#The worst part is I'm not actually even feeling it I'm just sitting here using words that I know describe it bc it's like it just

[flowersforbucky]

sucker for you

peter maximoff x reader

word count: 1.2k

i can't stop thinking about how peter would react to reader taking his lollipop from him and putting it in her mouth so here's a little drabble about that

a/n: i should be working on this bucky piece that i started like 3 weeks ago but i just needed to get this out of my system first

warnings/tags: language, use of alcohol (everyone is 21+!!), no use of y/n, peter's pov, and some ✨️tension✨️

Peter didn't know it was possible to get so flustered over a human being.

He's never exactly considered himself to be a ladies man, but around you? He's hopeless. A lost cause. Every time he's near you, it feels like his first very day ever interacting with another person.

From the way that your smile reaches your eyes whenever he makes you laugh with a stupid joke to the way that you always smell sweeter than the candy that he eats too much of, he's been a goner for you since the day he first met you.

And the worst part? You seem to know exactly how to make him blush.

As per usual on Friday nights, yours and Peter's group of friends is hanging out in the woods behind the mansion. You're all lounging around a bonfire that Scott works to keep going strong, talking amongst yourself in pairs.

"You know, I heard Warren telling Scott that he's planning on asking you to the winter gala," Jean snickers to you.

Peter isn't trying to eavesdrop, really. Jean just has zero volume control when she has any amount of alcohol in her system. He'd be able to hear every word she's saying even if you and her weren't sitting right next to him.

"What?" Jean demands when you offer no response other than some giggles and a shake of your head. "You've already turned two people down. You're kinda running low on options at this point.”

He twists the stem of the cherry flavored lollipop that he's sucking on, trying and failing to focus on whatever it is that Kurt's rambling on about. His body is angled away from yours, but he can feel the vibration of your low laughter from where your shoulder rests against his.

Peter had heard that you've been asked to the gala that Charles throws in the name of the X-Men every year. He couldn't lie, he was relieved when he'd found out that you had shot down the suitors - not that he'd ever have the balls to ask you himself. He had no desire to be added to the list of people that you've rejected to a glorified prom.

“So? I can go alone. Going alone is better than going with anyone who isn't the person that I actually want to go with,” you answer with a shrug of your shoulders.

Peter tenses at your words, his stomach doing a somersault.

“And who would that be?” Jean asks in a teasing voice, almost like she already knows the answer.

Before you can respond, Peter quickly shoots to his feet. Kurt comes to a sudden stop in the middle of a sentence, and both you and Jean turn to look up at him from where you still sit on the old, fallen tree that is being used as a bench.

“Where're you going?” You ask. Peter knows it's probably wishful thinking, but he can't help but think that there's a hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Back to the mansion. I've gotta take a whiz,” he retorts, hoping he sounds casual. Truthfully, he can't stand the thought of having to hear you say some dude's name in response to Jean's question.

“Since when are you above pissing in the woods?” Scott laughs as he piles some more branches onto the bonfire.

Peter shoots him an obscene gesture, about to bolt in the direction of the mansion when he feels your hand wrap around his from beneath him. You begin to get up, and he instinctively helps pull you into a standing position.

“I'll walk back with you,” you tell him as you drop his hand. “I'm going to grab a few more beers.” You smile at him in the orange glow of the fire and he forgets how to speak. He motions as if to say after you and you begin walking in the direction of the mansion.

He's fully aware that he could have the two of you back to the school in a split-second, but despite how nervous he gets around you, he'd never pass up the opportunity to spend a few moments alone with you. Living here, you're both almost always surrounded by other people. If it's not Jean, it's Storm. If it's not Storm, it's Raven or Hank. If it's it's not –

“I just had to get away from that,” you sigh when the two of you are out of earshot from the others. “I love her, but Jean can be kind of relentless,” you add with a small laugh.

“You can say that again,” he agrees, his voice mumbled from the lollipop stuffed between his teeth and his check. “Just the other day she was saying that I should ask someone.”

“Yeah?” You quip, a curious edge to your tone. “And are you going to?”

“Nah,” Peter shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Like you said, it's better to go alone than to go with someone who isn't the person you really like.”

“So what's stopping you from asking her? Is she already going with someone else?”

“No,” he answers, coming to a stop in the middle of the moonlit path the two of you are walking on. “She's not. But she's already turned down basically everyone in the school, so I don't think I stand much of a chance.”

Sometimes Peter starts a sentence without knowing where it’s going, but right now even he's shocked by his words. He's not quite sure where the bravery came from, but he can't exactly take it back now. You're not stupid - he knows you can read between the lines to deduce who he's talking about.

You come to a halt, turning back to look at him. He offers a small, nervous smirk and resists the urge to dash away before you can reply to his confession.

“Three people isn't basically everyone in the school,” you chuckle with one of those grins that could bring Peter to his knees. You take a few slow steps towards him, stopping when your chest is just inches from his. Your gaze flickers from his eyes and down to his mouth before you reach a hand up to his face and pinch the stem of his lollipop between your thumb and index finger, plucking it from his mouth.

His eyes widen in surprise, all but bulging out of his head when you pop what's left of the red lollipop into your own mouth. You swirl it around in your mouth, your plump lips wrapped around the stick.

“But for what it's worth, the whole school could ask me and there's only one person who would get a yes out of me.”

You pull the lollipop from between your lips and hold it back up to Peter's mouth, resting it against his bottom lip until he parts them - to speak or to accept the sucker, he's not sure. But he doesn't do anything to stop you when you guide it back inside his mouth, the flavor of the cherry candy and your saliva infiltrating his senses when it meets his tongue.

“Just in case you were wondering,” you shrug, and turn to continue your walk back to the mansion as if you didn't just make his heart combust in his chest.

He speeds after you, deciding that maybe Jean has a point - maybe he should ask someone after all.

•••••

thanks for reading! this was my first time writing for peter, i'd very much appreciate comments/reblogs 💕

[seafoam-taide]

Weird having an actual favorite band and knowing it. I don't really have many favorites it is hard to understand my feelings and even harder to pinpoint a 'better and more' feeling about one specific thing. But I know all of their songs, I listen to them all in a big playlist and never get bored, I am always happy to hear any song by them, I have every song's lyrics memorized, like ... they are my unequivocal favorite. There is nothing like it. Yes, I can get really into other songs, there are probably singular songs I can say I like more than any one song by this band. But I guess having a favorite is like what people say about getting married. I'm not explaining myself on that one actually I do have a point there that's an actual metaphor but I've decided explaining it is a bad use of my time. It's one of those artists that are popular enough and artsy enough that they can crop up as fic titles occasionally and no matter the lyric or song it comes from I can always tell immediately. I don't remember what the point of this post was I'm deep in my panic phase and it's 4 am and I was just sitting there singing I Have Made Mistakes to myself bc I can just do that, the whole song, and because it is very funny to go I have made mistakes I have made mistakes and I will continue to make them while in the middle of freaking the fuck out about existing or something. Bc you know yeah im one spoon away from setting the ends of my hair in fire because if I'm kindling for a little while at least I'll feel of use ????????? Yeah this post for sure had a point and it's devolved.

[softbeej]

Rule Number One (You Gotta Have Fun)

Alastor x Reader Smut. U break his only rule and bother him while hes tryna work. Enjoy. :} Requests open btw.

Alastor had locked himself up in his radio tower for what felt like days. He was truly a workaholic, and loved to be busy. This was fine, except you found yourself actually sort of... missing him?

No sight of him creeping down the hallway or the impending feeling that he was about to catch you doing something prohibited at the hotel. It all felt too empty all of a sudden, and you wished he’d be back down soon, even if just to make you uneasy with that eerie smile.

So, you decided to break the number one rule set by him.

“Under no circumstances is anyone to ever enter the radio tower without my express permission.”

Well, what are rules if not to be broken, right? And that’s where you found yourself, climbing up into the prohibited area.

Ears pressed back, he turned to face you. There was no other way to put it, Alastor was fucking pissed.

You shouldn’t of come up here. You should of listened to his stupid rule, and busied yourself with something else. Maybe you had time to turn around, and pretend you made a wrong turn.

“I trust you have something important for me? Something that would be worth you coming all the way up here without my say so, hm?”

His voice was even more staticky than usual, his tone dripping with sarcasm. You were thinking up a response when he stood up and strode over to you. He jabbed his microphone stand under your jaw, albeit gently, and forced you to look at him.

“Well, deary?”

You only shook your head, hair bouncing on your shoulders.

“Then why, pray tell, are you up here? And use your words this time, yes?”

Within those few words, you suddenly understood why he was so feared. Just from the way he spoke, he could make you feel tiny and stupid.

“I, um, was just wondering where you were, is all...”

“Oh?” He released the microphone stand and you faced the floor again, feeling like a child about to get scolded. “You did know where I was though, didn’t you? So, I’ll ask once more. What brought you up here?”

He had retired back to his chair, and was watching you intently as you squirmed at his questioning. His smile never once left his face.

“You know what, I should go-“

Slam. His shadow had closed the door.

“Has no one ever told you it’s rude to ignore someone, darling? I’m just asking you a simple question, what’s the need for all this attitude? Why are you here?”

Blush rising to your face, you picked at skin around your nails still not wanting to look at his shit eating grin.

“I was bored. Missed you.”

“Ah, there we go! You see how easy that was?”

You nodded, “Can I go now? Sorry for interrupting...”

“Nonsense! You missed me, did you not? You came all the way up here for me, desperate for my attention. Well, dear, my attention you have got. Come, sit, sit.” He patted his thigh.

Oh, how you wished the world would swallow you up right now. But the worst part of this was how turned on you were at his lecturing. You think your reaction was doing the same to him, given the way his ears were perked up and pupils blown.

You walked over to him, gently perching on his knee, before he pulled you down by your waist so you were properly sitting in his lap. He continued working, tapping buttons and twisting dials, as you could only sit there and pray your heart rate would soon go back to normal.

"If I did not know any better, I'd say this encounter has you quite excited, darling! The way your pulse is rising, and not to mention the fact I can smell the arousal on you!" He laughed. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If I had brought out such emotions in you."

Your blood drew hot in shame, he knew.

You nodded and tried to save face, "Yes, Alastor. I'm fine, just- my pulse is high from the walk up here, that's all."

"And if you were to stand up, your answer would be the same, I presume?"

Confused, you cocked your head. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his hands around your waist and stood you up.

There it was, the evidence he was looking for. A wet patch on his thigh. Right from where you were sitting. Your wetness had leaked through your panties, leaving a spot on his dress pants.

“Well, look at this mess. And my best pants, no less! Do you have anything to say for yourself, dear?”

You shook your head, never so embarrassed in your life.

He tutted, "First, you lie about why you came up here. Then you lie about this? Darling, have you no manners? Or am I to teach you them myself, hm?"

His eyes were half lidded now, ears twitching.

"I- uh. I think you need to teach me, Alastor..." You admitted, not able to take your eyes off him.

“Finally! The right answer! You’re getting the hang of this now, eh?” He laughed, and patted his thigh - the one you’d dirtied, “Back up here. May as well see how much more you can ruin them.”

Legs shaking, you stood up and straddled his thigh. He leaned in close, “Now get yourself off. You can do that, yes? If your mewls at night are anything to go by, I’d say you’re to be a natural at this!”

The thought of Alastor hearing you play with yourself through your bedroom door sent shivers down your spine, in a good way. He grabbed your chin, angling your head to face him.

“I said you can do that, yes, dear?”

You nodded, hands reaching up to his shoulders to steady yourself as you started grinding down on his thigh like your life depended on it, maybe it did. You could feel his cock hardening. His hands trailed down your body to your hips where they stayed, helping you slowly ride his thigh.

“Theres a good girl, hm? See what happens when you behave?”

You nodded, breathing heavy, “Uh-huh.”

Alastor nodded, his hips gently bucking up for friction. Your hand went to zipper to help, but he brushed it away.

