#'drabble' i said. 'drabble'- i lied.

[write-kin]

🥄 for cal? (specifically im thinking blood, if u need a suggestion c: )

anon. i like your mind.

🥄- Force Feeding

-

Cal isn't sure... why it disgusts him right now. He's drank blood well and fine before. Normally, he has to keep himself in check at the sight of it.

But now, the sight of the blood pouring from the poor bandit's neck simply makes him want to throw up. He's not sure if he can throw up, but his stomach definitely wants to test the theory.

In front of him, Montresor wrenches the man's head back, prying open his jaw, pulling out the vial of holy water the man had clenched between his teeth.

"Hm. Surprising this one managed to get so far in. He couldn't even crush the glass like they normally do." Cal's eyes traced the arc of the vial as it was thrown into the fire.

Montresor shifted back towards him, holding the dead man by the neck. He opened his mouth to speak, before seemingly noticing Calamine's state- sat back in the armchair he'd been manhandled into, curled up, looking so pale he was almost blue, face a carefully measured show of disgust. If he could be sweating, he would be.

Montresor tsks, a glimmer of concern in his eyes. He pulls Cal's legs down, moving him so his legs are crossed, hands down on his lap. Calamine wants to protest, wants to swat his hands away and go back to the far more comfortable ball he'd pulled himself into, but he couldn't.

He wasn't sure if it was because of the blood magic or something else. The idea of moving felt like a monumental task, and he thought he might pass out during it.

Calamine watches, head resting against the back of the chair, as Montresor takes one of the wine glasses from the nearby table, and like one would squeeze juice from an orange, eases the blood into it.

The scent of it is metallic, and Cal can't bring himself to stare at it for too long. It's nauseating, the way it shifts, the thin film it leaves on the glass. He closes his eyes.

The next thing he knows, Montresor is standing over him, holding the glass to his lips.

And Calamine does something stupid. He turns his head to the side, away from the glass, from the foul-smelling liquid.

"No."

"No?"

Montresor's voice is low, soft, dangerous. Too carefully, he tilts Calamine's head back, holding the glass so the rim juts between Cal's lips, the unpleasant sensation of glass bumping against his teeth. Cal dares to open his eyes, and Montresor's stern crimson eyes meet his own. They're doing the thing again, where they don't seem to reflect light, and Calamine tumbles forwards mentally.

"Open," Montresor says, and Cal's mouth opens up enough for the glass to be tipped in. The blood coats his tongue, and instead of the thick, sweet, metallic taste he's used to, it's disgusting. It feels like it's curdling on his tongue, like too-old milk, like it's drying up.

There's a glimmer in Montresor's eyes, the slight furrow of his brows, all telling Cal that he's worried. He's concerned. When has Montresor ever been concerned for him like this?

Before long, the liquid fills his mouth, and a little dribbles down his chin. Not needing to breathe means you can't choke other than on reflex, so he doesn't swallow. For some reason, the idea is repulsive, and he wants to cough it up. Monstresor pulls the glass away, and gently- concerningly so- closes Cal's mouth, tipping his head up in a way that forces him to swallow.

The moment he does, the moment Montresor lets go, Calamine sputters, coughs, the blood left in his mouth spattering onto his gloves, in a way that would be concerning if it was his own blood. He wipes it away from his chin, smearing it a little, and in his mind's eye he looks almost feral.

There's Montresor's hand in his hair, the claws of his gauntlets being moved too-carefully so as not to hurt Cal, and the glass is pressed to his lips again. He has a little more fight in him this time, but it's no use. The copper taste slides down his throat, thick and cloying and awful, until it is gone. Until he is let go, and he can slump down, nausea rolling over in his stomach and unable to go anywhere.

His head hurts. He wants to sleep. He barely has enough energy, all of a sudden, to process these thoughts.

Instead, like an animal, he has fed, and the exhaustion drops upon him like a thick fur blanket. Not that he could sleep with how awful he feels. All he can do is focus on the horrible taste in his mouth, how Montresor stares down at him, how small and exhausted and vulnerable he feels all of a sudden.

It's not a good feeling.

[crybaby-bkg]

Trainer Bakugou who you're a little terrified of the first day you're paired with him. when asking for a trainer at the gym, you had expected the friendly redhead who always looked so sweet and encouraging and cut as hell. you weren't expecting his grumpy looking blond counterpart, who was all glares and shouts for his clients to keep pushing themselves.

you were hesitant at first, before you quickly realized that it was all a ruse, for the most part. he pushed those who needed that extra encouragement, but was more lenient to people like you who simply wanted a professionals guidance. so, after a few weeks, you liked him for the most part, and his looks damn sure made it easier to cozy up to the big guy.

the only issue you've been having with Bakugou though are the...coregasms, as you've seen them been named on social media, that you keep experiencing. the first time, you weren't sure what it was, why your stomach and pelvis kept tightening up. you couldn't have...climaxed, or anything. you hadn't even been touched!

but, as the weeks go by, and the workouts get more strenuous, they've become harder and harder to subside and ignore, and so had Bakugou's commands to keep going when you suddenly stopped. you can only lie and say its cramps so many times before he realizes that something is up.

you're midway through a good morning, when that familiar feeling starts tightening in the pit of your gut. you clench your eyes shut, shaking your head a little, as if you could ward off the impending feeling. bakugou notices though, frowning at your almost pained expression in the mirror, walking up behind you to stop you as you pull yourself back up. his hands are on your waist, and as you come up, you feel his bulge glide over the curve of your ass, and something in you snaps.

you gasp, buckling over, one hand on your knee as the other reaches back for bakugou's hand to keep you up as your thighs shake. you can feel yourself spasming, clenching and unclenching around nothing, secretly wishing you had something that could fill you up, something that you felt throb against you as bakugou leaned over your form.

"Another coregasm, huh?" he asks you lowly, his lips brushing your ear as you bite your bottom lip to hold back your moan. your eyes buck open though, when his words sink in, head tipping back to look at him in the mirror, only to find his gaze already on you.

"You knew every time?" you ask quietly, panting now that its finally starting to pass over you. but bakugou doesn't let you up from this position, especially since the area you're in seems to be desolate for now.

"It's hard to ignore how pretty you look when you cum, sweetheart." Bakugou seals his words with a firm press to your ass, his cock rubbing the seam, and you can practically feel the heat and veins of it through your thin bottoms. you groan under your breath, getting lost in the feeling of him grinding against you, when he suddenly speaks again.

"You still feel it?" he asks, voice low as he looks at you through his lashes. you nod, biting at your bottom lip as you meet the steady rock of his hips, watching how he smiles before slotting his lips against your ear.

"Want me to help make it go away?" and he does, in the employee locker room after hours. he makes it go away, and rebuild, and go away again and again until you're hoarse and your legs are weaker than they typically are on leg day. bakugou helps the ache go away, but not for that sweet redheaded coworker of his, whose fists have fucked his cock the entire time of watching bakugou rail you over the locker room bench again and again.

[forwhump]

a/n; I have to say, I’ve been fleshing out this little universe of mine for years & years and I genuinely forget how much content I have or what half of it is LIKE THIS ONE !!!!!!!!! I FORGOT ALL ABOUT THIS ONE & this is such a good one they were just little babies :’) awww my little babies

more early stuff & @ chi finally some caretaking 👀 better late than never 😚

word count: 4k, it’s long as hell

tw/cw: mentions of vivisection, grievous bodily harm, accidental grievous self harm, canon typical gore

living weapon whumpee, caretaking, the sort of blood and guts that come w taking care of a living weapon

Something Wren is starting to find almost helplessly endearing about Silas is just how intimidated he seems to be by the rest of them.

He cuts the figure of an old Hollywood movie monster, something that brings the word fearsome to mind. He has to turn sideways to fit through doorways because of the bulk of him, and all of it is muscle, genetically engineered or otherwise. Hal insists he has to be ten feet tall; Wren thinks, practically, he’s probably somewhere between eight and nine. His hair is long, almost unnaturally inky in colour, and there’s something sort of feral about the way he always lets it hang in his face, limp. His voice is just unnatural in pitch, a rumble, bass, but he doesn’t speak all that much, instead angling his head, grunting on a good day. He isn’t very expressive, but he makes a lot of eye contact. An intimidating amount of eye contact.

Frightful. And not just in bulk, but in what he’s capable of; if Silas decided he wanted to use the unit as his personal slaughterhouse, there isn’t a thing any or all of them could do to stop him. He’s frightful. But some reason, frightful as he may be, it really seems like the rest of them make him nervous. After weeks of trying to coerce him, like trying to befriend a stray dog, he’d started joining them in the common room but he’d never get too close, only ever just watching them. Wren’s always found something really wary about the way he’ll watch them, something nervous. It makes it hard to be frightened by him.

Robin’s the exception. For whatever reason, Silas is properly shit scared of Robin, and Wren can’t even begin to guess why but it makes him laugh. He tries not to, he doesn’t want to embarrass Silas, not when he’s already so skittish, but watching him full body react to something as innocuous as Robin turning his head is amusing in an almost painfully endearing way, and he just can’t help it, try as he might. The first thing that’s made him laugh, actually, since he got here.

The second is that Robin is weirded out by it. It creeps him out that Silas is creeped out by him. Their relationship is built on a foundation of very tense symbiosis and Wren couldn’t say what it is about it that tugs so firmly at his chest, but it does. It makes him smile if he thinks about it too hard.

He would dare say he’s charmed by it, but he has a sneaking suspicion it’s why Silas isn’t more tempted to spend time in the common room, time around the rest of them. Usually, though, he lurks more than he doesn’t, and he’s becoming a somewhat comforting fixture, so Wren notices, pretty immediately, that Silas isn’t his usual shadow in the common room. Even if he always just sits outside, watching, he always sits outside. Wren notices pretty immediately that he isn’t there; Silas is kind of a hard guy to miss. And Wren would be lying again if he said that, selfishly, he didn’t prefer having Silas around. Wren feels better in his company, even if he’s just a shadow. The soldiers are all afraid of him, so afraid of him, and they have less attention to focus on Wren when they’re scared.

June and Robin are having some kind of heated competition — push ups — and Hal is lying on the floor beside them, arms folded behind his head, eyes closed. He looks like he’s napping.

Wren doesn’t even bother to ask them. He crosses through the common room, mostly unnoticed, and peeks first into Silas’ room, where he’s usually hiding, where Wren has to track him down before coercing him out. Except Silas isn’t there, and his bedroom is empty.

And Wren is pretty certain Silas doesn’t have any of his field tests or his treatments, because it was always pretty obvious when Silas was being taken away for a field test or treatment — Wren got left alone, because Silas needed an escort of just about every armed soldier in the place. But Wren had been with Point, and Point had been his usual, deranged self, not the tense, colder version that impending Silas exposure seems to bring out in him.

