#“and to read that book even though it's not something you usually read your colleague was just too passionate with recommending it to you”

[dollsandmasks]

You know that moment where you have a crumb of free time and you could be writing, you could be finishing that fic, you could be catching up with your friends, you could take out your sketchbook and draw the most self-indulgent things, you could at least be reading or watching something interesting, but you happen to have a minor task that you don't want to do, your body is slightly uncomfortable from typical body things and your work has been a bit stressful today, so now you are in a restless scrolling more and opening the same three social media apps hoping that something will give you that hit and send your brain in motion and make you either work on tasks or do something fun.

Why am I procrastinating making a single phone call, and then doing fun things forever.

[little-jana]

"In the Depths of Thoughts"

Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 950

Summary: Reader forms a quiet, emotional connection with Spencer as they work together on a case.

It was an ordinary day in the office of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, yet everything felt different. The flickering screen in front of me, the quiet conversations of the other team members, the soft clicks of keyboards – all of it was background noise in a symphony of thoughts that only I seemed to hear. And my thoughts, they belonged only to him.

Spencer Reid.

He sat there, at his usual spot, which wasn’t just his corner of the office but the center of my universe. It was hard to explain why, but every time I looked at him, it felt like time slowed down. Like every moment I spent in his presence was more precious than the last.

I knew how he thought. I understood the way he immersed himself in his books, the way he used words to explain the world as though it were an endless puzzle only he could grasp in its depth. He was so brilliant, so unique – and so incredibly vulnerable.

Lately, I’d caught myself sneaking glances at him more than once. The way he talked to the others, how his hands moved when he developed a theory that seemed incomprehensible to most of us but was so natural to him. It was almost as if I could physically feel the flow of his thoughts moving through his body, as though his intelligence was a tangible presence.

“Have you gone through the new profile?” I suddenly heard his voice behind me. It was calm, almost too calm, as if he didn’t want to disturb me. I turned around and met his gaze. For a moment, I was frozen. It was as if his eyes were piercing right through me, as if he could read what I couldn’t bring myself to say.

“Yeah, I just finished it,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady and professional. But it was difficult when his gaze, that penetrating gaze, was so intense. The way he looked at me wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was almost as if he was discovering me – me, not just as a colleague but as something much deeper. Something I couldn’t name, but that rose within me every time he was near.

“Good,” he said with a faint smile, which only amplified his shy charm. “If you want, we can go through it together. Maybe you’ll find something I missed.” It was the way he said it – calm, yet so inviting – that I couldn’t resist agreeing.

We sat together at a table, the screen between us, but in that moment, it felt as though everything else around us faded. Only he and I. I could feel the quiet presence of his nearness, the subtle shift in his body as he searched for his thoughts. It was almost as though we were engaged in a silent conversation – a conversation without words. Our eyes met again and again, and with each glance, something unspoken seemed to pass between us – an unspoken connection that I couldn’t explain but that was drawing me in more and more.

“You know,” he suddenly began, his voice quieter, “I admire how you always stay so calm. You have a way of interacting with people that I don’t have. I... I often don’t understand what goes on in people’s heads. But with you, you have such a calmness that I somehow... admire.” His words hit me like a soft blow to the stomach. I wasn’t sure if he realized what he had just said, but it felt like he was breaking down a wall – a wall that stood between us.

I could feel my heart racing as I looked into his eyes. “Spencer,” I whispered, “you’re… so much more than you think. You’re extraordinary. You see the world in a way no one else can. Your intelligence is... overwhelming. But it’s your empathy that really sets you apart. You understand people in a way that you might not even realize.” I paused, unsure if I should say more, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. “You’re not just the brilliant investigator who finds the answers. You’re someone who can delve into the deepest corners of the human mind without ever losing your humanity.”

For a moment, it was silent. The words I had spoken hung between us, floating like a delicate thread in the air. Then, slowly, almost from a distance, I felt his hand on mine. It was a careful, almost hesitant touch – but it was there. It was as if, in that moment, he allowed himself to be something more. More than just the brilliant, fact-driven agent. More than just the quiet man who never knew how to open up to others.

“I...,” he began, his voice faltering. “I don’t know how to explain it, but... sometimes I feel like I’m lost in a world of data. Like I only understand life through theories and formulas. But you... you’ve shown me that there’s more. That there are moments that can’t be captured by calculations.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I... I appreciate that more than you can imagine.”

His words hit me, and without hesitation, I squeezed his hand. “Spencer,” I said softly, “you’re not alone. Not in your world of numbers, of theories. I’m here. I’ll always be here to remind you that there’s more – more than just the facts.”

And in that moment, as time seemed to stand still, I knew there was something between us that went beyond words. Something we both understood, but never needed to speak aloud. A bond stronger than any calculation.

Part 2

[mumms-the-word]

guys

GUYS

you’ll never believe what nonsense I came across while I was brainrot doomscrolling through all the books and notes on the BG3 wiki trying to find stuff I might have missed in act 2

druid self-insert romantic fanfiction about the first battle against Moonrise and Ketheric

fanfic that Halsin read and criticized!!

Okay if you played early access you shouldn’t be surprised because these books existed in EA. I’ve tried to find them in my game post patch 6 but all I can find is volume 3, which is disappointing because I was hoping to find volume 4

But as a treat, if you’re like me and completely didn’t know about this, buckle up and please enjoy the self-insert adventures of a certain “Roa” who totally isn’t Roan Featherway, a druid of Silvanus and colleague(??) of Halsin himself

———

Book Draft - Volume I

The name on the inside of this faded journal suggests it belonged to a 'Roan Featherway', a druid of Silvanus.

[Neatly written chapters fill this journal. A list of what appears to be book publishers in Baldur's Gate are on the first page. The cover has a multitude of titles, all crossed out: 'The Unforeseen Alliance, volume 1', 'Druids and Harpers, a fight for good!', 'The Shadowed Evil: who dares to stand against it?'] Our hero, the [brave? mighty?] druid Roa arrives in the grove. When he received the summons from the Emerald Enclave, he knew something was afoot. Filled with druids and rangers alike, members of the Enclave are scattered across the realm. They fight to preserve the natural order, keep the elemental forces of the world in check, and do battle with those who would upset this delicate balance. They are fierce warriors, though none as fierce as Roa. Built like [an ox? A bear?], he stands head and shoulders above the crowd. The grove is buzzing with activity. Roa spots a beautiful woman with ebony hair flowing past her shoulders, her eyes as blue as a [summer's day? bluebird?]. His smile turns to a frown as he notices the crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. By Silvanus, what was a Harper doing here?

———

Book Draft - Volume II

Formed from several journals, paper scraps and, in one case, the back of an envelope, this book has been carefully glued together to form the second in a series of romance novels.

[This seems to be the second volume in a series written by an amateur novelist. The title on the cover, 'Love in Shadowed Lands', is crossed out.] The ebony-haired woman notices Roa's gaze and crosses the grove, [winking? smiling?] as she stands by the druid's side. 'I don't usually wear it out in the open,' she says, tapping the brooch on her cloak, a crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. 'Except for special occasions.' 'What's a Harper doing in a grove of Silvanus?' Roa asks. 'Not just one.' She gestures to a group by the sacred pool. 'We're generally more cloak and dagger,' she continues, 'thwarting tyrants and [guarding? protecting?] the realm is best done in secret. But you lot have a fight on your hands. We're here to help.' 'Since when do the Emerald Enclave need a bunch of Harpers?' Roa says. 'You haven't heard?' She laughs, her laugh tinkling like a bell. 'Strap in, sweetie. We're about to take on Dark Justiciars, their demented leader Ketheric Thorm and, if we're very lucky, Shar herself.'

———

Book Draft - Volume III

The third book in a series of romance novels, this once beautifully bound book has had pages ripped out, glued back in and even tied to the book's spine using a piece of twine.

['Volume Three' is written in bold on the front. The title 'The Cost of Sorrow' is followed by a number of question marks.] 'But why?' Roa screams, the beast within barely contained. 'Why follow Shar? Why destroy Moonhaven?' Ketheric stares down [haughtily? cruelly?] at Roa as he steps over the bodies of Harpers and druids alike. 'Shar knows all.' He smiles [maliciously?]. 'She gave me a holy mission. I'm merely fulfilling it.' 'The people of Moonhaven trusted you!' Roa cries, his anger rising. 'How could you turn your Dark Justiciars on them?' Ketheric smiles, 'They needed the target practice. Can't have Shar's elite getting rusty, now can we? As for you...' a crescent blade appears in his [cruel?] hands. 'You are but one lone druid, Roa. Who are you to stand against me?' Roa forces himself to his feet, Silvanus' fury coursing through him. 'I'm your downfall. Today you die, Ketheric!'

———

And for the pièce de résistance 😮‍💨🤌

Book Draft - Volume IV

The fourth volume and final novel, this book has had almost every single page ripped out, except for the last twenty or so pages.

['Shadow's Kiss' is written in bold on the front. Pages of crossed out lines have notes in the margin reading 'finale!', 'more exciting!'. The final entry reads:] 'Get out of here.' Roa whispers, clutching his side. Blood pours from his fingers, a final gift from Ketheric's blade. 'I'm not leaving you,' Selene sobs, blue eyes filling with tears. Roa cups her face. 'I won't make it out in time. But you can.' Selene presses her forehead against his. Her ebony hair falls forward, forming a curtain that envelops them both. Roa closes his eyes, a smile lifting his lips as her scent, wild roses, washes over him. 'That grappling hook. You still have it?' He asks. 'Of course. Why do you -' With the last of his strength, Roa pushes her from the balcony. He watches her fall, watches her pull the hook from her pack and expertly throw it, swinging gracefully to the ground. A mighty crack splits the floor beneath him as the tower crumbles. He smiles contentedly. Selene was safe. That's all that mattered. Epilogue: 'Selfish bastard.' Selene says, kicking the base of the grave. Balsin places a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'He was the greatest of us all,' Balsin says, a towering behemoth of a druid, although not as tall as Roa. 'We will forever honour him, for he single-handedly broke Shar's hold on the land, and helped -' [A different hand appears beneath the final entry.] Roan, you had one job. This is not a historical record of what occurred, it is poorly written romance with no basis in fact. And if I ever see the name 'Balsin' again, I will personally feed you to Ormn.

Halsin you’re such a critic

we were robbed

[writing-house-of-m]

The Silent Treatment

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: It's a surprise

Warnings: A bit suggestive

Word count: 1429

Summary: You give Wanda the silent treatment after she betrays you

T/N: Malysh = baby (Thanks to @veronika-y for the list I always refer to 🖤)

A/N: I wanted to write something, so @cuinaminute229 gave me the prompt - "You can't break up with me. We're married." @mirrorballwn was there too and asked for Professor Wanda although I don't think this is what she had in mind lol

I hope you like this. Let me know what you think! 🙂

You hear the front door unlock from where you are, already in bed reading a book.

After college today Wanda went out for a meal with the other members from the faculty. You were glad she was out longer than usual not wanting to see her today.

'Sweet and innocent Professor Maximoff' is how she is known, if only her colleagues and students knew what she was really like. Maybe she wouldn't be such a favorite anymore.

You knew though. You saw past the pretty smile and soft voice. You knew what kind of person lay beneath. No one knows of her back stabbing ways.

A faint, 'honey, I'm home!' makes its way to your ears but you make no effort in responding. After what she has done, how can she believe everything is okay?

While she approaches you can hear her talk about her day. Stupid questions from students. Having to deal with Stark's bad jokes during dinner. Wanting to get home to see you because she hasn't all day.

The words of an evil person.

Last night, you were pretty sure you made it clear you were unhappy. She betrayed you and now she is acting like nothing happened.

You remain silent. You have nothing more to say after the events from the previous night.

Making her way around the bedroom she gets ready for bed, still droning on about the events that took place today.

She turns in your direction, seeing you busy with your book she walks over, planting a soft kiss on your head before making her way to the bathroom, "You're quiet today, malysh."

'Malysh.' How dare she. Despicable. It makes you sick to your stomach.

Even more so because you don't know how long it's been since you've turned a page of your book. The thoughts in your mind prevent you from concentrating on anything else, only Wanda's actions.

Wanda returns, placing her rings she had forgotten to take off, in front of the vanity mirror as she finishes her spiel of the day. When you don't look up to her once again with your usual smile she begins to worry because you haven't said a word to her since she has arrived home.

"Malysh..." She begins, "what's going on?"

Oh, so now she cares? You finally turn to Wanda with a hard look that takes her back slightly.

"I told you, we're broken up," you say monotonously, then turn your attention back to your book to continue 'reading'.

Wanda furrows her eyebrows, wondering what it was she could have done to make you act so cold towards her. Then it dawns on her.

Rolling her eyes, smiling to herself Wanda finishes rubbing in her moisturiser. Slowly, she makes her way over to you, climbing onto your lap, pulling the book out of your hands at the same time. You look the opposite way, annoyed, as she places it on the side table.

"Y/n-"

"Don't." You say, resolutely.

"This is still about last night? I said I was sorry," Wanda coos, trying to make eye contact but not forcing you to look her way.

"It was unforgivable, Wanda," you say and return to silence, crossing your arms.

Wanda lets out a sigh and instead of using words she scoots closer to you. Her attempt to kiss your cheek is intercepted by your hand.

"Baby," she whines, extending the word, "it's not that big of a deal."

You turn to Wanda with an incredulous look, "Not making someone pay rent is a clear rule violation!" You exasperate, "Everyone else made their partners pay, why did Nat get away with not making Maria pay? And then you took her side! It was the highest form of betrayal in my eyes."

She tries not to smile but it's so hard with how seriously you have been taking this.

"Stickler Steve was the only one on my side last night, so he's the only friend I have left as far as I'm concerned, and…" you make a fake look as if you are remembering something, "oh yeah, we're broken up."

Wanda doesn't bother hiding her smile now, the weekly game night with your friends always ends with a new story, this time it is centred around your competitiveness. "Well that's too bad. You can't break up with me, we're married," Wanda scoffs.

"So you do remember you're married to me and not to Nat and Maria. As my wife, you are supposed to take my side, it's in the contract," you make up. "I can't believe Tony took their side too," you finish with a scowl.

"Baby, I said I was sorry." When Wanda sees you are not making any attempt to say anything else, she realises she will have to take it up a notch. "Let me make it up to you," she says quickly then kisses you before you can even think. The taste of toothpaste and Wanda's lingering perfume overtake your senses. She presses harder into you, taking your breath away.

You pull your head back, hands on Wanda's shoulders to keep her away, "N- No. Y- You're not allowed to kiss me," you stutter, clearly affected.

"No?" she questions playfully in a low voice, moving forward against your hands. When her lips press against yours again you 'attempt' to push against her shoulders again but quickly crumble and get lost in the kiss.

As it progresses you roll over moving your kisses to her neck, a hand rising under her shirt making her moan. Wanda smiles when she sees where this is going, there is no way you are going to stop now.

Your will is only so strong when it comes to Wanda.

…

Your eyes are closed as Wanda lays on top of you, legs tangled together in the bed sheets. She threads her fingers through your hair, her warm body pressed against yours not helping you wanting to stay 'angry' at her.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," you sigh. Inwardly cursing yourself because you wanted your words to come out more seriously than they do.

Wanda hovers over you, moving her legs to either side of your waist, a position that is also not helping you school your features to be mad at her. You can feel the aftermath of your activities between her legs, her heat radiating on your stomach.

She gets you to look her straight in the eye by squashing your cheeks together and pulling you to look in her direction. "Y/n. I'm sorry," she says seriously, holding heavy eye contact, trying to stop a smirk from appearing on her face.

Cupping your cheeks with both hands after you look away dramatically, Wanda starts to place quick kisses all over your face saying "I'm sorry" after each one.

You let out an airy laugh, "Okay! Okay. I accept your apology."

Wanda smiles and pecks your lips. As you continue to speak she rests her weight fully on you leaning her chin against her hands now resting on your chest, "This doesn't mean I forgive you! You have to prove yourself on the next game night," you pout, running your fingers through her hair forcing her eyes to close.

Wanda hums, a cheeky smirk overtaking her face, "Do you still want to break up with me?" She asks, opening her eyes while biting her bottom lip, raising an eyebrow waiting for your response.

You pretend to think of your reply, "For now? No."

"For now, huh?" She says, placing her hands either side of your head hovering over you, "I guess I should make the most of you while I have you," she says huskily as she rolls her hips against you and she moves in to kiss you.

Once again she takes your breath away and you have no choice but to oblige, placing your hands on her hips.

When you pull away, Wanda rests her head against yours allowing you both to catch your breath.

Wanda is the best thing that has ever happened to you so you make sure she knows that. You move a hand to rub her cheek with your thumb, "I love you," you tell her as if the room is full of people and you are telling her a secret.

Once Wanda replies with her 'I love you' you bring her lips back to yours and show her in more ways than one, just how much you love her, the game night forgotten… until the next time you needed to remind her of her betrayal of course.