“This is your lesson. Not mine.” He winked.

So you kept riding his thigh, until your own thighs were weak, and you were close. And he knew it.

“If this were a proper lesson, I wouldn’t allow you to cum. But you’ve been so good, so good for me... You may cum.”

You nodded into the nook of his neck, letting out a pathetic whiny mewl as you came, soddening his pants. From the sound of it, he came too, letting out a staticky grunt that would of hurt your ears if you were paying attention, but you were too busy grinding your way through your climax, as he shushed you gently.

He helped you stand up, your thighs shaking and almost giving out under you. A sharp finger pressed into the stain on his pants, before he collected some of the wetness and licked it off.

“Head off to my bedroom, now, love. Get yourself cleaned up. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

The walk to his bedroom was strange to say the least. Your knees shaking and panties wet, of course Angel was going to say something.

“Christ, you look like you been fucked good, sweets.”

“I have, I think...?”

“Oh yeah? And whose the lucky son of a bitch, huh? He knows not to fuck with you, right?” He winked, ever protective of you.

As if on cue, Alastor appeared, strolling carelessly toward you both. A hand on your shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt, Angel, my dear, but I’m afraid we have something to take care of. If you’ll excuse us...” He guided you away, towards his room.

[cutebat]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

What's Next?

Warning(s): Yandere themes, past neglect, a lot of swearing, stealing, violence, mentions of bribery

(This is where now you can pick your own choices in this series, so this isn't technically a chapter)

~~~~~

Two weeks went by quickly, thank God.

You arrived at school as how you could have if it wasn't for Bruce ruining your fucking break by making you spend time with the rest of the family.

You were forced to watch movies that made no sense due to its plot or whatever and went shopping, only for them to buy you things that you didn't like that all. Like, who still buys and wears things that could cause a whole closet clutter.

The worst part of all this is that Damian has to walk you everywhere around the school, except for using the restroom. Even worse is that Bruce changed your entire schedule to you having teachers who love to fuck you over. Because of this, you can't skip anymore!

Anyway, the day quickly went by, and now it was break time. As you two walked into the cafeteria, you spot your two basically only normal and only friends, Noelle and Sasha.

"(name)! There you are...-"

Noelle calls out to you before her smile slowly flattered when she spots Damian beside you.

"What is he doing here?"

She whispers to you that made you roll your eyes.

This made Damian narrow his eyes down at the two of them.

"Do you have a problem with me being here?"

He asks with a snarl that made your friends cringe a bit.

"(name)..."

Sasha mutters out to you that made you sigh.

"No, no... Damian, they're cool, don't worry."

You reassure him that luckily made him calm down.

"Oh, alright then. Come now, sister. We need to find a table."

Damian tells you which made you feel annoyed.

"Oh, uh, actually. I need to get my water bottle. I left it in my locker, so..."

You try to make an excuse to get out of here.

"No worries, I can go get it for you."

Damian said as he turns around.

"Wait, you don't know my combination!"

You call out of realization.

"I'll figure it out."

He calls back as he leaves the cafeteria.

You and your friends stayed where you were in silence.

"Isn't this great?"

You speak up out of sarcastically as you sit down with them.

"(name), what are you doing with that guy?"

Sasha asks as she takes a bite of her pudding.

"Being stuck by his side for the whole day and the entire Christmas break?"

"No, why are you hanging out with him?"

"Oh, god, don't be a bitch over this. I know he's such a pain in the ass, but I can tolerate him, okay?"

"No, we're not jealous or anything, he's actually fucking insane, (name)!"

Noelle tells you

"Insane like how?"

You ask as you cross your arms.

"Sent many guys to the infirmary, punched a guy in the throat earlier, nearly set a teacher's car on fire."

Noelle said as she started to list down all the things that Damian did.

"Wait, so all of this happened in one day?"

You ask with your eyes wide a little.

"Yeah."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I have two classes and a passing period with him."

At that moment, a guy with a neck cast walked up to your table.

"Were you guys just talking to Damian?"

He asks the three of you.

"Yeah."

Sasha mutters out.

"I hate him. He literally punched me in the throat during gym and didn't even apologize to me or get expelled. I'm pretty sure he paid off the headmaster or something."

He said with his eyes furrowed that meant he was pissed.

"See?"

Noelle mutters to you.

"Hold on, why did he exactly punch you for?"

You ask out of curiosity.

"Cause I said that you were pretty hot and told him that he was a wimp about it or something."

He said as he rubs his cast.

"Still sound normal to you?"

Noelle asks you.

"Oh, come on. That's like one of the things that's like the less worse things."

You tell her.

"'Less worse'?! I was passed out for like half an hour!"

The guy said in a defensive tone.

"Dude, that sounds like a you problem."

You tell him with a bored expression.

"Oh... Shit hurts."

Sasha said with a chuckle.

"Fuck you, guys... Stupid bitches..."

The guy mutters out as he walks away from you and your friends.

"Anyway, what can I do about all of this?"

You ask as you place your chin on the palm of your hand.

"Honestly, I don't know. You're pretty much on your own, (name)."

Noelle said as she takes a sip of her honey milk.

"What? You guys aren't going to help me?"

"We want to, but we don't know how."

"Please? Like actually, please. I have no idea what to do and I don't even know how to get away from all this."

You tell your friends in a slight pleading tone.

Noelle and Sasha gave each other a glance before they stare back at you.

"Okay, fine. As much as we don't know either, we'll try whatever we can, okay?"

Sasha said as she sets her pudding cup down.

"What are you exactly going to do now, (name)?"

Noelle asks in a soft tone with a soft gaze on her face

~~~~~

Go to your next class (Coming soon)

Skip until the end of the day with your friends (Coming soon)

Go home with your friends

•

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[pia-nor481]

Empty bed Part One

Lando Norris x reader smut 18+

2.7k words

Racing was always hard on Lando, he left exhausted and with extreme back pain from sitting almost parallel to the ground in the Mclaren. Many thought he was happy with P2 most races, but that wasn't the case. Coming third means you beat seventeen other drivers, it was something to be proud about. Coming first means you won, all the effort you put in payed off for 25 points and a trophy with "1" written on the front, it meant you were the best on the grid. But second, it always came with the worst feeling. He would be ecstatic getting out of the car, sitting in the cool down room and spraying champagne on the podium, but once he reached the sofa of the post race interviews, waves of dread and disappointment waved over him. "So what about the car is proving to be so tricky for you?" One of the interviewers asked looking directly at Lando, he couldn't blame the car if Oscar. a rookie, managed to come third in the same car. A car that was made for him. "Nothing, just a ... lack of talent." The pause after was so loud, although if Max and Oscar had their mics up, it would have picked up their laughter. But Lando wasn't joking, he just broke the record for the highest number of points without ever winning a race. It was upsetting sure, but his team mate winning a race before him, even though it was a sprint, hurt him even more. It wasn't Oscar's fault Lando felt so down, he just got used to losing, 

All the drivers decided to go out to a club to celebrate another win for max. Lando loved clubs and raves, the atmosphere was so over whelming that he couldn't really think. The DJ wasn't playing as well as he should have, Lando thought, he dances around the line of confident and cocky very well, it was never a turn off. He left Daniel to go the bar for another drink, once he got his vodka and coke he debated on just staying at the bar, drinking a way his problems just for the night. He didn't have to worry about a race next week so he didn't have to easy. Taking a sip of the barely cold drink almost caused him to cough, this was not the Smirnoff he was used to, there was an artificial after taste to the drink as well. "I think you might have my drink."  The girl next to him said laughing lightly, clearly trying to hold back her tears, not from laughter but from the remaining taste of vodka in her mouth. "I think so. Well, here's your just less than full rum and diet coke." Lando said, offering a playful smile in return, offering the glass to her, she took a sip with a nod, pleased to wash the awful taste out of her mouth. "You can definitely have your glass of paint stripper back." Lando chuckled rather loudly at her comment, it wasn't the first time some one had commented on his choice of drink, but her was the funniest. "You don't sound local, so I'm guessing you don't do this very often." He had to shout over the music, in retrospect he should have listened to Daniel on how to chat girls up, but she was too cute not to try. "If you mean come to clubs and talk to strangers at the bar, no. If you mean steal the drinks of very attractive men, then yes." He could barely hear her, so he had to lean in close. Her perfume was sweet and inviting, it was as if everything she said was the most interesting thing in the world, he was captivated. He was able to take her all in, a beautiful mini skirt, it was blue and iridescent, and it barely covered anything, if an elder saw her they would claim it to be a belt. Her mesh white top didn't aid in covering her any better, it did have long sleeves sure, but you could see her lacy white bra beneath it. She clearly knew how to style herself, she had lovely little white heels on and a lot of highlighter on her cheeks. She was stunning. 

"So what are you doing here ....?" She trailed off, not knowing his name. "Lando." He almost struggled to get out, so concentrated on her. "Celebrating with some friends, What are you actually doing here, other than chatting up men?" he almost laughed out, she joined him. "Looking for some fun." She hid her face behind the glass, allowing him to see the frosty blue eyeshadow on her lids. "Is that so?" He responded in a lower octave, reaching out to touch her waist with his free hand, her back immediately arched at the feeling, he was pleased to see how well she responded to his touch. She necked her drink quickly and grabbed his wrist, going to tug him out of the club. He was shocked with how her demeaner changed, she seemed so shy, but now she wanted him so desperate. Once he caught up, she stopped her by grabbing her hips firmly. "My hotel is definitely closer." Lando said, reaching for his phone. Once they were inside the taxi, he couldn't keep his hands off of her, his tongue was basically down her throat with how much he wanted her. Once of his hands snaked up her back, running his hingers over her vertebrae, her face began to warm at the feeling. 

Lando practically dragged her out of the car towards the door of the hotel. Once the lift doors shut he pushed her against the mirrors, kissing her lips again in desperation, in the process his hands grasped he sides of her face, smudging her make up. She rested her hands on his chest before pushing him back slightly, needing air. Lando however, didn't need a break, his continued his venture of kissing every bit of exposed skin, first her neck, the collar bones, there her chest. It was at this point he could also smell her body wash and lotion, their proximity was giving him good access to her body. She began to pull on his hair slightly as a sign to come back up, she reconnected their lips while he hiked her leg up around his hip, groping her ass unapologetically. The doors opened and they rushed towards his room. They didn't stop kissing until the back of her knees hit the bed, their contact broke for a second as she fell back. This gave Lando a chance to really take her in, and she was perfect. He began to lean over her, running his fingers over her neck and jaw, until he reached her mouth, she toyed with her lips before pushing his fingers between them. She sucked lightly, not breaking eye contact, Lando's breath got caught in his mouth upon the sight, licking his lips as he felt his cock get harder in his black trousers. He slowly pulled his fingers from her lips with a loud pop. She tugged her white top over head with more pace than he thought was possible, he quickly pulled her skirt down and was met with the intricate white lace of her underwear. "Fuck me." Lando rasped out, going to pull his clothes off. "I plan to." She said back, sitting up on her knees at the edge of the bed, reaching for his cock. Lando stepped closer, rubbing the tip over lips, before lightly tapping her cheeks with it, even now he was bit of a tease. She stuck her tongue out while grasping his hip, wanting him to be still while she took his whole cock in her mouth. His head fell back slightly as he groaned feeling the tip hit the back of her throat. "That's it baby, just like that." She bobbed her head over and over, motivated by the noises that slipped his mouth. He pulled off and quickly began to glide her tongue on the underside of his cock, she kissed and kitten licked the head before taking his whole cock again. He was surprised with how eager she was, no other woman was able to take the full thing, they had to use their hands to cover the base, she didn't. Lando let out blissful sigh above her, slipping his hand over her jaw, forcing eye contact. He tightened his grip when she hollowed out her cheeks, the pressure was becoming too much for him. His hips thrusting slowly was a sign of how close he was getting. Lando's hands found the back of her head, pushing it down until her nose met his pelvic bone. He lost himself in the feeling of her mouth, his cock pulsating as he moaned out quietly. Her mouth was quickly filled with his cum. "Swallow for me." She did as she was told, looking up at him when let her tongue lull out. 

