#PLease let me see the juice of how that affected him!!!

[herefortheships]

Buffy has totally ruined me for any other show. Because in Buffy there are consequences to things. And I feel like few shows actually give the characters lasting, realistic consequences to things that they have to deal with. It's all a rush to solve everything before they have to move on to the next season's plot.

In Buffy, for example, when Willow went Dark Witch and almost killed everyone and destroyed everything, she had to deal with the consequences next season. Her character is affected in a very tangible way by what happened. And so are all the other characters around her, with regards to her. And they all have to get used to each other again and work through it. The show dedicates time to deal with what happened and for the characters to get through it. Because it matters! It matters to the character arcs, to the story, and to the viewers! We WANT to see the consequences and the aftermath and how characters are dealing with things! Not only because that's where the "juice" is in the show, but also because it helps us deal with our own shit in some way. Like, it's cathartic, I guess.

We want to see the aftermath, because it was a very dramatic, huge thing that happened and we want to see the characters recovering from it; we don't want the show to skip over it.

Then there are other shows where the characters deal with massive, insanely dark things, and then next season they're totally over it because that's last season's plot... It's like they can't "dwell" on last season's plot except for a throwaway line or two because they have to move on to the next big bad...

No! I want to see how it affected the characters!! Don't you see that's where the juice is?? I WANT to see how the characters are dealing and getting through what happened! I want to see consequences and how characters heal!! I want to see them changed by their experiences for better or worse.

Yeah. Buffy totally made me expect other shows to give that kind of attention to detail to their characters and their personal arcs.

[yawnderu]

Innocence Loss - König x Reader

Delayed Kinktober Day 3: Virginity loss - König x Reader

CW: Virginity loss, jealous König, rough sex, pussy eating, creampie, breeding kink if you squint.

"So wet for me, spatzi." König muttered softly, shaky fingers teasing your wet slit up and down, gathering your juices before his hand went back to his cock, soft groans escaping his lips as he used your own wetness to lube himself up. His mouth latched up to your cunt again, your whiny moans being rewarding enough as he worked up and down his long, veiny shaft.

"König... need you." You managed to speak between soft gasps and moans, the sensation of his long, flat tongue licking you up and down for the past 10 minutes was starting to become too much— he already made you cum twice, using the excuse that he needed you all wet so you could handle his big cock, yet in reality, he simply liked your taste. Like a starved man, König latched onto your clit, rubbing his cock so hard he already felt on edge.

"Beg for me." He said softly, his cockiness in the battlefield rubbing off on his regular life, yet surprisingly, he wasn't embarrassed about it.

"Please— fuck, I need you inside me. Please, baby?" Your pathetic begging went to his head, yet the look in his eyes betrayed just how much this man adored you. Messy hair, lips parted as you waited for him, a thin layer of sweat covering the body he was so enamored with, and your legs open, revealing the sweet cunt he craved so bad it hurt.

"Pretty girl." He muttered softly, pure affection on his voice as he joined you in bed, opening your legs even more to give his behemoth body enough space. He lined himself up to your cunt, gently pulling his foreskin down to rub the tip of his stupidly big dick up and down your wet entrance, slowly going in until he's bottoming out.

"Scheiße—" He grunted softly, voice going deeper as he grimaced under the mask. König was used to using his own calloused hand to cum, doing it only because he was bored and horny, which he grew out of the more years he spent in the military, yet the feeling of your tight, warm walls swallowing him up hungrily hit him like a tidal wave. You felt too damn good, and he had to resist the urge to cum already, not wanting to embarass himself.

"Are you okay?" He asked you gently, his hand slowly running up and down the length of your hair worriedly when he noticed the slight grimace on your face. König knew he was big in every single way, and his cock was not the exception.

"I'm good, just— move, please." Feeling the stretch of his massive shaft was just as painful as you imagined, yet the pleasure that came from it couldn't be denied. He builds up a pace, slowly going more and more intense as his thrusts get rougher, deeper, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills his private quarters, and you're secretly glad he's a colonel, as it gives you both more privacy.

"You've been bad, haven't you? Desperate for my cock, letting others flirt with you..." He mutters out between clenched teeth, his thrusts only getting rougher as he recalls what happened earlier. You didn't have the heart to tell him a member of KorTac simply was asking you for advice, the feeling of his tip slamming against your cervix was way too good to ruin the moment. He can believe whatever his jealous and possessive mind told him, as long as he keeps on angrily fucking you.

"No one else gets to touch you like this." He growls out, sitting on his knees while his massive hands easily hold onto your hips, lifting you up with him while he pounded into you, your moans mixed with his as he used you like you were simply a fleshlight— compared to his massive frame, you are.

König shows no mercy anymore, slamming his entire nine inches of meat into you with primal force. Despite the way he's being so rough, his light blue eyes are completely set into your face, looking for any signs of discomfort yet all he can see is pure bliss. His already big ego grows more and more as he hammers into you, all the pretty noises and faces you're making because of him, him and no one else, are getting to his head.

He moves your hips away as he pulls out, suddenly slamming himself all the way back in before you can protest. He drags a whiny moan out of you, pain and pleasure mixing as you can feel a familiar warmth building up in your stomach. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out pure nonsense in German. You can barely make out "Hure" between whatever he's whispering. His German sounds hotter than ever and you listen intently, dumbly nodding your head to his words despite not understanding him.

With each powerful thrust, he claims you, marking you as his own. The pleasure builds, coiling around your naked, sweaty bodies until it's way too much to bear. And when you finally release, his arms wrap around you protectively, holding your tiny body close to his as your bodies explode in a shared release. His thick, white cum fills up your womb, painting your velvety walls with his fertile sperm.

[caitlinsnicket]

Hello! For your 3k celebration (congrats!!!), can I request Venom with the prompt size kink? Thank you and congrats again ✨

ko-fi | masterlist

"i don't think it's gonna fit, venom." you mumble from between the pillows, your head buried there so your ass could be higher in the air. 

venom is trying to get his cock inside of you, but despite how wet and slick you are, it doesnt seem to fit. he thinks its because you're not wet enough, so he keeps eating you out, spreading your juices and his spit everywhere, to the point where you're shivering and your eyes are blurry.

"i just need to get you wetter, morsel" and his tongue slithers its way out of his mouth. "i wanna see you filled up with me, just like this" and you feel more of your juices gushing out of you as the soft muscle enters you once again and messes you up with his saliva.

both of you are perfectly aware that he could simply shrink his length to make it fit easier, maybe even change his shape to something different, but he was extremely aware of how horny you got when you realized he was just too big for you. and as a consequence, along with his infinite stubbornness, resulted in about an hour of overstimulation as he used his deliciously warm tongue on you over and over again.

"let's try again now," he says matter-of-factly, his saliva dripping on the bed, leaving you a mess and uncomfortably empty. he sets you down again, his frame overshadowing you completely, and as he set his large hand on your head (holding it fully as if it was nothing) and props up your hips just a little bit, the head of his cock slipped across your cunt, your swollen clit throbbing at the contact.

"please, venom, just... put it in" you hide your face again, eyes rolling back as he finally manages to sink the tip of his length inside your oversensitive cunt. you feel the stretch and the pressure, your body fighting to accommodate his size despite how wet you are. 

he takes his time easing into you, and you can feel his shape change as he adjusts himself. the squelch that sounds through the room would leave you embarrassed in any other situation, but right now his presence fills you entirely, every part of you consumed by the sensation of him. it's too much and just enough, the stretch enough to hurt just the right amount to make you squeeze even tighter around him.

"there it is, pet. nice and tight" he mumbles near your head, his voice raspy and wobbly. he's affected by you the same amount you're affected by him. his hand digs in the fat of your hips, and your folds stick to his cock, messing him up.

you can feel something similar to a tentacle start fondling with your nipples, and sure enough, when your turn your head to look, he's created another limb just to stimulate you further. his mouth looks huge and his tongue is still out, licking your skin from time to time.

you feel like no more than a tiny toy in his hand, and shivers run down your spine. it's perfect.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟑]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.6k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, cursing, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, character death and graphic descriptions of death, mentions of vomit

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this one is... a lot. take heed of the warnings/let me know if there's something i forgot to tag! i might've missed some errors because it's late so i will fix in the morning, otherwise please enjoy! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢

When the meadows grow full and lush, Kinich awaits your reappearance.

The winter had been long—with his crops iced over, he’d had to rely on hunting to survive. His mother’s absence had taken a heavy toll on his family (though he uses the word loosely), and his father somehow finds more time to drink his life away. Now the sole homemaker, Kinich finds himself as his father’s newfound punching bag as well.

He discovers that he has a talent for patching wounds and bruises.

Some days, the man awakens in the dead of night, freshly sober—Kinich can hear him crying his mother’s name in the dark. He doesn’t know whether to take that as regret, or simply loneliness.

They don’t talk. They never really did, but the silence grows quickly, curling and weaving and winding like vines through the house, until Kinich can feel it wrapping his throat shut. Days and weeks go by without him talking to anyone at all.

Still, he moves on.

The ice finally melts, and he welcomes the sight of animals returning from hibernation, despite how they nip at his garden. New life sprouts from the ground, and it’s only a matter of time before you appear in the forest again as well.

This time, you’re touting a burlap bag of Quenepa Berries, and you offer him one as he approaches.

“They’re sweeter at this time of year,” you comment, before popping one of the fruits into your mouth. He accepts and does the same—this batch is fattened and sweet, he thinks as the juice dribbles down his chin. You must have an eye for a good harvest.

“You came back,” is all he replies, as a greeting.

An incredulous expression crosses your face, almost judgmental—you hold the bag of berries away from him as teasing punishment. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

He reaches over you, quick as a fox, catching one of the fruits in his fingers. 

“Don’t know.”

There’s no way to tell you about his mother’s disappearance, at least not one that he’s confident about. After all, he feels there’s no logic in informing you anyway—there’s no solution that you could potentially offer, and it’s not as though it affects you. But it’s the thought of that, and the lasting image of her footsteps, that had instilled this fear within him.

The fear that you would never return.

But you’re here, he soothes himself, another berry in your outstretched palm. He takes it, just as your voice rings out again.

“So, do your parents not like girls?”

The skin of the fruit catches in his throat at your question, and he lets out a series of wet coughs—you pat his back, eyes wide with concern. It takes a few moments for him to return to his senses.

“What are you talking about?” he splutters, uncharacteristically flustered.

You don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in picking through your bag—you prefer the lightest blue berries, the ones that are still slightly unripe. Perhaps you enjoy the tartness they offer.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “It just seems like you don’t want your parents to see me.”

And there’s no easy way to explain his situation, so he doesn’t. Instead, he hums, watching the birds soar by overhead. His heart vaguely tugs with jealousy at the sight of them.

“It’s not that. My parents just…don’t like people hanging around our house. That’s why we moved out of the village.”

Not a total lie, he reasons—the financial issues were the root cause, but his father had also grown tired of neighbors attempting to intervene in his parents’ endless disputes. It had given him hope, for a time, that someone might be able to remedy the situation. 

But that hope was quickly snuffed out.

“Makes sense,” you say, tracing shapes in the dirt with your foot. You draw a heart, a smiley face, and then something that looks like a defective Yumkasaurus. “Your dad is the mean one, right?”

You’re still not quite educated on social faux-pas at your age, and Kinich almost chokes again.

“What?”

Something rustles in the bushes nearby—an animal scared away by the sudden loudness of his voice.

“He always used to yell at me when I’d come around to leave you things,” you explain, overwhelmingly casual. “Smelled like that stuff that us kids aren’t allowed to go near in the market.”

Kinich vaguely remembers hearing his parents argue about something like that, but all the fighting tends to blur together after a time. He’s not sure how to reply to that, or what you might think if he did.

So he doesn’t.

He asks you about your winter instead, a topic change that you welcome eagerly. You tell him about the village, the white-topped roofs and the way the Yumkasauri would redden and sneeze, whelps hiding in their mother’s wings. You tell him about how you tried ice skating on the frozen river, recounting how many times you fell flat on your face. The thought makes him smile faintly.

He’s almost surprised by how enthusiastic you are about it—you’d told him before about your parents’ death in the cold season. He wonders how you seem to move past it all.

You turn your attention back to him, curious. “What about you? What happened during your winter?”

There’s a lot he could say, but none of it feels right, every word sticking to his tongue, stubborn. 

“The winter felt really long,” he finally says, mostly to himself, chewing thoughtfully.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “It did. But it’s not so bad, I think.”

He hums. “Really?”

You shrug. “Spring always comes again anyway.”

/

On Kinich’s seventh birthday, you knock at his door in the evening.

The November air is crisp, but not yet chilling. After all, the nation of Pyro tends to run warm until the very depths of winter. It’s for that reason that the fireplace still lies darkened and empty, and that the kitchen window is still open a crack.

The sound shocks him at first—it’s been a long time since anyone has visited at all, so much so that the dull thump is unfamiliar. Wilder animals tend to come out when the sun sets, so he tries to finish up his farming and hunting beforehand—at this time, he’s usually preparing some sort of meal for the next day.

He glances at the source of the noise, then at his father, slumped over the kitchen table, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The man will likely be asleep until the early morning anyway.

So Kinich pads to the door, pulling it open just a crack, and it’s your eye that peers back at him, curious.

Another inch, and then the rest of you is revealed to him—you’re holding a neatly wrapped box in your hands, an innocent smile spread across your lips.

His first words come out in a hiss.

“What are you doing here?”

He thinks he’s been quite clear about your need to return to the village by this time, for many reasons. It’s growing dark, a time where animals and humans alike grow more dangerous, and his father tends to be home. The man has a talent of putting Kinich in the worst moods, and he’d rather not spread that to you.