A/N: Did you think they were going to break up? April fools, I guess... Hehehe

[joocomics]

make my wish come true

from ─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2023 *ੈ✩

pairings: jiseok x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 5k

summary: tying up your boyfriend was the first thing on your christmas wish list, but it turned out to be more difficult than you thought

contains: dom!reader but nothing hardcore, brat tamer!reader, sensory deprivation, bondage & blindfold (m!rec), dirty talk, pet names, marking, overstimulation (m!rec), oral sex (m!rec), edging kink (m!rec), unprotected sex, creampie, light degradation kink (m!rec), praise kink

It’s the late morning of December 27th.

You’re laying in bed, pretending to read a book one of your colleagues got you for Christmas and listen to Jiseok’s footsteps around the apartment.

After doing his usual shower routine he decides to do the laundry that’s been piling up. He takes lazy steps dressed only in a pair of gray sweatpants. They hang loosely around his waist, tempting you to look up from the book you’re reading every time he walks pass the open door to your shared bedroom. You get a small quick glimpse of his half naked silhouette, but it’s enough to tease your imagination.

While waiting for him to return you lose more bits of your patience, as your ultimate christmas wish is still yet to be fulfilled. Are you being silly? You even put on a special cute outfit and makeup for the occasion, that as more minutes pass by, begin to feel a little too much.

After half an hour Jiseok appears in the bedroom finding you still laying on the bed against the multiple cushions. As he gets closer his expression becomes suspicious.

“Are you going out?”

“No, why?” You ask nonchalantly, gliding your bare feet on the sheets, aiming for a seductive action that’s not too obvious.

It seems to work, because Jiseok’s eyes begin to scan your body slowly and more carefully. The red color of your lips was about to put him in trance if it wasn’t for your revealing pajama set to catch his attention. It consists of tiny shorts that are clinging to your intimate parts, exposing the sides of your ass cheeks every time you move side to side, and a flimsy cropped top.

His eyes are taking literal bites from you, but he still doesn’t bring up what you want to hear. Did he forget?

“You did your makeup even though we’re staying home today, that’s all.” He shrugs his shoulders before crashing on the bed. “You look so pretty, baby.”

“Yeah, because I have an occasion.” You look for a way to give hints.

Jiseok runs his palm over your leg, as he rests on one side. His dark hair is still slightly wet, and a few strands are falling into his eyes.

“What is it?” He glances at you questionably, pushing fingers between your plush thighs. The tempting color on your lips pulls him in though, and he crawls up on top of you, propping himself up with two hands. “Damn, you’re one beautiful doll.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours as he leans for a kiss that you did not allow.

“You’re not ruining the makeup I just spent an hour on,” you say, gripping his jaw.

“Fine, I’ll just kiss you elsewhere.” He scoffs at your comment, but doesn’t move an inch away from you.

You take a deep breath, as your hands attach to his fit stomach, feeling its warmth from the shower. Satisfaction flutters inside you from the way his abs instantly tense.

The nice scent coming from his skin stimulates your senses, making you humm in pleasure while placing your mouth close to his ear.

“You promised to let me tie you up.”

“Oh, did I?” He exclaims in a fake surprise. “Cause I‘m pretty sure that you asked me to tie you up…”

“Stop messing around!”

“I’m not, you know my memory is brilliant. Why would I forget about something like that?

“You’re such a baby.” You attempt to shove him away, but his arms are locked on both sides of your body. “Just admit you’re scared that you’re gonna like it too much.”

Jiseok laughs straight away at your assumption. He breaks the eye contact by glancing at the wall in front of him, which means you succeeded at pushing his buttons.

“Nah, sweetheart, I just know you’re gonna give up the first five minutes begging me to fuck you.” He smirks, looking down at you again. “You know how good I make you feel, it’d be a waste of time.”

“That’s my Christmas wish, Jiseok! You promised.” You flutter at him with curled eyelashes, and you can see parts of him melting.

“Fine,” he sighs, pecking your cheek and falls on his back. “I’m curious to see what tricks you have under your sleeve.”

You watch him sprawl out on the mattress with his legs spread apart as if he’s making a snow angel. He stares at your shorts clinging to your butt, as you get off the bed, and immediately a part of him wants to take his words back.

“Tsk, get up.”

Jiseok lifts his head up when you come back, looking questionably at the chair you brought with yourself.

“You’re sitting here.” You state, putting the chair down in the middle of the room.

“On the chair? Why?”

“Because we fuck on the bed all the time, I want something new.”

“Wow…” Taken aback from the way you prepared for this, Jiseok stands up at the sight of the ropes in your hands. “You’re gonna turn out to be a lot dirtier than I expected you to be, doll.”

He doesn’t wait for you to tell him. He takes off his sweats and sits down. Even though he wasn’t really fond of the idea to get tied up for a long time now he finds himself getting excited. It’s entertaining to watch your attempts to boss him around.

“What other dirty fantasies are you hiding from me?” He smirks, smacking your ass as you walk behind him.

You guide his arms behind the chair making sure to use some force as a signal to not act so cocky.

“Hey,” he blurts out through a giggle. “Gentle, please. I need those.”

“To answer your question…“ You breathe in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “I have many.”

“Are you serious?” He tries to take a peek at you.

“Don’t move,” you scold him, having a hard time tying his wrists.

“What are they?”

“I can’t come up with just one right now.” You grin when he lets out an irritated sigh. “Is it too tight?”

“No, it’s good.” He tests out the knot by pulling his hands.

When you walk around the chair to face him the view is so captivating. His half-hard on twitches in front of you, as you step closer.

“Come on, just one,” he whines, tilting his head to the side. “Tell me the first one that comes to mind.”

You already have a few fantasies on your mind, but seeing how his pleading eyes are getting darker while skimming down your body, you decide to take your time with answering.

You rest your hands on the back of the chair. Your top instantly opens on your neckline from the movement, revealing your bare breasts straight into Jiseok’s face. It’s so obvious he’s trying his best not to look inside. It’s what you want after all and he wants to tease you by not giving it to you right away.

Jiseok breathes in deeply, focusing his gaze on your face that’s just as appetising to him as your body.

“Do I turn you on, princess?” He breaks the silence, but you dismiss his flirtatious smile.

“I want to make a sex tape with you.” You lift one leg, separating his thighs. “So I can watch how you fuck me when you’re away.”

Jiseok’s lips release a surprised sound after he feels your knee pressing his soft ballsack.

“Will you let me film as you take it from behind? I want close ups of your ass, baby.”

His words send an instant rush into your veins, but you manage to sound composed.

“If you’re being a good boy today, why not?”

You move your hand down his chest, as your knee presses a little harder against his balls, taking the smirk off his face, then bring it up to find his neck. You melt hearing him humm after you wrap your fingers around his throat and finally kiss him passionately.

Jiseok’s plump lips deepen the act in seconds catching you off guard. You try to keep up with how quickly they move, making room to slide tongue only for it to dominate yours. He moans in your mouth, not stopping for a second, as spit begins to pour from both of you.

When you pull back gasping for air, you catch him smirking.

“You okay, doll? You look dizzy.”

With one strong swipe along his bottom lip you smudge the red stain from your lipstick. Your tongue clicks at his smug attitude.

“Close that naughty mouth, you brat, or I will put tape over it.”

You force him to look you in the eye, when you push his head back by pulling strands of his hair.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so mean…” He grunts in response. “I like it.”

You swallow the urge to smile at his reactions, and drop slowly on the ground to face his cock. It has shifted into a full erection.

Jiseok’s mouth opens from anticipation, but quickly shuts when your fingertips move from his thighs to his abdomen instead.

You watch his teeth bite on his lip, as you warm his shaft with your breathing. You’re so close you can lick his base if you just slightly drag out the tip of your tongue.

But you don’t.

“Have I told you how much I love your abs?” You coax, scratching his muscles.

“Just one million times in the last two days.”

He chuckles at your irritated reaction, but when you pinch his nipple hard, he quickly clenches his jaw.

“Baby, if you just wanna talk we can do it with my arms not tied to a chair you know.”

“I know, but now I’m in charge so I decide how these things will go.”

You take his erection in one hand, eyeing the glistening shreds of pre-cum, sliding down his length.

“You look turned on to me, baby. Are you enjoying being tied up?” You follow your question with slow tugs up and down.

“Fuckk, finally.” He groans in a hoarse voice, before speaking further. “I enjoy watching you get horny from me being tied up.”

Your fingers stop at the tip, as you gaze at the playful sparkles in his eyes. You slowly spread the sticky release all over his flushed head only to mix it nicely with your drop of spit.

Jiseok sighs, throwing his head back from the feel of your hand twisting around him, making him wetter and hard as a rock. Warm sensations build in his core, as he keeps on talking lifting his head up.

“How many times have you touched yourself to the thought of this, huh? Shit, I can only imagine how sexy you looked—“

Talking to you always gets him faster to his peak, so you drop his cock mid sentence.

His eyes bulge out from panick, as he curses under his breath. He doesn’t have time to react properly at the underwhelming way the pleasure fades when he sees you removing your top.

“Ahh, shit, baby, no..” He shakes his head, looking away.

“What is it?” You ask in an innocent voice. “I’ll be more comfortable if my clothes don’t get in the way.”

You lean your head against his thigh, running a finger up his twitching cock as if it’s the most fragile thing.

“So sensitive it’s cute.” You coo, forming a circle on that little vulnerable spot of his tip that drives him crazy.

“F-fuck, I don’t think I can do this.” He pules weakly, not losing sight of your finger going into your mouth to clean it from his essence.

“But we just started.” You say in a calm manner, before placing a kiss on the flesh of his inner thigh. You enjoy the possessive scarlet mark of your lipstick, the contrast against his skin arouses you.

“I know, baby, I know it’s just…” He speaks out loudmouthedly, but your lips moving higher up his body inevitably slow down his voice. “How am I supposed to just stay here when you’re naked in front of m-me… and… I can’t touch you? That’s so annoying, f-fuck.”

You continue with more red stains, as you listen to him getting more and more worked up under your mouth. His figure from relaxed becomes tense in a matter of seconds the more you pepper him with hungry kisses. Only his chest is moving up furiously, as you include your tongue, the brushing of your hardened nipples cover him with goosebumps, that add more to the pressure of his erection.

You don’t miss the opportunity to take one of his nipples between your teeth before sucking on the skin behind his earlobe. The sound of his hitched breathing while you create your bruises get you soaked.

“I’m not naked, I left my shorts on.”

That’s even worse, he thinks, but remains silent.

You lost count of how many times Jiseok has fucked you in different pairs of shorts since you’re together. The small sheer pieces of fabric you sleep in are one of the things that instantly cause him to grow a tent under the bedsheets.

“Although… they start to stick to my pussy a little,” you mumble, deciding to get rid of them too. “Wanna know why?”

Jiseok gulps when you lower yourself on his left thigh. His heart starts pounding when your naked hips begin to roll against him, letting the wetness from your folds coat his flesh.

“Why are you suddenly quiet, baby?”

The soft fabric of your pajama short caresses his skin, as you move them up and down his chest.

“Jesus, you’re driving me crazy,” he groans, watching you speed up your motions. “You’re so fucking wet, doll. You need me.”

He attaches his mouth to your shoulder, kissing your skin. The gentle sucking turns into a muffled growl when you joggle your shorts to tickle his erection.

“Right now I think you need me more,” you provoke him in order to hear him beg, but it’s more difficult to achieve than you expected.

“Ugh, baby…” he howls, as you shake the clothing marked from a visible wet patch in front of his face like a piece of candy. “Why are you playing me like that?” He tries to catch the shorts with his teeth, but you pull them away in time.

You haven’t stopped moving back and forth on his thigh, not trying to hide your soft moans at all, as your clit becomes highly stimulated.

Jiseok blinks up, admiring your face that’s contorted in pleasure, as you’re chasing quicker friction.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” He glances at the direction of your hand that holds the messy panties. Every time the fabric touches his skin he gets a rush as if it’s a cube of ice which makes his bones tremble. He tilts his chin up when you lift them close in his face, and already tries to get a sniff from them.

“Say please,” you demand.

Jiseok smirks, knowing this was coming.

“Please.” He states, not able to hold back a giggle in his throat.

“Not good enough.”

“Babyyy, come on..” He stomps on the floor with his feet. “Gimme a taste, pleasee.” His eyes concentrate on the piece of clothing drifting away only to drop on his cock.

He finds the flesh of your arm again - since he cannot use his hands he feels the desperate need to use his mouth in any way he possibly can. He does everything in his control to keep it cool when you grab on his girth through the fabric, then tug on it slowly.

“Holy shit, baby…” he groans, teeth digging into your skin. That definitely left a mark. “Free me and I’ll treat that pussy like it’s my last meal.” His eyes are hooded from lust and desperation, as the pool of arousal you leave on his leg is the only thing he can think about in that moment.

“We can both cum much quickly if you just listen, baby boy.” You explain, stroking his length in an irritating pace. “You run your mouth too much.”

Your fingers put more pressure around it, forcing him to pant for more. The friction against the wrapped fabric heats his vulnerable skin while you continue pumping.

“I’ll do better, princess.”

You felt a sudden jolt when his figure lurches up from the chair.

“I-I’ll.. fuck, faster, please…”

He bucks up his hips desperately needing a quicker pace from already being so close. The warm thrill overwhelms his core, and his brows draw together, as he focuses on the building rush.

“If I let you cum will you be a good boy for me, darling?”

“Y-Yesyesyes, I’m so fuckin’ hard, baby, I need t-to, p-please… make me… need to c-cum.”

As you concentrate on fisting him through your shorts, you cannot find a way, neither a reason to stop your hips from moving back and forth. For the first time he’s the one begging, and you can literally taste the sound of it on your tongue, sweet like honey, completely enough to get you off.

His body convulses under you, causing his voice to break during his incoherent babbling. The sight of his facial expressions becoming so much softer while his hot cum drench your shorts, turns you on to the point you hit your peak just seconds afterwards.

“Holy shit..” Jiseok looks at his lap, as his climax tones down. “This felt amazing.”

You stagger to your feet, kneeling again.

Bewildered, Jiseok’s brows draw together at you reapplying your red lipstick before uncovering his cock. The yearning look you give the mess he made of it makes him ache from the need to place his hands on your body.

“W-wait, what—” he stutters, balking at your tongue swiping his dirty length. His face scrunches up from your small kitten-like licks, picking up his cum. When you take it in your hand to close your scarlet lips around it, he wishes he could shrink away. “N-no, baby, don’t… stop it, ffuck—” The ragged sound, coming deep from the back of his throat melt away when you pull back, leaving his cock wet and clean. You mark the lower part of his shaft with a red kiss, before glancing up questionably at him.

“What did you say?” You raise a brow at him, cleaning the corner of your mouth.

“It hurts, doll,” he gazes up after you stand on your feet. “Give me a break first.”

As you go to your nighstand, searching for something, Jiseok finds your stained pajama shorts on the floor.

“Wanna put those dirty panties on and give me a spin, gorgeous?”

He’s still amused from his idea when you stand back in front of him, but his face stiffens when he spots the blindfold in your hand.

“Too bad you won’t see it.”

“Is it necessary?” he asks with a pout.

“It is, you lack some manners.”

“Thanks for disciplining me, baby.” Jiseok smirks. The gratitude sounds more like a threat. You could only imagine what he’d do to you after he gets off that chair.

Jiseok’s blood pressure goes up, not able to pinpoint in the darkness what you’re up to at all.

When he senses your warm breaths between his thighs he almost winces from his seat, as the feeling now comes to him so much stronger. His fingers form painful fists when he feels your soft lips wrapping around him - too soon, and too suddenly. You take him all the way, causing him to release a long deep wail.

“Jesus, p-please… don’t—” his legs shake around you, as his overstimulated tip hits the back of your throat. “T-too much… god—” His voice suddenly fades from the new wave of delight that begins to form while you bob your head up and down his erection, not leaving a single spot of flesh exposed. “Sooo hungry for my cock, aren’t you, doll? F-fuck gonna make me cum again..”

Your warm tongue twirls around him, saliva coats his abdomen and stiff balls, as you keep on sucking, trying not to mind his comments too much. However, they keep irritate you while also get you wet at the same time. How does he always manage to be so collected and demanding? Just when you thought you made him softer he overpowers you again.

You blink up at the marks on his exposed neck, watching his emphasised adam apple moving every time he swallows. Since he could not see or touch a thing, you make sure to produce variety of lewd, slurping, gagging noises that would help him visualise everything that’s happening. Even though half his face is covered you could notice he’s focusing on his hearing.

The quick, sloppy sucks of yours quickly leave Jiseok speechless. The burning thrill becomes three times more intense and takes over him so much quicker, that he ends up feeling like a dog in heat. It’s true what they say, about the rest of your senses feeling so much stronger when one of them is restricted.

He keeps his head tilted back, as his moans elevate towards the ceiling, leading you to think he’s close. They don’t sound heavy like earlier. They fly out of his mouth more high pitched in multiple fragile ahs and ohs.

That’s when your lips suck on his warm salty tip one last time before spitting out. The moment you pull back, Jiseok jerks his hips up, but ends up humping nothing.