He checks the common room again, just in case, but he isn’t there. He isn’t in the kitchen, either. The door to the bathrooms is closed. It usually isn’t.

Wren cracks it open, and he doesn’t know what he was expecting.

The smell is so overwhelming that for a second, he goes blind. It’s bitter, a sharp pain in his sinuses he hadn’t anticipated, the tang of raw meat. It makes him dizzy.

He takes two steps into the bathroom and has to brace a hand on the wall to keep himself from slipping. Looking down, the red mist had cleared from his vision but he doesn’t realize it for a second, because everything is still red. Redness is pooling on the floor.

Blood.

There’s so much blood.

He thinks first, stricken, that Silas must have died in the bathroom because he’s smeared on every wall and pooling on the floor. It’s an impossible amount of blood, so much of it in some spots it doesn’t even look like blood, but black paint.

But Wren rounds the corner, and the bathroom has been flooded, blood soaking through the canvas of his shoes, but Silas, somehow, is still alive, and he’s still standing. He’s shirtless, standing over a drain, and he’s been vivisected. His chest and his stomach had both been opened, a Y of a wound that yawns open, pulled wider with each of Silas’ breaths. It looks like it had been stitched together at some point, staples that tear chunks out of the already frayed tissue as they’re pulled, threads that tear ribbons out of his flesh.

Wren can really see it in him then, the widowmaker, the juggernaut. He can see why the soldiers are all so scared, so edgy around him; why they talk about him the way they do; why Point, in particular, is so weird about him. The rest of the unit, until Silas, save for Wren, had all been super soldiers — Silas is their weapon. Wren can really see it in him for the very first time.

But there’s something in the way he looks up, caught, the closest he’s ever looked to embarrassed, and the absurdity of it makes Wren forget to be scared of him at all.

“What?” is what he says. He doesn’t mean to. He feels lightheaded, like he’s started losing blood, too. Like the blood loss is contagious. “Are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question, because of course he’s not. Silas lifts his chin, sort of a nod, anyway.

“Um,” Wren says, because he’s is lying. He’s very visibly not okay. “What. Um,” he says, and even he’s surprised by how normal his voice sounds. A side effect of blood loss by proxy. “What happened?”

Silas just barely angles his head at him, dismissive. Nothing.

Wren’s a little irritated by it. Deflecting, probably, but he’s irritated nonetheless. “What happened?” He repeats firmly.

Silas heaves a broad shoulder, and Wren doesn’t mean to, but he watches as it pulls at his skin and the staple of a stitch tears a chunk out of his sternum. “S’fine.”

“Fine?” Wren says, and it comes out a little weak. He looks up — up, up, up — into Silas’ face. “You’re bleeding to death.”

Silas finally lifts his head, looks at him properly, and he looks for a long time. When he speaks, his voice is its usual, flat bass, a rumble Wren would swear he can feel in his chest. “I won’t die.”

“What?” He repeats. It’s a little surreal, this whole thing. “Silas,” he tries. “What did you do?”

“Pulled my stitches,” Silas says.

“Yeah,” Wren agrees. He tries not to look at Silas’ chest, at the way flesh had been pulled back over meat and was starting to come apart again, like frayed ribbon. “Why?”

Silas rubs the back of his head and Wren doesn’t think he’s going to answer him. But he admits, after a beat of silence, “I didn’t mean to.” Another beat, and his voice is a little more tense when he says, “I was trying to change my bandages.”

Wren blinks, and then he’s overcome with a wave of sadness so heavy it almost knocks him on his ass. He was just trying to change his bandages. He was trying to change the bandages from his autopsy by himself, and he was going to bleed to death in the bathroom by himself.

Wren takes a step forward and Silas eyes him suspiciously. “Do you need a hand?” He offers softly. He shouldn’t have to bleed to death alone, not a few feet from a unit full of people that would help him.

Silas looks at him blankly. “My hands are fine.”

Wren cracks a smile, despite himself. Despite the blood loss. “Would you like some help?” He tries again.

Silas looks at him again, and he hesitates. He looks at him for another long time. Finally, he says, “no.”

Wren tilts his head. “I don’t mind.”

It’s impossible to tell what Silas is thinking. “Why?”

“Why don’t I mind?” Wren asks, angling his head again, curious. “Because you need help, Silas. You’re bleeding. A lot.”

Silas studies him intently. “You’d touch me?”

He says it with a skepticism that tugs at Wren’s heartstrings. “Of course.”

Silas looks at him with that same flat sort of skepticism, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Wren offers him a smile and holds a hand, expectant.

Silas angles his head, towards a bench mounted into the far wall. There are grey towels piled on top, knocked askew, blackened with blood splatter and a single handprint. Beside the towels, industrial rolls of gauze and strip bandages. On the cracked linoleum in front of the bench, an unwound pile of fraying, blood soaked bandages and gauze with chunks of meat woven through the mesh. Wren actually can’t look at them as he steps over them, and it has nothing to do with the gore — it makes him sad in a way he can’t articulate, in a way that makes him feel heavy.

He considers asking Silas to the bench but Silas is standing over the drain and that’s probably the best — the safest — place for him to be. The water in the district doesn’t run hot, but it runs lukewarm, so Wren wets a towel with lukewarm water and sidles into Silas’ personal space. He smells like a butcher shop, but Wren had expected that. The skin of his opened autopsy wound is threadbare, ruined, like whoever had cut him open had taken a cheese grater to the incision to keep him from ever being stitched back together again. It looks raw, and it looks so painful that it actually makes Wren’s skin hurt, which he hadn’t expected.

Exhaling softly, he twists his hair up tightly, out of the way, and tries his very best not to hurt Silas worse than he’s already been hurt. He can feel Silas’ eyes on him the whole time, watching him with a kind of intensity that Wren can handle from beneath his eyelashes all of one time, and then he can’t look at him again.

Soon enough, anyway, he forgets all about it, almost forgets that Silas is there with him at all. He’s meticulous, so careful that he keeps finding himself holding his breath, so focused he forgets about anything else. He picks all the most damaging staples and pulls all the most mutilating threads.

It isn’t easy work, by any means. It’s gory and it’s slippery and Wren’s always had a pretty strong stomach. He’d grown up in the south, and he’d done his time on a farm. His brother had been a cowboy once. There isn’t a lot Wren can’t handle, but there’s a lot of raw, bleeding meat before he covers it with bandages, and every so often his brain likes to remind him that it’s Silas, and it makes him sort of squeamish.

He cleans the wound as best, as gently as he can, and Silas is still bleeding when he finally starts to wrap his bandages. He isn’t quite sure how it was bandaged before, but he thinks mummifying most of his torso is probably the way to go, right?

Silas doesn’t complain or even twitch the whole time. Wren chances a look up at him as he winds a bandage around his waist; he’d forgotten how intently Silas was watching him, and it almost makes him jump. “I’m not hurting you?”

One of Silas’ eyebrows twitches. “You couldn’t hurt me.”

“Given my vantage point, I probably could,” Wren points out.

Silas doesn’t say anything, and it makes Wren just a tad uneasy. He knows his silence means it’s cute that you think so, and that’s a little unsettling. But when Wren says, “can you come down here?”, because Silas is pretty big and Wren can’t wrap all the way to his shoulders without contortion and strain, Silas kneels in front of him willingly, easy. He’s still taller than him.

It makes Wren smile. “Thank you.”

Silas bows his head, kind of a nod, and angles his head to watch him again as Wren more or less mummifies him in gauze and a wasteful number of bandages.

He swaddles him until blood stops seeping through the gauze and then he swaddles him still. He can’t look at him again, not as Silas watches him, not with so much less distance between them. Up close, he has really black eyes, the same unnatural inky colour as his hair, not dark, not really, but an absence of colour or light at all. Wren accidentally catches his eye and holds it for a beat too long, hands on Silas’ slick, bare skin.

When he looks away again, he can feel heat in his face and he isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Flustered, he flattens a bandage against Silas’ sternum and asks, softer than he means to, “what happened to you?”

Silas doesn’t answer him for such a long time that Wren has no choice but to look at him again, curious. Silas is still watching him, and when Wren looks up he raises his eyebrows, curious.

“What happened?” Wren repeats, trying to meet his eye. “What did they do to you?” He knows there are treatments and therapies and medications the super soldiers needed and need to make them and keep them super soldiers. It’s nothing like this. It’s never anything like this.

But Silas heaves his massive shoulders, a tense sort of shrug. “Surgery.”

He says it with a simplicity that makes Wren all too aware of the thickest, most raised scars — the inside of his arms, armpit to wrist; down his sides, from armpit to hip; the Y shaped scar of his torso, shoulders to groin. “Surgery,” he repeats softly. “Do you have a lot of surgeries?”

“Yes,” Silas says.

“Why?”

“Improvement,” he says flatly.

“Improvement,” Wren repeats.

“Mm,” he agrees.

Hidden behind the oil spill of his hair, there’s a ridged scar along the bit of Silas’ hairline that Wren can see and he can’t help but wonder how much of Silas’ hairline it spans. How much of himself he was allowed to keep and how much the district has taken away.

It kind of stuns him into silence, and he finds himself looking really hard at Silas’ bandages.

Silence stretches and Wren isn’t sure how to break it. He keeps busy; once his torso is mummified, Wren takes the lukewarm towel to the cover of gore on his skin. Tries to, anyway — Silas catches him quickly around the wrist. His hand spans most of Wren’s forearm.

He looks up at Silas, who looks back and doesn’t say anything, dark and intense. They look at each other so long Wren is kind of startled out of it. He says, “did I hurt you?”

His eyebrow twitches. Amusement, maybe? “No.”

“Then let me clean you up,” Wren chides gently.

Silas looks down at Wren’s hand, caught in his own. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

He tilts his head. “Do what?”

“Touch me,” Silas says.

Wren frowns and gently pulls his hand from Silas’ grip. Silas doesn’t stop him, so Wren takes the towel to his skin again, carefully, carefully, carefully wiping away the carnage. He’s as gentle as he can with the burlap they get for towels, and he’s careful not to pull too hard at Silas’ skin. He cleans his shoulders, his arms, hands, under his nails. His throat and his collarbones. The line of his jaw before he finally asks, “why do you think I wouldn’t want to touch you?”

Silas answers him like it should be obvious. “I’m a freak.” I’m disgusting.

Wren stills. The flippancy of it actually upsets him, probably a bit more than it should. He looks up with a frown and says, “you’re not a freak.”

Silas angles his head down towards him slowly. It would probably be intimidating if Wren weren’t a little irritated with him, even if he doesn’t quite know why he’s irritated with him. Then Silas gives him this look, and he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to — it’s the most expressive Wren’s ever seen him, and his expression says you’re an idiot.

He breathes out a laugh, despite himself. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not a freak, Silas.”