“It’s your birthday,” you greet, as an explanation, shrugging like it’s all so obvious. Kinich tilts his head.

“So?”

“So, we’re celebrating! I spent the whole day baking this cake with Chief Wayna’s help.”

Kinich steps outside, quietly letting the door shut behind him. The sunset sky is burning away at this time, pinks and reds fading into black and blue. The stars will be out soon. 

“It’s nighttime,” he says, crossing his arms.

You nod vigorously, undeterred. “Yup! All so you can see the candles better. It looks so much cooler when it’s dark.”

It’s a ridiculous statement to someone like him, and Kinich is once again reminded how different the two of you are. His sense of logic doesn’t seem to align with your enduring enthusiasm. Still, he likes the fire that you have about you, and has no interest in snuffing it out, so he merely sighs and leads you away from the front door.

Once you’re a bit away, the house still in view, he looks to you again.

“So, what is it about candles?”

Without a reply, you turn away from him, fiddling with various things—he hears a match being lit, sees the faint light reflect from behind you—and then you’re facing him again, proudly holding out the cake.

There’s seven brightly colored candles sticking out from the top. The candlelight illuminates your face with a soft glow, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“It looks good, right?”

Kinich peers down at the treat—it does look good, with the expensive kind of frosting that he used to look at longingly in the market. He hasn’t had something this sweet, this luxurious, in a long time, or maybe ever. When he glances back up, you’re staring up at him expectantly—he shrinks back from the pressure.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling self-conscious. You point to the candles.

“You have to blow it out.”

Vaguely, he thinks back on when he used to live in the village. He’s seen people hold birthday parties before (though he can’t say he’d ever been invited), but he’s not sure he’s heard of this tradition. Birthday celebrations weren’t something his family could ever afford anyway, or maybe they just didn’t care to.

Kinich realizes he doesn’t even know when his parents’ birthdays are.

But you’re still watching him, so he pushes that thought aside. Instead, he leans over and gently blows out the candles in three small puffs of breath.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” You cheer, tilting the cake toward him. “I hope you made a wish!”

You’d forgotten to mention that before he blew out the candles, he thinks to himself, but he’s in no position to argue with your good will anyway. So he nods, silently making a wish after the fact.

“Alright, the best part is eating it,” you whisper conspiratorially, like you’re sharing a life-shattering secret. “And Elder Leik says it’s bad to have sugar before bed, but I think it’s okay just this once—”

“Kinich!”

That voice��

His heart freezes in his chest. Your face morphs in confusion, and then he’s grasping at your arm and yanking, hiding you behind him—you’re not much smaller than him, though, so it’s a futile effort. At the force, the cake slips out of your grip, smashing uselessly into the grass.

Kinich has half a mind to apologize, but he can’t—instead, he holds you tighter.

“Kinich?” A hoarse voice echoes in the dark. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I’m here. I was just taking a walk,” he replies. His voice shakes at the edges of each syllable—he hopes his father doesn’t notice. 

Something crunches in the distance; it’s the sound of grass underfoot. His father is coming this way, Kinich realizes in a panic. He glances back to your fearful eyes, clutching at the back of his thin t-shirt, and his chest burns with the desire to protect.

It’s too dim to see the man until he’s a few feet in front of you—he’s dressed in a tattered shirt and loose pants, feet dragging through the grass. His eyes narrow when he gets close enough, brows knitting together.

His gaze zeroes in on you, venomous. “It’s you again.”

The collar of Kinich’s shirt grows taut against his throat as you pull against him, afraid. He squeezes at your arm once, a comfort.

“You damn orphans, got nothing better to do? Just fucking around on my property, I should throw you off this goddamn cliff! Not like you got anyone to miss you.”

Kinich grits his teeth. “Leave her alone.”

His father laughs, a grating sound like nails on a chalkboard, then belches. The smell of cheap alcohol filters through the air, even from a distance.

“Go do something useful then. Too many useless people in this world, ha! Just like your damn mother.”

The mention makes the blood ice over in Kinich’s veins, a sharp frost crawling up his spine. Your grip loosens just a hair, likely in confusion, but the detail barely reaches his mind.

“You know where she is?”

The image of his mother’s footsteps in the newly fallen snow had never left his mind—he sees it in his nightmares, trapped and crawling in an endless frozen landscape, alone. He thinks of her when he farms, when he weaves, when he’s forced to eat another Grainfruit.

He thinks of her always, maybe, in the back of his mind.

And his father does too, maybe, based on the way his whole body seems to tighten with anger at the question. He doesn’t reply, at least not verbally.

You watch, horrified. Even as his father’s eyes glow with rage, even as he drunkenly hobbles toward you both, hands outstretched.

(Kinich blankly notes that they form the shape of his own neck.)

The man isn’t too coordinated, especially with the alcohol coursing through his veins—he stumbles a few times on the way, the grass seeming to curl around his ankles, slowing him down. Perhaps it’s the land’s way of protecting him, Kinich thinks. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you behind him. “Come on!”

Kinich runs, wind whipping at his face, the way he always does when his father gets this way. He takes you through the backyard, toward the forest, where his father might lose sight of you both and give up the chase. He knows the paths there and knows them well—the shadows of the trees will protect you both.

But the man is picking up speed behind you, roaring about what he’ll do once he catches you.

“Kinich,” you wheeze. You’d already been semi-exhausted by your trek here, and certainly not expecting a sprint like this.

“I know,” he pants back. “Just a little more.”

You’re trying your hardest, he knows.

But he’s faster than you, and you stumble, lagging behind.

“Kinich!”

His father lunges, fingers barely grasping at the leg of your pants. A shriek erupts from your throat as you tumble to the ground in a twisted pile, and Kinich cries out with you, just as the cliff seems to rumble beneath his feet. 

It happens in slow motion. 

Kinich’s father meets his son’s gaze, enraged, then afraid. Terrified, just as he feels his legs dangle over the edge of the cliff, just as the weight of your smaller body pushes his torso over. Shocked, just as the rest of you starts to come down with him. 

Your screams echo off the darkened mountain. 

Kinich weighs his options—it doesn’t take long—and then leaps forward. His chest smacks painfully into the dirt, but he manages to grab your wrist just as you slip down the cliff.

“Kinich!” 

His father is screaming his name, and so are you, pleading, begging for his help. And you’re still in his grasp, but you’re slipping, and his father is reaching for him, and if he could just grab him with his other hand, he could maybe pull you both up, but—

Kinich’s gaze meets your tear-filled eyes.

So he grits his teeth, clawing at the dirt, and with his other hand, he grabs—

You.

He doesn’t have time to catch his father’s expression—he doesn’t think he’d want to see it anyway—before he’s hauling you up, yanking you into his arms until you’re both collapsing into the grass. The crown of your skull clashes with his chin harshly.

His father is still bellowing curses, not that you seem to hear it over the sound of your screams and cries. But Kinich hears it, somehow, floating above the chaos and agony in your voice.

“It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!”

His eyes flutter shut as the voice fades away, and then grows silent.

It’s too quiet.

Even the crickets seem to censor themselves, hiding from the entire ordeal. Kinich releases his hold on you, rolling onto his stomach, then onto his knees. The grass seems to waver under his stare, rippling and oscillating until it feels like the entire world is quivering beneath him.

He barely registers that you’re struggling to pull yourself upright behind him.

You turn away from Kinich’s hunched form to vomit in the grass, overwhelmed by it all. A corpse lies at the foot of the cliff now, one that could’ve just as easily been you. One that might have actually been your fault. The thought makes you vomit again. 

After a few more dry heaves, Kinich’s hand rubs at your back, the other gently easing your hair away from your mouth. You look over your shoulder at him, eyes filled with tears and nose dripping with snot. 

“Kinich,” you sob, trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was too slow, and he—he fell. I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I know he wasn’t—I don’t—but that was your—your father—”

He takes you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him—really look at him. His expression seems the same as always, but you know the difference. You note the quivering at the edge of his lips, the light sheen at the corners of his eyes. It disappears as quickly as you notice it, flattening under a disposition of stone.

“I weighed the value between you,” he says, gaze meeting your glassy stare. Your heart flutters. “And I chose you.”

And for a bit, you pretend that you can’t hear the thick lump in his throat, or the way his nose scrunches to keep the tears from slipping. Instead, you take his hand, struggling to your feet.

Kinich gives you a once-over—your pant leg is tattered now, a long strip of fabric ripped from the bottom. A flash of crimson peeks from under the remaining cloth.

Thin lines of blood bloom over the joint there, slowly running down the length of your leg.

“You’re bleeding,” he rasps, assessing the extent of your wound. It’s not deep—a skinned knee at most, which he’s grateful for. He’s treated much worse on his own body.

There’s so much to do, he thinks, pushing through the foggy haze permeating his mind. He has to retrieve his father’s body. He has to treat your wound. With his father gone, he needs to make a plan for his own survival.

It’s not as if his father ever really helped out anyway, but the thought of being truly, totally alone is harrowing. It takes another minute for him to remember that you’re still standing at his side.

“Go back to the house,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “Wait for me in the kitchen—”

“No!” You blurt, looking surprised despite yourself. Kinich jolts, meeting your eyes. “You’re going to get his body, right?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nods solemnly.

Kinich has looked down these cliffs many times; he knows the sheer height of them. There’s absolutely no chance that his father’s body is in any sort of good shape at the bottom. The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You swallow. “So let’s go.”

The fear is reflected in the way your hands shake, but your shoulders straighten and you reach for him, slotting your fingers together. It’s the most bravery that you can manage, at least right now. Kinich accepts it gratefully.

Making your way down the cliff is treacherous with the little light you have. You don’t speak, barely even breathe. The stars lay watchful above, winking and illuminating your way. 

Even with your hand in his, Kinich glances back occasionally, ensuring you’re still with him—you always are, still sniffling and scrubbing at your eyes. 

It’s hard for you, and it’s obvious; he has to catch you several times when your foot slips off the stone, but you’re still with him. You’re still with him, he thinks. Kinich repeats it to himself a few times, letting it anchor him as he struggles down the rocks.

His father’s body is stiff by the time you reach it.

You’re too afraid to look at first, meekly standing behind him. It takes a few minutes before you work up the courage to peek over his shoulder, one hand over your mouth. Kinich isn’t sure whether to pray, or cry, or leave it all behind—for a few minutes, he doesn’t do anything at all.

The body is mangled, as he’d expected. You don’t dare to look at it again; you pace about the area, trying to keep your wits about you. 

Everything about it is too familiar. He sees himself in the corpse, the blond hair fanned around the head like a halo, the golden eyes forever stuck in a faraway stare. The grappling hook that he always kept on his person.

His father. A half of him. His flesh and blood.

And he’d let him go.

Kinich feels for his own heartbeat over his shirt, fisting at the cloth there.

You are still alive, it whispers.

So he calls your name, soft. You peek at him through the darkness.

“We have to bring it back,” he murmurs.

And you, despite it all, despite the terror that licks hot up your neck, simply nod.

“Okay.”

As the two of you drag the corpse back toward the house, fingertips sticky with blood that freezes in the passing wind, Kinich realizes it—

This is the coldest November he’s ever experienced.

[dearharriet]

okay hello hi me again with a james potter request if u feel like it 🦌🦌 how about a drabble about reader calling james a pet name for the first time like baby or honey or something and he just melts on the spot and gives her the biggest lovesick puppy eyes ever and then begs her to always call him that and refuses to answer to james because ‘that’s baby to u!!!!!’ Or something<333 love u hope you’re well

ty for the request! <3 (wc: 495) fem!r

“It says we could use banana as a substitute for egg, did you know?”

You shuffle to James’ side as he pauses in the baking aisle, craning your neck to see his phone over the bulky shoulder blocking it.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, “I’ve seen that.”

James turns his wrinkled nose your way, a wink of amusement in his eyes.

“That cannot be good.”

Scanning the row of mixes beside the cart, you palm his side, his shirt soft and thin under your fingers.

“No, it’s kind of alright, actually.”

You blink back up at him, smiling, even when his big eyes bug even further under his glasses.

“You’ve tried it?”

Laughing, you encourage the cart forward again, and James with it.

“Can you see what we need next, please?” You croon. James’ eyes soften, and he looks back to the recipe page as he walks.

“Er, do we have baking powder?”

“Yes.”

He scrolls an inch further.

“Lemons?”

“I was thinking we’d just use that lemon juice in the fridge,” you say, shrugging.

“What?” James stops walking. “Baby, no.”

He steers the cart around, making a break for the produce section. “We are making these cupcakes right, my darling. I need all the best ingredients.”

You just laugh and trail after him. “It really won’t make a difference…”

As you catch up to him, James is hoisting a full netted pouch of lemons out of its sales basket.

“Jamie, we only need one,” you say, a bemused smile pulling at your lips. He looks to you, still holding the lemons up like a fresh catch.

“That’s quitter’s talk. We just need to make more cupcakes, s’all.”

He drops them in the cart, and then creeps toward you.

“Whatever you say, baby,” you tease.

James freezes before he can reach you. A slippery grin parts his lips, creasing around his eyes.

“What’d you call me?”

Flipping back through your words, you realize what you’ve said too late. In your mind, James and baby have been synonymous for a good few weeks now, you’ve just been trying to play it cool, and for good reason.

James will never let this go.

“I—” You huff, relenting. “Baby.”

In a split second James is around you, lemons forgotten in exchange for a snug embrace that warms your cheeks.

“James, we’re in public.”

“Who?” He asks, a grin pressed against your temple, and a strong hand between your shoulder blades.

