even if it is from you.
You look up at him expectantly, a towel in your arms. Grudgingly, he allows you to approach him. His wet clothes stick to him as you reach up to wrap the towel around his shoulders.
âWhose house is this anyway, huh?" He grumbles as you wipe the edge of the towel against his forehead.
"Yours." A quick response. He catches your wrist, fixing you with a glare. Too quick. Tugging the towel out of your hands roughly, he rubs it over his hair. You want something done right, you do it yourself.
"That's what I fuckin' thought."
You're going through the motions tonight, he can tell. He glances down at you, his eyes darting down your frame. His mouth tightens into a flat line. What the hell are you up to? Prettied yourself up, ran a brush through your hair when he left. Who are you trying to impress? Under the faded print of his old t-shirt, he can see the outline of your nipples through the cotton.
Jesus, girl. What if his brother walked in?
âThe fuck is this?â
âWhat?â Your eyes are wide. Youâre always looking at him with that same stupid expression, as if you need him to tell you how youâre supposed to feel. Youâre always putting that shit on him.
As if I ever fuckinâ asked for that.
âWe ainât alone in this house.â He snarls at you, tossing the towel onto the ground. âYouâd show all that off to him too?â
âWhat? I donâtââ
âBet youâd like that.â He cuts you off before you can stutter out a string of mindless excuses. âFuckinâ tramp.â
âNo, I wouldnât, Iââ Youâre stuck on defense, and you donât even know how to play the damn game.
âTell yaâ what, girl.â He pinches your nipple through your shirt, tugging it forward. Your face screws up in pain and you squeak out a yelp. âYou wanna walk âround here like a whore? Be my guest. Maybe heâll fuck yaâ. Give me a break from your shit.â
He twists his fingers. It hurts, he can tell, but despite your shuddering throat, you donât move. He feels a flash of satisfaction at your stillness.
He felt sorry for you once. Back when you still had a little bit of fight left in you, your teeth biting down on his hand. You were pitiful then, dragging your nails over his arm, spitting on his face. When you thought you were going to die, you became something else, something more primal.
You were going to kill him, remember?
He plucks cruelly at your nipple, flicking at it with his thumb. With a shuddering exhale, you release your hands from the tight balls youâve curled them into.
Thatâs a girl. He had to wrench this version of you out. The real girl under the threats, peeking through the flame in your eyes. You were always waiting to come out, but no one had ever really let you.Â
Thank me for this, girl. Thank me. Tell me how this hurts. I showed you how to take it without cryinâ. Thereâs power in that.
âTryinâ to screw my goddamn brother. Never any fuckinâ shame with you.â
âThatâs not true.â You wince. âIâm all yours. You know that.â
âDo I?â He spits out, finally dropping his hand. âI donât know âbout that, baby. I really donât.â
"Will you come back to bed?â Your hand brushes his arm, and he smacks it away. Another boom of thunder rumbles above.
âI gotta get the power up.â
âItâs late.â Your tone is gentle, a plodding rhythm that reminds him of the bed upstairs. âThereâs nothing in the fridge thatâll spoil anyway. Youâre tired.â
âCanât get into bed like this.â He gestures down at himself.Â
âIâll get you a dry shirt.â
âSure yaâ will.â He jabs his chin towards you. âThe one you got on.â
You glance around the kitchen, peering out into the dark living room. Your hands worry with the bottom of the shirt. Itâs downright hilarious watching how your mind works. You always get fixated by the strangest things.
So now youâre going to act all shy.
âYou hear me?â Your eyes snap back on his face and his lips twist into a smirk. âTake it off, girl.â
Youâre not moving fast enough. Youâve always got to misbehaveâheâs not sure if you think youâre cute for that, but itâs getting old. He wrenches your arms up, tugging the shirt over your head. You let out a muffled noise.
You make a move to cover yourself up before dropping your arms ineffectually at your side. Balling the shirt up in his hand, he glances down at you.
âLook at that, huh?â He boxes you into the counter, bracketing you against the wood. âWhat? You ainât have no problem showinâ all that off before! You wanna give him a show, honey? Do it proper.â
In the bedroom, he peels of his wet clothes, throwing them in a heap by the door. The shirt that he tugs on smells like you, warm skin and soap. You watch him from the bed, knees pulled up to your chin.
âWhatchu waitinâ for? Get to bed.â
Heâs saying it more to himself than to you.
Boâs back in his fatherâs office, glass slicing into his hand.
His mother is at the door. She makes her way into the room, stepping over shards of glass. His father blurs, fading out around the edges. He almost looks like someone Bo recognizes, but the features are in all the wrong places. Strange. He squints. Mama looks wrong too, but he canât place why. The pain is distracting him, blossoming red and angry through his palm.
Vincentâs playing piano down the hallway. Fuckinâ freak. Canât he come in here and help clean up? He made the mess. Goddammit. His mother presses a kiss onto his fatherâs neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. Pa doesnât react. How can you ignore someone so beautiful? Sheâs kissing you and youâre glaring at the ground.
Donât you understand, Pa? Youâve made her sad, youâve disappointed her, and now youâre coating your hands in glass. Itâs what she wanted. Give her what she wants, boy. You love her, right?
Wrong eyes. Thatâs it. Thereâs blood dripping onto Boâs jeans.
You love her this much?
Thatâs not his mother at all. Whose eyes are those?
âHey. Itâs okay, itâs okay.â
Lightning streaks the sky. Thereâs no glass biting into his palms.
Youâre sitting up against the headboard, pulling him into your arms. He growls a bit in frustration. This is your fault. You just had to ask him to go back to bed. You canât be alone, not for a single second. You need him here, pressed up beside you. Wrapping your arms around him, resting his head against your chest.
âYouâve been through so much, baby.â
Itâs pathetic. As if you could really help him, as if he needs that from you. He almost hates you for it, but you canât hate something so desperate. You have to have pity for those lesser than you.
Women hunger for strength. They have to. Theyâre twisted, imperfect copies of men, always trying to steal strength from the people they wish they could be.
Youâre the same. How could you be any different? Youâre all soft, warm skin. Bowing his head, he rounds his lips around your nipple. Heâs lapping his tongue around more of that softness, feeling it harden against his tongue. Trying to fortify yourself against him, prove that youâre more than a collection of malleable flesh. He sees through you, girl.
âDo you like that, baby?â
He groans against your skin, nuzzling his nose into your breast. He reaches over and cups your other breast, letting it fill his palm. Pawing at you, he traps your nipple, pinching it between his knuckles. Your chest flutters a bit and the nipple in his mouth nudges forward against his tongue.Â
He closes his eyes.
Oh, the flesh is weak. Every day you give him something new to have to be forgiven for. You canât be good; you canât be dead. You stay here because you want him on his knees, muttering apologies to God.
âYouâre always working so hard.â Your nipple is firm in his mouth, and he can hear your breathing hitch as he teases his teeth around it. âI couldnât do that. Iâm not strong enough.â
You arenât. You never were. His strength, your hands in his hair. Your fingers run over the scar at the back of his head and the slight pressure makes him groan. Itâs an electric buzz of a feeling, making his hand stutter on your breast.
âIs that good, baby?â
Your thumb strokes down his scar again and his eyes flash open. Youâve peeled his skin apart, dragging your fingers along an exposed nerve. A crack of lightning paints the room white. He blinks. Dark again, thunder booming overhead. It feels like the storm has rumbled its way into him through your fingertips. Who gave you the right?
You want to hurt him.
âYouâre so brave, baby. My poor baby, my strong man.â
Your voice is a warm hum of noise above him. Your hand strokes down his neck, sliding onto his shoulder. Cooing, you rub gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. Casting fucking spells in his bedroom. You probably brought the storm. He wouldnât be surprised.
âI need you. Iâd fall apart without you. Iâm so proud of you, baby.â
Proud. The word curls into his mind, wrapping white-hot and insistent around his cock. His mouth goes slack and he turns his head up to look at you, letting your nipple fall out of his mouth. The lightning illuminates your face for a moment. There you are, sitting in the middle of a storm, smiling down at him.
âMama.â He chokes the word out. Itâs been sitting in his mouth this whole time, clawing away at his throat.
âShh, baby. Itâs okay. Itâs okay.â
He pushes against you, hiking his leg over yours.Â
âDid I make you hard, baby?â He feels your lips against his hair. âThatâs all my fault, yeah? Iâm sorry.â
âStop doinâ shit you have to be sorry for.â He grunts into your skin. You whimper a bit, and he rocks against your leg with a groan. âJust be good. Iâm always tellinâ you that.âÂ
âI know, baby.â
âMan has to have the patience of a fuckinâ saintââ He bites into the side of your breast. You flinch, the hand on his shoulder twitching. ââbeinâ âround you.â
He ruts furiously against you, digging his fingers into your hip. Heâs painfully hard, rubbing at your leg through his boxers. Youâve got him. Youâve tied your bonds around him, cut his hair. Heâs blind and youâre laughing. He growls against your breast, sucking your nipple back into his mouth.
You lie down with dogs and youâll get fleas, boy.
âDoes it hurt? Iâm sorry, baby.â You murmur. âCan I kiss it better? Please?â
He shudders out a breath.
âJust lay back, baby. Itâs okay. Let me.â
Youâre clamoring over him, scooting down the bed to kneel between his legs. Your hand wraps around his cock. Youâve got a lot of nerve. He reaches down and tangles his hand into your hair.Â
You splay your hands out on his thighs, pressing kisses up his cock. He swallows, huffing out a tight exhale of breath. His hand tightens in your hair as he palms at himself and you open your mouth obediently, blinking up at him. He slaps his cock against your tongue, watching your half-lidded eyes flutter.
âââM not lettinâ you have this.â His voice is ragged. âFuckinâ whore.â
âYou shouldnât.â You press desperate, sloppy kisses on the head of his cock. Dragging your tongue along it, you lick up a beaded trickle of precum. He holds you off, just enough so that he can watch you struggle forward trying to take him into your mouth. âI donât deserve it.â
âYaâ donât.â
âI donât deserve anything.â You pant, craning your neck closer. He feels your tongue on the underside of his cock, licking a hot stripe up his skin. âBut you give me so much. Youâre such a good man.â
âShut the fuck up.â
He forces your head down roughly, feeling you wretch wetly around his cock. Your throat constricts wildly, and he hisses through his teeth. With a sharp tug, he wrenches your head back. You cough, your hands twitching on his thighs. A line of spit hangs off your bottom lip, sticking to your chin.
You hate him, he knows that. Heâs not stupid.
A caged lion is still a lion, no matter how many tricks you teach it. Look at it. It can take the meat you dangle over its cage so pretty. No teeth, just an open mouth. But it paces when you leave, boy. Watches you when you turn your back, biding its time. Stands in your kitchen with sad eyes, waiting for you to return.
âIâm here for you.â You whisper. âOnly for you.â
âThat true?â His hand tightens around the shaft of his cock, and he drags it over your open lips.
Come back to bed, come crawl into its cage. It looked lonely in there, didnât it? And it loves youâin the way that you love the things you have to. Stupid fucker. Eventually youâll make a mistake and itâll realize that you like having it close more than you like keeping it in the cage.
You want him like this, swallowed down your throat. Disposable, rinsed out and spit down the sink. The thought burns behind his eyes, splattered red and angry. Of course you want thatâit absolves you, leaves him weak.
âOn your back. Now.â
He tugs your panties off, tossing them somewhere beside the bed. Heâs surprised that you kept them on this longâyouâre funny like that. As if you didnât always want to end up back here, like you expected anything less. He pulls your legs apart, tugging you to the edge of the bed.
When he teases the head of his cock against your clit, you gasp. Â
Youâre always so wet for him. Itâs how itâs always been with youâeven at the beginning, when you couldnât hide your hatred. You were wet then, wet now. The parts of you that fought him dissolved down between your legs, melting into nothing more than wetness around his cock. It was all still there, that anger, wrapped helplessly around him. You always want more.
His pretty, stupid little hole.
He doesnât give you time to adjust to him before he rocks his hips to fill you completely. Why should he? Itâs not like you need it. You get what you get. You let out a strangled moan, squeaking out a breath.Â
He holds you in place and your legs shake. If youâre nothing else, youâre such a pretty little fucktoy. Just waiting for him to wake up and play with you. You tell him as much, with the way you clench desperately around him. How was he ever supposed to let you go when this is what you were made for? Heâd be denying you this, and with the way you buck up around his cock, he knows that itâd kill you.Â
âIââ You whine, squirming underneath him. ââmiss you. When youâre gone. I miss this.â
âYeah?â Slowly, he angles himself back, pulling out of you.
âYouâre so good to me. S-so good.â He thrusts forward again, burying himself back into your core. You squeal, gaping up at him.
âThis is mine, girl. Donât you be forgettinâ.â
You hum your assent, wriggling your hips down to fuck yourself on his cock.
âYouâre nothinâ but a hole, mama. Donât that feel good?â
âDaddy.â You clench around him, hiccupping out a strangled moan. He groans, gritting his teeth. Youâre trembling something fierce. He reaches down to cup at where both of you are joined, your pussy swallowing around the base of his cock.Â
âAlways gotta be filled up, huh? Donât know what to do with yourself if yaâ ainât gettinâ fucked?â
âYes. Yes, pleaseâplease.âÂ
âYou think âbout me? You think âbout this?â
âYes.â Your hand stutters up to clench at your breast, your nails digging into your flesh. âI canât even cum on my own anymore. I need you.â
âYaâ shouldnât be touchinâ yourself when Iâm not here.â He snaps, glaring down at you. âThis pussy ainât yours, bitch.â
You nod weakly up at him, your mouth hanging open. With a snap of his hips, he thrusts roughly into you. The room flickers white.
âDonât touch that fuckinâ pussy.â He orders sharply, pulling your legs further apart. âYouâre cumminâ like this or you ainât cumminâ at all.â
He knows that if heâd let you, your fingers would already be there, rubbing at your clit. You know better, though. Heâs not giving you that tonight. You donât get to choose. Gritting his teeth, he fucks into you violently; cruel, uncaring thrusts that slam his balls against your thighs. Â
Thatâs what you get tonight. This ainât up to you.
Wide eyes again, always those wide eyes. A window to the soul, and yours is all fucked out, blasted out into a thousand squirming bits. Everything that keeps you alive is right here, wrapped around his cock. Pink sodden meat, a hole in the middle of a rotten peach. You canât hide what you are here in the dark. He doesnât have to solve any of your problems. You donât have the chance to lie. There arenât any words to put into your mouth, no pretty platitudes to distract him.
This is his house. You said it yourself. You might show yourself off to his brother, but itâs his bed that you end your days in. Stretched open and drooling, begging him to plug you full of cock. This is what you think about, this is what you need. Touching yourself when he leaves, thoughtlessly delving your hands between your legs. Proud enough of it that you told him.
Fuckinâ filthy. He sure knows how to pick âem, huh?
Wind howls outside the windows, a shrill scream of sound that whips wildly around the house. The storm rumbles incessantly overhead. He canât get a handle on his thoughts.
Delilah knew what she was doing. So do you. Samson loved her and he told her, he told her all the time. You give something evil all of that and what do you expect it to do with it? Câmon, boy. Itâs the oldest story in the fuckinâ book. Sheâll ply it out of you with soft lips and the curve of her hips and suddenly youâre kneeling on the floor, your hair shorn and holes in your skull where your eyes had been. And theyâll be laughing at you, because how couldnât you have known?
He leans down to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. When he pulls back, you reach up to cradle his face in your hands. Your fingers graze lightly over his chin. Â
âYouâre perfect.â You whisper against his lips. âYouâre so perfect.â
He hisses out a breath. You yelp as he slams back into you, your fingers quivering on his jaw. Youâre making a hell of a fuckinâ racket, girl. Theyâll be able to hear you all over town. Is that what you want? Course it is.Â
You canât have his strength.
You donât have anywhere to put it, with all this softness. The void of space between your legs, the wet clutch of your mouthâthose are the only places that can hold strength like that. And even then, you can only take it for short fragments of time. Eventually, youâll always end up crying, sputtering around all of him, desperately trying to sink into everything that he is. But you canât, because you hold yourself back.Â
He thrusts forward frantically, swallowing down a moan. Youâre close, desperately so, your hands slipping down to brace yourself against his chest.
It isnât enough to have strength inside you, filling you up. No, you need to take it. You need to hold him in the dark, drag nightmares out of him of your mouth on his fatherâs neck.
With a cry, you gush around him, clenching helplessly around his cock. Good girl. Twisting uncontrollably underneath him, you toss your head back. You had to work for that one. He wraps his hand around your throat, marveling at the uneven jump of your pulse. When he squeezes, you choke out a wet gurgle.
âOh, mama. You love me, huh?â He murmurs. You make a desperate little noise, squirming underneath him. âLove your boy?â
Another quick snap of his hips draws a sob from your lips. Youâre still throbbing around him, hot and wet and needy. Always taking, never satisfied.
âYes.â You gasp. âI do.â
âTell me.â
âI love you. Oh, god. Please.â The moan that trembles out of your lips is weak, a plaintive mewl of sound. âMama loves you. Mama loves you so much.â
His orgasm surges through him, a violent thrum of feeling that makes him bite down on his bottom lip. The coppery tang of blood fills his mouth, but he hardly registers it. Youâre milking out every spurt of his cum, flooding yourself full of him. Pulling it out of him and taking it deep, your legs shaking with the effort. He rocks unthinkingly into you, riding out the rolling tremors that rack his body. The feeling dizzies him, striking into the sides of his skull.Â
He feels distant, bloodlessâeverything inside him spilling out into you, coating your insides. This is no surrender, this is absolution. The storm is inside his skin. He was the only one out on the road. Nothing else could stand it. Nothing else belongs.
âWhatâdya say, mama?â He mutters against your neck.Â
âThank you, baby.â
When he pulls out of you, you whine. Youâd like to keep him there, wouldnât you? Greedy little thing. He rolls off of you and closes his eyes, the exhaustion settling heavily around him. Heâs drifting off when he feels you move beside him, clearing your throat.
âIââ He hears you exhale, your mouth hanging over the impression of words. He huffs out an irritated breath, flipping you onto your side and pulling you flush against him. Grumbling, he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin.
Youâre not going to ruin this, not with that witchcraft in your tongue. Keep your hunger out of his dreams and let him sleep through the storm. You can give him that, canât you?
He doesnât ask for much.
âIâm tired, girl. Leave it be.â
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OVERSTIMULATION HCS â genshin edition.
hcs â original, not requested.
AUTHORâS NOTE. my first genshin work... hehe im so very excited to get back into the writing game ^_^
CHARACTERS. diluc, dainsleif, zhongli, xiao.
+ includes. overstimulation (duh...), daddy kink, size kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, slapping, mean!xiao, praise, edging
PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT I AM A DARK CONTENT BLOG.
â DILUC.
he overstimulates you because heâs not even aware of it in the first place.
diluc is a certified himbo, i swear. he loves u so much and would do anything for your pleasure.
but the thing is.......heâs too focused to realized that youâve been doing nothing but cumming.
he only realizes once you squirt all over him, your cream soaking his digits and your cum bleeding through the sheets.
âd-diluc!â you squeal, back arching and hips shooting forward into his fingers as he continues to move them around inside of your weeping cunt. dilucâs other hand is focused on your tits while his dick is standing up proud, the red tip angry from how horny he was.
he just wants you to cum on his fingers before he makes you cum again and again on his cock, but poor little diluc; heâs far too focused on your pretty tits to notice that youâve cum a long time ago.
âbaby,â you cry, putting your hand over your mouth to muffle the embarrassing sounds leaving your lips as you feel his finger tips graze against your favorite spots. his palm is catching your clit every time his hand creates a motion, and it makes your legs quiver and the knot in your stomach to tighten.
âjust cum, baby, itâs okay.â diluc reassures you, and you want to smack him. heâs been spewing bullshit about wanting you to cum when youâve been doing that this whole time.
âi-i canât!â you sob, head thrown back when he stops thrusting his fingers for a second, opting to grind the pads of his finger tips against your g-spot. it sends electricity through your body, and you canât help but tighten around his fingers, body quivering as you experience a body-wracking orgasm.
youâre crying underneath him, eyes widening as you unconsciously spread your legs further open, feeling your orgasm drag out for much longer than planned.
you curse, squirting all over your boyfriendâs fingers and abdomen, thrashing your head side to side from the overwhelming feeling of a mind numbing orgasm that you just experienced.
âoh.â diluc stills, realization hitting him as he processes what just happened. âsorry,â he says sheepishly, and you roll your eyes. he cleans off your cum from his fingers, bringing your body closer to his lower half as he lines up his cock against your pussy.
