#ITS NOT LIKE HE CAN HEAR U SO MIGHT AS WELL BE LOUDER

[chiscaralight]

what's that sound?

includes: nsfw! continuation of my college athelete!choso linked here. vouyerism, oral sex(f receiving), somewhat bottom choso, p in v, unprotected sex, choso is a little pervy, he’s never eaten pussy before either, choso cums from hearing i love u then he gets a little emotional. he’s just a loser!!!!!

word count: roughly 3k

a/n: we r so back!!!!

choso has been at his best since he met you.

ever since you two got together, he's been much different. not just to you—to everyone! there’s a pep in his step when he walks, he’s a little more confident when he talks, and he’s even playing better on the field now! (totally not because he knows you’re in the bleachers and he’s trying to look extra cool just for you.)

and it pains him in more ways than one when he has to stay away from you for so long. with the new league about to hit its peak, coaches are adding in extra hours, school work is getting more and more tasking by the day, and only talking to you on the phone for a couple of minutes and texting the whole day is nowhere near enough for him. even though he’s the one that needs most of the space!

you’re so sweet about it too, assuring him you’d be fine and he has to prioritize his sports career. you still show up to the occasional practice to offer a quick kiss before you go home, and you leave him snacks in his book bag when you see it lying around. you’re honestly such a blessing, why is the world so against the two of you right now?

but a single ray of light shines down on Choso’s dim day when the head coach sends a text that they can have the day off since they played so well in the last game. he’s almost flying out of his class seat right then and there—his mind is going straight towards you.

he feels like shit as he makes his way out of the flower shop; bouquet in hand. it’s not much, but he hopes you find it sweet enough that you’ll forgive him for how long it’s been since he last saw you. he stood there, individually picking out the best blue hyacinths and white orchids from the bunch, all fresh and neatly wrapped as a sort of poetic apology. you might not even know what it means, but who cares? it’s the thought that counts.

and he feels even weirder driving to your doorstep after all the times he’s run there instead. he’s still nervous even after all the times you’ve held him, kissed him, fucked him. you’re just so perfect, who wouldn’t be near pissing themselves right now with you behind the door?

he’s carefully sliding the single key you gave him in, pushing inwards after he hears the soft click. fingers tightening around the paper holding the flowers together, he steps in. empty.

what the hell? you should be home right now. it’s Friday—your classes end early and your favorite podcast should be up by now. but you’re not here.

choso’s brows furrow. He peered into the kitchen and checked the downstairs bathroom, the backyard, and even under the stairwell. nothing.

agitation crawls up his neck as hears a muffled noise from upstairs. it's faint; almost impossible to hear, but he’s sure it’s you.

the staircase is barely creaking as he makes his way up insanely slow. his grip on the flowers are tight, almost inhumane as he’s prepared to use them as a weapon. his steps are quick once he reaches the top, deathly silent but still quick as he closes in on the cracked open door of your room. the noises are getting slightly louder, more frantic and they sound less like pain and more like moans. moans..?

choso’s heart cracks once and he stops dead in his tracks. there’s no way. he knows he’s been gone for a long time, but it hasn't been that long, right? fuck—you said you loved him, you said it so many times, you wouldn’t cheat on him so quick. you wouldn’t cheat on him at all. so why are you–

“f-fuck cho.. miss you s-so much..”

oh.

oh.

oh.

the blood flow in Choso’s legs finally picks up once again, and he’s noiselessly pushing himself against the wall right next to your doorpost. he’s craning his head so far to the side, but he can finally see it. he can finally see you. and holy shit, he might have just cum in his pants.

your legs are spread, bed facing the door as your fingers disappear into your cunt. your shirt–his shirt is pulled up right under your chin, leaving your cute tits out in the open as you harshly tug on one of your own nipples.

the view is stupidly mesmerizing, and choso catches himself just before he starts drooling at the sight of you. he’s not even paying attention to how hard he is, he’s completely entranced by every little action. the way your body is twitching, how your fingers are moving, how your eyes are pressed tightly shut as you cry out his name.

choso is genuinely about to lose it. he just wants to crawl over there and eat you whole, in more ways than one. but he’s practically glued to the spot; he’s even holding his breath just to not ruin the moment!

but he’s getting knocked out of his incomprehensible trance when you let out a particularly irritated groan.

it’s so annoying. you haven’t been able to cum once since your boyfriend has been scarce. it’s not like you tried anyway, you’d much rather have him pump your orgasms out of you like he seemed to love doing. but it’s been so long, and you’ve been so sexually frustrated that you had to turn back to playing with yourself like this.

it’s not that you couldn’t call him, you’re almost a hundred percent sure he’d run all the way to you if he was on the other side of the country. but you didn’t want to bother him too much. his schedule has been overflowing with activities and he’s probably so busy, you didn’t want to seem inconsiderate! so you’d settled on seeing him when you knew he was free.

but this is getting way too bad, and you’re sure you’d start losing sight in your left ear if you don’t get it out right now.

so against your better judgment, you’re using your free hand to reach over to your phone, banking on the fact that his voice will be enough to get you off. he doesn’t have to know, right? And plus, you can always tell him later when you feel less guilty.

it doesn’t take long for you to find his name surrounded by hearts in your contact list and you’re calling without a second thought. it takes a couple of seconds before the line actually starts to ring.

the loud noise from Choso’s back pocket startles him so much that he drops the flowers he’s forgotten he’s holding. he’s silently cursing himself amidst the noise of his phone singing out, and now he’s lost on what to do.

you speak first though, voice breathy and low as you call out his name. he bites down on his lower lip, slowly stepping into the entrance of your room. you bite back a laugh despite the obscenity of the whole thing. he looks like a kid who got caught with their chubby hand down the cookie jar, he’s just way too cute!

“were you watching me, cho?”

almost immediately he’s a stuttering mess of excuses and apologies. he swears he didn’t mean to, he just wanted to surprise you—he just got a little carried away!

and you can’t hide your smile as you shut him up, gesturing for him to come closer. you’re sitting up now, more covered than before as your shirt rolls down.

you pat the space beside you, signaling for him to come over. it feels like ages, almost eons when your bed finally dips from his weight, but he’s still so far away. it’s definitely an improvement from the first time he came over, but you need him much closer than he is.

you can see his body tense up as you shift closer. he’s still avoiding your eyes, finding the floor much more interesting than the face of yours he always says he can’t get enough of. your fingers are giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze as he apologizes once again. you’re not upset. nowhere near even—this might have been the best possible outcome. but if he’s all mopey like this, neither of you will get anywhere.

“y’know, i don’t mind you watching me.”

you can feel him physically cringe at your words, but you’re not done just yet.

“so, you can keep watching me, or…”

his eyes finally meet yours after what feels like an eternity, waiting for you to go on. there you go.

“or?”

“…you can help me.”

quite literally, you can see the gears turning in that silly little brain of his. but he’s choosing to forgo an actual response, pressing his lips against yours instead. you can’t help the moan you let flow out of you, and he’s grunting in response, arms closing around you hard so he can push you onto your back once more.

choso’s kisses are heavy and full of need, tongue dancing around yours as his fingers graze the exposed skin of your thighs. you feel so good under his rough palms, he can’t help but try to soften his touch. he doesn’t want to hurt you! after all, you’re his most prized possession. he has to take care of you in every way he can.

and you’re half expecting his fingers to replace yours as they were a couple of minutes ago, but he’s pulling back with a sharp huff. you’re lazily opening your eyes, gaze connecting with his again as you start to notice the tips of his ears are a burning red.

“can i... i want to taste you. please.

even with his eyes still trained on yours, his entire face is flushed. even after all these months, he’s still as nervous as ever.

you offer him a welcoming smile and nod. he’s clearing his throat as he moves away, making quick work of getting his shirt off before settling between your legs.

and he’s a little overwhelmed coming face to face with your pussy like this. he knows you’re watching him, and he’s watching your essence drip out and down your cunt as he thinks. he’s racking his brain, trying to think of the best way to approach this. but your hand guiding the back of his head closer towards your aching heat is all the encouragement he needs.

once his tongue comes in contact with your slick, his eyes fall shut. you gasp at the experimental licks he’s giving you, warmth of his tongue sending jolts all the way down into your toes as he groans at how sweet you taste.

he’s catching on with lightning speed, lightly dipping his tongue into your entrance between every couple of strokes from his tongue. his nose is bumping your clit just right, and you’re tugging at his hair quite harshly as he continues to suck at your hole.

it’s his tongue going deep into your cunt that has you arching off the bed, nails digging into his scalp as your thighs close around his ears. his strong hands are only wrapped around your thighs, locking you tight in place as he ravages his new favorite meal.

and the tip of his tongue is starting to invade your sensitive spots as he fucks it in and out of you, wiggling it around when he’s sure it’s as deep as he can go so you’re arching high off the bed. you’re desperately trying to push him away—you’re not sure you can handle all this! but choso is too far gone; he’ll apologize later. right now, he’s going to get a fill of this flavor he’s been missing out on for weeks.

but even with your pleas and cries, choso doesn’t stop. you’d think he’d gone deaf from how hard your thighs were pressing on his ears. truth is he can hear you loud and clear. he just wants to make sure he gets every single drop of your release down his throat.

he’s only had a sneaky taste of it after he helps you finish on his fingers. when you’re finally off the high and sleeping wrapped in his arms like a baby, he’ll bring his digit to his lips, childishly licking at them to get whatever remnants are on his fingers onto his tongue. but it won’t be long before pangs of guilt and shame cover him, and his hand will settle right by your side.

but now? there’s no way he’s about to give this up. he can feel it. the way you’re tightening around his tongue, how your moans are starting to crack just like they always do.

and he’s right because your thick release is hitting his throat in no time, flooding his mouth as he slurps up every last drop.

when he finally lets you free from his vice grip, you’re both panting and sweaty. his chin is entertained covered in your release. you can barely keep your eyes open, but you can hear how choso is fighting to get rid of his pants next.

it’s not long before Choso’s lips collide with yours in a much softer kiss. he’s been slightly… satiated. but his boner is getting more painful by the second, and he misses the way you envelop him so dearly.

he doesn’t break the kiss as he hooks his elbows under your knees. he’s pushing up, not stopping u til your calves are rested perfectly against his shoulders. he didn’t know you could bend like that. you didn’t know you couldn’t bend like that. but both of your trains of thought are broken when he finally pushes into you. a short string of curses falls from his lips when you clamp down around him just like you always do.

and regardless of how impatient he’s been all this time, choso never fails to fuck you properly. his thrusts are calculated and deep, each one making your entire body twitch under him.

you never fail to give him the praise he deserves either, telling him he’s doing so well they turn his harsh grunts into weak whines.

but he loses all composure when you call him ‘my good boy’. you can swear you hear him sob, but the noise gets drowned out fast by the sound of skin slapping as he picks up the speed of his hips

your eyes are crossing, fingers dipping into his shoulders when his pelvis starts to brush your overstimulated clit. he’s hitting everything so right, deep whispers of your name breezing through your head as he pounds into you.

you’re practically an inch away from getting fucked into a concussion but it’s the least of your worries right now. you’ve missed this—you’ve missed him. it’s the moments where he’s so raw with you, no masks of shame or fear covering how he truly feels that you love the most. this is the cost that you love.

but you’re still a human being, and one with limits. your orgasm is bubbling hard in the pits of your belly, so you’re tightening your own hold on him, mumbling about how you’re getting close. and you barely last another five seconds before a stupidly broken ‘i love you’ falls from your swollen lips.

those three words are sending choso over the edge so fast he can’t help the strangled noise that comes from his throat. those words are pumping energy throughout every vein of his body, and even through his orgasm, he doesn’t stop his movements. his face is digging into your neck as he rides out the rest of his high, tears dripping onto the skin of your collarbone.

you’re so confused when you recover, that you don’t know what to say! all you can do is shush him, dragging your fingers calmly through his messy strands as you try to calm him down. even through his fit, he’s still apologizing and it breaks your heart over and over. all you can do is press a sweet kiss against the side of his face and tell him how cute he looks with his face all wet like this. then he remembers.

he’s returning to your sides within seconds, setting the bouquet carefully in your arms before explaining what it’s supposed to be. they’ve already been out for quite some time though, so you’ll need to take them downstairs to place in a jar before they start to wilt too badly. but you’re in no state to walk like this.

so choso is scooping you up bridal style despite your protests and carrying you down the steps. he only puts you down to place you in front of the kitchen sink as he moves around to find a suitable container. it’s adorable you think, how proactive he is about this. but he’s done pretty quickly, and all you have to do is lean over the basin and push the jar onto the sill.

which you do with a gasp because he’s pressing onto your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. but that’s not what catches you off guard, it’s how hard he is. and with the way his hand is trailing down between your thighs, you know you don’t have long before you’ll be getting filled up again.

if you think you’ve missed him, you have no idea how much he’s missed you. and even with that, he’s so considerate! he knows how tired your legs must be, so he’s keeping you up with his vice-like grip as he fucks into you from behind right in front of the kitchen window. your brain's been turned to mush a long time ago, you don’t even care if your neighbors see you like this. all that’s on your mind is how bruised you’re going to be when choso finally lets up, and how much cum he can pump into you until he has to go for his next practice.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Could u do a tennis girl!reader x tom and she’s rlly good and playing at Wimbledon where tom comes and watches like the supportive boyfriend he is. Reader gets injured or something and the medics come on court and tend to her and the camera focuses on tom who is very worried. Maybe tom even gets to go on court and holds readers hand to comfort her and this makes fans go crazy. Love ur writing btw 🫶

When in Wimbledon || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

A/n: I LOVE WATCHING TENNIS!!! I actually went to Wimbledon this year and watched Emma Raducanu play so I made her the fc for this!!

Warnings: reader gets injured, idk what else

Wc: 808

Tom Blyth masterlist

divider by @pommecita

You feel a pair of strong hands wrap around your waist as a smile makes it to your lips, his familiar scent hitting your nose as you turn around. “I’m so happy you’re here,” You whisper in his neck, your hands wrapped snugly around him as he rubs your back.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling,” He grins, kissing your head before you go back to stretching with your coach. Tom watches as you stretch your limbs, preparing yourself for the match that was going to begin in 30 minutes.

You kiss your boyfriend goodbye, parting ways with him as it was your time to step out into court—Tom making his way to your player box where he would be seated beside your coach.

You step onto the pristine grass court at Wimbledon, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as you, a skilled tennis player, prepare for a crucial match. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass and the echo of applause surround you.

Tom’s eyes were fixated on you the whole time, his applaud more louder and enthusiastic than everyone else’s. The match unfolds, and you dominate the court with your powerful serves and agile movements. The spectators erupt into cheers with every successful point you score.

Tom can’t help but smile, his eyes filled with pride as he watches you play. The atmosphere is electric, and you can feel the energy of the crowd propelling you forward.

As the match progresses, you’re in top form, moving gracefully and hitting the ball with precision. Tom’s enthusiastic cheers blend with the crowd’s roars. And in a split second—in a misstep—your ankle gives out on you, tripping over and landing on your wrist, the anguish shooting through your body, a light scream leaving your lips.

The crowd falls into a hushed silence as you crumple to the ground, clutching your injuries, your breathing deep and harboured. The medics rush onto the court, their urgency reflected in the worried expressions of the spectators.

Tom’s face tightens with concern as he leans forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. “Fuck,” Joseph, your coach whispers to himself, his hands rubbing his forehead. The camera captures the worry etched on Tom’s face, and the entire audience holds its breath, collectively hoping for your well-being.

The medics examine you, carefully tending to your injured wrist and ankle as they move you to your seat. The pain was unbearable, and you fight back tears, knowing that this might mark the end of your season.

Tom watches with a pained expression, unable to hide his concern. Your coach stands from his seat, your seat was close enough to the players box that you could hear Joseph’s words of encouragement, but it’s Tom who steals the spotlight with his genuine worry and love for you.

Your entire body was shaking as one hand covers your face, tears brimming your eyes. You wanted Tom. You needed him by your side. You knew he would calm you down straight away. “Tom. I want my boyfriend here,” You hold one of the medics arm as he looks at you before nodding, talking into his radio.

In a heartwarming moment, the officials allow Tom to come onto the court. He rushes to your side, his face a mix of anxiety and determination. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as he gently takes your hand, “It’s okay, I’m here sweetheart, you’re going to be okay,” he offers words of comfort that only you can hear. His touch and soothing words calm your racing heart as you struggle to come to terms with the potential impact on your season.

The crowd watches in awe as Tom’s support becomes a beacon of reassurance amid the uncertainty. His caring gesture elicits a collective “aww” from the fans, who can’t help but admire the bond you share. Social media lights up with admiration for Tom’s devotion to you.

As the medics continue their evaluation, the reality sinks in—this might be a significant setback. Your eyes meet Tom’s, and he offers a gentle smile, silently promising to be there through thick and thin. The disappointment is palpable, but the gratitude for Tom’s unwavering support tempers the pain.

The medics advise you to withdraw from the match and seek further medical attention. Tom helps you stand, supporting your weight as you limp off the court. The crowd, initially filled with the thrill of competition, now applauds the display of resilience and love.

You give them a weak smile and wave as Tom remains by your side. When you step into your locker room, Tom assists you with a supportive arm around your shoulders. The pain is intense, but his presence provides a comforting distraction.