“S-sshit, baby, what happened?” He yammers, panting. “Why did you stop? Whyy?!”

“Because…” You run your palms over his thighs, watching his bright red tip. “You will cum when I tell you to.”

“But I gotta cum now, babyy…” Jiseok mewls, thrusting hips up again over nothing. “I’m so fuckin’ close, your mouth got me hard as fuck.. don’t do this to me..”

While he whines your hand unintentionally goes between your legs, rubbing circles the second it got in contact with your clit. You didn’t realise how wet you are until your fingers instantly glide between your lips, getting all sticky.

“Baby?? You there?”

You humm in response, sliding fingers inside you. The moisture dripping from you is so much you didn’t need to do a lot for him to catch on.

“Are you seriously touching yourself?” He gasps in disbelief.

“I want to cum too, baby.” You begin to pump three fingers in and out of you, filling the room with wet squelching sounds.

“Goddamn it princess, don’t do that…” He tries unsuccessfully to dismiss your moans, that cause him to think of his own orgasm.

“Shut up,” you spit out, surprising even your own self, and grabbing his cock.

The sudden action causes him to hiss through gritted teeth. His lips turn into a smirk afterwards that follows by a husky groan when you begin to pump him in a relentless speed.

“Do you even deserve to cum? You’ve been acting like a brat since the minute you sat down on this chair.”

“A-ah, shit, shit, s-shit…” Jiseok furrows his brows, as he becomes shaky from your fist literally slamming down, smacking his body. “U-ugh, so’ close—“ His sentence fades, leaving only guttural sounds, coming from his dry throat.

“You can’t tell me what to do when I’m pulling the strings, baby, you hear me?”

You resume tugging harder, as you wait for Jiseok’s hanging mouth to make up an answer, but you realise he’s went almost completely silent.

“Answer me,” your fist freezes at his base, and Jiseok bursts, crying out.

The weight of his body falls forward, but only slightly because of the restraints. It takes some time for his desperate whimpers to whittle down, but you don’t let go of his cock. You hold to it tight, watching the leaky head twitch, as he struggles to regain his composure from having his second orgasm taken away.

“Maybe I should just leave you to hump the air like a total loser.”

Despite the comments, he’s still finding it hard to acknowledge the fact he’s not the one giving orders, so you give his cock a slap.

“F-ffuck, damn it, okay..” he grits his teeth again with frustration, which calls for another smack. “Baby, I hear you.. I-I do, I d-do.” He chokes on his words from defeat.

“I don’t like your tone.” You joggle his cock with a firm grasp.

“I’ll be good, p-promise. I promise. You just drive me nuts baby, can’t help it, s-sorry…”

The sudden vulnerability in him makes your heart skip a beat. His breathing still hasn’t calmed down yet, and he stumbles around his words, but that doesn’t mean each one of them doesn’t act like a fuel to your arousal.

“Come on, use me.” He calls to you quetly with such desire for a second it sounds like pleading.

You rub your thighs together, holding onto him as you listen to his erotically weakened state.

“Smack my cock as many times as you want, please. It’s yours.”

His words work like a charm, and you quickly get up, straddling his lap.

Jiseok humms in pleasure, as he feels your gentle arms around his shoulders, and instantly gets stunned when you take a seat on his poor erection. The need to release as soon as possible occupies every part of his foggy mind, and his lips form a pout before his jaw drops from your body practicing its first moves up and down.

“I know you’re trying hard to be good, so I will give you a little treat, darling.” You coo at him.

Jiseok grins, aimlessly looking left and right.

“I’ll take anything you give me, baby.”

He breathes out a soft whimper when you touch the back of his head, guiding his mouth to your breast.

“Here,” you say through a deep sigh, as you fill up all the way to your sweet spot, and it feels overwhelmingly good. “Suck to feel better.”

Jiseok’s tongue instantly makes a long stripe over your nipple, before drawing it into his mouth with his plump lips. The moaning you hear along with the noise coming from him sucking on your boob eagerly, causes you to tug on his hair from delight.

“Good boy,” you mewl, beginning to roll your hips in circles, as you slightly lift up from his length at the same time, before dropping all the way down. You admire every bit of his thickness and length, while exploring the size that’s stretching you out. After you get used to it, you start to ride him freely, and in a much quicker pace.

Jiseok cannot help, but get whimpery from the softness of your flesh, and the sweet thrill it awakes in him. Just now at this moment, as he flicks on your perked nipple with the tip of his tongue, before giving it a smooch, he realises how desperate he was to feel you; even if it’s just a small part of your body.

You pull him away by the hair, but he tugs on your nipple with teeth, like a puppy not wanting to let go of their bone.

He got just a small taste of you, but it was enough to get him drunk.

“See? You can be obedient too, baby.” You pinch his puffy bottom lip, just when he begins to hiss from the burning rush in his core. “Not a bratty loser anymore.”

“N-ngh, I want to—” he throws his head back, which instantly causes your fingers to wrap around his throat. “F-fuck, yeah, fuck me hard, baby. Use me, as you wish I’m all yours.”

“Are you?” Your free palm drops down his chest, nicely coloured from fresh bruises and red lipstick. His abs tense, as he releases needy pants one after another, that signal he’s getting closer.

“Y-yesyes, yes-s, fuck me hard,” he pleads for more, and after you grant his wish by speeding up your hips, he squirms, sobbing. “A-ahh, feels so good, I have to c-cum, p-please…”

“Why, baby? Can’t take it anymore?” You put more pressure around his neck, feeling his pulse against your palm. “Are you too hard for me?”

“Uhmm,” he gives a low, but drawed out whimper, before nodding poorly. “Wanna’ cum for my princess while she’s ruining my cock.”

“Sounds nice, but I’m not close yet..” you joke, and Jiseok sobs even harder at your words. His cockhead smashing up your cervix repeatedly makes him so woozy he cannot bring whatever’s left of his energy to add anything else.

“Kidding, baby,” you chuckle through a moan. “You can cum now.”

“Really? C-can I?” he asks with a ring of hope in his weak voice.

“Do it, cum for me pretty boy.”

You give in, as your own orgasm creeps up too close, making the stimulation difficult to contain.

Your peaks clashing stuns you both. As you hold tightly on Jiseok for support - one hand over his shoulders, and another around his throat, you use all your energy in riding your climax as hard as possible. You end up releasing a silent scream, while Jiseok on the other hand cries out into your mouth.

“H-holy sh—” his lips tremble vividly. “m’ cummin, I’m cummin’, c-cu—”

You swallow his hitched breaths, his whimpers and a few of his curses, when his head drops down defeated after you release your grip. He gasps for air, while he gets off his high and his mind barely clears up. His entire body sticks from sweat to the chair as it goes completely numb under your seated figure.

You move up to hover over his cock, feeling your mixed juices dripping out of your hole.

“You left so much cum in my pussy, baby.” You caress Jiseok’s cheek and he props his chin up even though he’s not able to look into your eyes yet. “Mmm, you really filled me up.”

“It’s because of you, princess.” He says in a quavering voice. “You turn me on so much.” His lips brush your jawline, giving it a lazy peck.

Jiseok expects to be untied now; to leave the chair and head to bed, but he soon finds out you have other plans when you begin to what feels like fucking his thick cum in and out of you, so excruciatingly.

“W-wait, wait, wait, b-baby… w-what ah—“ he stutters in panick, pulling his wrists apart, but the rope keeps them still.

“Shh, I know you can do better than that, baby.” You groan, holding onto his shoulders, as you bounce up and down in a steady pace, coating your thighs with his warm cum.

“P-please, please, I c-can’t…”

“Just one more,” you shut your eyes, throwing your head back, baffled from how amazing it feels despite cumming two times already.

“Don’t do t-this to me,” Jiseok sighs, and when you open your eyes you see a drop of tear sliding under the blindfold.

He was protesting, but not for long. His cock barely had time to soften, and as you work it in and out of you, it turned into a throbbing hard rock mess.

His angry tip keeps slipping out of you, and every time you use your fingers to push it back, Jiseok sees stars in the pitch black. It takes everything inside him to not burst out crying.

“I know you can give me one more, don’t you feel how hard you are for me..” You grunt, as you lift up, grazing your gummy walls only with his sensitive tip. This instantly makes his body react intensely, and he begins to convulse in the chair, as you keep gliding it in and out.

“I-I, I…” he begins, but cannot find the strength to form a sentence. He struggles to breath normally too, as you suck on his neck at the same time.

“What, baby? Talk to me.” Without removing your lips from his skin, you decide to take the blindfold off after you sense a new pair of tears dripping on your fingers as you cup his face.

Jiseok squeezes his eyes shut, not expecting that at all. After he adjusts to the sudden light you get to look into his dazed eyes, glossy from tears.

He’s amazed to see you’re really actually wearing the shorts you jerked him off with earlier.

“I… u-uhh.. gonna c-cum again..” he attempts to control his sobs, chewing on his trembling lip, that’s now stained with your lipstick too. “Let m-me, p-please..” He whimpers through shuddering breaths.

“Fill me up, sweetheart.”

“O-ohh, sh—“ Jiseok’s mouth hung wide open into a silent cry. His thighs shake uncontrollably, causing you to hold tight, so you don’t fall over.

His voice cracks into multiple tortured whimpers, as this climax hits times harder than the previous one. For a moment he feels like he’s about to pass out, not able to go through the sensation at all. He cries from pleasure while you just sit and watch; and feel yourself get sprayed with new shooting ropes of cum, that are so much they immediately start to spill out.

Jiseok stays still, speechless, unable to utter a word, as his chest rises furiously while he comes back to his senses. Very, very slowly.

You praise him with red kisses all over his face. They glisten from sweat and tears.

“You did so well my pretty boy.”

Jiseok keeps quiet for a while, until he lifts his chin up with a lazy smirk.

“I’ll get you back for this.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Bokuto x f!reader

Prequel : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Context warning: time skip setting, ex!oikawa, alcohol consumption, swearing, a lot of french words sorry

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4

You’re grateful for the life you’ve been given. You’re healthy, you have a loving family with supportive parents and a funny little brother. You’ve worked hard to become a pâtissière and had great opportunities in Europe. But right now, as your boss argues that a Tatin tart and a Normande tart are essentially the same thing, you can’t help but think the gods are conspiring against you.

“Huh? What’s the problem? They both have apples in them,” he dares insisting.

You’ve studied in Paris. Paris, France. Alongside the best chefs in the world. And yet, here you are, being contradicted by a fifty-something man on something so basic. You’re not just being told you’re wrong, but in front of colleagues and even a few customers.

So, yes, you’re grateful for your life. But you’d be even more grateful if you could punch that man in the face. Of course, you won’t. You can’t. You need this job to pay your bills, your rent (because Tokyo is expensive), and to save for building the pâtisserie you’ve dreamed of for years. You know exactly what it’ll look like—where the counter will be, what colour the walls will be. Everything is planned, except for one detail: how and where you’ll actually get the place.

You force out an apology. It’s painfully obvious that it isn’t sincere, but you bow anyway, hoping it hides your annoyed expression. Then, you retreat to the back room because the croissants are ready and even though you hate your boss, you hate letting food burn in the oven more.

Days have felt repetitive since you arrived in Tokyo six months ago. Your routine begins at 4 a.m., with a quick breakfast. Most mornings, your roommate, Umi, is still awake, surrounded by her mountain of medical textbooks. You don’t know how she manages to decipher the words in her books because the light from her desk is dim (well, that might be the reason why she’s using glasses now).

“I’ll be back around five,” you say, even though she knows your schedule by heart.

“Got it. Have a good day!”

“And have a good night,” you reply with a smile.

The walk to the bakery is usually pleasant. You love seeing the sunrise over Tokyo—except now it’s May, and the weather is horrible. Still, you’ve never regretted moving here. You remember your professor in Paris warning you about how tough and unfair the culinary world can be, especially for women. It didn’t deter you. You’ve never wanted fame; you just want to open a pâtisserie and make people happy with your creations. For now, though, gaining more experience is your priority, so you work at a well-known bakery in Shibuya.

It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary, you often need to remind yourself—especially on tough days like today.

You don’t think you’re gaining a lot of practical skills but at least, you’ve learned a bit of humility here (no matter how forced and unfair it feels).

When you return home that evening, you’re not expecting much. When Umi comes home later, she often brings groceries or takeout. For someone who bakes, you’re surprisingly terrible at cooking savoury dishes. Umi discovered this shortly after you moved in, watching you struggle to roast vegetables or boil an egg.

Weeks of your culinary disasters led her to casually take over dinner duties. Ever since then, she’s been the one in charge and seems satisfied with it. You don’t mind—it’s a fair trade, especially since she’s a great cook.

“My dad was awful in the kitchen, so I had to take over cooking for me and my siblings,” she once explained. “I also had two neighbours who played sports. I made bentos for them all the time. I mean, I used to help their mother make them, she’s the one who taught me everything about cooking. One of the twins would help, but the other was a total ungrateful bastard who just ate everything.”

In return, you sneak pastries home from your workplace (a small rebellion against your boss) and make pancakes on the weekends.

Tonight, you’ve just stepped out of the shower when Umi bursts through the door.

“Hiii!” she exclaims brightly. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, keeping it short.

You’re usually good at hiding negative emotions—your teachers in Paris were brutally harsh at times, and showing weakness only invited more criticism (maybe even exclusion) . But with Umi, it’s different. She has an uncanny ability to read people’s feelings and make you feel comfortable with those feelings.

“I grew up with two younger siblings, an introverted best friend, and childhood friends who were all boys,” she told you. “I’ve basically seen every version of emotional repression there is.”

So, it doesn’t take her long to figure out you’re upset.

“Bad day?” she asks. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just… my boss,” you mutter.

“What did that old geezer do this time?”

You sigh. “He was wrong about something, I tried to explain that he made a mistake but he just looked down on me. But I’m not surprised, he would rather die than admit that a girl like me is right… But honestly, it’s not just him. It’s the industry. It’s always like this.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird how everyone just accepts it and nothing changes.” She lets out a dramatic groan. “You know what the problem is? Men.”

You chuckle at that, it’s her usual response to every issue (not that you would deny it though).

You slump into the chair and press your face against the palm of your hand, when she suddenly pulls out a bottle of red wine from her bag.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know I’m not that desperate to the point where I need to drink to deal with a bad day, right?”

“This isn’t about your bad day,” she grins. “It’s about celebrating.”

“Celebrating what? My shitty boss?”

“Let me explain!” she says, rushing to the kitchen to grab glasses. “You know my childhood friend, the one with the restaurant in Osaka?”

“The twin who isn’t an ungrateful bastard?”

“Yes, but his name is Osamu, I already told you. Anyway, a shop next to his restaurant just closed, and the landlady is looking to sell. Osamu knows her and I mentioned you’re looking for a place to open your bakery.”

You open your mouth to correct her (it’s a pâtisserie not a bakery!) but decide to you let her finish instead.

“He said he could arrange a meeting for you. Interested?”

Osaka. You’ve never been there, but the idea intrigues you. People from Kansai are known for their warmth and humour—so different from the quiet of your hometown in Miyagi. Change might be good, you find yourself thinking.

“Sure, I’d be interested,” you say cautiously (in case it doesn't work, don't get your hopes up).

“Great! Osaka is the best, and I know people there who can help you settle in. I’d recommend looking at apartments in—”

“Umi, I haven’t even seen the place yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she says confidently. “Just make them try your strawberry and cream tart. No one can say no to that!”

You laugh. “You mean the fraisier?”

“Gods, yes. Just use that sexy French accent of yours, and they’ll agree in no time.”

“Whatever you say,” you can’t help but laugh a little. “The wine is French, huh?”

She pours a generous amount into your glass, “of course. Last time I brought Californian you almost killed me.”

You take a look at the bottle to check if she’s telling the truth. You nod proudly and she smiles back.

“To your bakery!” She raises her glass and so do you.

A few days later, after pretending to be bedridden by a sudden and debilitating cold to take a fews days off from work (to which your boss complains), you find yourself standing at the station ready to leave for Osaka.

Umi had given you everything you needed: Miya Osamu's number, his address, and an enthusiastic list of typical Kansai expressions.

When you arrive there, you immediately search for “Onigiri Miya” on your phone. When you check it you are nothing but impressed by the 5 stars behind the name and the hundred and hundred of good comments.

Will you also get that someday?

Will your pâtisserie gather many people and be a place of happiness?

You try not to think too much about it, because with the flicker of hope comes fear, and you don’t have time to be negative. You have to move forward and put on a brave face, that’s what you’ve been taught.

As you step off the train and start to look for the right bus, a voice calls out behind you.

“Yer Umi’s roommate, right?”

You turn around to see a man with short brown hair. There’s a relaxed air about him that makes you feel comfortable.

“Miya-san?” you assume.

“The good one, yeah,” he replies with a boyish smile. You think his Kansai accent adds an easy charm to his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come. I could have taken the bus, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nah, yer not. Follow me.”

He offers to carry your bag and leads you to his car, parked just outside the station.