Lando groaned as he stood up, walking leisurely towards the bed side table, his hand quickly met the neck of a bottle, a bottle of Ferrari champagne. She leaned back on the bed as he slammed the bottle on table before looking back at her; spraying the bottle above her. Her skin quickly became sticky with the bubbly liquid. This gave Lando an excuse to suck on her skin again, obsessed, he needed to feel her against him. He licked his way down her abdomen, once he met her cunt he sucked her clit rather aggressively, she moaned at he contact, closing her eyes to bask in the feeling. He wasted no time slipping his fingers between her slick lips. He began to scissor slowly, hungry to hear her whines at him stretching her out. He was relentless in licking her clit, switching from slow circles to shaking his head side to side, pushing his tongue down flat and hard got the best reaction from her, so he was persistent; curling fingers every now and then to receive an extra gasp. Her heels began to dig into the mattress as her pelvis began to rise; he would gorge on the sweetness leaking out of her cunt. She was quickly becoming drunk on the feeling of her blooming pleasure; rolling out a song of moans and hums. Her hips began to twitch against his face, the orgasm was a sight to behold, let a lone something too feel as her mind began to melt as he sucked and licked aggressively. She didn't know whether she wanted to pull him closer or pull away. The stimulation was too much and she began to see stars in her new found haze, moaning out curses with a mix of his name. Lando pulled away, flashing his teeth in the process of smirking. 

Once she caught her breath, he leaned closer brining the bottle with him. "Open, baby." he tilted the bottle back, letting the champagne pour into his mouth, but his Adams apple didn't bob. He grabbed her jaw and let the alcohol spill into her mouth, she swallowed quickly, wanting to feel his lips on her, he was intoxicating, a feeling she hadn't had in a long time. She was so focused on him that she didn't register being flipped over onto her stomach. Lando pulled her hips up, supporting her weight slightly. She pushed up onto her elbows as he spoke. "You gonna be good? yeah?" he said with a tinge of sass, smacking her ass lightly. She nodded, moaning out as a verbal response. He chuckled before sliding his cock through her lips, she clawed at the now wet sheets, unable to control her self. Lando started slow needing to pace himself slightly, just kissing her got him so worked up, “Fuck.” He strained, becoming more breathless with each thrust. As he continued to press into her, she couldn’t help but clench around him, the way he was hitting all the right spots, touching her skin, groaning in pleasure, made it all that much harder not to cum then and there. His hand made contact with her ass In sequence with the thrusts, the sting was painful and yet it felt euphoric, she groaned into the bedding at the feeling.

Once he pushed in to the hilt, she arched her back further, not being able to contain herself for much longer. Hot breaths filled the air, which was already filled with sex and desire.

Lando’s hand make work up her back before drawing shapes on her shoulders. His hand soo reached her scalp, where he grabbed a fist full of her hair and tugged lightly; ensuring she wouldn’t object before he pulled rather hard, causing her back to reach his chest. He kept her hair in his hand while sucking on her neck, she wanted to feel everything and he made it happen. “Oh, please Lando, please.” She asked, gasping for air after each word.

“Why? Can’t hold it?” He teased, not that he was any better off. She just felt so good and her reactions only heightened the sensation. She whined in response as he thrusted deeper inside of her pulsating cunt. He groaned in her ear before speaking again, “you didn’t answer my question baby.” He was being cocky, but in a way he knew would only turn her on further. “I can, I swear.” Her words were slurring together, making it that much more obvious that she was on the edge of euphoria. She reached around him, grabbing his waist for some support, she could barely hold her head up anymore, the over stimulation setting in quicker than she anticipated.

Lando’s hand slid back down to her clit, aiding in the blissful feeling. Rubbing figure eights over her cunt while thrusting harder made her moan louder in between heavy breaths. He was smirking into her neck, knowing how good he was making her feel. She could feel his teeth against her skin, he was biting down, almost as if to hide his voice, muffling the groans. “That’s it baby, cum for me.” He said, voice dropping an octave for a mere second. She did as she was told, practically spasming in his arms as she let out guttural moans. The feeling of her clenching caused Lando’s cock to twitch. A mix of their cum dripped down her legs and into the bed.

“Good, so good for me. Makin me feel so good baby.” Lando whispered, pulling out. He ran his hands over her body gently, it almost tickled. By the time he got under the covers, she was already asleep; hair tangled, make up smudged and skin dotted in marks that would be hard to cover with the clothes she was wearing, or lack there of. Lando was happy, it was more than the post orgasmic haze, something about her was just right. He didn’t stop touching her, keeping his arms tight around her body to keep her warm, knowing the alcohol would wear off. He felt like he’d accomplished something more than just a win.

When Lando woke up at half past eleven, skin stuck to the bedding he was surprised and confused, until he remembered, partly, what had happened that night. He looked to his side, only to find an empty bed. He shot up, quickly looking around the room for any sign of the night. He walked through the whole “room”, past the tables and sofa, only to be met with silence. Lando walked back to the bed sorrowful, knowing his flight would leave in an hour, so he decided he needed to get ready.

Once he opened the bathroom door he first noticed it was still quite warm, it wouldn’t have been because he’d used it more than 24 hours ago. The condensation on the glass was new. Someone had definitively used his shower. Wrapping a towel around his body as he left, Lando went to his suitcase to pick up some clothes for the flight, he again noticed something was off. One of his hoodies was missing. In an attempt to find it he stumbled upon a pair of white lace underwear across the room. He was please that he didn’t imagine last night, but was disappointed she wasn’t still there. Lando was broken out of his trance when he heard the sound of a notification from his phone.

“Hope you wore a condom xx”-Daniel

Any mistakes let me know.

Part Two

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I've officially been a Hooters girl for one year! Just look at how fucking big my boss has made my tits. I was a C-Cup when I got hired. Before I even got my uniform they were shoving these supplements in my face. I kind of love it but I know if I ever want a real job someday I'll have to chop these embarrassing things off. It's all my coworkers and I talk about, finally getting out of the job and getting a reduction or having these monster tits we were forced to grow chopped off completely. It sucks, cuz I liked my boobs and thought they were so pretty. But now look at these grotesque melons I'm forced to walk around with all day. Every guy assumes I'm some free-use breeding cow. I've given up trying to fight them off. My commutes are now just one giant hardcore porno shoot. Which is to say nothing about how many customers I have to tit fuck and suck off every shift. Men are so greedy.....

The second guys see these huge lactating tits of mine they go nuts. They could be walking arm-in-arm with their pregnant girlfriend and still run over grope my tits and fuck me. The girlfriends just watch and film it anyway, sometimes they even masturbate, watching their bfs fuck me and smack me around. It's pathetic how used to being a cum dumpster I've become. I don't even care or notice when cum is pouring down my legs anymore. I actually leave a pool of cum wherever I sit. I can't believe what this job has turned me into, all because my dad talked me into working here, calling it a great opportunity.

Well, I hope they like taking care of all the grandkids I'll be forced to push out now. Since we're all in various stages of pregnancy, as well (Two months along with batch two!). I always dreamt of my first pregnancy being with my husband, us cherishing our kids. Not me getting fucked against the door of a subway car as a literal crowd of men surround me, all taking turns fucking me. Giving birth not in a nice hospital with my husband at my side, but instead at work as my boss gives me tequila shots for the pain, as customers face fuck me while I'm pushing out triplets. I thought men were supposed to be more gentle with pregnant girls? I swear once my belly gets really big and round they go ballistic. Way more guys start hitting me, roughing me up just for fun as they fuck me in bigger groups. My boss actually likes it when I come into work with bruises on my boobs and belly or a black eye, says it gets the customers more aroused.

Now after all this sex and breeding and my breasts getting so big I feel like my spine is gonna snap any day, I can't focus on school at all. My one way out of this job and it's like if I go ten minutes without getting fucked or playing with my tits and pussy I get agitated and restless. Like I'm addicted to getting fucked, even if 90% of it is not consensual. I'm literally fantasizing about getting my clothes ripped off and fucked in public, humiliated and treated like garbage as I write this. What the hell am I becoming? I'm doomed to drop out and keep working here. How big are my tits gonna be in a year? My brain can't take this, it's like my mind is breaking and soon I'll be nothing but a cock-addicted pregnant bimbo with a 40 IQ and breasts that weight over 100lbs a piece. The worst part is, I keep thinking to myself..... is that such a bad thing?"

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 1

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

[omgsecretsecret]

Sweet Fuckboy

Pairing : Lee Minho x gn!reader (use of you/your pronouns) ; friends to ??

Genre : fluff ig ; hurt/comfort if you squint reallyyyyy hard

Word count : about 2,500

Warning : talking about sex ; HyunSung are a couple but honestly it's just barely mentioned twice (I'm just having fun so don't come after me for that please) ; no smut here but in the part 2 there will be (there will be two versions for afab and amab reader) ; cursing (fucking, bastard, bitch) ; english is not my first language

Author's note : idk this just popped in my head when I saw some My Pace era Minho pictures again ; the pics on top are not mine, credits to the owners ; lots of love to @giddyfatherchris who helped me a lot by proofreading this <3

Reminder : you are not “a baby” if you are a virgin, nor are you “a slut” if you are not

Masterlist || Part 2 afab ver & amab ver

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Minho is a fuckboy, and your closest friend. He is known for pretty much giving his dick to whoever asked him to fuck them. You know it’s exaggerated by the rumors and he does not actually fuck anybody, but it’s true that he isn't too hard to convince. It isn't bad though. People do not see him as a whore, he is seen as a boy who can help you out if you are in need of some.. relief.

You, on the other hand, have never slept with someone else. You have already tried some solo pleasure, of course, but you are a virgin. And you are tired of being one. You want to see what real sex is like.

This is how you ended up here, sitting in the school library, talking about it with your friend Hyunjin because to hell with taboos.

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"You can ask Minho, no ?

— Yeah, I guess. But I don't want him to be awkward. you reply with an unhappy pout.

— Who says he will be ? We're talking about Minho here. He'll probably tease you a bit, but he's the sweetest and most understanding guy I know under his 'do not touch me i am not nice' act. He'll stop joking as soon as he sees it makes you uncomfortable and we both know how observant he is, he'll know if it bothers you in less than a second.

— I know. But what if he just doesn't want to ? And if he's too kind to say no ? It's not every day your best friend asks you to take their virginity.

— Sweetie, calm down. Once again, we're talking about Minho here. He's an honest guy, he'll tell you if he doesn't want to do it. He knows it'd do more bad than good to force himself to do it. And worst case scenario, it'll be a little bit awkward between you for a few days, but it'll be back to normal soon. You know him, it wouldn't change the way he sees you. Hyunjin reassures as he puts his hand on yours and gives you a fond look before chuckling. Besides, he'd be stupid to refuse !

— Yeah... You're right. Minho's amazing for that. But you say that like anyone would want to fuck me. It doesn't feel like it. you pout again, playing with his long fingers.

— Well, maybe I wouldn't, because I'm already in a happy relationship with Jisung. But it doesn't prevent me from admitting that you are hot, even though I say it without being attracted to you. Plus I wouldn't be your friend if you were a bitch. And it's always better to fuck someone with a good personality. he winks, trying to make you relax slightly and it actually works as you release the pressure in your shoulders and give him a small smile.

— Mmh.. I'll see if I ask him later. you say softly and shrug before squeezing his hand lightly as a sign for him to get up too. How about we go to the cafeteria grab some food now ?"

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You leave the library and head to the cafeteria to eat with your friends, sitting next to Minho as usual. You talk normally, laughing to Felix's jokes and Seungmin’s fake gag at how lovely dovey Jisung and Hyunjin are being, until the latter started kicking your leg not so gently under the table. You roll your eyes at him, silently telling him to please stop doing that right fucking now before you throw your ratatouille on his oh so pretty and new white shirt. He immediately puts away his leg, not without glaring at you meaningfully. ‘you know I'm right’. You sigh and go back to eating while listening to the others.

