#and living in close quarters with others and not getting enough sleep

[creamyhoneycookie]

Trying to review other chapters when Smoked Cheese exists is a bane and a delight all in one. This might be a little rambly... (Also, look up ancient Egyptian gardens! They're lovely.) Anyways this is shameless loving smut! So! 18+ only!

Content Warnings: AFAB Reader, past character death, past reader death, PTSD, consensual hypnosis, semi-public sex, overstimulation, Smoked Cheese is being sweeter than he normally would, multiple orgasms

Smoked Cheese Cookie is a manipulator and a puppeteer. He's gleefully catty, and both sly and powerful enough to know he can get away with it. And with you? He's all that and the most loyal lover one could ask for.

How long ago was it when you first caught his eye? How you walked in the gardens, shaded by the high walls as the water in the pond shone bright in the sun. You were new to the kingdom, and your healing magic was welcome enough that it catapulted you to nobility over time. You had seemed soft at the time, adorned in white and gold across the glittering pond, and softer yet when Golden Cheese Cookie finally introduced you.

Little did he know what a firecracker you were. It was both your kindness, your acceptance and your wit that called him to you- and he had eventually claimed your heart as his own. (A story for another time, perhaps.)

How long ago was it? Now, the Golden Cheese Kingdom is more brilliant than ever, the Radiant Queen granting every wish and whim, and Smoked Cheese Cookie knows the truth of this realm, and yet...

...

It's been a while since he's gotten to dote on you, too- work has him busy, and more monsters are breaking through into the city... He finds you now in an even grander garden in your personal quarters, tending to the flowers. Your eyes are heavy, even as you take in the flowers, and your smile seems a bit tighter when he embraces you from behind. ... Well, that won't do.

"My love... what troubles you?" He asks, as salt and heat will do nothing for you right now.

You lean into him, hesitating, before you speak. "It's nothing serious. I've just been having strange nightmares lately... Ash in the air, the sky dark- strange monsters I've never seen before."

Smoked Cheese Cookie pales as you speak. He knows what you speak of- what he begged the queen to let you forget, so that you could have your rest and live your life in bliss in this constructed world, never having to lift a finger again.

You're not supposed to remember the truth.

It's bad enough he remembers finding your crumbled body, warm jam cooling- that he still sees red splashed against your chest and face, the dull eyes when he closes his own- you shouldn't be dealing with this.

His grip around your waist tightens as he buries his face into the crook of your neck for a moment, breathing shakily before he recomposes himself, moving to your side to better look at you and offer a smile.

"It sounds dreadful. But, my sweet healer, I have ways of healing your own mind and enticing a dreamless sleep. If you will let me?" As he speaks, he holds up his staff, already starting to smoke lightly.

... It sounds nice, actually. To relinquish control completely. Though he tries to give you the life of luxury, you still have your responsibilities as a healer, even if your services aren't needed as often. And the nightmares have been haunting you. After a moment, you press a kiss to his cheek and smile softly.

"For a while. I trust you'll bring me bliss, my beloved... but let me see you come undone with my own eyes."

He can do that. Smoked Cheese Cookie leans down to kiss you, breathing smoke into your lungs while his staff radiates more, filling the room with a soft haze.

Your mind drifts almost immediately, your eyes glazing over pleasantly as you practically melt into his arms. He chuckles softly, brushing some hair out of your face before taking your hands.

"My love, you are far too adorned. Strip for me, but leave your jewelry on," he commands, and you slowly move to comply, slipping your white dress down and letting it drop to your ankles. Your necklace rests on your chest, and your bracelets- wide golden cuffs with crimson red and brilliant turquoise engravings, shine in the light.

Smoked Cheese takes his time, his touch feather-light as he traces your arm, your hips, your breasts. All the while, you look up at him so sweetly, so lost in the fog of his magic and will. Delicious, truly...

"My sweet, you truly are too trusting. Were I anyone else, I might do far worse than bring your weary mind relief..." He muses, but it's all empty words. After a moment, he leans in to kiss your pliant lips, and you submit readily to him. It's nice for a little bit, but truthfully he prefers to kiss you when you're lucid and responsive, fully alert. He could order you to respond, yes, but it'd be sluggish, slow.

This does not stop him from licking his lips as he pulls away again, smoke softly trailing from both your mouth and his.

"Go lay down on the bench, and keep your legs spread for me. I'll be along shortly." He says, pulling back his hood back and letting it fall beside your dress, his shendyt soon following, staff propped against one of the pillars lining the area.

You wait, laid across the long of the bench as he ordered, legs open on either side. Already you're dripping wet, and Smoked Cheese has to take in the sight before he looms over you, fingers gently swiping up your slit. Already you are so wanting... with the smoke's control, he knows you lose yourself far faster, and he adores it. The way you simply open yourself and your lusts to him without a word, all for him to devour.

Greed is the heart of the Golden Kingdom and you? You, in every sense of the word, are his greed.

Smoked Cheese kneels down, somewhat awkwardly around the bench, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh before he bites over the kiss, hard. You gasp with a soft but long moan, but otherwise do not respond. Cute. He bites again, harder, bruising almost. He knows no other cookie will ever see these marks, but they make him happy all the same. His jewel. His healer. His treasure.

"Let it all out, my love- hold nothing back." He says.

And then he descends upon you, tongue diving in immediately. The taste of you is so sweet, so decadent, it could make him addicted. Maybe he already is, with how eager he is to have you beneath him whenever he gets the chance. You lay there still, but sighing softly before moaning as his tongue delves into you, presses against your clit, and back into the folds.

Slowly he works you with his mouth, fingers stroking the folds of you and gently slipping in whenever he switches his attention to your clit, and slowly your back arches- the rare semblance of your will beneath the haze of the smoke- as you gasp and whimper. It's a symphony unbound by your instinctual embarrassment, a treat for him and him alone, just like your taste. As you grow wetter against him, he drinks it in greedily.

He'd keep you forever if he could.

You come on his tongue with a delighted wail, legs quivering around his head, and he groans at the rush of your sweet cream. Smoked Cheese backs away, rubbing his jaw and looking at the sweat of your body, the small pool on the stone beneath you, the flush of your face and the haze still in your eyes.

Sweet thing that you are, you have no idea how enticing you are.

He could take you now in full, but he'd promised to ease your mind, had he not? Wiping his mouth with his wrist, Smoked Cheese leans down and presses a kiss to your temple, before lowering himself to mouth at your breast, his hand trailing back down to the wet slit he'd just been at. As he sucks your nipple, his fingers slip into you again, drawing more sweet noises from you. With the way your voice wavers, you must be sensitive still...

His fingers pump in and out slowly, stroking against your walls as he sucks and fondles your chest, and your eyes well up with overwhelmed tears. He squeezes your breasts, tongues at the nipples and scrapes his teeth against your skin. Every action, every sensation makes you gasp and writhe slightly, like you want to move but are trying so very hard to stay still without his control.

Every sound you make goes straight to his dick, honestly. Even as he tries to work you into coming again, he aches for you. And he's just a man, ultimately. Smoked Cheese pulls away, withdrawing his fingers and repositioning himself between your legs. Slowly, agonizingly so, he pushes into you and moans- as always, you feel heavenly around him.

Your legs twitch around him as you cry out, still so very sensitive. Quietly, he cups your face, wiping away a pleasured tear with his thumb. Oh, his heart...

He braces one hand beside your head against the stone bench, the other gripping the underside of your leg as he begins to rock into you.

"Think only of me. No monsters, no darkness and ash, just of me and my love for you... And know that I- haah- That I love you... I will protect you this time. I swear it. .... Fuck-"

He swallows thickly. The dazed adoration on your face as your moans raise in pitch- you clench around him, much to his delight, and finally you squeeze your eyes closed as more tears spill. He keeps thrusting into you, making you cry out more. If you could speak in this state, you might beg him to slow down and let you recover.

But you're not. And he won't.

"You're mine. My cherished, my treasured, all mine-" He mutters as he presses against you, brushes his lips against your temple. He can't lose you. Never again.

He thrusts into you sharply just as he releases his control of your mind, and suddenly you come into lucidity with your body ablaze, his hips snapping into yours and a loud cry ripping from your lips. Immediately you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back.

"S-smoooked Cheese... Ohhhhh- Gods, more-" you whine into his shoulder, and he obliges. Were the bench not made of stone, surely the force of his thrusts would move it. His grip on your leg turns bruising, and each thrust disrupts one moan with a new one.

He can feel that familiar heat in his stomach, and with how sensitive your body must be he's sure you won't last another round. Yet all he wants is to keep going, to stay like this for hours.

"Wrap- wrap your legs around me-" he says, and you do as told, ankles locking together as you pull him into a needy, wet kiss. It does little to stifle the noises you're both making, the heat radiating off of your bodies, the tears in your eyes from how much it all is.

Smoked Cheese's hips stutter into a halt as his hot cum spills into you, hip to hip as he moans into your mouth. But before he can even begin to consider his next move, you shift- and now he is on his back on the floor while you bounce on his cock, hands on his stomach.

(Turnabout is fair play.)

Ovens, he can't feel guilty- the sight of you against the dark sky is incredible and as you milk him dry he can only hold onto your legs and pant loudly before you make him release again.

Only then do you stop, leaning down to kiss him as you cup his face.

"Gods above, you ruin me..." he whispers hoarsely, and you smile.

"And I'll do it again. ... Ah, but- perhaps... once we've had a moment- we should go to our chambers? This is no place to rest like this."

He nods, though the thought of one of your servants finding you like this, still mounted on him bare beneath the false sky, draws a pleased rumble from his chest.

Immediately you put your hands on your hips.

"No. We are not doing that to the servants."

Smoked Cheese laughs. "Fine, fine. ... A proper nap sounds wonderful, anyways. Just- give me a moment. Though if you're not going to move I'd be happy to bend you over the bench anyways..."

He gives you a playful, dead serious smile and you make a show of rolling your eyes before slowly lifting yourself off of him, his seed dripping from your folds as you make sure to twist your hips for good measure- minx that you are.

The two of you sluggishly gather your clothes, but as he redresses himself you can't help but wonder... In the grips of his hypnosis, your memories are never clear. But... what was that he had said about protecting you?

... Hm.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Guess who might have 🎶whooping cough🎶

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Creepy Bunny Hybrid

After a criminal conviction, the claimed hybrid shelter responsible for sourcing most of the beloved species of hybrid is set to shut down

It’s employees pleading with the public to take in their hybrids who’d be otherwise left on the street

Enough for your parents, who you’ve come to live with, to worry

While they were undecided about the morality of owning hybrids

Humanoids with some animal features

They were determined to be helpful 

whether they truly felt such justice or enjoyed the good samaritan role they’d take in a low-maintenance hybrid

A White rabbit with crimson eyes 

In your opinion one of the more beloved species that would’ve found a home somehow but you couldn’t complain

“Welcome Hori! We hope you can find a home with us!”

“Yeah make yourself at home. Don’t mind our kids they’ll be happy to explain anything you need.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Come come I have to show you all the cool things I have!”

Your family takes to him like metals to magnets 

Hovering near him and waiting on him like he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread

But he’s just so incredibly…quiet

Not just because he doesn’t speak unless spoken to 

But because he just doesn’t move

You’ve peaked at him sitting in the living room on a chair with no book, no TV on, windows closed, no music playing

What kind of bunny sits in the dark and does nothing

His large red eyes are huge, his ears incredibly long and upright

Skin  so pale, he could pass as the undead

Hori won’t even eat like other bunny hybrids

When your parents first gushed over his photo too many evenings were spent looking up what a bunny hybrid would need

Vegetables, fruits, bunny-hybrid pellets were what they filled the cabinets and fridge with

But he ate none of that 

Barely nibbling when your brother excitedly presented the spread

“This looks…good.”

Barely a quarter of the plate was gone

Before he claimed he was stuffed

The second your family slipped up though and handed him a plate full of steak 

he left nothing on the plate

“I thought bunnies weren’t omnivores?”

“...Maybe the original animal doesn’t but I am a hybrid. Things are…different.”

“Yeah (Y/n), things are different! Stop bullying Hori!”

It oddly feels like Hori is not all he seems 

Constantly seeking out hotdogs over the fruit you offer

Or spending unusual amounts of time staring at the passing neighbors

Or coming home at unspeakably late hours

But every time you tried to bring this up your family would scorn you

Writing off your observations as you being nitpicky

Or even jealous of the newest member of the family

“Just know (Y/n) you still hold a special place in our hearts.”

“Yeah no need to whine, we won’t forget you.”

“Just don’t take it out on Hori he’s been through so much.”

So you settle to avoid him

Just let him be in his parts of the house and you in yours 

But that doesn’t seem to work with his edition

“(Y/n)...will you accompany me on the grocery run?”

“I thought my older sib was taking you?”

“Originally…but I’d like for you to take me!”

“Uh…”

“Come on (Y/n)! Take this time to bond with Hori! Maybe you’ll find something’s in common between you two.”

It’s annoying that he insists on doing things with you

But it’s just some things

And of course, because he’s so creepily quiet it almost feels like you’re by yourself

It just gets worse

“I want to sleep with you, (Y/n).”

It was way past midnight and Hori was above you 

Caging you between his arms as he practically laid above you 

There was blood around his mouth and if you had the space you’d check over you body for a wound

“W-wh-what?!”

“Hori? (Y/n)? Please?!”

“T-t-that’s not even a real sentence! Please get off me!”

Once he does reluctantly give you space

You flick on a lamp or use your phone’s light to light the room

Hori’s hair is much longer, flowing past his tail 

Which was no longer a small puff ball now bloomed into something larger

His ears were incredibly long and twitching as though it was filled with joints of its own

His teeth seemed like they had no end, just rows and rows of spiny teeth all coated with the gunk and gooey mess of a carnivore’s meal

“All that blood?!”

He licks an abnormally long tongue around his mouth

“The left-of-overs from dinner.”

“Dinner was hours ago!”

“Not your dinner my dinner.”

The implication made your stomach twist

“Uh was it good?”

“Very. Now, sleep with you?”

You hoped he’d forget but if only to get some semblance of control and maybe be able to fall back asleep 

You relent

“Fine, but I’m not going to share my blanket…you’re a lot bigger than before.”

“It's okay those covers are not the heat I am after.”

You decided not to comment on it, wrapping yourself in your comforter

Letting Hori’s much larger limbs wrap around you tightly

This creepy bunny continued to surprise you

You could only hope that you’d figure him out soon 

Or your family might be the one to pay the price

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 6)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

SotR SPOILERS

Part 5

“Y/N’s become too Capitol for the districts, she’s losing her pull there.” Anyone with eyes can see that’s been Snow’s plan all along. Sever her ties with the people.

“How do we fix that?” Haymitch wonders.

“We don’t,” Plutarch decides. “We let her play her hand and wait.”

“How long?” How many recordings? How many tributes? How many of her tears will waiting cost?

Plutarch lifts a shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. But when the time comes, she’s our in with the Capitol.”

This news does subsequently nothing to make Haymitch feel better. If anything he feels worse. Downing the rest of Plutarch’s prized liquor bottle before returning to the tribute center. They won’t be provided passage home until the games are over.

The penthouse is quiet now, without Maximus and Denali. Y/N can’t cry anymore about it, not now. She’s had one too many glasses of champagne. Making quick work of the buttons on Haymitch’s shirt, as the door of their suite closes behind them.

Alcohol is nice, drugs are better, but nothing brings the temporary tidal wave of euphoria like Haymitch. His mouth pressed to hers, reducing her brain to mush.