The ride is mostly food-related, he tells you about his business. How he started as the employee of an old man who had a ramen restaurant, which eventually became his. How he transformed it into an onigiri restaurant before opening a second shop recently in Tokyo.

“Why onigiri?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He thinks for a moment. “I guess… it reminds me of home. My Ma’ used to make ’em all the time when we were kids. And I love makin’ ’em myself. Like, physically usin’ my hands. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” you say with a small smile. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your mother’s cooking.”

“It’s the best,” he says, and his tone turns soft. “Though, she didn’t really teach me much about baking. That’s why I’m impressed by what ya do.”

His compliment takes you by surprise, you restrain yourself from smiling with all your teeth.

You meet the landlady the minute you step out of the car. She listens to you carefully and even though you try not to overthink it, she seems more than happy at the idea of opening a French pâtisserie in the neighbourhood.

Osamu mentions after the meeting how you definitely “won her over with how detailed and motivated ya were.”

You don’t tell him that it only makes sense because you’ve dreamed of owning a place for years. You’ve imagined everything, thought about it during sleepless nights and overworked days. It is the lighthouse that guided you through heartbreaks and homesickness. So when the opportunity presents itself, there’s no way you wouldn’t give your all.

“I hope she’ll accept my project,” you simply answer.

“D’ya want onigiri?” The man offers.

You obviously accept (Umi dragged about how delicious they were, you need to find out whether that is true or not) and thank him again. He brushes it off with a “Umi’s friends are my friends and I’m always happy to feed people.”

His shop is warm and welcoming, and his food is delightful. You might yourself add a five-star review on Google.

“I never thought a rice ball could be that good,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“Rice balls? Ya don’t know how much time it took me to master that.”

Right, you don’t know, but you can only imagine. The culinary world isn’t only competitive and cruel. It’s sweat and tears, years of making to perfect a simple recipe. It’s giving your entire being into your crafts only to hear people say “well, that mustn’t be too difficult to make.”

But it’s also pride and art. Not a day goes by when you aren’t excited to try a new combination: replace wheat flour with almond flour for the brioches, add a spoonful of orange blossom to your cream puffs, and the list is long. And if you make someone happy, if they ask to have a second piece of your cake, that’s when you know the sweat and the tears aren’t that important.

You crave to build your pâtisserie, the same way Osamu built his restaurant (with warmth and love), and taste what it’s like to pour your heart into something tangible and undeniably yours.

Things move faster than you’d anticipated. The landlady approves your proposal, the bank grants your loan, and within the span of a week, you exchange your resignation letter with a lease and a pair of keys.

You’re sad to leave Umi, she is too.

“I’ll come whenever I can.” She says with a sad smile.

“I’ll sneak pastries for you,” you wink in return and when you hug, she congratulates you and tells you (for the tenth time) that you deserve it. You think a tear escapes your eyes.

Your newfound property is empty and cold. And when you open the door for the first time you realise that it might require a lot of work.

But Osamu is there every step of the way. He kindly offers advice and helps you with renovations. You’re a bit embarrassed by how much he’s done so far and at the same time, you know you have to take everything there is to make that place great. So it becomes a routine for him to cross the road from his shop to yours at the end of his shift to give you a hand.

“Yer makin’ the right choice,” he says one evening as you both sit outside Onigiri Miya, sharing a quick meal after a day of painting walls and changing seals. “That place is gonna bring in plenty of tourists and locals.”

You glance at him, there are nerves swirling in your chest. “I hope so.”

“Ya are. Trust me. Yer gonna have queues and queues of people.”

You hide your nerves with sarcasm, “And if they’re tired of waiting, I’ll tell them that there's a not-too-bad onigiri restaurant in front of my shop. Just so you know, time passes faster.”

He sneers at that, “’Not too bad’, ya sound like my brother.”

“Don’t know the guy but that didn’t seem to be a compliment.”

“That wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes and he laughs in return.

The hardest part of the renovation happens to be the most important one: the kitchen. You’re knee-deep in setting up the oven when you realise that maybe, you might need more people to assemble to equipment.

“I can find two or three more biceps to help,” Osamu tells you when he finds you trying to lift the 250-pound fridge by yourself.

“Yeah, I guess that would be useful,” you say breathlessly.

The next morning, you arrive early. Not as early as Osamu it seems since you see him standing outside your shop, hands in his pockets and wearing a sports suit (the clothes are unusual on him, you think). The closer you get, the blonder his hair looks. The sun has barely rise, and you blame the light for it.

You immediately call out, “Miya-san?”

He turns around, “Oh, hey!”

“You could have come later, you know. I was planning on cleaning a little bit before you arrived.”

“Don’t worry," he shakes his head, “’Samu would have killed me if I had been late.”

“Samu?”

And then, just as quickly, Osamu (the real one) shows up and for a second, you’re confused.

“Good morning,” he says before pointing to the other man, “seems like ya just met my brother.”

“I’m Atsumu.” The blond guy extends his hand to you and your knitted brows probably gives away your confusion. “Don’t tell me ya thought I was ‘Samu?”

Of course that’s his brother, you idiot. You curse yourself.

“Sorry. You guys look similar,” you say, but it’s not quite an excuse for your mistake.

They both share a glance before laughing and you think you just sounded stupid because obviously, they look alike, they’re fucking twins. You reason yourself by thinking that it’s very much early and that you’re not fully awake.

“We’re very different. I mean, our bodies aren’t built the same since I’m a professional athlete and ‘Samu’s not. I’ve always been the smartest one too.” He crosses his arms to his chest.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. You’ll learn the difference soon enough. I’m the serious one.” He gestures to his brother. “He’s the disaster.”

Atsumu shrugs dramatically. “Hey, the world needs a little chaos, ya shithead!”

You can’t help but laugh despite the tension between them.

“Where’s the fridge?”

“I think we should wait for him; it will be easier if we’re four,” Osamu tells his brother. You didn’t know another person would come, you want to ask about them but Atsumu interferes before you can open your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage on my own, I’m a-”

“Professional athlete. I think we got it ‘Tsumu so can ya shut the fuck up now?”

You fear Atsumu will jump his brother if you don’t stop them.

“What sport?” You ask hurriedly before he can take a step towards Osamu.

“Volleyball. I’m the starting setter of the National Team.”

“Thought Tobio-kun was.”

The older twin glowers at the younger one.

“I’m impressed Atsumu-san, I actually know a professional setter.”

“Who?” The man’s eyes widen, and you decipher not only curiosity but competition on his face (typical man behaviour).

“He’s not in Japan though. But maybe you’ve heard of him, his name is Oika-”

“My bad Sam-sam, I walked past that place.”

A man enters the room. He is a bit sweaty and his hair, grey and raven, is falling on his forehead. 

“Did ya run to come here?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at him.

He grins and scratches the back of his neck nervously, “I took the wrong street.”

“But it’s the same as Onigiri Miya.”

“But it’s always Omi-Omi who guides us here. I never came on my own,” he pouts.

“Thank you for coming,” you hear yourself say and that’s when he finally sees you. His pout immediately disappears.

You think he is handsome. He and his golden eyes. But it’s only a sample of his beauty because when he replies “of course,” with his smile all bright and warm, you’re mesmerised.

It’s almost instinctive, the way you can’t look away. It’s like an effortless intake of air. Like your eyes seem to be glued to his features, and soon enough, to his arms and the way the muscles contract slightly when he offers his hand for you to shake it.

“I'm Bokuto,” he grins. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bokkun, yer hands are all dirty. She’s a lady.”

“Oops, Tsum-Tsum is right. Where can I wash them?” He asks you and hides his hands behind his back.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. The room is filled with silence for a very long minute before Osamu finally decides to show him the way.

Why are you disappointed? Why did you want so badly to shake his hand?

Perhaps because it’s too early for your mind to function properly.

Your brain tries to go for that answer (your beating heart whispers something else).

“Should we start workin’”? Atsumu proposes and you nod.

Well, it seems like you’re stuck with two bickering brothers and this god-like man named Bokuto.

(This is going to be a good day, you think discretely).

author notes: okay so this was supposed to be a one-shot but it will be a 3 or 4 chapters story haha

(writing this made me very hungry btw)

[reveluving]

Damn ive never seen you earlier, you write graves just amazing :(

Idk if you are still taking requests but how do you think graves approached his shy gf/wife in the first place? Is he persuasive?

Aww babe!! That is so nice of you to say! 😭 Sorry it took a bit of time ‘cause I admit, I’ve never thought of this, not deeply, at least! Please enjoy ‘cause I know I did 😘💗

Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

The possibilities of meeting Graves for the first time are endless, but I have two in mind!

The first scenario is a typical but well-loved meet cute at a café, or a bookstore or better; a book café! With you and him standing in one corner of the counter, waiting for your drinks. Graves has zero problems in offering you a polite smile, only for his amusement to grow when you return the smile, albeit a smaller one, before immediately averting your gaze. 

The barista’s taking a while to make your drinks, so after some time, he thought of just striking up a conversation.

“They’re sure takin’ their sweet time.” Was the first thing he said to you. A lighthearted comment—you would’ve been more worried if he was more gruff about it, and you weren’t even a worker there.

You nod, huffing in amusement while looking at the dishevelled teenager, “They don’t usually take this long.”

Graves nods along and though he asks you some things, such as if you were a regular customer or if you had any recommendations, regardless of whether it was sweet treats or any novels you may have stumbled upon (even if he’s not a fan of reading, he may or may not like the way you slowly yet surely open up with him), he keeps them a bare minimum. He doesn’t want you to feel forced, especially since he began the conversation.

Soon, the barista finally completes your order, but unfortunately, it’s prepared wrongly. 

Yours were hot while Graves was iced. The complete opposite of what you and he asked for.

He was perceptive, seeing you grimace but also ready to just accept whatever was offered, Graves spoke up.

“Excuse me, kid, but I’m pretty sure you got our orders mixed up,” You would’ve panicked if it wasn’t for his cordial approach. Disappointed or not, he had no problem hiding it. And even so, you couldn’t help but feel bad when they heard the dreadful words. They must’ve faced a harsher customer in the past. 

Graves was quick to reassure them, even telling them to take the mistaken orders and share with a colleague, much to your surprise. Of course, you weren’t expecting him to lash out, not right away, at least, but you weren’t blind to his… lifestyle. Just from the way he carried himself, you knew he must be some kind of a ‘man of the hour’. That, and the way he dressed/his items i.e. his laptop bag, phone. 

And yet, you never saw him as one of those unapproachable degenerates. Thinking they were high and mighty, maybe even cause a ruckus and gain some kind of benefit out of it. He was confident, sure, but he could’ve just ignored you the whole time, much like now. 

“Thank you.” You thanked him softly when the barista, with the weight seemingly lifted off their shoulders, went back to make you and Graves’ orders again. 

“It’s no problem. Thought y’might need a little help.” So he did notice. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole for not hiding your emotion better, but something about his smile, his lack of judgement, it didn’t make you feel too bad about it all. 

Plus, you couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t easy on the eye, either.

Bonus if you decide to take a leap and accept his offer of sitting together at the window seat, especially if it’s during the lunch rush! The two of you may become regulars at the café and soon enough, you exchange numbers!

The second scenario is actually part of a mini-series that I’m working on (read: collecting dust), with you being a florist! While I won’t spoil a whole lot, it involves our beloved Shiba Inu. By now, we all know Kai is extremely playful, borderline mischievous if it means being a loving pain in Graves’ ass. 

So, after looking away for a moment, only to find Kai making a mess out of some flower shop owner’s potted flowers, he’s initially more disappointed (but not surprised) than worried. But nothing a little Southern charm and a bit of reimbursement can’t solve. 

That is until he sees you.

And while this revelation wouldn’t leave him to tuck his tail between his legs, I can see him going like ‘oh’, turning away for a second to swear under his breath before putting on his award-winning smile. But in all honesty, there’s a tad bit of guilt in it, especially after he overhears you forgive Kai, who, surprisingly, is whimpering in front of you, despite your soft tone.

Oh, how Graves could never forget your voice. 

Upon approaching you at the front door, he immediately apologizes, and unlike other times where he’s trying to rush the conversation so it could all be said and done, he’s very patient with you, partially praying that you were with him, too. There’s just something so magnetic about you that he doesn’t want the conversation to end so soon. But with your bashfulness, he knows not to overwhelm you either, which was funny, since he never particularly thinks about that with others.

And from there, he has an inkling that you may be one of the few people he’s willing to learn more about while considering his own personality. So, while he doesn’t shy away from showing you his romantic side, and spoils you a whole lot, too, he also lets you know about his more ‘disliked’ personality. On days when you and he are more heart-to-heart with each other, he tells you about the side of him where he has to play offence to be the person that he is. He wants to be as transparent with you as possible, so you won’t catch a ‘whiplash’ with how he treats you versus how he treats others.

Whichever the cases may be, while he is persuasive, knowing that you’re one of a kind, he knows this is something he has to be patient about, and frankly, he’s more than fine with it. If you have a history of bad dating experiences, then you best believe that he’s willing to show you just how much you mean to him, and hopefully, vice versa. Graves isn’t one to think about a committed relationship, mostly because he never found one and with his line of work, it’s a lot to think about, but he is more than willing to adapt to the new changes (and finally spoil ‘the one’) for you.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Bookmark my Heart

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: You're not the audiobook type. You much prefer reading over listening to books. It would just be your luck that an audiobook got you into this predicament. His eyes are piercing as you fumble with your phone to mute the volume, his voice blaring from the device.

Warnings: None! (Though I do believe Flirty!Rooster is a warning I should call out.)

Themes: Meet-Cute, Flirting, Coffee, Books, Smut Books

Word Count: 3456

A/N: So, if you all aren't aware, today is the lovely @roosterforme's birthday! I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate Em and all of the amazing things she does more than to write some Rooster for her. Happy Birthday! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are! So without further ado, I'm pleased to present you all with Bookmark my Heart, a fic where Bradley Bradshaw is an audiobook narrator and the reader, nicknamed Paper, runs right into him! All my thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for beta-reading this fic and catching all of the places where I've missed commas as well as updating my phrasing!

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

You’re not the audiobook type. Something about having someone read the pages, providing inflections and changes of tone to the otherwise inflectionless words tends to kill your imagination. So you much prefer reading over listening to the books you’re in the mood to peruse. It would just be your luck that an audiobook got you into this predicament. His eyes are piercing as you fumble with your phone to mute the volume, his voice blaring from the device. But maybe you should back up a little bit.

It all started, like it usually did for you, with a book. Unlike normally though, you aren’t talking about Keats, Byron, Shelley, or Austen. This time, the book that was your downfall was something you’d usually classify as chick-lit. Not that chick-lit is a bad thing. There are quite a few romance novels which are beautifully written and that you enjoy reading and re-reading. It’s just not normal that a romance novel, something smutty and provocative, would end up being talked about on podcasts and the news. That’s not considering how all of your female colleagues seem to be talking about the very same book. But that’s the other interesting thing. They’re not even discussing the book’s contents. More like they’re discussing the narrator’s voice in the audiobook edition - how deep and smooth and raspy it is.

It hadn’t even been a full day before the curiosity got the better of you and you purchased the book from Kindle Unlimited. It took you the better part of two weeks before you actually screwed up the courage to listen to it though. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked a Saturday morning when you were running errands to listen to the book. In your defense, there was no better time to listen to the book other than a day when you’d be spending quite a long time in the car with nothing else to do. You’d definitely miscalculated. Dear lord, this man’s voice?! It’s deep and raspy, something smooth and dark in how he voices the syllables. It’s the kind of voice you’ve once heard referred to as panty-wetting - an epithet you’ve never understood until now.

The book has you squirming as you walk through the grocery store. There’s sweat dripping down your spine as he talks about something involving fighter jets and the men (and women - you always feel like you have to correct) who fly them. You’d never have thought that flaps and ailerons could ever be that alluring. You have to take a minute as you leave the grocery store, sitting in your car in silence practically heaving just at the way the word “Doll” had dripped off of his lips. Maybe you can buy into the hype a little bit. It’s not often that you find a romance book in the male perspective after all. As far as finding the pilots sexy goes, though, what can you say? You’ve seen Top Gun - both movies - those boys in their dress whites are awfully sexy.

You send a little prayer of thanks to Rooster Bradshaw, whoever he is, for narrating this book. Just his voice has already made your boring Saturday running errands a thousand times better. You don't even mind that you're melting in the San Diego heat without the air conditioning on as you collect yourself. At least there is only one thing you have left to do today. As a reward for finishing up your errands, including odious activities like going to the bank and post office and grocery shopping, you'd vowed to treat yourself with a romp through your favorite bookstore.

Like you mentioned earlier, it all started with a book. What can you say? You're nothing if not predictable. The Breezy Bean is your favorite coffee shop and bookstore. It's a small shop nestled right in the midst of cobblestone streets and overshadowed by apartment buildings on either side. It's always a zoo trying to get parking, but you can't regret the competition for parking when the books are as good as they are and the coffee is even better.