Your coach walks in as he engulfs you in a hug. “You’ll be okay, y/n. It’s a setback for sure, but you’ll be okay,” he comfortingly says to you as he hands you a water bottle to which your gratefully take.

You were taken to hospital, Tom still by your side as he held your hand. “You’ll be off for a few months, Y/n,” The doctor gives you a sympathetic smile as you nod your head, tears already blurring your sight.

The second the doctor left leaving you and Tom alone. You broke down in tears. He gave you a hug, whispering reassuring things in your ear. As you sobbed. Your season had been going so incredibly well until now. But you were grateful that Tom had been by your side during the entirety of it.

Y/n_Y/l/n

Liked by tomblyth, wimbledon, rachelzegler, josephmccarty and 8,307,253 others

before wimbledon vs. after wimbledon 🥲 it pains me the I have to miss out on the other half of this tennis season and I tried to downplay the issue so I thank all my fans who continued to support me during this difficult time. I’d like to thank all my close friends and family for being by my side during all of this. I love each and every single one of you 💗

view all comments

tomblyth: you’re so strong ml ❤️

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: I love you.

josephmmcarty: you’ll come back stronger than ever 💪

user92: I was there watching the match live and when I saw tom jumping the gate and rush to her, my heart melted 😭

user10: hope you heal quickly y/n!!!

user56: her and tom are literally so wholesome 🥹 when he was holding her hand when she was in pain, i swear i died of of how wholesome the moment was

user01: such a shame, she was doing so well this season!!! Get better y/n :)

[love-toxin]

#the merchant not being IN the shooting range like he is in re4 gives me thots abt being bent over the counter too-//SHOT #luis promising u a prize if u beat his high score (its him he's the prize)

so u just gonna spoonfeed us some ideas then leave us hungry ⁉️⁉️⁉️ smh my head get to work /j

>:)

(cws: gn!reader, semi-public sex, jealousy, mutual pining, teasing)

You know Luis isn't gonna keep quiet while you're shooting away--honestly he has to stop himself from shifting around or adjusting himself because just the sight of you with a gun in your hands turns him on. He loves the way your shoulders tense when he gives you a compliment, how you glance over your shoulder and your grip goes slack when he flashes you a wink and a grin, because you just can't help being cute. You can act tough all you want, but you're adorable and he thinks you know that. If not, well, he's here to remind you.

"How about some pointers, mi vida?"

"I know how to shoot, Luis."

You huff and puff but you don't reject his approach, you don't shove him off when his chest meets your back and certainly not when his hands clasp gently over yours. You let him lead you, guide your hands up to aim the sights down at the target, and slowly squeeze the trigger-

"You're good at this, mi amor." His murmuring voice trickles into your ear, resonating louder in the aftermath of the enormous bang of the gun firing and the target blasting into pieces. His fingertips drawing down your arm leave shivers in their place, his warmth bleeding into every inch of skin....it's no wonder you lay the gun down and turn to face him, eyes gleaming with something akin to need that your hands convey so much clearer as they drift up his chest. Luis doesn't even have to speak, you can feel his intentions in the way he reaches around to grab for fistfuls of your cheeks, and lifts you up to sit you on the counter so you can look down on him.

"Oh, don't let me stop you. I'm just admiring the view." Such a tease. He's swift in feeling behind you for the gun and raising it up, his free hand coming round to shelter your head in the crook of his neck and cover your ears as he shoots off a few quick rounds. Looking back, you're met with a smoking gun and an empty chamber, plus six new holes in the last six targets you've spent twenty minutes trying not to miss. You roll your eyes and he tucks the gun away in your case lying just off to the side, but even though he's bracing the small of your back as he does so he never lets go of you completely.

"Alright, Sera. You win."

"I win, mmh? Win what?" He purrs into your skin, nosing your cheek just until you turn your head and find your lips barely a hair's breadth from one another. You really have no idea what your voice alone does to him--nor how lost he could get in your eyes and your warm breath on his skin.

"You win....twenty minutes. You can do whatever you want with me for twenty minutes." You whisper back, quiet and soft like you're afraid people will hear you. All your secrets are safe with him, though. They might be the only ones he can keep.

"Anything?"

"I'm all yours, Luis."

Those words could very well be a siren song to him, they're almost toxic in the way they singe their way through his veins and blur any sound thoughts from his conscience. But even poison would taste sweet if he drank it from you, and when he closes that distance to kiss you, that's all he tastes on your tongue. Sweetness.

"I could do damage in ten. You're generous, amor."

His heart soars as you lean in for him again, lips chasing his like that one kiss wasn't enough for you. Usually it's him that's doing the chasing, that's begging not to be let go, praying he's going to be held for longer than a second--you fill that need like it's as easy as breathing, so maybe you're not quite as poisonous as he might've thought. Loving anyone is dangerous for him...especially when he's so quick to realize it's really love, and not just lust.

Time stands still in those heated presses of mouth to mouth, breathing fresh life into his lungs, yet every other moment seems to blur together before he can try to hold it in place. Your clothing spills over your shoulders and down your thighs, bare skin meeting his palms as he vainly tries to consume as much of you as he can. How desperate he is to lower his head and fall to his knees before you, but you pull his face closer to share another kiss instead--and how could he deny you? This prize is meant to be his, but he gets so much more out of allowing you total control over his body.

Luis wouldn't have thought you could get cuter than that, but the desperate paw of your hands at his belt and the strain for more kisses blows that assumption right away. This clearly isn't a one-way street, you've been craving him just as much as he has you. Maybe this is what you were hoping for. Maybe this is what you've been building up to all this time, and why you've made him spend so much time here just to watch your hands fiddle with the trigger of your gun. He'd like to imagine you were envisioning it was him, and based on the confident way you grab hold of him under his jeans, he was right.

"We're short on time, Luis. Let's make this quick." Your lips against his ear as you stroke him feels like a rebirth, his knees buckling and his eyes halfway to rolling back in his head. How can you make him so weak? There's part of him that wishes it wasn't so, but another part shines through in his wobbly grin, one that whispers out 'I want more of you'.

The tips of his fingers part your kiss and dip into your mouth, your tongue like velvet as you suck down on each one. He just needs them wet but you go further; you lap up every ounce of him so all that remains is you. Your scent, your taste, your touch--much like what you do to him each time you brush by, your presence like golden light he can't help himself from basking in, and himself a heathen that craves your glow over salvation.

And as he pushes each one inside, your nails bite into his bare shoulders at the ache, the stretch ripping a gasp out of your lungs that soon dulls into the sweetest whines Luis has ever heard. You're so eager in your touch yet overwhelmed every time he indulges you, so he expects as much when his hand retracts and he replaces it by guiding the tip to your center. Were you really just pretending to be annoyed by him all this time?

Maybe some of it was real, surely, he knows himself well enough to anticipate it. But all of it is called into question when you grab his hips forward, forcing him to yield to your heat when he's entering you too slow for your taste. Now it's his turn to cry out, each breath stumbling on its way out while you pant and press your lips to his throat, his hips sunk all the way down to meet flush with yours. He must be so deep you can feel him in your stomach, and your crooning voice gasping about how big he is reassures him so. Moving feels almost impossible now, and yes, now that he's gotten this far he'd adore nothing more than to just stay in place and bask in your warmth forever. But you're so needy for him it seems, and the last thing he'll do is disappoint you--and that's what draws him back and pushes his hips forwards, your squeaky moans of ecstasy dragging out that animalistic pace he's been keeping locked up for ages.

"Imagine how much trouble we'd get in if Leon found out," He pants with a chuckle, hurrying his thrusts as the urgency of time finally settles on his shoulders.

"I really don't wanna think about Leon right now," You breathe right back, keening out a whine as your body adjusts to both the intrusion and the force of Luis slamming you back against the wood-grain countertop ad nauseum. As childish a thought as it is, he feels a smirk return as he thinks "good". As great as he is, there's a few things Luis would rather not share with that criminally handsome American if he can help it--and you're one of them.

"How's that feel, mi vida?" The sloppy, thumping rhythm of his belt buckle hitting the counter and your body clinging to every drag drowns out any half-whimper of an answer you give, your breathing peppered by echoes of his name and curses that would even make himself blush. Luis brushes a bit of your hair from your cheek and cups it with a ginger firmness, the gesture melting you in his palms as you meet his eyes and think of nothing else but him. Whatever the answer is, he can't imagine a string of flowery words as good as seeing you come undone in front of him. "Feels like a victory to me."

Your groan follows his smug comment either out of indignation or lust, if it even matters. But he's already getting close and he's praying you are too, if for no better reason than his own desire to feel you grip him so hard he bruises as you meet your end. That would be quite the way to show off. And when that blinding pleasure soon overcomes both of you and culminates in a kiss, one so much deeper that means more than either of you are willing to admit, that's when a fresh feeling of pride surges inside Luis as he hears the elevator doors swish open behind him--along with a low, soft inhale of breath being sucked through one's teeth in shock.

[sightofsea]

147 for the ineffable beauties because i’m a basic ass bitch

this took a hot sec but here ya go!

147. "Tell me again."

The bench is in the middle of nowhere. They've been meeting in the middles of nowheres a lot recently: at picnic tables in littered children's parks, on the hoods of cars in empty car parks, inside of a Korean restaurant named Park's in some strip mall in Iowa. This middle of nowhere is a rhododendron garden, tucked away in some neighborhood with just a bulletin board to acknowledge its presence. 

It's after closing, yet the fountain still runs. Probably to keep the pipes from freezing, Aziraphale had suggested, when Crowley asked. And then they talked as they usually have, during these visits: stunted sentences. Business talk, you understand, about the end of the world and such. How to stop it, et cetera. Nothing more, Crowley, you have to understand. This is strictly a transactional exchange.

So they talk business. They exchange things--words mostly--and then as most conversations do, it veers. It twists and turns and does a U-ey until there's a pause. A pregnant pause at that, five days overdue and with ankles so swollen its legs might as well be tree trunks.

The water continues to run. The air smells like rain approaching.

"Tell me again," Aziraphale says finally. "Just one more time."

Crowley considers this. A part of him--a big part--wants to start begging. But he's got to have his dignity, of whatever's left of it. 

"No."

Aziraphale blinks. "No?" he asks, voice pitched high.

"No," Crowley says, shaking his head and licking the front of his teeth. He gives the angel a small, sad smile. "Once was enough, don't you think?"

"Not for me," Aziraphale says truthfully.

Crowley leans back on the bench and crosses his legs. "Too bad, so sad," he drawls, and contemplated the sky above them. Cloudy, heavy. Rain knocking on their door.

He waits for the space next to him to go empty. That's usually how conversations like this have gone as of late. Instead, it's still occupied. In it sits one angel, fidgeting with his hands, blinking rapidly and swallowing. Crowley feels the lady of his dignity start to crumble. "Oh, don't...don't do the--"

Aziraphale takes in a deep breath and steels himself, as if caught out. "The what?"

Crowley groans and gestures. "The eyes, the lip, the--"

Aziraphale starts to wipe at his face, but it only serves to make things worse. "I can't help it, now can I?" he asks. 

"Well why would you wanna hear it again?" Crowley asks genuinely. Aziraphale stares at him in confusion. "Hm? Words all...jumbled and, and half--half something or other. All full of...of..." 

Love. Affection. Care. He tries to remember the speech he gave and comes up empty on the specifics, but the emotions wash over him again. He swallows them back. 

"Can't even get them out now," Crowley says, voice suddenly too small in his mouth. "I don't see the point, really. I said one thing, you said another, and now we're..." He tries to grasp onto some concrete definition of what they are. "...here."

He gestures to the garden. Aziraphale looks around, as if trying to find a response somewhere between the moss and the thick leaves. He fidgets a little more. It takes all of Crowley's might to not curl around him. 

He must find the words somewhere, perhaps under a rock or something, because he stops his fidgeting. "Maybe," he says, anxiously angling himself towards Crowley, "I want a do over."

Crowley's internal organs do a funny thing involving a clove hitch and perhaps a somersault. "A do--a do over?" he stutters out.

Aziraphale nods. "Yes."

"Oh," Crowley says. Then he tries, very very hard, to remember his whole speech. He comes up woefully short. "Um." Come on, think! THINK! "Uhh." Right, okay. He can be smooth about this. "A-Actions speak louder than words, I think."

Aziraphale blinks, and smiles pleasantly. "I happen to agree."

Right. Okay. Jesus--Adam, whoever. Okay, time for action. "So..." Crowley says, and lifts a hand. Towards what, he's not entirely sure. He supposes the other angel's hand--kissing didn't go very well last time, did it? So, yeah. Crowley lifts a hand, and then places over Aziraphale's, and feels like he's just climbed Kilimanjaro.

He looks at Aziraphale, unsure. Aziraphale smiles and also lifts a hand. Now that's interesting, Crowley thinks, triple hand hold. Didn't know you could do that.

He's midway through that thought when Aziraphale's hand goes for his tie and pulls him in lips first. After that, things go a bit fuzzy. There's hands, he knows that. Quite bit of gripping from both parties, and something involving a bit of tongue and teeth that causes his kneecaps to liquify. If actions speak louder than words, then Aziraphale is practically shouting. Crowley happily gets the message.

"How was that?" Aziraphale asks when they pull apart. He hand is still on Crowley's tie. "As a do-over."

Crowley's mental facilities struggle to recover. They aren't helped by the fact that Aziraphale's twirling the tie around his finger. "Wh--uh, hoooo...yup," Crowley eloquently puts it. He clears his throat. "Might, um. Might need a, um. A couple--few more--"

"A few more tries?" Aziraphale asks. 

"Yeah," Crowley breathes out.

Aziraphale takes in a shaky breath. "Well," he says, and starts pulling at the tie again. It starts to rain. Neither of them notice. "Let it never be said I've been anything but thorough."

[rowniebow]

Fic where Peter and reader are already dating and Peter is distant because of his obvious job which leaves reader hurt and angry and starts becoming distant and detached with Peter which causes Peter to get mad and then they fight and peter blurts out “are you cheating on me?” Which causes reader to get furious and start yelling which catches peter off guard and reader leaves, can take the story where you want past this. sorry if this is long and confusing or doesn’t make sense (Tom or andrews pete but you can do Tom if it really matters) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

it can be okay | tom!peter parker x gn!reader

pairings: tom!peter parker x gn!reader

cw: littol bit o angst but not much

word count: 3.4k+

an: went with tom's because i've yet to write abt his peter but i feel like he was left with so much turmoil after no way home, his peter fits well with this prompt...... ANYWAY thank you so much for requesting and i apologize for my absence, esp if u were waiting around for this ! i appreciate you, please stay safe! sry 4 long an

masterlist

⭒

you felt an arm wrap around your waist. warmth and pressure spread over your back. you flipped around to wrap your own arms around the man that had climbed into bed with you.

"sorry," his breath found its way to your ear and pulled the hair on your spine up. his quiet whisper held gravel in the smooth concrete of his voice. "did i wake you up?"

"yeah, i'm glad."

"oh, good. i'm glad i woke you, too. get more time to hear your voice."

you hummed, sleep fighting your coherent words.

"how was your day?"

"it was fine. i missed you for our movie night."

petter stuttered out several different sounds, none of them making any real words.

your eyebrows twitched at his struggle.

"i-i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i completely forgot. i-i-i-i got so caught up with homework i didn't even think... it's that stupid biology class! i always have so much reading to do for it.

"yeah, it's okay," you moved closer to him, desperate for as much of his warmth as possible. "school is more important than movies! let me know next time, though."

"of course," he kissed the top of your head. he lingered with an exaggerated 'mwah'. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart."

you hummed and slurred out a reassurance.

"go back to sleep now, sweets."

and it was okay.

⭒⭒

everything was so much louder when he wasn’t around.

the fridge’s song sung by instruments of kinetic energy hummed at the back of your head. the calm air against the glass window was practically visible with how loud it was. the dust that settled on the marble kitchen countertops and sunk it’s way into the fabric of your couch crunched and stretched the fibers of the masses. you couldn’t seem to turn the television up much higher than seven (you hoped the number might bring you luck to bring the man home).

sure, he’s missed nights that were supposed to be set aside for you two and his favorite star wars films. yes, you’ve noticed how he’s missed more than a few fairly important tests for his classes, causing him to fail (he was beginning to fall fairly far behind in his degree, but you weren’t going to comment on that. not yet, anyway).

but, he’d yet to miss out on a date.

he had yet to leave you waiting at your favorite shitty twenty-four hour diner in the middle of new york that was a forty minute walk from your apartment.

you wouldn’t deny to anyone other than peter that it bothered you a bit. your lip was raw and crumbs from a sad, newly empty plate of fries dusted your nicest clothes that you had put on just for him. your eyes wore heavy bags from how late you stayed up in hope that maybe he was just running a bit late.

however, when a bit late had become two in the morning, you gave up hope on that.

you looked outside at the nearly visible air and listened to the chill of the early morning crack at your window after you arrived back at your empty apartment at nearly three in the morning. you listened to the distant wind against the quickly moving vehicles. you listened to the retreating caw from a bird that didn’t sound like any you’d heard before. you listened to the dust float through the air and the television hum despite it being off. you listened to the deafening silence of the room and your mind.

cold three in the morning apartment air hit the back of your throat as you brought as much of the toxic oxygen into your lungs as you possibly could, and released it to be filtered and given to some other poor abandoned soul.

it was okay.

you understood his forgetful habits. you understood why he slept in and took so many naps. he has a lot on his plate. juggling school, and work, and the family issues that he’s mentioned from time to time.

it is okay.

maybe next time.