Silas raises his eyebrows and doesn’t say anything.

Wren raises his eyebrows right back. “You’re not a freak.”

Silas angles his head, relenting, but there’s something Wren finds kind of condescending about it. Washcloth to Silas’ cheek, he uses it to tilt Silas’ face so he’ll look at him. “Stop it. You’re not a freak.” His eyebrow twitches and Wren’s starting to think it’s definitely amusement. “You should be kinder to you,” he tells him.

Silas snorts and there’s nothing amused in it at all. “I don’t deserve kindness.”

Wren can’t keep himself from recoiling. “That’s a horrible thing to say,” he tells him, and he’s mad at Silas on Silas’ behalf. The guy could stand to be a lot kinder to somebody that was bleeding to death in a dirty bathroom by himself. “Why not?”

Silas looks at him critically. “What do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Wren says. “What are you?”

“I’m a weapon,” he tells him.

Wren already knew that. “And?”

Silas looks only just barely baffled, but it’s obvious on his otherwise marble face. “You’re a soldier. You don’t know what weapons do?”

There’s something incredibly condescending in his tone but that’s not why Wren prickles. “I’m not a soldier.”

Silas angles his head back to look down at him, and Wren can see it in his face, that he’s really looking at him for the very first time. How much smaller he is than Silas, how much smaller he is than all the rest of them. “What are you?” He asks.

Wren’s shoulders tense. “That’s none of your business.” Silas studies him closely, all dark and intense, but he doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t push, he doesn’t pry. Wren tries to roll the tension out of his shoulders and huffs out a breath, wiping the last of the blood splatter from his face.

“Wren?” Silas says.

Wren almost wrings out the towel, then thinks better of it. He looks at Silas, very close to eye level. “Silas?”

“Thank you,” he says, and there’s something sort of awkward about how he says it, tense, out of practice.

Like a surprising number of other things about Silas, Wren finds himself kind of endeared by it. He takes a hand to his chin and tips his face down. It surprises him again, how willingly Silas moves, and Wren smiles against the ridged scar of his hairline as he presses a kiss there. “You’re welcome.”

Silas looks at him, and he’s as unexpressive as he usually is but he touches his hand to his forehead, to the spot Wren had kissed. “What was that?”

“What?” Wren says, because it’s not what he was expecting. He has to stop expecting things from Silas, he thinks. “A kiss?”

“A kiss?” Silas repeats, and Wren can’t tell if it’s another question or if he’s just mimicking his inflection. He says it with Wren’s accent.

It kind of feels like a lightbulb going off, like a bunch of odd puzzle pieces finally forming a bigger, odd picture. Maybe Silas isn’t what Wren thought he was at all.

“Silas,” he says slowly. “Where were you before this? Before you were here.”

“I wasn’t,” Silas says.

And that can’t possibly be true, but it opens this yawning chasm in Wren’s chest that sucks all the air from his lungs. He feels so guilty for ever likening Silas to a stray dog that it actually might make him flush. It isn’t that he’s intimidated by them, it’s that he doesn’t understand them. Silas is their only weapon — has he known anything before this but violence? Is that all he can remember?

“You weren’t,” Wren says softly.

The corner of Silas’ mouth lifts and it’s the very first time Wren has ever seen him smile. It makes him smile, despite himself. “Freak,” he explains, and there’s something almost challenging in the way he says it.

“Stop that,” Wren tells him, and it makes Silas smile properly.

Silas has a very handsome smile.

Silas has dimples.

It almost makes Wren recoil again, but that would be rude, so he doesn’t. It’s close, though. There’s a particular scar on Silas’ face, thin and shiny, angled across his jaw and the corner of his mouth so when he smiles, it’s lopsided. It’s uncomfortably charming, and the dimples that carve out of his cheeks make it almost overwhelming. He also has great teeth, which is jarring, a stark contrast to all the rest of him, raised scars and messy stitches. He thinks Silas might actually be really handsome, and that feels jarring, too.

He smiles anyway. He can’t help it and he doesn’t know why.

Silas looks away, but he still has a dimple carved out of his cheek on one side and Wren presses the washcloth to it, an impulse he can’t quite control. “There you go,” he tells him. “Good as new.”

“Thank you,” he says again, and it’s still awkward, and he still won’t still look at him.

Wren smiles a bit wider. “Anytime,” he says, and Silas grunts. “I’m serious. Anytime. You’re gonna start being kinder to yourself and you’re gonna start by asking for help.” Silas grunts again and he adds, “don’t be shy. I don’t bite.”

“I do,” Silas says, and he doesn’t say it like a joke but he says it like a warning and Wren doesn’t think he’s kidding.

He isn’t quite sure why it makes him smile again. “I don’t mind.”

Silas looks at him, angling his head. Wren can’t tell what he’s thinking and it should be intimidating, daunting, but Wren’s been having a really hard time being afraid of him. His full body fear of Robin had started it, but having him kneel patiently in front of him while Wren swaddled him in bandages may have been the thing to cement it. “Okay,” he says finally.

Wren surprises himself with how pleased he is. His smile is bright. “Okay,” he agrees. “Good.”

Silas dimples on one side, just barely, and angles his head down towards Wren.

For a second, Wren doesn’t get it. Then he breathes out a laugh and leans up to press another obedient kiss to Silas’ hairline.

When they get back to the common room, Silas sits beside him, and a mountain has been moved. Wren isn’t sure why it feels so much like a win, but he preens, anyway.

[chayscribbles]

a little Euna / Zeya flashback. Zeyna, if you will

this post i made a few days ago was driving me insane and i was possessed to write a little drabble that probably won't make the draft. this happens about a cycle (the equivalent of a month) before the events of the gemini heist. no real spoilers, but there is a little context revealed about Zeya's place in the crew before she went rogue.

words: 874

the gemini heist wip intro

EDIT: this drabble has a doodle now

Euna had barely stepped into the mess hall before a blue plasma dagger was at her throat.

Quick as lightning, she grabbed the arm that had her in a chokehold and yanked it off, flinging her attacker around. It took only a moment before a second, pink laser blade slashed at Euna’s right arm, creating a long, dark burnt streak along the plastic. Euna blindly lunged at the tiny person, but they leapt out of the way just in time, hopping onto the table and using it as a launching pad to grab one of the pipes running along the ceiling and haul themself up. They swung their body back and, on the return swing, kicked at Euna’s head. She dodged the boot— slamming into a shelf in the process, from which several cans of preserves noisily rolled off the sides— and fired at the ceiling with the blaster built into her cybernetic hand. The shot hit the pipe. It hissed, leaking steam into the room. The attacker plummeted. Before they could scramble away and take out their daggers again, Euna had both their hands pinned to the ground and a knee pressed against their chest.

For a moment, they both stayed still, breathlessly glaring at each other. Then Euna grinned.

“You’re not even trying anymore,” she said, releasing her hold on Zeya and getting to her feet.

Zeya simply smirked, shoving her sweat-dampened, shoulder-length dark hair out of her face as she sat up. Her eyes flitted up to the still-hissing pipe.

“Ah, shit,” Euna lamented, following her gaze. “Cap’s gonna kill us.”

“Not if you tell her you were stopping me from trying to escape again,” Zeya said with a shrug. For someone who carried two plasma daggers— they had been confiscated multiple times, but Zeya somehow always managed to get them back— her voice was surprisingly soft and feathery. Euna was still getting used to hearing it, as only recently did Zeya begin to talk around the other crewmates, and even then, it was very scarce to catch her talking to anyone but the Captain.

“Right. So she’s just gonna kill me. We all know you’re the Captain’s favourite no matter how many times you’ve tried to run.” Euna opened the fridge and pulled out two cans of iced lava root tea. She handed one to Zeya, still sitting, cross-legged, on the floor. “Also, was that you trying to escape? It looked like you just wanted to get your ass kicked.”

Zeya wordlessly took the tea and fiddled with the tab. Euna peered at her as she opened her own drink and took a swig. It was impossible to tell what Zeya was thinking at any given moment— her face was always so stony, she could either be contemplating her next attempted stabbing or trying to decide her next meal— but Euna had the impression the comment about the Captain had irked her.

“I was kidding, you know. About the favourites thing,” Euna said. “I just think Cap likes having you on the crew and wants you to stay once your contract is up.”

Zeya once again remained silent. She opened her can, but instead of drinking it, she picked at the tab with her fingernail. I probably should’ve just kept my mouth shut, Euna thought. Zeya’s contract was a touchy subject for her— based on the multiple attempts to escape the six cycle agreement to work for the Sirens without a cut of the crew’s earnings in exchange for food, lodging, and most importantly, not getting thrown out of the airlock for breaking into the ship and trying to steal from them in the first place, it was clear that she deeply resented the arrangement. 

But there was just over one cycle left before the contract was up, and in the last few weeks, there had been a tangible shift in the air, particularly in the way Captain Callisto interacted with Zeya. Everyone on the crew had noticed the way the Captain let little infractions slide, the way she let Zeya have a bit of an allowance to spend when the ship docked, the way she stopped confiscating the plasma daggers… And while Euna wouldn’t have minded having someone to spar with for a bit longer, eyebrows were being raised. 

The Captain denied any favouritism, but the last time someone had mentioned it around Zeya, she had pulled out her daggers, and it wasn’t Zeya who’d spent the night in the brig for “trying to start shit”.

“Forget I said anything,” Euna said quickly, not wanting to get into a real fight with Zeya right now. Not when the scar on her arm was still fresh. Gabi was probably going to think she was so annoying for needing repairs again. “I didn’t talk about the Captain, I didn’t talk about the contract—”

Zeya ripped the tab off her can and flicked it at Euna’s face, hitting her squarely in the cheek.

“Hey,” Euna protested as Zeya silently stormed out of the room with her drink, but didn’t make a move to follow her. 

She might not be the brightest person on the ship, but Euna knew it was best not to provoke a woman with two plasma daggers and a grudge.

[scriptospark]

@badrcputation ♥'d for a smoochy drabble [For Kaftio]

Sometimes he talks, and he talks, and Aeons does he talk. In length about things that even Kafka isn't entirely up to date on. It's funny though, because she likes it. The way his pupils dilate when he gets invested in a theory, or problem he's yet to solve. Kafka enjoys studying HIM, the little things that kick his brain into gear, the way he can seamlessly transition topics with relevance to one another piling into a full on lecture at times.

She always reacts when he goes on his in essays about philosophical dilemma. Sometimes it's a simple cant of the head, or soft chuckle. Physical little reactions she gave him to show she was listening, and she was; intently. Every word he said captivated her and she asked questions and posed debates to ensure him every time they spoke together like this. It wasn't any sacrifice on her behalf, knowledge was something Kafka always enjoyed getting more of. Even more-so now that she was enamored with him...

