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whoahoney · 1 year

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Eddie from Chili’s Pt 2

Waiter!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: You go back to the restaurant to make your move on the cute waiter.

Warnings: fem!reader, no use of Y/n, fluff, reader is oozing anxiety, flirting, a couple allusions to spicy things, a kiss

A/N: As usual, you guys are amazing, and I always look forward to seeing your comments and hearing your thoughts on my silly little writings 💖

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You sat perched on the barstool, eyes wandering towards the familiar doors that led to the kitchen. The tables in his section were full so you sit at the bar.

There, you waited for the bartender to show up, staring down at your nails as you wait and began to wonder why the hell you didn’t paint them. You hear footsteps approach, shoes scuffing on the carpet behind the counter as the bartender— the brother— stepped up with a familiar smile, “Hi, there! What can I get for you?”

“Uh, can I get a Tito’s and lemonade?” You ask, thinking of the first drink you remember your friends loving.

He nodded, “For sure!” and grabbed a glass to fill with ice, and then asked to check your ID. “Awesome— Texas lemonade coming right up.” He nodded and handed it back to you, his attitude much more outgoing than Eddie’s had been, though both men were perfectly personable.

He set to work making your drink silently, nothing but the swish and rattle of the drink being poured over ice and the idle chatter of the dining room to be heard.

Your eyes scanned the room, checking all the moving bodies for that familiar head of hair, wondering if he was even here, for all you knew he could’ve quit by now.

“—Looking for someone?” The bartender asked. His name tag read Dakota.

You swallow and shake your head before looking down, “Oh! No, not at all.”

Dakota chuckled, “You sure? Your eyes are practically peeled.” He sat your drink in front of you and smiled.

“Thank you.” Is all you say before taking a tentative sip and trying not to wince at the tartness.

“Well, if you need anything, let us know.” He said before slipping away and into the kitchen.

You groan to yourself before resting your head on your fist and stirring the drink with the skinny straw you never use.

Absolutely pathetic. You sit and berate yourself for a minute, concluding that you’d drink half the glass before asking for some water to drive home.

“Long time, no see!”

Your head popped up to find Eddie behind the bar, walking towards you. Looking at you. Speaking to you.

You were at another loss for words, your mouth gaping and closing involuntarily as you searched for something to say. Eddie’s smile grew as you struggled and he leaned over the counter behind the bar. “I was hoping I’d see you again.” He muttered with twinkling eyes.

Your eyes flicker up to his, your heart warming and chest unclenching, “Oh?” You suddenly play coy, “Why is that?” you say, and take a drink.

Eddie’s eyes brightened at that, “Well, you’re the most polite customer I’ve had in months!” His eyes ran down your being. He snickered at your blush, leaning closer on his elbows as his brother left the kitchen with a platter in hand— working Eddie’s tables. “Not to mention the cutest.” He winked with that smug smile.

You give a breathy chuckle before you take another swig, earning a genuine laugh from him as you set down the half empty glass.

“Are you nervous?” He asked quietly, pressing back up on his hands, somehow even closer and not close enough. He oozed confidence and cool, like he did this all the time. Like he was so used to girls practically swooning for him, unable to speak.

You could only nod in response.

“Well, why’s that?” He shrugged, eyes trailing down your face as he appraised you.

You swallow and hope it wasn’t too loud, “I’m here to meet someone.” You cringe inside of yourself, what the fuck? This isn’t the plan??

“Oh.” His smug grin falls along with the twinkle in his eye. You hate how it makes you feel inside to see him disappointed.

“A friend.” You shrug. His eyes perk at that.

“Just a friend? —I mean, like, i-is your mom coming too?” He faltered, your smile rising as his cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat nervously before looking away.

“Mhm. Just a friend. Though my mom will be thrilled to hear Eddie from Chili’s asked about her.” You smile at the sound of his laugh.

“So you do remember me?” He asks with a smile of relief.

You nod shyly at your glass, stirring the water with the other useless straw. “Kinda hard not to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He leans on his hands, hoping you’ll keep talking.

You sigh and roll your eyes before meeting his gaze, “You’re a … a really good waiter.” You settle.

Eddie chuckles heartily, something you wanted to hear over and over and over again. “Thank you, I try my best. My goal is ultimate customer satisfaction.” He widens his eyes for emphasis and takes note on your hitched breath. “So is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Oh! Uh…”

He watches you as he picks up a menu and sets it down in front of you. “I could just bring you some chicken fingers while you wait.” You look back up at him under your eyelashes, “Four of them, right?” He asked with a hidden smile as your cheeks burned.

“No, no it’s okay, I’m not hungry.” You shake you head. Eddie cocks his to the side in question but takes the menu back without a word.

“Well, uh,” he began as another patron sat down at the bar on the other side, “—I’ll be right back!” He said, happy for an excuse to leave and stay close.

You let out a sigh of relief as he walked up to the older man, easily striking up a conversation as he took his order and went about pouring something dark into a short glass.

Your phone chimes as a message comes in from your best friend, asking for a progress report. Before you can type a coherent response, you manage to send a thumbs up paired with a melting face as Eddie walks back over to you.

“Is there anything I can get started for your friend?” He asks. You put your phone face down on the bar, meeting his eye as the perfect excuse comes to mind, “No, actually, she isn’t coming.”

Eddie tsks though it’s apparent he isn’t bummed to keep you to himself for the rest of your stay. “Well, ain’t that a shame.”

You nod down at the counter top again before the words came spilling out of you unwillingly, “—Actually she wasn’t ever coming. I lied.” You feel like you’re going to throw up. Like actually. Your stomach knots itself, ready for the cute boy in front of you to look at you in disgust and have you escorted out for harassment or something.

“Oh?” Is all he asked, leaning on his forearms, getting closer to you.

You nod shamefully.

“So you did come for me?” He clarified.

You close your eyes as the blush worked up your cheeks, giving into your smile as you nod, again, but smaller. “That’s what you care about? Not that I lied?”

Eddie’s own smile grew, “Well, you’re a shy little thing, I don’t blame you.” He winked at your burning cheeks as he leaned closer, lowering his voice and letting you peek at the man behind the cool facade, “But, if you would’ve asked for my number, or left yours on the receipt like I wanted you to,” he chided, “I would’ve called, y’know. Or answered.” He shrugged.

You manage to look at him— really, look at him. The unease in your body began to uncoil as you observed how he looked at you; not like a meal, but with intrigue.

“And what if I asked for it now?”

“I don’t think you’d call me.” He shook his head with a knowing smile.

You scoff and ask, “Why not?”

He gave you a pointed look and let his neck go limp a little as if to say ‘really?’

“Okay, wrong question—well, if you wanted my number, why didn’t you ask for it?” You ask as you twist your glass idly on the coaster, trying not to look as curious as you felt.

“Pfft, yeah, and freak you out? Be the weird skeezy waiter— at a Chili’s, no less? Uh-uh. I’m above that.” He shook his head assuringly. You chuckle and look down at the cubes floating in your glass.

“I’ve never had to try to get a number here before,” He began, his eyes on the wood you’d been so focused on for the duration of your visit, “— kinda just happens for me, so… I was counting on that receipt having a name and number on it but…” he tsked and shook his head pointedly at you, “—Nope! Nada. Just a fat tip from your mom—which I totally appreciate, by the way.”

Your cheeks redden, “So…do you want me to ask for your number…?” You ask in confusion.

“Actually, I think I should ask for yours.” He said, idly wiping at the counter, “Since you’re scared.” He teased.

Your mouth gaped, “I’ll have you know I can be very courageous.”

He snickered down at the counter before looking back up at you, “Courageous enough to join me on my break in about ten minutes?” He nodded back into the kitchen.

You exhale, “Am I.. allowed?”

“—Yes, you’re allowed.” He scoffed and pushed your drink forward. “C’mon, Chicken Fingers, drink your liquid courage, and I’ll show you where I go hide about 10 times a day.”

“Ch-Chicken fingers??” You question, leaning forward with wide eyes and an incredulous smile struggling to be shoved away by the corners of your mouth and failing miserably.

Eddie beamed as you chuckled, a blush of his own warming his cheeks, “Well, I don’t know your name, so,” he shrugged, “It was either that or Quiet Quinn.” He managed with a plain face.

You narrow your eyes at the man until he breaks into laughter, the sound charming enough to make you smile along with him before you told him your name and he smiled again and reached out his hand for yours, clasping it firmly, “Nice to meet you, I’m Eddie.”

“I know.” You chuckle as you shake his hand.

“Ooh, I’ve never had a stalker before— how flattering.” He almost purred as he kept your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of your hand as he laid it on the counter and made no move to let it go.

You scoff and roll your eyes, letting him keep your hand, “My moms been hounding me about coming back for the last month.” You roll your eyes and take a sip.

“Oh, you’ve been talking about me with your mom?” He asks.

You wanna spit out the drink but instead your eyes widen and you tip it back farther until you finish it with a hardy gulp and set it down. “I’ll be taking the check now.” You say shamefully, closing your eyes.

You open them when you hear his laughter again, watching as he releases your hand and takes your cup, “That won’t be necessary, sweetheart.” He says it, even though he now knows your name, and begins to wash the glass.

You watch him quietly, the way the water splatters on his forearms and how his rings look when they’re glittering under the added shine and clanking against the glass he cleaned. “So what do you do?” He asked as he collected the old man’s glass without as much as a glance to him.

You jump slightly after being so dialed into his movements you have to quickly piece together your response, “Oh! Well, I’m in school for graphic design. And I work at a chiropractor's office scheduling people and whatnot.”

You study how he clutches the towel in his hand and turns the knobs of the sink before turning to dry the glass. “A secretary slash designer,” he mused as he polished the glass in his hands, “So you’re creative and good with computers, I’ll jot that down.” He smiled as he looked back up at you.

“What about you?” You ask as he puts away the glass and prints a ticket to hand to the gentleman waiting patiently. Eddie slides it over and watches at the man digs out cash and some change. You watch as he smiles and thanks the old man before sliding the cash off the table and scraping the coins into his hand and counting it before shoving it in the register.

Almost forgetting you asked a question, you watch as he washes his hands again and begins to replenish the supply of lime wedges—something you suppose is his brother's job. Maybe they switched jobs a lot because Eddie moved about the bar with an ease that felt practiced.

“Well, when I’m not being the world's best waiter, I work at a body shop installing glass on cars, sometimes some side jobs pulling dents if I can get ‘em.” He shrugged as he sliced them into perfect wedges.

You nod, “Do you like it?”

“Makes good money! Lets me do the stuff I’d rather be doing.” He chuckles to himself. You cock your head slightly before he finished putting the rest of it away and turning to the computer as he dried his hands again.

You watch him press a few buttons on the screen before it printed your ticket and he threw it away in the trash below and sent you one of those dazzling winks of his.

He leans forward on his elbows again, “Ready, Chicken Fingers?” He asks before glancing to his brother, busy taking an order at one of his corner tables.

You roll your eyes and glower with a poorly repressed smile as you give him a timid nod and hop off the seat.

Eddie walks around the counter, waiting for you at the kitchen doors. He takes your hand and guides you, opening the door and keeping you close, your hand fitting perfectly in his. He kept a firm hold on you as he dodged people in black and white, more people than you thought could fit back here.

“Hey, Eddie!” A line cook greeted him.

Eddie shot the guy a charming smile and wave with his free hand without stopping, “How’s it going, Hal?” He called before facing forward again, headed for the black door at the back.

The man answered Eddie but he didn’t care to continue the conversation, he just wanted out of there— wanted you out of there.

He opened the door to the back, where the dumpster resided with walls surrounding it— keeping divers from picking through their trash, you suppose.

Eddie lets go of your hand to reach for his carton of cigarettes, “You smoke?” He asked as he pulled one out.

You shake your head, “Sorry, no.”

Eddie pauses before idly flicking his lighter twice, “Don’t be! You mind if I…“ he gestures to the stick and bic in his hands.

“No! No, go for it. I don’t mind it, just never tried it.” You assure as he burned the end of the cigarette til it glowed. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked and nodded.

“Don’t ever do it!” He warned, mumbling around the filter before pulling it away, “You’re too pretty to smell like an ashtray.” Smoke slithered out of his mouth around his teeth as he spoke and stepped forward, blowing the rest of it to the side and waving it away from you and taking another pull and keeping his eyes on yours.

He was so close you had to look up at him, your bottom lip hiding between your teeth for a moment before releasing it. “Doesn’t stop you.” You quip almost proudly.

Eddie looked impressed, “Ooh! That was smooth, pretty girl.” He blew his smoke up into the sky, exposing the adams apple jutting out of his thick neck, oh so perfectly.

You wanted so badly to know what it felt like against your lips…

Caressed under your loving hand…

His face tilted back down to yours, a brilliant smile stretching across his face bit by bit. “You think I’m pretty?” He asked. You nod, a vacant smile on your lips, “Or is it the alcohol talking?” His brows pinched in the middle as he leaned down closer to you, as if to examine you for drunkenness.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “It was one drink! Besides— I thought you were pretty ever since I first saw you.”

“You been thinking about how pretty I am?” He asked in false curiosity.

That bashful smile crossed your face again before you nodded, “I already told you that.” You look down again and notice how he takes another small step forward.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” He smiled, the scent of his citrus cologne was muddled with the ribbons of cigarette smoke he blew into the air around you. The warm and spicy scent practically swarmed you the second he got closer, and you never wanted to smell anything else again.

“Why?” You shake your head.

“Cause I have that same Nirvana shirt you wore.” He shrugged one shoulder and your heart sank. “Like it better on you though.” He added.

You peek back up at him, brows raised in question as your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips. “How do I know this isn’t something you just ‘do’?” You ask, crossing your arms and looking away from his stupid, handsome face.

“What, talk to pretty girls? I do all the time, it’s part of my job.” He took a toke, talking about the pretty girls he served like art on a wall he’s seen a dozen times. “But I can honestly say I haven’t brought any of them to my secret hiding spot.” He shrugged easily, no sign of defense lining his tone. “—Not to mention had any of them swallow their tongue at the sight of me and still come back! Maybe you are courageous, Chicken Fingers.”

You roll your eyes and push his chest playfully, sending him backwards a couple steps. He chuckled as he recovered and you crossed your arms with another smile you didn’t realize you wore, “So now what?” You look around the area, stray garbage littering the wet ground and the scent of the meat cooking on the grill wafting out of vent on top of the building.

“Depends.” Eddie takes another puff on the dwindling menthol.

You tilt your head, cocking it to the side and shift your weight to your hip, narrowing your eyes the slightest bit and appraising him, “On?” You scoff with a playful smile.

“On… if you wanna go on a date with me.” He rocked on his heels and threw the butt on the ground, almost hiding under his curly bangs.

You smiled and nodded, “…and if I say yes?” You can’t help but glance to his lips again as he smiled, shuffling forward, only inches away from your face.

“If you say yes… I can guarantee you’ll have the time of your life.” He analyzed your face, searching for the same hesitation that riddled your being the last time he saw you.

He didn’t find a trace of it. You kept your eyes on him, not shying away from his gaze.

“Then I say… we should go out sometime.” You smile shyly.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open in pleasant surprise, his eyes twinkled in excitement. “Ohh, you are smooth! How could I say no to that?” As if you’d asked him out in the first place.

If he were to get any closer your chests would be touching, he’d have to straddle his feet on either side of yours—getting that close he’d have you against the wall of the restaurant.

And you wanted him to, so badly.

He leaned down to your ear, “You gonna show me the time of my life?” He asked lowly.

You inhale deeply, trying not to shudder at the way his breath grazed your neck and ear, and nod, “I’ll give it my best.” You said almost breathily.

Eddie chuckles softly as he leaned back to appraise you, tracing your collar with his finger before curling it into the ends of your hair and twirling a strand for a moment, savoring the texture.

His gaze turned more serious as his other hand came up to your other shoulder for a warm and affectionate squeeze before he tsked, “I gotta get back in there, pretty girl.” He said glumly.

You nod understandingly, “Yeah, I should head out too.”

He nodded again at you and his eyes dipped down to your lips again, lingering like he had at your table a month ago. “I, uh, I can walk you to your car.” He nodded towards the gate in the wall, an almost shut padlock through the metal rings to keep it closed.

“Yes, please.” You say softly.

Eddie’s hands leave your shoulders, with a smirk, “So polite—y’know you say please more than anyone I’ve ever met.” He chuckles, taking your hand to lead the way around to the customer parking, only releasing it once to open the gate for you and shut it back.

The walk was quiet, and you relished the feeling of his hand in yours again. You refrained from holding onto his arm with both hands, wanting his hand in both of yours as you arrived at your car.

“This is it.” You say, coming to a stop in front of the hood. He nods at you, still keeping your hand in his.

“Well, thank you for coming back.” He smiled at your sheepish grin and stroked the back of your hand, “I look forward to seeing you again.” He added.

“You too.” You say cordially before squeezing his hand and turning to go before you can throw up everywhere.

“Wait a minute!” He tugged you back to face him, “I still need your phone number.” He pulled out his phone and promptly unlocked it, opening his messages and starting a new thread for you to put your number in. “Unless you wanna come back, again.” He smiled, charming the socks off you yet again.

You take it from him and type your number, noticing his use of a cute emoji next to your misspelled name. You chuckle to yourself and fix it for him, reading it all back to yourself twice before calling it good and hand it back to him, watching as he smiles at the screen.

“Fuck, strike one, huh?” He blushes and looks up from the screen as his thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

You chuckle and dismiss it with a wave, “Nothing that hasn’t happened before. Now is it Eddie with two E’s or three?” You question playfully and watch as he bites the inside of his cheek and sigh.

“It’s actually three E’s, an I, and one D— in that order.” He types a message before locking it and putting it back in his pocket.

You’re giving him a real laugh, and an eye squinting, cheek aching, smile that has him smiling right back at you as the chime of your phone in your pocket goes off and you just can’t stop smiling at him, your cheeks burning but loving every second.

You see the way he looks at you, like he wants to say something, maybe— looking kinda bummed, even. You flutter your eyelashes at him before tilting your head, “Is there anything else I can get for you?” You say just above a whisper, your heart pounding so hard you don’t know if you’re trembling or not.

Eddie’s smile quirks up higher on one side as that twinkle reappears in his pupils, licking his lips with a knowing in his eye that said he knew what he wanted, he just couldn’t say it. He just stared at your lips for a moment longer before shaking his head dejectedly.

“Are you sure?” You ask again, shamelessly looking at his lips before meeting his eyes again.

He parted his lips before he leaned in slightly he hears his name called across the lot, “Get back in here, man, Damon’s gonna be here any minute!” His brother hollered from the door.

“Just a second!” He turned away to call back, his hand still in yours. You decide the moment he turns back to you, you’re gonna go for it— you’re gonna kiss him.

“Sorry, he’s worried about our manager coming—“ You watch intently as he turns back to you, taking his other hand in yours before pushing up on your toes to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, tingles surging up through your body.

You pull away as he freezes, alarmed. Your eyes widened, “Oh my god, is that not what you wanted me to do? I’m so sorry, I—“

He interrupts you by cradling your face in his hands, your face suddenly so warm in his touch. His hands were so soft and the rings were barely cool to the touch as he pressed them to your face in his gentle hold.