It's only a little bit later though that you get the opportunity to actually talk with Minho when he turns to you discreetly and looks directly in your eyes. He seems to be feeling a mix of annoyance and concern as he puts his hand on your chair before speaking.

“Okay what’s up ? he doesn't beat around the bush when he asks you that, just being his usual honest self. You've been having a whole conversation with your eyes with Hyunjin for the past few minutes without even opening your mouth once. I would have let it be and thought it was none of my business if Hyunjin hadn't been looking at me so intensely while you were pouting, avoiding my face and just openly being unhappy. So I'm asking you. What’s up ?” he asks in a gentle and low voice despite the bluntness of his words, not wanting the boys to meddle in your business.

You sigh again. Great. Now you were going to have to tell him. He would know immediately if you lie, you didn't have a choice. You give Hyunjin a death glare. ‘thanks, bastard’. Why did he always have to be like that ?

“Look, Minmin I… Can we talk about it later ? After school we can go for a walk or I don't know. you don't even really look at his eyes as you speak, too embarrassed.

— Mmh… Sure, yeah.” he looks cautious, yet he nods and squeezes your shoulder lightly as a sign of reassurance.

He lets his arm rest wrapped around your shoulders for the rest of your lunch break, not even bothering to remove it. You're still slightly nervous, but he doesn't say anything about it, trying to not make you uncomfortable or self-conscious.

The rest of the day goes by like this. You're not really able to focus completely on your classes, a part of your mind constantly going back to the conversation you were going to have with Minho. ‘It's going to be sooo awkward if he says no’. Yet you try not to worry too much. As Hyunjin said, Minho is honest and (secretly not so secretly) very kind, so everything will be okay. With that, Minho spends the day being his caring self, even paying extra attention to not tease you too much as he senses your tension.

“Alright. This was the last class of the day. Where do you want to go to talk ? Minho looks at you patiently as you walk together.

— I don't really know, Minho. you mumble and he arches a brow in slight concern at your anxious tone.

— Okay, okay. What about we go to the grocery store to grab a little something to drink while we walk to my place ? We can pass by the park, it's always nice. he offers nicely as he looks at you fondly.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and nod, giving him a small but genuine smile. You walk together peacefully, Minho complaining about random stuff to make you laugh and distract you. By the time you reach the grocery store, you're a lot more relaxed and confident about telling him.

“What do you want to drink ? he asks as he stops in front of the cold drinks section, hands on his hips.

— I think I'm just going to take a lollipop, don't worry. you shake your hand softly for him to let it go but all he does is tilting his head to look back at you with a raised eyebrow and you can't help but laugh at his position.

— You serious ? It's hot out there, you know.

— Yes, thank you. I’m not that stupid. you roll your eyes before staring at him in disbelief when you hear him mumble a ‘not so sure’ and run after your laughing best friend, chasing him until he can't run anymore.

— I was joking ! I was joking !” he pleads as you punch his shoulder more or less lightly, still laughing.

You just pout and punch him once more before smiling at him thankfully. You know he could just push you away but he lets you do that to make you feel better.

“Seriously though, are you sure you don't want anything to drink ? he asks when you finally stop.

— Yes, sir. you answer with a chuckle and he frowns, looking at you with squinty eyes for a moment before moving.

— We’ll share a bottle of juice. he simply states. Which one do you want ?

— What ? No, Minho I–

— Let's go for this one then. he ignores you and grabs a small bottle before heading towards the store cash desk, making you sigh.

— Thank you.. you mumble and he doesn't say anything, yet you don't miss the way his lips curl up slightly.

— Here's your candy !” he says as he throws a lollipop of your favorite flavor at you.

You fight for a minute about who is going to pay until you find a nice compromise. On your way to the park before you go to Minho’s place, you forget to worry about asking him. You’re just comfortable with your best friend and it's all that matters.

“Minmin– you start but he cuts you off.

— Are you seriously going to call me like that again ? he groans.

— But it's cute ! I like it, and I'm sure that deep inside, a little part of you likes it too. And you let me call you that in the cafeteria !

— Because you looked nervous as hell. he gives you a stern look.

— You know what, whatever. I was going to ask if we could talk but forget it. you pout and turn around.

— Seriously ? Oh come on ! Do you want to talk here in the park or at my place ? he asks but you keep pouting for a second before speaking.

— Here.” you mumble as you sit on the nearest bench.

He settles next to you silently, watching you with a soft gaze as you take a deep breath. Although you're a lot calmer than earlier, you're still worried about telling him. But if you keep spiraling on that, you’ll never do it, so you cut your thoughts and begin.

“So…I don't know how to say this so I'll just ask like this, okay ? you pause, waiting for him to nod before continuing. You know that I'm.. y’know.. like.. I've never had sex... And hum.. well I-I don't want it to be like that anymore and I trust you and I know you and I know you're somewhat, like, hum… e-experienced..? So I was wondering if you could help me maybe ? you ramble in a shy voice, speaking more and more lowly with each word and by the time you're done your face is bright red.

— So you're asking me to be your first and take your virginity because I'm your best friend and I fuck regularly, right ? you look at him with wide eyes, his expression unreadable. How can he be so blunt ?

— … more or less yeah. you look down with embarrassment.

— Why did you not just say it like that ? I can't believe you were in such a state for this ! he bursts out laughing. Now I understand why Hyunjin was looking at you like that.

— It's embarrassing.. you hide your face in your hands.

— No, y/n. I’m actually very flattered, you know ? If you want me to do that, it means you trust me enough to show yourself to me without anything. And I'm really grateful for that. I’m glad my reputation can actually be useful. he smiles at you and rubs your back gently as you sigh in relief, slowly resting your head on his shoulder. But I understand why you were stressed about it.

— Yeah.. you whisper with a tiny smile, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you simply enjoy the moment. Everything feels so easy with him.

— So.. do you want to do it today ? We don't have to though if you want to wait a little. he offers softly after a small, comfortable silence. We can just start with some kissing, to see how it feels. he says before you can start panicking.

— You'd really do it, like, now ? you ask and he gives you a slightly annoyed, yet still soft, look. I-I mean… yeah, it'd be good. you blush slightly and he chuckles, ruffling your hair gently.

He doesn't reply, just carefully removes your head from his shoulder to make you look at him. He smiles sweetly as he looks at your red ears, eyes slightly widened in apprehension. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face and strokes your flushed cheek in a gentle, almost romantic gesture, before suddenly bursting out laughing. You immediately look at him with confusion, your whole body tense.

“If you're going to act this awkward we're never going to get through this. he laughs and you look down, embarrassed. It's okay. Just close your eyes and let me guide you, okay ? You trust me, don't you ?” you nod and he smiles softly.

You do as he says, closing your eyes and letting him do the rest. He carefully cups your jaw before leaning in closer and landing his mouth on yours gently. The kiss is soft and tender, and it’s so good. You melt into it as your hand instinctively reaches for his own. He takes his time, not rushing anything. He started slowly moving his lips, letting you get used to it and mirror his actions. When he pulled away and looked at you, your eyes were already opened and shining, a grin forming on your face.

“I guess you liked it. he chuckles again as you nod eagerly.

— It was so sweet ! I didn't know you were such a great kisser. And I didn't think it would feel so nice. you squeeze his hand still in yours and he looks at you fondly. You are so cute.

— So what ? Were you expecting me to be a bad kisser ? he teases.

— No ! It's not what I meant. you roll your eyes. Is it okay if I want another one ? you ask somewhat shyly.

— Sure.”

He kisses you again and it's just as good. There's still no rush, no pressure. It's just full of the tenderness and affection Minho has always had for you as your best friend. You keep going like that, kissing again and again with the same softness until you naturally move to straddle his lap carefully, arms wrapped around his neck to continue to kiss him softly again and again. It's so nice, and you feel him smile against your lips.

“I think we should maybe continue like that at my place, love. Unless you want to do it another day. It’d absolutely be okay.” he whispers when he pulls away, resting his hands on your hips and looking at you patiently.

You're a bit embarrassed at first when you notice the way you're sitting on his thighs facing him. You didn't think you were that close to him when you first moved to settle there. But you quickly forget about it, deciding it doesn't matter and you can just trust Minho.

“I think… it's a good idea.” you reply with a somewhat shy smile.

◍｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡◍

Part 2 coming more or less soon ~

do not repost, translate or rewrite without my written authorisation

[mandowifey]

Ritual

Miguel O'hara x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, (My)Dark!Miguel, Reader is captive, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, p in v sex, cockwarming, creampie, gentle sex, emotionally needy Miguel, touch starved boy, mention of injury, reader is going through it emotionally, domestic fluff, general softness towards the end. Reader not specified by details or name.

This is part of a nonlinear storyline.

Synopses: Something breaks.

° ° °

There was a natural rhythm you fell into with Miguel.

Home alone, you enjoyed television and movies until the evening. Miguel did not have a normal schedule to adhere to, which meant you did not get the luxury of anticipating his return home. Generally, he was gone from sunrise to sunset. To busy yourself, you offered to make dinner, not because you loved him but the greasy burgers and empanadas from the food court never settled with your stomach.

You would start your preparations around 4:45, then take your time until the inevitable sound of locks disengaging caught your ear. He would walk in and dim the lights - a habit you had assumed was because he was saving on electric, but learned it was actually that his eyes were sensitive to it. That was how you learned about him. Brief, flippant comments here and there that formed a collage of Miguel O'hara; Nueva York's Spiderman.

Sometimes, you daydreamed about being found. Other times, you worried a hole in your lip, considering the realities of running away. Miguel was an apex predator and, most assuredly, would find and punish you for leaving. Certain days when you had too much space in your head, you fantasized about your old life. A job, an apartment, friends, all things you took for granted. The worst days were when you thought about him. Not in fear, but need. The days when you missed him and yearned to be touched. You were only human, it was only natural to crave companionship, even if it was from your captor.

Pain throbs in your palm, and you shout, dropping the pan of mashed potatoes on the counter. You turn to the sink, clutching your wrist and wincing. After running the burn under lukewarm water, you sigh and walk into the bathroom. You apply some ointment from a medkit and gingerly wrap your hand with bandages. Weaving the tan material through your fingers and over your knuckles, you silently scold yourself for such a stupid mistake.

By the time you walk out of the bathroom, the front door is opening. You scramble, carefully opening the oven to take out the roast you made and setting it down on the stove top. "S-sorry, I'm almost done." You grunt, trying to grab plates and wincing from the sting in your palm. The front door closes, and you feel Miguel's looming presence closing in on you. Something grabs your arm and turns you, a large hand closed around your wrist.

"What happened?"

His voice was quiet but tense. The mask crawled down his neck, exposing his pointed expression and vexed brows. "Did you hurt yourself?" There is an emotion in his voice that confuses you. The hand around you loosens as he draws you closer, rich brown eyes scanning your bandage work.

"Just an accidental burn. Wasn't paying attention, is all." Your cheeks burn, feeling like a helpless toddler.

Miguel scoffs, then softens. "You should be more careful." He draws your hand closer and leans in, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm. "Don't need you burnt anywhere else." His lips tug into a grin, and he releases you. Your body was hot all over, and your stomach twisted into knots. This was in response to a man who had done nothing but use you and trap you in his home to play house. You knew it was sick to feel anything other than resentment towards him, but the tenderness in which he looks at you has your heart confused.

"Yeah, of course."

Your arm tingles as he turns away and looks at the scattered pieces of dinner. "You go ahead and sit down. I'll plate everything." Miguel hums as he grabs out silverware and cups. You were compelled to argue, but your mind was still soggy from the kiss. Instead, you wordlessly sit at the little round dinner table, and wait.

