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brnesblogposts · 2 months

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Moon boys when you’re on your period!

pairing(s) gn!reader x steven grant, gn!reader x marc spector

warnings just fluff and comfort. mentions of everything a period entails.

a/n i didn’t write for Jake purely because i don’t know spanish and it’s 2am, this took a lot longer than i thought it would and it would take even more time to translate words into spanish to write his pov, BUT if you do want me to do a jake pov let me know and i will! when you know- it’s not the middle of the night :)

Steven

Steven was awoken by you stirring in your sleep, he leaned over to check the time on his phone, 4:14am. He didn’t want to wake you, knowing full well someone shaking you awake when you’re having a nightmare is not a pleasant experience nor does it make it any less scary.

He decided to take a gentle approach, without touching you he just started saying your name in a gentle tone.

Y/n”

“Y/n wake up love, it’s me, steven.” He saw your eyes stirring and continued to softly speak. “Love, you’re okay, you’re safe” Your eyes fluttered open “Steven?” He gently caressed your arm “I think you were having a nightmare” You looked perplexed, as if you didn’t recall a nightmare. “I don’t think I- OW, UGH” You started wincing all of a sudden, Steven’s eyebrow raised “Y/N? What’s wrong?!” A trace of concern in his voice.

“CRAMPS” You screeched out while balling yourself into a fetal position and taking deep breathes, “I must of been stirring because o- of my cramps” You were squeezing your eyes shut in sheer pain. “I’ll get your water bottle!” Steven rushed to get to the kitchen, but before he swiftly got out of bed he made sure to give you a kiss on your temple. He kept looking back at you while he waited for the kettle to boil, making sure you were okay despite the tremendous pain he knew you were in. Steven wished he could take it away, he’d rather have cramps then see you like this.

Steven quickly filled the bottle, wrapped a tea towel around it and made sure to grab two painkillers and some water on his way back. “Here you go, my darling” He spoke with the upmost sympathy as he placed the water bottle on your abdomen. “Thank you, my perfect boy” You replied and watched a tint of red takeover his face. “Sit up a bit for me, yeah?” You obliged and sat up as best you could while not inducing anymore pain, Steven handed you the tablets and you plopped them in your mouth. He held the glass up to your lips for you as you downed them then ever so gently pressed a loving and soft kiss that said “I’ve got you”.

Steven climbed back into bed and rubbed your back for about 45 minutes as you both waited for the meds and heat pack to kick in, and for the pain to subside. He heard your deep breathes turn into content sighs and took that as a sign that the pain was gone or at least mostly to a point where it was bearable. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, “I love you my darling, Y/n” And with that, he too drifted off into a peaceful sleep, still of course keeping an ear out for you, his person.

Marc

Marc was out getting a few food bits in, he’d left you on the sofa where you were reading a book. He wasn’t out ten minutes before he received s text. Can you buy me some pads pls? Off he went to the sanitary towel isle, little did he know just how many options there were. Between all the different brands, sizes, wings or no wings, he was out of his depth.

Which kind do you need, baby? He sent back to you, and within a few seconds you responded with a brand name and size, making his job a whole lot easier. He decided to cut his shopping trip short knowing you’d need these ASAP.

Marc arrived home and walked in to see you that you were nowhere to be seen, “IN HERE!” He followed the sound of your voice to find you in the bathroom. He handed off the pads and decided to surprise you, while you cleaned yourself up in which he had noticed you decided to go for a shower. Marc made you a hot water bottle, a cup of tea and was currently making you a plate of your favourite treats. He set them on a tray on the bed just as you stepped out the bathroom.

“Baby, how are you feeling?” His eyes showed how deeply he meant that, wanting to do everything he could to make you feel comfortable. “My cramps aren’t too bad yet, I have a little headache coming on and am craving sugar.” He could tell you were trying to downplay it, not wanting him to be too worried about you, he could see through you though.

“Oh Marc this is perfect!” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, “I was just about to say I feel like today is a bed day” You smiled, his favourite smile. He helped you settle into the bed, making sure your pillows were fluffed to your liking and set the tray over your lap and the water bottle on your abdomen. As he went to sit on the sofa you called after him “Baby? Can you stay with me? I just want to be with you” He didn’t hesitate a second and was next to you, feeding you grapes quite literally.

After a few minutes he noticed you tearing up “Marc, my sweet, perfect, most handsome boyfriend. What did I do to deserve you?” By this point tears started streaming down your cheeks. “You’re just so perfect, always making sure I feel loved and seen, listening to me ramble about things I know you don’t care about or when I come home from work and I’m in a bad mood you give me my space and don’t question it if I snap at you. I really don’t deserve you” You were in hysterics. Marc looked at you, upset that you’d ever question if you deserved him. Of course you did, you were the most amazing person he’d ever met, the most accepting, loving, caring person. You made sure him and his alters felt safe and if he was having a nightmare you were there to pull him out of it and calm him down.

He kissed your tear stained cheeks, no words spoken but the actions spoke louder, telling you that you did deserve him. Nothing was going to change that. He wrapped his arms around you and you tucked your head into his neck, after a couple minutes you’d seemed to calm down but he still held you, not letting go. Not until you wanted him to. Another 10 minutes passed and you still hadn’t peeled away, and that’s when he noticed you were asleep. Your eyelashes resting softly and your mouth parted. He kissed the top of your head and held you and never let go.

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mugentakeda · 5 months

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i saw fanart for this age old unfinished fic and was so interested by the premise that i simply HAD to give the concept my own spin.... Ill put my notes under the cut cus it got kinda long lol

-FIRST OF ALL. i headcanon lu ten as a powerful firebender (like, lightning bending powerful. not an expert at it yet, but can generate it at will. only recently picked it up before the siege.) that can Also use a weapon. he picked it up for funsies and ended up taking it seriously and then excelling. he learned under piandao and in turn later introduced him to zuko. His weapon that he made with piandao was a more traditional jogekama yari, which he had on him when he was captured. long feng destroyed it and had a new jogekama yari made for lu ten in a more sleek earth kingdom style, with longer and more savage blades. **ALSO: lu tens jogekama yari is based on saras yari from samurai champloo!!!! i just made the side blades curved in opposite directions (which made it a jogekama instead of saras type of yari) -lu ten does not interact with the other agents. whether brainwashed or amnesic in this, hes not even one of the secret police that go around arresting people. hes a lone agent that works Directly under long feng and is more of an assassin and spy thats permitted in and out of ba sing se for the missions and jobs long feng sends him on, unlike the rest of the agents. as a gift for his (made up) birthday, long feng gave him a hand carved stone earring. Yes, its a tracker. yes, lu ten knows that. No, he doesn't care and wears it anyway. his boss can do what he wants, and he trusts his boss with his life (lol). the other dai li agents know of lu tens existence, less have seen him with their own eyes, none are permitted to speak to him if they do. they dont know hes a "nonbender". -i havent decided on whether or not i want lu ten brainwashed in this or simply amnesic?? it would be neat if he was the brainwash soft launch since the ba sing se conspiracy brainwashing only started After the siege. lu ten is a firebender, has that fn royalty brand iron willpower, so youd think thats hard to brainwash especially if he was the soft launch, but if long feng kept up the sessions regularly over the course of 6-ish years (and as their brainwashing techniques improved), id doubt it would rub off. its a seven layer salad of brainwashing. and even if he was amnesic rather than brainwashed, theyd still need to do some adjustments in lu tens head to TOTALLY wipe out any idea of firebending, on top of regular chi blocking. -as for the amnesic part, i read a theory that introduced the idea that lu ten being killed was an inside job orchestrated by ozai. which i dont think would be canon, but it would be pretty cool?? like especially considering how FAST he jumped on azulon about heirs. very suspicious indeed. and all too convenient: have a group of moles set in irohs army, once lu ten moves out away from iroh then corner him, kill him, make it look like the earth army did it, sneak back to the fire nation, ozai gets the crown. easy as pie. -and to combine one of MY OWN aus with the above, aka the one where zhao and lu ten were both taught together under jeong jeong, the first time that zhao REALLY made a big move into ozais pocket was offering to be the head mole in irohs army. it made perfect sense to ozai, and he gladly sent zhao on his way- him being close rivals with him will catch him off guard and make the job far easier. and if zhao succeeds, and KEEPS succeeding, when ozai undoubtedly snatches the crown, he will grant zhao all the rewards and titles he could ever want until the cows come home. snazzy deal.

so whichever one of those you guys find cooler will be the one i go with because frankly both of them have the same amount of fun angst and drama idk......................

-as for lu tens face and arm, i base that off how i think lu ten died, not even gna lie. in the case where he is dead i think half his skull got crushed open and his arm was blown right off from the bicep. the stitches are just for aesthetic purposes. i was inspired by how scars are drawn in one piece, and because they give a "frankensteins monster" type look, which i found fitting, since this is a 'came back wrong' trope/winter soldier-esque au. the bandages covering his face was a suggestion from an anxious long feng to hide his face in public, while the ba sing se conspiracy was still fresh and the citizens might recognize the spawn of the dragon of the west if they looked long enough.

-as for lu ten and long fengs relationship, i havent thought about it enough, but im definitely imagining smthn along the lines of "you were always working for me, i picked you up and trained you when you had nothing, you owe me your life and loyalty", mixed with some gentle stockholm syndrome. like, a combination of "the king and his most loyal guard dog", a very strange psuedo father-son relationship??? (which was honestly accidental on long fengs part. but he kept it up because he found the irony amusing. yes he will try and rub that in irohs face. yes iroh will beat his skull in for it. its chill)

-this has nothing to do with the au but please see iroh and zukos body language in the third panel of the comic... i love to portray them as protective of each other... zukos blade placed before iroh, irohs arm switching from shoulder to shoulder as zuko turns, always placed between him and whatever is approaching... Heurghhh (GRIPS HEAD

#BUT YEAH I HOPE U GUYS LIKE TJIS ... if that ends up being the case maybe ill talk abt it more and expand a bit further...#BUT ONLY IF U GUYS LIKE IT I PROMISE.#yes this woudl probably change the outcome of book 2 thats a whole other can of beans #lu ten #iroh #zuko #long feng #atla #avatar the last airbender #alicias art

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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tw: mentions of simon's torture and SA so heed my warning plz

this is unfinished idk which way to take it, either a weird redemption or just keep him mean so here you go

I like to think that instead of Simon taking off his mask as a show of trust, it's his gloves.

He hates physical contact.

Back during his torture, Simon would have both eyes swollen shut more often than not, completely robbing him of his sight.

He'd bitten through his tongue through the worst of it, leaving him with a constant metallic taste of blood in his dry mouth.

There was never a moment of silence for him either. An insistent ringing in his ears, loud like a stirred-up hornet's nest. Buzzing in the canal, stinging in his ear drums.

