#again I don’t remember where the prompt came from

[wolvietxt]

late night conversation prompts!

confessions & chaos :3

🌀 it's past 2 am, and the two of you are lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “what’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?” they ask, voice hushed, like the world could hear your secrets if it were any louder.

🌀 you’re both curled up under a blanket, sharing earbuds, listening to a song that means everything to them. “this part,” they whisper, right before the lyrics hit, “makes me think of you.”

🌀 their fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin as the two of you talk about your childhood dreams, the ones that never quite came true. “maybe it’s not too late,” they murmur, sounding more hopeful than they’ve ever been.

🌀 it’s 3 am, and you’re both sprawled on the living room floor, trying to build the tallest tower out of whatever you can find - books, pillows, even a shoe. it’s teetering dangerously when it finally collapses, sending everything crashing down, and you both end up in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming down your faces.

🌀 it’s one of those nights where sleep feels impossible. you're sharing the deepest fears that keep you up at night, and they hold your hand tighter with each confession, like they're trying to keep the darkness away.

🌀 somewhere between midnight and dawn, the conversation drifts to a vulnerable place. “do you think we’ll still be this close in ten years?” you ask. there’s a long pause before they finally answer, “i hope so. god, i really hope so.”

🌀 you're both sprawled out on the couch, the tv playing softly in the background. “if you could go back and change one thing, would you?” they ask, eyes heavy with questions they don’t know if they want answers to.

🌀 the rain is pouring outside, and it’s just you two, sitting on the windowsill, knees touching. “do you ever wonder if there’s someone out there thinking about us right now?” they ask, their gaze fixed on the drops racing down the glass.

🌀 the two of you are tucked away in bed, your voices low and quiet as if the darkness could hear. "tell me something about yourself i don’t know,” they say, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you should reveal the truth or make something up.

🌀 there’s a comfort in the silence that stretches between you, broken only by the occasional murmur of words neither of you remember in the morning. it’s like sharing secrets with the night, knowing it won’t tell a soul.

🌀 you’re both lying on the kitchen floor, sharing a pint of ice cream straight from the tub. “okay, serious question,” they say, spoon halfway to their mouth, “if i were a vegetable, which one would i be?” you both burst into laughter when you answer with the most absurd choice imaginable.

🌀 the hours have slipped away, and it’s nearing 4 am. the conversation takes a turn, and you find yourself talking about your biggest regrets. “if i could, i’d take back every mistake i made,” they admit, their voice thick with emotion.

🌀 you’re both staring up at the ceiling, too wired to sleep. suddenly, they turn to you with a mischievous grin, “if you could swap bodies with me for a day, what’s the first thing you’d do?” you’re both cracking up as you come up with increasingly ridiculous answers.

🌀 the moonlight filters in, casting soft shadows across the room. “if we met again in another life,” they say softly, “do you think we’d still find each other?” it feels more like a confession than a question.

🌀 the two of you are lying there, sleep far from your minds. “do you think we’re meant to be here right now, like this?” they ask, like the universe has all the answers and you're just a tiny piece of it trying to make sense of things.

[mrsensitive]

you’re tying my necklace as i look into a mirror and woah, have you always looked that hot? you’re behind me and your breath’s warm on my neck and i can't—

update: I kinda used this as part of a longer 4+1 which you can read here if you’re curious 🤭

this is so mutual pining like quinn taking you as a date to a gala or whatever bc why not all the other guys have a date and he doesn't want to be the only one alone that night and you're basically inseparable anyway... you have your nails done and you cant seem to clasp your necklace together so you ask him to do it for you before you go and at first you're looking at the pendant and being happy with how you've cleaned up when you look at him in the mirror and oh wow he cleans up even nicer - which you didn't think would be a thought that would cross your mind considering seeing him in a suit is not a rare occasion at all but something about how his hair has grown out and the light stubble and the tie and the watch and the light waft of cologne and his focus on the back of your neck and suddenly you're aware of how close you're standing and remembering all the times you questioned if this might've been or could still be more than just a friendship and your breath is caught in your throat and youre kind of frozen in place still holding your hair up even after he’s mumbled, “there” - which he could barely even get past the lump in his throat because he’s thinking all the same things about how unreal you look and fighting everything in him thats telling him to wrap his arms around your waist and plant a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder and just play pretend for a second... his gaze is still locked on the clasp at the nape of your neck and you manage to catch a glimpse of something cross his face that you cant really decipher until you’re both snapped out of it by a phone going off - one of the guys calling him to ask about a tie or when you’re arriving or something like that so you’re both trying not to think too much of that little moment... but through the night you’re just having a good time enjoying the drinks and the company and falling into a very comfortable and natural pace with each other - to an outside eye you two would seem just like any of the other couples and maybe its the soft touches on his arm or your back or the stealing glances and smiles across the room or the dancing to your favourite song - but something is finally clicking for you both separately when one of the guys asks quinn “when are you finally going to do something about it buddy?” and he’s confused at first but then he realises he had to rip his gaze off you to even ask what they meant and for you its one of the wives telling you how stunning you look, “I’ve been waiting for you to join us at one of these, im glad he finally made a move” and you’re stuttering to explain he didn't, not like that at least, to which they ask “well... would you have wanted him to?” with a raised eyebrow and knowing look - and both of you while across the room from each other finally realise how obvious it’s been and how screwed you are

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[lives-in-midgard]

You Are In Love

Pairing: Evan Buckley x reader

Summary: When you're out with your friends you meet a handsome firefighter. After a while you go on a date and decide to keep your relationship a secret until something happens.

Word Count: 1200

A/N: Hey. This is part of the Buddie-August challenge. This also includes some characters from the Rookie. I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Buddie-August hosted by me and @buckys-wintersoldier

Prompt: Kisses

911 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After a long shift at work one of your colleagues had the idea to go to a bar. You don’t often go to bars with all of them, but today you all finally had time. A lot has changed for you since you started working as a police officer at the Mid-Wilshire Station. You found a lot of friends there and you love your job.

“I’m gonna get a drink, would any of you like one too?” You asked the others.

“Could you get me another one of these.” Lucy said, pointing at her drink and you nodded.

“What about you Tim?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He said, smiling at you. When the others said they didn’t need anything, you made your way over to the bar. While you were waiting in line for drinks, a cute guy stood next to you and waited as well. Somehow he looked familiar to you, but you weren’t sure where you had seen him before. He smiled at you and then you suddenly remembered him. You could never forget that smile.

“You’re firefighter Buckley, right?” You asked and he chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s me. Wait and you are officer L/n.”

“You can call me y/n.” You said with a smile.

“Only if you call me Buck because that’s what everyone calls me.”

“Okay, deal.” You said and he had that sweet smile again. You talked for a few more minutes until your drinks were ready.

“See you around, Buck.”

“See you and be safe.” He said and watched as you walked back to your table. You handed Lucy her drink and sat down next to Tim again.

“Who was this guy?” Tim asked curious.

“Oh, just a friend.” You answered and Tim nodded. You and Tim have been friends and partners for a long time and over time he has become very protective over you. He always knows when something is wrong and is there for you as best as he can.

The next day you kept thinking about your meeting with Buck. He was so sweet and you hope to see him again. You didn’t think you’d see him again soon because just when you had an emergency call and had to call the ambulance, it was the 118 that showed up. You couldn’t really talk to him, but it was great to see each other again.

When you were grocery shopping and walking through the halls someone said your name and when you turned around you saw that it was Buck.

“Hey Buck.” You greeted him with a smile.

���Hey, good to see you.”

“I was wondering if you would like to have a coffee with me sometime?” He suddenly asked.

“Yeah, sure. How about I give you my phone number.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You tipped in your number and he called you, so you had his number too.

Two days passed until you got a message from Buck. He asked if you were free tomorrow and you agreed to meet after work. At work Tim noticed that you were different, happier and more excited. He didn’t ask you about it, but it made him happy to see you happy.

The coffee date with Buck went very well. You talked about everything that came to your mind. You both really enjoyed it and had a great time. He asked you out on a date and that date turned into another date and suddenly you were in a happy relationship.

You had been dating for about three months now. Usually you were at his house or yours or sometimes you were going out. Favorite things to do together include cooking, watching movies, going to the beach and you enjoying it when he tells you a story from work and then you tell him some stories too. You’re very happy together and try to spend as much time together as possible, even if it can be a bit difficult due to your work shifts. Some people don’t think a relationship between a police officer and a firefighter is a good idea, so you decided to keep the relationship a secret for a while, which wasn’t always easy especially if you would see him on a call.

Today you have been called into a very difficult situation. You called for backup, but things quickly escalated, and you injured your left arm. Luckily, Officer Harper, Officer Nolan and Officer Bradford arrived at the right time to arrest the person. While Harper and Nolan arrested the person, Tim ran over to you and called an ambulance.

“Tim, I’m aright, it’s just a small scratch.”

“Let’s wait and see what the medics say, okay?” Tim said and put some pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. A few minutes later you could already hear the ambulance driving near you. When the doors opened you could see that it was Buck. As soon as he saw you, he ran towards you.

“Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He asked, looking at your arm. When you looked over, you saw that Tim had a confused look on his face.

“I’m okay, it’s just a small scratch.” You said again.

“Let’s go to the truck and I’ll take a look at it.” Buck said, placed his hand on your back and guided you to the truck. Then he removed the cloth from your wound and gently tried to stop the bleeding. You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He looked into your eyes and tried to smile at you. Then he looked back at the wound.

“The cut isn’t too deep, so it’s okay if I just bandage it.” He said and you nodded. Buck gently put the bandage over your wound and then gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Anytime.” He said, then Buck tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pulled you into a passionate kiss. When you broke the kiss, you reached for his hand and smiled at each other.

“I have to go back to work.” You said after a few seconds, even though you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Me too.” He said, looking over his shoulder to see his friends looking at you both with smiles.

“I guess they all know now.”

“They definitely do.” You said with chuckle. You noticed how happy they all were and then looked over at Tim who was as happy as they were.

“I think I have to go now. See you later.” Buck said and gave you a quick hug.

“See you.” You said, waving at him as you walked away. As you walked to your car, Tim was still standing next to yours and looked at you with a grin.

“Now I know why you’ve been so happy lately.”

“Yeah, Buck makes me really happy.” You confirmed and opened the car door.

You were glad that Tim and Buck’s colleagues now found out about your relationship, but you definitely want to meet them soon on a better occasion. Buck has told you a lot about them, so you’re very excited to meet them.

Taglist:

@cevansbaby-dove | @buckys-wintersoldier

@beaubbdoll

[explicit-tae]

Repent

“I want you to fill me.” Part One @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111 @investedreader @hoseokteardrop @azaoood @luvbug089 @sappy033

Word Count: 3.872

Warning: kissing, smut, slight dirty talking, shy boy jungkook duh, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving),

Kinktober Masterlist

“And you didn’t bend her over and fuck her stupid?!” Hoseok yells into the phone that prompts Jungkook to lower the volume.

“You’re…not helping. You guys never help.” Jungkook sighs, squeezing his phone in the palm of his hand until it turns a lighter shade of white. “It’s complicated.”

“What’s complicated about a girl wanting to fuck you?” Taehyung snickers. “She’s practically throwing herself at you.”

You’re all Jungkook can think about. His entire focus is on you. After he’s left your room that night, his mind would replay the sinful flashbacks of your naked body. The sounds of your voice and your breathy moans replay in his thoughts.

It’s the following day now and Jungkook had to start his day with a cold shower as his thoughts were, once again, on you. Your body is so soft, he remembers, and his palms longs to touch it once more. 

Jungkook understands - a bit - that you did want him. You wanted him to, as you say, fuck you. You had a deep desire to get through him for the following few days on this retreat and he’s going through different stages of disbelief. 

No woman has ever sought Jungkook out in such a way. Yet again, if they had it was possibly subtle. You, however, came off extremely more blunt - you know exactly what you want from him and you were determined to get it.

That is what frightened Jungkook. He has been sheltered the majority of his life. He was raised to be a holy religious man who had to bury the deep desires he held for the opposite sex outside of marriage. He had already sinned when he slept with his first girlfriend and repented the situation entirely. He doesn’t understand how to handle such a strong woman such as yourself.

Jungkook has come to realize that his friends weren’t the same as him - as much as he adored and appreciated them. They weren’t raised as strict with religion as he was and sometimes he would be the topic for them to laugh at, but they never meant any true harm. 

“Sex is amazing when you don’t have some over religious person in your ear telling you that you’ll burn in Hell if you partake in it.” Jungkook recalls Yoongi telling him over the phone.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror. He was a man and it was normal to have urges. Maybe his friends were right for once. He hadn’t been like them in his youth - fucking everything that would allow them to. He was more reserved and stuck to one girlfriend and look where that’s gotten him now.

“Long night?”

Jungkook blinks, unaware when he’s gotten to the large cafeteria. He must’ve zoned out the entire walk here, his mind jumping and unable to focus on anything.

Swallowing, Jungkook turns his eyes to Meana. She offers a soft smile to him. “Is it obvious?” Jungkook jokes. 

“You look so out of it. Did you have a nightmare?” Meana takes the seat beside him.

Meana is someone he’s known for years now. She has attended the same church as him since they were both children and he recalls the countless times your grandmother would bake the most delicious cookies for all the children every weekend. It’s a memory he cherishes, though now he ponders why you never were a part of the church.

“Ah, no.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Jungkook’s ear tints and he immediately shuts his mouth. He doesn’t want Meana to think otherwise of him.

Jungkook feels an arm around his neck and he stiffens. The familiar aroma swirls through his nose and his heart begins to pound. 

“Kookie, hey.”

Your voice causes Jungkook’s throat to swell. Your cheek crashes against his as you bring him to a hug, your eyes only glancing at Meana for a moment. 

Meana watches the way Jungkook slowly turns towards you, doe-like eyes wide and full of shock.

You smile, teeth flashing at Jungkook kindly. “How have you been?” you ask him, lashes batting at him cutely. As if you didn’t know how he’s been - as if you didn’t cause him to think about all the bad things he wished he could’ve done with you last night. 

“I-I’m fine.” Jungkook nods his head, blinking a few times to stop his idiotic staring. 

“You sure?” 

Jungkook stiffens once more when he feels your hands on him. You brush his hair from his forehead.

“You look like you’ve had a rough night.” You tilt your head, glancing once more at Meana who still has her eyes on you and Jungkook. As your eyes meet hers, she cowers; much similar to Jungkook. You want to laugh at how uptight these people were

Jungkook gulps.

“It was a rough night.” Jungkook murmurs. “I…I hope today is better.”