“—No! No, I mean, yes! Yeah, that’s what I wanted, just…“ his thumb brushes your bottom lip and your chest heaves as he pulls you in close and presses his lips squarely on yours, kissing you deep and slow before releasing your lips with a pop and lingering close to your face as the haze he cast out wrapped you up in warmth and content.

“—Oughta hold me over til I see you next. And you better text me, okay? Don't make me wait a month.” He warned.

You smile and nod as he releases your face.

“I work here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday— noon til closing, in case you miss me too much.” He winked before pressing another kiss to your mouth and running across the lot as his brother stuck his head out the door to yell at him again.

You watch him until he’s back inside, breathless before sighing to yourself as you dig out your keys and hop in your car. When the engine turns over and your playlist connects to Bluetooth, you unlock your phone to find a message waiting for you from an unknown number.

You smile and tap on it, ready to add him to your contacts as ‘Eddie 🖤’, when you read the message you can’t help but let your head fall back and bring your knees to your chest as a Lizzie McAlpine song plays.

Eddie 🖤:

You blush, your heart swelling with the growing hope he’s as dorky and sweet on the side as he is handsome and gritty on the outside.

Another message came in just as you were about to type a response:

This is Eeeid, by the way. 😘

PART 3

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klausysworld · 2 months

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(Y/n is a prostitute in this story, if that’s something you don’t like then don’t read. Some of the things are stereotypical around this line of work, please don’t take this personally or to heart)

Money and Sex

Money and Sex.

The two things Klaus Mikaelson always had and always would have.

Paying for sex wasn't often necessary for someone like Klaus. Most women were throwing themselves at him for free, it didn't matter which century it was or if they were married. They wanted him. And Klaus was always for than happy to indulge. His appetite was relentless.

Sometimes just knowing that he had money was something that enticed them. If his looks alone weren't enough then he wasn't opposed to letting them have a glance at his wallet which would almost always guarantee that he would wake up with at least one woman in his bed the next morning.

However there were the occasions that he would actually pay for a service. Whether it was a just a blow job or a quick fuck or a full night in his play room. It was when he couldn't be particularly bothered to charm a woman into sleeping with him and so would just give some lucky prostitute the night of her life instead.

However this time was a little different.

Y/n was gorgeous. Each strand of her hair was perfect, her delicate neck, her defined collarbones, ample breasts that would fill out the pathetic excuse of a dress she would wear, her tight little waist, well-rounded hips, beautifully thick thighs and desirable long legs that supported her plump ass and met her dainty little feet which were always clad in either a seductive stiletto heels or thigh high heeled boots. Round her shoulders would hang an oversized faux fur jacket to keep at least part of her warm while she sat in her usual booth and played her innocent little act even though everyone knew she was anything but.

Her lips were painted red, eyes often matching in colour along with a thin line of eyeliner to make her iris’ stand out. Everything about her was seductive, sultry. Klaus needed to have her.

Each night he would observe her, she would gain the attention of almost everybody there. Some hated her presence and some absolutely obsessed over her being there. She would always go home with someone different and Klaus would always spot multiple notes being slipped into some part of her outfit as a promise for more.

If money was what she wanted then money was what she would get.

After too many nights of feeling his gaze on her, too many incidents of Y/n catching his stare and smiling sweetly at him only for him to look down at his drink with a smirk and avoid her eye for the next hour, she decided to make her way over to him.

Klaus had just ordered his second drink when a soft hand slide up his arm to his bicep and began to caress soothingly. His eyes glanced down and to the side to see the wine-coloured nails stroking the sleeve of his Egyptian-cotton shirt. He looked back to his glass of whiskey with a knowing smirk.

"May I help you sweetheart?" He questioned as he turned around to face her. Y/n's eyes fixed on him and she smiled innocently at him.

"A drink would be nice" She told him and he hummed, clicking his fingers for the bartenders attention. As soon as the worker saw Y/n they slid her usual drink of choice across to meet Klaus's hand. The hybrid then held it out for her and she took it with a flash of her teeth at him. "Thank you, handsome" She purred and his eyes darkened with desire.

Klaus took a sat in his usual little area and opened his arm in a welcoming gesture. Y/n sat on his thigh in response and smiled as his arm went round her to keep her there. His jaw clenched as he looked her over, the little silky dress she was wearing was basically just lingerie and allowed him a delightful view of her body. He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs against his thigh and he couldn't wait to play with her.

"You've been coming in here a lot lately" she mused as she sipped her drink with one hand and toyed with the buttons on his shirt with the other.

"Mm" He hummed, "Drinks and entertainment, what more could a man want?" he questioned, turning his head to look at her with narrowed eyes.

"Entertainment?" She asked, looking around. It was just a bar, a popular one yes but just a bar. Occasionally there would be an even or something but not often.

Klaus chuckled and slid his fingers under her chin and brought her gaze back to him, "Watching someone as enticing as you saunter around, finding who will offer you the most. I've grown to enjoy your little game"

"It's not a game," she countered "It's a living"

Klaus grinned and let his hand slide up her thigh to the edge of her dress, just before her panties though part of him was curious if she was even wearing any. She swatted his hand away and he chuckled. "Forgive me, princess" He smirked and pulled his wallet out. Y/n narrowed her eyes as he plucked a hundred dollar bill and held it for her to take. Her eyes flicked to his with distrust.

"I hope you don't think that's enough for me to go home with you" She scoffed and he chuckled.

"Sweetheart this is just for me to be allowed to put my hand on your leg. You'll be payed for each little thing I do to you. Believe me, by tomorrow morning you'll have enough money to get out of this...job" he smiled and winked at her.

She hummed unconvincingly and took the money, allowing his hand to feel her thigh and squeeze the flesh as he pleased. She tucked the bill into her little purse that he hadn't noticed and got comfortable on his lap.

Klaus kept her there for hours. Drinks kept coming for them each and Klaus had given her another $100 so that he could kiss her skin, her neck more specifically. She agreed however he wasn't allowed to leave marks which annoyed him but he didn't push it.

Another hundred was given for kisses on the lips, an extra fifty for tongue. Klaus found it amusing how she would tilt her head and raise a brow at him, knowing that he could afford whatever she wanted. Thankfully Klaus was more than willing to tuck the money into her hands as many times as she wanted so long as he god his requests.

He pulled away from her mouth and brushed his lips over her ear. "How much for a little dance, hm princess?" he whispered lowly and she scoffed.

"Here?" She questioned, and he nodded. Y/n looked over his face as she thought about it. This man was loaded, she knew that, he knew that, everyone knew that. She had already made $350 and he hadn't even touched her anywhere, nor had he mentioned bringing her home with him. Some nights she would get that much for actually fucking a guy. But this gave her $100 for a kiss so by that logic... "$500" She answered and his brows rose.

"$300" He offered and she narrowed her eyes.

"$400" She compromised but still saw his gaze unwavering so she slid her hand down his front and let it press against his crotch making him suck in a breath, "Unless of course...you can't afford $400 for a lap dance?" she suggested, giving him a look of faux understanding and he scoffed.

"You want $500? You'll get your $500 once you show me how good you can be. Now dance for me." He demanded with a little smack to her ass making her roll her eyes but comply. She straddled his lap, slowly rolling her hips against him and running her nails up and down his chest through his skirt. Klaus leaned back and slide his hands onto her waist, caressing down to her hips and encouraging her to gyrate against him. Klaus watched her move erotically, his cock pushing against his trousers as she ground down on it. His mouth found hers and his tongue pushed inside to taste her as his hands moved under her sexy little dress to squeeze her ass. His kiss grew hungrier and so did his hands, so did his dick.

Y/n had to pull away with a giggle and grabbed his wrists. "Easy, handsome. I put on shows one person at a time, not for the whole damn bar" she told him and he groaned softly. He quickly pulled out the five $100 bills and slotted them between her tits, his eyes lingering.

"Then It's time to go to my place" he mumbled, lifting her up without waiting for an answer and pulling her legs around his waist. His hand grabbed her ass, holding her dress there so nobody saw the thong that didn't cover a thing.

Y/n smirked and slid off him and onto the feels of her boots. Klaus's hands held onto her hips from behind as he lead her to his car and opened the door for her. She laughed at the gesture and sat down, letting him closer her door and start driving. Klaus sped home, parking quickly outside of his mansion and getting out. He opened the door and pulled her out, tugging her along with him and through his front doors.

"My god" She whistled. "Should've charged you a thousand for that dance huh?" she teased and he chuckled.

"Be good for me tonight and I'll give you much more than just a thousand." He told her, pulling her hands close and kissing them both. She gave him a provocative smile and stepped to stand right up against him.

"Tell me what you like, handsome." she whispered with a knowing smile and he hummed, his hands stroking her cheeks and jaw before his thumb brushed over her bottom lip and pulled it down to make her open her mouth. She licked his thumb with a grin before reaching for his pants and curling her fingers round his belt. "You wanna show me somewhere comfy?" She asked and he nodded silently.

Klaus let her hold onto his belt as he brought her up the stairs to his bedroom. It was huge, basically had its own living room. Leather seats, fireplace, TV, bottles of whiskey or scotch or whatever, the biggest bed Y/n had ever seen, walk in wardrobe, god there was just everything. Y/n's apartment would fit in his room tenfold. Klaus watched her eyes dart around as she took it in.

"It's all yours tonight princess" He murmured seductively as he pulled his belt off, letting the leather slip through her fingers before tossing it away and stripping himself bare. Y/n wetted her lips as she glanced him over, his broad shoulders, smooth hard chest, abs that were visible but not overly prominent and defined apollos belt. Her eyes fixed on his cock, it was thick, long and hard. She hadn't doubted that it would be impressive; a man like him had it all.

Klaus opened his wallet and pulled out a thick wad of hundred dollar bills and set the on his night stand.

"There's $9,150 there. You take that home with you in the morning along with the $850 from earlier and you've pocketed $10,000. That enough for you, sweetheart?" He questioned with a smirk.

Y/n stared at the money. It was way to much not to take but part of her couldn't help but worry. Was he planning to do something horrific and this was to make sure she didn't tell?

"I don't do knives" She whispered, her voice uneasy.

"That's okay, I didn't plan on using one" He answered and she hesitantly nodded.

"I want a safe word" She told him and he tilted his head.

"I don't aim to harm you tonight princess. I'm here because my cock is in desperate need of attention only you can sate." He chuckled, "The money is because I have it to give. You will not come to true harm under my hands however if a safe word makes you feel safe then a safe word you shall have. Should you say the word 'Red' then ill stop, 'Amber and I'll slow it down, good?" He offered and she nodded.

"Okay" she whispered, shaking off the feeling and smiling at him. "Sorry, handsome, didn't mean to be a mood killer. C'mon lets get you in your fancy chair!" she grinned and pulled him over the the leather, throne-like seat the sat opposite the fireplace that wasn't currently lit. Klaus smiled back at her through hooded eyes and sat back in his chair as though he were king.

Y/n slipped down onto her knees with a simper and gazed up at his through her long, painted lashes. Klaus opened his legs a little wider for her to crawl between. Her elbows rest on top his thighs so that her hand may ever so gently stroke his stiffened cock. The hybrid gave no reaction other than an exhale of air through his nose. She eyed him as she lifted the palm of her hand and began to stroke him firmly.

She knew his type. They wanted control of everything and didn't ever want her to know that she was making them lose it for even a second. Which meant that her aim that night was to have this man a panting mess. That was the only way he would be truly satisfied, that's what ensured that she fucked better than any other girl out there. That way why she was in business so often, because nobody did it like her and Klaus knew that.

Her fingers squeezed his shaft tight, watching as his jaw clenched and she could correctly assume that he was biting his tongue as her thumb rolled over his cockhead perfectly to tease each nerve. "Did you like that?" She asked amorously. Klaus's hand slid into her hair and gripped it tight.

"Put those pretty lips to work" He demanded and she obeyed. Her cherry-red lips wrapped around his tip, sucking softly while one hand stroked his length and the other teasingly caressed and fondled his balls. Klaus let his eyes close and head fall back as he felt the wet warmth of her mouth encase his cock and move along his shaft slowly. She didn't need to tease him, a couple good flicks of her wrist and he probably could have cummed right in her face but she decided to make it last because she knew that was exactly what he both wanted and needed.

She moved slow but precisely for a good while before his hand started pushing her head further, encouraging her to start moving faster and taking him deeper. With her profession, even if it had only been a couple years, meant that her gag reflex was basically nonexistent. Her through swallowed him down like it was nothing and she moaned around him like a damn pornstar until he couldn't help but buck his hips and groan.

"Fuck princess" He grunted, both hands forcing her head up and down to meet his fast-thrusting hips. Y/n kept her eyes on his, watching him as his brows pulled together and his mouth began to breathe faster. His eyes swirled into a dark storm and a raspy moan left him before I was roughly pulled off his cock and shoved backwards. Her hand reached back quickly to catch herself from hitting the ground while he groaned and his cock let out thick ropes of cum across his abdomen. Her eyes widened at the pure amount of cum that shot out of him before his body calmed down and he was looking down at her. She smiled back at him with a small smile.

Klaus reached his hand out and she shook it, he stood and guided her up onto her feet before leading her to his bed. Klaus sat down, moving his pillows out the way so he could sit up against the headboard. Y/n followed his lead and straddled his lap, she let his cock press against her cunt as she pulled her thong aside.

"You want me to ride you handsome?" she questioned, tilting her head innocently. Klaus stroked her jaw with a smirk.

"You know that I do princess. Come show me how well your pretty pussy can take me" He purred and she hummed.

"Condom first, handsome" She told him, holding out a little packet for him but Klaus just scoffed and cupped her jaw, looking into her eyes.

"I don't need to wear a condom, I'm clean and infertile" he compelled and she smiled, tossing the packet away and getting back to her job.

Klaus's hands lifted the silky little dress up to her hips to watch as her pussy engulfed his cock. She sunk down onto him and he groaned. If he was honest, he hadn't expected her to be nearly as tight as she was due to her line of work. Y/n slid her hands up to his neck as her. hips slowly began to ride his dick. Klaus inhaled a deep breath or air and squeezed her waist gently between his hands.

"Tell me how fast you like it, handsome" She murmured as he watched her pussy slide along his cock.

"Usually?" He mumbled and she hummed. "Usually I like it fast" He admitted.

"You like it rough, handsome?" She purred, clenching her cunt around his cock to hear him groan.

"Fuck, yes sweetheart!" He moaned and she smiled.

"Do you want to fuck me fast and rough, handsome?" She whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against his cheek. Klaus sucked in a breath and nodded.

"Yes princess, yes I want to fuck you till you scream" He growled, his hips bucking upward to meet her movements. Y/n hummed softly and caressed his neck, her body bouncing on his cock with an increasing pace. Klaus groaned softly and gripped her body tighter, his fingers digging into her sides. Her jaw clenched as she felt the bruises forming but she knew not to push his hands away when he was so into it.

She moaned softly in his ear for him, encouraging his thrusts to pick up. Her mouth left a trail of wet kisses down the side of his neck, sucking the skin into her mouth and nipping gently. Klaus grunted, his grip getting tighter again as she clenched around him over and over.

His eyes closed as he listened to her moans and felt her swollen lips against his skin, her blunt teeth scraping against him. His cock felt as though it was throbbing inside her, he couldn't help but grab her body and bounce her up and down on him as though she were just a little fuck doll. His breathing grew ragged and his mind went cloudy. A long groan vibrated in his chest as her sweet cunt milked his cock of his cum. Y/n's fingers slid into his hair, stroking his head as he came down from his high.

"There you go, handsome" she murmured softly, smiling when his eyes opened and locked back onto hers. He frowned a little bit, he knew that she was a prostitute or however she wished to label herself but he didn't like that she didn't seem an ounce impressed or satisfied. She tilted her head at his frown and her expression faltered. "We can keep going if you need, honey?" She whispered, petting his head and kissing his lips sweetly.

Klaus cleared his throat and lifted her from his lap. He shook his head and pulled a smile to his face. He kissed her deeply, his hands rubbing along her body to turn her on. She took this initiative as a sign that he was ready for more so dropped her hand down between their bodies. Her fingers wrapped around his thick cock, stroking him firmly once again making him moan softly. His hips thrust involuntary against her hand and he pulled away.

Klaus grabbed her wrists, lifting them above her head making her raise a brow and lay back for him to take what he wanted. Klaus narrowed his eyes, seeing it as a challenge. Without warning she was flipped onto her stomach, arms still pinned above her head with his hand applying pressure to keep her down, not that she was struggling.

Y/n arched her back and lifted her ass, pressing herself against Klaus's dick provocatively. His eyes bled gold as he let go of her wrists and grabbed her hips, lifting her ass higher.

"Keep your hands up" He ordered and she grinned.

"Yes, handsome. Anything you say." she murmured, swaying her hips seductively in his hands as she felt his cockhead sliding between her ass cheeks as he groaned softly. His hands creeped under her lacey little dress and cupped her generous breasts that were not supported by any sort of bra. He gave a firm squeeze making her moan lowly before her mouth feel open as his cock pushed into her fast and deep.

"That's right sweetheart, cry for me." He uttered as he started thrusting into her from behind. Her body jolted forward with each force of his thrusts. His body collided with hers time after time, skin slapping harshly and Y/n just knew her skin would be red by the end of the night.

His fingers caressed over her nipples, tugging on them to make them stand out. Y/n let out a moan of genuine pleasure, it was different to her ones from earlier which make Klaus smirk and roll her nipples tightly, twisting them until a broken cry left her and her as smacked back against his hips.

Her hands remained above her head the entire time he took her. Not once did her obedience falter. Her cunt grew tighter as he carried on and he had been angling his hips precisely in an attempt to find just the sport to make her squirm. Y/n knew exactly what he was doing but could feel his cock tremble inside her as it ached to release inside her again.

Y/n curve her back, pushing her body back to meet his fast and powerful movements, his control was slipping and he began to forget what his aim was. All he could feel was her warm, wet, tight pussy stroking his so good. Pulsing and squeezing around his cock until he couldn't breath. Each time his balls slapped against her ass his sensitivity heightened that extra bit more

Soon enough Klaus was a mess, his body collapsing on top of hers as his cock buried into her, his tip snug against her cervix while he pumped her womb full. Y/n slowly brought her arms down from above her head and dragged herself out from under his weight.

Klaus groaned quietly as he came to.

His eyes fluttered back open to the feel of her nails gently scratching the top of his back in a way that soothed something inside him. Part of him hated that those nails were just brushing him rather than being dug into him but the other part loved how soft she was in the moment. He wondered if this was a routine, fuck em hard and then pet them to sleep.

Klaus rolled onto his back and locked his gaze with hers. She smiled back at him and leaned down to kiss his lips. It made him feel as though he had known her forever. His mouth pressed back against his with passion, his hand tugging on her hair until she groaned.

She pulled away slowly and tapped her fingers against his chest. "I just know you have more to show me, handsome" She whispered, her voice alluring. "I bet you have lots of toys you're just waiting to play with" She hummed, circling the tip of her nail around his nipple making him hiss softly. Y/n smiled as his hands went up her thighs and she let them fall open for him.

Klaus groaned softly as her cunt glistened and shone. His tongue wetted his lips and he couldn’t help but pull her close and kiss his lips. Y/n hummed softly as his fingers slid through her folds before he pulled back from the kiss and sucked the taste of her from each of them.