Yet the one sense that only nothing could ever stop, unless unconscious, was touch. Simon couldn't stop feeling. Chapped, thin lips over his own. A grubby hand fisting his hair, pulling so hard he'd feel the pop of strands coming off of his scalp. The piercing pain of his broken nose, burning on his split lip; the crippling, blinding agony of the cold, metal hook in between his lower ribs. Delicate fingers leaving a searing trail across his bruised flesh, down to his—

Simon Riley does not like touch nor be touched. He covers himself from head to toe to avoid skin-to-skin contact— the gloves never come off. He grits his teeth when Johnny hits his shoulder, clenches his jaw painfully when Price taps his arm.

The only sensation he doesn't mind is the blood that soaks the fabric of his gloves when he digs his blade into an unsuspecting neck.

But that didn't mean his needs had faded from existence. Much to his disappointment, Simon was still of flesh and blood. He still felt a stirring in his loins whenever he laid eyes on a piece of fuckable meat. It's all he saw them as; just a hole for him to use.

He didn't get much of a chance to satiate the thirst, however, because of the one restriction Simon had.

Hands to yourself.

From the ones he'd chosen to take to a no-tell motel, only a handful had stayed. Not that it bothered him any, they had always thought themselves special enough for him to change his mind.

"Rules are rules, sweets. Take it or fuckin' leave."

And then he meets you at some dingy bar. You'd flitted your way over to him, like a moth to a flame.

If only you knew that he was an all-consuming fire; he'd burn you to ashes.

You'd been quick in agreeing to let him fuck you, too. His gloved hand grabbed your elbow in a tight grip, harshly dragging you into the men's bathroom. "Only one rule. Don't touch me. You keep your hands on anythin' else other than me. I take what ya give me, and in turn, you'll take what I give ya."

With your hands tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, he'd taken you from behind viciously. Hungrily. Deliciously. He'd then left you in the bathroom with your number and his cum dried on the cleft of your arse.

It was like this for months. Always dropping by your house for a visit when the night was darkest.

"Hands on the headboard." His covered hands would rest right next to yours on it as he filled you up with his heavy cock.

"Hold your legs open f'me." The rough material of his gloves on the underside of your thighs never failed to bleed a little pain into your heady pleasure.

And then he'd started pulling the balaclava he wore up to rest right above his lips and settle his head between your quivering thighs. Ghost would drag his smart tongue through your folds and flick your slippery clit.

You'd ripped a hole into the bedsheets to keep from digging your nails into the thick muscle of his shoulders when you climaxed.

You also never brought it up after. He ate pussy like a man starved- all lips and tongue, occasionally a nip or two. This proverbial horse's teeth would never see the light of day.

Over a period of time, Ghost started staying a little longer after the hookups, and began to show up a tad earlier than the usual witching hour.

now this is where we choose the ending

is it a, he grabs your hands and chooses where you can touch? he stays in control the entire time because that's what he needs. control. a choice.

he'll blindfold you so you don't see him, only feel. feel the stubble on his strong jaw, the contours of his waist, his hips; feel how rough his bare hands are on your own smooth skin.

do you eventually question why he doesn't let you touch him? he'll snap his teeth at you like a rabid dog? you're not privy to his back story. he'll aggressive shrug his shirt back on and jerkily pull his pants up. doesn't even tie his bootlaces, just walks out your front door. you don't hear from him again.

it hurts, honestly. you'd only asked a simple question and he didn't even give you a chance to apologize.

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 15 days

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Congratulations!!

If you feel inspired by this combo and have time, could you write a ficlet using "I", 🍨, 🥰 or 😂, and 🔨?

Thank you!

(Apologies if you already got this ask--my device froze when I sent it the first time, so I don't know if it went through)

Thank you so much! 🥰I still remember your lovely comments on the mer-dude fic, so I hope you enjoy this little bonus! 🦕❤️🧜🏻‍♂️

Of mates and mer-dudes

Words: 996

Rated: T

Tags: summer camp AU; mer!Steve; established relationship; flirting; sexual tension; fade to black

Notes: Set in the same universe as Just add water

“Hammer.”

“Hammer,” Eddie repeats dutifully. Dustin spends two or three seconds trying to drive the nail in with the object he's been handed, until he realizes it's a screwdriver.

“Very funny. I said hammer.”

“Apologies,” Eddie mutters, chucking the screwdriver back into the mess that is their toolbox with one hand and wiping his sunburnt forehead with the other. “I think we've been out here longer than is strictly healthy. How ‘bout we call it a day and head back to camp? It's almost dinner time.”

Dustin scowls. The hair under his Thinking Cap is matted with sweat and he is red-faced and splotchy. An unavoidable side effect of working out on the secluded pier all afternoon.

“We can't just stop now, it's almost done,” Dustin claims, gesturing at their rickety construction of wood and mesh - it’s supposed to be an oversized fish trap, even though Eddie thinks it’s turning out to be more of a funky modern art installation. “This'll work, I know it. This time, I'll prove that Lovie is real. All those past times, it got away too quickly, but if I could just-”

“Jesus, kid,” Eddie groans. “You and your lake monster. You don't know when to give up, do you?”

“Give up?” Dustin scoffs. “If Thomas Edison had given up, we'd still be lighting candles. If Homer Ahr had given up, we would've never walked on the moon. I sure as hell won't-?”

“The fuck is Homer Ahr?”

Dustin heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Only mission control's chief engineer, Eddie? Honestly, that's the kinda question I'd expect from Steve, not you. Where is he, by the way? I thought he wanted to help us.”

“No idea,” Eddie admits. “Lucky bastard.”

Dustin draws a breath, probably to ask what he means, but Eddie is saved by the sound of the dinner bell floating over from the camp grounds.

“Okay, you gremlin, off you go,” he says, pushing the kid towards the sound before another argument can break loose. “We can finish this tomorrow when we aren't dehydrated and grouchy.”

Dustin grumbles. “What about you?”

Eddie waves him off. “Be there in a sec, lemme put away your shit first.”

He starts picking up their scattered tools, throwing them back into the box. Only when he's sure that Dustin is well out of earshot does he collapse at the edge of the pier, naked feet dangling over the water's surface.

“Man,” he says. “That kid, right?”

There's a soft growl from behind him, and the barest of sloshing sounds, and a shadow falls over him. He only just manages to suck in a breath - knowing he'll need it - before a massive snout pushes between his shoulder blades and he goes plummeting into the lake. He’s dimly aware of the toolbox going down with him, and then the world vanishes in a whirl of bubbles.

He resurfaces to the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist and massive fins brushing his legs, and the sound of laughing voices - one human, one very much not so. He tries to glower at their owners, but actually needs a second to part the sopping curtain of his hair.

“So fucking hilarious, you aquatic asshats. I thought I told you to quit doing that.”

Lovie the lake creature just chirps merrily and dives back under again, splashing him with her fins as she goes.

Steve shrugs. The motion makes tiny droplets of water run down his bare shoulders and collarbones, bringing out his freckles and moles and tiny, glittering scales. Eddie wants to lick them. He has long stopped worrying about what that says about him.

“Sorry. She just wants you in the water with us. She likes it when the flock is together.”

His smile is apologetic, but his tail curls around Eddie’s legs in the water, fins wrapping around the two of them possessively.

Because, see, here's the thing. Over the past year, Eddie has not only discovered that his infuriatingly pretty fellow camp counselor is a mermaid and the guardian of an ancient lake creature. He has also somehow managed to score said mer-dude as a boyfriend and been adopted into the lake creature's flock.

“She never does that shit with Buckley,” he grouses, even though Steve’s words make something flutter in his chest. Steve's touch, also - hands on his hips, fins on his ankles. “She's part of the flock, too, isn't she?”

“Yeah…” Steve blushes, a delicious pink hue on wet, sun-tanned skin. Eddie wants to lick that, too. “But Robin isn't my…”

He trails off into an unintelligible mumble after that. Eddie wrinkles his brow.

“Your what? Come again, fish boy, I didn’t-”

“My mate,” Steve blurts, and the fins on his hips flutter excitedly under Eddie’s fingers. “Robin isn’t my mate.”

Eddie feels his mouth drop open. The water is unpleasantly cold against his flushed skin.

“Wait,” he says when he finally remembers how to form words again. “Hold on a second. When did that happen?”

Steve’s face is still scarlet, but his lips start twitching when he meets Eddie’s eyes. “That’s just the way she sees it. You can’t expect her to think in human standards. Now c’mon, we gotta get to dinner or the kids will wonder where-”

“Oh, no!” Eddie interrupts him, mouth tugging into a stupid, wide grin of his own. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You don’t get to tell me that we’ve been mer-mated for God knows how long and never officially consummated that sacred connection. I’m gonna get a mer-divorce if you don’t-”

“Oh God, shut up,” Steve groans, and kisses him.

As he gets dragged off to their favorite little shore, well out of sight from the camp grounds, Eddie bids a brief mental farewell to the toolbox lying abandoned at the ground of the lake. He’ll have to make up some story about where it went when Dustin asks him, but that's a problem for later.

For now, he’s got other things to think about.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #just add water #hype's 1k follower ficlets

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dumpster-diving-rat · 9 months

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How I think bsd characters (Port Mafia) would react if you hugged them

(Not all members of the PM are here, just the ones I will write for)

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

-Probably thought you were trying to attack him at first

-Literally almost used rashomon on you when you got closer

-And then you hugged him, and he freaked out x2

-Quietly hugs you back in some confusion

-"Why me?" he doesn't understand why you hugged him

-He's a little thankful you did though, it just means you aren't really afraid of him, or afraid of being near him

-Lets go after a while, quietly thanking you for the hug

Higuchi Ichiyo (don't really plan on writing her too often but idk)

-Freaking out, blushing, and probably even fangirling all at once

-Hugging you back immediately, thinking about how this is one of the greatest moments ever

-Doesn't want to let go, but does after a few minutes

-Thanking you for the hug, trying to act normally without freaking out

-Happy for the rest of the day

Chuuya Nakahara

-The most confused person on earth

-You just randomly walked up to him and hugged him? Now he's wondering what's going on

-Is this a type of prank? What're you trying to do?