âwhat are youâ?!â
ââwho said i was done?â
heâs gonna be the death of you.
â DAINSLEIF.
likes to do it because you look so pretty crying underneath him.
and also because heâs a service dom whoâll do anything for you to be happy in his sheets :P
loves to edge you tho... it makes your orgasms make you really sensitive after and he just loves the reactions.
tbh everything u do is attractive to him but if ur extra sensitive? u become a lot cuter to him.
âs-sen..â you blabber, and your boyfriend simply does nothing but looks up at you, keeping his eyes focused on your face to watch for any hints of uncomfortableness on your end.
ârepeat that?â he asks, slamming his hips against yours purposefully, hoping to get a reaction out of you; in which, he does. dainsleif knows you too well, your body included. he knows where to hit it to get a certain reaction out of you.
âtoo sensitive!â you cry out in response to his thrust, feeling your thoughts swirl around as dainsleif begins thrusting into you slowly, before his rhythm speeds up. âno, no, no, no...â you trail off, mind going blank as your brains get fucked out of you.
âyou can take it,â he says, soothing his hands over your stomach to reassure you that heâs still there. âmy good girl, you look so pretty like this.â he smiles, face showing nothing but complete adoration for you as you cry beneath him, legs spread and cunt almost red from the abuse itâs taken from his edging.
no matter how much you want to finally cum, the stinging that you feel as he rocks his hips against yours is so good yet so painful that youâre not sure what to tell him. heâs been edging you for so long that youâre not even sure if you really did cum.
dainsleif knows how sensitive you get every time he stops his thrusting to edge you. the cries that leave your lips once he begins thrusting again, itâs all so good. but, as he watches you babble incoherent words, he decided that it was enough.
after all, nothing beats the sight of you cumming all over his fat cock.
â ZHONGLI.
LET ME TELL YALL ABOUT HIS BIG ASS DICK. (i would know i experienced it first hand)
dear gawd this man has such a size kink... thousands of years of struggling to find someone that would take his cock properly is finally catching up to him!!!!!
because now he found a cute lil plaything such as yourself who gets off on the fact that his dick cant fit easily
and the amount of times heâs made you cum before being fully in... itâs embarrassing but did you expect any less from a dragon?
âdaddy!â you gasp, feeling his fat cock throbbing against your sensitive walls. even after years of experience in bed with your boyfriend, zhongli, your poor little cunt still struggles to take his much bigger cock.
you donât complain, however, no matter how much your pussy hurts the next day from the stretching it received the previous night. no, how could you complain when he makes you feel so good?
âhm?â zhongli hums, keeping his grip on your thighs strong so he has control of how spread out you are for him. using that fact to his advantage, he brings your thighs further apart, cock twitching at the sounds of your mewls from the feeling of his cock hitting deeper.
âf-feels...i feel so good, daddy...â you sniffle, bringing your hand to his abdomen to rub on it, just for your own satisfaction of having your hands on him 24/7. youâre obsessed with having zhongliâs skin against yours, and he finds it so adorable the way you depend on his touch.
âyeah?â he quips, slowly grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit, causing your mewls to transition to slightly louder moans. he takes note of how sensitive you can get sometimes, which is why heâs careful with exactly where heâs hitting his cock, but his cock is just too big that he sometimes accidentally (more like purposefully) grazes it against your g-spot.
he feels it before his brain could process your loud cries of pleasure. âiâm cumming, fuck! oh fuck!â you gasp, hands gripping the sheets and back arching as you cum hard all over your boyfriendâs cock.
he quickly puts his thumb on your clit, rubbing gentle circles on it to help ride out your orgasm, and youâre crying from the overwhelming feeling of his hands on your clit. your legs are shaking, and your moans have grown too loud, forcing you to cover your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep the maids from hearing you.
âdaddy, please,â you sniffle, mind blank from how fucked out you already are. zhongli smiles, caressing the side of your face before he brings your legs over his shoulders, loving the wide eyed reaction that you gave him.
âyou can take more, right darling?â he smirks, doing a few experimental thrusts against your sensitive pussy. but before you could even process anything, youâre cumming all over his cock for the second time.
â XIAO.
LITERALLY ONE OF THE MEANEST!!!!
does it purely bc he loves it when ur crying like a dumb little whore
he just loves to fuck u into oblivion so ur rendered speechless :blushes:
degrades u whenever u cry bc of overstimulation, but gets so soft when u apologize for cumming too much :( i love him..
ânngh!â you bite your lips the hardest you could, eyebrows furrowing as you throw your head back. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and the continuous trembles that are going through your body right now has your boyfriend holding onto you to support.
he keeps his eyes locked on your cunt, eyes scanning the way you wrap around his cock perfectly, cream soaking his dick as you cum over and over on his cock. youâre too overstimulated at this point, one simple move from him can have you cumming again.
âyou donât stop do you?â he teases, and you wiggle your hips in place in response to the proud smirk adorning on his face. âfeel good?â he asks when he notices that your panting has calmed.
you nod, still lost for words as your brain is jumbled from the numerous orgasms your boyfriend was so considerate to give.
he ghostly leaves his thumb resting on your throbbing clit, ignoring the small whines that leave your lips in reaction. he then brings your legs over his shoulders with his free hand, and you canât do anything but just give him a hesitant look.
âwhat?â he asks, leaning down and placing both hands on either side of your head. âdonât you cream so nice and hard like this? hm?â his vulgar words bring arousal to your hot cunt, enough arousal where your hips jumped from the sudden stimulation it brought to your clit.
âdaddy...â you sniffle, feeling his cock throb inside your awaiting cunt. he gives you a single glance before thrusting hard once against your hips. hard enough that it would be pleasurable for the both of you.
âyou talk too much,â xiao sighs, and you squirm, impatience settling in your bones. âquit it.â he grunts, lifting his hand to land a quick slap on your face, causing you to gasp.
âno, fuck!â you cry, hands immediately rushing to his arms for support as your body trembles underneath his, cunt completely losing it on his cock.
xiao swallows, head going light from the intense arousal that heâs feeling as he watches you cum just from him slapping you.
if overstimulation can get you to cum this easy, then you better be sure as hell that heâs going to fuck you insanely stupid every time.
copyright © tojisblunt. do not plagiarize, modify, or repost.
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watch your mouth
includes. osamu miya x f!reader
cw. corruption kink, virgin reader/first time, osamu wants to breed u <33, dubcon, kitchen sex? [itâs in his shop so?], fingering, pierced dick [prince albert piercing], vaginal penetration, size kink, praise kink, tummy bulge, breeding kink, slight dumbification, creampie, thigh slapping?
wc. 3k
a/n. my piece for @seitaâs corrupt-a-virgin collab, thank you for letting me join!!
osamu miya likes to think he follows a strict routine. he wakes up early, shows up for his job, works, and goes home, waiting for tomorrow to arrive and the cycle to repeat itself.
but ever since you've entered his restaurant, you've become a part of his routine.
he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching in admiration how you tend to the customers. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass, but itâs not a lie if he doesn't say it right?
"samu?" there's that nickname again, the one you deemed him ever since that interview for the part time job. "this customer says you forgot to give her a part of her order"
"no i didn't"
"yeah, look" you approach him with the receipt in hand, pointing to a small part of the inked writing. "see?"
he can't see. or at least he can't see the receipt. he's too focused on you, pressing up against him. he knows you're not at fault, but you couldn't be that innocent.
you couldn't be innocent enough to not know the things you were doing to him, the things you were making him feel, the urges that blossomed with every lingering look and longing touch you left on his body. you just couldn't be.
right?
yet, even when his idiotic brother dropped by his shop and shamelessly started flirting with you, you, it seemed like you didn't catch onto what he was doing.
"what's the freakiest place you've ever had sex in?" the fake blond asked, and osamu would've stopped him, if he wasn't curious to hear the answer for himself. still, he doesn't drive his full attention away from the counters he's been wiping, seemingly focused on the simple task.
you chuckled awkwardly under your breath. "that's inappropriate, tsu-"
"c'mon, tell me" he bumps his elbow against yours "can't be that bad"
"no i-... i've never uhm..." osamu can tell you're stumbling and stuttering to find an answer, so he lends you a few helping words.
"'tsumuâ he calls "will ya stop harrassin' my employees?"
"'m just talkin' to her samu, no need to make a big fuss" he downs the last of his food and leaves, supposedly in a sudden rush.
it doesn't seem like itâs been hours since then, but the moon hangs low, and the crickets sing outside the window in spite of the late hour. despite the passing of time, not a single word has been said between you and your boss about the conversation you had with his brother, and every minute that passes only seems to thicken the tension between the two of you.
"shit" you mumble, mostly to yourself. you didnât expect him to shoot up from his place, bent down searching through the lower cabinets.
"watch yer mouth" he says, an evident frown on his face, where he would once smile at you and nod in greeting.
"sorry" you reply, lip pouting slightly while you cleaned off your finger with a paper towel "just got a papercut" the blood tints the paper red and you wince at the stinging sensation.
"here" he holds out his hand to examine yours, even though you already cleaned most of it off, there's still a slight trickle of blood. he wipes it out with the towel he always hangs on his shoulder.
as he cleans your hand, he can't help but think about how it'd look so pretty wrapped around his cock. it would certainly bring more relief than his fist after all this time he's spent thinking about you while stroking himself late at night.
itâs not the first time thoughts like these cloud osamu's mind, but this time he's a little less discreet about it. he stares at your hand like he wants to devour it, and you'd be a fool not to notice it.
"samu?" you call out to his faraway mind, and he snaps out of his thoughs, loosening his grip around your hand.
"right" he mumbles, clearing his throat "sorry"
"thank you" you almost whisper, if he wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard it.
he turns and goes back to the cabinets, thinking about what you answered earlier. you'd never what? had sex? were you that uncorrupted?
it would make sense to him, and it would help ease the pain of seeing you let his brother flirt with you like he wasn't even there, but those are all selfish reasons he wants to believe, and he's too scared to ask.
apparently not scared enough.
âwhat were ya talkinâ about with my brotherâ he asks, nonchalant as ever, making your breath hitch as you turned around hesitantly.
âwe were just chattingâ you say, the slightest purse on your lips that tried to relieve the nervousness of the conversation.
âsorry about thatâ he apologizes. âhe can be annoyinâ sometimesâ
âoh no, he wasnâtâ you lie, clenching around the table cloth you held in your hands. even if the talk had been going smoothly, you still felt on edge after the question his brother left you thinking about. âhe was really friendlyâ
âreally?â his hands find comfort in his pockets, and if youâd looked close enough, you wouldâve seen the slight smirk in his lip, one that indicates how eager he is to hear what you had to say. âthen why didnâ you answer his question?â
if only you knew how much it mattered to him, to know if you were a pretty untouched virgin or not. osamu miya likes to go for girls like you, college girls who look for a quick cashgrab as a part time employee, innocent little girls who unknowingly fall for his charms and next thing you know heâs ruining them with his cock.
but you feel different, you feel delicate. like a pretty piece of porcelain he might break if he continues to toy with you under his calloused hands. yet, he canât help but think about how perfect he finds your body. perfectly ripe and ready to be filled to the brim with his seed, the perfect age to be plump and round with a child. his child.
âdoes it matter?â
oh, it does, especially when he pins you against the counter and grips your cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. âsamu?â you ask, displaying that innocent look on your face heâd grown to hate.
âi told ya to watch yer mouthâ his hands roam down your body until they grab at the back of your thighs. ânow jumpâ
âsamu i- iâve never done anything like-â
âi said jumpâ hesitant with your actions, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist as he settles you on the shop counter, where he takes off your pants and runs a finger over your clothes slit.
âpleaseâ you grip his wrist and beg in hopes for him to stop, but he slaps it away, pinning them behind you with his other hand. he slides your panties down your legs and plays with your clit, circling the nub with his fingertips and watching as your expression changes from one of fear to pleasure.
âplease what?â his breath shudders against your neck, where he nuzzles his head and finds comfort in your scent. he slowly inserts a finger into your hole, scanning your face and searching for any signs of discomfort, despite him practically forcing you into this position.
youâre not strong enough to answer him, too lost in the way his fingers feel inside you. youâd been too afraid to do anything by yourself, but god did it feel so good when you gave yourself up to him, slightly bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers and arching your back into his frame.
heâs fond of every little expression you make, the bite of your lips, the clench of your thighs around his hand, and the tilt of your head, willingly granting him access to the skin, all for him to mark, bite and suck. all for him to claim as his.
âdâya like it?â he asks, putting another one of his fingers to use inside your tight walls, feeling them clench and suck his fingers back inside every time he was close to taking them out.
âyes! yes! i-i... mmh!â you canât even finish the sentence, not only because youâre sobbing and clenching around his digits uncontrollably at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation, but also because his lips suddenly enclosed yours in a hungry kiss.
he didnât even have to put up a fight with you, pleased to find you let him do whatever he wanted with your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours in a passionate clash of lips, until he pulls away at the feeling of your hips wildly bucking against his hand, a sign of your inevitable orgasm approaching.
âfeels weird âsamu! âs-âsamu please!â the implication of your sensations being new to you made his cock strained against his pants, threatening the thick fabric of his jeans to snap if he grew even harder. the tight knot in your stomach finally snaps when he curls his fingers, sending you into ecstasy as your vision blocked out and you moaned uncontrollably loud.
still, after everything, osamu hasnât forgotten where he is, and he knows his shop isnât a decent place to lose your virginity. so he puts you down with shaky legs and slips up your panties, catching you before your trembling thighs can treason you and make you fall.
âdo ya have a car here?â he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and puts a hand on your hip, guiding you over to the door which he locks before he continues to walk to his car. the dim lighting of the parking made this the perfect spot, if he were to fuck you in his car, no one would see it. but he has self control, or at least he tells himself that.
âno, my friend usually picks me upâ he hums an answer and opens the passenger door to his car.
âi live a few minutes from hereâ he explains âwanna come over?â he asks, fully aware that heâs taking a leap of faith and you could just refuse him. but thatâs not the case, and heâs more than happy to see you hesitantly get in his car and put your bag in your lap, covering yourself as much as you can since he âforgotâ to give you back your shorts.
the short ride to his house is awkwardly silent, and terribly torturous. his hand had found home in your thigh, and it had only sent an ache between your legs like youâd never felt before, prompting a clench from your thighs every so often.
he wasnât lying, he only lived ten minutes away from his shop, but the distance seemed so much longer when his lingering touch would leave you high with the need for more.
âyou ready?â he asks, holding the door open for you again as he waits for you to take his hand and get out of his car. heâs quick with hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs against his hips, carrying you to his doorway and leading the way to his room. there, he gently placed you on the bed and stripped off his clothing, taking off the apron he shouldâve taken off at the shop, his shirt, his pants andâ
âeager?â he can see the wanting look in your eyes, heâd be a fool not to notice it. his voice only startles you out of your thoughts, enough to make you stand up and take off your shirt as well, now fully exposed to him if it werenât for the bra covering up your tits. thereâs only so much he can hold back, but right now, with those pretty puppy eyes you unintentionally give him, he just canât help it when he takes off your bra and slightly suckles at your nipple, circling his tongue around your perky nub and watching your face warm up in embarrassment.
he takes you to his bed again, this time while he plants kisses all over your neck. heâs hungry with the way he nips and bites at the skin, leaving a trail of teeth marks that would need to be covered up in the morning. in the morning, because right now, you couldnât be bothered to care about anything else other than the way he rutted against you.
his cock already seemed big when he hadnât taken off his briefs, so it shouldnât have come as a surprise when he slipped them off and rubbed his tip against your clit, right?
he was huge, thick tip dripping precum, with a girth that looked too big to be real, pulsing against your pussy. he positions it against your drooling hole, using your slick to lube up his tip and feelingâ metal?
you sit up, leaning against your elbows to see the prince albert piercing that runs along his tip, metal jewelry threatening to slip into your pussy, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.
âi-it wonât fit!â you kick and shake your thighs around him, only for him to put your ankles together and fold your legs over his shoulder, pinning you down and slipping in the pierced head of his cock. you wince and gasp at the sudden stretch, silenced by his mouth clashing against yours, eagerly nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to drink in all your saccharine moans.
âgood girlâ he praises, slipping in inch by inch of his cock into your tight virgin walls âfuck- this tight little cunt is suckinâ me in, want ma cock princess? yeah? gonna stuff ya full of me âtil ya canât even speak, youâll just be a dumb baby for meâ
âhurts!â your words only drive him closer to shoving himself in one smooth thrust, but he holds back, he sees how much you struggle to take barely half of him, he wants to make this good for you to. he wants to make your first time your best time, the one youâll remember and think about if you ever fuck another man. he wants to mold your insides to fit his cock perfectly, he wants to train you to be his perfect little girl who wonât find another way to get off if she doesnât have his cock, he wants you to depend on him to always make you feel good.
ââs ok princessâ he leans down, folding you into a mating press as he kisses your neck and slips in the last of his cock, covered in a thin layer of white sheen. âmy good girl, creaminâ around meâ he mumbles against your ear while he starts a slow pace into your pussy, carefully rutting his hips into you, almost afraid he would break you. âso prettyâ
âplease!â you sob, tears stream down your face despite his carefulness, it would break his heart, but he can feel the way your own body betrays you, clenching around him and pulling him in for more of the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls. âso big! c-canât take it!â
âsure ya can, lookâ he puts a hand to your tummy, guiding you to do the same as he puts his hand over yours. thereâs a small bulge, that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts in and out. âyouâre takinâ it so well princess, keep yer hand right thereâ his other hand starts working tight circles against your clit, making you throw back your head at the sudden sensation.
âno! if you do that i-!â
âwhat are ya gonna do? cum? clench around my cock like yer doinâ right now every time i praise ya?â you fist the sheets to your sides, anything to relieve the aching between your legs and the tight knot that keeps forming in your stomach again.
âplease donât!â you desperately paw at his wrist, only to be slapped away and for him to increase the speed of his cock, rutting into your with more force. suddenly, the head of his piercing hits a different spot, one that left you gasping for air and arching your back against the mattress. âah! right there- right there âsamu!â
âyeah? you like it when i fuck ya right there?â he parrots, angling his hips at the same spot over and over, abusing it until heâs sloppily thrusting into you, on the verge of cumming and spilling all his load into you. âmy pretty girl, moaninâ like a bitch in heat, all because iâm makinâ ya feel goodâ
âyes âsamu! please please, please m-make me feel good! wanna cum, please!â fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you scream and beg for him, unwillingly rutting your hips against him as you cum around his cock, your high too much for your sensitive body as you whine uncontrollably when he doesnât stop. youâre too overstimulated to say a word, gone too dumb on his cock to even realize that youâre babbling little nonsense words about how good you feel, and how much you want him.
âdumb lilâ thingâ he says, giving one sharp, final thrust before he empties his load between your legs, deep inside you, careful not to move you too much in fear of his cum spilling out of your clenching hole.
heâs right, you are a dumb little thing, because as soon as he pulls out youâre desperately bucking your hips, blindly searching for him in hope he would fill up the sudden emptiness in your pussy, unintentionally spilling all his hard work between your thighs.
âno!â he grunts, slapping your thigh and grounding you to the mattress as you wince in pain, dark color blossoming at the skin where heâd placed the spank. âlook what youâve done, bad fuckinâ girlâ he says, the sudden tone shift sends a tinge of fear all over your body, and youâre reduced to nothing but a kin to a stray puppy, a terrible look of guilt in your eyes, even if you donât realize what youâve done wrong.
âlook at the mess you madeâ he mumbles, flipping you over and placing ass up ânow iâm gonna have to fill ya up all over againâ
Â©ïž kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost
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I just found ur blog and read thru some of ur stuff and im in love !! Ur writing is nice to read, and always gives a nice picture of the situation
If its aight, could u do some headcannons for the demon bros Finding out mc goes real hard on housekeeping ? Im talking fast and good cleaning, does chores without problems, propably even cleans after them (totally doesnt mother them in anyway), all without complaint, mc just cares
Housekeeper MC!
(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)
⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠⊠âŠ
Lucifer
The fact that he didn't have to shove a mop and bucket into your hands like the evil stepmother has him like đđ
Out of every person he's met, you and Barb are the only ones that actually enjoy cleaning? And now he's wondering if you've been influenced by him in some way because got damn are those floors sparkling-
Ever since you've arrived, the house has been immaculate. But as much as he enjoys that, he worries that you aren't leaving enough chores for his brothers to do.
They're gonna be lazy at this rate, especially if you keep cleaning up after them like that. He's planning to sit you down and have a good talk about how you should rest a bit, and- D...did you polish his desk????