As your hand lowers from Jungkook’s forehead, your finger glides past his lips before you nod your head in agreement.

“I hope so, too.” you say. 

Jungkook finally notices your attire and possibly the reasons for the looks you’d often get. Your shorts are tight and they make your legs appear longer. Your shirt is a bit loose and it has a graphic design on it, one Jungkook recognizes.

“Rob Zombie.” Jungkook nods his head to your shirt with a low grin.

You furrow your brows. Your hands go through your short pockets to take out a small tube of lipgloss. “You know Rob Zombie?” you ask, an amused tone in your voice. “Church Boy Kookie…you’re full of surprises.”

Your Grandmother, though a religious woman, never forces anything down your throat. She would offer you to come to Church sessions and you always declined. While she was never upset, you understood that you couldn’t always decline her offers. This is how you found yourself on a retreat and now you’re ecstatic that you agreed.

You wore the shirt simply because you enjoyed the controversy; the eyes on you as if you were such a terrible person who worshiped the devil. It’s laughable, honestly, and you enjoyed every second of it.

Jungkook couldn’t tear his eyes away as you begin to coat your lips with the shimmery gloss, a bite of his tongue to stop his mouth from hanging open slightly.

“Want some?”

Jungkook blinks a few times, the tips of his ears reddening. “N-No-”

“Not you, silly. Meana.”

Meana visibly yelps at the sound of her name being called from your lips. She’s embarrassed, as well, by how close her eyes had been staring at you. 

“I…I um,” Meana stammers with a shake of her head. “No. Thank you.”

You turn your eyes back to Jungkook. “I’m going to go help my Grandmother. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods. “Yeah…”

You stand, flashing another grin. “I hope to see you, too, Meana.” you speak to the quiet, mousy-like girl.

The day drags on and once again, you plague his mind entirely. His eyes follow you as you walk around besides your Grandmother who looks just as happy as you are that you’ve finally joined her church events. 

Jungkook does what he always does. He volunteers to help the kids with their arts and crafts, taking their pictures to show them. He draws along with them to get his mind off of you.

Of course, Jungkook could never get his mind off of you. It would be easier if you weren’t always in the background of everywhere his eyes turned. The children were intrigued by you and your storytelling and he found himself snapping a few pictures of them surrounding you.

During the congregation was when you found yourself beside Jungkook once more. He’s leaning against a wall all the way in the back. He’s realized that he doesn’t deserve to sit in the front where he usually would - especially not with the thoughts he’s gone through lately.

“Church boy Kookie…” you trail off, whispering loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve never seen you back here before.” you would know as you’re always lingering in the back, bored out of your mind.

Jungkook doesn’t respond but he does offer you a glance.

“Can I show you something?” you ask once more, your arm touches his. “I’m bored and you…” you tilt your head. “...well you aren’t focusing on anything lately.”

Jungkook swallows once more. So you’ve noticed. He‘s questioning himself now because if you noticed his clouded mind then who else has? 

You walk around Jungkook and out of the door, not waiting to see if he would follow you. You knew he would.

Jungkook does.

You walk further and further into the tall, forested area. The trees are high and there’s only a slight breeze that causes the branches to sway.

“Where are we going?” Jungkook questions, attempting to catch up with your fast strides.

Jungkook feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He sighs. Now was not the time for his friend's banter. He proceeds to take his phone from his pocket and sigh even harder that it just wasn’t one friend calling - but all of them.

“Who’s calling you?”

Jungkook stops abruptly and nearly shrieks. He’s unaware that you stopped directly in front of him with curious eyes. 

“M-My friends.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll decline-”

“No.” you shake your head. “Answer it. Don’t let me stop you.”

Jungkook is uncertain but he follows your orders anyways. He answers the call with a sullen ‘hello’.

“We have a solution to your girl troubles!”

Jungkook shakes his head with wide eyes. “I don’t-”

“I say.” Hoseok starts. “you just fuck her instead of pissing your pants at the sight of her. That’s my solution.”

Jungkook squeezes his phone, unable to form the correct words. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wide. 

“Please stop-”

“Shut up, Kook. Are you really going to let a hot girl like her go? Who knows when you’ll get laid again.”

You were going to hate him now that you know he's talked about you to his friends. You probably think he’s a scared little puppy that can’t do anything himself. You were probably disgusted with him as he speaks at his lack of guidance. 

Jungkook allows his eyes to look up at you. “Y/N, I-”

“Kookie.”

The line goes quiet, as does Jungkook. 

“Who are you talking to?” You say, stepping closer to him so his friends could hear that Jungkook was indeed with you. You admit they were a hilarious bunch who were just trying to get their friend laid.

There’s a few murmurs coming from the phone as Jungkook struggles to respond to you. His friends obviously heard you. Were you attempting to help him?

“No one…?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “I-I gotta go.” Jungkook says into the phone and hangs up before he gets any more humiliated by his friends. “Sorry about that. I don’t talk about you to them often I-”

You press a finger against Jungkook’s lips, furrowing a brow. “I think you should listen to your friends more often, Kookie.”

Jungkook can hear his heart pounding outside his chest.

“Let’s sit, yeah?”

Jungkook can only nod. You two aren’t that far from the cabins, but alone enough to not draw any attention. He proceeds to sit down on the grassy trail and up against a tree. He expects you to do the same, yet he isn’t sure why. You’re always unpredictable.

You take your seat directly onto Jungkook’s lap, thighs caging him between you. 

“You’re so cute.”

Your hands lay on Jungkook’s shoulders, taping playfully as you slowly trailed them up his neck and onto both sides of his cheeks. 

“But I know deep down inside of you is a man that wants to fuck me.” 

Your words, so lewd and hot; just like you. 

“What’s stopping you?” you murmur. You’re so close to him that your breath tickles his nose. It smells minty as if you were just chewing gum.

What was stopping Jungkook?

You and he were adults; consenting ones. You knew he wanted you and you made it evident that you wanted him in more ways than one. 

“Have you done anything…bad before?” you ask. “Nothing too bad. Just something a little risky?”

Slowly, you watch Jungkook shake his head. “What do you consider risky?”

“Risky…” you begin, your glossy lips shimmering underneath the sun. “...is me sucking your cock out here when anyone can walk by.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath in an attempt to keep his cool, but he’s having a hard time. 

“The look of pure shock on their face to see Church boy Kookie fucking my mouth.” you giggle at the sign of his red cheeks. “Wanna try?”

Jungkook stammers, his forehead lining with sweat. He doesn’t know how to handle you. Each day you grow more determined to corrupt the man that’s Jeon Jungkook and he’s not one to fight you off; even if his moral compass is screaming that doing this with you was wrong. You and he weren’t married nor a couple; it was a sign of disrespect to you.

“I-I don’t want you to assume that I think lesser of you!”

You blink.

“That…that…all you are to me is a way to be…risky?” Jungkook hopes he’s making sense to you. “I want you to be…a friend to me, too.” his voice is meek and shy, his eyes gleaming with possibilities.

You blink again. Jungkook was so cute. 

“I’m sure we can be besties.” you wink at him, an action Jungkook finds cute. “That does other things.”

You connect the gap between you and Jungkook, pressing your glossed lips against his. Your lips are sticky but sweet, tasting like blueberries. 

Your hands are soft onto his cheeks, ensuring he doesn’t push himself away - and he doesn’t plan on it.

Jungkook is unsure where he puts his own hands and this allows you to help him. Your left hand removes from his check to grasp his wrist and place it onto your hips. You tap it slightly, giving him full access to whatever he wants to feel.

Jungkook is hesitant, but he follows your lead. His hands grip onto your hips, moaning against your soft lips. 

The soft kisses soon turn to a makeout session, your delicate hands roaming Jungkook’s broad chest.

Jungkook’s hands roam up your sides and around your back, wanting to feel more of you. Even now as the two of you were fully clothed and he technically saw you naked, the crave he has for you only grows higher and higher. 

You pull yourself away from Jungkook, snorting when you notice his plush lips are full of gloss.

“You said you’ve done things with other girls?”

Jungkook begins to nod. He was growing anxious at your question. He hasn’t done a lot - especially not with more than one girl.

“Hm.” you peck his lips gently. “What have they done to pleasure you?”

Taking a short breath, Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Regular…stuff…?”

Once more, Jungkook is so cute to you. Knowing him, he hasn’t experienced foreplay. You recall hearing some religious people only experience sex to procreate and you truly hoped that was a lie.

“Hm…” you bat your eyelashes at him. “...I’ll show you regular stuff with me.”

Jungkook nodded his head, only a bit embarrassed how eager he was to see it. 

You decide to take things slow - for now. You peck his lips, then his cheek, down his jaw. You get to his neck, slightly inhaling the scent of his cologne. It’s faint and smells a bit earthy; a scent that does scream Jungkook. It’s subtle.

“You’re hard.” you state at the nape of his neck.

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak; to apologize for his behavior as the two of you were just supposed to be kissing, surely. “S-Sorry-”

“That’s a good thing! I need you to be aroused, Kookie.” you grin, pulling yourself away from him to bat your eyelashes once more. “It’s easier to suck your cock this way.”

Jungkook nearly explodes at your lewd words. He begins to stammer now, his mind plagued with just the thought of you doing that.

You move fast in case Jungkook attempts to stop you, your halls falling onto his waist. You undo the button, eyes flashing up at his flushed face. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” you tease, a hint of amusement in it. You didn’t want the poor boy to think you were going to laugh at him. You and he were friends now, after all.

Jungkook thinks he is, too. He’s long past the idea that this was a dream as this was far too good to just be a dream. 

“Do you not want me to?”

Your hands rest on top of his bulge. It jolts at the impact, a sign that he did want you to. 

“I-If you want.” Jungkook responds meekly, your eyes captivating him deeper and deeper into the essence that was you. “I don’t want to force you into it.”

Your lips jerk upwards, another attempt to not appear like you’re going to laugh in the poor boy's face. Jungkook was just too cute - a soft individual in a hot man's body. It makes you want to do this - and much more - because of how meek and shy he is. Even now as you lay your hand on his cock, obviously wanting to shove it in you did he feel as though he was the one that was possibly forcing you into anything.

“Tell me, Kookie.” you squeeze the clothed cock in your hands. “Just say it. Tell me you want me  to suck your cock. It isn’t hard.”

Jungkook hears it - it’s faint. There’s music coming back from where the two of you were just at. There was only about 10 minutes left of the congregation until everyone was released. Kids would be running through these very same woods. He couldn’t allow the two of you to be caught like this.

“I…I want you to,” Jungkook gulps, his cock twitching embarrassingly in the palm of your hands. You were forcing such filthy words from his lips - words that his friends would only pat him on the back for saying. “...want you to suck my cock. Please.” he adds softly, cheeks a dark shade of red.

“Good boy.” you murmur, not hesitating. 

You push down his underwear to reveal his cock. It’s prettier up close, you think. Now you actually have the chance to see it as last time you were only grinding onto it. It’s begging for attention, veins slightly pulsing and pink tip leaking already with pre-cum.

Jungkook squeezes his palms into fists when he feels your tongue lick the tip of his cock like a lollipop, your eyes fixed on his. You were going to kill him, he thinks. He was going to die here with you sucking his cock.

You take Jungkook into your mouth, tongue wrapping fully around the tip of his cock. If this was his first blowjob, you’d go slow; for now.

Jungkook isn’t sure he could handle it. He gets used to the sensation of your warm, wet tongue on him. He moans softly, thinking that he could survive this.

Then you take Jungkook’s cock fully into your mouth and he realizes that you were only going easy on him and now…

Now Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s going to survive this. You aren’t holding back anymore. Both of your hands are on either side of him as you suck onto his cock, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time. 

Your eyes look up at Jungkook once more, slightly amused that the man appears to be in pure bliss. His eyes are fluttering, trying so badly to remain open. His mouth is agape and he’s releasing panting moans, chest rising and falling. 

You continue to suck, the sound of your slurping only growing louder with each passing moment. You now wrap a hand around his length to jack him as you do, to speed up the process - and to tease him some more.

Jungkook’s thighs are shaking as you appear to only suck harder and faster, determined to make him cum. This was his first blowjob after all and by the looks of it, he was enjoying it. You’ll give him something to talk about with his friends later.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your lips, your fist squeezing the base as you jack him up and down. Jungkook sighs in release, unaware how long he’s been holding his breath for. He thanks God, how ironic, that you’ve slowed down. 

“I-I…” Jungkook isn’t sure what he wants to say in the slightest. 

“Do you wanna cum in my mouth?” you ask him.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. You were too much for the poor man to handle. 

“Or you can cum on my face.” you suggest just for a reaction out of him. “I prefer the mouth seeing as we’re in the woods.” you say, once again squeezing his cock. “But maybe another time you’ll get to cum on my face, yeah?”

You don’t allow Jungkook to answer. You pop his cock right back into your mouth and suck harder than before, jacking him aggressively to send him over the edge you knew he’d soon be over. Your eyes are on him, enjoying the squirming and hisses coming from his sweet lips.

“Are you…are you sure?” Jungkook stammers, cheeks flushed. His eyes open and stare into your own and for a moment you see the glimpse of the man Jungkook could be. Dark eyes clouded with lust and completely into the moment.

You nod your head slightly, tongue laying flat as you suckle onto his cock. You had to admit that right now you wanted Jungkook inside of you - but this isn’t about you right now. You had to ease the man into it. This was a whole new world to him.

Jungkook doesn’t hold back anymore, allowing the cum to shoot right into your suckling mouth. The slightly salty cum hits the back of your throat in such an abundance that you had to pull him out of you to swallow it all, and even then there was more. It drips down the corners of your mouth.

Jungkook takes a moment to catch his breath, his thighs twinkling every few moments. Slowly, he opens his eyes to look at you. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook breaths. “That was probably too much.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and snort. “You’re such a dork, Kookie.” you respond.  “I’m going to go clean myself up. There’s only about a few minutes left in congregation.” you speak. “Wanna join me?”

Jungkook nods meekly, going to fix himself, as well. His heart rate is out of control and he feels as though he’s floating at the moment. 

You link your arms with Jungkook as you begin to walk back towards the cabins. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me, Kookie.” you sing-song casually. “I saw the look in your eyes. I know you're capable.”

Jungkook swallows as he couldn’t wait either.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 4 masterlist

-

At the quantum level, an electron can behave as both a wave and a particle. It is the act of observing it that confines it to a single form. The electron that once could’ve passed through multiple openings at once is forced to choose a single path when observed. 

Because what the eye sees becomes—

“—real,” you whisper, staring up at the face hovering in the window beside your bed. His smile doesn’t waver. “You can’t be real.”