-Confused yelling at you to ask what you're doing

-Slowly starts to hug you back

-Stays silent for a while and just stands there hugging you

-If you're shorter, he'll put his head on your head or shoulder, and if you're taller, his head is against or on your shoulder (by against I mean his forehead is close to your shoulder but not directly on it)

-Starts calming down a lot

-When you feel safe near someone you love, it can lead you to get tired and sleepy because of that safe state of mind

-Needless to say, he is very tired right now

-He is enjoying this moment a lot, and plans on doing this way more often with you

Oda Sakunosuke (I don't really plan on writing him at all tbh, but I'll still put him here anyways because why not I had this idea at like 3 or 4 am)

-You were in the orphans room when you hugged him

-It surprised him slightly, but he hugged you back

-The kids noticed, and decided to attack you both with hugs as well

-You got knocked onto the floor with Oda, while the kids giggled and smiled and continued hugging you

-You started laughing too, and the kids basically surrounded you both while hugging you

-You couldn't really see, but a slight smile was on Oda's face while he continued to hug you and the kids

-He will definitely remember this

Dazai Osamu (not the 15 arc, this is when he's 18 for clarification)

-If he knew you well enough, he'd let you hug him, honestly if he didn't know you that well he'd probably shove you off of him

-He doesn't exactly hug you back, he just let's you hug him and slightly rubs your back

-Doesn't really enjoy or not enjoy it, he's pretty conflicted with what he's feeling

-After a minute or so, he finally hugs you back

-He has one arm around your waist and the other closer to your shoulder, where your shoulder blade is

-He's hugging you pretty tightly, almost afraid to let you go

-If you're taller than him, his head is against your chest (closer to where your collarbone is) and if you're shorter than him, his chin is on your head

-The hug lasts for longer than expected because he doesn't want to let go, he doesn't want to lose you

-I can see him barely speaking during this hug, but also he might just start venting slightly while joking about his problems

-Might start asking for more hugs, probably even daily

-Enjoys the feeling of you hugging him, even if he didn't at first

Thank you for reading! If there's anything you'd like to request, you could message me or comment it. I have put off figuring out the ask box like the professional procrastinater I am, but I will figure it out soon enough hopefully. If you do request something, do not make it NSFW, noncon or dubcon, and no incest please. I hope you enjoyed reading this ♡

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #akutagawa ryuunosuke #higuchi ichiyo #chuuya nakahara #oda sakunosuke #dazai osamu #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons

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athena-writes-i-guess · 1 year

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Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Prompt: “I think I love you, you idiot.”

Warning: language, very very very light hurt/comfort but mostly fluff, friends to lovers(really lovers to official lovers), pet names

A/N: a bit longer then I normally write for these, but I got a little carried away haha. Hope you enjoy! Was this based on something I said in my D&D game on Friday? Yes. I was very proud of it.

“Lady Y/N,” Eddie looks at you, his eyebrow was quirked up as he sent you a cocky smile, “it’s your turn.” He says, gesturing at the game map on the table in front of him as he sat in his throne.

It was Friday night. Hellfire night. The best night of the week. The night where you got to play pretend with your favorite people. Your favorite of them all being Eddie Munson.

You looked him up and down, a small confident smile rested on your face, “How many hit points does this guy have?”

“Let’s just say he looks pretty fucked up.” Eddie chuckled as he leaned back in the chair, his arms rested on the armrests as he laced his fingers in front of him. He locked eyes with you, his large, owlish, ones sparkled in amusement.

“I’m going to walk up to him. I place my hand on his shoulder as I just ever so lightly graze the tip of my sword along his cheek and I say, ‘Now do you want to feel the sting of my blade? Or would you like to actually walk out of here alive?’” The group around you made various “oooohs!”, but your eyes were locked with Eddie’s. He stared you down, face unchanging as he sized you up.

“Roll an intimidation check.” He said simply.

You rolled your D20 and watched it bounce along the game map, “15 plus 9, 24!” You shouted.

Eddie’s face broke out in a large smile and he clapped his hands together loudly as he laughed. “He flees! As he should, I wouldn’t want to cross Lady Y/N, right boys?” He asked the room as the rest of the party shouted their excitement at the victory. “That’s it for tonight kids, see you next time.” This was met by a few groans, but eventually the room dissolved into loud chatter as everyone got ready to go.

“Hey, could you stay after?” Eddie asked once you finished packing up. You felt your heart hammer in your chest as you nodded your head.

You and Eddie had an interesting relationship you could say. Not quite together, but definitely not just friends. You’d hang out together, seemingly as friends, and end up making out on his couch or in the back of his van.

You wanted more, so much more with him. But you didn’t want to lose what you had now by asking for a commitment. Eddie was sweet, more than he let on to anyone but you, so you knew he would at least let you down nicely. But you weren’t sure if you could face him after the rejection.

Your relationship was very physical when you were alone, but it was also incredibly emotional at times. With the two of you running to each other in your hardest of times. Eddie told you things he had never told anyone, and let himself be more vulnerable with you than he had been with another person ever. What you had was special, and you didn’t want it to end. You just didn’t want to hide it anymore.

The room cleared out and as you said your last goodbye, you looked around and found yourself alone with Eddie. The room felt charged, with what you weren’t sure, but there was something new and intense sparkling behind the look the metalhead sent you. He didn’t break eye contact as he sauntered over to where you were standing at the other end of the table.

Eddie wasn’t great with personal space, he usually managed to get into peoples bubbles somehow. But when you were alone, it’s like personal space didn’t even exist. His hands were always on you, as if they were magnetized to your skin. There was always practically no space between you two, as he always kept you flush with him. And if he had his way, his mouth would be kissing any part of you he could reach at all times. It’s like he was obsessed and couldn’t get enough of you, but only in private.

His hands found their way around your waist as he pressed you up against the table. He gave you a heated look before his lips came crashing on yours. You felt him smirk against you as you let out an involuntary moan into the kiss. Proud to be the cause of such a response from you.

“Christ sweetheart, that last line you said. It was so hot.” He said in between hurried, feverish kisses. “My girl, such a badass.”

“My girl”

Not a new phrase, but one you couldn’t stop thinking about once you heard it. Why would he call you that just to keep you hidden?

“Eddie.” You gasped out once he started kissing along your jaw. He let out an appreciative hum against your skin as you said his name. “Eddie, wait.” You managed, pulling yourself from his affectionate assault. He pulled back, lips kiss swollen and pink, eyes half lidded.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He cooed, a fond look on his face.

“What is this Eddie?” You blurted out, the metalhead cocked his head to the side in confusion. “What is this? What are we? We do this every couple days, but only in secret. You call me your girl, but only alone.” You stammered out quickly, watching Eddie closely as you did. “Are-are you ashamed of me?” You asked finally, you couldn’t keep the hurt and insecurity out of your voice.

Eddie looked surprised for a moment but quickly shook his head once he heard how upset you sounded, “Sweetheart, I’m not ashamed of you at all, or what we have.” He started.

“Then why aren’t we public? Why am I hidden away?” You interrupted.

Eddie sighed and brought his forehead to rest against your own, he looked at you through his lashes, “Cause I didn’t want to make your life harder here. You already have a hard enough time being the freak of Hawkin High's friend, imagine how much worse it’d be for you as my girlfriend.” He briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if he was working up to something, “I was finally gonna ask you to be mine at graduation, then we wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. I’m crazy about you Y/N, you have to know that.”

It was your turn to look surprised but you recovered quickly at the uncertain look on his face, “I don’t give a shit about what these assholes say Eddie. I’m fucking crazy about you too, and I don’t want to wait.” You said firmly, a confident smile pulling at your lips. “I think I love you, you idiot.”

Eddie looked utterly shell shocked. You love him? He hadn’t heard someone say that to him in years, only his mom and Wayne had ever said it. The last time he heard it from his mom was just before she died, and Wayne at her funeral. He had no idea how much he had missed hearing it, how much he needed it. And now, the person he knew he loved was here saying it to him. He wanted to cry, but wouldn’t, not now. Not when he could be kissing you instead.

“I love you. So much.” He whispered seriously. He pressed his lips to yours again, not hungry and feverish like before, this was slow and careful, like you could break under him. He wanted you to feel that he meant every word.

You melted into each other, fully drowning in the possibilities of this new relationship that neither of you were aware of the sounds of running footsteps coming up the quiet hallway outside. “Hey, have you seen my binder I think I-” Dustin's voice rang out as the door slammed open.

You pulled away from Eddie with a little squeak of surprise and found the 3 freshman boys standing in the doorway. You and Eddie stared at the boys, who in turn stared back at the two of you, arms still wrapped around each other.

“Oh my fucking god! You have to be shitting me, I knew it! Mike, you owe me 10 bucks!” Dustin yelled, pointing at the two of you with a huge smile on his face.

“I guess there’s no keeping this a secret now even if we wanted, huh sweetheart?” Eddie whispered with a chuckle as he pulled you from the table, holding your hand firmly as he grabbed both of your stuff.

“Oh not a chance.” You laughed, following him as the younger boys bombarded you with questions.

Taglist: @srapalestina @yvonneeeee @cityofidek @anaisweird @mrslovesmayahawke @harrys-tittie

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sky-kiss · 4 months

Text

Drink

A/n: I got nothing. I don't know. This is nothing. This is like. Minor lactation kink and some conversation lol. Everything is going under the cut. Here. Have his smug face as my penance.

R/D!Urge: Drink

“Your son was not hungry.”

There’s an archness to her tone that causes Raphael to lift his head. The duchess lingers near the edge of his vision, a conspicuous distance kept between them. Vanity has kept her from his bed and out of his company; he does not miss the excess fabric draped across her form, designed to hide the extra weight and the heaviness of her breasts.

The body did not feel like her own, she’d admitted once, head held high. Daring him to argue, perhaps hoping he might. He had no interest in the conversation one way or another.

“This is of interest to me?”

Joi frowns, gaze dropping. He will not say she is diminished, but there is somehow…a shift---in her bearing, in her essence. She was much the same in the months following their daughter’s birth. Discomforted and robbed of her self-possession, hormones and exhaustion forming some wretched amalgamation. He sees the ragged seams of her fraying control, places where he might hook his fingers and pull. And worse, he thinks she could not muster the energy to stop him. She hugs his stolen robe more tightly about herself. “Please, Raphael. For once, no games.”

“No games, no whimsy…how tiresome.” He leans back in his seat, folding his hands over his stomach. “Come.”

The duchess crosses to him, and it occurs to him again how little he likes her like this---this dour little thing. She settles across his lap, wincing as she adjusts herself. The boy…the prince, he amends, had not come into the world as delicately as his sister. It’d taken days to clear the stench of blood from the boudoir.

His sorceress leans her head against his chin, grumbling and drawing his arms around her. Raphael plucks at the robe’s tie. “Why have you come, pet?”

She huffs, “Am I no longer welcome in your boudoir, my duke?”

“You seemed happy enough to keep your own company.”

Joi pinched the back of his hand. “Your son, your heir, needed me.”

“The princess is my heir. The boy…”

“Raphael.” Her tone is softer than he expects, not the righteous fury he hopes to elicit. Too tired, no games, no sport. “Please.” She leads his hand to her breast, heat radiating from the milk-swollen flesh. He pushes the robe apart. The nipple is badly chafed, reddened, and oversensitive. “As I said…your son would not drink.”

“Haarlep would leap at the chance to relieve you.”

“Haarlep,” his duchess purrs, fingers stroking back through his hair, scraping across his scalp. “Is no king. My body bore princes and princesses…should it nourish him?”

The devil chuckles, lifting her from his lap and onto his desk. “Oh, wicked thing. A fair point.”

She winces when he spreads her legs. He shifts to his human form in a fit of deference, holding her knees tight to his side. Raphael acts with uncharacteristic care, bowing her back. The devil presses a kiss to her sternum, cupping her right breast to relieve the pressure before suckling.

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, holding him in place. Joi’s sigh borders on rapturous relief rather than pleasure. He finds himself cataloging these noises, each one fascinating: a scrape of teeth and she hisses; more direct pressure and she’ll squeeze her legs around him. It’s best to press the flat of his tongue to her skin, open-mouthed and indirect, and then she makes such pretty noises. So sweet.