Currently as he's stopped on his current ramble to ponder further on what he wanted to discuss with her, Kafka is twirling a loose strand of her own hair, watching his cute little gestures as he tries to find whatever he's looking for. It's something they share, closing his eyes she imagines he's skimming through hundreds, if not thousands of text that he's read before. If he could visually see them in his mind, they were more alike than she initially thought and that was saying something. She hears him start to mumble something, apologetic as his eyes eventually landed back upon her. Honestly she can't stop herself from staring at his lips.

He was simply so fired up, passionate, she abruptly stood up from the chair she'd been lounging in, and stopped oh so closely to him. It was silly how it took him a moment to notice just how up and in his personal space she suddenly got. That blush on his face came on swiftly, and Kafka can't help looking a little proud of her effect on him. "I've never met a man who gets prettier when he talks about his passions~ I don't know how you do it." Kafka wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him close with ease.

Deep pink hues were locked upon his golden eyes, despite the flush, he did not try to escape her. A smile upon her lips and she's tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "If you could lean down here just a little for me, handsome... I'd really like to kiss you right now." Her voice lowering to an almost whisper, and the second he began to follow her little direction she grabbed ahold of him and tugged him down by his shirt to her lips, kissing him. She's caught a little off guard though as the doctor suddenly backed her into the wall, kissing her against it, Kafka didn't expect it and it only egged her on further. He could feel the smile though and when they broke after a long intense moment, he's caught caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "Were you interested in the subject matter at all, or... just me?" He asked, perhaps a bit of disappointment in his tone. Kafka without hesitation "Sweetheart, I was interested in both. Of course... Now the only thing on my mind is straddling your lap in that chair and kissing you until you remember that tiny missing detail you've forgotten.~"

Ironic wasn't it? Because Kafka actually knows the exact theory he spaced out on, but now it was her turn to back him up. Of course, if Veritas wanted to stop her, he easily could have, as much taller and more muscle this man held over her. But he backs into the chair willingly and she falls gracefully on top of him, straddling his lap and kissing him roughly against his lips this time, Kafka nipping at his lower lip and leaving lipstick marks across his neck and all over his face, daring every so slightly to mark up his chest as well.

When she pulls her lips away from his, she can't help but smirk feeling him chase after her only for her to grab his hand and question, a little breathlessly. "Do you want a hint?" He was still trying to get her lips back to his, perhaps a little love-drunk in the moment, and the perplexed expression was cute as Hell to her. "Wh-... I'm supposed to remember that now of all times?" He asks, his hands were pinned above him so he couldn't do anything but sit there waiting for her next move. "So cute... How distracted you are right now." She whispers in his ear before he finally grabs her wrists. "The principal of finality, how fitting you would droll my attention elsewhere with the topic at hand..." He spoke firmly now, upset, not letting her move. "... Kafka" He starts with frustration, and maybe worry in his voice. But she stops him, he loosens his grasp on her and she settles with her forehead resting against him, her tone a weak whisper answering that expression on his face that was starving for a real answer. He can feel her ever so carefully shaking her head against him as she says it. "I'm not ready to talk about this with you, Veritas.... Not tonight..." As she says it, Kafka's body slumps against him, her face burying into the crevice of his neck. She'd rather have this for tonight. Him there to hold her.

Fate and finality? She wasn't ready for that talk. "There's time enough for it... Another day, heh.. I promise you." Kafka assures him before taking his hand within hers and weaving their fingers together, her head now resting against his chest as she curled up on him. He lifts her chin to give her a much softer kiss now, letting their lips linger against one another. "Very well." As he says it though, she knows this is tearing at him. She knows it will be a problem again, at least it felt like in this moment he cared for her. That's all she needed.

[kiebs-creative-corner]

Tattoos

Story: Six of Powers

Genre: General

Characters: Mari, Jun, Trisha

A short I wrote to get a feel for Mari, Jun, and Trisha's personalities. Also because tattoos are cool.

---

"Huh?" Mari was staring, but she honestly couldn't be blamed for it. Because, with what she knew, what she was seeing didn't make sense. 

The day was warm, a late season heatwave that was just warm enough for t-shirts and jeans and no jackets. Seeing as Mari had moved to City in September, right when it was starting to cool off, she hadn't really seen Jun in t-shirts. At least, not ones as tight as the v-neck he had on, whose sleeves reached just barely to the middle of his bicep. The middle of his bicep where half of a black scaly tail peeked out. 

Now, Mari didn't have much if any memories of their time at the Facility, but she had learned fairly quickly that Jun was virtually invulnerable. He had purposely ruined a steak knife to show her how only her claws and teeth could break his skin. So she was aware that things like needles should shatter if pressed too strongly. 

And yet, that could only be a tattoo on his bicep, unless it was one of those fancy temporary tattoos that lasted like a week.

"Stare any harder and he might just combust," Trisha drawled, examining her freshly done manicure. 

Mari whipped her head around. She opened her mouth, unsure what she was going to say, when a lower voice cut her off. 

"Trisha," Jun scolded, but there was a slight twitch to his lips when Mari looked back at him. It made her stomach flutter. 

"I'm only worried that maybe our dear Mari developed heat ray vision or something," Trisha huffed, but it poorly disguised her own little smirk. "Not that I don't think you don't mind the attention, Junie."

"Shut up." Jun rolled his eyes, but he no longer met Mari's gaze. 

Something in her chest didn't like that. Which Mari refused to examine at this very moment because she would then get distracted and upset that she couldn't remember whatever it was that made her hate when Jun wasn't paying attention to her. She also refused to acknowledge there might just be a simpler reason for that. There were more important matters at hand. 

Mari cleared her throat.

"If I may ask," she began, ignoring Trisha's "No" and Jun's "Anything", "do you have a tattoo?"

Jun blinked before he turned to show his left shoulder. Rolling up his sleeve revealed the rest of said tattoo: a black snake that wrapped twice around his bicep with its head resting just under the ball of his joint. 

Her wild was dismayed that it wasn't a dragon. 

"I got it back when I was twenty-three," he explained and left the sleeve rolled up. Like an invitation to touch it. Which Mari resisted despite her desires.

"We got them together," Trisha added. 

"You have one too?"

"Mm, on my back." She sipped her drink. "And I'm not wearing the right top to show you."

"It's a spider web, between her shoulder blades," Jun explained when Trisha made no move to say more. 

"Ah, I see," Mari murmured, not fully understanding the meaning behind either tattoo. It wasn't like Jun was born in the Year of the Snake or Trisha was a black widow or anything. But that wasn't actually her question. "...how, though?"

"With a needle." Trisha's tone alone said the unspoken "duh". 

Mari gave her her most unimpressed look. "I'm an amnesiac, not dumb, Patricia. I mean, how did Jun get a tattoo?"

Trisha immediately looked a little guilty. Her mouth twisted. 

"Ah, it was...a special needle," Jun reluctantly said. He was staring at Mari with a mildly grim look on his face. "...back in the Facility when the scientists found out your claws could cut me, they took a sample of the chemical makeup to replicate for tools that could work on me. They really only managed to make needles, but the data was still in the hard drives."

"Since my father's company scavenged all the data they could, Company got those files so we could fabricate more," Trisha continued. "Once I took over, we did it to make, well, a tattooing needle and a piercing gun tip."

Mari had covered her mouth and gave them a long look. 

On one hand, she hated that the Facility had had files on something that could bring Jun harm. More than just needles, if he had ever rebelled before the six of them had, the Facility could have made weapons to kill him. And Trisha kept those files instead of deleting them. On the other hand, she hadn't done anything besides make essentially nonlethal equipment, which allowed Jun experiences that someone without his invulnerability could have. It was honestly very sweet of her. 

"Your ears are pierced? I thought they were clip-ons," Mari remarked with a growing smile. "I will admit, that wasn't exactly what I expected."

"You're not...upset?" Jun asked as he ventured closer. 

"Well, there's not much I can do about it," she said. "Besides, if it helped you feel normal, I can't really fault either of you."

He blew out a deep sigh. "I thought you'd be angry."

"Like I said, there isn't anything I can do about it," she insisted. "As long as there hasn't been anything made that can hurt you."

"No, any blueprints other than needles i got rid of," Trisha declared. Her eyes flashed. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt us again."

"Then there isn't any reason for me to be angry," Mari said. She smiled up at Jun and privately marveled at the surprise on his face. "I'm a little disappointed it's not a dragon, though."

He huffed a laugh. 

"I thought that might be a bit on the nose," he remarked, leaning closer to her. "Y'know, being second gen and all."

"Mm, yes. You have a point," she agreed. "And the snake is...?"

A shadow fell over his smile, the warm amusement turned cold. He didn't move, but the spark had gone from his eyes.

"Thought it was cool," he answered finally. 

Mari thought it sounded like a lie.

[liroyalty]

"... By the fayths...." It's not as if Joseph was not aware of summoners, he was a Maester after all, but he swears this one was familiar. ... Has he... seen this one before? A with with light brown hair & blue eyes.... yes. Yes, he remembers. Not too long after he was entitled maester, a gathering at Bevelle's gates happened to see off a new Summoner & her guardian. What was her name...?

... Ann... correct?

"Excuse me." So, as it was, Joseph could only politely part for the summoner's attention, the young girl's eyes flicking to the one beckoning her attention, as if eager to be called upon, while her raven haired guardian's eyes gazed much more harshly towards him. His eyes only looked to her for but a moment, but he quickly decided he did not like that cold look in the girl's eyes.

He will pretend she's not there for a moment & focus on the summoner instead.

"Pardon me, my lady. But I couldn't help but notice you. You wouldn't happen to be a summoner, would you?"

"Ah? Y-yes, I am." Ann was surprised, she hasn't been a summoner very long, yet someone has noticed her as one already? "My name is Ann. Uh, how could you tell, sir?"

"Ah, so I was correct!" Joseph beamed, his face alight briefly, making Ann grow more confused & Sue's eyes squint at the man. "I was there in Bevelle, when you departed to begin your pilgrimage, I remember seeing you."

"Oh! I see!" Ann's face returned to a smile. There were quite a few people lined up to see Ann leave for Macalania. "So, then, who would you be, sir?"

"Me?" He chuckled. "I am Joseph Tempeten, it's an honor to meet you, Lady Ann."

"Oh! L-Lord Joseph!!" Ann's quick to gasp, before bowing quickly, her manners kicking in. She even elbowed her sister lightly when she noticed Sue did not do the same. "Sue, greet him!"

"The new Maester? I see." She sounded not nearly as interested as Ann, but still bowed as her older sister wanted. "Greetings, Lord Joseph, I hope you are well."

".I am, thank you." He didn't much like this one's tone, but gave no hint of that in his own tone. "And I hope the both of you are well. You're journey has started smooth, I trust?"