Haymitch rests his hand over hers. “You ok?”

“Not really,” Y/N admits. “Need something to take the edge off.”

“I can get you-”

“You,” she breathes, “I just want you.”

Haymitch tightens his hold on her. I want you too. More than I want to want anything.

Her dress joins his shirt and then his pants, until they’re laid bare. Not district, nor Capitol. Perhaps because they are meant to be neither; they belong to each other.

Nothing exists outside of the gentle rocking of his hips. Nothing to do but breathe him in.

Y/N’s fingers tangle in his hair, drawing him closer.

————————————————————————

They aren’t made to stay past the announcement of Cashmere’s victory. The tribute’s caskets are loaded onto the train and they’re off to twelve.

“Do they have family?” Haymitch asks.

“No.”

“Not even extended? No aunts or uncles?”

“I don’t know, Haymitch.” Y/N sighs. “They’d been going it alone all their lives, if they had someone, I’m sure they would’ve been there.”

Haymitch nods.

“I can ask Cherry and Tucker if they have room.” Tyson’s parents have a little cemetery outback, couldn’t bear to be parted from their son. A few others from the seam take up residence in the spaces beside him now.

Again he nods, before tipping his empty glass upside down and rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the bar car if you need me.”

Y/N lowers her gaze, waiting until the door slides closed behind him to stand. She is headed elsewhere, to the car where two coffins rest, side by side. Collapsing to her knees in the small space between them and resting a hand over each.

Her gut tells her that under her right palm lies Denali, the spitfire of a girl who showed up the careers. And beneath her right is the little boy who clung to her in the elevator. Maximus. But Y/N has not the want nor will to push back the lids and prove her theory.

She remains there, holding vigil until her legs ache. Shifting position enough to lie down and cry herself to sleep.

Once he’s nice and wasted Haymitch stumbles down to the train car farthest from their sleeping quarters. The sight of Y/N’s feet poking out from between the caskets is an unwelcome reminder that this is standard practice for her.

He crouches down, giving her leg a little shake.

“Haymitch?” Y/N lets out a sleepy sigh.

“Come to bed, angel.”

“I don’t wanna leave them.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes.

“You can go, it’s ok.” She won’t be alone.

“I’ll stay,” though the notion is still foreign to him.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s first stop after departing the train station is the Carrell’s front door. Her district partner, Tyson, had taken care to list off each of his siblings favorite snacks, then his Ma and Pa. Y/N takes equal care to make sure she never comes to them empty handed.

His parents, Cherry and Tucker, embrace her with open arms. Growing together through their collective loss.

Today is different. His siblings are sent to their rooms and Y/N finds herself strapped to the dining room chair.

“What are you doing?” She laughs. Surely this is a joke of some sort.

“What are you doing?” Tyson’s father bites out.

“I brought you cinnamon rolls.” Y/N stammers, “you don’t like them anymore?”

“Don’t do that.” Cherry snaps.

“Do what?” Y/N is starting to panic now, struggling at the rope binding her hands behind her back.

“Act like you’re the same. Nothin’ about you is the same.” The woman says. “You stopped goin’ to the hob, stopped comin’ to see us. Married a man who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire, started chummin’ it up with those freaks in the Capitol.”

Tucker shakes his head.

“Uh, uh, not my girl.” Cherry presses on, “I started askin’ around, tryin’ to make sense of what I was seein’. Turns out, somethin’ like this happened before. With the McCoy’s girl.”

“What are you-”

“They took that baby for the games, but she didn’t make it that far. Those animals did somethin’ to her, replaced her with somebody who had a bug in her ear. Didn’t fool her parents none.”

“Like a body double?” Y/N asks.

“The Callow boy died a while before she did and didn’t smell half as foul when he got home.” Tucker recounts.

“I don’t understand.”

“She was long gone before anybody knew and that was over a decade ago.” Cherry murmurs, “imagine how good they coulda got at passin’ people off for somebody else in fourteen years.”

“You think I’m someone else?” Y/N frowns, “a body double from the Capitol?”

“Maybe not a double, maybe they did somethin’ to you.”

“Nothing like you think.” Y/N assures them.

“I love you like my own, so I’m only gonna ask you once.” Tucker drawls, “did they put something in your head?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “If you have questions about what happened to the girl in the Capitol during the Quarter Quell, Haymitch might know.”

“I don’t trust Haymitch any further than I can throw him,” Tucker runs a hand over his grief stricken face. “And right now I’m not even sure I can trust you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Then tell us what happened. And it better make a hell of a lot more sense than what you’ve been saying, little girl.”

Y/N pauses, collecting herself. “Snow was going to sell me to the highest bidder. Haymitch made him a deal.”

“Why would President Snow give a damn if you married him or not?” It doesn’t make any sense.

Y/N tells her. “A victor has never married a victor before, the curiosity was there. Snow just took advantage of it, he recorded us together and sold that instead. Threatened my family, if I didn’t perform, I’m willing to bet that includes you too… So I performed.”

The room is silent.

“It’s up to you, believe me or don’t. I came here to make sure you were ok and to ask if I could bury my kids in your backyard.” No secret Capitol agenda.

“Tell us something only you would know.” Tyson’s father demands, wanting to believe her but needing to be sure.

“The first flower I left for Tyson was a dandelion. When it died, I replaced it with a daisy, and a bluebell after that.”

This is Y/N, as best they’ll ever be able to tell.

“Should I keep going?”

Cherry cuts the rope around Y/N’s wrists. “Why do you want to bury them here?”

“They didn’t have a family before, I thought it might be nice for them to have one now.” Y/N massages the blood back into her hands.

Tyson’s mother joins his father, in front of the younger woman. “Sorry about all that.”

“It’s fine.” Y/N sighs, “no one has ever gone to the trouble of tying me up for an intervention before. You guys must really love me.”

“You do what you gotta, from now on Ma and Pa are with you.” You’re the closest thing we’ve got to our boy.

Y/N thanks them, allowing them to hold her for as long as it suits them. The same way she always has.

Eventually she finds her way back home, back to Haymitch and the house in Victor’s Village. He’s the only one who understands her now.

“What’d they say about the kids?” Haymitch wonders.

“They said yes.”

“You were gone a while.”

“They tied me to a chair for interrogation.” Y/N tells him.

What in the hell? “You wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah, actually. They thought I was a Capitol body double or that I had a bug in my head.”

Oh.

Part 7

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409

[girlygirl14534]

Body Heat - Bucky x Reader

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cock Warming, Snowed In, Only One Bed

Length: 3.7k

Summary: A blizzard knocks out the power in the safehouse where you and Bucky are sharing a bed. Can Bucky keep you warm through the cold night?

Author’s Note: It has been so cold where I live lately and there’s nobody better than Bucky to warm me up. I’m entering this work into @targaryenvampireslayer Blind Date Writing Challenge. I don’t participate in a lot of fandom events, so this was really fun! I used the Only One Bed trope and the Dialogue Prompts “Take your clothes off. Right now,” and “Are you holding back? Don’t.” Happy reading and stay warm! Divider via @firefly-graphics

Read this work on AO3

“You didn’t even want to get egg rolls,” Bucky whined as you grabbed one off of his plate.

You grinned as you bit into it. He smiled back at you, but his shoulders shifted ever so slightly, tipping you off to his next move. His chopsticks swooped onto your plate in retaliation, but you were ready for him, blocking his attempt on your orange chicken.

He glared at you and you relented. He popped the chicken into his mouth with a satisfied smirk. You rolled your eyes at him and took a sip of your beer. It was a local brew. A little hoppy but not too bitter, with a surprisingly crisp taste. You loved trying beers at every new little town you ended up at. Nothing beat a cold beer after a long mission, even if it was 20 degrees and dropping outside.

It was warm and cozy inside the little cabin. This safe house was cuter than most. It had a little wood stove and lace tablecloth—definitely grandmother-approved. The place was small, but you’d stayed at smaller ones. Although most had at least a few twin size cots. The bed here looked comfortable, but there was only one.

“It’s picking up out there,” Bucky nodded at the window. Outside you could see the snow swirling in the wind.

“The Winter Soldier scared of a little snow?” you teased.

“Oh, shut up. You wouldn’t last ten seconds out there. Remember Helsinki?”

“That is so unfair! I fell into a frozen pond!”

“I told you not to walk on that patch of ice!”

“You were being a know-it-all.”

“That’s because I actually know it all.”

You threw your half-eaten egg roll at him.

“You didn’t even eat it?!”

You shrugged and he glared at you as he finished it. After dinner, you got ready for bed. It had been a long day. When Bucky came out of the shower, you were already under the paisley-printed covers.

He grinned at you. “That’s my favorite bonnet,” he said, nodding at the silky cap on your head.

“You have favorite bonnets of mine?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen you in enough of them. I love the one with rhinestones on the headband. You look like a queen. The Kirby one is really cute, too.”

“Nice try, Bucky.” You threw a pillow at him. “You’re still sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

You knew he was going to jump on the bed a second before he did it, but you didn’t stop him. He looked so satisfied with himself.

“Time for bed,” you said as you started stacking pillows on the bed between you.

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off of me?” he teased.

“Don’t think I forgot how you hogged the couch in Bangladesh.”

“I maintain that you rolled off of the couch by yourself.”

“Well then consider it protection from me rolling you off the bed.”

He laughed as you finished the wall of pillows, marking your territory. You were just grateful that the bed was big enough to have your own space and that there were enough blankets that you wouldn’t have to share. You loved Bucky, but in your friendship you were more likely to trade insults than share the covers. Was there something more behind the words you traded? Maybe. Sometimes it felt obvious that he felt the same and other times you were certain that he just saw you as a friend.

If you were just friends, you were friends that lived and worked in very close quarters. You’d had a lot of hands-on moments working the mission with him today. If you had a little more privacy, you’d probably be touching yourself right now thinking about the weight of him on top of you as he tackled you to the ground to protect you, his hair tickling your face as he whispered a new tactical plan into your ear. Instead you were stuck here, close but not close enough. You sighed in frustration.

“Need a bedtime story?” Bucky asked.

“Once upon a time, a former assassin wouldn’t shut up while his teammate tried to sleep.”

“Teammate? That’s all I am to you?” he asked. The hurt and offense in his voice almost sounded real.

“What do you want to be described as?” you asked.

“Just get some sleep, princess.”

You chuckled and rolled over, soon falling asleep. You dreamt of him, of course. Of his hands on you. One warm, one cold. And then it was just his left hand. It was so cold. You let him keep touching you, of course. You didn’t care if you got frostbite. You just wanted him to keep touching you.

You were pissed when you woke up before you could climax. But you quickly realized it wasn’t just cold in your dream. Your teeth were chattering in real life.

“Fuck. It’s freezing,” you said.

“Power’s out,” Bucky said. “Must be the storm.”

“Can we make a fire?”

“I checked. The stove is electric.”

“Are you sure? That thing looks older than you.”

Bucky laughed. “I think I saw a few candles in the cupboard.” He got up and rummaged around in the kitchen. He lit them and placed them around the room.

“Bring one here. Maybe I can warm my hands.”

He laughed as he flopped back onto his side of the bed. “I know it’s cold in here. With the blizzard, there’s no way we’ll make it down the mountain. In the morning, we can—”

“I’m not gonna make it to morning! Feel my fingers!”

Bucky outstretched his right hand toward you, smiling in amusement at what he assumed was exaggeration. When you touched him, his expression changed to one of concern. Maybe things were worse than you thought. Maybe it really was frostbite. Bucky started taking down the pillow barrier.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You’re right,” he said as he threw pillows over his shoulder and onto the floor.

“Oooh, say that again.”

He laughed. “It’s too cold in here. You need body heat.”

You rolled your eyes but he kept moving pillows. “You’re serious?”

He nodded as he got rid of the last pillow. He awkwardly opened his arms. You scooted closer to him. This wasn’t how you wanted his arms around you, but you were too cold to deny him. He wrapped his big, strong arms around you. You relaxed into his embrace, and not just because of the warmth. He held you tight to him and you would’ve stayed just like forever, but you were still shivering. It felt like the chill had settled into your bones. The extra warmth from Bucky was only making it more obvious just how cold it was in the tiny cabin.

“We need skin to skin,” Bucky said.

You laughed but he didn’t.

“Take your clothes off. Right now,” he said.

Maybe the frigid air was impacting your decision-making, because instead of denying him, you complied. Tried to, anyway. Your fingers were so numb from the cold that you fumbled with the hem of your shirt. He gently nudged your fingers aside and helped you out of your shirt. You’d imagined the first time he took your clothes off a little differently, but you couldn’t care about that now. Once your shirt was off, he took his off too.

He hugged you again then. Your bare skin felt electrified where it touched his. He held your hands to his chest to warm them. With his hardened pecs beneath your fingers, it took all of your willpower not to squeeze.

“Is that better?” he asked.

You nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You stayed like that for a few minutes, afraid to move. Afraid that at some point he’d decide that you were warm enough. You weren’t warm enough. In any sense. You needed him closer for survival, but it became increasingly difficult to tell if you needed him because you were cold or because you were horny.

“You’re not warm enough,” he said finally. You didn’t argue.

When he pulled away, the sudden loss of warmth made your body tense up. He immediately placed his arms around you again.

“I won’t let go of you anymore, okay?”

You hated how pathetic your voice sounded when you responded, “Okay.”

His arm reached between your bodies to pull his pants down. You told yourself that you weren’t going to look, but your eyes had a mind of their own. You watched his fingers grip his waistband and tug down his boxers and his pants. Suddenly he was naked. Even in the dim lighting, you could see how big he was. His eyes went straight to yours to check in, but he found no objection. You looked away to be polite, but felt too awkward to look into his eyes. You turned around so that your back was to his chest. You were grateful that he couldn’t see your face when he started to pull your pants down. If he was hesitant about this plan, his movements didn’t show it. He was smooth and deliberate, quickly ridding you of your pajamas and underwear. When you were both undressed, he pulled you close. When you felt his cock against your ass, you shivered, and it wasn’t because of the freezing temperatures.

“That’s it,” he said. “Turn over.”

He didn’t wait for you to move, effortlessly pulling you onto your back and laying on top of you. Bucky was naked. You were naked. And he was on top of you. You were short of breath just thinking about it.

“Don’t tell me I’m taking your breath away,” he teased.

“You’re heavy,” you retorted. “I think you may need to start laying off the eggrolls.”

As you laughed together, you became hyper aware of how close your bodies were, of just how much physical contact you had. The laughing stopped abruptly.

“Why didn’t you take off my bra?” you whispered. “Afraid that once you see these you’ll be ruined for all other boobs?”

“Yes,” he nodded as he reached under you, large hands rubbing your back and unhooking the clasp. He slowly slid your straps down your arms. He looked into your eyes as he pulled your bra from between your bodies and threw it onto the floor.

Here you were, caged in his warmth, looking deep into his eyes like in one of your fantasies. And yet your instinct was to make a stupid joke, find some way to make this feel less serious. But you couldn’t think straight with his dick resting on your stomach and his warm breath on your face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Eh. Still a little chilly,” you joked breathlessly.

“I can get you warmer,” he said seriously.

You laughed. “I don’t think we could physically be any closer than we are right now.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Well, technically we could be a little closer.”

“Barnes, if I go outside in the morning and find out that you cut the powerlines…”

“I can’t have you dying of hypothermia on my watch. I don’t have to move or anything. Just to keep you warm.”