Lara's not at the counter, but her business partner and best friend, Emily is, and you wave at her absentmindedly as you tangle the cord of your headphones around your index finger. The entire shop smells like coffee beans, paper and ink. You could spend forever here, and you're sure you have, at the very least, spent the entire day in the shop before. The shelves tower over your head, creaking under the weight of everything they hold. You're not a woman on a mission today, content to just meander until a cover catches your fancy. The eyes eat first, after all, isn't that what they say? If only you knew how true that statement would be.

The whole time you're listening to the book, tasting the words on your tongue seconds after Rooster says them, teasing the syllables out like you're trying to snatch them from his lips. Is it any wonder that after about four hours of listening to his voice, you're starting to imagine what the main character of the book looks like based on how Rooster sounds? You're only human, after all. It's quiet and dim in the back of the store, the shelves lit only by the small lights shining from the wall sconces. This is your favorite section of the store. There's a squashy green armchair here with a small table, and this is where you usually sit and wile away the hours.

It's rare that anyone ever ventures into this corner of the store. So it's a surprise when you see a man standing right in front of your favorite chair. He's tall and ridiculously handsome, wearing an eye-wateringly bright Hawaiian shirt and slim-fitting jeans. Like everyone in California, he's got Ray-Bans flung into the neckline of his tank top. The truly unique part of his look is the mustache he's carefully cultivated on his upper lip. He’s holding a book in long-fingered hands, lips pursed as he scans the pages, leaning gently against one of the shelves.

You try your best to squeeze past him in the narrow aisle, wondering if Em and Lara have squeezed more shelves back here or if you've just gained weight when it happens — your headphone cord snags on the buttons on his open shirt. You try to untangle it, unsuccessfully, but then your phone falls out of your pocket and rips your headphones right out of the jack.

You were just getting to a good part, something filled with innuendo but not quite at the sex. That's your only silver lining. Because when your phone nosedives to the, thankfully, carpeted floor sans your headphones, the audio keeps playing way too loudly for the hushed environment. To add insult to injury, your phone is closer to him than it is to you, and well, you've embarrassed yourself enough. The last thing you need is to get eye-level with a stranger's dick while your phone is narrating smut in a bookstore.

“Good book?” There's a smile on his face, and you nod timidly as he hands you back your phone. You pause the app and turn the volume all the way down before his words, or well, you should say, the sound of his voice sinks in.

If you weren’t mortified before, you're even more so now. Obviously, your brain does not compute, so your brain-to-mouth filter isn't working as you blurt out, “You're Rooster Bradshaw.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when he starts laughing - a full body, belly laugh which fills the stacks with the mellifluous sound. If you had any doubts before that you'd run into the Rooster Bradshaw at your favorite coffee shop before (which you didn’t - see your intimate knowledge of his voice from earlier), you wouldn’t have any now. His character had actually laughed not fifteen minutes ago in the book. Well, now what are you supposed to do? You feel hot, embarrassment crawling its way up your throat as you shift your weight back and forth. Rooster's smiling at you as he stands back, lounging against the shelf like he's waiting for you to get your shit together. You'd hate to break it to him, but you don't think that's possible.

“I'm sorry.” You try your best to hide your face because he does not need to see what your facial expressions are doing.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” You shrug a shoulder as you busy yourself by turning around and trying to force yourself to read the titles. “It's not every day I run into pretty girls in my favorite bookstore, listening to me narrate a book about US Naval Aviators.”

Flirting shouldn’t be the thing which puts you at ease in this situation. There really must be something wrong with you. You’ve never done anything like this before. What happened to the girl who would have run away the minute the phone fell? She might not be facing down the sexiest man she’s ever seen, but at least that version of her isn’t at risk of heart palpitations.

“I hate to break it to you, Rooster, but a lot of pretty women are listening to you right now. This book has made its way onto podcasts and PBS. The author herself has been interviewed gushing about your professionalism and how you say the word “aileron.” Despite your mortification, you find yourself mirroring his relaxed position against the shelves. “Though I do have to correct a part of your statement there. What about yoga pants, glasses, and a messy bun makes me pretty? Because I’d call myself a mess.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re a mess, pretty girl.” Rooster grins as he tugs the shoulder of your cami up from where it is sliding down your arm. “Don’t you know exactly how devastating you look in those yoga pants?”

You’re left dumbstruck, reeling as he leans even closer to you. All of a sudden, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne as he crowds into your space, and you’re forced to tip your head up to keep eye contact. Of course, the motion makes your glasses tip on your face, and you can’t lift a hand up to resettle them on your face without brushing up against every inch of the man, nearly squishing you into the shelf. There’s a scant few centimeters between you as you try to string words together.

“What makes you think I don’t know how good these pants make my ass look?” You smirk just a little, screwing up all of your courage to peer up at him. “But really, this outfit is comfortable.”

“Comfortable is not how you’re making me feel, honey.” There’s a heat in his gaze as his voice rasps out the words. “But maybe we can both get a little more comfortable and have a cup of coffee together?” 

Only two people will ever know if your hand strays right over the seam at the front of his jeans as you walk away. “I’d love to, but maybe you need to take a few minutes in seclusion, Mr. Chicken.”

You feel giddy as you walk away because things like this don’t just happen to girls like you. You don’t flirt with men you've just met. And you definitely do not brush over the dicks of men you've just met! The counter is nearly empty as you walk up, and you know Em has clocked onto the fact that your hands are surprisingly empty of books.

“Hiya, Paper!” You roll your eyes only a little. Buy a stack of paperbacks once a week from a bookstore for months, and this is exactly what you’ll be nicknamed. “No books today?”

“Hey, Em. Can I get a latte, please? And whatever the gentleman in the Hawaiian shirt orders is on me.” You grin at the sight of her eyebrows ticking up until they’re nearly in her hair.

“What has our sweet little Paper been doing today, huh?” You shrug just a little, grinning as she hands you your drink. “I’ve been reading, Em!”

“Of course you have!” You’re laughing as you make your way to a table for two in the corner.

You’re smiling outright when Rooster swaggers out of the shelves a few minutes later, and Em clocks the Hawaiian shirt on his broad frame. She’s half drooling when he orders an Americano. As she turns to make his drink, you get the messages in short order.

What the fuck, Paper!

This is the man you’re buying a coffee for?

Damn, girl! I’m going to need all of the details. STAT!

You put the device away only when the chair opposite yours slides out, and Rooster settles in. You'd promised a full detailing of the encounter to Em, and you wouldn't be surprised if Lara interrogates you the next time you see her as well.

“So, obviously, you come here often, then.” He’s smirking as he sips on his coffee.

“Yup!” You’re just as chipper as you blow over the surface of your own mug.

“You come here often enough that one of the owners just threatened me with the loss of my…” He pauses like he’s not sure if he should laugh or cry as he says the words, “...crown jewels…” and grimaces before continuing, “...if I hurt you.”

“She also called you Paper. Why’s that, Honey?”  

You lean forward, feeling just a little more confident as he mirrors your position. “Tit for tat, Bradshaw, if that even is your last name. You tell me something about yourself, I tell you something about myself.”

“Deal?” You stretch your hand out and gasp when he takes it and sets it down to the side of the mugs.

“Deal.”

“I’ll start.” Your faces are inches apart from each other. He's whispering, and you have to lean forward even further so you don't miss a single word. “My name’s Bradley Bradshaw. I didn’t want to use my real name while narrating those books.”

“And Rooster was what you decided on?” His chuckle and yours rise into the air in perfect harmony.

“It was a nickname I got in college. I was always the only guy in the dorm up before 9 A.M.”

You take turns sharing your life stories and quite a few secrets until your coffees are long gone. You find yourself telling him all about how you got your nickname and how you’ve been feeling stuck for the longest time. With Bradley, it doesn’t feel like another boring first date. If it weren’t for the faint hiss of the espresso machine and the clank of mugs and cutlery you wouldn't think there was another person in the room but the two of you. There are butterflies in your stomach, and your entire body shudders when he hooks his ankle around yours and tugs you closer. That point of contact has your blood turning into molten lava in your veins as his hand trails gentle patterns across your upturned palm.

“Hey, Paper?” It takes an inhuman effort to drag your eyes away from the magic Bradley Bradshaw is committing just with your hands in his own.

“Hey, Em.” As you say her name, you realize how dark it is. “The store’s closing, isn’t it?”

“Yup. It actually closed an hour ago. You looked so cute together that I called Lara, and we made an executive decision to let the two of you keep talking for just a bit longer.”

Your face feels extra hot because Em’s looking at you like she’s liable to start laughing at any moment. You don’t want to know what your hair looks like now, not after hours of running your fingers through it. It’s probably even more of a mess than it was when you literally ran into Bradley hours ago. A great first impression, right?

“Let me settle up then, Em.” If your voice is hushed and a little more subdued, it’s because reality and panic are settling in.

“No, sweetheart.” Bradley’s voice is even firmer as he stands up and places a hand on your arm. “Today is on me, I insist.”

You know exactly when Em puts it together, because her eyes widen to a comical degree. She was the biggest reason why you bought the book in the first place. “You’re Rooster Bradshaw!”

For the second time today, you find yourself laughing along with Bradley, though the sounds of his laughter doesn’t put you at ease in quite the same way as it did earlier. Em’s laughing too, and she looks gorgeous in the golden light. At least she’s put together in a way you’re so obviously not. Maybe you should have taken your mother’s well-meant advice when you were younger - dress to impress, for you never know who you’re going to meet. But you haven’t taken that advice, choosing to dress simply and comfortably. It works when you can’t wear any makeup when you work in a laboratory and when all of your nice clothes would be at risk of chemical spills at worst and covered by a lab coat at best. So you walk through life in a swirl of well-worn jeans, tee-shirts, yoga pants, tank tops, camisoles, sneakers and sandals. There are a few dressier items in your closet, but they’re so far in the back that you haven’t worn them in probably a year and a half. Em’s cute outfit and wavy, non-greasy hair probably feel like a breath of fresh air to him. The same goes for the timber of her voice and how she sounds so elegant. 

If you didn't know any better (because you know Em, you do), you'd think that the words the two of them are sharing by the counter now are flirtier than settling up a bill. It doesn’t help the green, envious monster sitting on your shoulder, though. Nor does it help when you run to the restroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look worse than you thought you did. Your face is wan and pale, the bags under your eyes have bags, and your hair is so greasy that it lays limp when you release it from your bun. Your lips are chapped, and fuck, how did you manage to drip coffee onto yourself?! You only drank one cup! What's left to show you that you've made a huge fool of yourself?

Your hands shake as you splash water on your face and put your hair back in its sad bun again. Just a little longer and you'll be home, wallowing in peace at yet another failed potential relationship. At least the water has brought a blush to your cheeks and cleaned the worst of the smudges off your glasses. Bradley probably has Em's phone number by now, right? It's probably best not to get your hopes up too high, else you find yourself falling from a prodigious height.

Instead, you're pleasantly surprised to see him still in the shop.

“Hey!” His face lights up when he sees you, and you're sure your earlier pep-talk about managing your expectations hasn’t worked at all. This is going to hurt. “So, I know talking to a stranger for hours at a coffee shop probably isn't the best first date. So would you maybe want to go on a real one sometime soon?”

“Y-you're serious?” He smiles and hands you his phone, unlocked.

“Put your number in there, Paper.” Your mind's not working at all as you type the ten digits in. 

“Why me?” 

His smile is warm and fond as he takes the phone back, types something and hits send. Your notification tone goes off soon after. 

“It's not every day I run into a pretty girl listening to me reading a romance novel who doesn't fawn all over me once they realize who I am. It's been nice talking to you. I feel like you're the first person in a long time to see Bradley, not Rooster.”

He holds the door open for you, a hand finding its way to the small of your back as he walks you out to your car. He even opens the door for you, a chivalrous action which has your heart flip-flopping in your chest. “Baby doll?”

“Yeah?” He takes advantage of the height difference between you to tip your face up as he feathers a kiss across the apple of your cheek.

“It helps that your ass looks damn good in those yoga pants!” 

You're laughing despite yourself as you drive away. Maybe audiobooks aren't as bad as you think? Or, well, at least their narrators aren't.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @footprintsinthesxnd @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87 @kmc1989

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 21/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

Yeah, I don't even know y'all. Some people stress bake or stress clean, I stress-hammer out like 12k words in four days? Thank you to everyone who is following this :) I still love everyone in this bar!

“Hey Sally?” Evan very deliberately did not look up from the book he was looking through, staring at the brittle, yellowed pages as though they held the secrets of the universe instead of some faded illustrations of different types of protection runes,

Hmm? Sally replied, the lazy, half-asleep tone making Evan smile.

She had curled up right in front of the living room fireplace, having started a roaring fire pretty much the instant Evan’s parents had departed for dinner with a couple of Dad’s work colleagues. The fireplace was purely decorative…there wasn’t a flue, and usually the firebox contained only a set of decorative candles. Sally adored hearth fires, though, and took every opportunity to transfigure herself a fully functioning fireplace whenever his parents went out in the winter.

“You know that spell we were working on today?” he tried to keep his voice light, nonchalant. As though he just wanted to debrief on the lesson and get his familiar’s feedback, like he had a thousand times before.

He never had been able to fool Sally, though. He heard a faint rustle, and when he finally looked up from the page he had been staring at blindly for the last twenty minutes, Sally had gotten up from her indolent sprawl. Her tail curled neatly around her feet and she was watching him steadily, her mangled ear twitching back and forth.

Aye? Sally’s voice was the perfectly calm, steady tone she always took when she was about to have a serious conversation with him. Clinical, almost. He appreciated it…sometimes when he talked to his parents or others in his coven, he felt like he spent half the conversation trying to parse out how they really felt just through their tone. There was never any bullshit with Sally. No hidden agendas or meaning.

“You teach me a lot of things like that,” he started, frowning down at the pages of the huge book in his lap. It was some tome Sally had had his parents borrow special from a coven library in Philadelphia. The book was bound in calfskin, and its pages were thicker than he was used to…vellum, maybe. The ink had mostly faded to a rusty red and the spidery handwriting was hard to read.

I do, Sally acknowledged.

Evan licked his lips and finally set the book down carefully on the couch cushion beside him. “Why?” he asked, voicing the question that had been racing through his head in faster and faster circles this last week. Ever since…

You heard me arguing with your mother, didn’t you? Sally sighed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted quietly.

That had been happening a lot, lately. Especially on nights after his weekly call with Maddie. He was so worried about his sister—she sounded so tired when he talked to her these days, and he kept getting the feeling that she was holding something back. Trying to keep him from noticing something. He was so tempted to go up to the house she and Doug had bought right after their wedding; just show up unannounced and refuse to leave until she told him what had her sounding so sad whenever they talked. He just wasn’t sure how that would be received.

He hated that he no longer knew how Maddie would respond to something.

Regardless of how your parents feel about me or my lessons, they entrusted your training to me. Your mother may complain all she likes, but there is little she can do to me and she knows it.

“She said you’re training me like people are still trying to burn us at the stake,” he said, and Sally sighed.

Evan, she began. You are extremely powerful. And I would never have you be ashamed or fearful of your magic, but nor would I have you ignore the realities of it. The lessons I give you, the methods and spells that I teach you…yes, they were designed for times and situations that are long gone. But they are also spells that require more discipline. More deliberation. More control. You are quite strong, little love. But that means you must also be quite skilled.

Which was the line of reasoning that he’d heard Sally use when his mother started in on why she was teaching him such old-fashioned ways of casting, and adding spells that no one used to her regimens. It made sense. And Sally never lied to him. He didn’t even really have a suspicion that she was lying to him. But…

“You were scared,” he said finally. “When you said it wasn’t like I’d ever have to use the defensive magics you were teaching me. I could feel it.”

Emotions bleeding through the bond between a witch and their familiar was just a fact of life—but Sally was old enough and disciplined enough that he rarely picked up anything from her that she was not deliberately allowing him to sense. The spike of fear he’d felt from her during that argument, though…that had not been deliberate. Sally never let him feel it when she was worried or afraid.

Ah. Sally looked away from him, her golden eyes fixing on some point over his shoulder.

“I just—Sally, all these spells. And the practice. Does it…does it mean something?”

Divination has never been one of my talents, Evan, Sally said gently, cutting straight to the heart of the question Evan was too afraid to ask. She uncurled her tail from around her feet and leapt primly up onto the couch, staring at him until he sat back against the cushions so that she could climb onto his lap. His hand automatically drifted to the thick ruff of fur around her neck, scratching gently as she pushed her forehead against his, purring softly.

“You don’t have to have a full divination dream to know something’s coming,” he said. Reading the future wasn’t one of his talents, either. Divination magic had never run very strongly in the Buckley coven line. Still, he knew familiars all had at least a little instinct for it. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deliberate in the lessons that Sally had been drilling him on for the past five years. Something beyond simply trying to teach him better control through more difficult spells.

Evan. I…it isn’t something specific. Only a sense. Neither stronger nor weaker than any such feeling I’ve had about dozens of my witches over the years. I’ve learned to listen to such senses when they come, but I do not feel the need to be ruled by them. Don’t read too much into it.

Evan swallowed, his hand stilling in Sally’s fur. “What is it?”