"MC... as grateful as I am to you, I thought I asked you to rest? You don't have to clean every little thing in this house. You're here as our guest, and more, so I won't have you behaving like a maid. But if you're that interested in keeping your hands busy, you may feel free to maintain my desktop. It looks as good as new, thanks to you."
Mammon
Oh, so you're one of THOSE types, huh? The goody goodies that like to make everything clean and sparkly, huh?? Well don't expect him to help ya!
Was an asshole at first. Made messes to see if you'd clean them, tried to dump his chores on you, etc. But now that you've stolen his heart? Yeah, he wants you to sit down.
You're messing up your hands with all that time spent scrubbing crevices and dusting ugly old paintings, when you could be spending time with him!
Tch, that's it! If it's chores that're keeping you from looking his way, he'll just finish them before you can do anything! Checkmate!
"You're always scrubbin' somethin'! Let my brothers take care of the messes, while YOU sit down and watch this movie with me! Ain't no point in watchin' it by myself, so I ain't takin' no for an answer!" "Huh?? Waddya mean 'when was the last time I vacuumed'??"
Levi
Oi oi oi...! What do you think you're doing with that feather duster?! You don't think you've got the right to approach his figures with it, do you?! WRONG!
But you quickly discover how ticklish Levi is, and he squirms out of your way while watching in horror as you... delicately handle every figure? And dust them from top to bottom, without so much as an accessory out of place..?
Wait... are you seriously okay with picking up all that trash?? S-some of it's sticky from all the junk food, and- Gah! Don't go messing around in his closet!!!
Yeahhh Levi doesn't let you clean his room lmao. It's way too stimulating to watch you carefully touch every surface in his room... I-it's like you're heaven everything with your presence, and...
"S-so yeah! The only things you're allowed to clean are the figures and the outside of Henry's tank! Nothing else, got it?! Anything more and I seriously won't be able to handle it...I won't even be able to sit still in my own room......." đđ
Satan
Satan found it funny how willing you were to take up every little chore there was to be done in the house and he's got to admit, reading is much more enjoyable in a tidy environment.
But what he REALLY wants to know is how you managed to dust off every single book in the house, his room included, without him?? Knowing?? And you've done every shelf as well, cleaned out the cobwebs behind it, and even repaired that little tear in the upholstery of his favorite arm chair????
Has also deduced that you're probably the maid character in the books that knows everything. Actually, you're a lot like Barbatos. What secrets are you hiding human đ«
Just kidding. But yeah, when you insist on dusting his room, he follows you around the room and watches you. You know, just in case you fall or something falls on you! No other reason.
"As much as I like having you here all to myself, it makes me feel bad watching you do that by yourself. Why don't you we clean together? We'll get it done twice as fast, and when we're finished, I'd like to read a book to you. You remind me of a certain character from a murder mystery novel I've started."
Asmo
Eeehhh?!?!? You've seriously managed to organize both his endless skin care product collection, and his ENTIRE wardrobe?!? You're amazing...!
And you don't stop there. You were more than happy to clean his tub for him and everything, and you know how hard it is to get oil off the side of a tub, right? You're a lifesaver!
Asmo casually pawns off his chores too you. Oh, he just did his nails! Can you do the dishes? Ah, he just bought this outfit. Can you take out the trash? He's about to go out with his friends to a party, so be a dear and take care of the common bathroom for him?
Lucifer scolds the shit out of him every time he catches him doing that. You're welcome. But don't think Asmo won't repay you! He'll give you so much love, you'll be drowning in it! Figuratively or literally, depending on your preferences-
"Fufufu... if you wanted my attention, you should've just told me! You didn't have to go tidying up my shoe collection, but I'm happy you did~! If you keep spoiling me like this, I might not be able to keep my hands off of you! Unless... that's what you wanted?"
Beel
Things tend to get pretty messy with Beel around, with the trail of crumbs he always leaves in his wake, and how he manages to get every surface he touches sticky. But you must be a miracle worker...
You're like a living roomba, and his ravenous appetite is no match against your cleaning skills! You seem to predict when the food bits will fall, and it's thanks to you that he can eat without a care in the world!
It's actually kind of scary, though. He'll drop a bite of his sandwich and move down to retrieve it to eat, and... it's gone. Poof. Into the ether of the garbage can...
You can still rest once in a while though, you know? Beel offers to help you with the cleaning, and he's more than happy to let you climb up his shoulders to reach those high places. It makes him happy to know he can lend a hand.
"MC, I already cleaned over here so you don't have to do it. I cleaned there, too. That means you don't have anything else to do, so why don't you have a lunch break with me? It's not good to work so hard all the time."
Belphie
Belphie's one for the more observant brothers, so your clean freak habits didn't go unnoticed. He didn't know if you were obsessed with cleaning, or if you genuinely enjoyed it, but at least you were doing it without a fuss?
And man did you do a good job. Everywhere you cleaned was left with the lingering smell of vanilla and lavender, and... you know, the smell is making him sleepy.
Every pillow his head touches seems especially fluffy, too! When he found out you made a regular habit of washing and fluffing them, and they smell amazing... He feels like he's laying on a cloud...
He won't admit it genuinely, but he really does love what you're doing with the place. It makes him feel a little fuzzy inside when he finds his pillow on his bed, freshly laundered and soft to the touch. He clings to it extra tight those nights.
"You know if you keep this up, I might prefer the pillows to your lap. Ah, but don't worry, I don't really mean it. There's no way a pillow could replace you, no matter how good it smells. I think."
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hii itâs gonna b a long time a didnât request so can you do the «fighting with his s/o » thing but with iwaizumi plz :D
i saw that now u have a lot of request and new post Iâm so happy :33
đanon
# â fighting with his s/o
includes: h. iwaizumi x gn!reader
genre: angst to fluff
warnings: anxiety attack
a/n: hi my love!! i'm so so so SO sorry this took so long. for having 2 classes this summer it's honestly taking up so much of my time, but i finally have a break! consider this a belated birthday present for hajime lmao. thank you for requesting đ anon! i miss u!
main masterlist aoba johsai masterlist
akaashi's oikawa's tendou's kyotani's bokuto's
you and hajime hadn't been on the best terms lately.
you both had been having little arguments over little things for about 2 weeks now. one argument consisted of him getting irritated that you hadn't moved his wet clothes to the dryer when he had to meet with team Japan that morning. you had completely spaced on it since you were busy with work and cleaning the apartment. you apologized and tried to reason but he was already walking out the door wearing damp clothing.
another consisted of you coming home from work with the apartment looking like a disaster. hajime had the day off and you asked him if he could pick up a bit, which you were met with a grunt and a mumbled "yes". so, when you came home to the place looking exactly how you left, you were frustrated.
it was a constant battle between the two of you, someone always doing something the other doesn't approve of. you both were exhausted at this point, wanting everything to be normal for once.
at one point, you thought you guys were making progress. you hadn't had a single argument in four days, none of you doing anything to piss the other off. although, hajime has been coming home late lately, barely ever saying anything to you the next morning before he left for work. you didn't really think anything of it at first, until you got home late one night and he wasn't there.
you never thought hajime was one to cheat. yeah, you guys fought a lot, but you knew he loved you with his whole being, as you did for him. but now, you felt like you were all alone. maybe this was a sign that he was done with you. you knew he was tired, but was he so tired that he would stay out extra late doing god knows what in order to not be around you?
you shot him a quick text asking where he was, biting your lip nervously. he responded in about a minute
hajime <3: out with the team. don't wait up for me. love u
you let out a slight sigh of relief, but you were still upset that he was out this late at night. you decided to put your big pants on and finally talk to him about this, or else you both will probably end up in a situation where nothing can be fixed.
you <3: can you come home please? we need to talk.
you got a response not even a second later.
hajime <3: leaving now
your heart immediately started beating faster, your brain racing to come up with a list of things to talk about. you definitely wanted to ask him why he's been out so late recently and how you feel about the constant arguing. was that it? you never were really the type to talk about how you felt, just like hajime. you both weren't the best at communicating, both afraid of the others reaction. but, it was time to face the facts and address the issue at hand.
you were sitting on the couch watching some random show when you heard the faint jiggling of keys outside the door. you tensed immediately when it opened, chills crawling up your spine from the brisk air wafting through. you didn't say anything to him when he walked in, taking off his jacket and his shoes. you also didn't say anything when he walked over to you and turned the tv off, sitting next to you with a considerable amount of space between.
he grabbed one of your hands in his, his fingertips burning against your warm skin from how cold it was outside. he cleared his throat before mumbling, "what did you want to talk about?"
you gulped, slowly pulling your hands away from him and hugging yourself. the list you had going on flew out the window, his presence making you nervous. the last thing you wanted out of this was an argument and then nothing get solved. you wanted to be better, and you wanted him to be better.
you hadn't said anything in a minute before you heard a scoff. you turned and saw him shaking his head, a sarcastic laugh coming out of his mouth. "this is what i left early for? if you don't have anything to say i'm going to bed."
you gaped at him, the hole in your heart growing as each harsh word escapes his mouth. he started to get up and walk to your guy's room before you finally found the confidence to speak, "why have you been out late so much recently?"
you voice was barely above a whisper, but hajime heard it. he sighed before turning to look at you with a bored look on his face, "do you want the truth or do you want me to lie to you?"
"the former."
he looked down at the ground before back at you, swiping his tongue across his front teeth in order to calm himself down. "i'm tired of always coming home to you when all we do is argue. you constantly find something little to piss me off, regardless if it's intentional or unintentional. i'm sick of it."
you took deep breaths while you listened to his explanation. he was one to talk.
"don't you think i'm tired of them, too? do you think it's easy for me to call you out on something you haven't done when i asked you to? don't talk like i'm the only one instigating the arguments, you're just to blame as me, hajime," you blurted.
he rolled his eyes at you before walking into the bedroom while you scrambled off the couch to follow him.
"hey! we're not done talking!!" you exclaimed.
"i am, this isn't going to solve anything, just like all the other ones. there's no point anymore," he spoke quietly. this was different than what you were used to. he would usually be matching your tone by now, but he was quiet. and that scared you a lot more.
you felt your heartbreak at his confession. you felt like you were losing him, slowly slipping from the relationship. "there's no point anymore". did that mean he was done? was he fed up? did he not have any energy to fix what you both had broken?
you turned around to start walking back to the living room, not noticing your sniffles and large tears making their way down your cheeks. you wiped at your face, which only made the tears fall faster, sobs wracking through your body. you couldn't make it to the living room until you fell to the floor, your heartbeat racing faster than you've ever felt. the room started to spin, your breathing staggered, your head feeling light. you could hear the faint sound of a voice, then hands touching your back and your face. you could barely notice the ravenette looking at you with a panicked expression, your eyes travelling to his moving mouth even though you could barely hear what he was saying.
hajime was freaking the fuck out. he knows your guy's relationship has been rocky recently, but he was shit at communication. hence why it was so easy for him to blow off the conversation. what he hadn't realized was how much this was affecting you. he knew you weren't the best at communicating either, but you for sure tried more than he did. and you were just trying to a few minutes ago before he acted like an ass.
when you weren't calming down, his best resort was to embrace you in a hug in order to keep you grounded. he mumbled for you to try and match his breathing, one of his hands playing with your hair and the other firmly wrapped around your waist. it took a few minutes, but he felt you start to ease up, your sobs dying down and your tears drying slightly. when he deemed you somewhat composed, he picked you up and walked back to the bed, gently laying you down while not letting go of you. you practically had him in a death grip, your body missing the feeling of your boyfriend's warmth and comfort.
he cooed sweet nothings into your heart along with apologies. his heart broke at the state you were in, and it was his fault. he should've removed his head out of his ass sooner, he should've seen how close your relationship was to the brink of collapsing. he nuzzled his face into your neck, strong arms keeping you as close to his chest as possible.
you were finally able to match your breathing with his, coming back to your senses. you pulled away slowly to look at him with a teary gaze and a trembling lip.
"i-i'm sorry i made you f-feel like you couldn't come home anymore," you choked out, "i j-just wanted to talk and fix things but i-" you bit back a sob.
"i... i understand if you don't want to do this anymore," you cried, more tears spilling from your puffy eyes.
hajime felt his heart shatter. he immediately cupped your face, wanting your full, undivided attention on him.
"i'm so fucking sorry, baby. i know what i said, but i wasn't thinking straight. i want to be with you for the rest of my life. i'm sorry i'm so shit at communicating, and i'm sorry i didn't see how much you were hurting. god i never want to make you feel like that again, i'm so so sorry angel," tears started to make their way down hajime's cheeks, making your own widen.
you pulled your foreheads together, eyes closed as you take in each other's presence.
"i'll be better for you, i'll be better at communicating and being level-headed. god i never want to lose you. you're so special to me, more than anyone in this world," he pecked your lips, then your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead.
you sniffled before opening your eyes, "i'm sorry too baby. i'll be better at communicating too and being patient with you."
he gave you a sweet smile, pulling you in for a soft kiss before you both succumbed to slumber, soft smiles plastered on both of your faces. you both would be okay.
reblogs are appreciated!! <3
©hajimescutie 2021, all rights reserved.
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some soft!bakugou brainrot for the soul:
-he likes when you greet him in the morning. will absolutely roll his eyes and say sum âjesus, idiot, itâs too fuckinâ early for pathetic enthusiam like thatâ but will also simultaneously get pouty if u dont say hi to him first
-very much a quiet boy when itâs late at night. will just sit back with his eyes half-lidded and head in his hands, giving a little âmhmâ to everything you say. you think heâs not listening but when you donât finish a thought he will, without missing a beat go âthe hell? really? gonna talk that much and then not even finish the story?â
-will cook meals that you like but will insist that he likes them too. bakugou is 100% trying to convince you that he made it for himself but the entire extra portion with your favorite toppings implies the opposite
-pays attention to what youâre doing in training, and will not outright tell you if youâre doing well,, but when ur alone heâll just sorta âyou looked less pathetic than last time, dumbassâ with a slight smirk as he brushes past you
-likes to bicker,, i mean come on, obviously, but what i mean is that he just looks so weirdly happy when u yell at him (def goes heart eyes but literally do not say a word about it pls)
-goes very soft for hand massages,,, just like, ground ur thumb into the heel of his hand and rub at his knuckles. manâs will melt into wherever heâs sitting and close his eyes
-will absolutely bite your head off if youâre reckless, but then spend the rest of his time trying to think of ways to avoid u ever being in that much danger again
-remembers places youâve been together very clearly. so like, if yâall wanna revisit some restaurant, bakugou is leading the way and ur just like â??? that was 6 months ago how do u know where youâre goingâ ,, n he just scoffs and âbecause iâm the best. now shut up and pay attention weâre about to cross the streetâ
-is very soft about u wearing his clothes but only when no one else is around to see it. idk contrary to popular belief i actually see him being very flustered by the sight of u in his clothes. so he wonât let u wear anything around others rlly, but when itâs just him??? poor bby is so soft for it. like, v much hiding his red face in your neck and just breathing u in type of soft
-has a specific blanket that he keeps for when u hang out. eventually it starts to smell like you, bc obviously, n heâll cuddle up with it when you canât be with him
-adores when you sing to him. 100% doesnât matter if youâre good or not,, bakugou just likes that you donât do it in front of anyone else
-likes when you get needlessly angry with him. idk how to explain it,, but just like, if heâs bitching at one of his friends and you back him up, purely bc u like the chaos, bakugou will be totally đ„° over it. only after heâs done yelling tho
-mans has a thing for praise. he does. we been knew. but he rlly has an even bigger thing for mundane praise, like rlly small things like, âwow your handwriting is so neatâ or âomg your room is so clean! youâre so organized!â,,, jus tiny stuff in passing that letâs him kno heâs doing good
-will absolutely not admit it but he 100% prays for lint on his uniform so youâll brush it off for him. itâs like, a tiny little touch, just enough to sate him, but not so much that it feels like embarrassing pda
-is a sucker for someone he can just sit in silence with. like idk, if yâall noticed it, but he literally has like, nothing to say when heâs not bitching, so if heâs not angry heâll just be quiet. if u can be quiet with him, in the same space but not talking, bakugou is a very happy boy about it
-he likes to know things about you no one else does,, so if u tell him anything in confidence, literally anything, heâll keep it secret. 100% every time, no exceptions, will never spill a single detail even if someone is begging him to
-probably demands that u say u love him multiple times before yâall go to sleep. its the only affection he outright asks for so u give in every time
-shares whatever he has with u. just wordlessly will hand u a piece of whatever heâs eating. doesnât warn u if itâs spicy tho,, bc heâs still a little shit
-sort of just follows you wherever youâre going. like, if u tell him u want to be alone heâll leave, but otherwise he just kinda assumes heâs meant to follow. most times heâs right
-he is 100% the type to know something is wrong without u having to say it. he prob knows exactly what it is too. lmao like, sure, heâs still totally clueless on how to approach/support you but bakugou is the furthest thing from dumb. he knows,, he just does.
-gets super protective about your things. like, god forbid somebody try to write anything in ur notebook while youâre not paying attention,, bakugouâll threaten them before their pen even touches the paper
-he likes to tend to your injuries. like, even the rlly minor ones. like, letâs say u get a papercut??? pls mans is grabbing your finger, running it under water, and wrapping a bandaid around it before u even register it. heâll grumble the whole time like âjesus, dumbass, canât believe i have to do this.â but rlly he enjoys doing it bc it makes him feel important. like maybe heâs someone heroic to u
-if no one else is around, and thereâs a lot of trust established, heâll prob do whatever u tell him to. now ofc thereâs gonna be a lot of complaining, bc itâs bakugou, but heâll do it
-is a big fan of when you tell him heâs your favorite. pls the man is so see-through ahaha,, u could be like âomg! bakugou! you took out the trash without me asking?? thatâs why youâre my favorite!â n all he walks away hearing is âthey think im the best. i fucking am the best.â
-he likes to watch you do mundane things. like rlly little, every-day things like brushing your hair or tying your shoes. idk he just thinks your methodical movements are weirdly calming
-is a sucker for forehead kisses. like obvi, only when yâall are alone, but like, press a kiss to his hairline?? suddenly itâs rip angry bakugou, soft bakugou hrs only
-doesnât rlly initiate touch that much,, but when he does mans is extremely petulant about it. like, if u decide u have something more pressing than him, bakugou is almost immeadiately going âthatâs fucking stupid. what youâre doing. you should stop.â n then heâs just poking and prodding and needling at u until u fall into his arms
-shadows you at social gatherings. very guard-dog like from an outsider perspective, but rlly itâs just bc when katsuki says he doesnât like anyone else, he means it. heâs sticking by you bc you truly are the only one he tolerates
-he secretly rlly likes when u fuss over him. like, when u ask him if heâs sore from training or if he has any injuries. bakugou will brush u off like the absolute bitch that he is, but secretly heâll be so warm about it. he just likes that u care enough to ask
-he tries very hard to be gentle for u. ofc it pretty much never works bc itâs him, but heâll still forever be reading romance manga n going âyeah, i bet theyâd like that. gonna it do it way better though. im the fucking best, i can do it.â
ahahaaha me?? a bunch of bakugou thoughts?? never, idk what ur on about
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[a/n: is this a week late? yes. happy belated-valentine's day angels <3]
âáŽÊÉȘs ÉȘs áŽÉŽ ïżœïżœïżœđŸ+ ÊÊáŽÉą. áŽÉȘÉŽáŽÊs áŽ
ÉŽÉȘ
đđđđŹđźđ€đą đđđ€đźđ đšđź; đđšđŻđ đđšđđđ„
â Definitely went to work that day
â Not a huge romantic but wake up to find a hot breakfast with a note left on the counter.
Happy Valentines Day, dumbass. Love you.
â k.b
â When he returns from work, Katsuki buys you roses and shoves them into your chest with an eye roll. You thank him and he responds with a grunt before insisting you put on something nice because heâs taking you out on a dinner date whether you like it or not.
â Katsuki takes you to the fanciest restaurantâso fancy you feel a little bad that he has to pay, even despite his Pro Hero status. But youâre his, and spoiling you might as well be his love language.
â Halfway through dinner, Katsuki starts getting a little frisky. Sliding the rough leather of his oxfords up the inside of your thigh, winking and biting his lip. You tell him to stop but you only half-mean it, and the knowing grin on his face lets you know he knows.
"Careful, baby. You don't want the waitress to know how much of a dirty slut you are, do you?â
â Heâs condescending as fuck but youâre totally here for it, and the second he pays for the meal you two are speeding down the highway to a love hotel (per Katsukiâs plan, apparently). You barely make it to the bedroom before youâre all over each other, and if it werenât for that family of four in the elevator, you definitely wouldnât have.