Cushioning your chin on his chest, you look up at him. James has bigger heart eyes now than he did on your first date, which is saying a lot.

You know the two of you look painfully smitten, and that any passersby might be bothered by the PDA, but it’s hard to stifle your affection for James.

“Can you call me that more often?” He asks gently, so lovelorn that it nips your heart a little. “I really liked it.”

And how can you say no to that?

+

thank u for reading! xx

masterlist

[hitomisuzuya]

Scaramouche x fem!reader Smut. Modern College AU Video call sex. Dirty talk. Daddy kink. Sex toy. Degradation. Praise. Dom!Scara

First of all, everyone, thank you so much for your supportive comments yesterday. I am okay 🥺

Scaramouche's eyes watched the clock, waiting for the agreed upon time for the video call. He had to be out of state for a family function, and he was despising every second of it. Especially that you couldn't come with him.

A text that you'd send him earlier had been the only thing occupying his mind all day. It read: "I couldn't sleep last night, so I laid awake fingering myself and thinking about you. I couldn't make myself cum, Daddy."

He really wished you had taken a video to attach to the text message.

Scaramouche couldn't have clicked the call button fast enough, his eyes immediately treated to the sight of you already naked on your bed. Your vibrator was next you. "So eager that you are already naked," He greeted, smirking in approval, "my poor little slut is so needy," His cock twitched seeing you react to the sound of his voice.

"Mhm," Your sigh was shaky as one of your hands started to drifted down between your legs. A visible shiver went through you at his degradation. It never failed to make you wet.

"Don't start touching yourself yet, slut," Scaramouche hissed, making your fingers pause over your clit. You looked at him needily in question. "You need to be punished for that teasing text message."

You huffed, frustrated as your hand dropped onto the sheets. "T-Teasing?" You asked, wanting so badly to rub your swelling clit. His voice always had such an affect on you.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Calling me Daddy and telling me you can't make yourself cum. You really should've taken a video, teasing slut. I guess I can't really be surprised that you need me to instruct you on how to play with your needy pussy," He licked his lips hearing a soft moan escaped your parted lips as you shifted restlessly on your bed.

You shivered as more wet gathered on your cunt. His harsh, domineering tone always made you so weak. It was torture to hear him degrade you that way and not be touching you, or fucking his cock into you.

"Please, Daddy, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise," You pleaded, rubbing your thighs together.

Scaramouche sat back on his bed, and palmed his hardening cock. "Now, spread your legs like the good girl you promised to be. Let Daddy see how wet you are," He could practically see you melting as you spread your legs, giving him a view of your wet and puffy pussy.

He let out a hum of approval. You spread your folds for him hesitantly, looking at him submissively for permission to touch yourself. He nodded. "Slowly stroke and rub your clit," He commanded, his eyes following your fingers as they found your clit.

You let a soft moan, slowly pressing circles on your clit. You felt it throb under your fingers, your hips rocking up into your fingers for more friction. His cock was straining hard in his pants watching your fingers dance on your clit.

"A little bit faster, pinch your clit. Tease your fingers at your pathetically messy hole," He groaned as he freed his cock from his pants. He watched your fingers roll your clit, your hips jerking off the bed as louder moans sounded from you.

Scaramouche's cock pulsed in his hand, squeezing it briefly before pumping his hand. The tips of your fingers prodded at your entrance, scooping your juices onto your fingers before sweeping them back up to your clit.

He was purposely making you use your fingers first, knowing that you couldn't make yourself cum. His cock only pulsed more with anticipation of you repeating your text message to him.

"Good ahead, whore," Scaramouche moaned, pumping his hand faster on his cock, "Fuck one finger into that needy cunt of yours. Tell Daddy how much you want him," He so desperately wanted to see you lose yourself in your desire for him.

You gasped in pleasure as you heeded his command. You slowly pumped it in and out of yourself, your eyes glued to the screen as you watched him jack himself off. It aroused you further, you picked up the pace of your finger.

You writhed on the bed, giving him the utter vision Scaramouche craved to see. Your moans were starting to sound frustrated as you desperately curled and pumped your finger in and out of you. You barely heard his next commands to pinch your nipple and push a second finger inside you.

You scissored your walls apart, your legs shaking as you barely brushed just short of hitting your sweet spot. You pinched your nipple for extra stimulation, but it provided you little relief. "I..I can't make myself cum, Daddy," You whimpered, your hips bucking into your fingers.

Cum almost spurted onto his hand when he hard you call him Daddy. Your cheeks heated hearing his aroused moan. "That's right, slut. Cry for Daddy to help you cum," He groaned, rutting his cock into his hand.

"Help me, please, Daddy," You pinched and rubbed your clit, your hand grasping the sheets tightly. Your fingers squelched lewdly in and out of you, making you sloppier mess in your frenzied desperation.

Scaramouche decided you'd had enough. You were so dazed from his degrading teasing, your body twitching with the need to cum that you couldn't think. "You poor, pathetic slut, you can't even make yourself cum. Turn your vibrator on and rub it on your clit," He instructed behind a moan.

Your fingers shook as your hand groped around for your vibrator. You let out a relieved moan feeling the toy hum on your throbbing clit. Your back arched as you grinded your cunt against the toy. "Only Daddy can help me cum," You babbled, your pussy clenching sensitive around nothing.

Scaramouche had to fight not to roll his eyes into the back of his head as he fisted his cock. He wouldn't dare look away from the screen, not when you looked so fucking beautiful writhing and fucking your cunt onto your vibrator.

He massaged and pinched the head of his cock, one his hands reaching down to squeeze and massage his balls. "Fuck it inside yourself and moan about how much you wish it was Daddy's cock."

Your pussy immediately clenched around the toy when you pushed it inside of you. You were breathless, pleasure bursting white hot behind your eyes as vibrations hummed against your sweet spot. "I wish this was your cock, Daddy. I want it inside of me. I need it inside of me," You gave him exactly what he was asking for.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl," Scaramouche chanted, right on the cusps of his orgasm. Your pathetic pleads and moans, the lewd sounds of the vibrator squelching wetly in and out of you were only ushering it in faster. "Fucking cum for Daddy," He growled.

You finally came undone, your walls squeezing around the vibrator as you squirted. You shook from the intensity of your orgasm. Incoherent cries of Daddy tore from your throat.

Cum ribboned onto Scaramouche's hand hearing your cries, his legs shaking as he fisted his cock through his orgasm.

You were always such a a good girl for him.

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 20﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> event masterlist

kaveh x f!reader -> brat taming

a/n: listen !! there’s nothing i love more than seeing the sunshine baby kaveh snap 🤭❤️‍🔥 it gives me so much joy to write him as you all know and i hope ya’ll have fun with this:DD also ik i’m spamming my works today but tehee! i’ve got some time and some writing juice 🧃 flowing !!

warnings: overstimulation, (vibrator!play ;) brat-taming themes, doggy!style, 🍬 SWEET 🍬 AFTERCARE 🫶🏻🥺 bc its kaveh !!

“no no no, baby, where’re you goin’?” kaveh stopped you from moving any further, hands gripping your hips and forcing them back into his plunging cock. a whiny sigh escapes you as you feel your folds absolutely destroyed by him. you both loved and hated it at the same time. the way the vibrator attached to your clit, taped by kaveh had no remorse along with his thrusts. you had squirted twice for him already, body reduced to a slump & mush. putty in his hands.

“i’m not done yet, stay and take it.” he commands, your ass slightly reddened just by the ruthless impact of kaveh’s pelvis against you, the grip on your waist bruised with how tight he’s holding you in place. you couldn’t possibly slump down or escape from the sweet torture kaveh decided for you.

“all this because you had to be mean to me, why? do i not take care of you?” kaveh spoke between his own ragged breaths, truth be told — you wanted him to behave like this. why else would you tease him in front of the kshahrewar group in one of the meetings? hands slipping up and down his thigh while he was speaking? kaveh had shot you warning glares, coughed for you to take the hint but oh no — his little brat was relentless. time for some sweet karma for you.

“please- s’ too much.” you whimpered out, and knowing how spoiling and kind kaveh is, you knew if you begged too much. he’d stop. he loves you a tad too much & you know how spoiled you are under his wing. “is it now, little one? is it?” kaveh raised a brow, thrusting with the same intensity while maintaining a conversation. “should’ve realised that when we were at the meeting huh?” he taunted, slapping your ass firmly to hear a sorry squeal out of you. “please- kaveh- please- won’t happen again.”

oh you sound so sweet apologizing to him, babbling mess because your brain is fried from cumming too much. clit practically throbbing at the pain & overstimulation, body covered in overworked sweat. yet you are in utter bliss, shaking and spasming like you’re supposed to. “please- kaveh- won’t do it again i- i promise.” your voice almost slurrs this time, as you feel another unforgiving orgasm seep through you suddenly. ripping out from you and letting you cry out for him. your mouth was open in a silent gasp, gritted teeth and a painful groan as you spluttered your walls all over kaveh. “aw, was that the fourth one?” kaveh sounded gentle, riding it out for you & also tipping off the edge. he’s filled you thrice already, and is shooting blanks, too. “god- you- you’re so tight baby.” he croons, riding it out for you.

you’re reduced to sniffles, slumping down as the vibrator is turned off & kaveh gently pulls out of you. his eyes are tender and sweet again, his affections back in place as he rubs your back soothingly. “there there, it’s okay.” he cooes, hoping to ground your floating senses. he eventually turned you on your back, taking the vibrator off of you, kissing your pelvis and your forehead deeply. “i’ve got you sweetheart.” he reminds, watching as you gasp at every little touch. your whole body felt like it was on fire, hissing even with tender little touches on your swollen & puffy clit.

kaveh craddled you in his arms, kissing all over your face and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. you’d never been so brainless & yet blissful. “i love you baby, gonna clean you up when you can tolerate some friction down there, i promise.” kaveh crooned, kissing your collarbone and talking to you about how he wouldn’t have done this unless you wanted it, giving you the surety of the whole scene, giving you the power he took away while making you submit. <3

[milkywaydrabbles]

Rindou loves fingering you. 

He loves how creamy you get his fingers, how two fingers is enough to throw you over the edge. He loves how he can control your body just how he wants it, how he can edge you over and over again without having to break a sweat, just with his hands. He loves how, if he tries a little harder, he can have you squirting all over him, juicy pussy making a mess, he loves how sloppy he can get you. Haitani Rindou’s a nasty man when it comes to you, he can keep you underneath him forever. Rindou will finger you whenever he can--in his car, out at a club or bar, when he’s on the phone, hell even when you’re on the phone. (He thinks his favorite is whenever you have to keep it together, pretend like he’s not finger fucking you in public.) He loves the sticky feeling of you cumming on his fingers, how you suck them back in, how when he spreads them out your cum creates a webbing between them. He really, really, can’t get enough of it. Sometimes he prefers that over fucking you with his dick. It’s rare, but sometimes, he’ll do it. Just fuck you over and over again on his fingers until he has you crying to stop--and then keep going. 

Tonight, he thinks is one of those nights. 

Rindou’s had you under him already for the last hour, hearing how nasty your cunt is, squelching and creaming around him. You're sniffling, tears streaming down your face as he pulls another orgasm out of you just with his fingers. "Baby, you look so fucking good just like this." He coos, pulling his fingers out with a squish, and laughs. "Love fucking you on my fingers baby, n so fucking juicy" he's talking to himself, enamored with looking between your legs and seeing the mess you've made for him. Rindou is dipping his hand between your thighs again, pushing the same two fingers back into your wet heat and adding a third, and you whine. "R-Rin, so full, fuck." Your face is hot, body covered in a sheen of sweat and all you can do is lay there with your legs open and take it. When he's in one of his moods he won't stop until he gets it out of his system, which means sometimes you end up sweaty and sticky and overstimulated for hours under him. "You can take my fingers, right pretty girl?" And you nod, squirming as he slowly pumps his three fingers into your sloppy cunt, seeing your cum oozing around his hand and pooling in his palm. 

He's hard, painfully so, but he can't seem to care about his own hard on when he's got his little baby crying like that. His free hand wipes away a stray tear, while the other starts fucking into you quicker, curling his fingers up to hit that gummy part of your walls that has you crying even more. "Rin, m'so close, please, please—!" You're begging, pleading with him to let you cum. You think it's too much, especially with each last one he pulls out of you. But he proves you wrong over and over again with each buildup and you crave it each time. It feels like you can't breathe without him letting you catch that high again. Stronger than any drug he could have given you. "Give it to me baby, come on you can do it." He works you through it, hitting exactly where you need it each time he fucks up into you. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, it has you crying and shaking and grabbing at Rindou's arm like some saving grace. Electricity shot through your veins, your nerves on fire as he ripped another orgasm out of you. You babbled away as your juices covered him again, and he could only smile as you shook. "Good girl, such a good girl" he would praise, leaning down while still stuffing your cunt full of him and kissing your face, smothering you in affection to distract you with how overstimulated you're feeling. "My pretty baby is doing so well" Rindou's fingers stilled for a moment, and taking the time to make sure you were cognisant enough to give a real answer when he looked into your eyes and asked: "do you trust me?" You sniffed and nodded, but he simply clicked his tongue. " I need you to answer with words baby. Do you trust me?" It almost concerned you how serious he was being knuckles deep in your pussy, but you answered anyways. "Yes Rindou, I trust you." Your voice was shaky, and hoarse with how much you've been crying, but you trusted him with your life.