The two of you eat in your regular fashion. Light small talk and mostly letting Miguel vent about his day. Today, it was the stress of two anomalies in one universe. You politely nod and give him empathy when the moment calls for it, but your mind is miles away. Miguel compliments your cooking, as was usual, and sends you to bed so he can clean. Knowing what followed, you go to the bedroom and undress before climbing under the blankets. Your mind back to that moment, recalling the way those lovely brown eyes softened before he kissed your hand.

When he returns to you, his suit vanishes as he walks into the shower. He was quick, only gone for moments before returning to you with bis hair slicked back, smelling of familiar body wash and shampoo. You move the blankets for him, and he climbs in beside you.

"You alright?"

There must have been a far away look on your face. You blink and refocus, looking up as he slowly climbs on top of you. Your legs part, and he slots between them where you feel the drag of his half hard cock. "Yeah, just spacey today, I guess." Miguel watches your face, reading you for deception. He closes the distance and kisses you deeply, like he had many times before. His lips part your own before his tongue eagerly slips in. The man groans, rocking his hips to fuck himself against your folds.

A part of you hates how normal this feels. That your life had become something of a ritual. You hated him for what he'd reduced you to; a pathetic shadow of yourself, wet and mewling for him like an obedient whore. This was never what you wanted, yet there you lay with your captor prodding at your cunt.

Brushing your clit with his tip, you jolt. Miguel notices and does it again, smearing dewy precum along you. "Like that?" He rumbles from above. There is a softness to him that brings heat to simmer in your stomach. "Mhm." Your eyes are scanning the blankets, looking anywhere but at him. A tingle in your wounded palm reminds you of the moment in the kitchen. You think about the way his lips pressed the bandages and the sincerity in his dark eyes.

You felt a nagging desire to reach out to him, and you did. Miguel had been ready to spear into you when both your little hands cup his cheeks. His eyes widen, and his movements halt. Tracing your thumbs along the swell of his cheeks, you bring your eyes to look up at him, catching the man off guard. You think he may be angry until he leans into your palms. Those dark eyes of his slowly soften as he melts against you. The change is startling. You'd never seen him so subdued.

Miguel closes his eyes and lets you hold his head up. He mutters something you can't understand, and you feel warmth spread across your limbs. You didn't want to fight it today. You wanted to succumb to him and feel in control, just for a moment. "Miguel," you say his name, softer than you ever had. Brown eyes flutter open and hone predatorially to yours, waiting. "I need you." You couldn't be sure what facet of yourself asked, but you didn't care. Right then, you wanted him, and you would have him.

He is certain he is going to break. Your voice, your hands, the desire in your words. Miguel never thought he'd hear you ask for it, but there you were, and you did. The man never realized how touch starved he was until he found himself drooping against you, eyes heavy and heart throbbing. You could see the pieces of himself crumbling away, those reinforced walls of stone and brick that guarded him, becoming nothing but rubble between you. Something tugs in your chest, and you pull him down to kiss him gently.

"Come here," you whisper, and he obliges. Miguel lays on his forearms over you, his broad chest and narrow hips pinning you to the mattress. You can not help but feel like a stone cast out in the ocean, unable to save yourself as you sink further into the dark. "I've got you." You mumble, petting your fingers through his wild flare of brown locks. Something prods, and you part. Miguel nudges his hips forward and dips the length of his cock inside your warmth, drawing a gasp from you.

When he bottoms out, you push your forehead to his and whimper. Miguel isn't fucking you as he usually does, this time it is slow, methodical, loving. "O-oh, l-like that!" You gasp suddenly, arching your back. The thick tip of his head bruises your gspot on its journey to your cervix. Usually he is brutal, knowing you fought too hard to ever cum. This steady, gentle rocking has you spiraling. Heat builds in your core so fast your head spins. Miguel is watching your face, eyes trained on your soft lips and the way they part when you sigh in pleasure. He lowers his mouth to catch yours, swallowing your intoxicatingly soft cries.

Each press of his hips to yours sends sparks through your abdomen, his stomach pressing your swollen clit as he nudges to his hilt. "M-miguel, Miguel - f-fuck-!" You were building, and send your free hand to grasp at his back. His muscles flex under your palm, and his mouth nips at your ear. "Cum for me," He purrs in a voice like distant thunder. "Cum." Miguel cinches his jaw and bucks unevenly as fire spreads inside you. The both of you choke and groan. He rattles against you and desperately rabbits inside your cunt as he nears his end. You couldn't take it, between his demand and the slow climb of your orgasm, you crumble with him.

Shrieking, you clench down around his cock as he hits against your cervix, milking his length for all he's worth. Your legs tremble, and you find yourself clinging to his neck, puling softly as you rode out your orgasm. Miguel had lost it too, your noises and getting to watch you cum setting him into his own heat. You hear him strain in your ear, his cock throbbing as he spews molten cum inside of you. The heat spreads, and Miguel grinds his pelvis to yours, stimulating your already sensitive clit.

"Hh-ah, p-please." You paw at his hair, near tears from the intensity of the moment. Miguel kisses you again, bumping his nose against your own as he settles to a stop. The two of you are looking at each other now, damp with sweat from lovemaking. You bring your hand to his cheek, then touch along the broad expanse of his jaw, causing him to lean into your palm again.

After a few moments, he settles to lay his head on your shoulder, not bothering to pull out. You wrap his neck with your arms and stare up at the ceiling, listening as he falls asleep.

You think about that sinking stone,

And wonder if you'll ever see the surface again.

[scarlethexelove]

How about a WandaNat fic where both are slightly dark and kidnap R. R isn't too worried about it though and soon grows to actually love both of them. Maybe something angsty with a happy ending 🙂

We'll Keep You Safe

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1546

Warnings: Domestic violence, kidnapping, allusion to drugging, murder, I don't think there is much else.

Part 2 Save You

A/N: First I want to thank @abbyromanoff for the help on a bit of the story idea. I was struggling to come up with how they get to the point so thank you Abby. Hope this is what you wanted I'm not really sure how much I like this one myself but I hope you enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You run from your house. Your wife is screaming at you to come back but you don't, you just run to your neighbors house. They told you if you ever needed anything that you could come to them. So that is what you did. Tears streaming down your face, your right eyes almost swollen shut and a gash on your cheek. You cradle your right arm with your left pretty sure that your wrist is broken. 

This wasn’t the first time she hit you, but this was the worst. You said you would leave but every time you were about to she promised to change to never hit you again. All she did was give you broken promises. So this time you ran her anger being heard even as you got to the front door of your neighbors. 

You banged on the door with your left hand as you looked back, scared she would follow you. You kept knocking even as the door opened, startling you and almost hitting the woman at the door. “I-I’m sorry.” You stuttered out. 

The beautiful brunette looks at your concern and anger swirling in her eyes. “S-sh-she” you stutter more, not able to form words. “Help” your voice sounding so small, your legs giving out as pain starts to spread through your body. The adrenaline wears off making you feel the full force of your injuries. Wanda catches you in her arms slowly helping you to the ground and pulling you into her. 

“Natasha!” Wanda calls out to her wife. Natasha comes around the corner, as soon as she sees you there is fury in hers. Your face is buried in Wanda’s neck as you cry. Natasha tries to make her way past you both so that she can teach your wife a lesson but Wanda stops her. Instead Wanda passes you to her wife. Sharing a knowing look. Natasha cradles you in her arms and carries you into the living room sitting down with you on the couch. Burying yourself into her she holds you tightly as you cry continuously apologizing to her as you soak her shirt in your tears. 

Natasha shushes you as she rubs her hand up and down your back. Wanda making her way into the kitchen. A few minutes later as you start to calm down Wanda returns with a tray. A tea pot and some tea cups sit on the tray. She pours a cup for you. Natasha coxes you out of her neck as Wanda extends the cup of tea. You take it hesitantly and take a few sips. Both women give you a sad smile. 

“Honey, do you want to tell us what happened?” Wanda speaks gently as she sits down on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You lightly nod your head before speaking. “I-I came home and Lila was pissed. S-she found the divorce papers I had hidden. I tried to tell her I wasn’t going to but she s-started hitting me. I-I ran here as soon as I could get away.” You tell the woman. “I’m scared.”

“We won’t let her hurt you again.” Natasha says. You can feel her anger but also her concern. You lay your head on her shoulder starting to feel sleepy and your body feeling numb. The pain fading away. Your body feels heavy as you try to speak again but no words come out. That is the last thing you remember before everything goes black. 

You blink your eyes open, your body feeling weak and heavy. It’s hard to keep your eyes open but you're able to look around. You are wearing different clothes which freaks you out. Did someone change you? What the hell happened? Why are you here? And where is Wanda and Natasha? All these questions run through your mind. Panic setting in.

You start to look around again. This room is not one you are familiar with. The walls are wooden and a few paintings scattered around. There is a bedside table next to the bed you are laying on. It is soft, softer than anything you have been on in a long time. One of your wifes punishments for a long time has been sleeping on the ground. You notice the water on the bedside table which makes you realize how thirsty you are. Your mouth feels as though you have cotton in it. So you reach out grabbing it, but as you bring it to yourself you drop the glass and it shatters on the ground. 

Just then the door swings open and you see a panicked Wanda with Natasha behind her. They both quickly rush towards you. “Are you ok? Did you hurt yourself?” Wanda questions quickly come up next to you grabbing your hands and looking you over to see if you have any new injuries. “Where am I? What are we doing here? Why am I wearing different clothes?” You send out a rapid array of questions to the woman.

Wanda gives you a soft look. “We brought you here.” She told you, placing a hand on your check which you flinch from before letting her touch you. “We had to get you away from her.” Natasha added as she bent down cleaning up the shattered glass. “H-her, y-you mean my wife?” You question starting to push Wanda away and scrabble out of the bed. She grips you tightly and doesn’t let you up. 

“Ow, Wanda you're hurting me.” You tell her as her grip loosens on your good wrist. That is when you realize that they have tended to your injuries and cleaned you up. “Sorry detka. We just want to keep you safe. We never want to hurt you. You deserve so much better than that woman can provide you. We just want to keep you safe and give you the love you deserve.” Wanda gently tells you, holding your hands in hers. You let yourself relax and stare at her. “She can never hurt you again.” Natasha adds sitting down next to you. 

You can’t help but admit that you have had a crush on the women since you met them, but you have a wife and they were married to each other. So you always push down those feelings, but sitting here with the woman feels just right. Natasha’s words echoing in your head which causes you to think. “What do you mean she will never hurt me again? You can’t know that. W-what if she finds me?” You quickly panic at the thought. 

“She won’t be a problem anymore Y/n I promise you that.” Natasha reassures you, but something still doesn’t sit right. “Did you hurt her?” You question the woman sitting next to you. You can see an evil glint in her eyes. “No one will ever hurt you again and no one will ever find her.” Natasha said, trying to lessen the blow to the fact that she inadvertently admitted to killing your wife. You should be scared and you should try and run from them. They did kidnap you and murder your wife but you can’t find it in yourself to do any of that. They seem to care so much about you and you wouldn’t be surprised if they actually love you. 

“I-I I don’t know what to say.” You stutter out. They have already done more for you and made you feel so safe in such a short amount of time. So you accept it. You accept that they have killed your wife and brought you somewhere to keep you safe. They have taken care of your injuries. Your wrist has been set, they cleaned your cheek. Your eye doesn’t seem to be as swollen anymore. They really care for you. 

“You don’t have to say anything Y/n we love you so much already and we just want to give you everything you deserve.” Wanda gently strokes the back of your hand with her thumb. Natasha leans in and kisses your forehead. “You mean the world to us detka.” Natasha adds. Tears spring into your eyes at their words. They do love you and they are gentle with you. A stark contrast to the life you have been living. So you let the rational part of you go and you listen to the warm feeling in your chest. Leaning your body into Natasha as she wraps her arms around you. 

You feel tired again, your body relaxing with the safety you feel for the first time in a long time. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this. As you relax into Natasha she starts to guide you to lay down. She shuffles you and herself back on the bed pulling your body fully into hers. Wanda slides in behind you and wraps her arms around your waist as she gently kisses your shoulder. 