You wanted to roll your eyes and hit him on the arm, but his sincerity caught you off guard.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’m not a fan of the cold either. I’ve spent too much of my life frozen already. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought…”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “And don’t worry, when I tell Nat this story, I won’t even mention the shrinkage.”

He laughed with you and then shook his head at you.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he asked.

“Stick your dick in me, apparently.”

He swallowed nervously. “Are you…? Are you ready?” he asked.

You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t question how wet you were already. You certainly weren’t going to bring up the fact that you had felt his length slowly hardening against you for the last few minutes.

“I, uh, just gotta…” He reached down to pump himself a few times, looking anywhere but you. You wanted to change that.

“You can look at me, Bucky.”

His eyes found yours. You’d never seen this expression on his face before. He was never this easy to read. Even though he’d beaten the Winter Soldier programming, he usually always kept a part of himself closed off. Those defenses were gone now. In their place was yearning. A desire so deep it was overwhelming. The way he looked at you was the same way you felt about him.

You arched your back, drawing attention to your chest. “You can also look here, if it helps.”

He looked at your breasts for the first time. His mouth fell open in awe. You hoped you really were ruining him for other women. You hoped he would never look at anyone else like this for as long as he lived. His eyes went from your chest back to your face as he shifted between your legs. You bit your lip when you felt the head of his cock prod your entrance. It would take everything in your power not to moan. This was probably a very bad idea. But still you let your legs fall open wider to give him easier access.

When he first pushed in, you drew a shaky breath. He stopped moving, eyes anxiously searching yours. He was terrified you’d ask him to stop. Quite the contrary.

“That all you got?” you asked.

He smirked at you before resuming his progress. Despite your earlier joke, you felt your walls stretch around him as he pushed further into you. You felt every single inch, but it was torture not being able to wrap your legs around his hips or claw at his back like you wanted to.

When he was fully seated, he stilled. You took a few deep breaths. It was dizzying, being this close to him, this full of him. It was his turn to tell you, “You can look at me, ya know.”

You looked at him in the flickering candlelight. His hair obscured your view of his face. You reached up and tucked it behind his ear. He nuzzled his face against your hand. Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel his warm cock throbbing inside of you. He was looking at you so romantically that you forgot where you were for a moment. Your body did, too. Your pussy clenched around him. You didn’t get a chance to wonder if he’d felt it. You heard him groan. Right before you felt him thrust.

His eyes darted to you, panicked. You’d seen him panic once before, as he pulled you out of the ice in Finland. That day he’d warmed you up by the fire with plenty of hot drinks and some light teasing. You preferred the current method of warming you up. Which is why you let him hear you. You moaned for him. If you’d been less desperate for him to fuck you, you would’ve been embarassed by how needy you sounded. It was nothing compared to the strangled cry Bucky let out with his second thrust. You expected him to keep moving, but he stopped again. He leaned in, eyes urgent.

“The first time I saw you,” he panted, “I knew you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever—”

Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t have him saying things he didn’t mean. “You don’t have to flatter me, Buck—”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true. And you are so beautiful.”

You placed your hands behind his head and pulled him in for a kiss. You weren’t sure what it was going to be like, your first kiss with Bucky. Especially since that first kiss was occurring after he was already inside of you. When your lips touched, you both sighed with relief. His lips were soft. You weren’t expecting that. His tongue probed your lips gently, and you gladly gave it access. He kissed you slowly, like he was savoring every second. He cupped your breast with his right hand, softly stroking it. His touches were almost reverent. It would’ve been romantic if you weren’t so needy. There’d be time for slow and steady. You hoped so, anyway. Right now you needed fire. You needed his touch to chase away the cold.

“Are you holding back on me, Barnes? Don’t.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He bent his head and attached his lips to your neck. He pulled the delicate flesh between his teeth as the hand on your breast eagerly squeezed. His metal hand tightened its grip on your hip. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d have a bruise in the shape of his handprint tomorrow. Proof that this had actually happened. Proof it wasn’t just the best dream of your life.

Maybe you wanted to mark him, too. Maybe that’s why you tangled your fingers in his hair while you raked the nails of the other hand down his back. He grunted as he drove into you with renewed force, the headboard rattling against the wall.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so wet. So tight. So perfect. Even better than I—” he stopped himself.

“Better than you imagined?” you suggested.

He nodded.

“You imagine me?” you asked, breathless.

“Every day,” he confessed.

You moved your hips in time with his next stroke, taking him deeper than ever. You both cursed. With each thrust, you knew things would never be the same. With each thrust, you got more and more desperate for him to ruin you. You writhed desperately under him and he only gripped you tighter, forcing you to stay still and accept your pleasure like a good girl. He angled his hips so that he was massaging your g-spot with every thrust. The head of his cock dragged against your center of pleasure over and over again in a relentless pursuit for your climax. You wanted to beg him to fuck you harder and faster but you didn’t want this to end yet. Not until he was as ruined as you were.

You took your hands away from him and brought them to your chest. You gripped your breasts tightly and moaned. He was mesmerized. You pinched your nipples and rolled your hips, putting on a show for him. You needed to know that he would never forget this. That he would never forget you. You tugged on your nipples and cried his name.

“That’s my job,” he said. You smirked at him.

You put your fingers in his open mouth and brought them to your clit and started rubbing slow circles. You watched his eyes darken. He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth again, closing his eyes in pleasure as he licked your fingers clean. Instead of putting your hand back where he found it, he brought his metal fingers to your clit instead, taking over your ministrations there. The cold, hard metal rhythmically massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves until his name was the only word in your vocabulary.

You wouldn’t last much longer. You’d see to it that neither would he. You attached your lips to his neck and sucked a bruise into the skin. His fingers on your clit went from slow circles to frantic figure 8s. Your back arched in pleasure as you felt your walls tighten around Bucky’s cock. His hips stuttered as he flooded you with warmth. Your legs shook when you felt him fill you. You whimpered his name. He whispered yours. Before you could even catch your breath, it happened.

You both knew the second the power turned back on. The hum of the fridge, the rattle of the old radiator, the red “Off” light on the coffee pot. It was like a bomb going off in the bubble you’d built. You looked at each other, startled, as if you were just realizing the extent of what you had done. For a split second, you considered pulling away from him and getting dressed, pretending none of this had ever happened. But you didn’t want that, not while his cum was still warm inside you and aftershocks of your orgasm were still rocking your core. You two spoke at the same time.

“It’ll probably take a while before you’re warm eno—”

“The power could go off again at any mo—”

“Sorry—”

“What were you saying—”

You both chuckled self-consciously.

“You love being inside me, don’t you, Barnes?” you teased with no taunting in your voice. You felt his dick twitch. You rolled your hips. “Is that a yes?”

He bit his lip and looked at you with more than lust. It was devotion.

“Yes,” he said finally.

“Good. Because you’re the only one that can keep me warm.”

“What about me?” he asked.

You looked at him, perplexed.

“I get cold, too.”

“What can I warm up for you, Bucky?”

“My ears are kinda cold,” he said.

Oh. Not exactly what you were thinking about warming up, but ok. You reached out to stroke the side of his face. He smiled and blushed, but nuzzled into your hand.

“Your thighs should be pretty warm now…”

Oh. Your thighs could keep his ears warm. You would happily straddle his face in the name of reciprocity. It was the least you could do, right?

…

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in Bucky’s arms. The heat hadn’t gone out again during the night, but you still felt like you needed Bucky’s warmth.

“I didn’t tamper with the generator,” Bucky said. “But I should have. I should’ve warmed you up like that when you fell into the lake.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Would you have let me?”

You nodded.

“You would have?!”

“I bought the Kirby bonnet for you,” you confessed.

“What?”

“I know how much you like playing Mario Kart with Sam. I thought you’d like it. I thought maybe it’d make you like me.”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding? By that point, I was already in lo—I mean, I, uh. I really do love Mario Kart, you’re right.”

“Nice save.”

“Let me take you out on a proper date.”

“One condition.”

“Anything.”

“Has to be somewhere warm.”

You shared a laugh.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirked.

Want to read more of my writing? Check out my ongoing Stucky x Reader series.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 2 to Truth or Dare

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Word Count: 5 k

Part 3: READ HERE

So many questions are left on Lt. Riley’s tongue as he finishes another cigarette and leaves the group of officers behind in the rec to make his way back to his quarter, the spectre's touch of your full lips still causing the skin on his mouth to tingle from the sudden lack of all that delicious pressure. There is so much he wants to make clear, even more he wants to do, but where to begin? It’s all so confusing.

As he lays down in his empty bed staring up at the ceiling, struggling to relax his feverish limbs as it still feels like he has been struck by a live wire, he fails to keep his wandering mind focused on his breathing to ignore the gnawing emptiness that is filling his chest from the absence of your presence. That’s when the questions start to roll in.

Did you feel something too? Maybe it was all just an act? Does that even matter if it was?

“No,” Simon mutters to himself through the silence to stop his train of thought from running rampant. He’s allowing himself to get distracted worrying about the unknown and that is something that will only cause more problems, but he is in turmoil.

Unsuccessfully he tosses and turns in the darkness that fills the space, his thoughts drifting back to that feeling of heat from the proximity of your bodies, the residual pressure from your mouth plastered to his, the look of pure lust in your gaze, and the gnawing compulsion of his fingers to get at your curves. 

But this isn’t a lover’s island, there is a job to be done here and he has seniority. Maybe it is better to leave this alone where it stands; who knows what disaster could come from getting involved with another officer in such a capacity. And yet…

There is no stopping his mind from wandering ceaselessly back to those breathless moments where his lips fought yours for dominance with the mind-numbing electricity flowing between you, the attraction so strong it did not seem possible for you both to pull from it. 

He has a problem and it isn’t going away.

Across base, laying in the dark in your own bed, your heartbeat pounding heavily in your chest, an ache runs its course throughout your limbs. There is a need for something to ease this overwhelming desire to be craved in a desperate, debilitating way, though you really don’t want to admit it. No, you don’t need something…you need someone. You need him.

You hadn’t been ready to admit it then, but there was a spark between you that is no longer possible to ignore now that you are alone, but you don’t know how to handle things any other way than to just ignore and move on; maybe the desire to have him again will die away if you just let it be. Even as the thought enters your mind you know it’s pure bullshit. There is no denying that things became complicated the second your lips met, that it was like igniting gasoline with a blowtorch. What was once mere infatuation that you could handle, has now grown into an untamed beast inside that leaves you feeling delirious and out of control. 

Rolling onto your side, you convince yourself to leave all these questions alone and focus on something else, anything to get your mind off of what you would be doing with the lieutenant at this moment if you both had not been interrupted. As you close your eyes to force sleep to come, visions of a bare and glistening officer thrusting between your legs fills your subconscious and you hope the morning comes soon enough because sleep is going to be short tonight.

Luckily, life around base rarely stands still long enough for anything other than work to get tended to. Any hopes of exploring that tension and ecstasy has to be put on the back burner as life in the taskforce resumes its usual chaos. Daily operations keep your schedule packed completely full all week so that certain thoughts get pushed to the back of your mind. And yet, during those slower moments of the day, they come creeping back up just like they never left. 

“ ‘ello?” Soap says as he waves his hand in front of your blank face. “Ye in there, lass?”

Your fork hangs limply from your hand, teetering over your plate lunch and threatening to fall with a clatter as you realize that you drifted off again. This is the third time this week that you have gotten so lost in thought trying to recall that feeling of the lieutenant’s lips that it’s becoming apparent to your fellow sergeant that something is off. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to clear your mind.

“What?” you shoot back at him as you stab the food and push it around the plate, pretending to eat even though you aren’t hungry.

“I’ve been talkin’ for a good five minutes and ye ain’t heard a word,” he says with a hint of agitation. His steady glare gives you the once over as he tries to read your face. “Where ye at these last few days, hmm?” 

You mask your face behind your customary smile. “Maybe I’m just trying to imagine a more engaging conversation than the one I’m currently in,” you pick, but Johnny isn’t letting this drop.

His eyes are still on you, scrutinizing your body language even as you stare down into your food to avoid his gaze. From the corner of your eye you can see the gears turning in that mind of his as if he is trying to put things together. You let it go on a few more seconds before you speak up.

“You got a problem or something?”

“It’s just strange,” he chuckles and you raise an eyebrow as you tilt your head to the side. “It’s just…I was speakin’ to Gaz yesterday and he mentioned that the lieutenant seems…distracted…as well lately. Same vacant look ye got goin’ on. Ye wouldn’t happen ta know why, would ye?”

Your heart leaps with a strong thud in your chest. Just what the hell is he implying? You had been certain that Johnny knew nothing, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe you aren’t being as convincing as you think. “Why the fuck would I know that?” you play it off as you swallow down the lump in your throat. “Do I just know everything that goes on with everyone around here? I’ve got enough on my mind then to worry about the rest of you lot.”

Johnny leans in a bit closer over his plate and lowers his voice as he says the next part, making your blood run cold. “Must be a coincidence then, that both a ye just happen ta be actin’ different at the same time, ay? Ye know, on account a tha other night.”

The heel of your boot immediately connects with his foot only hard enough to make him yelp and pop back upright in surprise. You always forget that Johnny is smarter than he lets on and it’s clear he has been paying attention. Too bad you will never give him the satisfaction of admitting anything. With a laugh he sits back in his seat as you stare him down before rolling your eyes. 

“Why are you so worried about the lieutenant? Seems like someone’s a bit too obsessed and that can be a problem. You should probably talk to someone about that.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever ye say, lass,” he says, punctuating it with another chuckle as he tucks back into his lunch. “Whatever ye say.”

Firearms and ammunition is on the schedule for the rest of your day. It is your job to take inventory of all the munitions you’ll need for tomorrow’s end of week training. At least the repetitious task will keep you busy enough that hopefully you won’t be thinking about a certain lieutenant and what he could be up to right now.

At least that is the plan that you start with, but just as every other day this week soon that hulking officer begins to creep his way into your mind. Has Johnny been lying about how distracted the lieutenant seems lately? Could it be about what happened the other night or could it be something that has nothing to do with you? Little by little, it chips away at your calm until that is all you can focus on, even as you try and get through counting and gathering all the materials you’ll be needing for tomorrow. 

There is no way for you to know, but at that exact moment there is someone coming your way with a burning question that needs answering. 

All week Lt. Riley has gone about his days as usual, except try as he might to focus only on the tasks given to him, all he can do is mull over the same question in his mind: did you feel something in the kiss the way he did? It is eating him alive to know the answer and no matter where he is, who is speaking with, or what he is doing, the question is there to make him restless.

Until finally he has had enough. Just as the question overwhelms his mind again he throws down the work on his desk, shoves his chair back to get out, and leaves his office in a flurry. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but as he walks he passes by Captain Price’s office, the one person that would know where you are stationed today. Quickly he steps inside the doorway to ask. 

Price checks his computer screen that has all that information already pulled up. “She has firearm trainin’ tomorrow with the newer recruits, so she will be takin’ inventory in munitions today,” the captain relays the information, curious as to why his lieutenant seems tense and sounds a little out of breath. 

Before the captain can ask any more probing questions or mention to his officer that he will need to speak with him in a bit, the lieutenant heads off in a rush towards the munitions depot. No matter, the captain will let him conduct his business with you and send a messenger in a bit to bring him back.    