"Of course, my lord." Ann smiled bright. "Things have been easy, & though I know they will not stay that way, I'm prepared to face such hardship. For Spira."

"We're honored to have such a bright & strong willed summoner." Joseph spoke with a bit of awe. Such a beautiful young lady, with a firm resolve. Delightful. "I hope to see you complete your pilgrimage then? And may the blessing of Yevon go with you." He performs the gesticulation for the young summoner, who returns the gesture back to him with she speaks... the guardian does not.

"I will, Lord Joseph, you can count on it. You have my upmost thanks."

"Of course." This Ann had a lovely smile, did she not? "... Perhaps we may yet be blessed to meet again, Lady Ann."

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A fake soccer date

Summary: Joel asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get the soccer moms off his back. How convenient that you're both kind of in love with each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: no outbreak, friends to lovers, FAKE DATING, mentions of dead spouse, a little angst, soccer moms (ugh), fluff, making out, smut (protected sex), dirty talk, a lot of kissing, Joel being in love, banner just for the vibes

Part of Fake Dating drabbles

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

You understood his weekly dread of going to Sarah’s soccer matches now. 

It wasn’t the soccer or the getting up at 6 am to drive to some god awful town hours away to watch a bunch of teenage girls play ball. 

It was the soccer moms.

And Joel was the only single Dad of the group. There was flirting. There were definitely not occasion appropriate attire and cleavage. There was touching. 

And that was only what you saw as you watched him in the middle of at least six women who were fussing over him like he was the only men left alive while you made your way towards the field from the parking lot. 

He had asked you before if you would accompany him to one of Sarah’s games. 

You had been neighbours since before Sarah was born. He had inherited the fixer upper next door when he just turned twenty and made the most out of it. You had seen his life fall apart within months from the moment he found out his ex girlfriend was pregnant not long after. They had tried to get back together again. 

It was you and your late husband Andrew who had been there for him once Sarah was born and his ex had left him alone. You probably spent more times in Joel’s house than your own in those first weeks, all of you being new to taking care of a new born. 

But Sarah made it easy. 

Andrew, Joel and you grew close in the coming years. 

So close that Joel was the first one you called when you were sitting in a hospital in the early morning hours after an accident on your way back from your summer vacation. 

An accident Andrew did not survive. 

He showed up an hour later with a sleeping Sarah in his arms, holding you all night as you cried into his shoulder. 

The time after that was blurry. But you knew Joel was there every single step through your grief, right beside you. 

He was your best friend. 

And as best friends it was okay to ask you to pretend to be dating him to get the soccer moms off his back, right?

It’s not like he knew that you kind of fell in love with him over the last year, right?

With a nervous inhale you put a smile on your face as you approached Joel from behind, his broad back standing out to you in between the moms who had only eyes for him. You put one of your arms around him as you sneaked to his side, feeling him stiffen for a moment as you looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He smiled down at you, instantly relaxing, his arm coming around you to pull you closer against his side. 

„Hi,“ he smiled warmly and you smiled back. 

„Sorry I’m late. The line was endless,“ you lied and he chuckled. You felt his hand rest on your hip, squeezing you lightly. 

„Glad you could make it. Sarah is gonna be excited to see you,“ he said. Like you had not seen her yesterday when you had dinner together at your house. 

He kissed your temple and you closed your eyes for a moment before you turned your head too look at the people standing around you. The women were glaring at you and didn’t even attempt to hide it. 

„If you'll excuse me ladies. We got a match to watch,“ Joel said, not waiting for an answer before he pulled you towards the field, not letting go of you. 

„I can practically feel them trying to kill me with their eyes,“ you mumbled and he huffed a laugh. 

„I told you. I didn’t even do anything. They just appear out of thin air once I get here,“ he groaned and you rolled your eyes. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he’d pretend to not now the looks he received from women around him. 

Joel Miller was a catch and everyone knew it. 

You came to stand at the fence separating the field and the audience, watching as the girls warmed up on the soccer field. Sarah saw you and waved wildly and you waved back with a bright smile. You felt Joel stand behind you, before his hands came down next to yours on the fence.

„Thank you for doing this,“ he hummed against your ear as he leaned down, his chin resting on your shoulder for a moment. You took a deep breath. 

„Anything for you,“ you mumbled, gasping when he fell into you against the fence, someone having pushed him. You heard him groan lowly against your ear, his body flush against yours. He took a step back immediately, turning to his side but you were pretty sure you had felt his hard bulge press into your ass for a second.

You turned your head to look at him, finding his cheeks a little flushed as he looked everywhere but at you. But before you could say anything the kids coach cheered the girls on and they got into position for the game to start.

And a couple minutes later Joel was standing behind you again, and you were leaning against his strong chest, one of his arms around your stomach as you watched his daughter play soccer on the field in front of you. 

„Are we…. Are we still pretending to be dating?“ You mumbled against his lips, your fingers unbuttoning his flannel. 

Things had…. Escalated a little. 

One of his hands was on the side of your neck, tilting your head up as his lips moved against yours, your body pressed against the wall next to his bedroom, his body caging you in. 

„Do you want to be pretending?“ He asked, his lips kissing down your throat as his other hand came to squeeze one of your tits over your shirt. 

„Cause I haven’t been all day,“ he mumbled and you gasped. 

You were both still fully clothed, having spent the whole day together on the soccer field, pretending to be dating. 

It was pretend when he held your hand while you grabbed food. 

It was pretend when he pulled you on his lap when there wasn’t enough place to sit. 

It was pretend when you went up and kissed him when one of the soccer moms had her hands on his chest. 

Right?

„Joel….“ You hummed letting you head fall against the wall as his hand slipped under your shirt and towards your chest. You finally had his flannel open your fingernails scratching over the shirt he was wearing underneath. 

„I… I don’t want to pretend. I… I want you. I want you all the time,“ you confessed, your eyes closed as he sucked on the soft skin on your neck. 

He looked at you then a small smile on his flushed lips. 

„Good,“ he simply said, before he kissed you again and pulled you towards his bedroom. 

He undressed you slowly, kissing a path from your lips down to your hips before he told you to lay down. 

With your arms spread out on his mattress you looked up at him as he got out of his clothes, biting your lip when you saw his thick cock, already glistening at the tip. 

„Dreamed of this,“ he said as he joined you on the bed, crawling on top of you, kissing you softly as he laid down between your spread legs. 

You nipples hardened as his chest brushed against yours, the only thought in your head being that you wanted him closer. Always closer.

„Yeah?“ You asked with a small smile, your fingers brushing over his back. He nodded. 

„Me too. Dreamed of this for months,“ you confessed and he kissed you again.

„Months?“ He asked kissing your nose.

„Mhh… Think I knew when you fixed my bathroom sink and explained every little step you were doing. Thought back then that I’d listen to everything you’d explain to me as long as you wouldn’t leave,“ you said quietly, a little shy. 

You parted your lips when you felt his cock slip though your folds. 

„When you held Sarah after she fell from her bike last year. I watched you with my daughter in your arms and thought to myself, fuck I’m in love with her,“ he said and you felt a tear slip out of your eyes. 

You tilted your chin up to find his lips in a deep kiss before you brought one hand down and between your bodies, hearing him moan when your fingers wrapped around his stiff cock. 

„Wanna taste you first,“ he mumbled against your lips. 

You shook your head. 

„Plenty of time for that after. Wanna feel you please,“ you pumped his cock and he closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours. 

„Fuck. Fuck okay. Condom?“ He asked and you grinned. 

„You got some? I’m on birth control and I trust you,“ you said. He looked at you for a moment before he shook his head. 

„The last time I didn’t use a condom with someone who was on birthcontrol I got Sarah,“ he chuckled before he pushed off of you and reached towards his bedside table, finding a little golden foil package, ripping it open and pulling it over his cock. 

He came back to kneel between your legs, one of his hands wrapped around his cock while he reached for a pillow and with a grin. 

You grinned back, arching your back as he pushed the pillow under you and under your ass before both of his hands pulled you towards him. You crossed your legs behind his ass, pulling him closer as he leaned down, lining his cock up with your pussy. 

„No more pretending,“ he whispered and you shook your head. 

„No more pretending,“ you repeated before you kissed him as he slowly pushed inside of you. 

Your lips parted against his as he slipped inside you, both of you breathing heavily, a quiet moan coming from you as he stretched you. 

You hadn’t been with anyone since your husband died and Joel wasn’t exactly small. 

"You okay?“ He asked, slowing down. 

You just nodded, before you kissed him again, finding yourself enjoying the stretch of his cock as it pushed slowly inside of you. 

„Keep going, feels so fucking good,“ you mumbled against his lips and you felt him smile as he moved, his cock moving inside of you until his whole length was filling you, both of you releasing a loud breath. 

„Should have done this sooner,“ he said as he pulled back and began to slowly fuck into you. You had one hand in his hair, the other on his ass, feeling him as he moved inside of you, his cock filling you perfectly with every thrust. 

„Yeah,“ you moaned, closing your eyes. 

„Keep your eyes open,“ he hummed and you did, finding him looking at you. 

„I wanna see you when you cum on my cock,“ he said and your walls clenched, making him smirk.

„You liked that, huh?“ He asked and you nodded slowly. 

„Keep going,“ you whimpered. 

„You know what I think of when I jerk myself off in the shower? I imagine the way you look when you cum. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum so hard you see stars. I wonder how you taste. I wonder if you like it hard or slow. I wonder if you wear these pretty lace panties I saw hanging in your bathroom that one time whenever you’re around me,“ he continued and you whimpered his name. 

„I wonder if you would let me fuck you at the dining table when we have dinner together. Or if you’d suck me off in the garage when we have a couple minutes to ourselves. Or on the couch after we watched a movie. I wonder if I can make you scream my name so everyone knows that you’re mine,“ he said before he kissed you and changed the angle of how he was fucking you, his cock hitting a spot inside of you that had you shaking. 

„I’m gonna take you to the lake house this weekend so I can have you screaming as loudly as you want to,“ he said and you nodded biting your lip to keep quiet, still mindful of the child sleeping down the hall. 

„Cum for me baby, let me feel you,“ he said as he crashed his lips down on yours and you shattered, coming harder than you had ever before, your legs shaking as he kept pumping his cock into you in quick deep thrusts. 

„Fuuuuuck,“ you cried quietly against his lips, feeling his lips twitch into a smile. 

„Beautiful,“ he hummed before his hips stuttered his cock pulsing inside of you as he slowly continued to fuck into you, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he orgasmed. 

Both sweaty and out of breath you just looked at each other before he kissed you and slowly rolled you to the side, pulling you against his chest, his cock softening and still resting inside of you. 

Kissing his chest you nuzzled against him, feeling his arms tighten around your body. 

„Best fake date ever,“ you grinned and you felt him chuckle, before he kissed your head just as you drifted off to sleep. 