⭒⭒⭒

waking up alone after a warm night with peter seemed to hurt more than the missing arrangements.

the apartment's chill leaked under the blankets and burned your skin until you awoke. the emptiness of the space next to you in your bed was a sad physical representation of the emptiness in your gut.

the hole in your stomach that you awake with absorbs all the cereal you eat and leaves you feeling hungry for the rest of the day. it absorbs your joy and hope. it absorbs the warmth in your body (and especially in your smile).

your days are filled with sighs when you wake up with the hole of peter. with those deep exhales, you hope to breath out whatever haunts your stomach.

it sticks with you until the end of the day when you fall asleep alone. peter will climb in after you in the depths of the night and the ocean of your sheets. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear. he'll apologize if need be. he'll pepper you with kisses and hold you close.

and you'll be okay.

then he'll do it all over again.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

it just so happened to be next time.

he promised to make the last time up to you and promised to see you the next friday night for dinner.

so there you sat, leg bouncing under the table at a restaurant that was all too fancy for your taste but peter had insisted on.

you were on your third glass of an odd color wine (that really didn’t even taste good) and you were nearing the second hour of waiting.

“would you like to order yet, sir?” the waiter asked for the fifth time that night.

perhaps it was the alcohol that brought a sting to your eyes when you checked the time on your phone. but you smiled and shook your head and asked for the check instead.

looking at the number on the check, you nearly sobbed at how much three glasses of wine cost you. but you sighed and gave an eighty percent tip anyway as reparations for the waiter having to pity you all night. you almost sobbed, again, when you could hear a couple that had gotten there after you comment to one another about how long you’d been there.

cheeks warm with embarrassment, you made your way back to your apartment. the chill of the late night spring mildly helped cool you down.

the pity in the waiter's eyes and the couple's comments haunted you all the way home. only when you undressed into your sleep clothes and climbed under the covers could you manage to excuse peter's actions.

peter must have simply gotten caught up in homework. he must have just fallen asleep.

it's okay.

perhaps he got the days mixed up and forgot it was friday. or he got his hours for work wrong and he ended up having to work.

it is okay.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you truly didn’t mean to lean away from his kiss when peter tried to wish you goodbye that evening.

but you did.

you leaned away as if it were a stranger that was trying to kiss you. you truly didn’t mean to. you also knew that you truly felt as though it was a stranger trying to kiss you, though.

you knew it hurt him. quite honestly it hurt you, too. whether it was the pain in his features that hurt you or the fact that you felt that way.

either way, your actions hurt the both of you, and you knew you should apologize. you nearly did right then and there.

"are you cheating on me?" the quiet whispers of words that he choked out hit you like lightning. the frown in his lips and the way he avoided your eyes made your heart crack before you could process the words he spoke. his broken voice distracted you from the content it delivered.

you felt your eyebrows pull together at first. you felt the apology creep in your throat and nearly spill out.

his hurt was a new language for you to learn. it forced you to think over each word and remember the meaning of it similar to how you did in spanish class in high school.

and as the syllables set in and your brain wrapped itself through the vowels and consonants, you scoffed. maybe even laughed.

did he really just say that? did he truly feel like he had the nerve to say that?

"am i cheating on you?" a glare made itself comfortable in your features.

it's not okay.

"...no?" peter’s stuttered, hesitant disagreement made his regret in his words clear. but how could you just brush over his accusation?

"peter parker, i should be asking you that question."

"wha-what do you mean?"

"you're the one who's hardly fucking here. you’re the one that’s left me waiting until the morning for you to come around. you’re the one who ‘forgets’ anytime we agree to hang out.”

it is not okay.

“i-i didn’t-,”

“‘you didn’t’ what? remember? show up?”

his silence was as loud as it is when he’s gone.

“where are you all day, peter?”

so

“where are you at night?”

fucking

“where are you right now. are you even here?”

loud.

“get out.”

“what? no - no, please, y/n, you gotta trust me on this.”

nothing is okay.

“i trusted you to be here!”

“i know, and i’m so sorry, but - ah - i can’t tell you. you just-just gotta trust me!”

“no, peter!”

“please, i’ll make it up to you, i swear!”

“you’ve had plenty of chances for that.”

“c’mon, y/n,”

“no! even if you’re not cheating on me, you obviously don’t have time for me!”

“i’ll make time for you,”

“you really should have already been doing that.”

“i’ll make more time for you!”

“you don’t get more time in a day, and you’re not getting anymore from me, parker. christ- are you going to leave?"

"no! y/n, please, let me make this right, i-i can't lose you, too."

"fuck. i will leave then, jesus!"

"what?"

you slipped your shoes on, ignoring his words.

peter called your name as you opened the door.

"goodnight, peter."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you stayed at your parents house for a couple nights then came back to your empty apartment. the silence wasn't as loud as it normally was, but the intensity of the emptiness, both in the apartment and in the pit of your stomach, made up for the lack of overbearing volume.

you went about your life for two whole weeks with that emptiness haunting you. not a word from peter. about anything.

you went to your classes, studied in your room, went to work, came back and went to sleep: the college dream.

you hardly even noticed two weeks had passed with the way you had just been floating through the days.

with your mind blank without the joy and excitement of peter parker in your life, you filled it with the words from your humanities textbook to prepare for a final.

the jiggling of your apartment doorknob cut through the sound of the words in your head. your eyes immediately went wide. the air became thick as you heard the door squeak open slowly but surely.

your breath was stuck in your throat, but you found it in you to pick up your heavy textbook to toss if you needed.

you listened to the door creek shut and click closed.

perhaps someone just mistook your apartment for their own? maybe a new neighbor who's mixing it up? you're sure it's just a simple mistake and not some horrible, evil, scary, stronger-than-you criminal who wants to steal the little bits of items you have. certainly they won't murder you brutally, or kidnap you and sell you.

certainly not, right?

your mind ran wild with what-if's and dangers of the situation. what else was there to do in the face of danger, though? hide under your blankets and hope they don't come in?

no, you'd at least like to look death in the face before you go.

that didn't stop your racing heart and shaking hands, of course.

so you crept around your door frame and down the small hall that lead to your tiny living room. you could hear the person rattling through your pots and pans.

you stood behind the corner, telling yourself it'd be fine.

you can do it. just go and ask what's going on. you're sure this is probably just some huge mix up.

"hah!" you huffed as you turn the corner and toss the heavy book at the person.

they immediately turn around and catch the flying pages. your heart drops to your stomach. your only weapon failed.

"y/n? i didn't know you were home!"

your heart manages to repair itself in your chest as the voice and face process in your mind. "peter?" you practically shriek. "what are you doing here?" a breath (that you were fully aware you had been holding) left your lungs, your hands finding their way to cover your face from the stress.

"i-i-i didn't know you'd be home, i'm sorry,"

"so you sneak into my apartment when i'm not home?" the glare you sent him reminded him how snappy you get when you're upset.

"no, no, no, no, no-!"

your questioning glare had him pause his denial.

"well, yes,"

you groaned.

"but listen!"

"i don't want to listen to you when you just broke into my house, peter!"

"well, the door was open-,"

another groan.

"okay, yeah, i can...see...that..."

"leave, peter!"

"wait, wait, wait! okay, listen," he took a deep breath. "i can explain myself-,"

"which part: when you forgot about me constantly or when you broke into my house?"

"all of it! i can explain and i just want you to know that i haven't been telling you for your own safety."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

"just-just come with me."

"where?"

"it's a surprise!" his apologetic smile willed you to trust him.

you stared at him. his waves framed his face - his hair seemed to grow a lot in the last two weeks. his eyes were a whirlpool that sucked you in.

"jesus, peter." you shook your head, but found some shoes and a jacket to slip on anyway. the bright smile on peter's face made you want to forget about everything.

you followed him down the stairs to the quiet, three in the morning college town streets on a tuesday.

"how far away is it?" you asked. your eyes followed a plane as it blinked through the sky.

"kind of far," he moved in front of you to block your path. "but," he sung his vowel. "i know a quicker way to get there!"

"do we need to take the subway-?" you looked around, only for peter to wrap an arm around your waist. "what-?"

"it's going to be a little scary but you gotta trust me."

"what are you doing, pete?"

"you gotta hold on okay?" he guided your arms around his neck. "trust me, okay?" his sweet enchanting smile encouraged you to trust him despite everything. that didn't stop the groove between your brows from forming, though.

"what-?"

and you were in the air. screaming, obviously. you could hear his reassurance and apologies, willing you to keep holding on.

after several minutes of being in the air and coming to the consensus that you wouldn't fall even if you tried with peter's death grip on you, you took a glance around at your setting.

the street was far below you. cars and lights from down below smiled up and laughed at your fear. apartments on the thirtieth floors were eye level but passed so fast that you couldn't see who resided in them.

"isn't it nice?" peter whispered. he was your only lifeline; the only thing keeping you from falling to your death. "it's so peaceful up here." his quiet words didn't calm your racing heart or sooth your stressed features, but it brought you to stay present until your feet hit the solid ground again.

your legs shook you until your knees met the surface you stood on.

"sorry-,"

"what was that, parker?" you sparse breath made your voice come out as merely a squeak but peter knew all too well that you would be screaming at the top of your lungs if you could.

"it- well- i- uhm," the wind helped you push yourself off of your knees and back to sitting like a normal person rather than someone who thought their feet wouldn't ever touch the ground again. "i'm not really sure how to say this i-i-,"

"peter, i swear to god-,"

"i'm spider-man!" you looked up at his avoiding eyes that were as wide as yours. as if he couldn't believe he actually said that.

"excuse me?" you said after several moments of silence passed.

"i-i'm spider-man," his quiet voice was nearly drowned out by the blowing wind.

you laughed.

his eye brows came together in frustration. "why are you laughing?"

"you're not spider-man."

"i just swung us to the top of central park tower and you're going to deny that i'm spider-man?"

your smile slowly faded as you noticed where you were. that he was right. you were among the stars, the moon within inches of your fingers. the street glowed up at you, laughing once more. the usual honking screams from the cars could not be heard from how high you were. all you could hear was the growl of the wind and peter's shy voice.

"oh my god,"

"no-no, don't freak out!"

"i'm not freaking out, i never freak out. you're just spider-man and that's a thing and we're on top of the central park tower and i could totally fall right now but i'm not freaking out."

you were freaking out.

"doesn't spider-man have webs or something?"

peter stuck out his hand, and a white web came tumbling out after your hand that rested on the ground you still sat on. he tugged at the string that stuck itself to your hand and pulled you up with it. you stumbled into him, his hands steadying your shaking.

"that's insane."

"i know, and i'm so sorry. between juggling school and work and this, it's really difficult to keep track of everything. this doesn't have a schedule and gets in the way of you a lot more than i'd like it to."

"i-i guess i get why you didn't tell me."

a breath left through peter's lips. "i-i put together this as an apology, though." he motioned behind you to yet another thing you didn't notice throughout the stress of it all.

a blanket laid out with food from your favorite take out place scattered all over it. small electric candles flickered around the setting providing as the only light that wasn't coming from the city down below along with his laptop that was glowing and set up to browse through netflix for something to watch.

"i'm really sorry. i'm sorry i'm never there. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you again. i'm most of all sorry that i can't change it."

your eyes met his once again.

"if how i am is too much for you, i completely understand. you deserve someone who will treat you as good as you deserve and who will show up. but i want you to know that i miss you, and love you, and i will keep trying so hard to show up."

"you love me?"

"i-i-," peter's sure eyes suddenly fell to the floor and his hands found the back of his neck. "i mean, yeah," he stuttered. "but like it's okay, like, i get it, you know? i don't-,"

all the fears of being at the top of the central park tower and dating spider-man and what it means to date spider-man left you mind. all you could think about was how much you really did love peter despite his absent habits. maybe even more so now that you knew this huge secret and what that secret told about him as a person.

so you kissed him.

the heavenly feeling of his lips was something you didn't know you missed as much as you did. as soon as your lips met, tears pricked themselves at your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

you were okay.

peter was okay.

you were both okay.

it was all okay.

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @1ischai @djmalik52 @garlicforthewin @cryinked @armand0alg0 @softboi14

please dm me if you would like to be taken off of the taglist

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(FE: Engage) Alear / Crossover Emblem Rings

Honestly, I couldn't really think of anything unique for a reverse situation, so instead, I raise you Alear meeting even more crossovers, cause apparently I can never escape my insatiable hunger for mixing games/show together.

Hope you enjoy, @unknownsymbol367!

Awakening:

(Vander) "Hm. I have never heard of this Emblem, but perhaps we should go ahead with the incantation?"

Alear nodded.

(Alear) "May all your blessings find their way their way to us, Emblem of the Witch!"

From the ring burst forward a giant being of steel, alongside a small red haired girl. She began to panic as her arms flailed in a pattern.

(Suletta) "I-IT CAN FLY! IT CAN DANCE! AERIAL!"

She froze in a pose with arms outstretched, clearly panting and showing signs that she was about to fall over. Which was impressive, given she was just a manifestation and not a physical being.

(Alear) "..."

(Vander) "..."

(Suletta) "..."

Alear and Vander stared at the girl silently, not entirely sure what to make of the situation.

(Alear) "...M-My name is Alear, and this is Vander. We require your help miss...Aerial?"

(Suletta) "U-U-Um...! Aerial is my sister. M-M-My name is S-Suletta!"

(Vander) "Are you alright? You seem to be sweating a concerning amount."

Alear rose her eyebrow in confusion, silently whispering to the side.

(Alear) "...Marth, are you able to sweat?"

(Marth) "No, we're not...Just a moment."

Marth floated over to Suletta, which she recoiled at the sight of him suddenly materializing in front of them. However, the steel giant known as "Aerial" seemed to have its eyes glow in response.

(Marth) "I am Emblem Marth, we are on a mission to defeat the Fell Dragon. May we count on both of you?"

Suletta looked incredibly nervous before looking at Aerial, whose eyes flashed again. Though no one heard any noise come from the being, Suletta suddenly had a determined expression.

(Suletta) "Right, if I run, I gain one. Move forward, and gain two!"

(Alear) "Hah, I think I quite like that saying. We're lucky to have you!"

===

Supports:

===

Alear

(Suletta) "I heard your mother was a wonderful person. I-I'm really sorry to hear what happened..."

(Alear) "Thank you, Suletta. I'm glad you still have your mother, and your sister to support you."

...

(Alear) "Suletta, I swear I'm hearing someone else talk to me whenever it's just us..."

(Suletta) "Hm? Oh, that's just Aerial saying hello! She's louder on some days more than others."

===

Clanne

(Suletta) "W-wow! You're so young! Reminds me of Chuchu..."

(Clanne) "From what I've heard of your friend, I don't want to make her angry...!"

...

(Clanne) "You say you pilot Aerial? That must take an incredible strain on your body."

(Suletta) "I've never really noticed a physical strain on myself with Aerial before. I-Is that normal? T-There's nothing wrong with me r-right?!"

===

Chloé

(Chloé) "You always seem so cheerful when having lunch with us, Suletta. I only wish we could let you have some of the local cuisine as well!"

(Suletta) "T-Thank you for the offer miss Chloé, b-but I must decline! Grilled rat seems..." shudders

===

Rosado

(Rosado) "Aerial looks absolutely adorable! But, I think she could use a few more ribbons on her. What do you say, Suletta?"

(Suletta) "Adorable? I don't think I've heard anyone call her that. Maybe we can spruce the cockpit up? I'm afraid the ribbons might get burnt up by the beams or the thrusters..."

===

Lucina

(Lucina) "Hah, looking at you talk to Aerial reminds me of my own family."

(Suletta) "Do you think my mom can meet yours? I'm sure she'd love to meet them!"

===

Victory Quotes:

"It can fly, it can dance! Aerial!"

"Move forward, gain two!"

"The only result is the truth!"

Awakening:

Alear, Marth and Vander looked at the ring with growing concern. What kind of ring to help defeat the Fell Dragon would be called the "Emblem of Calamity"? And the incantation didn't help put aside fears either.

Alear sighed before he nodded. It's better they have it than the enemy.

(Alear) "Devour our foes, Emblem of Calamity!"

A long black haired woman emerged from the ring, clothes and cape visibly torn as she stoically turned towards the group.

(Velvet) "...Who are you supposed to be?"

(Alear) "My name is Alear. We're on a mission to defeat the Fell Dragon, thus we have summoned you."

(Velvet) "You know my title and you still chose to summon me? You're clearly desperate."

(Vander) "You will not address the Divine One that way!"

Velvet's eyes glanced over to Vander, visibly getting more annoyed.

(Velvet) "If you want my help, then suck it up. Or should I eat you too?"

(Marth) "We can all be friends, Miss Velvet."

(Velvet) "I'm not here to make friends. I just want one person in my world dead...Alear, right? What is your plan for the world once this Fell Dragon is gone?"

(Alear) "To work towards a brighter future?"

(Velvet) "Not dictated by reason?"

(Alear) "Dictated by...? N-No. Peace."

(Velvet) "...I suppose that'll do for now. Let's get moving."

(Alear) "Thank you, Velvet."