Lt. Riley crosses the base with nothing else on his mind but to get to you and when he does he finds you are completely lost in your work, none the wiser that you aren’t alone anymore until it’s too late. You don’t hear that signature click that means the main door is opening, nor the careful, but heavily booted footsteps padding across the floor in your direction. Just a few feet from you he stops and stares silently, waiting to see if you notice his presence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel a pair of eyes on you and looking up you come face to face with the person that was just on your mind. You can’t stop the way you hold your breath the moment your eyes connect as every involuntary process in your body gets interrupted by his sudden appearance. Desperately you try to regain composure and shake off that initial surprise; there is no need to make this awkward, it will only make things worse for yourself in the long run. 

Clearing your throat, you shoot him a smile. “Sir,” you greet him with a nod and a slight tremor in your voice that you quickly swallow back down. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. Did you need something?”

The adrenaline makes your limbs tingle and instead of just standing there awkwardly as you wait for him to respond, you put your hands back to the task before you hoping to cause your nervousness to settle. If you have to stand looking into his face in the stillness of the room for much longer, you might combust and the risk of looking like a fool is enough to make you act out being too busy to give him your full attention. 

Standing this close with the lingering feelings from the reaction that happened the last time you were together, the lieutenant is overwhelmed and it makes him pause. That same magnetism that he had felt that night is already pulling him to you, until his composure falls apart faster than he can calm it. Still, there is a question on the tip of his tongue that he is choking to ask; it’s the whole reason he’s here and he’s not leaving without an answer no matter what.

“I need ya to stop and look at me,” he says as he steps in towards you. You discreetly take a deep breath as you set your things down to turn your face back to look up at him. 

He’s already scrutinizing your body language, focusing on any sign that might give him an idea of where your thoughts are at this moment. Those brown eyes catch how tense your shoulders are through your t-shirt, how your pupils seem dilated as you meet his gaze, and finally the way your hands tremble as they hang at your sides.  

“I want ya to tell me the truth, yeah?” he says with a nod.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyes sparkling in the overhead lights as your pulse runs fiery hot through your limbs with the growing anxiety from wondering what the hell is going on. “Yes, sir?”

The mask covering his face clings a little too tightly and the clothing on his chest traps in the heat rising in his body, making his skin clammy as he struggles to vocalize that loaded question he’s had swirling in his mind for days. Lt. Riley clears his throat; he thought he’d come up with something better than this, but thinking clearly has long gone now. All he can do is just spit it out. 

“Mactavish’s stupid fuckin’ dare, ya remember it? I keep thinkin’ ‘bout it and I need ya to tell me somethin’: was it all an act, the way we kissed?”

Fuck, how are you supposed to answer this?

There is warmth blossoming in your cheeks as the thumping grows stronger in your chest. His question is simple enough, yet there isn’t a simple way for you to answer. Tell the truth? Could you actually go through with something that risky? For all you know he could be asking just to tell you that the kiss is to mean nothing because it will never happen again, that he wants you to let it all go to clear the air of any misconceptions. You pray that that is not what he’s about to say, but as you silently think about how to answer, he pushes for you to stop avoiding the question.

“I need ya to answer me,” he says firmly, eyes never leaving yours. “Were ya pretendin’ or did ya not want it to fuckin’ end?” 

A sharp inhale of air does nothing in helping to calm your nerves; you just have to get on with it. “I-it…wasn’t an act,” you say. 

The lieutenant has his answer, that’s what he wanted, right? Just to hear you say that the spark ignited between you in those few ecstasy-fueled minutes were genuine; that is it, isn’t it? His curiosity is sated and he should be able to move on, but he can’t. With your confession comes something more, something that he can’t let go of, and that is now that he knows it was real he wants it again. It consumes him to the point that he cannot move away and instead steps in closer as he grabs your biceps, forcing you to move backwards until you find yourself against the wall directly behind you.

“Sir?” you ask to get his attention as he continues to stand there staring intensely into your face without so much as a sound. You hadn’t felt this overwhelmed by his presence since the night you two kissed, but now it is back to cloud your mind and set your pulse pounding through your limbs. 

Your furrow-browed stare wavers as you clear your throat and repeat your question again. “Sir?”

Consequences are an inconceivable concept right now; the only thing playing in his mind are how fucking soft your lips look and how he desperately wants to get lost in them again. The sensations of reliving that experience from that night in the rec consumes every molecule in his body until there is nothing left inside him except for you. 

He needs it, he needs it now, and as that deep, longing ache settles itself in his chest to cause his heart to pound so hard that he can hear the beat in his ears, he throws sensibility away as he moves to grab your hips firmly in his gloved hands. 

“We really shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he says, his body pressing against yours as he draws you in. “Ya know it’s trouble.”

His actions don’t match his words and the contradiction causes your mind to falter on what you should do. Did he want this to end or not? Does he even really know?  

“Do you want to stop, sir?” you ask timidly as your body begins to vibrate with the sudden, intense pleasure of his hands as they are back on you again. “You know we can just forget it; it’s really fine.”

One of his hands leaves the curve of your hip and travels upwards so that those long, covered fingers can string themselves through the strands of hair at the back of your head. “Who said I wanted ta forget, hmm?” he admits with his eyes firmly on your lips, watching as they part slightly so you can take quick, short breaths in and out. “Do ya think I wasn’t there, that I didn’t feel what was happenin’ between us that night? Ya think I could just forget all that? Do ya think I want to?”

His gloved thumb wraps around your face so that he can brush it over your bottom lip, letting the electricity pass through the fabric from his fingertips into your mouth. You gasp from the ache his touch leaves behind and he exhales heavily at your reaction. “Do ya know the fuckin’ power ya have over me after that? Shit, I’m riskin’ a lot just ta be here like this with ya again, knowing what could happen when we’re alone. All because ‘a one fuckin’ kiss.”

You swear if he doesn’t do something soon you are going to pass out; your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable. Only a small swatch of fabric covering his face keeps you both apart and yet you can still sense the heated air from his mouth as it sweeps across the delicate skin of your lips the closer he lowers his head.

He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves you to the point of insanity right now. No, if he was going to stop it should have been long before now. As his hands cling to your body, there isn’t any chance that he is going to let you get away. He needs you, he has to have you, and it has to be right this fucking second to ease the painful longing that has kept him up all week.

Lt. Riley is gone; in his place is a depraved being that only yearns to feel that overwhelming passion that you gave him once again.

“I need more of the way it felt,” he groans adamantly. “I need ya, now.”

Before you can properly react to his heart-stopping statement, the lieutenant frantically wrenches his mask up and completely off his face, not wanting to be hindered at all from you anymore. All you catch is a crown of short blonde hair as he lets the cloth fall to the floor, closes his eyes, and leans in without another word to harshly smash his juicy lips together with yours in a reckless abandon that makes your knees buckle. 

Fucking hell it’s everything that he remembered and so much more; you taste like the best type of sin and he is ready to pay everything for it.

The force of his advance shoves your head backward into the wall as he takes your mouth with dizzying harshness, not hesitating to shove in his tongue to fill the cavity behind your lips to capacity. The tip of that wet muscle strokes across the roof of your mouth and the sensation causes your eyes to roll back into your head. If there was any doubt left in your mind, it has all dissipated now that his mouth is back on yours.

“Stop callin’ me sir. Say my name,” he forcefully demands in that husky, breathless tone, a yearning in his voice that makes your soul burn as he speaks those desperate words onto your skin. “Call me Simon.” 

You break from his mouth, your lips instantly desperate to form the word and say it aloud. “Simon,” you moan and it breathes new life into his name that he could never have predicted he needed.

Pining you tighter to the wall, he overtakes you rougher and rougher until the harshness of his movements abrades the skin of your mouth to make it swell and bruise. Relentlessly he siphones the breath from you to keep him going. That moist air fills his mouth so that he can speak. “Say it again,” he orders in a growl.   

It’s like honey as it rolls off your tongue and you can’t help but want to repeat it. “Mmm, Simon,” you whimper onto his mouth and goddamn the euphoria of having to swallow down the desperation in your voice suddenly awakens an insatiable ache that will need more to quench.

His gloves have to go, now, as his bare hands are burning to get their fill of your curves. Those thin pieces of fabric are hindering him from being able to connect with all that silky skin so that he can know what it feels like against his calloused palms. It is torment to be kept from all that ecstasy. Struggling to peel them off his fingers as he cannot pry his mouth away from yours at all, he finally frees those long, brawny digits and they waste no time in pawing wildly at your body. 

Greedy fingers recklessly claw and tear at your clothing, searching for an opening where he can penetrate to find enough balmy skin available to fill his hands until he cannot hold anymore. Deliriously and without looking he rips the pieces of your uniform up until he can get underneath them and let his fingertips get that first touch he has craved nonstop since the second he had pulled away from you that night. Those hungry lips continue to overwhelm your own as Simon is able to grab the hem and his hands have finally found their prize.

Laborious panting breaths fill up the space between you as the roughness of his hands grip into your hips and square them up against his own, pelvis’ grinding together in search of as much friction as they can find. Only a few layers of clothing keep your bodies apart, but that doesn’t stop Simon from rutting against you and you matching his movements. There is nothing else inside your head except the overwhelming euphoria of his touch along the lines of your body and the growing bulge in his pants that drills into you harder and harder the more it grows. 

No immediate danger is there to keep you both tame, no time limit looms over your heads that will force you to stop, and when two desperate things have nothing to lose, they simply let go. 

Every single one of his senses is overflowing with all of you: the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your sweet breath in his mouth, the warmth of your skin brushing over his, the beat of your heart that he can feel through his fingertips, the sound of your quiet whimpers making his head spin. Goddammit you are eager, so willing to meet his advancements with everything you have; there is no question about what you want. And he cannot lie that he wants it too. You’ve both started down this path and there is no turning back; he knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop, but he won’t.

You are in his veins, circling inside his mind, part of the very air he breathes; whatever risk comes with this could never outweigh the reward of getting to sate the hunger that has been driving him insane.

“Fuck it all,” he growls and suddenly his hands are under your arms and you are being hoisted up off the ground. 

Your body reacts from pure instinct by spreading your legs wide and wrapping them around his broad hips, securing yourself to him with a clench of your thighs together. Simon knocks a gasp out of you as he slams your back up against the wall to use it for leverage, his body crushing yours as he begins to grind up into you with that throbbing, engorged cock that is straining to break the zipper of his pants. 

Through your clothes he thrusts up into you with powerful strikes, hips rolling into yours over and over with desperation as he tries to get just a little bit more friction between your bodies. You use your thighs to help push yourself up off of him, bouncing over his crotch in response to mimic the way you’d fuck him. 

Simon knows he shouldn’t go any further, that he should slow things down because this isn’t the place, but he won’t. Everything is already so close, but still not close enough. He needs the real thing, not this cheap imitation. Even in the haze of this delirious union, there is only one thing he knows he has to do.

He has to get you both naked. 

Feverish fingers claw into the negative space between your bodies at the bottom of your shirt until Simon can find the hem. The cooler air outside of your clothing hits your skin with a tingle to make goosebumps appear as he pulls it up off your stomach and over the swell of your breasts.

“Lift up your arms,” he says quickly and your eyes flutter open so that you can follow the demand. 

In one swift motion the shirt is off and Simon doesn’t waste any time in ripping off his shirt as well. The feeling of skin to skin sends shivers of ecstasy down his spine as he presses against you. So soft, so warm, fucking hell is he in over his head. He leans in, bending forward so that he can kiss the tops of your breasts through your bra as he hands wander again between your bodies to the clasp on your pants.

Just as his fingers loop through the waistband, you hear the tail end of it. There is no mistaking it, it’s the signature sound of the door to the armory closing shut. You have no time to act as a private with a message from Captain Price enters in a hurry, not paying attention, and stumbles upon something he shouldn’t have under no fault of his own. 

“Lt. Riley, Price needs to see y–” the messenger says as he finally looks up, immediately stopping dead in his tracks as his cheeks flush bright red at coming face to face with the two of you half naked and twined together. 

The private is tripping over his words as an exasperated growl shuts him right up. “Outside; now,” Simon barks harshly through a heavy pant as he turns his head enough to lock eyes with the now terrified private. Quickly the young man turns tail and bolts for the door, stumbling over his feet to get out as fast as he physically can. Once the click from the door closing shut is heard, those brown eyes turn back to you.

Simon draws in a deep breath before his head falls forward to rest up against yours, foreheads pressed together as he just holds onto you for a moment. “Goddammit,” he curses under his breath in disappointment. 

Carefully he untangles his body from yours and sets you back down onto your feet. “Times up,” he repeats the phrase that ended your encounter the last time, though his tone is markedly more miserable this time, and you can’t help the way your stomach knots tightly. 

Simon grabs all your clothing back up off the ground, handing you your shirt back as he goes to put his own back on. You immediately redress and straighten your uniform as best you can with your unsteady hands. Everything gets tucked back in place once again as you wait for him to head out without a word, since this seems to be following a certain pattern now. 

But instead of simply walking away leaving you to agonize about if you will ever get a chance like this again, his arm reaches out and those long gloved fingers wrap around your belt buckle, gripping it tight in his hand so that he can drag you back against him. The other hand finds its way under your chin to force you to maintain eye contact with him; he needs you to hear him and make no mistake about what he is saying. 

“This isn’t over,” he murmurs as he guides your head forward to place one last, lingering kiss on your lips before he breaks away to situate his mask back down over his face. 

With that he turns and heads outside to the private patiently waiting to finish giving him the message from the captain. You let your eyes follow him the entire way out the door and only when he’s gone do you finally release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

This isn’t over. The words repeat on a loop in your mind. Fuck, you sure hope so.

Now the question is: when?

Tagging: @spooky-pomegranate

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna would have you as a sugar baby: exam season edition

college!sukuna masterlist

“You know what, I should just drop out,” you ramble, pacing in your living room, hair disheveled and a pencil behind your ear.

Sukuna just hums, sitting on the sofa while munching on chickpea chips he bought the other day saying that “protein is protein”.

“Or or or… I should find a rich man! Yeah, I should be a sugar baby,” you continue, and he just nods, mindlessly scrolling through the tv channels.

“At least I would be happy with my ass on a yacht. Hey, do you think I have sugar baby material?” You ask him, stopping for a second, thinking. All you get as an answer is a grunt. “Sukuna? Are you even listening to me?” You wave your hand in front of the tv. That catches his attention, but only for a mere quarter of a second.

“What?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“Do a spin,” he says, lowly, still not sparing you a glance, putting a bunch of chips in his mouth. You’re so out of your mind that you actually do, and when you turn around his eyes are on you for the first time since you started talking 30 minutes ago. 30 minutes of straight whines. He’s giving you a once over, gaze fixed over how your oversized sweater is falling from your left shoulder, letting him see the top of your boob. He imagines himself sucking exactly on that spot, your breath by his ear, his mark on your-

“Yeah, I’d pay for you,” he says nonchalantly, getting back to zapping.

“You would?” You say excitedly. “Wait. You would?” You add after a moment, taken aback, your face falling progressively. You whine again. “I’m never going to be a sugar baby,” you finish, sprawling out on the carpet near the sofa he’s sitting on, closing your eyes.

“Yo, I have taste, the fuck you mean?” He replies roughly, looking down at you and slightly kicking you in the ribs. Just enough to barely move you from your star-like pose. You open your eyes, looking up at his four ones, assuming a mocking face.

“Now do you?” You say, doubtful, rolling on your side before sitting up while he’s flipping you off. You’re face to face with his knees. Yeah, knees. Keep it PG.