[endofthelinepal107]

baby daddy toji drabbles

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

baby daddy toji who didn't react well when you told him you were pregnant. you were expecting it, so it didn't hurt as much as it could have, but it was still a punch in the gut. most of your relationship had been more just messing around, so you knew what kind of guy toji was. you just hadn't anticipated the cool look on his face when he listened to your news and then made a small, hurtful correction. 'nah, you're having a baby, not us.'

baby daddy toji who you expected nothing from. you told him firmly that you were keeping the baby, and that you were only telling him as a courtesy. after that, you expected nothing: no money, no co-parenting, no contact, nothing. you didn't want it, not from him. you could do it better on your own.

baby daddy toji who went without seeing his son for five whole years. he missed the birth of his one and only child, missed out on seeing the adorable baby and toddler stages. but, when he was five, megumi asked to meet his father. you had never lied to your son about who his father was, and so when he asked that question, you couldn't find it in yourself to deny him.

baby daddy toji who was predictably hard to track down. once you eventually managed to get into contact with shiu kong, you found out that toji was in prison, and had been for the majority of megumi's life. you told megumi and asked him if he still wanted to meet his father. when he said yes, you steeled yourself and organised a visit.

baby daddy toji who hadn't expected to feel so stricken when he saw you and megumi. he stared at his son, the little boy that was so undeniable his kid: unruly black hair, flat expression, paler skin than you had. he stared at you, holding his son on your lap, looking so much stronger and mature than when he'd said those cruel words and left you to it.

baby daddy toji who swallowed his pride to rasp two questions into the phone: what's the kid's name, and can i see you both again? he ignored the fact that your expression didn't change on the other side of the glass, and just appreciated that you replied: his name is megumi, and i can request another visit if you want to see him again.

baby daddy toji who thought about you and megumi for the weeks that it took before you were back in the visiting room. it had taken seeing the two of you right there in front of him to realise just what he'd fumbled. now he knew, he felt like a fucking idiot. he just hoped he could find a way to be a part of at least megumi's life, if not yours.

baby daddy toji who was patient and attentive enough with your son that you slowly believed that he was telling the truth about wanting to try again. megumi didn't trust him yet, but your son was always slow to warm up to people. he didn't dislike his father, and that was a good sign.

baby daddy toji who mustered up the courage after a few months of visits to ask you if he could meet up with you and megumi outside of the visiting room of the prison, while he was allowed out on parole. he watched your face with his usual blank expression, but his green eyes were shining with hidden anxiety. when you looked to megumi and the little boy nodded, toji let out a soft breath of relief.

baby daddy toji who deliberated where he would take you both for a long time. when the day came around, he picked the fairground. and, for a day, it was almost like you were a normal family. toji won prizes for megumi, went on rides with him, carried him when the kid got tired. and he didn't shy away from your watchful gaze, letting you read his intentions clear on his face.

baby daddy toji who couldn't hide his disappointment when his parole officer turned up and he had to go back to the prison. he looked so crestfallen that megumi looked up at you. toji was confused until you leaned forward with your son in your arms, your lips brushing one cheek while megumi pecked the other. toji blinked at both of you. then he cracked a rare smile. he ruffled megumi's hair, then pulled you back and kissed you on the mouth. it was a brief kiss, a cheeky one that he knew he didn't fully deserve. but, as he sat down in the car and saw you and megumi waving him off, toji resolved to be deserving of it eventually.

baby daddy toji who was a fucking idiot, but he tries to be better for you, and for his baby boy.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

[icyminghao]

lean on me

pairing: husband!mingyu x gn!reader genre: drabble, hurt/comfort, some fluff warning(s): mentions of food, mean coworkers word count: 0.9k

summary: your husband seems to be feeling down, but you can’t seem to figure out why.

Your husband’s being awfully quiet tonight.

He’d come back home a few hours ago, saying nothing other than a soft “Hi” in reply to your enthusiastic greeting, and immediately went to take a shower without smothering you in hugs and kisses.

Which is incredibly unusual, considering his tendency to start telling you anything and everything about his day the moment he walks through the front door to your shared apartment despite having told you almost everything through text already (to your endearment). Coupled with the fact that today was his first day at his new job, you fully expected Mingyu to have many things to recount from his day at work and the welcome dinner afterwards.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, you try to recall the events of the day as you scroll through your text history with your husband, but come up short. Your eyes gloss over the last few texts he’d sent you as you purse your lips together in thought.

my gyu: i’m going to the welcome dinner now!! [18:01]

my gyu: i’m so excited :) can’t wait to tell u all abt it!! [18:01]

you: so excited for u!! have fun bb <3 [18:02]

you: how’s the dinner? [20:12]

The realisation that your husband never replied to your text hits you only now, and you’re met with the sudden urge to check up on him.

You pocket your phone, brows furrowed as you shuffle through the apartment and into your bedroom, only to be met with Mingyu’s back as he lies down on the side of the bed further away from the door.

If your suspicions are correct, your husband is most definitely not sleeping.

Something must’ve happened at the welcome dinner.

You creep towards Mingyu, climbing onto your side of the bed and engulfing your husband in a back hug immediately. Mingyu tenses for a split second before resting his hands on your arms.

“Is everything okay?” your voice is soft, and you plant a kiss on the back of Mingyu’s neck while waiting patiently for a response. Mingyu hums weakly in affirmation.

Silence ensues as you don’t probe him further, deciding to give him time to process things.

Your husband sits up and turns around to face you after a while, and you smile at him while following suit, hoping to give him some of your energy.

“I went to the welcome dinner earlier…” Mingyu begins as you nod, reaching out to hold his hands in yours as you rub circles on the back of his hands.

“They said it was company tradition to diss the newcomer, so that’s what they did once we got a few drinks in,” you raise an eyebrow at Mingyu’s words, but make no move to interrupt him. “The jabs were funny at first, but some of them started talking about my lisp and imitating it, and I just didn’t find it funny anymore. I didn’t say anything, company tradition and all, and I feel stupid for even feeling upset when they were just joking and—”

“It’s not a joke if it’s making you upset, baby,” you can’t take it anymore, deciding to cut him off while squeezing his hands tighter. “Your feelings are valid, and they shouldn’t have made fun of you like that. Not then, and not ever.”

Mingyu’s eyes start glistening, a result of him tearing up at your words. “But if- if this is a running tradition, then the others would have been able to handle the disses. I’m just- sensitive for no reason, right?”

You detach one of your hands from your husband’s to cup his cheek, a deep frown etched on your face.

“Baby,” you begin, slowly picking and choosing your words in your head, “You’re not being sensitive, you’re allowed to feel upset about this. This… ‘tradition’ is already very questionable in the first place, and I’m really sorry you had to go through that. It just doesn’t sit right with me to have people literally insult and make fun of you and for you to have to be fine with it. You can feel upset. In fact, you should feel upset, because there’s literally no world where such behaviour should be condoned.”

Mingyu leans into your touch, letting the first tear fall from his left eye. Your heart aches so much, and you pull Mingyu into your embrace, where sobs start racking his body as he buries his face into your neck.

“T-thank you,” your husband manages between sobs, and you squeeze him tighter around you. “You’re always so good to me.”

As a people-centric person, Mingyu tends to put others’ concerns and well-being first, often disregarding himself and his own feelings that it eventually culminates into him feeling miserable. Even then, however, he puts up a front as much as he can, and it breaks your heart every time you see him like this. You’re determined to remind him that he’s loved, and that his feelings, just like anyone else’s, matters.

The next few minutes or so are spent in each other’s arms as you encourage Mingyu to cry his heart out, and it’s a while later when he’s calmed down, head on your chest as you both lie down and get ready to retire for the night.

“I love you,” Mingyu whispers, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw. “I should quit my job, shouldn’t I?”

You smile, pulling him tighter against your chest. “I love you, too, baby. I’ll support you in whatever you choose to do.”

“And baby? There’s nothing funny about your lisp. If anything, I think it’s really cute.”

Mingyu beams at you in response, and you swear his goofy grin could light up the whole world.

You’re never letting him go.

a/n: kind of… inspired by the latest gose episode (class president part 2)

masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @wantmatthew @moonkyeom @coupstatu

[street-smarts00]

protective!spence x reader where they’re at a bar or something and r gets hit on, and she’s like “oh i’m here with my boyfriend” and the guy’s like “well, i don’t see him” and spencer’s like “turn around” and is just TOWERING over the guy hitting on her like UGHHH do you get my vision??😩

Drabble: Protective Spence

A/N: OMG yes the vision is visioning I love this!!! Sorry I went a little MIA, of course right when I asked for requests I had a busy ass week. But don’t worry ya’ll I have some other requests I can’t wait to get to!

It was finally the weekend which prompted the team to go out for drinks. While everyone else migrated to the makeshift dance floor, you opted to sit at the bar with Spencer.

Your social battery was already at max capacity and while normally you’d like to dance, right now you needed your space. A space you were happy to let Spencer into.

You were finishing your second drink while your boyfriend left to go to the bathroom. Not long after he left, you felt the presence of someone next to you.

“Hey beautiful.”

Turning to your right you saw a man in his late twenties. He invited himself and sat down at the empty seat next to you.

“You havin a good night?” The stranger asked.

“I was until about ten seconds ago,” you replied through a fake smile.

It was evident in his eyes that your answer proved you would be a challenge for him. This only made him more persistent.

“Aw don’t be like that,” he attempted to get on your good side.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna claw my eyes out,” he said with a smug grin.

He wasn’t wrong. Cocky, arrogant men like him made you want to more than scratch their eyes out.

“Come on, at least let me buy you a new drink first,” he offered, gesturing to your empty glass.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re a blast,” you lied, “but I’m not interested. I have a boyfriend.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked seconds away from chuckling. Almost like he couldn’t believe you pulled that excuse.

“You do?” He asked, not fully convinced.

“Yes.”

He glanced around the bar gesturing at the crowd, “Then where is he?”

He leaned closer to you, his breath reeked of alcohol. “Sexy thing like you all alone at this bar while your boyfriend is somewhere else.”

You looked behind the man and tried not to appear too cheeky at the sight behind him. “Oh he’s here with me,” you answered.

He chuckled, “Really? Cause I don’t see him.”

“You sure about that?”

The man’s face paled at the voice behind him. He turned around to see Spencer staring down at him with a cold gaze, he looked pissed- rightfully so. His arms were folded with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“You’re in my seat.”

The stranger's jaw dropped a bit, at a loss for words.

“Ooh- well,” he scrambled out of the seat.

You could see the gears in his head desperately trying to build back his “cool guy” persona and come up with something witty to say. He had nothing.

The stranger walked backwards away from the bar bumping into someone spilling their drink, earning him a shove. He looked back at you with frustration all over his face before storming off.