Slowly, Rindou added a fourth finger into your abused cunt, and it felt like your lungs were stuffed full of bricks. You choked back a sob, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you bit your lower lip to stop yourself from screaming. It was overwhelming, feeling 4 of his fingers stuffing into your now swollen pussy, curving into themselves to make a point inside of you. Rindou twisted his wrist, hearing the messy sounds coming from your hole, seeing you dripping and oozing onto the mattress below you. He stayed a slow pace, feeling all the small bumps and ridges of your pussy up against his fingers. "It's okay baby, I got you, I got you" he'd whisper, repeating himself over and over while you caught your breath. You never stopped trembling from your last orgasm, teetering on the edge with each lazy thrust Rindou gave. You couldn't speak, broken phrases and words spilling from your mouth as he quickened his pace. Rindou's breathing got heavy, pupils dilated and zeroed in on your cunt sucking in his fingers with each thrust. You were doing so well for him, while he played with you, stretched you out the most he's ever done. He kept whispering so nicely to you, how good you were, how pretty you were with his fingers stuffed inside your sloppy pussy, how much he loved you. Your head was spinning, you were fucked dumb already and Rindou was making it so hard to even think for just a second. "Fuuuck, baby—making such a mess on my fingers, love you so much, you got another one in you right?" You were panting, nodding furiously with your eyes locked onto his. He didn't even need to curl his fingers with how well he was hitting all the right spots—pumping harder in and out and in and out of your mess of a hole, and before you could wrap your head around it you were squirting, covering him in your essence. You heard a laugh, though your eyes were unable to focus at all. "Fuck, baby! So fucking pretty when I got you squirting like that." It sounded like a tease, but you knew he meant it. He told you all the time, he loved how your face would scrunch up during the build up, and letting go with pretty pouty lips making an o shape, tears falling at the corners of your mouth. (He even recorded it once, so you can see how pretty you looked.) 

"I got you baby, it's okay, you can let go." He whispered, closer to your face now than he was just moments before—kissing your forehead as you practically convulsed in his arms. His fingers were pulled out, along with your cum that dripped from his digits. A trembling hand latched on to his shirt, unable to control yourself in this moment and just cried. Giving yourself to him fully was such an intimate experience for you, that you couldn't help but sob in his arms afterwards. He'd hush you with gentle words, smoothing over your hair with his clean hand and kissing your temple. "You did so good for me, pretty girl—I love you." You stutter out that you love him too and latch onto him more.

He’ll take good care of you after that.

[moonsaver]

Do you have any thoughts about the opposite of the "Im afraid to confess because our friendship could get ruined"? As in, "I'm afraid to reject you because I don't want to lose this friendship so I accept your confession even though I don't feel that way for you and never will".

Like the protagonist tries to convince themselves that this is just like being friends only that we now kiss (and more). I feel like it would fit with a yandere that is a bit delusional or desperate, eveb insecure so whenever the protagonist doesnt seem as into this relationship as them, they just try to convince themselves otherwise, or love bomb the protagonist.

Idk lately Ive been into reversing the tropes and I found this one particularly interesting to me when it comes to a yandere. In HSR i was thinking of Argenti as he seems like the delusional type. Or even Aventurine who would have had to put down a lot of walls to be friends with you and then even more walls just to confess, so rejecting him doesnt seem like an option to the protag (out of pity and care).

THIS THIS THIS!!!! qnon ur brain is so wrinkly and soggy with brain juice..... this used to be my favorite trope at some point idk why i forgot about it i remember eating up any fanfics out there based on this

Tw: yandere (obv), manipulation, intimacy (mainly romantic, only hints of sexual), emotional blackmailing, whatever yadda yadda

But anyways, under the cut!

Okay, so, I imagine this is possible with literally... almost all of hsr's cast. Mainly because most of them have such tragic backstories, and most of them out of that have a really shrewd and cunning mind, so they'll exploit this to hell and back.

I also imagine this is with a people pleasing reader, so lets go with a bit of implication of that.

Anyways, since Aventurine and Argenti are the ones mentioned specifically, I'll probably dive in on them first.

Aventurine is so hard to not feel pity for. Every stolen glance at the marking on his neck makes you feel worse and worse for "rejecting him", knowing he's been throwing signs of wanting more than a friendship quite possibly everywhere and you're most likely ignoring them in hopes of keeping your friendship. It's not like he hasn't quite caught on, either. He knows people's hearts quite well. And where there's opportunity, he seizes it.

It's a bit frustrating for him – just why can't you see he wants more? Or rather, just why aren't you accepting him? You're the first thing on his mind when he wakes up, when he clutches his chip and bets on his life, the last thing on his mind when he goes to sleep. Hell, he's even tried to dream of you, forcefully. But then he realizes.. how easy you are to just push around. He goes ahead with the confession, and it's almost a sadistic kind of pleasure when he sees you even try and stutter out any kind of a rejection when he's leaning in a perfect angle that shows off his little marking (out of all the times he curses it, it seems like this time it's worked in his favor). He watches carefully as your eyes nervously flit to his neck and you shut up immediately for a second, before accepting. And when you do.. he's over the moon! Coddles you, kisses your cheeks, becomes so much more grabby, as his keen eyes watch your discomfort. Well.. you didn't reject him, so this is what you should expect.

Again, the frustration doesn't wear off easily, but just seeing you writhe and try to create distance while he suffocates you in affection far from platonic nature, is so sadistically pleasuring to him. He loves watching you in that state, bending to his will so easily, as he waits for you to snap. But he'll probably find it easier to squeeze water out of a rock than to squeeze a rejection out of you – which is precisely what he exploits. You're not going anywhere, are you? He puts on his best, pleading little eyes that he used to have to put on, shaking, trembling voice, desperate hands that cling to you; all the things he acts out like his life depends on it when he senses even a waver of your hesitation.

Oh, fine.. he hates seeing you so queasy almost all the time, so he'll give you a reprieve from time to time. Plans and schedules things you used to do "back when you were friends" (he emphasizes this – you don't think you can just ignore everything, right?), and makes sure to at least crack a few smiles and giggles from you. Of course.. his hand is still loosely hanging around your waist, pecks you on the lips from time to time, just as a small reminder of what you guys really are now.

Argenti on the other hand, has no awareness of your discomfort at all.

He's like a huge dog, the way he's so happy about you accepting his confession and doesn't even stop to think afterwards just why you were so hesitant during it.

Constantly praises you, and it's not soon before it gets to a more intimate nature. He wants to do all the romantic things – kissing under the rain, protecting you from something, twirling you in the air and then kissing you again after putting you down, telling everyone proudly that you two are a couple, buying more and more "romantic" gifts that turn more intimate sooner or later. You have no way out of this without completely ruining everything.

It's.. almost painful the way he doesn't realise. At some point your discomfort probably gets so.. obvious, but he just shrugs it off; perhaps he hasn't been paying you enough attention? Or you're just too shy to ask something of him? Oh, how sweet! How adorable! He thinks. He simply falls deeper and deeper into this delusion, stringing you along and stretching your patience thin. Unfortunately, unlike Aventurine, you can't find most, if any bits of the things you both used to do as platonic companions in the relationship you have with Argenti. He's just a full-blown romantic who wants to do only that. It makes you even more queasy when people look at you in pity, if they realize just what happened between you two.

You can't back out, even if you tried. If you somehow manage to find a way to squeeze out a rejection, or have any kind of a reservation about things getting more intimate/romantic stuff, he's so devastated. Did he do something wrong? Perhaps he's not as experienced as you wanted him to be? Or you're not satisfied with some of the things he's said? Don't fret, he's right on it! Constantly holding you so close you're afraid your bones will break, whispering incessant praises into your ear that slowly spiral into affirmations that you belong to him, spoiled rotten with everything you want; yet, even then.. you can't shake off the intention they were given in. Not when you're suffocated by it.

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | M.R [2]

Y/N vowed to herself that she would get her revenge on her ex-boyfriend. The only question was, how would she get her revenge? What better way than to involve his best friend. After all, the worst thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.

Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby, Ex! Theodore Nott x Y/N Nettleby.

Warning(s): Mentions of cheating.

ii. “Wake up and smell the break up, fix my heart put on my makeup.”

Chapter One

"Who could possibly be better than you?" Hermione questioned as Y/N and the friend group sat around the table at breakfast. News had gotten around that Theo had broken up with the Gryffindor and the Slytherins had now turned their backs on Y/N. It didn't bother her; she had only ever hung around with her brother and Theo's friends.

"Please, it has nothing to do with Y/N." Ginny stated before taking a drink of pumpkin juice. "Theodore's a git and we all know it." She finished with a simple shoulder shrug.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply but closed her mouth when her attention was caught by her ex-boyfriend entering the dining hall. A black-haired Slytherin girl hanging on his arm. The Gryffindor girl quirked an eyebrow up in disbelief as the two sauntered their way to the Slytherin table and towards his ex's brother.

Y/N glanced over at her brother, only to lock eye with Mattheo who was wearing an indecipherable emotion. "Hey," Hermione spoke softly to get the girls attention away from Theo and the Slytherin table. "Let's get out of here." she offered as she went to stand up.

Y/N shook her head as she grabbed her arm and yanked her back in her seat, "If we leave, it will attract eyes and he will think he hurt me." The Nettleby girl explained as she turned her gaze back to her food.

"But he did..." Ron trailed off confused before Ginny kicked him under the table.

"I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing that."

Y/N had left breakfast with Hermione, Harry and Ron. They went back to the dormitories so they could grab their books and bags for class. The fact that Y/N had rushed her last couple homework assignments made her realize how much she depended on Theo. No matter what, she shouldn't let what Theo did affect her daily life. Yet, it affected her everyday she woke up.

"You're going to be okay." Y/N mumbled to herself before she followed Hermione to the first class of the day. It was the class that she had with Theo and a few others of the friend group. Hermione had sat beside Neville Longbottom after the Nettleby girl had begged her to switch with Theo. "Remind me to never tell you to switch with my boyfriends." The girl told Hermione before they walked into the class.

"I tried to tell you." Hermione mumbled before taking her seat beside Neville. The two of them talking about what they will be learning today.

Y/N rolled her eyes and made her way to her normal seat. She was hoping that Theo and his friends would skip class, like they sometimes did. Theo had tried to get her to skip as well but she refused, saying she cared about her grades. Getting her books out, she decided to read what they would be learning today to get an idea of what they would be doing.

A loud thud broke the Gryffindor girl out of her reading with a jump. "Fancy seeing you here." Y/N groaned at the voice that she had known all too well.

"Mattheo, to what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked sarcastically with a slight glare before going back to her book. She was unsure as to why the heir of Slytherin was sitting right next to her, or why he was even in class anyway. "Shouldn't you be out on the lawn, smoking during class?"

Mattheo raised an eyebrow with an amused grin growing on his face. "Keeping tabs on me, darling?" He teased as he sat down beside the girl that he had known since their first year. "If you wanted me instead of Theo you could've just asked."

Y/N rolled her eyes before glancing up at the boy that she was previously used to. There was a time when Y/N and Mattheo were friends, no one knows how close they were. Something had happened, and Mattheo turned a cold shoulder with no warning.

"Can I help you with something?" She snapped not feeling like dealing with the Slytherins and their attitudes today. "I am not playing into your games today, Riddle."

Mattheo's gaze softened a bit noticing the look on her face, before he quickly wiped it off and returned to his normal emotional state. "What's your plan?" The boy asked as he leaned over to his best friend's ex.

"What are you talking about?" She asked as she quickly jotted down notes about what she had read. Only the parts that she felt was really important.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, seeing right through the girl that he knew. "How are you getting back at Theo?" He asked again as he leaned a bit closer.

Y/N scoffed and shook her head, "how old am I? five." She spoke trying to play off her real emotions. The Riddle boy gave her a look before she sighed, "I had a few ideas." she shrugged finally giving in. "I don't want him back, so making him jealous is pointless." She whispered only for the Slytherin to hear. "I'm just going to move on." shrugged.

Mattheo scoffed, "That's it?" He asked. "How will that do anything."

Y/N rolled her eyes before putting all her attention towards the boy in front of her. She didn't know how trustworthy he was now, but she knows that he kept their old friendship a secret. Hopefully he would keep this conversation a secret. "Enzo has a soft spot for me, so I was going to ask him to be part of it." She shrugged. "it'll hurt worse with his friend involved." she added.

The professor has walked in talking to the class and went over a part of the chapter before giving the paired-up students a project to work on. "Don't you think it would hurt worse with his best friend?" Mattheo spoke up quietly, trying to see the girl's reaction.

"What are you getting at?" Y/N asked even though she felt as if she already knew what he was going to say.

"Use me instead of Enzo." He suggested which caused Y/N to laugh and shake her head a bit. "At least we used to be close." he whispered, acting like he wasn't paying attention to her reaction.

"What's in it for you?" She asked trying to decipher why he cared so much. Mattheo didn't catch feelings for people, yes, she had heard about him having one-night stands and girls he toyed with.

"let's just say," Mattheo spoke softly as he continued looking at the project before glancing back up at her. "I have my reasons." he finished.

🪄

"Absolutely not, are you out of your mind?" Hermione scolded as the golden trio, Y/N, and Ginny sat around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Y/N had just told them her plan and the conversation that she had with Mattheo during class. She knew it was a reach including them in on what she wanted to do, strictly because Mattheo's family. "This is worse than Theodore!" She insisted.

Y/N rolled her eyes slightly knowing that her friends would be against it. "You're forgetting the family that I come from." The girl muttered as she kept her gaze on the orange and yellows hues of the fire.

Hermione looked at the group around her, trying to get someone and anyone to agree with her. To Gryffindor's and the other houses, Mattheo Riddle was intimidating and charming. He came off as rude, cocky, and self-absorbed. Yet, Y/N knew that it wasn't who he was, or at least who he used to be.