â He tells you to get on the bed and strip, and who are you to deny him of such a luxury? He pulls a plastic black bag out of a different bagâitâs clearly full. With what, you may ask?
â Sex toys!
â Katsukiâs endgame is simpleâmake you cum until you canât anymore. Not that heâs told you explicitly, but heâs got a Hitachi pressed to your sex and two fingers slamming into you just the way you like it. With your wrists comfortably tied above your head, it doesnât take him long to bring you to your climax, cheeks burning and thighs shaking.
â Peering at you under the sweaty mess of ash-blond hair, the fire in Katsuki's eyes only adds fuel to the burning of your gut as the vibrator continues whirr. The realization settles in with a shiver. Oh. Oh fuck, he's not stopping.
âAgain.â
â So, you cum again. And again, and again, and by the time youâre on the fifth it gets a bit hard to feel your toes and youâre so sensitive your thighs burn. All you want is his cock, but for some reason, itâs fucking impossible for him to give it to you.
â Upon voicing your concerns, Katsukiâs devilish smile only grows wider.
âYou want this cock that bad, slut? Yeah? Fine then, fuckinâ choke on it.â
â Itâs basically cannon that one of Katsukiâs favorite things to do is watch you struggle to take all of him, but in this position, all you can do is lay back with bound hands as he fucks your face. Itâs sloppy and your eyes and throat burn, but it's totally worth it to hear Katsuki fall apart in your mouth.
âS-So goodâfuckâsuch a good whore, taking all of me, arenât you?â
â Katsuki pulls out before he cums in your throat in favor of flipping your limp body into downward dog and stuffing you full of cock in one swift move, the bastard.
â Katsukiâs never been one to take things slow in bedâto him, itâs all hard and fast and now. Youâre scrambling for purchase in the sheets as he pounds into that sweet spot he knows you love, and you feel your fully spent sex twitching back to life anyway. Fuck, fuck. Are you going to cum again?
â Katsuki seems to catch onto this as well, sweaty chest dropping against your back and the cool of his dog tag tickling your neck as his hand rubs between your legs, muttering dirty nothings in your ear.
âYou gonna cum for me, baby? Yeah? Gonna make a fuckinâ mess all over yourself like the slut you are? Fuckinâ do it. Fuckinâfuckââ
â You two cum at the same time, toes curling and ribcage shuddering, and thenâ
â Darkness.
â You wake up in a few hours, properly clean in fresh sheets. Turns out baby boy fucked you so hard you passed out, but it's okay because heâs found reruns of your favorite show on and is fully prepared with water and snacks.
â (And heâll never tell you, but he fully panicked and called Eijirou. Obviously, he knew you were alive, butâŠwhat if you passed out because of a problem? A concussion? Internal bleeding, maybe?)
â (Eijirou ensures him that though this should NOT happen every time, it can happen from exhaustion. To say Katsuki relaxes after that is an understatement.)
(Stay safe angels <3)
And speaking of Eijirou...
đđąđŁđąđ«đšđź đđąđ«đąđŹđĄđąđŠđ; đđĄđ đđđ€đ
â Definitely did not go to work that day.
â Today, Eijirou plans to treat you like the princess you are. Cooks you breakfast in bed (after almost burning down the kitchen trying to make bacon but shhh we donât talk about that) books you a full day spa and has Mina take you shopping for a new outfit for your "fancy date" that night.
â The location? A surprise.
â Itâs dark by the time you and Mina pull up, but the moment you hop out the car she speeds away. Um. She couldâve at least said bye.
"[Y/N?]"
â Looks like Eijirou brought you to a lake. You wonder who helped him bundle the fairy lights in the trees and set up the picnic because knowing your man and his coordination, it wouldâve taken a forever for him to set this up.
â But all those thoughts shatter the second you see that heâs on his knees, clutching a velvet box with a gorgeous diamond ring sat in the center. Not too flashy, but not too dull.
âU-Uh.â
â Eijirou swallows then blinks, the only sign that heâs the least bit nervous for this.
âSeeâŠI swear I had planned something to say, but you lookâŠholy shit, umâstunning, you look stunning.â
â His compliment goes over your head though. Of course it does, heâs holding an engagement ring. He chuckles, averting his eyes to the ground.
âListen, um, you can say no...B-But uh, I love you a lotâobviouslyâand Iâve been thinking about this a lot, kind of, because youâre likeâŠthe love of my life, ya know? I mean, I know everyone says that and everything but like, I really mean it? But if Iâm going too fast o-or you just donât wanna get married or something, I totally get it because obviously this is outta the blue and everything b-but umâŠyeah.â
â You let him stutter through the whole thing because, well. Itâs cute.
â ...And then you tackle Eijirou to the ground with renewed passion and slam your lips onto his. His âbabe! The ring!â is muffled but you snort anyway, blindly groping for it through the grass. The moment you find it, you shove it into his palm and stick your hand in his face, and with a (very sexy) chuckle, the redhead slides it onto your ring finger.
âIâll take that as a yes then?â
â No shit, Sherlock.
â Either way, the picnic in the dark is abandoned in favor of yanking Eijirou's pants off and giving him the best head of his life. Because goddammit, you love this man so much and he needs to feel it.
â Afterward, he insists on returning the favor. A wild Gentle Dom Kiri appears and as he eats you out, he mutters a deadly combination of the sweetest and dirtiest things youâve ever heard.
âFuck, you feel so good. So tight and wet. And itâs all for me, isnât it, baby?"
âYouâre gonna cum, angel? Do it. Cum all over Daddyâs face.â
â Once you semi-recover from your orgasm, he flips you on your hands and knees and slowly pushes inside of you (though not without putting on a condom because safety first, angels). You tell him to speed up, but he denies your request. This time around, Eijirou's going to take the time to love you.
â As he slowly fucks you under the stars, he dips his chin into your neck as his bigger hands encompass your own. As he starts to play with the ring on your finger, you watch something wet hit the picnic blanket, followed by a sniffle.
âGosh, fuckâI love you so much. A-And Iâm really happy you said yes. IâŠâ
â You cum first and Eijirou isnât far behind, shuddering against your spine. Your fiancĂ© unceremoniously rolls onto the picnic blanket next to you, his temple kissing the crest of your skull as the two of you use the comfortable silence to cool down, half-naked under the milky way.
â In your comfortable silence, you lift your left hand to the stars, fingers splayed to reveal the twinkling diamond solidifying the bond between the two of you. Eijirou hums, hooking his chin on your shoulder.
"Pretty, isn't it?"
đđđ§đ€đą đđđŠđąđ§đđ«đą; đđąđ§đ đ„đđŹ đđ°đđ«đđ§đđŹđŹ đđđČ
â Both of you are painfully single and most importantly, strangers. Strangers who think alike and had the glorious forethought to drown your sorrows at a nightclub with a lot of alcohol.
â Denki, as he does, accidentally knocks over his liquor-filled cup, completely drenching your bottoms. He apologizes and insists on helping you clean up though getting awfully close to your crotch, but both of you are too tipsy to notice.
â After the liquor spill, you swap embarrassing love stories and lament over the âhardships of being single.â (Denkiâs words.)
â A few hours pass. Youâre tired and ready to go home and Denki requests to walk you home to make sure you get back safely. Not that you live far, maybe ten minutes, but by the time you reach your door, you feel like you've known the electric blond your whole life. After saying goodbye and almost closing the door, Denki blurts out a half-drunken confession...or something like that:
âIâuh, y-you areâuhm, noâŠthis isââ
â You give him a look, a half-smile at best, and it seems to churn the gears in his brain again.
âThis was uhm, really fun and uh, I think youâre really cool.â
â So naturally, when you invite him inside, he squeals.
â After a few more drinks and a few more spillages (Denkiâs never been a deft drunk), you two finally get over your inner thoughts and start kissing on the couch. Itâs hot and messy, and the alcohol in your veins makes it oh, so hot.
â Denki doesnât expect you to offer head but when you do he nearly cries, scrambling to pull his pants off while you make space for yourself between his thighs. Due to the fact that thereâs alcohol pumping in Denkiâs veins and he hasn't been touched by someone else in at least a year, heâs extra-sensitive. And vocal.Â
"F-Fuck gorgeous, you're so good at this...o-oh shit, do that againâyeah, yeah just like that."
â His hips quiver, and he bucks into your mouth on accident. It earns him a glare and a light slap on the thigh, and you make a mental note to unpack the broken moan that interrupts his apology later.Â
â It doesn't take Denki a long time to cumâfive minutes max. He plans to give you a warning but his orgasm runs up on the electric blond so quickly he doesn't even get a warning. When Denki orgasms in your mouth with a choked moan, it's only natural that you pull away in alarm, ribbons of semi-translucent cum flying just about everywhere.
â To say you're pissed is an understatement (because your poor, poor carpet), but Denki feels terrible and is already reaching for the roll of paper towels you left on the coffee table from your cleaning spree this morning, apologies flying out of his mouth like an auctioneer.
â Obviously, he's going to make it up to you. Not only for making an absolute mess in your living room (seriously, Denki doesn't know if he's ever come that much in his life) but for the bomb head, and he wants to make you feel just as good as you made him feel.
â Both of you stumble to your room, the mood miraculously rekindled, and you're not sure what to make of Denki's desperation as he claws at your bottoms, pupils blown to the size of dinner plates. And though it's cheesy, you can't help but shiver when he finally gets eyes on your sex, wetting his bottom lip and the grip around your thigh tightening as he catcalls the apex between your thighs before diving in.
"Hello pretty~"
â Like any pervert with a vivid imagination, Denki's got a mental warehouse of sex tips and tricks and burns to watch you squirm from his touch. He wants you red-faced and breathless and isnât shy about it, actively paying attention to your reactions when he curls his fingers or uses his tongue just right.
"Oh, you taste so good sweet thing. So pretty and wet...did I do all this, gorgeous?â
â Also, electro-stimulation? Yes please.
â Denki's tentative about it at first because heâs not sure how youâll react, but once you give him that pretty little moan you've been holding back all evening, you two are going nowhere but hell.
â His dick hurts from being hard for so long and the second you cum, heâs practically begging to fuck you.
âPlease? Please gorgeous? Shit, you felt so good in my mouth I just wannaâI need toâplease?â
â Like you needed any convincing in the first place.
â You ride him per his requestâand will definitely make you repeat things back to him, just because he likes how embarrassed and blushy you get. If you refuse? Heâll be an absolute tease about it. (But only for a bit, because we all know his patience isnât that great.)
"Yeah? You like this cock? Tell me. Tell me how good my cock makes you feel, gorgeous."
â There's no way Denki lasts very long (again)âdefinitely with you in his lap. When he cums, itâs cute and breathless, and his nose scrunches into his eyes. But if he came twice, you should too right?
â The next morning, Denki's gone. But in his place, thereâs a note with his number and an explanation:
had to go to work! lol i have the fattest hangover kill me now ty. either way, you should text me. i wasn't kidding when i said i thought you were cool lol.
(xxx)-xxx-xxxx
â kaminari
[a/n: gah XD my brain melted from writing that um-
also donât worry about the family of four at the love hotel...they were...um...forced to stay there due to an emergency...lol :) see you soon, angels <3]
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Landslide | Mark Lee
summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and iâm getting older too.
words: 7.1k+
category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, markâs apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo
warnings: talk of absent fathers
author note: itâs my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! hereâs to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)
Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.
âNow write your name,â Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.
âG-R-A-H-A-M,â the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. âCan I take a picture? For my mom?â
All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.
He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. âOkay, guysâ to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!â
âWhy are we having snack time so early?â Itâs Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.
Mark ignores the boyâs paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. âMr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so weâre going to watch a movie instead.â
âA movie?â Grahamâs eyes widen.
âYep,â Mark giggles. He crouches down to Grahamâs level and whispers, âYou wanna pick it?â
âNature Nut!â Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.
Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.
âAlright, go wash your hands and Iâll get it started.â
Itâs a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.
While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.
Thereâs one from Taeyong: âIâve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but itâs not gonna be comfy :(â
Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Markâs is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldnât be so stressful.
Mark didnât forget his lesson plans; theyâre just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe itâs his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.
Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.
He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesnât think theyâll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.
Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesnât want to ruin their routine. Heâd hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good nightâs sleep.
The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.
One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.
Finally, thereâs only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. Itâs not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Markâs beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.
Whatever. Itâs no big deal.
The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.
Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe thatâs vain.
âHey, Mark! Sorry Iâm late!â You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.
Until said child is scolding his mother. âMom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! Itâs rude to call him Mark!â
âYour mom is an adult,â Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) âSince she isnât a student, itâs okay for her to call me Mark.â
Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. âFine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.â He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. âCan we go to the park and look for slugs?â
âSure,â you giggle. âBut we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.â
Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. âMom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said itâs There-pee.â
âTher-a-py,â you emphasize for the five-year-old.
Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. âTherapy, huh?â
You smile sheepishly. âWell, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?â
âYou are a team,â Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. âAnyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, Iâll see you both tomorrow.â
âYeah,â you breathe. You smile at him and then take Grahamâs hand. âThanks, Mark. Iâll text you.â
Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.
When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved sâmores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.
-
Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), itâs no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.
He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.
You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.
Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. Itâs something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your childâs Spider-man skechers.
Graham is the only constant in your life. Though youâve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.
Heâs the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.
Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.
Markâs been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out youâd be raising your child alone.
Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.
Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. Heâs wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.
Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. âMom! We match!â
âI know,â you grin, squeezing his hand.
Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesnât. âHey, Mark.â
âHey,â he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.
Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. âDo you see that we match, Mr. Lee?â
âYo, thatâs awesome, Little Man!â Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.
âHow have you been?â
Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. âOkay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so Iâm staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.â
âThat sucks,â you frown. âYou know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldnât mind.â
Mark pales. âAre you serious? I didnât mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.â
âAnd youâll be at school until three,â you say. âIâll work then. Câmon, Mark. I donât like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.â
Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. âYeah. Okay. Iâll drive over after I check out of the motel.â
âGreat!â You smile. âIâll order pizza.â
-
"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."
"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."
You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"
Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"
"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."
âCan I show him my worms?â Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.
âYes,â you say, thankful that he isnât putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. Youâre also thankful he isnât asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.
Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that heâs just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but itâs enough until the weekend, when youâll have more time to help him organize.
The little guy hoards rocks like no oneâs business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.
âWanna help me make up Mr. Leeâs room?â You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.
Grahamâs little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon heâs at your hip with a quick, âHe can have my Frozen pillowcase!â
You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you canât give your guest a dirty pillowcase. âThat one is in the wash, Buddy. Why donât we give him your Spider-Man one?â
âSo he matches my pajamas!â Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Markâs made-up bed. (âSo he doesnât get scared at night.â)
By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because itâs a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Markâs stuff.
He surprisingly didnât bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. âMy studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.â
âWell, hereâs the desk and bed. Itâs not much, but thereâs a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive â bless him â and curtains so the stupidly bright sun wonât wake you too early.â
âThose both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,â Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. âYo! Spider-Man?â
âGraham picked it out,â you say. âHe also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.â
âHeâs so cute,â Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isnât true, itâs just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.
âHe is,â you say. âAnd heâs dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.â
Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isnât in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasnât found the right person.
It isnât until Graham is peacefully in bed â after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him â that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.
âHereâs the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if youâre busy donât feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and heâs good about playing by himself.â
Mark giggles. âOkay. I donât mind playing with him, though.â
You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. âAnd also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that youâre here temporarily and you arenât a babysitter or anything like that. I donât expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.â
Mark blinks. âBut if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I donât mind babysitting.â
âI know,â you smile. âBut Graham is my kid. I donât need time away from him.â
Youâre lying. Mark knows it. Youâve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you arenât about to reach out for help now.
âAnyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,â you say. âIâve got to get to bed. Goodnight.â
âThanks, Y/n.â
-
Mark thinks itâs sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.
Youâre already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. Youâre busy arguing with Graham. âYou canât fry your own omelette for the last time.â
Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.
Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. âHey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?â
Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. âMr. Lee! Yes! Letâs go!â
He grabs Markâs hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.
Grahamâs room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly donât match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.
Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. Itâs a picture of you and Grahamâs father, a few months before you got pregnant. Heâs smiling, and youâre holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Grahamâs dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.
Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, heâd never take them for granted.
Graham pulls out a gemstone. Itâs a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. âDo you remember this, Mr. Lee?â
Mark grins. âYeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.â
Graham beams. He grabs Markâs hand and pulls him towards his dresser. âCan we match? I want to look like you.â
Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesnât want to cross a line. Heâs your friend, sure, but heâs also Grahamâs teacher. He canât coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. âIâm wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?â
âLetâs look!â Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. âNo, no, no... Here!â He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. âIâll wear these!â
âLetâs clean up first, okay?â Mark grabs the overalls. âSo itâs clean when you come home from school.â
Graham, looking like the last thing heâd ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking youâll find it endearing rather than annoying.
He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. Youâre so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks thatâs why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.
He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.
When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.
He doesnât want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.
âHave an omelet,â you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.
Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.
Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.
âShit,â you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.
âEverything okay?â Mark asks.
You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. âYeah is justââ
The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. âWhat do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.â
You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.
âMommy is upset,â Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. âAt me?â
âNo, Buddy! Of course not!â Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Grahamâs curls. âNever at you.â
âWhen we tore up paper, she was crying.â Graham fiddles with his book page.
Mark wonders why your exâs actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Grahamâs first birthday. But now heâs about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?
Heâll have to ask you about it soon.
âAre you ready to go to school, Buddy?â
âYeah!â
-
You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. Youâll never get this article proofread and sent if you canât see the keys.
The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. âHey, kiddo! How was school?â
âMr. Lee let us finger paint!â Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. âCan I have gogurt?â
âYeah bud. Why donât you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.â
âYes!â Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and â after getting you to tear it open â runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.
Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. âWhatâs going on?â
You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. âBen called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasnât going to leave herâ like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me theyâre engaged.â You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. âWhy werenât we enough? Why wasnât I enough?â
Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. âHey. Look at me.â With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. âIt is not your fault he left.â
âBut it has to be me in some way,â you retort. âHe must not have loved me. Something, because now heâs going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.â
Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now itâs heavy with intention. âGraham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? Youâre amazing.â
You nod, head still pressed to Markâs. âYeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.â
âBe as emotional as you want,â Mark says. âIâll be here to balance you out.â
Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than heâs letting on. Of course itâs stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.
âIâm a mess,â you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.
âNah,â Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. âYouâre alright.â
-
âItâs snowing!â Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.
Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. âHey, Buddy. Letâs not jump on sleeping people, okay?â
âOkay,â Graham says. Heâs already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. âCome look at the snow!â
âI see!â Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. âWe might have a snow day, Graham.â
âYes!â Graham pumps his fist into the air. âLetâs go tell mom!â
Youâre sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.
Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.
âDid I hear snow day?â You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes â the same as your sonâs.
âLooks like it.â Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. âYou want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.â
You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. âUh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and Iâll helpââ
âNo need,â Mark insists. âEnjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes youâve ever tasted.â
âWith lots of chocolate chips!â Graham shouts.
You give him a pointed look. âBut not too many.â
Graham huffs. âBut not too many,â he repeats.
-
Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming âItâs a dragon! Run for cover!â
Mark giggles from his place on the couch. Heâs got mushroom-patterned socks on, and heâs tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. âHow does he still have so much energy?â
You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. âYouâd think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know youâre a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.â
âI do have a godson,â Mark reminds you.
âBut Mikey is a baby,â you say. You only know the babyâs name because of Markâs constant snap stories about him.
âMost babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.â Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.
You sit next to him. âI guess thatâs true. Youâre really good with Graham. Heâs not this open to other adults.â
Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. âHeâs great in class, always helping the other kids.â
âHe wants to impress you,â you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. âHe thinks youâre just the coolest guy.â
Mark laughs and shakes his head. âDidnât you hear, Y/n? Iâm handsome and cool.â
âOh, of course,â you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. âHow could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.â
This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.
âShut up,â he mumbles. âMy time is gonna come.â
âHasnât it already?â you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that heâs grown into his face, right?
Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. Heâs so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.
âWhat do you mean?â
âYouâre handsome, Mark,â you say plainly.
âYou mean that?â
âOf course I do,â you say. âWhy would I lie?â
Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you youâve been too honest, but heâs interrupted by your son.
âMom! Iâm ready to get out now!â
âI should go,â you say, still looking at his eyes.
âYeah,â he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.
âYou should take a shower. Youâll catch a cold.â
âOkay,â he whispers. âYeah, Iâll do that.â
-
Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and youâre surprised at how much he truly hasnât changed since high school.