“You ready to play, handsome?” She murmured and he nodded, like a boy under a spell. He shook off the haze and pulled her to him. Klaus glanced to his drawer, it was where he kept things for special occasions. Y/n followed his gaze with a smile and stroked his jaw. “Go on, honey. Show me what you got.” She purred, encouraging him to slide her onto his lap and take her to the edge of his bed. He pulled his drawer open and she peeked inside with an amused smile. She lifted the handcuffs and the spanking paddle, placing them on the bed with a hum “I don’t know…I figured you’d rather use you hands for that kind of thing” she teased and his eyes darkened as he pictured his hand meeting the red-raw flesh of her ass until she cried. Y/n continued to pull out a pair of nipple clamps followed by a ball gag and some anal toys. She turned her head to him with a smile "For men, women or yourself?" She teased and he chuckled as he took the toys away from her hands.

"Depends on the day" He answered and she hummed, stroking his chest and glancing to the drawer which still had items buried but he pushed it closed making her pout but accept his wishes for privacy.

Klaus pulled her into another kiss, distracting her mind as he pushed her back against his bed and slid his hand up between her legs to feel and rub at her cunt. Y/n moaned softly into his mouth as his fingers went at her clit, he was desperate to watch her cum.

However no matter how long he fingered her for, even when he could see that she was genuinely enjoying herself, he couldn't get her over that edge. So he started to use his mouth too.

Y/n assumed he was a guy who got pleasure from the validation of pleasing his partner so she was happy for him to do as he was. Her hands tugged and played with his hair while her hips rocked against her will. Over the past couple years she had managed excellent control of her mind and body but she couldn't help but grind back against his hands and tongue. Klaus was by far the most skilled client she had experienced.

As the night continued, Klaus fell apart time after time again as he fucked as hard as he could and then a slow as he could in an attempt to pull that desired orgasm from Y/n. By the time morning came around they were both still panting as he clung onto her body and rutted his hips against her and rubbed his hands over every inch of skin she owned. Y/n was positively exhausted, her body was overstimulated and oversensitive but she didn't utter a word about it. She made sure to keep her eyes open and continued to utter words of admiration and appreciation to him, knowing now that it would make his finish faster and harder.

When Klaus came inside her for the last time, he locked his eyes on hers. He promised himself that this would not be the last time she would be in his bed. He would have her here as many times as it took for him to learn everything about her body, everything that made her tik and exactly how to get her over the edge.

He offered for her to sleep for the morning in his room as she hadn't been able to through any of the night hours but she shook her head and promised he had done far more than enough. He kissed her goodbye and assured her he would see her again very soon.

And he did.

Klaus would go back to that bar every night to watch her saunter her way through the men there. He would always order a drink for her and offer her a smile and a wink. This continued for a few months before she stopped showing up.

Klaus was immediately alarmed, she wasn't the type to just stop. So he started asking around but nobody knew, most didn't care.

He wanted to continue his search however was called to New Orleans by a witch. Much to his surprise he found his brother sat beside a pregnant prostitute with confusion, fear and distraught written all over her face for she was carrying the very first tribrid baby.

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winepresswrath · 2 months

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Its the jiao jiao anon again .

You keep giving me great pairings. Tell me everything how su she (Shang Qinghua) transmigrate and how will fuck jiang cheng. Is he still an author ? What was his intention with this kinda book?

I think he is still a writer but not the actual author of mdzs. He's a relatively casual fan who admires the vision and winces in sympathy every time drama gets kicked off. This is why you don't try, mdzs author! You give the people what they want and take their money. He's originally planning on keeping his head down and learning just enough cultivation from the Lan to make his life easier than it otherwise would be, then getting an urgent letter from his sick mother right before the Wen are scheduled to attack, but alas, his wandering not-cultivator dumpling sabbatical puts him directly in Jiang Cheng's path while he's frantically running for help after leaving Wei Wuxian in the Xuanwu cave. And the thing is he's still kind of reflexively haughty when he needs something? So pathetic and vulnerable. So cute. What could possibly be the harm in giving him a ride? The Wen aren't scheduled to attack Lotus Pier for ages. He can be on a ship to Dongyin by that time!

Anyway no good deed goes unpunished because Jiang Fengmian does as a general rule believe in giving credit and naming names. He should have fucking known. Now Wen Chao has a grudge against him and he's running around under a fake name wracking up credit for things he did (while trying to run away) and things he did not do (sometimes even when you have a massive army and the most powerful cultivator in the world on your side, things go wrong! He's not responsible for every problem with Wen supply lines. He's responsible for exactly one cart blowing up, and he was just trying for a distraction so he could sneak onto a ship. It didn't work and the harbour is kind of a no-go zone for him now). He comes up with a new plan: find Huaisang and use his shitty unwanted heroic reputation and talent for creative pornography to worm his way into the young master's guard, where he can get some writing done far from the front lines. Unfortunately, he once again stumbles across Jiang Cheng, who is tragically trying to rebuild his sect and searching for a missing shixiong. Shang Qinghua is still a logistics guy, because he was doing grunt work for the Lan and also I feel like that's the shape any transmigration setting is going to bend into around him. Jiang Cheng is so grateful to see a familiar face. He knows the value of a good spreadsheet. His eyes are so pretty when he's trying not to cry. The Jiang aren't in a great place during the war, but Shang Qinghua knows the sect makes it through and he doesn't remember any Jiang disciples being asked to heroically sacrifice themselves after Lotus Pier falls. Plus the food is better and there's plenty of room at the top! A veritable power vacuum. To say nothing of all the empty space in Jiang Cheng's personal life when almost everyone he loves dies and leaves him alone! Anyway this is the story of how Shang Qinghua accidentally paints a series of targets on his back, unnecessarily involves himself in the plot, and overcomplicates his life because being a sucker for a pretty face and a bad personality is even more integral to his character than underappreciated grunt work. Probably he manages to save Yanli, at least. He's not interested in being a stepfather! That's a lot of work. Wei Wuxian barely notices he exists until either he saves everyone or the second life roles around, depending on how ambitious and/or motivated Shang Qinghua is feeling. Then he hates him passionately, but it's too late. They probably eventually reach some kind of begrudging peace.

#meanwhile in svsss a noted danmei author woke up in lmy and decided that she would not be joining any harems or dealing with any #dead brother induced vengeance quests #i think plan a was to solve the plot with liujiu #because she likes enemies to lovers and has a very specific set of narrative problem solving skills #and anyway! sqq won't kill his lover right she's pretty sure you can solve murder with dick and he's always seemed very lonely #and obviously it would be ungentlemanly to snipe his boyfriend's intended disciple #an elegant solution!#but then clan leader seems so heartbroken! what has she done!!!#threesomes go against her morals as a strict otp shipper but she IS in a dog shit harem novel after all #and her tender heart has been moved by the plight of a childhood friend with a big dick. something something she also winds up the center #of a shl nyy love triangle like oh nooooo what WILL she do

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farfromstrange · 11 months

Text

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 2: Butterfly Pea Flower On Ice

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (afab)

Summary: Michael has a rough night. When he finds his way to you after only barely keeping himself from making a mistake, he’s miserable and you are… well, he’s not quite sure what you are, but it involves two rusty nails and a wooden sign that just won’t stay where it is, so in need for a distraction and slightly worried about you, he decides to help you out. You reward him by making him yet another extraordinary coffee drink from the menu. Or, you make another sneaky move at Michael after he’s so kind to help you out, hoping he will someday act on your hopeless flirt attempts.

Warnings: Angst (18+ MINORS DNI), past trauma, self-harm, blood, panic attack, Mikey just hates himself, but then there’s some fluff, bad flirting, attempt at humor, and then some angst again.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/n: This time, I dive more into Michael’s mental state. So this is angsty, then he gets some comfort from you, but then it gets angsty again because well, it’s Mikey. He’s stuck in an endless cycle, it seems. I feel so bad for him… but at least he gets a lil' hug?? I hope you like it!

Read Part 1 Here...

His sleep is restless. The memories cage him in like a wild animal. One second, he can breathe, the next the world around him turns into a blur and the oxygen in his lungs gets lost. It’s like someone is sitting on his chest and he can’t escape their claws as they tear him to shreds.

He wakes up drenched in sweat and tears. The sheets stick to his clammy skin. On weak knees, he makes his way to the bathroom. The floor seems to disappear as his past pulls it out from under him.

Pictures flash across his mind. His thoughts start a downward spiral again, one he can’t seem to stop. He’s panting, pathetically so. The cold water he splashes on his face does little to soothe the burning ache that seems to burn through every nerve like acid.

Michael clings to the edge of the sink. He wants to shut it off; he wants to stop thinking. He wants to stop remembering. He wants to stop being him. The things he did… every time he closes his eyes, he sees the blood that once covered the floor of his apartment, the bullet holes in the walls. He thinks of Anna. It’s his fault she lost her mother. It’s his fault she’s traumatized. All of it – all of it, his fault.

As he stares at himself in the mirror, he finds only a shell staring back at him. So many people have tried telling him that he’s the victim, that perhaps he is sick, but the only sick thing about him is his mind, and he feels entirely responsible for that.

His fist lands in the glass of the mirror. It cracks. The glass is thin and the shards instantly scratch the surface of his knuckles, some of them digging into the skin and painting the sink beneath him red with his blood.

Only when the sharp pain reaches his consciousness, Michael finds a way back to himself. He stares at the split skin, watches the blood pool out of the wounds, and the tremor turns into a quiver of shock. It burns, but it burns so good.

He catches the blood with a towel. The first-aid kit isn’t far. Though for a second he considers if he should even allow himself to do so. The pain reminds him that he is alive, and the blood writes a poem on the tiles. A poem of hate, broken love, and self-destruction. There is no hope, only pain, and the blood is a reminder of that. He may be only human, but all the destruction in his life, he caused himself. His blood is a reminder that no one controls him quite like himself, even though he likes to blame it on his surname.

A few doors down, the light at Jimmy’s and Amanda’s place is still on, though they don’t hear the ear-piercing scream that passes Michael’s lips and leaves him crying on the bathroom floor. It’s something they don’t know and he wishes they never have to see. He’s broken, maybe even beyond repair, and he has no one to blame but himself, and that makes him even more miserable.

The pain eats him alive, slowly but steadily. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t breathe. His hand is bandaged now, though only poorly. There is not much more he can take. The tiles are cold, but he can barely feel them. The scream still echoes minutes later, and his voice sounds deafening in his ears.

He just wants this to stop.

As the pictures start flashing slower, the blood loss and fatigue settling into his bones, he remains on the floor. He doesn’t have the strength to get back up. His tears stain his cheeks and wet his beard, and the blood from his knuckles starts seeping through the bandage and back onto the floor. He can’t be bothered to clean any of it.

His eyes flutter, but he doesn’t fall asleep. He’s not sure what state he is in, but he’s not alive. He can’t be alive. Everything’s surreal. The pain hit him hard and now he feels nothing. In a matter of a few seconds, everything stops and he becomes numb, but the numbness hurts even more, and that makes him scream until he has no voice left. And then he gets quiet again.

Ever quiet, and shy Michael who’s only like this because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to say because he’s scared of himself, and it’s best to keep himself locked away than hurt someone he cares about again. He loves his family, but this is his future he’s talking about, and his daughter… Anna needs a father, and he’s failed her before. He doesn’t want to be the same failure anymore, even though he knows that by lying on the floor and forcing himself to bleed out a wound he inflicted on himself, he has already failed her again because he just wants to give up. And he’s starting to think that there might not be much more he can do, anyway.

Michael wallows until the sun comes up, then he gets up as if nothing happened.

He sits in a restaurant for a while, staring out of the window. Anna looks so much older now than when he left her. She reminds him of her mother. With her uniform and her little backpack, she walks across the street Michael is observing, heading toward the school that is hiding behind the trees.

She always takes the bus from home. Home with her grandma, he knows. But that’s not where she should be. She should be home with him. She probably doesn’t even know he’s out yet, and he’s not sure if he wants her to find out before he can even account for the fact that he’s made changes.

He needs to get a job, get his life back on track, and fight for her. He’s sworn himself as much. But as he watches her walk past him without even looking through the window of the restaurant, his heart aches and it breaks because damn it, what was he thinking? He’s her father, but she barely knows him, and he’s far from being a good father figure. He’s not sure he can ever be.

Paying for his one black coffee, Michael heads out. The cold air hits him. He shivers. He’s not freezing, not at all. Truth hurts, and he hates that it does. It makes him feel so small, and useless like he can’t achieve anything other than cause chaos. And the worst part is, he is completely and utterly alone in this.

His feet carry him down a familiar street until he stops in front of the same place he sought solace in the day before.

You’re rearranging the lunch offers sign right by the door, not even noticing that he’s standing on the other side of the street, observing your every movement.

Michael hesitates. It’s not a good idea, but his apartment feels suffocating and he can’t talk to his family because they don’t understand. They know he wants his daughter back, they just don’t understand the sacrifices he’s willing to make, that he has to make, and he doesn’t want to find himself in the same shit position again that even led him to this point eight years ago.

This is where he lands, the Butterfly Effect café and he can’t quite believe his eyes that you’re truly there.

He still has the empty coffee cup from the day before standing on the dining table at home.

You’re completely oblivious to his presence. Instead, you turn back around and walk back behind the counter.

The café isn’t busy yet. You have just opened your doors, and since you’re on the early bird shift today, your job is to prepare everything and make sure everything’s perfect by the time the first batch of customers comes around. The coffee machines are all working, the plants have been watered, and the display with your baked goods is up and ready. Except for the sign with the menu above your head.

Every last drink was handwritten by you, and the place is perfect, right where everyone can see it. You had to do a few minor changes before opening and decided to take it down to make the chalk letters look their best. Ever since then, you haven’t been able to get it back up. The wood is hanging on by a last nail, but you can’t seem to reach it without a proper ladder – you’re currently kneeling on a very high counter – and to you, it seems straight until you move away and it no longer does, and the fact that the sign keeps slipping infuriates you. If you can’t keep it up there, you have to find another way and then the aesthetic will be ruined. And your boss will murder you, so you have to try, but every time you try, you find yourself beaten again.

It’s you against a wooden board that’s been written on with chalk and a few rusty nails. You’ve mastered harder tasks. Yet, you keep failing.

You take another step back and look at the sign. It’s still tilted slightly to the right, and keeping it up there might be considered a hazard with how unsafe it looks.

The ringing of the bell above the door goes right over your head. You’re too frustrated to focus. If someone wanted to steal the register, they might as well have succeeded.

“That’s a bit wonky,” a voice pipes up behind you.

You jump. You had gotten so used to the silence of being alone in the café, you forgot that you opened the doors to the public before you started struggling with the sign.

You almost fall off the counter when you turn to look at him. “Jesus!” you curse.

Michael takes an instinctive step forward. He’s not close enough to catch you, but he likes to think he is. He could get behind the counter and make sure you don’t trip and break your neck, but that would be pushing boundaries he doesn’t like.

“Careful,” he says.

“I’m alright.” You pray to the rusty nail to hold the sign for long enough so you can serve him – he’s here for coffee, right? “I was just trying to fix the sign, but seems like it can’t be fixed.” You throw your hands up. “This day is going majorly well!”

He looks back at you, the broken expression that has yearned for an escape replaced by a flicker of regret. He walked the streets of the new yet familiar prison that has become his life to get here. He got out, but he hasn’t been able to come home; he wonders if he can even come home when there is no actual home to come back to. Everything feels so strange now, even the walls he’s living in. They hurt the most of them all.

“I can go if this isn’t the right time.” The last thing he wants is to be an inconvenience. He shifts his weight onto his heels, ready to turn around and run. “This was a bad idea,” he murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing close enough to form a deep crease between them, “Sorry.”

You stop and stare at him, your brain processing his face and his words at the same time. He’s wearing a different sweater underneath his jacket today. It’s crinkled and in need of some ironing, but he doesn’t seem to care much.

You see his mind making the decision to leave for whatever reason that you can’t tell, and you reach out. “No!” you’re quick to say.

Something tells you letting him go is a bad idea, and not just because he’s a possible paying customer. There is a reason you wrote the note on his coffee cup the other day and it has never wavered. It persists. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but you also remember telling him to come back someday, and he did.

Your words sound a little more desperate than you intended them to.

There is something different about him today. His eyes are sunken; he looks like he hasn’t slept all night, or he didn’t sleep well, at least. You feel a bubble of concern grow in your chest and spread through your entire body. Like the roots of a tree that wrap around anything they can find. It makes its home there.

Michael stops when you say, “You don’t have to leave. This is an open café.”

He turns back to you, his expression unreadable. He was an easier book to decipher before, now he just seems cold. There is a fire burning bright inside of him and he is about to implode, but he tries so hard to hide it, you can’t see behind the iron curtain he has lowered around himself. He craves coffee, which is why his feet carried him to you, but he also needs more. He hates that he needs more. He hates that he doesn’t know what he needs, but he can’t be alone. He’s lost. He’s all of that and yet it doesn’t even cut close.

The tears weigh heavy behind his eyes. They’re glossed over from the strain it takes for him to stop himself from crying, he has been doing so ever since he laid eyes on Anna only a few minutes ago. He knows what he wants, but he is helpless to get it. It’s a particular kind of pain, not many people can understand, and he can’t describe it, but it’s awful, and it breaks his heart all over again, every damn day. Today has been a lot, and the day is just getting started. He’s not sure how long he can survive this before losing himself.

Fighting is so much harder when you always seem to lose.

You watch him, your fingers fidgeting nervously before you. You often know what to say, but right now, your mind is wiped clean. “You came back,” you eventually speak up.

He smiles, his demeanor reserved but somehow he looks relieved when he hears you talk like that again – kind, understanding, and calm. You’re the only calm thing in his vicinity, and just for a moment, the tornado in his heart transitions into merely a hurricane. The café is empty besides him and you, and part of the stress on his shoulders seems to ease just a little.

“Michael, was it?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You even remember his name.

A smile finds its way onto your face. You try not to let the nerves show, or the fact that you’re overwhelmed and flustered. You’re a mess, and today it doesn’t exactly feel like you can stand by it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I remember your order. I’m not stalking you or anything, but I remember recommending the toffee nut latte to you,” you say, trying to explain yourself somehow, even though he looks nowhere near as uncomfortable with the conversation as you do. “I thought maybe… maybe that’s why you came back.”

Or because of the note, you think to yourself. Hope always dies last. You almost feel bad for assuming because looking at him, he doesn’t look okay, and you’re utterly selfish for wanting this to be about you. This is about him. It should be. You’re no expert, but you’ve seen your fair share of people in pain, mentally and physically, and he might as well fit into both categories.

You just don’t understand, and it stresses you out. You usually don’t let men stress you out, they’re often not worth it and they use your kind heart for what it is, but Michael has a way of getting under your skin without even trying. Once again, it adds to the stress. It’s a stress you can’t pinpoint because it results in inner turmoil and confusion that drives you up the walls.

“Yeah,” he’s even quieter than the day before.

You’re not sure if he means, “Yeah, that’s why I came back.” Or, “Yes, that’s who I am but that’s not why I came.”

You tilt your head, trying not to prod him with the questions that are burning inside of you. “Did you like it?” you ask. “Or are you here to tell me it sucked and you’re never coming back here?”

The waters you’re treading are dangerous.

“No, I liked it. I–“

Your eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Yeah, it was grand. I just–“ A lot is going on in his head, and he can’t sort it. You’re smiling at him and he’s reminded of the day before, but then he thinks about what happened after that, late at night and the early hours of the morning, and his knuckles start to throb with the cruel reminder.

What is he doing? Why is he here? Why is he so desperate for something he doesn’t even understand?

You eye him again. Etched into his features, the frown only deepens. There’s not much difference about him physically, but the sun is out today and he still looks like it’s been raining in his heart for years. It breaks you and you don’t even know him. He avoids eye contact, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You can tell he’s trying to say something but at the same time stay silent because he’s scared. Why, you don’t know.

You wipe your hands on your apron and take another step forward. “Okay,” you murmur. “Can I help you with anything?”

Your voice is oh so soft. He sucks in a sharp breath. The sound caresses his cheeks, but the touch burns. He feels like he is Lucifer on his way to hell.

“Coffee, maybe?” You’re trying hard to elicit some sort of reaction out of him, to get a sense of what he’s feeling and what you can do to make his day because quite frankly, if he was here because of the note, he would have mentioned it by now.

Maybe he’s seeking comfort, and you’d be the last person not to help a person in need out.

The sign above your head creaks. There is a God, after all, Michael thinks. He looks up at the contraption you failed to save before.

“Looks dangerous,” he states, skillfully avoiding your other question.

You follow the direction of his finger – it’s his uninjured hand. “Yeah, the nails are rusty and it just won’t stay in place, but I don’t have any nails here to fix it,” you say.

He nods. “Do ya have a hammer?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

You blink in surprise at his assertive tone. It’s not particularly harsh, but it also leaves no room for you to argue. Something dark flashes in his eyes, which is instantly replaced by a fear of having gone too far. His lips part to apologize.

“I have a hammer,” you say, and you try to smile enough to ease his conscience.

You’re used to customers being rude to you, and Michael isn’t rude, you would never consider the tone of his voice anything near that, at least not with you; he caught you off guard, that’s all. He sounds so confident when he wants to. He would make a great leader, you’re sure.

It’s not fear that spreads through your veins, you hope he realizes that. You’re even more intrigued now, and maybe you’re a little excited, too. You’re not sure, you know you shouldn’t be, but there is something about his voice and the sharpness of his words that send a shiver down your spine, and it lands right where your legs cross below what he can see on his side of the counter.

He tries to return your smile as much as he can. “Let me fix it for ya,” he says.

You stammer, “Fix it?”

“Yeah.”

The suggestion is a helpful one, and under any other circumstance, you would have said it’s sweet, but this is your workplace and he’s a customer. You’re not allowed to let anyone beyond the small bullpen that separates you and him. If this had been your home or any other place with a wonky sign and not the job you’re dependent on to survive, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes.

“I think I know how to fix it,” Michael tells you, “Ya just have to let me try.”

He hardly gets to fix anything. It’s just a sign, but it seems like something he is good at and he doesn’t want you to be frustrated or scared of losing your job anymore. He wants to help. He wants to feel useful. He wants the day to feel less like a waste of his existence and more like he’s making a difference, and an act of kindness that you are in desperate need of feels right to him.

Though when he notices that you’re hesitating, he is about ready to retreat into his shell and bury himself so deep, no one can find him anymore.

You scratch the back of your head. “I don’t know,” you admit. “You get that if something happens to you, I’ll lose my job, right? It has something to do with insurance and the general policy or something. I signed a contract. It’s complicated. I… I love this job. I need it.”

The sign creaks again. He sighs. “What if it drops on yer head?”

Looking behind you, the nail on the right is moving another millimeter downward.

The inside of your cheek is bleeding now from how hard you’re biting down on it. You shouldn’t let the thought of him coming closer to you and pretty much saving your ass and allowing you to maybe get to know him a little better drive you, but it does anyway. Sometimes, you tend to be a little reckless, and Michael brings it out in you.

“Now, will ya let me take a look at it or are ya too damn proud to admit ya need help?”

He’s one to talk.

Fuck it, you think. If the sign falls and destroys all of the equipment below, it’s your neck they’re going to have for the accident anyway because you know it’s loose, but you would have kept it like that if Michael hadn't popped out of nowhere. You don’t even know the guy, but his offer to help is something you can’t turn down. Besides, you’re desperate and know the first regulars will start coming in soon, so time is of the essence. You can’t fix the sign and serve customers at the same time. You’re not a robot, and your colleague’s shift starts in an hour, so you’re alone until then.

Michael is the only beacon of hope to get you through the day with all of your limbs still intact.

With a hesitant nod, you give him the go-ahead. “You can take a look at it if you want,” you say.

“Thanks,” he says.

It’s different to see him fully. He discards his jacket, pulling the sleeves of his sweater up. He’s wearing a T-shirt underneath. A gray one. You try not to stare too much, but his right forearm and the tattoos that litter his skin quickly catch your attention. And he’s taller now that he’s standing almost entirely in front of you.

He meets your eyes. Your skin flushes a soft pink, but you can’t look away. He has a hold on you. He’s got you under his spell. His brown eyes look like honey in the sunlight, and the specks of green remind you of an enchanted forest. An ancient tree, maybe. His hair is dark, but whenever the light shines on it, it seems to sparkle just a little lighter. You feel like a psycho with the way you’re staring, but as you meet his eyes, you notice you’re not the only one.

Michael can’t help it, the way his eyes roam so effortlessly over your body. The apron you’re wearing is black, and you’ve changed the butterfly clip, but the look is the same. You’re wearing a dress today and a pair of sneakers. Your hair is tied up half like the day before, the shiny locks cascading down your back. The color of your eyes seems to reflect in the sunlight, and there is a glow on your face that doesn’t get overshadowed, not even when you feel frustrated.

Like the idiot you are, you extend your hand and decide to introduce yourself properly. You tell him your name, your eyes hopeful enough.

Hesitantly, he takes your hand into his injured one. The bandage feels weird against your skin, and your eyes widen a little. His hand didn’t look like that when you first met him.

“Michael,” he says.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, then look back down at his hand that is still in yours. His grip is firm yet gentle, but you can feel the warmth of the injury under your fingers. “What happened to your hand?” you add. It’s a daring question, but you’re nothing if not curious.

He pulls back, hiding his hand behind his back again. “Had a wee accident, nothing serious. I’m a’right.”

The second he pulls back, you feel a sharp pang in your chest. You feel like you’ve scared him away now. “Oh. I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Could ya just give me that hammer so I can do my job?”

You nod, rummaging through the drawer next to the coffee maker for the small hammer you keep around for the smaller signs that often switch places in the café. You meet his eyes when you hand it over, but he only briefly brushes you before pulling the ladder you use to reach the spare mugs on the highest shelf above you in front of himself, and he climbs on top of it.

Michael removes the sign with ease, examining the nails on either side. They’re both rusty and the holes in the walls have expanded over time, but he sees no reason to change them right away. He flicks the right one with his finger and pushes it in a little further, changing the angle of the impact. It doesn’t budge.

“Hm,” he murmurs to himself before turning back to you. You’re watching him like a hawk.

“And?” you ask, part of you now terrified of being completely fucked in more ways than one, and none of it the good kind.

He offers you a small smile. “You’ve got customers coming in.”

The bell above the door rings.

You sigh. “Great.”

“I’ve got it,” he assures you.

“If you fall and break your neck—”

His smile turns into a chuckle. “I won’t.” Then, he turns back around and starts gently hitting the nail on its rusty head with the hammer.

You have no choice but to serve the couple that has come in. If Michael knows what he’s doing, you have nothing to worry about, but you can’t help stealing the occasional glance at him as you brew the coffee and manually steam some milk for the woman’s latte. You don’t even try selling any of the new drinks on the menu since it feels wrong to offer diversity when the back of the counter looks like a construction site, but they seem happy and satisfied when you offer them a free butterfly cookie – because on Tuesdays, there are always free cookies. They find their place somewhere in the café and you just pray they’re satisfied enough to keep quiet about the sign.

It’s not even a big deal, you know that. It happens to the best people, and you’re just a barista in an under-staffed, very loved café in a part of Dublin that is known for destroying every small business it can find and plastering the name of an overpriced franchise on it, or simply tearing down the building and replace it with something else entirely. That’s why you can’t afford mishaps. You need this job, you need to find your footing elsewhere before you can even think about quitting, and you need the Butterfly Effect to stay popular so you won’t get another identity crisis and lose not only your job but the entire café as well. You’re an overthinker, and it’s exhausting to be scared all the time, but you can’t help it when the reality of your situation is what it is. And it’s very real. You’re happy and you have enough money to survive. That can’t change, not until you’ve finally got the means to make your other dreams come true and you can leave the past behind.

That might take some time, but you need the time, too. And you know everyone else you work with thinks the same. You can’t blame them. No one can.

You stop sulking to look up, and it’s then that Michael puts the sign with the menu back up. It’s as straight as it was before, if not more. You quickly swallow your sip of water and put the bottle away, staring at him and his handiwork with a mixture of surprise and awe written all over your face.

“No way,” you breathe.

He gets off the ladder, satisfied with what he managed to do, and then he turns to you to get your approval. Your smile is answer enough.

“I managed to get the nails further in,” he says, “but ya need to get them switched out as soon as ya can.”

“I don’t know what to say. You fixed it!”

“Yeah.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his arm. Your eyes drill into his, and he swallows thickly at the intensity of your gaze. Goosebumps form on his skin. He finds himself looking at where you’re touching him. It’s a gentle rhythm your finger is drumming on his skin, but he doesn’t mind. You’re being soft with him, almost like he is made out of glass. Seconds start feeling like hours. The air sizzles like a broken power cord.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Before Michael can answer, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and you pull him into a hug. You, the kind-hearted stranger that he knows he doesn’t deserve, are hugging him, and you pour so much affection into it, he shivers and the tears start knocking on the window of his soul again, asking to be let out. It’s the kind of touch that tingles long after it’s gone, but you’re so warm, your skin is so soft and God, you smell divine. You’re heaven on earth, and your hair feels as shiny as it looks.

He hugs you back. He only endures it when other people touch him, even though he craves it. This is the first time he’s felt this comfortable in years, and your touch becomes a remedy he never thought he would be able to find.

You pull away after a moment. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

He hasn’t quite processed your reaction yet, so all he does is nod. As your grip loosens completely, he slips out and reaches for his discarded jacket. He puts it back on, clearly planning on leaving. The coffee he told himself he would come here for is long forgotten. The hug unraveled something in him, and the way it makes him feel is vulnerable. He can feel the guard he keeps high around his heart slowly slipping away. Your kindness is a trojan horse and you’ve almost managed to breach all of his defenses.

Not wanting him to leave, you find yourself reaching for his arm before he can step back in front of the counter. “How about I repay you with another coffee?” you ask. “It’s on the house.”

You hope he says yes, even if it means just a few more minutes with him.

Michael stares at your hand and how close it’s hovering above his bandage. You meet his eyes, moving your gaze lower. He can tell the question once again burns on the tip of your tongue, but whatever curiosity you have, you swallow. You swallow it for the sake of his comfort, for the sake of getting another chance, and not to scare him away. He’s like a deer in headlights to you, and deers are shy.

Why you’re so obsessed with him, you’re not sure. It can’t be healthy, neither for your heart nor for your job, but he is different in a way that redirects your focus solely on the man he is. You don’t focus on his looks, you focus on Michael alone, and he’s not used to the kind of attention you’re willing to give him, so he’s stuck in a stormy, unfamiliar land, and you’ve got him almost entirely exposed.

This is new for both of you, but for him, it’s worse because he’s forgotten what it’s like to be with people that have never set foot into his life before, and you? You’re a breath of fresh air, something he knows he tends to corrupt and disrupt, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. He’s weak, he’s needy and it’s you. God, it’s just you, it’s all of you, and it drives him crazy, it makes him angry and it makes him want to run out of fear, just to protect you, to protect himself, to stop his life from spiraling out of control and hurting any more people, but you’re normal; Michael needs normal because that’s what he needs to learn how to be if he wants his daughter back and start anew, maybe even get a proper second chance.

But it’s hard. It’s so, so hard.

He hears himself talk, but he’s not in control. “On the house, huh?” he answers like he doesn’t understand what it means, or what you’re trying to tell him. Maybe he doesn’t.

The note was nice, but to him, you seem like the kind of person that would do such a thing for about anyone who has a bad day, and he knows he looks like he has bad days rather frequently. Why he can’t admit to himself that you’re making yet another move at him, that’s not entirely clear. It’s good that you’re normal and deep down, he knows you’re good for him, but it’s also the reason why admitting it to himself is such an inner conflict. Everything that isn’t good for him always ends up being Michael’s first choice because the pain is a bittersweet reminder of what he thinks he deserves. And you don’t deserve a man like that.

The hope in your eyes reignites. “I can make you another toffee nut latte,” you offer. You sound a little shy, but you look even cuter up close.

“I was gonna order a—”

“Don’t say double–”

“Double espresso,” he says, and you find yourself uttering the same two words at the same time.

Your eyes meet, and then you find yourself laughing. The clear sound fills the room with its soft melody. He looks away, his blush palpable as he tries hard not to smile, but he can’t help it.

“Yer gonna refuse to serve me a double espresso, aren’t ya?” He looks back at you.

You gnaw on your lip sheepishly. “Maybe,” you say. “But if you don’t want the same as yesterday, I have something else I think you’ll like.”

“I’m not adventurous.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Are ya going to let it be if I say no?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Probably not.”

“And if I say yes?”

“You just have to trust me.”

Trusting you, he thinks, can’t be so hard. You’re an easy person to trust. You’re not the enemy. And you’re also not going to poison him.

Michael sighs. “Yer insufferable,” though he says it with a smile.

You take the glint in his eyes as a silent answer. As he moves back to his designated spot in front of the counter, you grab a plastic cup to your left. “You okay with iced coffee?” you ask.

He raises his eyebrows.

“I take it that’s not something you have thought about often?”

“I don’t drink ice,” he says.

“First of all, it’s not pure ice. It’s just coffee with ice cubes. A Frappuccino would be drinking the ice cubes with your drink because they get tossed in the blender with the rest of the ingredients. And second of all, you must have been curious about iced coffee at least once. Or have you never at least tried it?”

“Never.”

“Well, you just have to really trust me on this then.”

“If I get a brain freeze because of ya–”

You smirk. “Trust me, Michael.”

He caves.

Michael watches you move with grace. You’re completely in your element. Every once in a while, your hips sway to the rhythm of whatever song is playing on the radio, and you seem a lot happier now than before. He’s made your day with a simple gesture, and he feels proud of himself for that. He used his hands for good this time. He succeeded. He made himself useful, even if it was just a simple wooden sign that needed to be adjusted. And now he’s getting a free coffee for it.

Maybe being forced to wash cars instead of getting a proper job with Amanda just because Frank can’t live with him not wanting to do dirty work anymore isn’t something he should settle for, after all, no matter how good it may look on the papers for the court.

After a few minutes of debating whether or not to bring up the courage to ask you, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of ice cubes clinking together, and you place the plastic cup on the counter before him.

He expected an iced latte or a frappuccino maybe, but not whatever it is that you have just placed before him. The drink is blue, maybe even a little shiny in the sunlight. The ice cubes are dancing around each other inside the plastic cup, and there is a tiny blue flower swimming in the foam on top.

Your smile widens at his surprised expression. He looks impressed, even. You take a straw and poke it through the hole, then push it closer for Michael to grab.

“What’s that s’posed to be?” he asks. He’s a little weary as he eyes the cup.

“Poison,” you deadpan.

He frowns.

You snort at how easily he seems to believe you. He’s… unique. “Kidding! It’s not poison, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind that would poison their customer with a fuckin’ blue potion.”

“Hey!”

It’s his turn to smirk, but when he does, it looks a little dirtier than yours. “Just messin’ with ya,” he says. He tries to imitate you, but he fails miserably.

You roll your eyes, encouraging him to take the cup. “It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower,” you explain, and your voice is no longer joking. “It’s not a poisonous flower. It’s originally from Asia, that’s where it grows, but you can get it in many other countries. And it’s edible. If you buy it to make drinks or coffee, it usually comes like this–” you lift the small package with the blue powder that you’ve used to pour into the milk of his latte, “but don’t let the color fool you because it tastes delicious. The flower itself has a natural blue tint, so the powder does too. The flowers in the foam taste like nothing because they’re just edible flowers, they’re not the same. Oh, and the coffee itself,” you say, “is the strongest espresso we have mixed with some milk and a sweet, sweet layer of foam with a sprinkle of chocolate and caramel. You’re welcome.”

You wink at him. He finally takes it, sniffing the content. “Hm,” he murmurs.

“What now?”

“Smells… normal,” he says.

“You seriously think I’d poison you?”

If only you knew the things he’s encountered before. But no, he doesn’t think that – he would never. Not from you, anyway.

“If you keep thinking of me like that, I’ll give you a reason to think of me like that,” you say. It doesn’t as terrifying now that you’ve said it.

Michael bites back a grin. “Yeah, sure,” he says.

Asshole, you think.

He guides the straw to his mouth and sucks on it. You look away quickly. The way his lips purse around the top shortly after his tongue has traced a circle around it have you regretting your choice to offer an iced coffee instead of a regular latte.

Who would have thought that the shy, almost damaged-looking man who helped you out when you needed it after you helped him out when he needed it would be such a fucking tease.

He leaves the bitter yet sweet liquid to rest on his tongue for a bit. You see the wheels in his head turn, and his eyebrows furrow as he judges the taste. His lips smack, the foam making his tongue feel fuzzy, but the taste itself is unique. Very unique. It’s different than a traditional latte, and it’s not just the color. He doesn’t know what to say at first because even with your first recommendation that you forced him to order, you did not fail, and you also didn’t disappoint with this one, either.

“And?” you ask.

“Hm.”

“Michael.”

“Delicious,” he says.

It’s as good as it gets.

“Told you,” you smile.

He returns the smile in a smaller manner, but he’s smiling nonetheless. “I’ve never had iced coffee before, but ya made it easy to like.”

That’s an even bigger compliment and your sass from before vanishes into a flush.

“Are ya sure it’s on the house?”

“Very much so,” you say.

Reaching beside you, you grab one of the butterfly cookies and place it on a napkin. You hesitate. Looking up at him sipping his iced latte, you ask yourself if you should just mention the note to him and crush your hopes before you can get them up, but it’s still a bold move. And you’re unsure. You’re shy. You don’t trust your voice. So you take the Sharpie and start writing on the napkin before sliding it into a paper bag together with his free cookie and handing it back to Michael.

Maybe he will read it, and if he does, he’ll know that the first note wasn’t a coincidence and that this is meant for him and him only. You don’t do this for everyone. You can hear Sarah laughing in the back of your head, and she would have told you to ask him personally and cut this back-and-forth short, but something tells you that writing notes is an easier way into his heart than confronting him with something that might overwhelm him the same way it does you.

The bag slips out of your hand when he takes it, frowning at you once again.

“It’s Tuesday, and everyone gets a free butterfly cookie on Tuesdays,” you tell him.

It dawns on him. You did the same thing for the couple that’s still sitting in the corner of the café. He nods and takes it. It’s just a cookie, after all.