"Do you honestly think Riddle is capable of helping you without something in return?" Ginny asked carefully as she glanced around the group.

Ron scoffed at his sister, "of course not. you know where he came from." the Weasley boy spoke in disgust.

Y/N sighed at that and ran a hand down her face. She knew all too well what people thought if they go by family trees. "And you guys know where I came from." she countered.

"That's different." Harry finally spoke up, thinking about the situation at hand. "The sorting hat knew what was right, so it's clear that you aren't like them."

"Says the one that was writing to Mattheo's dad, in his dad's journal with no thought about who he was." Y/N shot back. Tired of her friends being rude to someone they did not truly know. She didn't even know why she was defending him. She hadn't even properly talked to him since she had gotten with Theo, he had just passed a few snarky comments to her and went on his way.

The friends went quiet for a few minutes so they could try and sort out their feelings so nothing would be said. The last thing they wanted to do was to break up the friend group and all be fighting.

Y/N sighed, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry for being so worked up. I just know how my family is going to be once word reaches that Theodore and I broke up." She mumbled.

Coming from a family of Slytherins and death eaters, it was clear that his followers would do anything to get him back. Along with raise their kids to do dirty work and be one of them as well. Y/N was hoping that dating a Slytherin, especially from the Nott family, that her parents would get off her back about being a disappointment.

Hermione gave a small smile to her best friend, "I'm sorry." She apologized too. "It's none of my business what you do. I just don't want everything to fall apart."

"I can handle my own." Y/N promised as the group resumed back to their previous antics before the talk about the plan came about.

Early the next morning Y/N had gotten herself ready for the day. Many of the witches and wizards were going to Hogsmeade today, so she had decided to spend the day alone. She always went to Hogsmeade on weekends to spend time with her friends, but lately it had been almost like a third wheel, well, fifth wheel. So, when the time came, she had promised her friends that she did not want to go, and she had bid them goodbye after assuring them to have fun.

She had lounged around the common room, until she had gotten bored of doing the same things and decided to wander a bit. It was always a breath of fresh air when taking a walk around the castle and with most people gone, it could be quite relaxing. When walking about looking at the scenery, everything looked so peaceful and beautiful.

"We're going to get caught." a familiar voice had caught the attention of the Gryffindor girl. Her walking has slow and she came to a halt at the corner, carefully peaking her head around to see who was talking.

"Oh, please, since when do you care?" A nasally voice asked before going back to whatever she was trying to do. "You didn't complain when you cheated on your girlfriend with me in a classroom."

The man, who Y/N had now identified as Theo, scoffed. "A classroom is a bit more private than the hallways." He muttered.

Before Y/N could hear what, his new girlfriend was saying back, a voice caused the girl to jump. "Eavesdropping, love?" The voice of the Slytherin came out smooth. "Didn't anyone ever tell you how rude that is?"

Y/N rolled her eyes turning the face the curly haired boy. She had been wanting to find him since last night but had debated against it. "I simply came across them on my walk." she spoke truthfully as she turned to fully face Mattheo.

Mattheo's eyebrows shot up, "that's a bloody lie." he muttered loud enough for the girl to hear. She scoffed before rolling her eyes and leaning against the wall. "It won't last." Y/N's eyebrows furrowed at what he was talking about. "If Theo couldn't keep a relationship with you, he won't keep one."

"What do you mean by that?" Y/N asked as she eyed the boy in front of her curiously. Maybe Theo had not told the boys why they broke up because she was sure that they would make fun on her for it.

Mattheo shrugged keeping his lips in a tight line and scooting a bit closer to Y/N. "They're coming." he muttered. "Did you make up your mind?" He asked referring to what they had talked about in class.

"You." Was the only statement she could get out before he quickly placed a hand on her cheek as his best friend turned the corner.

Y/N and Mattheo's eyes quickly shot up to Theo's and the Slytherin girl that he had cheated with. Mattheo had faux annoyance, while Y/N looked nervous. Theo looked angry and his new toy had a surprised look on her face.

"Can I assist you with something?" Mattheo asked as the couple just stood there, not saying a word to the two. "I was busy, if you couldn't tell."

"When did this happen?" The Slytherin girl asked as if she knew exactly who both of the boys were and what they would or wouldn't do. "It's hard to believe that you would go for a Gryffindor." she added.

Mattheo rolled his eyes and took his hand off Y/N's cheek. He stayed close to her so he could ensure to play whatever part. "Just testing the waters." he shrugged before glancing at Theo and noticing his jaw clenched, a smirk grew noticing that.

"Y/N, can I have a word?" Theo asked as his gaze stayed locked in a war with Mattheo.

Y/N glanced between the two boys as she leaned forward and grabbed Mattheo's arm. To calm him down and also to say that she wasn't leaving without him. "I don't think that necessary." she replied back her hand moving down to Mattheo's. "We'll just get out of your way."

Without another glance she turned away from the couple and tugged Mattheo along with her. She didn't want to be around Theo or his toy.

Y/N let out a huff once they had lost sight of her ex-boyfriend, "Why does he have to be such an arse?" she mumbled with an eye roll. It was clear that Mattheo was watching her, maybe to see her reaction or to see if she had anything else to say. After getting her emotions under control she looked up and met her gaze with the boy in front of her, his warm eyes looking back in hers. "What are we doing? No one is going to believe that we started dating." she explained.

Mattheo thought for a moment, "Then we start spending time together, to make it known that we are around each other." He spoke trying to think of an idea that will make it seem real. "I'll meet you outside your common room every morning, we'll have meals together."

Y/N snorted at that before realizing that the boy in front of her was serious. "There is no way I am having breakfast or dinner at the Slytherin table." She refused.

"Do you want to make this believable or not?" Mattheo asked Y/N, trying to get her to see the reason behind then spending meals together.

She nodded, "fine. How about classes? I see that you replaced Theo as my partner in my classes. You guys barely come to class anyway." She explained as she had noticed how Theo had moved over to sit with someone else in class. "That's not even a concern right now though, how are we going to pull off dating? I mean, couples..." Y/N trailed off hoping that he was getting what she meant.

Couples showed plenty of public displays of affection. Especially when they have the biggest "bad boy" and "heartthrob" hanging on their arm. So, it was a given for the two. "Whatever you're comfortable with, love." he shrugged.

Y/N thought for a moment, her cheeks slightly turning red at the thought. Gaining a bit of confidence she spoke, "Everything." She told him. "Whatever you want."

Part three

[jakeysbaby]

Keeping you happy - s.j.y

———————————————————————

Parings - clingybf!jake x gf!reader

Word Count - 660

Warning(s)- oral (fem receiving) l pussy eating l nicknames (baby, prettyetc). l fingering l cussing | prais!ng l undressing | begging | slight hair pulling | slight thigh suffocation |. ~lmk if more~

Genre - strict gf!y/n, clingy bf!jake, smut and a bit fluff. ~lmk if other~

Quick jake fic! Enjoy!

!! Not proofread !!

———————————————————————

“Y/n please~” jake whines over the most absurd reason ever. And what was that reason? Letting him eat you out.

Jake has been all over you this whole week. Chasing you around the house as you do the chores, clinging onto you when you’re doing assignments and so much more, you can’t even think of. You knew the reason as to why he was all up in your face. He was horny. He was always horny, even at the most important situations and everytime he is, you always seem to agree on whatever bullshit he plans to do with you.

Wether it was leaving a party just to fuck you or, dropping on a family dinner so you could suck him off.

whatever it was today, you weren’t gonna budge.

Especially not after the important essay being due in 30 minutes from now.

“Baby, please let me eat you out. I’ve been so patient this whole week.” he explains, head between your thighs as you hear him plead for the stupidest reason.

You put your laptop to the side, looking at him from bellow as he had the most adorable needy eyes. You hated denying times like these. He would get all needy, giving you puppy eyes as you eventually give in. And to your fact, that was gonna happen again. You were going to give in.

A pause filled the room as you sighed. “Fine” you say, rolling your eyes playfully as you see his eyes light up. “Thank you so much baby!!” he says with a bright smile on his face, kissing your clothed knees for affection

He was adorable.

Jake takes off your sweatpants, looking at you in the eyes as he places small kisses all over your thighs. Keeping a strong hand on your hip, he kisses your pantie-clothed pussy, glossy arousal showing all though-out his bottom lip. “Pretty, you’re so wet” the raspy voice hits your ears as your eyes roll back. “Wet for you. Only for you” you say, tugging onto his hair as you give him a signal start doing his job.

He reads the signal, taking off your pink panties as his cold finger runs through your wet folds making you quiver. A groan leaves his lips as you play his hair, giving you the most innocent does eyes no one could imagine. He places a digit inside your cunt, making you squirm due to the sensitivity all around the flesh. “Fuck jake” you moan with the amazing pleasure coming from your boyfriend. Seeing that you’re all ready for him, he goes down on your clit still fingering you while you beg for him to go faster.

“Mm jakey please love, a little bit more-“ you stutter on your words as he puts in another finger, making you feel like you’ve enternd heaven. The pace of his tongue goes faster making you squirm while you grip onto his hair for dear life. His strong arms hold you down, nails digging roughly into the skin of your hips. A familiar sensation fills your stomach, your orgasm going off making you few the best. You ride your hips on jake’s face, mind going blank as you yell in pleasure “jake! Fuck m’cumming” you whine, thighs practically suffocating him as he doesn’t stop his movements.

moans leave his lips as he finishes you off, kissing your pussy as you twitch due to sensitivity. He looks up at you, cheeks red while his mouth is covered in your warm and filled juices. “Mm baby you tasted so good” he praises you, blush filling your checks as you cover your face. He gets you up, putting your lower clothes back on as he tells you how much he loves you.

You look up at the time, discovering that the so called ‘30 minutes’ you had left had already passed.

You may have failed your assignment but you sure as hell didn’t fail to make your boyfriend happy.

[glossysoap]

dirty talk ; captain mactavish | soap it up!

summary: snippets of what captain mactavish would say in bed.

this is also my first contribution towards @glitterypirateduck ‘soap it up’ challenge! thank you for encouraging entries even after the deadline lol, it’s much appreciated. and as always, if anyone is interested in a more fleshed out version of any of these headcanons, i’m open to writing a more detailed fic about it.

prompts used:

“I’ll take care of you.”

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?”

“I’m going to marry you.”

warnings/tags: 18+, fem reader/afab, oral (f), fingering, squirting, mating press. this isn’t as rough as i would usually like to make it but i’ll make a rougher version soon :) also i whipped this up in like 2 hours in the middle of the night while i was fighting sleep so be gentle <3

notes: bolded sentences = lines he would say in bed.

word count: 1-1.5k

🏷️: @divine--serenity @violet-phantoms @jumbojazzcats93 @ghastlybirdie @loveyhoneydovey @vgilantee @blissful-bunny @damnirina @wrathofcats @claymorexpunisher @krakenbabe @luvecarson @mandalover2023 @lordlydragon @undeadsthings @kiroshang @ivymarquis @stargirlrchive @itzzjxlyn @msdevil333 (if your name is struck out, tumblr won’t let me tag you. pls check your settings. also, if you want to be added to my smut tag list, let me know. if you want to be added to my dark fic tag list, let me know. if you want to be added to my everything tag list, let me know. pls be specific on what list you wish to be added to. if you want to be removed from any list, pls let me know, there’s never any hard feelings.)

“Love this pretty fuckin’ pussy so much.” He murmurs softly into your skin, his stubble scratching against the warmth of your inner thigh as his strong arms work on holding your legs apart for him. Icy blue eyes studying your cunt with all of the focus ingrained in a captain — wearing a wolfish grin as he commits every detail to memory. As if it were the first time he ever saw it.

“Love you so much.” Then his eyes would flicker up to your face to gauge your reaction as he uses one thick finger to trace your slick folds. He takes his time gathering your juices on his fingers and spreading your lips apart. His lips quirk into a grin as he sees you bite your lip and your brows furrow. Before you could return his affections, his finger had begun dipping inside your folds.

But just dipping. Not giving you enough stimulation to get off but just enough to make your heart race. Enough to make you frustrated.

“Fuck, John! Please! Just touch me!” You beg, voice cracking as you look down at where he lay between your legs.

“I am touchin’ ye.” He looks up at you, feigning confusion as his finger continues to tease your slit so cruelly. “What do ye’ mean?”

“Mm, you know what I mean.” You try to stifle a moan as he traces little figure eights right at your entrance, only dipping just a fraction further inside. Keyword: try.

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?” He asks, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he grins.

He loved your pathetic little whimpers and whines when you were so desperate for his tongue or his cock. But what he loved even more was feeling how drenched you were for him. He loved the unabashed moans that fell from your lips as you writhe in pleasure.

So he stopped teasing.

“So fuckin’ wet for me. Just soaking my fingers, lass.” He smiles as he pushes a thick finger in all the way to the knuckle, slipping in so easily from how slick you were. Your breath hitches as he dips his head down, letting his breath fan against your cunt. Just as he’s slipping in a second finger, his mouth is on your pussy. Lapping at your folds in wide and messy stripes, licking up all of your juices and moaning against your sensitive skin.

“Oh my God!” You cry out, hand moving to grab a fistful of his mohawk in an attempt to find purchase.

“Mmm, fuck! You taste so fucking good. Could do this all day.” He moans into your cunt, sending vibrations to your core. He’s so loud about it, dipping his tongue inside you and wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and sucking. All the while, his two fingers were pumping in and out beneath his tongue, preparing you for the stretch of his cock. His two fingers alternated between pumping at a cruel pace and scissoring inside your warmth, making you cry out. With his mouth making a mess of your pussy and his fingers moving in tandem, wet squelching sounds had started mixing with your moans.