He gets his elbows on said knees, putting his index finger under your chin to raise your face. “Yeah baby, I’d keep you as my prettiest whore if I had like 50 years more than I do,” he says. Then he immediately adds “But I don’t, so stop fucking complaining and let me watch my damn tv. It’s fucking Saturday, give me a break,” flicking your forehead and blowing on your face at the same time. He tastes like real chickpeas and you’re almost impressed by how the pack of chips didn’t lie about the ingredients. He sprawls back on the sofa, occupying as much space as he can by laying down on his side with one of his hands under his chin, returning to his chickpea chips with the other. You scrunch your face, then pout.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t take 5 exams in a week,” you whine, getting your forehead on the little 7 inches rectangle that is left naturally near his chest.

“Suck it up, pussy boy,” he answers, bored. You’ve been going at it for what feels like an eternity and he’d already have lost his patience if seeing you miserable didn’t get a snort out of him. You turn your head to face him, hair all in your face from the movement, but you don’t have the strength to put it in a more comfortable position.

“You don’t get it,” you sigh, your features turning even more worried. You stay like that long enough to start dozing off (and seeing how sleep deprived you are lately, that’s about 40 seconds max), hearing him clean his hands. Suddenly, you feel his hand brushing on your cheek lightly, moving your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he tells you gruffly, scratching lightly on the top of your head. You hum. You know he’s right. He knows you know you’re capable of doing it. He gives your head a couple more pats before pushing it a bit.

“Go study and stop bothering me now. This tv ain’t gonna watch itself,” he says calmly.

You get up, nodding. “Thanks, man. I know I can always count on you for some backhanded comfort,” you reply, corners of your mouth turning upwards for the first time since exam season started (literally two days ago. Hey, you’re a smiley person!). He grunts, not looking at you again, and you know that’s all you’re going to get from him.

You get back in your room to study, and suddenly he finds himself losing interest in his chips in 15 minutes, the buzzing sound of the voices from the western movie he’s watching merely a background noise. Was it always so quiet when you weren’t around?

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Late Night Shenanigans

a/n: I absolutely adore getting requests from y’all, this one is from the lovely @purplekimijks. I’m so sorry this one took me FOREVER. I am pulling shit out of my ass I fear but I’m still pleased with this one. By the way, as usual, y’all are cooking with these asks. Making me feel some type of way 😘I think I only mentioned Louis and Harry specifically, but the others are obviously there in spirit, as we know. (also I know the gif isn't blonde Niall, but he's just so cute I had to use it)

pairing: fratboy!boyfriend!Niall Horan x fem!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, basically pwp sorry not sorry y’all, reader is NEEDY but who isn’t for this man, things escalate quickly from the get go lmao, softdom!Niall (mainly in the beginning), public sex ish (everyone is asleep), exhibitionism if you squint (like really hard), let me know if I missed anything y’all

word count: 1.7k

This fucking bunk. You felt like a damn cave diver, imagining yourself trapped between two sheets of stone as you ran out of oxygen to breathe. The Devil’s Ass Crack seemed like a fitting enough name, given the close-as-fuck quarters. The only thing missing was a camera.

You really shouldn’t be complaining. Despite the aggravating sleeping conditions, these buses were actually fairly luxurious. They held whole living rooms, for fuck’s sake. More than that, what girlfriend gets to accompany her boyfriend on tour without anyone batting an eye? Probably a few, but you felt lucky nonetheless. 

You found your thoughts shifting from irate to giddy as you imagined Niall, his adorable little Irish self fast asleep in his shitty bunk. He was incredibly precious, in any and all situations. 

You began to recall the night before last, his hands all over you, his lips following close behind. You remembered his whispered praises in your ear and the way he touched your hair, those pretty blue eyes boring into yours as if begging you to never leave.

Soon, it became too much. You couldn’t take it anymore, being six feet apart from him. The distance was an annoyance, the location a minor inconvenience. 

You climbed out of your bunk, attempting to be as quiet as you could and thoroughly failing as you tripped over an amp someone had left in the middle of the bus.

Dammit Louis.

You cursed under your breath as you clutched your stubbed toe. Fucking men.

You blinked hard as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, fumbling around until you reached Niall’s bunk, suddenly offended as his was slightly more spacious. That annoyance faded quickly, though, as you realized the use you could make of that extra room.

After pulling back the curtain, you not-so-elegantly climbed on top of him, holding back a giggle when his eyes fluttered open into a confused expression.

“Is that you, love?” He whispered, squinting adorably as he tried to discern my facial features.

“No, it’s Harry.” You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see. He let out a dramatic sigh.

“I told you we can’t keep doing this, man. The lads are starting to get suspicious.” Your jaw dropped in a momentary lapse of common sense, and you smacked his chest as aggressively as you could in the cramped space. He laughed louder than he should have at this late hour, quickly clamping his mouth shut and switching to a quiet snicker.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m only joking.” He assured you, his hands now sliding up your thighs to grip your hips. “What brings you to my chambers?” You giggled at the tease despite yourself, laying your head on his bare chest.

“Wanted to be with you.” You mumbled, absently tracing your finger along his toned stomach.

“Oh? Is my princess lonely?” He smiled, moving his grip to your waist now and giving you a light squeeze. You only nodded against hom, relishing in the feeling of your bodies pressed together, of your legs straddled over his thighs. You could feel the thin material of his boxers along your inner thighs as his hands slipped under your sleep shirt, humming at the realization that you were only wearing panties.

“Dirty girl.”  He husked against your ear, smirking. His fingers toyed with the lace adorning my hips, sliding under the material and back out. “These the ones I got you?” He asked, and you nodded again without looking up. “That’s my girl.” He praised, and you could practically hear the smile on his pretty pink lips.

“You have good taste, Ni. In both women as well as underthings.” He let out another snicker, bringing his hand up to card his fingers through your hair. After a moment of comfortable silence filled with only the sounds of your breathing, Niall slowly and carefully shifted your position so that he was now on top. “What does my princess need, hm?” He hummed, his lowering fingers silently suggesting filthy things. “Need you to ask me for it, love.” You whined a little in flushed embarrassment, squirming beneath him.

“You already know, though.” You protested stubbornly, throwing your arms around his neck. He chuckled at your resistance, teasingly sliding his hand under the hem of your shirt (well, technically his shirt; you stole it). You wiggled again impatiently, drawing a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ out of him.

“You know the rules, pretty girl. Use your words.” You clenched your thighs together as his tone grew deeper, huskier. That sexy-as-fuck accent only made it better. His calloused fingers brushed against the underside of your breast, drawing a pretty little gasp from you that only excited him more.

“Need you, Ni.” Your words escaped you in a whine, the pathetic sound sending a jolt straight to his half-hard dick. Dragging his thumb across your pebbled nipple, he gave the rosy bud a pinch in a way to scold you.

“Specifics, love.” You huffed out in sexual frustration, tightly gripping the sheet beneath you.

“Inside.” You forced out, ignoring the way your ears grew hot in embarrassment at your neediness. It was truly pathetic, the manner in which you were behaving, but how could you not? This was Niall, for fuck’s sake. The man of your dreams, practically your fucking life force. 

You also chose to ignore the shit-eating grin you could just make out on his face, clearly displaying how pleased he was with your obedience to the ‘rules.’ They had never been distinctly laid out, per say, but given the dynamic between you, these guidelines were understood. Following an amused chuckle on his behalf, Niall leaned down to pepper kisses along the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin.

“What princess wants, princess gets.” And fuck you if those words didn’t nearly make you come undone on the spot, the sheer decision in his tone drawing another pool of arousal out of you to your already ruined panties.

In one swift motion, your (his) shirt was gone, your torso bare for him with only those useless panties to shield the rest (not that they were doing a great job of that, either).

“So pretty, baby.” He muttered between kisses on your neck, soon migrating to your collarbone and then your chest. And shit, he loved to play with your perky tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers and sucking like they gave him life. 

While he occupied his mouth up top, his hands groped your hips and thighs, clearly growing impatient at the scrap of soaked fabric that still served as a barrier. He yanked them down to your ankles in one decisive motion, allowing you to kick them away before he descended upon you once more. He allowed you no time to process what was going on, impatiently ridding himself of his boxers and letting his stiff length smack against his stomach.

Fuck, you needed him.

Evidently, he needed you too, because without giving you a moment to think, his tip was already bullying its way into your dripping hole.

“Ni, fuck…” You trailed off, gritting your teeth at the delicious stretch you felt as he slid deeper, inch by inch. The moment he was up to the hilt, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, immediately beginning to pant as he pulled back slowly.

The pace he set was ruthless, unrelenting. Both of you were quite aware of the time constraint, and you couldn’t afford to drag this out for very long. He slammed into your g-spot with every snap of his hips, his pelvis smacking against your pulsing clit. He’s too fucking good at this, you thought. 

His breath was coming in harsh pants, that rasp just audible above the sounds his actions were creating.

“Fuck, princess, feel so good around me.” He groaned against your neck, and you felt his cock twitch against your walls when you let out a pretty moan in response. You were being quiet, but probably not quiet enough.

“Faster, please…” You pleaded, desperately chasing that release as you held onto Niall. He obliged with immediate intensity, and you were surprised the both of you hadn’t yet toppled out of the bunk. You felt that knot in your stomach begin to grow to an unbearable amount, and with the way your plush walls clenched around his cock, Niall knew you were close.

“That’s it, love, let me feel you come around me. Fuck, want to see how pretty you look when you come.” His words were your undoing, your breath catching as you held back a moan when your back arched, your nails digging into his back. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, lasting a beat longer than you had remembered the last one lingering. You let out a squeak as he continued pounding into you, now chasing his own release.

“I know, princess, I know. I’m almost - shit - almost there.” And not three thrusts later, he was coming on your stomach, hot ropes of come shooting out to paint your sweat-soaked skin with white. He collapsed on top of you, holding you close as both of your breath’s slowed to normal.

“I love you so much, baby.” He murmured, pressing soft, tender kisses to your neck. You smiled, your eyes half-lidded, and you thought you may finally get some sleep.

“I love you too, Ni.” You chuckled to yourself, thinking back on what had just happened. “We really need to stop with these late-night shenanigans.” He let out a little giggle at your choice of words, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling back to smile at you.

“Not a chance, princess.”

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (38/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Merry Christmas - *narrator voice* and there was only one bed.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: HE WON IN MONACO - HE WINS IN MONZA. CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!!!

You purse your lips. “Bed - singular. Indeed.”

Charles and you stand in the doorway of his room. On the left wall next to a chest of drawers is a door that leads into a small bathroom, while on the right wall is a double bed, freshly made up. Several pillows are neatly arranged at the headboard, the bedside tables have been dusted and the room generally looks very tidy and well-kept. At the foot of the bed are your bags, which Pascale has just put there. Your bags - because you have to share the bed tonight.

“Yep,” replies Charles, who is standing behind you. 

You nod slightly before entering the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “What makes your mom think we're sharing a bed?” 

Your roommate shrugs. “Do you remember the first morning in our apartment? When mom surprised us and invited us over for dinner?” He raises one of his arms, puts his hand on the upper door frame and leans against it. 

You nod. “I remember.”

“And do you also remember Maman saying that, as my new girlfriend, you get to choose what's for dinner?” When you look at him with wide eyes, he purses his lips into a thin line. "I'm afraid we never set the record straight. Not even when Arthur called you my girlfriend.”

He's right. There have been several opportunities to clear this up. Charles could have called his mother or spoken to her at dinner. And you could have cleared things up too - but neither of you actually did. 

You push the thought that you didn't clear it up because you inwardly wish that you were actually Charles' girlfriend to the back of your mind. 

“Shouldn't we tell her?” you ask hesitantly. “After all, we're lying to your family.”

Charles shrugs his shoulders. “We certainly should,” he replies, but he doesn't sound convincing. “But not today. Not at Christmas. Maman loves you so much that I don't want to do this to her at Christmas. If that's all right with you.”

Pretending you two are a happy couple is certainly the last thing you should do - after all, being affectionate in such close quarters isn't particularly conducive to keeping your feelings in check. But you have no choice - after all, you don't want to spoil Pascale's Christmas. 

“I'll sleep on the floor,” Charles snaps you out of your thoughts and points to the space between the foot of the bed and the dresser facing the bed. “I'll just take a few pillows off the bed and one of the thick blankets from the wardrobe and that should be enough for one night.”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not. You're going to training camp soon and you certainly can't go there with back pain,” you remind him, planning his days ahead. “I think Andrea would kill you if you didn't show up in top shape.”

The Monegasque sighs. “And how are we supposed to handle this?” 

The look on his face is the same as when you were standing opposite each other in the living room. When he said that he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable around him. When he suggested you go back to being friends. 

You miss him so much that it hurts. You'd love to get up and wrap your arms around him and never let go, but that's where the problem lies. His “mon ami” draws a clear line between what you want and what he wants. And you have to accept that, even if it breaks your heart. 

But that doesn't mean he has to pull his back out just because he thinks his closeness makes you uncomfortable. 

“We could share the bed,” you suggest as nonchalantly as possible. When he gives you a puzzled look, you shrug. “It's only for one night. And the bed is big enough for both of us. Then nobody has to sleep on the floor and Andrea won't kill you because you're going to camp with back pain.”

Charles raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” He takes his hand off the doorframe and walks towards you to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. “I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I really don't mind sleeping on the floor.”

You smile at him. “It's okay,” you reply, "we're adults. We can share a bed quite reasonably. And it's only for one night. We should be able to manage that.” You look down at your hands in your lap before looking your roommate in the eye again. “I would have rather expected that we'd still have to sleep in separate rooms, even though your mom thinks we're a couple.”

Charles leans backwards, propping himself up on the bed with his elbows. “Why is that?” 

“Well - some moms don't like their sons' girlfriends because they're afraid they'll take them away from them. Their little boy.” You can't suppress a grin. “And I don't think many would want their little boy to share a bed with their girlfriend either - even if they're all grown up.”

“That would imply that my maman can't stand you,” he replies and tilts his head back. As he swallows, his Adam's apple bounces up and down. “Besides, even if we were really together, I wouldn't have sex with you in my maman's house. I have that much decency - for now,” he grins and looks at you again. “And she knows that too. That's why she allows us to share a bed.”

As he talks about sex with you, heat shoots up your face and your hands get sweaty. Hopefully he doesn't notice you wiping them on your dress. “I like your mom,” you deflect from the topic. 

“She likes you too,” he replies and sits up straight again. “Then let's not keep her and the others waiting any longer. After all, Christmas is a family holiday." He slowly gets up from the bed and turns to face you as he stands in the doorway. “Let's go, mon ami. Otherwise we'll get into trouble because she'll think we're getting it on like two teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other."

Thank God he leaves the room so that you can wave your hand in your face. His words make your pulse quicken so that you can almost hear your heart beating in your ears. Images appear in your head of his hands gliding over your body and his lips kissing your neck. 

Before your thoughts take over, you jump up from the bed and smooth down your dress to follow your roommate back downstairs, where the rest of the family is already waiting for you. You enter the living room, where the youngest Leclerc puts his arm around your shoulder. 

“Listen, when we play Monopoly later, the others will insist that you take the bank,” Arthur whispers in your ear. “If you'd be kind enough to slip me more money than I'm entitled from time to time, then -”

“Arthur! Are you trying to bribe my girl?” Charles calls over to you from the kitchen. The 'my girl' makes your knees go weak. 

“I would never do that,” Arthur tries to defend himself and pulls you a little closer to him. “I'm just talking about how nice it is that your girlfriend is spending Christmas with us.”

“You're a bad liar,” Charles grins, leaning against the worktop. “Besides - do you really think she should help you cheat if I'm playing as well?”

“No one cheats at Monopoly here, otherwise I'll throw the game away and we'll never play it again,” Pascale interjects. “I don't want my sons to get nasty again just because they can't behave in a board game.” She joins her middle child in the kitchen to take two bottles of wine from the fridge and put them in his hand. 

“Hey!” Arthur lets his arm slide off your shoulder to embrace his mom. He rests his cheek against the top of her head. “You're acting like we're cavemen.”

Pascale rolls her eyes. “Then don't act like one just because you can't keep it together in a board game. Now set the table, dinner will be ready soon.”

Together, you place plates and cutlery on the dining table as Enzo and Charlotte join you. The young woman hugs you tightly, while the eldest of the Leclerc brothers waves hello.

“It's nice to see you again,” she smiles and hugs you tightly. “You'll be the bank later - and my partner in crime, yes?” she whispers, before letting you go again. 

Charles laughs out loud. “I heard that, Charlotte,” he warns her with a grin and stands next to you. “I think it's funny that you all think she'd associate with you when she's my girl.”

Charlotte winks at you. “It was worth a try.”

As you all sit together at the table and eat, you look around the room. There are Christmas decorations everywhere that weren't there a few days ago. There's even a Christmas tree in the living room, but there are no presents underneath it. When Pascale notices your gaze, she smiles at you and puts her hand on yours. 

“We don't give each other presents at Christmas anymore,” she says, looking around. “Since -” Charles clears his throat as she swallows hard. 

“After my father died, we decided that there would be no more presents at Christmas because family is the greatest gift you can get,” he explains, pursing his lips. “Dad always gave the best presents and when he was gone, it was different for us.”

You smile at him before squeezing Pascale's hand. “Thank you for letting me be here. It really means a lot to me.”

“You're always welcome here,” she replies. “I'm glad Charles met you. You can almost see how good you are for him and how much he loves you.”

“Maman.” Charles rolls his eyes and a blush shoots into his cheeks. “This is totally embarrassing.”

“I'm just telling it like it is,” she smiles, leaning over to whisper something in your ear while the others continue to talk. “But don't you dare help him with Monopoly later. After all, I invited you here and cooked the meal. I guess I deserve a few extra bucks,” she winks, before turning her attention back to the others' conversation. 

You look at Charles, who smiles at you expectantly. “Everything all right?” he asks you. His hand, which is resting on his leg, twitches as if he wants to reach for yours. 

You look around for a moment, watching the family members interacting lovingly and celebrating Christmas together, before turning back to him. “It couldn't be better.”

-

“You're taking the piss,” Arthur complains, jumping up from his chair with such a jerk that it tips backwards. “You'll never have enough money to buy the fourth station from Charlotte!”

You raise an eyebrow and hand Charlotte the banknotes as she slides the playing card over to you. "Do you really think I'd cheat on you guys? This is my first time playing with you!”

Pascale shakes her head. “Think about it, Arthur. She's simply done well. Look at how many streets - “ she starts to defend you, but falls silent before looking at you with her head tilted back. “Where did you get the money to afford so many streets?”

“Maman!” Charles interjects. “You can't just accuse my girlfriend of stealing money from the bank just because you're losing. That's not nice. Especially not at Christmas.”

Enzo rolls his eyes. “You're only saying that because she's your girlfriend. Love has made you blind, little brother.”

Charles smiles lovingly at you. “I guess it has. But that's okay. I don't mind losing to you.”

You return his smile sweetly. “That's good,” you reply and take a look at the pitch. “Because I've won.”

The Leclercs stare at the table, puzzled and amazed, as if you've shown them a magic trick. But really - there's no way they could beat you now. 

Charlotte laughs. “I didn't even know you could actually win Monopoly. I thought it was a myth.”

Enzo takes a sip of his wine and nods at her. “You usually stop the game after three hours because you either don't feel like playing anymore or someone knocks over the board.”

“And it's usually you,” laughs Pascale and gets up from the table. “Very well. I declare the evening over for me. I'll see you in the morning,” she smiles at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I'm very glad you're here.”

“Me too,” you smile at her and look after her as she leaves the room. 

The five of you tidy up the room and put everything neatly away in the cupboards before you say goodbye to each other as well. In the bathroom of your room, Charles and you get ready for bed and change into your sleeping clothes before standing in front of the bed that you have to share. 

“Is it really okay for you if I sleep in the bed too?” Charles asks uncertainly as you sit down on the bed and slip under the covers. 

“I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't,” you smile, patting his side of the bed. “We're both adults. And as long as it's okay for you, it's okay for me.”

Charles nods and scratches the back of his neck. “I really wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor.”

“I do.”

He can't say anything in reply. He slowly walks around the bed and slips under the covers as well. He turns off the light and lies down on his back. 

The silence between you is strange and the physical distance doesn't make it any better. You can feel Charles' body heat through your shirt and shorts and it almost feels like the last few days haven't happened. You'd love to snuggle up to him and fall asleep by his side. 

“Be honest,” Charles breaks the silence. “Did you steal money from the bank in Monopoly?”

You giggle briefly. “I did.”

Your roommate's laughter booms through the room. “I knew it! Oh my God!” You feel him turn to his side. “Welcome to the family. You're a real Leclerc now!” he laughs, barely able to contain himself. 

“Psht!” you hiss at him. “Stop laughing! Otherwise you'll give me away and I'll lose my honorable Monopoly victory!”

“Honorable?” he asks and continues to snort. “You cheated!”

“And your family asked me to take money out of the bank for them so they could win,” you grin. “They're the worst family when it comes to Monopoly!”

Charles slowly gets himself under control again. “But otherwise we're a nice family, aren't we? Otherwise you wouldn't have spent Christmas with us.”

You nod, even though he can't see you. “I love your family.”

“And they love you. Especially Maman.”

You turn on your side too, in his direction. Apparently you're closer together than you expected, because you can feel his breath on your face. 

“Is everything okay?” Charles asks quietly. “I mean - I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me. I - I can still sleep on the floor if you want.”

“Charles,” you exhale, but before you can say anything, he continues speaking. 

“I meant what I said to you on the boat. I can't be without you anymore and I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't turn your back on me. Nothing in this world is as important to me as you.” He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I can't describe it. You're my best friend - but so much more.”

As he moves, you feel the blanket slip over your body. You want to reach for his hand, to reassure him that you will never turn your back on him, but the words stick in your throat. Not because they're not true, but because they don't cover the whole truth that's inside you. 

You love him. With every fiber of your being. 

“You're the person I think of first thing in the morning. The person I look forward to the most when I get home. When you're with me, it's - I don't know - like we're permanently out on the open sea and the sun is shining down on us,” he confesses, without even thinking about what that might do to you. 

“And I can't stop thinking about how you felt. How warm your skin is, how soft you feel under my hands. How the heat spreads through me when you touch me. It's like touching the sun and burning myself - but I can't stop thinking about how good it feels. You're my best friend,” he breathes out. “But fuck - if I said I didn't actually crave you, that would be an outright lie.”

You can feel the arousal gathering in your shorts, goosebumps spreading across your skin and heat rising in your face. When Charles suddenly moves and turns on the little light on the bedside table, you look at him. 

“I can't share the bed with you if - if you -” he stammers, before taking a deep breath to sort out his thoughts. The comforter that was covering you a moment ago has slipped so far down due to his movements that it's below his hips - revealing his shorts and the bulge underneath. 

“Charles,” you breathe, but you don't know how to answer him without telling him directly that you love him. You have to pull yourself together. 

“I can't just lie next to you because it's tearing me up inside that I can't touch you, because I make you feel so uncomfortable that you don't want to share a bed with me in our apartment anymore.” His voice trembles, as does his hand, which is resting on his thigh. 

You don't know what makes you do it, but apparently your brain goes blank and throws all doubts overboard as you lean over to him. His eyes are glued to you as you carefully place your hand on his and your fingertips touch the soft skin of his thigh. A lightning bolt twitches through your veins at the touch - nothing has ever felt as good as he does at this moment. “I never said I was uncomfortable, Charles.” You shake your head slightly. “Quite the opposite.”

Charles looks into your eyes, trying to see anything in them, hesitation or uncertainty, but the only thing he sees is warmth and a longing he knows all too well. 

He squeezes your hand twice, and when you return his squeeze and squeeze his hand twice too - he snaps.

[frownyalfred]

Thinking about Bruce always feeling insecure about living up to his parents legacy, thinking about him feeling unworthy of using the master bedroom when he returned, thinking about him as Brucie uncounsciously taking his hookups to other rooms in the mansion, never to his (parent's), thinking about Bruce welcoming his kids in the master bedroom with open arms whenever they have nightmares, the same way his parents did to him, thinking about Clark feeling insecure about Bruce's true feelings towards him, thinking about Clark being totally oblivious to how big of a deal it is that he's alowed to sleep beside Bruce in the master bedroom.

The sanctity of the master bedroom is SO real. I grew up in a house with separate living quarters for staff (old old house) and the bedrooms for children were in a wing, and then the master suite and guest suites were in another section of the house. The implied distance between those sections is huge, even if they're only one closed door or a few feet away.

Bruce slowly accepting his place in the master suite -- now that's a fic I'd love to write. Keeping the hookups and random encounters to another equally lavish but different room or wing of the Manor, even. Somewhere that's easy to shuttle people in and out of, maybe near the laundry chutes or the servants' stairwells. Sleeping there even when he doesn't have guests, because the ghosts in the master suite are too much.

But maybe, once Dick is living with him, he can't justify it -- the master suite is near the children's rooms, and sleeping on another floor, away from a traumatized child, seems like a terrible idea. Alfred's rooms are too far away, nestled somewhere in the servants' quarters even though Bruce keeps trying to get him to take a guest suite.

So he takes over the suite, making it his own slowly but surely. Yet leaving portions of it untouched -- maybe the old floor to ceiling drapes, with their antiquated trim and beads. The double sinks in the en suite, made for a couple. He removes the four poster bed for a california king, modern enough to dispel any mental similarities. Big enough for a kid to come and hide, after a nightmare.

Clark being allowed in that room, even near that portion of the Manor? That's a huge step forward, a huge display of vulnerability and trust. It's not just Bruce's room, it's his parents' room, it's just off the children's wing, it is in many ways the heart of the residential portion of the Manor. All hallways, servant corridors, etc, lead there. And the more people that stay there, the more that suite is viewed truly as the center of the Manor itself, outside of the Cave and maybe Alfred's kitchen + butler's pantry.

[beebazooka]

just happened to land on you, who else?

----- pt. 1/2

daisuke x gn reader fic 𓆩⟡𓆪 word count; 1.1k

content warning: later smut, non-established relationship, awkwardness, NEEDY 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴suke, angst(post crash doomed-ness)

You were Anya's intern— you didn't know what career to pick so you followed whatever your parents thought was best. The money balanced out the negatives; long and unpredictable hours, patient interactions, and differing opinions from coworkers on how to deal with someone. All you needed to get that was a good recommendation and your parents would deal with medical school's expenses.

So you signed up for every advertisement that didn't look scam-y. Until no one would call back, it made sense. You had nothing on your record but a summer job you had at sixteen and a high school diploma. Not exactly the top candidate.

Your last hope was a faded-out pamphlet stapled to an electric post. Reluctantly, you ripped off one of the phone number handouts printed between the dotted punctured lines. That flyer was no doubt, the sketchiest thing you had ever seen in your life. That cartoon horse mascot smiling at you didn't ease any worries despite how much the company probably wanted it to.

<⟡>

Now you were boarding the Tulpar, you could see your new coworkers through the small crowd of higher-ups and last-minute maintenance workers; a bunch of sad sack adults, and a guy like you. Small carry-on bags either held or settled by their feet.

He was friendly, really friendly. He ran over to you immediately, imaginary tail wagging at the mere sight of someone in his age group.

"Daisuke Juárez." He blurted out, extending a hand for you to shake.

"Uh, what?" His eyebrows furrowed as he dropped his hand, looking away. You could see his lips mutter a swear but no sound came out.

"That's my name, sorry for no intro before that..." He gave a nervous chuckle before he offered his hand to you again. You took it, why wouldn't you? It would just make this already weird conversation worse.

A quick shake between new coworkers. Nervous sweat passed back and forth, a cold feeling and a 'clink' sound from his rings bumping against yours. This guy would probably be your only choice for socializing. He had a lot of enthusiasm to pass around and frankly, everyone needed it.

<⟡>

A couple of months on board and by some miracle, he wasn't your thirteenth reason yet. Your boredom wouldn't let you hate him. You looked forward to his shenanigans. To Swansea's dismay, you started participating.

Sneaking sugar packets here, teaming up to cheat on crew game nights there.

Then it happened. That fake scenic sunset display quickly changed to a message so contrasting; Crash eminent. You had no clue what to do other than prepare. The blaring alarms didn't stop even when you ducked down behind the kitchen counters.

<⟡>

Everything was ruined, tousled, destroyed. Emergency foam went off everywhere, closing off the sleeping quarters, and a couple of hallways.

Every day, every new experience drained you. You had to hold back Anya's hair four times as she vomited in between patching up Captain— no, just Curly now.

One day, Swansea gathered up everyone, well tried. He only got the interns to sit down in the living quarters, pacing back and forth while he gave a doomed pep talk to the only people who would listen.

"We're fucked. This goddamn company doesn't care about us or that one of their ships went offline. We're dead meat, just names on a fucking list." He kept pacing. He had that little rasp in his voice, probably from the fact he kept pausing his spiel to take swigs of mouthwash. Daisuke told you all about Swansea's drunken rants whenever the two of you got bored enough. He said he liked the burn. The knowledge that he was ruining his life all over again. He loved it.

"You kids do whatever the fuck you want, 'cause I'm not doing shit. I'm not going to spend the last weeks of my life slaving away at the same company that already took forty years of my damn happiness." Then he walked off, too drunk to stomp away. Going to stand in front of the utility room. The only task he wanted to commit to; stopping others from doing something stupid; he always did. Daisuke could be his whole defense for that argument.

"So that's our advice... We do whatever because we're dying soon anyway." You mumbled after some struggle. Someone both you and Daisuke were supposed to look up to and ask for guidance just told you to fuck around while you still can.

"That's it? Our first fucking trip and we die here?!" You stood up, your anger wanted to move and right now, you didn't want to deny it.

Daisuke let out a quiet sigh, leaning back until his body hit the cold floor, he ran his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to ease something... anything. "I haven't lived yet. I partied. I jacked around. I don't have anything to actually be proud of. I haven't done anything."

That made you stop. He was right. He hasn't lived and neither have you. You were getting mad at people millions of miles away on Earth, that for sure didn't know your name or face.

"Bucket list." You whispered in that same tone you used to pass jokes to him during lectures with Swansea... a long time ago. He would give anything for this shitshow to be a dream that he could wake up to and have you joke about Swansea's under-eyes over and over again. "We make a bucket list. We do everything before we die when the food and oxygen supply run out.

<⟡>

They wrote down a small list each. It was cute at first, pranking the unbothered Swansea wasn't as fun as before but it was something. They shared a couple sugar packets, helped Anya out for a bit, and destroyed the kitchen by mismatching recipes.

Then their lists went cold and desperate; in tiny, rushed pen-written letters were four words. "Don't die a virgin."

After reading it from the other's list, they looked up at each other. "This is humiliating, you know," Daisuke spoke up first, despite his words he had a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah... I know." You replied back. This was a horrible way to lose something people said was so sacred, but now, you saw it how it was; just another experience to have before you died.

[starzblvd]

Sleepover w/ college!Ellie before + after dating hc’s<3

「˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚。」 fluff with slight smut at the end

Before

꒰ა☆໒꒱ would beg for Joel to let you stay a night or two over the summer and wouldn’t drop it until he says yes, then when he does she’d excitedly be texting you “yeah he’s chill with it”

꒰ა☆໒꒱ spends an hour searching up “things to do at sleepovers” so she can map out everything in her head, making up little scenarios of how’d you act with each activity saying she’d definitely love this out loud every once in a while

baking heart shaped cookies? She’ll like this

having a meal based off a movie we watch? She’s going to be so happy

Making face masks and applying it on each other? I’ll get to be close to her face

꒰ა☆໒꒱ So nervous when she actually hears your car pull up the drive way and takes a breathe before opening the door for you but she’s so nervous having you to herself at her house she just awkwardly smiles for a couple of seconds staring at you until Joel introduces himself and breaks the moment

꒰ა☆໒꒱ She didn’t tell Joel she had a thing for you but it was so obvious to everyone besides you, Ellie’s eyes lingered on your face and body with how painfully your shorts and low the cut of your top was. Joel would leave the two you be but would get second hand embarrassment if he stayed any longer to watch how Ellie would be so plainly into you, smiling and nodding along with everything that came out the lips she wished she’d one day be able to know the feeling of, or when she’d get a little red when you even slightly touch her arm

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Not even watching the movie and just looks at you majority of the movie, even if she insisted on playing her favorite movie when you said you haven’t seen it yet, but immediately looks away towards the screen if you shift a little in case you’d look over so she doesn’t get caught

꒰ა☆໒꒱ When it’s time to sleep she didn’t want you to sleep on her floor so she offered her bed but was so flustered when you just suggested sharing a bed and how it wouldn’t be much of a deal, for you anyways

Ellie’a staring straight at the ceiling while you made yourself comfortable on her mattress, having the feeling of your weight besides eased her a bit after a bit with the smell of your shampoo reaching her nose with how close you were

still she wouldn’t be able to sleep until you fell asleep first, then she’d roll on her side to admire you in the dim lighting of her room with only the light coming in through the gap of her curtains landing perfectly on you, after a few minutes she’d lull herself to sleep

꒰ა☆໒꒱ when you woke up you noticed Ellie’s leg was laying onto of your hip and her face was even closer than when you initially were awake, so close you feel the slow steady breathes from nose. You knew she tends to wake up later than you and it was nearly 8am at best, but before you could completely fall into another deep sleep Ellie’s breathing hitches while slowly removing her leg off from you. Opening your eyes a small quarter Ellie’s eyes were wide with a soft pink blush contrasting her freckles, she didn’t notice because she was too focused on repositioning herself like she wasn’t clinging to you all night

After

꒰ა☆໒꒱ doesn’t even ask to have you over and just gives Joel a heads up since she frequently takes you to her house when she can, you even have your own toothbrush next to hers

꒰ა☆໒꒱ You were over so often but Ellie would prefer to actually live with you, she’d even send you a link to join a collab pintrest board to make an imaginary apartment subtly but not really subtly trying to get you on board with the idea of moving in with her

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Washes the blankets you like most of hers for you to use, maybe if she makes you comfortable enough you’ll stay even longer is her mentality when prepping for your arrival

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Cradling you from the back not letting you escape her arms, laying her head on your shoulder smelling the perfume you use that’s Ellie’s favorite, having to pry her off when you need to go to the bathroom

“Ellieee, i got to go cmon”

She groans “just a minute more” before squeezing you but it only makes your need to go worse

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Let’s you borrow any of her clothes and insists that you do, she loves seeing how her clothes look on you, in a way to her it reminds her how you’re hers and hers only and leaves your smell on the fabric when she gets it back

꒰ა☆໒꒱ when Joel leaves you alone Ellie’s quick to get touchy, first she’s sweet picking you up and giving you a small twirl around kissing your nape all over then she smudges whatever lipgloss you put on when she kisses you in the needy hasty way she does, she loved the way the softness of your lips feel on hers, you let her tongue slide in when you felt her soft lick on your lower lip. It was all getting pretty hot until Joel casually slams the door open

“Got another space magazine for, you” he scanned Ellie’s face pretending he’d walked in you two playing uno or something instead

She’d quickly push you off of her that makes you stumble a bit while fixing the two strands adorning her face, flushed but trying to act nonchalantly to deescalate the situation but she wishes she could burry herself into the walls

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Any shyness she harbored prior to dating was long gone with wanting to shower with you, get dressed with you, and sleep within your embrace, being able to have any touch of you sent her into a calm happy bliss so she never misses the opportunity to slip her hands under every article of clothing you wore, sometimes she’d pinch you lightly to tease you because it was so funny to her how you pouted and swat away her hand all frantically

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Nights where you couldn’t sleep Ellie would suggest an idea that worked every time to knock you out, that idea was her slipping her hand under your shorts into the warm wet space of your underwear letting her fingers do all the work smiling all cocky when you had to shove your face into the pillow to keep quiet

[solar4seekstron]

Tf1! Orian Pax one day seeing this normally quiet miner! Reader sneaking off. And gotten curious he decided to follow. Leading to a very hidden place that he had no clue existed yet, forgotten and high up, he finally climbed up and he was in awe. As the reader found a rare glimpse of the starry night of the surface... you cook with the rest of it my dear.

That’s really good!!! I shall do my best.

Special Spot

Orion Pax x Cybertronian!Reader Oneshot

(I didn’t know if you meant actually on the surface or not but a few guys ago I went to the mountains with my family. Some people lived in really nice houses in the mountains so that gave me an idea! I hope you still enjoyed! Or just DM to yell at me if I got it wrong lol)

I decided this would be cute of Orion Pax finally gaining the strength to tell his crush his feelings and after finding their little special spot close to the surface. He’s so fixated, he forgets his nervousness and finally has a chance to get a spark mate.

Content: SFW

Introduction Movie Oneshot Masterlist

TW/Tags: Wholesomeness and fluff, Orion is precious, reader is quiet, this is so sweet you might get sick lol

Orion pax has always noticed you. Although you were always quiet and didn’t speak much. Until a superior or- Elita spoke to you. You always seemed in a good mood and when he tried talking to you. Your words are always sweet and soft. Hell to the others it seems like you don’t even know the concept of sarcasm. Since everyone else does it with him but when he’s with you. He actually feels no attacked.

Over time. He grew a bit of a crush on you. Although not with much to say. And would never threaten him with beating him with a shovel. Your actions always spoke louder. He knew that tonight is going to be the night.

So once everyone else has fallen asleep. He makes his way towards you and once at your sleeping spot. He noticed when pointing his helm out of the corner, you were- AWAKE?!?! He watched you

You were walking away and made your way out of the mining quarters. He followed behind you to where you don’t notice him

———————————————————————————

After some time you continue to make your way to a certain spot. Right between two buildings that are higher up a sort of mountain. A steep hill the buildings were set on

Once you made it there you leaned your back against the wall. There was an amazing view once you looked up. An opened window to the stars of the surface. Although it wasn’t that big. It was just enough for you to see. You continued to stare up. Not noticing Orion snuck up next to you. He then leaned down a bit close to your audio sensors and whispered as gently as he can “what are we looking at?”

This startled you. You were quick to back up your arms in front of you to protect yourself. Orion had his hands up and looked at you.

“Woah. Easy. I ain’t here to hurt ya or anything.” You just looked at him. Looking back at the ground and back at him a few times. He realized you were worried and thought fast.

“Hey,..I won’t snitch if that’s what you’re worried about…I have my secrets too around this city..” he chuckled. You stayed still for a moment looking at him. But then you’d slowly give him that usually warm smile and looked back up at the stars. Orion looked up too. Took him a moment but he was able to finally see them. He was amazed. So enchanted he was actually quiet for a moment.

You let out a sigh as you close your eyes “one day I’m going to fly under those stars. Only closer to them then…” Orion glanced at you and gently smiles. His optics soft

You two stand there looking up for a few more Nano Kliks until Orion finally spoke. His fight gently touching yours.

“So um….you wanna…goooo”

“Yeah Orion. I’ll let you court me”

Orion turned to the opposite side of you raising his arm and first as he closed his optics and whispered “yes!!!!”

You chuckled your helmet resting on his shoulders as you closed your optics. Your hand holding his until they interlocked. Orion continued to look at the stars. He was so happy.

Hope y’all enjoyed!

[rayraelleaizawa]

They say something hurtfull in an argument

TW: sad, slight angst, fighting

Characters: Shanks, Beckmann, Mihawk

Side note: a bit ooc cause they'd never say something like that but we live for angst

Part 2: Making up after an argument

Shanks

"Why do you always have to be drunk?" i asked him as he woke up with yet another hangover. Being together with Shanks is amazing, he loves you, he gives you everything you could wish for and more, but there is one thing you hate about his beheaviour: the constant drinking.

"Because we are pirates, we have to party" Shanks answered with a grin before he groans due to his headache.

"This drinking will kill you one time, do you know that? It's also a huge downturn in bed when i want to kiss you and all i can smell is alcohol on your breath." You kept on complaining, tired of this. "Alcohol damages your body so much, do you want to die so much earlier or what?" you snapped at him.

"Maybe I need something to make me feel better about your constant bickering." Shanks said with a growl, the grin disappearing.

You halted in your tracks. A look of hurt crossed your face as you shut your mouth close. Sadness welled up inside you at the thought, that you were also a reason why he kept on having this extremly unhealthy habit.

"I'm sorry then" you said quietly and walked out of your shared quarters, now probably only his quarters, cause you werent sure if you want to go back there and sleep next to him.

You were just worried about him, why didnt you notice that you were annoying him with that? You never said anything, helped him out of all his problems that he caused by himself with his childish demeanour, you only scolded him when he hurt himself. He never hurts others, he only lets himself get hurt. And that frustrated you beyond believe.

Didnt he know how much you cared for him? Did he even care? Are you even enough to make him start to look out for himself?

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you hid yourself in an empty room on the ship. You tried so much to accept his drinking habbits, you didnt even ask him to stop, just to not be drunk 6 and a half days of the week, and that every week.

You burried your face in your knees and cried. Where you that insufferable that he hurts his own body just to be able to endure your company? If you left, then he wouldnt do this to himself anymore, right?

Benn Beckman

"Really? Another one?"

You say annoyed as you watch your boyfriend light up another cigarette.

"Yes. Another one."

He plainly answers. You guys had this discussion before. You wanted him to smoke less, he said he'd try to but the amount doesnt get any less.

"Benn this really damages your lungs. Cant you please try to smoke less?"

You asked again, and he sighed annoyed.

"They help me relax."

You started to get annoyed by his short answers.

"You could relax with other stuff. You could take a bath, or i could massage you, or we could just spend time together."

You suggested as he sighed out audibly annoyed.

"And you think after all the work and stress I have the whole day I want to spend it around a person which constantly nags on me and where i cant let my mind settle even a bit?"

He snapped, looking at you angrily. You looked at him with an unmoving face before you adverted your eyes. You didnt want to show him that his words hurt.

"I'm sorry, I didnt know you couldnt let your guard down around me."

You said defeated, turning around and slowly walking away. You could hear him say your name quietly but you didnt want to turn around. You just walked under deck and into your cabin. You sat down on your desk and started working, tears running down your face as you felt a coldness within you.

Does he not trust me enough? I didnt know that I am a stress factor for him.

Dark thoughts pleagued your mind as you tried to just work through your feelings. You tried to not be even more of a burden. Tears ran down your face, some of them hitting the desk and some hitting the papers with the lists and research about the treasures your crew had gotten lately.

Benn works so hard, and I never made him feel better. I just added to his stress. He'd be better off alone, right?

Dracule Mihawk

"Could you please tell me when you plan on leaving?"

You said to Mihawk as he came back after two months without telling you that he'll be gone.

"Why? I have my own free will if i remember correctly."

"Because I worry about you when you just suddenly disappear! It isnt that hard to just leave a note or something when you cant tell me in the face that you have to leave."

You were angry at him. What did he think? He was your boyfriend so why couldnt he just tell you when he left for weeks?

He puts down his hat and went to get some vine but you stopped him. Him not even looking at you makes you feel like you're unimportant to him, that this whole matter is of no interest to him.

"Do you really care so little about my feelings? Or am I just a nuissance to you right now that you cant even stop walking when I talk with you."

He then looked at you, annoyance but also a sign of being unbothered on his face.

"You're acting like a child. If I leave again and dont come back you'll at least know why now."

He said that so matter of factly that you were stunned about his coldness. He moved around you to the kitchen to grab some vine, and you just stood there.

Did he really just say that I am the reason why he doesnt want to come home anymore?

You shook your head slightly, recalling his words again and trying not to be hurt by them. As you hear his steps starting to come back, you hurried out of the room and into your shared bedroom. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to make it make sense.

When did he start hating to come back to you? What exactly was so annoying about you? Why didnt he just tell you that he didnt like your behaviour anymore? Does he even like you anymore?

All those thoughts were running through your head as you packed the little clothes and stuff you owned. You didnt touch a thing that he bought for you. If he wanted to leave and not come back, then you will make it easier for him and leave on your own. That's what he wants, isnt it?

After you finished packing you quietly stepped out of his castle and made your way into the woods. Tears were still streaming down your face, but you ignored them. This was for the best, right?

[metriaaqua]

In The Wild Wild West | 0

A Fateful Encounter

THIS CHAPTER: Two nights before the Steel Ball Run is scheduled, an experience in your father’s bar only further fuels your decision to participate. No matter what anyone thought or said, you’d be at that race.

WARNINGS: period-typical sexism. gyro sorta smells normal jumpscare (im COPING) (I PROMISE THAT MAN WILL BE STINKY LATER)

NOTE: STEEL BALL RUN IS REAL HELLOOOOOO!! after the stream i went outside and frolicked around in the beautiful sun and picked flowers. life is good. ALWAYS KEEP HOPE NO MATTER WHAT.…. still waiting on my diego.png. that announcement gave me enough motivation to finish this rewrite!! hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing this once more! this is only an intro, so it'll be a little shorter than normal, the rest of the chapters will be WAY longer!

$50,000,000. 

That’s the prize for first place in the Steel Ball Run race. There are other prizes for the rest of the placements, but they pale in comparison to first place. You couldn’t believe it then and still couldn’t believe it now. 

The thought of it brings a smile to your face as you clean a glass. Maybe about…42 more glasses to clean and you’d finally make enough actually to enter. The entry fee was $1,200 and unfortunately for you, you’ve got $710 right now, including quarters and nickels you’d find lying within the streets. Every little bit helps.

In order to get to your goal faster, you volunteered to work at your father’s saloon as a barmaid.

Of course, you omitted the reasoning as to why, so he probably thinks you’re just doing a good deed and helping the business. The only things you were really focused on was winning the race and becoming a full-fledged writer. Now that you think about it, when the race was said and done, what would you be buying for yourself?

Beautiful silk clothing like those rich girls around town would wear? Those pearl earrings you'd see on their ear? God, you wish.

Not only was writing your motivator, but occasionally seeing those upper-class women around town made you want to splurge. It’s their fault through and through.

They'd only really pass through town, yet you still find yourself looking at them anyway. When you wondered why you couldn't stop seeing them, you chalked it up to them wanting to rub their wealth in your face. The lives of the aristocrats are so much better than yours and each time they’d pass, the reminder was just a slap in the face.

Their tactics to make you jealous worked a little too well, and even if mother would gently remind you that it's all in your head, you found yourself wanting that life, too.

Everything’s going to be achieved once you win the Steel Ball Run. You just know it. Your aspiration. Your dreams—

“You know, you’ve been rubbing the same glass for about five minutes now. Are you okay?” A woman asked, watching as you suddenly clam up. “Should I call for help?” 

"Oh, no,” You quickly apologize afterward, setting the glass down. This is your reality at the moment, the closing barmaid for the rest of the night at the saloon. There were still quite a few people in here even though the sun had started setting and it was about 45 minutes or so until close. After all, this is the saloon that never sleeps: Lucky Spur.

That is until it’s closed. Makes you giggle a little.

The air was thick with the scent of nicotine, alcohol, and now the faintest hint of perfume from this woman in your area. “Did you want something to drink?” You ask her.

“Just a water, but can you make something nice for that handsome man over there too?” She sticks a finger behind her to point in his direction. “Wanna try and get on his good side a bit before I charm him.”

Handsome, she says? You’ll just have to see for yourself. When you turn to look, you think you’re completely blinded by his radiance…

Well, that’s being overdramatic.

Hey, she was right though. The man was attractive. With long flowing blonde hair that reached far down his back, he had a sharp face with piercing emerald green eyes that almost sparkled even in the dim lighting of the saloon. He’s got a strange beard pattern on his chin, squares of blonde lining upward on his jaw. You might be seeing things, but it looked like he had some green lipstick on as well.

The way that he looks makes you ignore the strange getup he has on. Must be a cowboy, the way he’s got his hat perched up on his head and the cape that cascades down his back. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cowboy dress that way, though.

He’s got an annoyed look on his face, one that scrunches up even more when he reaches a hand down to adjust his boot. 

It’s no wonder this woman had been twirling her auburn hair on her fingers with a dreamy look in her eye. You’d probably be doing the same, had you not wondered how long he’d been here for. All he was doing was sit at the table idly and you don’t recall serving him. There’s no way your head was in the clouds for that long.

Maybe he had come earlier than you had, but if that was the case, he would’ve been sitting there for hours and still hadn’t ordered a damn thing. 

When closing time comes, what then? You can only hope that you won’t have to be the one to shoo him away. Having to look him in the eye might make it a little too tempting to say he could stay as long as he wanted to. You can almost feel your face heating up, so you quickly fill a glass of water and place it in front of the woman.

Now, something that’ll impress this guy, maybe something that'll get his attention. Once again, you decide to take another look at him.

You'd always had an eye for those things, being able to roughly guess what kind of drinks a person would like. The women who came here often preferred something light on their stomachs in comparison to people who usually gamble here. They enjoyed a drink that would go down easy, as long as they could focus on their games. Something in the middle would suffice for them.

Based off this situation? This woman wanted his attention and she was going to get it because of you. There's a sudden pang of admiration that shoots through you, followed by envy shortly after. Even if he annoyed you a little bit by not ordering anything, you wish you had the chance to jump at him first.

The man's eyes eventually flicker over to you and nearly give you a heart attack, causing you to pick up another glass and wipe it over at least five times. You must've been staring at him for a little too long.

The woman at the counter eagerly turns to you. “He was looking at me! Did you see it?” She asks in excitement. 

You don’t answer her at first.

They're customers. You should treat them as such and do your job. Instead of being jealous, maybe you should focus on getting money to enter. If you’re lucky, this woman would tip you after.

“Sure did. How could he not? You’re very beautiful!”

You can see her blush and press her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, you flatter me!”

Prayerfully, you’ll get a tip for your kindness.

Anyhow, Brandy would do him good, as his appearance made you lean towards something a little more on the harsh side. With only a sprinkle of sugar and an addition of bitters, you reach down and add a singular lemon to rest on its rim.

Simple. You set the glass on the wooden counter gently. “Here you go.” You say. “Hope that works.”

Once she takes it energetically, she bounces on over to where the man is. Whatever. To distract yourself from taking a look at them and driving yourself nuts for no reason, you snatch up the newspaper you’d been looking at earlier, burying your nose in it.

The newspapers just won’t stop talking about this race. No matter what date it was issued, it’s been the talk of the entire month of September. Not only would it start in two days, but this is the first cross-country horseback race.

This Steven Steel guy, the organizer of this race, what a crazy man. Where did he even get an idea like this from? 

Sign-ups were on site thank goodness, but it wouldn’t mean anything if you didn’t have enough money. Your window of opportunity was steadily closing and you had to hurry things up if you wanted to make it in time.

Your horse, all of the practice, that’s all set. You’re fine in those departments. It’s the money part that’s holding you back. Though, you can’t help but smile at the thought of your horse. 

Nirvana, the Friesian that would lead you clear across that finish line to victory. Another perfect reason to come here often was to visit a family friend, Miss Ava. She owned a large ranch near the end of town. You’d clean things up around the house and tend to some of the animals and she’d reward you with food or trinkets.  

Her son, Liam was there too, you guess. The brother you never had—or wanted, honestly. You always believed he’d been jealous of you because you were so close to his mother. He eventually came around after you admitted your interest in horses. Even more so when you mentioned the race. 

It was luck, fate even, when he told you he had been a jockey a few years ago. There was an agreement between you both that he’d let you borrow Nirvana for the race, though the promise he made you keep (one he made sure you linked pinkies for), was that when you get famous, you’d mention him at every so often. No matter what question was asked, you’d always shoehorn Liam into it. Vain, but if it’s something you have to do, fine.

Then he made it abundantly clear that just because you’re a woman, it didn’t mean you’d get the easy route when it came to riding. You’d be treated just like a man by him and he insisted that it’d be no different in the race.

There’d be a red target plastered right on your back. Anyone could take a shot at any time. 

That part may have been scary, but what probably was scarier was all the injuries you'd get from falling off Nirvana every so often. Liam reckons you’re lucky that it’s only scratches and bruises and that Nirvana hasn’t kicked you with her hind legs yet and killed you.

Now that you think about him, you’re pretty sure you have to remember to meet him tomorrow afternoon. He asked you to see him as soon as you had woken up.

“Hey! You listenin'?!” Another patron calls, waving his hand in the air to get your attention. He waves a cigar in his hand, spreading the smoke in the air. It makes you fight the urge to pinch your nose. They seemed to be in the middle of a very serious poker game, but you were sure that if they didn't get their next round of drinks, they'd just die. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Setting it down gently, you come around from the bar to serve him, an apologetic look on your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you too well. I was reading the paper. Could you repeat what you said earlier?”

Your voice is sweet, cutting through the boisterous laughter directed towards you by the men. It makes you feel like you’re the butt of a joke only they know about, and the way they eyed you like a piece of meat hadn’t helped.

“..What's a pretty girl like you doing reading the newspaper anyway? Shouldn't you be entertaining us?” One man asks, lowering his deck of cards. “It can't be that interesting, can it?”

“It is,” You nod. “They're talking about the horse-back race. I think I may even enter.” You feel proud as you say those words, putting your hands on your hips with a smile. But then the men fall into more howls of laughter. “Why're you all laughing? I'm serious.”

Once you say you’re serious, their laughter suddenly slows down and they look up at you. The irritated look on your face had confirmed that you were indeed serious. “Wait, you're for real?” One of them asked, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “A woman? Entering a horseback race?”

“You're kiddin'..” Another says. “A woman doesn't know the first thing about horseback racing. I'd be surprised if you could even work a bet.”

You move your hands from your hips to cross your arms. “They said that any gender can enter.”

Before you can open your mouth again, the slam of glass on the table startles you and the men at the table. It's the blonde man coming to stand from his stool, the legs of it scraping onto the dry wood floor. He gives a sparkly gold smile to the woman from earlier, before walking in your direction.

“Nice drink you made.” He compliments, stopping right next to you. The smell of leather and an earthy tone fill your nostrils. “Those hands of yours worked some magic, signorina.”

He beams, your eyes catching onto the golden shine of his teeth once again. It quickly fades, replaced by something colder and serious. ”If you know what's good for you, stay out of the race and stick to what you know.” He says it like he's doing you some kind of favor, offering an act of kindness even.

There's a lot you want to say to him—to curse him out, say something venomous back to him—but nothing comes out of your mouth.

A handsome man completely ruined by his nasty attitude.

“Should listen to what he said.” One of the men suggest. “Aw man, you're too cute to look upset. Come sit with us for a while. I'm sure you'll have much more fun with us than hanging around back there. C'mon, it'll be fun.”

He reaches his hand up to grab onto your wrist and you immediately snatch it away.

To say a woman doesn't know a thing about this. To tell you that you shouldn't enter the race. When you’ve been busting your ass for months trying to learn. You can feel yourself almost boiling from their doubt. With clenched fists, you leave the table and walk over towards the entrance to trail behind the man leaving.

Hopefully, the people inside would behave themselves. You may get chewed out for this later by your father, but you couldn’t care less. When you shove open the door, the soft breeze immediately hits you. Your feet drum down the steps as you catch up with him. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say?”

He’s still walking away, undeterred by your comment as he makes his way over to a horse tethered onto the hitching post, running his hand down its mane lightly.

…The Goddess of Victory herself must have been looking down on him for even having a woman this close to his horse. He looks over to you with those piercing eyes of his. “You shouldn’t get too close.”

It comes off as a warning and your breath hitches. You had half a mind to step forward anyway, but before you can ask why, he cuts you off before you can speak yet again.

“I think you’re a beautiful woman.” He admits, turning over to you fully. “It’d be a shame to see that face all bruised up in that race if you enter. Save yourself, save people their time.”

This time, you get a full view of him and his wacky outfit. No matter how handsome he may be to you, that comment really got under your skin.

His words makes you tighten your fist even more, fingers tucking themselves into the palm of your hand. “I don’t...” Yes, he had called you a beautiful woman, but you just knew the rest of his words were dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t need your advice. I don’t need a man to tell me what to do.” You sharply exhale, then point a finger to your face.

“This is a face you should remember well. You’ll remember me when you see me in the headlines. You or anyone else won’t be changing that.”

This time, you don’t even let him speak. You sharply turn on your heel and head right back into the bar.

Those men in the bar, that woman, and most importantly, him, they’ll all remember your name.

Even if you die trying.

[vagabond-umlaut]

[11:56 AM]

summary: tokyo's sweltering noons, a rather sensual song and your just as silly dance moves—what a combination, suguru thinks, what a combination... tags: geto suguru x you; established relationship; suguru just loves you very very much; suggestive themes; implied sexual content; he lowkey (highkey) wants to eat you up (out); suguru and you are in your early twenties; mdni; 0.9k wc oneshot from series: to fall in love is to create a religion (that has a fallible god)

suguru sometimes doesn't know what to do with you.

it's nearly noon, the temperature's close to forty degree celsius, every single person in tokyo is getting boiled in their skin only because they exist and for no other fault of theirs—

and here you're dancing your heart away, speakers blaring music at a deafening volume while you dance around the living room, dressed in nothing more than a tank top and a pair of shorts.

the first thought in the man's mind is, aren't you feeling hot?

such sweltering noons make almost anyone into a lethargic, snoozing versions of themselves, too much lost to the heat to be able to do any other work but sleep; the keyword being the word 'almost'. you, pretty evidently, seem to be a delightful exception to the above observation made by the cult leader.

the second thought that occurs to the man, settling in his brain in the same instant, is: you certainly look very hot.

there's a voice in his thoughts that tells him it may be because of the song you've chosen. it's sensual, enough for one's blood to feel a tad warm in their veins, one's spine to throb a touch, a fluttery sensation making itself known in one's lower belly: eager for some action, for a resolution.

but had it been just the song, he reckons he would never have looked at you the way he's looking right now—many, many thanks to your oh so extensive repertoire of dance moves, none of which are silly, not in the slightest—

a bead of sweat rolls down the column of your neck.

the reason's you, the decision etches itself into suguru's mind, intent on never leaving its niche, the reason's you and solely you—

you and the way sweat clings to your skin; sunlight refracting off the tiny beads of them and giving you a sheen as you prance around the space. the way the clothes cling to your figure; the tank top, a bit too flimsy and the shorts, a bit too tiny in suguru's eyes but he finds it an awful lot hard to dislike them, especially not when they aren't making anything of you discreet before him. the way your body moves to the beat of the music; the movements, jerky, yes but he finds himself so entranced anyway, gaze roaming over the movements of your hands and legs before it gets fixated on the swaying of your hips, perhaps a little faster than the pace of the song but just perfect for suguru and his thoughts and his—

what steals the show for the man however, is what he sees when you whirl abruptly. and his eyes meet your engrossed face, eyes shut and lips parting a touch now and then to mouth along to the song's lyrics, before they shift into a pleased little smile within the next moment, a hint of a tongue sometimes peeking out to lick the pink flesh suguru has often had fantasies of sinking his teeth into—in the dark hours of the night as well as in the lit hours of the day, like now—

the cult leader was originally here to collect few documents he forgot to take along with him in his hurry to drop mimi-nana at the monkey-infested school you insist too much on sending them to, realising his mistake only when he was already at the cult headquarters, sitting at the second of the ten meetings scheduled for the day, barely an hour and a quarter in hand until the meeting requiring those papers.

fifty five minutes, he corrects, checking his watch once before lifting his gaze to your figure now leaning against the table, cute little pants and huffs leaving you as you sip greedily from a bottle.

plucking his phone out, suguru starts typing in a reply to his assistant asking him when he'll be back, telling her it'll take him fifteen minutes or so—only for his fingers to pause when a loud crash reaches him.

you're gaping at him.

the water bottle's on the ground, and you're gaping at him. eyes in the shape of the full moon, your lips parted a smidge with a drop of water dangling precariously from the lower one—it takes you but a moment before your wide gaze skitters away from him perched on his rainbow dragon, stationed oh so conveniently outside the living room window, to the speakers standing innocently on the showcase, then darting to your clothes—those same clothes which are hugging your form so so deliciously... the man thinks, nails leaving deep crescents in his palms as he subtly shifts in his seat—

suguru smiles.

and you, all but yelping, dash into the interior of the house—features, the curse user knows, doubtlessly burning hotter than the sun's core.

you look so fucking adorable—so adorably fuckable—when you're shy.

backspacing the text and sending his assistant another message, he sets his phone to 'do not disturb'. an amused chuckle escaping when the man detects your cursed energy in the far end of the flat, in your shared bedroom—precisely where he wants you to be, suguru thinks with a grin, as he further opens the window and jumps into the living room.

quite some distance away in the cult headquarters, manami, miguel and larue share a tired look amongst themselves, before reading the text on manami's phone again:

please cancel all my meetings for today, and pick my daughters from their school at sharp 1. let them stay in my office. i've got few matters to attend to at home. i'll pick them up in the evening :)

mimi-nana are so confused when neither suguru nor you come to pick them up from school; EVEN MORE CONFUSED when their father comes to pick them up from the cult headquarters very close to dinner time and they return home to find you walking somewhat weirdly, your neck covered in SOOO MANYYY bite marks—

adults are very weird, the girls decide, when they ask their mama what bit her and she chokes on the soup, all the while their papa bursts into loud fits of laughter—but none of them answer their question—trying to divert their attention via talks of their school instead.

yeah, very weird and very very confusing, mimiko and nanako think, frowning at each other across the table.