#and ignoring what and who actually makes him happy. like an idiot.

[vinniestargirl]

I SHOULD BE OVER ALL THE BUTTERFLIES | V. H.

𑁤 pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader.

𑁤 summary: to make your mom happy now you have to endure a three day trip paired up as bridesmaid and groomsman with your brother's idiotic best friend. vinnie never knew why you hated him so much, maybe this is his chance to figure it out.

𑁤 warnings: reader being judgy and stubborn. sa mention (not explicit.) angst. hurt/comfort. english is not my first language.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ xoxo, priscilla: i'm really so very sorry, this was supposed to be way shorter and different but i got carried away and now this is me processing my own experience through writing. part two if this gets an ounce of attention.

—part two

You want your mom to get married and be happy with the man she loved, you really do. The biggest proof is how hard you worked for months to convince your brother to come back home. You understood why he ran away when your mom used one of your family dinners to let you know she was engaged, after all it was his former highschool coach and the man he had been looking up to as a father figure for years who she had fallen for after he graduated. She had kept it a secret for years already feeling his reaction coming but after all this time they had decided it was the right moment to take it to the next level.

Of course it all sounded very romantic and dreamy from their perspective but from yours and your brother's it was actually shocking. It took you days to process the whole thing but you felt obligated to, somebody needed to fix that mess and as usual it would have to be you. It took you months but you finally convinced him to come back home with just enough time for the last preparations for the wedding. The mood was still a bit tense around the house but it was civilized enough to get through the wedding trip.

Or so you thought until your mother decided to tell you just twenty minutes before leaving that you were paired up with Vinnie as bridesmaid and groomsman for the party and during all the activities previous to it. Vinnie of all people. She had said it was because you two were the only ones single but you knew her ways too well to believe that, all this was a set up for you to get along with him and it made you want to rip all your hair off.

Vinnie Hacker, your brother's best friend since first grade and the most annoying guy you had ever known. It was not a secret for anyone in the family and closest friends that you two couldn't be in the same room without making it look like a funeral and your mother would not allow that on her wedding. The thing is that everyone has always thought that it was your fault, that you were the crazy one as Vinnie had never done anything that would suggest he had a problem with you but you had your reasons, good reasons.

“Who has more cheetos?” said your brother when he realized he ran out of his, his words made you press your purse hard against your chest so he won't try to steal yours.

In other circumstances you would have shared, you didn't even like cheetos that much anyway but not today, this is what two hours trapped in a car with Vinnie sitting next to you can do to a person, or just you, who knows.

"I know your dirty little secret” your brother looked at you like you were hiding nuclear codes in your bag instead of junk food. He was leaning dangerously closer and without warning he pulling your stuff away from you.

You fought for it with your life with Vinnie trapped in the middle of everything and your mom scolding you from the passenger seat. "Come on man, leave her alone” Vinnie tried to defend you.

However his words had an opposite effect as your brother pretended to be offended that his best friend took your side and fought harder and you, you hated that he had acted like he cared and decided to let your brother win just because you didn't want to give Vinnie the satisfaction to know he had saved you. For a moment he looked at you like you had grown a second head but you ignored him and your mother's glare by putting on some music on your air pods to be able to endure the rest of the ride.

At some point you must have fallen asleep because your mother had to wake you up by shaking your arm when you made it to the place. With music still blasting in your ears you allowed yourself to admire the location, your mother had decided to get married in the woods in the middle of nowhere and you could have sworn you've never seen so much green in your life, it was majestic. The trees were impossibly big and the air was so clean you felt like you were reborn.

When you came back to earth you realized almost everyone was already there and starting to prepare everything to go to sleep. It wasn't that late but it had been a long and exhausting trip so they didn't even bother with lighting a bonfire. You went to get your bags from the coach's trunk but when you tried to get inside your mom's tent she stopped you pointing to another one.

“Tents are for two, darling” she said with the calmest voice, as if she wasn't sending her own daughter to Mordor. “You go with your partner”

“This is absolutely nuts, mom!” you tried to reason with her even though you know she won't listen. “If I go in there with him we are going to end up killing each other”

“It's okay honey, Vinnie won't bite you” you hated when everyone treated you like you were crazy for hating him. “please don't kill him until after the wedding”

She was unbelievable, she had planned this whole thing of getting there a day before to 'reconnect with nature and each other' but you knew that was all bullshit. The woman didn't have a single plant in her house and would slap dead any type of bug that would dare to get inside her home. All this thing of dragging all the bridesmaids and groomsmen to the middle of nowhere earlier was all to get you to be closer to Vinnie or to at least tolerate him. After all this wasn't her first attempt and she wasn't the only one, over the years she had tried stuff like this every chance she had, your brother did too and even the coach had made an attempt or two but you simply couldn't get yourself to spend more than two minutes in his presence without feeling sick.

He was an asshole and everyone treated you like you were the one being a bitch.

“Hey… which side do you want?” he said once you walked inside the tent.

Without a single word you let yourself fall on the left side turning your back on him, you could hear his deep sigh loud and clear and it only made you roll your eyes at him even though he couldn't see you.

Next morning the chirping of the birds around woke you up, still in the haze of sleep you could feel a strong arm and a firm chest holding you and for a second it was the most peaceful and cared for you've ever felt. That was until you remember where you were and with who.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you pulled away in a matter of seconds not caring if you woke him too harshly.

“Wha- i'm sorry…” he apologized, still a bit confused and half asleep looking around as if he was lost “I was sleeping… i shouldn't have…”

“You're right, you shouldn't have”

Once out of the tent with your bag on your shoulder you couldn't find anyone around, all tents empty and there was a note stick to your mom and the coach's tent.

you looked so cute together, we figured you wouldn't want us to woke you up.

today's mission is to bring the bride and groom something significant and unique you can find around. you have till midday and sadly you are slightly delayed. good look baby!

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” this couldn't get any worse, though you realize it can when you hear his footsteps behind you. he stops to read the note and takes a deep sigh but doesn't say anything.

The first ten minutes you two walk in silence and you can't stop thinking about what would happen if you get lost in the middle of nowhere and how imprudent your mom's plan is. Vinnie walks a step behind you probably knowing is best if he gives you your space in a moment like this, what the hell are you even looking for? A heart shaped rock? A finger? Probably the one leaving the house after this is gonna be you.

“So… what are we even looking for?” he asks almost as if he didn't actually want you to hear him.

“Seriously you never stop making the stupidest questions!” you say in the most arrogant tone you can without looking at him as if you weren't asking that same question to yourself only two seconds ago but you just can't help it. You hate when he tries to act like he's all nice and innocent.

He curse under his breath and keeps walking behind you muttering things to himself you can't actually understand and you don't know what is more maddening, his annoying voice talking out loud or not being able to decipher what the hell is he saying.

“Look!” you hear him say before you get the chance to explode but you turn around anyway in case he found something worth going back to the camp finally.

Disappointment. There's no other word to describe your expression when you turn to him with all your high expectations thinking he might have found whatever it is that you need, however what your eyes meet is everything but useful. Vinnie is holding up a rock with a weird shape the size of his head with the stupidest smile you've ever seen painted in his face.

“It’s me!” he says comparing it with himself as if challenging you to point out the differences between them.

“He’s bold though” for some reason you answer and you find yourself having to fight back a chuckle… that damn smile. “And more handsome”

“So you think i'm handsome” his smile grows bigger and you facepalm yourself mentally.

“I never said-” he interrupts whatever your trying to say to defend yourself.

“You said he's more handsome” he holds the rock against his stomach now to rest his arms. “In order for that to be true i had to be handsome too, just not as much as him.”

Unable to think of a comeback fast enough you just roll your eyes and walk away from him but he still goes after you, you hear him drop the rock at some point but you keep pretending to look around to find something, anything at this point remotely unique to take back to the camp without the need to talk to him ever again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what did i ever do to deserve your eternal resentment?” he asks as if he's the one being aggravated here.

“You are not serious!” you say trying not to look back at him but feeling like you could punch him any second.

“Of course i am!” he shows his hands as a sign of rendition. “I'm sure it's somehow my fault so I ask you to make it pretty clear so i can apologize and fix it and end whatever this is.”

Can he be more maddening?!

“You wanna know what you did?!” you are too far gone to try to maintain a civilized conversation. “Being a heartless asshole! That's what you did!”

“Wha-” he looks genuinely confused and you almost clap and congratulate him on his performance. “I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific”

“Emily?” and with a single word his face falls in less than a second and you've never seen him this tense.

“What did she told you?” he asks clenching his jaw but his posture was restless.

“She didn't told me anything, I heard you!” it had been four years but you co sti reme as is if was yesterday.

It was your seventeenth birthday party. your first “big girl party.” Your mom agreed to leave for two days as long as you had the house intact and clean for when she came back.

You invited all your friends and managed to convince your brother to invite some of his, your brother and his buddies were a bit older so that had him exceptic but he did it anyway. either wat the goal was to get Vinnie to come, it wouldn't be hard anyway he was practically glued to your brother.

You've had a crush on Vinnie ever since you were little kids and your brother first brought him home with him after first day of school. Sadly you had always been too shy to keep a conversation with fore than three words with him but this had to be the day. Your best friend Emily had been encouraging you to finally make a move on him, after all you're only seventeen once.

Vinnie was there, as charming as ever and when he give you a birthday hug and a small pink velvet box you felt like you could die right there. With your best friend by your side telling you what to do and say you were actually able to have a nice conversation with him, every time he looked at you was like your heart was ready to jump outside your chest.

At some point you had to leave to receive more guests that you didn't even know but you were polite and they had presents so you didn't mind. It took you longer than you expected and when you went back to where you were trying to win your dream guy over you couldn't find him there or anywhere else. Asking around some guys told you they saw him go upstairs and you went looking for him remembering he was a bit tipsy already so maybe he wanted to throw up or something

But the bathroom was open and empty. Every door on the second floor was open except for one, your room's door that was cracked open letting you hear some strange noises coming from inside that made you want to go inside and tell whoever was using your room to go to a damn hotel or something but a louder sound froze your hand on the doorhandle.

“Vinnie!” your heart dropped to your feet when you recognize the girl's voice, it was your best friend Emily with the boy you had been daydreaming your whole life.

You turned around not daring to look inside and just when you were about to leave something else ended whatever remains there were of your beating heart.

“We shouldn't… she'd be devastated…” your best friend sounded mortified and that made you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I don't care about her… i just want you”

You didn't stayed for the rest of the party and ran away to the closest McDonald's where you parked your mother's car and cried for hours until the sunrise when you went back home to clean whatever mess your guests left that was nothing compared to the mess inside your mind and heart.

Next day at school your best friend hugged you and cried asking for your forgiveness again and again saying she was drunk and he had taken advantage of her state that she would never do something like that to you. You wanted to be angry at her but you couldn't, she looked so bad and you couldn't believe the sweet boy you had loved for so long had done something so disgusting and unthinkable.

After that day you couldn't even look at him without feeling physically ill and you were forced to spend the past four years with him practically living at your house.

“Look… i don't know what you think you-” you didn't let him finish when your hand slapped him hard on his right cheek, all this years of pent-up frustration were marked on his face now.

“You took advantage of her! She was drunk and you…” you couldn't even bring yourself to say it out loud.

“That’s what she told you?!” you tried to slap him again but he held your had, it wasn't a painful grasp, it wasn't even tight. he was just trying to stop you.

“Was she supposed to stay silent forever?” you asked with pure resentment in your voice. “God i can't believe i ever felt something else for you other than hate!”

His eyes look down at you with a strange glow on his eyes for half a second when his breathing started to get uneven. For what felt like an eternity there was just silence, only the noises of nature around you and his lip trembling as if he was fighting his own internal battle.

“She…” he hesitated, but it was as if looking at you give him the strength he needed. “She drugged me”

“What?” it was impossible, right? That was your best friend, the girl who had been by your side for years.

“She put something in my drink” his jaw clenched but his eyes never left yours as if he was hoping you could see the sincerity in them. “i was so confused… i, i remember thinking it was you that night”

You look at him, the tears he was fighting back were there for you to see and the vulnerability in his voice broke you. Even if you tried to hold on to Emily's version, this felt wrong.

“I remember you telling me you felt bad because she liked me to when we were…” he had to drag his hand over his face to keep focus but it was painfully evident how hard it was for him to talk about it. “The next morning i woke up next to her, she told me she would say i forced myself on her if i try to tell anyone. I just never thought she would say that to you either way”

You were speechless, a part of you still wanted to believe Emily's side of the story but the more you thought about it, the more you could see the differences between them. His voice, his eyes, his body language, everything about him say that this was still something so painful to think and talk about, he look devastated after four years.

Emily, she had cried in the moment but it wasn't nothing even close to what he looked like and he wasn't even crying. She just cried until you forgive her and went on like nothing happened and she even continue the past years making off-putting comments about Vinnie and how sexy she thought he was. Back then you thought it was some twisted coping mechanism but now…

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Vinnie…” you tried but nothing came up, there was so much you wanted to say.

You wanted to apologize, you wanted to comfort him. Four years and he couldn't even talk about it fearing the consequences. But your voice and words were gone.

“It’s okay” he tried to brush it off but it was too late for that.

“No it's not” you shake your head feeling like it was about to explode.

There was so much tension, so much pain in the air and the only thing you could find yourself able to do was to hug him, wrapping your arms around his waist, your face on his chest where you could hear his racing heart breaking yours again but this time it was worse, it wasn't a teenage heartbreak. It was guilt and shame, you had been punishing him for years for something that left an irreparable mark on him.

Not long after his arms were around you too, it was a small comfort and it made you feel like a monster after everything you put him through.

“I'm so sorry…” you mumble, shaking your head still resting on his face. “If I hadn't invited you”

“It wasn't your fault”

“Yes it was” your legs were shaking and all you could think about was the amount of times you brought her home after that forcing him to be on the same place as her. “I wanted you there, all because some stupid crush… I did this to you”

“She did it” he rub small circles around my back. “I had a crush on you too… I would've find the way to show up at that party either way”

His admission took you by surprise but you couldn't bring yourself to give it a second thought, there was so much more going on.

“I should be the one comforting you” you said, your hand looking for his own on your back and he met you halfway intertwining his fingers with yours making your heart stop.

“You are” his intense eyes locked with yours was a drowning feeling and you were yet to decide if you liked it or not. “Knowing you believe me, that you don't hate me anymore, it's all i could ask for”

You stayed there standing in silence just looking into each other's souls for what it felt like hours, maybe minutes, time was so relative in that moment. You barely notice when he reached for something on the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Would you be my date for your mom's wedding?” he said holding up a thin golden chain with a heart shaped locket on it. It was the one he gave to you on your seventeenth birthday.

“How?” you look at him confused but the anticipation in his eyes softened you in a second. “Yes… of course i will”

This time wasn't a task, it wasn't an order from your mother. It was your choice and you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Your brother found it on the trash and give it back to me” there was a hint of nostalgia on his expression but he smiled, that damn smile.

“And you carry it everywhere?” you tried to joke but you were also confused when he nodded.

“It reminds me of you… the last time you looked at me with those beautiful bright eyes i've been dreaming of since i met you” there was nothing negative in his expression or voice and that disarmed you. “And you are looking at me like that again.”

He positioned himself behind you and helped you put it on. You had to touch and look at it at least twice to start to believe it. It was the first time you got to use it.

Am hour later you were back at the camp where everyone was already sharing some sandwiches and soda, different conversations around but all of them stopped like they've just seen a ghost when they're eyes locked on you two. Walking and laughing tougher. Holding hands, fingers intertwined.

“Well i think we won the game!” Vinnie said with an enthusiastic tone hugging you by your shoulder making you blush.

[siriuslylantsov]

be my valentine

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which, spencer asks you out after a hearty but incomplete info dump on the history of valentines day.

tags: fluff! idiots inlove, gn!reader, reader is briefly described as shorter than spencer, teasing!spencer, grumpy!reader, penelope is an angel and i love her so much, reader shitting on valentines day and raising some very valid points.

a/n: based on this request, second fic for the event!! i know its still four days till valentines day but! if i didnt get this done now it would've been late. i rewrote this THREE times... but i rlly like how this version came out! happy reading :)

wc: 2.1k

it's your lunch break and you’re glaring at yet another sappy couple that walks by you. grumbling, you take another bite of your blueberry muffin. spencer laughs from his seat in front of you, amused by how your lip curls into an irritated pout. the two of you had walked to a cafe, a brief reprieve away from the frenzied police department you were stationed at for this week's case. 

“motherfuckers,” you seethe, still chewing your food. “i hate valentine's day.”

he laughs again, his tone sarcastic, “really, i never would’ve guessed.”

your glare shifts to him as you cross your arms. his grin is still there, annoyingly persistent, you hate that it doesn't affect him as much as it should. if you told him this, he would’ve told you that it didn't pack much of a punch. 

you roll your eyes and continue with a heavy scoff, “it's just another fake holiday, you know. like mother's day. created by greeting card companies trying to commercialise a day that shouldn't even exist honestly. every day should be dedicated to showing your loved ones how much you care, not just 24 hours in the middle of february.”

he accepts your cynicism with a smirk, completely accustomed to it. he knows you don’t mean it, not entirely, you just like to rant. “you know valentines day actually goes back about 2000 years. i’m sure greeting card companies weren't around back then,” he corrects, biting his lip in suppression.

your eyes narrow into slits, feeling the faint shift in the air of an incoming info dump. you ignore the way you want to hear what he has to say and take a sip of your coffee instead. you stall to torture him a bit, it's funny how he squirms.

“really,” you drag out, stroking your chin in exaggerated contemplation. you stare at him knowingly, he wants to continue but he's waiting for you to give him the green light. you laugh quietly, mood already improved, “go on.”

spencer visibly brightens, sitting up straighter and hands springing into action. “well, valentine's day has a really fascinating and somewhat convoluted history,” he starts, almost giddily. “the earliest accepted theory can be traced back to the roman festival of lupercalia, which was celebrated from february 13th to 15th. it was a fertility festival dedicated to faunus, the roman god of agriculture, and it included a ritual where men would sacrifice a goat and a dog, then use strips of the goat’s hide to whip women-”

“wait, they used goat skin to whip women?” you interject, eyes widening incredulously.

“yes! they willingly lined up for it too, believing it would make them more fertile,” he explains, far too animated considering the context, but it's okay. you like his enthusiasm. 

you grimace, “weird.”

“right. however, the day of love that we now recognise was brought by st. valentine, though which valentine is unclear—there were at least three martyred saints by that name. the most famous story involves a priest in third-century rome who defied emperor claudius ii's orders by secretly performing marriages for young soldiers,” he pauses to take a breath. you use it to bring your coffee back up to your lips, hiding your smile.

“claudius believed single men made better warriors, so he banned them from marrying,” he clarifies to which you nod. “when valentine was caught, he was executed on february 14th, which is why he’s the namesake of the holiday. some versions of the story even say that he sent a letter to his jailer's daughter signed ‘from your valentine’ which could be the origin of the modern tradition.”

“huh,” you pick your lip in thought, spencer hides the way his eyes dart down to them as you do it. “but that’s still an execution, how did it-”

the shrill tone of your ringtone interrupts you. “mhm, okay,” you respond when you pick up the phone. “we’ll be right there.” 

spencer stares at you expectantly, reaching over to grab your bag. he secures it over his shoulder and stands up. 

“it was jj,” you explain, stuffing the last bits of muffin into your mouth. “wi’ness ‘howed up.”

the food-muffled words make him chuckle and hold out a hand for you to get up. you let him pull you up with a dramatic huff, still holding his hand as you dust crumbs from your lap. you realise it a little too late and let go with a start, frown returning when you realise he isn’t going to let you carry your bag.

the walk back only took about five minutes before but this time's slower pace makes it a longer ordeal. comfortable silence brackets the two of you until it doesn’t when spencer speaks up.

“so, there's actually a lot more to the history of valentine's day. for instance, how the day became one of romance instead of, as you said, one that marked a martyrdom. we could, i don't know, discuss this properly over dinner. or drinks? or ice cream, i know that you like ice cream-”

filler words... he’s nervous. amid his rambling, he doesn't realise that you’ve stopped in your tracks. 

“-we can do whatever you want, i don't mind.” when he looks beside him and doesn't find you, he turns around. he can scarcely read the expression on your face, he usually can. this causes a little bout of concern to bubble up, “what is it?”

“are you asking me out?” your question is immediate, blunt, as a confused crease forms between your eyebrows.

well shit, he was. his lips part as he processes what he just said, he looks a little like a deer in headlights the way he stares back at you. was that too much? are you mad? did you want him to ask you out? what if you say no? he should say something. what if he messes everything up? he can’t-

“spencer,” his name rings out softly, pulling him from his spiral. 

his eyes snap to yours, searching, desperate to read between the lines, to piece together what you’re thinking like he always does—except this time, he can’t. he squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again, “yes.”

he swallows hard and adds, “on a date.”

“i got that,” you murmur, stepping closer to him, and closing the distance that he unintentionally left.

his head dips, voice small. “i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

your head tilts slightly, studying him. “you didn’t.”

the reassurance eases him a little but not enough as the anxiety claws at him while he waits for your answer. your phone sounds again from your pocket, this time a text from morgan. you quickly type out a response–got lost, be there in 2. it's a pathetic excuse, if you focused, the station was in your direct eye line. but you needed to say something. 

“okay.”

he can't help the sign of relief that slips out of him, you giggle at the sound. when he looks at you again, he's unmeasurably happy to see your poorly concealed smile, breaking out in his own matching one. 

“yeah?” he asks sheepishly.

you nod, chewing your bottom lip, “yeah.”

your eyes squint at the corners, a side effect of the same grin that those sappy couples had been sporting, the same one that you’d been complaining about a little while ago. it makes you want to kick yourself, so you do the next best thing. you take hold of spencer's hand and drag yourself back to the pd. spencer shuffles somewhat behind you, trying to keep up with your stride. it doesn't take him long with those long legs of his.

his thumb strokes your knuckles gently–deliberately, you feel–but he pretends it's an unconscious action with the way his eyes are trained ahead. it makes you roll your eyes. when you near, you reluctantly let go of each other, the moment being the last time the two of you are alone for the rest of the day.

-

the team ends up solving the case a few hours later, taking the jet home where a valentines day baking spread is set up in the briefing room. all set up by the resident tech savvy. penelope tells you later that it took a whole week of convincing on her part, insisting that it would be quick and she’d clean up, and that everyone would get home to their own valentine's day plans in no time. 

there are a few heart-shaped helium balloons floating in the corners, and pink streamers in easy to reach places. the room is drastically more inviting, maybe the tones of fuschia and bubblegum have something to do with that. a cake and a bowl of suspiciously dyed punch reside on the table, along with pink plates and cups.

“penelope,” you gasp when you see them.

perfectly curated baskets of chocolate and cookies and associated items for everyone. you pick up the one with your name on it and inside you find: a candle, your favourite candy tied together with a little bow and a letter signed ‘happy valentines day, sweetheart. love, penny xx’. 

oh my god, you could kiss her. 

“it's like christmas,” emily muses from the other end of the table. you hear jj mutter something in agreement. you peek over at spencer, it's probably the hundredth time that you've snuck a glance his way. his eyes were already on you every other time, only now they were accompanied by a pair of red heart-shaped glasses, the clear plastic lenses offering a perfect view of his hazel orbs. the picture makes you laugh to yourself, you can barely hear it echoing from his end. 

-

about 30 minutes later, only the stragglers are left. in better words, the single people. the individuals with partners having rushed off to their own respective plans. you're making small talk with another girl who worked around the office when you feel a light hand on your shoulder, spencer nodding his head toward the elevator to signal your leave. you politely wish her goodbye and walk out with him. 

“cute glasses,” you tease, bumping his shoulder with yours, though the height difference makes it so you're nudging his upper arm. 

“yeah? i might get the lenses medicated, switch them out for my regular ones,” he jokes, his elbow nudging yours gently as he pushes the bridge of the glasses up the slope of his nose instinctively. 

“good idea,” you nod.

“you think?”

“mhm.” 

once again, he beats you to your bag, swiping it from your chair and carrying it along with his own. you meekly toy with the hem of your shirt as the two of you walk to the elevator. 

“so, bummer that neither of us have plans today. it’s so early,” you say, being blatantly obvious with what you're suggesting.

spencer only offers you an indifferent “yeah, bummer” in response, walking in when the doors slide open. when you look at him though, he's anything but indifferent, the corner of his lip pulling up in a crooked smile, irritatingly smug. you don't know where he gets off on being so at ease but the expression on his face makes you scowl as you follow him in. 

he is silent the whole ride down. you become increasingly annoyed, only faltering slightly when his hand reaches down to hold yours. his fingers thread between yours and you not-so subtly curl yours over his, ignoring the way he looks down at you. 

you try not to smile at the domestic picture of the two of you walking out hand in hand. thankfully the basement is empty. he pauses between your cars and mutters a quick “see you monday” before loosening his fingers and turning to walk away.

“spencer,” you groan, almost a whine as you squeeze his hand before he can let go.

he responds immediately, without missing a beat, “yes, angel.”

fuck.

you want to melt but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “would you like to do something tonight?” you grit out begrudgingly.

“i would love to,” he agrees, pulling you closer with your hand. your gaze darts to the two bag straps on his shoulder and you realise he had no intention of letting you go just like that. so you shove him, a little hard that he stumbles a bit. he huffs a laugh and you shake your head dismissively. 

he slowly, tentatively, dips down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

“how does thai food sound?” he asks, that same bashfulness creeping into his voice that you love so dearly. 

“sounds perfect.”

you share another sweet smile that would probably make you gag from an outside perspective but now it just makes you feel dizzy. he leads you back to his car, muttering something about how he’ll pick yours up tomorrow morning. you want to argue with him but that same dizzy feeling stops you.

you can't help the dreamy sigh that slips out when he connects your hands again over the centre console. thank god for st. valentine, you think.

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divider from @saradika-graphics

[beloveds-embrace]

(non-sexual smell kink with simon riley 🙂‍↕️)

Simon wasn’t used to softness.

His life had been a long stretch of damp alleyways, stale cigarettes, and the kind of bars where the floor stuck to your boots if you stood still too long. Even the so-called clean places had a lingering scent of old beer and sweat, clinging to the air like a bad memory. He’d spent years thinking that was just how life smelled- musty, metallic, a little rotten around the edges.

Then you came along.

Simon never thought of himself as a man who cared much for scents, but you ruined him without even trying. It started with something small- your presence shifting the air in a room before he even saw you. A whisper of something clean and soft, clinging to your skin like an invisible halo.

You used body powder, he’d eventually learn, the kind that puffed into the air like smoke when you dusted it over your skin, leaving a faint, lingering trail wherever you went. He’d caught the scent of it the first time he stepped into your space, expecting the usual mix of cheap air fresheners or laundry detergent. Instead, he was hit with something warm, almost nostalgic, like fresh linens and a touch of vanilla.

It drove him mad in the best way.

Simon found himself leaning in when you passed by, subtle at first- just a slight tilt of his head when you moved close enough for your scent to brush against him. Then, less subtle- pulling you against his chest after long missions, face buried in your neck, inhaling deep enough to burn the memory of you into his lungs.

“You smell so good.” He muttered once, almost embarrassed by the admission.

You’d laughed, fingers brushing against the back of his head, free of the mask. “Yeah? What do I smell like?”

He hesitated, unsure how to explain it. Saying soft didn’t make sense. Neither did safe, even though that’s what it felt like. So he settled for: “Just… really good.”

You didn’t tease him for it. Just smiled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and let him breathe you in.

And the first time Johnny met you, he almost had the same reaction.

Simon had warned him ahead of time- half because he wanted Johnny to behave and half because he wasn’t sure how his best mate would react to seeing Simon with someone so different from everything he’d ever known.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Simon had said.

Johnny had grinned at him. “Wouldd nae dream of it.”

You’d met at a quiet pub, one of the few places Simon could tolerate. Johnny had been his usual self, easygoing and full of charm especially for Simon’s missus, but the moment you’d leaned in to shake his hand, his expression shifted.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny blurted out, blinking at you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and your eyes shifted in hesitance towards Simon. “Uh. Nice to meet you too?”

Simon sighed, already knowing where this was going.

Johnny sniffed the air- actually sniffed- then gave Simon a look of utter betrayal. “You never told me she smelled this good.”

You let out a startled laugh. “What?”

Simon groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t encourage him, lovie.”

Johnny, the bastard, ignored him completely. “I mean it, love, you smell incredible. It’s like-” He inhaled deeply again, thoughtful. “Powdered sugar. Or fresh sheets. Or- hell, I dunno. Just really, really nice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, I do use a lot of body powder.”

“Where do you get it?” Johnny asked immediately.

Simon shot him a glare. “…Why?”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows. “So I can get some for myself, obviously.”

Simon muttered something under his breath that made Johnny laugh, but he ignored them both, turning to you instead. “Sorry, love. Just didn’t expect my best mate to be walking around smelling like a bloody bakery all the time.”

You smiled at Simon, amused. “You didn’t tell him?”

Simon crossed his arms, feeling warm in a way that had nothing to do with the pub’s heating. You looked lovely. Content. Happy, leaning into him without fear. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

Johnny scoffed. “Not relevant? if I had a lass smellin’ this nice, I’d be bragging all day.”

Simon just shook his head, reaching for his drink. But later that night, when it was just the two of you, he tucked you against him and pressed his face into your neck, breathing deep.

You smelled like home. Like warmth. Like the one thing in his life that had never felt dirty, no matter how much blood and grime he carried with him.

And he would never, ever get enough of it.

[dropsnectar]

When The Dragon Saves You from the Prince

Dragon x gn!reader

NSFW

So it looks like this turned into something a little longer than a drabble. I was going to wait a week until my poll finished but got impatient. So! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

You knew as one of noble birth, the child of a Duke, that you would eventually be married off to the highest bidder. That's just how marriage was for the nobility. However, you hadn’t expected your loving parents to set up an engagement with an infamously rakish and daft prince. 

You hated the man. Whatever was supposed to be going on between his ears, was judged by that thing between his legs. When he had first met you, he had leveled with you that his reputation was true, and that expecting him to be faithful would be like asking water not to be wet.

Happy to have an excuse not to touch him, you basically ignored the man up until a week to the wedding. One afternoon his father the King had decided the two of you needed to look chummier, so he sent you off on a joint hunting trip with a few nobles. Of course, what you didn’t know was that these nobles were friends of his royal dumbass. 

They spent the whole time mocking your dukedom, and making salacious comments about your body and wedding night. Of course, your idiotic fiance only laughed at your expense, making comments of his own. 

To your own credit, you had handled their buffoonery with grace and wit. At one point, one of your barbed replies had actually struck a chord with one of the nobles, realization dawning on his face. He came off his horse and smacked you with all of his might. Too weak a man for a punch, he had gotten a solid hit on you, and you felt your eye heat and swell. Not good. The atmosphere had gone from snide joy, to predatory. 

The Prince himself got off his horse and stalked forward and pulled you by the hair down to the ground in front of his friends. They demanded to be repaid for the hurt done to them.

“I’m sure your pretty little mouth can be put to better use.” The Prince laughed, and he and his friends started to undress themselves.

That's when a loud, earsplitting screech hurtled through the air. A loud thumping and suddenly a large green dragon with large spikes started stampeding towards the group. He bucked aside the nobles, sending them and their horses running. Your fiance tried his best to pull up his pants, as he reached for his sword, but was unable to do either successfully. The dragon had stopped and stood tall before him, nostrils flaring. A pair of molten eyes stared him down, as if to challenge him. Of course, faced between defending you and running, he chose the latter. 

You couldn’t see the Dragon above you well, on account of the swelling in your eye and the hard pulsing headache that had started to vibrate through your head. The Dragon didn’t move, just stared at you as you blacked out.

***

When you came to you were warm. You opened your eyes to find yourself in a small room seemingly carved out of stone. There was a doorway with no door, that when you traveled through, brought you to a large cavern with high ceilings. You were surprised to find furniture, shelves filled with books, a large wooden desk filled with parchment and ink. 

“You are awake.”

You were startled to find yourself facing a being. He looked somewhat human, but the angles of his jaw, elbows and fingers were inhumanly sharp. His arms were covered in green scales, as well as his webbed ears, giving him away. When he spoke again you could see his sharp canines. He asked about the pain in your head. You admitted to feeling fine and he nodded. You had apparently gotten a concussion. 

The Dragon, who revealed his name to be Reix, explained that he had been exploring his new territory when he had felt evil and human pain radiating from where you had been staying. The land had recently been gifted to him by the king in exchange for his help in finding a cure for an elf and human disease that had run rampant for the last decade. He had taken it as his summer home, and was happy to find your health well.

You were surprised by his poised and friendly demeanor. You had heard that dragons were wild beasts, who occasionally took human form to steal treasure. You thanked him for his help, even if it was for not. You explained that the man had been the prince, and your fiance at that. You would not be able to escape him, even with your influence as a duke's child. 

“If you have nowhere to stay, you may stay here. It may not compare to an ornate palace, but I can assure you it will be better than what you would have to go home to.” 

Choose between a roaring evil monster and a kind, thoughtful being? Of course you were going with the dragon.

As the days went on you learned more about Reix, his character and his interest. He was the quiet studious type who prized his books over anything else. He even kept ancient first editions of many popular novels, some even with signatures. He also had some antique memorabilia, some keys from a printing press from his mothers favorite publishing company, a bookmark from a late saintess who he had befriended long ago. He showed you all his favorite books, nonfiction and fiction. You were even surprised to find that he enjoyed the occasional romance. 

“Why, Sir Dragon, are you perhaps a romantic?” You teased. He looked at you with pursed lips and a faint blush.

“I am not so cold that I can’t be moved by a good story. After all, most people experience it once or twice in their life. Love that is.”

The two of you had been fast friends, bonding over shared interests. You spent weeks, months like this. He would hunt or go out to town for your meals. He taught you how to cook. You were terrible at it at first, but he eventually learned to trust you to make omelets, and the famous everything soup. He was an incredible cook too, and he seemed to enjoy sharing recipes and meals with you. You couldn’t help but notice the occasional fond glances he’d send your way. 

You had to admit, you weren’t unaffected by his presence either. You noticed how strong the muscles of his arms were as he reached up to retrieve a book from the top shelf for you. His glowing hazel eyes always looked at you with respect and reverence. No one had ever looked at you like that before. And you had to admit you had never met a kinder person than him. You loved his smile,how his teeth tended to stick out as he spoke to you.

You were the one to make the first move. Reix had been sitting on the couch, reading in his usual way, when you cuddled right up next to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder and covered your lap and feet with a blanket, as if to nap. He was stiff at first but eventually relaxed into you. You started to do this at every opportunity and you would notice that he would now forgo his study chair for the couch. Neither of you ever said anything about it, but you two never missed an afternoon cuddle.

One day, Reix sat you down, his limbs twitchy and expression solemn. 

“I will be straight with you. My species goes through something called a heat a few times every year. Mine is nearing, so I will be traveling to my home up north for a week.” He bit his lip before continuing. “But do not worry, I will stock the pantry and make sure you are as comfortable as possible while I’m… gone.”

A heat? You had read enough smutty novels to know what that was. The thought made your heart beat hard in your chest and a warmness pool in your gut. Well. Right now was as good of a time as any.

“What if I wanted you to stay?” You enunciated slowly. Reix frowned at you.

“You do not understand, I will not be myself. I will be like an animal. I won't be able to control my instincts.” He stared at you with big watery eyes.

You walked towards his chair and knelt at his feet, taking his hands into yours. 

“I will take all of you, if you let me.” You then pulled his hands up to your cheeks, forcing him to cradle your face. The two of you held each other's gaze for a long time, the tension palpable. 

When he kissed you, it didn’t taste sweet, like his words always were. His breath was fire, after all. The two of you burned up together.

***

You were wretched out of sleep by the feeling of rubbing on your ass. Strong arms gripped your waist, and you felt his ragged breath in your ear, moans sputtered from his lips, whispers of,”I’m sorry.” More groaning, “You feel so good…ahh!” And he came all over your nightgown. 

But this didn’t seem to sate him at all, as he continued to rub himself into the curve of your asscheeks, slick of him coating you and dripping down to your entrance. He seemed to realize you were awake because his voice increased in volume.

“Please. You promised…” He moaned out as he went from fucking your ass to plunging himself in between the plush of your thighs. The change in texture seemed to get him going as his speed started to increase. Much to his annoyance you turned around. He hated having to go even a second without his dick touching you, and you pulled him into a hot passionate kiss.

His mouth devoured you hungrily, arms now roaming the lines of your body. His eyes were glazed over in lust as he reached his head down to suck on your nipples, trying to get you sufficiently worked up. When he was close again, he brought dick up to your entrance, pushing in just the tip as he came. His hot cum slid into you, prepping you for what was to come next. You clenched around nothing, and started grinding on his dick, needing to take more of his length. 

He took you in one harsh thrust. You hadn’t seen what he had looked like before, but you could tell that his dick must have been an unusual shape. The ridges of his dick dragged deliciously against your walls, making you drool. He was so big it was a painful stretch. But you were nobility, and nobility took the long and hard things in life and made it work for them.

You reached your hand down and felt the part of him that wasn’t inside you and slowly started pumping, enjoying the soft, yet firm texture of him. He slowed his thrusting, suddenly overcome by how you were making him feel. The duality of your hands on him and being inside you made him want to scream out. His good little noble felt divine. He was having a spiritual awakening right there in your bedroom, as he got closer and closer to release. 

Eventually you had gotten used to the feeling of him and started rocking your hips in time with his strokes. The delectable friction he was giving you was building up inside you, a hot fiery pit about to explode. Your Reix’s gaze was full of devotion and need, but the way one of his hands gently came up to cup your cheeks made you burn. Even now, when he was ravaging you like the wild beast everyone assumed he was, he still treasured you.

You came hard around his girth, crying out as white hot pleasure pushed its way from your core to your fingertips. Reix soon followed after, unleashing another impossibly large load of his wetness within you. He slowed his minstrations and pulled out, going back to fucking your thighs until you were properly recovered enough to take him again. And take him you did, all through the night and the following day. 

When his heat had cooled, he brought you fruits, cheeses and bread, taking small bites and feeding it to you, as you were too exhausted to do so yourself. He seemed to take great joy in this as his normal small smile was blinding as he cared for you. He pulled you up and the two of you took a bath. He made sure to wipe you down first, every swipe of his rag gentle as he worshiped you with his glowing eyes. When he was done, he added more heat to the water and joined you, settling you down between his legs as he held your back to his chest.

You rested in silence for awhile, enjoying the warmth of the water and each others skin. 

“We should do something about that fiance of yours. Mind if I eat him?” He was playing with the damp curls of your hair, relishing in the texture. You smiled up at him.

“You don’t know where he's been. You could catch something. But I do have an idea. If you are up for it that is.” 

“For you, I would do anything.”

You smiled. Your father was next in line for the throne after the prince. Reix was a gentle giant most of the time, but you couldn’t help but think what a dashing and benevolent prince he would make.

[shy9-29]

GIVING HEESEUNG VIAGRA WHEN HE RATER FOCUSES ON HIS GAME THAN ON YOU (it’s not a want, it’s a need.)

and ends up overstimulating you 😜

hard mode activated - lhs (m)

lee heeseung x reader

When your gamer boyfriend keeps ignoring you for his ranked matches, you slip him something to make sure he never forgets who’s really in control—turns out, three rounds later, neither of you are logging off anytime soon. ✉️ wc 1968 - tw ‼️ drug use (Viagra without consent), dubcon, rough sex, degradation, overstimulation, possessiveness, car sex, masturbation, light manipulation, inexperienced reader, breeding kink, praise kink, spanking

📝: this trope is so fun like guys I’m more important. Genre: smut, romance, comedy, slight angst, gamer!AU, modern AU, established relationship, chaotic energy.

“NO—Jake, you missed! What the hell are you doing, bro?!”

Heeseung’s voice is sharp, almost panicked as he throws himself back in his gaming chair, headset slightly askew, fingers tapping violently at the keyboard like it might help him recover from whatever in-game disaster just happened.

You blink at him from the bed, legs crossed, wearing his hoodie and literally nothing else, but he doesn’t even glance your way.

“Are you seriously yelling at Jake right now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“He sold the push!” Heeseung says like that’s supposed to make sense, eyes glued to his screen. “We had it, and then he ran past the stun grenade like an idiot— wait wait wait, I gotta rotate—!”

You push off the bed and pad over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. You know exactly how warm your skin is, how exposed your thighs are when you bend forward just slightly—but he’s still locked in.

“Hee,” you murmur against his ear, swaying a little. “Let me play a round.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not good at this game,” he says, dead serious, not even trying to be mean—just brutally honest as he adjusts his headset again. “You get motion sick and then you shoot the wall.”

You blink.

Hard.

“Wow. Okay. Rude.”

“I’m just being honest, babe,” he mumbles, eyes still scanning the screen. “It’s fine. You’re good at other things.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno,” he says. “Like… being pretty?”

Heeseung’s never looked away from his screen.

Not once.

You stare at the back of his head for a solid five seconds, arms still wrapped around him.

He doesn’t even notice the silence.

And that’s when something shifts in your brain.

You smile slowly, fingers trailing down to his chest. “You thirsty?”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “Grab me water?”

“Sure.”

You disappear into the kitchen.

And you come back with a water bottle.

But you also come back with a plan.

Heeseung leans back in his chair, headset slipping slightly as he swipes at the sweat gathering on the back of his neck.

Weird.

It wasn’t even hot a second ago.

He adjusts his grip on the mouse, trying to focus. The screen’s still flashing red from the last round. He barely caught the kill cam because your arms were around him, your voice all soft in his ear, and then the way you smiled when he said you weren’t good at the game—it made something twist in his chest.

Now you were gone, and everything felt… weirdly quiet.

Too quiet.

“So… who was that?” Jake’s voice cracks through the headset like a bullet.

Heeseung blinks. “What?”

“Just now. The voice. Sounded like someone was clinging to you mid-match.”

“Oh,” Heeseung clears his throat and taps at his keyboard. “It was just Y/N.”

Jake makes a noise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, man,” Jake chuckles. “Just didn’t think she was real for a second. You always talk about her like she’s some imaginary girlfriend—‘She’s cute,’ ‘She plays sometimes,’ ‘She made me snacks,’—but I’ve never actually heard her.”

Heeseung frowns. “She is real.”

“Sure she is, bro,” Jake says with a teasing tone. “Although I gotta say, she didn’t sound too happy when you told her she sucked.”

“I didn’t say she sucked,” Heeseung mutters, eyes narrowing at the screen. “I just said she gets motion sick and shoots walls.”

Jake laughs louder now. “Romantic. No wonder she left.”

Heeseung leans back again, shifting in his seat. His whole body is starting to feel tense—tight in ways he’s never felt during a game before. Like every layer of clothing is too warm. His joggers are clinging. The waistband is digging. And his thighs—

He shifts again, more aggressively this time.

“What the—ugh,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair. His neck is red. His cheeks too. Something’s wrong.

“Hyung,” Jake says slowly. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Heeseung says quickly, voice cracking a little. “Just—it’s really warm in here. I think—maybe I need a break.”

“You? Take a break from ranked?” Jake sounds like he’s about to faint. “Nah, something’s off. Did Y/N mess with you or something?”

Heeseung’s about to laugh it off—say no, of course not—but then he remembers your smile.

That soft “Sure” when he asked for water.

And the way you walked out without a word.

“…I think she did.”

Heeseung yanks the headset off with one hand and slams it onto the desk, jaw tight, breath uneven.

His palms are sweating.

His heart is pounding.

And his cock is aching—harder than it’s ever been in his life, straining against his sweats so much it hurts.

He didn’t even realize it at first—just thought the heat was from the game. But now it’s undeniable. His skin is burning. His whole body’s flushed. And his mind is clouded with one name.

“Y/N,” he growls, standing up so fast the chair wheels screech against the floor.

You’re on the bed.

Phone in hand.

Legs stretched out, innocent as ever like you didn’t just ruin his game and drug him with a freaking hard-on pill.

Heeseung stares at you, pupils blown.

You glance up. Smile.

“Done already?”

His jaw clenches.

“What did you give me?”

You blink, tilting your head. “Just water.”

“Y/N,” he says again, this time lower—deeper. “What did you put in it?”

You hum, pretending to think. “Something to help you focus.”

He’s across the room before you can blink.

Your phone flies out of your hand, tossed somewhere near the pillow, and suddenly you’re pinned flat against the mattress, wrists trapped above your head by one of his hands while the other grabs your thigh, forcing it open.

“Hee—” you gasp, wide-eyed.

“You ruined my game,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours, nose brushing your cheek as his hips slot between your legs. “I had my best K/D this week and you—you—decided to mess with me?”

“I just wanted attention,” you whisper.

“You could’ve said that without drugging me,” he mutters—but his voice is wrecked, his body betraying him, grinding down against your bare skin like he’s already too far gone.

You whimper when you feel it—how hard he is, how thick, how desperate he sounds trying not to lose it.

“You’re gonna fix this,” he whispers darkly, his lips brushing your ear. “All of it.”

You swallow. “How?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you—and the look in his eyes is lethal.

“You’re not leaving this bed until I come at least three times.”

His mouth crashes into yours—no warning, no patience. Just raw, teeth-clashing hunger.

His hands are all over you now, shaking with the effort of holding back, but still desperate to feel everything. Your hoodie rides up as he rips it higher, fingers digging into your hips so hard it leaves marks.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he mutters into your mouth. “You really drugged me just to make me touch you?”

You nod, dazed, already breathing heavy. “You were ignoring me.”

“And this is your solution?” he growls, grinding down into your core, his clothed cock dragging right against your heat. “This? Making me lose my damn mind while I’m on call with my team?”

You moan when he rolls his hips again—harder.

Heeseung groans, low and pained, like even that isn’t enough. “God, I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ explode.”

Then he pulls back just enough to rip his hoodie off, exposing that unfairly pretty body you’ve been staring at all day. Pale skin flushed, chest rising fast.

He tugs at the waistband of your panties next—snaps them, actually, then pushes them down your legs in one rough sweep. They land somewhere on the floor.

And then he’s pushing your thighs apart, crawling between them like he owns you.

“You better remember this next time you try to pull shit like that,” he mutters, tugging his sweats just far enough down to free himself.

He’s thick—hard—already leaking at the tip, flushed red and twitching with need. It makes you gasp without meaning to, legs trying to close out of instinct.

Heeseung grabs your knees and shoves them wide open.

“Nope,” he hisses, lining himself up. “You started this. You’re taking it.”

And then he’s sliding in—too fast, too deep.

Your back arches immediately, breath catching.

“H-Heeseung—” you choke, the stretch overwhelming. “It hurts—”

His face falters for half a second, but his hands never stop moving—he’s pushing your hair out of your face, kissing your cheek, whispering, “Shh, I know, baby. I know. You’re just tight. It’s okay. You can take it.”

His hips grind down again, slower this time but still deep, and you whimper.

“You’re gonna take all of me, yeah?” he murmurs against your skin, voice suddenly soft again as he rocks into you. “Wanted this so bad you had to drug me for it… now you’re getting every inch.”

By the time he’s buried all the way inside you, your thighs are shaking, your head tipped back, and you’re gasping like you’ve just been pulled under.

Heeseung isn’t faring much better.

His jaw is tight, his brows drawn together, body trembling with restraint. Every roll of his hips makes his breath stutter—but he doesn’t stop. Not when you whine his name, not when your nails drag down his back, and definitely not when your walls clench around him so tight he groans, loud and broken.

You feel it when he starts to lose rhythm—hips jerking harder, messier, as the high claws its way up his spine. “Fuck—fuck, I’m—”

“Inside,” you breathe, nails gripping his arms. “Inside, please—”

His groan splits through the air.

He presses his mouth to your neck, moaning as he throbs inside you, warmth spreading deep with each pulse of his release. You both freeze for a moment, panting hard, your legs wrapped around his waist like you never want him to pull out.

But then—

Heeseung doesn’t move.

Not really.

He stays inside, chest pressed to yours, still twitching. His hips shift slightly.

And then again.

You flinch. “Hee—w-wait—”

He lifts his head.

And when he looks at you this time, his eyes are darker. Hungrier. Like something else just snapped.

“You thought one round would be enough?” he asks, voice low and wrecked, cock still hard inside you. “You gave me viagra, Y/N.”

Your mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

Heeseung leans down, kisses you slow, then starts thrusting again. No break.

“We’re not done,” he whispers. “Not even close.”

“You’re shaking already,” Heeseung murmurs against your lips, voice thick and low as he rolls his hips into you again—slow and deep.

You let out a sob, nails digging into his back. “It’s too much—”

He doesn’t stop.

Instead, he groans softly, forehead resting against yours as he keeps moving. Every stroke is deliberate now—sliding in deep, grinding against every sensitive spot until you’re gasping and arching into him again.

“You really thought you could drug me,” he whispers, “and this wouldn’t happen?”

You whimper, hips twitching under his grip. “I-I just wanted you—”

“You have me.” His voice drops. “All of me.”

One hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit—rubbing slow circles while he keeps fucking into you like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out.

Your back arches off the bed. “H-Hee—!”

He chuckles, soft but breathless, hips never faltering. “Too much? But you were so confident earlier,” he says, kissing along your jaw. “Now look at you. Messy little thing, can’t even keep your legs still.”

You can’t.

They’re trembling, clenching around his waist, your whole body locking up each time his cock presses into that sweet, overstimulated spot inside you.

“You sound so pretty like this,” he groans. “Can’t wait to hear you again when you fall apart.”

You’re already close.

Too close.

Heeseung feels it—your walls tightening, your moans slipping higher.

So he slows down more.

Keeps you right there, teetering.

Your eyes well up with frustrated tears. “Please—Hee, please—!”

He presses a kiss to your lips. “Beg for it.”

You nod fast, desperate. “Please, Heeseung—I need it, I need to come, I—”

“You’re gonna come with me this time,” he breathes. “So you feel it. Every last drop.”

Then he slams into you again.

Your whole body jerks—and this time when you come, it’s full-body, trembling, breathless, tears slipping from your eyes as he groans into your neck and follows right after, spilling deep inside you again with a shaky, “Fuck, baby—god, you’re perfect—”

You both collapse, sweaty and gasping.

He’s still inside you.

And still not softening.

You’re breathless under him, skin flushed and sticky, legs barely able to stay open—and still, Heeseung doesn’t move to pull out.

He’s staring at you, chest heaving, cock twitching inside your overstimulated walls.

“Still so fucking tight,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “You’re not even trying to push me away…”

Your lips part, dazed. “You’re still hard…”

Heeseung leans down, brushing your sweat-slick hair off your forehead. “I told you—this wasn’t over.”

And then he pulls out.

Only to flip you over onto your stomach with no warning.

You let out a shocked gasp, face pressing into the sheets, hips lifted by his hands until you’re on your knees, your ass in the air.

He spreads you open, slow—gentle, almost reverent—but there’s a wildness in his breathing. A quiet groan slips from his throat when he sees how messy you are, dripping and puffy from two rounds of being stuffed full.

Then his voice drops, deeper, darker.

“You look ruined.”

You whimper.

“But you’re gonna take me one more time, aren’t you?”

You nod helplessly. “Y-Yeah—”

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and then he’s sliding back in from behind, slow and deep and mean, hips slapping against the back of your thighs.

You cry out, legs buckling, but his hands grip your hips tight—forcing you to stay still as he pounds into you again.

“Sound even prettier like this,” he groans, picking up the pace. “All wet and fucked-out and crying my name.”

“Feels too good—” you sob, biting down on the sheets. “H-Heeseung—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He sounds wrecked now, breath stuttering. “One more time. You’re gonna give me one more—come on, you can do it.”

You’re shaking, legs trembling, and when his hand snakes around to rub your clit again—you break.

You scream into the pillow as your third orgasm hits like a wave, clenching around him so tight he curses under his breath, hips stuttering.

“Fuckfuckfuck—”

Heeseung buries himself to the hilt one last time, groaning as he spills deep inside you again, pulsing hard while your name falls from his lips like a prayer.

When he finally stills, your body collapses under him, boneless and twitching, his weight sinking over your back as he pants against your shoulder.

Neither of you says a word for a moment.

Just your breathing.

Just the mess.

Just the sound of your heart pounding in sync.

[steveslevis]

i want your things in my room

azriel x roommate!reader

summary: azriel is your roommate and one of your best friends. it's normal to have a crush on and have horny thoughts about your best friend every once in a while...right?

warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love!!!!!, angst, alcohol consumption, masturbation (m), dom/sub dynamic, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, so much dirty talk from az, slight degradation kink, praise kink, sir kink, semi-unprotected (?) rough piv, slight breeding kink, choking/breath play, size kink/big dick azriel as usual, dacryphilia, probably some things i missed idk

word count: 8.2k

a/n: based off of this ask!!!! don't ask how i wrote this so quickly idk what took over me

“Are you ever going to admit that you want to fuck Azriel?” a low, unamused voice murmurs in your ear as you feel the couch cushion behind your back dip slightly with the weight of their elbows. 

You whip your head around at an impressive speed, coming face-to-face with your best friend and neighbor, Nesta, who is smirking at you as she extends a plastic cup filled with a mystery concoction of alcohol towards you. 

She’d caught you staring at your roommate from across the living room, ignoring the rest of the people bustling around you to essentially undress him with your eyes. Well, it didn’t take too much to undress him with your eyes, considering he’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a fully open button-down short sleeve shirt, accenting the gold chain dangling around his neck and the swirling tattoos over his bare chest and arms. It’s not your fault that he’s attractive and nearly shirtless, it’s just distracting. 

“I will never admit such a thing, because it’s not true.” you retort matter-of-factly as you pluck the cup from her hand with an incredulous glare. 

“Oh, sure.” Nesta hums unconvincingly before rounding the couch to stand in front of you, holding a hand out to you to help you stand. “Let’s go, the boys want to play beer pong.”

A groan falls from your lips as you stand, letting her pull you across the room to the corner where Cassian had set up a folding table and ten cups on each side. Azriel and Cassian are standing on either side of the table, practicing tosses while poking fun at each other. 

Cassian is the first to notice you and his girlfriend walk over, a wide, drunken grin spreading over his face as he sets the ping pong ball down to pull Nesta in for an embrace. As he does, Nesta grumbles something about how she just saw him ten minutes ago and that he’s so clingy when he’s drunk, but there’s nothing but love behind her eyes as she jokes with him. 

Oh, how you wish you had someone to look at you like that.

 An arm slings around your shoulder as you stare longingly at the couple, breaking you from your desperate trance. You look over to see your roommate tugging you close, a half-smirk on his lips as he stares down at you. 

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” you say to him before looking back to Nesta and Cassian, who are giggling to themselves in between kisses, in their own little world. “I’m so happy Nes finally found someone who actually makes her happy.”

“Oh yeah, they’re disgustingly adorable.” Azriel replies, a slight cringe playing on his face as his eyes flicker to the couple as his hand falls to the small of your back to guide you to your side of the pong table. 

“What? Not the affectionate type, Azzy?” you tease, a twinkle in your eyes as you try to hide the disappointment at his disgust in the public affection, though you’re not sure why you’re disappointed considering you’ll never be on the receiving end of his romantic affection.

“I don’t know, not really.” he hums thoughtfully, arranging the cups to his liking as he avoids your gaze. 

“You wanna know what I think?” you question, bringing your drink to your lips to take one long gulp. The two drinks you’d had prior to standing up are finally catching up to you now, leaving you with more courage and a warmer chest than you had five minutes ago.

“Pretty sure you’re gonna tell me what you think regardless of if I want you to or not, sweetheart.” Azriel teases, looking down at you as you take a step towards him, a smirk plastered on your face.

“I th–think that you just haven’t found the right girl to make you want to publicly display affection.” you say confidently, chin raised high to lock eyes with him. “I think you just need to find the perfect girl that you’ll want to claim as yours and scream it from the rooftops.” 

The two of you have a momentary staring contest as you search his eyes for any sign that you’re right, but finding none. Azriel opens his mouth to give you a smart retort, but before he can speak, someone backs into you and makes you lose your footing. You stumble forward, your chest falling flush with his bare abdomen as his hands reach for your waist to keep you from falling. He looks down at you then, eyes glued on your breasts as they threaten to spill from your top as you wrap your arms around him. 

All he can think about as he watches you scramble in his arms is how much he wants to say fuck it to this party and take you back to his room to see what those perfect tits look like in his–

A giggle falls from your lips, interrupting Azriel’s lewd thoughts when you finally stand up straight and take a step back when he lets you out of his arms. Your cheeks are flushed when you pull away, as if you’re just as flustered as he is about the interaction. 

“S–Sorry about that.” you laugh nervously, turning to look over your shoulder to make sure nobody else is going to knock you over. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Azriel chuckles dryly, moving to stand halfway behind you in order to prevent you from being knocked over again. 

“Are you two done being idiots for long enough for us to play or not?” Nesta calls over the table, raising her brows at you, which makes you roll your eyes at her as you nod. 

To any outsiders, the game of beer pong definitely looks like it’s being played by two love-sick males and the females that they’ll never get enough of. Nobody would guess that the “couple” being exceedingly touchy and overly-affectionate was the pair who just discussed his hatred of public affection, especially by the fact that he can’t keep his hand off your back, and how it keeps almost falling to your ass every time you jump with happiness when you make a cup. 

To anyone watching, it’s extremely obvious that Azriel is so infatuated with you that it’s almost ridiculous. To you, it’s anything but obvious as you tell yourself with every touch that he’s just your roommate and he’d never look at you that way. 

________________________________

Azriel can’t sleep.

Usually after a party at the apartment, he’s out as soon as his head hits the pillow, but not tonight. 

He’s plagued by thoughts of you, thoughts he probably should not be having about his roommate. 

The two of you have always denied any feelings for each other in front of your friends, but there’s no denying how you run through his mind every night. 

“We’ve just grown very close since living together, we’re best friends.” you’d said one night when your friends asked, as you were clinging onto Azriel’s arm on the couch drunkenly, “and best friends can flirt with each other and shouldn’t get any shit for it. Sometimes it just happens, alright?”

His mind races as he stares at the ceiling, unable to focus on anything but you, thoughts of you racing through his mind at breakneck speeds. 

Thoughts of you underneath him, your breathy moans ringing in his ears as he thrusts into you mercilessly. Thoughts of tears streaming down your cheeks while you choke on his cock as he fists your hair, fucking your face while cooing to you about how you’re such a good little slut. Thoughts of bending you over the kitchen counter to take you from behind, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other over your mouth to muffle your cries.

Fuck.

He should not be fisting his cock to the thought of you, especially with you sleeping one room over, but he can’t help himself. 

Ever since you moved in with him after you switched apartments with Cassian to escape the nightly fuck fest from Nesta and Cassian, Azriel hasn’t been able to keep you out of his late night thoughts. He knows it’s wrong, knows that imagining you riding his cock as he pumps his spit-slick length is fucked up, but you’re stuck on his brain. 

Tonight specifically, he does not give a fuck. He’s too horny for his own good, especially after seeing directly down your shirt when you fell into his arms. So, he continues to stroke himself, breathy grunts falling from his lips as his imagination runs wild. 

Azriel typically isn’t one to cum too quickly, but things have been different since you’d moved into the apartment. At first he’d told himself that he wasn’t having girls over so you wouldn’t have to listen to that, but deep down he knows that’s not the true reason. He’s utterly touch-starved and desperate for you only, so it only takes a few pumps with images of you flashing in his mind for him to finish into his fist, chest heaving and heart thumping against his ribs. 

It’s fine, it’s totally okay that he just came in less than five minutes to the thought of you riding his cock. 

Best friends do that sometimes…right?

________________________________

“So have you guys fucked yet?” Elain asks as she plops down on the couch next to you, making you nearly choke on your wine. 

It was your turn to host so-called “girl’s night” that Feyre and Mor insist on having every month, so you’re sitting in your living room with all three of the Archeron sisters, along with Mor and Amren, drinking wine and chatting about nothing in particular. 

You turn to look at the quietest Archeron sister, eyes wide in disbelief at her question. 

“I’m sorry?” you question, raising a brow at her as she smiles innocently at you.

“You and Az,” she clarifies nonchalantly, pouring herself another glass of white wine as she speaks, “have you guys finally gotten over yourselves and decided to confess your feelings and fuck?”

Elain is the last person in the room that you’d expect a question like that from, especially considering she’s the only one in the room with a history with your roommate. The two of them hooked up for a month or two last year, right before she met the love of her life, Lucien. There were no hard feelings between the two of them, but it was still an unexpected question coming from her. 

“Okay, you’re the second sister who’s asked me almost the same exact question about Az this week.” you say with narrowed eyes, shooting both Elain and Nesta glares as they smirk at you. “There’s nothing going on between us and there never will be. End of story.”

Your voice is firm, but that doesn’t stop the strange feeling that spreads across your chest as you speak. 

“Oh come on!” Mor calls out, shaking her head at you. “You can’t look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel nothing for him at all. I see the way the two of you look at each other and how you shamelessly flirt all the damn time.” 

“I don’t feel anything for him, I swear.” you retort quickly, trying to push your feelings down as they threaten to bubble over. “Even if I did feel anything for him, he doesn’t feel anything for me, so it doesn’t matter.”

Silence falls over the room as everyone exchanges knowing glances, making you groan as you feel out of the loop. 

“Why are you all looking at each other like that?” you huff, a frown pulling your lips down as you take another sip of your wine. 

“You really think that Azriel doesn't have feelings for you?” Feyre questions, making your frown deepen as you shake your head again. 

“You’re surely blind then, girl.” Amren calls out casually, shaking her head at you with slight disappointment. “That male is in love with you.”

“N–No he is not!” you nearly shriek, cheeks flushing at her words. “He is not in love with me! Like I’ve said before, we’re best friends, that’s all.”

Unconvinced murmurs spread through the room as you speak, making you laugh nervously. 

“Can we just–just drop it? I don’t wanna talk about Az anymore.” you ask finally, reaching for the remote on the coffee table, “We’re supposed to be watching that stupid dating show and taking shots every time someone cries for no good reason, so let’s do that instead.”

Nobody argues with you as you fumble with the remote, but exchange more knowing glances before continuing the night without another word about your roommate.

After four episodes of the cheesy dating show Mor had picked out to make fun of, everyone decides to call it a night, leaving you alone in the silence of your apartment. You know Azriel will be home from Cassian’s apartment soon, so you make quick work of cleaning up the living room so you can sneak into your room before he arrives. 

Unfortunately, the door to the apartment swings open and closed as you’re putting the last wine glass into the dishwasher. You look up to see a very annoyed Azriel standing in the middle of the living room, running his fingers through his hair as he sighs loudly. 

“Hey,” you say softly, frowning as you take in the exasperated expression on his face. “Are you alright?”

The harsh lines on his face soften slightly when he looks up at you, a frown mirroring your own replacing the scowl that he had before.

“Yeah–Yeah, I’m fine.” he replies, shaking his head quickly. “Cass and Nes just need to keep their noses out of my business is all.” 

“Oh? Are they very invested in your sex life too?” you say, forcing a teasing smile on your face. 

“Yes, it’s fucking annoying.” he groans while striding into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge, “I’m sure they say the same shit to you, I’m tired of them trying to push this fucking ridiculous idea of me asking you out. It’s getting old, they should know that’s never happening.” 

Fuck. 

Your smile falters for a millisecond before you let out a forced laugh, shaking your head as you ignore the way your heart sinks at his words. You knew he wasn’t interested, but he seems absolutely repulsed by the idea of asking you out. 

Is the idea of being in a relationship with you that disgusting?

“Yeah–That will definitely never happen.” you reply, your voice sounding a lot sadder than you’d planned. You point your gaze to your phone in your hand, pretending to check the time as you blink back a tear that threatened to spill at his reaction before taking a step towards your room. “I’m gonna go to bed. Goodnight Az,” you say without looking up at the male once. 

You close the bedroom door behind you and throw yourself on your bed without a second thought, letting your tears finally spill down your cheeks as you tug the comforter over your body. 

If you weren’t thinking about finally letting your little crush on your roommate go before, you definitely are now.

________________________________

The environment in your apartment flips on its head after that night, mainly because you forced it to change. While laying in bed crying yourself to sleep after hearing his disgust, you’d decided that you wouldn’t allow yourself to get caught up on Azriel anymore, that you wouldn’t let yourself flirt with him constantly or even let yourself touch him because it would only complicate things more. 

So you’ve been keeping to yourself, not spending any time in the shared spaces of the apartment, and avoiding him unless absolutely necessary. 

Azriel always seems halfway offended when you shy away from his touch now, something like hurt swimming in his eyes when you don’t feed into his flirtation, but that’s not something you should worry about anymore, so you don’t let yourself think about it. 

Everyone around you is extremely worried about your well-being, as you haven’t shown interest in going to parties or dinner or doing anything with the group in the last few weeks. Little do they know, you’ve been avoiding them for two reasons; because you don’t want anyone to ask about Azriel again and because you don’t want to put yourself in the predicament of getting drunk enough to flirt with him again. 

Unfortunately for you, Nesta dragged you across the hall to their apartment tonight, insisting that you come spend some time with everyone instead of holing up in your bedroom like you have been every night. You let her drag you over to their apartment, mainly because your hurt has fizzled into anger now, so you’re okay with getting tipsy tonight to dull the sizzling irritation. 

After three too many seltzers and a few slices of pizza, you’re feeling less annoyed by your roommate’s presence. You’re sitting on one of the couches in Nesta’s apartment with the Archeron sisters and Lucien, giggling about anything and everything with the females while Lucien busies himself on his phone and massaging Elain’s scalp as she lays against his chest. Cassian and Azriel are on the adjacent couch, while Rhys, Mor and Amren are carrying on at the kitchen island in a heated argument about nothing in particular. 

“So, Y/N.” Feyre starts after taking a long sip of her white wine. “What have you been up to? It feels like we haven’t seen you in weeks.” 

“Oh, don’t even start with her.” Nesta groans, shooting a glare in your direction, “she won’t even tell me, her girl best friend, what’s been up her ass lately.” 

“I’ve told you a thousand times, Nes, I’m fine! I’ve just–just been trying to expand my horizons lately,” you say halfheartedly, slightly cowering under your best friend’s glare. “Just been trying new things, I even went on a date last night.”

“What?” all three sisters say in unison, eyes wide as they stare at you sitting between them.

“With who?” Feyre questions, and you realize that all other conversation in the room has stopped and all eyes are on you now. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, guys–”

“With who?” Nesta repeats, silver eyes narrowed as she stares you down. 

“E–Eris Vanserra.” you murmur, only loud enough for the sisters to hear clearly, a blush spreading across your face as you speak. 

“Did you just say Eris Vanserra?” Cassian questions from the other couch, staring at you expectantly. 

You can feel Azriel’s eyes boring holes into you from next to Cassian with his gaze, which makes sense considering you went on a date with a male that he’s hated for years. Little do they know, you two had a great time but decided it would just be a one-time thing due to some differences in relationship expectations, so things ended swiftly after you hooked up. 

“I did,” you say with a smirk, finally sliding your gaze to Azriel for just a moment, who seems extremely annoyed by your revelation, “Seems like going on a date with me isn’t a fucking ridiculous and repulsive idea to every male out there.” You turn back to the sisters, trying your hardest to avoid seeing how Azriel reacts to your snide remark, opting to describe the date in detail for the girls instead of looking at him. 

You successfully avoid any interaction with Azriel throughout the rest of the evening, though you feel his gaze on you multiple times. Eventually, the night dies down and you decide to head back to your apartment, in desperate need of some good rest. You hug your friends and promise you won’t disappear for so long anymore, knowing that Nesta will drag you out of your bedroom by the hair if you even try. 

You finally make it to your bed a little after midnight, cozying into the covers as you try to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest that feels a little too similar to yearning for your comfort as you attempt to fall asleep.

________________________________

Azriel can’t sleep. Again.

And it’s because of you. Again. 

He’s not plagued with horny thoughts about you this time, but he truthfully wishes he was. It would be better than whatever this feeling was that was overtaking his chest. Every time he thinks back to the look on your face after your remark about going on a date with you being a fucking ridiculous and repulsive idea, his heart threatens to squeeze itself to death in his chest.  He can’t shake the image of your pain-filled eyes, can’t shake the thought of how you’ve avoided him at all costs since he made that remark all those weeks ago.

He knows he fucked up, knows he hurt you in a way that he’s unsure how to fix right now, but he knows that he has to win your trust back somehow.

________________________________

A week later, Azriel is leaning over the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cereal at 10pm when he hears the apartment door slam shut, followed by a sniffle and a stifled sob. 

Before he can stand up straight, you round the corner to the kitchen a small gasp falling from your lips when you see him standing there, fucking shirtless and too sexy, like he’s mocking you for another failed date. 

“S–Sorry, I didn’t hear you in here.” you say when you look up at him. 

“It’s fine, I didn’t mean to scare you.” he chuckles dryly, taking you in as you stand frozen in front of him. You’re wearing a satin emerald green cocktail dress that hugs your curves in the best way possible and black heels that make your legs look like they go on for days, your hair is mussed now, but he can tell that it was perfectly curled and styled before you left, along with your smudged mascara and worn-off lipstick. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, the remnants of tears pricking the corners of them as you try to blink them away. “Are–Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” you say, finally brushing past him to grab a glass from the cabinet before filling it with water. “Just another shitty date.”

“With Eris?” he questions angrily, shaking his head. “I swear, I’ll kick his ass–”

“No–Not with Eris. We broke things off after that first date.” you say with a humorless laugh before taking a sip of water, “It was some other guy that I thought would be nice, but he tried to fuck me before taking me out and got really–really fucking rude after I told him no, so I left. I hate stupid, one-and-done hookups like that.” you sigh before muttering under your breath, “Guess finding a nice guy who wants to actually go on a date with me without me putting out is a ridiculous idea.”

“Well, they’re all fucking stupid if they say they don’t want to date you.” Azriel mutters, rolling his eyes at the thought of someone turning you down when you went out looking like that. “Can’t believe some stupid fucker would see you turn up to his place looking like that and decide that he doesn’t want to show you off to the world.” 

“Az–”

“I’m serious, Y/N!” he all but yells, brow furrowing as he looks you over again. “You look beautiful even after crying half your makeup off, I can’t imagine how good you looked when he first saw you.”

“You don’t have to flatter me out of pity, I know you don’t find me attractive, Az.” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the male as he takes a step towards you.

“Who ever said I didn’t find you attractive?” he says, his voice dropping an octave as he reaches for your chin to make you look up at him. “Just because I fucked up all those weeks ago and said the idea of asking you on a date was ridiculous when I was angry and drunk doesn’t mean anything, I still find you so fucking attractive.”

“Azriel,” you warn, voice shaky as your mind races. Everything is happening so fast that you can’t truly process what he just said. “D–Don’t…”

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” he retorts, careful not to touch you anywhere else as he tries to think of how to navigate this situation, whether he should get on his knees to beg for your forgiveness or if he should just take you in his arms and kiss you until you forgive him. 

Your knees buckle at the nickname, one that you haven’t heard from him in so long. Usually, he only calls you that when you’re both tipsy and feeling extra flirtatious, but you know he’s stone-cold sober right now, making it all the more intriguing. In your mind, you’re convinced he still truly thinks the idea of going on a date with you is ridiculous, but he did just admit to finding you attractive, which makes you more turned on than it ever should. 

Oh, fuck it.

Without a second thought, you stand on your toes to lean up into him, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down for a heated kiss. Azriel almost stumbles away when your lips press to his, but his hands fall to your waist to steady himself as you deepen the kiss. His mind is buzzing as your tongue slips out, teasing his lower lip before biting it between kisses. After a few seconds, Azriel pulls away, panting slightly as he looks down at you with wild eyes. 

“I–I, what are you doing, sweetheart?” he questions in a hushed tone. 

“I think I need you, Az.” you say desperately, a slight pout on your face as you stare up at the male. 

“But, you were just complaining about how you hate hookups.” he murmurs as you stand on your toes in an attempt to reach his lips again. 

As much as he wants to take you right here and right now, he doesn’t want it to be because of an emotional tirade on your part.

You know it’s fucked up that you’re so turned on for your roommate right now, especially after getting mad at the male who tried to fuck you earlier, but you don’t care. You don’t want anything or anyone but him right now, despite your clouded emotions and any hurt you still carry for the male in front of you. 

“Is this just a hookup to you?” you retort before shaking your head to cut him off before he can speak, “A–Actually, don’t answer that right now. I just know that I need you right now. I don’t care if you hate me or however you feel about me.” 

“Gods, I do want you.” he murmurs, pulling you up for a quick kiss. “But I need you to tell me that you want me right now.”

“I want you, Az. I need you.” you say against his lips, “I–I’m yours tonight if you’ll have me. No strings attached tonight, I just–just need you. I’ll never mention this again if you don’t want me to.”

Something snaps in Azriel then and he can’t hold back anymore. He grabs your hips then, pulling you up to sit you on top of the kitchen island with your legs wrapped around his waist. The kiss he pulls you into is desperate and hot, your tongues and teeth clashing as his hands hastily push your dress up to your waist, revealing the black lace thong underneath. His hand glides between your thighs, fingertips grazing over the lace to feel the heat already pooling at your core.

“Fuck, love.” he murmurs against your lips, “You’re so wet, aren’t you?”

“Y–Yes,” you squeak out, hips bucking involuntarily against his hand. “So–So wet for you, Az.”

“Yeah? Just for me?” he teases, a smirk growing on his face as he circles your clit through the fabric, “Want me to taste this sweet cunt and make you cum on my tongue?”

You breathe in a ragged breath at his crude words, nodding feverishly at him as your mind spins at the sudden change in his demeanor. He just chuckles then, pulling your hips to the edge of the counter while also pushing your thong to the side to give him a full view of your glistening core as he shifts to his knees. Azriel mutters something under his breath then, two fingers teasing your clit before licking a stripe up your cunt, making you gasp loudly. 

“F–Fuck!” you whine, hand falling to his head as he eats you out like a man starved with loud smacking of his lips to match. 

“You like that, baby?” he says when he pulls away momentarily, positioning your legs over his shoulders before sliding a finger into your heat. “I bet those other stupid fuckers didn’t eat you out like this, did they?”

“I–I, they never did, n–never have.” you gasp, grinding your hips against his face when he dives back in with a chuckle. 

“What a shame, a cunt this pretty deserves to be devoured at any possible time.” he murmurs against your slick skin, slipping another finger in, “Want you to cum all over my face before I even get a chance to fuck you tonight, you deserve it, love.”

“‘M already–already fucking close, f–feels so good.” you retort, tugging at his hair as he pumps three fingers into your cunt while focusing his tongue on your throbbing clit, pulling moans out of you in a way you didn’t know was possible until now. 

Azriel only hums against your clit, letting his fingers set a brutal pace inside you as he licks and sucks on your sensitive bundle of nerves. He wraps an arm around your waist then, pulling you close to him to stabilize your squirming body as he continues his assault on your core. 

“Such a good girl with such a sweet little cunt,” he praises, gazing up at you while he licks at you once more, “Can’t believe I’ve never gotten to taste you before, don’t know if I’ll be able to share after this, love. You’re making the prettiest noises for me and I don’t want anyone else to hear them.”

“Then d–don’t share, o–oh fuck!” you whimper, thighs quaking as you feel your orgasm approaching. 

“Let me claim your pussy, sweetheart. C’mon, make a mess of my tongue and fingers.” he coaxes between licks, three fingers pressing into you quickly as you cry out loudly, “That’s it, baby. Yeah, I know, I know. Let go, love.”

Your vision blacks momentarily when you reach your peak, chanting his name loudly as he fingers you through your orgasm, cooing softly while pressing kisses to your inner thighs when you finally come down from your high. 

There’s a smirk plastered on Azriel’s face when he finally rises from his knees, lips glistening with your slick while he continues to slowly pump his fingers into you. Your mouth gapes slightly when his thumb presses into your overly-sensitive clit, and you reach for his wrist to stop him as overstimulation wracks your body.

“You did so good, sweetheart.” he coos, ignoring your silent protest for him to remove his fingers as he leans down to steal your lips in a kiss. “So good for me.”

“A–Az, I–I can’t.” you whine, bucking your hips when his thumb brushes your clit again. 

“You want me to stop?” he questions, though he already knows the real answer.

“I–I want you to fuck me.” you plead, shaking your head to cut him off before he gives you a smart reply about fucking you with his fingers. “Want your cock, please.”

“How could I say no when you ask so sweetly?” he coos, finally pulling his fingers from your dripping heat to pull your body flush with his. “Let’s go to my room, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” you say jokingly, but the nickname triggers something in Azriel as he wraps your legs around his waist to carry you to his room, a low growl ripping from his throat.

“Don’t call me that if you can’t handle what will come after.” he warns, eyes dark as he pushes through the door to his bedroom. 

“What if I can handle it, sir?” you tease, biting your lip as you look up at him with wide, doe eyes. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now, sweetheart.” he growls, tossing you into the middle of his bed, “Strip for me, baby.”

Both of you make quick work of stripping out of your clothes, desire thick in the air as you make desperate glances at each other. After tossing your underwear and dress to the side, you crawl on your hands and knees to the edge of the bed in front of him. You reach your hand out for his cock once it springs free from his boxers, ignoring the nervous feeling in your chest when you see how large he is. 

“So–So big,” you remark, eyes wide as you stare at it.

Your eyes meet his as you lean into his cock, eager to wrap your lips around the leaking, red tip, but his hand in your hair holds you back before you take it into your mouth. 

“As much as I would love to see you choke and cry with your pretty lips around my cock, we’ll save that for another time. I need to fuck you, right now.” he says in a low voice, pupils blown with lust as he tugs you up to be face-to-face with him. “Is that alright with you, sweetheart? Can I fuck you senseless with my big cock?”

“Y–Yes, sir.” you say, nodding desperately at him. 

“Good girl, now lay back on the pillows for me.” he instructs, following you onto the bed to kneel between your spread legs. 

One of his large hands rests on your inner thigh while the other grasps his thick length, tugging on it lightly as he guides himself to your entrance. There’s a beat of hesitation as he slides his tip along your dripping folds, and he looks up at you for a moment.

“I’m–I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, please–please Az. Just fuck me.” you beg, hips canting up into his to make him groan loudly. 

“I’m clean, too. You sure about this though, sweetheart?” he questions, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation but finding none, “Because once I start, I’m not gonna be nice, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give up this sweet cunt, you might be mine forever once I fuck you.”

“Yes–fuck, yes. I’m all yours, sir.” you say breathlessly, a pout on your lips as you beg.

“Alright, sweetheart. Now be a good girl, stay still and take what I give you, alright?” he retorts, gripping your hip as he finally slides into you with a groan. “Fuck, that’s so good, baby.”

Your mind goes blank when he bottoms out, feeling so fucking full as his cock nudges against your cervix at the perfect angle. A strangled moan falls from your lips when he starts to move, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as pleasure nearly blinds you.

“Look at you, such a good little slut.” he teases as he picks up the pace. “Already crying for me, sweetheart? Is my cock that good?”

“Y–Yes, so fucking big, sir. F–Feel so good, so–so full.” you whine, eyes squeezing shut with tears streaming down your cheeks as he continues to pound into you. 

“That’s it, your tight cunt was made for my cock, wasn’t it?” he grunts, one hand falling from your hip to wrap around your throat experimentally, fingers splayed over the soft skin gently for now. 

Your eyes snap open at the feeling of his hand around your neck, looking at him with wide eyes as he smirks down at you mischievously. He gives your throat a squeeze then, making you moan wildly at the feeling of your breathing being constricted and relinquishing control to him. There’s a feral look in his eye at your reaction, making him chuckle while his hips connect with yours roughly.

“Ohh, look at that.” he purrs mockingly, letting his hand squeeze around your throat a little tighter now. “You like being choked don’t you?” he asks, earning a subtle nod from you, “You love it when I’m in control like this, huh? You like it when I hold you down and make you take everything I give you and take your breath away?”

“Y–Yes! Fuck, I love it so much, sir.” you reply eagerly, hips bucking up to meet his as your fingers find your clit. “I–I’m gonna cum. I’m so close, s–sir.”

“Go ahead and cum on my cock, love.” he growls, his length pumping into you relentlessly. “I’m not gonna stop until I cum deep in you, though. Gonna let you milk my cock like a good little whore and then fill you with my cum, alright?”

You can only nod, mind blank once again as your walls flutter around him while he mutters degrading yet praising things to you as he continues to bully his cock deep into you. After this second orgasm of the night, you’re on such a high that you can’t think straight anymore, only babbling nonsense falls from your lips as Azriel’s groans and the smell of your arousal fills the air.

“I’m close, sweetheart.” Azriel warns finally, pushing your own hand away from your clit to rub circles around it with the hand that’s not wrapped around your neck. “Gonna cum with me, baby?”

“Y–Yes, gonna cum on your cock, sir.” you moan, the first coherent sentence you’ve said in a few minutes, feeling that familiar coil winding in your gut once again. “C–Cum in me, please.”

That’s all the encouragement Azriel needs before he’s reaching his own high, cock fully seated in you as his hips stutter. He mutters sweet words to you under his breath as you cum with him, bodies as close together as they can be without melting into each other. 

It takes Azriel a few minutes to collect himself, panting against your skin as he finally releases you from his hold and rolls off of you. He looks to you then, seeing a blissful smile plastered on your face as your eyes are halfway closed, euphoria mixing with exhaustion as you catch your breath. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You did so good for me, such a good girl.” he mumbles to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead as you murmur to him under your breath. “Gonna go get some stuff to clean you up, alright?” 

You nod tiredly at him, watching as he slides some boxers before leaving the room. He returns only a minute later with a glass of water, a wet washcloth and a makeup remover wipe. He rummages through a dresser drawer for a sleep shirt as well, setting it next to you on the bed. Your heart flutters as he sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning over to help you sit up. 

“Drink for me, sweetheart.” he coaxes, smiling down at you while holding the cup of water to your lips. 

You almost finish the entire glass before you pull away and he sets it on the bedside table, then gets to work wiping off your thighs. He switches the washcloth out for the makeup wipe once he’s satisfied, reaching up to clean off your face. 

“I can take my makeup off, Az.” you giggle, trying to reach for the makeup wipe but he pulls it out of your reach. 

“No, no. Let me.” he insists, wiping gently at your cheeks, lips and eyes to get the remnants of your makeup that wasn’t wiped away off. 

You sit up fully after he finishes, reaching for the shirt he’d sat next to you in order to slide it over your body. He walks to the other side of the bed after that, pulling himself under the covers as you turn to look at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” he questions, brow furrowed as you stare at him with a sad look in your eyes. 

“Can–Can I stay in here with you tonight?” you ask meekly, afraid of how he might react. 

“Of course, why would I kick you out, love?” he says gently, pulling the comforter up to invite you to cuddle with him. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get some rest, okay?”

You smile weakly at him before climbing up to his side, letting his arm fall around your waist as you rest your head on his chest while he presses a kiss to your forehead. You know you should be worried about what’s to come tomorrow, but in the moment, while sitting in Azriel’s warm embrace, you couldn’t care less.

________________________________

Knock, knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

The most peaceful sleep Azriel has had in months is interrupted by an incessant knocking on the front door of the apartment. He groans loudly before opening his eyes while rolling over, eyes falling onto your sleeping form. 

His heart skips a beat at the sight of you snuggled into his comforter, chest rising and falling steadily as you sleep peacefully in his fucking bed. Warmth fills his chest as he admires you, but is soon interrupted by another annoying knock on the front door. He leans down then, pressing a kiss to your temple that makes you giggle softly in your sleep, before sneaking out of the bed to slip a pair of sweats on to open the door. 

The front door swings open to reveal Nesta and Cassian on the other side, both with amused expressions on their faces and bags filled with food in their hands. 

“What do you guys want?” Azriel questions, narrowing his eyes on the couple. 

Nesta shoulders past him, pushing into the apartment to make her way into the kitchen to rummage through the bags of food at the kitchen island. 

“Excuse you,” Azriel scoffs, internally cringing as his mind flashes back to what he’d done on that very counter the night before. “Who said you could just barge in here like this?” 

“It’s Saturday morning, we always have breakfast with you guys and neither you or your roommate were answering your phones, so we thought we’d just come over.” Nesta says casually. “Where is Y/N anyways?” 

“Sleeping.” Azriel says too quickly, panic spreading through his chest as he watches the couple make themselves at home, knowing that you’ll likely wake up soon and have to face them as you walk out of his bedroom. “Why don’t I just let you know when she wakes up and you guys can just come back when we’re ready?” 

“Sleeping? Where?” Cassian says incredulously, glancing at Y/N’s bedroom, noting the open door and empty, perfectly made bed before realization falls over his face. “No fucking way.”

“Cassian, I swear to the fucking Gods–” 

“What? What just happened?” Nesta questions, finally looking up from the counter and to Azriel, noting his mussed hair and the ghost of a lipstick stain on the corner of his jaw. “Holy fuck. You guys finally did it.” 

“Can you both shut the fuck up?” Azriel interjects, a frown etched onto his face as he glares at the couple. “Yes, we fucked. It was a heat of the moment thing and–and we haven’t really discussed what happens next. So I’d appreciate if neither of you were here when she wakes up so I can actually say what I need to say without you two fuckers staring at me expectantly.”

“Are you finally gonna confess that you’ve been in love with her since you first met her and that you can’t stand the thought of her being with anyone else but you?” Cassian questions with a knowing smirk, earning a withering glare from Azriel. “What? Those are your drunken words, not mine!”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m going to say yet, but I know that you both need to get out of here.” he hisses, starting to usher the couple out. “Breakfast is on me today, repayment for bailing on you guys, okay? Just request me the money and get the hell out of here. You two will be the first to know about what happens, I’m sure.” 

Both Cassian and Nesta make their way out of the apartment begrudgingly, leaving Azriel alone to walk back to his bedroom. You’re still asleep when he walks in, but stir slightly when he closes the door and slides under the covers next to you. Your eyes flutter open only moments after he presses his body against yours, your brow furrows as you take in your surroundings, obviously forgetting what happened last night in your post-sleep haze. Eventually, you look over to him, an expression somewhere between a frown and a half-smile on your face.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, giving you space to sit up in the bed as you stretch your limbs and prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“Morning,” you say with a tired smile, a blush creeping up on your cheeks as you look over at him. “I–I almost forgot about last night.” 

“Yeah?” he chuckles, smiling down at you adoringly, “I definitely didn’t.”

You’re silent for a moment, mind whirring as you think of what to say to him. Your chest feels like it’s going to cave in at the thought of Az wanting to continue being your fuck-buddy, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle being sexually involved without romantic involvement with him. It would fuel your crush way too fucking much. You tell yourself that you just need to lie to his face and say that it was a mistake, that it didn’t mean anything, but he speaks before you get a chance to let your word vomit come out. 

“Okay, okay. I can see you internally freaking out already.” Azriel chuckles nervously, fully sitting up in the bed before reaching out to cup your cheek and get your attention. You look up at him and his hazel eyes are swimming with a mix of wonder and nervousness. “Let’s talk about it, okay? I, for one, had a really good time last night.”

“I–I did too.” you stammer, heart pounding against your ribs as your stomach churns. “B–But I can’t do it again.”

“And why is that?” he questions, a frown pulling his lips down. 

“Because I know you don’t want anything out of this, I–I know you wouldn’t want to be involved with me romantically and–and I can’t handle that.” you say, forcing yourself to look away from him, eyes focused on the comforter in front of you instead. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s not want at all.” he starts, shaking his head rapidly. “I want to be involved with you romantically, I was drunk and upset when I said that it would be a ridiculous idea to ask you out. I only said that because I thought you didn’t want me. I didn’t know you felt the same and was trying to protect myself. But–But now that I know you feel the same and that I hurt you by saying that, I’ll work my ass off every day to prove to you that this is not some meaningless fooling around and that I need you in my life. That I need to wake up next to you every morning and that I think I might’ve been falling for you since I met you in all honesty. I need you to know that you mean so much to me and I’m not just here for some quick fuck, okay?”

“I–I,” you stammer, at a loss for words at his confession. “You better not be lying to me, Azriel. Because I think I’ve been falling for you for just as long.”

“Oh thank the fucking Gods.” he sighs, finally leaning down to pull you in for a sweet kiss. “I promise to prove to you every day that I’m not lying, that I’m in it for the long haul.”

You giggle against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him as close to you as possible, heart filling so fucking full as his warm lips press against yours.

“Was I dreaming earlier or did I hear someone pounding on the door a little bit ago?” you question when you pull away from the very long-winded kiss.

“It was Nes and Cass coming here for Saturday breakfast, but I told them to fuck off.” Azriel replies with a chuckle.

“Do you think we should go tell them what happened?” you ask, eyes wide as you think of your friends finding out about you sleeping in Azriel’s bed without you knowing. 

“I think they’ll get the memo if we take the day to spend by ourselves, don’t you?” he retorts, peppering soft kisses down your neck.

“I definitely agree,” you giggle, leaning into his embrace, “I don’t know if I wanna leave this bed today.”

“I definitely agree.” Azriel mimics, laying down on the bed and pulling you up to straddle his waist. “I have just a few things I’d like to do instead of visiting with them.”

tags (add yourself here!!): @dreamloud4610 @angelbunny222 @Bookishbishhh @fanficscuziranout @Buckingforbuckybarnes @thefandomplace @feyretopia @mad-hatters-lover @kissesfromnovalie @mulledwinetea @saltedcoffeescotch @mrsjna @chillymountsjess @azriels-human @messageforthesmallestman @delphinefour04 @kbear8863 @secretsicanthideanymore @randomgurl2326 @shushsstuff @Caitm1 @eeniemeenie @esahintzkanen @lafawndiaries @homeslices @juliebluehufflepuff @portkeytomyworld @ashjade19 @wildfloweroutlaw @lilah-asteria @dreamsandatars24 @korebringerofded

[odilesgrimoire]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (end)

Midoriya is patient.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t rush. He only ever makes sure that you are comfortable.

He’s been doing that since the beginning. Since the first time he found you alone in the class, your eyes swollen from crying, forcing a smile. He never asked what happened. Never forced you to explain. He just… sat beside you, asked if you were okay.

And now, months later, when his feelings for you have deepened into something real, something undeniable, he still waits.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he tells you one day. It’s quiet, the sun setting in the distance, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. “But I also don’t want to pretend I don’t feel this way.” His hands curl into fists at his sides, then relax. “I really like you.”

Your breath catches. You knew this moment would come. You knew Midoriya had feelings for you. And you like him too. You know he’s different from Bakugo, so much different. But still…

You hesitate.

Because you remember what it was like, to love someone, to give them everything, only to receive nothing in return. You remember what it felt like to be ignored, to be led on.

And Midoriya sees the hesitation in your eyes. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t get upset. He just smiles gently.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” he says, voice soft. “Take your time. I just… I just wanted you to know.”

And so, you do.

You take your time. You allow yourself to feel, to process, to understand that Midoriya isn’t Bakugo.

And when you’re finally ready, you take his hand and hold it tight.

And Midoriya?

His whole face turns red.

------------------------------

Dating Midoriya is easy.

He’s nervous at first, always checking in, always making sure he’s not overstepping. Even something as simple as holding your hand makes him ask for permission.

When you say yes, his fingers slip between yours, warm and firm. And when you walk into the cafeteria together, hands intertwined, Midoriya looks like he might explode.

It’s cute. It makes you laugh.

But Bakugo isn’t laughing.

He’s watching from his seat, fists clenched, jaw tight. The soda can in his hand crumples under his grip, a twisted mess of aluminum.

He doesn’t like this.

As time passes, you and Midoriya grow closer.

Training together. Studying together. Laughing together. You’re happy. You’re moving on. You’re no longer waiting for someone to notice you.

But Bakugo… he notices.

And he hates it. At first, it’s just little jabs,

“Dumbass Deku, stop acting like a lovesick idiot.” “Tch. Can’t believe you’re actually dating this loser.”

You and Midoriya ignore it. There’s no point in responding.

But it doesn’t stop.

In class. In the cafeteria. During training. It gets worse.

Until, one day, Bakugo goes too far.

You’re walking past him in the hallway, Midoriya’s hand loosely holding yours, when you hear it.

“Tch. What a joke. You really think he actually likes you?”

You freeze.

Midoriya stiffens beside you. He turns, brows furrowed. “Kacchan-”

But Bakugo isn’t looking at him. His eyes are on you.

“You’re pathetic,” he sneers. “Jumping to the first guy who gives you attention. Guess it doesn’t matter who it is, huh? Even if it’s a weakling like Deku.”

Silence.

It’s sudden. Heavy. Suffocating.

Your stomach twists, your chest tightens. But you don’t say anything.

Neither does Midoriya.

But the entire class hears.

And Bakugo doesn’t stop.

“You’re desperate,” he spits. “Always clinging to someone. First me, now him. What’s next? Gonna throw yourself at Todoroki if Deku gets bored?”

The words cut deep. Not because they’re true, but because Bakugo knows exactly where to hurt you.

He knows exactly where your scars are. And he’s tearing them open.

Nobody speaks.

Not Kirishima. Not Kaminari. Not Uraraka. Not even Iida

But then-

BAM!.

The impact is sudden, brutal—a fist colliding with a jaw, the thud echoing through the hallway.

Bakugo stumbles back, eyes blown wide, hand clutching his face.

Midoriya stands in front of you, fist still clenched, body shaking.

But his voice? His voice is steady.

“You don’t get to say that,” he says, low and firm. Angry.

Bakugo snarls. “What the hell-”

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Midoriya cuts him off. His green eyes are ablaze, more furious than you’ve ever seen them. “Not after everything you did.”

Bakugo’s breath catches.

Because Midoriya isn’t just saying things anymore. He knows.

He knows what happened. He knows how Bakugo let you believe you had a chance, only to throw you away.

“You knew she liked you,” Midoriya says, voice sharp as a blade. “And you led her on.”

Bakugo flinches.

“You let her think you cared.”

His hands curl into fists.

“You let her give you everything, and you gave her nothing.”

And for once, Bakugo has no comeback.

Because Midoriya isn’t wrong.

Midoriya takes a step forward.

“She moved on. She found someone who actually cares. And now you want to tear her down?”

Silence.

“You’re a coward, Kacchan.”

The words sting. You can see it in the way Bakugo’s face tenses, in the way his eyes burn with something unreadable.

And then, Midoriya turns back to you. His gaze softens instantly.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, but your hands are still shaking.

Midoriya doesn’t hesitate, he takes you, holding you tight.

Then, without another glance at Bakugo, he leads you away.

And Bakugo?

He just stands there.

Alone.

Deku didn’t just take you away, he gave you something Bakugo never could. And that’s why, in the end, Bakugo was the one who lost. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ If you enjoy my writing and wanna support me (or my milk🥛 addiction), I’m on [Ko-fi], writing and sipping milk!

[inseobts]

Captain’s Orders (Even the Silly Ones!)

luffy x gn!reader

because his captain’s orders are actually for the silliest reasons

words count: 1.2k

tags: fluffy, sfw, humour, gender neutral

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun hangs high over the Thousand Sunny, casting warm rays over the deck as the crew goes about their daily business. It’s a relatively peaceful day—no marines, no sea kings, no sudden ambushes. Just the sound of waves and seagulls filling the air.

Which means it’s the perfect time for your captain, Monkey D. Luffy, to start handing out ridiculous orders.

Standing at the ship’s railing, Luffy puffs out his chest and grins wide “Alright, everyone, listen up!” he announces, hands on his hips.

Zoro, who is in the middle of his nap, cracks one eye open “What now?”

Luffy ignores him and points dramatically at you “Y/N! As your captain, I order you to give me a kiss!”

You blink “That’s… not how captain’s orders work.”

“It is now!” he declares.

The crew collectively sighs. This is nothing new.

Robin chuckles behind her book “He does have the authority, technically.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway “Fine...” Stepping forward, you place a quick peck on his cheek. Luffy beams like he just won a fight against an admiral.

“That’s the spirit!” He turns to Sanji next “Oi, Sanji! Captain’s orders! Make a cake for y/n!”

Sanji flicks his cigarette “You do realize I would’ve done that anyway, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun if it’s an order.” Luffy snickers.

Sanji sighs but heads to the kitchen nonetheless “At least he has good taste in orders.”

Nami crosses her arms, smirking “Luffy, shouldn’t you be giving real orders?”

Luffy tilts his head “These are real orders!”

“No, I mean actual captain stuff! You know, navigating, battle strategies, anything remotely useful?”

Luffy gasps as if she just suggested something absurd “That sounds boring.”

Franky walks past, adjusting his sunglasses “Honestly, I kinda respect it. Most captains would be barking orders about ship maintenance, but this guy? Priorities.”

“EXACTLY!” Luffy shouts, fist-pumping “See, Franky gets it!”

Chopper giggles “So what other ‘important’ orders do you have, Captain?”

Luffy taps his chin in thought before his eyes light up “Brook! Captain’s orders! Play a song so y/n and I can dance!”

Brook laughs “Yohoho! Of course, Captain!” He grabs his violin and starts playing a lively tune.

Luffy immediately grabs your hands, spinning you around the deck. “C’mon, y/n! This is fun, right?”

You laugh, stumbling slightly as he twirls you “Okay, okay, but you’re supposed to let me lead sometimes!”

“Nope! Captain’s orders—I get to lead the dance!”

Zoro groans, rubbing his temple “I swear, this idiot is impossible.”

Usopp sighs, sitting on a barrel “I don’t know why we even act surprised anymore. Hey Zoro, wanna dance?”

The ridiculousness continues for the rest of the day.

At dinner, Luffy slams his hand on the table “Captain’s orders! Everyone eats dessert first!”

Nami glares at him “Luffy, you always eat dessert first since y/n told you it's their favourite”

“Yeah, but now it’s an order!” He grins before stuffing his face with cake.

Later, when you’re sitting at the bow of the ship enjoying the breeze, Luffy plops down beside you and rests his head on your lap. He looks up at you with that signature playful grin “Hey, y/n”

“Hm?”

“Captain’s orders.” He pokes your cheek “Be happy forever.”

Your heart melts a little at that one.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair “Aye aye, Captain.”

The days pass with Luffy continuing to abuse his “captain’s orders” for the silliest reasons. At this point, the crew has learned to just roll with it—or, in Zoro’s case, ignore it completely.

Today, the Sunny is gliding across calm waters, and the sun is blazing. Too hot to train, too hot to run around, and too hot to do anything productive. Everyone is lazing around in the shade, enjoying a rare, peaceful afternoon.

Then, Luffy stands up suddenly from where he’s been sprawled out on the deck “ALRIGHT, CREW! NEW CAPTAIN’S ORDERS!”

The reactions are immediate.

Zoro groans, rolling over onto his side to pretend he’s asleep. Nami rubs her temples like she already has a headache. Sanji exhales a long puff of smoke. Usopp leans back against the railing, looking mildly concerned.

You sit up from your spot beside him “What is it this time?”

Luffy points dramatically at the sky “It’s too hot. Captain’s orders—everyone in the water!”

Robin raises a brow over her book “That’s just called going for a swim, Luffy.”

“Yeah, but this way, it’s official,” he argues.

Franky grins “Well, can’t argue with that. LET’S GOOOO!” He cannonballs straight into the sea, sending a massive splash over the deck.

Brook laughs “Ah, I’d love to join, but I’ll drown!”

“Just float in a barrel or something!” Usopp suggests.

Chopper looks hesitant “I guess I could use a break…”

“I will not be getting my hair wet” Nami says firmly.

Sanji is already setting out towels “I’ll get drinks ready for when you guys get back.”

Luffy turns to you and grins “Y/N! Captain’s orders—you have to jump in with me!”

You shake your head with a laugh “Luffy, you can’t swim.”

“That’s why you’re coming with me!” Before you can argue, he grabs your hand and leaps off the ship, taking you down with him.

The water is a refreshing shock against your skin. When you surface, gasping, Luffy is already grinning like a fool “See? This is fun, right?”

You splash water at him “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.” He laughs, flailing his arms to stay afloat “Now hurry up, I’m gonna drown.”

You sigh but swim over, letting him cling to you like a koala.

“Oi, Luffy, stop abusing y/n as a flotation device” Usopp calls from the deck.

“It’s fine. Captain’s orders” Luffy replies smugly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You shake your head but smile, letting him hold on.

That night, after dinner, the crew is gathered on the deck under the stars. The sea is calm, and Brook is playing a gentle tune on his violin. It’s peaceful—until Luffy decides to disrupt it.

“Captain’s orders!” he suddenly announces “We’re having a cuddle pile!”

A collective groan echoes around the deck.

“No way in hell” Zoro says immediately.

Nami pinches the bridge of her nose “Luffy, not every order has to be something dumb.”

“Yes, it does” he insists. Then he turns to you with a grin “C’mon, y/n! Captain’s orders—you have to cuddle me!”

You sigh, already used to this, and pull him down beside you. He immediately wraps his arms around you like an octopus.

Robin chuckles “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in following this order.” She sits down beside Nami, and soon, Chopper is curling up between them.

Brook lies down on the deck “I have no body heat, but I’ll participate in spirit.”

Usopp grumbles, but even he leans against Franky.

Zoro, of course, remains at a distance with his arms crossed.

Luffy sighs happily, nuzzling into your shoulder “See? Best captain’s order ever.”

You chuckle, running your fingers through his hair “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it” he repeats, grinning up at you.

You roll your eyes but kiss his forehead “Yeah, yeah. Captain’s orders.”

[ba9go]

bakugou katsuki finds you annoying (he can’t stop thinking about you) pt. 1

sort-of enemies to lovers with bakugou katsuki <3

read part 2 💥 part 3 (nsfw)

from the very moment you walked into the 1-a classroom, you set off a ticking time bomb in bakugou katsuki. he hated your guts.

it was early in the morning, with about 20 minutes till class started. bakugou was seated in his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed, when all of a sudden he hears this agitating, grating voice.

his eyes snapped open and flicked to the source of the sudden noise.

you.

you stood in the doorway, bowing and apologising refusely to fucking icyhot for running into him. bakugou took one look at your stature next to todoroki’s and huffed. ‘idiot walks into a wall and apologises. what a dimwit.’

bakugou watches as todoroki awkwardly but earnestly bows back at you with a murmured apology of his own. you pause mid-bow to shake your head, “no, no, no, this was entirely my fault!” and bakugou thinks he can feel his temple twitch when you start laughing. “god, i’m sorry, we just look so stupid right now!”

‘damn right you do, fucking morons.’ bakugou tears his gaze away from your bright smiling face and spams the volume-up button on his phone until ears (jirou) can actually overhear travis scott from his earphones and flinches beside him.

bakugou closes his eyes and sighs through his nostrils. it’s way too fucking early for this.

later that day, aizawa-sensei announces that you’d be joining class 1-a as u.a.’s newest transfer student, and invites you to introduce yourself in front of the class.

you stood beside aizawa and introduce yourself with yet another beaming smile. your bright eyes roam around the classroom from face to face as you address your new classmates, until they land on bakugou, who narrows his eyes and glares at you.

bakugou feels a strange sense of satisfaction, watching you stutter mid-sentence, and he thinks you’re such an idiot, but then your eyes quickly dart away to look elsewhere and bakugou is somehow even more pissed off by you.

so he grinds his teeth and tears his gaze away from you once more to look out the window.

the rest of the week goes smoothly for you as you quickly befriended the class. with the exception of one, everyone seemed friendly and warm and genuinely interested to get to know more about you and your quirk. likewise, you were just as curious and enthusiastic about getting to know your classmates. with the exception of one.

you ignored bakugou like the plague — just as he’d wanted, bakugou thinks. you’re an eyesore, the way you’re all smiley and giggly, all of the damn time. bakugou hates it, hates the look in your eyes, like you’re so damn happy and you’re somehow just always having the time of your damn life.

‘just another fucking weakling who won’t last.’

it doesn’t take bakugou a long time to realise that his judgement of you was entirely off. you were in fact, not a weakling. you were strong, and you proved it every single time, putting your all in every training and going above and beyond with your hand stretched out to anyone who needed it, all the while with that damn smile on your face.

one training, bakugou busted one of his gauntlets. he had expected it, had already sensed that something was off when he was gearing up before training. he cursed under his breath and went to remove it, when you suddenly spawned by his side and scared the living shit out of him.

not that he’d ever admit it, but hearing your voice was enough to make his hair stand on end.

“hey, um, do you need help with that?” you asked, and bakugou freezed as you looked at him with those big, innocent eyes. “your gear, i mean.”

“hah?” bakugou flares up instinctively. it’s his default response to being approached, after all. “the fuck do you know about fixing jackshit?”

“oh, um, i tinker with a bunch of random stuff sometimes, so i figured maybe i could—”

“like hell i’m gonna let some idiot like you tinker with my shit,” bakugou sneers at you, and you flinch but you don’t take a step back. “find somethin’ else ta do if yer bored, sunshine.”

“sunshine— what—” you genuinely look a little concerned and even a little offended as you guffaw over bakugou’s words. “my quirk has nothing to do with sunshine!”

“hah?! ya think i’m stupid or some shit?! ‘course i know that it’s got shit to do with the sun, moron!”

“then why in the world would you call me that?!”

“i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want, shitface!”

then, class prez tenya iida dashes to break up the “fight”. “YOU TWO!!! BAKUGOU ESPECIALLY, CEASE YOUR SQUABBLING THIS INSTANT!!! SUCH PROFANITY IS NOT BECOMING OF A FUTURE—”

later that evening, you find yourself seated on the couch watching alien: covenant in the common room with kirishima, kaminara, sero and mina. however, you’re not paying much attention to whatever that egomaniac david’s doing in the movie, you’re still dwelling on how horribly your first proper interaction with bakugou had gone.

“y/n, darling, would you please tell us what’s wrong? this is, like, the tenth time you’ve sighed, and i know david is not that hot,” mina nudges your arm with an elbow. kaminari squawks in defiance, crying out that “if david’s not hot, i’m toast!” and kirishima reassuring him that he’ll be just fine, because “david’s just not manly, man!”.

“yeah, it’s not david,” you sighed yet again, and mina facepalms so hard you wince. “sorry, it’s just, i’m still a little peeved by what happened during training today.”

“bakugou, huh?” kirishima shoots you a wry smile, nodding sympathetically. “don’t mind it too much, bakugou’s just always like that!”

“i know, i know, but why the fuck did he call me sunshine?” you groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving your face into it.

“holy shit, okay, guys, this must be really bad,” kaminari shoots up from his horrendous slouched position and grabs sero’s shoulders to shake him like it’s the end of the world. “y/n just swore, and bakugou is acting up! i mean, that doesn’t sound like bakugou at all!”

“okay, firstly, kaminari, i hate to break it to you, bud, but i swear. like, a lot,” you dropped the pillow in your lap. “secondly, what do you mean bakugou’s acting up? doesn’t he call everyone names all the time?”

“yeah, insultingly,” jirou walks by the common room and chimes in. she points at the earphone jacks dangling from her ears. “i’m “ears.””

“i’m pinky,” mina hums in agreement.

“soy-sauce face,” sero deadpans.

“dunceface!” kaminari high-fives sero.

“and bakugou calls me shitty hair,” kirishima completes with a sigh. “what did he call you again?”

“moron, sunshine, and shitface, i think?” an awkward silence falls over the room, and you frown. “what? what does that mean? does he, like, really hate the sun or something?”

“…not that i know of? but it sounds like, uh,” kirishima scratches his head and gives you another one of those wry smiles. “sounds like you don’t completely piss bakugou off.”

extras:

yes that was an abby miller reference

yes i have walked into a wall yes i apologised

i REALLY wanna watch alien romulus in cinemas soon PLS NO SPOILERS

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[dollracha]

𐙚 just friends ⋆ l.f x reader

pairing: fwb! lee felix x gender neutral! reader genre: angst, smau, smut warnings: friends with benefits ⋆ no happy ending ⋆ swearing ⋆ special guests: bang chan & lee know ⋆ chan is called chris ⋆ vaguely written sex ⋆ riding (mentioned) ⋆ oral sex (male & gn recieving) ⋆ moody / mean felix ⋆ felix has an ex ⋆ felix is an asshole ⋆ short scenes ⋆ self gaslighting wc: 2.3k synopsis: becoming friends with benefits with felix wasn't a bad idea. that's what you convinced yourself when it started. nothing would change. (that was a lie.) request: hii is your request slot still open? if its not feel free to ignore my request. Soo Im thinking about fwb angst yk? Like maybe Seungmin or Felix. I would rly rly appreciate it if u did the request, have a nice day!! author's note: i wouldn’t call this full on smut but i did write some less descriptive sex scenes. the focus is more on the angst. also felix is mean. i said that once but i'm gonna say it again. (ps. there's no redemption arc pt. 2 because i actually enjoy the suffering of this.)

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

you always thought that most friends with benefits situations would be secret; that you’d sneak around behind your friend’s backs, careless yet careful to make sure they never found out. lee felix proved you wrong.

you’re out at the bar with your friends, he’s got his arm around you. after a few drinks, he’s suggesting you come home with him. or you’re at home on a saturday morning and he asks you to come grocery shopping with him, just for the company. whenever you’re out with your friends, it’s more likely than not that felix is at your side.

all of your friends know about your situation with felix. you used to be embarrassed, but that washed away quickly. you don’t feel anything about it, or at least you try not to. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“are you two together or something?” chris asks, his face twisted with confusion. it’s a reasonable question. felix has you pulled into his lap. he’s been fiddling with the pendant on your necklace for a few minutes. the two of you have been receiving looks from your friends, entirely noticed by you while felix remains unaware. 

“no?” he drops your pendant, and looks at chris like he’s an idiot for insinuating it. “nobody has a problem when lee know hyung grabs your ass. but suddenly because i’m holding y/n everyone’s got a problem?”

“what?” minho doesn’t move as he glares at felix. ‘the audacity of this kid…’ 

“no one’s got a problem.” chris intervenes between them before it has the chance to escalate. “it was just a question, mate.” 

felix practically shoves you off his lap to stand. you stumble as you try not to fall. “they’re obviously not my fucking partner.” he spits, and heads straight for the door. it stings. you know your dynamic, it’s nothing romantic. you’re just best friends who can’t keep their hands off each other. that doesn’t stop the hurt.

you look between your friends, and felix, and back again. “i’m gonna go make sure he’s okay.” chris shakes his head, but doesn’t say a word nor stop you.

you catch up to felix just before before the elevator door shuts. “felix,” he doesn’t spare you a glance. “wha—” he interrupts you. “—it’s bullshit. they’re all cozy with each other. no problem. that’s fine. but when it comes to me there’s a bunch of questions and shit?” he turns to you finally, posing the question and finally remembering to hit the button for the first floor.

“it was one question, felix.” you try to calm him down, it probably won’t work. he’s been very sensitive to the topic of relationships as of recent. “i don’t think chris is necessarily wrong for asking, and–”

“so you think he has the right to be in my business?” 

“no. that’s not what i said.”

“then what is it?”

“you were a little rough. chris wasn’t rude. you took an unwarranted shot at minho. they’re our friends.” 

“you’re my friend too and you don’t pull that shit.” anyone else would think he was brushing off your point, but you know he’s getting it. he’s reaching out to pull you close, and then the elevator door opens. he walks out first, and spares a glance behind him. 

“come home with me?” he asks, and you nod. 

“let’s go.”

  ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

he’s not always moody, but the 'what are we?' talk always manages to put him in a mood. most of the time, you two are just friends, who fuck each other on the side. nothing more. 

that’s how it started. felix was a few weeks free from a bad breakup. he was pent up, needed to relieve the stress, anger and sadness bottled up inside of him. and there you were, sitting on his couch like a godsend. it started slow. he pulls you into his arms like he has many times before. friends, cuddling together. until it’s not. his hand rests on your knee, it slowly makes its way up your thighs. you only realize how hot his touch makes you feel when his fingers sneak under the hem of your shorts.

“can i?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. 

a part of you (that, maybe, you should have listened to) tells you to say no. but you don’t. you nod your head, and for good measure, you say “yes.”

felix decides to try his luck further, his other hand grips your chin, and forces you to look at him. there’s a hunger in his eyes, like he’s ready to devour you whole given the chance. “can i kiss you?” he practically is, his lips brush against yours as he speaks. 

you knew it wouldn’t mean anything. you always took felix as a romantic. the fact that he was so willing to touch you with no ado made everything clear: this was a one time hookup. were you using him, in his emotionally fragile, pent up state? was he using you? you weren’t sure. 

“yes,” it’s another stupid decision, but it doesn’t feel quite wrong when his lips are against yours. when he kisses you with such need, such urgency. you lose all thoughts of moral, of rationale. all that matters is felix.

a few minutes of eager kissing is all he can stand. he slips his shirt off, and pushes up the hem of yours then hesitates. “can i?” again, you should have said no. you don’t.

“please,”

it’s a blur after that. he takes your shirt off. then it’s your shorts, your underwear. he makes you cum on his mouth. he’s reveling in the way you grip his hair, the way you moan his name like it’s the only one that you know. it makes him feel wanted, needed. like for once, in the past few months, he’s doing something right.

he’s got you itching to return the favor, to feel the weight of him on your tongue, taste him and feel as he hits the back of your throat. felix gets impatient. he grips your hair and fucks into your mouth. his cock hits the back of your throat and you tear up. he’s quick to soothe your tears, “i caused them, ‘s only right.” he says.

as he cums, he holds you in place. he looks up at the ceiling, groaning as you take his load. it’s not your name he moans. it’s his ex’s. it gets caught in his throat like a strangled sob–refusing to come out, yet refusing to stay inside. you both pretend it didn’t happen.

for now, it’s all he wants. you continue with your movie night as if nothing happened. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

it’s almost a routine now. you hook up at least twice a week. he’s always the one to invite you over. sometimes it’s a relief. you’re stressed about something going on in your life and he’s a perfect distraction. other times, he’s the one making your life harder. he’s begging you to come over late, and your problem? you can’t say no. you have the freedom to. you know he’d pout for a second, before telling you to sleep well and you’ll hang out later. 

and when you do come over, which it’s unlikely that you won’t succumb to his request, he’s on you immediately. he doesn’t waste time stripping you, taking you to the bed when he’s patient, and the couch when he can’t wait another moment to have you. 

one thing that felix doesn’t do, is mark you. he’ll kiss you with vigor. he’ll suck at your skin, bite at your chest, but it’s all done with just enough gentleness that your skin remains unmarked. you know, you check in the mirror like you’ll wake up one morning and discover his love lasts on your skin. it’s the disconnect between love and lust. if he loved you, maybe he’d claim you as such. he’d mark your skin with red and purple hickeys. he doesn’t love you. you know that.

you don’t love him as anything more than a friend. you should stop dreaming about things reserved for lovers when you’re just friends.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

sometimes, there’s a domestic bliss that settles between the two of you. It really has you thinking that you could be his. you’ll be in his kitchen, his hands are wrapped around your waist as you cook a quick, late dinner. his head rests on your shoulder and he sways you to the music you put on. 

or you’re cuddling in his bed. he’s the big spoon and you’re the little spoon. he has a pillow propped over his arm, his other hand draped over your waist. you’re talking about everything and nothing, all at once. the weather. his childhood. your first pet. the weirdness of sourdough starter. 

you know that the only love between the two of you is the kind friends share. 

screw the kisses that are so sweet they make you think he’s in love with you. screw the way he moans your name now as he cums. the way he looks up at you as you ride him, something so hungry, so insatiable in his big doe eyes. screw way he holds you as you come down from your high, his hands stable and firm on your shaking hips. it keeps you from floating off into a realm, a universe where lee felix could actually love you like the romantic you’ve seen him be for everyone else he’s had in his bed. there’s no way any of it could be love. at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. if he hadn’t made it abundantly clear to everyone you know that you’re ‘just friends’, you might have mistaken the lust in his eyes for love. every lie becomes true once you repeat it enough. every hope, every desire gets crushed once met with the cruel fist of reality one too many times.

do you punish yourself with the facade that he loves you, or the facade that he doesn’t? either way, you can’t resist him. you can’t say no. he needs you. or is it you that needs him? who gets hurt when nothing was ever supposed to be at stake? if you’re an addict, lee felix is your drug, and you’ve not yet seen the consequences of taking too much.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

six months fly by quickly. six months of being friends with benefits with felix. to the date. it’s a normal day, though you don’t see him. you don’t talk to him. you haven’t talked to him since yesterday afternoon. 

the only warning when glass breaks, is the fall. felix’s absence is the fall. the ‘ping!’ of a text message is the impact on the ground, the shatter into a million pieces.

you should have known better than to think it was going to last. really, what did you expect? felix to confess his love to you, rose petals on the bed and candlelight? every good thing comes to an end. whatever you had with felix was never an exception.

it’s not like you loved him, though. like you had that kind of fantasy. it just felt like a breach of your friendship for him to run back to his ex, and not say a word.

you can’t help the anger that takes over. felix was seeing his ex again? after seven months of being apart. he’s running back into those arms. it disgusts you, so much so that you feel your stomach churn. it makes you want to throw up.

you're crying and you don't even know why. there was nothing going on between you two. everything in the past few months meant nothing. right?

wrong. it was something. you couldn't quite explain it, but it was worth far more than going back to a shitty ex.

usually, when felix causes your tears, he's there to wipe them away. they're because of everything he's doing right. this time, it's all wrong; he's not here to dry them up either.

you know chris wouldn’t lie to you. you also know felix wouldn’t keep that from you.

or would he?

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

[asce-of-hearts]

if you don’t, can we have bloody painter x f!reader smutt where f!reader tried to make him jealous but it backfires?

Bitter

Contents: Yandere!Bloody Painter x F!Reader jealousy smut scenario

more BP content here

TAG LIST

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: YANDERE, OBSESSIVE AND POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, BOOBJOBS, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS, HELEN BEFORE BLOWING UP AND BECOMING AN ACTUAL SERIAL KILLER, SORT OF SCHOOL/COLLEGE!AU, ESTABLISHED SITUATIONSHIP, DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH, NON-CON/DUB-CON.

"People keep disappearing whenever they stay after school, isn't that freaky?" You say, leaning over Helen's desk. He only gives you a hum of acknowledgement, his pencil still moving as his eyes don't leave the paper. You pout, disheartened by his lack of enthusiasm. "Are you even listening?"

"I am." He answers quickly, curtly. You groan, amusing him just a bit, making his eyes flicker between you and the paper for a fraction of a second. He uses the pencil to tap you in the forehead, making you squeak.

"What's the big idea?" You ask, rubbing your forehead as he starts collecting his things. The sun is setting, and he doesn't answer, only continuing his task. You watch him intently, like a big cat stalking its prey, but he doesn't seem to mind. You feel a surge of rage, something bitter and rotten in the pit of your stomach. "Do you even like me, Helen?" You ask in a thread of voice, and he finally faces you.

"Guess." He says, his blue eyes cold as they fix on yours. He doesn't say anything else, just holds the door for a moment, as if inviting you to get out the classroom with him, but you don't leave your room, even if you're the only two people left. He continues to look at you, as if ushering you to stop playing and just follow him already. Your brows furrow, and you jump out of your seat, shoulder checking him as you walk past his body.

"I'll walk alone today." You hiss at him.

He rolls his eyes.

The next day, Helen arrives the classroom early as usual, its quiet and its cold, and the lighting is nice. He gets a few moments of calm and peace before you come in and pester him, and before all of the other idiots arrive and make him want to blow their heads off with a gun.

He hears your voice, and he can't control how his fingers make the pencil he was holding incessantly tap the paper. He's happy to see you, he always is, he just sucks at expressing his emotions. But he doesn't ignore you when you talk to him, and walks home with you every day, isn't that enough?

But you don't come to him, you only lock gazes as you walk past him, clinging to the arm of another guy. Another one of your friends, what a disgusting word, Helen hates them. He shouldn't have to compete for your attention, much less when he had already had you wrapped around his finger. He only scowls, averting his eyes to somewhere else.

As time passes by, he finds himself unable to focus, his eyes digging holes in the back of your head as he stares at you furiously from across the classroom, you try to ignore the displeasing sensation of being watched. When the bell rings, and you walk past him, he quickly grabs your wrist.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He asks, hissing, bearing his teeth like a wild animal.

"I thought you said you were done with me."

"I didn't say anything. You're the one who left sulking yesterday," He says in an angry whisper, standing up. You forget how tall he is at times, at least a head and a half taller than you, his body lean but strong enough to keep you in place when he wants to. "What are you trying to play?"

"Play!? Nothing! I'm just tired of getting ignored every time I try and get close to you!" You bark back, you can see him hesitate, his grip on your wrist faltering before tightening again just before you manage to free yourself.

"I don't ignore you," He tries to sound calm, ignoring how his mind is screaming murderous words as you look at him with utter hatred, bitterness pooling at the back of his throat. "I'm nice to you. Quit it."

"I'm not quitting anything," You pull yourself free of his grip, the angry red imprint of his fingers on your skin impossible to ignore. He represses a smirk, proud of leaving his mark over your skin, and even better, in his favorite color. "Leave me alone." You turn around to walk away.

"I'll catch you at the end of the school day, we'll talk on the way home." "No!" You say with far too much dramatism for his taste, his knuckles white as he bites the inside of his cheek to grab the last ounce of control he has. "Forget it! I'm finding someone else to walk me home! Better yet, I'm staying here with my friends to figure out about the freaky disappearances that I tried to tell you about, and who knows! Maybe I'll get freaky with one of them!" You scream at him, and throw an eraser you found in his general direction. You don't mean those words, at least you think so. His face goes pale, even paler than before.

He doesn't even bother collecting his stuff before he storms out, you try and get him to stop, but he completely ignores your efforts.

You sigh, alone in the classroom once more.

"He hates me for sure," You whimper with your forehead pressed to the cold wall of the bathroom stall, you're hiding there with your friends. Who try their best to comfort you. "I completely destroyed any chance I had with him. Who even suggested I try and make him jealous?"

"You did." One of your friends answer, and you deadpan at her, earning a playful smile from her behalf. "Ah, just forget it, there are other fish in the sea, you know? More cocks than stars in the sky."

"Shut up!" You squeak, smiling just a little. You hear noise outside the bathroom, men screaming, probably your guy friends trying to play a prank on you. Definitely.

"Just ignore them, they'll shut up eventually." Another one of your friends rolls her eyes, continuing to text on her phone. And she's right, they shut up after about five minutes. The silence is unnerving, only the occasional song playing from one of your phones as you mindlessly scroll through social media, or the clanking of nails across the screen.

"It's... It's too quiet, don't you think?" You say, and they all agree.

"Let's go and check what's going on. Maybe they're pretending, they'll scare us for sure when we get out the bathroom, just try to not scream too loud." Just as you prepare to go outside, you feel your bladder call for duty.

"Wait!" They all groan. "No, I'll pee myself from the scare. Go out first, I'll take just a moment." Reluctantly they agree, and leave you to do your thing as they exit the bathroom, you can hear them screaming, the prank probably worked a little too well, how well? Three girls screaming for two minutes at least seems like an exaggeration, two minutes? Just how long have you been dissociating inside the stall. You pull your pants up and fix your hair in front of the sink mirror, stepping out to the dark hall. "I'm here, sorry-" Your apology is interrupted by a warm liquid pooling at your feet, the faint sound of kicking flesh immediately putting you in overdrive. You choke a scream as you see the pile of corpses in front of you, a masked man collecting vials of blood.

You both stare at each other for a moment, unable to move. You can feel the tears pooling at your eyes, and you scream at your legs to move, run, run, run. Before you can do anything he has already pounced over you, your head hitting the wall as he pins you to the ground in a quick movement. You, flat on the floor, him on top, legs around your torso.

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" You manage to scream, and he presses his hand over your mouth.

"I'll do whatever I want, slut," He says with anger, and you can recognize the voice, the boyish laugh that escapes his throat as you realize. You kick and scream.

"Stop it, Helen! It's not funny! Not funny!" You squeal under him, but he doesn't let go. He pulls the mask up, his eyes dark and devoid of life as he grins at you, like a cat.

"No purpose in hiding myself then," He sighs, and the small scalpel he's holding comes to rip at your blouse, exposing your breasts. Your breath hitches as he traces the blunt part of the blade over your skin, eliciting goosebumps. "You would've figured it out one way or another, maybe once we had gotten married..." He's talking mostly to himself, his eyes eating you alive, trying to memorize every little detail of your body. The mark of his hands around your wrist still noticeable, good.

"Married?"

"Well, yes... I like you, don't I? I don't think I will ever like anyone else as much as you." He answers as if it was obvious, and you don't know what to say. "But that's besides the point. You... you didn't do anything with any of them, right? They didn't taint you," He asks, eyes wide open, searching for the truth, you shake your head. "Good, good. I would've killed you if they did."

The cold air of the night hits at your naked skin, making your nipples perk up under your bra, he notices, and cuts it open as well. He drops the scalpel next to you, and his hands come to squeeze and fondle at your now exposed mounds.

"Pretty," He whispers. "You're... so pretty." In another context you would be melting, aching for him to praise you more. But in this instant you feel like prey, like meat, and he's hungry, salivating for a taste of your flesh.

"Please, Helen."

"Stop begging," He orders, his grip on your tights tightening until it hurts, making you whine in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He plays with them for a few moments more, twisting and pulling at your nipples from time to time. And then he pulls it out, his cock. Pretty, just like him. Lean, the tip a pretty pink, a beauty mark and a vein running around it. You gasp at the sight, at how he shifts positions. "Put them... together," He says in a husky whisper, referring to your tits, he uses your hands to push them together, and you're too afraid to refuse, staying in the position he left you in. He slides his cock between them, throwing his head back, pleasured. "Tight, tighter." He's lost in bliss, in the sensation of your flesh wrapped around him. You find yourself strangely flattered at his reaction to your body.

He slides himself between your breasts frantically, rutting like a dog in heat. He spits between them, creating a mess of slick and spit, pre cum staining your skin. You feel strange, disgusted even, like this shouldn't be happening, but he doesn't stop. And then, he grabs a fistful of your hair.

"Open, open wide!" He moans, whimpers even. Too late for you to react quick enough, his cum litters your face, thick white ropes that fall everywhere, the taste is bitter, gooey and heavy, like cream. He doesn't bother to clean you up, breathing heavily as he stands on top of you, you lay down on the ground, pliant and tender. His breathing stabilizes quickly, and you see the flash of a camera as he snaps a picture. He cocks his head to the side, smiling.

"Needed the reference for my next painting."

hope you enjoyed this

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @nenekusanagi @justmare @eroscastle @stranger00001 @kitzusune

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[heliosundercover]

Batboys and

how they talk about you

Bonus fic as a thank you for allowing my jason fic to do well 💋

Dick Grayson-

, who talks about you like a goddess walking the earth, loves you more than words. The type to talk about you so much that people doubt your real

 

“My girlfriend is so sweet, guys. Today we went to that one library I like. Guys, have I told you even her favorite book is adorable?”

It doesn’t help that he tends to get caught up in certain details, completely ignoring other ones. No one knew your name until a week into dating.

 

Jason: “If you asked me before, I would’ve never believed him; weve all gone a little insane, but now that Ive seen proof, I'm happy for him. He gets to be well-dick, and she gets to smile and nod, but I swear she enjoys it. They’re weird together.”

 

Tim: “We love Dick. A lot, but we were looking at a wonderful facility that has an in-patient gym in the beginning. But the way he looks at her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually did miracles.” 

 

Damian: “At least I believed him at the start. He was smitten and absolutely whipped. I thought it was just like Dick. I don’t know why I, of all people, was the only one that caught it.

 

Bruce: Yeah, I knew she was real. Why would I ruin everyone’s fun? I mean, Dick is a bit. Aloof sometimes… I'm not exactly surprised; he’s not exactly amazing socially sometimes, but with her, he’s extra awkward, and I watched him flirt with men and women. But look, as long as he’s happy, we’re happy for him.”

 

Dick is a completely drunken idiot, with so much training thrown out the window. 

(Can you tell I'm not a fan of a playboy dick😞 im sorry i love a good love stuck man)

 

Jason Todd-

, who is extremely protective of his peace, sometimes acts as if you’re fragile. He was the type to invite you to a family game night where he called a family meeting an hour beforehand, forcing everyone to be on their best behavior. Needless to say, it was awkward, but one uno round later, he realized you fit in just fine. 

 

“I knew my girl would win. She's a gangster.”

boast when you absolutely dominate everyone playing in the game. You never quite beat the cheating allegations.

 

Dick: "I don’t know how he did it, but he found someone who brings out a side of him I haven’t seen in years. No one is that good at uno; naturally, at least, I think she’s a meta. I'm not saying that non-metas aren’t good at uno.”

 

Tim: "You know how in movies the girl animals just have lashes, and how the boy is always darker and the girl will be like a lighter color? It's like she was made for him. I'm glad he found his anamorphic girl, Wolf. But, can I be honest? I think Alfred was telling her our cards.”

 

Damian: "I'm glad Jaybird is happy. He’s definitely earned it. Even if she cheats at UNO, they’re perfect for each other. Hell, the cheating is what makes them perfect for each other.”

 

Bruce: "I'm glad to see Jason happy. The sparkling in his eyes, the boyish smile, is the same joy I saw after he hit me with a car iron and ran off, giggling. I like her.”

 

 

Bruce Wayne-

is proud to show you off publicly. He’s not one to spoil someone, but sometimes he can’t help but pick up trinkets for you. Sometimes you’d wake up to keychains, jewelry, or even clothes somewhere in your shared room. 

 

He tried so hard to be there for you and protect you from his line of work. Some nights, he wouldn’t come to bed at all to avoid waking you. Some nights, if you worried too much, he would send Dick out in the Batman costume so he could be by your side. 

 

"Shh, baby, its ok... Tonight, I'm staying with you, okay? I love you; do you know that? And I know sometimes the risk scares you, but I’ll always be here for you.”

 

Dick: "It's nice knowing Bruce isn’t constantly brooding about it. Well, I knew that fact already, but this is different. I only see a light in his eyes when he’s doing stuff he absolutely loves. Like when he talks to his parents tombs and we pretend we don’t see him.”

 

Jason: "i think that man would come back from the dead more dramatically than I did for this woman. And I waged like 3 wars.”

 

Tim: “Sometimes I see them sitting in the library together in silence. All they do is enjoy each other’s presence. Its adorable”

 

Damian: “Dads earned it. And when I say he’s earned it, I mean he’s earned it!”

 

Bruce isn’t the easiest to be with, but he always makes up for it.

[froggiewrites]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You spend the night crying into your drinks about how much you want Sanji, and how much it hurts he's in love with someone else. Sanji spends the night crying about much the same. Your friends get sick of it, and decide to help the idiots realize what everyone else already knows. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Sanji and Reader both being idiots Word Count: 4.1k

You are going to get drunk tonight. Plastered, even.

Another day, another victory, another adventure spent staring longingly at Sanji when you were sure he wasn’t looking. You could usually handle the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick puppy for a man you knew didn’t feel the same, but something about today really set you off. Maybe it was the way he so sweetly called Nami’s name when you all reunited, or the way he so carefully prepared Robin her favorite drinks, or some other transgression you can’t quite remember. You don’t know exactly what it was, but you know you’re irritated and hurt and a little heartbroken, and there’s about a half a dozen drinks with your name on them behind the bar.

The tavern is lively and loud, and the rest of the crew is clearly having a good time. Your eyes briefly linger on Sanji at the bar, but you try to force your eyes away. No point in lingering here, yearning for something you can’t have. You instead make your way to the back of the room, wedging yourself between Zoro and Robin, who seem to be drinking in silence together.

You had intended on sharing in the peaceful silence, broken only by some quiet comments and gentle chuckles, but three drinks in you can see them side-eyeing you, brows furrowed.

“What?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to, but you’re a bit too drunk to care.

“Just surprised you’re drinking so much, is all. You normally pace yourself more than this.” Robin’s voice is quiet and controlled, as though she’s just making a passive observation, but you know your friends and you know she is deeply worried about you.

“I had a bad day.”

“Really? You seemed fine earlier.” Zoro sounds genuinely surprised. Robin shoots him a look you can’t read, and he quickly shuts his mouth.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?” Her voice is kind, so kind, but it makes you clench your jaw anyway.

“No.”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

Zoro mutters, “Oh, god damnit,” before taking another stiff pull of his drink.

“What happened, exactly? You both seemed perfectly friendly this morning.”

“I don’t…know. Everything was fine until it wasn’t, and now I’m all twisted into knots and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well maybe you can start by telling us how you feel, and we can try to help you unravel all of this.”

“We?”

You both ignore Zoro’s confusion and indignation. “Maybe…if you think it will help.” You close your eyes, grounding yourself, and focusing wholly inward. “I just think I’m…tired of wanting things I can’t have. It’s really hard to be on a ship full of people living their dreams, fighting for everything they desire, and I’m here, feeling like I have to constantly hold so tight I feel like my fingers will break or else it’ll all slip through my fingers.”

“And do you feel like you’re holding onto Sanji?”

“Not just him, I guess. To everything. To all of you. But I’m trying to let myself believe that all of this is what I want, and that it’s going to be forever, and then I see him smile at someone else and the illusion just…shatters. I’m not happy. And I know damn well it won’t last forever. I feel like I’m stuck waiting for an inevitable ending that I’ll never be satisfied with. Right now, I’m in limbo, and I can keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt, but every time I think about how hopeless I feel with him it kind of reminds me of how hopeless it all is.”

You put your head in your hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And it’s not only about him, right? It’s just kind of a general dissatisfaction with where I am compared to you guys. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t more about Sanji than it isn’t. He’s both, like, a symbol of it and the source of it. He’s the thing I want most, and he’s the thing I know I’m never going to have.”

“Why do you think you’ll never have him?”

“Because he’s in love with Nami.” You say it like it’s obvious.

Zoro is glaring at his drink, still wondering how he got roped into this conversation and praying you stop, while Robin gives you a gentle look resembling sympathy. There's something behind her eyes though, something you can't read, that makes you feel a bit uneasy.

"It's one thing, to have your love unrequited. For the man you're in love with to be hopelessly smitten with someone else. But god, it's another for him to be right."

"Right?" Robin's voice doesn't betray anything as she keeps her tone to a careful academic neutrality.

"It's just...she is that wonderful. I can't be upset about it because I can't blame either of them. She's beautiful and kind and capable and he's...well. He's everything. It just makes sense. It's somehow harder not to be bitter because I really don't have anything to be bitter about, if that makes sense."

"It would make sense if anything you said was true." Zoro's voice is gruff,  and you look to him in surprise, only to find his expression mirroring your own, as though he can't believe he opened his mouth. "He sucks, and she's great and all but she's no angel. And they aren't in love anyway so I don't understand what the problem even is." You think he's trying to help. Sweet, if ineffective.

"He's in love with her. He has been since the day they met. You know that, you were there."

"That isn't love. He's just a horny idiot."

"He's not an idiot." You hate how defensive your tone gets, how pathetic it makes you feel. You hate even more that Zoro and Robin both look at you with undisguised pity.

"I think what Zoro is trying to say is that you seem to think his feelings for Nami go a lot deeper than they do. They're just friends. He just speaks to all women like that."

"Not me."

You all hate the silence that follows.

"He hits on you too." Zoro's voice is a little weaker than before, knowing his argument isn't exactly rock solid. He's kind to you, complimentary, but he's never rushed into battle alone to save you. He's never ridden in on a blazing white steed for you, not like he has Robin or Nami. And sure, you've never been kidnapped like them, but it's hard not to feel the difference when Mr Prince himself has never played his part with you. He's kind to you, so very kind, but he's kind to everyone. That's just who he is.

“You know it isn’t the same, Zoro. It’s always Nami first. It always has been. He talks to me the same way he would any woman. Less than that, even.” You start tearing up despite yourself, and you hope your friends will blame your fragility on your drink and not your tender heart. “He just…he doesn’t look at me like that. He doesn’t fall at my feet, and it’s not like I want him to but…” You break into a quiet sob, and Robin’s hand comes to your shoulder, rubbing calming circles there.

Zoro leans in a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but worried and kind nonetheless. “That stupid cook cares about you a lot more than any stranger on the street, and I think you know that. He’s just an idiot.” You look up at him, confused, and Zoro tries not to let out an annoyed sigh at your obliviousness. It isn’t entirely your fault. Who could blame you for thinking what you did? It’s not like Sanji helped with that. He didn’t give you the dramatic love confessions he did Nami or Robin. Nami had asked him once why he sang your praises differently than he did theirs, and he had insisted that he would give you only the grandest speeches, once he had prepared words worthy of you. The rest of the crew quickly figured out what he really meant: he was too nervous to say such a thing when he really meant it.  He would instead tuck his love into the food and drinks he served you, into the jacket he placed over your shoulders when you were cold, into the gentle smiles he gave you when you weren’t looking. Everyone had agreed not to push him before he was ready, to let you both find your way to each other naturally, but it was becoming apparent this was the wrong move.

You keep crying into your glass, and Zoro sighs. You’re both ridiculous. What a pair.

Across the bar, Usopp lets out his fiftieth sigh of the night. He has no idea how he got roped into this. Sanji is somewhere between sorrow and rage, buried in a pile of empty glasses that reek of beer. He's been going on for at least fifteen minutes now, and if Usopp had even slightly less of a conscience he'd leave him here to wallow, considering his problem is entirely self-inflicted. But unfortunately, Usopp is a great friend, so instead he bravely sits on this barstool, a listening ear to make sure Sanji's drowning his troubles doesn't end in Sanji himself drowning after he stumbles his way home alone.

"It's not right." Sanji's voice is shaky with emotion, even with his words slurred.

Usopp sighs, pretending he hasn't heard this exact line of conversation three times tonight. "What's not right, buddy?"

"He doesn't...he doesn't deserve her. He isn't good enough for her. That stupid swordsman...what does she see in him?" He takes another swig of his drink, letting out a deep sigh and dropping his shoulders. "He's just...he's not even nice to her. Not like he should be."

"He's being nice to her right now." Usopp motions over to where you're having your own pity party, one Zoro seems to have become an unwilling guest of. Robin is patting your shoulder in sympathy, while Zoro leans closer to say something to you, care and concern obvious on his face to those who knew him.

"But he should worship her. Everyone should. She's...she's..." Sanji drunkenly trails off.

"An angel?"

"A goddess." Despite the glaze over his eyes, his conviction shines though, granting him a focus he hasn't had all night as he gazes at her. "Someone to be cherished, protected, adored. He doesn't adore her. He should be on his knees right now begging for her attention, and he's just...talking to her. Like he would anybody."

"Probably because they're friends."

"But look at her. She clearly wants more than that. She should get whatever she wants. On a silver platter." Sanji really emphasizes that last part, lips pouting and brow tightening. Usopp looks over again to see you about to cry into your drink, leaning further into Robin. You aren't even looking at Zoro right now, but Sanji is still burning with envy. Usopp would love to set him straight, tell him that anyone with eyes could see who's attention you really wanted, but he knows you'd kill him, and he quite likes being alive. Sanji's so filled with malice and self loathing right now that he probably wouldn't even believe him, anyway. For a man so delusional about love, he somehow can’t see it when it’s right in front of him.

“I think you’re a little lost here, Sanji. She’s not in love with Zoro. She’s just drunk and sad. Reminds me of someone else I know.” He keeps that last part under his breath, and Sanji is drunk enough not to have heard it. Instead he frowns, taking another swig of his drink before trying to stand and falling directly into the counter. Your head pops up across the room, eyes wide and concerned, ready to leap to Sanji’s rescue. It’s amazing how blind that man must be to not see how obsessed with him you are. Usopp waves you off before hooking his hands under Sanji’s armpits and hauling him up. “Time to go, loverboy. You’ve had enough.”

“But she needs me!” Sanji struggles, but he’s so drunk he can’t properly utilize his strength. Lucky, or he’d already be halfway across the room to make an ass of himself. Usopp notices a small trickle of blood on his forehead from where he made contact with the bar.

“She’s fine, I promise. But you need to take a trip to see Chopper.”

“I need to help her! I can’t leave a lady in distress!”

“The lady will be in a lot more distress if she sees you’re hurt, Sanji! So get moving!” Usopp starts dragging him unceremoniously from the tavern, praying Franky will still be awake when he gets back to the ship to help him maneuver Sanji into his cot. Sanji passes out about halfway back to the Sunny, mercifully. Usopp hopes Robin and Zoro are having a better time with their other drunken crewmate.

You wake up with a pounding headache and the worst case of dry-mouth you’ve ever experienced. Your eyes just barely crack open, letting in a blinding ray of light, and you let out a small groan of pain. There’s a large glass of water by your bedside and some pills, as well as a small note from Chopper telling you to meet him in the infirmary once you feel up to walking. You chug the water and take your medicine gladly, touched by the sweet gesture. Your crew takes such good care of you.

It takes a while for the medicine to kick in enough for the light to stop hurting, but eventually you’re able to stand. You can’t remember the latter half of last night, your last memory being Sanji slamming his head into the counter while Robin and Zoro held you back from running to him. Zoro had supplied you with another drink then, and Robin had asked you more probing questions, but you could not for the life of you remember any other specifics. You make your way to Chopper’s infirmary so lost in thought you didn’t notice the mischievous looks in the eyes of your crewmates, the way their gazes subtly followed you as you walked.

“Chopper?” Your voice is still a little hoarse from having cried your heart out last night. You slip through the door, expecting to find your dear doctor ready to fuss over you and scold you for overdoing it last night. Instead you find Sanji face first in a bed, a small bandage wrapped around his head. Before you can ask if he’s alright, or if he knows where Chopper is, you hear it.

Click.

Your eyes widen. Your hand reaches for the doorknob, ready to turn it, and you find it doesn’t budge.

“What the fuck?”

Sanji groans again, slowly and carefully sitting up, before looking over at you. “What are you doing here, darling?” He looks at your hand, up at your expression, then back down to the doorknob. “Why…why is the doorknob backwards?”

Instead of the lock being where it should be, you find the keyhole on the inside of the door. There’s slight scratches around the nails holding it and place, and you realize someone has turned it around. There’s a quiet murmur of voices on the other side of the door, which turns to a yelp when you punch the wood. “What the hell is this?”

“We’re helping!” Nami’s voice rings out confidently from the other side, and you hear a few noises of agreement.

“With what, exactly?” You have a horrible sinking feeling you know exactly what they’re going to say, but you try to push it out of your mind, channeling the relentless optimism of your captain.

“We’re tired of you two being idiots!” Zoro’s voice is annoyed and unfriendly, but after a moment it slightly softens. “Just…talk to each other. Like people. For once in your lives.”

You don’t know why, but something about that makes Sanji’s brow twitch in annoyance. “Let us out, mosshead! I knew you were awful but I can’t believe you’d trap a lady!”

“It wasn’t my goddamn idea! Blame Nami!”

Sanji pauses in his yelling at that, but shockingly enough, he still seems upset instead of instantly kowtowing. He frowns, forehead wrinkling, but doesn’t say anything else.

“We aren’t letting you out until you’ve talked. We’re gonna go so you have privacy, but if you break out we’re putting you right back in, so don’t even think about just kicking down the door!” Nami’s voice is firm and commanding, and you find your shoulders slumping, knowing there’s no real point in fighting her. You’re both hungover, exhausted, and not in any state to continue the conflict. You sigh, making your way to a cot next to Sanji’s. You throw yourself down, the slight bounce you make on landing making you far more nauseous than it had any right to.

“Do you know what they want us to talk about?” Sanji sounds almost nervous, which surprises you. Does he know?

“I…have an idea. Do you?”

“I might.”

You both shift awkwardly in the silence that follows. You fidget with your hands, curling in tighter, anxiety eating at you. This is it. This is the rejection you’ve been waiting for. The final blow to shatter your fragile hopes, to crush your remaining optimism and the wonderful future you’ve allowed yourself to keep dreaming of.

“What do you see in him?” Sanji’s voice is quiet and seeping with vulnerability. His eyes are closed, as though he’s scared to even look at you and get your answer.

“What do I see in who?”

“In that stupid swordsman. Why do you care about him?”

“What?” You blink owlishly.

He finally looks up at you. He blinks back. “What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m dating Zoro?”

“Are you…not? Trying to do that?”

“No! God no! I’m–” You barely hold yourself back from saying trying to date you. “I’m not into Zoro like that. Did you think I was?”

“I–um. No?” His dour look turns sheepish, a small bit of red painting his cheeks. Adorable.

“God, Sanji. Zoro is not my type.” You both sit for a moment, before you realize something. “Were you upset because you thought I was into him?”

“He isn’t good enough for you.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth. “No one is, but especially not him. You deserve the best, and nothing less.”

Your heart flutters a little, that little thing with feathers worming its way back into you, but you suddenly see Nami’s face in your mind and you crush it. To dream and watch it die is far worse than never dreaming at all. “That’s sweet, Sanji. But you shouldn’t say things like that. You might give someone the wrong idea.”

His head cocks to the side. “What do you mean, wrong idea? You do deserve the best. No one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“What about Nami?”

“What about Nami?”

“Does she not deserve the best? More than I do? More than anyone? Your sweet Nami-swan?” You fail to keep the bitterness out of your tone in that. Not bitterness towards her, of course, or even towards Sanji, really, just a sour taste in your mouth you can’t quite shake.

His brow furrows, lips downturned. “Well she deserves the best too, of course, but why would she deserve it more? Why wouldn’t you deserve everything you want?”

You let out a frustrated growl. “That’s what I want to know! Why not me?” You slam your hand over your mouth. God, he knows, and now he’s going to reject you, so sweetly and kindly, like he does everything, and it’s going to shatter you into a million pieces. You squeeze your eyes shut like blocking out the sight of him will undo what you’ve just done.

You don’t hear him reject you. You don’t even hear him move. You only feel warm hands on your cheeks, and you open your eyes to see Sanji right in front of you, nose to nose, and you can see reflected in his eyes something you might dare to call hope.

“Do you want it to be you?” You hear a longing in his words, see it in his eyes. You have never known Sanji as a man to want, to desire more than what he’s freely given, but in this moment it truly almost seems like he wants you.

You slowly take your hand off of your mouth. Your voice is meek, mouselike, but you force it out anyway. “Would that be okay? If I did?”

“Oh angel, it would be more than okay.” He slides impossibly closer, thighs on either side of yours, torsos pressed together, surrounding you wholly. “It is you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Is that okay?”

You want to answer him in words, something articulate that would move his heart, but instead you let out a soft squeak of surprise before grabbing his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. They’re chapped, the dehydration from the hangover still plaguing him. He has morning breath. His movements are uncoordinated, unsteady. His goatee scratches your chin. When he opens his mouth, welcoming you further, he tastes like cigarettes and a hint of shitty beer. 

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You end up on your back, Sanji’s weight holding you down, comforting and all-consuming. His hands rest on your hips as yours tangle in his hair. You only pull back when the demand for air is too much, and even then you consider ignoring the scream of your lungs. You both pull back, chests heaving, and Sanji buries his face in your neck.

“I never thought I’d actually get to do this.” He buries his nose further into your neck, his arms sliding underneath you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Neither did I. I kept telling myself to stop dreaming about things I couldn’t have.”

“You’ve had me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You’ve had me for just as long.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

You take a strained breath. “I was…I don’t deserve you. And I thought you knew that. And that you were in love with Nami. That didn’t help.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, his gaze boring into you. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” He sounds absolutely baffled at the idea.

“You’re kind, talented, strong, handsome…you’re everything, Sanji. You deserve everything you want. And I didn’t think you wanted me.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before a small chuckle forces its way out of him. “That’s…that’s so ridiculous I genuinely don’t even know where to start.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’m ever going to want.”

He kisses your cheeks. “I have wanted you from the moment we met, and I will want you until the day I die.”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I have never met anyone more deserving of the world than you. And I’m not going to let anyone say otherwise. Even you. So there.”

You lean up to kiss his forehead in turn. “Well there’s nothing in this world I want more than you. Can I really have you?”

He takes one of your hands and places it over his rapidly beating heart. “You feel that? It’s all yours.” He lifts your other hand and kisses it in a deeply princely gesture that fits him perfectly.

Before you can reciprocate, the door slams open, and you hear Zoro’s disgruntled voice call out. “They’re making out! Can we be done with this now?”

Sanji whips around with even more vitriol than he usually reserves for the swordsman. “Piss off, mosshead. Can’t you see we’re busy?” The quick movement makes him sway slightly, and you’re forced to remember how horribly you’re both doing physically. If he picks a fight with Zoro right now he might end up puking all over his shoes.

“Ignore him, Sanji. We need to get some rest anyway.” You pull his face into your chest, which he gladly collapses fully into. When you run your fingers through his hair, he’s practically purring.

“Anything you say, my love.” His content smile grows wider when he hears your heart quicken at the words. Neither of you say anything else as your friends crowd the room, with their finallys and about times. Nothing in the world matters more than this right now: the feeling of each other’s warmth, the softness of each other’s skin, and the feeling of relief in both of your chests that your hopes were finally allowed to thrive.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Eddie loads the dryer but leaves it open for now; Steve’s asleep on the couch, his pup on the play mat on the floor next to him. Eddie checks the pup every few minutes; he’s pretty content right now, making a concerted effort to get his romper covered foot into his mouth.

He’s a pretty good pup, as far as Eddie can tell. Eddie’s apartment is a mirror of Steve’s, sharing the lounge wall, which means Eddie doesn’t really hear anything at night, their bedrooms are as far apart as they can be.

He’s heard him once in the day though, mid afternoon, crying. Just that once though, and Steve says he only wakes up once in the night for a feed and a change, and apparently that’s pretty good. Or at least, Steve seems happy with it, Eddie has no clue what's normal or not for new pups. Or any pups.

Steve’s still taking the opportunity to nap, though, and Eddie’s letting him. The pup is only ten days old, after all.

Eddie figures he can do their lunch dishes too, so he heads into the kitchen to tidy up. It doesn’t feel weird, letting himself help out around Steve’s place. Feels like home. Feels right.

Eddie likes it.

His Alpha definitely likes it.

Eddie’s done the dishes, dries them, puts them away, and decides it’s time for another loop of the apartment to check on Jamie. He’s fine. He’s waving his arms about and making happy pup gurgling noises.

There’s a knock at the door. Sharp. Very confident; also very fucking annoying. Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve and, yup, whoever it is has disturbed Steve and he’s stretching on the couch, starting to wake.

Eddie answers the door, finding the most petite female alpha he’s ever seen in his life. She frowns spectacularly at the sight, and scent, of Eddie, “can I help?”

“This is Steve’s apartment.” It is not at all delivered as a question, and Eddie guesses if she knows Steve well, she can scent damn well that this is his apartment.

“...can I help?” Eddie repeats, trying his damnedest not to let his hackles rise at the strange Alpha pushing on their boundaries. There’s a new pup in the apartment, and Eddie’s Alpha is the most alert it’s ever been right now.

“Eddie, who is it?” Steve calls from inside, and the Alpha steps closer.

Eddie has to resist the urge to just slam the door, but he can’t stop himself from swinging the door tighter to himself, blocking the doorway with his body, when the Alpha takes a step forward.

“Steve, it’s Nancy,” she calls.

“Oh.” Steve says, and Eddie can’t work out that tone at all, “okay Eddie, she can come in.”

Eddie still pauses for a second, having a mad glare off with this tiny Alpha, before he backs down and makes just enough space for her to pass.

She ignores him, going straight in and hovering near the couch, clearly pausing when she catches sight of the pup, “I heard you’d had a pup but…”

Steve sighs, bending down from where he’s sitting to scoop Jamie up into his lap, “his name is James.”

Eddie can feel how fucking awkward this is, the atmosphere between these two palpable. Eddie debates leaving, for a split second, this isn’t actually, anything to do with him.

He doesn’t though, he can’t, he shuts the door, and then hovers awkwardly behind the couch, and behind Steve.

Nancy eyes him again, and Eddie stares right back. Steve sighs. “If you two want to have a pissing contest you can do it some place else. You’re making it stink in here.”

As if on cue, Jamie starts crying.

“You’re right, he should go,” Nancy says.

“Excuse you?” Eddie can feel his eyebrows dragging his whole fucking face up into a scowl.

“Oh no,” Steve stands, “we’re not doing this, Eddie, do you mind taking him a sec?”

Eddie swells with pride that Steve would trust him with the pup, right this second. He probably actually puffs his chest up like an idiot, but he can’t make himself care. He takes Jamie into the nursery, bouncing him and holding him so he can scent at his neck, making nonsensical shushing noises. Unfortunately he can’t hear Steve and Nancy talking over Jamie’s half formed warbling in his ear, but it only feels like a couple of minutes before the pup settles and the front door clicks shut.

Steve comes in, looking tired suddenly. Tired and worn, “you okay?”

Steve shrugs, “she just came to remind me that I’m a stupid omega.”

Eddie has to bite back a growl, “she what?”

Steve laughs, but it’s empty and there’s no humor in it, “she didn’t actually say that. She said I would have been better to have a little more security before I had a pup. That having an Alpha I’m not mated too around the place is a bad idea. She asked if you were the father.”

For a second, Eddie’s heart feels like it tries to beat twice in one go, “what did you tell her?”

“That I don’t know who the father is. Technically true, but I put it like that to get a rise out of her. She always thought I was...flighty.”

“That’s a very polite way of putting that.”

Steve shrugs, coming close and scenting the top of his pups head, “I just wanted a mate. A family. Someone serious,” he shrugs, “I guess you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs or whatever. Just never...found the one that turned out to be a prince.” And Steve scents sad. He scents so godamn sad, “but I’ve got Jamie now, and we don’t need anyone? Do we pup?”

Eddie excuses himself, and goes home.

The knocking at Eddie’s door could be described as fucking obnoxious, so Eddie knows it’s Robin before he yanks it open.

“Steve said he hadn’t seen you for a couple of days.”

“Uh hu.”

“He also said Nancy had been over, was she a bitch? Did she say something to you?”

“No-”

“So why are you avoiding Steve?”

“I am not avoiding Steve-”

“Great, so you won’t mind coming over then. Me and Chrissy brought take out.”

Eddie sighs down at his adventure Crocs, listening to the happy chatter from inside the apartment. He really needs to get it together. He forces himself to think about that fact that he’s just made an amazing new friend, and that he gets to be a part of Steve’s life, and that he should be happy with that.

He really, really needs to be happy with that.

He’s just, he thinks, gotten his shit under control enough to knock when Robin drags the door open, “oh, figured you’d gotten lost, was just about to mount a search and rescue."

Steve and the girls are piled onto the couch, so Eddie takes the armchair. Jamie’s in his Moses basket, off to one side where Steve can look over him. The coffee table is covered with take out.

“Eddie,” Steve smiles all happy at the sight of him, “we missed you, you been busy?”

“Uh, yeah, work, you know, got busy,” Eddie says lamely. He can feel Robin eyeballing him, so he ignores her in favor of duck rolls and chicken chow mien.

They go back to the conversation they were clearly having before Eddie arrived, “I’ll definitely go out with you,” Chrissy is saying, “I mean, I won’t be any good at it, I’ve literally never played basketball, but you can teach me.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, you have cheerleader reflexes. I just need to practice with someone to get back in shape before I go out with the guys again, you know.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy agrees, “just getting out there will do you good.”

Steve hums, “I’m already getting really restless, you know?”

“I’d be climbing the walls, have you been out for a run yet?”

“Couple of times, but was more of a brisk walk, with the stroller, but I felt so much better afterwards.”

“Well, when you do get out for one, let me know, I can come with you for the first few while you find your feet?”

“Yeah, that would be great, I don’t know how far I’ll manage, but I’ve really got to get moving.”

“Eddie, help me with the coffee?” Robin distracts Eddie away from Steve and Chrissy’s, quite frankly, horrifying conversation. Sports? Running?

“You look like you’re going through the seven stages of grief, or whatever,” Robin laughs at him.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I went though the same thing with Chris.”

“What...thing?”

She turns to him, rolling her eyes, “you just realized that you’ve fallen in love with a jock?”

“Oh. I-Oh no.”

“Oh, sure, I can watch Jamie,” Eddie finds himself agreeing easily.

Steve’s wearing...well. Eddie’s not sure. He can't look. They’re shorts, Eddie’s pretty sure. They’re...green, maybe? But the most important feature is that they’re so tiny as to be practically indecent. Hence Eddie maintaining fierce eye contact.

Behind Steve, Chrissy is...stretching? Eddie guesses that’s what that is? Steve’s already got a little color in his cheeks and he’s bouncing on the spot a little.

“I’m real out of shape so we won’t be gone long, okay? Like, half hour, max.”

“Sure,” Eddie grabs his keys and slides into his adventure Crocs.

“He’s literally just been fed and had a change, he should sleep the whole time. Obviously help yourself to anything,” Steve is saying as Eddie follows him down the hall, "I've got my phone, so just call if you need and we can come straight back."

Jamie is there in his basket, the TV playing something quietly, and Steve kneels and scents his pup real quick before he goes.

The curve of Steve's ass is peeking out of the bottom of the shorts, the milky skin inside his spread thighs- Eddie stares at the ceiling. Nope nope nope, “sure,” he tells Steve, and the ceiling, “we got this.”

Eddie waits for the door to click shut before he moves again, looking down at Jamie, who gurgles, "what the fu-I. Sorry. I shouldn't swear in front of you but, I mean. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with your dad, is the thing."

Jamie farts, and then starts to cry.

Eddie sighs.

Part Six

[writingfics-passingtime]

Desperate Measures

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 5703

Content / warnings: swearing, a lot of sexual tension, steamy kissing, suggestive humour, tickle fic, implied sex

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: hello! I've come out of the woodwork to drop this random fic, thinking some of you may enjoy some wild sexual tension, teasing, and ruthless ler!loki I felt randomly compelled to write. I can't make any good-faith promises regarding future writing, so I'll just share this for now. All the love <3

The air in the gym was still and heavy, the only sound breaking the silence was the steady rhythm of your fists connecting with the punching bag. You were alone, intentionally so, using the late hour to work through a restless energy that had been gnawing at you for days.

Well, months, really.

There had been something about the Compound lately, something about him that made it hard to focus, hard to sleep.

The leather of the bag thudded under your punches, each strike sharp and measured as you practiced your form. But as effective as the session was at releasing some pent-up tension, you couldn’t ignore the nagging realisation that it wasn’t quite enough. And you didn't know what would be.

Then you heard him - felt him, really, before he spoke. Loki’s presence always announced itself in a subtle way. A shift in the air, a sense of something electric.

The low, velvety voice followed, as if materialising from the shadows. “This hardly seems like a fair fight.”

You froze for the briefest second, your fist still mid-air, before lowering your arm and turning to face him. There he stood, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed casually over his chest. He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just caught you off guard, but that was Loki’s way. His dark hair framed his sharp features, and his eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. “Rather a waste of energy, fighting something that won’t hit back.” A pause, an assessment, a tilt of his head in challenge. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Your pulse quickens, though you’d never let it show. With Loki, you’d learned to keep your guard up. His constant presence, the lingering stares, the flirtatious banter - you still couldn't tell if it was all fun and games to him, or... if he actually...

“I’m practicing my form,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the warmth that was starting to spread up your neck.

He smirked, tilting his head as he regarded you with a dark glint in his eye. “If it’s form you’re after, perhaps a real opponent would better suit your needs. I’d be happy to assist.” The words hung in the air between you, their weight heavy with invitation.

You hesitated, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Sparring with Loki? Not smart. The man - the god - was unpredictable, dangerous. You weren’t an idiot; in the field, you’d leave threats like Loki to the bigger guns like Steve, or Thor. But here, in the controlled environment of the gym, with no weapons and only the hum of underlying tension between you two, it felt different.

Risky in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm.

Still, you felt a thrill shoot through you at the thought. Something about his attention always made you feel alive, a little reckless.

You wiped the sweat from your brow and tilted your head. “Not sure this is a smart idea, Loki. I usually leave the big threats to the super soldiers and gods.”

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “You’ll do just fine.” His tone was smooth, almost coaxing, as if you’d already agreed.

You rolled your eyes, turning toward the mats, feeling his presence at your back as he followed you. You were trying your best to seem unaffected, but his proximity set your skin alight.

Every step toward the sunken sparring area in the centre of the gym felt like a countdown. When you stepped down the couple of stairs onto the mats, you turned to face him, only to find him much closer than you expected. His height, the way he loomed just slightly, was intoxicating. He was so unfairly beautiful. And he knew it.

You gave him a look, a mix of challenge and uncertainty, trying to hide how affected you were. But Loki noticed everything. His eyes flicked briefly to your lips before settling back on your gaze.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice coming out a bit more breathless than you intended.

“Now,” Loki began, circling you slowly, his movements graceful, predatory, “we see what you’re truly made of.”

You squared your shoulders, keeping your stance neutral, trying to maintain your focus. But the energy between you felt charged, almost too much to ignore. Loki was testing you, as he always did - pushing buttons, seeing how far he could go before your unaffected facade slipped. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing how much he got under your skin. But, deep down, you knew that you weren't fooling him.

After one revolution around your body, he stopped in front of you, that smirk still playing on his lips. You didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You lunged forward, aiming a strike toward his midsection, but he dodged it easily, too fast, too graceful. He didn’t retaliate. Not yet. He was baiting you, letting you come to him. Typical.

Your next punch was aimed higher, toward his chest, but he caught your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, but not painful, his skin cool against yours. He raised an eyebrow, almost amused.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he murmured.

You twisted out of his hold, stepping back to reassess. Your heart was racing, not just from the sparring, but from the feel of him, his hand, his eyes locked on yours like a predator toying with its prey. There was something dangerous in the way he moved, something inherently sensual in the way his body seemed to flow, effortless yet lethal.

You tried again, going low this time, aiming a sweeping kick toward his legs. He sidestepped, but not fast enough. You caught him just enough to throw him slightly off balance, and his smile widened. You could've sworn a gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes.

“Not bad,” he said, before moving on you.

Suddenly, he was in your pocket, faster than you anticipated, and before you could block, he had you pinned. One arm locked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other catching your wrist, holding it firmly above your head. He hooked one leg around yours and controlled the descent of your bodies. Your back hit the mats with a soft thud, him directly above you, and you gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. Not fully from the impact, more from the overwhelming sensation of his body pressing against yours.

For a moment, everything stilled. You were trapped beneath him, and he was so close, his breath warm against your neck, his body hovering over yours, just a breath away from full contact. The weight of him, the way he held you so effortlessly, sent a rush of heat through you.

Loki’s eyes bored into yours, dark and intense, and there was no mistaking the shift in the air. The playfulness was still there, but underneath it was something deeper, something charged with heat and anticipation.

“Still think this was a bad idea?” His voice was a low purr, his lips dangerously close.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it in lazy circles, a deliberate tease. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped beneath his touch, trying not to wonder if he could hear it. Feel it.

He lowered his brow, “You clearly haven’t been trained by anyone outside of Midgard.”

His words pricked at your pride, and you glared up at him, breathless, as you tried to wrench your wrist free. “Of course not,” you retorted, a bit sharper than you’d intended. “Not all of us have had the privilege of an intergalactic education.”

His expression softened for just a heartbeat, a glimmer of something that might've almost be concern, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of pragmatism. “That won’t do,” he said simply, releasing you, pulling you to your feet with an ease of strength that made your heart stutter.

“There are… larger threats than you’ve known. You need to understand how they fight.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Or you won't stand a chance."

You swallowed thickly, the implication heavy between you, and found yourself unable to look away, captivated by the intensity in his eyes, the subtle promise that lingered just beneath his calm disposition.

In his own strange way, he was offering to train you.

In that moment, it felt like the tension, the unspoken attraction that had been building between you over the months, was ready to snap. The rational part of you is screaming that this was dangerous, that whatever this was, it was a risk you shouldn’t take; putting yourself in the situation to be in constant close quarters with someone who already set you on a steep edge could only end in a heart-wrenching longing.

But as you met Loki’s gaze, defiance and something far more potent flared within you, and you couldn't deny the pull.

“Show me, then,” you whispered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded furiously in your chest.

He smirked, a dark satisfaction flickering across his face as he stepped closer still. “Very well,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The gym was empty, as it usually was this time of night, save for the low hum of your breathing and the solid thud of your body against the mats, the result of another frustrating sparring session with Loki.

It had been weeks of this. A rhythm that’d somehow become normal, sparring sessions where you were pushed to your limits and left feeling exhausted but invigorated.

Loki’s method of training was relentless, unforgiving, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The techniques he taught you - sharp, brutal movements, counters that defy human logic - had already sharpened your skills in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

He was maddening and insufferable, with his mocking commentary and easy confidence, but he had made you better.

You would flush to admit how much you looked forward to the few sessions each week. Because though you had trained with all kinds of opponents, none of them compared to the dark, infuriating figure currently pinning you to the ground.

He loomed above you, his body pressed just enough against yours to keep you in place, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin making the friction of his hold electric. You were breathless, chest rising and falling as you stared up at him, face inches from his as he flashed that knowing grin.

Unfortunately, this had become a very normal position to find yourself in. Loki never let you win, and never let you up without an admission of defeat, saying allowing such things would only breed complacence.

“Ready to surrender, darling?” His voice was dark silk, the smugness woven through every syllable. His eyes traveled over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you caught your breath. “Again? What are we, zero-and-thirty?”

The mix of arrogance and barely-contained amusement in his expression made your irritation bubble over.

"Go to hell."

"Charming," he replied, arching a brow. "By all means, keep on with your futile attempts to escape," he shrugged with indifference, further stoking your frustration. "I do so enjoy this part."

Your jaw ticked. You were tired, flustered, not any more used to his proximity even after weeks of this. You thought you'd be desensitised to his flirting, his touch... him, but, if anything, it was all pulling you closer to the edge of desperation.

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

At least, that's what you told yourself. In reality, you weren't thinking. You couldn't have been thinking, given that no one in your position would've considered such a foolish move.

In a final, desperate move, a slapdash attempt to get him off of you without having to surrender, your fingers darted to his sides, pressing into his ribs in a way that might, with any luck, give him a taste of his own teasing medicine.

But the instant your fingers touched him, and he merely flinched once, you knew you'd made a careless mistake, and a devastating one at that.

This was something you could never take back.

He stilled, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. His gaze slowly shifted down to where your hands rested on his torso, and when he looked back up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes turned predatory.

“Oh?" His voice dropping to a dangerously low, delicious murmur, “You’ve just made an exceptionally poor choice.”

Your stomach dropped, and a tsunami of regret hitting you instantly. “Wait. Loki, I didn’t-”

“You want to play, hmm?” His smirk only widened as he leaned in, his grip tightening. “How delightful. Do carry on.”

“Please, I'm sorry,” you gasped, trying to push at his chest, already breathless. “I wasn't thinking- Loki, please!” You could feel your cheeks growing warm, laughter bubbling up as he held you firm. "I'm sorry!"

“Shh,” he crooned, his smirk deepening. “No need to waste your precious breath.”

"Oh no, please, not this," you laughed despite your wincing, pushing harder at his shoulders. It did nothing.

“Begging already?” His fingers found your sides, pinning them as his thumbs pressed firmly into the sensitive skin above your hips. “You might regret that even more, darling.”

Before you could protest, his fingers began to move, an unrelenting, devastating rhythm that sent a jolt of sensation through your body. Your attempts to fight it crumbled instantly as laughter spilled from your lips, your hands still trying, and failing, to push his away.

“Loki! N-no-” you gasped between giggles, squirming beneath him as his fingers worked with merciless precision. He watched you with keen fascination, clearly enjoying the effects of his touch on you far too much. His thumbs traced slow, calculated circles against your ribs, each movement skilled and targeted, attuning his touch at a terrifying speed. Learning how to deliver a masterful torture, designed just for you.

“Oh, I think yes,” he replied, his voice a teasing purr. “And to think, all it takes to make you crumble is a little tickling. How... adorably human.” His words were as wicked as his touch, his fingers finding every sensitive spot along your ribs, raking over your skin with a tormenting ease.

Your laughter only grew, helpless and unbidden, your body writhing beneath him as you tried to twist away from his relentless fingers. But the press of his body against yours, the heat of his breath, and the smirk on his lips were driving you to the edge in more ways than one.

“You know,” he continued, one hand slipping higher along your ribs, while the other skated down your side in search of a new vulnerable spot, “you really should have thought this through.” He watched as you struggled to speak, your protests dissolving into helpless laughter as pinched the soft spot above your hip in a steady rhythm. “But I suppose thinking things through isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?”

Another fit of giggles burst from you, the words “Shut up- Loki, I swear-” managing to slip through the laughter before his searching hand found an especially sensitive spot just above your knee. Your leg jerked, and you could barely contain the yelp that escaped you.

“Oh, now that's a good spot, isn't it?” he mused, his smirk widening as he kept his fingers there, watching with satisfaction as you writhed in his grip. His thumb and middle finger cratered into your skin, moving in small, unrelenting circles against the muscle, each pass drawing a louder, more desperate laugh from you.

Every time your laughter began to steady, Loki would adjust, finding fresh angles to torment that same spot, leaving you gasping and breathless, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The sound of his satisfied chuckle only made the entire ordeal more maddening, his smirk widening with every helpless laugh he drew from you.

The muscles of your core ached, already weakened from the near hour of sparring you'd endured before this ordeal, and your desperation mounted as you realised just how completely you were at his mercy.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice mockingly sympathetic. “All those threats you make, all those fighting words... yet-"

The door to the gym opened suddenly, and two figures stepped inside. Loki didn’t miss a beat, glancing up to find Steve and Bucky standing there, their faces caught between surprise and amusement at the scene before them. Loki merely grinned, unperturbed, as though they were expected guests.

“Ah, gentlemen, so kind of you to join us.” His fingers didn't stop, not even for a moment. Your breath hitched between laughs. “She’s been begging for mercy. Tell me, don’t you train your people to withstand a bit of torture?”

“Steve!” you gasped, trying and failing to sit up as Loki’s fingers dug into your ribs with a terrifying precision. The hand at your knee gave a quick pulse and you shrieked, giving a violent kick of your leg that somehow dislodged his hand. “Bucky- help!”

The two men exchanged a look, an unmistakable smirk crossing their faces as they watched you squirm beneath Loki’s touch, now at both of your sides.

Steve folded his arms, tilting his head as if considering your plea. “Seems like you've bitten off more than you can chew,” he said, lips quirking up in amusement.

“You're gonna have to get yourself out of this one,” Bucky added with smirk.

"Please!" You squeaked when Loki wrapped his hands around your hips once more, squeezing and pressing as you plead through helpless giggles. "I-I'll do anything- just- j-just help me, please!"

“Anything?” Loki murmurs, his voice low and smooth as he leans down, stilling his hands just long enough for you to catch your breath. “My, my, this sounds like quite the liability. Is this all it takes to break you?” His fingers latched onto both of your knees with renewed vigour, eliciting a shriek and then a fresh burst of laughter.

You were too far gone to respond, tears gathering in your eyes as you twisted under his touch, utterly powerless to escape. His words, his steady, relentless taunts, were maddening, each one sinking in deeper as his fingers found every vulnerable place that left you laughing helplessly beneath him.

Your cheeks burned as you tried to wriggle away from his fingers, laughter turning desperate as his hands traced the sensitive muscles along your thighs. “L-Loki, please—”

Loki casted a glance at Steve and Bucky, his voice dropping to a lower, more mocking tone. “Her training is sorely lacking. She's reckless, susceptible…" he looked back down to you with a sly grin, "and seems to lack any sense of risk analysis. Taking me on, indeed.”

You were incredulous - as much as you could be in your position - and you tried to protest, tried to tell them that it was Loki’s idea to spar in the first place, but the words won’t come. Loki’s hands had you too helpless, laughter spilling from your lips as he smirked down at you with an expression of pure satisfaction.

Bucky shrugged, grinning as he watched your futile struggle. “Maybe we need to work on conditioning that out of her.”

“Oh, no,” Loki interjected smoothly, slipping his hands to the juncture of your hips and thighs, sending you arching off the mat, squeals of laughter tearing from your throat. "I rather like her this way."

Desperation drove you to try to reach for Steve or Bucky, your arm outstretched in a silent plea for mercy.

You should have learned your lesson about desperate moves.

Loki saw the opportunity in your attempt, and with a smooth, precise move, he twisted you onto your stomach, pinning your outstretched wrist to the mat as he settled over you, his other hand slipping to your lower ribs to press into a spot he'd already memorised, one that made you shriek.

“Really, darling,” he whispered darkly, his voice rich with satisfaction, “your judgment is appallingly poor, isn’t it?” His fingers glided higher, hitting a spot on your upper ribs that made your laughter turn silent, breath hitching as you struggled under him.

“You handed me this opening,” he tutted, his taunting words making you burn hotter. “What happens next is your fault.” His fingers found the sensitive spot beneath your arm, drawing out a fresh wave of laughter as your body arched, your feet scrabbling for traction as you slapped your free hand against the mat.

Hard laughter barrelled out of you, your head falling to the mat as you squeezed your eyes shut, succumbing to the sensations he was pulling from your nerves.

Surrender washed over you, cool and easy, as you felt your muscles go limp beneath him, nothing in your mind but the feeling of his body, his hands, the force of your laughter, and the pure, unadulterated fun he was having with you. And it was fun, you realised. In a way that people like you usually didn't indulge in.

Bucky tapped Steve on the arm and jerked his chin towards the door behind them. "Seem like you have this under control," he smirked at you. You looked up to glare but only caught their knowing glance, the one of friends and not of Avengers. The one that said, we know exactly what's going on here.

It made you flush almost as much as the unrelenting torture.

Almost as soon as they left you, Loki's tickling hand pulled away. You gulped greedy breaths in as he turned your sagging body with ease, settling you on your back as he hovered over you, eyes roaming the product of his work.

"I trust you've learned your lesson." His voice was a low rumble that sent heat pooling to your belly. All you could do was nod. "Next time you dare to pull a stunt like that," he started, leaning in so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, "I won't be so gentle."

Heat bloomed over your cheeks, to the tips of your ears, the space between you charged, crackling with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.

You couldn't look away, your breath catching as his gaze lingered on your lips.

His own parted, as though he was on the verge of closing the distance...

He flinched.

Pulled back. Pulled away.

Your brow lowered in concern, but before you could ask what was wrong, he stood.

"Until next time."

He looked down at you, his eyes lingering with a promise that made your pulse pound, before he turned and strode out of the gym, leaving you sprawled on the mat, breathless, wanting, and hopelessly, maddeningly confused.

It was late that same night when you finally worked up the nerve to confront him.

You moved through the silent halls of the Compound, each step echoing in the darkened corridors as you slipped past the shadows pooling in doorways. Uncertainty crept up your spine, and you almost turned back more than once, only to grit your teeth and push forward. There were too many things left unsaid, too much tension thickening the air between you and Loki, and it gnawed at you now, refusing to let you retreat.

Before you could decide on a way to begin, his door opened. He stood there, almost as if he’d sensed you coming, his expression a mix of curiosity and that ever-present amusement.

“It's rather late for a visit,” he said, his tone low, his words quiet and full of question.

You met his gaze. “Couldn't sleep,” you replied, massaging the back of your neck with one hand.

His lips twitched with something darker, though his tone remained light. “And you thought I could help?”

Silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a mistake.

"I thought you might be able to, considering it's your fault."

His face softened at the strain in your tone, and he stepped aside in a silent invitation for you to enter.

Swallowing hard, you stepped forward, pressing past him and into his room. He shut the door behind you, and the world seemed to fall away, the dimness settling around you, cocooning you both in a place of shadow and warmth.

"Go on then," Loki urged as you two stood near the lounge set in his room. A couple of armchairs and a matching couch, cast in the soft glow of several lamps and a dying fire in the hearth.

You drew a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak. “I know what you are, Loki,” you began, feeling your voice tremble with both fear and resolve. “Mischief is part of your very nature, and I don't mind fun and games like- like earlier," you flushed thinking about it, catching the smirk forming on his features as he watched you fumble.

You gathered your courage and stared him straight-on. "But not with my feelings. All this- this flirting, and touching, and closeness... it's not a game to me. So if it doesn't mean anything to you, I'd rather it stop."

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smugness vanishing, replaced by something harder, sharper. He let the words hang between you, a silence stretching before he repeated them in a voice almost too soft to hear. “If it doesn't mean anything to me,” he murmured, a subtle, dangerous edge to his tone. "You think this- that you are simply a game? Another amusement of no consequence?"

You swallowed, willing yourself to continue. “Today…” Your voice broke slightly, and you pushed the words out. “In the gym, we were so close. I thought...” Heat flooded your cheeks, but you forced yourself on, the confession slipping free. “For the dozenth time, I thought you were finally going to kiss me. But I just left wondering if I'm a fool with some silly schoolgirl crush, way in over my head." The admission left you raw and breathless, your heart pounding.

He exhaled, the smallest hint of a rueful smile ghosting over his lips. "You were trapped beneath me. Pinned, helpless,” he said, as though it explained everything. “I could never take that liberty with you while you were at my mercy.” His gaze grew darker still, something haunted flickering in his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself if I gave in to such an impulse. I'd never stop wondering if you had truly wanted it."

"But I did want-"

"And what if you hadn't?"

His words were a balm and a brand, his unwavering gaze rooting you to the spot.

"I had to know it was real. Not something forced or coerced, something... taken from you when you were too breathless to say no. I had to know for sure that it was what you desired."

For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, the weight of his reverence filling the space between you.

“It is,” you managed, each word trembling with the strength of your resolve. “I want this. I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. I don’t want to ignore it anymore.” You swallowed, breathless.

A beat passed, and something changed in his face - a tension releasing, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t expected.

Slowly, he extended his hand, his fingers unfurling in a silent invitation.

You slipped you palm into his, letting him pull you toward him, his touch both a promise and a tether.

He guided you closer, his hands sliding down your arms, tracing the lines of your shoulders, until they rested firmly on your waist. Then, with a gentle insistence, he drew you toward an armchair, lowering himself into it and coaxing you down to settle over his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs.

His hand rose, tilting your chin so that you were forced to look into his eyes. They held an intensity that bordered on unrelenting, darkened by desire and the hint of something raw, something that took your breath away. He watched you intently, his expression filled with something just shy of reverence. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his fingers trailed along your neck, igniting every nerve.

You shivered as he leaned in, so close that his breath fanned across your lips. His touch was calm and certain, his gaze flicking over you as if committing every part of you to memory.

“I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, voice low and heated. “For you.”

The weight of his words pressed against the heavy silence between you, and before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and consuming.

He guided you with a gentle but undeniable command, his mouth pressing deeper, each kiss drawn out, languid, until it felt like he was unraveling you with every deliberate stroke of his lips against yours.

The world blurred, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he lured a soft gasp from your lips. His hand slid to the back of your neck, steadying you, keeping you close as he took his time, tasting you, his lips teasing yours until you forgot to breathe.

When you moved to meet his kiss more eagerly, he slowed you, a faint smirk in the curve of his lips as he deepened the kiss with a patience that made your stomach twist. He was savouring this, savouring you, and the way he kissed you - deliberate, knowing - made your entire body ache with need.

His thumb brushed along your cheek, lingering as his other hand settled firmly at your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away.

Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair as he angled your face, holding you exactly where he wanted. When his tongue brushed lightly over your lower lip, you let out a soft, involuntary sound, and his hand tightened against your waist, holding you to him.

Loki’s mouth moved over yours with a control that made you shiver, each kiss deliberate, and the quiet dominance in his touch sent warmth pooling through you. With every gentle press of his lips, every slow, teasing stroke, he seduced you, guided you, igniting something deep and undeniable that had simmered for too long. Your heart beat heavily against your ribs, and as you gasped softly, his mouth trailed along your jaw, his lips barely brushing over your skin.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze was dark, his expression full of barely-contained intensity.

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, the teasing glint returning to his gaze. “Well, look at you,” he soothed, voice rich with quiet amusement. “I half-expected you to come tearing through that door, seeking vengeance for how thoroughly I put you in your place earlier.”

Heat pooled in your face, and you fought to keep your composure, though it was a losing battle. “I’d have been fine if you hadn’t-”

“-handled you so effectively?” he interrupted with an infuriating grin, each syllable soft and mocking. “Don’t worry. I rather enjoyed it myself.”

His thumb still lingered on your flushed lips, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief but something darker, something that felt like an invitation. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and heated, and the words sent a thrill down your spine.

The invitation hung between you, heavy and dark, the desire in his gaze nearly tangible. Your breath hitched, your heart racing at the thought of losing yourself completely in him, of surrendering to this quiet storm between you.

“That depends,” you managed, barely able to steady your voice. “Are you planning to repeat what happened earlier?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening on your waist as his eyes glittered with amusement. “Only if you ask very, very nicely.”

A thrill shot through you as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a dark, velvet whisper. “That certainly won't be the last time we play like that. Tonight, however... I have other ideas for what to do with you." His fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.

Gods help you. He was going to be your undoing.

"I thought I'd take my time, learning you. Slowly. Thoroughly. Every little detail, every sweet noise you can make." His lips skated across the pulse point in your neck. "Would you like that, darling?"

"Yes." You had barely whispered your reply before his lips were on yours again, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, consuming fervour that left no room for questions, no room for anything except the feeling of him, his warmth, his presence, the gentle yet undeniable control in every touch. His fingers threaded through your hair, his hand steadying you as he deepened the kiss, guiding you with a restraint that made you shiver.

You melted into him, your breaths mingling as his hands drifted, his touch both firm and soft, and when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“This is not a game,” he whispered, a promise in his tone, his thumb tracing light patterns along your neck. His expression was sincere, edged with both longing and restraint. “You say the word, and we’ll stop.”

The words were a quiet echo, a reassurance that grounded you both. A chill of reverence passed between you, something thrilling, something impossibly tender. You met his gaze, nodding as your fingers traced the line of his jaw. “You too. No pressure, no expectations,” you whispered back, meaning it, and he smiled, a soft, endearing smile that made your heart ache.

And then he guided you back into his arms, every movement slow and deliberate as he kissed you once more, drawing you into a dance that would last until dawn.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 19

(I know I'm tech on a break this week, but I could use the serotonin.) masterpost

“He understands that I am coming over?” Damian asked as he inspected his pencil case to make sure he had everything he needed. Father would be picking him up from art class to fetch lunch.

“Yep, Danny knows we’re bringing lunch over,” Grayson answered. His thumb swiped idly across his phone.

Damian took a slow breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He loved Grayson, but it did not mean that the other was not an idiot sometimes. Sometimes family meant loving someone even though they were an idiot, Damian reminded himself.

In an attempt to start again, Damian stayed silent until he was sure that he had all of his supplies in his messenger bag. “I meant, does Danny understand that it is specifically me bringing the food? Does Danny understand who I am?”

“Oh, Dami baby, yeah,” Grayson said, voice softening in a way that made Damian bristle. At least Grayson finally set his phone down. “Jay talked to him about it and is still there at the apartment with Danny now. I’ll over over to give Jason a break and be there when you and Bruce come. Do you want me to double check with Danny before you arrive?”

Damian frowned as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

“Yes,” Damian answered after a pause and when he could meet Grayson’s eyes confidently. “I believe that the redundancy would not go amiss.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll be sure to double check before you and Bruce get there.”

“Acceptable,” Damian said and let to find Pennyworth for his ride to class.

Doing art calmed him. That knowledge had been a surprise at first. While Damian had, of course, learned about art as part of his cultural and historical training, actually being able to engage in art was was something entirely knew. Something that was available to Damian only because of his Father’s allowance.

No, that was not quite right. Father didn’t allow Damian to do art, Father simply wanted them to be happy and art is what made Damian… perhaps not happy, but at least more at peace.

Peace had been such a rare thing in Damian’s life.

He still didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Annoyingly, class that day didn’t quite manage to tamper the churning in Damian’s gut. He could (and would) ignore the feeling, of course, but that did not mean it wasn’t there.

Or that it didn’t grow as Damian was waiting for Father to pick him up for class.

“You have put in the order we discussed?” Damian asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Yes, it should be ready shortly after we get there,” Father answered. “You were out quickly today.”

“Tch,” Damian looked away from his father’s searching gaze and focused on the world outside the window. He hated to have tells, but in a family of detectives it was impossible not to. “If it unlikely to be ready, perhaps we should stop by the Turkish bakery that is near. Surely there are items there that are not too sweet for his diet.”

“That’s a nice idea,” Father agreed with a thoughtful hum. “He may have never had them before so we can get a little selection of what you think he needs to try.”

Damian worked not to physically freeze. That felt suddenly like a great deal of responsibility. Which was silly, it was simply food.

“That is a sound idea,” Damian said instead of trying to face his sudden worry.

It was even more overwhelming in the face of all the options. Damian certainly spent far too long making a selection, but Father doesn’t rush him, so Damian tries to allow himself the time. The food is easily acquired after. Far too quickly that they were in front of the safehouse door. Father rested one hand on the back of Damian’s back, a bracing presence, before he knocked.

“Coming!” Grayson called needlessly through the door a few moments before he it swung open. “Hey guys, come in. It’s all good.”

Damian resisted the urge to nod to that, took a breath, and crossed the threshold.

Danny sat on the couch. The fabled day saving blue bear was clutched in the boy’s lap; clutched too tightly. Damian shot Grayson an accusatory look. Clearly it wasn’t ‘all good’.

Grayson rolled his eyes and took the box of sweets from Damian to take to the kitchen with Father.

Damian was left alone with Danny.

At least it gave Damian time to properly study the other boy. Not blood son. Clone. Better and worse at once— a copy of Father. It was clear how much Danny looked like Bruce, a redundant thought now that they knew Danny was a clone, but it crossed Damian’s mind all the same. It was odd to see the still slightly sunken cheeks and too prominent collar bones on someone that looked so much like Father, so much more like Father than Damian did.

Idly, Damian wondered if Danny would ever reach Father’s stature, what with his past. Damian himself had started to grown into wild shoulders and broad chest that would someday be his body over the last year, but Danny had not.

Danny, at least a year older, was still far too slight.

But older.

The oldest blood.

Would he try to take Damian’s place now? It would only be just, with how poorly Damian had behaved when he first arrived, especially to Drake. And Damian’s brash attacks, Danny would have the right to his. He was oldest…

“Are… are you alright?”

Damian’s head snapped up at Danny’s words. When had he lost his focus?

“I do not know,” Damian said, too honest words tumbling across his tongue without his permission.

He didn’t know.