He turns to leave and he hears you say, “Have a good day, Michael!” It doesn’t sound like the voice you use with your other customers. This is the you he expects you to be outside of work, the you that is even kinder and even more open with the people around her, and his heart swells, his guard continuing to slip ever so slightly.

Michael turns around. He opens his mouth and says your name. It echoes. In his mind, it does. He stops thinking. The words are about ready to slip from his tongue.

You have a nice smile too.

But then you beam when he says your name and you ask him, “Yes, Michael?”

And he forgets. He can’t speak. He wants to, but he also doesn’t, and he can’t. His vocal cords shut down and he’s left with nothing but a weak breath of air. The further he gets from you, the harder it gets to breathe, and real life starts to seep back into his bones. His body aches. The bubble bursts. He’s left there, standing naked in the eye of the storm, and the tornado tears down everything around him and lastly, himself.

He can’t do it, and he can’t do it to you.

“Oh just… Nothin’,” he says. He can see the exact moment your heart drops and your hopes are shattered. He feels like an idiot now, but he can’t change it. “Have a nice day,” he adds your name in hopes to redeem himself, but you only nod with a smile that’s far weaker than the first one, and then you say goodbye to him.

He leaves you behind with a heavy heart. The coffee in his hand and its bright blue remind him of you. To him, you are colorful too. You’re not a gray cloud, you’re a rainbow. You’re the sun. You’re everything good and light, and the blue represents the kind of person you are. You put your heart into it, he can taste it. Even more, does he feel bad for being such an incompetent idiot.

Loneliness follows him home. He ignores Jimmy’s calls and he takes a different route to make sure none of his family sees him. Once the door is locked behind him, the four walls that are supposed to feel safe only fill him with dread.

The coffee cup with your note is still sitting on the table. He takes it. Your handwriting hasn’t smudged. Feeling the tears well up in his eyes, he clenches his fist, and the paper crinkles. Your handwriting disappears. It doesn’t make his bad day better today; the nostalgia makes him feel so much worse. He’s not smiling, and he doesn’t deserve that compliment.

He tries not to cry when he sips the last few drops of his latte and unwraps the cookie. You have been way too nice to him. You made it sound like professional courtesy, but there is nothing professional about it.

The napkin slips out, falling to his feet. He’s about to crinkle it too, his hand already hovering above the garbage, when he notices the same black Sharpie that has written his name on a cup twice now.

“Michael, you’re a good person. Don’t forget to smile 2day. It’s still nice when you do. X – the annoying barista who makes you buy overpriced coffee :)”

This is the first time he sees your handwriting smudge. He wishes he could blame it on the condensation of his cup, but the wetness has already traveled to his cheeks and he can’t hold it back anymore.

The tears start falling. They wet the napkin and the note. The ‘X’ that is supposed to mark a kiss gets lost under the rain of his emotions, and he can barely see your name anymore. Your face blurs.

And then, he breaks.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin amc #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #coffee shop au #hurt/comfort #michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella smut #reader insert #no y/n #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella x afab!reader #butterfly effect #mini series

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aicosu · 7 months

Text

Hellcheer Western Prompt

They're basically asleep when the neigh of a horse has them scrambling to their feet.

Eddie has to dive over the desk to shove his elbows down on Dustin's shoulders, both wrestling for a view out the broken shutters.

"People!" Dustin points out the obvious when he's pushed to the floor.

"Hide the guns!" Eddie barks, eyes still on the caravan of three kicking up dust through their two-manned ghost town.

"Which ones and where?"

They both turn to look at the piles of rifles, pistols, dynamite littering the surfaces of the entire building.

"Good point." Eddie palms his hair into his cheeks in thought. Fuck, strangers always meant acting. And that could be fun but lately it's been so stressful with the addition of their bounty posted from here to the north of winter's asshole. "Gimme the deputy badge."

"Nuh Uh!" Dustin scrambles up to protect his tin shield. "I hate being Sheriff!"

"No, I hate being Sheriff! They always want me to do shit for—"

"—last time I was Sheriff I had to change wheels—"

"—killing people constantly like I'm a fucking lawmen—"

"—and no one believes I'm old enough! No!"

"Gimme it!"

Another horse whinnies at the crack of a reign and Eddie tackles Dustin to the ground both scuffing spurs in a pathetic tussle on the jail building floor for less responsibility.

——

"Well, howdy."

"You the Sheriff?"

Eddie sucks his teeth with a cringe against the porch beam, and Dustin chuckles at his side. "Sure am."

"Place abandoned?"

It takes Eddie a second to realize the person he's talking to might be dame wearing a fake mustache. But he realizes it all the same, blinking against the dirt in the air and the sun in the sky. They have brown chopped hair and sharp angles in their face… plus pants on. So maybe a boy but… "Mine accident."

They whistle, unloading themselves from shotgun with shotgun. "Is it still safe for stopping?"

"We don't have hands for the saloon or board." Dustin rushes to say. Eddie pats him with approval. They really don't need stranger blowing their fake town cover.

"We have our own things. Provisions, linen, rafters, entertainment, and drink and most in the back would feel a mightier safer with a couple of lawmen to look out for bandits and wolves instead of me."

Eddie doesn't get a chance to protest.

"I'm the Ringer Robin by the way, should any introductions be made while we park our fares for just a few days. Ringer as in ringleader, leader as in—"

"It's a circus!" Dustin exclaims with a cough of excitement in his kiddy cheeks. He thumbs at the side of the caravan with a huge grin.

Eddie glares, leaning one way to see the painted canvas displayed on the three wagons. Circus. Real low in the laying.

"I don't think—"

"We'd do a show for you, Sheriff!"

God he hated being fucking called that.

"We're staying?" A voice flits from the back.

They all turn, and there in the shafts of sunlight burning gold into red on the edge of the world, forms a girl made from its last wink. A precious coin lost in dust. A delicate dandelion seed adrift in the west.

A lady.

She steps down from the caravan with grace he's not known, with clean hair and cleaner skin.

Adnorned in, uh, uhm, fuck, not much!

"Mm—hrnu-who—hungh-m-m-m—"

"Ma'am." Dustin achieves what he can't and has the decency to tip his hat all the way down to the ground as she quite literally traipses by in nothing but a strap suit that exposes her whole leg and backside, little hip ruffles not at all decent in covering anything more than what modesty she had left.

She chitters to Robin's side dangling finge and gems, great big, very valuable, and possible fence-able rhinestone eyes blinking at him.

At him. At him. At him!

"This is our lady of trapeze, who should very much stay in the wagon until I sa—"

"I'm bloodless in my legs." She whispers back with the shyest dip of her cutest nose. And it's been exactly five months since Eddie's seen anything as beautiful as her. The last being a peek of a sweet family dinner from a window outside the city. And she's immensely more delicious. Her eyes find him with demure excitement. "We heard rumor that the Crow Killer is a town over—"

"Crow Killer! HA! How fun, who, uh—what's, what's that?" Dustin's voice is loud enough in protest that the horse's scamper.

"Nope! Sorry, my deputy forgets the Marshalls visit fortnights ago…" Eddie grabs him by the neck to squeeze him quieter as subtly as possible. "Our, uh, sad little town of grief has no business for the likes of that…. Degenerate! I'm sure!"

"Sheriff Eddie's right, no... no shadow caped killer of hundreds to be found here. Nope. No nightime burgles or larceny... no, no, no."

The trapeze artist has such gall to look disappointed that Eddie has to resist falling to his knees before her and handing her his bounty and screaming, it's me! It's me!

"We're better off, I'm sure," Robin squints. "Come on, Chrissy girl, let's get everyone roped over by the water tower."

"That's empty." Dustin lies. The only two left of them doing his goddamn job. "It's really not the best place to camp."

Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy. Not even a Mary Anne or a Harriet type aristocrat name to make him retch. But a little jingle jangle name like tying a Chrissy to a mill for luck! Help him!

"Have you caught many outlaws?" Chrissy distractedly asks him, not moving to help Robin or his sanity.

He stares down at sweet cream skin and caramel spun hair like it's a mirage for a hungry desperado out of luck. "Uh, well, I, I've uh, yes! Of, course! P-part of the job, little… lady. Little... bird. Miss. Ma'am!"

Now he really sounds like every other belt-belly tight police man whose only skil was turning locks.

"Maybe we'll stay awhile and you could tell us Sheriff stories by the fire?" She leans in even as Robin calls for her.

She smells like yarrow in milk and honey.

"You really can't stay." Dustin says urgently at his elbow. Eddie puts a hand on the kid's face to push him backward.

"Yes! I'd be honored, to uh, be at the service of a proper debutante." He grins wide. When she giggles he gets worse. "A proper artist—angel, even! Of the skies! A... sheriff of the cloud themselves! Y-yes."

"Oh, good!" She smiles.

Dustin groans into his palm long and loud.

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #fanfic #server prompt

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bonebabbles · 9 months

Note

What are your thoughts on Thunder himself, btw?

ughhh I want to like him, I like the IDEA of him, but he sucks just as much as everyone else.

We get our proper introduction to him in Thunder Rising, Book 2, through a magic dream with his dead mom who "Feels Right And Loving" unlike his 'adopted' mom, Hawk Swoop

DOTC HATES adoption. His sole interaction with Jackdaw is finding out that actually he resents him because he suckled from his wife. Incredibly unpleasant

That's not an issue with Thunder himself, exactly, but this series is deadset on concluding Adoption Bad like a moth making a beeline for open flame and this character is used for that purpose.

It is important to remember that characters are storytelling tools... and Thunder is a brush to paint an ugly picture.

So Jackdaw, Hawk, Acorn, and Lightning occupy a shitty space where they're not his family, but closer than friends, with whatever book you're in flipping wildly between these things

Lightning Tail really suffers here because he is most compelling when the series accidentally hates women so much it clips into looking gay. The first time I was legitimately invested in Blazing Star was when LT seemed jealous of Thunder spending time with Star Flower.

And speaking of that; Thunder's romantic relationships are some of the absolute worst in a series that is already rock bottom

Him and Star Flower are not compelling, it's not cute, it's boring. This is slop.

Same with Violet Dawn, who appears out of thin air later to be his wife because god forbid a single member of Clear Sky's family go maidenless

In his early appearances, he's already whining about His Faaather despite Sun Trail closing out on the famous line where Gray Wing announces, "ILL be his father from now on."

It's a huge let down from the previous book, which ends on such a good note. Absolute waste of setup.

That Magic Dead Mom dream, btw, is her saying that one day she'll "Help His Faaaaaaaaaaaather see the good in himself" so right from the get-go, Thunder is set up to be responsible for saving his piece of shit dad.

I can't lie; I think that is a downright evil trope and I'm immediately uncharitable towards any piece of media that peddles it unironically. No, you CANNOT SAVE your abusive parents through being a good child. People who put this in books for minors should choke. In minecraft

So the moments that I LOVE Thunder are when he's rejecting that idea, like in First Battle where he spits at Clear Sky and tells him "I will never be cruel."

THAT'S my favorite Thunder, that's who I wish he was. Someone who cuts through Gray Wing's quibbling to speak the truth, for justice, for righteousness.

But unfortunately that's rarely who he is. Most of the time, he completely unironically swoons and fawns when Daddy Looks At Him.

He is also really bad about towing Gray Wing's line at times, like when he was freaking out that the Moor cats wanted to train for combat as Clear Sky was becoming more violent towards the border, cheering on public 'gladiator' style battles between his own cats

And the constant crying about Self Defense Makes You Just As Bad is insufferable. Which, of course, they've just unceremoniously dropped now that One Eye is an Evil Foreigner who hurt Clear Sky's feelings

The most consistent thing about him is, unfortunately, that he's annoying. He wants Clear Sky's approval and the page has to remind you about this constantly. He joins the same Clear Sky Pity Party that everyone else does in Blazing Star, totally forgetting the first three books where he was an abusive monster completely responsible for every bad thing that happened.

Thunder deserves so much better than this. The writing is a disservice to how complicated and painful it feels when your beloved family loves someone who's bad for them, for you, and for everyone. But unfortunately, DOTC is Clear Sky's story, and every other character revolves around his pathetic "redemption arc."

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alrightsnaps · 10 months

Note

The beef you have with Anthony on twitter is very pathetic and also the fact that you PRETEND Violet has haters when all that happened is that maybe a couple of kanthony shippers have said she was a bit too harsh with him cause god forbids audience members feel more connected with the protagonist and not his mom. Also the fact you want Kate to share screentime with Mary and Edwina again when she was treated like crap by them is not it for someone who claims to love Kate. But I guess it's not surprising when you're buddy buddy with that selcouth account who not so secretly hates Kanthony and Kate and has polite convo with the bloggers who call Kate a homewrecking whore. You know your friend writes fic in which Anthony is beaten up and Kate continues to be miserable post wedding for the sake of poor innocent Edwina?And thinks Anthony should give a fuck about Edwina doesn't let him call her by her first name? Tell your friend he eyefucked Kate at the altar in front of her, let me assure you edwina lovers he doesn't give a fuck about her brattiness the majesty. Leave Kate and Kanthony out of your mouth.

aww how sweet of you that you think y'all are the first people to dickride for anthony at the expense of female characters! i can assure you that i've been beefing with his stans since before kate's casting announcement. kathonies are not the first to drag violet to defend him, or even the first stans to demonise their male fave's mother while excusing his own behaviour. sienna/anthony shippers did the exact same thing long ago painting violet as the evil hag who wouldn't let poor little anthony run off into the sunset with sienna in s1.

also why the fuck wouldn't i want kate to fix her relationships with edwina and mary? i've criticised edwina repeatedly for never apologising to kate since day 1. that's something we never saw in s2 so yeah, i definitely want to see that and i consider necessary for them to rebuild their relationship on better terms after the wedding fiasco.

what i consider hypocritical as fuck is being totally ok with kate forgiving anthony when he hardly did enough to deserve her forgiveness after all the pain he put her through, but drawing the line at her stepmother and sister.

anthony literally ruined kate in 2x04 and not only didn't assume his responsibilities as he forced simon to do with daphne in s1, but had the nerve to propose to her sister the very next morning. so yeah, if i can support kate being with anthony in the s2 finale when he was calling her "the thorn easily removed" from his and edwina's lives just two episodes back, because that makes her happy, i can sure as hell root for her making up with the women that have been her entire world for the past 26 years as well.

as far as i'm concerned neither anthony nor edwina did right by kate in s2. edwina because she blamed her for anthony's actions and was ungrateful, when all kate had done was sacrifice after sacrifice for her to be happy. and anthony because he never showed kate the respect he demanded men to show to his sisters and chose to go after her baby sister only to publicly humiliate both sharma girls in front of anyone when they were at the altar.

i'm old enought to be able to form my own opinion about characters instead of joining fandom groupthink or liking/disliking them based on how their fanbase behaves. if that was my criterion i don't think there's a single ship i'd support in the bridgerton fandom, considering that i disagree with most kathony and benophie stans on twitter for always coddling anthony and benedict and excusing their misogyny.

and frankly, i'm extremely uncomfortable with the way you and many kathony stans talk about edwina. y'all are literally victim blaming an 18yo child for falling for a grownass man who went after her and ruined her in the eyes of society. you constanly infantilise anthony when he has more privilege than 99% of men in england, while spending your time talking shit about a teenage girl.

that's not holding edwina responsible for her behaviour towards kate, it's misogyny, plain and simple. she has every right to treat anthony like filth for the rest of her life after what he did to her and be protective of kate, like kate was of edwina when anthony was courting her, after his abhorrent treatment of both sisters.

a 30yo man not giving a fuck about a teenager he strung along and ruined isn't the gotcha that you think it is. except you clearly have such a sexist worldview that you consider him to be the "prize" edwina lost and kate won, rather than a man who hurt them both deeply and took advantage of his privilege over them.

if i should keep kate out of my mouth for wanting to see her have a healthy and wholesome relationship with her family, so should you people for being ok with anthony doing the bare minimum to win her after the hell he put her through.

#my asks #bridgerton

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 9 months

Text

i’m responding to this message and sharing via screenshot because if i reply regularly, i won’t be able to block this dump heap’s IP address from successfully sending me asks. buckle up! what they said is in response to this:

if you think you’re going to step into my ask box on some “emvan just had a toxic relationship, evan was not a victim” bullshit in the form of a novel-length message, your IP address will be blocked and it’ll be the last one from you i see. don’t worry, i know how to type, too. you absolutely will not have a platform to victim blame and try and give credibility to a false narrative that pulls harmful allegations out of thin air. that is irresponsible and offensive on many levels. no one with a functioning brain inside their skull takes your garbage opinion seriously or wants to be nauseated by the stench of your disgusting (lack of) morals on this blog. but allow me to take you to task below.

1. evan’s girlfriends are not “always” portrayed as as the bad guy. you do not hear people speaking negatively about alexia, alexandria or haley except for the group of people who are jealous and will hate any woman their fav is dating. which is a different conversation and quite frankly should not even be entertained.

2. we are not just hearing one side of the story. if there are 100 negative stories, anecdotes, rumors, blind items AND emma was arrested for DV, it’s not that there is only one side of the story being portrayed - she is simply the only one raising hell and being an abusive monster to evan and everyone else in her vicinity. you are a sick and disturbed individual to try and flip the script and use ACTING roles to try and bolster your slanderous allegations. why don’t you just say you don’t believe men can be victims of domestic abuse and keep it moving, you demon?

3. what about halsey? she is known to be a tumultuous person with her own mental health struggles. she does not have a good track record of her own like you are seemingly insinuating. and i kindly request that you educate yourself before you speak, or minimally, before you peak your painted clown face into my ask box and exhaust me with your pathetic drivel. evan never liked, retweeted or condoned anything racist. that accidental retweet included. halsey is a troubled and bitter woman who was in love with evan before she ever met him, and was butthurt she was merely a rebound for him and they were not on the same page.

4. no, halsey would not “know him best” and her liking that tweet means jack. if she had her way i’m sure she’d have like 3 kids with evan by now and wouldn’t be liking tweets. she doesn’t actually care, she also loves fucking matty healy lmao as i already said she was butthurt. shocking and groundbreaking: an angry ex likes a defamatory tweet about said ex.

5. frances absolutely didn’t deserve a hate blog, much less the multiple different blogs some losers ran on this app.. but people believing she was using him for clout and money have legitimate reason to argue this because she has professed to being a sugar baby, and intentionally cultivated an unlikeable and problematic online persona. people just took the bait.

and finally.. i’d love for you to name the “problematic behaviors” you take issue with and cite a source other than the voices in your head or wattpad fan fictions you’ve read…. but not here because you’re blocked and you can go to hell ❤️ you may not be an asslicker, but you are a bad person for victim-blaming someone who experienced domestic violence at the hands of someone you’re doing gymnastics to defend. congratulations! now go back to twitter.

#evan peters #emma roberts

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disasterghaster · 2 years

Text

Reckoning

He didn’t knock.

She didn’t expect him to.

She didn’t wake up from the house. Even when the hammer obliterated the door and he stepped into the house. Hefting it back onto his shoulder.

She felt him. Knew he was there. With his obscured light disc of a halo and terribly bright weapon. Neatly suited by blocky brick house of a human host. Knew him. Felt him.

“You have some nerve, Devang. I thought we understood each other.” He said at a volume meant to carry through the building. Walking along the walls. She couldn’t wake up. Boards creaked tiredly everywhere he walked.

He took his time. Knocking things over onto the floor. Picking up and smashing other things into walls. Lucifer knew she was in the walls.

“I know we never signed it in blood, but...” The fallen lodged the pointed pike side of his maul into and hooked it in a stud. Ripping it loose with most of the dry wall around it. “I’m real fuckin’ disappointed in you.”

He shook off the hunk of material before reaching into the newly made hole to get hold of the slithery dark bits he could See. Wispy bits of a larger whole stretched over the whole of the house.

The whole house shifted with the yank on her. Buckling the earth as it pushed through the dirt and off foundations all of three feet to the side.

Somehow the action pried her free of the house. Peeled her loose like pulling latex paint away from the support beams wiring. Giving her spirit a relentless toss into a nearby dining table. Where she smashed it to bits from having solidified enough matter to manifest in shock and alarm before impact.

Awake now. And dazed in the heap of broken wood. Shit.

“Not a good time.” Was all she managed to quip out while trying to get more together.

“Not a good fucking time.” He repeated with a boom to his voice that reminded her of Stanley and made her borrowed particles vibrate as she got her feet under her.

“Do I get some sort of leniency for not knowing your boy was in the building at the time?” She didn’t try to lie. She was too exposed and he had a knack for peering through to Truths.

All the same, his reaction was still fury. She lifted arm to reflexively fend off the hammer that swung for her fictitious cranium. Unaware of what exactly the outcome would be, but compelled to try all the same.

It gave a whole shit less about her ghaster matter shell and collided straight into her spiritual being. She couldn’t say the impact hurt. Not in the strictest of senses. It smacked her senses to pieces like a blow to the skull. Sent her catapulting through the air as though she were a tennis ball of a racket. Did something funny and uncomfortable to her…frequencies?

She hadn’t the words. Only the sensation of snapping up floorboards when she bounced against them and turning all the outer and inner works of a wall into shrapnel that followed her into the furthest room away from where she started.

Coughing for lack of adequate response more than her diaphragm being paralyzed. Dimly thinking about how awful pathetic her lack of fight was. She was so damn exhausted to start with. She was having a hard time mustering the energy to get back up again.

She rather hated it. Though not nearly as much as she felt prevailing guilt. Hearing him walk across the house to follow her. Would she have even fought back very hard if she could? No, likely not. All that anger she came out of that hole with had died some weeks back.

She deserved this.

After all she’d done. To people she didn’t know. People she did know. People she hated and loved. Sometimes at the same time. To Harry, to Sid, to Charlie, to Miles, to Jasper.

When Lucifer came to loom over her and started reaching down she thought he looked less like and over muscled oaf an more like a long overdue comeuppance.

#ic #full draft this time #i am going to fade to black this because #trying to rp/write two of my characters interacting with each other #is almost fucking painful for me???? lmao #but that should do it to tie up loose threads on that #and to lead to the after of that

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cosmicjoke · 2 years

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Some Levi haters are straight-up brainless imbeciles. Constantly bringing up baseless excuses to hate on him. I've noticed many of them pointing out the same lame examples over and over. I see the pattern repeating in the stuff the Levi hater on your blog has mentioned. I remember many of them saying multiple times on Twitter that Levi paid no mind + justified genocide in Liberio and when you ask them "HOW? WHEN EXACTLY?" they'd bring up chapter 112 where Levi said "we can strike an immediate attack on Liberio again" and I'd literally facepalm every single time I see this. I think the dude on your blog is referring to the same stupid reason according to my own experience with Levi haters.

Yeah, it is pretty ridiculous, isn't it? They completely fail to take into account that Levi only said that because it was becoming increasingly obvious that Pardis' back's were up against a wall in terms of options. Zeke had just proven himself completely untrustworthy, there was no way of knowing at that point if Eren was being manipulated, was in on it, or something else, and they knew that Marley was getting ready to bear down on them, along with the rest of the world. Levi was just trying to come up with a way, on the spot, of dealing with an untenable situation, to save as many of his own people as he could, to protect the island, etc... To put his faith in Zeke at that point, KNOWING that the military brass had been set up by him, and were now under the control of Zeke's minions, would have been the height of stupidity. Levi wasn't willing to take that risk again, because it was doing so in the first place, being forced to take that risk by Eren, which landed them in so dire a situation to begin with. So to use Levi's comments in chapter 112 as some sort of proof that Levi was "okay" with genocide, which, lol, they clearly don't even understand what that term means, is absurd. He was trying to think of a way to keep his and everyone else' home from being obliterated. You've got the right response when you said you just face palm every time someone brings this up. It only proves how much the Levi haters have to grasp at straws in an attempt to paint him in a negative light. Whenever you have to twist a character's words or actions wildly out of context or imbue them with some completely unrelated or obviously unintended meaning, then you know you're just trying to hate on that character out of your own, ridiculous bias, and not because of any actual evidence or substance. I just can't stand it. I don't know what's wrong with these people. You don't have to like Levi (though honestly, why wouldn't you, other than jealousy?), but to purposefully twist his words and actions and try to use that to convince fans of his to hate him is... well, pathetic.

#Levi Ackerman

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yuichi-ro · 2 years

Text

a/n: alright now this is just self indulgent part two of this cw: fem!Reader, wild witch!Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, spoilers, angst/hurt/comfort, unedited word count: 3.4k (whoops)

The Day of Unity would come.

That only a few were truly aware of what disasters that might hold. Other’s mulled about, some prepped and dug further for information, you tried to get what you could out of Hunter. A date, a time, even a place. He was aware of it but not to any help for you or the ones trying to stop it. No date that he knew of or what unity actually meant for the Boiling Isles. Hunter’s reprieve into your home after he learned his true purpose meant he might as well be seen as a burden before anything else helpful.

No magic. No inside intel. Eating the food you prepped and sleeping in your bed while you took the couch. For as badly as he’d wanted to apprehend you before all this. Force his beliefs in the coven system onto you. See his way of life was the correct one you’d swear to follow. All that lay shattered and broken when a queasy ease to every day life settled after he and Luz saw what the Emperor really was. And what Hunter happened to be. He wasn’t the Golden Guard anymore. But as he saw it Hunter only felt like the same failure he’d been under Belos as well. Now he just knew he was one of many of the same exact failures.

And even as he tried to harness glyph magic. Holding his temper around the human and the owl lady. For your sake if anything. He found himself struggling more and more each passing lesson. Hunter had read all the books. Done all the research. And now he was being shown up by wild witches and a human who wasn’t even from a world with magic in the first place. Each day of prep and practice slowly urged him to the realization that perhaps Belos was right in discarding all those other Golden Guards. If they where half as pathetic as he was. Hunter almost reasoned he’d do the same thing in his uncles shoes.

“Hunter,” You had come back in not subtly at all so when your rustling didn’t stir him you finally called his name from across your kitchen to get his attention, “Did Luz show you the demon glyphs today?”

“...no.” He mumbled, refusing to turn around, “I...I didn’t go.”

Crinkle to your brows at his response. You sat down the things you’d picked up and came over to at least face him as he sat slouched over on your couch, “And that’s because....?”

“Because what’s the point!” Hunter snapped. Instant regret clouding over his violet eyes, “I- I didn’t mean that- I just- I’m so far behind. What good am I to anyone...”

This again. You expected as much but you’d been having such a good streak with the ex guard that you’d hoped the funk of his reality might have worn off. By the looks of it though he’d been stewing in this for a while.

“Well, to someone yeah,” You smiled half heartedly, “You’ve got someone out there looking for you. You saw it yourself. A protector. That seems worth it.”

He hated it. He hated everything about this. As he sat looking across at you the vivid images of Belos’s mindscape certainly did arise in his memories. But as terrifying at what he’d seen was. Those flashes of scrapped paintings. Memories he reasoned, of the other’s who looked just like him. Other Golden Guards? Did they have names? Were they all named Hunter? At this point was that even his own name?

What stuck in his craw worst of all though wasn’t just the idea of recycled death. No what hurt was knowing he saw you. That awful, no good, annoying wild witch who he wanted locked up or sealed to a coven no matter the cost. The person he assumed was the bane of his otherwise perfect existence. Had died hundreds of times alongside him. Or at least other versions of himself. Leaving Hunter the only one to bare the knowledge that you might die too. And how awfully bad it felt to admit to himself that perhaps he didn’t really want you dead.

“Aye, are you even listening to me?” Your hand waved in front of his face, “Did you hear a word I just said?”

Eyes fluttering shut half a dozen times Hunter refocused on you in front of him. His expression very obvious he hadn’t grasped a single thing you said to him.

“I said, after dinner tonight. Come out onto the roof with me.” You extended a soft smile, “I know you can’t do magic but at least let me show you something.”

Hunter eyed you. Wary you might turn him in if you found out that his existence meant your downfall. Still there was no way for you to know what he’d seen. Keeping it sealed to himself unwilling to share that with anyone for the chance it might save your life. He’d be willing to die again if it meant he could repay you for this help.

“Fine.” He grumbled.

You expressed your gratitude and got up. Not without ruffling his newly shortened mop of hair. Hunter gripping the hem of his tunic fighting the blush on his cheeks. Maybe going up to the roof with you was a bad idea after all.

────────────────────

Just like always, you cooked with insistence he needn’t help. You looked so nature at the hearth of your home. Like you’d been doing it your entire life. For as long as this house stood. And as Hunter gathered the two dirtied bowls from your meal he had the pressing guilt of taking it all from you. All at once he felt like he’d known you forever but facing facts Hunter still knew so little about you except what Belos constantly regurgitated to him.

Had his uncle sent him after you in the first place knowing?

Hunter shook the thought from his mind. Making him shudder at the idea that he could have repeated the past without knowing it.

“Meet you up on the roof,” Your voice shattered him from his thoughts.

Before he had a chance to try and revoke his agreement to whatever you were doing. You and Flapjack were out the window nearest the door. Looked like even if he was spiraling, his palisman was having a good time hanging out with a real witch. Hunter grumbled knew leaving dirty dishes was a pathetic move to make. So he scrubbed them clean trying to take up as much time as he could before admitting defeat. And swallowing the terror creeping up on him that he’d have to go see what you had planned on the roof.

The things Luz had him doing. And that crazy Owl Lady. Hunter climbed the cobblestone side of your abode slowly just knowing you had something impossible for him to do. For a witch without powers wasn’t really a witch at all. And now Hunter wasn’t even sure what he truly was. The thought of having you rub in his weakness for all those times he tormented you in town though. It seemed deserved if you at least pushed him off the roof once.

“What are you-” His jaw dropped before he could get the rest of the words out.

No trial. No joke that might end up with him on the ground. Actually there was nothing up here besides you, him and Flapjack tucked snuggly against your thigh. Unable to help the training beaten into him to be wary of this kind of thing. Hunter threaded carefully closer to where you sat facing out towards the big decayed body of the titian hiding some of the sunset.

“What’s this? No test? No training? What are we even doing up here?” Hunter rambled on with increasing anxiety lacing his voice.

Leaning back on your hands and tipping your head back. He felt his heart seize in his chest the moment a smile as big and beautiful as the sunset spread all over your face, “I could push you off the roof if you’d like. For old times sake.”

Feeling the heat creep back into his cheeks. He was suddenly thankful this was happening at sunset. Features bathed in warm glow of the Boil Isles sun setting lower and lower with each passing second. Hunter came to you finally. Just to plop down on the thatched roof next to you.

“You remember the first time we met?” You said softly while keeping your eyes turned towards the dead beasts bones, “In the market?”

“I wasn’t even the Golden Guard at that point.” Hunter knew exactly what you were speaking of. It even brought a little twinge of a smile on his face, “You were stealing frog nails and in direct violation of about four laws.”

“I was not stealing.” You huffed, “That snobby old crone just finally broke her back and went crawling to Belos in the hopes she could get help if she turned herself into one of those mindless coven zombies.”

“But he did help her.” Hunter remembered the old woman vividly and how she later went onto even grander things than a simple market provider, “He helped her establish her things. Made her one of the top suppliers for the potions coven. She literally quadrupled her earnings by seeking him out.”

“And for what?” You finally broke your stare on the sunset to look over at him next to you, “To give up everything she ever knew? To be sealed in a coven and turned as greedy as a Blight?”

“She did it of her own free will,” Hunter mentioned never seeing that old woman put up a fight. She did as Belos said and got rewarded. It was the smartest path to take. Or so he thought at the time.

“There’s no free will if it’s one persons way or no way.” You let your gaze drift away, “...she was the last person who really truly new my parents. That had memories of them. I saw her after she joined the potions coven and...it was like talking to someone else.”

“But her memories shouldn’t have been-”

“Well they were.” You shrugged, “With it the things I liked to ask about my parents were gone. Just like that.” Out stretching your legs onto the roof and leaning back to bask in the sunset you lulled your head to the side and only shook it slightly, “That was the day I really decided to be a thorn in anyone’s side. Especially the Emperor's.”

“And mine.” Hunter mumbled recalling all the antics of yours that had gotten him laughed at, dirtied or both in the same instance. More times than not ridiculed for not being able to apprehend one wild witch. A witch that didn’t even hold the same shock value as the Owl Lady did. You were literally just a thorn in his side. No one could understand why such a simple task always failed the blond. Especially his uncle.

“My parents told me to never join a coven.” You looked out at the titan, “That’s one of the few things I remember about them. That and my nan’s cooking. Outside that. I don’t remember much. But I can feel it when I’m still in the walls of my home.”

He couldn’t deny. Within the walls of the shack you were letting him stay. It was a witches play ground. Every school of magic. And everything one might need. Some of the rarest ingredients too. Untouched for lord knew how long. And yet you’d never used them against him. Though they would have made a lot of your scuffles easily sway in your favor against such a powerless witch.

“So you came up here to make me relieve all my failings as a guard?” Hunter huffed with a frown at where this conversation was going.

He should have expected you to shake your head no. But when you did it still made him feel a certain kind of way when you were kind to him. Making him wonder if in a different life there was a meaning to the two of you. Though as he thought of it. And all those other life’s he’d apparently lived. Your outcome hadn’t been much better than his own. Yet he had no recollection of any of them. Just a churning feeling in his gut every time he looked at you.

“No.” You were about as calm as could be as the sun dipped lower and the shadows began to grow around you both, “I just wanted to let you know I’m happy you came to me.”

“Wh-What?!” Hunter couldn’t help choke on his spit. Feeling that same crawling heat spread over his face.

“I don’t really know why you did it, but I’m glad.” Turning to smile at him you could even feel your own heart in your chest against all odds, “Who knows, maybe in another life we could have been a lot more. Even friends, if that isn’t the funniest idea ever huh?”

There it was. That word vomit threatening to spill past his lips. Hunter struggled and fought with it. Every fiber in his being screaming to keep it down. Push it down further and further. Ignore it and let it pass. Perhaps even to change the outcome of repeated history. Repay you by at least giving you your life back. Each struggling second passed more and more of those haunting paintings of you with your eyes torn out screamed in his face. Reliving the nightmare of Belos’s mind was one thing. Keeping this away from you was so much worse.

“You were in those paintings!” Hunter blurted out. Crossing your face was confusion and worry like he knew it would happen. But there was no stopping it Hunter let it all out without even a breath, “The Golden Guards he’d killed before. There was always a woman in the pictures too- The- The defender I don’t know, the protector or something I couldn’t tell- But they were all the same- All the same like all those masks in his memories and the way they looked like me I- You-” Hunter felt tears brimming on his lashes like that night once again, “You were there with me- or it- or them- I don’t know how to explain it. You were there...in all of them.”

Sending its last golden rays of sun before dipping into cool night sky. The evening crept into full swing as Hunter’s words sat with you. And the realization hit you far more clearly than just the evilness lurking in the Boiling Isles castle.

“...Does that mean-” You couldn’t form the right words to spell out your buzzing thoughts. Too many of them fighting all at once to get out.

“I don’t know.” Hunter confessed, voice no longer frantic, instead laced with sadness that he was once again too weak to even do this, “I don’t know what it meant I just- I don’t want anything to happen to you. Not if those paintings mean what I think they did. Keeping it from you I thought- Since I have no powers too it just seemed logical to keep it hidden and I-”

A hand on his thigh. Hunter stopped his slowly escalating monolog to find your touch as comforting as it was, squeezing his thigh and telling him to quiet down. Not entirely sure what outcome from telling you he expected. He did brace for the worst as he understood the idea of not knowing yourself and imminent death seemed like the worst outcome.

“Thank you.” Caught by surprise Hunter’s eyes snapped from your hand to your face expecting an expression that wouldn’t match your tone. What he found was your features softened by the straggling sunlight fighting with the ever growing moonlight. Two things that didn’t coexist to the naked eye. But were always together even when the other wasn’t visible.

He didn’t understand and quickly shook his head and reached out for your hand on his thigh, “No don’t thank me- I don’t want you to die- I can’t do magic with me you’re so unsafe those paintings just mean what’s to come I can’t-”

“I was so worried about having to watch someone else come in and steal you.” It was your soft little laugh that made him stall in his words, “The more I thought about it, seeing you here in my family’s home. It felt right but I nagged at myself every day that someone right for you would be coming. Someone that stronger and better than me that you would-”

“Fall in love with.” Hunter echoed your fearful sentiment.

Chewing down on your bottom lip you didn’t particularly like his choice of words. But it did encompass the fears you had stewing in you since he explained some of the paintings, “I don’t really want you to die. Even if I said it back then in the moment of chase I- I didn’t really mean it.”

Hunter looked down to see your fingers settling between his. Just a little shift in his own palm and he laced his hand with yours. Fighting off the warmth to his cheeks to no avail as even your hand seemed warmer than anything he knew, “...You were in all of those paintings with me. I realized that honestly within the first few days. I just- I thought telling you would continue the cycle. And all that you’ve done for me, for not really having any reason to, I thought letting you finally live might repay a fraction of the debt I owe you.”

“Owe me?” You scrutinized his words and gripped his hand tighter, “You don’t owe me anything. If I’d let you in expecting to get paid then I probably wouldn’t have done it in the middle of the night with you sobbing on my night shirt.” Given it was a little embarrassing to bring up the night he came scrambling to your door. But facts were simply facts, you never expected anything from day one, “Hunter...I...I really just wanted you safe is all. I didn’t need more than that because...I liked being around you.”

“What about before?” He knew all those flight fights you’d gotten into on your staves or the running through the night market for simple contraband. There were things before this and yet he couldn’t bring to see himself as anything but the faceless monster Belos made him feel like.

“You’re annoying and a know it all,” Your words did not reflect the smile on your face when you looked at him, “You’re arrogant and up tight.” Then your hand came up to brush away the shortened bangs on his forehead. Tender touch of your fingertips down his temple until you cupped his cheek and swiped your thumb over the rosy blush of his cheek. Taking in all that you ever saw running away from him down streets or making rude gestures from your staff. He looked the same, for the most part, but still you didn’t know how to explain what it felt like thinking he might be gone the next day, “...but you’re also fun and sweet and brilliant. I brought you up here because I wanted to tell you how amazed I was at the work you’ve been putting in. Being born with powers is one thing. But what you already know and how quickly you’re applying it to Luz’s glyphs. I just- I didn’t want you to quit. I never wanted you to quit.”