Sally closed her eyes briefly, sighing to herself. That I must do my best to make sure you can stand on your own. That if I love you—and oh, my boy, I do, I love you as my own, don’t ever doubt that—I must make you strong. Strong enough to thrive when others would see you wither. Strong enough to…endure.

“You make it sound like someone is coming to try and burn me at the stake,” he said shakily. Sally’s comforting purr ceased, and she sat back in his lap, reaching up with one paw to bat at his cheek.

If ever they do, I will make sure you know how to make them regret it, little love, she swore vehemently.

*

Evan held it together as he helped Tommy—and he was helping now, not mostly dragging, so hopefully that vampire regeneration was kicking in better now—out of Greenway’s house and onto the porch. He took a moment run back inside and grab the leatherbound book from where he’d dropped it on the floor when the explosion happened, shaking his head dizzily when he straightened again.

Pain throbbed dully behind his eyes, and he was still sweaty and panting, but he didn’t feel nearly as shaky as he was expecting to after using such intense magic. He was even able to slip himself and Tommy through the between and back into the car without much difficulty, though he had to take a moment to breathe through a flare of nausea once they were settled in the seats…him driving, of course.

“You gonna be able to manage?” Tommy asked urgently, reaching up like he was going to lay his hand on Evan’s shoulder before he seemed to realize just how bloody it was. Not that it would have made much difference. Thank God Tommy had let him borrow a few changes of clothes, because what he was wearing now was just as ruined as the previous set he’d been wearing.

He’d feel a little guilty about it, but Tommy was basically holding his own liver in place while the hole in his torso healed, so he doubted his vampire would care much about ruined clothes. He took another deep breath, silently assessing.

“Yeah. Uh, yeah, I’m all right,” he said, and couldn’t keep the note of surprise out of his voice. He…he really did feel pretty good, all things considering. His head hurt, but it didn’t feel like someone was trying to explore his ocular cavity with an ice pick the way it usually did when he strained himself. His heart wasn’t pounding painfully in his chest, and best of all, his magic didn’t feel depleted yet.

Sure, he wouldn’t be able to cast another control hex right now; probably wouldn’t be able to fire off more than a couple of weak fireballs. But he also didn’t feel like he was on the verge of passing out. It was strange…but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Are we going back to your house?” he asked as he accepted the bloody keys that Tommy dug out of his pocket with a slight grimace, wiping them on his pants leg before sticking them in the ignition.

“Not yet,” Tommy grunted. He looked down at his chest and probed at the wound, hissing out through his teeth. Pain had deepened the creases and lines on his handsome face, and he pressed his head back against the headrest as Evan drove, closing his eyes. “I want to go off-grid until this heals up.”

“How long is that gonna take?” Evan asked anxiously. He didn’t like the idea of Tommy being down for the count if they encountered anyone else on their tails, especially with his magic not at a hundred percent either.

He liked the idea of Tommy hurting even less.

“Few hours,” Tommy said, gritting his teeth as he reached around the seat and grabbed the hoodie he’d been going to use to cover himself as he ran for Greenway’s porch originally. He tore it into a couple of pieces and wadded one up, stuffing it against the wound in his chest with a grunt of pain. “Can you…” he started, leaning up a little and offering Evan the other part.

Realizing what his vampire wanted him to do, Evan took it without looking away from the road and quickly stuffed it against the entrance wound in Tommy’s back. “Uh, hate to tell you, but I don’t think the seats are salvageable at this point.”

Tommy huffed out a short laugh and immediately had to wipe the dribble of blood that spilled from his lips away. “I’ve been thinking about getting a truck for a while now, anyway. It’ll heal faster if I also don’t have to replace half my blood supply.” He was quiet a moment, and then said, “I’m going to need to hunt.” He sounded apologetic. “It’ll take hours to expel all the debris and close up the organ and muscle damage…bagged blood won’t cut it. I won’t—look, Evan, I won’t kill anyone. It’s been a long time since I killed anyone for blood. But yeah, I’m gonna need you to find a neighborhood where no one’s gonna mind anyone else’s business very hard. Once I get a couple of good drinks, we can grab some clean clothes, and—”

Evan saw an exit coming up on the highway. “Do you have any cash?” he interrupted. Tommy frowned, and then jerked his chin towards the glovebox.

“Few hundred in there. Why?”

Evan didn’t answer, instead taking the exit and following the signs past a few gas stations and fast food restaurants. Tommy watched him a moment, before leaning back against his seat again and closing his eyes, clearly trusting whatever Evan was planning to do. He frowned, though, when Evan pulled the car to a stop and he opened his eyes again to find that Evan had parked in front of a cheap-looking chain motel.

“Evan, whoa, we both look like we just we fucking murdered someone,” he said, his voice still rough and strained with pain.

“I got it,” Evan said quietly, before murmuring a simple spell—one most witches mastered by the time they were seven or eight years old. A brief rush of warm wind sprang up out of nowhere, swirling through the vehicle and around his body. The blood that had been drying into a tacky mess on his clothes, hands, and face dissolved into nothingness, and Evan was left just as clean as he’d been when they first arrived at Greenway’s house.

“That must save you a lot of money on laundry detergent,” Tommy said as Evan leaned over and opened the glovebox.

“It is nice not having to haul things down to a laundromat,” Evan agreed, digging around until he found a thick, manila envelope folded up under the car’s registration. He opened it to find several bundles of bills—small denominations and worn enough not to arouse suspicion—a leather wallet, and even a few passports from different countries. “This…seems a little paranoid,” he said, raising a questioning eyebrow at Tommy. His vampire shrugged one shoulder.

“It used to be important to be able to disappear…quickly. Supplies are different, but the habits haven’t changed.”

Sally used to talk like that. Evan nodded thoughtfully and counted out a couple hundred dollars in twenties and tens out of the stack of cash. “Be right back,” he said, and checked to make sure there was no one around who might see the absolute bloodbath the cabin of the vehicle had become before opening the door. He jogged across the parking lot and into the rundown lobby, where a bored-looking clerk sat behind the desk reading a celebrity magazine that looked to be about two years out of date.

“Hey, can I get a double for the night?” Evan asked, deliberately pulling out the stack of cash instead of his wallet. He knew how places like this worked—had taken advantage of them more times than he cared to count, especially in the first few months after he’d been banished.

“Gotta sign in,” the clerk said, completely ignoring the ancient computer next to him and shoving an old fashioned register across the counter. He did not ask for Evan’s ID. “All I’ve got left is a single, unless you wanna pay for a suite.”

Evan shot the clerk a deadpan look, well aware that ‘suite’ in a place like this just meant the hot water probably worked reliably and the carpet might get vacuumed more than once a month. “Single is fine,” he said, singing a completely random name on the register and counting out twenties on the counter until the clerk gave a satisfied grunt. It wasn’t like Tommy needed to sleep anyway.

The clerk handed an honest-to-God metal key dangling on a big plastic keychain over. “Room 106. Corner on the side facing the McDonald’s. Ice machine’s broken.”

“Shocking,” Evan said under his breath, but smiled politely when he took the key, making a mental note to check for bedbugs and be prepared to cast a more intense cleaning spell once he and Tommy got to the room.

That was less of a production than he was anticipating. The room was fortunately on the far corner of the motel, the cracked and weed-choked parking lot empty around them (right, only had a single available his ass) and the security cameras very obviously just for show. Evan cast a look-away charm over Tommy anyway, helping him into the room as quickly as possible and settling him down on the foot of the sagging bed.

The room was like every other no-tell motel room Evan had ever stayed in—dingy and smelling strongly of mildew. The only furniture was the aforementioned sagging bed—a full-sized mattress, at least, small mercies—a rickety table and chair, and a couple of nightstands on either side of the bed. Evan clicked the lamp sitting on one of them on and turned back to his vampire with a worried frown.

“All right,” Tommy said, grimacing as he plucked at the wadded up piece of sweatshirt still packed into the wound in his chest. Evan’s stomach turned a little at the sight of the bloodied hole—he hadn’t had time to examine it closely or even really think about what was happening until now. “As soon as the sun’s down, I’m going to head out and hunt…this should be mostly closed by then. We need to call Howie. And let’s look at the…fuck…” He broke off, hissing suddenly and hunching over.

“What?!” Evan demanded, stepping forward, his hand hovering uselessly over Tommy’s shoulder, afraid to touch him for fear of hurting him worse. Tommy shook his head.

“Debris. I think some splinters just punctured my liver again. God, I hate getting impaled.��

“That, uh, that happens a lot?” Evan’s mind was racing, his eyes glued to the way Tommy’s face was creased in pain.

“I feel like once is enough to decide getting impales sucks, but yeah…you live long enough, you get to experience the wide range of ways people can fuck each other up multiple times.” He sighed, cracking his neck back and forth a couple times in what Evan was coming to recognize was a nervous gesture. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Evan blinked, confused. He wasn’t the one currently rebuilding his chest cavity.

“Your magic—Evan, you can’t tell me that wasn’t a major spell. And everything else you’ve done…” Tommy trailed off again, the lines on his brow deepening. It was concern this time, though, not pain.

“I don’t…uh, I’m not—” Evan looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as he probed at the glow of magic in the back of his mind. He hadn’t taken the time to think things through at Greenway’s house. He had only reacted.

It was only after he’d dealt with the blond vampire that the thought of consequences had even occurred to him, and he’d waited for the effects of using so much magic to slam into him even as he concentrated on getting his vampire out of the house and into the car safely. That hadn’t happened, though. It still hadn’t happened. He didn’t exactly feel great…and he was definitely tapped out as far as major spells like the control hex and would be for a while. He was weakened far more than he would have been if he still had a coven bond to fall back on. But this didn’t feel any worse than a moderate hangover. He’d had worse headaches after some of Sally’s more intense training sessions.

“I’m okay,” he said finally, wonderingly.

Tommy narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly as he looked Evan up and down. “Are you sure?” he asked, doubt thick in his voice.

“I—yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” He couldn’t explain it…but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tommy stared at him, and he shifted uncomfortably before dropping down into the single chair by the round table that was the only other furniture in the room. The chair rattled ominously under his weight.

“I wasn’t just asking about your magic,” Tommy said quietly. “Are you okay?”

Evan froze, just blinking at his vampire stupidly a moment, before he let out a shuddering breath. How could…how could Tommy know… “I don’t feel guilty for what I did back there,” he admitted, his voice almost too quiet for his own ears. “I should, I know I should—”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy interrupted firmly. His words were still ragged, his voice tight with pain. But he stared at Evan steadily, nothing but absolute surety in his tone. “That was self-defense, Evan. Don’t think anything else. Those vampires would have killed me and taken you straight to Ortiz…you saved both our asses back there.”

Evan took a deep breath, looking down at his hands again. “I wanted to hurt them,” he said. “They…I never met any of the other witches Jo—Greenway was working with, but I, I, I know the reasons they must’ve had for going to him. And, and he killed them. Maybe he didn’t actually do it himself, but he let them die. He was going to let me die. And those vampires helped. I wanted them to hurt.”

He was angry. He was so incandescently angry at the people who were pulling on all the strings that had entangled him. Innocent witches had been killed, and for what? Politics? Because some vampire didn’t want to share power? Evan’s life hadn’t been that great, but it had been his. He’d been eking out a living, had almost made it to a point where he might have been able to start building something a little more permanent for himself, almost to the point where he might have been able to be…if not happy, at least content. And it had all been ripped away from him because of Ortiz, Greenway, and whoever else was working with them. Once again, he had a target on his back. Once again, he was being hunted for something he didn’t fucking do.

More than that, though…they could’ve killed Tommy right there. It was pure luck that the chunk of Greenway’s desk had missed his vampire’s heart. Tommy could have died right in front of him, and Evan was no longer startled by the wave of revulsion that washed through him at the thought, the way his magic stirred angrily at the back of his mind. He couldn’t let anything happen to Tommy; would not be able to bear it if anything happened to Tommy. He was done fighting the instinct.

“They deserved it,” Tommy said softly. Evan looked up at him, startled. “Don’t feel bad about wanting to hurt people who already hurt you. Who would’ve done worse if you’d let them. Would you have done that to them if they’d been willing to walk away and leave us alone?”

“What? No!” Evan sat up straight in the chair. “I’d never…that’s not what magic’s for!” I wouldn’t…”

It took him a moment to realize that Tommy had sat back slightly, and was just looking at him with an expression that made Evan’s stomach flip slightly. It was…soft. Softer than Evan thought he had seen his vampire’s face so far, a small smile on his lips that Evan could only describe as fond.

The effect was somewhat ruined by the blood that still smeared the corners of Tommy’s mouth, but it still made Evan fall silent.

“That’s why you shouldn’t feel guilty,” he said simply. “You’re a good man, Evan. But that doesn’t mean you can never show your teeth.”

How many times had Sally tried to drive the same sort of lesson home to him?

Before he could respond, though, Tommy shuddered, cursing to himself in a language that Evan couldn’t identify as he suddenly dropped the piece of sweatshirt he’d been holding against the wound in his chest. “Damn it, give me a minute,” he hissed, before he squared his shoulders and dug his fingers into the still gaping hole in his chest.

“Tommy!” Evan leaped to his feet, but Tommy just shook his head, rooting around in the meat of the wound, a grotesque, wet sound filling the room until he pulled what looked like a clump of bloody tissue from his chest. He held it up, and Evan realized with a flash of horrified disgust that it was another chunk of wood.

“Goddamn it,” Tommy groaned, dropping the bloody mess on the floor between his feet. “How much longer ‘til sunset?”

“Couple hours,” Evan said distractedly. He bit his lip, looking at his vampire—the tired slump of his shoulders, the lines of pain that creased his handsome face. Tommy was hurt…and until he healed more, he was in greater danger. They both were, really. And Tommy was going to have to go out to…to hunt. If he wasn’t going to kill anyone—and Evan believed him when he said it—he would have to be out longer.

Tommy was hurting.

“Would witch blood heal you faster?” he asked.

It was Tommy’s turn to freeze. He went still as a statue, his blue eyes boring into Evan’s before flicking down to his throat and back. “Evan,” he breathed out. “No. I’m not going to ask you to do that.”

Evan took that to mean that the answer was yes.

He swallowed, and again Tommy’s eyes zeroed in on the bob of his throat. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He stood up, and took a step towards his vampire, who still sat frozen, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Whatever spell held Tommy still shattered, and he shuddered again, though this time Evan didn’t think it had to do anything with the pain of his wound. He took a deep breath, as though scenting the air around Evan, his hand twitching upwards before curling into a fist and slamming back down on the bed.

“Are you sure?” Tommy said, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. Evan’s stomach flipped again, a shiver running through him that he wasn’t sure he was ready to examine too closely.

“You can do it without hurting me, right?” Evan asked, and now Tommy reached for him, pulling back with a grimace of distaste when he remembered the bloody mess he was.

“I’d never hurt you,” he said, a fervency curling through every word that made it sound like a promise. A vow.

Evan breathed out, his magic humming through him in wild approval. “Then let me help you,” he said.

Tommy’s eyes sheened over with scarlet light, before he visibly reined himself back in. He looked down at his bloody hands and held them up towards Evan almost beseechingly. “I—can you?”

With a small smile, Evan murmured the spell, his vampire’s hands whisking clean in a matter of seconds. Immediately, Tommy reached for him, curling one hand around Evan’s wrist, loosely at first and then tightening when Evan made no move to pull away. He tugged lightly, drawing Evan closer.

“How do you want to do this?” Evan asked, “Um, are you gonna—” He made a gesture towards his neck and was surprised when Tommy instantly shook his head.

“No. No, not there,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. His hand tightened on Evan’s wrist again, his thumb brushing gently over the pulsepoint. It was strange. He knew, intellectually, that Tommy could crush his wrist into powder with barely any effort…could throw him down and drain him dry, and Evan wasn’t sure if he’d be able to defend himself against it.

But Tommy wouldn’t do that to him. He knew it; down to the marrow of his bones he knew it.

Tommy would never hurt him.

He nodded his permission to Tommy’s unasked question. The red glow grew brighter in his vampire’s eyes, eclipsing the blue entirely, and when Tommy spoke again, Evan could see the hint of fangs in his mouth.

“Lie down. I won’t take much, I promise. But just in case.” Tommy let go of him, getting painfully to his feet so that they could trade places.

Evan grabbed the bloodstained comforter off the bed and tossed it to the floor. He was mildly surprised to see the sheets underneath appeared to have been laundered recently…at least there were no creepy-crawlies waiting for him. He kicked his shoes off and stretched out on the mattress, looking up when he heard Tommy swallow roughly.

“God, Evan,” Tommy murmured, so low Evan wasn’t entirely sure he was meant to hear it. “Thank you,” he said, louder, before slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Evan’s hip. “I—it won’t feel like it did at Gerrard’s party without the thrall,” he warned. “I could put you back under,” he offered uncertainly, but Evan could tell he didn’t really like the idea. Truthfully, Evan didn’t either, remembering the helpless way he’d rutted up against his vampire’s body under the effects of the thrall with a blush. He shook his head.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Just take what you need.” He offered his hand up, and had to look away when Tommy slowly took it, something disbelieving and tender in his red, red eyes.