“Please, please, please, John!” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. He was already touching you. But you just couldn’t help it. You had so much tension and stimulation built up, you needed to do something.

“Aw,” he can’t help but coo mockingly, “Dinnae worry, mo ghraidh.” My love.

“I’ll always take care o’ ye.” He grins against your throbbing cunt, before coming up from between your legs and switching your position in five seconds flat. He hikes your legs above his shoulders, knees pressed against your chest to leave you perfectly spread open for him.

With that same wolfish grin, he rubbed the head of his cock along your wet folds. He loved how soaked you were already, how much your juices were coating his cock. He heard your little gasp at the teasing and he saw your hips desperately buck up into the air. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you were so needy to be filled and fucked.

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen clit a few times, before pressing it against your entrance.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, love. Can barely move.” He chuckles in your ear when he first pushes in, easing his cock inside your cunt inch by inch. You gasp at his girth as he eases inside — his cock is always an adjustment for you, especially after a dry spell. He gives a small hiss from how tight you were, then after a minute, he groans because of how slippery and warm you were around his cock. Always taking him so well.

“That’s it, that’s it…” He croons into your ear as you clench around his cock, your juices mixing with his as he pumps in and out. You could feel his stubble scratching against your skin as he spoke, sending an additional chill down your spine as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.

He angles his hips a bit different so he can hit you even deeper. When he hears you sharply gasp, he laughs.

“Yeah, did I find that spot? Hmm?” He croons in your ear, not waiting for a response before his hips pick up the pace. He keeps hitting that sensitive spot in your cunt with thrust, groaning in your ear when he feels you squeeze him so good.

“Gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine.” He all but growls in your ear as he feels himself grow closer to his own release. He feels himself throbbing inside you, that knot inside his stomach growing tighter and tighter. All he wanted to do was fold your legs up to your chest and pump you full of his cum. He wanted to hear you whine and moan from being so full, all while having his cum trickle down from your soaked cunt.

“Good fuckin’ girl. I swear, one day I’m gonna marry ye’.” He murmurs in your ear, voice all gruff and husky as you gush all over his cock. Your cunt pulses and throbs, squeezing around him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you absolutely breathless. His hips never faltering as he ruts into you, enjoying every cry and moan that falls from your lips. His breath fanning against your face as his forehead presses onto yours, blue eyes drinking in every twist of ecstasy in your expression.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[lushaletta]

I have a question??? Could you do Fred Weasley x older sister Potter reader who's he's friends with and like headcanons of their relationship please and thank you

in good hands / fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

content: mild swearing, older sister potter!reader

summary: being harry potter’s older sister is difficult. you hate watching your little brother get hurt both physically and emotionally, but fred happens to be a great protector.

a/n: MY FRED WEASLEY DEBUT!! george is my fav but fred is so arghghghgh hot. anywayyyy tysm for this request and i’m sorry i didn’t follow it to a t!! i was originally gonna do headcanons as requested but i kinda got in the zone… i do kinda like this pairing though so i may end up doing hcs eventually anyway! also my bad for this taking FOREVER i’ve been madly busy… love u folks

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Harry comes running into your room, soaked with both rain water and agitation. His broom is immediately tossed to the side and you can’t help but be concerned— you have a feeling you know what this is going to be about, and it’s not the first time.

“Harry?”

“So sick of it! I only try to help, you know? To make things better and no one ever gives a fuck! No gratitude or even kindness, after everything I’ve done.” Your face softens as he inches towards you, even being careful not to get your bed wet with his clothing.

“They’re still mad at you for losing the game? Are you serious?” You’re completely furious. Harry’s had the world on his shoulders since forever and his entire life is a tragedy. He can’t even play a school sport without being reamed for something that’s hardly his fault.

Peeling his jersey off, he crawls into your side and waits for your affection; the only thing he can count on when the world isn’t on his side.

“I tried to fix things, you know? Told Fletcher I was sorry but they’re still pissed, calling me a freak and saying all this crap about Voldemort.” You shush him and cradle his face in your arms. Your heart is breaking because how could anyone treat your baby brother like this, how could anyone see him as something less than precious?

His eyes shimmer but not with the sparkle of joy. They’re teary. “Fuck ‘em all. They’ll come around, Harry. They do eventually.”

It’s not fair what they do to him. He’ll mess something up and half the time it’s out of his control, and suddenly he’s public enemy number one. You’re usually there to help, and so are his friends like Hermione and Ron, but it can’t always be like this.

He’s okay after a while. You amp up the jokes and ruffle his hair and he’s okay. He has dinner with his group and you with yours. It’s a nice evening and all you can do is hope he’s forgetting everything wrong with the world. It seems like he is, because he’s tossing peanuts in the air and catching them in his mouth while Ron is laughing hysterically and Hermione is resting her hand on a judgemental expression.

“Oi, Weasley!” you say, and Fred whips his head towards you. “I’ve got something to ask. A favour.”

He perks up. You were asking him for a favour. He’s been waiting for his in since forever, but he wouldn’t let you know that. “Yeah?” he replies, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

A quick breath escapes your lips as you lean on him, lashes fluttering and a little grin settled on your face. He can look at you trying to be all persuasive without blushing. He’s stronger than this.

“How about.. you and George look after Harry? I’ve been worried about him, with the whole dementor thing. And after what happened last game, I can’t just sit from the stands and watch him get injured again knowing I didn’t do anything about it. Everyone’s pissed at him.”

Fred softens. His mind races, trying to come up with the cons of the request. He comes up empty. This was an excuse to talk to you more and, well, he already quite liked Harry, so that was no issue. And with your convincing doe eyes, how could he refuse?

He’s taking too long to respond and he knows it, but he can’t stop staring at your pretty face. You clear your throat, prodding for an answer. “Huh? Oh, yeah. The lad’s gonna be in good hands, m’lady,” he winks.

The roll of your eyes makes him smile. “Better make sure of it, Weasley.”

And to shut you up, he shoves a grape between your lips and you smack him across the arm.

From then on, Fred and George made sure no one got in Harry’s way. Someone messed with him, they messed with them. The twins were 190 and a half centimetres of beater strength and poking the bear was on no one’s to-do list, so Harry was pretty much set. Well, not entirely.

All Harry really wants to do is sit down and catch up on the pile of homework he’s missed for Chosen One duties, but some people take that as being haughty.

“Potter. You and your godforesaken hero complex. You think you’re untouchable? What’ll happen if I sock you in the face, huh? You think magic will—“

“Fuck around and find out.”

Finnick Lewis turns around. He immediately backtracks. “Hey, listen, man, I don’t want any trouble.” Fred didn’t miss the nasty glare that Lewis sent Harry on his way out. He’d take care of that one later.

The boy doesn’t really know what’s just happened or why, but he’ll take whatever he can get and he’ll be grateful for it. He mumbles out a thank you before scrambling to his room.

You’d seen Fred’s effort in protecting your brother. He’d done a damn good job at it too, because Harry hadn’t complained much about students in weeks. You’re glad you at least took that load off his shoulders.

“Tell you what, Weasley,” you say nonchalantly, unwrapping a chocolate.

He hums. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and he’s trying to finish up an essay. Lupin likes him just fine, but he’s definitely a tough grader.

“If you can make sure Harry’s perfectly uninjured after the next game, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Who cares about Lupin? Fred looks up at you instantly, suddenly feeling the velvet of the chair on his skin. “I’ll totally bite. How many seconds?”

You snort. “The kiss?” He nods. “3 seconds. 5 if I’m feeling generous.”

The essay is forgotten just like that.

The man moved the moon and sun to ensure Harry’s safety on his watch. Lewis and Fletcher had their tails between their legs after a few careful threats and actions to back them up, and Harry felt good. Safe. That’s all that mattered.

Monday arrives and the Quidditch stands are a sea of red and green with Gryffindor particularly antsy as Harry zooms around the pitch, Golden Snitch right within his view but not quite arms reach.

“Potter’s got his eye on the prize! I’ve got mine on too, Johnson looks impeccable in robes, I’ll tell you that much— Sorry, Professor.”

Fred’s holding his own, watching out for any foul play from the Slytherin Seeker whilst batting Bludgers. George is at his side, throwing them out and scoring right into Flint’s stomach.

“Wonderful play from Weasley! Not quite sure which one, but great nonetheless,” Lee says through the megaphone.

Fred’s just about to hit a Bludger into the opposing Keeper’s side, but he spots Harry in the corner of his eye being tailed by Higgs and there’s a nasty Slytherin Bludger coming right for him and he’s flying there immediately.

Harry’s so pumped with adrenaline and focus on the Snitch, he doesn’t even notice the ball coming straight to his nose. Godric knows that would leave a mark. Fred comes up and bats it away, nearly falling off his broom.

You’re watching from the stands in admiration and excitement and Fred can’t help but find you in the crowd. He sends you a wink from the pitch and a girl beside you seems to think it’s for her. You let it happen. You know who it belonged to.

Gryffindor emerges victorious, winning by two points and Harry’s crowd surfing, a big smile on his face as students chant his name. He doesn’t know how long the fame will last, but he doesn’t really care.

“You did good, Weasley,” you admit as Fred comes up beside you.

“Think I deserve my kiss now?”

In typical you fashion, you roll your eyes and pull him towards your face.

He thinks the kiss will be haste, but you melt into his lips and he does the very same. His arms snake around your waist and bring you impossibly closer and you relish in it. It’s embarrassing how much you’re grinning, but you can feel his smile too.

Catching your breath, “That was like 30 seconds. Now you gotta help Harry with his homework.”

[buckybabesonly]

Protector

Summary: When Steve gets injured on the field protecting you, Bucky lashes out at you from fear of seeing you in danger, and jealously of Steve’s arms around you.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Avenger!reader, platonic Steve x Female!Avenger!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff (y'all know we only do happy endings here)

Warnings: Jealous Bucky, Bucky being slightly mean to reader out of over-protectiveness, minor character injury, I’m not very good at writing action scenes I apologize 🙇🏻‍♀️

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: My creative juices are floooowing lately! I have so many ideas saved in my drafts 😭 Please let me know if you liked this one!

"On your feet. Again." Steve’s voice was authoritative, demanding, as per usual. He gestured his hand at you as you lay on your back, skin gleaming with sweat.

You gave him a faux-scowl, the muscles in your legs shaking with exhaustion as you forced yourself to stand, hands bracing themselves on your knees.

"Wait. Need a breather," you said, shaking your head. Your hair was coming loose from your ponytail, and Bucky's fingers itched to neatly sweep the strands back from out of your face.

He watched silently from one side of the room, observing your sparring session with Steve. He was going pretty tough on you, though he told you it was for your own good.

"No breathers out in the field," Steve grunted, tackling you and practically tossing you over his shoulder, but with enough finesse so you landed safely on your butt.

"Hey!" you exclaimed loudly in shock. If you had been looking, you would have seen how Bucky reflexively half-rose from his perch, afraid that you had actually been hurt, until he saw the way you scrunched your nose in annoyance at Steve and bounced back on your feet indignantly.

"I was making a point -" Steve ducked to the side when you launched a fist towards his head, then threw out a sharp roundhouse kick. You just managed to graze the top of his hair, and he laughed jovially.

"Almost. Try again."

Bucky settled back in his seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he watched you throw yourself again and again at Steve. Especially when Steve's strong arm encircled your waist, the other one hooking itself under your thigh to throw you onto the ground once more.

He clenched his fist, wishing it was him with his hands on your body instead, and in an entirely different setting.

His excuse for being in the training room was to try and see where your weak spots were and offer you pointers, in hopes that you would improve your hand-to-hand combat. You were an excellent sharpshooter, and could easily defend yourself, but needed to work on your offensive attacks.

Lately, the idea of you attacking someone head on had been making Bucky feel uneasy. Which was ridiculous, since you were part of the team and it was literally your job, but he found that it was affecting his focus out on the field. He felt like he had a constant obligation to look out for you, to protect you.

It seemed like Steve shared the same sentiment. The super soldiers were both oddly protective over you, and it had actually been Steve's idea to up your training in recent months.

The way you moaned as Steve landed a punch in your abdomen made Bucky simultaneously want to rugby tackle his best friend to the ground, and somehow planted sinful thoughts in his head. He knew Steve would never hit you with full-force, however, and made himself to stay put.

"Rogers, I swear one of these days, I'm going to kick your ass," you groaned.

He laughed again, and you took the opportunity to exploit his distraction, using your position on the floor to knock his feet out from under him with surprising force. Your kicked his shins sharply, sending him on his knees, and lunged for him.

You had him on his back for once, finally, and you grinned triumphantly at Bucky. He was mildly perturbed at your position, semi-straddling Steve, but he managed to crack a smile.

Steve finally called it a day half an hour later, leaving you and Bucky alone in the room. You were humming to yourself, stretching out your limbs. Bucky didn’t miss the way you winced slightly.

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked, tossing you a bottle of water.

“A little, but it’s alright,” you shrugged. You took a sip, eyes sliding over to his form. He was looking particularly handsome today in a pair of form fitting black jeans, heavy boots and his leather jacket zipped up around his torso.

God, this man could be wearing a garbage bag and you would be drooling. From the first day you met him, you had developed a crush on him, hooked by his ruggedly handsome looks and tough exterior. What really made you fall, however, was that surprisingly soft personality hidden underneath. He made you laugh, too, and you loved the way the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled at you. Bucky had easily stolen your heart.

Said heart was continuously fluttering nowadays whenever you were near him, like he was a silly teenage crush. You tried to play it cool.

“So, any tips?”