Those tears wanted to break past his lashes so desperately. And perhaps a few did. Lightly streaking down his cheek. But they were hard to see when he leaned into you and pressed his lips yours. Unsure of what to do really. Hearts ready to thud out of each other’s chest. With only the cool night air to counter the heat shared across your cheeks. When Hunter finally pulled back he was surprised to see you staring at him with a goofy grin on your face.

“W-What-!” He couldn’t believe at a time like this you’d be laughing or worse his voice would crack. But before he could yank his grasp from yours. Hunter realized your squeezed his hand tighter and leaned in to kiss him once more on the cheek.

“Thank you for telling me,” You whispered softly to him, “And I’m glad we get to be at least friends before this all happens.”

“But wait what if Belos just-”

“Belos has to get through me first.” You squeezed his hand brimming with a smile, “And I’ll stand in his way every single time. No matter what.”

#toh hunter #the owl house hunter #toh golden guard #the owl house golden guard #toh x reader #the owl house x reader #hunter x reader #golden guard x reader #hunter #golden guard

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noteguk · 3 years

Text

hickeys | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a “bad influence” drabble

— summary; Jungkook gets a bit jealous. Not that he’d ever admit it.

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, jealousy/possessiveness!!, kind of angry sex (it’s one-sided, jk is going through a Moment), unprotected sex, marking (hickeys, mentions of bruises), dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of oral (f rec) and of cum eating, jk has a big dick, the oc being clueless but overall having a good time

— words; 2,2k

— author’s note; this was supposed to be shorter but, well, that’s the story of my life. A few people asked for a bit of jealous!jk so here I am to deliver it 😌 Inspired by this ask I got.

Jungkook hated the wintertime. He hated the fact that you no longer used skirts because of the cold weather, hated that you had to go away for a few weeks because of winter break and, above all, hated those stupid turtlenecks you wore.

Not because you didn’t look good in them — in fact, he had grown to appreciate them over the weeks, the way they made your breasts pop out and how your body felt so comfortable and warm against his — but because it became extremely easy for you to cover up the hickeys he gave you. Which completely missed the point of even having hickeys in the first place.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” You asked him, fingers pulling slightly on the messy strings of his dark hair. Jungkook was hovering above you in bed, his mouth glued to the skin of your neck, sucking on the flesh. He simply moaned in response, hoping that the roll of his hips against yours would make you shut up. Which obviously didn’t happen. “You better not be doing it.”

Jungkook pulled away from your skin with a pop!, watching the blossoming red that appeared close to your jaw. It would be hard to cover up that one. “And what if I am?” He smirked, placing a kiss against your lips. His cock was deep inside you, and it was incredibly difficult to argue with him when he was fucking you so well. Not that it would stop you from trying. “What are you going to do about it?”

You playfully hit him on the shoulder, the frown on your face only making him smile wider. “You’re such a jerk, I’m going to spend all the concealer I have left with this one,” you complained, and Jungkook hummed and leaned back towards your neck, resuming his devilish ministrations. Only one hickey wouldn’t be enough, Jungkook realized, he wanted you to go out to buy more makeup for that. “What’s the deal with you today?” You tried again.

Jungkook’s irritated groan vibrated throughout your skin, his hands tightening around your hips as a flame of anger sparked inside his chest. His deal was that you had cancelled on him at least three times last week to go out with some stupid guy named Jimin from your Wednesday afternoon class. He knew that he shouldn’t care about it — you two were obviously not exclusive, barely even a thing, and you didn’t seem to give a single fuck when he told you about one of the girls that he was going out with. And yet there he was: pissed off out of his mind because someone else might have interest in you, fucking you hard into the mattress because he wanted you to remember that no one could be as good as he was.

There was also a second layer of indignation when it came to that subject: Jungkook was frustrated with himself because he was balls deep inside your pussy and he couldn’t even focus on it without thinking about your stupid date. It was the fourth week of the semester, he hadn’t seen you for the entirety of winter break, and it was the first time that he was fucking you in your bed (since your roommate was out in some idiotic spiritual retreat). He could actually have you for as long as he wanted, as loud as he wanted, not a single worry about being interrupted. And how was he using that time? Being jealous of a guy he barely even knew, just because he took you out for coffee or whatever.

It really wasn’t his best moment.

“Jungkook, that’s so good,” you cried out, sucking him out of his thoughts. Jungkook grunted at the desperate tone of your voice, his name sounding so perfect coming from your mouth, and he just wanted to hear more of it. His cock was slipping in and out of you with ease, your wetness dripping down his length, and he forced himself to pay attention to you for the rest of the night. “I’m getting close.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook groaned and pressed his forehead against yours — he could tell that already from the way you were tightening so perfectly around him, hugging his cock like you were meant to take it. “You like when I fuck your pussy like this, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I love it.” You closed your eyes, back arching off the bed as he continued to drill his fat cock in and out of you. No matter how many times he gave it to you, you couldn’t get used to the incredible pressure of his girth against your walls, filling you up so perfectly. “Feels so good…”

“Is this all for me baby?” Jungkook finished his sentence with a particularly hard slam of his hips against yours — you didn’t even need to ask him to fuck you rougher, he already knew that was what you wanted. His eyes were a deep dark storm, glued to your parted lips as you moaned out for him, your perfect little cunt pulsating around him. Jungkook could only think about how wonderful you felt, how he couldn’t find someone better even if he tried. “Is this pussy mine? Was it made for me?”

Jungkook was fucking you so well that you could not help but nod, a pathetic whimper tearing itself from your throat as your hands fumbled to hold onto the nape of his neck. Your nails scratched his skin, the sensation making him groan.

“Yeah, it’s yours.” You said it because you knew that it was all pretend, all his weird possessiveness that he only showed when he was hitting that deep inside you. Jungkook also knew that it was bullshit — but he allowed himself to dive into that fantasy as he felt himself throb inside you. “Fuck, Jungkook, I’m really close.”

But he didn’t relent. Jungkook shoved his head on the curve of your neck, grunting as he quickened his pace in and out of you. He could feel your thighs trembling, your pussy fluttering around him, and yet it didn’t feel like it was enough. “Say it again,” he roared, hands digging to the flesh of your hips. It would leave a mark, both of you were aware of that, and yet there was a shared sense of wonder when you saw the purple bruises that he would leave behind. “Say that it’s mine.”

“This pussy is yours, Jungkook,” you whined, head pressed hard against the soft pillows. At that point, you’d say and do anything he asked you to. “O-Only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice hoarse and deep as sin. Jungkook was drilling into you like a madman, hoping that the ache between your legs would be enough to remind you of him, of what he could do to you. He wanted you to keep that in the back of your head next time you had to pick between him and some other dude who wouldn’t know how to treat you. “All mine, this is all mine. Made for me.”

He quickly got lost in his own praises, mind whitening out at the pleasure that monopolized his body. When you came around him, just as perfectly as you had many times before, Jungkook felt a wave of pride washing over him. It pierced its sharp teeth in his flesh, sucked him out of his worries — suddenly he didn’t give a shit about Jimin from your Wednesday class, because he knew that no amount of stupid coffee dates would ever equate to the way he had you. It was just a matter of time before you realized that as well.

He felt you shivering beneath him, the way you always did when your pleasure was starting to become a bit too much. Jungkook leaned back so he could see your face, that blushy mess that got him sinking deeper inside you, the thin veil of tears that swam over your unfocused eyes. He would bet real money that Jimin from Wednesday class wouldn’t get you like that in a million years. Not that he was jealous or anything. It was just a fact.

“J-Jungkook, that’s too much,” you whined.

And he knew that it was, but he also wanted you to feel it all, and wanted you to cum around him as many times as you could. After all, you finally had some alone time, so he was definitely going to make good use of it.

“Take it for me, baby,” he asked breathlessly, the rising pitch of his voice signaling that he was close too. Jungkook could feel his own orgasm growing closer, building up at the base of his spine and tugging at his balls, threatening to overflow. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You bit your lip, fighting against a sob as he continued his frantic movements. You wanted to be good for him, wanted to fight through that sensitivity for him. But sometimes it was hard to focus, and the space between the pain and the pleasure could be a bit too long sometimes. “A-Are you close?” You asked.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” he spat. Jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on your own, watching as a coat of desperation painted your features. “What’s the matter, baby? You don’t wanna get eaten out after I’m done here?”

“God, Jungkook,” you said. If you weren’t so lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d probably argue with him further, perhaps try and ask for the millionth time what had possessed him. But you seriously couldn’t be bothered with any more arguments and your brain wasn’t fully functional yet, so you settled for a quick and objective, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook chuckled, lowering himself so he could place a kiss against your lips. “I'm trying to make you feel good. Let me eat my cum out of you, baby,” he teased, feeling as your walls pulsated around him at the idea. The fact that he hadn’t cum yet was a miracle on its own, because he had been about to tip over for a while now. “Unless you want to keep it inside you.”

The interesting part was that Jungkook didn’t fully understand his second option until it had spilled from his lips. Now that it had been spoken out loud, manifested into the universe if you will, it made his cock throb with the mental imagery of you walking around stuffed with his cum, making other guys think they had a chance when you were already his. He’d seriously have to try that sometime.

Before he could stop himself, his hooded eyes centralized on the hickeys he had embellished your neck with, and his marking was enough to make him spill himself inside you, painting your walls with waves of his warm cum. Jungkook called out what sounded like a broken version of your name, throwing his head back and listening to the wonderful whimpers you were producing for him. Just for him.

At that point, both of you were considering buying your roommate something as a way to thank her for her wonderful idea of a spiritual retreat.

Jungkook breathed out hard and removed his cock from your pussy, watching as the white liquid dripped between your glistening folds, accumulating on the sheets. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d probably have yelled at him for ruining your mattress.

“Have you made up your mind?” He asked, flickering his gaze up at you. You were such a pretty mess, and he lived for the fact that it was all because of him. “Wanna keep it in or want me to eat it out?”

Honestly, he realized there was no wrong choice and, yet, he wanted to know what you would pick.

You bit your lip and, after a moment of hesitation, you answered. “Eat it out,” you said.

Jungkook smirked, lowering his head between your legs. “Good girl.”

Jungkook saw you wearing a scarf the next day and he wanted to smack himself across the face for not considering that possibility. It hid all his efforts to mark you, didn’t make you nervous talking to other people. He could see from the faint coat of sweat on your face that you were feeling hot, but he also saw you smirking at him enough times to know that you were planning to endure that for as long as necessary. He was stupid to believe he’d actually get what he wanted for once: it had been too easy.

He really fucking hated the wintertime.

Check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

Taglist: @youurkryptonite @taehyungieskith @fan-ati–c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bad influence #bad boy jungkook #pwp #drabble #smut #jungkook pwp #bts #jeon jungkook #bts x you #bts x reader #reader insert

3K notes · View notes

taechaos · 3 years

Text

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing.

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it.

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you.

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back.

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look. “How long was the interaction anyway?”

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything.

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question.

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur.

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor.

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm.

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jungkook fic

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spikesbimbo · 3 years

Text

tanjiro x f!reader

tags: stepcest, creampie, cockwarming

18+ minors dni

“I'll never let anyone hurt you,” He muttered into your skin, pressing kisses up your arm as his clouded eyes met yours, not leaving them once as he whispered once more. “- or touch you”

“Not even breathe the same air as you, no. You're too precious to be seen.”

His mind only thinking of you as he swore he was going to snap, his friendly shell hiding all his vengefulness and hate breaking after you ran into muzan in public, not making it to him before he grabbed you. The feeling of his arm still lingering on you after whispering in your ear loud enough for your nii-chan to hear, saying that you'd be perfect for his next wife, eyes immediately watering while sending shivers down your spine.

The same ones that you felt the day it happened. Tanjiro taking you in after your family met the same fate as his, your panicked eyes meeting his gentle ones as he picked you up, swearing to protect you with his life while you clung onto him like a baby, sobbing your eyes out while he held you tight.

But after many years you started to wonder if he actually cared about you more than you thought, yes he was you nii-chan now, even going as far as to sneak you out of nezuko’s room to ‘take care of you’. But he'd always take care of the weaker, leaving you questioning whether you were getting special treatment or not, a deep rooted jealousy burning inside you as your hands gripped onto his slightly clothed chest, running your fingers under his robe.

Letting the envy and pain take over, knowing the sweet man beneath you could never say no to you. “Please… please fuck me, nii-chan, wanna forget about him. I haven't felt you in so long… m’so empty without you.” you sobbed, tears slipping out of your eyes.

Having no shame in begging for it, knowing he took pride in you asking him for anything, always being such a responsible older brother. He wanted to be your rock, the one to bear all the responsibility while you just stayed beside him being such an angel. Wanting to make him feel good, always being on your best behavior with and without him.

“Shh… It’s alright. Don't let me see them pretty tears fall for no reason, okay? Nii-chan’s gonna give you what you want.”

Hiking up the bottom of your dress, not hesitating to strip down enough to free his cock, already so hard as he lined it up with your cunt. Sliding all the way in one gentle motion as he leaned into you, cooing at you for taking it so well, as he bottomed out with a groan.

Already so wet from just his touch, drenching the table underneath you while you let out a mantra of his name. Easily giving way for him as you heard the lewd wet squelches while his thrusts got more stable, his calloused hands holding onto your hips as he felt your warm soft walls clench around him.

You felt so full, his fat cock stretching you out, battering your cervix as tenderly as he could. Palms pushing against his chest as you couldn't help but tilt your head back. Eyes fluttering shut, getting stuck there as he knocked the breath right out of you.

“N-nii, can't...ngh.'' Nails digging into his skin as your dry mouth was open, gasping in between your whimpers.

Leaning down into your frame, taking your lips in his as your breath was finally regulated. As always your big brother had to come and save the day, taking him time tasting your sweet mouth as he continued to fuck you while his pace grew rougher, moaning pathetically into his embrace.

“No one else makes you feel like this, do they baby? Yeah? No one fucks you like nii-chan, huh?” He groaned, emotions growing stronger of your body under him.

“N-no, nii-chan… no one. No one touched me but you.” You cried, feeling overwhelmed. Body limp in his hold as he continued kissing and fucking your rougher and rougher.

“That’s right, baby.” Never once not praising you for being such a good girl, always listening to his every word. “Only I can touch you.”

The words leaving his lips making your legs wrap sound him tighter, throbbing around him. And in your fucked out submissive state you were his, in and out, agreeing and letting him do whatever he pleased with you. “Y-yes, only you, ngh… only you, jiro,.”

“Nii-chan, cum inside me, please,” you whimper as you try to push back into his thrusts. “Please, ah, nii-chan, I wanna-, wanna make you a daddy.... wanna make you mine.”

‘Fuck.” Never seeing anything so pretty in his life until he came across you, taking his cock like it was made for you, your pretty voice moaning and whining so blissfully as he watched your eyes roll back, body jerking and kicking as your cunt didn't let him go. Body completely his as he thrust the final few times and finally came inside your pretty little hole. Pure pleasure painted on your face as your love drawn gaze couldn't help but look at him.

“You okay, baby?” He asked. Moving so he could wrap his arms around your waist, dragging you into his chest, cock still buried deep inside you as he rubbed the small of your back. Seeing your cute little smile appear after a few minutes, tired grin looking up at him like he was the only thing in the world.

“Yeah, with you.”

#tanjiro smut #demon slayer smut #kny smut #tw:. stepcets #tanjiro x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Text

“i want you to have me...all of me”

pairing: hitoshi shinso x female reader

cw: virgin!reader fluff, porn with a plot, nsfw (MINORS DNI! loss of virginity, corruption kink, dacryphilia, kissing, fingering, spit kink, oral fixiation, creampie, consensual sex, protected sex, nipple play, nipple sucking, jaw grabbing, praise kink, degradation, bondage by capturing weapon, biting and marking, hair pulling, cunt slap)

word count: 5300+

a/n: i haven’t posted in a week cause of revising but yeah this is for a collab and i have one more collab event going on so yeah from now to the 21st they’ll only be this fic and another fic coming out, enjoy.

other information: corrupt a virgin collab by @seita

summary: in which shinso finally takes the next step with his sidekick after being unable to confess he finally works up the courage finding out your own secret as you both decide to take the next step in your newfound relationship

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

He couldn’t help but stare at you, stare at how pretty you looked on his arm, you were more than just your looks though. The way you silenced a room with your quirk, the way you were able to easily fit into any conversation and the way you always eagerly spoke to the pro hero.

It had been a long night of mingling at the event for pro heroes that Shinso almost forgot the real purpose of it. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating, you were his sidekick and that was it, you had a powerful quirk that would get you far in the hero society. But most of all you were so damn innocent.

Your lingering eyes on his form as he entered the agency, the way you’d give him those tender looks whenever he explained the day's tasks. He couldn’t help but stare at you from a distance, the way you spoke calmly to the other side kicks. He had brought you along to the event more for his own benefit than what he had told you the day prior. Words of getting you to talk to other pro heroes when in reality he had just wanted you on his arm for the night.

The stupid purple dress that clinged to your body had made him unable to resist the temptation. You looked too good to be left alone, so as he remained at your side, introducing you to other pro heroes, Midoriya and Todoroki both smiling happily at you. You seemed to easily converse with the two pro heroes even speaking to the rowdy Bakugo as he arrived with drinks for the three of them. Midoriya offered his to you which you had happily taken, Shinso didn’t need to worry, of course he didn’t.

But another feeling had taken over him as he watched you converse, watched you happily take the drink. Fingers brushing against Midoriya’s fingers, a feeling of an unknown jealousy that made him begin the walk towards the four of you.

His arm moved to your back as you gave a sweet disgusting smile at him, “haven’t been getting into any trouble, have you?”

“No…of course not,” you stifled as he smirked looking down at you.

“We should get going,” he led you away as his hand remained on your back, he turned to meet the three men who watched you leave. A sickly smirk on his face as he couldn’t help but feel a burst of energy hit him as he talked to you.

You were too perfect for him to not resist, for him to not touch. “it’s so early though Shinso.” You whined as he didn’t meet your gaze, you were nothing more than his sidekick, you have no feelings for him, he could tell from the way your gaze lingered back at the hall. “We sh…”

“We have an early morning,” he interrupted as you closed your mouth, your proposition to spend more time with him seemed to have gone over his head as he began stepping down the steps towards the car park.

You hated how cold he could get in a matter of seconds, how every time you’d see him smile and it would turn into a scowl once he realised what he was doing. On many occasions your friends at work had told you about the many occasions of when Shinso would get pissed off and the whole agency would become annoyed as well.

Shinso watched as you hadn’t followed him as you looked up at the night sky, thinking – most likely about how much you wanted to be nowhere near the man. His dull eyes focused on you as he saw you take the steps towards him cautiously. You were too pure, too vulnerable for him to ever have, and as he kept you at an arm’s length he knew tomorrow was already doomed to be an uneasy day.

Shinso had dropped you off to your apartment without a world, he watched you enter the complex before leaving. He was about to drive off when he banged his hand against the steering wheel, if only he had confessed, the event was supposed to be the alone time he had wanted with you. But his insecurities and nerves had gotten in the way, as he banged his head against the wheel he couldn’t help but feel almost pathetic.