He presses his hand between her shoulder blades, exaggerating the bow of her back. He sucks a bruise into the rise of her breast before shifting his attention to the left, repeating the process. She’s slackened in his arms, relaxing into his touch now that the worst of her discomfort has passed.

Raphael swallows, pulling back to admire his work. He wipes a stray bead of milk with his thumb, bringing it to his lips to lick it clean. His duchess shivers, staring at him with wide, hungry eyes, mouth still partially slack.

He kisses her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, slow and languid.

And when all is said and done, Joi presses him back into his seat. His duchess sinks to her knees with neither comment nor complaint, only a delicious look of self-satisfaction, hunger she longs to satiate.

Far be it from him to deny her.

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #oc: joi #tw: lactation #bg3 fanfic #my writing #look i dont know #im avoiding working on the things i should be working on

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milflewis · 16 days

Note

ok but mob au

“You really didn’t know who I work for?”

When Yuki found out that Pierre’s boss is the Sebastian Vettel, the Lion of Singapore, and the unofficial heir to Schumacher & Co., he had only raised his eyebrows. Pierre took that to mean he had already figured it out.

Yuki blinks at him. “No.”

“But.” Pierre frowns. “Why did you — I always have so many knives on me! Is this not weird to you?” He gestures at his jacket which hangs open, showing four different perfectly sharpened blades tucked into the lining.

Yuki shrugs. “You are French, yes? You like to cut things. Like cheese.”

Pierre mouths wordlessly. Cheese.

“Anyway,” Yuki adds. “You are weird, so. This would not be weird.”

The first time Sebastian meets Lewis, his runners are wet with Michael’s blood and Lewis’s hands are pressing his head into the glass door. His face aches, nose throbbing.

“Can I help you?” he says, or tries to say. It comes out vaguely smushed.

He pushes back a little just to see. Lewis lets him move half an inch before shoving him back.

“Jesus, Hamilton,” Sebastian hears Michael say. His voice cracks roughly. Sebastian nearly cried when the doctor told him Michael survived the surgery, that they got all the bullets out and he was in recovery. He swallows thickly, as the relief makes him all dizzy even now. “I know you got out today but c’mon, let him go. This is Sebastian — I talked about him.”

The hands on Sebastian’s neck disappear and he’s rubbing at his jaw when he turns around. “Ow,” Seabastian tells Michael. His cheeks are pale and his chest is wrapped in white bandages but his eyes are alert and he is grinning.

“Sebastian, this is Lewis Hamilton. Lewis, Sebastian Vettel. Mika says we are all friends here.”

He pats Mika’s ankle that is propped up on the bed beside his hip. Mika’s eyes stay closed, arms folded in his chair, chin on his chest. There are dark bruises under his eyes under now.

“Right. If Mika says so.”

Lewis steps back towards Michael’s bed, grabbing the duffle bag from where it was leaning against the wall. Sebastian looks at his bare arms, the tattoos that go all the way down to his fingers, the rings there. His jeans sit low on his hips. He needs a shave. Sebastian recognises him from his mugshot, even of his hair is longer now and his face is more lined.

They hadn’t had the time to arrange for Michael to share a cell with someone affiliated with them, and when they had got in contact with him, a week later, he had settled in well enough with his cell mate. By Michael standards at least.

Does not talk much, Michael had told Sebastian over the phone. Likes his fucking singing though. Stares at the picture of his dog. Do you think he is lonely?

When Sebastian had brought it up with Mika, the best person for this kind of thing when Corinna is away, Mika had only shrugged, and told him that he doesn’t think it is just Hamilton that is lonely, and that of fucking course anyone who could survive nine weeks in solitary with just Fernando Alonso as company in the next cell over is someone that Michael would find interesting.

Sebastian looks away from the breadth of Lewis’s shoulders in his white tank and pulls a face at Michael’s waggling eyebrows.

“How old do you think I am?” Jenson asks, as Alex adjusts his long-rifle until it sits comfortably against his shoulder, supported by the flat roof they are lying on.

Alex doesn’t answer, because he knows exactly how old Jenson is, and the fact that people continue to tell Jenson to his face that he looks ten years older than his actual age will never stop being funny.

“Ollie, how old do you think I am?” Jenson calls.

“Jen, leave the kid alone,” Alex says. “You could dye your hair.”

“Do I look like a man who would dye his hair solely to stave off questions about his age?”

“Yes,” Alex sweeps the street below them, marking the buildings bracketing the shop they are surveilling. “Ollie, how are you doing over there?”

He can hear him scramble around for a second before a burst of static. “Radio ready for orders, sir.”

Alex grimaces, still not used to that, as Jenson only laughs beside him.

“Michael? We got him.” Eddie leans back against the closed door.

Michael hums, closing his leather notebook. He leaves his fountain pen tucked into the middle so he remembers what month of intakes he was going over.

“Send him in.”

The kid’s hair is long and dirty, falling into his eyes and around his ears. His knees are all busted up under his baggy shorts. His face is drawn and thin, and he is glaring at Michael, jaw clenched.

He goes all pale when he sees who sits in front of him. Seems like he didn’t know whose car it was.

“Jesus,” Michael says. “You’re tiny, how did you reach the pedals?”

This morning, the kid — Sebastian Vettel, Michael had asked around — had hot wired Michael’s car in under two minutes and driven away. Michael had watched from the restaurant’s window, amused and impressed.

Mika had been decidedly less so when Michael told him, ten minutes later, that they were going to have to order a cab.

“I’m not that short!” The glare intensifies. His eyes are kind of freaky, Michael thinks. Very big and bright.

Michael holds out a hand, level with his chest, and squints. He lowers it considerably. Sebastian looks like he wants to bite it.

“Of course not,” Michael tells him soothingly. Eddie gives him a reproachful look. Michael holds back his eyeroll but takes his hand out of reach of Sebastian’s mouth.

“I have a job for you,” Michael says, watching Sebastian’s eyes sharpen. He smiles thinly. “If you’re up for it.”

“A job. For me? What kind of job?” Sebastian tilts his head to the side, making his eyes wide. His curls tumble across his forehead. The whole effect is rather sweet, Michael considers, delighted. This will be interesting.

Mika has been nagging at Michael to stop picking up strays but he thinks he will agree with Michael on this one.

Michael stretches out his back, legs interlocked at the ankles, until something clicks along his spine. He exhales slowly, sinking back into the shitty mattress.

They called for lights out fifteen minutes ago. Lewis is still in the bunk above him. Michael looks at the scratches across the metal rods. He had a good workout today, no interruptions, and his arms are nicely sore.

Seventeen minutes.

Lewis moves in his bed, rolling over to the right and for a moment, Michael thinks he will roll right off the edge, but then he is swinging down, silent. Michael holds himself very still.

"I am not interested in fucking."

"Yeah," Lewis says. "I heard."

Michael swallows. The sharpened edge of Lewis's plastic spoon presses into his throat. Lewis is dense and solidly heavy, knees on either side of his hips, one foot digging into his knee.

Michael has seen him fight. In an enclosed space like this, and unarmed, he isn't sure who would come out the better. His fingers itch with excitement.

"I found the picture you left," Lewis says quietly. The spoon doesn't move an inch. His eyes gleam in the dark like an animal.

"Okay," Michael says, not bothering to pretend not to know what he is talking about.

Lewis was fine this morning. He hummed to himself the entire way to breakfast, and he spotted Michael in the gym without even being asked. It wasn't until after dinner that he went all weird and still in himself.

Lewis presses down, just a little. Michael raises an eyebrow.

"Is he alive?" Lewis asks like he doesn't want to show his hand but is doing so anyway. His mouth trembles at the corners. Michael frowns at him. He has seen Lewis hustle in the yard at card games enough times to know that his poker face is better than this.

"Is he."

Oh. Jesus.

Michael laughs. It is too loud of a sound for where they are. He laughs anyway.

"You have issues," he tells Lewis, who only sends him a cutting look.

"That was supposed to make you feel better! Stop crying and all. You miss him, yes? Thought I could help."

Lewis stares at him. Blinks those animal eyes.

Michael makes a frustrated sound in the back of his mouth. He misses Mika. He never has to talk when Mika is around.

"He is being taken care of in that shelter you put him in. I had my people check. I was being nice! Friendly too!"

"We're friends," Lewis says slowly as if he expects Michael to say no.

"Obviously. You are being ridiculous," Michael says. "You think I would kill a dog? No!" He is a little hurt.

"You are the chief suspect in fifteen open murders," Lewis says, flat.

"Not of dogs!"

Lewis looks at him for a long moment before rolling his eyes. "How are you still alive, man? For real? I thought it was a threat."

He pushes off Michael and pulls himself up onto the top bunk, as silent as he climbed down at the start.

"No one else would see this as a bad thing."

He can hear Lewis roll his eyes.

"Literally every other person here would think you were sending a message. And not a good one."

"I was being nice!"

There is a clang of metal against metal, and their cell bars rattle. "Oi! You two! Shut the fuck up. Save the fighting or fucking for the morning."

"Gross, man," Lewis says, and Michael kicks at the underside of his bunk. "You are gross."

Maybe Mika was right when he said that Lewis might not take his generosity in the way he wanted it, Michael considers. He decides not to tell him. He would be too smug if he did.

He palms the sharpened spoon that Lewis had held to his neck and left on his pillow, beside his cheek. It is small and narrow. Michael presses his thumb against the slice, feeling it. He smiles, and tucks it under his sheet. He had needed a new one.

+1.

Sebastian had been small when Michael met him. All eyes and bony knees and dirty hair.

Then he opened up his mouth and his personality crawled out.

Michael has never looked back.

#listen. i entertain myself #sewis #yukierre #makkinen #five head cannon ask game #kyle tag #niamh.asks #little fics

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meownotgood · 2 years

Text

kiss. / hayakawa aki x gn!reader, fluff, just giving aki lots of kisses

It wasn't until Aki crossed paths with you that he began to understand what true peace is like. When you're here with him like this, your hand in his, soul intertwined with his own, his heart is warm and soft, safe. The bloodshed and strife from the day no longer clings to him once you're in his presence, melting away to a heavenly sublimity evoked by the way your lips press tenderly to his skin.

He's never felt this way, until now. No-one has treated him like this before, with this much love, this much gentleness. You know what he is, and what will become of him, but you love him regardless, broken pieces and all. He is beginning to believe you understand him more than himself. And, you're the only one who's ever touched him like this, whose lips have pressed to every last inch of him.

He's grown to become a little addicted to it, really. There's something so intoxicating about the feeling of your lips on his, your fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him breathless. He could kiss you like this forever and ever, until the sun burns right out of the sky — And even when it does, he won't part from you. He longs for your arms around him to never let him go, and for your lips connected with his own to kiss him for all of eternity. He wants to memorize this feeling, so that perhaps, he may never forget it.

It feels like electricity runs through his veins, lighting up every nerve as your lips press to all that they can manage to find. You place light kisses on his jaw, his cheek, tucking his long hair behind his ears to kiss where his lobes are pierced; he feels his heart skip a beat then, his chest consumed with a love-sick sort of ache.