“Sorry about the other day,” he says, instead of answering. “I got a bit lost after you left.”

Again, you pinch the soft skin of your thigh to wake yourself up and twitch when the pain sets in. The reassurance that you’re still awake doesn’t go a long way towards reassuring you. 

“This isn’t real,” you repeat to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing heavily out through your mouth. “This isn’t real.”

Your words are met with a silence so profound that it almost feels as though you’ve plugged your ears, until you open your eyes and he’s still there, waiting right outside the window.

The blue lights around the inside of the window glow soft against his dark skin. You can make out the finer details of his face up close—the smoothness of his skin; the faint scar on his cheek; the fine grooves in his plush bottom lip. Too beautiful to have spent the last several days without food or water or sleep or fresh oxygen. You, with access to all of those resources, feel grimy; gritty. Skin tight against the bone, and hollowed.

“Was that you? Before?” you ask, thinking of the astronaut you saw drifting out in the distance, so lifeless and limp that you imagined the body within it long expired. 

He nods. The motion is slow, deliberate; still that sluggishness analogous with zero gravity. 

You wait for him to volunteer more information, but he just smiles wordlessly at you. It’s difficult to know where to begin. You’ve always been the kind to break a problem down into smaller, more manageable parts, but with this you don’t even know where to start. Its bigness is all you can focus on. The enormity of it. 

“Where did you go?” you ask instead. “You weren’t—…you were gone when I came back. We couldn’t find you.”

He blinks. “Elsewhere.”

“You can…move around out there?” 

“I can.”

His deliberate evasiveness frustrates you. Ostensibly one-dimensional with his glib charm and easy smile, but with an unplumbed depth. His response provokes more questions than it answers, and you can tell that it’s intentional. 

But again you’re prescribing an internal locus of control to an apparition that has been proven to exist only in your head. It can only supply you with information that you already have. 

And that’s the real quandary, isn’t it? The thing that has you whispering softly to yourself oh no oh no oh no oh no in the quiet of your room. Your body knows that the front door of your mind lies on its side, ripped from the hinges, dirt mounds blackening the entryway. And now outside stands a man, waiting to be let in. 

“How am I able to hear you?”

He smiles. “You must just want to listen.”

You huff out a breath through your nose. There it is again. 

“Who are you?” you ask, and you know that his answer won't matter. It won't matter because it won't be real. Because it's just you in your head and the words are too loud and whatever sickness is in your mind has crystallized in the body of a man that stares at you with a gaze too intense, too penetrating for what he is.

“You can call me Gaz,” he says simply, teeth peeking out from behind his lips when he enunciates the name. Glinting sharp like bone in the blue light. 

His answer makes you blink. It doesn’t seem like a name that you would come up with, but the mind works in mysterious ways. You didn’t think it could conjure up a person either, and now look at what’s happening to you. And it is happening to you, of that you’re sure. 

“Are you going to let me in?” he asks before you can open your mouth again.

He presses his gloved hand to the window. The folds in the fabric spread with his fingers, the pads of his fingers flecked with dust and grime, worn from years of use. 

You give a curt shake of your head. 

“Love…” Gaz says warningly. 

In the few days since he first appeared in the window, you’ve never heard him use that tone. You’re not too proud to say it frightens you. Whether he’s real or just in your head, so far Gaz has been perfectly affable, and you’re not sure you’re willing to face the implication that he might not always be that way. 

“I need to sleep,” you plead. “T-tomorrow—I’ll…I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

You press a button on the wall that drops a panel over the window with a quiet shunk, blocking Gaz from view.

When he knocks again, a shiver ripples down your spine. Guilt twists your insides up in knots. All you can do is pull the comforter over your head and block your ears. 

By morning, the temperature in your room has dropped a degree. You bundle up in a thicker sweatshirt and boots before going for your morning cup of coffee, but for the first time since takeoff all those months ago, you head for your work station instead of sipping your coffee in the cockpit. 

You start to hear him no matter where you are on the ship, a window no longer necessary. Always it comes after two solid raps against the hull of the ship, the sound jolting your heart into a frantic beat, pulse fluttering wildly under your skin. And then his voice, muffled through the layers of aluminum and titanium alloys, but intelligible despite the impossibility of it all. 

Sometimes, you respond. Just a few words to acknowledge his existence, even when the wall separating the two of you is impermeable, only his voice accessible to you. 

That makes it worse somehow though. Displaces his voice from his body, forcing you to reckon with his presence like a symptom of a bicameral mind, your own thoughts projected from you into the world. What difference is there between his voice and an audio hallucination? You should know better than to indulge in it. 

You’re beginning to understand the real root of the problem. The crux of it all. There’s a box in your mind labeled psychosis, and in the months of prolonged isolation and discomfort, you’ve inadvertently unshelved it, pulled it out of its storage space and peeled the lid open, all of its contents now released into the world. 

The thought is terrifying. You wonder if you can even trust your own mind, if everything is now compromised. Can you even trust what you see in front of you, or have you made it up as well? The thought is so disturbing that it paralyzes you in your bed at night. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in the medbay because it’s one of the few rooms without access to any exterior walls. Several other crew quarters separate it from the hull, while the main corridor runs along the other side. It’s the only place where you’re able to get a decent night’s sleep, though the lights stay on, fluorescent white at all times, programmed to stay at full brightness in case of an emergency. 

Even the sight of your own reflection makes you flinch until you realize it’s just you. 

One twenty-four hour period cycles into the next, pulling you into its embrace like crossing over an event horizon, your future self already distended out in front of you. 

In an effort to finally put you to good use (you try not to resent the implication when it’s framed like that), Farah tasks you with conducting pressure checks on the fuel tanks and lines around the ship while she continues to focus on the issue with the cruise control. You’re tasked with attaching a pressure gauge to the tank and increasing the pressure while keeping an eye out for any leaks or drops in pressure. A task simple enough that even the uninitiated could perform it. Busywork. 

You shut down the part of you that beats on your chest and demands that you leave. That this isn’t your job; you were brought aboard for a particular purpose and this isn’t it. You could be conducting your own research instead in the comfort of your lab, ensconced in data on antimicrobial resistance in space or microgravity-induced orthostatic intolerance. Not checking fuel tank pressure.

Someone raps their knuckles against the wall nearest you from the outside of the ship, startling you. 

“Shit,” you curse, the pressure gauge slipping out of your hand and clattering to the floor. You sigh when you bend down to pick it up and wince when you notice a crack in the glass where it hit the floor. 

“Love? Is that you?” Gaz asks from the other side of the wall, voice muffled.

Ignoring his voice doesn’t keep your heart from beating harder. You try to focus instead on the task at hand, pressuring the tank to fifteen hundred psi and waiting for the needle to stabilize on the gauge. Nothing abnormal. You jot it down and move on to the next tank, removing the gauge and starting the process anew. 

Another thump against the hull, the sound sending a jolt through your body. 

“I know you’re there.” He sounds amused. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

How could you avoid someone in your head? You almost say as much but then catch yourself on the verge of opening your mouth. You turn back your task, scrolling down the checklist on your tablet. 

There’s an edge to his voice the next time he speaks. “This is starting to annoy me, love.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you whisper, finally breaking, the stylus nearly slipping from your clammy hands. Brows scrunched, eyes shut tight. Another breath out to stabilize yourself. 

“Ah, there you are,” Gaz hums. “Thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

Just ignore it, you think, breathing in and out again. 

“You’d rather talk to Farah than me,” he says when you don’t respond, almost accusatory, and you nearly brush it off until you register what he said.  

“How do you know her name?” you hiss under your breath, turning your head to stare at the panel that his voice emanates from behind. 

“I thought I was just in your head,” he says, amused again. Voice lighter than a moment prior. Easygoing as ever.

You worry at your lower lip until the skin threatens to break. “Yes, but—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Your head whips around at the sound of Farah’s voice. You hadn’t heard the cargo hold doors open, but she stands in the doorway, staring at you with an unreadable expression, shoulders squared and hands on her hips. 

Your instinct is to ask her how long she’s been standing there, but that won’t serve you in the long run. You almost want to ask if she heard his voice too, but you don’t think you could handle her confirming to your face that Gaz’s voice is all in your head. 

“…No one.”

Her face hardens and you wonder if you made the wrong call choosing to lie to her. But what else should you have said? The wall behind you remains conspicuously silent.

The next few seconds under her gaze feel endless. Eventually though, Farah pivots on her heel without another word and leaves the way she came, the doors sliding shut behind her. 

The room bellows its cold ire. Only the sound of your own breathing reaches your ears. 

An hour passes. Possibly longer. The stress eats away at your insides. Though you don’t cross paths with Farah for the rest of the day, you can’t help the way every sound makes you flinch and glance towards its source. Jumpy; paranoid. 

You make yourself dinner when the galley is still empty and eat in the medbay instead of with the rest of the crew. The peppery aftertaste is more prominent than usual while you eat; you almost have to choke your food down. Almost metallic, like antiseptic. 

It happens again on your way back to your quarters. The lights cycle with the night and dim in the hallway, a soft pale glow like a low-hanging moon illuminating the floor in front of you. 

You catch him in the corner of your eye this time, no knock to signal his presence. Just an astronaut hovering outside the window, nearly translucent with the absence of light. The fear that overcomes you is almost animalistic until it settles into the folds of your skin like an ointment rubbed in, and you turn to face him. 

It’s the same but different. You know what he wants. What he’s waiting for. 

“I don’t think I can let you in,” you whisper, looking away from the window to the other side of the hall. His gaze seers into the side of your head.

“Why not?” It’s the first time Gaz’s voice has sounded cold to your ears. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. 

“I’m worried you’re not real. That maybe you’re just in my head. And I can’t—” You bite your lip, swallowing the warble in your voice. “—I can’t let them know I’m crazy.”

Let them know. As if it were a foregone conclusion. As if you’ve already passed the point of no return. But what other conclusion could you draw from your observations as of late? The constant disappearances and reappearances, his voice in your head only when you’re alone. His voice in general, somehow audible despite there being no medium for it to pass through. You’ve been ignoring his anomalous properties because you’ve been desperate to believe that your mind hasn’t been compromised. That you aren’t a danger to the people around you—a voice in your head telling you to open the airlock when there’s nothing out there in space. 

When you turn your head, he’s still there, eyes stony behind the visor of his spacesuit. He tilts his head and the visor glints black for a second, suddenly opaque, obscuring his face.

He looms like a figure straight out of death, imposing even from the outside of the ship. Your arms hang limp at your sides, locked in place under his gaze. Even the thought of moving fills you with dread. 

But he isn’t real; he’s just in your head.

When Gaz lifts his head again, his visor clears and his smile is pleasant again, back to what it once was.

“I’ll prove that I’m real. Wait for me, love.”

And then he’s gone, the view beyond the window night sky black. Gone between one blink and the next; faster than light.

[twistyfish]

Can we get some comfort from the boys please? God especially after that last post with us being so insecure that hits me like a rock. MC’s selfish for having all of them I wanna be loved too 😭😭😭

(I love MC but jealousy is uncanny)

It doesn’t help that I read an angst no comfort a while ago and I still am not over it- help 😭

sure! i just wrote a double dose of angst so i hope this eases the pain. i don’t know why the hell sylus’s is so long, so don’t ask me.

prompt~ comfort.

content warning for brief mentions of death, periods, and detailed descriptions of blood.

𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴

Zayne

“Please don’t leave me,” you whispered into the cool fabric of his jacket, gripping the velvety material in your fists. You were sitting on his lap facing him, your legs swung around his hips and hugging his sides.

“I would perish at your side before leaving you,” Zayne whispered back. “No entity in or outside this world could rip me apart from you.”

“I don’t want to die alone.”

“You’re not going to- why would you say that?”

“Zayne, I’m scared of dying alone, please don’t ever leave me alone.” Your voice was panicky and you weren’t making much sense.

“You’re not going to die alone, honey. I won’t leave you alone,” he reassured you softly. “Where did this fear come from?”

“I just… I’ve been alone for a long time. I don’t want to feel that way again. I don’t want nobody to remember me.”

“Sweetheart. You aren’t alone. You have family and friends who love you so much. And I love you so, so much more than I can describe. I even think about you when you get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. How could I not remember you?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

Zayne wrapped his arms around you, holding your head with one hand and rubbing your hair soothingly.

“You’re the love of my life. You keep me warm on chilly days. You nourish me. Please never think otherwise.”

𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖

Sylus

You were hunched over on the couch, curled up and gripping your knees. You were intensely nauseous, and it felt like a cat was clawing up all your insides. Your periods were notoriously brutal.

You were being extra cautious not to leak on Sylus’s leather couch, placing two towels beneath you and doubling them up. You flipped through channels on the TV miserably, pulling your fluffy blanket higher up around you.

It was all politics and sports. You shut off the TV and closed your eyes, trying to just marinate in the warmth of the blanket.

You were somewhat peaceful, until you realized the seat of your pants felt warmer than usual. Wide eyed, you scrambled up and checked the towels. The top one looked like the Japanese flag. You lifted it, and the bottom one mirrored it. Praying, you lifted the bottom towel.

The leather couch had a thick blotch of red on it, and you groaned aloud. You stood up and tossed the blanket to the side, ignoring the shooting pains in your back and stomach. Upon standing, you felt yourself leak down your leg. There was now a small red puddle on the floor that you were dripping into.

You seethed. Deciding against retrieving paper towels and potentially leaving a trail behind you, you took off your stained pajama pants and wiped the floor with them.

It wasn’t very effective, as you were bent over cleaning the blood and simultaneously dripping onto the floor at the same time. You were too embarrassed to call any of Sylus’s staff, so you ended up giving up and putting your pajama pants in a heap on the floor and sitting on top of them so you wouldn’t do any more damage.

You sat like that for a solid twenty minutes before Sylus came home. You heard his steps as he entered the room and turned your head, both dreading and being relieved at his arrival. His expression changed from suave to confused as he saw you on the floor sitting on your pants.

And then he saw the bloody towels and stain on the couch. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m so sorry,” you started.

“That’s a lot of blood. Are you okay?” His voice was soft and concerned.”

“Yeah, it’s just my period. Aren’t you mad about the couch?”

“Me? Mad about a couch? I can replace this a thousand times over. I’m more concerned-,” he bent down next to you, “-about the amount of blood coming out of you.”

You looked at him, both weary and confused. “I told you, it’s just my period. It’s pretty standard to bleed a lot.”

He shook his head. “Not that much. Get up.” You complied and stood up, revealing your pajamas which were soaked through by now. His scarlet eyes widened. “What the hell? That’s not normal.”