“We have you sweet girl and we promise to never hurt you.” Natasha kisses the top of your head. Your tired eyes closing as you nuzzle into her chest. You can get used to this. Living safe and sound with two women who love and care for you. “I love you.” You whisper as you drift off into a deep sleep. 

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck Returns

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: Our little menace of a nephew has secured a date for you. Here is part 2 to Uncle Buck.

Word Count: 1401

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

A/N: what in the actual f👀 is going on 😅 I was expecting maybe 10 or so people to read Uncle Buck. My notifications haven't stopped going off since I posted. Thank you so much everyone that read it and enjoyed it. I hope you also enjoy this little continuation. P.S. GIF replies are my love language so if you enjoy send me your best (or worst 😈) 🫶

As soon as the pair return home and walk through the front door, Benji skips his way in shouting, "MAWWAGE! MAWWAGE IS WHAT BWINGS US TOGEVAH TODAYYYY!" Arms high above him as he rushes through the living room in search of his parents.

"Benji, please don't make me regret letting you watch my favorite movie," you sigh, flopping onto the couch, hands covering your face.

He stops short and looks back at you, "Have you the wing?" He bows and giggles, then turns back around to continue on with his search.

"You're back!" Your sister shouts while she snatches Benji up into her arms, covering the small boy in kisses. "Did you have so much fun with Auntie today? Why are we shouting Princess Bride quotes?" She gasps, "Did you get to meet the dread pirate Roberts??"

Benji looks up at her in confusion, "What? No Mom, we saw Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson! And guess WHAT!"

"Ohhh, what?!"

He whispers into her ear and throws his head back laughing like a tiny evil madman.

"You did what???!" She laughs.

You groan from the couch.

She walks both of them over to you.

"Did I understand him correctly, is there something we should know? Are you betrothed to a super soldier?"

"I'm gonna go throw up," you groan again.

Sweating doesn't even begin to cover it.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire.

You agreed to meet Bucky for a late lunch the following day. You've been sitting on the floor by your closet for what you thought was 30 minutes now, staring into the clothing abyss, spiraling into an internal panic.

You don't go on dates. You keep to yourself. It's comfortable. Living in a combined household with your sister and her small family you're certainly never alone.

What are you even supposed to talk about?

Your current job is nothing super exciting to talk about. You do like to go to concerts and musicals... However you can't really imagine the 106-year-old super soldier going to a pop punk or metal show, nor do you imagine him attending Wicked 3 times. Note to self: do not bring up Rogers the musical. Yikes.

Your sister has already talked you off a ledge 3 times since last night when you got home.

While still wallowing in self pity and loathing, two outfits are scattered by you and you have three more in your arms.

Your sister walks by your open door and backtracks peering in.

"Y/n," she sighs, "just wear the first outfit. You'll look great, I promise." She walks over and grabs the armful of clothes from you, dumping them on the bed and grabbing the first outfit. Your favorite pair of black jeans and a sweater you bought specifically because it was so damn soft.

The doorbell rings and your eyes widen. "He's early?!"

"He's on time, you would have noticed if you weren't staring into space for the last hour."

"WHAT?!"

"Don't worry we'll keep him distracted while you finish getting ready."

"Oh sure, don't worry. That fills me with all the confidence..."

"Benji has already asked him to marry you, what's the worst that could happen now?"

"I don't even want to think about the answer to that. So many possibilities come to mind."

You grab your outfit and start rushing around.

"Can I get you something to drink, Bucky?" Your sister asks while she moves about the room.

Bucky and Benji are seated at the kitchen table, just off from the living room. Benji is across from him with his tiny arms crossed on the table, and a very serious look on his face.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Ok, I'm sure she'll be down in just a moment. Make yourself at home. Hopefully we will see you around again soon," she smiles, "I'm just gonna go switch the laundry over quickly. Benji," she looks down at him while pointing two fingers at her eyes and then over to him, "behave yourself," she warns while leaving the room.

The table stare down continues.

"Where do you live?" Benji asks.

"In the city," Bucky answers.

"You have a house?" Benji fires back.

"Apartment."

"Own or rent?"

"Rent."

"Where’s your office?"

"I don’t have one."

"How come?"

"I don’t need one."

"Where’s your wife?"

"Don’t have one.."

"Yet," Benji squints with a tiny smirk, "but how come?"

"It's a long story."

"You have kids?"

"No I don’t."

"How come?"

"It's an even longer story."

"Do you prefer dogs or cats?"

"Both are fine."

"Do you have one?"

"I have a cat. Names Alpine."

"Is Steve Rogers really on the moon?"

"What's your record for consecutive questions asked?"

"38."

"He's up there all right." Bucky answers with a nod.

"Your metal arm and regular arm match well with how ginormous your muscles are."

"How nice of you to notice."

"I’m a kid, that’s my job."

Bucky raises a brow, "Why am I getting the 3rd degree here?"

"Just checking in on my investments. If this didn't work I was going to ask our neighbor Frank, but he kind of sucks," Benji shrugs his shoulders.

Before Bucky can question the language and what the 8-year-old said, you walk into the kitchen and quickly look back and forth between the two of them.

"Oh no, how long have you two been alone in here?? What did he say?" You ask Bucky, looking over at Benji quickly after, "What did you say??" Your eyes narrow.

Benji grins and holds your purse up for you. "Have fun storming the castle," he cheekily smiles with that glint in his eyes.

"Benji," you glare down at him.

Bucky clears his throat while standing up from the table. Walking over to you he points to a small bouquet of flowers that were already in a vase waiting on the kitchen table, "Um, these are for you…" he smiles.

"Thank you so much, they're beautiful," your reply is breathless while you look at the arrangement filled with a small mix of your favorites.

"He also gave me this," Benji holds up an RC truck with a Captain America shield painted on the side.

"That was very nice of him, did you say thank you?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes while grabbing the remote to the car and rolling it out to the living room, "Thanks Future-Uncle Bucky," he grins and chases after it.

"Anyone ever tell you guys he's kind of a strange kid?" Bucky whispers conspiratorially while offering his arm to you.

You throw your head back with a quick laugh. "Oh, you have no idea."

Your date is going better than you expected.

You have managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself so far and both of you seemed to be enjoying your time together.

You have apologized multiple times for Benji's antics.

Bucky laughs, "He reminds me a bit of a young Steve and my sister Rebecca combined. Didn't realize that combo was possible, it's a little terrifying. I hope they have great medical insurance," he jokes.

"His father's a nurse, so we have in-house medical on demand. My sister tried to convince me to go to law school so someone can represent him when he undoubtedly tries to take over the world. Guess I can save some money and time on law school now that we have a super soldier plus a Captain America connection that can potentially stop him before lawyers need to be involved."

"Your sister already welcomed me to the family when she opened the door to let me in," he smirks.

You put your face in your hands, elbows leaning against the table in support.

"Well now you know where her small menace gets it from."

Bucky helps pull your chair out for you as you're both about to leave. As you stand up your purse falls off the back of your chair, spilling some of its contents on the floor when it lands.

Bucky ducks down to help collect your things when something shiny appears next to your chapstick. His eyebrows furrow as he picks both up and holds them up to you.

You let out a slightly strangled cough as you realize what he's holding up to you.

Bucky Barnes was kneeling holding up your peppermint chapstick and your Grandmother's opal ring that was supposed to be safely in your jewelry box at home.

...Benjamin!

Next: Part 3 Lord of the Pins

@pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

[obx-pogue4life]

The Right Path For Us

Summary: Rafe just wants to be able to feel his girl without anything between them and that need turns into a conversation which leads y/n and Rafe to realize they just might finally be ready to start a family together

Warnings: Fluffy smut. Slight breeding kink, begging, swearing, kissing, slight dirty talk, mentions of sex, pregnancy and marriage

"Please baby? Let me feel all of you without a condom,"  my boyfriend Rafe begged. "I need to feel you against my cock. Don't you want to feel me without that barrier in between us? Don't you want to feel my hot cum shoot into you, painting your insides with my seed?

"What I want Rafe, is to not get pregnant by my idiot boyfriend who thinks it's ok to just unload in me freestyle because he wants to feel all of me," I say to him sternly. I'm gonna stick with no.

"Awww come on y/n, what's the worst thing that could happen? You get pregnant? So fucking what! Who cares if I knock you up! You don't want that? Please...I know you. You'd love it if I put a baby in that belly of yours. You'd love carrying around a little Cameron and have everyone know that you belong to me.

I start to blush and Rafe gives me that shit eating grin of his, knowing that what he said is right on the money. "I fucking knew it," he brags.

"OK fine, but just because you technically may not be wrong does not mean I am ready- actually scratch that, that WE are ready for a baby Rafe.

"Pffffftttt," he says looking directly at me. He takes my hand and laces our fingers and leads us to the couch. I follow him but am a little surprised at his sudden silence. We both sit down, him still holding my hand and sit a minute in silence. "Do you know how much I love you, y/n?," he quietly asks, turning to face me.

I mimic his turn on the couch and notice how serious he is. "Of course I do Rafe. I love you just as much, with all my heart," you answer him, grabbing for his other hand. I put it directly over my heart and place my hand over his. "Forever," I say softly. Rafe's face lights up immediately and he moves our hands from my chest to his, repeating the word that means so much to him.

"Forever," he says to me. "I would love nothing more than to start a family with you y/n."

"I'm barely 20 years old," I say desperately trying to come up with reasons to tell this gorgeous man in front of me as to why we should not have a baby right now.

"Well that's a shit reason," he says chuckling. "Just because we're young doesn't mean we aren't ready. We are plenty mature and have plenty of money. NEXT," he says confidently.

"Well...we aren't married, we aren't even engag-," he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

"That is 100% your own doing y/n and you know it. If I had my way, we would have been married a long time ago.

"If you had your way, we would have been married in high school and we might not have made it here because you know perfectly well that it would have been really hard to make an actual marriage work when we still have to worry about getting to homeroom on time and submitting book reports," I say as calmly as I can muster.

We have had this talk many times over the past several years of dating and we both agreed to hold off until I was finished with college and Rafe played a bigger part in his dad's company. I know that him just being a Cameron alone would support us well beyond our means, that is always a big part of our arguments, but it's very important to me to know that we can make it on our own and support ourselves by having real jobs and skills to fall back on just incase we ever needed them. I also wanted to make damn well sure that Rafe knows I loved him despite his money, not because of it and this was a clear way for me to prove that to him; not that he ever questioned it but I never want to give him a reason to. With a family like the Cameron's, there comes a lot of underlying responsibility and a lot of obligations and I never felt ready for all of that, no matter how much I loved Rafe. Well...until now, that is.

"I still think we would have been fine but that was then y/n," he presses. "What about now?"

"Are you actually being serious right now," you say slowly, thinking.

"Serious as a heart attack baby," he states coolly.

"Please baby? You know I will always take care of you and you know how much I love you. It's only a matter of time before you're a Cameron anyway," he smirks at you, leaning in for a kiss. I sigh into his mouth, knowing he's right and struggle to come up with any real reasons why not to at least try to start a family. It probably wouldn't happen right away anyway and I know how much having his own family means to him. I also know he will always make good on his promise to take care of me and to love me. So maybe now could be the right time?

"So I'm not saying yes but-," THERE'S A BUT!, he interrupts.

"Oh my gosh, eager much," I tease him, poking him in the ribs and smiling. "I'm not saying yes but if I were to agree to this, I want to hear you tell me that this just isn't just about sex. I need to hear you without you trying to put the moves on me that you really want this as much as you say you do Rafe because so so help me god, if you're lying to me just to get me to let you fuck me without a condom-," BABY he interrupts again.

"You know me better than that. I would never trick you like that! What kind of a jerky bastard do you think I am?!," he feigns in mock rage.