Suddenly, comforting hands were placed on your hips. You looked up at Spencer with a smile, “my knight in shining armor.”

He matched your smile but quickly his face filled with concern and compassion.

“You okay? He didn’t do anything right?” He spoke softly.

“I promise I’m okay. Just a grade-a jackass,” you reassured him.

“Good,” his smile returned. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice sounded like honey.

“Only I get to call you sexy,” he murmured softly before placing a kiss on your neck.

[allfearstofallto]

Childe Announcing that He's Married - Drabble

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced marriage

He held up his left hand with a playful grin, even wiggling his fingers to draw more attention to the silver band around his ring finger.

Both the traveler and Paimon gawked at the jewelry with shocked expressions, like their eyes were gonna pop out of their heads at any moment.

“Paimon thought you were lying when you said you were married,” she squealed in her usual high pitched voice and the traveler merely nodded along in agreement.

Childe scoffed and dramatically feigned pain in his chest, “Who would lie about such a thing?”

The blonde and Paimon both looked at each other, then back at Childe who still had a glowing grin on his face. He lied about literally almost everything. Him lying about this was more believable than him actually marrying someone.

“Then how come we never see your wife?” Paimon asked, trying to drill him into making a mistake and having this whole fib fall apart.

“And take her into the dangers of my job? Never! She stays in Snezhnaya,”

Paimon thought for a moment, that did sound pretty believable, “Then where is she now? Still at home?”

Childe shook his head then turned and pointed to where you sat at a cafe. Wearing traditional Liyue hanfu, you sipped your tea in silence. Your expression was sad, a look of longing as you watched the dragon dancers and the people popping firecrackers, it was a celebration.

Two armed Fatui guards stood at your side, whether they were there to protect you or keep you from running was debatable, but their presence meant that no one approached you.

When you felt Childe looking over at you, you gave him a weak smile. It looked forced and fearful with the way your lips were shaking, but he still swooned regardless.

“I let her out for the lantern rite,”

[realcube]

— SAIKI RELATIONSHIP HCS

☆ very hesitant to hug you/hold hands bc he is afraid he might shatter all your bones. prefers kisses, less can go wrong

☆ except that one time he kissed you and was so flustered that a whole galaxy exploded

☆ but it was one of those really distant, useless ones so he moved on

☆ or that time you held his hand and he literally started levitating ??

☆ finishes exams in two seconds then spends the rest of the time annoying you

'i don't mean to disturb you but i noticed you put the wrong answer for question four' 'get out of my head!'

☆ i already wrote a drabble about this but he morphs into different objects to 'prank' you

☆ you always want him to shrink bc what's the point of having a psychic bf if you can't carry him around on your person like a polly pocket

☆ he's very apprehensive about it, however one day he finally agrees to it because you have a shift at work and you really wanted him to join you but it would be weird if he just showed up to your place of work unannounced so he shrunk and you carried him around in your back pocket

☆ that is until you almost sat on him!! and when he dived out to avoid being crushed, he fell onto the sticky work floor covered in dust

☆ still hasn't fully recovered 😿

☆ omg if you are insecure about a physical feature of yours , instead of using his powers to change you, he will use his mind control on the entire world so that your insecurity is now the beauty standard (similar to what he did with his hair)

☆ he doesn't use mind control on you though bc it's rude

☆ in fact he tries to avoid using his powers on you all together bc it would only cause trouble (with the exception of telepathy bc he likes to speak to you.. unlike he does with most people)

☆ and he's very strict with that ethic of his

☆ which is nice and all, and really easy until he does something super embarrassing in front of you

☆ like you see him scream at a cockroach or smth

☆ and he is SO tempted to use memory alteration on you so you could just forget that ever happened

☆ but he just can't bring himself to do it

☆ OR when your birthday was before his so he got you a present but didn't do that much else, but when it was time for his birthday and you went all out, he so wanted to either go back in time and do better or just alter your memory so you think he went all out too

☆ oh and passive aggression doesn't work on him ofc

☆ if you are ever mad or upset at him for whatever reason, you can't be like 'hmph i'm not gonna tell you what you did wrong, you just have to know :<' bc he can.. y'know.. read your mind

☆ and he also knows exactly what to do to make you feel better and forgive him, every single time

☆ plus you can never stay mad at him for long anyway bc he's just too cute!!

☆ too shy to admit that he wants to spend more time with you so he will use his powers as some sort of excuse

as you're about to leave saiki's room, he lies, 'wait. don't go. i have had a precognition that something terrible is going to happen to you if you do.' 'really?' you raise an eyebrow. 'and what might that be?' he wasn't really ready for any follow up questions so he stutters and thinks of the scariest scenario he can 'toritsuka.' ... 'toritsuka is going to do what? jump me?' 'no. just toritsuka.'

☆ for your birthday or anniversary he does something you call the 'saiki special' where he duplicates himself to give you a full body massage

☆ it's what dreams are made of !!!

☆ but yeah it's a lot of effort so he saves it for special occasions

☆ he would so love to watch trashy reality tv shows with you

☆ but he so uses it against you

☆ like if you are ever studying and are like 'why am i working so hard when you are psychic and can literally set us up for the easy life 😫'

☆ he'll be like.. you know who else never worked hard a day in they're life.. the kardashians!! do you really want to end up like that??

☆ and when you say yes this is the face he makes 😐

☆ dw though bc as i said before he will be in your head during exams so he can help you a little

☆ his love language is actually spoonfeeding you food and desserts

☆ and yes he actually uses his hands opposed to his mind to control the spoon, just to show you that being a psychic doesn't mean he gets to cut corners!

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: fluffiest fluff edition

I've just been CONSUMING so many jjk fanfics... here are the softest fluffiest fic recommendations since I think we all need it right now. This list is in no particular order – there's so many talented writers out there! These ones just made me MELT extra hard. Mostly no smut, I just needed to be held.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

gojo satoru

☆ only you by Kaiseriin [A03: mini series] [status: unknown] [Cursed speech!reader] Other than Gojo, not many people understand the sign language you use to communicate as a cursed speech user. When some students from Kyoto arrive, one tries to learn so he can get closer to you.

☆ summer skies, winter lies by miyaspudding [A03: long fic!][status: ongoing]

"how cruel was fate? how much had he sinned in his past life, for the woman he loved to belong to his best friend? how little did god love him?"

in which gojo satoru learns that emotions are not weaknesses but consolations; and geto suguru realizes that he's always been a little too late for everything. because the furthest distance is an inch away, and the furthest thing from truth is "just friends".

☆best of luck. by reinerispretty [A03: one shot! part of a mini series] [status: unknown] In which Gojo Satoru shows up unannounced, twice.

☆Ah, you were both equally idiotic by Hiroka [A03: mini series] [status: unknown]

4 times others realized something was going on between Gojo and you, and 0 times you both realized it.

[Oneshots from the Old Beats Cinematic Universe]

☆ For A God, Shopping Is a New Adventure by Bun_sun [AO3] [status: on going!] [Baker!reader]

“Would you like anything else?” “Actually, yeah.” He flashes you a grin that only promises trouble, pushing his sunglasses down with a way too exaggerated flirty expression. “Can I get your number too?” “Haha, really funny Gojo. Now, I have more clients so...” But he's already getting his phone out, as if he hasn't listened to a single word you've said. “...Oh, you're for real.” ~ ~ ~ ~ Reader owns a small cafe with their own baked goods. Gojo comes in one day, and absolutely falls in love with their pastries (and with them).

☆ I Want to Kiss You / キスしたい by arminsumi [A03][status: unknown]

You and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

You've come to visit Japan to meet these two boys you met online. Though Satoru can't speak English and you can't speak Japanese, the two of you still fall in love. There's seems to be romantic tension between you and Suguru, too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

geto suguru

it's so hard to find suguru fics without him being used as a plot device for gojo

☆ gentle glow / deep thought by waffiez [AO3: one shot] [status: completed] "I thought about you, you know." Despite the softness of his voice, it cut through the otherwise silent atmosphere profoundly and made your heart skip a beat. "Is that so?" "It is." ☆☆☆ in which you awake to your best friend suguru asleep at the edge of your bed, having returned from a lengthy mission and only really wanting to see you.

☆ unnamed drabble by @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat [tumblr: drabble] [status: completed]

comfy fluff w sleepy needy sugu <33)

☆ Wash It Away by @shadowsandshapes [A03/tumblr: drabble][status: completed]

Sometimes you forget Geto is just a guy. But then he shows a sense of vulnerability that surprises you. After a particularly emotionally draining battle, you run him a warm bath and take care of his aches. ☆ Wisteria and Ciabatta by @hayakawalove [A03/tumblr: mini fic!][status: completed, chapter 2 has smut!]

Traveling merchant Suguru has led a relatively tame life thus far. Growing his flowers, baking his bread. One day, when he ventures out further than normal he comes across something more beautiful than all the flowers in the world. You. ☆ the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects by @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat [tumblr: long oneshot!] [status: completed]

when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ Digest Your Feelings (DYF) – First Years! by @whalesforhands [A03/tumblr: part of a longer series of fics] [status: completed] new classmates, new life, new friends(?). a look into the life of the dyf au characters in their first year.

[minminbunny]

Best Friends to Lovers AU - Big Cock Singer! Bang Chan/Virgin Writer Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"Chris, are you bitchless?" you asked, biting the ends of your pencil. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, "If you mean single then, yeah?" he said, setting his headphones down. "What brought this up?" he asked, leaning back against his chair. You purse your lips, "It's just your new song for the talent show. It's very intimate," you said, pointing the pencil at him. Chan chuckled, rubbing the back of his nape, "I didn't write that, Changbin helped," he said, gulping down the denial. You squint your eyes, "Damn so your co-writer was the one that was getting laid?" you said, tilting your head. 

Chan nodded, "Exactly, I don't have time for a one night stand. I work at night," he said, defending himself. "Was it Changbin's idea to be topless too?" you asked, seeing through his lies. Chan gulped, "That wasn't me. It was a stunt devil. That looked exactly like me," he said, his ears heating. You nodded your head, "Ah. Is that so? He sounded just like you, too. That's amazing," you said, your tone heavy with sarcasm. Chan bit his bottom lip and nodded, "Ahm, very amazing," he replied, having the same tone of sarcasm. 

You sighed and smiled, "Bestie between the both of us. You're the one who needs to get bitches," you said, faux sobbing. Chan blinked, "Wha- Why?" he asked, his face in disbelief. You faux a frown, "Because if you're writing imaginary sexual songs. Then you're basically me just song edition. One of us gotta not be a virgin in this friendship," you said, wiping your faux tears. Chan scoffed, his eyes wavering, "Of course. The stuff I write is definitely about someone, not creative freedom at all," he said, nervously laughing. 