“It is normal. It happens every month.”

He shook his head, picking up your soiled pajamas and towels in one hand and wrapping his other hand around your bloody thighs. He hoisted you up like you were weightless, ignoring your protests.

“Sylus! I’m covered in blood, stop touching me!”

“You act as though I haven’t seen bodies doused in blood.”

“That’s different. This is blood from my literal va-“

“I’m plenty familiar with that orifice of yours, my love.”

“Oh my god.”

𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝

Rafayel

Your cheeks were flushed, and you were hacking up what felt like several lungs. After much harassing from Xavier, you had taken a sick day and were now taking the hottest shower of your life in an attempt to steam out all the muck in your throat.

You blew your nose one last time before exiting the shower, getting dressed with a heavy head. The air in the bathroom was hot and damp from your shower, and you felt like you were swimming as you walked to your bedroom. You ended up clumsily turning the fan on and collapsing on your bed.

And then the doorbell rang. Of course it did, because you and Rafayel had made plans for a movie night that you’d forgotten to cancel. You groaned into the mattress and forced yourself to get up. You answered the door with what must have still been a very pink face, because Rafayel immediately said, “You’re all red. Are you that nervous to see me?”

“I’m sick.”

He immediately pulled away and lifted his shirt over his mouth. “You’re sick? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I was busy being sick, genius.” You were too tired to banter. You sneezed, to which Rafayel made a face. “You need some TLC, Ms. Bodyguard. I’ll be happy to assist. From a distance, of course.”

You didn’t feel like arguing, so you allowed him to lead you inside and prepare you some stew and hot chocolate. It was surprisingly comforting, and Rafayel didn’t pretend to be disgusted when you coughed up mucus. He rubbed your back while you coughed and attacked you with kisses when you sat quietly with a throbbing head.

Even when you pushed him away, reminding him that he would likely get sick from all his close contact, he waved away your worries.

“I need you to recover as quickly as possible so you can protect me. When I’m sick, you can just pay me back.”

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Xavier

You fell out of a tree. That was the short version of it. You and Xavier were having a climbing contest, and the branch you’d been holding onto wasn’t very stable. Well, the branch itself was stable, but the bark you were gripping wasn’t. It ripped off in your hands and took you with it.

You let out a squeaky noise when you hit the ground, almost like a dog toy. You would have laughed at yourself if you weren’t in so much pain.

“__! Shit, shit, shit!” Xavier was down the tree in an instant, like a rodent that spotted a snake. He sprinted to your side and hovered over you frantically while you laid on your back and tried to regain your breath. He ended up refraining from calling an ambulance because you had enough life in you to beg him not to. So, he drove you to urgent care instead.

Thankfully you weren’t hurt too badly, but you did end up with a bruised tailbone and a fractured rib, so now you were in the middle of the healing process with Xavier asking you questions every twenty minutes or so.

He’d ask, “Are you in pain?” to which you’d respond, “Yes.” And then he’d ask “Where?” And you’d angrily say “My butt.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay, it was my fault.”

“But climbing the trees was my idea.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Do you need a butt massage?”

“No, idiot.”

Xavier was very apologetic for the next couple of weeks, sleeping over at your house every other day and bringing you burnt baked goods to tide you over. He took care of you in his own sweet way.

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

What Comes After

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018 3244

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I literally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them! Edited: 10/6/24 Fixed some spelling mistakes and grammar, added a lil more flavor and tried to make it all present tense lol also this has a title on ao3 now it does here too

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in his eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walked away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed to reach him that day, but your actions didn’t. You severed the connection of your tadpoles, kept Astarion from seeing his scars. You would not be the one to allow such evils to be birthed, would not allow him to kill 7000 souls. You did not allow Astarion to become the vampire ascendant.

Astarion, hurt, broken, and lost, then choose to walk away from you and everything the two of you had built together over this adventure.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, to be precise. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hells, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

It must be night now. Your candles are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment. You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. One who could save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. He seems to reconsider what he was going to say, sighing and shaking his head before speaking again. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding. What does he see, in this room that shows the layers of your sorrow?

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.” You look to where he keeps his eyes trained. All you see is a monument of your regrets.

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. To your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him. Its bracing, in an entirely disgusting way. After all-- he was the one that did this to you. “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with everything sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours before quickly looking away once again. You realize, with much sadness, that even now as he tries to burrow into your familiar warmth, he hesitates to reach out and touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized maybe this was for the better. The thought hadn’t even occurred to you that he might consider that. That he might actually miss you too.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands. It hurts just as much as when you watched him sob after killing Cazador.

Some how, you summon new tears to cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment, settling into one anothers missed company before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand before he can get too far.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. The last time he left you, he didn’t come back… He can forgive your sudden clingyness, then, but not how you’ve let yourself go in his absence.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, choosing to trust Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, attempting to take the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you in a way you’ve needed since his departure.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair, darling.” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let him work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely through your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion lets you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watches, helpless, as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. In the bright morning light that pours in with her, all he can do is look at her with wide eyes as her mouth begins to open. Acting fast, Astarion speaks before she does.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turns from Karlach, brushing some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkably polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[mrshowlettsgarden]

The Day We Met - Logan Howlett: the one where Logan meets reader the day he arrives at the X - mansion

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: fluff, flirty; this is loosely base off of the first xmen movie

─➭ note: welcome to my first post! I'll start taking requests! (prompt list)

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Logan Howlett definitely didn’t welcome the invitation of practically being kidnapped by a couple of freaks in black and loud leather suits. The teenager he was with in the car accident, Rogue, did though because she found a place to call home and Logan? Well, he claimed he didn't need one to the Professor as he introduced himself and the others to Logan. But Charles made a bargain with Logan.

“While you stay here, Dr. Grey and I will help regain the memories you had lost,” Charles said calmly. 

A dirty look was seen on Logan’s face when the bald man said that. “Now why would I let you or her get into my head, huh?” he scowled at the Professor and Jean, who was protectively standing behind him. 

“You never wondered where you got the name the Wolverine from?’ Charles asked as he nodded towards Logan’s dog tags, “We can help you, Logan. You can move on from cage fighting and stay here.” 

A scoff slipped from Logan’s lips as he anxiously looked around Charles’ office almost looking for an out from this stupid conversation. He gave up the idea of figuring out where he came from years ago or at least he thought he did. Of course he wondered where he got his dog tags from and that’s all he’s ever known for as far as he can remember. But he needed to move on from those thoughts or at least forget the fact that he can’t ever regain his memories again. 

Letting out a deep breath Logan looks back at Charles and thinks for a bit longer. What if the Professor can actually help him? What if this is his only chance at figuring out who he is and how he came to be? Can any of these damn geeks actually help at all?

Fuck this bullshit…

“Fine,” Logan snaps against his own thoughts, “But the second shit goes sideways and I don’t like it, I’m fuckin’ outta here.” He points his finger at the Professor. 

Charles smiles and moves towards the door, “Perfect. Now come while I show you around your new home.” 

Logan can’t count how many times he’s scoffed since he woke up in this new place. He reluctantly follows Charles and gives a dirty look to Scott or Cyclops before he leaves the room. Scott sighs as he looks back at Jean and then Ororo, also known as Storm, “He’s going to be nothing but trouble while he stays here.”

“Everyone is troubled when they first start off here, Scott,” Storms says with a smile as she walks out of the room.  

Jean smiles too as she walks towards her fiancé and gives Scott a kiss on the cheek, “You were nothing but trouble too.”

Scott rolls his eyes as he follows Jean out. “I wasn’t even that bad.”

”You blew up Charles' tree.”

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Logan and Charles made their rounds around the mansion. From classrooms to the bedrooms and as well as the laboratories similar to the one Logan first woke up in. As they walked, Charles shared that this place was a school and a home for mutants, mainly youngsters who are trying to navigate the hardships of being a mutant and having mutant powers all while trying to live a normal life as humans do at their age. Charles also shared that Rogue has the choice to stay and rejoin the world as an educated mutant if she so wishes.

“Most of the adults here were my earlier students who are now teachers. I also teach physics throughout the week,” Charles shared.

“Yeah, well I ain’t about to teach shit while I’m here either,” Logan rolled his eyes. 

“No,” Charles lets out a soft chuckle, “But you will be subbing for those who are away and cannot attend their class. Call it your payment while you stay here.” Logan couldn’t get a word in to talk back as Charles moved ahead of him towards a couple of double glass doors that lead outside, “Now for the backyard.” The professor opens a set of doors with his mind and leads Logan to the balcony that oversees the property. 

“This is a backyard?” Logan questions with a raised eyebrow as looks around the massive green field and trees decorating the property. There’s a fountain ahead of them both and if he looks further there is a trail that leads to a pond further back. There’s students running around on a basketball court. Some are sitting in the grass reading or talking. He also sees a small farm to his right and swears he can smell horse shit from where he’s standing. “The hell is this place…”

 Ignoring Logan’s comment he takes him further into the yard onto a cemented path. “You’ve so far met Storm, Scott, and Jean but we have another Professor here who enjoys spending her time outside so she wasn’t part of your welcome party,” Charles says as he leads Logan towards a glass greenhouse.

Logan looks up and around the huge building and immediately notices the green vines and various plants surrounding the perimeter of the glass walls. He almost guesses that it’s a two-story building with how high the roof is and he’s not even inside yet. “Lemme guess, she’s got a green thumb for powers,” Logan scoffs with assumption behind his tone. 

Charles laughs as they walk towards the double doors, “Something like that,” he says.

And before they even reached the door, two brown branches covered in leaves on both sides of the door began to move towards the door handles. Logan’s eyebrows furrow on high alert as he watches the branches turn the handles to open the doors for the two of them to enter. After both doors open, Logan is greeted with the greenest view he’s ever seen. While it’s not a two-story building like he thought, the high ceilings were a matching height with trees set up around the huge room.It’s like he walked into a second backyard. He can see and smell the collections of plants and flowers filling his senses as he and Charles walk further into the greenhouse. 

And as the further they walk the more Logan can see different landscapes that he assumes correlate the plants to where they’re originally from. He follows the professor as he makes a turn to their left around a hedge to a research area decorated with science equipment and desks for the students. 

“Professor?” a soft female voice calls out anxiously, “Why is everyone telling me there’s a wolverine running around the mansion?” Logan hears Charles softly laugh at the question. “If there’s an actual animal running around, I don’t know how to feel about that because everyone is stressing me out about being eaten!”

There’s a concerned tone in the voice and Logan nearly rolls his eyes at the woman’s thought of him being the animal “running around” and him “eating” them. Before he can bark out a snarky comment, you come around a different corner of a group of plants with a watering can in your hands. Logan cannot deny the fact he almost lost his breath at the sight of you. But he shook the fluttering feeling away before it settled in his chest. 

“Oh!” you say in surprise and pure embarrassment as you see the professor and the “animal” you were stressing about standing tall and intimidating behind Charles’ wheelchair. You really want to slap yourself with the watering can for believing the damn plants about being eaten by a wolverine. 

Charles smiles as he moves closer to you. “No, my dear. No animal,” he speaks softly to you, “This is Logan. The Wolverine that your friends were warning you about.”

You feel your body heat up with more embarrassment while you nervously laugh at the professor’s words. But the nervous smile you were holding went away in a split second as you locked eyes with a pair of scowling hazel ones across from you. You shy away from the dirty look Logan was giving you. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out, “If I knew you weren’t an actual wolverine, I wouldn’t have called you an animal… That was very rude for them to say that about you.”

“Them?” Logan questions with a slight attitude.

“The plants,” Charles says like a proud father would sound as he turns himself towards Logan who stood locked in his place, “Logan, this is Dr. Y/n L/n. She teaches biology to the students here in the greenhouse.” 

Logan hums as his eyes study your face and he sees that you move your gaze away from his and it makes him smirk. “So, your mutation is making friends with plants?” he chuckles as he looks at his surroundings.

You look back at him with a slight frown at the overused assumption about your powers. “I can move and grow plants at my own will,” you sigh out with a disappointed look in your eyes but you carry a neutral face, “Communicating with the plants is a bonus…” Logan looks back at you after you answer and sees the disappointing look in your eyes and he starts to feel bad for trying to pick fun at you. 

“I was giving Logan a tour of the property. He will be staying with us for a while,” Charles says as he notices the soft look Logan's holding as he looks at you. With a knowing smirk he turned his full attention to you and you looked back at him, “Y/N, why don’t you continue the tour for me and show Logan his room? I sense that Jean is requesting my presence back in the lab,” he lies through his teeth as he sends you a picture of one of the vacant rooms for Logan from his mind.

Not knowing the real hidden reason for making you finish the tour for him, you nod your head with an understanding look. “Will do, Professor,” you say in a gentle tone. 

Charles moves away from you and past Logan going back toward the doors, “I will see you two for dinner.”

And with that Charles left and silence took over the air between you and the bruting man standing across from you. “Um, well let’s take you to your room. I’m sure you’ve had a rough day,” you say as you put the watering can on top of the table next to you. Logan nods as he begins to follow behind you to leave the garden. 

As he follows you towards the door, Logan sees you raise one of your hands as green like dust form from in between your fingers and with a wave of your fingers he feels something shift in the room. He turns around back towards the greenhouse and sees the branches and vines move to close down the lamps illuminating the gardens in the room then he hears the sound of water in the background slowly die out from the fountains. When he looks back towards you, he swears he sees your eyes turn from green back to your original eye color. 

“Ready?” you ask with a small smile.  

Logan nods silently again and follows you out. 

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The walk back into the mansion was quiet. You nervously played with your fingers as you led him inside and all the way upstairs. As you both walked through the hallway of the corridor, Logan couldn’t help but to steal a glance towards you as the afternoon sun slowly turned to evening. The light that was shining through the window at the end of the hall brightened your facial features that he couldn’t see back inside the greenhouse. He wanted to look at you a little longer but he knew he'd already pushed your boundaries from earlier so he looked away before you could realize.

You then walked a couple of extra steps ahead of him towards a closed door to what he assumes is his room. You open it and extend your arm out with a soft smile. “This is your room,” you say and Logan walks in silently with his hands behind his back to look around. “You have your own bathroom around the corner right here,” you maneuver around the room to open another door to the said bathroom. Then you look towards another side of the room and point to a closet and a set of drawers, “You should have enough room for your things to put in there too.”

The brunette haired man hums in acknowledgment as he walks about his new home. He opens and inspects his closet then turns towards you. “And where is your room?” he asks as he walks towards you. 