“I can stop myself,” he promised. “If it starts to hurt too much, or you start to feel dizzy or sick, just tell me.”

“I trust you, Tommy,” Evan said, and knew in his heart that it was absolutely true.

Tommy closed his eyes and pulled Evan’s hand closer to his mouth, inhaling against the soft skin of his inner wrist with a quiet groan. “Evan,” he murmured, his name sounding like a fucking prayer in his vampire’s mouth.

Then Tommy bit down, sinking his fangs into Evan’s wrist.

[love-hatred-stuff]

⚠: mentions of smoking and sex (no real smut)

basically just tooth-rutting fluff, not rlly my usual style ik :) tell me if you liked it though

"Kiss me, baby." He demanded sweetly, trying to reach for you again, although you've just kissed and hugged him a second ago.

"James, enough for now. We'll be home soon. We can kiss there. But first we need to go back to the table and say bye to everyone." Your voice was like candy to his ears. So calm and rich of whatever it was, that made you sound so deep and sweet.

"Baby, I'd like to hold you for a while longer, please. Before every man at the dinner table continues to stare at you like you'd be something I would share." He pleases with you while locking eyes and taking your soft hands in his to caress.

You begin to melt already at the look he gives you and for a moment you think about giving in but the thought that all your colleagues and your boss are sitting at the big table just a few feet away brings you back to earth. They may be out of sight right now but not out of mind. Not yours at least.

"I know saturday evenings like this aren't your favourite, but as I said; we only have to be here for a few more minutes. Then I'm all yours. Until then, no touching. All right?" You tell him with a less calmer tone than before.

He always gets needy and overprotective around men that are some kind of important to you. He'd rather lay with you on the bed with you at home, caress your legs as you're reading a book next to him. Going to the balcony to smoke with you at least once a day. Make out after, until you say you're cold and continue inside. Oh he loves it when you let him fuck you on the couch and eat you out right after. Once you're satisfied you kiss him once again with your cherry red lips and go to get some wine for you two.

You often end up watching either twilight, atonement or pride and prejudice while you lay down on his chest and fall asleep eventually. You don't have a clue, but before James let's himself fall into a slumber aswell, he watches you for a few more moments, asking himself how he'd get so lucky.

That's why the weekends where his favourite. So he wasn't happy about swapping his evening alone with you for dinner at a restaurant with people he didn't even really know.

"Yeah, alright. Sorry baby, didn't want to make you upset." He apologised right ahead, letting go of you, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

James looked like a kicked puppy and you felt a little bad for refusing his love language, but he was an adult and he'd have the whole sunday with you alone. So your boyfriend could wait a little longer.

"You're not making me upset. I just want us to be presentable. Now let's go, James."

...

You both bid your goodbyes to everyone and after said few minutes, you were walking out of the restaurant, James already claiming your waist while walking beside you.

"Your such a needy little baby." You giggled and ruffled his hair.

"For you I'll always be, doll." He smiled back at you.

"I love you."

Kissing his lips was your favourite thing on earth.

[sazwritesstuff]

Espresso | Part 1

Coffee Shop AU | Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You've been a barista at the same cafe for the past few years. You've gotten to know a far few regulars over those years, some you know by name and others you know only by their order. They make your job just a tiny bit more bearable. So when a new handsome regular begins to show up day after day you can't help but take notice.

Tags/warnings: Coffee Shop AU, barista reader, meet cute, swearing, soft Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool 3)

Posted on AO3 here

No one else liked doing the opening shift but you and Sandy. Everyone else complained about having to get up so early to open at 6.30 in the morning. You, on the other hand, preferred it because it meant you got to leave earlier. There was usually an hour, sometimes two, where there were no customers to deal with. Or only a handful of regulars that you had gotten to know over the past couple of years since you started working at the cafe.

Carrol always had a latte with two slices of brown toast, no butter. With a newspaper or a book. If there were no other customers, she’d happily tell you about her daughter and grandchildren.

Gareth always had a black coffee, in a takeaway cup, sitting with his two dogs near the front door.

Paul, a roofer, came in twice a day for an extra-hot mocha in a takeaway cup that he can sit outside with. Even when it’s raining.

There were a few more that came in throughout the day that you had yet to learn the names of. Most of them you liked but there were a few regulars that got n your tits. Usually because they had one of the most awkward bloody orders that they’d get during rushes and find something to complain about. Despite getting the exact same thing every time.

The regulars that you got during the opening shift tended to be pensioners or part of the “yummy mummy” club. Some faces you recognised more than others. But there were always new faces coming and going, some recognising you when you had no clue who they were.

It was one of those curses of hospitality. That and always being understaffed. Or underpaid. Forced to do way too many hours…

Honestly, it was kind of shit.

But there was a new regular that you had noticed that had started coming in everyday now, getting the same black coffee and just sitting in one of the armchairs by the window. Nothing remarkable about his order. Simple. Easy. You gotten in the habit of getting it ready for him as soon as you saw him in the queue.

He was a man of few words. Polite though. Never rude to you, Sandy or any of your other colleagues. But you had seen him tell a few not so nice customers (usually men, but there were the odd Karen mixed in there) to “go fuck yourself” followed by a few other choice words.

Most people tried to start a fight until they actually turned around and found an over six-foot tall older man with more muscles than most gym rats.

He had become a bit of a favourite of yours.

You’d managed to make him smile a few times and even get a few short laughs out of him.

He was tall, handsome, older than you (but that had never stopped you before), and you so desperately wanted to know his name!

Even if it was just to add fuel to your little fantasies about him. Like running you fingers through his thick brown hair and tugging at the little tufts of hair that remind you of cat ears. Or running your hands up and down those veiny, muscular arms. Or giving his plump rump a smack.

If you could climb that man like a tree, you would die happy.

But you didn’t want to do the classic write your name on his coffee cup with your number, which was practically impossible as he preferred to sit in with a mug, or write it down on a napkin that he’d surely lose.

You’d seen and read enough rom-coms to know that was a terrible idea. Plus, it felt a little cliche.

Simply just asking him for his name and number weren’t an option either.

One, you had never seen him actually using a phone so you had no idea if he even had one. Two, he looked as if he was old enough to be you father (again, not that that had ever stopped you before) and could easily be married or in a serious relationship. Three, your co-workers all already teased you about your preference for older men. Four… he made you nervous. So, so nervous.

He was ruggedly handsome. Tall. Muscular (you wanted to lick those veins you’d seen peeking out under his sleeves).

Today, he’d come in while you’d gone to get some more milk from the walk-in. Sandy had served him his usual, your eyes straying over to where he sat with his coffee by the window.

“I see the crush is still going strong.” Sandy joked as she tamped down the coffee grounds before slotting the portafilter into the machine.

“Shut up! I can’t help it if he’s hot.” Without glancing up you said as you knelt down to put the milk away in the service fridge.

Sandy laughed at your words. “Still haven’t ask for his number then, have you?”

Straightening you sighed, “No. I haven’t and I’m not going to.”

Sandy placed the cappuccino down in front of customer waiting “Here you go! Enjoy!” with a large false smile on her face. Turning back towards you as the customer walked away, she crossed her arms and leant back against the counter. “If he was my type I would totally go for it. But I don’t have daddy issues.”

“No, you just have mommy issues, Sands.”

“Yeah, and if a hot MILF walked in here, I would be all over her like a fly on shit.”

“You’re so gross.”

“So, I’ve been told. But people also tell me that I’m super sexy so it balances itself out.”

Shaking your head smiling at her you said “If you say so.”

“I do and I also say that you should go take to Mr Tall-Dark-and-Brooding and ask him for his number.” She said nodding over to the man in question.

When you glanced over you swore you saw him smirking and trying to hide it behind his coffee.

Fuck me sideways, you thought, he’s so hot! How is that legal!

Rolling your eyes you said the one phrase you knew would annoy Sandy enough to distract her “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.”

“Oh, shut up!” she said throwing a damp cloth at you. Sending you both into giggles.

“But seriously we should both try and look busy, Jodie’s going to be in in the next ten minutes.”

“Oh, no, not Jodie!” Sandy whined “I thought she was only working at the weekend this week.”

“She swapped with Hannah.”

“Noooo!” she whined pouting “That’s it my day’s ruined now. Scratch that, my whole week’s been ruined.”

“I’m not happy about it either but-" you stopped. Noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Turning you were half way through saying “Hi, what can I get you?” before you realised it was the man that you’d been talking about only a moment ago. The smile on your face turning genuine as you felt your cheeks heat.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a deep rumble. Is it normal to get turned on just from someone’s voice?

“Did you want a refill?” you asked, still smiling.

Shaking his head he placed his cup down on the counter. “I just wanted to bring this back and, ugh,” he placed a piece of paper down next to it “give you this. I’m Logan by the way.” He said smiling and winking at you as he turned and walked away.

Leaving you standing there dumbstruck.

Sandy picked up the piece of paper that Logan had put down and squealed. “Oh my god! It’s his phone number! I told you. I fucking told you!”

Snatching the scrap of paper out of her hand you looked down at the numbers he’d scrawled with his name ‘Logan Howlett.’ underneath. Patting your pockets you said “Shit! Where’s my phone? I should text him. Oh my god, what do I next text him. Wait will it seem too desperate if I text him straightaway?”

“No.” Sandy tilted her head in contemplation, “Well, maybe. But if he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have given you his name now, would he?”

“But what if he doesn’t actually like me. What if he just felt he should because he overheard you earlier?”

“Y/n,” Sandy said placing her hands on your shoulders “Hot men don’t just go around handing their number and name out to any random person they come across. Stranger danger and all that. He’s obviously interested and decided to take a chance. Something that you need to do too. Now. Text the hot, sexy old man.”

Taking in a deep breath you nodded. “Okay, okay, yeah.” Pulling out your phone from your apron pocket you tapped Logan’s number into your phone and typed out a text. Trying not to over think it you pressed send.

Y/N: Hey Logan, this is sarah, you gave me your number in the café just now. I was wondering if you want to grab a drink sometime?

Three grey dots appeared. Vanished and quickly appeared again. You chewed on your fingernail as you watched the grey dots on the screen. No less than a minute later a message came through from Logan.

Logan: I’d love too. Are you free tonight?

You glanced up at Sandy “He wants to go out tonight.”

“Well, say yes! Get that DILF dick baby.”

“Sandy!”

“What are you two talking about?” Jodie’s nasally voiced asked as she joined you behind the counter, tying her apron around her waist “It doesn’t very work appropriate.”

“You’re not work appropriate.” Sandy muttered under her breath glaring at the woman.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing Jodie.” Sandy said moving from where she’d been standing next to you. “Can you go clear some tables for us?” she said handing her a tray.

Tuning the two of them out you turned your attention back to your phone.

Taking a deep breath, biting nervously at your thumb, you replied:

SARAH: I’m free tonight How about we meet at Malones at 6?

Logan: I’ll see you there beautiful 😉

You couldn’t wait.

[anomaly-076]

Going on a date w/ Tkdb teachers

♦ I don't think I've seen anything related to the professors during my time lurking around in the tags, which is kinda a shame, so here's some love for our wacky adults :D ♦

  ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The Chancellor

(Ik he looks like a kid, but he literally has a son if I remember correctly)

Even with how busy Cornelius usually is, if he likes you he'll find a way to squeeze you into his agenda

It's either a lunch date during his hour or so that he has for a lunch break

Or a dinner date after which he'll have more freedom to also do something else with you

Like stargazing

Idk why but Cornelius strikes me as the one to love stargazing

Sadly, you can't be up for too long though, since he has to wake up early to work again

But the next day, one of the mail cats drops by with a rose and a note thanking you for a nice evening and invitation to meet with him for lunch

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Dante

Not really a date, but more of a parallel reading session in Dante's private library

He's already there when you knock on the door, beckoning you to enter the room so eh doesn't have to open the door for you

If you want, you two can snuggle up on a sofa that's in the library and he'll read some classical literature book to you

Once your relationship progresses further, Dante wouldn't be against laying his head on your lap while you read to him

He might fall asleep each time, but how can you blame him?

Your voice is so soothing and your lap is so comfortable

Only when the two of you are alone, he's able to fully relax

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Hyde

Clueless idiot alert!

Huh? Him asking you out on a date? That's ridiculous! Unless....?

If he somehow manages to ask you out in person and not via a note hidden in one of your books, his whole face is red to the very tips of his white hair

Takes you out for crepes or something

It has to be something simple

Something that doesn't scream 'date'

You're just two colleagues trying out the new ice cream stand since few of your students talked about it, haha... right?

Prepare to be the first one to initiate everything in the relationship and even then, Hyde is flustered mess

But don't you dare mentioning any of that to his other colleagues or even Sho!

Hyde definitely doesn't get all red just from holding hands or when you peck him on the cheek!

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Moby

The sole reason for how I came up with this idea

I can just imagine Moby trying so hard to make up with his behavior for the fact that the place he took you is a very cheap 2* diner that may or may not have a bit of a mice problem

Worry not! All six of his remaining tentacles will make sure no little critter will get into your food!

He feels very guilty to drag you to such place, but it's the best he can afford

And no, he will not let you pay for yourself so you can eat somewhere better

What gentleman would make you pay on a date he invited you to?

After that mice fiasco, he'll try to find different places you two can enjoy yourselves

Like a walk in the park! That doesn't cost anything and is nice to get to know your date

Maybe, once he manages to find a way to feed The Chancellors cats without getting attacked, he'll be able to buy you a snack or something!

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Professor Nicolas

Talk about busy

Nicolas barely has a time for himself while managing the hospital

If it weren't for Yuri and Jiro, he wouldn't even be able to get any sleep

So instead of dates, you usually just bring him lunch and eat it together in his office

Sometimes, if you don't happen to have a lesson to teach, you're helping him out

By some point, you've learned so much, that you're able to get qualified as a nurse

You don't have to, but it would help Mortkranken a lot to have another person on their team

Plus you could spend more time with him that way

But he insists, that you really don't have to and if you want to spend more time with him, he'll try to find a different way

[insertdisc5]

The tumblr q&a is over, but I was curious! I love all the different phrases the characters in isat/sasasa:p use--If it's something you can say, where did inspiration for "gems alive" and other phrases come from?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING BECAUSE I GET TO TALK ABOUT WORLDBUILDING AND SWEAR WORDS AND BRANDON SANDERSON

long post ahead

ok so when I was figuring out the world, I found this lecture on worldbuilding by Brandon Sanderson (go watch it, and also go read his books), and (im gonna paraphrase heavily here) one thing he mentioned is that, to make a memorable world, one thing you can do is pick a couple areas of culture, and go real deep with it. So like, pick fashion, and architecture, and interior design, and develop those a bunch, and bam! you convinced people you have a whole dang world, even though you only developed 3 areas of this world. hollow iceberg everyone thinks is a real iceberg.

he also mentioned the idea of like... getting weird with it? and develop based on a weird detail? for example, in his book The Stormlight Archives, one detail is that women have to hide their left hand at all times. ok, so what does that mean, whats taboo about a left hand? is the left hand shameful, or lewd somehow, the same way ankles were for us? what about fashion, what does women's fashion look like? and how do you live your every day life, knowing you can't show this hand, can you carry things the same way? etc

SO, for me, one of the Big Worldbuilding pillars i picked was, uh, swear words lol. or language and common expressions, more generally. i went on a whole journey where i was like... ok swear words in a LOT of languages (including french and english, both languages i speak fluently) are either sexual, or about gross bodily discharges. you know what words i mean!!!!!

and, well, i also didnt want the game to be full of those words, mostly because i think its a tightrope to use those words without seeming cringe, and also because i have a Core Memory of showing a comic to a colleague and she said "well i wouldve liked to show it to my kids, but you said fuck 12 times in there" and i didnt show my face to her for a week. family friendly family friendly family friendly

so what swear words should my characters use, that arent the same ones we use? and could those swear words actually tell us something about the world they live in? could i actually use those swear words... to show the characters come from different cultures???

and what COULD swear words be like, if theyre not about sex or body stuff? well irl they're usually about religions or belief. "oh god", "goddamnit", etc. as a sidenote, stuff like "oh my god" or "geez" arent used, because jesus christ is not canon to the ISAT universe. alright

i decided very early on i wouldnt have those in the game either, but i COULD have them be about the religions specific to this world. and for insults, i could have them be about stuff those beliefs would see as lesser.

anyway instead of talking about "gems alive" lets talk about "crab"

isabeau+mirabelle+bonnie use "crab" as a swear word because they follow a religion all around change, bettering yourself, evolving, and, the crab meme,

for those who dont get the joke, its about carcinisation, and about how a bunch of non-crab-like forms somehow evolved to a crab-like form. which would be horrible, for a religion all based around change!!! you mean we change and evolve, but theres a chance we might all become crabs??? CRAB!!!!!!!

anyway having "crab" kinda reads as 1. swear word 2. thats funny and weird (sets the tone) 3. tells you they know what crabs are (world not that different from ours, AND means they live close-ish to the coast, aka not land locked) and 4. crabs are somehow hated/feared, even if as the player you dont get why, it shows this country has its own culture (even if you dont get the crabs joke, which uuuh apparently doesnt work as well in countries that dont have this specific meme. WHATEVER!!!!)