Your hands travel up his back, fingertips trailing the curve of his spine, tracing the outlines of scars that litter the skin between his shoulder blades. Aki shivers; your touch feels heaven-sent. He swears you could heal each and every one of those scars with your hands alone.

You push his messy bangs from his face, lifting them up, and when you press the softest, most tender kiss to his forehead, Aki knows he's utterly doomed. He's fallen way too hard, and way, way too deeply for you — But if this is the last thing he feels, if loving you is the last thing he does, then he's going to fall with no regrets, and with everything he has.

His breath comes out shuddery, body relaxing, stress fading from his shoulders as they slump. You kiss his temple, then the bridge of his nose; his heart flutters, his head is spinning, and where you cup his face in your hand, you can feel the growing warmth radiating from his skin as he leans into your touch. A pink blush forms on his cheeks, dusted all the way to the tips of his ears.

When you sit back, Aki's eyes lock onto yours immediately, and he stares at you through heavy eyelids — A head-over-heels kind of look lingers in his gaze, like he's looking at an angel, the most divine thing he's ever seen, surely sent down just to save him.

If someone told Aki you were made for him, he wouldn't be surprised. There's no other explanation behind how enamored you are with him, how perfectly your hand fits in his, or how wonderful each syllable of his name sounds when it's spoken from your lips.

His hands shake a little when he moves them to gently hold the curve of your waist. For a moment, his lips quiver like there's something he wants to say, but whatever those words were, they die out when you lean back in, your lips pressing to his neck.

A quiet, needy gasp slips from his mouth. His eyes flutter shut, and his head tilts up to give you more room as you trail delicate kisses down his neck, across his throat, onto his shoulder and over the dip of his collarbones. So, so many, his skin tingling after each one. He whines when you place a lingering kiss over his Adam's apple.

"I'm-" Aki starts to say something, his voice so soft and weak you hardly hear it, but he just can't manage to get the words out. You lean back again, meeting his gaze.

You quietly ask him, "What is it?"

Aki stutters again — There's so much he wants to tell you, so many things on his mind that he can't pick where to start. He wants to tell you that it feels good, that it feels right, every time you kiss him. He wants to say it's perfect, you're perfect, and you need to know how he's so unbelievably in love with you. So in love it aches, so much that he can feel it deep within his soul, like it's something he's always known, and only needed to come to realize.

God, he loves you so much, it almost terrifies him. Right now, he needs you more than ever, and he's sure he never wants this moment to end. He needs you to kiss him again and again, to take him somewhere far away from here. To a place out of reach from the horrors of this world, a corner of tranquility occupied by just you and just him.

His expression softens, and he exhales a deep sigh. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. Instead of allowing them to, he drowns himself in you once more. He simply grasps your chin between his fingers, pulling you closer.

Just… C'mere.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa #aki hayakawa x you #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #aki x reader

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iwaasfairy · 1 year

Text

┌─ “ ! „ TWO OF CUPS .03.

tw. incest, dubcon, peeping, creampie, coercion/emotional manipulation, unintentional voyeurism, jealousy, angst, love triangle wordcount. 5k

part 01 part 02 part 03 part 04

a/n. she's hEREEE she's here the emotional baggage fuckery is back finally!!!! aaaaahhhh yes i finally got off my ass and rewrote and finished part three thanks you so much to @seijorhi and @darlingsanzu for betaing and sitting through my insufferableness about the itoshi sibs i juST ughhhhh!! i hope you like it and yes there will be a part four which should be the final part and yes i will try tofinish it soon-ish <333

itoshi rin x fem!reader x itoshi sae

The picture is a little creased, faded with time, but it’s still visible enough to keep. It’s more valuable than a digital copy, in this case. Because there’s an obvious scratch right over Sae’s perfect smile that gives Rin every reason to want to grin back. At least the wear and tear of the universe is on his side this once. You’re adorable in your matching jersey, little toddler hands sticking out of the arm holes as you’ve wrapped yourself around an equally small him.

Nostalgia isn’t a feeling he wants to linger in much though, because even on an innocent reflection of the past like this one - where Sae is throwing up peace signs and dribbling a ball as the two of you watch enchanted - there’s a treacherous truth displayed.

As he’s holding you, his only baby sister, in his arms, he stares at the ball; the talent, the glory, the unequivocal challenge, and you; you’re watching Sae.

It’s how it's always been, and with a bitter swallow, Rin has to wonder if the way he always trailed two steps behind will be how it ends. If he can’t keep you, if Sae really does take him up on the threat to steal you away from under his nose, would you struggle? Would you even understand if he explained it? Somehow, he doubts it. Somehow, he thinks that you don’t see anything wrong with the fact that you whisper Sae’s name in your sleep.

No simple scratch over Sae’s smile on a childhood picture is going to stop you from loving the guy. And worse still, it isn’t even his picture. It only reappeared in the house when Sae came home to stay with you, creased, cherished, and though Rin isn’t sure if Sae is even capable of true feeling for anything that isn’t himself… it looks loved.

A better man would take that as a sign to back off, maybe. A better man wouldn’t drag his little sister out of a shared bed and strip you down to nothing, pretending to be a helping hand. Kiss your lips, play with your fingers until you give him the first real smile of the day. Hopeful, and deeply, truly forgiving of his every flaw. It’s everything he isn’t. Instead he is towered over you with one hand on the granite tiles with his body just a few breaths from yours as you hum a little song. The showerhead is big enough to have you drenched, and him close enough to have the steam and heat of the water drawing random swirls along his vision, breathing in, breathing out. The heat of the air clears his lungs, but nothing takes the sticky, pressing feeling on his chest away when you’re this close. Breathe in, halfway out as you clear your voice.

“Do you think Sae will be allowed to stay a little longer, nii nii? I know he’s gotta practice, but—” The sound of the shower drums away the rest of your question. Water runs from your neck, along shoulder blades down the line of your back, and he wants to groan and grunt at the way your butt almost brushes his fucking cock. It’s ungodly. It’s vile, and maybe if you were any less trusting, you could feel the way his eyes roam when you tell yourself ‘no looking’, or how his waist ‘accidentally’ brushes up against you almost every time. You’re none the wiser, though, that’s the problem. “Rin nii?” He looks up from your steamy, perfect fucking body that’s chubbing up his cock to lean his chest against your shoulder as he grabs the shampoo bottle, and gives a faint hum to signal hearing you.

“It’s just been so long since we were all together again,” you breathe then, and hum so softly, encouragingly, as his long fingers find your head to slosh the artificial fruit scent around your scalp. Another little noise has his lashes fluttering, sliding his other hand down your neck to take a solid hold of your shoulder. And then a puffed breath, as you turn halfway towards him and make him catch a flash of your perfect fucking tits, to make matters even worse. Truly, you must believe him to be a saint, he thinks as all his muscles flex and unflex. He’s so wound up with Sae being around to ruin it that he can barely stand looking at you without wanting to grab his cock and pull until he sprays cum all over the swell of your ass. “Ahh, that feels- ah- really good.” He can’t help it. Nothing makes the longing go away.

“Thank you for taking care of me, niichan… I- I don’t like being alone.”

Dead silence. He needs dead silence to get over your unapologetic admiration. To be locked up in solitary confinement and have a metal rod jammed through both ears, probably. Rin swallows the thick feeling on his tongue to the best of his ability, watching the soap run down your hair, before ever so gently leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. And one to your jaw, and neck, and then the crook of your shoulder. Forget about anything else, his brain blares, forget about — his voice cracks when he calls your name and wraps a lone arm around your stomach to stop you from moving. “You know I love you, right?”

You seem similarly frozen in time for a few tense heartbeats, water rushing along your face and making every inch of you glitter under the lights. Before you wipe your eyes and nose, and nod. “I know. I love you too, nii nii.”

Your lashes are dark, long, and too wet. And your lip bobs up and down a few times as you go to smooth your hands down his chest, and Rin can’t fucking help it— think that you’re looking through him. There’s a commotion outside the hall before the way you look at him can be addressed. The door creaks as it opens, before footsteps make their way to the bathroom and there’s a little knock. Sae’s voice is low and sleep filled as he calls out your name, and you pull your hands away from Rin. Leaving your touch to burn long after it’s gone.

“Are you in the shower?”

“Mhm, I’m almost done.” He doesn’t want to look at the way you fidget, and draws his hand back from it’s steady position on your hip to grab some soap.

Sae’s irritating mockery of a voice is strangely gentle when speaking to you, and he imagines his brother leaning against the door as he talks. “That’s okay. Want me to join you?” Rin almost chokes on it. You don’t hesitate to hum, and play your fingers along your hand palm.

“If you want to. Rin’s in here too, so there’s not that much room, but-” The sharp snort from beyond the door cuts you off, but Rin would overlook that any day if Sae would just keep his damn mouth shut. As if he’d ever be that lucky.

“Ah, I was wondering where you went. You’re showering with our little sister? Fucking pervert.” The cold laugh only makes his eyebrows lace together harder, as his jaw clenches hard. The irony is lost on you, of course, because you look at Rin with a little head tilt. And try to shy away from him when he grabs your hand to lace it together. “Well, let me know when you’re done. I need to head to the store later and I wanna shower first. Hurry it up.”

Adrenaline pumps through his blood as he wipes some of the sweat of his brow. The short blades of grass crunch under his feet, and the ball flies - as usual - in a perfect arch towards the one corner of the goalpost, heading home. The field’s otherwise abandoned, and the cold sky makes his puffs of hot breathing into little clouds that linger before fizzling into nothing.

Only the bright white of large led lights, and to the side, you. You’re buried in his jacket, hands deeply hidden into the oversized pockets as you walk from the boundary lines towards him. “Nii nii!” Your voice bounces around the space overzealous, and it warms his face instinctively. It’s entirely too domestic. As he leaves the spare balls to jog up to you, his stomach flips. It’s down season, so really, this should be his rest time. But he’s been… unusually agitated, for lack of any better way to describe it. Days seem longer when he can’t even get close to you without receiving a sneer or a disbelieving chuckle from some corner of the house.

Your shared house, of just you and him. Sae doesn’t care nearly enough about what should be the consequences if it were anyone else. He could just kick him out, if it were different. But sadly, you’re not anyone else, and you’d sooner bend yourself into impossible shapes than willfully ask your other brother away. It’s not like he’s being more distant for the redhead’s sake. No, he wants to let out a dry chuckle at the idea, anything but. If it was up to just him, he’d let Sae rot in his sourness and implications. It’s only out of necessity, because you care about what Sae thinks of you. And the guy fucking knows it.

Rin instead takes in with a tiny smile how you’re dressed entirely in his clothing, like you’re some cheesy couple, unwilling to be separate people from one another for even a second. It calms the possessiveness enough to pull you into him when you reach him, two hands full of ass as he makes you wrap your arms around his neck and picks you up against his sweaty body. “Mhm, you look cozy.”

Your mouth quirks up before you giggle, and let him bury his face into the side of yours.

He kisses you, leaning down into it before you can say another word, and you giggle an embarrassed little ‘Rin’ into his lips before pulling away. But his large hands are still holding you off of the floor and forcing you into another hug, and you don’t struggle much against it anyway. He should really be more embarrassed. About the way his lips long to slot over your pulse point and bathe you in possessive kisses that leave the deepest marks. After just a few kisses along your neck you pull back and mumble something about the tickling, and then land back onto the ground when he puts you down.

It’s second nature for you to attach yourself to Rin’s body when looking up at him and to wrap your arms around his waist, and in turn, he does his best to keep his eyes from wandering too much. “It’s cold, why’re you out here? Watch niisan play?” Your fingers squeeze before you breathe, and your smile slips just a little. Obvious.

And whatever sort of look must come over his face has you grabbing him a little tighter, keeping the hug going. He doesn’t want to think about the millions of times he’s demanded it with so much unveiled disdain that you’re always trying to soothe him. He doesn’t want to think it, but for some reason- it still pops up into the back of his head. You nuzzle into his chest, hope the warmth in your eyes sinks down into his bones. But the moment can’t last, and you eventually open your mouth to let out a slow mumble. “Sae nii wants to take me to some new bar in Kabukicho. I’ll be back soon though.”

Though his mouth tugs down, he lets out a hum, and a dry, non-amused chuckle follows. “Yeah. Do whatever. Sae’s only here every so often, right?” He turns to get away from the way your face falls, unable to help it. Rin rolls his tongue around against the roof of his mouth. Like taffy, the jealousy sits in his mouth and sours a little further each time he swallows. It’s a special kind of torture.

You try to help it, as always, sewing the tearing edges together as best you can. But it’s no use. As long as Sae keeps winning, Rin will keep fighting back. That’s just the way of things in the Itoshi household. “You can come with us, nii nii,” you pout into the dusty clouds of breath that covers your face in fog. But the noiret stands fast. Pride is an ugly thing when it gets broken. It now winks at him each time he walks around in his own house. Try as he might, he can’t escape you. And though your eyes might flick towards the eldest for guidance, he knows it’s only a matter of time before Sae runs ahead again and leaves you stranded in his wake.

From somewhere on the parking lot, an expensive car roars and flashes it’s lights to call for attention. Your shoulders square as you hide yourself further into his puffer jacket, and your long lashes seem to plead with him. “Rin nii?”

“I have to practice,” he mumbles back, and drops the ball onto the curve of his foot to set it into another long arch across the field— anything to keep himself from having to look at your face as it falls. “Get home safe.” You take a shuddered, little breath, before your shoulders fall and you turn to make your way back to the sideline and past it. He feels bad, sort of, but tonight is a little rough.

He wants to just play out here until his toes and fingers go numb. He doesn’t want to see how your eyes shine when Sae gives you a sliver of attention, when his own betray him as a man who spent most of his life loving you. Surely he has more self respect than that.

There was always something selfish about it. About the way he would run ahead, hogged toys and attention, and cherished himself. A greedy, unrelenting draw towards success, whatever that even meant when he was 6 and beating everyone around him in athletics and running them off his tail faster than people could wish to admit. A monster of ‘natural talent’ that called his name from the quiet confines of the spotlight, and for good reason, he was more than glad to shake hands and let it run wild upon his life. That selfishness wouldn’t be pushed aside for anything. Or anyone.

It was only an unfortunate consequence that you and Rin had to come after. Sae didn’t start out trying to antagonize anyone. Despite that — time changes things. Fractures once familiar memories. Unties knots. He might have started out not trying to antagonize Rin, but he isn’t stupid. Sometimes it feels like that’s all they’re good for now. If not for you. Their smallest, trying to glue the shards back together again and again and over again.

It was always that way. Their little fixer, their little cheerleader. The favorite bench warmer, or something like that. Rin sets alight at the core when he looks at you, and he’s not exactly good at hiding it. The only reason your parents didn’t see it was a plea of sanity, and a little bit of delusion. How do you make peace with the fact that not one, but all of your children have crossed opposing wires in their brain? That your pedestal-raised, untamed prizes of offspring have taken to tying the last remaining semblance of normalcy to their own side with diamond chains. It’s only a matter of time before one of the chains gives out, and the perfect, little family shatters.

The fan buzzes with a soft hum that has him glancing over his shoulder at the side of your face, cheeks soft and long lashes hiding admiring, unrelenting hope in your eyes each time they find him. No, Sae isn’t stupid. He knows that you call him much more often than you’re willing to tell Rin about, and that you like it a little too much when his hand slides down your spine to pull you into him. He knows that you don’t just look at him with a platonic appreciation. And that it’s as much his fault for letting it get this far as it is yours for pining for something that wasn’t meant to be yours. But that’s what happens when big brother becomes an unattainable standard that parents set, isn’t it? You find ways to close the gap.

Your unconscious way of closing the gap is to place yourself on the edge of his bed and talk, talk until you can’t talk a second longer. Usually until he shuts you up by wrapping his arms around you and kissing you until you run out of air in your lungs to make it a second longer. That’s how it started, all those years ago. A sleepless night of sudden, self-shattering doubt, where he’d snuck across the hall in the comfort of twilight. And settled for a soft, misguided kiss; just to prove he could.

And you being you, had looked at him with those big, clueless doe eyes and hadn’t peeped a word about it— because who are you if not undyingly loyal to the worst of the worst. Sae doesn’t get it. But it seems he is, at heart, exploitative by nature, right? Why else would one kiss have turned into two, and then many, stuffing his insecurities deep within his little sister until she breaks first.

Your cheek is rolled against the couch now, and your legs tucked close against him as he watches a rerun of another old match, but it seems that tonight, something’s different. Ever since he stole you away from Rin yesterday, the guy’s been unapologetically standoffish. And now you’re unusually quiet. Or, not so much unusual as uncomfortable, and making it unable to ignore it. Sulking and sniffling in the crook of your elbow with all the poise of a third grader.

His face turns to regard you, and he clicks his tongue. “What’s the problem?”

You don’t speak for a moment, but eventually have to give in to the unfailing stare burning a hole between your brows. Voice soft as it lays open the groundwork, and suddenly Sae’s throat closes up. “I miss Rin nii.”

The house is too quiet.

The thumping of the headboard is sort of unbearable. Cold and cruel and too noisy even for him, but it’s nothing compared to the thrill he feels singing into his blood as your eyes are closed tight, cheeks and ears burning with heat, and tears suffocating most of your cries for the low, clueless way you mumble his name. In some ways, he had wanted to do things differently. If it had been possible to contain his temper for once in his life, maybe he would have liked to try to make you happy with a gentle kiss and an even softer admission of guilt.

Apologized for fucking you up the way he did. Take responsibility.

The way he’s got both your wrists in one hand and his other on your throat isn’t gentle or soft. But Sae isn’t exactly one to look a gift horse in the mouth either. Your thick pearls of tears down your temples are enough to have him gritting his teeth and letting his hips connect yet again with the skin of your ass as he slots himself right between your legs. “Niichan, Sae niichan~” you whine out so pitifully below him, gasping and squirming and grabbing at his shoulders.

He grunts. “I don’t want to hear it.” You look like you’re not sure whether to beg him to get closer, deeper- or to drag your nails down his face- and the look has him biting his bottom lip so hard it soon tastes only of copper. Eventually though, a thought makes it through the squeezed opening of his throat, and he grabs your face to aim it at him. “You got some fucking nerve. It— Rin didn’t care about you until he realized that I wanted you. I was the one who cared first. Me.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice as it comes out raspy and only interrupted by his own hysterical heartbeat, and he stares deep into your matching irises again. “Me. Say it.”

Your mouth twists into a thin line, wobbly as his cock slides between soft lips and makes the wetness squelch between your bodies. His sweat beads at his hairline, and your nails dig deeper into his shoulder. He ruts himself deep, with a steady rhythm that rings through the house and makes your legs shake. Eventually you crack a little when he pries your chin from the way you hide it into your shoulder, and kisses you hard. He means it though, through teeth and spit all the same. “Sae nii- iichan,” your voice breaks when you mumble it, and a trail of silver runs along your temple. You still try to pull out of his white knuckled grip, pouting. “I don- I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I just meant that- I- didn’t want to m-make -hick- Rin nii upset. Let go of me.”

“Why should I?”

He holds his steady thrusting for just a moment to regard you seriously, and watch the way the heat in your face swirls all around. Lips plump and parted, sweetened by his mouth. Skin sticky, your pussy leaving glimmering slick all over his thumping cock. You don’t say anything, and he moves instead to rub your puffy clit under his thumb with too much precision. It makes you squirm, and makes you pant and whimper. You don’t like to face the facts, don't like it when he calls you out for it. But as much as you can’t tell him no with his hands on your body and your tits in his mouth, he wants to hear you say he’s the favorite sibling.

His voice is a little gravelly still when you whine his name and he shuts you up by burying his cock to the hilt into the hot clutch of your tight cunt, and licking along your tongue. “You love me. I know you do.” It’s about the one thing he knows for sure about you. His neck burns when your hand slides along it to tug through the shorter hair, and whine against his mouth and nod.

“I love you, Sae niichan. L-love -y-you.”

With a short chuckle he pulls back, eyes wide and feeling a little too hysterical, just as fired up as he is on the field. Maybe even more. You’d deserve that much. His throat is dry as he slides the head of his cock against that spongy part of your walls and when your eyes flutter hard, grabs your tits too. Your knees land by your shoulders as his balls clap against your ass and you look so pathetically at his mercy, a little sister cunt just for him. Your crystal tears roll over in bunches, as he jackhammers his fat, hot cock into you. Until your eyes roll and your toes start curling into the blankets. Only then does he allow for the way you clamp at him to get pulled a little tighter, a little softer.

“Cumming? You’re big brother’s favorite girl, mhm-” he grunts, red hair sticking to his forehead, as he leans into the embrace just enough to fuck with heavy thrusts into the tightness of your hot pussy until it starts spasming around you. “Best -f-fucking pussy around. No one does it like you, ‘mouto.” He only notices there’s a tear when it tickles his collarbone on the way down, and no, no— he’s not crying over this. Not as you stare up at him through almost closed eyes with a hung universe in your eyes. Fuck. He hides his face into yours by crashing his lips to yours and letting his tongue swallow all of your moans and noises until you start really shaking, and clamping your legs around his body.

You cum with Sae’s tongue down your throat, and his arms burn as he lifts himself up from your body to fuck though the incredible feeling of you clenching down on him hard enough to black him out. It hurts how good you feel, before his hips automatically speed up with each noisy ‘pap’ to chase his own orgasm. “Niichan, niichan, y-you c-,” you break yourself off with a high pitched aftershock, and tug at the hair still locked between your fingers, “feels- so- g-gud- niichan!

“F-fuck, I-ugh.” His cock is so hot as he spills white ropes of cum into your dripping pussy before he even has a chance to think about it, pulling out halfway to spurt the rest of it between your legs with a rasped swear, before collapsing to your side and beaming in the sticky heat of the room. “Holy fuck.” Your arms wrap around his stomach and you bury your face into his side, and for a moment, he even allows his arm to wrap back around your shoulders. Because you’re good. You’re so good to him.

He doesn’t know how long you lay with him, but eventually the shallow breathing and soft touches cool, and when they do— he feels numb. The hot-headedness is gone. And with it comes the ice-cold realization that he’s gone and done it now. Your cheeks are still warm against his chest, and you shiver a little when he sits up. He hums. “Y'kno, this is a pretty nice guest room, but I’m kinda missing my own bed.”

A small frown digs itself between your brows on your pretty face. Your hands go for the blankets first, cover yourself up a little, and then you follow the way he sits up to shake off some of the daze. And his heart beats hard, too hard, when he slides off the side and your unsure look turns into a pout. “Sae nii. I-”

“Help me find my boxers.” The clamminess of the room is too fucking much, you have to understand that. The soft shuffle isn’t enough to ignore the way you’re burning holes into his skin. So he shrugs it off and picks a new pair out of the dresser instead, putting it on. And for a moment it works. Pulling on a shirt, sweater and some sweatpants is enough to clear his head just enough to toss you a bottle of water. You don’t catch it, and it lands with a sad poof on the soft covers.

But it’s nothing compared to the way you ruffle the softness even closer to your body, and your voice is barely a breath as you bite your tongue. “Sae nii?”

A dark room has never felt so revealing. He adjusts the sleeves of his sweater, giving a sideways glance to the crown of your head. Any lower he can’t stomach. “I’m heading home,” his voice comes out dry, as he opens the door to the hall, and heads straight for the car keys.

Rin doesn’t say anything when the door of your room opens, but he’s awake. 03:25— the blue light informs, and he slowly manages to pull one of the headphones out by its cord. Your small shape curls into bed like a fawn, slow and unsteady, and you breathe his name. But it isn’t the same, and it only takes a few seconds for him to feel, as well as see, how you nuzzle up half onto him. You’re cold, and your hands shake a little when you look into his eyes and go to melt your foreheads together.

In any other situation, he would think he was dreaming. Cross my heart and hope to not to wake, lucid in love. In any other situation, you wouldn’t be up halfway through twilight as you go in mouth first to his own and kiss him hard and deep enough for him to feel your heartbeat. Your lips are sweet though, and your one hand wraps thumb and fingers all along his shoulder, and squeezes until you shake. You push your tongue into his mouth as Rin’s eyes blink away the darkness, and his tongue brushes yours. It’s wet and hot and too real, your free hand going to find his where it rests on his chest, and you drape your leg over the rest of his body.

And he floats. Shakes, with tongue against tongue and your mouth slotted against his when you moan into it. This isn’t how you kiss him. This surges through his blood like poison, and has him humming back and pulling you further on top of him until you stop shaking so hard.

Your nose and lashes are wet, but you kiss him full of sugar and leave every inch of him in ambers. Rin allows you to curl up on his chest like you need, and links fingers with you, as he kisses down your mouth and neck as you gasp and pant and shiver like a bunny. Shoves his hands under Sae’s spare shirt to drag his long fingers along your spine, and you cry, and you cry, and you cry.

#blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock sae #itoshi sae x reader #bllk smut #tw.incest #tw.jealousy #🥧rin.chan #💫ch.rin #🥧sae.chan #💫ch.sae #🍯honey.pot

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mountingpulisic · 1 year

Text

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

your dad was going to disown you.

your dad was going to kill you.

you’ve done something stupid, so incredibly stupid.

you slept with the enemy, a midfielder on manchester city’s longest running rival team, chelsea. this was a horrible look, the coach's daughter shacking up with their biggest competitor.

it started out as just a typical girl's night out, however after one too many drinks had entered your system and you found yourself in bed with the infamous number nineteen.

“love, there is nothing more i want than to be in-between those gorgeous legs.” he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet ringing through your ears. you smirk softly at the gorgeous man in-front of you, whispering softly into his ear.

“what’s stopping you?”

sitting up ever so quietly, clutching the sheets to your bare chest, you softly peaked over at the sleeping brunette. soft snores escaping his mouth, as the sheets barely covered his mid drift.

if you weren’t mentally planning for your funeral, you’d admire him a little longer. if you weren’t mentally planning your funeral, you’ve would’ve high fived yourself for bagging such a nice piece of ass.

scanning the unfamiliar room, you failed to locate any of your clothing. mind replaying last night's events to remember where you could’ve possibly left your belongings, you instantly blushed.

“mason, wait, you can’t rip this dress, it’s my sister’s. she’ll kill me.” you explain almost breathless as mason hands hungrily explore your body that was pressed up against his front door, wet kisses trailing down your neck.

“love, i don’t give a damn about this dress. i just need you naked. now.” he states, pulling back from kissing your neck to properly look at you. you stare into his lust filled eyes, taking a mental note of how much darker they look compared to when you first met him that night. mason carefully lets you down and assist you into taking off your sister’s dress, placing it carefully on the couch as you guys resume where you left off.

“i’m such a whore.” you muffle loudly into the sheets as you fall forward. you weren’t usually the one to partake in one night stand, having opted out for having meaningful relationships with men before you slept with them. however, mason was different, so different. he charmed his way into your pants, quite literally.

“oh baby girl, how would daddy feel knowing his princess is taking me so well?” he panted, hips grinding into you at a delicate pace.

“if you keep frowning, you’re going to get premature wrinkles.” mason spoke, yawning softly before shifting up to sit beside you.

“i can’t stop frowning, mount. my life is over.” you muffle into the sheets again. you feel mason’s fingers softly caress your back, pressing soft kisses to your bare shoulder blades.

“love, i didn’t think i was that bad.” he softly chuckles, scooting closer to you snaking an arm around your waist pulling you towards him.

“no, it’s not you. god, it’s not you. it’s me.” you say, turning your head to meet his soft gaze. his eyebrows furrow together, confused.

“why does it sound like you are breaking up with me? i haven’t even properly asked you on a date?”

your heart fluttered at the thought of him asking you on a date, assuming naturally this one was a one time thing after all. your eyes met his as he gives you a sweet smile. you were in a daze, this man couldn’t possibly be real.

“you wanna take me on a date?” you ask shyly, hands tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

before mason could answer, the phone placed on his nightstand began ringing loudly, displaying a photo of your dad.

“oh my gosh, he is going to kill me!”

#mason mount #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine

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wonfilms · 1 year

Text

sunghoon was planning an ice-skating date. you’d been together for over a year now and he couldn’t believe he’d never thought about it before. it was all perfectly laid out in his head, everything he wanted to show you. he went all out to make it something special, he decided to take you to the ice rink where he’d first learned how to skate.

the ice was like his second home, it was somewhere he had a lot of good memories and he just wanted to share it with you. he was smiling from ear to ear his eyes were twinkling and he couldn’t wait to tell you what he had in store for the two of you.

well.. that was until he saw your face drop at his idea. “uhm.. babe.. i have something to tell you.” you mumbled looking down at your shoes sheepishly. he quirked an eyebrow at your words, concerned. he was expecting the worst, had he upset you earlier ? gosh he’s so stupid! ? were you breaking up with him? that was definitely it-

“i can’t skate.“

sunghoon was shaken out of his spiralling thoughts. “what??”

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment. “thank god” you heard him sigh in relief. “so you’re not breaking up with me!“

“what?? when did i say that?” you question as sunghoon pulls you in for a hug. “that’s nothing! i can teach you!“ he smiles widely, you couldn’t bear to upset him so you agreed. in reality you found nothing more terrifying than standing on ice with literal blades as support.

when the day rolled around you couldn’t stop that twisted feeling arising in the pit of your stomach, though you knew sunghoon would be, oh so, careful with you. you watched his tie his laces with ease before standing up to stretch. you couldn’t stop your hands from trembling as you tried to knot the lies on your own skates.

“need some help?” he smiled as he knelt down on his knees and took the ice skates on your feet into his hands. you tried to calm the nervous jittering of your leg as he did his work by focusing on the way his warm breath condensed in the coldness of the rink. “sunghoon” you whispered reaching to tilt his head up to face you. “hmmm?”

“i’m scared.“

you felt his movements cease as he let go of your ice skate, “i’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, i know it’s just ice but-” you ramble before he takes your shaking hands into his own. “you know it’s okay to be scared y/n, i was terrified the first time i skated..” he said rubbing small circles on your palm for comfort.

“i’ll take good care of you. okay?” he smiles and you feel your heart squeeze with his affection, “you promise you won’t let go of me?” you whisper. “i promise.” he says before standing up and leading you to the ice. he extends his arms as soon as he gets his balance on the rink , signalling you to hold on.

you’re still nervous as you reach out to hold him, but once you feel the warmth of sunghoon against you , you feel safe and sound.

“we’ll go super slow okay?“ he says , skating backwards slowly. you attempt poorly to copy his actions which leads you you skidding a little almost falling backwards. he grabs your arm in time pulling your forward toward him. your heart thuds against your chest in a panic, “don’t worry, i’ve got you!” he shouts, “just hold on to my chest okay and follow me”

and he does. he held you close allowing you to imitate his actions slowly before picking up the pace. “see you’re skating! you barely needed my help!” he smiles widely when he realises your feet are moving at the same rate as his. “oh my gosh” you whisper, you felt a surge of proudness arise at your achievement. you look up at sunghoon with a grin , his nose and cheeks are red and you feel butterflies build up in your body at his praise. “just move your feet in time with mine yeah?” you nod following his directions.

“i’ll come to your side and hold your hand now okay?“

you feel him shift to your right and slip his hand in yours before skating at a steady pace forward. you feel yourself skate alongside him and you realise you’re no longer nervous.

you were left with a sense of relief at how simple it really was, especially with someone like sunghoon teaching you. you finally let yourself relax and notice how beautiful it all really was. you were so wound up in your worries that you didn’t notice how happy sunghoon looked now that you two were finally skating. a sweet smile played on his lips and he hummed along to the song playing on the speaker at the top of the rink.

“you really like it here don’t you . babe?“ you say softly “god i love it, i’m so glad you’re here“ he whispers, you squeeze his hand as the two of you stop to get a breather. you pull him in by his scarf and place a kiss on his lips, he’s so warm compared to the cold air that’s flowing around the building and you feel yourself melt into his touch.

“thank you for coming here with me, even though you were nervous” he says leaning his forehead on yours. “it means so much to me”

“you don’t need to thank me sunghoon, seeing you happy like this means so much to me .“ you say before leaning up to kiss him again. you feel him smile against your lips and you feel the remnants of your nervous jitters melt away.

a/n : this is my first enhypen fic so i hope my representation of sunghoon is alright! i really love this man, i just had to write for him ah!

#-works #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabble #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon angst #park sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon x reader

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itsgrimeytime · 10 months

Text

Maneater (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Two

Taglist: @fuseburner @beltzboys2015-blog @gabrielleisalanastan @starkstiless

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Christmas Kids by Roar or 'You'll change your name, or change your mind and leave this fucked up place behind. But I'll know, I'll know-'

Summary: You and Rick Grimes had a backstory, one no one knew except you and him. It's one you refused to share, you never really wanted to get into it. All anyone needed to know was you hated the man. When you're in a rough spot, and you could use the shelter the question is... does he hate you?

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), family death, identity crisis, a panic attack, disassociation, crying, a touch of abandonment, swearing, grudges, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: THERE WILL BE A PART THREE!! I feel kind of iffy about this one, but I think the story is nice buildup. Just for a more conclusive kind of story. And I tried to make it as realistic as I could.Thanks for reading !!!]]

You still hadn't cut your hair -it had to be all deadends at this point, no matter how heavily you washed it... it still seemed dirty.

It wasn't not on your mind, but you felt like it was a symbol. The longer hair, the torn clothes, it meant you weren't here for long... it meant you would move on, you wouldn't stay.

And yet, each morning, you woke up and chose to stay.

Part of you would say it was because of Carl, you'd missed out on so much -when was the last time you cared for someone so much?

The rest of you, though, knew it was deeper than that.

That's the thing, when you were abandoned that fateful night you weren't particularly guided. But you were. You wanted to belong -to be somewhere where there was a spot carved out for you, where you were missed.

And here it was.

It was here, as Carol came up to your door with an extra serving -not staying any longer than that, she tried so desperately to be in tune with your feelings. Or Maggie would offer her hand with anything -even offering to go get clothes after finding you didn't have anymore. On her tail, Glenn would offer you a place in whatever would come to mind -dinner parties, game nights, just some sort of campfire, anything. Daryl was the quiet one, simply leaning on the outside your porch as you sat on the steps; he didn't say it, but you always found him nearby when the world was too much.

And you hadn't asked for any of it -hadn't even thought to.

That night you don't know why it happened, but it had. It was like a switch, as you sat up straight in your bed. It wasn't like you could sleep anyway, you'd been particularly stuck that night. Memories flooding through your head of times when safety was so far... you didn't even think that it existed.

You were quick to the bathroom -taking your weapon with you, you wouldn't go anywhere without it. And stared.

The mirror was pristine, in a sort of way that made you wonder if it had ever been used. You had the urge to make it feel more lived in, distant flashes to an apartment. It was the first one you'd ever had, it was messy and colorful, and it was home.

Maybe you could make this house like that.

Your thought process was cut off as you detailed the changes in your face -scars and lines where they hadn't been before. It was odd, looking in the mirror, you'd expressly avoided it upon arriving -a dread of how long it had been inkling up your arms at the mere thought of how you looked.

It was an impulse, as your fingers carded through your longer hair -it didn't feel like you. Looking in the mirror, you didn't recognize yourself.

Maybe that was why, you'd begun chopping. Using your blade, which was covered in something you shouldn't be exposed to, probably, but there was something about you that just couldn't stop.

The hair was falling to the floor -spread all along the tile, and it felt like something you couldn't describe as you watched your appearance change. It was a mix of something you'd yearned to be, yourself, and all at once, everything you'd been through came to the forefront.

Remembering your family, the sad smile, and the thrashing of a jaw in place of you. You'd stepped too close, you hadn't known... The others hadn't lasted much longer, stress and broken hearts sent a sort of emotion that they could never get over. No matter how hard they'd tried.

You didn't know when you started crying, as you cut at the mess of hair on your head. The only way you'd even known you'd started was the blur of your vision -your face getting fuzzier in the reflection but at the same time more familiar.

Your scars weren't clear through your tears, and you saw a face you saw in family photos. In the cheesy school photos, you saw that person -not weighed down by things you'd thought would never come.

And here you were, you stopped. Your hair was shorter than before -littering the floor to prove it, and it looked like you again. Even though it was sloppy and there was a red tint for your poor choice of blade, you found someone familiar staring back.

You thought it would soothe everything -stop the sobs that racked your body, the memories that fluttered behind your eyelids.

And yet, as you played with the crooked ends, it somehow made it much worse.

You don't remember leaving the bathroom, much less the house. Your feet lead themselves, down the street and to the doorstep of an unsuspecting house. Initially, you'd been struck with the idea of Carol -she was kind and would help you with ease. But still, you somehow did not end up there.

You knocked.

Instead, you stood at the door of what you faithfully knew to be the Grimes house. It was easy to know which one it was -people circulating all throughout the day, and even more than often it was left unoccupied. Carl was off somewhere and Rick doing something to help Alexandria -the only one left was... the baby.

You didn't know much about her, and no one had taken it upon themselves to explain, you figured Rick wanted to. If he ever had the chance. You weren't sure you wanted to hear.

It was one thing to be confronted with Rick, but Lori? The woman had been one of the sole reasons you were set off, she'd lied to protect herself.

Well, you assumed she was Lori's. You guessed you truly didn't know, did you... did you want to?

Before you could answer that, the door creaked open and there was some part of you that hoped it was Carl. You'd have to explain much less-

He wasn't who you'd come there for, though. You knew that, deep down you knew that.

"What the hell is-" his voice was groggy and sleep-slurred -a pleasant sort of rough, you thought for a second before pushing that far away.

By the time his eyes connected with yours, he'd abruptly stopped speaking -an unsettled shock bright behind his eyes and a sort of worry in the crease of his brows.

"Y/N?" Rick questioned, his eyes trailing to the red-tipped edges and widening, "-Is everythin' alright?"

His hand was extended out like he wanted to reach out but hesitated. It was terrible to hate a good man.

You'd say that was why you started crying again, but you weren't sure. The tears felt as easy as breathing then, the blood dripping down onto your shoulder -your face was probably scrubbed red, and yet...

Without any more hesitation, his arm wrapped around you -ushering you inside, to safety. You hadn't even realized that you were shivering, the tank top and thicker pants were only really suitable for sleeping.

"Breathe," his voice was slow, and reassuring, and there was a part of you that felt scared (that you should run), but it slipped your mind as his fingertips brushed your shoulder -when was the last time you'd been touched?

"You're freezing."

As soon as it came, the touch left as he disappeared around the corner -muttering something close to stay. You couldn't feel enough to move, your mind anywhere except where you were. You felt like you were somewhere else -your life on the line, knives at your throat, guns at your temple, so close-

"C'mere," Rick spoke, hands on a heavy flannel -one you'd seen him wear a few times before.

For once, you didn't argue. The woodsy smell envelops you in a sort of grounding way -a voice screaming so distantly to get away, not him. Anyone but him.

You didn't listen.

He easily guided you to the couch, the living room.... his living room, and you could tell it. Ever so slightly. There was a worn picture in a too-big frame - a family photo, familiar faces, and on the corner of the rug a few toys. They were washed, but still somehow comfortably used -as if the baby had just been playing.

Rick sat next to you -respectfully, with a questioning look in his eyes that only made you think more about why had you come here of all places. He didn't speak the curiosity, merely brandishing a rag, "You mind if I...?"

You exhaled, your hands shaking at the expense of emotion you'd just been chasing, and shook your head. There was something safe here, in the hushed voices and dead silence of the night -even with Rick.

He was careful, scooting on the couch and decisively running the rag over your cheeks -despite tears following still, he cleared the stains. Thumb trailing after, skin-on-skin contact making you wonder once again how long it'd been. You were breathing deeply, watching the focus of his face -blue eyes intent and lips in a purse of determination. He was so close you could see all the differences, all the wrinkles and the bumps of his skin -it had been so long.

And after being sure he'd done what he could, his fingers moved to your hair. Taking the sections between his fingers and wiping away the red that stained there, still a soft touch that you could barely feel.

"There," he finished, still a little off-center with the fact that you'd come here but sitting back to scan over your face -eyes shining in a way you'd seen a few times, "-you gonna tell me why you're 'ere?"

"I don't know," you answered, wiping away at your eyes, "-I don't know why I came here."

"No, not-" he started, motioning to your tears, "-Although that's a good question, I mean why are you out at all? Why are you... It can't be anything good."

You fell silent, wondering exactly how comfortable you could be telling Rick Grimes what you'd gone through. What he'd inadvertently put you through -if he hadn't sent you away would you still be so-

"Nightmare?" he posed, not intimidating -not expecting an answer, not forcing you to speak a word.

You responded, voice hardly there and a bit curt, "Kind of."

Rick was quiet for a moment, before settling on something -almost a debate in his head, "I... I don't know if this is the right time for this, but... I've been thinkin' about it, and I'd like to hear about after I... After I kicked you out."

"What...?"

"I think," he exhaled, brushing his hand over his forehead -like he was frustrated and you stilled at the idea, "-Well, since ya told me you didn't want an apology, I've been tryin' think of a solution."

You didn't respond, but he apparently didn't need you too.

"For you, not-" he clarified, before sighing -seeming to recenter, "-Let me explain it better. You need closure, I can tell. Your shoulders are always hung so low from how much you carry-"

You softened at the fact he noticed that, against your will. There was still something fiery in the back of your head -clawing up to try and get its opinion back in place.

"-and I just thought... Well, what if I took it?"

"You..." you began, a little stunned at the idea, "-Rick, this isn't. That's not fair to you."

Rick replied, a deep regret seeded in his tone, "I wasn't fair to you that day. You know that."

You hummed in thought, the shaking of your hands slowing, and the blur of the world around you dispersing.

He huffed out a breath, a sort of defeat fizzling onto his tone, "I was the reason you were out there, it comes back on me-"

There it was, the heavy-laden guilt -so deeply rooted that you wondered if it had not shown up exactly when those words came out of his mouth all those years ago. There was a part of you that was glad to see it, a sort of twisted, broken person sat at the base of your stomach -agony for no one to hear. Relentless in the revenge of those who started your downfall.

Had he not lost too?

It wasn't quite like forgiveness, the way your mind settled upon it. It was more so that you were equals, in a sort of pain only this world could deal out. Your eyes flickered to the picture with Lori smilingly as beautifully as ever, and the empty space where you imagined she might be.

And that was only what you could gather. What else had he endured? What else had he lived through?

You thought maybe it was something similar to your own tale.

"Rick," you began, your voice was scratchy and your nose runny, but you remained confident, "-you don't have to do that. I think we've both suffered enough."

He opened his mouth to respond -slow and assured like he was choosing his words ever so carefully, "I want to. Really."

You looked at him then, there was something sincere in those blue eyes -something so honest and open and vulnerable. He really wanted to help.

"Okay, we can-" you started, voice soft against the cool night air, "-We can do that."

"Yeah?" He questioned, careful as if you were an animal who would scamper away and you kind of felt like one then. Afraid of the ginger closeness he was offering you, a listening ear. After he...

You exhaled, a big breath flooding through your chest -it was a peace offering, "Yeah."

The silence there was comfortable like the heaviness had shifted -maybe it was still there, but it was different now. You felt lighter already, even just at the idea.

"Hair looks good," he suddenly muttered, a quirk of a smile on his lips and you couldn't tell if he was teasing. The smile biting at his lip didn't help -it was something casual and friendly, something you yearned for.

It couldn't all be fixed in a night, but you were willing to try.

You rolled your eyes, unconsciously smoothing it on your head -a sort of hesitant grin biting up your lips, "Don't push it, Grimes."

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