Your eyebrows raise at his question. “Down the hall,” you say in a flat tone as you stare at him. Logan hears the faintest attitude behind your words as a soft smirk forms on his lips. You almost want to back away from how intimidating he’s being but that's just because he’s so freakishly tall and built compared to you. Your soft gaze meets his as he’s just an arms length away from you. “Do you need anything else, Logan?” you ask in a soft tone. 

His hazel eyes analyze your face a little better up close and…god you’re so fucking beautiful. He’s eternally beating himself up on the inside for being a brash asshole to you in the beginning. Seeing you this close is making this fluttering feeling in his chest come back again and he’s not going to fight it this time. His gaze moves from your eyes to your rosy lips and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from making a move on you. Logan can already feel how good it’ll feel to have your lips against his as his hands move gently across your body and down to your –

“Logan?” you snap him out of his daydream that he blinks away from, “Are you alright?”

No… No he’s not. He can feel himself getting hard at the thought of him just kissing you. 

What a damn pervert…

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he says back in a gentle tone, “Didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything like that about your powers.”

A soft cheeky smile formed on your lips at his words. He then realized that he wanted to keep seeing that cheeky smile from here on out. “It’s okay, Logan,” you say back, “Take it as payback for when my plants and I called you an animal when you're not.”

An airy laugh slips from Logan’s mouth. He moves his eyes down to your hands where you’ve been nervously playing with your fingers and then grabs a hold of one of them with his calloused hand. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you watch him guide your hand towards his lips. His soft lips lightly meet your knuckles before he looks back at you. “Still… That wasn’t right of me, darlin’”, he says.

You can feel your cheeks warming up from the gesture and your words nearly don’t form in your head or voice. You gently pull your hand away from his with a small but nervous giggle. “You haven’t been here for a full day and you’re already flirty your way in,” you joke as you slowly walk backwards towards the door. “You should’ve waited to settle in first at least.” 

Logan smirks as he watches you walk away from him, “Don’t be afraid to like it, darlin’” Your pretty smile graces his eyes again as you nod and take your leave as you close his door. Logan lets out a near blissful sigh as he sits down on the bed. He runs a hand through his unruly hair nervously before laying down on his back to look up at the ceiling. 

“Maybe, I’ll stay a little longer…”

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

[byoldervine]

Writing Tips - Beating Perfectionism

1. Recognising writing perfectionism. It’s not usually as literal as “This isn’t 100% perfect and so it is the worst thing ever”, in my experience it usually sneaks up more subtly. Things like where you should probably be continuing on but if you don’t figure out how to word this paragraph better it’s just going to bug you the whole time, or where you’re growing demotivated because you don’t know how to describe the scene 100% exactly as you can imagine it in your head, or things along those lines where your desire to be exact can get in the way of progression. In isolated scenarios this is natural, but if it’s regularly and notably impacting your progress then there’s a more pressing issue

2. Write now, edit later. Easier said than done, which always infuriated me until I worked out how it translates into practice; you need to recognise what the purpose of this stage of the writing process is and when editing will hinder you more than help you. Anything up to and including your first draft is purely done for structural and creative purposes, and trying to impose perfection on a creative process will naturally stifle said creativity. Creativity demands the freedom of imperfection

3. Perfection is stagnant. We all know that we have to give our characters flaws and challenges to overcome since, otherwise, there’s no room for growth or conflict or plot, and it ends up being boring and predictable at best - and it’s just the same as your writing. Say you wrote the absolute perfect book; the perfect plot, the perfect characters, the perfect arcs, the perfect ending, etc etc. It’s an overnight bestseller and you’re discussed as a literary great for all time. Everyone, even those outside of your target demographic, call it the perfect book. Not only would that first require you to turn the perfect book into something objective, which is impossible, but it would also mean that you would either never write again, because you can never do better than your perfect book, or you’ll always write the exact same thing in the exact same way to ensure constant perfection. It’s repetitive, it’s boring, and all in all it’s just fearful behaviour meant to protect you from criticism that you aren’t used to, rather than allowing yourself to get acclimated to less than purely positive feedback

4. Faulty comparisons. Comparing your writing to that of a published author’s is great from an analytical perspective, but it can easily just become a case of “Their work is so much better, mine sucks, I’ll never be as good as them or as good as any ‘real’ writer”. You need to remember that you’re comparing a completely finished draft, which likely underwent at least three major edits and could have even had upwards of ten, to wherever it is you’re at. A surprising number of people compare their *first* draft to a finished product, which is insanity when you think of it that way; it seems so obvious from this perspective why your first attempt isn’t as good as their tenth. You also end up comparing your ability to describe the images in your head to their ability to craft a new image in your head; I guarantee you that the image the author came up with isn’t the one their readers have, and they’re kicking themselves for not being able to get it exactly as they themselves imagine it. Only the author knows what image they’re working off of; the readers don’t, and they can imagine their own variation which is just as amazing

5. Up close and too personal. Expanding on the last point, just in general it’s harder to describe something in coherent words than it is to process it when someone else prompts you to do so. You end up frustrated and going over it a gazillion times, even to the point where words don’t even look like words anymore. You’ve got this perfect vision of how the whole story is supposed to go, and when you very understandably can’t flawlessly translate every single minute detail to your satisfaction, it’s demotivating. You’re emotionally attached to this perfect version that can’t ever be fully articulated through any other medium. But on the other hand, when consuming other media that you didn’t have a hand in creating, you’re viewing it with perfectly fresh eyes; you have no ‘perfect ideal’ of how everything is supposed to look and feel and be, so the images the final product conjures up become that idealised version - its no wonder why it always feels like every writer except you can pull off their visions when your writing is the only one you have such rigorous preconceived notions of

6. That’s entertainment. Of course writing can be stressful and draining and frustrating and all other sorts of nasty things, but if overall you can’t say that you ultimately enjoy it, you’re not writing for the right reasons. You’ll never take true pride in your work if it only brings you misery. Take a step back, figure out what you can do to make things more fun for you - or at least less like a chore - and work from there

7. Write for yourself. One of the things that most gets to me when writing is “If this was found and read by someone I know, how would that feel?”, which has lead me on multiple occasions to backtrack and try to be less cringe or less weird or less preachy or whatever else. It’s harder to share your work with people you know whose opinions you care about and whose impressions of you have the potential of shifting based on this - sharing it to strangers whose opinions ultimately don’t matter and who you’ll never have to interact with again is somehow a lot less scary because their judgements won’t stick. But allowing the imaginary opinions of others to dictate not even your finished project, but your unmoderated creative process in general? Nobody is going to see this without your say so; this is not the time to be fussing over how others may perceive your writing. The only opinion that matters at this stage is your own

8. Redirection. Instead of focusing on quality, focusing on quantity has helped me to improve my perfectionism issues; it doesn’t matter if I write twenty paragraphs of complete BS so long as I’ve written twenty paragraphs or something that may or may not be useful later. I can still let myself feel accomplished regardless of quality, and if I later have to throw out whole chapters, so be it

9. That’s a problem for future me. A lot of people have no idea how to edit, or what to look for when they do so, so having a clear idea of what you want to edit by the time the editing session comes around is gonna be a game-changer once you’re supposed to be editing. Save the clear work for when you’re allocating time for it and you’ll have a much easier and more focused start to the editing process. It’ll be more motivating than staring blankly at the intimidating word count, at least

10. The application of applications. If all else fails and you’re still going back to edit what you’ve just wrote in some struggle for the perfect writing, there are apps and websites that you can use that physically prevent you from editing your work until you’re done with it. If nothing else, maybe it can help train you away from major edits as you go

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

*giggles* #9 definitely!! Poor Tav getting a wtf moment before they remember? Or maybe it never occurred to them? Whatever inspires you ;))))

Prompt: listening to the other’s heartbeat

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

It was an odd sensation, feeling the rise and fall of a chest, but not a heartbeat. You could hear the intake and outtake of breath. Your head moved that tiny fraction of an inch in a steady rhythm, but no backing thump to bring it all together. It was like listening to quartet without a base; functional, but obviously lacking in something crucial.

“I can hear you thinking,” Astarion murmured.

You blinked, pulling yourself out of your musings. “The tadpoles?”

“No, but this does just as well.” He pressed a finger to the creases between your brow as evidence. “What’s got that wily mind of yours turning?”

“Nothing devious,” you promised. “I was just wondering, do you have to think about breathing?”

He didn’t answer a moment, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly.

“Not anymore,” he admitted. “It’s not required outside of speech; however, people tend to notice if you don’t breathe. Not immediately, but there is an awareness that something isn’t quite right, puts them on edge. It took me a few years to get back in the habit. Now I have to put in the effort to stop.”

You hummed in consideration, watching your outstretched hand move with his chest.

“What brought this on?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I can’t hear your heart. It seemed odd, your breathing was steady, but not your heartbeat.”

“Oh,” he said, as if surprised.

You glanced up at him. “Don’t tell me nobody else has noticed.”

“Nobody has mentioned it, if that’s what you mean. Admittedly anyone who came close enough to listen never stayed for long, and just as often were more concerned with their own racing heartbeats.”

He said it in a light tone with his usual sultry airs, but it was easy enough to catch the underlying hurt of it all. It was his scars all over again. They were such an obvious sign of mangled torture and yet, in two hundred years, nobody bothered to help. And here again, two hundred years without a heartbeat, and not a word. It was enough to make anyone contemptuous of the world.

“Does it…bother you?” he asked.

You shook your head, giving him a gentle smile. “It is odd, but nothing I can’t get used to. Besides, it’s a sure fire way for me to know it’s you I’m holding. As far as I know, shape changers can’t stop their hearts from beating.”

He let out a surprised laugh, the vibrations spreading pleasantly through your whole body.

“I think you’ll have other problems if you let a shape changer get that close darling,” he said.

“Well, let’s hope to not find out.”

He hummed in agreement, relaxing back into the pillows.

You let yourself do the same, curling your body around him as your head made a home on his chest. He held you there, letting his hands rub absentmindedly up and down your back.

“I can feel your heart,” he said, after a long pause.

“Oh?”

He nodded, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Moments like this, I sometimes mistake it for my own.”

You couldn’t think of anything clever to say and so decided to say nothing at all. Instead, you turned your head, pressing a kiss over where his heart ought to be. You had more than enough heart for two.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: On tonight’s menu is Sanji, pillow humping, instruction, and praise. Enjoy! ~3.2k words.

CW: Afab reader w/gendered pet names (‘pretty girl’), dirty talk, pillow humping, masturbation, praise, instruction, edging, tiny bit of crying, sloppy head and deep throating.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Sanji will never forget the day he walked in on you humping your pillow. The concentration on your face, your flushed cheeks, your ruffled hair—all of it was seared in his brain indefinitely.

That day, you let out a squeak (or was it a screech?) of embarrassment and toppled over, bright red and frozen. He took in the sight with ravenous eyes, saving a mental screenshot. “Fuck. Sorry to barge in, princess. Just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready.”

He closed the door almost as quickly as he opened it and stalked away to the bathroom. The food could wait for another three minutes. That’s all the time he would need to cum on his fist.

A couple weeks later, he broached the subject.

“I want to see you do it again, my love.” He was initially nervous making a raunchy request like this. He has a general proclivity to making love or letting you use him however you like. But he had been ruminating on this idea for a while and he was insatiable.

“You want me to hump my pillow while you watch?” Puzzled, you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly.

“Mhm. Please? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“Okay, you can watch.” You smiled and his heart thumped. He was painfully infatuated with you.

Not long thereafter, you hovered over a pillow, poised at the end of your bed. Sanji sat on a chair in front of you. His thighs were spread wide and he had no cigarette—he needed to be as focused as possible.

You looked at him, hesitant and embarrassed. This didn’t need to be awkward, but… he was fully clothed, and you were completely naked. It added to the effect. It’s like you were about to put on a show.

You and Sanji had been seeing each other for a couple months at this point, but it was taking some time to get fully adjusted to Sanji being more than just a crewmate. This added to that feeling of hesitation.

“Don’t be shy, my love. Just do it like you did before.” His voice was soothing and gentle.

“I will but… it’s a little hard to just hump my pillow and get off immediately.”

“Could I talk you through it? Give you instructions?” You weren’t expecting him to say that. Blush creeping up your neck, threatening to take over your face, and you nodded.

“What were you thinking about when I walked in on you last time?”

“You.” You had no idea why you felt so shy and timid right now. Usually, it was you who took the lead in the bedroom. But now you were on full display, vulnerable and on the verge of getting performance anxiety.

“You were thinking about me?” The hint of smugness in his voice accompanied some tenderness as well. “What about me, exactly?”

“That one time when you fucked me really hard a few weeks ago and then came on my face.” The blush took over your face completely now.

“After you squirted?”

“Mhm.” You nodded again, cheeks smarting with heat.

Another soft smile from the handsome chef. “Do you remember how I started to finger you through your panties first? Think about that and start to move your hips slowly.”

You did as he said, albeit apprehensively. You delicately rolled on the smooth fabric while Sanji continued to jog your memory.

“I ran my fingers up and down, then I rubbed little circles on your clit, right? And you started moaning so sweetly. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” you answered and maintained Sanji’s blistering eye contact. He broke it every few seconds to stare down at the place where your flesh moved on the pillow.

“What did I do after that?” He prompted.

“You ate me out.” As you gingerly shifted back and forth, pressure built on your clit. It didn’t feel good yet, but something was certainly building.

Sanji continued. “What was the best part of me eating you out?”

With one particularly well-placed grind on your sensitive spot, your hips bucked.

“The best part was when you fucked me with your tongue… and rubbed my clit with your fingers at the same time.”

“Mmmm.” Sanji paused as he savored the memory. “I remember that. You got worked up so fast, it was cute. Keep moving your hips, okay? Just increase the pace a little for me.”

You did as he said, undulating slightly faster. The friction on your clit was turning into small zaps of electricity.

“Does it feel good yet, baby?” He was laser-focused on you. Your blush had subsided by now as you got distracted with mounting pleasure from your tingling core.

You nodded soundlessly. Faint rustling noises of your skin on the fabric filled in the room, barely audible. Sanji was hard and the tent in his pants was showing, large and impressive.

“Keep going like that, sweetheart. You look so pretty right now.”

You smiled at him in between thrusts and his cock twitched.

He prompted you again. He wanted you to narrate the encounter for him, to relive the sex that you had initially masturbated to when he walked in on you. “What happened next?”

“You put your cock in me—fuck—and told me how good I was being for you.” Your voice strained.

“Did you like it when I said that to you, darling?” Sanji’s tone was warm. He could tell by your facial expression that you were starting to buzz with pleasure and fuck, it got him off.

“Yeah, I did—fuck—Sanji.” Hearing his name tumble from your lips made his cock jumped again. He stared intently at the place where you pressed yourself on the pillow.