===

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "You put up such a harsh exterior, but you're quite kind! I've seen how you speak with Jean and Clan-"

(Velvet) "Tch, I have no idea what you're talking about. Spread any rumours like that, and I won't hesitate to eat you."

...

(Velvet) "I appreciate that you clean your own room despite having servants. Not a half bad job of keeping it tidy, either."

(Alear) "It just never felt right to me, letting someone else do all the work...Y-You're glaring at my bed pretty badly there. Is something wrong?"

(Velvet) "Who ironed your bed? It's covered in wrinkles! You need to properly-..."

(Alear) "Hah, Velvet, it's all right!...V-Velvet? Wow, she's still going on about the proper technique..."

...

Jean

(Jean) "ACK! H-Hi, Velvet...D-Did I do something wrong? You're staring at me."

(Velvet) "...Nothing. Sorry."

===

Alcryst

(Velvet) "I'm only gonna say this once. Knock it off with that self deprecating crap and you mean the world to your brother."

(Alcryst) "H-Huh? But-"

(Velvet) "Shut up and let me finish. In a war like this, you don't know what will happen. So cherish the time you have with him, and remember he'd never forgive himself if you get yourself killed."

(Alcryst) "...R-Right." ...Why did she look so sad saying that?

===

Louis

(Velvet) "...Watch where your eyes wander, Louis, or else I'll gouge them out."

(Louis) "Oh, apologies if I have offended you, Velvet! I was merely observing the way you speak to others."

(Velvet) "Tch, even Phi has more tact than you..."

===

Kagetsu

(Kagetsu) "Ah, thank you for the sparring, Velvet! It was quite the thrill to finally fight you!"

(Velvet) "Hmph. You remind me of someone back home..."

===

Goldmary

(Goldmary) "Have you no shame, Velvet? I must acquire you a new set of clothes this instant! With my taste, you'll be wowing men in no ti-"

(Velvet) "Touch my clothes, and I'll eat you."

===

Bunet

(Bunet) "Why, your recipe has come out spectactularly! How did you acquire such skills?!"

(Velvet) "Heh, I learned from my sister, who learned it from my mother. All of our cooking is passed down. Too bad I can't cook it myself...Not that I could taste it anyway."

===

Victory Quotes:

"No mercy!"

"Show's over."

"Is that all? That was barely a fight."

Awakening:

Alear felt a burning rage from within the ring just holding it. Whoever was inside would make a strong ally indeed.

(Alear) "Receive us, O Emblem of the Dragon!"

A man in a gray suit slowly rose from the ring, turning and cracking his knuckles.

(Kiryu) "My name is Kiryu Kazuma."

(Alear) "Kiryu, it's nice to meet you. I'm Alear, we need your help in defeating the Fell Dragon."

Kiryu nodded and stepped forward.

(Kiryu) "There's room for only one dragon in this world."

Alear awkwardly coughed as Vander and Marth smiled. Straightforward, but he was at least easy to work with.

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "Your fighting style is incredible, Kiryu! Do you think you can teach me some of your moves?"

(Kiryu) "I'm no teacher. And your fighting isn't something to sell short either."

...

(Kiryu) "So, you're a real dragon?"

(Alear) "That I am...Well, rather I'm told that. The Divine Dragon, specifically but honestly? I don't feel that different."

(Kiryu) "I see..." (How did I even get to this point in my life...?)

===

Etie

(Etie) "WOAH! Your muscles are so dang ripped! You gotta tell me your workout regime!"

(Kiryu) "I've never had a woman ask me that before...Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, considering our circumstances..."

===

Alfred

(Kiryu) "Why do you keep staring at my arms?"

(Alfred) "Huh? Oh! S-Sorry, your biceps are massive! Can I feel them?"

(Kiryu) "That certainly explains Etie..."

===

Jade

(Jade) "Kiryu, may I trouble you for your experiences in the...How do you say, yah-koo-zuh?"

(Kiryu) "There's nothing funny about the life we lead. It only leads to misery, so I'm afraid I can't help you with your ideas."

===

Anna

(Anna) "You just throw your money out to distract people?! Talk about a waste!"

(Kiryu) "Aren't you a little young to be worrying about that kind of thing?"

===

Pandreo

(Pandreo) "Holy smokes, Kiryu! You got a KILLER singing voice!"

(Kiryu) "Heh, I've been told I have a passion for karaoke. I doubt anyone understood what I was saying, but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

===

Byleth

(Byleth) "People keep telling me I have a hard to read face."

(Kiryu) "Hm, I do as well. I'm not exactly sure how to change that..."

===

Victory Quotes:

"Want to die? THEN STEP UP!"

"That's rad."

"Kakatte koi!"

Awakening:

(Alear) "Accept our mission, Emblem of the Soldier!"

Electricity shot out of the ring, as a man slowly stood up from all fours, bandana flowing in the wind.

(Snake) "This is Snake. Kept you waiting, huh?"

(Alear) "I'm Alear. We need your help in defeating the Fell Dragon."

(Snake) "Any backup?"

(Alear) "Plenty. You have me, and the rest of the army at your side!"

Snake looked to Alear, Marth, and Vander.

(Snake) "An army, huh? Not used to fighting in a unit this big. But, sounds fine to me. What's my first mission, Colonel?"

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "If I may ask, why exactly do you call me Colonel?"

(Snake) "Feels more comfortable than me calling someone "Divine One" all the time. Besides, you don't like that title much either, right?"

(Alear) "Hah, fair point."

...

(Alear) "You want me to do what in that box?"

(Snake) "Sit inside it and hide. It works a lot better than you think it does."

===

Framme

(Snake) "You know, you remind me a lot of a girl I know named Sunny. She's just as positive as you."

(Framme) "I'll take that as a compliment, mister Snake!"

Lapis

(Snake) "You make your own gear on the field? Impressive."

(Lapis) "Oh, I doubt it's as impressive as anything you'd make, Snake. Mine are just little knick knacks and things to make life a little more convenient."

Yunaka

(Yunaka) "Wow, you're a lot deadlier than you look."

(Snake) "Could say the same to you, Yunaka. You're smart to hide that fact...Even if it is a little obvious."

Zelkov

(Zelkov) "Snake, you are quite the enigma of a man."

(Snake) "Can't say I have a straightforward past. I can probably guess the same for you." ...Why is he speaking like that?

Fogado

(Fogado) "So, you say you don't believe in the supernatural when you see monsters rising up and us using magic?"

(Snake) "In my world, I don't. Here, I can understand the magic at least, so that means I can fight it."

===

Victory Quotes:

"This is Snake, I'm done here."

"Mission accomplished."

"Showtime!"

[blu-archer]

Only fools catch colds

Sickie; Joon

caretaker; Yoongi

a/u - based in that universe where magic and hybrids and all that fun stuff exist, and takes place before any of the other fic's in the universe so we have rm/yoongi roommates living daily life I guess.

No warnings, its all very standard. I don't really know what to label it as..

Purely platonic with the mention of NamJin.

Also did I make Yoongi mildly germophobic - maybe. But read it as you will.

Please enjoy and ignore the usual mistakes! Sorry it's a bit rushed![I am sick and sleep deprived, so it might not be great💀]

word count: 3499

***

Business was slow. Not that anything related to part timing in this half assed antique store was fast, but it was definitely slower than usual. Namjoon had been sitting at the register for the past 2 hours trying to prep materials for potions that he needed to make later and the pounding in his head had yet to ease off despite already having two caffeine fixes since clocking in.

His neck and back ached, most likely from this god-awful stool, and it took all his will power not to text his boyfriend -who unlike him- had a fulltime job and was busy doing ‘proper adulting’ things. So he didn’t really want to disturb Jin, instead he was counting the seconds until Yoongi would arrive to drive them home. He would still technically be on working hours when he goes since he would be brewing potions for clients (a side gig that him and his roommate had recently started up once they’d left the Academy) but at least he’d be at home. Warm, clean, and far more peaceful than any other place he’d ever visited ever since Yoongi spelled the apartment to suppress any unnecessary sounds. 

He sighed, taking a moment to massage at his temple even though it didn’t ease any of the pain. He could hear the shop owner rummaging in the back of the store and the sounds of cars and wind bellowing from outside. Everything sounding louder.

He was bagging up the last of his herbs, dusting off the small bits he couldn’t scoop up when he had to pause with a sudden stuttering breath before crunching towards his lap with a surprisingly damp sneeze. Sniffling with a frown, he rubbed his nose once everything was bagged but was unable to relieve the itch that had rapidly buried itself in his sinuses. 

The fine dust clinging to some of his ground materials must finally be catching up to him. He didn’t have any allergies, not like how Yoongi reacted to dust, but it still left him irritated at times. Now, apparently , even more so than usual. Just one more thing to go against him today it seems.

The gentle ‘ding’ of the shop door opening had his heart skip with the hope of leaving, but he was only met with a wind tousled customer. The first since he’d replaced his boss in the front that morning. Usually he’d be excited for some new interactions to distract him from how positively boring it can get, but he found himself having to force his smile towards the new face as he watched them casually stroll around the store.

“Namjoon-ah?” His boss called from the small office. “Can you run upstairs to storage and grab some of  the new stock that got sent in? There’s some glassware and other collectables in quite large crates, I forgot to mention it earlier.”

Of course he would be given work right before he wanted to leave.

He quickly shoved his bagged materials into his satchel and moved to the storage room after letting his boss know to keep an eye in the front.

It thankfully wasn’t a lot of work, just seven crates that were a lot heavier than they looked, but he was lucky enough that he didn’t have to shelve and price them as well. That of course did nothing to ease his aching muscles and the irritation that the musky air and dust was causing to his sinuses. By the time he’d reached the last crate, he had been forced to start sniffing and rubbing his nose with his wrist to keep his need to sneeze at bay. The last thing he needed was to sneeze when carrying glass down a flight of stairs – he was clumsy enough as it was.

 He had raced through and made it to the office without too much of a falter, dropping the final crate off before he could finally cave. He stared breathlessly into the sharp florescent light until he pitched forward into a fit of harsh sneezes.

“Dust bothering you?”

Sniffling, he nodded sheepishly at his boss who had peeked their head in. He hadn’t meant for the sneezes to come out quite so aggressively and his throat wasn’t feeling too great after that. His head was also aching a little worse than before… The stuffy air of the store seemed dead set on affecting him today.

“Well, it’s a bit early still but your friend is here already so you can clock out and head home if you want?”

“Are you sure?” He asked, wincing at slight hoarseness seeping into his voice.

“Positive. I can handle the rest, then I’ll see you on Friday again. Get some rest, Namjoon-ah.” His boss smiled. “I know we aren’t always the busiest, but you work hard, you deserve a break sometimes.”

Namjoon had a feeling they were talking about resting from his other work as well, but unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility right now.

“Thanks, I’ll see you on Friday then.” He rushed through signing out and grabbed his bag from behind the counter, just barely seeing Yoongi’s familiar bleached blond hair gradually moving in between the shelves of books in the far corner. The warlock had made it a habit to unconsciously search for spell books whenever he saw a collection of books anywhere, even if Namjoon was sure that nothing the antique store owned had anything to do with magic.

“Hey Yoongi.” He greeted as he found his friend. The warlock blinked, then placed the book he held back on the shelf.

“Hey. The car’s out front, there was actually parking there for once.”

Namjoon was grateful that they at least didn’t have to walk far in the wind. Sure he had dressed for the cold weather but he kind of wanted to avoid any unnecessary factors as much as possible.

“Let’s go. I need to get started on some spells as soon as possible. I have everything bagged and ready.”

That put some more speed into Yoongi as they gave a final wave back to Namjoon’s boss before exiting into the cold and running for the car.

*

It was halfway through the drive home when Yoongi finally couldn’t take it anymore. He had brushed the first few sniffles off as a reaction from the cold, but they had only progressively continued, and he could only take so much.

“Are you getting sick or something?”

“Huh?”

“You. Sick. Are you?” He asked bluntly as he sharply took a corner.

Namjoon shook his head. “I’m fine. I think I breathed in some dust from my dried materials and its been irritating my nose a bit.”

Yoongi arched a brow, sparing the witch a single glance before returning his attention to the road. He didn’t see how it could still be irritating him, but alas, he would drop it. With a single tap of his finger on the wheel, the glove compartment dropped open to reveal all the random scraps of things that he hadn’t bothered to clean out of his car yet.

“There’s tissues in there somewhere. Please blow your nose before you drive me insane.”

The words were abrupt, but Namjoon was familiar enough with the warlock to know that his friend was at least a little concerned. Although, the knowledge didn’t stop him from flushing with embarrassment and sheepishly begin searching through the pages until he found a fresh packet of travel tissues, quickly following through on the demand. It helped a little. Namjoon felt a bit more relieved than he had earlier, but he couldn’t help but question the subtle burn that spread through his sinuses.

Maybe he was getting sick… but that surely wasn’t possible. He was constantly taking health potions to prevent that, so it had to have been something else. He couldn’t be sick... But there was nothing against keeping the tissues a bit closer just in case his materials were to set him off later again.

*

They had barely been home for two hours and Yoongi was already calling the workday a colossal loss. He couldn’t focus on the intricate magic that he needed for some of their commissions when there was a mess of a witch attempting to craft just across the room throwing him off with all his barely muffled noises and bad vibes. Even on the best days they struggled to work in the same space at the same time, but Yoongi’s patience was running thin, and they didn’t have the supplies to waste on failed magic.

He'd asked Namjoon earlier when they had first started working if he was certain that he felt alright because frankly, he was looking a little peaked. And what did that dumb witch respond with? That he was fine. Like a liar.

How was he ‘fine’ when he had started to religiously dab at his nose or clear his throat while brewing. He’d never been bothered by the concoctions before, why would now be any different?

The final straw was the sneeze that had ripped out of the younger. He’d successfully twisted away from his work but unfortunately managed to knock one of his completed potions straight off of his shelf with his elbow. It had shattered with a finality that just could not be ignored any longer.

Yoongi didn’t feel even a little bit bad at the exhausted glare he received when he used his magic to aggressively finger snap his projects back into their organised casings before he stormed from his work desk and out of the room. If Namjoon wanted to lie to himself then fine, but not at the cost of their main source of income. Honestly it would have been smarter for him to rest and let Yoongi do his work first since creating potions and charms didn’t rely as much on energies as it did on the three m’s – ‘materials, methods, and measurements’ – which seemed to embody witchcraft.

But since the witch he had once considered a genius was being too stubborn to see that his symptoms weren’t quite adding up to what he had believed them to be, then Yoongi would just have to be the one to step away to work on a new project. The Kim Namjoon care package.

Step one: to the kitchen Their cupboards were practically bare, with the exception of instant ramen so…

Step one: to the grocery store, and then the kitchen.

*

Namjoon couldn’t remember a time where his head had ever felt so heavy. He had taken a moments break at his workstation to just rest his chin in the palm of his hand while his next batch of potions brewed and now he didn’t think he’d be able to lift it when the necessary moment arrived. He would have most likely fallen asleep if it hadn’t been for the slamming of their front door a little while back – Yoongi must have returned from wherever he had run off too.

Yet that still didn’t help him in trying to finish his work. It was as if his energy was being suctioned out of his body and was being replaced with the burning desire close his eyes and succumb to dreams or to fight losing battles against his increasingly irritated sinuses and need to find tissues. He hadn’t, obviously. That would mean he’d need to get up and that only returned I’m to his first problem at hand. So he’d been using his shirts sleeve to lazily wipe or shield his work from any mess, and his nose not very forgiving for it. He didn’t need to look at his rippling reflection in his potion to know that his nose had taken on deep pink hue, that was only reddening further with each sniffle.

This definitely wasn’t a lingering effect of some allergy or dust, and he wasn’t looking forward to annoyed ‘I knew it’ face when he finally admitted defeat. Not that the warlock would rub it in, but Namjoon didn’t particularly like not being right – especially about himself. Which is why he had continued working even when he knew he should most likely stop, Soekjin had always teased him about his fragile pride. Well his boyfriend probably wouldn’t tease him now. Tell him off and completely isolate him from anything productive? That seemed more likely.

Namjoon gave a half-hearted groan and shifted enough to be able stir the gradually thickening solution. He couldn’t quite remember if this was one that was supposed to be a thick consistency, but he sure hoped so. Or else this was going to be all for nothing. He readied his glass jars and then waited a few more minutes before pulling himself to his feet and giving the potion one final stir.

The pairing of the sharply sweet scent and constant wave of steam was making a mess of him. Namjoon had failed to turn away or cover a few too many times at this point but – as unprofessional as this may be – he just couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. His sniffling didn’t stop his nose from running like a faucet as he moved with great effort to try and fill the jars without spilling too much, and even that was asking too much. One surprise sneeze mid pour was all it took for a bit of his potion to seep over the brim of a jar and splatter onto his desk and floor. Another had him knocking over one of the full bottles, then there were hands taking pot and fussily pushing him away into his chair.

Namjoon sneezed the third and – hopefully – final time into his sleeved palms, sniffling deeply and only then looking up to see Yoongi finishing off the bottling with precise ease. He’d made a huge mess, not only of himself but also of their small workspace. The bottle that he had pushed off managed to splatter widely across the floor, even creeping into Yoongi’s side of the room, joining the previous potion he’d knocked off earlier, and his worktable hadn’t been such a mess since his academy days. He was making rookie mistakes.