"I know that," you sigh apologetic. "This is just a huge step for us and I just really need to make sure we both want this for the same reasons."

"We?," he questions, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Yes, we," I say to him, smiling back happily.

"You know how badly I want you and to start a family together," he says taking his arms and draping them around my neck. I might have started out like a little bit of a jerk earlier but it's just because I love you so much and my need for you clouds my mind sometimes. And I know that sounds like a line but you know in your heart that I mean every word of it. The pleasure we'd feel would just be an added bonus y/n," he smirks at me.

"Is that so?" I say egging him on.

"Oh baby," he says raspily, his eyes filling with lust. "You have no idea how good it's gonna be."

I feel myself gulp as my eyes widen from his confidently naughty confession. My breathing gets a bit faster and Rafe immediately notices my body stiffen in front of him.

"What are you thinking, y/n," he asks me, resting his head against my forehead.

"That I want you," I immediately say and then blush. I can feel Rafe's eyelashes fluttering against my face and the way his breath begins to pick up. He presses his lips to mine in a sweet kiss and I can feel the smile on his face. After a minute he pulls away to look at me.

"What else do you want?," he asks me, his tone desperate to hear my words of affirmation.

"I really want to start a family with you," I tell him earnestly. I always have. I just wasn't sure we were ready for it until...," I look at him as the realization washes over me. "Well... until this exact moment. It just feels so right. The more I hear you talk about it, the more it just makes such perfect sense."

Before I could barely finish my thought his lips were on mine in a fevered panic, needy and wanting, as if he hadn't kissed me in ages. Between breaths he paused only to say how much he loves me and how happy I make him, confirming to me that this was absolutely the right path for us. As he lay me down on the couch, his body is pressed flush against mine as he puts my hands over my head and clutches my wrists. I sigh in complete content as he kisses my neck and I let my eyes close allowing that familiar feeling to start bubbling up inside me.

"Raaaaffeee," I moan out, letting him know how good he's making me feel.

"I know baby," he says in between biting and sucking on my delicate skin. He moves to my mouth and gives me a long, sweet kiss. His tongue melds with mine so perfectly, it makes me wonderfully dizzy and all I can think about is how in love I am with him. When he stops kissing me and pulls away it takes me a second to come back to earth. I open my eyes and find him smiling, staring at me and his necklace dangling right in front of my nose. I playfully grab the chain gently and he leans in and kisses me sweetly on the nose.

"What?," I say giggling. He's still looking at me with that goofy grin on his face and he once again makes me blush.

"Now," he says with a twinkle in his eye. "I just have to get you to agree to marry me."

[dreadfuldrip]

The space between words

∼∼Confessions left unspoken

or

Trying to get into the worst Wolverine's pants :>

Logan Howlett x GN!Reader

a/n: This should be the first part of a 2(?) part series, so stay tuned. This blog has moved to @hiddenavenues

CW: MDNI, GN!Reader, implied age gap, implied sexual content, alcohol consumption, reader gets called pretty thing, no use of y/n

Wade will be the death of you. 

Seated at the kitchen table while Wade and Logan's return party ensues behind you, you have found yourself listening to Wade's mindless blabber. The man can not shut up about Vanessa. Having been Wade's neighbour and friend for the last decade, you're used to it. 

"-and her ass christ, if I could give it an award, it'd be called 'most likely to cause distracted walking.' Seriously, it's like a work of art- I'm just waiting for the Louvre to call-"

As you pretend to listen to Wade's girl problems, your eye snags on Logan sitting alone on the couch as he nurses a beer. Hunched over with his elbows resting on either knee, he gazes off into nothing, utterly oblivious to your stare. You watch as Logan's thumb makes idle circles on the side of his drink, your mind drifting elsewhere as you wonder how it would feel to have his fingers circling something else. You nearly curse from the view as he places down his can to stretch out his back, reaching up over his head and inadvertently tugging up his shirt to expose a thick happy trail and muscled midriff. 

Realizing you aren't paying attention, Wade turns to see what's caught your attention before spinning around and letting out a dramatic gasp.

"How long have you been eye-fucking peanut over there? And here I thought we were having a genuine connection!" Wade exclaims, looking half bewildered and talking far too loudly for your liking.

"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, eyes nearly bugging out of your skull. "Besides, what kind of 'connection' comes from talking about your ex for the last 2 hours? I haven't even had time to go try to actually fuck Wolfie over there, thanks to your sorry ass." You retort, watching as Wade forms a look of mock insult and clutches at his chest. 

"I'm hurt, pumpkin, leading me on when I thought the whole ex thing was gonna get me some tonight." He pouts before standing and placing his hand on his forehead in faux distress. 

"Don't let me distract you from your staring, but please let me know if you two are looking for a third. Always wanted to see if the Wolverine really is huge down under." He says, smirking at you before practically dancing into the room you last saw Vanessa disappear into. 

Music is still playing from a speaker somewhere, but as you look around the room, you notice that most friends have either found a room to crash in or have left for the evening. Fuck, the evening is starting to look like yet another drinking alone with nothing but your hand to please you. With a sigh, you glance over to where you last saw Logan, only to realize he's already looking at you. You watch as he tips back the last of his beer and walks towards where you are seated in the kitchen, presumably to grab another from the fridge.

You speak up as Logan nears the kitchen and reaches to toss out his empty. 

"So, you calling it quits, or can we find somewhere else to be?" You ask, resting your head on your hand and staring up at Logan.

Logan chuckles softly at the invite, turning his back to you for a second to grab another beer before facing you again. 

"I'm far too old for you, bub." He replies, cracking a can and taking a swig.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the dismissal. If this were any other man, you would move on and find someone else to spend the night with. But something about Logan drives you crazy, boiling you down to your most primal needs. Not accepting failure so quickly, you try again.

"Oh, come on, Logan. A couple of drinks at the dive down the street never killed anyone. It's just your vibe, dark, gloomy, and has a certain characteristic to it very few enjoy." You tease, standing to shrug on a light jacket and looking back at him expectantly. 

"You coming? Don't make me find some lonely creep to keep me company while there." 

Maybe it was just your imagination, but something like jealousy flashed in Logan's eye as you spoke. Something about what you said set him in motion, tugging on his jacket before holding the door for you.

Having spent most of the walk to the bar in comfortable silence, you guide Logan through the doors of your favourite bar. Inside, the classic red lights and LED signs greet you, a couple of lonely strangers loitering around the bar counter. 

Taking Logan's hand, you guide both of you towards the bar before heading towards a booth away from the strangers. You let go of Logan's hand to sit down, expecting him to sit across the table from you. To your surprise, he sits beside you. Your thighs brush together in the small booth, Logan's large frame taking up most of the space. 

"Never thought a pretty thing like you would like this kinda place," Logan grunts, drinking from his glass before turning to face you. "Not like the beer is any good."

At this proximity, you can see the specks of gold in his brown eyes and faint scars littering his face. Pretty thing. Your cheeks feel hot under his gaze; you can only imagine how red your face is. 

"They have live music on Wednesdays and Fridays; you never know what you'll get, but it's usually a good time. Wade told me you like this sorta place, so I thought I'd bring you around." You shrug, looking at the table to avoid his gaze.

You hear Logan let out a chuckle. "Are you taking dating advice from Wade? Didn't think anyone would stoop that low. Can't say whatever you're doing ain't workin' though." He returns the glass to his mouth; now it's his turn to avoid your eye.

Butterflies well up in your stomach at his words, the way he blatantly called out your bluff. His eyes are filled with something between hunger and mischief when he meets your gaze over his glass.

"This is going to be a fun night, Logan Howlett."

Logan doesn't reply to you, instead giving you a grin and finishing off his glass.

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 1: Alone

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 2k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, eventually Character x Reader (idk who yet tho)

Masterlist | Next

You grimace as you open your eyes, slowly focusing on your surroundings. Your back is still throbbing. Your head actually feels quite peaceful. The light of the room is dim, and as your eyes focus, you notice the numerous seals lining the walls, stickered over one another. You're surrounded by candle lights. 

You've heard of this room before. You never expected to be the one in it though. 

" Ah, finally woke up from your beauty sleep? "

As you turn, you come face to face with your sensei, leaving you confused once again. He's seated on a chair, the back of the stool facing you as he's seated backwards. There's a casual grin on his face. He looks stupid. Like always. 

" Gojo sensei? " 

The last thing you remember is Inumaki not recognizing you, in fact, he even used his cursed speech on you, forcing you to sleep. Admittedly, it was one of the nicest naps you've ever had, but still. 

" Ah, Inumaki told me you were confused- he also mentioned you're Sukuna's best friend. It got us quite worried, considering you seem to know quite a bit about Inumaki. You even mentioned that he's your upperclassman. " 

You nod. You've got no idea on what to say. Yes, Ryomen is trouble. A little shit. Yet they were treating you like your best friend is some kind of horrible curse or something, worst of the worst. 

" What do you know about me? "

You blink. Is this a test? It had to be. 

" You're Gojo Satoru. You have both Six Eyes' and Limitless cursed technique. You're the first year's mentor- I'm one of your first years, actually. Uhm.... You lost someone you were close with once last year. We're close. In a respectful way. I see you like an elder cousin. " 

Gojo's eyes widen below his blindfold, completely taken by surprise. You knew of Geto? 

" How did he die? "

You tense. You hate that memory. Not to mention with how he's looking at you. He's mentioned that they used to be close. You found him at a bad moment, and helped him through it. 

" I killed him.. "

" What? "

Now it's Gojo's turn to be surprised. 

" I stopped the blood stream to his heart. I found you, just before you were about to end him. I could see it when I had arrived. You don't look at enemies the same way you looked at that man. You care for him. Jujutsu society was already asking a lot of you. I didn't want you to live with the guilt of having to kill someone you cared for. "

Gojo is eerily silent for a good moment. His six eyes aren't having issues. Your flow of cursed energy really is different. You're not from here. 

" You have a student ID right? What's your name? "

" Kamo Y/N."

You hand your student ID  to him. 

" Already a second grade student as a first year? Impressive. I take it you're from the Kamo clan? Or are you a foreigner with a similar last name as one of the three clans- You don't look like you're from around here. "

" No, I'm from the Kamo clan. My mother fell in love with a foreigner. "

" Blood Manipulation? "

" Water manipulation, actually. "

His eyebrows visibly raise beneath his brow. 

" I've never heard that before. What's that? I take it you can manipulate water, like the name intends? "

" Yes, I can. I can manipulate any body of water, and create or change the condensation of it. " 

" Including the blood in people their bodies. "

You cringe at his words. 

" Yes. "

It's not the favorite part of your technique, but it's definitely a part of it. 

Gojo sighs, sitting up straight as he contemplates on what to do. 

" Who's your mother? "

" Kamo Asuka. "

His eyebrows furrow. He's heard that name before, but he can't remember when. Your student ID is legit too. He sighs, getting up. 

" Okay. Something is definitely going on here. I've got no idea what, but don't worry, your sensei will look into it. " 

Hos previous serious expression is replaced by his easy going one again. He's grinning as he gets up from the chair, and unties you from yours. 

" Welcome back at school I guess. I'll be putting you in the girls dormitory for now. We'll introduce you to the rest of the class tomorrow. "

Soon enough, the both of you are finally leaving the room, and you're headed back to familiar grounds. 

To your surprise, he leads you to the exact dorm room you used to stay, but your eyes widen in negative surprise as you notice that it's empty. All of your belongings not there. Your polaroids aren't hanging messily over your wall, your clothes aren't messily stacked in an overfull laundry basket in the corner of the room, your books aren't under your bed, and your comfortable bedsheets which you sneaked in from home aren't on your bed. 

" You okay? "

He notices your expression. 

" Yeah, just... This is supposed to be my room. All my stuff is gone.... "

-

The night passes by, but you can't find it in yourself to fall asleep. You're just tossing and turning, and eventually, you finally get up, and make your way outside, towards the river. 