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re being so good for me right now. Following my instructions so well. Why don’t you go move a little faster?”

Your breath hitched at his suggestion, and you started to rock your hips faster. Arousal seeped out of you and heat simmered in your stomach.

“Are you getting wet yet, baby?” Sanji’s voice was positively oozing with lust. He crept a hand to his aching erection and started palm it.

“Yes, Sanji.” You answered, breathless, becoming aware of just how wet you were. You were soaking the fabric and it allowed you to hump smoother, with more fluidity and ease.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” When you met his eyes, he grazed his palm harder over his cock and groaned softly. “Fuck, you look so good.”

His praise went straight between your thighs and you whimpered. He had to bite his lip to keep in another groan. He didn’t want to get too riled up yet.

Sanji was determined to talk you through the whole tryst. He noticed how your expression was starting to change. As your groove quickened, he observed that your eyes were getting dazed and glossier, your mouth hung open in concentration, and your cheeks were still pink… it was making him feel feral and rabid.

You brushed your clit at the perfect angle and your hips bucked again. That was his cue. Sanji unzipped his pants and tugged the waistband down along with his underwear. His long cock sprang out, red and inflamed around the head, smeared with precum and twitching. He didn’t touch himself yet, though.

“What else did you like about us having sex?” He asked, trying to keep you as present and cognizant as possible. It was far too early for you to get lost in a haze of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, it feels good Sanji. I—I liked when you played with my clit, fuck, and made me squirt. And when you said those things to me.”

He hummed, content with his progress so far. You sure looked like you were enjoying it. Each thrust looked more desperate than the last.

“How do you feel, gorgeous? Are you making a mess of yourself yet?”

Your back arched at one ecstatic roll. “Feels so good Sanji—’m so wet, fuck, feels even better when you watch.”

He groaned at your last words and brought a hand to his hard length. As he dragged pearls of precum down his shaft, his hips jerked upwards. He pulled his shirt up to run a hand over his abs and happy trail as he lazily started to move his fist up and down.

“Press down harder, my love.” His instructions, once followed, elicited a full-fledged moan from your lips. You dug your hips down forcefully. He could see a sizable stain on the fabric any time you pulled your hips back.

“Fuck Sanji, fuck, fuck.” As you keened his name, he tightened his grip around his cock.

“You look so beautiful. Don’t you want to go faster?” He purred and continued to stare at you rhythmically ride the pillow.

You nodded and whimpered. “Wanna go faster.”

“Mmmm. Needy little thing. Lean forward and brace yourself on your forearms. Now hump faster and look at me.”

As you collapsed forward to rest on your forearms, the angle of your eyes upwards and your position in general made you realize how pathetic and horny you must look, like an animal, rutting away for Sanji to instruct.

“Ah—ah fuck, Sanji, fuck ‘m gonna cum soon,” you keened, feverishly grinding down onto the sopping-wet mound. He was stoking his cock faster now, hips pressing up every few seconds to fuck his fist better. When he heard you say you were about to cum, his tone dropped all warmth. He responded immediately.

“Stay still.” He frowned, tone stern and harsh. “Don’t cum yet. We just started. Be patient for me, okay?”

You whined in protest, ceasing movement, while he continued to fuck his fist. Milky precum leaked out of his slit, smudging with each pass of his fingers.

“Tell me what happened after I made you squirt. Walk me through it.” Sanji held your orgasm at bay while he made you recite.

“Y-you kept fucking me.” Now you were frowning, too. You were fully worked up. It wasn’t very nice of him to tease you.

“In what position, dearest?” He loved to hear you get bratty. It made his heart warm and his cock throb.

“Doggy style with your chest pressed on my back…”

“I was humping you like you’re doing to your pillow, right?” Sanji cooed and you nodded, pouting.

The blonde squeezed the base of his cock and held it there for a second while he looked at you—your cheeks were ruddy, you were panting, a faint sheen of sweat glowed on your skin. His heart skipped a beat as he took in the view.

“Then what?” He prodded. “Keep talking, baby. I want to hear you say it.”

You were getting frustrated. You craved friction. You were about to shamelessly start pleading and begging for it. “Sanji,” you whined. “You rubbed my clit again and then you—fuck, Sanji, can I keep going? I need it, please.”

“Finish your sentence, pretty girl.”

“You rubbed my clit again and then you made me cum.” You choked the words out. You were on the verge of crying. You’d never been teased like this before, let alone from Sanji. Your core was pulsing, screaming for attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart. What else? That’s not all that happened.” His tone was one of pity, with traces of playfulness and admiration.

“Sanji, fuck. I gave you head, and you came on my face while you talked down to me. There, that’s all.” You huffed, extremely put out. The agony of being held at bay like this was infuriating.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, I loved it, Sanji. Now please, please let me keep moving.”

“One more question, darling. What did you like about it?”

Your thighs tensed, readying to keep fucking your pillow at his command. “It—it felt dirty when you talked down to me. Fuck. Felt dirty when you told me what to do.”

Finally. That was the answer that he was looking for. “There you go. Move your hips for me, baby. Back and forth.”

You practically jumped into action, returning to your previous speed rapidly. Every push downwards was greedy and hurried. Sanji stroked his cock faster and precum spilled over his fingers as he praised you—the clacking sounds of his lubricated fist down echoed in the room, along with the muted, lewd sounds falling from your parted lips.

“You’re doing so well for me. Go a little faster.”

The pleasure that was flooding your body in ripples was about to raise to a final crescendo. You moaned his name and rocked erratically over the fabric, chasing the wave of euphoria that beckoned.

“S-sanji, Sanji, fuck ‘m close, so close, fuck, fuck.”

When he responded, his voice was gravelly, sinful and sugar-coated. “You did such a good job being patient, gorgeous. Now cum all over your pillow for me. But look at me when you cum, okay? I want to see it in your eyes.”

You mewled his name as you pushed down harder, humped faster, and clawed fistfuls of the covers below you. Sanji twisted his hand around the head of his cock, hissing in air between his teeth at the sensation, taking in the view.

He couldn’t wait to watch you squirm for him over the mound of fabric, nasty and desperate, all from his instruction. He wanted to cum on your face, mark you as his, use your throat and treat you with love after.

His pace quickened. He needed you to know how beautiful you were and how good you were being for him. “You look so, so hot, fuck. Do you feel good? Tell me, baby.”

“I—fuck—fuck Sanji, feels so good, I’m c-cumming I’m cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

As you finally reached your breaking point, you spasmed and locked eyes with him, per his request. You basically screamed his name, writhing on shaking thighs. The euphoric wave of pleasure made you see stars.

“Just like that. Keep rocking your hips through your orgasm. It’ll feel good.”

You fell forward onto your face with a sob, jerking uncontrollably as last sparks of climax hit you like a train. It was truly the most dramatic, mind-bending orgasm you’d ever experienced. Absolutely crazy considering it was all from humping a pillow while Sanji watched.

You got a few spare seconds of reprieve before you had to get back to work.

“Look up, honey. You’re not done yet.” The chef smiled and stood up, cock erect and dripping. Bending down to lift you by your chin, he pressed his lips on yours, gently exploring your mouth with his tongue as you let out warm puffs of air in his. You tried to catch your breath but having his tongue swirl around yours made it difficult.

When he spoke again, his voice was husky and low. He was using every shred of self-control to get out his next words.

“Milk my cock with your throat now, sweetheart. I wanna cum all over your gorgeous little face again. That sound ok?”

Still in bliss, you nodded and opened your mouth wide. He quickly shoved his shaft so far into your mouth that you gagged on the first pass.

Sanji’s hands ran through your hair and he let out a deep, satisfied groan. “Mmmm. Fuck that’s good, angel.”

He pushed your head down and controlled the depth and speed of his cock as slid it over your tongue. The pillow below you was wet and damp on your still-pulsing core.

“God, your mouth feels good. Slippery and—ah—hot, just like your pussy, so wet, fuck.”

He pressed his tip on the back of your throat, eliciting another gag. Precum trickled out of the corners of your mouth, messy and creamy. The whole bottom half of your face was wet and shiny.

“Do you want my cum, lovely? Want it all over that pretty face of yours? Look at me.”

You craned your neck upwards with trouble and he when you met his eyes, he grunted and shoved his cock deep in your mouth again. You choked on it, letting out a muffled moan, a plead for air that he ignored.

“Fuuuhhhhccckkk. Suck harder, my love.”

Hollowing your cheeks like he told you, Sanji admired how obedient you were being for him, how your lips wrapped around his shaft, the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and your blown out pupils. He was grunting so loud it could be heard on the other side of the ship.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck.” His grip on your head tightened. You hummed on his cock one last time, knowing that would push him over the precipice of orgasm. His deep groans turned into whimpers as he bent over, grabbing your head while he grinded his length on your tongue.

“Ahhhhh, th-there you go, fuck you’re so good for me baby, fuck, ‘m cumming.”

Sanji convulsed and shoved his cock in your throat one last time, relishing how you squeezed around his shaft, before he ripped it away from your lips and exploded all over your face.

You caught as much of his sticky cum with your tongue as you could, but rogue stripes graced your cheeks and forehead. There was literally so much cum. The whole time he drained his balls over your face, he groaned the most obscene, filthy noises you’d ever heard.

Standing over you, he panted as his cock dribbled last hot pearls on your tongue. From this angle, with your face covered in his seed and your legs numb, he looked better than usual. He always looked good, but damn, right now he looked good.

You licked your lips, drinking up the slightly salty, mild taste of his orgasm. When he was done stroking himself, Sanji kissed you and petted your hair for a moment before he wiped your face down and slid the pillow out from under you.

Peeling the pillowcase off, he had the gall to suck on the saturated wet spot from your juices. He palmed his cock just a tad, still sensitive from his orgasm, then folded the case and pocketed it. Later, he would inevitably suck on it some more and then wrap it around his hard cock, replaying the evening in his mind.

You couldn’t walk afterwards. Well, you technically could walk, but not well. Your legs were like jello and sore. You didn’t need to walk, though. Sanji carried you around and brought you food anywhere you wanted. He was extremely satisfied with the evening, to say the least.

that’s all for this one~~ i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

here’s my masterlist and here’s my october posting schedule.

i’m posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat?

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 1

SUMMARY: Jake is stuck at base for a mind-numbing training session, while you’re home enjoying a much-needed day off. Bored and missing him, you decide to have a little fun by slipping into his favorite lacy lingerie and sending him a few teasing photos. What starts as playful fun turns into a tantalizing game of anticipation as Jake struggles to focus on anything other than getting home to you—and making you pay for being such a tease.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm a little late getting this one posted. Work and life got the best of me today! But here is Day 1 of the Kinktober prompts!

PROMPT: "Damn, you're such a tease."

KINK: Sexting/Sending NSFW Pictures.

WARNINGS: Sexting/Sending NSFW Pictures.

WORD COUNT: 562

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 

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It was one of those rare days off, the kind where you could lounge around the apartment, free from any obligations or stress. You had the place to yourself, and although it was peaceful, something was missing: Jake.

Jake was stuck at base, caught up in yet another training session. You could practically hear his groans when he left this morning, muttering about how he could fly his aircraft blindfolded and still ace this review. You’d been texting back and forth with him all morning, and from the sound of it, he was bored out of his mind.

You’d been missing him too—his presence, his touch, the playful banter you shared. And then an idea popped into your head. You glanced toward your dresser, your lips curling into a mischievous smile as you remembered Jake's favorite lacy lingerie set tucked inside.

A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right?

Grinning, you slipped into the soft, delicate fabric, adjusting the lace until it fit perfectly against your skin. The deep, sultry red contrasted beautifully with your complexion, and you couldn’t help but admire the way it hugged your curves. You knew this set drove Jake crazy—he’d told you so more than once.

You grabbed your phone and posed in front of the mirror, snapping a few playful shots. One with you standing straight, one where you tugged the hem of the lace teasingly, and one of you sitting on the edge of the bed, just enough skin showing to keep it innocent… yet tempting.

With a smirk, you sent the first picture to Jake, captioning it with a simple, “Miss you.”

You barely had to wait a minute before your phone buzzed. Jake’s name lit up the screen, and you opened the message to see his reply: “Damn, you’re such a tease.”

You giggled, feeling a rush of satisfaction. It was good to know you could get to him, even when he was stuck in a stuffy classroom. But you weren’t done yet.

Biting your lip, you snapped another picture—this time lying on the bed, your body half-covered by the sheets. The lacy set peeked out just enough to leave plenty to the imagination, but still give Jake something to think about.

“Thought you could use a distraction. How’s that training going?” you typed, hitting send.

His response came back almost instantly: “Training? What training? All I’m thinking about now is how fast I can get home.”

You could practically picture him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on anything but the images you’d sent.

Feeling playful, you teased him again. “Aw, don’t you still have a few hours left? Guess you’ll just have to be patient.”

Another message buzzed in: “You’re killing me, sweetheart. Wait ‘til I get home. We’ll see who’s teasing who.”

You felt a warm shiver run down your spine at his words, knowing full well what was waiting for you once Jake finally got back. But for now, you enjoyed the thought of him struggling through his training session, knowing you had him wrapped around your finger.

Leaning back against the pillows, you smiled to yourself, imagining how this little game would play out once Jake was home. His frustration would build throughout the day, and by the time he walked through that door, he’d be ready to turn the tables on you in the best possible way.

[ilovejoostklein]

i would love a best friends to lovers scenario. Like joost and reader are best friends for years and they are now developing feelings. Reader isn't dutch but german or something else and they teach each other their language. Like imagine joost teaching her dutch. And Please a lot of cheesy fluff. Thank you🥹

sorry for taking a while, i wanted to try to get the dutch as accurate as possible ❤️

-

How Do You Say ‘I Love You’

You and Joost are childhood friends. After high school, you moved away from the Netherlands and since have been living in the south of France, but he’s always been bad at dealing with your absense

sfw: fluff, friends to lovers, so much fluff

-

When high school ended and you went off for university, Joost felt like a piece of him had been left vacant. His heart ached during the fall and spring months when you were away in France teaching private English lessons and being a nanny to spoiled little French kids for half the year. The family you worked for always rubbed him the wrong way, but he didn’t realize why until he saw you again.

It was the beginning of summer, the family wanted you to postpone your month-long trip to the Netherlands, the country where you’d spent most of your adolescence and left all your loved ones behind. When you’d told Joost that you wouldn’t be back for another month, he’d gotten so upset and impatient that he booked a ticket the second he got your text and showed up unannounced.

You remembered how mortified you were when you were awoken by the two children, Max and Lucas, you looked after, delirious from sleep hearing them ramble about a strange, tall man with blonde hair who spoke poor French at their door. You hardly heard the morning birds, the sky still had hues of deep, navy blue, and the sun still under sheets of clouds, it was a criminal that you were being disturbed this early.

You remembered even more so the moment you looked through the peephole and felt your stomach turn. Your body was freezing already from being out of the warm bed, but his presence alone paralyzed you with it. You watched the distorted image of his nervous expression and body language, how he looked over his shoulder constantly and tapped his foot. He held one suitcase in his hand and wore an overstuffed backpack. His hair was a lot blonder than the last time you saw him, and he grew a mustache. This wasn’t the man you’d seen last year, and it certainly wasn’t the boy you were inseparable from in school who you watched YouTube and played video games with. 

“Joost?” You rasped, still feeling the aura of sleep, the situation itself made you like you were dreaming without the fatigue. 

“Yes.” He answered. “Please let me in.” He said curtly. 

You frantically unlocked the door and practically jumped into his arms, hugging him as tightly as you could. The smell of his shampoo was overwhelming, bringing you back to when you were in his bedroom, just turned 13 and entering your scary teenage years. He’d always shower after school before you came over, he made it a habit as he liked to play football with the other boys after school and come home tracking dirt and mud in the house. You missed his parents’ voices scolding him for always forgetting to take his shoes off. The smell of apple in his hair brought you back to that beautiful memory. It hurt to let go.

“Missed you.” You mumbled, holding back the tears of the overwhelming happiness to see your friend again. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes.” 

“C’est ton petit compain?” One of the boys teased you, prompting you to playfully push the giggling kids away into the kitchen. 

“Vas t’en.” You scolded lightly. “Go to the kitchen.”

Joost chuckled, the sight of you with the boys always warmed his heart. He’d only met the kids a handful of times since whenever you two would reunite it would be in the Netherlands. They treated him awkwardly, but it was an infectious happiness, the domestic, comforting feeling of it to see you so caring and motherly. He felt at home with you all the time, and your sweet nature had soothed him for as long as he knew you. Even in the south of France, jet-lagged and nervous he felt happy with you. 

“I’ll start making breakfast.” You said, quickly grabbing the apron and putting it over your pajamas he could tell this was a well-established, chaotic routine. “Do you want tea or coffee?”

“Koffie.” Joost exaggerated his choice of Dutch, encouraging you to roll your eyes. “Alstublieft”

You felt a bit bad that your Dutch was severely lacking despite living in the Netherlands for five years. It was honestly kind of embarrassing, especially for someone who taught a language for a living. You understood enough to finish primary school and talk to friends, but completely stopped practicing once you returned to France, and it’s only deteriorated since. Joost was disappointed, to say the least, but he enjoyed having something to tease you over. 

“I’ll be here for two weeks, by the way.” He began, “You’ll speak perfect Dutch once I’m gone, so you’ll be really to come back to the Netherlands.”

You scoffed, “Why do I have to learn Dutch but you don’t have to learn French?”

He only chuckled in response as you prepared his coffee the way he always liked, hot, one spoon of sugar and a splash of milk. He’d been drinking it that way since you started high school together. Every morning, in fact, a steaming hot coffee, usually the shitty kind that was somehow always bitter no matter how much sugar you put in there. It was unsurprising that he loved cigarettes so much. 

“I’ll learn French, why not.” He said, smiling as he took the steaming mug from you. “Dank je.” He thanked you sweetly. 

“Merçi.” You corrected, “Omelette ou pain et fromage mes petits choux?” You asked the boys.

“Pain et fromage.” The two boys answered loudly in unison, clearly hungry and impatient. 

“Pain et fromage.” Joost added in his broken accent, “Alstublieft.” His answer in Dutch sent the boys into a giggling fit. 

You couldn’t help but sigh and laugh, internally relieved that you wouldn’t have to go fight the chickens for their eggs, a sight that would’ve certainly amused Joost, and could quickly cut up some of the bread you’d baked last night and cheese made from one of the local farmers. You were glad that as tired as he was, you’d at least be able to get him some good food.

You set the table, laying out a few choices of jam, cut-up fruits, and a little bit of butter. The boys drank their cups of juice and ate their breakfast happily, excitedly telling Joost about their today’s plans, a trip to the beach with the neighbor’s family and their youngest son.

“Are you boys good swimmers?” Joost asked them, his smile big and overpowering all his features, it was your favorite thing about him. 

“Yes.” The youngest answered, Max, “Ma nounou is a very bad swimmer.” He always had to be brutally honest. 

“She’s ok.” Lucas defended, sweetly handing you half of his mandarin when he noticed that you didn’t take any fruit. “We need to be ready in one hour.” He informed Joost quite seriously, the little kid a stickler for rules.

“Yes, don’t worry,” Joost assured him, taking the empty plates for you to the sink once he was finished eating. “Why don’t you help me with the dishes and give your nounou a break, hm?” 

The boys exchanged irritated glances, making a silent agreement between themselves to not embarrass you or themselves in front of their guest. They dragged their feet to the sink, helping Joost clear off the table and wash the dishes as promised, giving you a moment to sneak away to get ready. 

“How long have you known nounou?” Lucas asked, hearing the shower upstairs and knowing he was allowed to speak freely now. “We don’t know a lot about you.” 

“Oh,” Joost huffed, instantly taken back to the same place you went when you saw him at the door. “Seventeen years, we met when we were twelve.”

The boys made a sound of astonishment, the concept of someone being friends for longer than they had been alive was a concept difficult to grasp but made them more inclined to like Joost instead of just seeing him as a stranger in their home. He understood, you were the closest thing to their mother and you’d been with them since they were born, essentially making them family. He needed to make a good impression. 

“That’s a long time.” Max, being only ten, this was especially shocking. “Do you love her?”

Joost felt his cheeks burn, the lack of filters that kids had was something he could never get used to. He could only imagine how crazy this one drove you. 

“Yes, I love her,” Joost answered, carefully stacking the expensive glass plates, plain as they were the few of them cost probably as much as his shoes. “She’s a good friend.” 

The boys decided it wasn’t a satisfactory response, and to continue to interrogate him with questions. Naturally, they had to find out if he was good enough for you. 

“You love her or you like her?” Lucas asked his tone still so serious Joost began to get intimidated by the little French kid still in his pajamas. 

He heard the shower had stopped for a while, but knowing you, you were probably still overthinking what to wear or were taking a few minutes just to sit in the bathroom wrapped in your towel. He knew you too well, all the tiniest most negligible parts of you he memorized like it was his favorite song. He would play over and over in his head the things that you’d do, how your nose scrunched up when you laughed, how you rolled your eyes every time he corrected your Dutch. 

“I do love her,” Joost admitted quietly, making his way to the living room. It was bigger than he remembered, a bit renovated, and kept impeccably neat, he wondered if they’d finally hired a housekeeper. “Kids, did your parents ever hire more help?” 

Lucas shook his head, “Non.” He answered a bit sadly. “Maman says we don’t need more than a nanny.”

Joost simply nodded, thinking about the first and seemingly last time he met the boys’ parents. They were tall, stone-faced Parisian lawyers who wanted an escape from the city for their children, or rather from them, prompting them to buy the biggest house on the little hill in a southern French village. It was completely idyllic, but without you, he felt that they’d leave this beautiful home completely soulless. 

“You kids should get ready.” Joost glanced at the clock, dreading when he would have to rummage through his bag to find swimming trunks and his sandals. 

He found one of the many guest rooms and adopted it as his own for now. After making a proper mess of his clothes, he finally found his brightly colored blue trunks and flip-flops. He was the kind of person who liked wearing sneakers to the beach, but you never failed to give him a lecture about messing up your shoes with the sand, so he decided to be on your good side today. 

Every time Joost reunited with you, somehow you’d changed completely for the better. You were more beautiful than the last time he saw you, softer, your presence feeling almost regal. He always wondered how you always looked so put together, how you always could calm or fix a situation. He saw you through rose-tinted glasses, but it never felt like an illusion.

“You look nice.” Joost complimented, taking the beach bags you’d packed from your hand and slinging it over his shoulder. “Are we walking?”

You nodded, “It’s fifteen minutes to the spot we go to.” You said, looking at him with a bit of excitement. “There’s a lot of shops and nice restaurants closer to that area.” 

Eventually, the kids ran into their friend while walking, catching up with him and his parents and walking ahead, leaving you and Joost trailing behind. 

“They were so tiny the last time I saw them.” He said, remembering how shy and reserved they were just a few years ago. 

“Don’t remind me.” You said, watching the boys as they talked and joked with their friends. “I can’t believe we used to be that little.”

Joost turned to look at you, taking in all your beautiful features, returning once again to those old memories that made him happiest. As you two walked, the crashing waves and the fresh saltiness cleared his senses and washed away his apprehensions. It brought him back to the time he realized he loved you. 

It was also on a French beach. You’d just completed your first year of university, enjoying the summer break, getting a new job as a nanny, and Joost came down to congratulate you. The two of you lay on the warm sand for hours, fingers grazing each other’s stomachs hurting and cheeks aching from laughing so much. He wanted to blame it on the fact that you’d packed a cooler full of sandwiches and alcohol, or that you’d been wearing a white bathing suit, and the sunset was one of the most beautiful and vibrant he’d seen, shining golden light against your skin. The scene was romantic, he had a bit too much to drink and he thought he was just confused. 

He wished he told you then. The feeling only grew steadily over time, like seeds he’d planted his love for you slowly grew. He was thankful it was slow, the distance keeping his feeling muted and controlled as he didn’t have to face you every day, and your friendship surviving over texting and calls. Even then, he would reread all your texts, and stare at the pictures you’d send at random points of the day. It became like a ritual, every day before bed, when he woke up, if he was having a particularly bad day seeing your smiling face eased him.

“We have so much to talk about.” You were dying to hear all his stories about his tour. Joost was always cool to you, but being a musician made him so much cooler.

“I can tell you all about my shows.” He immediately knew what you were interested in. “But in Dutch.”

You groaned in response, not wanting to start the speaking Dutch argument yet. You found a place far enough to talk out of earshot but close enough to keep an eye on the kids. The weather was perfect, warm and sunny but not enough to swim yet. 

“I thought you wanted to learn French.” You said, laying down the blankets and pulling his hand so that he’d sit with you. 

“I do.” Joost sat a little closer than you were anticipating, his shoulder and knee touching you. “I’ll talk to you in Dutch and you can answer in French.”

“That’s too hard.” You complained. “Just speak a little Dutch.”

“Fine.” He relented. “De concerten waren leuk, the concerts were fun, easy right?”

“Ja, zeker.” You answered, seeing his face immediately light up at hearing you attempt to speak Dutch again, even if it was simple. “Wat was je favoriete onderdeel, what was your favorite part?” You asked slowly.

“So advanced.” Joost complimented jokingly “Alles was goed, zingen is altijd leuk, maar reizen is het beste, it was all good, but traveling is the best.”

“Ja, dat is leuk.” You answered plainly, not having much in your memory to work with. 

Joost chuckled, bumping your knee. “How do you live in the Netherlands for five years and your Dutch is shit?”

“Your best friend speaks French and you don’t.” You attempted to defend yourself, it was a bit hypocritical as you two lived in the Netherlands at one point and not France. “But you will learn, and we’ll speak French all the time.”

“No, because I’m bringing you back to the Netherlands.” He answered, he was serious in his hopes you’d come back. “Everyone is waiting for you there.”

You hesitated, “I just hated the fact I couldn’t pick up Dutch.”  You’d said it a dozen times, the fact you’d felt more comfortable speaking French was the reason you’d chosen to start your life here. 

“We spoke Dutch all the time as kids.” He reminded you. “Don’t you want to come back?”

You couldn’t help but watch as Lucas and Max built sandcastles with their friend. France was beautiful, you had a good life and found a second family here. Even if the parents were a bit difficult at times, at least they paid you nicely and you knew they loved you. Still, you didn’t know if your future was nannying, or if it was even in France.

“I miss you all the time.” You began, reaching into one of the coolers to offer Joost a beer to let the building emotion taper off. “But maybe I’ll get to come back with you in two weeks.”

“It’s a bit early for beer.” He chuckled, handing it back and trading it for soda. “You’re trying to get me drunk already?”

“Shut up.” You hit his knee with yours. “Do you want to try to get into the water?”

Joost had felt the sun begin burning him through his shirt and was staring at the calm, crystal blue waters. He nodded and was relieved you said something. 

He watched as you slipped off the straps of your sheer coverup and kicked off your sandals. You wore a floral bikini, he wished he could get closer to study the pattern and to feel how soft your skin was, he was glad being at the beach with you was an opportunity to be able to be able to hold you. 

You two held hands as he led you into the water, thankfully it wasn’t as cold as he was expecting. At first, you two swam alone, you clung onto Joost’s back, your hands resting on his shoulders and legs wrapped around his torso as he went into the deeper end. It was like that for a while, talking about random things and pushing each other into the water until the kids decided to join you. 

Joost was always great with kids, he was gentle and patient even if they were spoiled and could be a bit demanding. Lucas and Max spent a great deal arguing over who got to go on Joost’s shoulders so that they could go in the deep end. You spent the rest of the time swimming with Joost, the boys, and the parents before you decided it was time for lunch.

Lucas had been working to keep himself, his brother and his friend separated from you so that you and Joost could have time alone together. It was a sweet gesture, and he could tell how much he cared for you and his wish to be alone, even if he didn’t completely understand the depth of it.

Joost wrapped you in a towel and offered to brush your hair as you began to eat your lunch, a cold sandwich you’d packed the night before, chips, and more cut-up fruits, you couldn’t help it living next to so many farms. You fed some chips and fruit to Joost as he detangled your hair, giggling as you tried to figure out where his mouth was without compromising his work.

“I’m done now.” He admired his work, smoothing down the hair on your face. “I’m hungry, stop forcing me to work.”

He sat beside you and began to eat, still watching the way the sun glittered on the water but even then he felt something missing. As beautiful as it was, he realized he’d enjoyed looking at your hair and the sight of your smiling face much more. 

“Is it good?” You asked, always tending to be nervous about whether or not someone liked your food. 

“Yes, always.” Joost responded, “I love your cooking.”

“Say, J’aime votre cuisine.” You told him, getting a side-eyed response. 

“J’aime votre cuisine.” He repeated, his pronunciation improving a bit. “How do you say I love the beach?”

“J’aime la plage.” You responded, wondering why he was asking such easy questions. 

“How do you say I love you?” He was trying to be annoying, but as always you gave in. 

“Je t’aime.” You said, rolling your eyes. “You know that.”

“Oh,” Joost brought you into an aggressive hug. “Je t’aime aussi.”

You didn’t know how the playful aggression ended up with you lying down with your head on Joost’s shoulder. You looked over at him, seeing that his expression had softened as you both listened to the sounds of the ocean and soft music from the shops down the street. 

“I wish you’d come back forever.” He mumbled suddenly.

“Why so soon?” You asked, “You get to visit me here, and you’re never home anymore anyway.”

“I’d bring you everywhere with me.” Joost’s tone was a bit too serious, “I could take care of you.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at his face. It wasn’t fair, he was even handsome from this angle. “What do you mean?”

He was the one sighing and rolling his eyes this time. “You know how I feel about you.” he began, “You know I don’t see you as just a friend.” 

The confession wasn’t that, but just putting the obvious out into the open. You’ve never touched Joost more than a hug, or holding his hand in the seventeen years you’d known each other. You couldn’t fathom how excruciating it would have been if you focused on the fact that you’d always been dreaming about his touch and finally have something besides this friendship, as much as you cherished it.

You could’ve mistaken his lips for strawberries, and when you’d leaned down and pressed yours against them they might as well have been from how much fruit you’d spoiled him with. 

You kept the kiss brief, smoothing your hand down the softness of his cheek as you looked into his eyes, the blue much more magnificent and captivating than any ocean you’ve seen. 

“Ik hou van jou.” You whispered, the way his face brightened and how he smiled was something you’d never seen before. You wished the memory would burn itself into your mind. “You’re my best friend, I love you.”

“Je t’aime.” He whispered back, wasting no time to bring you into another kiss. 

[loveroffictionalmen]

hey! i just came over from tiktok, could you possibly do a gally x reader where he tries to act tough around all of the guys but (y/n) starts teasing about how sweet he actually is and he has to try and defend himself but gets all flustered over it, but can’t get mad at (y/n) cause he’s got that fat crush on her? (fem pronouns possibly please?)

Not So Tough

Pairing: Gally x fem!reader

Description: Gally has a hard exterior, but secretly melts when y/n is around.

Warnings: smooching, glade slang, idk just a lot of fluff, gally being a bit of a jerk

Words: 651

Prompt: Grumpy x Sunshine Trope

A/N: It lowkey ends kinda abruptly but OH WELL HERE YA GO

“Gally, would you please stop yelling at the rest of the builders and actually start building?” Newt called from the gardens.

“No can do, I gotta make sure everyone stays in line, that’s why you put me in charge of the builders, remember?” Gally called back, yelping soon after when one of the newer gladers dropped a piece of wood on his head. “You shank! Look what you’ve done! Dropping klunk all over the place, you should be sent to the slammer!”

“Gally, is that really any way to talk to the new guy?” Y/n jogged up to Gally from the med-jack hut where she was just supervising Clint and Jeff. Y/n was somewhat of a floater when it came to jobs. When they were testing what jobs she was good at, she was nearly good at every single one. Well, except for the slicers. Poor Winston nearly scared the girl half to death when he first came out with a machete.

“I uh- Well he dripped- I mean dropped that shucking piece of wood on me an-” Gally stammered.

“Gally, c’mon give the guy a break, he’s only been here a week,” Y/n said with a soft smile.

“Look, I’m just trying to do my job, gotta make sure everything gets done, right?” Gally said, seeming to regain his composure.

“And it will get done, you can just be a little nicer about it through,” Y/n said, placing a hand on Gally’s arm and running her fingers down his bicep.

Gally blushed. Y/n was playing him like a fiddle and she knew damn well what she was doing.

“I’ll see you at supper?” Y/n said.

“You know you’re the only one that calls it that, right? It’s dinner,” Gally snorted.

“Oh shut it, you know you love me,” Y/n said before turning over her shoulder and walking away, not before giving Gally one last smile. Gally stood there for a moment, not sure what to do with himself.

“Oi, Gally, what were you saying about making sure things get done?” Newt called, snickering to Alby.

“Oh slim it,” Gally growled. “No- you can’t hammer that in, there’s not a screw to hold it together!” He turned his attention to the Greenie.

___

“Hey big guy, not interested in tackling anyone to the ground tonight?” Y/n’s voice came from above Gally.

“No, not tonight, gonna try to go to sleep early,” Gally said, getting up and trying his best to avoid y/n. But before he could leave, y/n grabbed his wrist.

“Wait- did today really bother you?” She asked, furrowing her brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gally broke away from her grip and tried to escape again, but she was too quick for him. She grabbed his arm again.

“You know what I’m talking about. I didn’t think it would bother you, I thought you would actually like it, y’know considering I was flirting with you.” Gally’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Oh my god,” Y/n laughed. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Kinda hard to pay attention to that when things need to get done,” Gally cleared his throat, trying his hardest to hide the smile that was forming on his face.

“Oh don’t act like you weren’t blushing the whole time you- oh my god you’re even blushing right now!” She laughed.

“Shh, no I’m not,” Gally smiled back at her, the blush returning to his cheeks.

“You are! Gally’s blushing! Gally’s blu-” Y/n called when she was cut off.

Gally’s lips crashed into hers as his hand moved to her cheeks. Y/n closed her eyes and sunk into the kiss, bringing her arms around his neck. When Gally pulled away first, y/n smiled.

“What was that for?” She breathed.

“To shut you up,” Gally smiled. He looked to her lips and back to her eyes. “And also because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

[codfishing]

Pairings: ghoap x single mom!reader

TW: just a fluffy meet-cute on Halloween

You were starting to lose hope as you tried to find a neighborhood that actually participated in Halloween; it was your favorite holiday and you wanted to make sure your kiddo’s first trick-or-treating experience was a good one.

But you found a bustling neighborhood and your spirits lifted as you parked your car along the edge, happily unbuckling your daughter and making your way into the neighborhood.

Your daughter was fascinated by everything, and was surprisingly unfazed by the decorations, including the scarier ones, and she was especially interested in the costumes of the people milling about the neighborhood.

She was especially interested in the man dressed as a skeleton sitting at the end of his driveway with another man whom you assumed was his husband dressed in a kilt.

You waited at the edge of the driveway and told your daughter what to say, and she immediately went up to the man in the skeleton costume, staring up at him silently as they both cooed over her Belle dress.

After a few moments you nervously called out, “Baby, it’s rude to stare. What do we say?”

“Thank you!” She said loudly, prompting another laugh from the two men and you take a couple steps forward, smiling.

“No no, sweetie, say ‘trick or treat’,” You corrected gently, smiling more as she held out her kitty cat bucket and repeated the words.

“It’s alright,” The man in the kilt said with a Scottish accent (you honestly were less surprised by the accent than you were the mohawk) as he grinned up at you.

He eyed you up and down as your daughter was preoccupied with running her fingers over his partner’s skeleton gloves, and the Scot asked, “No costume?”

You laughed nervously. “Didn’t have time to put one together. It’s not for lack of want, I promise.”

He hummed and smiled again, reaching out a hand. “I’m Soap, and this is my husband, Ghost.”

You took his hand and shook it as you introduced yourself too, raising an eyebrow after pulling away. “Interesting names.”

Ghost looked up then, shooting a playful glare at his husband before looking up at you. “He means Johnny and Simon.”

You laughed at that and you could see Simon’s cheeks lift under his balaclava adorned with a half-skull before he went back to having a small conversation with your daughter, making your heart flutter slightly.

“Want a treat too?” Johnny asked then with a grin. “We’ve got jell-o shots for the parents.”

“Ooh,” You sounded before hesitating. “Sure, one won’t hurt.”

Johnny stood up then and disappeared into the dark entryway of their house, reappearing moments later with two of the small containers. He handed one to you and you were about to tuck it away into your sweatshirt pocket when he scoffed playfully.

“Come on, bonnie,” He said, nodding towards you with a grin. “You don’t wanna be walking around with that all night, do you? Take it with me.”

With a sigh, you smiled and opened the shot, tapping the plastic container against his when he reached out and downing the jell-o shot while trying to ignore his tongue releasing the lime green jell-o from the plastic, though it was hard to as he kept his eyes on you while he did it.

You could feel your cheeks flushing slightly and were grateful for the darkness shrouding your pink face, handing the empty cup back to him when he offered.

“That’s a girl,” He praised, leaving you more flustered.

Another group of costumed kids came up and you immediately remembered where you were, crouching down next to your daughter.

“Come on, sweetie; there’s other kids who want a turn,” You said gently, reluctantly pulling her away from Simon with an apologetic smile.

Their eyes lingered on you as you bade them goodbye with a wave that they both returned, their smiles widening as your daughter waved as well and loudly said goodbye.

The short interaction lingered in the back of your mind as you walked through the neighborhood, making the rounds and ending up on the other side of the street after a while.

As you walked along towards the next house, you heard, “Oi, bonnie!”

Looking up, you realized you were across the street from Simon and Johnny’s house again, and Johnny was waving at you.

“Want another one?” He called out, his wide grin nearly glowing in the dark.

Your decision was made for you as your daughter pulled you towards the street, pointing towards them.

“‘S Simon!” She exclaimed excitedly and your heart melted, causing you to lead her across the street towards them. Though admittedly you weren’t complaining in the slightest by being around the two men again.

The large man crouched down, his smile obvious despite the mask hiding it. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Johnny moved to stand next to you after you paused, nudging another jell-o shot into your hand.

“Thanks,” You smiled before adding, “This is the last one though; I have to drive us back home.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You don’t live ‘round here?”

Shaking your head, you sighed and looked down at your daughter who was happily showing Simon the treats she had gotten so far.

“We don’t get trick-or-treaters at our apartment,” You explained, looking back up at Johnny. “And since it’s her first year, I wanted to make sure she had fun.”

Johnny blinked before grinning. “Well, let’s make it fun, eh?”

He moved to set down the large bucket of candy he had been holding and you stared in shock. “What?”

Straightening up, Johnny nudged Simon’s shoulder before looking back at you.

“Come on, there’s a street two blocks over that’s got more people,” Johnny explained as Simon stood up as well. “We’ll show you.”

Your brain put two and two together and you started stumbling over your words. “Oh, you don’t need to do that! I’m sure we can find it and I don’t want to be a burden—“

“Nonsense,” Simon said then, leaning down to pick up your daughter when she reached out her arms to him, surprising you since you were usually the only one she let pick her up. “If it’s the little one’s first time, we want it to be as fun as possible for her.”

You looked between the two men, but again your daughter decided for you as she started babbling to Simon, who turned his attention to her and started walking off holding her tiny hand in his.

Johnny grinned down at you and nudged you again, leading you after Simon who was happily carrying her as if he hadn’t just met her twenty minutes before.

As you walked through the neighborhood, you learned that both Simon and Johnny were in the military, and that they had actually returned from a mission earlier that day (“Just in time for Halloween but not enough time to really do costumes,” Johnny explained somewhat sheepishly).

You ended up telling them about your divorce (Simon showed he was still listening to the conversation by adding comments here and there despite your daughter monopolizing his attention as she led him up to houses with her as you and Johnny waited at the end of the driveways), and how it was just the two of you now since your ex-husband decided he wanted nothing to do with your daughter. Neither of the men said anything on that but you saw the look they shared of anger and something else that you couldn’t quite discern in the darkness.

Halfway down the new street, your daughter decided it was Johnny’s turn to help her and she reached out for him instead, and you had to suppress a giggle at Simon’s jealous huff as he handed your little girl over to the beaming Scotsman.

As Johnny and your daughter started walking, Simon fell in step with you. You found that he was much quieter than Johnny but was still a great conversationalist, slipping in puns and horribly funny dad jokes when he could. He told you about how he and Johnny met in their unit, and told you about their teammates while you listened intently. He listened just as intently as you talked about your own job, asking questions here and there that showed he was actually interested in your writing career, which made your heart flutter again.

“You know,” You started after a not-uncomfortable lull in conversation as you both watched Johnny chase your daughter through a yard. “For a man who likes dad jokes, you missed the perfect opportunity for your costume with your callsign being ‘Ghost’.”

Simon blinked before his mask lifted as he smiled again. “I figured that would be too obvious.”

“Well next year I expect the right costume,” You teased, nudging him playfully.

“Oh yeah? Next year I expect any costume from you,” Simon teased back, giving you an obvious look up and down.

“Yeah yeah,” You laughed, waving him off as he chuckled next to you.

Johnny had managed to wrangle your giggling daughter and carried her back towards you two, breathing hard from having to chase her.

“Bloody hell, I thought I was in shape until I had to chase a toddler,” He huffed, causing you to laugh hard.

You noticed your daughter starting to whine and after checking your phone, you realized it was definitely past her bedtime and you felt guilty for getting lost in conversation with them.

“Alright, I think it’s time to call it a night,” You announced reluctantly, turning back slightly in the direction of your car. “I need to get her home before she falls asleep on your shoulder.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Johnny waved you off with a grin. “I don’t mind one bit.”

You smiled at that as they both followed you and you looked back at them, smiling fondly.

“I really do appreciate you two helping her out tonight,” I said gratefully. “I feel a little bad though about intruding on your night.”

“It’s fine, lovie,” Simon spoke up in a warm voice. “Couldn’t have asked for two better intruders.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, still feeling a little guilty for highjacking their night. Your daughter was passed out on Johnny’s shoulder by the time you reached the car and he handed her off to you before stepping back with Simon.

As you buckled her into her carseat, you could hear Simon and Johnny conversing quietly behind you but you couldn’t catch any of what they were saying.

By the time you straightened up and closed the door, it was just Simon standing there and he chuckled at your questioning look.

“Johnny ran up to the house real quick,” He explained. “He’ll be back shortly.”

“Got it,” You said before smiling. “Thanks again, Simon. It was really wonderful meeting the two of you.”

He smiled under his mask and pulled you into a tight hug much to your surprise, but you returned it with a contented noise and briefly wondered if it would be weird to say you wanted to hang out with them again.

As he finally released the hug, Johnny jogged back up to you two and shoved something into your hand.

“Another treat for when you get home,” Johnny said with a wink before pulling you into a tight hug as well. “Drive safe, lass.”

You nodded and the three of you said your goodbyes before you got into your car, trying to not wake your daughter as you turned it on and started driving away.

It wasn’t until you were at the first stoplight that you looked at the ‘treat’ Johnny had given you, pausing when you realized there was a piece of paper taped to the top of the jell-o shot, and you opened it curiously.

The car behind you had to honk to get you out of your frozen state as you stared down at the note.

We hope to see you and the little one again soon, bonnie; call us when you want to be taken out for dinner—the new stepdads