“What exactly were you trying to make here Joon?” Yoongi muttered, squinting with disgust at the gloopy, pale mixture as he sealed them all. He tried his best to avoid getting any mess on himself but there wasn’t much he could do to avoid it at this point.

The witch wiped at his aching nose with whatever embarrassment he could gather. “Id’s su’posed to increhh’H’NXGSHH – ugh, increase confidence and suh-ahh.. snfff. Success rades.”

“Raids?”

“Rades.” Namjoon muffled a cough and rolled his eyes. “I’m congesded, shud up.”

Yoongi didn’t even try to hold back his chuckle. Sure this had all escalated into something annoying and he still thought it would have gone better if Namjoon had just been honest from the beginning, but it was still a little funny. In the delusional mess of things.

“To be honest Joon,” Yoongi gave everything a once over, finally settling on the poor state of his friend. “I think the only thing this batch is going to be successful for is maybe purposely getting someone sick. Its not the same as the previous ones you’ve made, its not even the same colour.”

Namjoon sighed; he wasn’t  surprised. “I did sdeeze in id more than I should have.”

“That is disgusting. Please leave this house immediately.”

He was sure Yoongi had meant it to be at least a little humorous, but he just didn’t have the energy to laugh along. Everything ached and he just wanted to close his eyes and wake up once everything was over and gone.

“Hey, hey. Don’t go to sleep here, seriously.” Yoongi shook him into awareness, wincing at having to be breathing in his friends germs. He grabbed Namjoon’s arm and led him carefully around the mess of potion and glass and out of the room. “I made you some soup, but I think you should take a bath first. I feel like I should take a bath. My skin is crawling just looking at you.”

Yoongi barely made out the muttered apology as he shoved Namjoon into their tiny bathroom. “Don’t apologise. Just get better, you know I don’t do well at this whole ‘sick’ thing.” Although he definitely handled it a lot better than he used too. 

Yoongi got to work on running a bath, making sure to drop a health potion as well as some menthol dissolvent that Soekjin had made them buy ages ago the last time one of them was sick. He tried to drown out the sounds of Namjoon blowing his nose or coughing into his hand by focusing on the water and his tasks, but he still felt like he needed to disinfect himself. Probably their whole apartment at this point.

“Okay, I’m going to leave it to you.” He switched off the water, stood up and turned to his friend who was looking even more pitiful in the bright light. “Just check the temperature, I think it can go warmer, but I need to go clean our workshop before it becomes a hazzard. I’ll go fetch you some new clothes as well, so just hop in, okay?” He gave Namjoon a once over. “Do you need my help getting undressed?”

“Dno.” Namjoon slowly dragged his shirt off, over his head. He shivered at the open air on his skin but otherwise seemed awake enough to handle himself.

“Okay, well. Scream if you need me.”

*

It had taken longer than he had wanted to clean up the mess his friend had made, but they had made it a rule to not use their magic or craft in each other’s immediate workspaces. It probably wouldn’t even make much of a significant difference, but Yoongi wasn’t going to go against the rules they’d laid down when they’d first moved in together. Space was limited so it was best to respect it no matter the circumstances. It definitely hadn’t been fun though.

If he never touched that potion another day in his life it would be too soon. He’d left the bottles on Namjoon’s shelf after marking them as unusable with his reasoning being a simple “contaminated” and receded immediately to the kitchen sink to scrub the residual potion from his hands. The mixture probably wouldn’t have any effect on him, but he preferred not to think about how much of it had already seeped into his skin. He was already mapping out a lengthy lecture to give his roommate as soon as he was feeling better – although he had a feeling he wouldn’t get very far in the delivery before Namjoon’s boyfriend would but in like some type of defence lawyer. Jin had a weird way of knowing when his attitude was needed, even in the most unserious of events.

“Yoongi?”

He turned his head enough to see Namjoon sleepily pad into the kitchen, clothed in the fresh pyjamas and extra sweater Yoongi had slipped through to him earlier. The witch was a bit worse for wear, almost a complete 180 from the collected Namjoon Yoongi had said goodbye to that morning before Namjoon had left for work.

“You’re alive, colour me surprised.” Yoongi smiled, wiping off his hands on a dish towel before moving on to get some bowls. “I made seaweed soup with some rice, then you should probably take some medicine and go sleep this off.”

Namjoon nodded, not up for any real conversation as he slumped onto the couch that served entirely as their living room and dining area. And honestly, Yoongi didn’t blame him.

Once he was finished dishing up the food, he set the bowls down in Namjoon’s lap and pulled a small table closer in case he needed to put them on a more stable surface at some point. Then with a wave of his hand – the burst of warm magic surging through him both soothing and energising – he materialised one of their thicker blankets and some of the new softer tissues that he preferred and dumped them on the seat next to the witch.

 “You made my mom’s soup.” Namjoon sniffed as he sipped at the broth and Yoongi hoped that it was mostly because of the steam. He couldn’t deal with a sentimental witch on top of a sick one. Especially if they were one in the same.

“It’s good soup.” Yoongi said bluntly, finally sitting down with his own bowl. Then added while handing out some tissues for the younger to take. “I thought it would make you feel better.”

 That brought a small smile to Namjoon’s lips as he replaced his bowl with the much-needed tissues. Already catching hot breath palm as he felt the tell-tale signs of a sneeze coming on. “You’re the best, hyung.”

Yoongi wasn’t quite sure, but as long as Namjoon finally took the time to rest and stopped spreading accidental chaos, then he was calling it a win.

[sonicasura]

Living Legend

" Mountains that scrape the heavens stand tall over the lands, seemingly insurmountable for any creature, however a legend travels along the heavens and earth. A great serpent whose might allows it to travel along the spires to the heavens above

The quake of the Mountains is felt throughout the range, as the colossus ascends up to the heavens. The great spires of land do nothing to hinder the boundless Colossus climb up to the wild blue yonder. The shatter of stone grows ever louder as the legendary serpent coils and constricts the mountains, ascending at great speeds, turning all in its way to rubble and dust and the spires who are weak are soon destroyed by the legend.

At the absolute apex the colossus stops, standing tall above the clouds, eclisping all under it's endless form.

Let it be known to all who ascend these great mountains, that the endless Colossus roosts at the apex of the heavens

Colossus That Roams The Zenith

* Snap*

Rider: Well that's the little poem that goes along for Dalamadur.

The 3 Division thankfully was not stunned into horrified silence like last time with the Vaal Hazak poem, but shock did still adorn the majority of there faces.

Kikoru: So this Monster, Dalamadur, is able to coil around mountains and destroy them, as easily as one would break balsa wood, did I hear that right?!?!?!?

Rider: Yup, a Dalamadur can easily destroy mountains that aren't tough with absolute ease. The mountains that remain standing after a Dalamadur climbs it, are the ones that are super tough and can handle the Dalamadur's strength. It's why the majority of Dalamadur sightings are in the Speartip Crag on Heavens Mount, that area has been shown to be super tough there and hardly buckle to a Dalamadur climbing it.

Izumo: Well damn, thats pretty insane, just how big are those things?

Rider: Well the Guild has been able to record the length of Dalamadur and the serpents size has been recorded to be about 1445 ft long.

Hoshina: THAT BIG, a Monster like that could easily scale a mountain like Mt.Fuji like it was nothing.

Rider: Well there is one other thing you should know.

Hoshina: And what's that?

Rider: That Dalamadur was pretty young.

That got the entire room to flip out

Reno: YOU ARE SAYING THAT IT CAN GET EVEN BIGGER!?!?!?

Rider: Well Yes, two ancient Dalamadur skeletons were found in the Rotten Vale, within the Rotten Vale a Dalamadur skeleton was found that is estimated to be about over 4,000 ft long, however that skeleton was found to be within the depths of the Rotten Vale and on the outside of the Rotten Vale and huge Dalamadur skull adorns the top of the Rotten Vale and winds all through out it and it's estimated to be about over 14,000 ft long, mabye even larger from other estimates taken.

It was once again Reno who broke the silence.

Reno: You do realize that if those estimates are true then that Monster would be nearly half the size of Mt.Everest, mabye even over half the size.

Rider: Well as far as I know it would take a very long time for a Dalamadur to grow to that size and the skeleton has been shown to have been around since ancient times, so for a Dalamadur to be able too grow too that size in this time, would be an insane beating of the odds. So basically no need to really worry and besides hunterers and riders have dealt with worse, so I'm confident that we can come out on top.

When Rider ended up finishing their tiny speech they noticed everyone is now just staring at them

Rider: Why is everyone just staring at me again.... Kafka's behind me isn't he

Kafka to Rider:

Lol There goes Rider again.

I bet the Nakarkos entry would really get Kafka's blood pressure to skyrocket. Nevermind the fact there's an entire region where powerful monsters go to die, how about a monster who lives and wears the bones of its victims? One so dangerous that it sends the Hunter's Guild into high alert should it stray too close.

Rider never thought something could beat the firm grip of a Rajang before. A riled up panic cuddler No.8 says otherwise.

[zorkaya-moved]

' you've made your point... ' he begins amidst harsh breaths, voice ragged, ' ...very clearly! ' that vision she's shown him, zelimir isn't bound to forget any time too soon. everything she preaches is truth: death does equal helpness, as helplessness equals oblivion. to him, losing that which he has grown to cherish, all the while able to do nothing about it, would be way worse than taking a bullet.

' that's exactly why i won't say no, ' he continues, ' whenever it is that i draw my final breath, you better make sure you're there to see it! then, pluck my soul into your hands and see if there's any substance to this farce that i am! ' a smile spreads on his visage, but it is twisted, rotten, a mask for the emptiness that follows him everywhere. ' you know what? you might as well plunge your hand into my chest. just in case! ' zelimir chuckles, opening his arms, as though inviting oak casket to split him open. ' what if i don't have a heart? would you like to check that out, too? i can take whatever you throw at me! ' ( he simply wants to go off the deep end okay kajshgdgfg also can i say i love their toxicity already OOOPS )

@luminaei (thank u for this blu)

How brightly his eyes shine, madness making it clear how much fire there is within that wretched soul of his. Chief of Minos is a curious one, lashing out with Mania louder than the voices of the dead. All because he lives, and he lives so maddeningly that so many Sinners have bowed their heads before him. But she is not one, for she does not care if this world will end in destruction or will follow through to its perfect rebirth. Death awaits all and he, too, will pass away sooner or later. Oak Casket enjoys watching the chaos unfold, listening to sobbing stories and the raging storms of passion from beyond.

Now, Zelimir speaks to her in a way that only a living person can: with passion of life, with hatred for hollowness, with determination of a human. So disgustingly human, so beautifully human, so alarmingly human. But also not at all, a presence and an existence that cannot be easily explained. The voices tell her all about him and what's he done, but also who he might have been. What a unique individual, what a splendid life to make a contract with. He will do perfectly to indulge her apathy, her deathly hold, and her cold touch. Maybe, he'll be the first to finally make her feel warmer in the Romanesque Hall. After all, he cannot change Death's purpose or change Death altogether.

How twisted his smile is, a grotesque piece of art without a doubt. Oak finds herself amused at the sight, stepping closer after making him witness such helpless horrors. He will not disregard his own life, he must not. Do not irritate me so much, Chief of MBCC. Death has not claimed him, but he was oh so close too many times. Twice with how she allowed him to live, salvation through making a contract with Death's visage. His soul is hers and his life (death) is hers as well, everything he is will be hers as every single one who will pass away in this world of Mania. But him she wants the most, the most prized possession and a voice she wants to hear the most when he passes on, finally leaving the shell of his body behind and letting out his last breath. A beautiful day will it be. For now, he must live to gather as much for her as he can.

"Even corrupters have hearts, Chief," she chuckles softly yet darkly, looking at his invitation with a morbid curiosity flickering in the orbs of molten gold. He's been allowed to witness the ichor of Death's gaze, her truth of judgement as she remains in her place, studying and observing (as always, she does not engage with the world of living too much). His smile allures her, reminding her the very reason she broke the rules for him and decided to step into the world of living. He will be hers, it does not matter who wants to lay claim on his soul but it will be hers. She will ensure it. No one will take the dead's voices from the Listener, from the silver-haired undertaker. Zelimir belongs to her and her claim was already staked. "But if you invite me to cross the line once more, I will do so."

The meaning behind her words is understood the second as she cuts the distance between them in too quick of a second. A second and she is so close he could get a much better glance at the manic light in her eyes of gold, the curl of her dark lipstick colored lips, the porcelain and untouched (scarless) skin, and catch the familiar scent of something familiar yet cold.

"So demanding," Oak Casket muses, pleased with his actions despite her scolding words. Her gloved hand is pressed against his chest right where his heart beat, checking for heartbeat and ensuring his life still ticking like untouched clocks. "This beating heart," the Sinner speaks, looking deeply into his eyes with Mania gleaming and her smile growing just a bit wider yet not hiding away the possessiveness once shown previously. "Is mine too. The leader of the Legion may wish to have your life, but only my contract still keeps you here. Never forget that. You belong to me, every cell of your body and your death as well."

The ones who follow the path of Sloth are impossible to change, they will never change and they will never abandon their truth. Their core will remain unchanged no matter the crushing reality. As they are the most stubborn, demanding their apathy to be satiated.

"If someone else wishes to claim your death, I will kill you myself to claim you." A contract with Death cannot be broken. It is a vow stronger than blood, than spirit, than life. It is an immortal vow, a contract that can't be forgiven or forgotten. "This hollow existence, this grotesque beauty that the living you are must not forget it. When all will reject you, I will be the only one to welcome your secrets, your sins, your confessions, and your rage. Only I will hear you past your death, Zelimir." Her touch against his chest is cold, the hands beneath the gloves might be soft but they are cold to touch. And so, Death steps away and swallows her manic state, bringing back the mysterious smile by stepping back, her hand leaving his chest. "Only I will let you be who you truly are. So find me when you want to confess your sins. Romanesque Hall will be open to you, fellow sinner. Live your twisted life to the fullest."

[cloudbattrolls]

E-E-ERROR, ERROR

The following is a slightly edited log between the Guardian Artifice and Vallis.

It looks at him. It sighs, and puts an actual non-aggressive hand to his shoulder.

"Vallis...the truth is, I'm waiting for the Varzims, the same as you. I had hoped you might be...more like me, but you're not. Not really. It's not even your fault. It's not your fault that you don't realize what you say is so irritating, either, because if I explained, it would just lead to more questions, and I would get angrier, and I can't have you or anyone else knowing too much about me."

"So, what you want won't happen." It says, taking its hand away and looking away.

It isn't remorseful, exactly, its expression hard to read as it often is, but it isn't being malicious either.

Vallis is quiet, trying to keep a straight face when Arty explains, but his own powers betray him as the atmosphere darkens around him and his own distraught emotions leak out. Still, he keeps smiling.

"Ah." he says. "So. You are just biding your time. With me. Is that all? I thought there was a connection. And. I probably could! Be more like you. If I knew what ‘being like you’ was. But. I would like to know. What I can know to stop angering you. Since. Well. It’s not very fair, I don’t think. That I keep making mistakes because you will not explain to me. I want to be trusted! But. Not many people do trust me. I've noticed. Aha. Ha."

He fidgets, looking away from Arty as well, expecting it to get upset with him again.

"It's...all." Arty says.

"Of course it's all, don't you get it?" It says, almost sounding desperate.

"I just used you! You shouldn't want to be more like me! There is nothing like me!" It says, voice crackling and distorted, but not angry, simply full of emotion.

It covers its face with both hands, still for a few moments.

"It isn't fair." it says dully in its normal tones. "Nothing is fair. Nothing makes sense. This world is a place of senselessness, but I thought I could at least sieve a few grains of reason from it..."

"I was made to not trust people like you." it says. "Literally made that way. There's no hope, Vallis, just...there's nothing. Go...talk to people who are actually good to you. Go on."

Its hands still cover its face, but its voice is still dull, not angry.

Vallis stays silent and lets Arty get all its emotions out first before he speaks. He keeps his gaze off Arty for the most part, only looking at it when it has a louder outburst. The air is stagnant with melancholy.

Then, after it tells him to go, he finally speaks.

"It’s… Lonely, isn’t it?" He asks, quietly. "Being the only one of your kind. Having few trolls to relate to. I understand that. Even with the Varzims.

I still feel lonely. No one can relate to us. Not even Epsilo, who I am close to. I, ah… Don’t want to go, if you are lonely. Who else do you have? Who is similar to you. And. It could be good to him. If it wanted to. Right? But. I can go. If that is what it really wants. But. If it doesn’t…"

Against any better judgment, he holds out a hand to it.

It goes rigid.

"I don't...I don't...I don't know, I don't...I don't..."

It seems caught in a loop. Its eyes are covered, but if they weren't, Vallis could see there is black and white static in them as Arty runs up against one of the things coded into it, that it can't get around.

It grasps his hand, a little too hard, but then it takes it away, wailing.

"Not you." it says, the voice barely audible as the wailing also happens.

"Not you, not your fault, error, ERROR, ER -- R OO RRRR -- RUN!" It says, louder.

"R R U N - IMPERIAL - RR R U NN - "

Distorted, technologic, as it huddles into a ball on the ground and sprouts a fuckload of heaving blades.

But, for once, Arty is clearly - painfully - holding them back.

"Ah- Arty-"

Vallis starts to stay, concerned by the change in its tone. He lets it take his hand, and is surprised by how quickly it takes it away, but when he hears the wailing he knows something is wrong. He cautiously steps back to give it space, now very worried.