You're going to fix your back. You breathe in the cool night's air. You'd often sneak out at times like this, along with your best friend. You'd catch the bus that goes until 3 am to Shibuya, and pop by some 24/7 convenience store from time to time. 

You take out your phone, testing your luck. 

Kuna

I'm hungry

Tf you want me to do

Lets sneak off to the kitchens, I wanna bake cupcakes

No

Wait no I'm coming

I wanna spoon out the left over batter

U gotta share tho

No

You sigh as you look at the old texts. They're not that old, only from yesterday. By accident, you had woken up Nobara as well and together the three of you ended up baking cupcakes. 

It had been fun. 

You type a message. 

Hey, where are you? 

[ The number you're trying to reach is not in use. ]

Something really wasn't right, you really were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. 

You decide to just focus on the task ahead. Throwing the, currently useless, device in the grass beside you, you step into the shallow part of the river. 

Unlike most cursed techniques, you found yours pleasant to use. You didn't need to intent harm on anyone to use it. You also managed to master your reverse cursed technique. With enough water, you can heal injuries. 

You manipulate a bit of the river's water into the palm of your hands, allowing the water to encase your hand. The water is still cold, but that only makes you sigh in relief as you press your water encased hand to your back, the water lighting up as your abilities get to work. This was so much more pleasant. 

-

" Okay students,  meet your new, very awesome classmate, Kamo Y/N! "

Gojo is way to cheerful as he introduces you. 

Nonetheless, you smile politely as you slide open the door, and step inside the classroom. 

" Hi. Nice to meet you all, I hope we get along well. " 

You bow, finishing your introduction formally. 

This is not how it went when you introduced yourself back in your universe, but that was more than okay. 

A spark comes to life in Nobara's eye. 

" Another girl! This is great! Finally I'm not just stuck with these two! " Nobara cheers. 

Both men beside her grumble. 

Yuuji pouts. 

" Why, what's wrong with us? I thought you liked us. "

Megumi's mildly annoyed expression shifts soon enough, his focus now on you. 

" Kamo? "

He's always been sharp. He probably wonders why you're here when your cousin (Noritoshi) is in the Kyoto school. 

" Y/N isn't like our regular students, Megumi. She randomly popped up yesterday out of nowhere. She already knows you, but no one of us knows anything about her, thus far. " Gojo explains. 

Megumi's eyebrows furrow, as Yuuji gasps. 

" Out of nowhere? What if you're from a different universe? " 

You raise a brow. You hadn't thought about that. Had the cursed spirit you've been fighting really been strong enough to send you here? 

" Don't spout nonsense Yuuji-"

" I think it's actually a good theory. "

All four students turn surprised to their sensei. 

" Your flow of cursed energy is different. It's somewhat more peaceful, but it also feels like it doesn't belong here.- I forgot to ask you a bunch of questions yesterday actually, how did you end up here? "

He's leaning back against the desk, fingers on his chin as his expression is relatively serious. 

" I was fighting a cursed spirit. It was special grade. It popped up out of nowhere. It wasn't alone either. One went after me while the other went after Sukuna. The one that went after me was strong, and made me fall through some kind of hoop. I was supposed to fall in the river, but I ended up falling right at the entrance of the school, which is where Inumaki senpai found me. " 

Yuuji blinks, though his eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

" Sukuna? "

Yuuji can only hope you aren't referring to the very curse he hates. 

" Yeah, Itadori Sukuna. That actually reminds me, is he sleeping in late again, that he's not here? " 

All eyes blink at you in confusion. 

" Yeah, I actually forgot to ask about that yesterday as well. Is your Sukuna a student? "

Gojo seems confusingly serious about it. 

" Ah, yeah. He is. He's Yuuji's twin, actually. "

Everyone's eyes are wide open, and Yuuji's mouth actually falls open. 

" My- my twin?! " He calls out, visible distressed. 

You blink, wondering what you've said wrong. 

" Yeah? -"

" Ryomen Sukuna is the king of curses here. He's a very powerful sorcerer from the Heian era, back when the curses ruled. It took a lot to defeat him. And the sorcerers from back then couldn't even kill him. They cut up his 20 fingers and sealed them. "

You blink in surprise at Gojo's explanation. Before furrowing your eyebrows in disgust and realization. 

" 20? "

Gojo nods. 

" Our Sukuna had 4 arms. "

" Ew. "

" I can swallow his fingers. "

Now you blink at Yuuji. He blinks back at you with a bit of a dumb grin, Nobara cringes in disgust. 

" Ew. "

" Right! You get it, it's so unsanitary! "

She's definitely glad to have you. 

" But then, Sukuna's presence lives in you? " 

Yuuji nods. 

" Yeah. Don't worry though, I've got full control over him. "

This is all just very confusing for you. 

" Right. "

" Sukuna Ryomen as a student. I never imagined that- I take it his cursed technique is slicing in your.. Universe.. As well? "

Gojo seems positively interested. The possibilities of Sukuna being a student is amazing to him. 

You shake your head. 

" He doesn't have any cursed energy, actually. "

" What? "

" Yeah, he's free of it. "

Gojo's eyes widen. He only knows one person who was free from it. 

" Like-"

" Yes, like him. "

You flit your eyes over Megumi, who just seems confused. 

Gojo is only more surprised at this point.

" Okay... Well, enough of this. Let's turn back to class for now. We'll figure out how to get you back to your universe. For now, let's just focus on classes. This way, perhaps you won't fall behind. "

-

Taglist:

@luxylucylou

[slavghoul]

Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful. 

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through? 

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

[cherubmm]

✖🔪 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ON MY.Knees࿐ྂ

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: CROSS.sans

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Unhealthy attachment. Implied neglectful behavior. Established relationship. Delusional mindset. Vague hint of worshipping behavior. Subtly implied abandoment issue. Violence mention. Implied submissive behavior. ANGST. Stalking. OOC. Not proof-read (I got lazy near the end if you can tell)

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY : oozgin

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why am I keep messing up!?!!?😭😭😭😭 I'm merely editing this on my scheduled post but then it keeps publishing????? Huh?????? Why does the Tumblr keep doing this to me😭😭😭 this is supposed to be for Oct.13!!! But *sigh* whatever, its already here. Enjoy the early treat, again >:(( Hope this won't happen' to another one fic for 14.... Tumblr fuck you :(((

It wasn’t often for Cross to come home.

Well, at least, not anymore. He’d leave before the sun rose, returning long after it set. You used to wait for him, staying up into the late hours of the night, but now? You barely bothered. He’d stumble through the door, mumbling something vague before disappearing into the bedroom or onto the couch without so much as a glance your way.

You understood—you really did. Cross was busy, whatever his job was, it demanded a lot from him. He hadn’t exactly shared the details, and you’d stopped asking after the first dozen times he dodged the question. But no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, it was starting to gnaw at you.

At first, it was just a pang of sadness. Then it became annoyance, maybe even anger. You weren’t one of those cliché lovers who needed constant attention—far from it, actually. You valued your independence, enjoyed your solitude. But this was beginning to feel less like space and more of a...neglect.

He was your lover, wasn’t he? You were supposed to be partners, but lately, it felt like you were the only one holding onto that thread. Every time he came home, he avoided you. No more soft conversations over breakfast, no stolen moments in the afternoon. Just excuses, avoidance, and silence.

The worst part was, you’d started to get used to it. Slowly, your love for him had dimmed, like a flame starved of oxygen. You found yourself becoming comfortable in your own company again, just as you had before Cross ever came into your life. It wasn’t a sudden fall out of love—it was gradual, quiet and subtle. You no longer saw him as your lover, just someone who passed through your life occasionally—acquaintance.

Eventually, you couldn’t do it anymore. The words weighed heavy on your tongue as you prepared yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed. Cross had just come home, dragging his feet, knives still strapped to his side. You waited until he was settled, cleaning his weapons at the table.

“Im breaking up with you.”

...

Cross always thought he was the luckiest skeleton in the entire multiverse.

Of all the infinite versions of himself—sometime's even far, far, better than him—of all the different timelines and universes, he was the one who had found you. He was the one who had you by his side, as beautiful and perfect as you were.

Not even the original version of him—the one from the timeline he could never go back to—had what he did. and that made him feel so special.

Even now, as he wiped the blood from his knives, his mind was filled with thoughts of you. He knew he wasn’t home nearly as much as he should be. Every time he left, there was a pang of guilt that dug deep into his bones. He hated leaving you behind, but what choice does he have? His boss wouldn’t hesitate to come after you if he comes to the conclusion that cross was 'slacking off'' of his work due to his lover. Hell, it was merely a stroke of luck that nightmare decided to not only keep you alive and well, but also provide protection —unbeknownst to you— even knowing his distaste for 'distraction' that attaches to those on his side.

This, of course, was a constant weight on his mind — a sense of indebted. Forcing him to swore his loyalty and obedience to the latter even againts his will. But at least, while he was out there doing Nightmare’s dirty work, you were safe, and that's all that ever matters.

While he couldn’t spend time with you like he wanted to, he could make sure nothing— absolutely nothing—harmed you. The Star Sanses? No threat. Any danger from outside your universe? He handled it.

And on the rare nights he did return? When you were already asleep? Those were slowly becoming his favorite moments. Cross would sit at the edge of the bed or crouch beside you, watching you sleep peacefully. He’d run his fingers through your hair, brushing your cheek, whispering softly to your unconscious form. Confessions of love, of guilt. He’d wish for a world where the two of you could just live a domestic, quiet life—where he didn’t have to kill for survival or settle in the constant state of paranoia— again.

He didn't want the history to repeat itself ever again now that you're here. God, he couldn't even imagine what will happen to him if you're no longer on his side to keep him sane.

But alas, he couldn’t give you that, yet. So, he settled on making you safe instead, hoping you’d understand one day.

...

"Im breaking up with you."

The sound of sharpening knives stopped abruptly. Cross froze, his back still turned to you, as if your words had doused him in cold water. Slowly—almost mechanically—he turned his skull in your direction, his pinprick eye shrinking to a tiny dot before flickering in and out like a dying lightbulb. There was something unsettling about the way he stared at you. For a brief second, his usual stoic expression faltered, a flash of... something. Confusion? Betrayal? Fear? But then, he laughed nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

"Hahaha... t-that’s a good one, darling. You almost caught me,” he stammered, his grin unnaturally wider than the usual as he tried to shake off the tension.

"I’m not joking, Sans,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your gut.

Y-yeah, sure, whatever you say.” He turned back to his knives, trying to focus on his task, but his hands phalanges trembled.

“Sans, listen to me. I wasn’t—”

CRRK!!

The dagger in his hands broke in half as Cross shot to his feet, staring at the shattered blade as if it had betrayed him. His breathing grew uneven as he slowly turned toward you again, his eye flickering with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Why?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step forward. You took a step back instinctively. "Why are you saying this...?"

You tried to explain, though the words didn’t come easily. You told him how you felt—how distant things had become, how lonely you were. How the relationship was falling apart and you both are better off no longer being in each other.

But every time you spoke, Cross took another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab onto you, and you found yourself taking another step back.

In a blink, he was in front of you, faster than you could process. Then, there was a small 'ping' sound before you felt yourself flung backward, slamming into the nearest wall that knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands gripped your shoulders, hard enough to hurt, as his face hovered inches from yours.

"Oww-! Sans what the fuck—!?"

His bony hands gripped your shoulders tightly, an anchor that pinned you in place. “Just LISTEN to me first darling. You have to understand—” Tears began to stream from his eye sockets, glistening like pearls against his skeletal face. “I DON'T have a choice” he cried, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s all for you! To make you safe! Please, you NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!”

You tried to pull away, but his hold only tightened.

His knees buckled, and you stumbled as he dragged you down with him, his hands still clinging to you like a lifeline.“No, no, please— reconsider!! I-i’ll try to change, I’ll do whatever you want—I’ll beg, I’ll be on my knees forever, just—please?”

Ⓒ𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/11/24 Navigation | Masterlist