Heâs still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. âNice place.â He raises his brows as he looks around.
âWho are you?â Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones youâve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.
âIâm Haechan, Markâs friend.â
âThis is Mr. Leeâs friend from school,â you say, detailing your words so theyâre easier for your son to digest.
Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. âOkay. Do you want to see my rock collection?â
Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.
âHow have you been?â you ask the taller man. âLike, with the flooding and everything?â
âWell, Iâm on a couch at Taeyongâs, which is good since he doesnât charge rent. But that means Iâm near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.â
You laugh. âI remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.â You realize youâre rambling and shake your head. âWhatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.â
âYou can say that again. Iâve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.â
âWhy would you need to pay rent if youâre just crashing?â You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.
âDidnât Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes werenât up to code and thatâs why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so weâve got to find new places.â
You stop cleaning. âMark didnât tell me that.â
âOh.â Haechan scratches his brow. âHe probably didnât want to worry you. He feels really bad that heâs stayed with you this long.â
âItâs only been a month or so,â you counter. âBesides, Markâs a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.â
Haechan grins. âOh. Okay, I get it.â
âGet what?â Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.
âNothing!â Haechanâs voice cracks
You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. âWhere are you guys going?â
âTo play video games at Johnnyâs.â Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendyâs.
You miss it. âHave fun, okay? Iâm probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.â
âYouâre leaving?â Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems heâs both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.
âNot before I see your rocks!â Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think heâs telling the truth.
Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. Youâre almost embarrassed.
â â Okay, Y/n?â Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.
And once again, itâs high school. Itâs senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. Itâs his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. Itâs that same comforting touch. That little âIâm here,â and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.
âYeah,â you manage. âIâm okay.â
-
The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechanâs words.
Youâve liked her since high school, dude.
Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didnât have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. Youâve been his friend since freshman year, and thatâs all youâve ever been.
Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.
Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.
Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl â itâd be too much for him, he wouldnât want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you werenât around.
But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave â though you thanked him always â and you never once assumed heâd take the role of Grahamâs dad.
And now⊠now he finds himself wishing you would.
âMr. Lee?â Graham creeps up without him even realizing.
Mark jumps, sets his water â and thoughts â aside. âHey, Bud. Itâs really late. What are you doing up?â
Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. âI had a nightmare.â
Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. âWas it scary?â
âYou left.â Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesnât know the weight of his words. Heâs focused on the rerun of Adventure Time thatâs playing. Heâs not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.
âIâm going to leave one day,â Mark says, because he thinks itâs important that Graham knows.
âYou should stay with me and Mom,â Graham says. He yawns. âWe like you so much!â
Markâs heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.
-
When Grahamâs bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. Heâs always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.
Youâve already got your phone out, and your motherâs number called, when you walk into the living room.
Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didnât just cause you to have a premature heart attack.
You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Markâs forearm. Itâs such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.
The flash is on.
Mark scrunches his nose and winces. âWhat theââ
âSorry!â You whisper. âYou both looked so cute, I couldnât help it.â
Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and youâre almost intimidated into looking away. âHe had a nightmare.â
âOh?â
âAbout me leaving.â
âOh.â You frown. âIâm really sorry about that. I keep telling him that youâre moving out soon, but I donât think he fully understands.â
Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Markâs warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. âYouâre staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?â
Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. âAnd Iâll see her cat?â
âYes,â you confirm. âBut weâve got to get you dressed because sheâs coming in a few minutes.â
-
âMark Lee!â Your momâs voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. âY/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!â
âOh my goshâŠâ you mumble, buckling Grahamâs overalls and hauling him up into your arms. âMom! His apartment flooded so heâs staying here. Donât be weird about it.â
âBut heâs so handsome,â your mom coos. Youâre concerned she might reach forward and pinch Markâs already ruddy cheeks.
âThanks,â Mark laughs. âBut sheâs right, Iâm just squatting until I can find a new place.â
Your mom harrumphs. âWell, I donât see why you canât stay here forever. Y/n doesnât even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.â
âMom!â You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. âYou have to leave.â
âDid I say something wrong?â She sounds worried, but thereâs an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.
âYou said everything wrong,â you say, kindly pushing her out. âHave a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.â
âYeah, right!â She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.
You turn back to your roommate. âIâm sorry about that, Mark.â
âItâs fine.â He smiles, but itâs reserved. âBut speaking of me finding a place⊠I know Haechan told you that I canât go back to my own apartment. Iâm sorry I didnât tell you sooner.â
âItâs okay,â you say. You want to say âYou can stay here as long as you want, and long as youâll let me keep you,â but that would reveal too much, and you donât want to lose the one good friend you have.
âAnd I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.â Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. Heâs hiding. Heâs shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. âI donât think itâs good for Graham to get this attached to me if Iâm just going to leave.â
âOh,â Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. âYeah, thatâs⊠thatâs probably a good idea.â
Mark stands there for a beat, like heâs waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasnât just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.
But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. âIâm going to go on a run.â
-
Thereâs a cricket outside that wonât stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since youâll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And youâll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.
But you wonât see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You wonât see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You wonât feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.
Heâll just be Mark again. He wonât be home anymore.
Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.
It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and thereâs Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.
âI donât want you to leave,â you say.
Mark confesses, âI love you.â
You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.
Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. Heâs a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when theyâre still tied. And heâs here, in your arms, squeezing you like youâre something valuable enough to lose. Heâs confessing love like you arenât the worst possible candidate for his heart.
âI canât offer you much,â you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful â football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.
âIâve known you for years, Y/n,â Markâs voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like youâre something to second glance at. âI know what Iâm getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything weâve been for the past month. I donât want this to end.â
You close your eyes, because his are too honest. Heâs open and vulnerable and gentle â a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were â the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. âI donât want this to end either. Iâm in love with you, Mark.â
His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.
It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.
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Pattonâs Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter 2
Craft Projects and Failed Bonding
Chapter Summary: Roman plots against Patton in a way he thinks is threatening.
Previous Chapter Story Masterlist
Chapter Warnings: Panic, anxiety, implied past abuse, food mentions, and anxiety over being watched by cameras.
Word Count: 4,533
Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22
Notes: Thanks to cornybird on Ao3 for helping me beta this one!
âVirgil, wake up, itâs time for breakfast!â
Roman cracked open his eyes to stare at the door. His security bar was still under the doorknob, and it sounded like Patton walked away to knock on the next kid's door, so Roman slowly lifted himself out of Virgilâs bed once the coast was clear. He hadnât been asleep for the last two hours, so there was no point to continue lying down and risk Patton trying to get into the room to wake him up. So Roman rubbed his tired eyes to undo the security bar and put it in his backpack.
Though, speaking of his backpackâŠhe had no idea where to put it. It wasnât safe in Virgilâs room, but Virgil was still sleeping in Romanâs bedroom. He could take it downstairs with him, but thatâs a strange thing to do during breakfast, and he didnât want that to be the conversation opener of the day. Especially if they asked him what was inside. They werenât allowed to know that.
Eventually, Roman settled on hiding the backpack underneath Virgilâs bed. It wasnât the best hiding spot, but itâd work until Roman could come back and take it. He opened the door and headed downstairs, praying that he wouldnât be the first kid to arrive.
The prayer wasnât enough, because Roman looked around the kitchen and only saw Patton at the stove. Patton looked over at him and seemed confused, trying to hide it behind a chipper smile. âMorning, kiddo! Howâd you get dressed so fast? I only knocked on your door a second ago!â
Donât let him find out you werenât in your room. âOh, these are my pajamas, I havenât gotten dressed yet. And I was already awake, so I just came right downstairs.â
Patton looked Roman up and down, and Roman shivered. ââŠDo you not have real pajamas, kiddo?â
âNo. I like sweatpants better.â
Patton didnât seem pleased, but he didnât question it further. Roman sat down at the table and anxiously drummed his fingers while he waited. Eventually, Logan came downstairs fully dressed with his hair brushed, and Virgil followed not long after. His hair was a mess, and his pajamas were twisted like he just fell out of bed and rolled down the stairs to make it in time.Â
Patton took one look at him and almost gasped. âVirgil, did you sleep last night? You lookâŠa bit rough, to put it lightly.â
Virgil grunted. âI had to clean.â
Patton sighed. âKiddo, save cleaning for the morning, okay?â
Virgil shrugged, groggily making his way to the coffee machine to try and steal some Patton already made for himself. âVirgil,â Patton chastised, âNo coffee. You can go back to sleep after breakfast if you want, but youâre too young for coffee.â
Logan raised his hand. âMay I have some?â
âNo.â
âDarn.â
âWhat kinda drink do you want, Roman?â Patton asked. âAnd donât say coffee.â
Coffee sounded really nice, actually, but there was no use arguing. âIâll take milk, then.â
Patton finished emptying the contents of his pan onto some plates before grabbing three cups from the cupboard and filling them up. Two had milk while one had orange juice, and he passed them to each seat at the table. He then passed everybody their plates, with scrambled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese. Roman took his fork and tasted a bite of the eggs.
Holy fuck, Roman hadnât had something that tasty since his grandma last cooked for him. The eggs were so soft and cheesy, and Roman could barely contain his excitement for it. He put as many eggs as he could fit onto his fork and stuffed it all in his mouth.
Patton laughed when he noticed Romanâs reaction. âTaste good, kiddo?â
Roman hummed, and Patton smiled. âGood! I learned how to make them from my roommate in college, and I havenât looked back since!â
Roman hoped that roommate taught him how to make a lot more things then, because this was heavenly. Heâd finished his entire plate of eggs so fast it was concerning, forgetting all ability to savor his food. Maybe Roman could find the recipe and steal it when Patton wasnât looking.
Until then, Roman moved on to eating his bagel while everyone else wasnât even close to finishing breakfast. He guessed that was a good thing. If he finished before everyone else, he could run to Virgilâs room and grab his backpack without anyone noticing. Roman chewed faster at the possibility.
Once again, the table went very silent as everyone ate and Roman tried to make a swift escape. Patton was the one to break the silence this time. âSo, Roman,â he said, âHow about you and I go to the store today?â
Roman froze. ââŠWhy?â
âIâm sure thereâs some stuff you need. School starts again in two days, so we need to get you some school supplies, and maybe we can get some stuff to decorate your room with too!â
âWait, school starts in two days? I thought it started in two weeks!â
Patton seemed apologetic. âIn this district, the first day is this Wednesday. Usually Iâd let you stay at home a little longer to get comfortable before school, but I think itâd be easier for you to start the first day when you have the chance. Besides, I donât feel comfortable leaving you home alone for another week.â
You should leave me here alone, Roman thought. He was a little disappointed he had to go to school sooner than usual, but school was also the best excuse to leave home early and come back late. If he could get involved again in theater, he could hide out and blame his late return times on rehearsals. So maybe it was a blessing in disguise.
Patton interrupted Romanâs internal scheming. âDo you know what kinda supplies you might need, kiddo?â
Roman twirled his cup in his hand and watched the milk spin. âBinders, pencils, folders, notebooksâŠI only have a backpack, really.â
âWe definitely need to stop by the store then! And while weâre there, we can look at all the bedroom stuff too!â
Everything in Roman made him want to decline, to tell Patton to buy him whatever and heâll make do with what he has. His heart started to pound again, his hand gripping hard on his cup and thinking about his escape options. Then it dawned on him.
They would be going to a store. A store, full of cashiers and moms with kids and plenty of parents who might also need school supplies. If there was anywhere he could be safe while alone with Patton, it was there. And maybe if he agreed, Patton would leave him alone for a whileâŠ
ââŠWe can go.â Roman said. Pattonâs grin widened and his eyes lit up.
âGreat! So, just get ready once you finish breakfast, and we can head out! Logan, youâll be in charge while Virgil takes a nap.â
Logan nodded, and Virgil almost fell asleep on top of his plate.
Eventually, everyone finished breakfast and put their dishes away, Virgil dragging himself back upstairs and falling into bed without even closing his door. Roman carefully entered his bedroom, darting his eyes between where he hid his backpack and where Virgil was lying.
âWhat.â Virgil snapped, mumbling it into his pillow. Roman stopped in his tracks.
âI only need to grab my bag, then Iâll leave you alone.â
âFugginâ take it.â Virgil snapped.
Roman grabbed his backpack and scurried out of there, closing the door behind him. It uneased Roman to try to sleep with the door open, so he assumed someone as secluded as Virgil might be the same. It was a little way to show his gratitude for last night.
Roman walked back to his own bedroom after grabbing his backpack. However, once Roman opened the door, he finally understood what Virgil meant by âcleaningâ.
The mess Roman made last night was completely gone. The bed was made, the hangers were placed back in the closet, the lightbulb was back in the lamp and the nightstand had been set back up. It was almost like last night was a bad dream that never happened, Romanâs only evidence that it had being the fact that he woke up in Virgilâs room that morning. He looked around the room again to process the change, when he noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand.
Roman picked up the piece of paper and unraveled it.
Thereâs no cameras in here, I checked. I also fixed your mental breakdown for you. You owe me one.
Virgil
Roman looked around the room, holding the paper tight to his chest as he examined every corner. There wasnât a single camera in here? Not one? No, no that wasnât possible. The camera was around here somewhere. Roman knew it.
He looked around again, three times, looking under objects and in the closet, feeling the pit in his stomach grow when all his searches came back futile. He knew it was here somewhere, and he refused to let Patton win. Roman would find it.
Heâd justâŠhave to find some other place to sleep until then.
Roman shook his head as a way to erase his thoughts. He could worry about the camera later, but for now, he needed to please Pattonâs attempt at getting to know him and get out of this cursed room. Roman still wrapped a blanket around himself as he got dressed, not quite able to shake his anxiety long enough to not take precautions. He changed from his pajamas to a red shirt and baggy jeans, and ran out to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Camera or not, heâd have to find a way to pay Virgil back.
***
âRoman, whatâs your favorite color?â
Roman snapped out of his distant stare to look at Patton. He was looking at a display of school binders, pausing for a moment to glance at Roman and wait for an answer. The stare was so much for Roman to process that he took a step back. âUhâŠred.â
âPerfect! Theyâve got lots of reds!â Patton grabbed a red binder before stopping himself with a thinking expression on his face. âThough, wait, let me check the supplies websiteâŠI donât wanna get a wrong size, or only get one when you need multipleâŠâ
Roman went back to staring at the floor under him. He shouldnât have agreed to this. It seemed like a great idea at first, but now Roman was here holding himself tight and trying not to cry, feeling the exhaustion set in while his anxiety made him restless. He wanted to go home and sleep, but there was nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to hide.
Heâd have to search the house for hiding spots later.
âSo,â Patton eventually said, âIt doesnât say exactly, so Iâll just grab a zipper binder and one two inch just in case. If you need more, I can always stop by again and buy some. Whatâs your second favorite color?â
Roman swallowed to fight back the tears. âPurple.â
Patton smiled. âThatâs Virgilâs favorite color! So, one red zipper binder and a purple two inch. So letâs look at the pencil cases now!â Patton caught a glimpse of Romanâs pale face and his smile dropped. ââŠAre you okay, kiddo?â
Roman nodded. He didnât trust himself to talk, but it seemed like Patton didnât trust his answer. He took a step toward Roman, and Roman took two steps back. Patton frowned. âAre you sure?â
Roman nodded again. Patton ran a hand through his hair and looked around the store. Please, letâs just get this over with already.
Pattonâs head stopped as his eye caught sight of a specific aisle, and he smiled in Romanâs direction. âSay, kiddo, how about you go check out the fish? Iâll be over here getting the boring stuff if you need me!â
Roman glanced at Pattonâs eyes. They were soft and forgiving, but all Roman could feel when looking at them was fear. He took this as his moment, spinning around on his heel and almost sprinting toward the fish aisle. Anywhere was better than being near Patton.
Roman looked at the walls of fish tanks with fish of all kinds of colors, watching them swim around as the filterâs bubbles reached the roof. There were some that were swimming around each other, and others that stopped in place for long periods of time. Roman held himself and let out a breath he didnât know he was holding.
It was more peaceful away from Patton, at least. Roman felt a little less sick and his hands werenât shaking as badly, focusing on the fish to calm himself down. It wasnât a perfect solution, but it worked. Thatâs all Roman could really ask for.
He watched the fish swim around and read their species facts for a while, until he couldnât feel tears in his eyes anymore and the nausea was tamed. Roman walked through the aisle to look at the fish tank decorations and other pet toys. He picked up a chew toy for a dog and squeaked it, awkwardly messing with the toys and trying to keep Patton in his peripheral vision. It felt odd to be standing around in a pet aisle with no plans of buying anything.
Well, Roman thought, Patton never told me I had to stay in this aisle. It was only a suggestion. I could move on to another part of the store.
Roman looked at where Patton was one more time so he could remember his spot. It seemed like he was checking the supply list on his phone and thinking hard about colored pencils, and Roman hoped he would be occupied with that for a while more. He walked out of the aisle and looked above him for ideas on where he should go next.
Bathroom, no. The bakery would be wonderful if I could buy a donut myself. Clothes, baby items, plantsâŠwait! Romanâs eyes lit up as he read another one of the signs. Hardware!
Roman always loved searching through hardware. He was a craft person at heart, and the aisles always gave him ideas for new things to try and make. Besides, Patton told him they were going to look for decorations for his room, maybe he could get inspiration there!
Roman entered the hardware aisle and began to look around. Because this wasnât a hardware store there wasnât much, mostly small items like door hinges and hook sets. There was also a doorknob you could only open with a code that Roman wanted, but there was no way Patton would let him install that. But maybe he could find something else to make his room safer.
Roman passed some other items, including some lightbulbs and a security camera displaying the screen that made Roman shiver when he passed by, but eventually Roman saw it. Ideas swarmed in his head and a big grin bloomed onto his face. It was perfect!
âThere you are, kiddo!â Roman jumped at the sound of Patton approaching, looking up to see him with a basket full of school supplies. Patton smiled to hide the worry in his eyes. âI noticed you left the other aisle and I didnât know where to find you.â
Roman gripped harder onto the box he was holding. âSorry, I got boredâŠbut I found something I want for my room!â
âYou did? What is it, kiddo?â
Roman held up the box to Patton. Patton raised an eyebrow at him. ââŠCurtain rods?â
âYes! Sounds strange, I know, but I was thinking that I could make my own canopy bed with them! We could get some curtains and I could hang them up around the bed, and I could decorate the curtains to look beautiful! Please?â
Patton rubbed at the back of his neck. âI donât know, kiddoâŠit sounds like a cool project! But youâd have to install them into the roof, and Iâm not very good with a drill!â
âI can do it!â Roman begged, âIâve installed lots of home stuff before, and Iâm really good with tools! And if I mess up I promise Iâll fix any holes, or Iâll do some babysitting jobs to pay back anything thatâs broken, justâŠplease? Can I try?â
Patton seemed conflicted. He saw the desperate look in Romanâs eyes and sighed. ââŠYou can try, kiddo. JustâŠdonât be disappointed if it doesnât work, okay?â
âI wonât be! Promise!â Roman grabbed three boxes of the largest curtain rods they had and tried to hold them under his arms. âNow, I just need some red curtains, and maybe some glittery star stickers, or some other craft supplies! And a hot glue gun, you can make beautiful raindrop decorations out of hot glue!â
Patton seemed like his head was spinning. âIâll go get an actual cart for this, kiddo.â
And then, the hunt for supplies was on. Patton got a cart for Roman to pile the curtain rods on the bottom, failing to keep up with him as he ran from aisle to aisle searching for supplies for his ideas. All the curtains were too transparent for Romanâs liking, so he instead settled for a pack of red, flat sheets meant for a queen bed and a small pack of sewing supplies. Patton mentioned he had a glue gun at home, so Roman skipped that section of the crafts aisle and instead focused on some birthday decorations with crowns and stars as well as some stickers. The more Romanâs vision came into action, the more excited and bouncy he got.
With the opaque curtains, Roman thought, it doesnât matter if he has a camera in my room or not. He wonât be able to see me sleep. And how cute, he wonât realize his mistake in letting me do this until itâs too late.
Roman was jumping on his heels at the thought. Iâm a genius.
The checkout was long and the car ride was full of anticipation, but once Patton pulled into the driveway of the house, Roman opened the trunk and ran inside with all his items in tow. He didnât even say hello as he ran past Virgil and Logan on the couch to head upstairs.
âKiddo, do you want to organize supplies too?â Patton yelled once he entered the house.
âI will later!â Roman answered. He had work to do.
The first step was an experiment of patience. Roman took out all the flat sheets and folded them at the top, sewing the fold with a needle and red thread to make its own custom loop for the curtain rod. It was annoying and tedious, but necessary. Also a test on Romanâs skill of how fast he could hand sew.