(a few people came to me saying "heh, i get it, because crab and crap are very similar words" and um actually i did not think about that. crab is just a funny word on its own, and also i am a comedy genius without even trying)

anyway tldr: swear words as a worldbuilding tool. soon in theaters

[babygirl-riley]

Part II

Once you and Simon were done at the base you both went home for Simon to properly finish what you started.

A/N: I still can NOT believe that Office Times beat out Bar Nights! Yet here we are, I don’t know how long this series will be BUT I do have plans some angst and some steamy 😈 So stay tuned! If you want to be tagged, I will has a taglist for every part. Just DM me and I will add ya!

simon x reader guide

Ghostly Ruins Parts

Warnings: smut, porn with a plot, mask kink, voice kink, rough to soft, piv, unprotected sex (wrap before we tap kids), f!recieving, m!receiving, simon is literalllllyyy whipped

Previous Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💀🐈‍⬛~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride home was quiet, you could still feel the desk printed on your thighs. Still thinking about how Simon fucked you to have you moan loud enough for ANYONE to hear. You didn’t know why but you STILL wanted more, your pussy missing the fact that his dick wasn’t in you.

Simon noticed by the way your thighs would rub together. How you would day dream biting your lip. He could read you like a book, besides his skills for watching body language. He has known you for years but just dated you for a year. You both were just colleagues that lead into fuck buddies to lovers. Something he never planned, both of you at least until Simon out of both them claimed his love to you. Could have been pussy whipped or actually did.

Now here you both are, going back to his apartment. Both of your apartment. You looked over at Simon, his mask still on. Usually he kept it on until you both got home unless it was a really tough mission. Ever since you first met him you loved his masks, they were interesting and…inviting. You loved how his eyes are presented, showing his beautiful brown eyes. God how you love biting and kissing his lips through the mask.

Simon glanced at you before looking back at the road. “You like what you see lovie?”

Your face went red and snapped your head forward. Fuck. “I always do Si.”

Simon hummed and placed his hand on your thigh squeezing it once. “Still wanting more I see.”

You chuckled rolling your eyes. “Oh my love I don’t care where we are, I will always want you to take me.”

His grip went harder for a moment before he groaned softly. “Y/n, don’t say those things or we will be in here all night.”

You giggled before you turned your head and leaned close to his ear. “Then let’s hurry home so you can do what you like baby.”

Never have you seen Simon hurry his way home. It isn’t the first however to fuck more than once. If it was a good mission it would be once or twice but a rough one god. You swear it’s all damn night. Rough and never easy. Tonight though you want it rough even if the mission went alright. You imagined everything he could do to you.

Before you knew it you were wrapped around Simon like a koala. Legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck as he slammed you into a wall. He lift his mask up and attacked your lips. You moved your hands underneath his mask and gripped his hair. Both of your tongues fighting for dominance until his grabbed your bottom lip making you whine.

“Fuuuck,” He whispered rutting his hips up into you. “Ya on one tonight.”

You smirked and grabbed both sides of his cheeks to give him a sloppy kiss. He moaned into it as he moved more into the hallway towards your bedroom. He pushed it open with his boot as he threw you into the bed. You giggled while he unbuckled his belt and you throwing your pants and panties off. You sat up as he took his cock out, goood how you love how his cock looks. Girthy and good length.

You licked your lips as he walked slowly to you placing his finger beneath your chin. You were waiting patiently for what was coming next. You felt like a dog for a treat. “Look at ya. Desperate and needy for my cock,” He snaked his hand to the back of your head and gripped then leaned down, capturing your lips before standing back up. “So fucking beautiful. Go ahead dove.”

You moaned and you grabbed the base of his cock before opening your mouth. You spat on it first before licking the long vein that ran along his cock. Simon moaned gripping your hair more. You lapped your tongue around his tip sucking on it lightly. “Fuck,” He whispered trying to force your head to take his dick more. “Don’t teeeease.” He whine.

You smirked and started to take his cock more down your throat. You looked up at him through your eyelashes watching his mouth agape and his head rolled back. You started slowly sucking in your cheeks setting a slow pace. Simon looked down at you eyes lidded, mouth a part. That’s when you went faster made sure his cock would hit the back of your throat to make a gag sound. Silva started to build outside of your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” He said loudly, his thigh twitches as you placed your hands around them to make sure you wouldn’t fall. “Stop-Stop babygirl.” He gripped your hair making you slowly pull off his cock with pop sound.

You wiped your mouth his precum and your saliva mixed. You were gaining your breath back as he picked you up by your arms and pushed you to the bed. “Fucking hell sometimes I forget you can make me cum with just your mouth.” He mumbled climbing on top of you.

“Had to learn for those quickies.” You moaned as he lifted your shirt and sports bra up to play with your tits.

Simon chuckled as he slide his hands down your sides to hook them to your legs. “Wanna get a taste before the grand finale yeah?” He said whispering to your lips before giving them a quick peck.

He slowly started to kiss your neck chest, stomach, both side of your hips then his mouth was over the place you needed him the most. You wiggled your hips and bit your lip. “Now who’s teas…” That’s when his tongue did a long strip up from your hole to your clit.

It made you gasp at first already sent sparks throughout your body. Simon placed both of his hands on your thighs forcing them down. Making sure they stayed in place as he attacked your clit. The sounds of the slurping and sucking made your head spin. You gasped as he started to slip his fingers in. “Fucking hell babes, I can just fit both of ‘em in there.” He mumbled before going back at it.

You were about to make a comment before he started going faster and harder. Scissoring his fingers as they hit that spot you oh so loved. You grabbed his balaclava as you rode his mouth. Panting. Screaming his name. He moaned vibrating your core. “Fuck Simon yes right there!” Your voice went high pitched at the end.

Your legs snapped together as you felt your body to tingle. He went to your clit and sucked hard at that is what did it, you clenched around his fingers as your hips rose a bit. You snapped your eyes shut as stars dotted your vision.

Simon stopped sucking your clit and kissed your thighs. His fingers slowing down as he helped you ride through your orgasm. “Good girl,” He whispered as he pulled his fingers out licking his fingers and climbed more on top. “Good fucking girl.” He kissed your jaw your cheek then hovered over your face.

You opened your eyes and smiled weakly placing your hand on his cheek. “How much I love when you fuck me with this on. But I would love to see your handsome face.” You whispered still catching your breath.

Simon chuckled before ripping the balaclava off of his face. The black paint fading slowly as his face was sweating it off. His hair was in the mess that it always gets from it. You ran your hand down to his chin before forcing him down to kiss you. As he kissed you his hand went to your throat holding it there giving it a small squeeze. You bit his lip making him moan into yours.

You felt his hard member rub against your thigh. You slowly reached your hand to his cock before pumping once. He let go of your lips hissing. “I need ya now.” He whispered feeling you pump one more time.

You helped him guide him to your pussy. You felt his tip being engulfed making you gasp. The stretch starting, god it felt so good, felt like he belonged there. It always stung as his cock kept going in more before it would hit your hilt. Simon started panting once he was all the way in.

He placed his forehead against yours still having his hand against your throat. Simon pulled all the way out before snapping back in. You whined as he did it a couple more times. “Go. Ugh. Faster. Si.” You moaned grabbing the back of his neck.

Simon smirked as he grabbed your hips. “Alright put your legs on my shoulders.” He said positioning himself to be even deeper then he was.

You did as you were told before he started going at an agonizing pace. You cried as you felt him hitting that nice spot once more. You grabbed his arms tightly as he pumped harder. “Fuck y/n you feel…Fuck…so fucking,” He started to pant kissing your ankles trying to gain his thoughts. “So fucking good.”

You couldn’t hold the second orgasm as you tightened around his cock. “Oh fuck Simon!” You screamed, he placed your legs to his sides as he pressed more down into you.

Simon went down to your neck kissing and sucking as you came down your high. He didn’t stop his pace, Simon held one of your legs hitching it up more and his other on the side of your head. You felt tears welling up as your third one was coming along. “Si…christ…keep doing just that baby.” You whispered feeling his cock start to twitch.

That was one clue that he was about to cum. The other one was him panting, fuck even whining at times. “Fuck I love you so much. This pussy…bloody hell…mine all fucking mine.” His voice would hitch as he snapped his hips more into yours.

You wrapped your legs around him and pushed him more in. Simon growled as you started to pant once more. “Fuck Simon!”

Simon felt your pussy clenched around his cock harder then he has felt tonight. Making him squeeze his eyes shut and sloppily pump harder. “Oh fuck! Y/n! Oh fuck!” He bites down on your shoulder trying to hide the moans and groans escaping from him.

Your eyes rolled as you felt his cum start to pump into you. The sounds that were coming from both you and his cum mixing together, was like a symphony. Simon’s hips started to slow down as his moans started to die down. You sighed as both of you panted and sighed.

He didn’t move for a minute as you felt him running his hand up and down your neck. You rubbed his back over his shirt that he was still wearing. “I love you too Simon.” You mumbled feeling weak.

Simon hummed lifting his head to look at you. “Of course you do.” He teased smirking as he moved a piece of hair out of your face. You rolled your eyes as you leaned into his touch. “Come ‘ere.” He whispered moving off of you slowly taking his cock out of you.

You felt your pussy clench around nothing like she was beckoning him to come back. However you followed his lead as he took his shirt off and laid on his side. You snuggled into him with your ass against him, he moved his arm underneath you like a pillow.

“Better get some rest dove, Price expects us at 0600 tomorrow.” He whispered playing with your hair. That’s all you heard as you drifted off into sleep.

[yooils]

lightweight . drunk!isagi x reader. fluff. accidental proposal. short blurb + extremely forced plot.

— ISAGI YOICHI is a lightweight.

it’s a truth acknowledged by everyone close with him, really, with the way he begins his flowery proses after a drink or two– followed by a gradual descent to an emotional wreck; usually accompanied with an abundance of impulsive decisions and a self depreciating monologue of his life.

but in spite of that, he knows how to handle himself 90% of the time. (the remaining 10% is left unmentioned by all, regardless of the copious amounts of black-mail material some of his teammates possess.)

so naturally, the first time you see yoichi have an emotional breakdown in public is during a team get-together! he’s half on his knees with an abnormally flushed complexion; his eyes are starting to water from the reverie he’s found himself in, and his throat is constricted with hiccups. you've been so-called paged by his colleagues– only to find that the emergency they had mentioned afore to be your drunk boyfriend.

“i just want you to know that i love you.” is the first thing that comes out of isagi's mouth when he catches sight of you entering the bar his team had booked for the night.

the collective wolf whistles from his teammates would have portrayed the unfolding scene to be akin to an extremely romantic (read: corny) scene of a movie, if it wasn't for the uncharacteristically delirious look in your boyfriend’s eyes.

“my affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this. i just want you to know that i’m pregnant, and you’re the baby. will you marry me?”

(a few feet away, rin spits out his drink, outraged at the sheer blasphemy of one of his favourite books and movies. nagi's recording next to him, half-asleep yet still giggling at his friend's drunken antics.)

you love yoichi too, you really do– but you have to run through the list of things you love about him just to keep yourself from strangling him to the brink of unconsciousness so he stops talking.

– he's cute. he's only a little bit annoying sometimes. he does the laundry properly. he just confessed that he loved you amidst his drunken stupor even though you've never said it to each other directly before in person– and then proposed to you. and he's hot.

finally forfeiting to his boyish, drunken charms (and having had enough public humiliation for today), you find yourself and your extremely drunk boyfriend in the middle of the parking lot; with you holding him by his coat so he doesn’t escape, and him squirming around with airy sounds of discomfort which you had opted to ignore.

isagi’s leaning in close, breath reeking of alcohol and hands fumbling with his seatbelt clumsily.

“psst.. don’t tell anyone, but i’m gonna marry you one day.”

the pause in the car is deafening.

you furrow your eyebrows. he obliviously leans his cheek against the car window, unbothered by the sheer weight that his words had carried.

“wait, you don’t want other people to find out that you’re going to propose to me, so you tell the person you’re actually proposing to?”

his drunk gasp speaks volumes to you. “oh no, did i say that out loud? am i being kidnapped? where am i? is the world finally ending? but i still haven’t told (name) that i loved them…”

(okay, maybe he’s a little more stupid when he’s drunk, but you’ve grown to become a believer in the concept that drunken words are sober thoughts in the last hour. you hope.)

isagi’s eyes melt into something akin pools of sapphire stones under the lamppost-lit light. it’s been your favourite colour from the moment you met him.

“yoichi, why are you sniffing me?”

you amusedly ask, finding minor entertainment in his actions.

he’s half slumped on you by the time you stop the car by his apartment– and you realise that there’s no way of getting out of your vehicle without damaging 1.) your spine 2.) your arms and 3.) his dignity. (which really is already ruined, objectively, from the amount of second-hand embarrassment you’ve faced tonight.

“don’t wanna leave you.. smells like home..” he almost-incoherently mumbles, and you impulsively have half a mind to keep him forever-intoxicated because of how cute, despite tedious he’s become.

as a relatively simple man, isagi has always been subjected to a desire for more; especially when it came to football.

(but you, he thinks, will always be more than enough for him. and he hopes he’s enough for you too, even in his drunken haze, because he doesn’t want to let you out of his grasps for even a second).

the way you stroke his hair has his mind collapsing into a puddle of melted goo even in the air-conditioned car. you’ve rewritten his brain chemistry to make yourself the only pearl in his universe composed of mostly football, and in every life, he would let you break his heart over and over again.

once you realise that he's stopped his drunken ramblings and fumbling, the panic finally kicks in.

"yoichi, are you sleeping? we're still in the car park! i can't get out with you laid on me!"

(the next morning, he apologises after a much needed hangover pill and a reminder of what happened last night, sent to him in the form of a video by nagi.

you don't tell him that you've already seen the ring in his sock drawer.)

8.12.23

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Do you have any ✨spicy✨ headcanons for the Wizard/Magnus with a male farmer? (It doesn’t have to be anything TOO spicy, but I saw the Isaac/Lance/Farmer you just posted so I HAD to ask)

Absolutely love your stuff, by the way! I could spend hours reading through your blog 🥰💛

One smut Magnus/Farmer headcanons to the dear anon! 🌝

You know, I'm still not sure about my nsfw headcanons, and I don't know if I'll continue to write in the same format. But you won't know until you write, and so far I'm quite enjoying writing this sort of thing as well. But yeah, enjoy, and thanks for the ask! 💕

_________________________________________

Some random smut Magnus/male!Farmer headcanons:

⚠️ Warning: NSFW

Honestly, in the beginning Rasmodius behaved very carefully and cautiously with Farmer during sex, which made him a bit ashamed. He, an experienced wizard already at quite a respectable age, wrinkled and worried as if it was the first time he was doing it. It was just that he had not had many partners in his experience (and only with women, Magnus had no male partners), and he didn't want to hurt Farmer. After a while, when old wizard had gained confidence, he not only began to feel comfortable, but also to suggest to Farmer a couple of fantasies he might like.

Magnus had to admit: sometimes the members of the Ministry of Magic held meetings so meticulous, pointless, and boring that he envied Camilla and her nerve to walk out of event without remorse. Oh well, at least now he had a way to distract himself with something else. Like dreaming about what he'd do to Farmer in bed when he finally got back to Stardew Valley. So many opportunities to have a wild night and relax, to hear Farmer's moaning in pleasure and him screaming wizard's name over and over again... Magnus wouldn't dream much, though, for it would be rather awkward to cover protruding boner under his robe.

Spanking is probably one of Magnus' favorite practices. And the old wizard favors the role of a dominant more than a subordinate. His bloved Farmer tease Rasmodius in front of his colleagues again, or start using magic where he shouldn't, giving his wizard partner/husband a headache because of the Ministry of Magic? Expect a "lesson in good manners" this night. Though the two of them love spankings, Magnus does have a heavy hand after all, so Farmer's ass won't be looking for an adventure for another two or three weeks for sure. Or maybe Farmer will, hee hee...

DID SOMEONE SAY FROTTING- *Bonk*

No, don't even ask him for a degrading kink. He's not going to do it, and Farmer's puppy eyes aren't going to help him talk Magnus into it. It's just... Humiliating and insulting and disrespect your favorite person like that... It's so wrong, it's beyond Magnus' comprehension. Yeah, he understands that Farmer might like it, but he- Magnus can't even say the word "whore" to him. Some thrills he's willing to accept, but not this. Sorry, but no.

Not to say that Magnus is against magic and spells in sex, but usually his arsenal includes only things to be used after lovemaking. Healing spells for scratches, restorative potions, that sort of thing - just about everything you need for aftercare. Though there was one book in his library with some very, *ahem*, interesting spells for variety in bed (that headcanon with the soundproofing spell). He wouldn't mind exploring something interesting with his partner. Within reason, of course, and nothing dangerous or out of bounds.