Soon, you were both grappling at each other playfully, peals of laughter leaving your mouth as you “fought”. Bucky was smiling that darn smile, looking almost childlike as you circled each other.

At some point you ended up on top of him, your hands around his wrists as you pinned them back. He could easily free himself, but he humored you.

“Hah!” you called out.

Bucky’s laughter subsided slowly as he took in the sight of you, panting on top of him. His eyes inadvertently fell to your cleavage, where the swell of your breasts was oh-so-visible from his vantage point, your skimpy tank top doing little to hide your skin.

Mortified, he felt a rush of blood to his groin. He knocked you off swiftly before you could feel anything which would reveal what a pervert he was, coughing loudly to hide his embarassment.

“That’s enough,” he said, surprising you with a change of tone. You felt a little disheartened at the switch-up, confusion settling in.

“Ah, okay,” you said, nodding. He was probably getting tired of your games, knowing how you didn’t like to take everything too seriously. Bucky mumbled something about going to take a shower before he excused himself and left.

Being an Avenger was always going to be life threatening. However, you could think of nothing else you'd rather be doing than fighting alongside your chosen family, trying to make your contribution to the world, even if it meant risking yourself.

You usually considered yourself a solid team player, trusting Steve to make the right call out on the field. Now, you weren't so sure, faintly aware that maybe, just maybe, you had screwed up. Especially in situations like these, lying on concrete with your ears ringing, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

Smoke and dust filled your sight. Your mind was scrambled, unable to comprehend what had happened. You couldn't see a thing, but you could feel the pain in your shoulder, and you wondered if you had dislocated it or worse.

The smoke cleared. All of a sudden, Bucky's face appeared, panic clearly written in his eyes.

The pieces were slowly coming together. You suddenly became aware that Steve was lying behind you, shield in hand and positioned above you. You could hear him groaning in mild discomfort. The clanging in your ears were subsiding so you could hear him and Bucky's shouting.

Your disorientation faded, and you realized what had happened. The explosion.

Four S.H.I.E.L.D agents had gone rogue and had secretly been working for HYDRA, who had been spending the past year regaining power and presence. You had been one of the people dispatched to take them down after the team received intel on the location of their base. They had been holed up in an underground bunker beneath an abandoned warehouse, the perfect spot for a group like them.

You weren't even supposed to be in that part of the bunker, but you saw an opportunity to breach their control room, where undoubtedly you would be able to find all sorts of valuable information about what HYDRA was planning, or what terrible projects they had ongoing. Unfortunately, they had been savvier than you thought, and had implemented a safeguard in the event of a security breach.

That safeguard, as it turned out, was explosives.

Steve had found you as soon as he was made aware of what you were doing, and he had appeared no more than 15 seconds before the bombs detonated. If he hadn't been around, you were almost certain you'd be dead.

You barely had time to register Steve's appearance before you suddenly found yourself flying off your feet, Steve a blur of blue as he re-positioned himself to protect you.

"...fuck, will you say something? Are you okay?"

Bucky was screaming in your ear, and you blinked, the haze finally clearing. Alarms were blaring, Steve was back on his feet, scooping you up with ease.

"We need to get back to the Quinjet," you heard Steve bark, and he began sprinting, jumping over rubble with you in his arms, Bucky following close behind.

As soon as you boarded the jet, Steve sat you down and ordered Bucky to tend to you. He was already kneeling at your feet and inspecting your injuries wordlessly. Steve swiftly geared the Quinjet to life, desperate to get them out of the area before anything else went to hell.

"Look at me," Bucky said sharply, his voice rough. You were startled at his tone, his hands brushing your hair back as he inspected your head for any serious injuries. Blood was trickling from your temples, but from what he could tell, they were only shallow cuts. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," you managed to say faintly, the reality of what had happened slowly sinking in. You had put all of them in danger because of your reckless actions, and Steve had actually been injured because of you. You could see the blood dripping off his fingers as he sat at the console, though from the way he handled himself you knew they could only be minor lacerations.

Your eyes landed on Bucky's face then, scanning him for any signs of injury. He seemed physically unharmed, but his face was bright red and he was shaking with rage as he spoke to you. You were ashamed, knowing that he was furious you put his best friend in danger.

“I told you to stay put,” Bucky snarled, slamming his hand against the back of your seat.

"I - I know," you stuttered, vaguely remembering Bucky's request in your earpiece just moments earlier.

“Why couldn't you just listen? You had to play the fucking hero?"

"Bucky, lay off of her." Steve's warning was stern, and Bucky shot a glare at the back of his head.

"No. She was being stupid," he spat, looking back at you. "What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?"

You bristled then, despising his patronizing tone. “You’re one to talk. How many times have you completely gone off script and blindsided us with your decisions?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew it was an unfair statement.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think you realize what could have happened back there."

You looked at Steve again, guilt consuming you. He was focused on operating the jet, and you knew that he hadn't been seriously hurt, but he could have been. Or, worse, Bucky could have been caught in the explosion. He was lucky not to have been there.

"I'm sorry," you began, but Bucky cut you off.

"You need to take this fucking seriously," he snarled. "You went marching in there blindly, and look what happened."

"I thought I might be able to get something useful," you said weakly.

"Look how well that turned out," he said sarcastically. "You blew everything up."

You recoiled, hurt. You wondered if Bucky was actually upset that you had destroyed a valuable chance to get information on HYDRA. Though how were you supposed to know extracting the information would set off literal bombs? You had been acting quickly, wanting to get in and out. Maybe Bucky blamed you for destroying that chance.

"You can be so fucking stupid and selfish," Bucky exclaimed angrily, lashing out in full force. So reckless, doing whatever you wanted to do, without so much as a thought to how much potential harm you could be putting yourself in.

"That's enough," Steve shouted loudly, his voice angry and booming.

You flinched visibly, biting down hard on your lip to stop yourself from snapping back. Or worse, crying. Bucky walked over to the other side of the jet, away from you.

The feeling was awful. Your shoulder was burning, throat in pain from the smoke you had inhaled, and all Bucky had done was shout. It was surprising, how much your feelings hurt at his outburst.

Bucky was as tense as a statue. His mind was racing as he refused to look at you, thinking of all the worst possibilities. His heart felt as if it had literally skipped a beat the moment he saw you lying in the rubble, seconds after he'd heard the explosion and realized he could no longer hear you in his earpiece - there was a chilling moment amidst the action where he really, genuinely believed you had been killed.

Having you act so blasé about it after the fact infuriated him.

You, on the other hand, felt a heavy weight in your chest as you watched Bucky mutter to himself, the muscle in his jaw twitching. You felt so guilty, feeling so...incapable in Steve and Bucky's presence. Steve had been hurt because of you, and Bucky had every right to be mad at you. Nonetheless, his words cut you deeply.

Stupid and selfish.

The rest of the journey back to the compound was tense and silent. Bucky stared at the wall whilst you stared at the ground. As soon as the jet landed, Bucky stood up with full intention of hoisting you up against his chest to take you to the medical wing, but found Steve standing between you and him instead. Like a barrier, as if he wanted to protect you from Bucky's wrath.

"Let's get you checked out," Steve grunted, his arm once again around your damn waist as you stood.

Even though it was neither the place nor the time, jealously instinctively entered Bucky's bloodstream at the way you leaned on Steve. He wanted to be the one to take care of you, dammit, but all he had achieved was make you avoid his stare.

"Get her head checked out whilst you're at it," Bucky barked. "See if you can find out why she lost all her fucking common sense."

Tears sprang to your eyes when Bucky stormed off the jet, heading into the compound first. It hurt you more than you cared to admit that he hadn't even stayed to see if you were alright.

"He didn't mean that," Steve said quietly.

"He did," you retorted, wincing in pain as you experimentally moved your shoulder. "Shit."

"You alright?"

"Dislocated, I think."

Steve helped you to the medical wing, where you were promptly checked and - yep, dislocated shoulder. No other injuries though, thanks to Steve.

"You saved my life," you said gratefully as Steve stood beside you, wiping dried blood from his hands and face. "Thank you. I'm sorry, as well."

Steve's face was kind yet stern as he moved to stand in front of you. "No need to thank me. But yeah, the way you behaved was kind of reckless."

"I know."

He placed a heavy hand on your good shoulder, squeezing gently. "Get some rest, okay?"

"Do you think Bucky hates me?" you asked suddenly, looking up at Steve searchingly. "You know him best. Do you think he hates me now?"

Steve sighed loudly in a way that planted doubt in your mind despite his answer. "No, of course he doesn't hate you."

"I think he's at least annoyed that I risked your life," you mumbled.

"Okay, first of all, I've been in so many explosions that it's just a regular day at the office, now," Steve said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Secondly, I think he's just annoyed that you risked your life."

You were dubious, thinking that Steve was just trying to placate you. You recalled how Bucky had glared at you before. If he actually cared, surely he wouldn't have just stalked off like that?

“I think my safety was the last thing on his mind.”

"Get some rest," Steve repeated. "Stop overthinking."

You nodded unconvincingly, all while your thoughts continued to be plagued by a certain dark haired, blue eyed man.

"She okay?" Bucky asked Steve the moment he saw him in the hallway just off the medical wing.

"You could ask her yourself, you know," he said, cocking an eyebrow. When Bucky didn't respond, he offered, "Dislocated her shoulder. Few cuts and bruised ribs. Otherwise, she's fine."

Bucky felt himself let go of a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He had inspected you pretty closely on the jet and was sure you had been fine, though he was annoyed he didn't realize your shoulder was hurt, however part of him was still fearful. To hear Steve confirm that you were mostly fine was a relief.

"Good," Bucky said brusquely. Steve tilted his head at him, observing his best friend with judgmental eyes. The silence between them spoke volumes. “Shut up," Bucky added.

Your shoulder had been easily maneuvered back into place, though you were confined into a sling and would be for the next few weeks, rendering you useless on the field. That, combined with the gnawing guilt of putting Bucky and Steve in danger, dampened your usually upbeat self.

After being discharged from the medical wing, you had retired to your bedroom and stayed there for the rest of the day. A few mornings later, you left your bedroom at the crack of dawn, startled to see Bucky already making breakfast in the kitchen.

"Oh. Hey," you said meekly, clearing your throat as you made your way to the coffee machine.

He had dark circles under his eyes, and you wondered if he had slept at all. His hair was disheveled, like he had been running his fingers through it, and he had stubble all across his sharp jawline.

Things were weird now after his tirade at you. You considered the two of you to be friends - very good friends, actually. In fact, you would be lying if you said you didn't have a deep-rooted hope that you might become more than friends. But, after Bucky's explosive verbal attack on you, you felt so small standing in front of him. You had avoided him for the past couple of days, afraid of any potential confrontation.

He thinks you’re stupid and selfish, you reminded yourself. Each time his words replayed in your mind, a fresh wave of pain hit you. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about how harsh he’d been for the past few nights whilst in bed, tears slipping down your face and onto your pillow as you tried to sleep.

Your gut twisted in discomfort. You liked Bucky so much, and his admonishing had crushed you somewhat. You wanted him to respect you, didn't want to disappoint him, but you had achieved the opposite.

You turned your back on him and poured yourself a coffee, knowing that if you looked at him for too long, you might start crying. His face was one that you used to love looking at, loved how affectionate he was when he spoke to you, but now you were just scared. You didn’t think you could take it if he snapped at you again.

"Are you okay?" He broke the silence first, and you wondered if he actually genuinely cared about the answer. You really weren’t sure anymore.

"I'm fine," you said, nodding and moving over to the pantry to try and find something to eat. You stretched up to the shelves with your good arm, fingers curling over a bag of croissants but not quite being able to reach.

You felt his presence behind you, his chest pressing against your back softly as he took the pastries down for you, setting them down on the counter.

Bucky watched when you stiffened slightly, and felt a heavy twinge of regret at how he had spoken to you that day. He was already feeling like an ass about it, but now he wondered if you were somehow frightened of him. He knew that he had crossed a line, said some pretty nasty things.

He stepped away from you, clearing his throat loudly to catch your attention. When you half-turned to face him, he spoke.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said the other day. It was out of line."

He could only see your profile as you bit down on your lower lip, shrugging as if to say no big deal. From the way your eyes were darting about, Bucky could tell you were holding back on your emotions. "It's okay. You were right."

Bucky frowned, watching as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. "What do you mean?"

"What I did was stupid and selfish," you said, your voice quivering. Bucky's lips pressed into a thin line as you continued. "I wasn't thinking, and I put both of you in danger. I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry at me."

Realization hit Bucky like a freight train.

"Hey," he said gently, approaching you again, his hand awkwardly curling around your wrist. He could see your eyes beginning to well up. "Don't get upset." He tilted his head at you, trying to coax you to look at him.

"I'm not," you sniffed, blinking hard in an attempt to rid yourself of your budding tears.

"When I said you were stupid and selfish," Bucky winced at those adjectives now, "I meant I just felt you were stupid to put yourself in danger, and selfish because - well, you didn't even think about what it would do to me."

Your brow furrowed at Bucky's rushed explanation, looking up at him quizically. Your eyes were still glistening, and his heart ached.

"I don't understand."

Bucky made a slightly frustrated noise, releasing your wrist. He planted his hands on the kitchen counter instead, trapping you, your lower back pressed against the marble edge. He sighed loudly, making you swallow nervously.

"Bucky?"

"I care about you," he began, suddenly unable to articulate himself properly as he looked into your eyes. “A lot. As in, a lot."

"Oh-kay..." The syllables were long and drawn out. You were still nonplussed.

"No, you don't get it," Bucky said through gritted teeth. He cast his mind back to the events in the bunker, that same fear creeping into his system. "There was a second where I heard the blast, and I thought you were done for. I was terrified."