"Ah. Run? To where? But. Is it okay? What did I do?"

He freezes up upon seeing all the blades, and all he can do in response is sprout some tentacles to combat them should it try to strike. He is more afraid for Arty than he is for himself, as he has never seen anything like this and does not know how to respond. He knows he’s in danger, but it looks to him like Arty is hurt as well.

Vallis, a coward who is happy to flee at all times except when it counts, but to his credit he is genuinely fucking terrified and worried that he’s just frozen up.

"Y O - U aRE IDENTI FIIIIED AS a N enEMY iM PE RIAL ATTEMPTING TO COERCE COOPERATION, FL E -- EEE OR DIE" comes the distorted voice.

The blades grow further to mass and chop at his tentacles, their movement jerky and trying to avoid his body as Arty tries to drag itself away, desperately wanting to pull its own punches, but this isn't fully in its own conscious control.

Vallis finally manages to move, holding up both hands.

"Ah! Ah- Wait. Wait. Wait! I was not! Doing that. Coercing cooperation. I was being friendly! Friendly! I'm friendly!"

He attempts to grab at the blades to stop them in their tracks, but most of his tentacles get chopped up in the process. Luckily for him, he can keep sprouting more while the damaged ones regenerate without feeling any pain, but it is still just a mess of tentacles everywhere until there’s a spare moment for them to reattach themselves.

"R - UU U N, Va Ll IS! I don't want - YOU MUST BE - YOU WILL BE - YOU - YO - U -"

With another terrible wail, Arty grabs some fallen tentacles, and jams them in its own writhing, chopping blades. It doesn't do much, but it will at least buy Vallis a few seconds of distraction, which he's going to need, because Arty is starting to form, while still being a writhing mass of blades, into something that will attempt to fucking vaporize him.

Vallis knows that he should run, and would very much like to run, but he’s still frozen in fear.

"Ah. Ahaha. I'm sorry. Arty. But. I can’t. I'm. Quite afraid. And. My legs aren’t - "

But Arty’s final wail and attack knocks some sense properly into him- or, at least his horrorterror side, as The Slumbering Ones figure out that their vessel is about to be fucking Vaporised and takes control.

His troll form completely collapses in a panicked scream, and, now completely terror, tentacles reach out in all directions to both create distance and escape but also try to block any blades that try to chop it up.

A song fills the air, one of both a warning for Arty to stop what it is doing, but also one of Vallis’ own fear. Should Vallis be able to get away, he will make a temporary retreat into the ocean.

The warning is accepted and returned with understanding, as Arty has one last trick to play, allowing Vallis to escape. It isn't an eldritch sensation building in the damp air. It's something one might describe as the opposite; something so of this world, so solidly real, its presence is still heavy, as if it is pressing down on your back and shoulders.

As Arty's wails turn instead into a keening, whispering prayer, there is, like a lightning flash, a brief and brilliant moment where a column of vast translucent vertebrae can be seen in the spot where the security system originally huddled down, extending up to the sky.

And the blades, as one, the weaponry they're forming - crack and disintegrate in myriad lines of light, blinding and shining - and with a sigh, there is nothing left, except the still troll shaped form, splayed on the ground.

It is cold. The guardian of this body is no more.

Its purpose served, protecting Vernrot from the consequences of what it knew would happen should it destroy Vallis. For there is one thing more important than destroying the empire, and there is a higher power than its protocols that it answers to.

The Reverberation does not cease its attempt to flee, but it is keenly aware of that feeling of Something warping the air around it, distorting the song The Slumbering Ones sing through their vessel. Despite having no eyes, it is briefly stunned by the light, screeching as it fears what may become of it and the construct it - Vallis - sees as a friend. But, as the light dies down, so too does its song.

The Reverberation's body reaches the ocean, where it collapses into for respite, tuning into The Slumbering Ones' whispers in an attempt to calm the frightened mind of its troll self that still exist within the depths of its eldritch form.

This whole Ordeal would actually prompt Lucy to investigate, although Vallis will be unreachable for the time being, staying in full horrorterror form at the bottom of the ocean as he lacks the mental energy to shift back.

Only his mournful song can be heard amongst the waves, whispering apologies to the construct, that he didn't mean to do what he had done.

[bullshit-bulltrue]

so science lab was fucking insane today bc we had a substitute .

i had to be mean to someone, almost got hit with a chancla, found out a guy i liked in elementary has a crush on me, and i ended up falling asleep in the midst of it all

and bc i wanna type the rest in a weird format, here u go:

me: *leaves at the end of class* *goes to locker bc holy shit i just found out a guy likes me* *gets pissed bc shit don't be adding up* *contemplates why he would like me* lowkey gets mad 💀* *screeches + punches my locker and leaves a small dent* (...oopsie) *closes my locker and takes a deep breath*

ben: *pops up outta nowhere* (awoop jumpscare) (but in a good way) hey! *does a lil wave*

me: hi!

ben: yo your class was REALLY loud. we could hear you guys all the way from our room.

me: yeah it was ten times louder inside.

ben: damn

*pauses for a minute bc we kept bumping into each other since everyone else is fucking bumping into us*

me: hey did Mr e. play the gummy bear song for you guys and make you all dance?

ben: yeah *kinda embarrassed*

me: i figured, i heard it playing from the hallways lol

ben: well you guys were way louder lol

me: yeah its bc we had a sub

ben: ohhh that makes sense

me: everyone went crazy i swear. people running everywhere, almost got hit with a chancla

ben: wait what?!

me: yeah someone took aaron's slipper and threw it over my head. that was fun.

ben: oh wow

me: surprised i got out of class in time

ben: why's that?

me: oh i fell asleep and barely woke up before the bell

ben: you can fall asleep in there??? it was fucking loud

me: yeah, i can fall asleep if im tired enough

ben: wow

*we walk out the building doors and head toward the front of the school*

ben: hey did you finish the english essay?

me: i haven't even started it

ben: oh i finished it already

ben: ah..

me: yeah its due tonight so i'm just gonna scrape smth together

me: that was a joke. um, a bad one. it's not that hard, so i'll finish it up in no time. besides, we only have to write like 2 paragraphs minimum

ben: uhh yeah i *might* have written a more than two paragraphs..

me: what, like four?

ben: um.. more

me: seven? six?

ben: one less

me: five? omg, good job

ben: and i'm thinking of coloring in the drawing too. aiming for that extra credit 😎 but idk yet (he was joking. our school doesn't allow extra credit)

me: thats good! and hey as long as you have some pretty solid writing, i wouldn't worry too much about the drawing.

ben: yeah. oh and uhm i'll show you my writing tomorrow (we have english Okay!

me: okay! *about to leave*

ben: wait a minute! i actually have a picture of it saved, because i sent it to [insert persons name i dont remember]. *shows me the picture of the writing and drawing* me: wow, that's really good!

ben: yeah i actually don't know how many paragraphs that is lol (he didn't use indentations) and i still don't know about coloring it in

me: i'd say that's about 4-5. and, as i said, don't worry too much about coloring it in. you have a good amount written, so you should get a solid grade on that. and the diagram for your drawing looks good. if anything, maybe highlight the main parts. so it's bold you know?

ben: okay, thanks!

me: yeah, anytime! ever need help, just ask.

ben: okay!

me: see ya later!

ben: yeah, bye!

so yeah <3

also i figured out what was different abt him

so yk that part where ur hairline ends? yeah he got it. it was bugging me all day bc I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was different lol

[cxrruptedhxpe-blog]

*BEN voice* I think I love you.

    “You may think so, but I actually do love you.”

     The words felt so familiar. She smiled towards the sky again and started crying once again.

   “I love and your stupid fucking personality!”

[delaber]

The Massage (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Despite the ache in his thigh, Bucky has been avoiding the new massage therapist for quite some time now.

Note: Okay, so due to an unnecessarily hot gif (and I mean unnecessarily hot), the original post with this story was unfortunately put in tumblr jail last night. This is a repost of that story. Please help me by spreading this fic even if you've already reblogged the original. I'd appreciate it immensely ❤️

Warnings: Smut, smut, and purely smut - with a plot! Pining, teasing, edging, Bucky is highly stimulated from his massage. Slight age kink and with a fluffy ending.

Words: 6.1K

For five months, Bucky has avoided coming here like the plague. He has made up excuses, hid in his bedroom, tried ordering all sorts of remedies online, and has even resorted to massaging the aching thigh himself, but of course Sam - the rat - had eventually had enough of his moaning and complaining, and had told on Bucky first chance he got.

Bucky knows that his annoyance towards Sam is uncalled for - that his thigh has become a nuisance, a reliability that is keeping him from performing as well in the field as he used to, but even though he has long since realised that the strain in the muscle will feel a lot better after just a few rounds of professional massage, he's still been praying every night for it to go away on its own just to avoid finding himself in exactly the situation he's in now: visiting the in-house massage therapist who also happens to have his heart beating a little faster every time she smiles at him. You.

He knows there's no way out, that he eventually has to knock on the door in front of him and step inside your office, but his heart is racing like crazy in his chest and the jump from the window right next to him might not result in a particularly comfortable landing but it will definitely be more comfortable than the hell he surely will release upon himself when he feels your touch. It's a professional setting and the things he wants to do to you are fucking far from professional! He shouldn't even be having these thoughts; you're friends - colleagues even - and he's so much older than you. It's... creepy.

"It's just an hour, it's just an hour," he closes his eyes and breathes hard, hopes it's enough to calm himself down and forget about all the wonderful self-relief sessions he's had with you painted on the back of his eyelids. "- you can behave yourself for one hour..." he sighs and reluctantly releases the tense muscles of his right arm so the closed fist falls forwards and hits the door in front of him with a bang much louder than intended.

For a second, everything goes quiet.

He hopes it's because you have forgotten all about the appointment Sam fixed between you a few days prior, but then he hears shuffling on the other side of the wall, and it doesn't take long before the door with your name written on it swings open and reveals your bright smile that immediately warms up his abdomen.

"Bucky!" you exclaim happily and make room for him in the doorway, "come on in!"

"Thanks..." he mumbles more grumpily than intended and steps inside the dimly lit room that smells like flowers, warm citrus and that massage oil that has made your fingers more softer-looking than anything he's ever set his eyes on before. It's a setup for failure.

"I'm so happy you're here! I was wondering when you'd finally stop by," you chirp happily from behind him and even though he can hear the question in your voice, he's not about to answer why he hasn't sought your help sooner. "Sam tells me you pulled a muscle in your groin a couple of months back."

"Yeah," he clears his throat and avoids looking you directly in the eye, "it's no big deal, it'll heal..."

"I kinda figured you'd say something like that," you happily tilt your head to the side and search his face, "why don't you strip down to your underwear and I'll take a look at what I can do to help you."

Oh doll, you can do so much to help me! He clears his throat and bites back the unwelcome thought as he quickly pulls off his shirt and jeans.

"Okay, so tell me," you smile at him when he sits down on the massage bed and spreads his legs out to the sides so you have easier access to the affected area. "- exactly where is the pain located?"

Ready to get this whole ordeal done and over with, he quickly points to the area on his inner thigh that feels as if someone's plunging a knife deep into the tissue every time he takes a step forwards. "Right here - but it's really not a big deal. You don't have to do this."

"It's my job," you chuckle sweetly before you direct your gaze down to the area surrounding his groin.

Immediately, Bucky can feel his face grow hot as your beautiful eyes visually inspect the skin right below the hem of his boxer shorts, and he has to keep himself from instinctively closing his legs shut in silent embarrassment.

"Hmm, you do look a bit tense..." you scrunch up your nose in concentration and the warmth in his stomach deepens. You're way too cute for your own good. " - I think I'd like to start off by loosing up the muscles around your hipbone. Could you turn around and lie down on your stomach please?" you ask and look up into his eyes with a cute little gaze. He's never had you this up close before and it's definitely doing something bad to him.

"Yep," he croaks and immediately turns around so his burning face meets the hole in the mattress below him.

He can hear you squeeze out a gentle amount of massage oil from a tube next to the bed and you heat it up by rubbing it between your hands while he with closed fists and hypervigilant senses braces himself for the inevitable touch.

"Alright, Barnes. I'm gonna start touching you gently now," you say in a soft, professional tone and he cannot help but squeeze his eyes shut. "- don't worry, it'll feel good."

"Yeah," he clears his throat and desperately focuses on his jumping nerves to try and get them under control. Your words of comfort are not exactly reassuring when 'feeling good' is exactly what he's worried about...

"Here we go," you conclude in a quiet sing-song voice right before you gently put your hands on his upper thigh and start running your fingers over the tight bundle of painful muscles. It hurts at first but after just a few seconds of your fingers on his skin, he can feel the tightness slowly disappearing.

Professionally, you massage the aching tissue deeper and deeper, and Bucky feels how his jaw slowly eases up in time with the tension of his thigh. Your fingers are dancing over his lower half, squeezing the tight muscles and caressing his skin, and it doesn't take long before your warm fingers and the citrus in the air send his protective parades crumbling. Suddenly, his thigh doesn't really hurt anymore and he's so relaxed that he let's go of the tension in his shoulders too and his eyes automatically close shut without warning. A slow song is playing soothingly from somewhere in the room and while your fingers are working magic on his tissue, he feels himself disappear into it.

Your hands are slowly moving from the middle of his leg to the area right underneath the hem of his boxers, and your oily fingers suddenly slip down to his inner thigh where they warmly start kneading the skin.

You move his leg a little out to the side and briefly press in on a point near his crotch that has him soaring! Sweetheart, it feels so good, he almost groans and melts into the mattress when he suddenly feels a stray finger touch an even more sensitive area on his already burning skin. Ah fuck! He has to stop himself from whimpering as your warm palms soothe his sore muscles while the soft pad from your stray finger gently rubs and touches the sensitive spot on his gracilis muscle right where it attaches to the back of his pelvis. Shit, he feels amazing! He just wants your soft, oily hands to stay on him forever! Just wants them to rub and tug and slip further and further down between his thighs until they eventually slip inside his boxers and feel the warm, pulsing area where he really wants your touch! And if he's lucky, you might just ask him to flip around onto his back so you can climb on top of him in your cute little uniform and pull back the skin at the tip of his cock with your hands. Or your mouth. Or your glistening, tight, wet pussy. Fuck!

He hisses.

Involuntarily, and because he's so relaxed, he's accidentally managed to excite himself a little too much and now there's nothing he can do to stop it! He wants to - but oh God he can't! So when he feels the blood rush from his stomach and down to the only region he does not want it right now, he can only lie there and panic in silence.

He feels himself grow hard in time with his blurring vision and he wants to tell you to stop your motions, to let go of him and leave the room pronto, but how the hell is he supposed to do that without giving himself and his treacherous dick away? You can never know the effect you have on him! You're so sweet, and so young and innocent, and he's almost fucking forty! Fuck, he's sweating like crazy!

Blissfully unaware of the inner battle going on inside Bucky's head, you keep massaging his thigh heavenly, and even though he tries so hard to think of something else - anything else! - he can only think of the soft touch you're providing... Your hands are so warm and so oily and he's growing harder and harder by the second while your innocent fingers dance only mere inches away from his not so innocent erection.

Fuck, fuck, fuck what the fuck is he supposed to do now?

"Barnes, are you okay?" You ask him gently and slow down your movements so your hands almost come to a halt when you feel him tensing up, "- do you want me to ease up a little?"

"No, no, it's fine," he breathes and feels a fresh surge of blood streaming down to his crotch when your fingers stroke his thigh affectionately to get him to relax. As long as he stays on his front, it shouldn't be an issue. He has time to make the raging boner go away before you ask him to turn around.

"Okay, good. Let me know if you need a break," you hum and touch him gently while he thinks of baseball, of cold cups of coffee and stale crackers, of Sam's oldie slippers and the stain on the floor below him - anything to try and control the relentless erection that is pulsing and screaming and begging to be touched!

But no matter how hard he tries, his erection won't calm down. Not when you're touching him so sweetly.

"Alright Barnes," you say after a few of his panicked minutes and slowly take a step backwards. "Could you turn around for me please?"

Fuck...

He opens his eyes and fixates his gaze on the stain below him as his face heats up. "T-turn around?" he gulps and feels how his entire body suddenly seems to be impatiently pulsing along with the prominent erection.

"Yeah, I'd like to take a look at your groin now that we've loosened your muscles up a bit."

Jesus fucking Christ, he's sweating balls! How's he ever going to recover from this?

"You know what? It already feels better thanks!" he tries and hopes he sounds convincing and not too panicked.

"Yes, well you've been lying down for twenty minutes," you chuckle, "- it'll come back as soon as you start moving, trust me."

"I can always come back tomorrow if it acts up again."

"We both know you won't..."

"No, I promise. It already feels so much better!"

"Barnes, what's wrong?"

Fuck, there's truly no way out...

"Sweetheart," he clenches his eyes shut and prepares himself for your terrible reaction to what he's about to confess, "I have a bit of a - uh - a... problem..."

"A problem? What kind of problem?" you sound concerned, and if it hadn't been for the horrible situation he's in, his chest would've probably swelled with pride that you care for him.

"It's a - uhm, shit - it's a... guy's problem."

"Oh?" You become quiet for half a second and he can practically hear how the gears in your head turn until the penny suddenly drops. "Oh!" you let go of him as if you've been scorched by fire and he suddenly feels so much worse. Poor woman.

"Yep," his voice is thick and awkward, and he wishes he had jumped out the window when he still had the chance. Now he's gonna scare you away for good and it's all Sam's fault!

"Hey - hey, it's okay," you reassure him softly and put a hand down between his shoulder blades when his entire body goes rigid with shame. "Barnes, it's a perfectly normal reaction to a massage in that area! Please don't feel embarrassed about it - you're not the first client in here who's been experiencing a problem. Sometimes it just happens."

He feels a weird pang of jealousy when he thinks about how your sweet, innocent hands have made some of his male friends at the compound as raging horny as he is right now. He doesn't have the heart to tell you that it doesn't have anything to do with the massage itself and everything to do with the person who's giving it.

"Come on, just turn around for me, okay? I won't hold it against you. I know it's nothing personal."

But it is, he thinks to himself before he with a tight-lipped smile and clenched jaw turns around on the massage table. He knows you well enough to know that you won't let him go before you've looked at his thigh.

He gulps when he sees how tightly his boxers are draped over his hips and the massive erection is standing like a fucking pole vaulter in the air between you. "Jesus fuck, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," you smile professionally while looking anywhere than directly at his embarrassing vulnerability. "Maybe it's better if you sit?"

"Yeah, yeah maybe," he sighs in defeat and swings his legs over the side of the mattress as he pathetically tries to readjust himself so the erection tucked inside his grey boxers does not look as prominent as it did while lying down.

"You good?" you ask when he stops shuffling and he quickly nods in return. "Good - you wanna continue?"

Not really. "Yeah, whatever."

"Alright," you step over to him and professionally fix your gaze on his thigh, "could you spread your legs apart a little?"

"Sure," he does as he's told while clearing his throat, pretty sure that his entire face is currently a mixture between plum- and beet-coloured.

"Let me know if it's too much, okay?" you smile reassuringly and slowly reach your hands forwards.

"Mm-hmm," he clenches his jaw shut to avoid involuntary sounds when your small fingers finally touch his thigh again and you quickly resume your massage with a professional expression slapped across your face.

Carefully, you move the hem of his boxers a little upwards and squeeze out a gentle amount of massage oil into the palm of your hand before you make the mistake of looking him deep in the eye as your fingers find his skin again. The look you're sending him is giving him goosebumps and you gulp and briefly look away when he involuntarily hisses at the touch.

"Barnes, you - uh - you want a towel or something?" You ask and he can practically hear the discomfort in your voice.

More embarrassed than he's ever been, he looks down at himself and notices how the entire front of his boxers is now soaked in pre-cum. "Oh god!" He instinctively pulls his hand over to cover up the huge wet stain and feels how his ears grow impossibly warm. "Fuck, I am so, so sorry."

"It's okay," you hand him a small white towel to cover himself with.

"God, I'm so fucking embarrassed," he drops the cloth down into his groin and wishes he could disappear down into the mattress instead of facing this absolute hellish nightmare! "You must think I'm such a creep..."

"No it's alright," you smile sheepishly and start working on his thigh again, clearly feigning a professional attitude.

He sighs. He cannot believe he's doing this to you.

"Barnes don't worry, okay? I know you're a nice guy."

"Still..." he clenches his eyes shut as your small fingers find one of the sensitive spots on his inner thigh underneath the hem of his boxers and has to lock his jaw to avoid giving out a groan.

He can hear how you chuckle lightly from behind the stars that are blinking on the back of his eyelids.

"I'm glad you're amused."

"Sorry, sorry," you snigger softly, "I've just never seen you this discomposed before. I'll be quick so we can get you back to your room to take care of it," you joke to diffuse the tension.

"Yeah, thanks," he gulps and feels how yet another drop of precum leaves his leaking head when you press in on the spot again. He's so turned on he can feel his nostrils dilating, his thighs shaking, and he just wants to fucking reach inside his underwear and fuck his fist until he comes! God, this is so much worse than anything he could've ever imagined! He's going to kill Sam for this!

"Wow, you're really having a hard time," you smile a little to yourself as you steal a glance up at his pained expression.

"Give me a break, sweetheart," he groans with eyes snapped shut in embarrassment, "Your lubed-up hands are basically on my crotch and let's be honest," he gulps and slowly opens his eyes again, "- you're not exactly displeasing to look at."

Your eyes widen slightly at his confession before a proud smile tugs the corners of your mouth upwards. "What Barnes?" you chuckle proudly to yourself, "- you like the way I look?"

"Come on, don't pretend you don't notice half the guys here staring at you."

"Okay you got me there," you laugh sweetly and direct your attention back to your steady working hands, "I have noticed a few stray glances here and there - I just haven't noticed any from you, so yeah, I'm a bit surprised."

"Well, you can take this as confirmation that I like looking at you too," he awkwardly points to the throbbing erection between you. He figures it's better to discuss the elephant in the room instead of ignoring it. Maybe you can have a laugh about it later...

God, he hopes so.

"Hey, come on," you tilt your head to the side when you see his pained expression, "stop beating yourself up. It's a relaxed atmosphere in here and with the aromas and the music, I understand that some guys let go. It's completely normal."

"No, sweetheart, it's not," he sighs. "I don't know. At least not for me."

"It's not?" You chuckle while still working on his thigh.

"This has never happened before, I swear."

"So the fear of getting an accidental erection isn't the reason why you've avoided coming here?"

"No, sweetheart," he sighs and adjusts himself on the mattress, "it's not."

"So -" you bite your lower lip and fix your gaze on an undefined spot on his thigh to avoid his eye. "- if I understand you correctly; what you're basically saying is that you're hard because of, well, me?"

"Yep," he sucks in a breath of air when he feels your movements still and he braces himself for the angry rejection before he looks over at you. You're staring at him wide-eyed and doe-like with your mouth hanging a little open, not sure how to respond to his confession.

"I'm sorry," he croaks, "you must think I'm a total asshole..."

"No, no, no, not at all..."  you shake your head and clear your throat while sending him a nervous glance. "I think you're quite cute, actually..."

His mind goes completely blank. He's been called many things in his life, but never that.

"...cute?"

"Yeah," you nod quietly. "I - uhm - I guess I've been having this teensy tiny crush on you so - uhm - yeah," you smile, all flustered, "- you know."

"You have a crush on me?"

"Yeah," you scrunch up your nose and lick your lips. "I mean... look at you," you gesture to nothing in particular, and he can feel his chest go all warm with pride as you look him over.

"So you're not freaked out?"

"No, no not at all," you admit with a shake of your head. "You've been driving me up the wall for ages, you know."

"I - I have?"

"Yeah..." you nod, "I've actually been hoping you'd stop by here so I'd have an excuse to, you know, touch you," you admit and now it's your turn to look embarrassed. "It's wildly unprofessional, I know."

"No, no you're good. You're being very professional about... this," he nods while pointing to his crotch. "I swear, if I wasn't so insanely attracted to you, I wouldn't be so... bothered."

"Yeah, you do look a bit flushed," you give him a crooked smile.

"I know..."

"So..." you bite your lower lip again and move in close enough for him to hear your heartbeat, to suddenly smell that you're aroused too and it's driving him absolutely insane! "...I have a crush on you," you stroke his thigh affectionately, "- and you have a crush on me."

He nods and scoots a little closer to you, careful not to scare your hand away from its close proximity to his crotch. "What are we gonna do about that?" he pants and puts a hand to your face, stroking your cheek and hoping to dear God that you'll let him kiss you.

"I don't know," you whisper and lean in close, stopping with your lips mere inches from his and with huge doe eyes staring straight at him.

"My god," he groans and runs his thumb over your cheek again, "you are beautiful," he whispers and slowly moves his face until his lips finally come into contact with yours.

The kiss starts off slowly. Bucky is careful not to pressure you into anything and simply just concentrates on the feeling of your impossibly soft lips on top of his. It's pillowy and wet, sensual and sexy and he's strung along, never wanting to let go of you.

"Peach," he whispers when your mouth strays away from his and starts moving down his jaw and throat. "Peach, you don't have to do this. Please don't feel pressured into anything just because I'm excited okay?"

"I'm excited too," you whisper and carefully place your hand on the tight bulge at the apex of his thighs so a bolt of lightening shocks through him. "- my excitement is just not as visible as yours," you place a wet kiss on top of his jugular. "You don't have to go back to your room to take care of this, you know," you bite back a smile as you stroke over his tight balls so his Adam's apple bounces uncomfortably in his throat.

"Sweetheart," he pants, not sure if this is really happening or if the sudden rush of blood to his crotch has him imagining things.

"I can help you..." you say quietly and move your palm over him so he gives out an involuntary groan.

"Doll," he sucks in some air and stutters his hips upwards, silently begging for more.

You understand his cue, and you lean in close so you can lick the shell of his ear as your fingers find their way underneath his waistband. As soon as your oily fingers come into contact with his burning skin, he can no longer hold back the moan that's been sitting on the edge of his throat for a good half hour now and he once again stutters his hips upwards when you close your fist around him and start stroking him slowly.

"Sweetheart," he groans against your skin and you give out a noticeable shudder when his hands snake under your shirt so he can caress the soft skin of your stomach. "Oh my God!" he whines and runs his nails over your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"You like this?" you whisper and tug his earlobe between your teeth.

"Fuck yes! I've been thinking about touching you since the first time I saw you."

"Yeah?" You pant against him and reach down to cup his balls with one hand while the other continuously strokes up and down his veiny shaft. "Been thinking of me all wet and naked for you?"

"Fuck," he whimpers and finds your pebbled nipples underneath your shirt and roll them between his fingers. "Yes."

"What have you been thinking about?"

"Your mouth," he breathes and pinches your nipples between his fingertips, "your slutty little mouth. All wet and tight for me."

"My mouth?" you giggle against him and gently bite down on his earlobe so he gasps loudly, "want me to make your little fantasy come true?"

"Oh god, yes doll! Please," he whimpers and you immediately drop to the floor between his open thighs, sitting on your knees and strutting your ass as you grab him by the root, rubbing his cock over your cheek and lips as he whines above you.

"Is this what you wanted?" you send him a wide-eyed look while your pink tongue finally pushes past your plump lips and lick the underside of his almost purple head.

"Fuck! Yes, yes doll! Please suck me" He hisses and feels his toes buzz when your tongue slowly runs over the slit at the tip, "ah baby!" he groans and watches how you flatten your tongue and wetly licks him all over his leaking head. "Please put me in your mouth, please!"

"I like you begging," you pant and lick him from root to tip, ending the long lap by closing your lips fully around him.

"Oh god, oh fuck," he shoots his head backwards, never looking away from the angel between his legs. Spit and precum is running down the side of his shaft and he swears, he's never felt this amazing before. He's about to explode just looking at you!

"Mmh," you hum around him, sending beautiful vibrations through his cock and all the way down to his balls.

"Look at you," he groans sinfully and notices how you clench your thighs together when he reaches forwards and strokes your cheek, "such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Are you getting all wet as you suck my cock?"

"Mmh," you nod with a muffled confirmation as your plump lips slide from base to tip and back down again.

"Ah - shit doll," he hisses while completely giving himself into you as he grabs your chin and strokes you affectionately.

"Mmh, Bucky," you whisper his name so sweetly and move your face so you can lap at his balls.

He throws his head backwards as your tongue stroke over the tight skin while your hand pumps him slowly. "Jesus fuck sweetheart," he moans and puts a finger under your chin forcing you to look back up at him. "Get up here. Now!"

Excitedly, you give him a hard suck before your let go of him with a soft pop and obediently oblige his command by climbing up on the mattress next to him.

"Mmh, look at what you're doing to me," he chuckles and leans in close so he can finally taste your lips again. Immediately, your tongue is inside his mouth and it's so wet and so warm that he grows even harder even though he didn't think it possible.

His hand snakes under your shirt again and you give out a small whine when he pulls it over your head.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he pushes your breasts out of your bra and starts toying with your nipples. "It's crazy," he mumbles as he lies you down on the mattress and sucks your perky nipples between his lips, swirling his tongue around the bud.

Immediately, you arch your back and give out a sinful moan that reverberates through the dimly lit room and vibrates around his tighter than ever balls.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers against your skin and moves to the other nipple while his hand finds your panties underneath your white skirt. "God, you're already so wet for me," he whimpers and pushes his fingers underneath the hem of the soaked fabric so he can touch your warm skin.

"All for you," you arch your back and moan when he pushes two fingers inside of you, moving them rhythmically so they squelch and squeeze around your g-spot. You whimper and close your eyes, enjoying the sensations he's sending through your body, the tingle of warm flames that lick at the bottom of your spine.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he repeats and licks your neck, "You deserve it."

"I want you inside of me," you moan and tug at his hair, the sensation deliciously toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

"You want me to fuck you?" He whispers and drags his teeth over your collarbone while his fingers pulsate inside of you.

"Yes!" You whine and pull at his hair again as a particularly loud moan escapes you.

"Oh sweetheart," he groans when his fingers slide out of you to the tune of a disappointed little whimper falling from your open mouth. "Don't worry, I'll fill you up," he kisses your collarbone and looks down between your sweating bodies as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes himself half inside, giving himself a second to get used to the tightness that you provide. "Oh god," he whispers and pushes himself a little further inside, "fuck you're so sexy!"

"Fuck me, Bucky," you reach up and caress his chin as you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his ass and pushing him closer to you.

Suddenly, he's buried to the hilt. "Fuck me," he whispers and starts moving rhythmically to the sound of you squelching around him. "You are so fucking sexy!" He bites your nipples again, moving his hips slowly, sensually. "It's been so goddamn frustrating pretending that I'm not attracted to you when all I've been wanting to do is fuck you in every possible position around the compound."

"Yeah, think of what the others would say if they knew about this."

He gives out a whimper and can feel himself twitching inside of you at the thought before he starts rutting his hips faster, his hips snapping relentlessly into yours.

"You like that?" You smile naughtily and grab his ass, "you like that you're not supposed to fuck me?"

"Yes," he admits with a grunt and rolls his hips sensually, desperate for more friction.

"You like that I'm so young?" You clench tightly around him. "Wow, imagine what Sam would say! He would be so angry, you know that!"

"Fuck!" He gasps and falls forwards so his metal hand lands beside your head. He's close now, he can feel how every muscle of his body tenses up and he knows he just needs a few more snaps of his hips and he's coming - so he pulls out.

Panting relentlessly, he looks down at his throbbing dick, concentrating hard on not cumming all over the beautiful woman in front of him who's still whining and begging for his touch. "Not yet, not yet, not yet," he pants to himself and takes a deep breath before looking back at you. "Shit, you are so beautiful," he licks his lips and fixates his glance on your tiny fingers disappearing inside yourself.

Without thinking, he immediately falls to his knees on the floor beside the mattress and starts planting small, peppery kisses to the insides of your legs. You're soaking wet, moist all the way down your thighs, and he scratches his beard along the soft skin as he pushes your small fingers away, instead introducing his own digits and tongue to your swollen clit. "Mmh, baby," he mumbles against your wet skin and licks you all the way from hole to clit, giving the latter a hard suck that have you trembling above him.

You're tugging at his hair with one hand, pinching your nipples with the other as you arch your back and moan his name in time with the fingers he's thrusting in and out of you while lapping at your sex.

"Bucky, I'm so close," you whimper with eyes closed, your chest rising and falling in steady beats underneath your soaked nipples.

"Come for me," he whispers against your skin and ruts his hips into nothing while his fingers and tongue are working you expertly.

Your moans are rising in pitch and he can feel how you clench more and more around his fingers until it's so tight he's almost pushed out of you. "Bucky!" You half-moan,  half-scream as you fall over the edge burying your fingers in his hair and - oh God, he's cumming too!

Without even being touched, cum is shooting out of him and pattering all over the linoleum flooring below his knees while his fingers and tongue are buried inside of you, and you pull so sweetly at his hair in desperation.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He grunts and ruts his hips into thin air as he keeps cumming even after you've released your hard grip around his hair. "Oh my god," he shoots back his head and can feel a drop of sweat trickling down his temple when he finally comes down from his high again. "Oh shit, oh fuck! Sweetheart, I - I just came all over your floor."

"It's okay," you smile blissfully and remove your fingers from his scalp, "I'll clean it up before... shit, SAM!" your sit up straight, eyes wide with horror. "Shit!" you hiss again and immediately scramble to the floor, looking at your watch and collecting your clothes from all over the room. "I have Sam coming for a massage in three minutes!"

"Not the kind of massage I just had, I hope" Bucky sniggers and quickly wipes up his cum with the towel he'd used to cover his erection.

"Don't worry, those are reserved just for you," you chuckle and pull your shirt over your head.

"I sure hope so," Bucky smiles boyishly and dresses quickly, stealing several glances over at you as you fix your makeup in the mirror in the corner. "Does - does Sam get erections when he's here?" he asks. He cannot help himself, he has to know. The thought alone has his guts squeeze uncomfortably at his insides.

"Are you kidding me? Sam sees me as a little sister, he would never!"

"Yeah, true," Bucky chuckles in relief and pulls on his shoes, "...Hey, uh, I don't know about you, but I really enjoyed this."

"Me too," you turn around and smile blissfully at him, "very much."

"You wanna - you wanna do it again?"

"Yeah," you snigger and lean your hip against the table he had you naked upon no more than a couple of minutes ago, "yeah, I wanna do this again! I think maybe fixing your thigh is gonna be a long process!"

"Yeah?" He smiles broadly at the joking expression you're wearing, "Same time tomorrow then?"

"God, yes! Can't wait," you laugh and give out a happy sigh as you cutely bite your lower lip. "Now run along before Sam comes barging in!" you chuckle, "I thought you wanted to keep this secret."

"Yeah... at least for a little while," he shrugs and feels his head go dizzy when you smile broadly at him.

"See you later, Barnes."

"See you sweetheart," he chuckles and winks at you before he's out the door.

As soon as he steps into the cold hallway, he's met by a sour looking Sam who's occupying one of the chairs outside your office, his arms crossed firmly around his chest as he angrily stares at Bucky. "How long have you been here?"

"I came ten minutes early," Sam hisses through gritted teeth and Bucky can almost see the angry fumes radiating from his friend's scalp. "- what the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Bucky, you better not be doing what I think you just did in there!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Man, what the hell is the matter with you?" Sam stands up, his angry vein already popping threateningly above his temple.

"What? You're the one who said I should go see her!"

"Yeah! For a massage!"

"I did get a massage!"

"Jesus Christ, Bucky! You're old enough to be her granddad!"

Weirdly enough, it just turns him on even more.

Tagging: @natbarnes1917 @summerofsnowflakes @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @anxietyandtacos @maggiebuchanan @justsebstan @eddiestrash @crushedbyhyperbole @buckysdollforlife @getofffmydick @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @wermoewe

[xkotaro16w]

Can I request a scenario of What leona would do if his s/o just came up to him one day and just straight smacked his ass, would they be able to walk away safely-?

—𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚊 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝙱𝚞𝚝𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙶𝙽!𝚂/𝙾—

Summary: Scenario/short scenario where Leona gets smacked on his butt from his S/O.

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x GN!S/O.  

TW: N/SFW, blood, fingering, dirty talk, spanking, begging, bruises, degradation, semi public, grammatical error, OOC.  

A/N: A LATE B’DAY PRESENT 4 THIS BOI MUEHEHEHEHE EAJBWGJABWGAWGMJBAWJG (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ I GOT STUCK WHEN I WROTE THIS BUT HEY, IM BACK AGAIN ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ ALSO IM BUSY W/ MY RL RN- BUT IT’S OK EHEHEHE, DID I MAKE THIS 2 MUCH? HOPE U LIKE IT-

Strolling around the school ground to reach the Botanical Garden is one of the daily activities of the dorm leader of Savannaclaw. The lion beastman opens his mouth involuntarily with a prolonged as he walks with leisurely pace.

As soon as he arrives at the Botanical Garden, one of his hands pushes the glass door to get into the garden, with the main purpose is to take a nap. At least, that’s what he was aiming for from the very beginning.

Several noises make his lion ears move rapidly, along with a presence and its scent coming closer and nearer to him. Before he could turn to face the person, a palm lands on his butt harshly until it creates a loud sound that reverberated throughout the garden.

His tail becomes straight as a ruler, a small and low gasp escapes his lips, not too loud but loud enough for you to notice. In mere seconds, his face turns around to see who the hell did this shameful action against the second prince of the Afterglow Savannah.

“Oi! Why the fuck did you-“ Before he could finish his sentence, you turn around as if you want to run away and don’t want to take a responsibility towards your own action.

His face glowers, his brows almost touching each other, yet his eyes don’t show any anger, still dangerous for an herbivore like you. A palm suddenly grabs and squeezes your upper arm to stop you from escaping.

A pair of emerald eyes are staring deeply at you, the lion looks at you with great concentration as if you are its next meal. Your eyes couldn’t take it off, you swallow hard enough for him to hear.

“Where do you think you’re goin’, herbivore? Aren’t you a bold one? Smacked a prince’s ass as if it was nothing and ran away. Do you know if you hit a royalty, you need to be punished?” Leona proceeds to slam you against the wall and licks his lips.

Before you could explain to him the real purpose of you smacking his butt, a large palm grasps your neck to keep you still and he smacks his lips into the crook of your neck, bites it hard, hard enough to bleed.

His other hand roams your entire body, starts to unbutton your shirt and teases your sensitive nipples. He peeks at you while you're trying to hold back your moans, someone might come to the garden and hear or see the two of you fucking in a broad daylight.

You could feel his grin on your shoulder as he marks you more. His large palm starts to move downwards to tease your genital, as if he’s trying to make you moan louder and louder, loud enough for the whole school to hear it.

Two fingers enter your hole in a slow pace, teasing the hell out of you. He knows it very well; you’re actually really want it that bad since you smacked his ass. Leona smirks wider and approaches your ears.

“So fuckin’ wet, is that why you smacked my ass?~” his voice is getting deeper and huskier, making your hole twitch, this man realizes what he did to your hole.

In between your moans, you try your best to tell him to stop teasing you and just make you cum already. How needy, you make the lion laughs at your sweet beg. It seems like his herbivore just want to have their hole full with his manhood and cum.

Leona sticks out her fingers which makes your hole feels empty. When he holds your hand, he changed the position so your chest is touching the wood and your back is facing him. He himself is also impatient after what you did to his butt.

You glance out from the corner of your eyes and see him starting to unbuckle his pants. You’re staring at his manhood too much that you’re even very surprised at him snapping his hips and stretches your hole with his huge manhood in an instant.

“Sl-slow down~” A tear comes out from your eyes when he immediately pushes it in wholly.

What a shame, you couldn’t hold back your moan anymore, because of the way he pounds into you from behind roughly and fast. Your body jolts with pain and pleasure when he spanks your ass twice harder than when you did to him.

Another tear streams on your face and makes your cheek wetter. What a perfect sight for the lion beastman. One of your hands grip his hand, scratches his skin until it leaves bruises because you couldn’t control yourself again.

Quivering and letting out loud moaning noises that sounds like a perfect melody to his ears. The way you clench and tighten around his manhood make him go feral. His hand clenches on your hips and sinks his nail into it, leaving bruises.

“Fuckin’ herbivore, rutting for my cock in a midday with no shame~” He hisses and spanks your ass once more.

Straightening his back and thrusts furiously into you until you cum. After another few thrusts, his juice fills you up perfectly. A warm, thick load. A deep growl escapes from his mouth and chest, his lips make its way to mark the last mark on your neck.

“Don’t you ever smack my ass like that again, herbivore.” Giving you a warning that the next time you do that again, it's going to be much messier and rougher than this.

I DO NOT OWN TWISTED WONDERLAND & DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS.

[notanotherreidgirl]

ok so imagine that u and virgin!baby boy Reid are roommates (you share an apartment and ur rooms are right next to eachother) and he can always hear u moan every night that you play with yourself, but he feels to guilty to do anything about his little ‘problem’. and suddenly one night he’s like super horny and jerks off, not knowing that you’re awake and can hear everything. you try to drown him out until you hear him moan your name, so you go to his room and slowly open the door so he doesn’t hear you and when he feels you on the bed he’s super apologetic but you’re like “it’s okay baby boy😏” and he’s like “please mommy let me make you feel good🥺” and even though its his first time hes so good and when you let him fuck you hes so whiny and needy 😩😩😩😩

We Shouldn't

Warnings: loss of virginity, masturbating, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), perv!spence, sub!spence, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 1444

A/N: I embellished a bit - apologies

Spencer made life or death decisions nearly every day. He had to carefully craft his words when talking down unsubs and be able to assess dangerous situations in seconds to decide whether or not to shoot someone but now, when faced with a relatively simple choice, he was completely stumped. He had been rooted to the spot for nearly 20 minutes, unable to process the sight before him.

In his defense, Spencer had very little experience with women’s underwear and certainly no experience with something like the lacy little number you had left in the dryer. At this point, he had spent so much time staring at you that he knew without a doubt that they were yours. He also knew that he most definitely should not be picking them up right now or putting them in his pocket or running out of the laundry room and back to his apartment without putting his clothes to dry. And he most definitely should not be stashing your panties in his bedside table. But, alas, should not is not the same as did not.

For example, he should not watch you from his window when you went off on your morning run clad in running shorts and a tank top. He also should not linger behind you in the stairwell, eyes glued to your ass as you bounded up the stairs. And he certainly should not listen to you get yourself off at night but he did, even going as far as to take down his framed map and press his ear up against the wall. Spencer’s only saving grace was that thus far he had managed not to touch himself thinking of you, the overwhelming guilt forcing him to take a cold shower instead. But tonight was different. Tonight the panties in his bedside table were beckoning him as he ate leftover takeout, calling his name as leafed through books he’d already memorized, burning a hole through the wooden drawer as he slipped under the covers and listened for you on the other side of the wall.

There’s no harm in just holding them, he reasoned. The next thing he knew the panties were out of the drawer and in his hand and his pants had somehow slipped to mid-thigh in the process. This could be fine. I’ll find a way to give them back tomorrow and no one will know.

And maybe, just maybe, if Spencer was a man of more restraint he would’ve gotten away with it but he was not. He could hear you getting ready for bed, singing quietly to yourself. It was oddly intoxicating to know that you were going about your business, completely unaware of him and convinced that you were operating within the privacy of your own home.

Except you weren’t ignorant of your next door neighbor. Thin walls worked both ways and you could hear his soft moans reverberating into your own bedroom. You sang a little louder to drown him out, guilt eclipsing your excitement. You had often wondered about the young doctor next door - always coming and going at odd hours, never meeting your eyes or bringing anyone back to his for the night. He was so nervous around you, it made you wonder if he’d ever been with a woman but you shook the thought from your head. I should not be thinking about my neighbor’s sex life or lack thereof.

Just as you resolved to go in the kitchen and leave him in peace you heard it. It was unmistakable. You stilled listening intently, half-convinced your imagination was playing tricks on you as it often did. But there it was again clear as day. “Fuck, Y/N”

You were an overthinker, always going over your options rationally and hardly ever comfortable with making spur of the moment decisions. But you were out of your apartment in seconds, using the spare key he had nervously entrusted you with weeks ago to slip into his place. A little voice in your head tried in vain to talk sense into you. You should not be breaking into an FBI agent’s apartment.

If only should not was the same as did not.

He had his back to you and you took the opportunity to perch yourself on the edge of his bed, the shift in the mattress finally alerting him to your presence. He whirled around in alarm and instinctively tried to hide himself and the stolen underwear, already soaked in precum and wrapped around his erection. You tilted your head slightly, trying your best to hide a smirk. “I thought I heard you calling for me”

“I-no-I can explain,” he flushed a deep scarlet, his futile attempts to conceal his predicament were only making it worse and there was no way he could come up with a plausible explanation with your eyes on him. The panic rising in his chest swelled - the feeling that he had ruined everything starting to trigger an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

You softened your gaze, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s ok, baby boy”

Just then, something changed. A switch flipped, a light came on, a natural dynamic fell into place. Very gently you took his hand, forcing him to uncover himself.

“Wouldn’t you rather the real thing?” With that you trailed his hand up your thigh and to your soaked core, letting him skim his fingers over the wetness between your legs and take in the notable lack of panties.

“I-uh-yes, but-” he stopped for a moment, searching deep within himself for a shred of courage before blurting out the rest. “I’m a virgin”

Much to his surprise, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead, you sunk down on your knees and ran your hands up his thighs. “Well then, we’d better make this extra special”

You replaced his hands, taking hold of his cock over the panties and setting in with a deliberate pace before running your tongue over his balls. You toyed with the soft flesh until you felt his thighs tremble and the whimpers he had been trying to suppress spilled from his lips. Once you were certain he had abandoned any sense of restraint you started to suck on his balls, relentlessly pulling him into your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. At this point he was incomprehensible, any words he might have said being carried away by the sobs working their way up his throat and the tears streaming down his face. Just when you were sure he’d come you retreated, pressing sloppy kisses down his thighs and removing your hands from his cock.

He whined. “Please, Mommy. Let me make you feel good.”

You pushed yourself up and into his lap, taking your shirt off in the process and cradling his face in your hands. “You think you can make Mommy come?”

He nodded into your chest, capturing a nipple into his mouth and instinctively sucking on it. You guided his hands to your waist and you lined yourself up with his tip, slowly sinking down and adjusting to his size. He gripped your waist tightly, willing himself not to come as he watched himself disappear into you. “All right then, let’s see if you can be a good boy.”

Spencer sprang into action, taking hold and bouncing you on his cock as he rutted into you. Simultaneously he continued to latch onto your breasts, littering your chest with marks. You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling the tide of your release start to sweep you away. “Yes, just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me. So fucking good. My good boy.”

Just before you reached your peak, you threaded a hand in Spencer's hair and pulled him up to look at you. Those big brown eyes stared up at you, pupils dilated and vision hazy with lust. “I want you to come with me, baby. Right now.”

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, pure euphoria coursing through your veins and only amplifying when Spencer flooded you with his warm release. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation before the two of you collapsed back onto the bed. You shifted slightly so you could hold him in your arms without separating, brushing his hair back behind his ear as he buried his face into your neck, now overcome with embarrassment over his actions. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have taken your panties”

You tightened your embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s ok, darling. I’m glad you did.”

---

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[rebornologist]

HEHEHE LOVE YOUR WORKS SO MUCH! MY NIGHT TIME DESTRESSING TIME ;))) may i get uhhhhhh a scenario with xanxus & your favorite khr character(s) (1 or more ur choice bby) where the s/o finally calls them the nickname they've been rehearsing in their head. Like they just haven't found the right timing to use the nickname but is dying to use it so they just randomly say it and giggle or something. -YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN FROM DAY 1 XOXOXO also GOOD LUCK ON UR FINALS if you see this before u take them

Hi dear! I passed all my finals thanks to you <3 this is hilarious bc I literally can't think of a single other character to write this prompt for, so I'll sit on the part two. BUT I just penned the most whipped Xanxus I could manage lmaaooo I make myself laugh

♡ Giving Xanxus a silly nickname ✧

xanxus/gn!reader, shortfic/scenario count: 595 words warnings: established relationship, fluff, reader is generally antsy, may be ooc xan orz

༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · ˳ · ♡ · ˳ · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚

Okay sooo… his emo boy raccoon tail accessory, and his obsession with trash..? You get brave and decide to come up with a silly little nickname for him. Buckle up, [y/n].

You shift nervously in your seat, once, twice… and again under the guise of getting comfortable. Unfortunately for you, your anxiety was palpable to your significant other. You eye the mafioso next to you, his dark lashes fanned over tan skin. He looks almost peaceful like this, if not for the arch of his thick brows and downturned lips. Luckily, he didn’t take your nerves to be anything pressing. You wondered if he would be mad (it’s not like he could never be mad at you, but never for something so silly, right?). You mulled over how you would say it. What if he ignores you? Would you just say it again, but louder? Oh, even the mere thought of having to repeat yourself made you cringe. ‘Raccoon.. coontail..’ you repeated in your head, and then your follow-up explanation, ‘because you’re wearing that stupid little fur tail thingy! I don’t mean it in a bad way!’ Yeah, you’ll probably make it out unscathed. Probably.

Why were you with this guy, again?

“H-hey—”

“Ah..?” His reply grunt escapes his throat before you even begin. He had been waiting for you to speak up. He wanted to know what on earth could possibly be bothering you this time. That stops you dead in your tracks for a moment, but you press on.

“…hey Raccoon.” You stifle a snort, scanning his face for a response. There was the slightest furrow in his brows. So faint, you swear it might have been his default expression before you even said anything. He crosses his arms, shifting slightly. Not a peep from him. You don’t know what you expected. Was he in a good mood today or something? Is he about to kill you in one strike?

A few moments pass. The awkward silence was making you lose it, your gaze never leaving his slightly annoyed (so, default) features.

“All that for.. this?” He stirs, opening one eye, and you immediately divert your gaze. Oh hell.

“U-um, well… you’re like..” you falter, the entire preplanned retort just fizzles from your mind. You whip your head around when you hear the chair scoot from under the man, looking back in his direction.

His gaze is unreadable as large hands find their way under your chin, smoothly but firmly tilting your head up. He towers over your seated position.

“You gonna finish your explanation..?” He squints, dark ruby eyes scan over your panicked features, mouth drawn downwards in disgust.

Oh goodness, can you even?

[e/c] eyes meet deep scarlet ones. This isn’t your first rodeo, and you have a feeling that he’s not upset at all, surprisingly… unless that was blind hope on your end.

“You’re.. the fur thing… you’re like my little trash panda,” your eyes sweep from his unamused face to the fur accessory and back up, a playful grin just clawing its way onto your face. The same face that was keeping you out of trouble, right now..

He scoffs, looking even more disgusted. You could swear he rolled his eyes, likely deciding that this wasn’t even worth being pissed about. Releasing your chin, he straightens and his eyes scan the room. He places his hand on your head for a moment, then pulls away before you can even react, leaving your hair slightly mussed. The tall man clicks his tongue, and starts to walk away.

“Hey, where are you—?”

“Don’t call me that ever again in front of anyone else, trash,” he grumbles just under his breath, “are we going to see that stupid fucking movie or what?”

after that, y'all go watch everything everywhere all at once and you cry a ton and that's the only thing that wakes him up bc he's literally not at all invested in the film and then afterwards u call him Raccooncouie DUHH enjoy ur mans xx G