He was almost done with the last sheet when a knock came to his door. âWho is it?â Roman asked.
âItâs lunch time, kiddo,â Patton answered, âI called you down a while ago. How about you take a break for some food?â
No. There was no time for breaks. Roman needed this to be done by tonight so he could finally get some sleep. âIn a minute.â
âRoman, itâs been a while already. A little break wonât hurt.â
âI will in a minute!â It was a lie, but Roman had the door locked, so there was nothing Patton could do about it. Roman finished his final seam, so now it was onto installing the rods.
Roman was measuring where to put the hooks on the roof when another knock came to the door. Roman groaned like a spoiled brat. âIâm coming!â
âRoman, can you open the door?â
Roman froze. He just yelled at Patton, pushed his luck, now he had to open the door. Roman dropped the screw he was holding as his hands shaked. Shit, shit! ââŠWhy?â
âIâve got your lunch for you.â
Roman felt his throat close, but ignoring Patton would only make the situation worse. Roman dropped his hook and screws to open the door.
Patton was on the other side, smiling softly with a burrito on a plate and a glass of juice in his hands. âI had to reheat it, but maybe you can eat while youâre working.â
Roman dug his nails into his palm before taking the plate. âThank you.â
âCan I come in?â
No. No, you canât. You never can, ever. ââŠSure.â
Roman scurried away from Patton to sit on his bed, drinking some of the juice and looking at whatâs inside the burrito. Black beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, sour cream, onions, and green peppers. Roman took a bite and tried to calm himself by focusing on the taste.
âYou like it?â
Roman nodded. âNever had this before.â
âItâs a black bean burrito. I found the recipe a few years ago, and I make them pretty often. Especially for growing kiddos.â Patton sat on the floor next to the mess Roman had laid out. âWhat are you doing now for your canopy bed?â
âI was gonna screw in the curtain hooks to the roof. Iâve just been sewing the sheets for now, which is the hardest part. I might have to sew them again though, since the sheets are so big I might have to cut them. Especially since I want to do two curtains on each end to make it look pretty.â
âSounds cool! Do you need any help?â
Roman seemed to be thinking. Maybe if I satisfy him, he wonât be angry. âDo you know how to sew?â
âI know how to repair tears. Thatâs it.â
Roman took another bite of his burrito and jumped off the bed, picking up one of the sheets to examine the size. He jumped on his bed and held it up to the roof, seeing how far it would stretch. The sheet was much longer than his bed, so it would be perfect. âTake the sheets, measure them, and cut them in half right down the middle. Then I can show you how to do a catch stitch to hem the seam. That will save me some time.â
âYouâre very good at hand stuff!â Patton complimented. A shiver went up Romanâs spine.
ââŠYes.â
From then on, the environment was very tense. The only sound between either of them was the drill going through the roof and the sound of scissors cutting. When Patton finished cutting, Roman showed him how to hem the seam, but it was quiet again after that. Roman kept his distance and made sure his front was always facing Patton just in case.
âI hope you donât mind if this is a very messy sewing job, kiddo.â Patton joked.
Roman shrugged. âYou wonât be able to see it anyway, so it doesnât matter.â
âAre you gonna decorate the sheets once youâve hung them up?â
âYes, itâs easier that way. And I can plan it out.â
âAny reason why you chose crowns and stars?â
Roman paused long enough to drill another hook into the roof before setting the drill down to grab another hook. âI like crowns. And stars.â
âLogan loves stars.â Patton really hated silence, apparently. âI donât know if the other kiddos showed you their rooms, but Loganâs is covered in space stuff. It was really fun to do, actually! Though, I made Logan paint the stars onto his own wall because he kept talking about how it should be accurate constellations, and I donât know anything about stuff like that.â
âIâve only seen Virgilâs room.â
âOh, well, if Logan ever invites you in, know that he did lots of work for his constellation wall!â
Roman hummed and drilled the last hook into the roof. He took a curtain rod and placed it on the two hooks near the foot of his bed. âHow many of the sheets have you finished?â
âOh, Iâm still on the first one. Iâm learning though!â
Roman jumped off the bed to sit on the floor next to Patton, grabbing his own needle and thread to begin hemming the seam. Once he started sewing, Patton watched him with wide eyes. âYouâre doing that very fast, kiddo!â
Roman shrugged. âIâve done it a lot.â
âWhat do you usually sew for?â
âClothes. To fix rips, mostly. My mom also taught me when I was younger.â
Patton seemed taken aback by his explanation. âDidâŠdid you enjoy that time with your mom?â
âI enjoyed all my time with her.â Roman paused. âWell. Most times.â
Patton swallowed. âMost times?â
âHer and I were really close, if thatâs what you're asking.â Romanâs hands sped up as he sewed. âShe would take me to movies and theaters, and she taught me how to bake as good as her.â
Pattonâs voice grew serious. âWellâŠIâm sorry for your loss, kiddo.â
âSheâs not dead.â
âIâm still sorry you lost her.â Patton shook his head and focused more intently on his sewing. âBut you said you can bake?â
Roman nodded. âI bake a lot, especially cake. I know how to make red velvet cake from scratch and it is lovely.â
âWe should make some tomorrow, then!â
Roman tensed. âMaybe.â
Roman finished off the hem of his side and moved to cut another sheet, hemming both of their sides once he did so. The rest of the time was quiet, with Roman purposely refusing to spark conversation and Patton processing the little information Roman gave him. By the time Patton finished one end and half of another, Roman had finished all the rest and took Pattonâs to quickly finish off. Roman laid them all across the floor and opened the packs of crafts he got.
âWell, kiddo, I gotta see about making dinner now.â Patton eventually said, âTell me how the end project turns out, âkay?â
Roman nodded. Finally, heâs leaving. âClose the door when you leave.â
Patton smiled and closed the door on his way out. Roman focused entirely on decorating his new curtains, placing glittery stars and plastic crowns and using the hot glue gun to make crystals draping down the curtains. He repeated a similar pattern for each one, eventually hanging two on each side of the bed so they could open and close down the middle. Once the final project was finished, and the floor of his room was scattered in materials, Roman smiled wide in awe.
âYes! I did it! I did it!â Roman jumped up and down from excitement, flopping onto his bed and closing the curtains from every side. The curtains were a bit too long and dragged too much along the floor, but he could fix that another day. For now, heâd been at it for hours, and his bed was finally a safe space.
Roman buried his face into his pillow, feeling himself relax as the exhaustion of a whole day with no sleep and debilitating anxiety finally caught up to him. He groggily checked for any cameras on the roof, but that was the only place he had to check for a camera that could see him. He was safe.
 Roman crawled under the comforter and closed his eyes. It wasnât more than five minutes of lying there before he fell asleep, curling into himself and relaxing. Finally, he slept peacefully.
 Finally.
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V-Day
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader
Summary:
Youâre not like most people who enjoys Valentineâs Day. Can a certain redhead change that?
A/n: just a late valentine related imagine for all of u bc Iâm incapable of posting this sort of stuff on the exact day. enjoy! (Iâm finally using this iconic gif donât mind me)
Word count: 1,753
Warnings: fluff
The 14th of February is just another normal day for you. You always find Valentineâs Day cheesy, you donât see the point of celebrating it. That sort of thing isnât as important as Christmas or Halloween. Not that you're bitter because you're single, you couldnât care less about that, it just isnât the occasion for you.
Tony outdone it this year. The compound looks like it was powdered pink and red overnight from all the decorations when you step out of your room. You almost donât want to know what the main area looks like. Sam and Wanda are probably getting started on breakfast which would consist of everything shaped like hearts.
Your plan for the day is to stay in your room, only coming out for snack and drink refills, simple as that.
âHey, Happy Valentineâs...â you pretty much tone out every v-day greeting that came your way, rolling your eyes playfully as you sit down with everyone, greeting them with the usual good morning. You expect the compound to be deserted by midday since surely all of them have plans with their partners for the rest of the day, which is perfect. For you. And for them, of course, yeah.
Sam and Bucky made their way to you. âSo, Y/N, how are you?â Sam greets. You already suspect that they were hyping you up for something. âFood good, coffee good... sleep well?â
You turn to them with a smile on your face. âAlright, what do you want?â
âWell,â Bucky lets out a breathy laugh. âSam here was just helping me-â
âThat is not whatâs happening. What he wanted to say was,â the birdman cuts him off. âWe both wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, we canât settle on who, so weâre letting you pick.â
You blink. They have to be joking. Do they not notice your routine during this time of the year? After socializing with the team youâd grab a dayâs worth of snack, head back to your room, lock the door and lose your mind on video games until the next day.
Unhealthy, but it's for one day.
âOnly if you want to,â Bucky adds hastily.
âCome on, this is a chance of a lifetime!â Sam insists, wiggling his eyebrows.
âWeâll go to your favorite restaurant.â
âItâs just a friendly date.â
What you fail to notice was Natasha listening to the events happening. Her foot taps against the floor as she discreetly waits for your response, taking coffee sips and bites of food and looking away whenever she looked like she's eavesdropping. No one else is paying attention, everyone has their own conversations.
Inside, she pleads that youâd turn both of them down, just because sheâs planning to ask you out herself. They just beat her to it.
âI appreciate the thought but Iâm sorry, I have plans,â you shrug. âWhy donât you take each other out instead? Not literally.â You give them another smile and walk out of the room, coffee in hand.Â
Sam and Bucky nods indicating they understood. Sam tells his friend that if he had more appeal youâd agree to the date. But they take you up on your advice, already planning a guyâs night.
Natasha almost cheers when she hears the first part, only to spiral when she hears that someone had already asked you beforehand. You're unavailable. She could ask you out any day, but you deserve something extra special. She sees this day as her only chance to confess her feelings for you.
Her eyes trail you as you walk out, turning to Wanda when you were out of sight. âDo you have any idea who asked Y/N out?â
âI donât,â Wanda replies, a bit distracted. âTheyâre lucky, Iâve never seen Y/N show interest in anyone since I met her. Anyway, I have to go, Vision and I have a whole day planned...â
Natasha huffs while people slowly file out of the kitchen. As far as she knows, Tony's with Pepper, of course, Wanda and Vision, Steve is probably going to join Sam and Bucky on their night out, and Clint is back at his farm celebrating with his wife.
And youâre with that person, which most likely someone who isnât on the team otherwise sheâd know. She's left by herself to mope.
-
Few hours have passed, maybe three, itâs lunchtime. As you suspected the compound is empty, so you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.
Boxed mac and cheese is the only thing you knew how to make.
âY/N?â
You almost drop your stirring spoon at the sudden voice. You feel embarrassed about your choice of outfit, you feel and look like a grizzly bear while she looks stunning, even if itâs just plain workout clothes.
âHey, Nat.â
âI thought you were... out with someone?â Knowing you, she mightâve misunderstood when you said you âhad plansâ. You look so cozy she would love to hug you on the spot if she isnât so sweaty.
You let out a curious hum, turning off the stove. âI was?â You giggle. âWhereâd you hear that?â
âI didnât, just, I assumed youâd be,â she mutters and finishes her water bottle.Â
You're now grabbing a bowl for the mac and cheese you made. âI mean, Sam and Bucky did ask me if I wanted to but... yâknow, if Iâm being honest theyâre not really my type.â You pause to look at her who was staring back. âHave you eaten? This batch I made is enough for three people, I think.â
Natasha nods at your offer. âThey did say it was a friendly date.â
You stop scooping the macaroni and perk your head up with a grin. âSo you were listening.â
âNot like I had any choice, I was in the same room.â Quick save.
âMmhm.âÂ
Then there's a minute of comfy silence as you clean the area you made the meal on, putting the pot away and stuff.
âWhy donât you have a date today?â
âWhat?â
âAnyone would kill to go on a date with you, Nat.â Is what you say in your head. But instead you say, âWell, you know, I didnât expect you be here too.â
Natasha shrugs and before she could answer you add, âNo oneâs caught the notorious Black Widowâs attention yet?â
She chuckles at your words, looking up at you. âWho did you think Iâd go out with?â
âI dunno, Steve-â
âGod, no,â she quickly cuts you off and laugh, you laugh along but at the same time sigh in relief.
âCrap, I just remembered I have a game to finish,â you hold the bowl of cheese and macaroni and stick two spoons on the side. âIâm cordially inviting you to my room, you are very much welcome, after you change.â
Natasha tells you sheâll see you there in a bit.
-
âHuh. I just noticed you do this every Valentineâs Day,â Natasha notes as she takes everything in. Your PlayStation's on, your trash bin is almost full of snack wrappings, couple of beers tucked at the side of your bed. âCozy.â
âWhy, thank you,â you say sarcastically, picking up a controller and waving a vacant one at her. âFeel free. Or you can just watch me fail at this game.â
Natasha decides to join the game a little later, now she's lost in thought on how someone like you spends such a day like this, or how beautiful you looked as your eyes dart at every direction of the screen and how you sometimes bite your lip when you're that focused in the game.
It's always the little things she likes about you.
Glancing at you one more time before eating a spoonful of mac, she turns back to the TV to watch how you're doing.
But you're witty, kind and easy to get along with, why wouldnât you have a date - or why wouldnât you want a date on Valentineâs Day?
If only you knew how she feels, sheâd make sure to treat you well. Like you deserve. Sheâd take you on dates youâd enjoy every time the 14th rolls by. If you donât like the holiday for some reason sheâd find a way-
âNO WAY,â you cover your mouth and bump your head to Natashaâs shoulder in defeat, making her come back from her trance to look at the big red words on the screen, indicating you lost. âI almost had it!â
Natasha leans into your touch and pats your back. âYou can try again.â
You groan. âI definitely will but for now, Iâm gonna take a break.â
âGreat,â she shifts a bit to get comfy, switching to Netflix and choosing whateverâs trending right now. âIâm just curious but, do you like someone?â
You hum in response, sipping on a beer, not completely processing what she said. âI - yeah. I guess so,â you tug the blanket closer and pout at the movie thatâs on. You donât like romance movies. You always prefer an action or a mystery one any day. âDo you?â
Natasha feels her heart ache for a moment. âYeah. Sheâs kind and sweet, goofy but can still seriously kick your ass type.â Your eyes land to her hands. You knew fully well Natasha isnât straight, she admitted and definitely doesnât act like it. âThereâs just something about her that makes me... love her.â
âShe sounds great,â you mumble, starting to get lost in your own thoughts. âI guess I just-â you hesitate, just because the woman you're about to describe is the same one sitting next to you. âI feel bad for her that someone like me likes her.â
âWhy would you think that?â Natasha chuckles, shaking her head.
You shrug. âSheâs amazing. So out of my league, Iâd say sheâs so close but so far away but that would be really cheesy and ugly,â you laugh. âI donât know, she deserves way better.â
Natasha hums. âSometimes I think she needs to her worth, because what she doesnât know is, sheâs very much amazing in her own way.â
Looking up at her from her shoulder, your eyes light up and you donât know when it happened, but you just found her lips pressed against yours softly.
Even if it was just a short kiss you feel breathless when she pulls away to look at you again.
âJust so weâre clear, weâre just describing each other like idiots right?â
âYeah.â
Natasha leans in to kiss you again.
---
oh my god I want a hug
[shameless plug] check out my natasha romanoff ambience here
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Congrats on 100! đ„ł I was wondering if I could request #100 and Wolffe đ
thank u so much for the request!!!
#100: "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you." + Wolffe
warnings: kinda public sex. you dont fuck in front of anyone but its kinda close, jealous sex, clothed sex, creampies
You could think of a million different things you'd rather be doing right now.
You'd rather clean the barrack bathrooms after the boys don't have the heart to turn down Plo's well-meaning attempt at cooking. You'd rather be dropped off on an abandoned planet and be told to find a way off. You'd rather be getting shot at by fucking Seppies.
But, no. You're here in this ridiculous dress for some party thrown in the name of the GAR's brave and selfless troopers.
What a load of shit.
As if any of those senators give a shit about any of these men aside from how a picture of them shaking hands will boost their approval ratings.
You know you were invited as a deliberate political move. As the only volunteer nat-born medic for the 104th, you make the war easier to look at.
Look, Senators will say while they point to you, we don't rely solely on the creation of clones who are made to fight and die for a war they have no choice in! We have regular people involved in the war too!
Again. What a load of shit.
It's sickening the way that these politicians will pretend to care about the well-being of the soldiers who fight and die for them when it will make them look good. These people, if you can even call them that, don't know what it's like on the front lines.
You can barely understand what it's like on the frontlines, but you see the aftermath. You see the shell-shocked shinies and the trembling hands of even the most veteran trooper after a battle gone wrong.
Politicians are a disease, you think to yourself, and the sooner you can get out of this ridiculous dress the better.
The only benefit to this is the free champagne and the way Wolffe acts as a deterrent to any smart Senator or politician that comes your way.
Dressed to impress in a sharp gray suit, Wolffe cuts an imposing figure next to you. The tight suit jacket makes his already broad shoulders look impossibly broader and the buttons of his dress shirt strain against the muscles of his chest.
Your dress seems to compliment Wolffe in every way. Your dress is mainly white, but the gray accents serve as a subtle call to Wolffe's suit. Claiming you as his, you like to think. The same designs etched into the cuffs and collar of Wolffe's suit jacket are present at the bottom of your dress, circling the hem before fading as you look higher up the dress.
You think you'd enjoy the night if it wasn't for the Senate's... everything. You may be in a war, but you enjoy looking and feeling pretty. You think you'd feel very pretty if the meaning of the night didn't make you feel sick to your stomach.
With the commander acting as your shadow for the night, you've had little trouble keeping pesky Senators looking for a quick fuck away from you.
At least... the smart ones.
"As I was saying, my father is one of the main beneficiaries of the GAR," the boy â and truly he isn't enough to call a man â prattles on in front of you, totally oblivious to your uninterested expression and the clone commander hovering over your shoulder. You think he might be a senatorial aide and his father might be the Senator?
You wonder if you should adjust the plunging neckline of the dress so that the hickey Wolffe left behind last night peeks into eyesight.
"And I tell him that he shouldn't waste our family money on this war. Honestly, there's no need for clones," he continues, eyes flickering to Wolffe before he turns back to you, "I mean, what could clones possibly provide that a real man can't?"
He leans towards you, and with his last few words he drags his knuckles lightly up your arm. A smile that he must think is charming slithers onto his face as he continues to caress your crawling skin.
"Better company, for one," you mumble into your champagne glass before you can cause a scene. You drain the rest of the drink before you say something stupid.
You don't think you muffle it well enough because Wolffe's shoulders shake in muffled laughter behind you.
"Would you like to dance?" The aide blurts out, and once caressing fingers turn into a greedy grabbing hand closing around your wrist.
Wolffe stiffens behind you, jolting against your back before stopping himself.
Your face morphs into one of distain before you can stop it, "Actually," you begin, yanking your wrist from a sweaty palm, "I promised Commander Wolffe my first dance," your smile is so obviously fake it's painful, but the aide doesn't seem to notice.
"Well, maybe after you're done with the trooper, we can â"
"It's Commander," Wolffe finally speaks up, and his gravely voice has goosebumps spreading across your skin.
"Excuse me?"
Wolffe's hand splays across the small of your back as he steps beside you, "I said, it's commander," he repeats, voice cold like stone. Fuck, it makes your thighs rub together beneath your dress.
The aide's nose scrunches up, "Yes, well, when you're done with the commander, maybe you'll come my way?"
What is it with men not taking a hint?
"No, I don't think so," Wolffe answers for you before the hand on your back shifts from just a grounding touch to a guiding one, and he's leading you away.
Your skin is alight with excitement. You look up at the commander, whose jaw in clenched in obvious irritation. It makes you feel guilty, but Wolffe looks extremely attractive when he's pissed.
"Wolffe, we just passed the dance floor," you whisper as he rushes you past the chunk of the room marked out for couples to hold each other close and sway to the music.
"I know," Wolffe says shortly, leading you to the nearest exit so fast that you nearly fall out of your impractical shoes.
He practically drags you out the door and into one of the hallways you know you aren't allowed to be in.
"Wolffe, where are we â Oh!"
The commander cages you against the wall, hands on either side of your head as his hips press flush to yours through your dress. You can feel the bulge of his cock even through the layers of your clothes.
He breathes in deep through his nose before he speaks, "You're mine, you know that, right?" he rocks his hips against you as he speaks, and you don't get the best friction through the poofiness of your dress, but it's his words that make your thighs clench.
"Yes," you whisper into the space between you, "only yours, Wolffe,"
And it's true. You are Wolffe's no matter the setting â battlefield or ballroom â and no matter the outfits â hard plastoid armor or dashing suits and dresses.
Wolffe stares down at you, breathing hard through his mouth, searching for something in your face before he leans down to crush your lips together.
He kisses you like he's fighting. It's vicious and he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth until you whine, and it's only then that he lets it go. "Call me selfish," he whispers in your ear before he flips you around so that your face is pressed flush with the wall, "but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."
Wolffe's hands are desperate as he begins to wrench the layers of your dress up and up until it's all bunched up above your hips, leaving your lower half exposed to him.
He inhales sharply at the sight of the lingerie the women who helped you into the dress had given you.
You never know whose going to unwrap you by the end of the night, one of the women had whispered like a secret to you.
But that wasn't true. You knew exactly who was going to unwrap you.
"Fuck," Wolffe hisses, dragging one of his hands across the delicate lace that covers your ass. "You wear this just for me?"
You pant against the wall, hands scrambling for purchase as Wolffe leans down to bite the meat of your ass. "Shit!" you gasp, just a bit too loud for comfort.
Wolffe drags his teeth down the curve of your ass, nosing at the wet patch of your panties. "How long have you been this wet, pretty girl?" he demands, pressing the tips of his fingers against the wet lace over your clit.
Your hips jerk against him. It's exhilarating to thing that only one door and a left turn separates a room full of Senators and Very Important People from the two of you.
It's filthy what you're doing. You're sure if anyone were to see you â pressed face first into a wall with little regard for the makeup that was applied to you with more caution than one treats a bomb and your expensive dress hiked up around your waist to expose your soaking cunt, you'd single-handedly ruin all efforts to draw support for the GAR.
"Answer me," Wolffe spits out as he drags your panties down your ass to let them fall around your ankles. One broad hand swats at your ass, right over the pulsing bite mark he left behind.
"All night!" you sob into the wall, biting your hand to muffle the groans you want to let out. "As soon as I saw you in that suit!"
A part of you wishes Wolffe would turn you back around. You want to see him in that suit â want to watch his muscles bunch and flex beneath the delicate fabric.
Wolffe's huff of laughter blows a puff of hot air against your cunt, making you clench around nothing. "You like me in this suit, sweet thing?" He raises to his feet and you can hear his hands fumbling with his belt and zipper. "Well, I'm about to fuck you in it,"
You whimper into the back of your hand. Your own slick starts to drip down your leg. "Please."
The blunt head of Wolffe's cock presses against your entrance. Usually he would make you cum at least once before he fucks you just to get you ready for his girth, but in this moment you couldn't care less.
You want Wolffe to fuck you, and you want to feel the stretch. You want him to fuck the feeling of that grimy aide touching you out of your head.
"S'that what you want?" Wolffe breathes as he starts to slide in, "you want to forget that boy? Huh? You want to be fucked by a man?"
A keen catches in your throat as he sinks in halfway. Fuck, you feel like you're being split in half. His cock just keeps going and going in this position, and all you can do is take it.
You bite down hard into the back of your hand as Wolffe finally bottoms out, but Wolffe grabs your hair, fancy curls and accessories be damned, and pulls your mouth away from your hand.
"Don't you dare," he hisses as his hips set a deafening pace. "Don't you dare hide your noises from me. I want to hear you â I want them to hear you."
Your moan echoes through the hallway.
There's something feral in the way that Wolffe fucks you. With his suit still on, totally presentable besides the cock that's been pulled out of the fly, he's beautiful.
You, on the other hand, look filthy. Your eye makeup is smudged with the tears that Wolffe forces out of you, and you know your hair will be a lost cause by the end of this. Your dress is already wrinkling and your delicate stockings are ruined with the slick that drips down your legs from your cunt.
"Wolffe!" you cry out as pressure in your core tightens.
"'m gonna cum," Wolffe grunts, hips pistoning even faster.
He's ruining you, you think through the haze of pleasure. He's ruining you and you love it.
"Please," you sob, one of your hands leaving the wall to grab at his hips. You almost can't hold on due to the force and speed of his thrusts, but your fingers claw into the fabric of his jacket and you hold on for dear life as he brings you closer and closer to release.
"I think I'll come in this tight little cunt, what do you think?" Wolffe drags the blunt edge of his teeth along your neck and up your jawline, ending just under your ear, "Stuff you full of me, and send you back into that ballroom,"
You clench at the thought. Fuck, you want that so bad.
You're nearly incoherent with pleasure. You're just babbling in agreement to the filth that drips from Wolffe's mouth like the slick that drips from your cunt.
"You like that?" Wolffe asks even though he knows the answer, "You want me to send you in there smelling like sex and dripping my cum?"
One of his hands snake around to circle mercilessly around your clit. The pressure nearly has your knees give out.
"I think I'll keep your panties with me," Wolffe whispers in your ear, "so I'll drip out of that pretty cunt and down your thighs for the rest of the night."
The pressure in your core snaps and you cum around him with a wail.
Wolffe clamps a hand over your mouth as his thrusts turn more into grinds. His teeth sink into your neck as he finally spills inside you.
The feeling of his cum flooding your cunt has you clenching around him even more.
"Fuck," Wolffe hisses, fucking his cum into your spent cunt with an obscene squelch. "Fuck, you're so tight, pretty girl,"
You moan faintly, thighs trembling as he finally pulls out. A gush of his cum starts to drip out. You clench weakly, trying your best to keep it in.
Wolffe presses a kiss to the back of your neck, "Step out of your panties, sweet thing," he whispers into your skin, hands on your hips to steady you as you do what he asked.
You stand on coltish legs, wobbling in your heels with the aftermath of your orgasm, as Wolffe bends down to grab your ruined panties and stuff them in his pockets.
They ruin the line of his suit, and anyone who looks at him for more than half a second will know he's got something in his pocket that shouldn't be there, but you think no one will be looking at him when you're there.
Not with your hair a mess and mascara smeared just so around your eyes. Not when you reek of sex and sweat and there are bite marks littered across your skin. Not when your dress is so obviously wrinkled due to less-than-appropriate events.
Still, you walk back into the ballroom with your arm linked with Wolffe's and his cum sliding down your thigh and soaking into your stockings.
The senatorial aide doesn't bother you for the rest of the night, but that might have something to do with the clone commander flashing him a bit of lace from his jacket pocket.
When you get back to the barracks, Wolffe fucks you with those same ruined panties in your mouth to make sure none of the boys hear you two.
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Sats au
Marcy, after a whole day of nonstop writing: *sleepily/aimlessly walks around the studio*
Sasha, sipping her her coffee in the dark: "You know it's midnight, right?"
Marcy, going completely still: *looks around confused*
okay i wrote smth for this and ik it doesn't fit the prompt exactly i hope u enjoy it anyway!!!
There was something strangely comforting about the studio, especially when the only sound was the hum of the air conditioner and there was no one around. Well, no one but Marcy. Technically, she wasn't allowed to be there, but it's not like anyone was going to kick them out. Besides, she was certain no one knew she was still there. And if they did, no one had come for them yet, so they couldn't get mad when they found her asleep on the couch in the morning.
Besides, the studio was probably one of the only places Marcy could actually focus on what she was doing. Their house was too noisy, especially since Sprig and Polly were over for the week whilst Hop Pop was away on some important trip, and her phone and laptop were there too, all easy distractions from the music she was meant to be going over. So she stayed behind, in the dark studio that had really, really, shitty wifi and an air-con that was stuck blowing cold wind into the building.
Sure, it wasn't the best and they could afford to rent out a new one, but all three of them liked the studio enough to stay, even if the couch was starting to fall apart and it was constantly just above freezing.
On one particular night, Marcy was sitting on the cold floor, one of Sasha's guitars in her lap as she tried to figure out a chord progression. No matter how many combinations she tried, it never sounded right. Sure, they could always just ask Sasha to play something for her, but Marcy knew how tired she'd been recently, and didn't want to bother her with something as trivial as a chord progression. Plus, figuring out herself might make Sasha less stressed about having to do a whole tour after not playing for months due to an injury.
She hadn't meant to stay up so late, but then again, this stupid chord progression was meant to be easy. Luckily, the coffee machine had been fixed just the day before and restocked with just about everything Marcy needed to keep her awake for an extra ten hours and she was absolutely going to take full advantage of it.
---
Marcy wasn't sure how long she'd been sat there, staring down at those stupid lines, but the notes were starting to blur together, making it all the more harder to actually figure out what they were supposed to be doing. Their fingers hurt from playing and the song was rattling around in her head, the same three lines playing on a loop, bringing Marcy closer and closer to just tearing up the sheets surrounding her.
She hadn't realised she'd been crying until a single tear fell onto the paper, it only smudged one note, but it was enough for the frustration that had been building up for the past however long to boil over.
Biting her lip to stop herself crying even more, she stood up and made a beeline for the door, because if she stayed in this stupid recording booth for any longer, Sasha would come in finding her guitar in pieces.
Swiping up the half finished coffee, Marcy stomped out of the room, blinking quickly to get rid of the tears pooling in their eyes. God this is so stupid, she thought to herself as she slammed the door open. In the back of her mind, she knew it would mark the wall, but she didn't have it in her to care. She'd probably just let everyone down. It was a simple chord progression and she couldn't even figure it out. So much for one of the best songwriters, she huffed, practically slamming the cup onto the desk.
Only, she slammed it too hard and the handle came clean off. Marcy stared at it for a few seconds, their eyes flitting between the handle closed in their fist and the mug Anne had got for her birthday on the table. "Fuck," she mumbled, pressing the handle back onto the mug as if that would magically mend it. For a moment, it looked like it was balanced, and Marcy slowly pulled her hand away, only for the handle to clatter against the desk a second later.
For the next ten minutes, Marcy tried to reattach the handle, each with less success than the last. It was pathetic really, but she was so caught up in the fact that she broke Anne's gift to her, that she didn't really have the mental capacity to care about it. So what if everyone saw her breakdown the next time they checked the security footage? That didn't matter when she'd just ruined something Anne gave her.
It was the feeling of warm hands on her own that finally got Marcy to stop. Everything seemed to drain out of her as the mug and handle were pried away from her. Vaguely, she wondered who was in the studio so late, although there was a chance she'd just spent several hours trying to force a cup back together and everyone had arrived for their final session. Either way, they didn't object as someone wrapped their arms around her waist and picked them up.
"I'm sorry," Marcy mumbled after a few minutes. It hadn't been part of her plan when she opted to stay behind to have some sort of breakdown and then cry in someone's arms, and she couldn't help feeling like she should apologise.
"Don't worry 'bout it, you looked like you needed this," Sasha's voice was a mere whisper in her ear, but it still sent Marcy's heart racing.
"Sasha?" Marcy asked, her eyes snapping open as she stared up into her band-mate's face. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Sasha said, a small frown on her face.
"I was," they paused and looked down, resting their head against Sasha's chest. "I was trying to figure out that chord progression you were complaining about. You've been so stressed recently, and it doesn't help we're going back on tour soon and you haven't played in a while, so I thought that, maybe, if I fixed it for you, it would make you slightly less stressed," saying it out loud, she realised that maybe it wasn't her best idea, but she wanted to do something for her friends. They both did so much for her, it was high time she did something for them.
âYou⊠you didnât have to do that, mar-mar,â Sasha said gently, and even though she wasnât looking, Marcy could see the smile on her face. The way Sashaâs lips twitched up and her eyes would crinkle ever so slightly, because she didnât usually smile and when she did it was a sight to behold. âBut if thatâs what got you so upsetâŠâ
âNo, it wasnât that,â well, not entirely, âI just got stressed.â
âThat, or you havenât slept properly in about a week and keep sneaking off here when you think Anne and I are asleep,â Sasha said, though her voice held no anger.
Marcy felt themself go still as Sasha spoke. How did she know? Were they that obvious? No, no she couldnât be because no one had even asked her about it before! âThatâs stupid,â Marcy scoffed instead, âIâve been sleeping perfectly fine.â
âMarceâŠâ Sasha mumbled, her arms coming up to gently squeeze their shoulders. âYou donât have to lie to me. I wonât force you to tell me, but if you think itâll help to get it off your shoulders Iâm-â she swallowed, almost like it was hard to admit that she was there for Marcy. âIâm always here, whenever you need. Even if it is 1 am on the shitty studio couch,â she ended lightly. Marcy giggled and moved slightly to bring a hand up to where Sasha was drawing random shapes on their bicep.
âThank you, Sash, seriously,â they said, threading their fingers together. âAnd I will tell you, both of you, just not right now.â
âItâs okay,â Sasha whispered, very obviously trying to hold back a yawn, âIâll wait for as long as you need.â
Marcy smiled and pressed the pad of her thumb against Sashaâs. âAre you excited? For next week?â
âHmm?â Sasha hummed, her body jerking ever so slightly as she woke up. âYeah, but Iâm also nervous, yâknow?â she mumbled, slowly waving her lightly bandaged hand around. âI havenât played in a while, so I donât want to mess up or anything.â
âYou wonât,â Marcy mumbled, her eyes growing heavy as they sat there, Sashaâs warmth creating a bubble of sorts, where nothing could get to her. âYouâre really great, Sash, youâll be amazing.â
When no response came, Marcy slowly lifted her head, only to find Sasha fast asleep against the arm of the couch. It looked uncomfortable, and they knew she would complain in the morning, but she looked so relaxed and Marcy didnât want to ruin that for anything. So she slowly shifted so she was laying down, their head on Sashaâs lap and her arms wrapped tightly around Sashaâs waist. âNight, Sash.â
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Second Chance at Love
Word Count: 1,683 Marcus x reader Oneshot Warnings: Fluff, NSFW
NSFW Prompt: nsfw promt # 4 with marcus please and thank u For @marcusofthevolturiâ
Y/N met Marcus when she came to work at the castle as the new Nurse in the Castleâs Medical Wing after the previous Nurse got eaten by one of the lower guards when he woke up mistaking her for his âdonor.â The guard was in the Medical Wing for two weeks after a particularly unfortunate fight with a newborn where his left leg and both arms were removed completely, his head and neck cracked.
Heidi knew Y/N from the local hospital and she came highly recommended by Heidiâs doctor friend Dr Jones. Heidi explained to Y/N that the job was based at Castillo Volterra and came with a very generous salary, one monthâs paid vacation and on-site accommodation. Heidi also mentioned that there would be quite a bit of down time too due to the occupants of the castle.
Heidi got Demetri, Felix and Santiago to help Y/N pack up and move her stuff from her apartment and into the Castle. Her room was situated in the East Wing of the Castle, where the Medical Wing was based along with Marcusâ rooms.
Aro and Caius met her on the day she moved in, Marcus was having a âmeâ day. His brothers and the four elite guards knew what that meant; he wanted to be left alone as it was a particularly hard day for him.
Y/N had been at the castle for two days when she met finally Marcus, she had gotten a little lost trying to find the Castle Library and quite literally bumped into Marcus âOh, Iâm sorryâ She mumbled her apology as she stumbled back, strong arms catching her before she could fall to the stone floor. âNo need to apologise my dear, I wasnâtâŠâ He trailed off as his ruby eyes met Y/C eyes. She smiled up at him âY-youâre Mar-Marcusâ She stuttered âYes, I am my dear and Iâm guessing youâre Y/Nâ He replied and she nodded âWhere were you going?â He asked curiosity shining in his eyes âI was trying to find the library but I didnât get very farâ She chuckled lightly and Marcus chuckled too âHow about I take you to my private study? I have some books that might take your interestâ She nodded and looped her arm through his when he held out for her to take.
Everyone in the castle noticed how close Marcus and Y/N were becoming, for he would visit the Medical Wing often despite not needing any medical attention. He would accompany her on her walks around the castle gardens and would often lend her books from his private collection. Marcus knew who Y/N was to him but didnât dare hope that she was truly his; his second chance at love and a happy ending.
Demetri encouraged him to talk to Y/N about being his mate âYou deserve to be happy master and if fate has given you a second chance, grab it. Claim her, love her. After all she was born to be with you and only you.â Marcus smiled at the tracker âThank you Demetri. Iâll be honest, I was a little worried about claiming her as I couldnât go through losing another mateâ âI wasnât here when you lost Didyme but Iâm here now and I have already committed her tenor to my memory and as your personal bodyguard I will help you protect herâ Demetri vowed and bowed his head âThank you, that means a lotâ Marcus replied with a smile.
Y/N accepted Marcus as her mate but insisted she be allowed to remain working in the Medical Wing. Marcus agreed but on the condition that they hired a second Nurse, one that wouldnât missed should an âaccidentâ occur. Y/N agreed although she felt bad about the circumstances the other Nurse was being hired under. Y/N and Heidi interviewed the new Nurse candidates although Marcus sat in on the interviews. They hired a male Nurse called Leon, much to the delight of the single female vampires in the castle.
âSo brother how are you and the lovely Y/N getting along?â Aro asked âSheâs a real Nurse with the uniform and everything, I think theyâre getting along just fineâ Caius answered before Marcus could, with a playful smirk on his lips. Aro chuckled âNot quite what I meant but judging by the goofy smile he has on his face Iâd say youâre onto to something brotherâ Aro said looking at Caius âY/N and I are very happy and our sex life is not up for discussionâ Marcus informed his brothers.
Y/N found her mate in his private study âItâs late my love, will you not join me in bed?â She asked softly as she entered the room, Marcus looked up from his papers âIâm sorry my dear, I lost track of time. Forgive me?â Y/N shook her head a little a small smile playing at her lips âCome here, let me make it up to youâ He replied pushing his chair away from his desk a little.
Y/N walked over to her mate and he pulled her down onto his lap so she was straddling him. Marcus placed his hands on her cheeks and gave her a sweet kiss. He pulled away slightly to allow her to breath before capturing her lips again and gently bit her bottom lip. She parted her lips a little and he slipped his tongue inside her warm mouth, their tongues moving in sync with each other whilst fighting for dominance too. He moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer to him, she felt his hardening length beneath her and moaned into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and grinded against him. It was his turn to smile into the next kiss. âI want to bury myself deep inside you before I hold in my arms for the nightâ He whispered, his voice seductive and eyes black with lust âCome on then my love. Letâs go to bedâ Y/N winked at him and went to get off his lap but he stopped her âForget the bedâŠletâs do it right hereâ He moved his hands to her thighs and slid his hands upwards disappearing under her blue silk nightie âNo pantiesâŠhow naughty of youâ He purred in her ear âFigured it would save you ripping yet another pair from meâ Amusement clear in her voice âVery thoughtful my dear.â
Marcus lifted Y/N from lap so he could remove his trousers and boxers freeing his erection, which stood proud against his stomach. Y/N perched herself on the edge of his desk and eyed him from head to toe, eyes lingering on her mateâs hard cock as she took her bottom lip between her teeth âSee something you like my dear?â He asked, voice low in the quiet room âYes my loveâ She stepped forward, pushing him back so he sat back down on his desk chair and climbed on his lap. She wrapped her warm fingers around his cock and ran her hand up and down his length a few times, her thumb swirling around the tip. She guided his cock to her entrance and sank down slowly until he was fully inside her, soft gasps leaving them both as she tilted her hips slightly to ensure she took all of his nine and a half inches.
She moved her hips slowly over and over again watching as his eyes closed and a warm smile graced his lips. She kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip and he parted them to grant her access; their tongues moving against each other like a slow sensuous dance. She lifted off of him so only the tip of his cock was left inside her and she sank herself back down hard, they both moaned loudly in unison as she proceeded to be a little rough with him.
His hands squeezed her ass gently âStill so tight and warmâ He purred into her ear âStill so big and thickâ She whispered back; a low chuckle left his lips before he captured hers in a passionate kiss and placed his hands on her hips taking control and began lifting her off his length and back down again setting a steady pace. âOhâŠAhhâ He loved hearing every moan and mewl that left her lips.
She felt him pull out of her before slowly re-entering her; filling her deeper with every thrust âYesâŠyesâ She breathed out, her eyes closing. Her hands moved to rest on his shoulders and he leant in to kiss her. He kissed along her jawline to her neck as he continued to thrust up into her. She pulled back slightly and began leaving kisses on his shoulders working her way up his neck to leave a kiss below his ear before gently biting his earlobe. He growled and thrusted back inside her hard âMarcusâ She cried out and again he thrust up into her hard continuing this new pace as he could sense she was getting close to her release.
He took both breasts into his hands massaging them gently; thumbs brushing her nipples lightly, a satisfied sigh falling from her lips as she felt herself on the edge her release. A few more hard thrusts and brushes of her nipples and she felt herself fall over the edge as her walls clench around his hard length. âMarcusâ She cried out as she came, her vision cloudy as she felt him fill her up with his cold seed. âY/Nâ He called out and continued to move within her, riding out their highs together.
âI love you Marcusâ She whispered, her voice sounded sleepy âAnd I love you Y/Nâ He said softly and held her in his arms, his still hard cock buried inside her as she fell asleep. They stayed in that position for some time before he carried her back to their shared room, gently cleaning her whilst she slept. Once he had cleaned himself he climbed into bed beside her and held as she slept for the night, silently thanking the gods for his second chance at love. Â
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In The Ring, Pt. I - Jab
PAIRING: Harry x Reader
RATING: M
WORD COUNT: 4k
REQUESTED: not exactly lol
hey everyone! this is PART 1Â of the boxer!harry AU iâve been working on. i was so inspired by this concept that i wrote it all in one day lol. if u enjoy reading it, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! it really helps in terms of motivation and just knowing how my readers feel about this story in general. so yeah, that would really make my month!
warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3
okay, now that weâve gotten that out of the way, go stupid go dumb! my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio, for anyone who would like to check out my other fics or who feels like chatting. canât wait to hear your thoughts đđđ
~*~
  January 7, 2021
All of Harryâs teeth are still intact.
For now, at least.
He knows that mouthguards existâthereâs one tucked between his lips every single time he enters the ring. But even thenâŠsometimes punches go awry. Sometimes your opponent dodges at the last second. Sometimes people end up with a mouthful of leather and a few loose incisors. He always keeps one fist near his chin, shielding the lower half of his face from any blows that come his way.
Speaking of blows coming his wayâŠ
He ducks away from the straight jab that the man throwsâThe Wall, they call him. Harry had rolled his eyes when the nickname boomed across the room, soon lost in the roar of the crowd.
Heâs never been one for flashy introductions. He prefers to let his technique speak for itself. His brand is his name. Harry Styles. Simple, concise, and so utterly deceiving. He loves watching the smile melt from his opponentâs face, basks in the moment when they realise that heâs tougher than his name suggests.
The Wall jabs again, and Harry successfully dodges the punch. He doesnât register the other fist hooking around, however, until the blunt front of the manâs glove makes contact with the side of his head. Usually, a blow like that wouldnât even faze him. But the sheer force behind the hit knocks him off-balance, stumbling to the side as he loses his footing and inhaling sharply when his shoulder collides with the ground.
The yells from the crowd are deafening. Harry coughs, trying to guide air back into his lungs. When he blinks, black spots dance across his vision. Subconsciously, his eyes trace a path upward, past the floor, past his opponentâs feet, past the ropes encompassing the ring. Higher and higher, still, past jeering faces and sloshing beer bottles and grungy eye makeup. All the way to the top of the bleachers, to the exitâto you.
Thatâs been your unofficial spot for the past two years. Once you turned twenty, your father finally gave in, allowing you to attend Harryâs matches in exchange for the cessation of your endless badgering. You always stand near the door, observing the commotion with thoughtful eyes and puckered lips. Despite himself, Harry has started to think of you as his lucky charm. Itâs dangerousâhe always swore that he wouldnât be one of those overly-superstitious athletesâbut he canât help it. He just seems to perform better when youâre around.
Through the rocky field of his vision, he can see just how wide your eyes have grown. Thereâs an unmistakable look of concern on your face as you watch the fight unfold. Your hand finds its way to the base of your throat, playing nervously with the rose-gold pendant resting there. You crane your neck to get a better view of the ring, your pupils flitting back and forth between Harry and the frighteningly large man looming over him.
A warm rush of adrenaline floods Harryâs veins. The saliva that has gathered in his mouth tastes stale on his tongue. He spits it out as he staggers to his feet. The crowd grows louder, somehow.
The Wallâs smile shrinks as Harry assumes his previous position; his hands orient themselves in front of his face. His opponent gnashes his teeth, seemingly annoyed with the fact that the match has not ended. Harry shakes off the dizziness clouding his brain, and then heâs lunging forward with a newfound sense of determination. He throws punch after punch, sidestepping The Wallâs returning attempts. All he can think about is the fact that youâre up there, watching, waiting, worrying. He never wants to see you like that again.
Youâre his goddamn lucky charm.
His victory comes in the form of an uppercut followed immediately by a nasty right hook. The Wallâthis big, towering man with bulging biceps and rippling pectoralsâcrumples to the ground. Harry waits, his chest heaving with exertion as the countdown begins. Heâs prepared to watch his opponent rise again, to shift back into a fighting stance and start over. But as the seconds trickle by and The Wall remains motionless on the ground, he soon finds the tension in his body seeping out into the hot, sticky air.
His shoulders sag in relief as a single promising word echoes through the grimy arena.
âKnockout!â
~*~
The crowd thins out considerably in the ten minutes following the termination of the match. Harry stumbles out of the ring, sliding through the ropes and pulling his mouthguard from between his lips. Your father is waiting for him with a smile on his face, holding out an arm and helping him jump down from the raised platform.
âWell done, H,â he says, patting his back proudly.
Harry pants and nods. Your father holds out a reusable water bottle for him to takeâhe accepts it graciously and gulps down the cold liquid with fat, greedy slurps. Once he pulls the nozzle away from his mouth, he runs the back of his hand over his face to catch any stray droplets that have collected on his chin.
âThanks, Coach.â
âYou took a pretty hard fall, there,â your father says, guiding him to sit down on a bench propped up against the wall. âMedicâs in the back. Heâs checking out Aaron right now, but youâre next.â He taps his index finger against Harryâs temple. âWeâve got to make sure everythingâs alright up there.â
Harry sucks in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. âWho the fuck is Aaron?â
âOh.â Your father laughs. âAaron. The Wall. Whatever you want to call him.â
Harry frowns. âDonât like that. Makes him sound like a dick.â
A new voice enters the conversation.
âThatâs because he is.â
Harryâs head snaps to the side, and there you are.
You look nice, as usual. Thereâs something about you that he can never seem to properly describe. You always look soâŠclean. If he tried to vocalize his thoughts, heâs sure that you would look at him like he was crazy.
But in his head, it makes sense. You take care of yourself. Your nails are spotless, your hair smells good, and he knows that you must dab spritzes of perfume onto your pulse points before you leave the house, because a fresh scent follows you wherever you go. Even now, as you stand a few feet away with your hands on your hips, he catches it on a deep inhale. Not flowery, not fruity, justâŠclean. Refreshing. Light. Breezy.
Your father snaps him out of his reverie, and he realises that he should probably stop listing every word in the thesaurus.
âHow do you know?â Your fatherâs inquiry is curious. He shoots you a puzzled look, his mouth curling down into a soft scowl.
You roll your eyes. âCalled me âsweet thingâ before the match started and asked me if I was the prize,â you say, sticking your tongue out in disdain. âI told him to go fuck himself.â
Harryâs lips twitch.
Your father chuckles. âThatâs my girl.â
You laugh quietly, shaking your head. âWhat time are we leaving?â you ask. The question is directed at your father, who is fiddling with the drawstrings hanging from his sweater. âI was hoping to study a bit more before bed.â
âSoon, gioia,â your father says. âAs soon as Harry gets checked out, weâll be on our way.â
You nod, andâfor what feels like the first time since you cut into the interactionâyou glance down at Harry. âHi,â you say softly, shooting him a small, friendly smile.
He meets your gaze for only a moment. Everything about you is so gentle. Your irises are like melted pots of honey, regarding him with such warmth he feels like heâll never be cold again. âHi.â
âCongratulations on your win,â you murmur. Harry wants to bottle your voice and save it as a keepsake. âYou made a great comeback.â
Because of you, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. âThank you,â he offers up instead, the words scraping against the roof of his mouth and tumbling unceremoniously into the air between you.
A moment of silence ensues as you wait for him to say somethingâanythingâelse. But heâs done. You nod once before turning back to your father, who is tweaking the settings of the watch wrapped around his wrist.
âDo you know where the washrooms are?â you ask. You toy absentmindedly with the necklace hanging from your throat. âI need to pee.â
âYou can use the one in the womenâs locker room,â your father tells you, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. âAround the corner, first door on the left.â
âThanks,â you say, slipping by and pressing a quick peck to his cheek. âIâll be right back.â
He just nods in agreement, still too preoccupied with his watch.
Harry, on the other hand, canât keep his eyes off of you as you walk away. He takes note of the way that you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you shoulder the strap of your purse to keep it from slipping down your arm, how you walk with a purpose despite being so moderate and kind. His gaze falls momentarily to the sway of your hips, the enticing nature of your waist. He stares for a long moment before tearing away, clearing his throat and blinking a few times in quick succession.
âProud of you, H,â your father pipes up, tapping the face of his watch twice before dropping his arm with a sigh. âYou did well out there.â
âThanks,â Harry mutters. A spark of guilt flares up in his chest when he realises that he had been blatantly ogling you with your father standing only a few feet off to the side. He silently berates himself, shaking his head free of any alluring thoughts.
Your fatherâs phone chirps with the arrival of a new notification. He fishes the device out of his pocket and glances down at the screen.
âLetâs go,â he tells Harry, jerking his head to the right. âMedicâs ready for you, now.â
  January 13, 2021
âCâmon, H, be smart with it! Watch how he angles himself!â
And Harryâs trying, really, but Arthurâor Artie, as your father likes to call himâis a hunkering titan of a man. He used to be your fatherâs star athlete before retiring, and nowâŠnow heâs working in finance, or something akin to that. Harry isnât one hundred percent sure; he usually zones out when people begin to discuss the stock market.
Artie throws a right hook, but Harry sees it coming and blocks it with ease. They move in a circle, focussed only on each other while other individuals outside of the ring totter around.
Harry prefers to train on weekdays during the afternoon, because thatâs when the gym isnât as packed. Right now, only a handful of other people are working out, lifting weights or doing cardio exercises. Harry and Artie are here so often that nobody even blinks an eye anymore. And your fatherâŠwell, he runs the place. Of course he would be here.
The sparring continues. When Harry refuses to make the first move, Artie sticks one glove out, beckoning him forward. âCome here, pretty boy.â
âDonât make me pull your hair,â Harry grits, because Artieâs ponytail is swinging temptingly from beneath his headgear.
The other man laughs good-naturedly before lunging. Harry blocks his uppercut and delivers a strong, pointed jab right to the middle of his chest. Artie stumbles backward, inhaling sharply as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Harry bites back a smile.
âNice, H!â your father calls.
âThanks, Coach,â he mutters.
The front door of the gym opens, accompanied by the soft tinkling of a bell to announce the new arrival. Harryâs attention is reflexively drawn toward the direction of the sound, and his heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs.
Youâre there, with your hair tied back in a low bun and silver hoops hanging from your ears. Youâre holding a tray of coffee in your left hand, and thereâs a warm smile on your face. You wave excitedly as you greet Portia, the middle-aged woman sitting behind the front desk. The two of you chat as you shrug off your jacket and tug the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.
Your mouth moves languidly. Though Harry is too far to hear your voice, he has a pretty good idea of what youâre saying. Your eyes widen and you shiver dramatically, shaking your head.
Itâs cold!
A heavy fist makes contact with the side of his jaw, and he falls to the ground.
Your fatherâs loud exclamation pulls your attention away from Portia and toward the ring on the opposite end of the room. Harry groans lowly as he pushes himself to his knees, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. When he turns to face your father, he finds him frowning through the gaps between the ropes.
âWhat the hell was that?â he asks, shooting Harry a disappointed look.
âSorry,â Harry mumbles, climbing to his feet with a grunt. âGot distracted.â
He chances a glance back at you, and his shoulders grow tense when he realises that youâre making your way over to the ring, the tray of coffee held between your hands like a peace offering.
âHello, boys,â you singsong. âI brought drinks.â
âThanks, sweetheart,â your father says as you hand him his designated cup. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. You hum happily in response.
âJason!â you call out as Artie approaches the side of the ring. âI got your lemonade.â
âThanks, little girl,â Artie hums, accepting his drink graciously and taking a long sip from the straw. âAnd for the hundredth time, stop calling me âJasonâ.â
âStop calling me âlittle girlâ,â you shoot back, laughing deviously. âI canât help it if you look like him, okay? Youâre even the same age, too.â You cock one eyebrow. âShould I start calling you âAquamanâ instead?â
âGod, no.â Artie shakes his head vehemently. âLetâs stick to Jason. âLeast thatâs a real name.â
You giggle as he ambles away. Your eyes shift over to Harryâwho has kept silent the entire timeâand your lips curl up into a kind smile. âHi, Harry.â
âHi.â His voice is guttural.
âLast, but not least,â you murmur, plucking his drink from the tray and holding it up for him to take. âOne black coffee, right?â
âRight,â he confirms with a curt nod. He tugs his bulky gloves off, dropping them to the floor and reaching out to accept the cup. A strong spark pricks at his hand when his fingers brush against yours. Your responding gasp is soft, barely-noticeableâif he werenât so painfully aware of everything you do, he would have missed it completely.
âThank you,â he says, guiding the coffee to his mouth and taking a small sip.
âNo problem.â You smile up at him again, and God, that fucking smile. He wants it tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids. A wave of heat blooms in his chest and creeps up his neck, but thankfully, the pink flush blends in with his sweat-slicked, already-rosy skin.
âHow was class, sweetheart?â your father asks, tilting his head to the side.
âIt was good.â You shrug, tossing a thumb over your shoulder. âIâm going to head home now, thoughâI have a proposal due in a few days and I really need to get started.â
âGo, go,â your father concedes. You bid him goodbye before standing on your tiptoes and craning your neck to catch sight of Artie, who is quite evidently enjoying his lemonade.
âBye, Jason!â
âBye, little girl!â
You laugh. Your gaze lands on Harry again, eyes sparkling and features resolutely tender. âBye, Harry.â
He swallows down the hard lump in his throat. âBye.â
  January 16, 2021
Harryâs workout playlist features a lot of Ariana Grande.
He just thinks that sheâs good, okay?
But he knows that Artie and your father would never let him hear the end of it, so he keeps that information private. During practice, heâll endure whatever shitty tunes Artie picks from his own library, and he wonât say a word. Heâs not in the ring to dance, anyway. Heâs there to make moneyâalbeit illegallyâbecause quite frankly, he hasnât discovered an aptitude for anything else.
Itâs lateâthe gym is technically closed. But the great thing about having the owner for a coach is the fact that Harry was given another key to add to his collection. Your father doesnât care, as long as he locks up after heâs done. Harry has spent more time here than at his own home, he imagines. Itâs nice when itâs quietâit gives him plenty of time to think.
The back of his t-shirt is soaked through with sweat. Heâs gazing at the ceiling as he lifts the heavy weights up and down over his torso. A bubbly song is playing on his phone, keeping his energy high.
So what if he listens to Ariana Grande? She makes great music.
The distinctive sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He pauses, setting the weightlifting bar back onto its rack and sitting up quickly. The noise is coming from the stairs that lead down to the swimming pool in the basement. Harry stands, and though his muscles are already screaming from previous exertion, he readies himself for the worst.
You appear at the top of the flight, your slippers smacking against each step loudly. Youâre ruffling a towel against your wet hair, your head angled to the side as you squeeze out any excess water. Upon catching sight of Harry, you freeze in your tracks.
âOh. Harry. Hi.â
âHi,â he says slowly. âIâŠdidnât know you were here.â
âI didnât know you were here,â you reply wryly, a small smirk making its way onto your lips.
Harry scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck. âYeah. ErâŠI was just working out.â
You nod, your expression coy. âI can see that.â
An awkward silence hangs in the air. Harry clears his throat, rubbing his jaw with his fingers because what else is he supposed to do? âWere youâdid you go for a swim?â
âYeah,â you say. Your shoulders deflate, like youâre almost grateful that heâs contributed more to the conversation. âSpent half the time doing laps, and the other half on my phone.â Your lips quirk up with the feeble joke.
Harry chuckles weakly. âThatâs just how it is, sometimes.â
Your eyes flutter shut for only a moment. âYeah.â
More silence. Harry chews nervously on his bottom lip. Why the fuck canât he speak?
The song playing from his phone changes. Your eyes narrow ever-so-slightly when a few upbeat notes trickle into the air, followed immediately by the smooth crooning of a womanâs voice. âIs thisâŠ,â you hesitate, and he can see how youâre fighting a smile, ââŠCarly Rae Jepsen?â
âUh,â he says dumbly, uncertain of how to proceed. Sure enough, I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen is filtering through the taut atmosphere, painfully loud now that the two of you are truly paying attention to it.
A high-pitched laugh falls from your mouth, and your shoulders shake with the force of your amusement. Harry, unable to help himself, begins to chuckle along with you. Heat blooms across his cheeks, but heâs not as embarrassed as he thought heâd be. Your giggles arenât derisive, he realises.
Heâs nearly overcome with the urge to take you in his arms, then, but he resists.
âLate night, watching the televisionâŠ,â you sing quietly, and then youâre dissolving into merriment all over again.
Once your joint laughter subsides, you shoot him a bright grin. Harry tries his best to return it, though he doesnât think that he mirrors your smile to its full extent. You sigh in delight, shouldering the strap of your bag and tossing your towel over your forearm.
âThat honestly made my night,â you tell him, utterly sincere.
His heart somersaults in his chest. ââM glad.â
âWell,â you say, shrugging gently, âI should probably go.â
âYeah.â His response is hollow. He lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave. âHave a good night.â
âYou too.â
He lies back down with a grunt as you make your way toward the exit. His fingers wrap around the weightlifting bar, about to pull it off of its resting place, when your voice suddenly rings out again.
âHarry?â
âYeah?â He sits up too quickly, nearly catching his forehead against the metal of the bar. When he turns around to face you, he finds you doubling back, approaching him and nibbling apprehensively on your bottom lip.
âI actuallyâ,â you pause, like youâre unsure of how to continue, âI was wondering if I could ask you something.â
âSure,â he says, rubbing his hands over the black shorts covering his thighs. âGo ahead.â
âIt might be kind of weird,â you warn. âDonât laugh at me.â
He shakes his head, blinking solemnly. âI wonât.â
âWould youâ,â you begin, and your fingers come up to play with the pendant resting at the base of your throat, ââteach me how to box?â
âIâ,â Harry recoils slightly, taken aback by your question. âWhat?â
âWould you teach me how to box?â you repeat, though your voice is significantly smaller. âI want to learn how to defend myself.â
âAgainst what?â he asks, his brows knitting together in concern. âIs everything alright?â
âEverythingâs fine.â You wave away his worries with an inattentive flick of your hand. Harryâs eyes narrow as he studies your face. You refuse to meet his gaze.
Youâre lying, he realises, straight through your pretty teeth. But it would be impolite of him to pry, wouldnât it? And this is the first time that the two of you have ever been really, truly alone; he doesnât want to fuck it up.
âOkay,â he says slowly, even though he doesnât believe your guarantee.
He pulls at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and wiping his face with the fabric. When he fixes his gaze on you once more, he thinks he catches your eyes drifting across his torso. Cocking one eyebrow curiously, he climbs to his feet.
âWhat do you want to learn?â he asks, reaching for his phone and pausing the music streaming from the device.
âAnything,â you say breathlessly. âEverything.â
His lips twitch.
âIâ,â he scratches at his nose with two fingers, ââI donât really have a set schedule, you know, between practice and actual matches.â
âI know.â You nod understandingly.
âAnd I know you have school,â he continues, tilting his head to the side. âAre you sure you want to do this?â
âPositive,â you tell him. Thereâs something strong burning in your eyes; he canât quite figure out what it is. âI want to train. JustâŠdonât tell my dad, okay?â
âOkay,â he repeats. He swallows heavily, offering his phone to you. âPut your number in, yeah? Iâll text you on the nights Iâm free, and if youâre not too busy, we can meet up here.â
âAlright,â you concede softly. You take the device from him, and he pretends not to notice just how badly your hands are shaking. Your nails tap quietly against the screen, and before you know it, youâre passing the phone back to him with your information saved under a new contact.
âAlright,â Harry echoes.
The two of you stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The spell is broken, however, when you finally take a step back, clearing your throat and tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear.
âI should go,â you say. âFor real, this time.â
âFor real.â Harry nods.
âYouâll lock up, right?â you ask, retreating toward the exit.
âYup,â he says, popping the last letter instinctively. At that, you smile, your mouth curling up into a soft, inviting crescent.
âOkay,â you murmur, placing one hand on the door. âGoodnight, Harry.â
He watches you go with forlorn eyes and empty lungs. âGoodnight.â
~*~
PART II: Cross
PART III: Hook
PART IV: Uppercut
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