You gave him a deadpan look, "You're a terrible liar," you said, cupping his cheeks. Chan frowned and looked up from his seat, "You're one to say," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You pulled away, "So, you really want someone to ride you, huh?" you asked, crossing your arms. Chan gulped, "Writing about riding is easier in terms of metaphors!" he exclaimed, shaking his fist. You scoffed, "Sure, if it were one song. I'm pretty sure you made like three," you said, squinting at him. 

Chan pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, "Fine! You fucking cunt, yes! Maybe I fantasize about myself getting rode . It makes a good song and it spurs the fans on. Are you happy now?" he huffed, cheeks flushed with blush. You nodded, "Pleased. When's the last time you got some anyway?" you asked, setting your stuff aside. Clearly, this was more important than assignments. Chan nibbled his lip, "Months ago? I don't remember, I woke up the next day alone with no note," he sighed, brushing his hair back. 

You licked your lips, "What if I rode you? Would you allow that?" you asked, shuddering at his icy look. Chan tilted his head back, "You're tempting a dangerous game, little one," he said, his voice husky and low. You gulped, "I didn't know you have this side," you said, feeling intimidated. Chan chuckled, "Well, you were always my bratty little dongsaeng. There wasn't a need to overpower you," he said, standing up to pet your head. Your breath turned shallow and heavy, "Chris," you whispered, not knowing how to proceed. Chan noticed your dilemma, "Say please if you want me to take care of you, baby. Say no if you want me to stop. It's up to you, little one. I'm only here to provide," he reassured, stroking your hair. His fingers lightly brush against your cheek. You shuddered, looking up, "Please. Please take care of me," you said, your voice breathy and needy. Chan smirked, holding your chin, "Of course, anything for you, baby," he said, booping your nose. 

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"You're too big in this position," you whined, trying to ease yourself down his cock but it kept slipping between your dripping folds. Chan chuckled, "Baby, I already fingered your cunt open with four fingers, I'm pretty sure you're letting it slip away on purpose," he teases, lightly tapping his cockhead on your clit. You're mewling at the stimulation, "Help me? It's scary on my own," you sniffled, arching for his cock to fill up your ribbed walls after the long dragging foreplay his fingers teased to loosen your tight cunt. Chan hummed, aligning his leaking cockhead with your slightly gaping hole, "Deep breaths, little girl," he growled, hearing the audible crude pop of your cunt accepting his girthy tip. 

You whimpered against his chest, slowly easing yourself lower and lower down his hot veiny shaft. Chan kissed your hair, "That's it. You're so close, baby. Another half more," he said, rubbing your waist. You lifted your head, "This is only half?" you whined, feeling so full. Chan cooed, gripping your hips, "Let me help," he chuckled, bucking his hips upwards. "Hah, ah, hah," you moaned, arching your chest towards him. Chan hissed, rolling his hips, "There we go. Down to the hilt," he groaned, stroking your thighs as searing hot walls engulfed his throbbing hard cock. 

You hiccuped, your walls fluttering around his curved length, "Hah, fuck, fuck, fuck. It feels so good," you mewled, feeling the obvious tummy bulge when you leaned back. Chan growled at the sight, “Ah, shit. You took me so well, babygirl. Look at that bulge, so perfect for me," he rambled, his hair matting to his forehead as hot breaths escaped his lips. You lifted your hips, and gripped his shoulders, "Oh, yes. Hah, hah, ah," you whimpered, feeling his cockhead messaged against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Chan growled, watching your thigh trembled each time to fucked yourself down his cock. 

Your bounce's were deep and through, his cockhead kissed your cervix every time you rode. Chan huffed, gripping your hips firmer, "I'm sorry, little one. I know it feels good but fuck are you slow," he groaned, thrusting his hips upwards in tandem with your bounces. You cried out at the sudden thrust, tears dripping down your cheek, "Chris, chris, hah, fuck!" You cried, burrowing your face into his chest as he fucked up into your needy cunt at a relentless pace. Chan nosed your neck, he licked and kissed your skin, "That feels way better, yeah? My big fucking cock pounding your tiny little cunt," he groaned, thrusting harder and faster. 

"Hhgh, hah, more please, ah," you moaned, your eyes rolling back at the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Chan chuckled, kissing your forehead, "Cum for me, little girl. I can feel your needy cunt milk my cock. Your walls are fluttering so fucking much," he said, his voice husky and low. "There, there, fuck!" You cried, dragging your nails down his chest as your orgasm broke. Chan hissed at your scratches, your walls squeezing around his girthy cock, "Good girl," he praised, thrusting through your orgasm. You sniffled, whimpering when he continued, "Too much, Chris," you whined, feeling his rough fingers rub your clit in tandem. 

Chan groaned against your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, "Shit, shit, hah. I'm cumming," he groaned, thrusting deeply one last time before pumping deep within your walls. Another climax broke from you, your ears buzzed from the pleasure. Chan rubbed your back, stroking your cheek, "I'm never letting you go now, little one. The moment you said please means you agreed to the casualties," he whispered, nuzzling your hair. You sniffled, burrowing yourself into his chest. Chan chuckled, "You're alright, baby. It's safe. It's just you and me," he hummed, slowly thrusting his cock in and out of your dripping cunt

AMAB

"You're too big in this position," you whined, trying to ease yourself down his cock but it kept slipping between your dripping ass. Chan chuckled, "Baby, I already fingered your hole open with four fingers, I'm pretty sure you're letting it slip away on purpose," he teases, lightly tapping his cockhead on your rim. You're mewling at the stimulation, "Help me? It's scary on my own," you sniffled, arching for his cock to fill up your ribbed walls after the long dragging foreplay his fingers teased to loosen your tight hole. Chan hummed, aligning his leaking cockhead with your slightly gaping hole, "Deep breaths, little boy," he growled, hearing the audible crude pop of your hole accepting his girthy tip.

You whimpered against his chest, slowly easing yourself lower and lower down his hot veiny shaft. Chan kissed your hair, "That's it. You're so close, baby. Another half more," he said, rubbing your waist. You lifted your head, "This is only half?" you whined, feeling so full. Chan cooed, gripping your hips, "Let me help," he chuckled, bucking his hips upwards. "Hah, ah, hah," you moaned, arching your chest towards him. Chan hissed, rolling his hips, "There we go. Down to the hilt," he groaned, stroking your thighs as searing hot walls engulfed his throbbing hard cock.

You hiccuped, your walls fluttering around his curved length, "Hah, fuck, fuck, fuck. It feels so good," you mewled, feeling the obvious tummy bulge when you leaned back. Chan growled at the sight, “Ah, shit. You took me so well, babyboy. Look at that bulge, so perfect for me," he rambled, his hair matting to his forehead as hot breaths escaped his lips. You lifted your hips, and gripped his shoulders, "Oh, yes. Hah, hah, ah," you whimpered, feeling his cockhead messaged against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Chan growled, watching your thigh trembled each time to fucked yourself down his cock.

Your bounce's were deep and through, his cockhead kissed your prostate every time you rode. Chan huffed, gripping your hips firmer, "I'm sorry, little one. I know it feels good but fuck are you slow," he groaned, thrusting his hips upwards in tandem with your bounces. You cried out at the sudden thrust, tears dripping down your cheek, "Chris, chris, hah, fuck!" You cried, burrowing your face into his chest as he fucked up into your needy hole at a relentless pace. Chan nosed your neck, he licked and kissed your skin, "That feels way better, yeah? My big fucking cock pounding your tiny little hole," he groaned, thrusting harder and faster.

"Hhgh, hah, more please, ah," you moaned, your eyes rolling back at the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Chan chuckled, kissing your forehead, "Cum for me, little boy. I can feel your needy hole milk my cock. Your walls are fluttering so fucking much," he said, his voice husky and low. "There, there, fuck!" You cried, dragging your nails down his chest as your orgasm broke. Chan hissed at your scratches, your walls squeezing around his girthy cock, "Good boy," he praised, thrusting through your orgasm. You sniffled, whimpering when he continued, "Too much, Chris," you whined, feeling his rough fingers stroke your cock in tandem.

Chan groaned against your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, "Shit, shit, hah. I'm cumming," he groaned, thrusting deeply one last time before pumping deep within your walls. Another climax broke from you, your ears buzzed from the pleasure. Chan rubbed your back, stroking your cheek, "I'm never letting you go now, little one. The moment you said please means you agreed to the casualties," he whispered, nuzzling your hair. You sniffled, burrowing yourself into his chest. Chan chuckled, "You're alright, baby. It's safe. It's just you and me," he hummed, slowly thrusting his cock in and out of your dripping hole.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Okay but imagine Bucky on Help you out with that saying “Don’t show your boobs to anyone but me now. These are for my eyes only” or “you only show these to me, alright? No more dares from your friends, no more helping out another man see boobs, unless ofcourse, that man is me. These are mine to mark and see”

as a subtle hint of him wanting to be exclusive 🥹

My Eyes Only » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky makes it perfectly clear that your breasts are for his eyes only.

Warnings: implied Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, pet names

A/N: I’m not taking requests at the moment and I wasn’t planning on making a part 2 to Help You Out With That so I hope y’all enjoy this little Drabble, but I couldn’t resist this so thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

It would be after you came home from shopping with your friends. You walk in Bucky’s apartment and go to the living room where Bucky is. You immediately greet him with kisses. Bucky couldn’t help but notice how revealing your cleavage is in the shirt you’re wearing. He also couldn’t help but feel jealous that people other than him possibly saw your breasts.

“How many people did you show your breasts to?” Bucky asks.

“No one.” You answered.

“Are you sure?” He asks again.

“I showed them to my friends a couple times.” You answered honestly.

“Why?” He asks.

You could hear the jealousy in his voice.

“You weren’t there so I asked them for their opinions.” You tell him

You watched the way Bucky’s jaw clenched when you said that. Bucky grasped your hips and pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.

“Don’t show your boobs to anyone but me now. These are for my eyes only.” He tells you. “You only show these to me, alright? No more dates from your friends, no more helping out another man see boobs, unless of course, that man is me. These are mine to mark and see.” He says.

“Wait a minute… are you jealous?” You asked.

“No.” He answers, lying through his teeth. “Maybe…” He lies through his teeth again. “Ok, fine. Yes I’m jealous.” He finally admits.

You couldn’t help but giggle and kiss his lips.

“Plus that’s my way of wanting to tell everyone that we’re together.” He says.

“You want to tell our friends we’re dating?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to.” He says, rubbing his hands up and down your sides.

“I’m fine with it.” You say, agreeing with him.

Bucky smiles widely and kisses you.

“As of right now…” Bucky’s hands disappeared under your shirt and slid further up till they were under your breasts. “I have more important matters to attend to.” He says, his thumbs rubbing the underside of your breasts and shameless staring at them.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll