#and let me tell you. what a way to spend an hour in a daze. i forgot that's where vol1 left off lmaoooo ;;;;

[my-mind-mansion]

❤️Alastor takes you on a date for valentines day❤️

(And makes whoopee with you afterwards lol) {Alastor x reader/ sex with meaning/ mild vanilla missionary sex/ fem receiving/ romance/ romantic sex/ slow burn/ Valentine’s special.}

This year was no different than every year previous. You had no plans for valentines day and had already gotten ready for bed (it was 5 pm). Once you settled on the couch in your pajamas, Alastor came bursting through the door with a huge grin on his face. He was up to something, you could tell. He stood directly in front of the tv and demanded you give him your full attention. You smiled and put your phone down. “My dear, I have something important I’d like to say to you.” He said, hardly containing his excitement.

You sat up straight and leaned forward. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately and.. well, this connection I have with you.. I’ve never had it with anyone else.. so, I was hoping you’d be my valentine! And let me spoil you with a romantic outing!” He got down on one knee as he pulled out the traditional bouquet of red roses from behind his back. You gasped and blushed. This was the last thing you were expecting of Alastor. It was true that the two of you had spent a lot of time together and you were more than well-acquainted. Alastor was quite the dreamboat, especially on his knees, practically courting you like this.

Your heart and mind competed in speed over who was racing faster. You sat there, stunned and in silence. Your non-response stung like rejection in Alastor’s chest. “Oh please say yes! I’ve made reservations for places I just KNOW you’ll love!” He said, as you slowly grabbed the bouquet. You were unsure. “You’re.. not messing with me, right?” You asked. While this is what you dreamed of at night, it was extremely out of character for him. “Of course not!” He stood up and snapped his fingers, instantly changing his daily suit into a fancier tailcoat. You blushed even deeper red. Wow he was handsome. “Now, I want you ready in an hour! I’ll be waiting right here.” He said, sitting on the couch and turning the tv off.

Without another word, you made your way to your bedroom to get ready. You were nervous. You quickly did your makeup, hair, and picked out your outfit and accessories in silence. You were still uneasy. While you wanted this to be true, Alastor was a trickster and a deal maker. You sprayed perfume and grabbed your phone. You headed back to the living room and met Alastor’s gaze. You saw him physically react to seeing you all dolled up. His hungry eyes were feeding on you as his cheeks flushed pink.

You met him halfway in the room. His hands were immediately on your body, feeling you up. He leaned into your hair and inhaled your scent. He sighed lustfully. Your skin was burning up. He casually kissed your neck. Your knees became weak as you nearly collapsed in his arms. You looked up at him with big eyes. His smile softened. “You look beautiful, dear.” He said. You swooned and giggled before collecting yourself and pulling away. “Alastor.. are you sure you’re serious?” You asked, insecurity present in your voice. He pulled you back in. “Yes.” He kissed your lips. You were speechless as he pulled away. “I want you. And I’m going to give you a valentines date to remember.” You stared up at him. That was the first kiss the two of you shared.

“Now come on, I know you’re hungry. First up is your favorite restaurant!” He offered his arm, which you immediately accepted and held onto. You leaned into him with a dazed smile as the two of you strolled the sidewalks of hell. He walked with pride, puffing out his chest; as you clung to his arm and followed along without a care. You knew he would protect you, because nobody wanted to mess with the Radio Demon. It felt nice to be able to basically turn your brain off and follow him blindly. He seemed proud to have you on his arm as he greeted his fellow overlords when they passed by.

The dinner you shared was damn perfect. He held every door for you, pulled out your chair, and ordered you dessert. While your favorite restaurant’s food was always good, Alastor is what made the experience perfect. “So sweetheart, I hear the local theater is doing a production of Phantom of the Opera.” You perked up in excitement. His smile grew softer as he pulled out two tickets from his pocket. You blushed and batted your eyelashes at him as he tucked them back into his pocket. “I just wanted to let you know, I do pay attention..” you listened. “..and there’s good reason for you to not give me your complete trust.”

You watched as he snapped his fingers and summoned a demonic document. “But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I want you to have a good time tonight, and you have my genuine word that my intentions are pure.” He said, signing the paper. “Did you just make a deal with yourself?” You asked him. “No. This deal states that if I’m lying, you gain full access to whatever punishment for me that you see fit.” He said, snapping it away again. You were speechless. He had really made the effort to reassure you in his own twisted way.“Anyway, I’m excited to see Phantom. I’ve actually never seen it live, have you?” He casually went on with the conversation.

You viewed him in a different light the rest of the evening. Little things that he would do meant the world to you. He constantly checked up on your mood by making quiet observations. Not once did he put you in a stressful or uncomfortable situation. The entire evening, he handled the conversations when anyone dared to question what the two of you were doing out together. There was also no way he was letting any man disrespect you. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll leave us the hell alone.” He said dangerously to the drunk man in the restaurant who would’ve followed you home, if you were out on your own.

Once the two of you were back outside after your meal, you hummed girlishly and clung to his arm again, without a care in the world. He chuckled under his breath. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, dear.” He observed. You blushed and smiled up at him. “I am.” He brushed the lint off of your back and fixed your hair. You felt seen. Maybe he was serious about this. “Well, our next stop is the theater!”

The show went as expected and you lip synced nearly every word. Alastor held your hand during All I Ask of You. After the show, he led you out of the theater. You shivered. It had gotten chilly during the musical. The Radio Demon immediately draped his coat over your shoulders and wrapped his arm around you as you walked with him. “Alastor.. I’ve never felt this taken care of before..” you said, showing him an ounce of vulnerability. He stopped and picked a wild flower. “I promise that you’ll never feel neglected again.” He said, handing you the singular small flower. You took it and tucked it behind your ear. You would surely press it into a book later.

The two of you walked through the nicer side of hell- the park. The bushes and trees were illuminated by the brightly lit full moon above. You swore you heard ragtime radio in the air. Alastor smirked, noticing your reaction. The atmosphere was perfect for a midnight stroll and a romantic moment. He knew this. He had planned this for weeks. Your attention was caught on the dimly lit gazebo off the trail. “Since when does the city decorate for valentines day?” You asked him. He smirked. “They don’t.” He responded, slyly. Your eyes widened.

He pulled back the semi-see-through tule curtain, revealing the setting inside. “After you, sweetheart.” He said, motioning for you to enter first. It was straight out of a fairy tale book. The curtains provided privacy, but also let in the fresh breeze. There were dim lights strung through the ceiling and a rainbow of different flowers up the sides and the walls. You took it all in. There was a tray of multiple different alcohol choices in the corner. Next to it, his radio. The ragtime smoothly transitioned into a jazzier song.

He joined you inside and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in. “What would you like to drink, my love?” You were over the moon. “Oh- I- well-“ you hugged him and smiled. “Whatever you pour is fine.” He gave a soft laugh and poured two half glasses of the same wine. “Why don’t you try my favorite first and tell me what you think?” He handed you your glass. You sipped it once and quickly sipped it again. It was sweet, but smooth. “I definitely like it!” You said, finishing the first glass within seconds. “Well, I’ll say you do!” He chuckled and poured you a different drink. “How about this one?” You tasted it. “Mmm…” You learned very quickly that Alastor had great taste in fine wines.

The two of you were 5 or 6 drinks deep. You leaned into his chest, blinking up at him. It was getting warm- what with the combination of the wine, the curtains, and the tension between you two. He casually removed his coat from your shoulders and tossed it to the side. The jazz had turned into a hint of a slow waltz, exactly as planned. He took your hand in his and smiled down at you, drunkenly. His other hand was on your waist, swaying you to the beat of the music. You blushed. You could tell that he put effort into this entire date.

You wrapped your free hand around his shoulder, only clothed with his fancy fitted button up. You looked at the charming man in front of you. His perfectly dapper appearance was becoming slightly disheveled, due to the alcohol. You loved his silly old-timey accessories- his monocle- his pocket watch- his bowtie. His eyes were on yours and you couldn’t look away. You had never seen this side of Alastor before and it was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Soon, your eyes started to wander.

The wine gave you the confidence to run your fingertips down his back and explore every part of his backside, basically feeling him up. You weren’t even hiding the fact that you were checking him out, biting your lip as you took in how well-dressed he was. His shirt, tucked into his flattering fitted slacks, was an even more enticing view now that you were drunk. You grabbed his hips and ran your hands over his backside, groping him. He gasped, but allowed it. His bowtie, in desperate need of tightening, was simply begging you to pull it untied. You did. You couldn’t stop yourself from unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, either. He allowed it, but was taken aback. You leaned in and kissed his neck, that was taunting you all night. You got the desired response. He let out a breathy, weak gasp and moan that you felt deep to your core. You hugged him and he hugged you back, holding each other and giggling. “Alastor.. take me home~” you sweet talked him as you played with his hair. He instantly teleported the both of you back to the hallway of the hotel.

The two of you definitely had way too much to drink as you stumbled into his bedroom. He locked the door behind him and eyed you up and down as you got on his bed. You bit your lip lustfully and signaled him over with your finger. He couldn’t hold himself back from immediately pinning you to his bed and getting on top of you. You, in return, pulled him in close by wrapping your arms and legs around him. You smiled up at him.

The heat between your thighs was unbearable as he pressed his throbbing erection against it. You had only fantasized about him on top of you like this, and now it was your reality. He kissed you as he gently rubbed the huge bulge in his pants against the thin fabric of your underwear. You continued to hold him tight against you, pulling him in even closer. It was obvious you wanted him. The Radio Demon never broke eye contact with you as he slid your underwear off and unzipped his pants.

You felt his warm shaft introduce itself to the drenched folds between your legs. The Radio Demon rubbed himself up and down your soaked slit, not entering yet. You recalled the conversations the two of you had throughout the night and ran your fingers through his hair. You shivered when his pre-cum soaked head met your aroused clit. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as he gave your clit the attention it needed. You threw your head back and smiled.

He couldn’t help but slide his hand between your thighs and go right for the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. Alastor lovingly rubbed it left and right with his finger. The waves of pleasure were washing over your body as your fluids multiplied and dripped down. “A-Alastor.. fuck me..” you begged him, running your hands over his broad shoulders. He didn’t need to be told twice. He smirked down at you and pressed the head of his cock against your entrance.

The two of you never broke eye contact as he slid his shaft into your slick sheath, painfully slow. You enjoyed every second as he nestled himself inside of you. He was soon balls deep, head pressing impatiently against the entrance to your womb, and face contorting in pleasure. You both gasped uncontrollably. You were united in the most intimate way. You cupped his face with both of your hands and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. The mumbles of ecstasy that he made against your lips were causing your walls to pulse and squeeze him tighter.

He began his thrusting, still going painfully slow. He wanted to make sure he treated you like the most fragile glass figurine. He had a secret fear of harming you, and did everything in his power to prevent it. He knew that he was powerful, strong, scary even. He took his time running his hands over your body and grabbing your hips, using them as leverage to push himself into you. He treated you with the utmost care and consideration, even though he was drunk. You clung to his shoulders, writhing underneath him as you curled your toes behind his back.

Your first time with the Radio Demon was an out-worldly experience. It was warm, romantic, and you felt every single inch of him. His name was under your breath at every thrust. Alastor was very vocal when he was in pleasure, not holding back a single moan. You looked up at the beautiful man on top of you. His tailcoat was long gone, thrown to the side somewhere; his slacks were somewhere nearby. His bowtie was untied and hanging from his neck, moving with him at every thrust. His fitted dress shirt had turned into a wrinkled sweaty mess, the top 4 buttons undone.

His eyes were on your face, his radio dials starting to become present. You could tell he was holding back, and you appreciated him being so gentle with you the first time. The next time though, you would make sure that you requested the sadistic, unfiltered, overlord demon to fuck you. You noticed he was even having a hard time holding back now, his tentacles and antlers peaking through. The radio on his nightstand emitted crackling static and the lights throughout the hotel flickered. “I- I’m close..” he whimpered in your ear. It felt incredible seeing this vulnerable side of Alastor.

Your ankles locked behind his back and your arms pulled his body flush against yours. “Cum inside of me~” you begged. There was no way he had the strength to pull out now. Not like he was planning to in the first place. His tentacles grew and wrapped around your waist as you heard eldritch wendigo squeals. You held him tight against you as he nearly transformed into his full demon form. He took one final deep thrust and spilled his seed into you. Your pussy throbbed as it got filled to the brim with his cum. Getting bred by Alastor was something you’ve only dreamed of. The two of you enjoyed the realm of pleasure that you created together as he stayed inside of you for a moment.

You were both out of breath as he rolled over by your side and scooped you up into his embrace. “Put your head on my chest, sweetheart.” You did. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into him. You were mentally in outer space as you got to cuddle with your fluffy deer man. You giggled in his arms. He smiled down at you. “You are so incredible.” He praised, playing with your hair. “..and beautiful.” He kissed your forehead. His face was nuzzled into your hair as he held you against his chest. “You mean so much to me.” He spoke softly, rubbing your back. You continued to cling onto him, fully processing what had just happened. You thought back to the deal he made over dinner, how reassured you had felt then. You feel even more cared for now, after his passionate love-making. You looked up at him, nearly half asleep, but wanting to kiss him again. You puckered your lips. He held you close and lazily brushed his lips against yours. You both fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s embraces; your faces inches away from each other.

{First NSFW post!!}

[nocturne-of-illusions]

reading m.isericorde vol2 while fighting off a fever is. an Interesting endeavor. 🥴

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: wise likes you, and just about everyone on sixth street knows. ❀ ˎˊ- wise x gn!reader ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 1.3k ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: slightly ooc wise idk im still lvl 26 okay ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: thanks you stellaronhvnters for plaguing my mind w wise. anywho this my mini break from the series LMAO wise. i love you king.

Wise can hardly focus, and for once, it isn’t because of you.

Not that he minds being distracted by you - quite the opposite. He could spend hours just watching you talk and getting lost in your eyes, occasionally nodding or agreeing with whatever you were talking about the day. He liked hearing your voice; it was soothing like a cool river, especially after a grueling day.

But this time, it’s him who’s being stared at, and to his disappointment, the one burning holes into him isn’t you (although he severely doubts he could handle it if it were to be you).

No, instead, General Chop stares at him from the corner of his eye as he prepares other customers’ orders, a hint of knowing in his usual smile. Wise can see the excitement in the chef’s eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to know why.

“Wise?”

He seizes up, bumping his chopsticks. He’s quick to fix himself as you shoot him a nervous, but questioning smile.

“Sorry, you were saying?” he says smoothly (at least he hopes it’s smooth, he still doesn’t know how to talk to pretty people), eager to move past his minor mishap.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you laugh. “I was just saying that you have a little something on your face.”

Wise feels his cheeks warm. “Oh, really? Thanks for telling me.”

He moves to grab some napkins, but you beat him to it. Wise swears something in him malfunctions when he turns and suddenly you’re all too close to him, your hand reached out to clean up his face.

“Wha- Wait, what’re you-” he sputters, nearly falling off his stool as he lurches back.

“Hey, stand still,” you scold, your slight annoyance only serving to speed up his heart rate because who in the world said it was okay for you to be this cute.

At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming from his head, with how fuzzy his mind feels. He can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but just sit there, dazed as you dab obliviously at the corner of his lip.

As you pull away, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, mentally thanking whatever deities reigned above that he hadn’t fainted on the spot. That would’ve been embarrassing; Belle would never let him live it down.

His face feels cooler - hopefully it isn’t so red anymore. By the time he’s able to think coherently again, you’ve started chatting again. Wise nods along (he has no idea what you’re talking about), and goes to slurp up some of his noodles when he sees General Chop again.

The chef, obviously holding back a cackle, grins encouragingly at him and flashes him a thumbs up in support. Wise internally groans. Would it be a bad idea if he drowned himself in his noodles right now?

And this isn’t the first time either - Wise is pretty sure the entirety of Sixth Street is aware of his… ugh, crush on you (saying it out loud both hurts him and makes him feel warm inside. Which is a terrible feeling. He wants to throw up).

Just last week, he’d seen you at the Coff Café, and Tin Man, being both a gracious cafe owner and a huge romantic, had decided that that day was a good day to have a 50% off deal specifically for pairs if they bought two or more items.

Wise hadn’t questioned it at first, since it was normal for shops to occasionally hold discounts like these to attract more customers. Even he was guilty of it, being a business co-owner himself.

But then you had to call him out in the line, excitedly waving him over as you were at the cashier ordering. Tin Man was behind you, a smile in his eyes that Wise wasn’t sure he liked, but he begrudgingly made his way over.

He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled as you explained the discount to him. They reminded him of the stars he’d see at twilight, when he couldn’t sleep and would climb to the roof just to watch New Eridu’s nightlife.

Naturally, he had accepted your offer of buying him a free drink (no one refuses free food), but he quickly learned to regret it when he saw the mischievous gleam in Tin Man’s artificial eyes.

He still gets flustered thinking of it now - the heart-shaped whipped cream and the whisper of “good luck” haunts him, especially when he thinks about how confused you were at the impromptu decoration.

The amount of times he’s caught his neighbors playing matchmaker, he can’t count on both hands - and that’s not including what Belle has tried. It’d be funny if it wasn’t also incredibly humiliating.

“Master, if you were planning on drifting off, perhaps you should’ve stayed home to take a nap.”

Wise sighs. “Be quiet, Fairy. I’m in public.”

“What?” you blink. Wise blinks back before realizing he’d been a little too loud.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” he chuckles awkwardly, hands fiddling with each other - it’s a nervous habit of his. You smile understandingly.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, pushing your bowl towards General Chop to signify you were done with it. “You’ve been out of it today, Wise. Something on your mind?”

You, Wise wants to say, but he doesn’t feel like embarrassing himself further. “I guess I’m just tired. Long day today.”

“I can tell,” you laugh, the sound music to his ears. You hop off the stool after sliding your share of the payment to General Chop. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

Wise’s heart does a little tap dance at your offer, but he manages to keep his cool. He hastily pays General Chop before eagerly joining you in your short walk to Random Play.

“Bro!” Belle greets him enthusiastically as he opens the door. Her eyes light up when she sees you, and she raises her eyebrows suggestively at her brother. Wise shoots her a glare when you aren’t looking. “[Name], too? How was your da- mmghhifjk-”

Wise smiles innocently as he slaps a hand over Belle’s mouth. You can’t help but laugh at the two, and Wise admires the crinkle the corners of your eyes.

“Ignore her,” he says nonchalantly, wrinkling his nose as Belle licks his hand like the little rat she is. “Do you want to come in, or…?”

“No, I shouldn’t.” You wave your hands bashfully. “It’s getting late, so I should be getting back home.”

Wise nods in understanding. Belle pries herself free and he wipes his spit-covered hand on her sleeve, ignoring her sputters and protests (she chose this path. She will reap its consequences).

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

You nod, shifting your feet. “I guess it is.”

Wise’s brows furrow at your behavior - what’s on your mind. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long before his inquiry is answered.

You take a step forward, and Wise feels your arms loop around him in a tight hug. Suddenly, his senses are elevated, and it’s almost as if everything is enhanced tenfold. He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sound of your breath, your hair tickling his face and the heat that radiates off of your body against him.

“I really enjoyed today,” you say, stepping back with a smile that could rival an angel’s. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Wise tries to formulate a response, but all that comes out is a squeak like a dying balloon. God, if his face was red before, it must be flaming now. You giggle at his response, before you wave both him and Belle goodbye and leave for your home.

It takes a good five minutes before he can speak again.

“Hey sis?”

Belle sounds as shocked as him. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to faint.”

He hears his sister sigh.

“Wise, you’re helpless, you know that?” she shakes her head exasperatingly. “And just when you finally made progress too.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[meadowfics]

an exchange

kang dae-ho x f!reader

you give him your body in exchange for saving your life

warnings: nsfw!!!! smut!!! 18+!!! minors do not interact. smut with plot, unprotected p in v, dry humping, orał (kdh & reader receiving), breeding kink, cumeating(?), switch!dae-ho, switch!reader, tons of praise. mentions of death, post-squid game au

you spend the three days after being released in a daze, unsure if dae-ho would remember your address or if he even made it out alive.

of course he did make it out alive.. you two were the only survivors!!!

if it weren't for him deciding to split the money with you.. you'd be dead in a grave or cremated.

anyways..

you replay your last conversation over and over, clinging to the memory of his voice as you told him where to find you.

part of you hopes he’ll show up, while another part doesn’t know if you’ll ever see him again.

your apartment feels too quiet since coming back from witnessing over 400+ deaths in the last week..

the silence presses down on you like a heavy weight, the memories of the games suffocating you in the stillness.

you catch yourself glancing at the door constantly, your heart jumping at the faintest sound outside. every knock you imagine feels like a cruel trick.

two days go by and it’s just before sunset, the sky painted in warm oranges and purples.

the knock on your door is soft but deliberate.

you freeze mid-step, your breath catching.

you don’t even need to check...you know it’s him.

your heart pounds as you slowly make your way to the door.

opening the door.. there he was.

dae-ho looks worn down, his face pale and tired, the weight of everything you both endured written in the lines on his face.

he’s still wearing the same black jacket he had on when you last saw him, and his shoulders slump like he’s carrying the world.

for a long moment, you just stare at each other, no words exchanged. his eyes meet yours, and it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist anymore.

every nightmare, every moment of fear you faced together...it’s all there in his gaze.

you don’t need to explain anything; he understands.

“you came,” you whisper, your voice soft and shaking. your throat feels tight, and it takes all your strength to hold back tears.

dae-ho nods, his expression unreadable, though his lips part slightly like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

you step aside, motioning for him to come inside. he hesitates at first, his hand gripping the doorframe like he’s not sure he belongs there.

you tell him quietly, “you’re safe here,” and it’s enough.

he steps through the doorway, and the air in the room changes.

he sits on your couch, stiff and unsure, while you pour him a glass of water.

you notice how his hands shake as he takes it from you, but you don’t comment.

you sit across from him, your legs tucked up under you, and the silence between you feels both suffocating and comforting at the same time.

you want to ask if he’s okay, but you already know the answer.

"do you have anywhere to stay?"

you ask the man.

both of you have at least 22.8 billion won now.. but money can only fix so much.

"no."

he mumbles.

"thats okay, you can live here with me."

you hope he stays for a while... forever.

to say that you are in love with him would be an understatement.

he is a sweetheart. the man who made you laugh in your darkest moments during those games.

he saved your life at the end, and now you can't let him go.

when you see him pull his jacket tighter around himself, you stand up.

grabbing a soft blanket from one of your linen closest, you go behind him and drape it over his shoulders.

dae-ho's lips twitch in what might be a faint smile, though it’s gone in an instant.

he murmurs a soft “thank you,” his voice hoarse.

hours later, neither of you is ready to sleep.

"what happened when the guards dropped you off?"

you ask the man.

dae-ho's strong arm is wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his front.

you're laying on your bed, the tv on but neither of you were paying attention to the show.

"well, they had me in a blindfold and restraints which took about half-an-hour to pull off. afterwards, I felt something in my pocket which was the gold card.. you got that too right?"

dae-ho cuts himself off.

"I did."

you nod.

"okay.. well I saw an atm and when I saw the amount of money I got.. I immediately paid off my debt."

dae-ho says.

you only nod your head, not saying anything else.

"what about you?"

he asks while he hand softly caresses your waist below your underboob.

"I nearly went through the same thing.. except the guards dropped me off on a university campus so I had a few students untie me."

you say, lightly giggling at the memory.

"dae-ho?"

"y/n?"

you swallow, hoping to not cry with what you're about to say.

"I just want to say thank you."

you sat up, turning so you're facing him.

"you don't need to thank--"

"yes I do, dae-ho."

a tear falls through your left eye,

"the guards gave you a choice. you could've killed me and taken all 45.6 billion won for yourself, but you did not. you chose to split it with me. I don't think I could ever repay you."

you place your hand on his upper thigh..

this small action seems to change your mood.

you stare at his crotch, seemingly knowing how you could repay him somehow.

the ex-marine looks at you with confusion.

smirking, you look up at his face being leaning into his ear.

your lips lightly brush over his earlobe when you seductively say,

"I know how I can repay you, dae-ho."

you felt his left hand caress the side of your hip, taking in your idea.

he needed you just as much as you needed him.

dae-ho's joggers were thrown somewhere in your bedroom as you lightly sucked on his swollen tip.

he's laid down, his upper body elevated by some of your pillows while you're arched in front of him,

giving him the perfect view of your ass through your pajama pants

"fuck."

dae-ho groans when you swirl your tongue around his tip, giving the sensitive part all of your attention while your hands pump up and down his shaft.

"you're so big."

you look up at him, moaning as you start to take his full dick into your mouth.

"oh.. fuck!"

you feel his big hands lightly pull your hair up into a ponytail while you suck on his dick.

keeping your tongue in contact with one of his prominent veins, you cupped his balls with your soft hands.

"you're doing so well, love. keep sucking my dick.. just like that ughh."

he groans as his big hand move to cup on your cheek.

you feel his cock twitch inside of your throat..

you deepthroat him more knowing that he is about to cum.

"fuck fuck!"

he continues to groan as he lightly pushes your head to stay where you are, to not dare to edge him.

after swallowing his load, you pulled yourself up from him.

you couldn't process how fast dae-ho went after holding your waist, flipping you over, and kissing down your collarbone.

feeling his bare cock against your core, which was still covered by your soft pajamas and underwear, you whimpered.

"shit!"

you mumbled, spreading your legs further as dae-ho started to hump against you.

he takes off your shirt, and starts to fondle your boobs.

he takes your left one into his mouth, teasing and nibbling lightly your nipple with his teeth, while his big hand plays with your right one.

"just let me fuck you already."

you whispered.

"don't be impatient."

he took his boob out of your mouth.

dae-ho sat up, pulling your pajama pants and matching underwear down at the same time.

you were completely soaked.

the man put his hands behind your knees and spread your legs even further, giving him a perfect few of your arousal.

he was right, you were impatient.

you whimpered as his mouth started kissing down towards your center. starting at your right ankle and trailing down.

the sight was so hot, but you were never used to being so exposed for someone.

you rubbed your eyes with your hands as dae-ho made it to your inner thigh.

"keep your eyes on me baby, I want you to see how good I'll make you feel."

"yes!"

you moaned he kissed your inner pubic bone, just centimeters beside your center.

you hoped your neighbors weren't home as dae-ho ate you out like a starved man.

your moans flooded your apartment as dae-ho's fingers pumped in and out of you, poking that good spot inside of your warm walls.

"shhiitt!!"

the voice of yours nearly screamed as dae-ho sucked on your clit softly, his fingers going at a nice pace.

"I'm-- ahhhh!"

you cried, a tear falling down your face as dae-ho replaced his fingers with his tongue.

your walls contracted before you cummed all over his face, your back arched off of your bed while the ex-marine made sure that your legs stayed apart.

putting yourself on all fours, you looked back to see dae-ho giving himself a few pumps.

"you like what you see?"

you teased, wiggling your ass while he started to tease your clit with his tip.

"absolutely, you're so beautiful."

dae-ho smiled, the flushed look of his face making you even wetter, if thats possible.

when you felt his length push inside of you, stretching you in half almost, you squealed in satisfaction.

"fuck!"

dae-ho wanted to take a minute to feel himself inside of you, but you immediately started to fuck yourself back onto him.

your ass making contact with his hips filled the room.

dae-ho groaned, his hands went down to your hips to assist you into fucking him.

"thats ittt-- fuck, you're so perfect my love."

he praises, feeling your wetness all over himself.

"t-th-this is what you-- fuck!"

you tried to speak, but feeling his tip kissing your cervix made your head fall onto your pillow.

"you des-deserve this after being a gentleman.. you know? shit!"

your mouth hung open as you continue to push yourself back onto the marine.

"you're making me feel so good baby."

dae-ho places his right hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh as you look back to meet his love filled eyes.

"I'm--I-i'm gonna cum again."

"fuck you're so big!"

you start to pump yourself faster onto his cock.

"me too, where do you want me to--"

"inside."

you did not hesitate to speak.

"are you sur--"

"yes, yes, yes, fuck!"

you moaned as his shaft brushes against your g-spot, immediately making you cum all over him and your bedsheets below.

dae-ho twitched and came inside you shortly after, painting your walls white.

you pushed back onto him at least ten times during, fucking yourselves through your orgasms.

after pulling out, the ex-marine immediately cuddled onto your body.

you laid down on the bed as the man laid on your chest, his face pressed against your naked boob.

"are you okay? do you need anything, any water or snacks?"

dae-ho speaks softly, looking up at you while he places his large hands on your waist.

"I'm okay, just stay here with me."

you mumble, running your fingers through his hair.

"I'm staying, I'll always be here.. you don't need to worry."

he speaks, knowing you meant for him to stay with you forever after tonight.

"thank you for saving my life."

you mumble into his hair, giving him a light kiss on his scalp.

"I would've sacrificed mine, if it meant saving yours, y/n."

I hope you liked :)

masterlist

[gold-onthe-inside]

gingerbread kisses

who? spencer reid (s4) x bau!reader

summary: your first christmas as a couple with spencer involves baking, construction, and lots and lots of kisses

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: oral (f receiving), spencer calls r 'sweet girl', minors dni

"Yours looks so much better than mine," you whined, looking over at Spencer's gingerbread house, perfectly cut panels holding together to form a house while yours sagged at an angle.

"It's not that bad," he replied, if only to make you feel better and shifted closer to see if he could fix the angle of it, and you peered over his shoulder, watching his nimble fingers carefully adjust the panels, reapplying icing like it was glue. "There," Spencer said, pulling his hands away... and then it sagged lower and he frowned at it, puzzled, and you stifled a giggle against his shoulder at his utter confusion. Your nose pressed into his soft woollen sweater, arms wrapping around him. "Maybe if I--"

"Just leave it," you told him, kissing his cheek, your lip balm sticky against his warm skin. Even now, 6 months into dating, his cheeks flushed at your kiss, and he looked down at you, chasing your lips, his hands finding your cheeks, fingers equally sticky with icing. It was always so earnest, filled with as much longing as the first time you'd kissed him. He doesn’t want to let go when he pulls away, but then there's a streak of icing on your cheek and he can't help a wince.

"Sorry," he said, oblivious to your dazed look, moving to wipe his hands and you let out another soft groan of protest at the loss of him, only for him to come back to gently wipe your cheeks clean. "Can I tell you something?" he asked, looking at you intently.

"Always," you replied with your sweet smile and adoring gaze.

"This is the best Christmas I've ever had," he said, putting the cloth away, and you wished you could express how much you loved him in this moment, but you've never been as articulate with your affection as him. So you do what you know best; you tugged him closer, kissing him. You could live in this moment forever, his lips on yours, sitting on the floor of your apartment. Spencer pressed you back against the couch, his hands seeking your jaw, his tongue darting to your lower lip. He's always careful with you, slow and thoughtful, his thumb gently angling your chin higher.

You parted your lips, his tongue languidly exploring your mouth. His hand carefully slid down your neck, his thumb finding your pulse and he broke for breath, placing warm gentle kisses along your soft jaw. "My sweet girl," he murmured, reaching your ear. "I could do this forever."

Your heart fluttered the way it always did. He’d called you his since the beginning, sweet girl. He’d say it often, a gentle declaration of his affection. His hand slid down, thumb tracing the collar of your sweater, his face buried in your neck as he left his own mark on you, teeth grazing gently against the soft skin and your breath hitched. “God, Spence…” He felt you shift underneath him, already overwhelmed by his touch. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging a little when he mouthed at your neck. One of his hands rests on your hip, his thumb brushing the skin under your sweater.

He couldn’t help himself. You felt so warm and soft, so lovely wrapped in his arms. He pushed your sweater up gently, baring more of your skin, his touch warm, and light. He could spend hours just tracing his fingers across your skin. You tasted sweet, like sugar and vanilla, and he shifted, adjusting to slide between your legs. You tilted your head back, looking up at him, your eyes slightly unfocused, lips parted with your heavy breaths. His head dipped, mouth leaving marks along your neck as he pushed your sweater up again, just over your ribs, your breath stuttering as his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin. Your hand fisted in his sweater, a needy whisper escaping you, "Spencer..."

"Let me take care of you," he murmured against your shoulder, pushing your sweater high enough for you to wordlessly lift your arms so he could toss it to one side, and he needed to catch his breath as he looked down at you. He’d seen you a hundred times before, all those soft smooth curves, your soft sighs and breathless gasps that he lived for. You were so trusting in his arms, the way your fingers threaded through his hair, your back arching when his mouth found your stomach, kissing reverently at your soft skin. “So perfect,” he murmured.

You don't have the brainpower to spare to respond with anything other than his name, said so many times that it should have lost its meaning by now, but it never does. The way it came out all breathless and needy, desperate and reverent, the way you’d call his name as he pressed you into the couch, body over yours, pinning you in place as his mouth found your skin, tracing a path along your hip. You pulled uselessly at his sweater, biting your lower lip. “So impatient, my sweet girl,” he murmured, and your whine sent a spark straight through him.

"Want to see you, angel," you pleaded and he couldn’t deny you, even if he wanted to, not when your hands already reached to push under his sweater, your hands warm on his skin and he pulled back, pulling the offending garment off completely. You smiled, looking at him fondly. "Much better," you murmured, shifting up to kiss him again, your warm lips meeting his.

He met you readily, pressing you down again, his body covering yours, a warm comfortable weight. He could never get enough of how you fit against him, the feel of your soft skin against his fingers, the way your mouth moved against him, sweet and willing. The way your legs moved to wrap around him. "Okay if I take this off?" he whispered, hands finding the waistband of your pyjama pants, beige with little cookies printed over them, hot breath fanning over your face, eyes watching you as you nod. He slid the soft material down your legs, leaving you bare before him. It was a view he loved, all your bare skin, all his to touch and explore.

Your breath hitched as his hands gently nudged your thighs further apart, and he slowly sank onto his knees between them. You let out a small groan involuntarily, just at the sight of him between your thighs. "Angel..."

He shushed you gently, fingers tracing circles on your thighs, so close to where you wanted him. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail, your breathing and the way your legs twitched. “Just relax, my sweet girl,” he murmured, his thumbs rubbing soothing strokes across your skin.

"You're not making it easy," you muttered back.

He couldn’t help the smile at your comment, his hands slowly shifting your legs, lifting them to pull off your panties, and he could feel the way your breath caught, your body shifting slightly to help. He was so close to you he could practically feel your heat against his face. He was still gently running his fingers over the skin of your thighs, trying to keep you calm. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, voice impossibly soft.

His warm breath against you made your head spin, and you were too lost in the feel of his hands and mouth to do anything but gasp his name and tilt your head back. You were so wet, so needy for him, and you couldn’t help the way your legs shifted, pleading for more. He gently nudged at them, spreading you open further for him. He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire, the sight of you underneath him, leaning back against the foot of the couch, your chest heaving and your body tense, just for him.

He leaned in, and he didn’t miss the way your body jolted when his tongue licked over you, and he hummed against your skin. You tasted so sweet, so perfect, and he was slowly getting addicted to the taste, his hands holding your thighs in place as he slowly explored you. He’d wanted to make you fall apart, the way you’d done so many times for him, bringing him to the knife’s edge before pulling him over. But he couldn’t wait long, and he pushed forward, his tongue circling before he suddenly thrust forward, tasting as much of you as he could.

The effect was instant, and he felt you jerk against him, your gasp turning into a long moan. The sound made his hands squeeze at your thighs, wanting you closer. You were always so responsive to him, so sensitive, and you were already on edge from his light teasing. He loved the sounds you made, all those soft noises that you seemed unable to help when he was like this. He loved the way your skin felt under his hands, the way you would pull and tug at his hair when he was teasing you. He loved the way you felt, warm and soft all around him. He loved you, and he wanted you to fall apart. He was almost relentless, tongue working over you, delving into you, wanting you to come completely undone.

He didn’t want to pull away, wanted to keep going, to take you as close as he could, but you were already teetering on the edge, so close to climax. He loved how responsive you were, how he could pull those sweet moans and gasps so easily from you with just a few caresses. He wanted to see you come, wanted to feel your body shaking against him. He pulled back for a second, breathless, his voice already wrecked from how sweet you sounded, “Come for me, my sweet girl."

Your fingers scrabbled for his hair, needing something to hold onto as he brought you through your climax, his tongue not leaving you until you were begging him to stop, your body sensitive and overwhelmed. He let his hands gently trail across your thighs as you fell back onto the couch, boneless and still quivering. He couldn’t help a little smile at how wrecked you looked, your hair falling over your eyes, your body trembling. And yet you still looked beautiful, your bare body on display for him, your skin flush and warm. He shifted forward, his lips gently kissing your stomach and travelling up your body, until he laid down on top of you, his weight carefully resting between your legs, his head buried in your neck.

"I love you," you whispered, holding him, your fingers trailing over his back.

He lifted his head at your words, still so touched by your sweetness. After all this time, you still managed to surprise him. He shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at you, his gaze soft and adoring. “I love you more,” he murmured, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair out of your eyes, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

"Not possible," you murmured.

He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Agree to disagree,” he teased, his hand gently caressing your hair, fingers carding through the messy strands. He liked you like this; soft and pliable in his arms, your body still trembling from your orgasm. His fingers traced down the side of your face, before his knuckles grazed gently over your collarbone, tracing the line of your shoulder.

"You were right," you murmured, looking at him. "Best Christmas ever. Even if I can't build a gingerbread house for the life of me."

He looked at the wreckage of the house, then back to you, hiding a smile. “You’re good at a lot of things, sweetheart, but decorating is just not your strong suit,” he teased and you huffed and shoved at his shoulder in mock offence. He just pulled you on top of him, kissing you deeply all over again.

[woso-story]

The Worry Of Love

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The morning light streamed into the bedroom, soft and golden, but you barely noticed it as you stirred awake. Instinctively, your hand reached out to the other side of the bed, seeking the familiar warmth of Alexia. Instead, your fingers found cool sheets. You blinked, reality setting in: she was away at an away game, and the bed felt far too big and empty without her.

You lay there for a moment, letting the loneliness creep in. It was such a cliché to feel incomplete when Alexia wasn’t around, but that’s how it was. She had a way of filling the silence, of making everything feel right. Without her, the apartment seemed eerily quiet.

Eventually, you forced yourself out of bed, padding into the kitchen to make breakfast. The kettle hummed as you prepared your tea, the sound breaking the stillness. On the counter sat a little note Alexia had left before she left for her match:

“Good luck surviving without me, cariño ;) Te amo! Be good. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Her familiar handwriting brought a smile to your face. You missed her, but you knew she was doing what she loved. Still, you couldn’t help but count down the hours until she’d be back.

---

With the entire day ahead and no work responsibilities, you decided to spend it doing things you loved. After breakfast, you pulled your bike from the storage room, deciding on a long, leisurely ride. The fresh air would do you good, and the thought of a quiet ride through the countryside lifted your mood.

The roads were peaceful, the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound besides the rhythmic hum of your tires. You cycled lazily, admiring the view: sprawling fields, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and the golden glow of the late-morning sun. You felt lighter, as though the world had slowed down just for you.

But in a single moment, everything changed.

You weren’t sure what exactly happened—one moment, you were gliding along, and the next, you were sprawled on the ground, your bike tangled beside you. Pain radiated from your wrist as you sat up, dazed and confused. You cradled your arm, wincing as the throbbing intensified.

A passerby rushed over, concern etched on their face. They helped you to your feet, offering to take you to the hospital. You insisted you were fine, but the pain told a different story. Reluctantly, you agreed.

The hospital visit was a blur of x-rays and sympathetic nurses. The doctor confirmed what you feared—a fractured wrist. They fitted you with a cast, and though the injury wasn’t serious, it left you frustrated and deflated. This wasn’t how you’d imagined your day going.

---

Back home, you sank into the couch, staring at the cast. You’d planned a full day—shopping, relaxing, watching Alexia’s match—but now, all you had was a stiff wrist and a story you didn’t want to tell.

You thought about calling Alexia. But no, she didn’t need to know. She had a big game tonight, and the last thing you wanted was to distract her. You could already picture the worry in her eyes, the guilt she’d feel for not being there. It wasn’t worth it.

That evening, you settled in to watch her match. Despite everything, seeing her on the pitch brought a smile to your face. She was a force of nature, commanding the game with her usual grace and determination. Her team secured a hard-fought victory, and pride swelled in your chest.

Later, your phone buzzed with her call.

“Hola, mi amor,” she greeted, her voice bright with excitement. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course,” you replied, forcing cheerfulness into your tone. “You were incredible. Congratulations!”

“Thank you! How was your day?” she asked, her voice softening.

You hesitated, the truth on the tip of your tongue. But then you remembered her face when she worried, the way her brows knitted together, how her focus shifted entirely to you. You couldn’t do that to her—not tonight.

“It was good,” you said instead. “Quiet, but nice. I missed you, though.”

“I missed you too,” she murmured. “Just one more night, and I’ll be home.”

You ended the call with a bittersweet smile, guilt tugging at you.

---

The next day, you were on the couch when you heard the sound of keys in the door. Alexia was finally home. You looked up as she walked in, her bag slung over her shoulder, exhaustion evident in her posture.

But her fatigue vanished the moment her eyes landed on your cast.

“What happened?” she demanded, rushing over to you. Her hands hovered over the cast, unsure whether to touch it. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed, explaining the accident as simply as possible. Her expression shifted from shock to worry, and then to frustration.

“You should have told me,” she said, her tone a mix of scolding and hurt.

“I didn’t want to distract you,” you admitted. “I knew you’d worry, and it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” she replied, her voice softening. “You’re hurt. I’d rather know, no matter what.”

Before you could respond, she was off, bustling around the apartment, gathering pillows, blankets, water, and snacks. Despite her exhaustion, she seemed determined to take care of you.

“Lex, stop,” you said eventually, tugging her down onto the couch beside you. “I’m fine. Just sit with me.”

She hesitated but finally gave in, leaning against you. “Do you need anything? Ice? Painkillers?”

“No,” you replied firmly, wrapping an arm around her. “The only thing I need is you.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, though the worry in her eyes didn’t entirely fade.

---

Over the next few days, Alexia’s doting reached new heights. She refused to let you do anything, from cooking to cleaning to even pouring your morning coffee. At times, her hovering was exasperating, but deep down, you knew it came from a place of love.

One morning, as you tried to make breakfast, she gently but firmly steered you back to the couch.

“Sit,” she instructed. “I’ll handle it.”

“Lex, I can manage one-handed,” you protested.

“Not when I’m here,” she countered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Though her overprotectiveness occasionally drove you crazy, you couldn’t help but smile. It was moments like these that reminded you why you loved her so much.

And as she placed a plate of toast and eggs in front of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you realized that maybe being pampered wasn’t so bad after all.

[playfully-sadistic]

You're such a needy thing.

Others just pull down their pants and get off, nice and quick, but you... Oh, you feel it for hours. You feel the tingling between your legs, the heat pooling in your stomach, your guts spasming, your muscles twitching. It starts with you palming yourself, thinking some unsuitable things, you're probably still in public, aren't you? When those first shivers remind you that you're merely a body to use for fucking, merely a bundle of instincts and needs. You try to do it casually, try to hide it, but soon your urges become more pressing, you do your best to get home as fast possible.

By the time you have some privacy, you've soaked through your clothes. Wet patches between your legs making sure that your body, again, reminds you of what a horny, insatiable, fuck-hungry whore you really are. And yet, you don't rush. You want to take it slow, lose yourself in that dazed state of heat and lust, you really want to be overwhelmed by it, possibly even thinking, hoping, someone might come and take advantage of it. So your hand slip between the two layers, you rub yourself through your underwear, feel the twitching, the wetness, the swollen, aching, begging part of your body.

You could spend hours like that. Lazily toying with yourself through a thin, soaked layed of fabric, but regardless of what you're telling yourself, you're still a slut, a body made to be kept on edge, but craving more.

How many hours have passed, I wonder, when you finally end up on your bed, naked, rubbing, jerking away, a collection of perverted toys surrounding you, each getting its turn, because you just can't get enough. Do you allow yourself to come, time after time, or do you keep yourself denied because it keeps you horny and ready and oh so thoughtless, eh? Either way, what did I say at the beginning again... Oh right, why am I asking you, you probably got so lost in what this post did to you, you can't even remember the beginning.

Let me quickly refresh your memory, dear.

You're such a needy fucking thing.

[homestylehughes]

shower sex

pairing(s): luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: after a terrible day, luke knows just what y/n needs. because what's a better relaxation than shower sex?

wc: 1.7k

warnings: smut 18+. little plot, mostly smut! pure filth, no use of y/n. cussing, pet names, dirty talk. oral, fem receiving. unprotected sex, p n v. hints of some angst, and cute fluffy boyfriend luke.

authors note: hiiiii!! luke smut! luke smut! luke smut! i loved writing this, i love luke, going through a luke phase rn badddd. i got this idea when i was writing the headcanons for him earlier. so here it isssss. i loved writing this. like and reblog if you enjoy<3 as always much love<3

happy reading<3

I've actually had the worst day ever. Everything. I mean everything is going wrong today. I was late for work today because I missed my alarm, even with me sprinting throughout our apartment, and speeding to the office. I was still late.

Then, I spilled my coffee all over me. That was my second straw. The worst part about it was that I had to work in my coffee-covered clothes the whole day, not being able to afford to leave work, which would cause me to be even more behind than I was.

I had so much work to do, i stayed 3 extra hours over, not pulling out of the parking lot until almost 8 p.m. everything hurt, each part of my body was exhausted. To make things worse, if they could get even worse, I haven't seen Luke in almost a week. 

The hockey season is wrapping up but Luke has been busy with spending time with his family, after Jack's surgery and training for the worlds. 

We both had hoped that I'd be able to get time off from work to spend time with him and his family, taking a little break for myself. That obviously didn't happen. 

So now, im driving back home to our apartment, in coffee cover clothes, with a pounding headache and empty stomach. The tears are threatening to fall over my waterline. 

Parking quickly in the lot, I get out and grab my things, making my way through the lobby to the elevator. The ride to the 8 floor feels like 30 years before the door opening signaling its floor. 

I slowly trudge down the hall to our door, pushing my key in and turning the lock, the refreshing smell and sense of being home felt in my body. Immediately I drop my things by the door, kicking off my shoes as I do. 

There's three things on my mind right now: shower, eat maybe, and bed. Luke is also on my mind but I'm so exhausted I can't even bring myself to message him back from earlier. 

Making my way to the bathroom, turning the water on to the highest it can go, wanting to burn and wash away the aftermath of the day. Peeling off my clothes, my body quickly relaxes as soon as the hot water hits my body. Leaning my head back letting it run all over my face. 

I can't tell if the wetness on my face is just water or a mix of tears, at this point I'm not sure I care. 

After five or so minutes of letting the water run along my body I reach for the shampoo, starting to wash my hair. The scrubbing on my scalp and the smell of my shampoo is enough to send me into a daze. Wash and rinse and wash and rinse again, the same action repeated with conditioner. 

As I'm rinsing the last bit of conditioner out of my hair, my back turned away to the door of the shower, my eyes closed in relaxation. I feel a hand slowly trail around my waist, my eyes quickly open in confusion, my body fast to move away from the person behind me.

“Hey baby its just me” luke chuckles from behind me, pulling me back into his body from behind, his hands circling my waist rubbing small circles on my hips. 

“You scared me '' I say as I lean back into his body, “sorry baby didn't mean to”, he says, breathing into my neck, his warmth on my neck is enough to make my knees weak. 

“How was your day?” he says, face still nuzzled in my neck. I sadly laugh before i speak “my day was terrible so fucking terrible.” I can feel my eyes begin to fill with tears again. 

Luke is quick to turn me around, grabbing my face in his hands holding it to look at his. “Hey baby, don't cry, it's okay. I'm here now, i'm sorry i haven't been here recently” he says while his eyes are locked with mine, wiping his fingers under my eyes where tears have now fallen. 

Feeling stupid for crying i mute out a small “sorry” to Luke, feeling bad he has to watch me cry like a baby. 

“Hey no, don't feel sorry. It's okay to cry". I don't deserve him, I say to myself. Not knowing what else to say, I push my face to his, locking our lips together. It's been almost a week since i've kissed luke, i missed the feeling of his lips, i've missed the feeling of him around me in general. 

Luke is quick to respond by pulling my hips closer to his body, his other hand on the back of my head. Taking control of the kiss by pushing my lips harder against his.

His tongue pressing against my lips, begging to be let in, opening my mouth slightly against his, lukes hot tongue slides into my mouth. I don't even try to fight for dominance, I just let him take control.

Our bodies moving together against the stream of hot water, the glass door fogging up around us. My body feels like it's on cloud nine just from that. Lukes the first to pull away, his pupils blown with lust, lips swollen and pink. 

“Fuck i missed that” he says, hes hands begin trailing up my body grabbing at my hips, tracing his hands along the under neath of my breasts, the action alone causing me to shutter. 

“Luke” I breathe out, now looking up at him, “what baby” he smirks down at me, now trailing one of his hands to my left nipple, rolling it in between two of fingers. 

“I need you now” I say quietly, “what do you need baby?” Luke says, bringing his face close to mine.

“I want you to fuck me, please” luke wastes no time smashing our lips back to together, walking us backwards and turning us around. My back hits the cold tile, the sensation causing me to moan into lukes mouth, our tongues began to move against each other again. 

Luke suddenly pulls away from me, I whine at the loss of contact. “Be patient baby” he says, as he tails his hand between my legs, pulling my thighs apart, caging me in by putting one of his legs between my thighs and the other on the outside of my other leg. 

I gasp as a feel his fingers slide in between my folds, “fuck baby, who got you this wet?” “you luke, you.” I say trying to push my hips to meet his fingers, my body craving some type of release. 

“Youre a needy little thing tonight arent you baby” he says to me in a teasing tone, “yes i am, and i need you to fuck me now please luke, stop teasing me” i say finally finding my voice. 

“You want me to fuck this little cunt huh?” Luke rasps back to me as he begins to slowly enter two fingers inside of me, I'm so wet, that they just slide right in. 

“I think i might just tease you for a little while longer baby” still slowly moving his fingers in and out of me. My body is rocking against the motion of my fingers thrusting in and out of me.

“Fuck i need more luke, please” i say moaning out to him, hoping he can see how desperate i am for him right now. 

  “Since you asked so nicely” he says, quickly removing his fingers from my pussy. Grabbing one of my legs pulling it up against his hip. 

I pull his face against mine, my hands finding his hair tugging and pushing his mouth against mine, our teeth and tongues clashing against another.

Luke takes a hold of his cock, giving it a few quick pulls before he pushes into me completely. “Oh fuck luke” i moan against his mouth, “you feel so good around me fuck baby” he groans out from above me pulling our lips apart, as he begins thrusting in and out of me.

Each roll of his hips feels like a gift sent from god, his grip on my things hurts so good. I begin to roll my hips to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck yeah right there baby” luke moans out “keep fucking yourself against me” he says dropping his face into my neck leaving bites in his wake. 

Luke brings my leg higher against his hip, the new angle causing my vision to fog over. “Luke fuck. Oh my gosh,” “right there baby please”. My hands running over the landscape of his back, my nails definitely leaving a trail of red hot marks in their wake. 

The sound of the shower running, and the sound of our skin slapping together fills the shower. I can feel the sweat forming on my body, as luke continues to fuck me. His hand sliding inbetween our bodies, to my clit. 

“Fuck luke, yes right there” i moan out loudly. “That feels good baby, right there yeah? You want me to rub your pretty clit as i fuck you?”. Fuck him and that dirty mouth, “yes luke please, dont stop im close” my eyes falling shut in pleasure. “Fuck baby, i can feel you squeezing against me”

Luke's thrusts began to speed up, I can feel my high approaching. “Fuck luke, dont stop” “im almost there” i say, pulling our lips back together, moaning into each other mouths. 

One last snap of Luke's hips hits right against my clit, causing my whole body to start shaking. “Im coming fuck” i can barely get out as waves of pleasure taking over. My vision is completely white, as my climax racks through my body. 

Luke drops his face against mine, as he comes his moans filling my ears, his hips still snapping against mine, as we both ride out our highs. 

Luke's hips stop moving, trying to catch his breath, as he pulls his face from my neck, I open my eyes slowly to see Luke looking back at me with a slight smirk on his face, our chests still rapidly falling. 

“I think the shower is cold ”Luke says to me while smiling, “I don't care.” I whisper back, pulling our lips together once again in another kiss. Already forgetting about the terrible day, once his lips are back on mine. 

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2) Soap's part 2. Soap's part 3.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

 “Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him. 

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified. 

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily. 

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it. 

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst. 

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks. 

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.” 

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…” 

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that… 

“Pretty please?” 

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?” 

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context. 

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart. 

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you  can’t have.

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed. 

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality. 

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor. 

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter. 

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it. 

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

[catboyieejeno]

nct dream reaction ༊*·˚

"i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now,"

content: gn! reader (no pronouns mentioned, no other implications of gender), the dreamies being the cutest boyfies, tooth-rotting fluff

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

"are you not tired?"

you quickly shake your head, blinking at him with soft eyes, "no," you mumble contently, "i like watching you play,"

mark's cheeks glow a light shade of pink as he stares down at the guitar in his hands, nodding, "okay,"

he continues to strum, pretending that your gentle gaze doesn't make him nervous; quietly, he starts humming along to a random melody in an effort to soothe the hammering in his chest.

you watch, completely enamored by everything that is him: his hair that lacks any sense of direction, the glasses that hang low on his nose, waiting patiently to be pushed back. even the tiny pimple patch on his forehead invites a smile to your lips. the way his fingers strum the different chords on the guitar is mesmerizing, and you think, god, i could watch him for hours.

"i love you," you blurt out.

he stops playing and his gaze meets yours. when the three words leave your lips, mark stops breathing; his eyes glance between yours, greedily soaking in the fondness of your confession.

"and i love you, pretty," he finally breathes out, gawking at the expression on your face, "wow," he mutters. perhaps, it's the lack of sleep or the certain fogginess brought on by staying up until the earliest hours of the morning, but you have never looked more fascinating.

"what?"

"nothing, i just-" his eyes are dazed, deep in thought.

"what? tell me?" you insist.

"it's just... i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now,"

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

your eyes dart between the canvas on your lap, an abomination of colorful smudges and scribbles that look like a primary school student’s best work, and that of your boyfriend’s. his painting is carefully done, organized, clearly mirroring the vase of tulips you were using as reference.

“i’m never painting with you again!” you pout, arms crossing stubbornly against your front. renjun, more than amused at this, laughs loudly.

“why, honey? i love it.”

“liar! it looks like terrible, jun-“

“it looks beautiful,” he starts, placing both hands on your shoulders, “because you drew it. it’s... abstract, unconventional,” he encourages, “it’s freaking cool, just like you!”

initially, you roll your eyes but after a few seconds, you can’t help but give in, letting your arms fall to your side in defeat.

“you’re so corny,” you huff, feigning annoyance.

“maybe," he agrees, "or, maybe i’m just secretly convincing you to paint with me again because i love you and i love spending time with you like this.”

your eyes lose their sternness instantly. instead, they widen, looking up at renjun. at his words, you feel your heart swell up, the tips of your ears turning hot. that definitely wasn’t the response you expected.

you wrap your arms around his waist tightly, muttering a shy, “really?”

he bobs his head up and down, fascinated by the way you look at him.

“yes,” he mumbles, “and i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now. how's that for corny?"

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

jeno throws his controller onto the desk, cursing loudly.

your head shoots up from the crook of his neck where you were beginning to drift off, curled up in his lap.

"fuck, sorry," he apologizes, bringing a hand up to rub your back, "it's just that fucking haechan- i'm sorry, baby," he breathes out.

"it's okay," you run your fingers through his locks, slightly amused at the way he gets so worked up over a game.

"his girlfriend came into the room so he just left his controller there and kept the game running instead of telling me he was leaving," jeno rambles, "and now we lost two games in a row,"

unable to help the giggle that leaves your lips, you brush his hair away from his forehead, pressing your lips to it, then kissing each one of his cheeks after. he stops complaining, settling for letting you pamper him.

"you're so cute," you whisper. he only grumbles beneath you and holds you closer against him. you give him a peck on his lips, using your hands to smush his cheeks together.

"i'm sorry i woke you up," he whispers once you pull away. you shake your head.

with your fingers lazily tracing his features, you reassure him, "s'okay, i don't mind. i wasn't even asleep yet. just drifting off."

"well, how about i turn off the game and we can go lay down- why are you looking at me like that?"

"like what?" you ask, unaware of the way your tired eyes are glossed over with love as you stare at the prettiest boy ever.

"i don't know," he mumbles, leaning in so his lips are barely brushing yours, "i can't describe it but- all i know is-" his heart skips a beat as you subconsciously bat your eyes, "i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now," he presses his lips against yours and picks you up, carrying you to the bed.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

"mmm.. that feels good," hyuck purrs. his voice is muffled as a result of his lips pressing into your shoulder blade, lazy kisses leaving behind a trail of wet marks.

meanwhile, your nails rake up and down his back, tickling and scratching his warm, bare skin. haechan swears he could melt in your arms.

"you're so good to me," he admits, leaning up to take a peek at your face, already looking back at him with so much sentiment, "and you're so beautiful," his brow furrows, "i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now,"

"i know you had a long day," you start, smiling as you feel his hand squeeze your side, "it's the least i can do,"

"staying up past a reasonable hour so i can cling to you and complain about my day is the least you can do?"

"i do it because i want to," you reiterate, "and give yourself credit, bub, you do a lot for me, too,"

"i should be doing more," he sighs with discontent, leaning his chin on your chest, "if i wasn't always so busy-"

"you make me my favorite foods on the days you have practice so that i won't miss you too much while you're gone. you run me scented baths when i'm sick and rub menthol on my chest even when there's snot in my nose," he playfully grimaces, although he can't contain his quiet giggles, "and you always let me pick what movie we watch, even if we've already seen it a dozen times," you explain, "i would do this a hundred nights over, hyuck."

his cheeks burn red, and for a moment you think you may be hallucinating. it wasn't common for donghyuck to be flustered, nor was it an easy task to accomplish.

he puckers his lips as if to ask for a kiss, which you gladly give him.

"for the record," you mutter, "i never want you to stop looking at me this way either,"

hyuck shakes his head, "never, baby," before nuzzling his face back into your neck.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

"hold still," jaemin insists.

you shift around, trying to get comfortable where you sit up on the bathroom sink. your boyfriend stands in front of you, wearing a half-hearted scowl and a bright green face mask that made it impossible to take him seriously. he has one hand on your hip to keep you steady while the other applies the cleansing goo to your cheeks.

"babe," he tries when you wiggle again.

there’s no chance you can concentrate on keeping still with how ridiculous he looks. you snort and shake your head, "sorry, sorry."

"you're lucky you're cute," he grumbles, focusing on getting an even layer of product across your forehead.

having him so close, conveniently situated between your legs, made it so easy to stare at him. you found yourself glancing between his eyes and lips as you pucker up, leaning in.

“ah-ah” his finger comes up between your two faces, stopping you before you can come any closer, “what do you think you’re doing?”

your eyes roll as you move aside his hand, stealing a kiss any way.

“hey!”

“oh, come on, shrek, it’s not that deep,” you laugh, fisting the material of his shirt and pulling him in, pressing your lips against his. he clumsily puts down the green container on the edge of the sink when your kiss takes him by surprise. his hands blindly feel around for the towel, wiping off the excess product so that he can properly hold you and deepen your affection, so much so that the both of you only break apart when you’ve run out of air.

“even covered in green,” he pants breathlessly, “you’re still as hot as ever.”

“you have a way with words,” your thumb swipes at his lip to wipe away what you've smudged.

"i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now," he exhales.

"woah, where did that come from?"

"it's just been on my mind for a couple days... i've noticed how your pupils dilate when you look at me, there's so much adoration in your-" he whispers, "well, i just feel like i don't tell you enough that i love you, and that i appreciate the way you love me."

"jaemin..." you coo, but he interrupts you, capturing your lips in another kiss.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

every one of his features is perfectly shaped, but boy, are his lips are so deliciously plump and pink. it isn't the first time you find yourself drooling over them, and you certainly don't think it'll be the last.

chenle tears his eyes away from the tv when he catches sight of you out of the corner of his eye, "what's on your mind?"

"nothing," you sharply reply and shift your gaze back to the screen, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

but your answer's not enough for chenle, who sits up and pauses the movie, turning to face you with his brow furrowed in concern.

"hey, what's wrong?" he chimes, poking his finger into your cheek.

"no, nothing's wrong. i just don't want you to make fun of me." you warn.

"why would i make fun of you?"

"for staring at you."

chenle's lips break into a smile and he laughs loudly.

mortified, you gasp and yank the blanket up and over your head, "see! you're making fun of me!"

"no no," he takes your hands into his, moving the blanket out of the way so he can see you clearly, “i’m laughing because you think i'd make fun of you for that,”

“it’s just,” you brush your hair away from your face, “i just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable cause i was staring at you. i know you're not super affectionate, which is fine, but-.”

“you can stare at me all you want. as a matter of fact, i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now. the day you stop, i’ll just have to assume you don’t love me anymore.” he crosses his arms, huffing.

“yeah, you’re not affectionate," you laugh, "but you’re definitely dramatic.”

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

"i don't understand why i can't have another bite."

you savor the taste of your ice cream and then hold it far away, arm outstretched so that jisung can't reach it, "it's not my fault you ordered a flavor just because it was colorful,"

he whines, grabbing the end of your shirt to keep you close, "it was bright blue! i didn't know cotton candy would taste so bad! stop walking, lovey," his hand slips into yours and he spins you around until your chest presses against his. taking advantage of your proximity, he quickly kisses you. he pulls away with a pop, licking his lips.

"did you just-"

his eyes grow wide, as do yours. "well, you wouldn't give me another bite of yours so i-," even he can't believe how bold he was just a minute ago, "-i had to t-taste it on your lips."

my, that had to have been the cutest thing you've ever seen him do. you're pretty sure your eyes have turned into hearts with the way you're ogling him, "ji..." you start.

"mine tasted really bad," his tone is nervous, defensive even.

"ji," you beam again, but his eyes look anywhere but yours. that is, until your palm cradles his face, directing his attention back to you, "that was so cute,"

his teeth are pressed together, almost gritting as he speaks through them, "it-it was?"

"you should do that more often,"

"do what?"

"be bold like that..."

he slowly nods up and down in understanding, "okay, as long as you do that more often, too."

now, it's your turn to ask, "do what?"

"keep stop looking at me like that,"

"looking at you how, ji?" you shrug.

"i never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now, and if it takes me kissing you by surprise more often, w-well, then-"

smooch!

and he's done it again!

ੈ♡˳

[yuyusbabygirl]

hii, could i put a request in for sub!mingi being edged by reader's ass ? like it starts out by just grinding his cock between reader's cheeks and then it becomes fucking reader's ass and reader stops/slows whenever mingi gets close

thank youu in advance

Slow Down (18+)

pairing: sub!Mingi x fem!reader

genre: smut

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, sub!mingi, mommy!reader, dry humping, anal, orgasm denial (male), praise kink, generally sweet, Mingi loves reader's ass, spit

author's note: thank you so much for requesting this. this is my first time writing male sub so I hope you like it. Not proofread.

The movie playing in the background was long forgotten as you sat on Mingi’s lap. His hands were running up and down your thighs as you two talked about your day. Your fingers were playing with the hairs on the back of his neck while you told him a story about your coworker.

“I mean, she could have at least thanked me. I didn't have to do the reports for her but she was whining about not being able to because of her children. But does she say thank you? No. And now I fear she'll see it as a given that I'll do her work for her if she plays the family card. Anyway, how was your shift? Is that one guy still sick?” you asked him.

Mingi tried to focus on your question but you talked very animatedly, especially when you were venting, and the wiggle of your ass on his crotch was making him a bit dazed. He looks up into your eyes as he remembers your question.

“No, he's back again but I think he'll quit soon. In the break I saw him on his phone looking for jobs. Can't blame him, the new manager is a bit of a pain,” his voice was a bit hoarse as he told you about his work day. His fingers tightened on your thighs as he felt you rest more of your weight on him. 

You noticed him getting distracted and judging by the building hardness pressing into your ass, you could tell catching up was done. His breathing caught a bit as you shifted your hips forward. 

“Why is your manager a pain?” you asked him, wanting him to keep talking while you moved on his lap.

“Uh… he w-wants everyone to hand in a time sheet every week, detailing o-our work load…” he stuttered a bit as you started grinding down on him, not enough to give him any actual friction. He knew better than to grip your hips and move you himself. Especially if he wanted to cum today.

“That doesn't sound very fair,” you murmured. You stood up and removed your shorts before sitting back down on his lap. You relished in the gasp he let out, how his hands flexed as he resumed his grip on your thighs. You ran a hand over his shoulder as praise for holding back. “What else does he do?” you ask him, keeping your voice light.

Mingi swallowed and moistened his lips. 

“H-he doesn't really care about the employees, he j-just sees the numbers and it's affecting the mood in the office. He a-also yelled at Janice two days ago about her desk,” he managed to stutter out as you moved your ass over his now completely hard cock. He wanted to beg you to give him more but he knew that would only result in the opposite.

“What was wrong with Janice's desk?” you questioned, the movements of your hips still slow while your hands ran over his shoulders and arms.

“She- fuck,” he whimpered as you suddenly reached between you and took his hard cock out of his sweatpants. You positioned him between your ass cheeks.

“Keep talking,” your voice sweet but the underlying command was clear. Talk or you stop.

Mingi took a deep breath but couldn't stop the slight twitch of his hips as he felt his cock between your ass. Your ass was probably his favourite body part of you. He could spend hours grabbing it, playing with it and seeing it jiggle. His favourite way to eat you out was from the back.

“Janice likes to collect little– shit– little knick knacks and she arranges them on her desk. No one minds, she's g-good at her job. And she's very sweet but the new manager sees it as a distraction, says she shouldn't waste office space on worthless crap. No one liked– ah– how he talked to her. She is very motherly, especially to the newer employees so I guess everyone took it personally. Fuck. Uh, but I don't think he'll make it long,” he managed to get through his story fairly well so you rewarded him by speeding up your grinding. 

You could feel his precum leaking from the tip of his cock and it mixed with your own arousal. You loved it when he was so good for you. Your big boyfriend being putty underneath you. 

“Why not?” you asked.

He let his head tip back for a second and whimpered. His cock was hard and aching. At this moment he didn't give a shit about work, he just wanted you to fuck him.

“Because our office is not getting any more efficient. If anything it's taken a bit of a hit. I think it won't be long before someone higher up will realise the– oh fuck– reason behind it. Just what happens when you take the– shit, please,” he couldn't finish his sentence because you suddenly spit on your hand and rubbed it over his cock.

“Finish your sentence.”

He whined but did as you commanded.

“It's just what happens when you take the personal aspect out of a workplace,” he gasped out.

“Good boy. Spit,” you held out your hand in front of his mouth. A wad of spit landed on your hand and you used it to rub your asshole, dipping your finger inside to prepare yourself for his cock. His gaze dropped between you and he bit his lip as he watched you finger your ass. 

“Tell me what you want, pretty boy,” you whispered in his ear.

“Please, can you fuck me? I want your ass, please. I'll be good,” he begged you. Finally he had permission to beg and he always begged you so sweetly.

“Anything for my pretty boy,” you praised him and grabbed his cock. You rubbed him against your pussy to lube him up a bit more. You looked into his eyes as you slowly positioned him at your asshole.

“Keep looking at me, baby,” you murmured, your other hand caressing his cheek. You smiled as he nodded obediently. You rewarded him by sinking down on him, inch by inch until your ass touched his thighs. The whimper he let out made your pussy leak onto him. You gripped his hair and pulled his head back. You licked a stripe up his throat until you reached his ear.

“You're so good for me, aren't you?” you whispered in his ear. His hand gripped your ass as his he nodded his head vigorously.

“Yes,” he whined. You gave a warning tug on his hair. 

“Yes, mommy,” he moaned out. 

“Good boy,” you bit his earlobe and straightened back up. You raised your hips up before dropping back down.

“Do you want mommy to fuck you, pretty boy?” you taunted him, your hips moving in circles.

“Please, mommy. Please fuck me,” his voice broke as he begged you.

“Shh, baby. Mommy's got you,” you caressed his cheek, swiping your thumb over his lip. You started to move up and down on his length, his big round eyes looking up at you with such a pathetic expression you couldn't help but clench around him. 

His hands desperately held onto your ass as he felt your tight ass around his hard cock. It had been a while since you let him into your ass and he savoured every minute. 

“How does it feel, baby?” you ran your hand over his chest as you sped up your hips.

“Feels so so good. I love it. Please don't stop,” he whimpered, his eyes glazed over. 

“I know. You're so hard, baby. Is this all because of me?” you teased him. Your hips started gyrating, making his hands tighten around your ass.

“Yes, yes, it's because of you. Always you. You feel so good, fuck, please.”

You started bouncing on him, his hard cock in your ass making you a bit unfocused yourself. You felt the tell-tale twitches of his hips bucking up into you and his breathing got heavier. You started to speed up only to stop right when he was about to cum. He whined and looked up at you. His impending climax started to recede.

“Aww, were you close, pretty boy?” you chuckled at how his lip quivered. He nodded desperately. You waited until his breathing had evened out before you started moving your hips again. You moved up and down, slowly building momentum. Your head tilted back and Mingi used the opportunity to kiss your throat. Your hand went to his hair, holding him to you. 

“Don't cum until I say so,” you demanded. He whined against your neck.

“Yes, mommy,” he choked out. His tongue continued to lap at your neck. You stopped all movement. He shuddered and held onto you. His head dropped to your shoulder. He was so desperate to cum, he wanted to beg and plead. 

“You're being so good, baby,” you praised him and he smiled against your shoulder. You took another moment to stroke his hair and started to move up and down again. You could feel him shaking beneath you, pulling you tighter against him. You moved your face to his neck and started sucking on his earlobe. His ear was sensitive and you knew that. You used it to your advantage quite frequently. His hips bucked up and you dug your nails into his shoulder to remind him who's in charge. You pulled your head back to look at him, his face flushed and his eyes glassy. You couldn't hold back your smirk as you looked at your boyfriend reduced to a whiny mess just by being in your ass. 

“Make mommy cum, baby,” you commanded him and he obediently slipped his hand between you. His fingers immediately found your clit, expertly flicking against it. You moaned out his name and he felt his chest swell up with pride. He loved making you feel good. 

“That's it, baby. Just a bit more,” you moaned out, your eyes never leaving his. The movement of your hips got slower but more intense. You were seconds away from cumming and you knew your release would trigger his. He was weak for you like that. 

“Make mommy cum and then you can cum, pretty boy,” you moaned. Your hips stuttered but he moved his fingers over your clit to make up for it. He wanted to see you cum. Not just because his own orgasm depended on it but because making his mommy cum was his favourite way to show you he loved you. With a few more movements of your hips and a particularly hard stroke of your clit, you came. Your asshole clenched around him, your pussy dripping onto his lap. As soon as he heard your finishing moan he spilled into your ass. His hips bucked up and his hand clutched at your ass. He twitched a few times and dropped his head to your shoulder. You both tried to catch your breath as you stroked his hair.

“That's my good boy. You did so good,” you praised him, your own voice still breathless. He pulled back from your shoulder and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You both giggled as you looked at each other. 

“Your new manager sounds like an ass,” you joked and he let out a breathless laugh. He held you to his chest and breathed in your scent. 

This was definitely his favourite way to talk about his day.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello ~~ How about "Moustache - accident - hot" for Eddie Diaz? There's so many ways, it could go wrong or right

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @tigolebittiez @mckinleysbones @totalstitchlover19

Companion piece to:

Box Breathing - Eddie's been struggling since Christopher left.

Always - You make a promise to Eddie.

Real - Eddie tells you he wants something real.

A Future With You - Eddie makes a realisation during a one on one game of basketball.

Eddie finds your secret Instagram entirely by accident. He’s scrolling through his feed one day when app pops up ‘people you may know’.

Mostly it’s people who are connected to Chris, his math tutor, his bestie’s mom, people he really doesn’t want to associate with on social media but then he comes across one that catches his eye.

That_bookish_bitch.

The profile pic is of a book he doesn’t recognise propped up on a coffee table that he does. It’s one he helped you upcycle not too long ago. He still has the color Nebula Blue smeared across one of his old t-shirts.

He spends his time in-between calls studying the account. It’s a very popular bookstagram, showcasing the novels that you’ve been reading. They’re all filthy books, books that make even him blush because the stuff in them, it’s stuff that he’s only ever fantasied about.

Knowing that you’re into it too, well it does a little something to him.

It’s when he comes across the post about ‘Cash’ that he learns your views on moustache riding and the thought of you sitting on his face, taking your pleasure it’s hot, so hot that he ends up fucking his fist in the bathroom because he can’t get the idea out of his head.

It’s three hours later that he runs into you, he’s coming off shift and you’re coming on. He thinks he has a mind stutter in that moment because the words are already out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“With Christopher away in Texas I’ve been trying to do a little more reading. Anything you’d recommend?”

“Yea.” You say reaching into your satchel, it’s packed with two or three books that he can see, it takes you a minute to select one before you pull it out and hand it to him.

He looks down at the cover and his cheeks start to flush because it’s that damn book.

Cash…

“Thanks for the like by the way.” You say patting his shoulder as he stands there in daze, because of course his fucking finger must have slipped when he was reading your review. “Let me know what you think about page 103.”

Love Eddie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[explosionkatsu]

Unadorned Love

Human!Alastor x Waitress!F!Reader

Warning: Gore

Alastor finds you to be quite similar to his deceased mother which made him enticed to you. He couldn't help but visualize you attending to him with a cup of hot coffee instead of the random stranger who ordered it. He couldn't also help his smile widen, yet at the same moment, his heart ached when he saw you smile at the man who appeared to be flattering you.

He didn't appreciate the thought of you, going home to a male who wasn't him.

Alastor has been visiting the same cafe for almost years now. At first, he would just simply walk in, have his breakfast then depart after dining. But once you began laboring at the said cafe, he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of you. He couldn't keep his eyes on how elegant you looked just as you gracefully cater to every consumer with a smile. That softly angelic smile seemed to capture his being.

This is why Alastor now spends most of his time dining in the cafe to catch sight of you.

Finally getting out of his daze, he looked at the same menu, scrutinizing every dish he knew he tasted these past few years. Nothing changed, only a few new meals were summed up but he couldn't bring himself to order them. After finalizing what to feast for this morning, Alastor raised a hand as he tried and catch the attention of the waitress who happened to be you.

“Ah. A lovely morning, Mister Alastor.” You bowed your head while clutching the clipboard to your chest. “What have you chosen to devour this morning?” You raise a question and pull the pen out to write his order, your glossy natural pink lips forming into a gentle smile.

Alastor glanced down at your lips which you caught on before he darted at you with his eyes half-lidded. “Good morning as well, Y/n.” He spoke. “My, how numerous times do I have to inform you to call me by my name only.” He chuckled telling this.

You laughed lightly after hearing this. “Mister Alastor, you are a paying customer. Every customer must be treated with respect.” You explained smiling at him.

Hearing your laugh was the best melody he listened to. He cannot help himself but gaze at you fondly whilst his pride swells up for his ability to make you laugh. “But not every customer respects you, don't they?” He expressed. “Do you still consider they merit the respect they can't provide in return?”

“Well, I presume there is no harm in disregarding that, as long as they won't provoke any physical harm..” You drifted off as you guessed about it.

“Hm.” Alastor hummed. Oh how easy it is to control you. You were indeed destined to be his wife. “Think about it, my dear.” He continued. “If things like this ever occur, do not hesitate to reach out to me.” He spoke before fishing out his calling card to his chest pocket and handing it to you. “Now! Please add these waffles along with the eggs! And don't forget the maple syrup!”

You took his card since you guessed you were never gonna use it in any way, but an incident earned you to consider otherwise.

No. It was not concerning her job. It was something else.

You didn't quite expect the cafe to finish off this late due to a colleague who wasn't able to arrive for work due to a crisis and the number of consumers suddenly increased. You, being an understanding person as you are, stood for their shift. The 16 hours of labor was finally taking a toll on you and you didn't appreciate it. Your back was aching and your heels were weakening. This is the first time you've had a tough time stepping on 2 inches heels on your way home.

11 pm is what it says on your watch once you inspect it. You were grateful though that your boss let you take an off tomorrow since the usefulness you provided today wasn't a joke. You were already planning your day when a sudden chilling feeling ran down your spine. You sense somebody is watching you, observing you. Just pondering about this made you clutch your purse to your chest as you fearfully proceeded with strolling on your way home. It’s still a 15-minute walk which caused you to swear under your breath.

Looking behind you will do no good so you pressed on, concentrating on going home safely. But the noise behind you urged you to run, but you didn’t. Instead, with your trembling hands, you took your phone out and attempted to recollect any number you could to dial down but nothing came up. It would be a hassle for you to take your contact book out of your purse and flip through it in a situation like this.

All of a sudden, you remember the calling card you hid in your bosom. With minimal movement, you seized it out and had to squint to read in the darkness of the pavement. After successfully dialing it down, you placed your phone to your ear as you hear it ring.

Your pace is now rapid as you hear the steps behind you grow closer. You were chanting in your mind for him to please answer.

“Hello-”

‘Finally!’ You thought. “M-mister Alastor.” You whispered getting slightly breathless.

Alastor was just finishing up after his broadcast. He thought he could use a liquor after his shift since his shadow is quenched for now which means he doesn't need to slaughter for now. Once he stood up, he took notice of his telephone ringing. ‘This late?’ He thought raising an eyebrow before proceeding to respond to it. “Hello-”

His eyes slightly widen when he hears your voice. It's you. You called him.

“M-mister Alastor.”

He immediately senses that something seems off. You were stuttering, whispering, breathless, and appeared to be terrified.

“I-i know I-it’s a bit late. But c-could you please escort m-me on my way home..”

“My darling, where are you?” Alastor muttered as calmly as he could as he gripped his telephone tightly causing his knuckles to turn white.

“I-I’m here walking alone near the- AAHH!!”

“Y/n!?” Now he was panicking. He instantly put on his ebony trench coat and fedora, fleeing his home in the middle of the woods. “Find her.” He spoke, his voice low and dark. “Keep the insolent fool alive until I arrive.”

His shadow nodded in response before finally fleeing.

When he finally arrived at the scene, his blood was raging as he gazed at the scenario in front of him.

You were half-naked, cowering to the corner of the alleyway. Your beautiful dress was ripped and torn, your hair was everywhere, and your smile wasn’t visible. He could see tears streaming down your cheeks whilst you made an effort and cover up under your thin arms.

Something snapped inside Alastor. His smile was crooked when he laid his eyes upon the drunk bastard who tried claiming you forcefully.

Before he could initiate his vengeful plan, he took off his coat and draped it on you. “My darling. Shh. You are safe now.” He whispered wrapping his arms around you and leaving a kiss on your temple. “My love, will you close your eyes and cover your ears for me? Do not open them until I said so, is that clear?”

You, looking at him with your terrified expression, nodded and did as he said.

“Such a good girl for me. You shall have a reward after this.” Alastor spoke before finally turning his eyes onto the guy who was being beaten down by his shadow.

“As for you..” Alastor smiled, his steps were gradual as he walked nearer to him. “You’ve made a great mistake of touching what’s mine.”

A cry of agony was the only noise through the night but no one appeared to hear this.

Alastor and his shadow feast on the organs of the now-dead man. The splatter of blood was everywhere when he tortured him for what he did. His intestines were shoved down his throat, his eyes were out of their sockets, and his heart was now missing, as well as his other organs. “Take care of the rest. Make sure there's no trace left behind.” He spoke before finally standing up and walking toward you whose eyes were still shut and ears covered.

Alastor carefully lifted you in his arms as he fled the scene and returned to his sanctuary where he planned on taking care of you. He was now replacing the nasty lewd kiss spread on your delicate skin and the marks that he was trying to cover with his own.

“Ma belle cheri... I shall take care of you.”

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Sass & Suspenders

Legal AU: Prosecutor!Bucky x Female!Doctor!Reader

You and Bucky are both professionals in a long term relationship, but you like to mix things up once in a while despite the humdrum of life.

Warnings: smut, 18+ only, minors please leave

Word Count: 2,953

A/N: Because I have a thing for men in suspenders and I've thought about this for far too long.

Bucky groaned. But not one iota of the deep articulation of the sound that escaped his lips was rooted in any form of pleasure. You shared the sentiment. Taxes - who ever enjoyed doing those?

"Do we have to?" he whined.

"You promised!" you admonished, knowing full well that if he persisted in his protests, you would succumb to his point of view. 

The pout you received in response was almost as good as his closing arguments. It was 9pm and you had both left your busy jobs to spend an evening together completing your tax returns. Your relationship had most certainly reached the pinnacle of excitement. 

Heaving a sigh of resignation, you nudged your boyfriend towards the study you shared. The two of you had been putting off the chore for several weeks and you had finally laid down the law to your handsome attorney.

"I'm tired."

"So am I, but it has to be done. Come on."

Despite the fact that your crazy careers that kept you busy until ridiculous hours, the two of you found a way to do something together, even if it was only sleeping. Early in your relationship, there had been a number of rescheduled or incomplete dates, but the offending party would make it up to the other with their favorite cupcake the following day. In all honesty you were surprised that you hadn't gained a tonne of weight because of the quantity of cake you had consumed.

It wasn't long before you knew that Bucky was the one for you and you apprehensively admitted your feelings to him. To your immense relief, he reciprocated those feelings and in no time at all you'd moved in together and were filling out tax returns like an old married couple. It was incredible how well you synced with each other, in spite of your differences. A difference that was evident on this auspicious evening.

When carrying out a task that needed concentration and an arduous undertaking, you liked to be comfortable, meaning you immediately changed into one of your chemise nightgowns. Bucky on the other hand felt the only way to concentrate was to roll up his shirt sleeves and dig in in full professional garb. He often said that staying in ‘character’ helped him focus.

Neither of you objected particularly to the other's choices, particularly when Bucky was wearing suspenders with his suits. You would never dare admit it, but you had developed an overwhelming fondness for seeing your sweetheart in suspenders. One might even describe it as a kink.

Before meeting Bucky, you had never met anyone under the age of 70 wearing suspenders. You considered it to be a quirk of many of your elderly patients. But for some reason, Bucky made it look like the height of fashion. Many a time you found yourself wondering what it would be like to grab a hold of the elasticated straps and pull him into your arms. Today happened to be one of those many distracting occasions that left you dazed and very much aroused. It was several moments before you acknowledged the fact that Bucky was leaning across the table in an attempt to meet your gaze.

"Hey there, doll," he gave you that lopsided grin that drove you nuts. "What happened to 'we must focus' and 'get this done tonight'?"

The flush on your face deepened. 

"What's going on in that brain of yours? You're kinda quiet."

You bit your lip, treating him to a coy smile. "I just have other things on my mind."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Just admiring how handsome my boyfriend looks."

"You looked like you were looking straight through me, not at me."

"Bucky, let's get back to this paperwork."

"No."

"No?"

"I want you to tell me what you were thinking about." His tone was low and commanding. Almost as though he already knew the dirty thoughts that had crossed your mind. 

You felt your pulse quicken. "May I plead the fifth, counselor?"

"No, doll. You're under my jurisdiction now. You're under oath to speak the truth."

"The whole truth?"

"Nothing but the truth."

"So help me God?"

"I'll be the only one here that can help you. Now tell me what you were thinking."

"How about I show you?" Rising from your chair, you sauntered over to Bucky's side of the large oak desk.

Sliding into his lap, you ran your fingers along the elastic straps of his suspenders, tracing the small grooves and indentations of the springy material.

"See something you like, doll?"

The groan that escaped your lips was nothing short of sinful. You wrapped one strap in each of your empty fists and tugged at them forcefully, pulling Bucky towards you until his mouth was barely an inch from yours. All words were forgotten on your part.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice so low you could barely make out his words through the carnal desire in his voice.

His lips were so close, you could practically taste a whiff of that last cup of coffee he had swallowed before leaving work. You watched the steely blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils expanded with arousal. Bucky's hands settled on either side of your face, his skin was on fire, or maybe it was yours, it was impossible to tell.

His lips brushed against yours lightly, so soft and it sent shivers through your nerves, shivers that made your whole body tremble. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you said nothing, he pressed his lips on yours a little harder, leaving a slightly sloppy kiss on your mouth. “How about now?” he asked. He traced a solitary finger along the line of your cheekbone. “Or now-”

The rest of his words were lost against your mouth. He kissed you gently, carefully, but it wasn’t gentleness you wanted, not now, not when it had been so long, and you knotted your fists tighter around his suspenders, pulling him harder against you. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and his arms circled you, gathering you against him.

All you wanted was Bucky, you wanted to feel him, all of him, pressing into you. You inhaled, breathing in his shaving cream, his cologne, that extra scent that was just...Bucky. The aroma was intoxicating and you were dizzy with desire to take him in. Parting your lips, you invited him. His tongue deftly entered your mouth, forcefully searching every possible crevice, teasing, tantalizing, tasting your unique flavor.

His hands slipped under the hem of your chemise, gently gliding his long digits across your sensitive abdomen, before moving them to your bountiful breasts, enjoying the way you whimpered and writhed every time he flicked one of your perky nipples. The electrifying sensations traveled through your body culminating in your arousal pooling in the meager piece of material covering your leaking lips. Before you had time to object, Bucky’s hands were splayed across the inside of your thigh, fingers creeping ever closer to your clothed clit.

"Mmm, objection," you hummed into his mouth.

Bucky unlocked his lips from yours, surprise and disappointment evident on his face. "Ok, I know, we have to get this done," he took his hand off your thigh and waved at the paperwork on the desk.

"Eager much?" your smirk insinuating at your meaning. You laughed and snapped one of his suspenders lightly. With the other hand, you swept your fingers over the bulge in his pants. "I have a counter argument."

"Oh?"

"Let me show you." Seductively, you slipped off his lap and knelt down between his legs. Looking up at his face, you watched the look of comprehension spread across his handsome features.

"Are you sure?" he asked, somewhat apprehensively. 

"Certain." The bulge seemed to be growing before your very eyes, straining at the seams of his pricey pants. "I've missed how you taste."

Bucky sucked in a breath in anticipation of your actions, eyes wide as you unzipped his pants and freed his hardening cock. Gently, you trailed your fingers up and down his shaft. "It's your turn to tell me what you want me to do to you."

"You know what I like, doll."

That you did. "I want to run my tongue over every inch of you." Lowering your head, you took him into your mouth, warm and soft, you took a moment to savor his taste. You hummed with appreciation, your tongue flickered and danced around the tip and instantly you felt him swelling and growing hard for you, his cock filling your mouth with every lick. 

You pulled back slightly as the head of his cock started to push against the back of your throat. "Tell me how good it feels. I want to hear you say it."

He groaned. The sound excited you, his body was coming alive for your mouth. You reached up to his chest, slipping your hand under the suspender strap and pushed down on his nipple.

"Oh doll, nobody has ever fucked me like you do," he cried as you worked your tongue over his frenulum. Bucky responded just as you wanted, the taste of pre-cum seeped into your mouth. He arched his back, eyes rolling backwards with pleasure.

Your free hand curled around his now rock hard member, with a loose grip, you gently moved your hand up and down encouraging the flow of more pre-cum from his tip to lubricate your actions and elicit the most ungodly moans from your boyfriend.

Hearing Bucky groaning so obscenely sent a tingle through your clit. After a pause, you tilted your head to take him further into your mouth, bobbing up and down with ease. His fingers mingled with your luscious locks as he guided your head gently as he tried not to trust too deeply into your throat. Bucky knew you often struggled to take him in completely and that he had to take care to not get too carried away in his bliss. 

It wasn't until he started cursing quietly under his breath in a way that made you come undone. You removed your mouth from his cock, "Buck, I can’t wait any longer… please I need you to fuck me."

"Doll, I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow." He stood suddenly and pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

"Buck-" you whined. "Please, I need you. Touch me."

"Turn around."

You obeyed. His erection pressed against you was more than you could bear.

"Buck, fuck me like you mean it."

"I always mean it," he growled into your ear. He pushed you forward onto the desk, forcing you onto your elbows. Your chemise rose up as you bent over the thick table, exposing your ass. His cock rested comfortably between your thighs, eagerly twitching, ready for action. Your dripping wet pussy literally begged for it.

Bucky tugged at the strip of material that was the only thing keeping him from entering you. "Is this ok?"

"Oh God, yes," you exclaimed. At any other time, you may have been ashamed of your wanton cries, but right now you couldn't care less. All you wanted was to feel Bucky pushing into you, filling you up, making you pulse with pleasure around him in that way that no one else could compare.

"Not God, just me," he smirked.

At what felt like an excruciating slow pace, Bucky stroked your slit with his tip, collecting the succulent elixir that you had made, just for him. As he touched your clit, you shuddered deeply and gasped. You closed your eyes and focused on the ecstatic sensations that shot through your body as your opening stretched in receipt of his cock.

It was a good thing you were half sprawled across the sturdy table because your legs felt like jelly and would give way at any moment. As if Bucky could hear your thoughts, he curled his fingers around your hips, the tips pressed into your flesh salaciously.

"Oh Buck! I want you all the way inside me, give me all of you."

"Is that what you like, doll?"

"Yes, you know that’s what I like."

"I hope you're ready for this, because I know I am," Bucky purred.

He certainly was. He didn't hesitate in plunging himself further into you like sheathing a sword to its hilt. The force made you gasp with pain and surprise and the grimace on your face didn't go unnoticed. Bucky bent forwards, his abdomen pressed against your back and asked, "too much?"

"Tad too fast," you answered. "I may have been a little too hasty about what I asked for."

His new position had relieved some of the pressure and you felt a lot more comfortable and ready for him to try again. Bucky's breath was hot on your back and the wave of pain was now ebbing away, replaced by your impatient longing.

"Let's try something different, shall we?"

His fingers crept around you until he found your clit. Bucky encouraged you to spread your legs by nudging your knees apart. Slowly, his digits struck up a steady pace rhythm of slow movements, starting below and dragging up again and again, until your the bundle of nerves was flushed and firm under his fingers and your juices started leaking out around him. Not until your hips start undulating did Bucky try pushing back inside you. You had to admire his self control as he made you unravel with the smallest flick of his finger.

"Buck-"

"Doll?"

"If you keep fingering me like that, this is going to be over before you get the chance to have any fun."

"Watching you cum is extremely fun for me."

"You feel so delicious inside me, but I need you to fuck me with your cock."

Bucky was only too happy to oblige. Proceeding with caution, he pushed slowly until he was fully inside you. A burning sensation radiated through you as you stretched to let him in.

"How does that feel?" he asked slightly apprehensively.

"Exquisite!" you sighed. 

You shifted to make yourself comfortable before Bucky pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty inside. But you didn't have to wait long before he was thrusting back half inside you, making you gasp and moan. It was almost too much for Bucky, he was already struggling to control himself but he held back, wanting to give you as much pleasure as possible for as long as possible. In and out, he moved further with each thrust until he was sliding all the way into you, hands roaming over your exposed back.

“Bucky. Buck...” you murmured.

“Doll, a little louder for those of us in the back.”

“Does it turn you on?” you smiled.

“You’ll be screaming my name by the end of the night.” He rutted against you sharply in an unexpected rhythm. 

“Haha, you’re going to have to do better than tha-ahh,” you struggled to complete your answer as he slipped one hand between your 

thighs.

"Come on," he coaxed you by edging his fingers up your leg.

"Make me cum, counselor."

"On one condition."

"Name. It."

"You know what I want doll. Let me give you a taste of what you want." Devilishly, your boyfriend slipped his hand between your folds and gave your throbbing clit a few small flicks.

"Buck-uhhhh."

"That's right doll, just a little more," he grunted, starting to come undone himself. "Oh fuck, just a little more."

"Just a little more, Bucky!"

You pushed down against the hand he had clamped over your clit as he pounded against you mercilessly, all speech forgotten. Both of you panted and pumped away each chasing your release. There is was, that all too familiar knot at the bottom of your stomach. It spread through you like lightening, permeating every fiber of your being. "Bucky, oh Bucky, I'm-" you cried out.

Your walls fluttered around him pushing him to the brink of ecstasy. His thrusts became more and more erratic as you tightened around him.  Your whole body shook with pleasure. "Bucky!"

The sound of you screaming his name in euphoria was what made him pulse inside you. Arching his back, Bucky spilled his hot milky load while chanting your name under his breath. 

Neither of you moved for the longest time, you sprawled across the table with Bucky bent over your limp form.

"Buck," you finally worked up the energy to speak. 

"Mmmm?"

"I wish you could be inside me forever."

"Wouldn't that be nice," he smirked at the very thought.

For a few more moments, neither of you moved. 

"Buck?"

"Mmmm?"

"I think my arm fell asleep."

You could feel the rumble of his laughter flow into you. He slowly extricated himself from you, now you were only connected by the thin trail of his creamy elixir.

Bucky gripped your waist as you clumsily lowered yourself off the desk. "Looks like we made a mess of this." He waved his hand at the scattered receipts that were now strewn all over the table top.

"Next time don't wear suspenders if you want to avoid interruptions," you admonished him playfully while pulling your chemise back down to a comfortable position.

"Seriously, that's what turns you on?" Bucky wiped himself off and tucked himself back into his pants.

"They make you look distinguished!" You sighed and wrapped your hands around the offending article of clothing.

"So how would you feel if I put on some plaid pajamas?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think you should hold me responsible for what happens to you." Smiling, you pulled at the straps and led your bemused boyfriend to bed.

[fanficwritinggirl]

Would you fall in love with me again (Draco Malfoy)

This is inspired by the song 'would you fall in love with me again' from Epic. As the chapter goes on it is heavily influenced by the lyrics of the song so credit goes to the writers. 

Love is a painful and awful thing. Its what you tell yourself all the time, maybe it is just something you repeated as a way to make the pain in your chest hurt less but it never did. The longing for the one person you want most in the world and not being able to reach them is the most painful thing. You question whether it would be easier if he were dead. Would you have been able to go on and live your life, maybe not in the way that you thought that it would be but still you would be able to move on but yet here are you, someone who spends their entire days wishing for sleep to come so that you can be with him in your dreams, it's the closest that you have been able to be with him in years. And everyday it brings you some kind of peace as you wait for them to let him out, back to you.

BANG, BANG, BANG, you shoot up out of bed, your heart racing, adrenaline pumping as your senses kick into overdrive. Shoving the covers off of yourself, you grab your wand from your bedside table and move carefully over to the window and moving the curtain so that you can look down at your front door. A black-haired man stood at your door, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Groaning, you grab your nightgown before trudging down the stairs and towards the door. Pulling the door open you are met with the sight of your brother.

"Harry, why the bloody hell are you here at this hour, shouldn't you be at home with your wife?" you snap at him, but he doesn't pass any attention to you as he pushes past you and into your house. "Okay, I know that I am your sister, but don't you dare push yourself into my house Harry or I swear to..." he cuts you off as he turns.

"He's getting out," you feel like all the oxygen in your lungs have been taken from you with that statement, you could barley speak. Harrys eyes are filled with concern as he looks at you.

"Y/N," your eyes don't meet his as you feel the tears swelling in your eyes. You falter causing Harry to shoot forward holding onto your forearms. "Let's get you sat down okay," he guides you both through the archway and into the sitting room and towards the couch. You sit on the couch, your eyes not looking up, fixated on the carpet.

"I'm going to get you a cup of tea," Harry tells you softly, giving your arm a rub before walking into the kitchen. You sit there in a daze for a few minutes, not breaking once even with Harry being loud in the kitchen. Your eyes trail down to your hands, you rub your finger over your wedding ring, a ring that has never been taken off, not since he placed it there all those years ago.

Harry walks over to you, a piping hot cup of tea in his hand. "Here, drink this," he sets it down on the coffee table in front of you, not trusting your shaky hands. Sitting down, neither of you speak for a few moments, not knowing how to start.

"How?" your voice was a whisper. Harry rubs a hand over his jaw.

"I don't know exactly... you know what the ministry are like, but it doesn't matter..." you scoff at that, your head shaking.

"It does matter Harry. It all good letting him out but are they letting him out as a criminal who has served his sentence or are they admitting that he was wrongfully imprisoned for something that he couldn't control. He had to comply with you know who or he would have been killed," you chock on your words, emotions bleeding out of you. "And by putting in him there... its worse than death. They might as well have killed him," a tear runs down your face causing you to raise a hand and whip it away, your hand moving forward and taking the mug into your hand, letting the warmth run through your body.

Harry keeps his gaze fixed on the window away from you. He couldn't look at you knowing how much pain has been caused with Draco being kept in Azkaban, how you have not lived for the last 7 years waiting for him to come home.

"Tomorrow," is all he is able to say to you and all you can do is nod. Tomorrow your prayers would be answered.

Your hands were shaking, you couldn't keep still, you were running a whole into the floor of the hallway as your paced back and forth. The black tiles and the black and white checkered floor became sore on the eyes with the illuminating lights. How long had you been out here for? A few minutes? A few hours? Heck if you knew. It sure felt like forever.

"Y/N," you stop, your gaze meeting Ginny's.

"How much longer?" Ginny sighs, her shoulder lifting up in a shrug.

"I know just as much as you," you huff, shaking your head.

"I don't understand why they can't tell me. I'm his wife for crying out loud, I should be allowed to be there from the second he is out and declared a free man," you lean against the wall, your arms crossing as you lean your head back to rest on the smooth surface. Ginny offers you a small smile and comes to stand next to you.

"It might be for the best," she offers causing you to turn and look at her, your eyebrow raised. "He has just been kept in Azkaban for the last 7 years, which is going to mess anyone up in the head. The Draco you knew is not the one that is going to be the one coming back. It's going to be overwhelming for him, and maybe seeing Harry and Ron first might be better, seeing someone he recognizes but not someone who he is super close too," God why did she have to make so much sense. You close your eyes and sigh.

"It feels like a dream, that he is finally coming home," Ginny smiles at you, her hand coming to rest on your forearm.

"Not long now," and God you hoped she was right.

The door swings open, a few members from the ministry walk about, their facial expressions coy. Their gazes meet you; they nod their head towards you as they scurry past, too scared to hang around for to long.

"Mrs Malfoy," Kingsley Shacklebolt comes to stand in front of you, his expression saddened. "I must once again apologise for the pain that the ministry have caused both you and your husband," you scoff at this.

"Mr Shacklebolt, my husband has been wrongfully imprisoned for the past 7 years. 7 years in which we will never get back. I understand that we have been rebuilding since the war but for it to take 7 years... its unfathomable. My husband is never going to be the same because of you and your ministry's negligence," Shacklebolt's expression is nothing but regret.

"Mrs Malfoy, I'm sorry that there is nothing more than I can do but apologize, I wish there was," you scoff and shake your head.

"Take responsibility and make sure that it never happens again," the door opens again, and Ron pops his head out gives you a small nod.

"He wants to see you," you turn and look and Shackbolt, his expressions hasn't changed and with a shake of your head you march towards who is really important in this situation, and that is your husband.

You didn't know what to expect when you walked into the room. It was different from most of the rooms that you had been in when you had previously visited the ministry. You could actually say that the room was homely. Maybe it was couches, you could see the back of a three-seater couch and two chairs sat across from it. His back was the first thing that you saw, his platinum blonde hair you could see was long, an unkept version of his fathers. Harry sat in one of the seats across from Draco, his eyes drifting to you as you walk in. Harry offers a comforting smile before standing up and walking towards you and Ron who was still standing in the doorway, not daring to move. Harry comes to stand in front of you, an expression on his face that you couldn't read.

"Is he alright?" you whisper to him, and he offers you a comforting look.

"He is different. He is still getting used to be free, so we need to go easy on him," Harry gives your arm a squeeze before walking out with Ron, the door closing behind leaving you alone with Draco for the first time in years. It is silent for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to do. You take a step forward, causing his head to move slightly but not enough to actually see you.

"Y/N," you hear him whisper and you stop, losing your breath.

"Is it really you?" he turns full and it's the first time that you have laid your eyes on him, and it brings tears to your eyes. "You look tired," he wobbles a little as he stands, he grips the couch for support as he stands, and you are able to finally take him all in. His frame was lighter, his smile torn. "Is it really you, my love?" your voice was no more than a whisper. His eyebrows are pushes together; you can see his eyes getting teary.

"I'm not the man that you feel in love with, I'm not the man that you once fell in love with," you purse your lips together and nod.

"What happened?"

"Things that I don't wish for you to ever know. If you knew the things that I saw and had done to me, you would never be able to look at me the same way again. But I endured them all so that they would bring me back to you," your eyes meet, and you feel the burning in the back of your eyes. "Would you fall in love with me again? If you knew all of it. Things that I can't undo, I am not the man you knew, and I know that you have been waiting for him," his hand comes to rub over the beard that now decorated, and you can't help but see the dirty band that sits on his ring finger.

"If that's true, can you do me a favour. Would you look at that band on your finger," he holds his hand out and his gaze looks at.

"Would you take it off?" his eyes dart to you, his head instantly moving side to side in disapproval.

"How could you ask me that. We promised the day that we got married that we would never take them off. That from the moment we put them on that someone would have to cut them off to get them. The only way to take them off is to cut them off," a cry breaks from your chest.

"Only my husband would know that, so that means that makes him you," tears fall down your face as you realise that deep down that the Draco you married was still in there.

"Y/N," he moves closer to you, yearning for you.

"I will fall in love with you, over and over again. I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, your mine. Don't tell me you're not the same person. You're always my husband and I've been waiting," he takes another step towards you.

"Y/N," step.

"Waiting."

"Y/N," another step.

"Waiting."

"Y/N," another step.

"Waiting, oh waiting," Draco stands in front of you, his hands cupping your face, his hands were rougher than you remember but they are his. Tears are streaming down both of your faces, sobs barrelling out of you. He brings his forehead to rest on yours, his hands slipping to fall on the back of your neck. Your hands rest on his back as you breath each other in.

"How many years has it been?" he asks you, forcing your emotions down you look at him.

"Seven years," a tear drops from his eye as he nods, accepting. "I love you," he whispers, and you gasp, he pulls your lips down on his and for the first time, you feel like you can breathe. With him here in your arms. Pulling back, you two look at each other now with a small smile on your faces.

"Let's go home," you say to him. You wanted to move on, you had lost seven years together, there was no point in losing anymore. 

[darsynia]

Steve and Avenger!Reader going to a Christmas Market please! 🥰 Can be any sort of relationship but wouldn't mind a Christmas Market proposal...

Thank you so much, this is perfect for both @buck-star's fluffy winter event (Christmas Market) and Day 1 of @the-slumberparty's December Daze: (let me dust the snow off your coat/hat/shoulder)

Words/Warnings: 2,315 / tooth-rotting fluff

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS | BUCKY BARNES

Don’t Mind If I Do

“Even North Carolina is freezing cold this morning, I checked. Trust me, this will be worth it.”

You frown in your perfect blanket cocoon. “All right, I’ll be out front by 8. And I’m cranking the heat in my rooms to 74 while I do it, just so I’ll be in a nicer mood for you!”

“You won’t regret it, sweetheart.”

With that, the two of you hang up, and you tap the + icon multiple times in the app that controls the heating in your suite. The Avengers Compound isn’t much to look at from the outside, but they make up for that in amenities. The only catch is, the suites are much too small to share with anyone. Despite your year-long committed relationship, you and Steve haven’t been able to truly ‘sleep over’ or spend couples time comfortably while stationed here. His rental apartment in NYC is lovely, and you’ve spent time together there, but both of you tend to be work-oriented. You’ve made do with what you have, even when that means sometimes cramming into Steve’s twin sized, extra-long bed here at the Compound.

Besides, you remind yourself as you rush through your morning routine, Steve Rogers isn’t the ‘shack up’ type, so it’s not like you’d be sharing an apartment if one were available. Still, it feels wrong to wake up without his warm, strong body next to yours on a cold day like this.

Steve had told you to dress for being outside, so after pulling on a thick pair of socks and lacing up your hiking boots, you don a knitted hat and shrug on a winter coat over your sweater. You meet up with Steve in the atrium of the building, feeling that familiar flush when he turns and lights up to see you.

“Oh perfect, you look nice and warm,” Steve says, quickly adding, “--and beautiful too. Very.”

He always leads with the truth, but as a boyfriend, he’s made you feel lovely enough for a superhero, leading to this in-joke of adding that compliment as an afterthought. You know him enough now to recognize when he thinks the second part first, and the face he’d made after turning around tells you this is one of those days.

“Are any of those pre-requisites for your secret Saturday morning outing?”

“Two of those are permanent, but yes, being warm will help,” he says, holding out a bare hand for you to take.

Inwardly grinning, you start to slip off your own glove, then pause. “Exactly how cold is it in North Carolina versus here? Do I need to grab a scarf?” Before working with the Avengers, you’d been stationed at Fort Liberty, so the climate difference between that and upstate New York had taken a little getting used to.

Steve takes your glove, tucks it into your pocket (being sure to crowd close enough to blatantly smell your hair), and then takes your bare hand in his bare hand to walk out into the brisk December air. It’s cold.

“At least ten degrees warmer than this, but I’d be happy to offer my arm as a scarf,” he says, squeezing your hand as you wend your way through the parked cars.

“You’re ten times better looking than all of my scarves, so I think I win!”

The drive is cozy with the heat on and an oldies Christmas station crooning the classics. After almost a half hour of light conversation and heavy exchanged glances, Steve pulls into a charming neighborhood decked to the rafters with holiday cheer. You peer out the windows, trying to figure out the plan. Are there sleigh-hay rides? An ice skating rink? Maybe a holiday quilt show set up in an 18th century church somewhere? You’re so caught up by the possibilities that you miss the instructions Steve gets from a woman wearing a high-vis jacket and Santa hat until the car parks, and he turns it off.

There’s something almost ceremonial about the way your boyfriend pats each of his warm trenchcoat’s pockets to find his gloves before pulling them on and flexing his hands. It’s captivating, not dissimilar to the way he girds himself for battle (whether physically or morally, you’ve noticed).

“You see my hat anywhere?” he asks, finally turning to look at you.

“Crap. I might have sat on it,” you realize.

Steve grins. “Well, it’ll be warm.”

You both get out of the car, and Steve dons his pre-warmed hat before gesturing toward the city center a few blocks away. “Christmas market.”

If your life was a film, that’s where either the Hallelujah Chorus or a full-on tire screech would have happened, but as it is, you fall sideways into him and catch yourself on his lapel, looking up at him with wide, delighted eyes.

“You promise? Oh God, that was way too Hallmark of me, I’m sorry-- but… you promise?” you ask, going through three vastly different facial expressions in the process.

“I promise,” Steve says, taking your hand in his, then lifting both to kiss the back of yours.

Christmas markets had been a staple of your childhood, and your family used to travel pretty far afield to see new and favorite ones. As your family’s circumstances had changed, those trips had dwindled, and by the time you were out of high school, they were a treasured memory of a no-longer-possible past. The years since then have mostly involved you throwing yourself into your work, becoming the kind of person soldiers and civilians alike can trust and rely on. If you’re honest, your time with the Avengers has been more fulfilling than even those precious school years of summer beaches, birthday parties, and chilly strolls through magical small-town holiday displays.

Part of that is Steve, a genuine hero and painfully good man who somehow seems to love you almost as much as you love him. Since the first moment you met he’s held out his hand for you in support. He’s a teammate, a challenger, a role model, and honestly? A partner. 

“Snow! Look at that!” You can hear the smile in his voice. Light, gentle flurries have started to drift down just as you visit the first festive stall. It’s perfect timing, since some of the crafts on display are delicate handmade snowflake ornaments. “If you’ve got an ‘in’ with the weather, sir, I’d love to learn your secrets,” Steve jokes with the owner. 

“It snows for you, to make perfect day for you and your wife!” the elderly man says with a beatific expression. “Please, you must take one for your tree at home.”

The two of you have two separate small trees, a result made necessary by the size of your living spaces at the Compound. You can see Steve tense up, clearly uncomfortable with the hinted, benign falsehood.

“Oh, but I must have both of these, too! How much?” you rush to say, pulling out your wallet and holding them up next to the one the owner pressed into Steve’s hand. It feels like your responsibility to meet the men in the middle.

“This is so we can see them from all angles, you understand,” Steve says.

“Of course!” the man says, a secretive smile playing on his lips. “Three is a good number, and I wish you a successful day!”

Steve’s cheeks have a distinct pinkish tinge to them for the next set of booths, but you avoid teasing him about it. This is not the first time someone’s misidentified the two of you as married, and you’ve always tread very carefully during those moments. Have you dreamed about marrying Steve Rogers? God, yes. You’d never say anything though. Proposing to Captain America is almost a national sport, something you’ve witnessed firsthand. Heck, you wouldn’t be surprised if he rejected you out of habit if you tried proposing.

It does look like you’ll both get to dodge your more famous secondary identities today. A lot of that is thanks to Tony’s fleet of look-alike cars, his insane security for the whole campus, and the way Steve can somehow dress and look like a regular, if burly country guy. However it’s happened, you’re incredibly grateful that your relationship has skated under the press radar. You suspect that Steve’s ‘couple behavior’ this morning is a result of happiness, holiday cheer, and perceived anonymity (you like the scruff he’s sported these past weeks, but… come to think of it, you wonder if he grew it just for that extra layer of obfuscation. Cap doesn’t quite pull National Icon status with hints of a beard, after all).

After forty minutes of happily wandering from booth to booth and window display to window display, the two of you decide to partake in the reason why everyone’s there so early in the morning: Christmas pastry from one of the best bakeries in central New York.

The town has set up a charming eating area just off the central square in a church parking lot. There are evergreen trees lining one side, each decorated in a different (sometimes chaotic) style and heavily festooned with lights. The picnic tables are all red and green, and hanging from a few of the arching lightposts is a bundle of familiar-looking plant-life. Steve sends you to snag a seat ahead of him while he waits in line, and when he comes back, he’s got twice as many goodies as you expected, all piled up on one plate.

“They all have a label on them saying ‘Mistle-hug,’” he says, standing at the end of the table. “I have two plates’ worth here, but they were much more stable like this.”

“How are we going to eat all this?” you ask, delighted nonetheless. You take the plate and carefully liberate the second stacked plate so you can distribute the bounty evenly, but Steve doesn’t hasn’t sat down yet. “If you don’t come pick out what you want, I’m going to get greedy!” you lie in a singsong voice. All he does in response is say your name softly.

“What are you--” you ask as you straighten up and look over at him. He’s standing at almost battle stance, frozen still with one hand tucked into the inside of his jacket. You immediately see the beautiful pattern the snow’s made on his shoulder, and pop to your feet with your phone.

“Wait, that’s not--” Steve says in a bewildered voice, his brows adorably furrowed even when you show him the picture.

“Here,” you say impudently, reaching up to kiss at his shoulder and thus melt the ‘offending’ snowflake art so he can feel free to sit down. “All perfect now.”

“You’re completely right,” Steve says. There’s something odd in the tenor of his voice-- and then suddenly he’s on one knee in front of you, pulling that hand out of his coat pocket with a recognizably-sized box.

You’ve got tears in your eyes, flowers blooming in your heart, and powdered sugar on your hands, which is why you’d chosen to kiss the snow off instead of brush it, but then Steve starts to speak.

“I was going to do this by the big tree, but then it hit me-- I spent years locked in ice, and it was all because I was waiting for you to come kiss all the cold away. You’re everything I didn’t and couldn’t know I needed-- a warm smile, a fighting heart, a clever mind, and more than that, you make me feel smarter, stronger, and happier when I’m with you. Will you marry me?”

You can barely get the word ‘YES!’ out past the lump in your throat, but you’d started nodding as soon as he opened his mouth. Steve tugs the ring out of the box and slides it perfectly onto your finger before surging upwards, pulling you into a twirling, joyful hug that dances the two of you a good few feet away from your table.

“Look, they’re under the Mistle-hug!” some voice calls out, and Steve’s --your future husband’s-- chest starts shaking with laughter. He sets you down and you both look up. A mere centimeter above his head spins one of the fake mistletoe pieces, its label dislodged by your antics. A ‘Hug! Hug! Hug!’ chant starts from the growing crowd of onlookers, and you nod up at Steve, your heart in your eyes.

“Don’t mind if I do!” he quips, engulfing you in a bear hug that leaves your newly-adorned left hand once again resting right on his chest. At the very edges of the roaring in your ears you hear a few people correctly guess who the two of you are, but you’re too delighted to mind.

A half hour later, when most of the well-wishers are finished offering their advice, encouragements, and pieces of paper for Steve to autograph, you notice that you’d left a powdered sugar outline on his coat.

“Oops, sorry about that,” you tell Steve, nodding at the handprint and grabbing a wreath-adorned paper napkin to dip it in your cider to wash it off.

“Leave it,” he says, stopping you with a possessive little thumb swipe across the ring he’d placed on your finger. “Feels like it belongs there, just like you, sweetheart.”

You want to tell him all the ways you love him, all the things he’s made better in your life, all the demons he’s conquered for you simply by being Steve Rogers, but you’re speechless. All at once, the perfect tension-breaker hits you, and you can’t help but laugh.

“What is it?” Steve asks in a wary, amused tone. It’s another sign of how well you know each other.

“Can we try to convince Tony that I get to take the name Mrs. America?"

As it turns out, that’s exactly what most of the next day’s news articles call you.