He had gotten over the torment of his quirk being villainous years ago but now with someone so filled with a painting vitality that was unknown to him he couldn’t handle it. What was even worse was the way you banged your head against the door. You could’ve said something more, reassured him, asked to spend more time. But you had remained frozen even in the car ride, your gaze on the wisps of black and everlasting speckles of white shine through the mist.

Both of you remained tormented by your overthinking as neither realised the feeling that was ready to explode tomorrow.

You walked into the agency bright and early as you were met with one of your friends, Mai grabbed your hand as soon as she saw you. Taking you to where some of the offices were and most of all where Shinso’s own office sat, the glass separating everybody from him. As you looked through the transparent material, “what’s happening?”

“He’s been in his office just staring outside of the window for the past two hours,” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Okay and why doesn’t someone just go and ask if he’s okay?” You questioned as you were about to step forward and go yourself.

That’s when the feeling of multiple arms stopped you in your tracks, “listen newbie, there’s one rule you have to follow here and that is to never go into his office without him asking.”

You chuckled at how stupid they were all being, “what’s the worst that’ll happen?”

“You don’t want to know?” One of the sidekicks said as he shivered.

You raised an eyebrow giving an unamused look as you barged past the hands, they looked at you hesitantly but didn’t stop you, “newbies gonna learn the hard way.” One of the sidekicks said as Mai elbowed them watching what was to occur.

You knocked on the glass as you didn’t hear a response but still walked in, “Shin…”

Half way through your speech you felt his capturing weapon wrap around your body as he turned the chair, his eyes widened as he saw you caught in it. He let go in a matter of seconds, but eyes remained still as he looked at how you still gave a toothy smile. “I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I got warned so it's my fault…” you trailed off as he began to unwrap the cloth off of you. The image ingrained of you wrapped in it as he was able to fuck into you, shaking his head as he put it back around his neck. “…is everything okay?”

“Yeah…” Shinso looked outside seeing how people seemed to be doing everything but their jobs. He stepped past you going to the glass as he opened the door, “don’t you all have patrols to go too?”

His eyes flashes into a haze as everybody seems to scurry to grab their things for patrols as they leave the building. “Come on…” he murmured as he began walking out of the building, if he was going to go on a patrol he was going with you,

He had spent too long of a time without you that if he wasn’t going to confess today then he’d forget about you. He was giving himself today, he had to do it, he was a Pro Hero, he had everything he had wanted. His dream was a success but your arrival had made him want you and now with you so close in his grasp he had to try at least.

His eyes flashed to the way you walked beside him, you seemed tense, quiet even. Your hero costume ordaining you perfectly, the whites and lilacs making the pure vessel you had ready to be tainted. He licked his lips as he fingers went through his hair, the Artificial Voice Cord around his mouth.

You always loved the way it worked, having heard Shinso speak about it when you had first arrived. It was interesting and the start of what you would call a friendship when you had asked to see how it worked. “Your staring Y/n,” he said, “focus on the civilians.”

You nodded as you looked back to the surrounding areas, it seemed like villain attacks were on a low at the time, even with petty crime it was easily handled by the both of you. You wanted to speak about last night, how he seemed to want to confess of something but instead the silence and awkwardness that occurred instead.

“Shinso…is something wrong?” You murmured as you both walked passed an alleyway.

He looked down at your face, the way your hero costume clinged to every part of your body. He had no idea how you didn’t get cold from wearing it especially when winter occurred. But your question made him think instead, he was only irritated this morning due to not confessing to you.

But his liking of you stemmed from more than just wanting to ruin the purity you had, he liked how you spoke to others, how you easily became friends with the other sidekicks, how you looked was an added bonus. But most of all he liked that stupid goddamn smile you’d have whenever you saw something you liked. And at that moment Shinso was seeing that stupid smile, the way your eyes crinkled, and lines formed as your lips were full and cheeks pushed to show even more of your smile.

He stared at you, the way you continued to look up and smile at him he was silent, and you didn’t care because he finally looked at peace. The startling noise of an ice cream van to the side had made you focus away from him, the way you stared at the kids holding their ice cream as it dripped to the side of their fingers. “Come on, I’ll get us one,” Shinso didn’t let you answer, instead taking your sleeve as you both went towards the truck.

He was avoiding the matter at hand, he hated how he couldn’t be his normal blunt self, he was able to talk to people. He knew he was that’s how he had made friends when he had finally joined the hero course. But as he looked over at you, the way you looked at the different ice creams before pointing at the one you wanted…you were someone who wouldn’t glance at him twice.

As he passed the ice cream to you, you took a lick of it as you looked at him take his own. He didn’t even know if you knew what you were doing, licking at the sides as he watched your tongue. He shook his hair trying not to stare but as you both continued the patrol of a less crime filled area. The ice cream dripped to the side of your hand and finger.

There was a silence as you both ate in silence, as you both turned to see the agency. Your fingers with the white dairy as you sucked on it, he couldn’t help but watch as each finger came out of your mouth with saliva sticking to it.

It was Denki who had got him out of the trance, stopping the both of you as he came from his own patrol, “Shinso,” the man looked at his friend as he gave a tired look.

“Oh Kaminari, what are you doing here?” He questioned as he watched his blond friend look down at you.

Denki already knew of you, having seen you last night but not spoken to you. He had seen Shinso’s lingered looks and had often heard the man speak fondly about you, “just passing by you must be the Y/n I’ve heard so much about.”

“You’ve heard about me,” you smile out, it wasn’t the same one you had given to Shinso but Shinso was able to witness you converse with his friend. How much he loved that about you, how whatever situation you were put in your ease to become friends with another pro hero.

Denki nodded as he looked back at Shinso, “all good things, you were right she is very pretty Shinso.”

Shinso glared at his friend as Denki chuckled, “I better leave before I get punched by lover boy.”

“Kaminari,” Shinso murmured as he just wanted his friend to leave. Denki left with a wave as you gave a confused look tilting your head to the side to look at Shinso.

“Pretty…”

“I…I…” Shinso knew it was now or never to confess. Knowing that the rest of his day would end up becoming busy with other sidekicks and scheduled meetings he had. He stopped you in your tracks as he looked down at you, your soft gaze staring up at him lightly.

“You are…You’re pretty…”

“Oh thanks, I don’t really see it, but I guess the quirk makes me look more pre…”

Shinso interrupted quickly, “No…no it’s not that. Fuck…” his hand went to the back of his neck as he didn’t dare look into your eyes, “I like you, okay? I don’t want to ruin anything though and you probably don’t like someone like me because of my quirk and…”

Your hand went to his cheek as you stopped his rambling, “you’re such an idiot.”

“If you’re going to reject me you could be n…”

You interrupted him once again, “I’m not, I like you too…you’re the first person I’ve ever…ever liked and I guess I’m not very good and showing my feelings…but I do like you too.”

He met your gaze as your hand remained on his cheek, he looked at you, how small you seemed. Your eyes flashed to his lips as he looked at you softly, “we can take things slow, whatever you want.”

Before you both could lean into one another, the sound of sidekicks coming through the corner made you both move apart from one another. An unnerving silence between the two as Mai came towards you, “let’s get some lunch Y/n.”

“Okay,” Shinso had been taken by some of his other sidekicks over an issue that occurred as you and Mai left on your break.

Giving one last look behind you as you looked at the man, he had a new glistening to him as he licked his lips. He was finally accomplished as he couldn’t wait to finally have you be his.

The day continued with Shinso being busy with the issue that occurred, you had barely seen him as you and Mai went on another patrol, both speaking about the events of the weekend. You spoke about the pro hero event you had been to and how nice the number one pro hero had been. A shocking surprise for Mai who seemed to feel intimidated by the green haired man. “I’m telling you he was so nice, like he offered me his drink.”

“Ugh I wish Shinso had invited me now, I want to meet him so badly,” you chuckled lightly as you both watched the sun begin to set. You could understand why he had invited you of all people last night now, how his stuttering of how pretty you had looked in the dress you wore for the event. It had all connected and all you could think about was the man.

When you both arrived back at the agency, an uneasy emptiness had settled, Shinso was missing alongside other sidekicks. You and Mai didn’t question it as you both grabbed your stuff to leave, just as you both stepped outside the doors, you saw Shinso pulling at his hair as he seemed angry about something, taking aggressive steps as he walked towards his office. You would have gone to see him if the pull of Mai didn’t stop you, instead taking the long walk back to your apartment instead.

Shinso had become pissed as soon as his sidekicks spoke of what occurred, having to spend the whole day sorting out their mess. He had finally come back to the agency after hours of running around the city. His mind had been on you and with you having already left and unfinished business occurring.

His mind was focused on just you, wanting to only see you, wanting to only have you. As he took his car keys, leaving the agency as quickly as he could, a few goodbyes here and there. There was only one thing on his mind, and it was you, corrupting you.

You had finally felt free after the confession this morning, lying on the sofa as you flicked through some shows. Shinso had been your first crush ever since you had first seen him when he was starting out. But for him to like you back, you felt like a kid. A worry settled through you, you were inexperienced, not even having had your first kiss let alone slept with someone.

Under the guise you had of wanting to seem pure, an unsettling urge to have Shinso in you had taken over you. The way his hero costume clung to his frame, his hands moving through the capturing weapon. The said capturing weapon wrapped around your wrists as he fucked your mouth, you couldn’t lie and say that even if Shinso had spoken of taking things slow all you wanted was him.

The sound of the door being knocked at made you jolt as you opened the door to see the man in question. He was still wearing his hero costume as he looked at you with a fiery lust, “I can’t wait,” he murmured.

His hands went to your neck as his finger brushed against your cheek, lips smashing against one another. You didn’t know what you were doing, instead hands moved to his hair as you followed his movement with your own. His tongue gliding through your mouth as it skimmed against your tongue, he heard your low moan as his other hand moved to your back making you arch into the kiss.

He let go as your faces stayed close to one another, the fury remained not subsiding. He looked at you with lust as his mouth moved to your neck, “I need you Y/n…please.”

A soft kiss placed against the crook of your neck as you leant your head backwards to allow him more access. You had been thinking of this for too long, wanting him but his edge as his fingers played with your shirt. Slipping under as his hand gripped your sides, feeling your skin under him.

“Shinso…” you whispered as his mouth continued to kiss at your neck, he looked up at you. A realisation flashed through him as he let go of you.

“I’m sorry Y/n…I shouldn’t have…I said we should take things slow and I…I…forgive me today has just been…” he had begun pacing around, as he went to close the door.

You didn’t know how to react, you wanted this, wanted to help him and as you interrupted him, your own lust took over, “I want you.”

He stopped in his tracks as he looked at your form eyeing you up and down as he moved towards you once again, “are you sure?”

“Yeah…” you looked down as you didn’t want to admit the truth.

“Y/n…” his hand moved to cup your face, forcing you to stare up at him as his lips were close enough for you to touch, to feel once again, “tell me properly that you want this.”

“I want this…it’s just…” he waited for the response giving you a tender look as you looked at him with a soft glow “…I’m a virgin.”

He always thought the persona you put on was a façade that someone capable of fighting any villain and talking to anyone would have had one-night stands. Especially with how pretty you were, everything about you was pretty from the way your hair sat to the way you spoke. Shinso’s quirk relied on people talking but whenever you spoke he felt more enchanted than any of the people influenced by the brainwashing.

“That means I can ruin you…myself.” He felt even more turned on as he watched you stare up at him, he pushed you back on the arm rest of the sofa. You sat on it as one of his legs spread your legs open, hands gripping your face, his thumb skimmed against your lips as he pushed it inside watching as you sucked at it. “You gonna let me ruin this pretty…” his thumb moved out of your mouth as he skimmed your saliva across your mouth and cheeks, watching the spit fall down.

“Yes…” you were breathing heavy as he smirked seeing how dazed you looked. Your face tainted in a matter of seconds, gripping your jaw with one hand as his other went under your shirt. He went under your bra as his finger moved to flick against your nipple.

The instant you moaned, mouth agape, the build of spit he had in his mouth was spat right into your tongue. You moaned as his finger continued to pinch at your nipple, the spit mixing with your own as Shinso was able to see the strings of saliva against your tongue and mouth. “You’re already doing good baby.”

The praise sent a flutter through your body as he noticed how your eyes glossed, “let's finish this in your room.” He gripped your thighs bringing your legs to wrap around his waist as your arms moved to his neck.

You kissed him as he could taste his own saliva and your spit mix between both of you, as he kicked the door open, seeing how your room reflected you perfectly. He put you on the bed as your mouths remained connected. Spit on the sides of your mouths as he saw how much you craved him, your hands moving to grab onto his capturing weapon.

He closed the bedroom door as he knelt on the bed, one knee between your own as he wanted to feel how wet you were. Taking the capturing weapon off of his neck, he watched as your eyes lingered onto it, putting it to the side where he could easily grab it. He kissed you softly, leaning down as your back hit the duvet.

“You sure you want to do this?” He whispered as his hand lingered across your shirt, his hand waiting to hear your response.

You nodded as he waited to hear you verbally say it, “I want you to have me...all of me.”

It was all he needed for his hand to lift your shirt above your head, the way your breasts sat in your bra, hard nipples from his fingers already having flicked against them. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby…make you scream for me.”

You moaned as his mouth sucked at your nipple, his fingers flicking against your other one, as his other hand moved to your joggers. Hand about to divulge into your underwear, your hand had moved to pull at Shinso’s hair as he continued to suck and nibble at your tit.

“Hi…Toshi”, at the sound of his name, his hand went into your underwear, feeling how wet you had gotten. His fingers beginning to play with your clit, feeling the nub between his fingers as your moans intoxicated the room. “M…more…please..” you arched your hips to feel his fingers against your slick filled clit.

The movement made Shinso stop sucking at you, he looked at you, how slutty you had become to feel even more of him. He took his hand out of your underwear as you whined to feel more of him, his fingers filled with your slick, “already wet…isn’t that slutty of you…” He watched as you tried to get passed his legs to feel some more but he put his fingers across your lips instead, “you want to taste yourself…open up.”

He was too close to your lips as just as you opened your mouth, he moved his fingers and sucked on them himself, “you took too long.” He teased as he sucked each finger forcing you to watch as your hands tried to get to his trousers, but his other hand had restrained both. “If you keep moving I’ll have to tie you up…or is that what you want?”

You both looked to the side where the capturing weapon was, he leant against you, the imprint of his cock through his trousers pressing against your clothed cunt. You rutted against him, he gave a groan at the movement against his cock as he took the capturing weapon, the carbon coil flicking between his hands as he grabbed your hands. His cock skimming past your cunt once more, as he put your hands above your head, using the cloth as it wrapped against your wrists, tightening it at each movement you made against him.

“You want to be tied up for me…if you’re going to act like a slut, I’ll treat you like one.” He watched how your chest became full and raised as you arched to feel more of him, he took his shirt off as he was left shirtless.

Your eyes filled with a hunger as he went down to kiss you, “reply to me or I won’t fuck you baby.”

“I…I want to be tied up…” you whispered acknowledging how turned on you had become just from his action.

“Good…” his hand moved to your underwear, going past it as his hand patted your cunt, “…girl”

Both his hands moved to pull your joggers down your form, pulling your underwear down simultaneously. He watched how flushed you had become from being exposed, “pretty virgin cunt baby.”

“Take it…” you murmured as your hands ruffled against the material.

He undid his belt as he looked at you softly, “I intend too,” fingers moving past your clit as two fingers divulged into your cunt. The feeling of your walls pushing against his fingers, “you touched yourself baby.”

“I…I…” as his fingers moved inside of your cunt, you moaned as he went further into you, “Y…yes…”

“Naughty girl aren’t you,” he watched you squirm, your legs twitching at the feeling of his thick fingers pumping back and forth into your wet cunt. “Want to cum? Want to cum on my fingers baby?”

“To…Toshi, ple…please let me…cum…” your mouth had widened, drool coming from the corners as you felt a coil in your stomach.

He pumped into you continuously, his fingers moving into the back of your cervix as he watched you twitch even more, “cum for me baby.”

“Toshi…” your loud scream of his name as the coil snapped the gush of cum being pushed back into you as his fingers continued to move past your first orgasm. “Wan…want your…” you didn’t have to finish the sentence, already knowing what you wanted as he watched his fingers were soaked in your cum. Stepping out of his trousers as he took his own boxers off, the imprint of cock made you lick your lips. He went into his pocket finding a condom as he looked down at you.

Cum dripping onto the bed sheets as your cunt looked plump and swollen, ready for him to take something no one else had even seen. Rolling the condom onto his cock, his fingers moved to your mouth, letting you have a taste of any cum that was left on his fingers. “You ready for this baby,” he whispered as his arms trapped your frame, he leant down to kiss you as you moaned a yes. “This is gonna hurt a little bit…”

His indigo hair damp as it rested against the back of his neck, he watched your hands squirm wanting to touch his hair as he moved one hand to unravel the capturing weapon. As soon as your wrists were free your hands went into his hair, pushing him to kiss you more, his cock moving past your clit and first orgasm.

“I want you…” you whispered as your faces were only a mere inch away from one another, he looked down at you as your eyes were filled with a different feeling. Not of a lust that you both had experienced, but a passion to finally become one.

His cock moved past your clit, he pressed into you slowly as he watched you moan, eyes watering. Wiping the tears with one hand, “you’re doing amazing baby, just a little bit more.”

His cock was half way into you as he began to thrust back out of you before going back in, your eyes watered even more at the feeling of his thick cock stretching your cunt out. “To…Toshi, I can…can take m…more,” he nodded as he pushed into you, his base finally meeting the entrance of your cunt as you moaned his name.

He began to thrust back and forth into you, going deeper into you at each thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist as his knelt feeling his cock go into your even more. His mouth went down to kiss you softly as saliva missed between one another once again, the feeling of his spit sticking to the corners of your mouth were prevalent as he continued to fuck into you. “Yo…you’re so fucking pretty baby,” he whispered as you he moaned into your ear.

The sounds of him groaning and moans of your name making you want to feel him forever, “To…Toshi please more….” His thrusts became quicker as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your hands limp around his neck as even your legs seemed to have fallen due to the impact of each thrust.

As you gained your high, eyes opening as you saw his form, the way his hair fell across his face, his perfect body and cock, but most of all the look of love he had for you as he met your eyes. “I want to...be with you,” you whispered into his ear, his form changed as his thrusts became even more sloppier, “Hitoshi…I…I love you…”

“I love you too Y/n…” the sound of his voice making the coil snap in your stomach, feeling the white gush out of you. Each sloppy thrust becoming even sloppier as you moaned his name at the feeling of your release. The use of your cum being used to help him get even more into you, “I fuckin…love you baby.”

His words repeated as he felt his own high, groaning your name out loud as the cum gushed into the condom. Sliding out of your cunt collapsed beside you, sweat across both your forms as you gave a tired look at him, the night sky reflecting from outside, the small lamp to the side illuminating the room as he turned to see. The way your chest rose, cum dripped down onto the bed and hands moved to move his hair away from his face, “I do love you Toshi.”

He took the condom off as he tied it letting it drop as he watched you move to rest against his chest, fingers against his lower abdomen. He smiled watching how your eyes became tired and began dropping down slowly, the feeling of his body against you remained.

Kissing the top of your head, he pulled the covers on top of you both as he watched you snuggle closer into him. Almost wrapping your body against him as he looked up at the sky seeing the wisps of new stars and new colours, looking down at your sleeping form and the new relationship that had formed.

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