Bucky leaned closer, so close that his forehead was almost resting on yours. His eyes fluttered closed. It was easier if he didn’t look at you to voice his feelings.

"There was a very real moment where I thought I lost you, and it was horrible." The unspoken meaning hung in the air. I can't live without you.

His confession made your heart rise in your chest with surprise and disbelief.

"Oh, Bucky." The way you spoke his name made him want to hold you tight. "I had no idea you cared so much," you said softly.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, and they were anguished. "That's the problem. I'm so scared of showing you my feelings that you had no idea I care about you more than anything." He scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't know what I was so afraid of. The idea of you being hurt is infinitely more terrifying than telling you how much I really like you."

“I - really?” His words were black and white, but you were afraid to truly believe them.

“Did you know,” Bucky began, lifting his hand to brush his knuckles against your cheekbone, “how much I want to protect you? Keep you from harm? At first, I didn’t understand it, but then I realized that I was falling for you.” He took a deep breath. “It’s been so long since I felt anything like that for anyone, that I barely recognized what it was.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his nerves. He knew he had to tell you how he felt. The way you were gazing at him now in pure adoration was motivation enough.

“I want to be with you, as more than friends.” He let out a soft huff of laughter, like he was amused it had taken him so long to admit something so simple.

You lifted your hand to cup the back of his neck, feeling a renewed confidence and sense of happiness at his words.

“I should have told you long ago how much I like you, too,” you whispered. Bucky's chest swelled in happiness at your admission.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?" he asked quietly, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

Your reply was to stand on your tip-toes so you could meet his mouth in a kiss, finally doing what you had wanted to do since the moment you met him.

[thepeonysbackup]

◇Satisfaction◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: THE LAST PART TO DRY HUMPING??? Thank you guys for liking my dumbassery? Craaaaazy to think any of you would liked this weird brain shit I got goin on in this blog.

Warning: Smut, pure, unadulterated smut. Smut smutty smut smut smut! (Just enjoy-)

Word count: Noneeee! Just made this

“I really am impressed,” Al hissed into your ear as his lips trailed down your neck, fingers working deep into your clenching heat as his other hand kneaded the flesh of your breast from underneath your knitted button-up sweater, “You lasted far longer then I believed you would, but alas you didn't meet my true expectations.” His fingers curled, two digits rocking into the spongey spot right near your entrance, drawing a cry from your lips at the teasing. “I fear you haven't earned me inside you just yet.” Finished with a nip to your ear, tweaking your peak with a roll of his forefinger and thumb as your ground down into his other hand, whines and soft gasps continuing to climb in volume as fireflies hummed and blinked around you both. He'd brought you into the swamplands of his pocket dimensional room, his tie, belt, and cane strewn halfway to where he had worked you up from at the door. Your body relaxed flat against the deer demons chest upon his lap so he could have his way with you as he pleased. It was torture though, the edge that was just close enough to reach always furthering itself as he'd slow his movements or move his thumb from your swollen clit to stop that thread from snapping in two. “N-no- I- But!-” You writhed, hands feverishly trying to find a place to rest as the repetitive edging was starting to become to much. “No, Al.. I'm sorry, I never- I didn't mean—” He hushed you, grinning lips placing another kiss on your skin before he managed to switch your position on his lap, making your legs straddle a single thigh so he could see that begging expression.

That pleading look in your foggy eyes, “I'm afraid I won't be going back on my word, Darling. But I will let you have the release you crave.” He explained while moving his hands from your chest and wet, squelching cunt to your waist, from there he drew your body forward and watched as you jolted and squirmed with a noise of embarrassment from your enjoyment of the feeling. His wicked grin grew, eyes narrowing as his smile twitched until you able to see the blackness that was his gums, “Mm-” Your hips jerked against him, hands coming up to his shoulders as a brace as you began to move yourself, no longer needing Alastors help in the matter as strings of moans and blubbering gasps started up again. Satisfied with your eagerness to please yourself from his teasing attacks on your most sensitive area, he leaned further away, back falling flat onto the grass as his ears flattened against his hair and he growled at the feeling of your wet juices flowing over his pants, your knee grazing his bulge that was oh so noticeable. But not to you. “Fuck- Al.. ‘S not enough.. It's not- I can't..!” You whined, body bending forward so that you were hovering over him, hair coming undone from its once firmly tied place, framing the two of you like a curtain as the radio demons claws slipped behind your head to bring you further down. Your body was laying atop his, hands gripping the grass near the sides of his head as his lips caught you in a kiss that broke your mind in half from the unexpected action and surprising amount of affection placed behind it. He plunged his tongue as far into your mouth as he could, his other hand continuing its guidance of your lower half as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your body began to twitch harder. You were right there, and all he had to do was push you all the way. How lovely for him, to have you in this bind, and not even one with your soul but with your mind. Your leg hiked up and slung over his other thigh, your heat pressing firmly on his straining bulge before you finally could hear a noise bubble from beneath Al's static that crackled. A noise resembling a glitched moan left him, noise transferring into your mouth which you reciprocated as he bit down onto your tongue, blood falling onto his lips which he lapped desperately up before you both flipped over.

You felt the soft grass, hair messy against it as you panted against the man above you’s lips, your legs being tugged upwards as he broke the kiss and buried his face into your shoulder so he could rut down between your legs at a quick pace. “How..” He breathed heavily, eyes failing to focus properly on your blissful expression, “How dare you do this to me.. You filthy thing..!” Those words were dripped in malice, anger from the pleasure you were providing for him when he had only wanted you to break for him. You had, but at what cost to his own pleasure. This grotesquely marvelous feeling he'd detested with his entire soul finally feeling as it should, like he needed it to feel as his hips pushed harder, the throb becoming nearly unbearable. He was there, the gooey warmth finally adding to the damp spot that had nearly dried and then some as it seeped slightly through the fabric, the white stickiness gently coating your lady lips as he continued to rub against you until your own climax hit you like a truck. With a groan of sorts, hands holding him into your chest while your body arched, you came undone against him and allowed your mind to fade as he pulled himself flat down against you with a sigh before darkness consumed you.

[teddywook]

cranberries ꨄ anton lee

warnings. shyboy!anton x noona!reader. sweet loser anton because i'm on my period and i'm soft. reader is sohee's older sister. anton's pov.

words. 1.853 k

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

the laughter that came from my lips gets stuck in my throat. i feel my heart beating so hard, I'm almost afraid it will end up bursting out of my chest.

i see you enter to the house party with that beautiful smile adorning your face, your silky hair sways with your walk and several eyes rest on your silhouette. i wanna be like those boys, with the courage to look at you freely and get closer to you, but i can't push away the tendril of bitterness that feeling unworthy of you generates in me. so i look away. fearing that you will catch me looking at you.

i know i look like a fool looking at you with so much admiration and i don't want you to notice it. i have enough humiliation every time my words stumble in your presence.

you approach where i am. i hear your brother greet our friends followed by your sweet laughter at some joke from seunghan. feeling jealous of him and his witty outgoing and confident personality

your eyes connect with mine and in a second they have me trapped in a spell. your soft voice pronounces my name in a greeting and then you smile at me, looking at me with eyes full of sweetness and i don't know how to react beyond a nervous smile and a whisper of a voice that is barely a decent response.

your brother has gone with seunghan to look for eunseok or sungchan, knowing that they will allow us to consume something stronger than cranberry juice and mineral water. so i'm left alone with you, trying my best not to go crazy in the process.

you poke my cheek in a loving gesture, and although i know it's mere big sister affection, my heart swells and lashes out even harder against my chest. i've found myself in this situation before, longing for you to see me as a normal guy who could spark a love interest in you. and not just as your little brother's best friend.

"my sweet tony always so cute~"

and there it is, your affection directed in expressions that make me feel small. a helpless and vulnerable boy who will never be man enough for you to look at him as such.

ain't your fault tho.

you have no idea the rollercoaster of emotions you provoke in me.

i am much taller than you, but you make me feel so small and defenseless in your presence that shyness engulfs me every time i am around you.

my senses are clouded, time seems to stop and i can only watch you cowering in my place. the sweet smell of your perfume surrounds me and your eyes on mine steal my breath.

if you only knew. if only you would let me love you... if only i had the courage to tell you how i feel about you.

noona... if you knew the effect you had on me, you'd probably laugh at what a pathetic lovestruck teenager i am. feeling butterflies fluttering in my stomach, turning into a sweaty, clumsy mess whenever you're around me. a smile from you, a word, a gesture, a touch of your hand.

you have me in the palm of your hands and you are not even aware of it.

i know that i'm younger than you. i know i'm inexperienced compared to those guys you've dated before. every time i try to make a move or ask you out my tongue trips. shame consumes me and i'm not able to do it.

and then you are standing here, still looking at me with those eyes that burn my soul, your fingers make a path towards my face and i freeze in place, looking with trembling eyes.

i feel your soft caress on my cheek, your skin against mine, the lines of your fingers are soft but feel like embers burning me.

"please bend over a little, tony, can you?"

my body reacts before processing what you said, in a second my knees are bent and my face is level with yours. kinda pathetic the way my body is always reacting to you? maybe. that's the kind of power you have over me

your fingers pass to my forehead and ruffle my bangs a little. and then both hands rest on my cheeks and cradle my face.

"so handsome, as always"

i hear your bubbly laugh as you notice my expression, i sure look like an idiot. you say things like that to me all the time, but i don't think i'll ever get used to it. because, coming from you. the most beautiful girl in this fucking world... they break my brain and i speak before i even think clearly.

the words leave my mouth like a messy, meaningless noise. you look at me with a slightly confused expression but amused at my clumsiness.

"noona... so beautiful..."

i barely manage to formulate, and i'm about to give myself a mental slap when i see you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a blush staining your cheeks.

the image is deliciously captivating and makes me weak. but it feels like a victory in my books, and even though it's a small one, still being a victory. and it gives me a little courage.

i bring my hand to your face, it being my turn to caress your cheek. i delight in the softness of your skin and give you the most stable smile i can, rising to my normal height and towering over your noticeably smaller body than mine.

your eyes scan my face in detail and i feel like they can see right through me. if eyes are the windows to the soul, then mine should be transparent crystals towards the sea of ​​burning fire that fills my chest. yours are of a beautiful color that keeps me awake, and as bright as stars that make me feel as if i were floating and flying beyond the sky.

you open your mouth and i catch the sigh that leaves your lips, your eyes sparkle and the air thickens around us. i feel the electricity run through the back of my neck and my lungs contract.

you take my hand gently, as if asking my permission, and like the docile child that i am, i melt into your touch. and again it is you who has complete control of the situation.

you gently caress the back of my hand —which is still on your cheek— as you move closer to my body. your hands go to the collar of my shirt and draw me to you, your eyes full of a fear that confuses me, makes me feel on the edge of the abyss.

"tell me you don't love me and i'll stop. i've been waiting for you for so long that i feel like i'm going crazy with every second that passes. but if there's a chance, please... i just want to hear that you love me as much as i love you".

i wanna ask you what's going on, because i'm not sure i heard correctly. but before i can say anything, your body sticks to mine and our mouths collide with each other.

a tidal wave of emotions shakes my body when i feel the softness of your lips on my slightly open mouth, the sweet acidity of the cranberries melting on my tongue and making me feel dizzy. my mind goes blank for a second and my body remains static without moving. by the time i start to understand what's happening, you slowly stop kissing me.

your eyes, now bright with disappointment, burn my skin. but it's a different burning, it's not warm.

it's heartbreaking and hurts like hell.

when you are about to walk away my instinct screams. my body reacts and attracts you to me, locking you into my arms.

your face buries in my chest, fear shakes me and i'm unable to think of anything. before i can say a word, your face rises, tears threaten to come out of your eyes and my heart screams at me to be brave.

then i kiss you, my arms go around your body almost as if i'm afraid you might disappear, but i loosen my grip when i feel your hands try to hold me down. so i let them go on their way and they climb up to encircle my neck.

my hands go to your waist and surround it, resting on the curve that joins it to your hip.

i feel like i'm flying on the cloud nine.

the bomb of sensations explodes in my mind and makes me hallucinate. the world disappears, there're no people, there's no noise or anything around. it's just you and me. here and now.

and when that kiss ends, your eyes look at me, your face still millimeters from mine. with your voice suffocated and full of truth and sweetness as always when you speak to me, you pronounce the words that i have dreamed of hearing for so long.

"i love you, anton. i know that i am older than you, that you surely have a bunch of girls behind you who are more beautiful and better for you. but i really love you. and i would really like you to see me as more than just your best friend's older sister"

i want to respond that i also love you, from the moment i met you and until the last day of my life. that don't care about the age gap, that there's nobody else i want more than you by my side.

but the laughter of our friends breaks our little bubble and we are once again in a loud and crowded party.

"finally lovebirds, i was beginning to believe that you would never confess to each other"

seunghan and sungchan laugh at eunseok hyung's comment. i feel the heat rise up my neck and ears. my eyes roam over our friend's faces. i turn to face you, you look as confuse as me and then sohee talks.

"literally everyone knew that you liked each other except you both. it was a torture"

sohee doesn't seem bothered that i like her older sister and that makes me feel better. but the guys' laughter reminds me that i still stick to your body like a puppy.

i feel like a child being caught by his parents and i become tiny and nervous again. your arms pull me into a hug and you hide my face in the crook of your neck as you stroke my hair and yell at our friends to stop making fun of me.

i want to tell you that i love you too, even if it's in a whisper. but the kiss you leave on my head makes me understand that you already know.

so i hug you and inhale the sweetness of your perfume.

suddenly i'm not so ashamed of my shyness.